#I'm literally coughing more than i was earlier today

[kerosene-saint]

whatever fucking cough suppressant my mom gave me did the exact opposite

[appocalipse]

Congrats! How huge! Can I shop?! 🛍️

There's an antique lock and key set and a pair of velvet gloves that look like they have my name written all over them (or a smutty friends to lovers with Steve Harrington where maybe we're partners in a game - drinking game at a rager, yard game at a bbq, board game on a game night, chicken at the pool party...I'm not picky - and celebrating our winning streak gets...a little out of hand 😉😉)

thank you, angel ♥ i got more than a little carried away with this one lol 6.4k words | cw: fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex 18+ only! mdni! literally the smuttiest smut that ever smutted

amy's flea market ♥

"Ready?" Steve asks.

No. Fuck, no.

“Yeah,” you respond. Steve smiles that almost evil smile of his and dives down so you can climb onto his shoulders. Again. You can't believe you're doing this again.

It's the third round of chicken fighting that you and Steve are participating in, and as you climb onto Steve's shoulders, you try not to think that you're climbing onto Steve's shoulders.

Steve. Your friend Steve. The guy you have the world's biggest crush on...no, fuck that. It's more. You know it's more, but you're afraid to admit the stronger word.

Because Steve is Steve. He's off limits.

Which doesn't make it any easier for you to try not to think about the way his big, warm hands are now on your thighs, holding on tight so you don't fall off his shoulders, where you're sitting in nothing but a bikini, his head between your legs...

"1, 2,3...go!" Robin yells, sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water. You raise your arms as the team in front of you advances, the girl's arms stretched in hopes of pushing you off Steve.

But you and Steve are, apparently, invincible today.

It happens faster this time; next thing you know, the girl's grip slips, and you are the one who ends up pushing her into the water, her partner also losing his balance in the process. They laugh and the crowd — including Robin — goes wild. The adrenaline surges through your veins as you realize you've won. Again. Steve keeps you up there for one more moment, just so you can throw your arms in the air, giggling, enjoying your third victory in a row. Then, he carefully lowers you down into the water. 

When he emerges again, wet hair sticking to his forehead, he's grinning at you as he grabs your wrist, making you raise your arm one more for the crowd.

You giggle.

Steve sighs. It's that laugh of yours, the one that makes his heart skip a beat every time. 

"I think that's enough for today," you say, lowering your arm and grinning up at him, a bit dizzy from the adrenaline of the victory and the heat of the sun on your skin. 

Steve suddenly feels dizzy too, for a completely different reason.

He unsuspectingly watches as a fat drop of water travels down your lower lip, to your chin, your neck... and then you turn around, moving in the direction of the pool ladder. Against his better judgment, he follows.

Once out of the pool, you look around. 

"D'you want me to grab a clean towel for you?" Steve offers, ever the gentleman.

"Towel, yeah, that would be great..." you murmur, feeling ten times more self-conscious now that the two of you are out of the water. You don't even know most of the people here… "Can I come with you?"

Steve coughs.

The pool party had started earlier that day. The only clean towels remaining in that house now are in his bathroom. 

In his room.

And you're all wet.

For God's sake. That's the last place where he should be alone with you right now. 

But, like an idiot, Steve nods, "Sure, let's go." 

He leads you through the living room, past a group of people who are sitting on the floor, drinking and laughing, to the stairs, taking them two at a time. You're a little out of breath, but manage to keep up with his long strides until he reaches the top. The hallway up here is a lot dimmer, but you can still see the soft, warm sunlight coming from beneath his bedroom door. It's strange how you've never been in his room before. Countless times in his house, sure, but never his room.

Steve clears his throat and then opens the door, stepping aside to let you enter first. 

It's... not what you expected. It's not messy like the stereotypical rich boy's room, but it's not pristine either. It's neat, orderly, but... lived in. There's a king-sized bed in the center of the room, covered with a duvet that looks like it's been slept in. A small nightstand on each side of the bed, with a lamp and a few framed photos on top — you're even in some of them with him and the kids. The walls are painted a soft, warm blue, and there's a big window next to the bed, letting in the bright sunlight.

The air smells like... like him. Like soap and hairspray.

Steve clears his throat, drawing your attention back to him. He's still shirtless, so it's not like that's hard to do. "Here, take this," he says, tossing a towel in your direction. You catch it reflexively, feeling the softness of the fabric against your bare skin.

"Thanks," you murmur, rubbing your hair with it. 

The sound of laughter from downstairs seeps in through the partly open window. Steve is standing on the other side of the room, a towel loosely draped around his neck, and maybe it's that mysterious drink Robin offered you earlier making you imagine things, but there's a strange tension in the air and you're under the distinct impression that Steve is consciously avoiding you as you dry off.

You wonder what he's thinking. 

Steve clears his throat again, seeming to steel himself for something. "Um... I'm gonna go grab a drink. You... you want one?" he asks, not quite meeting your eye.

"Sure. And...can you get my dress? I left it downstairs earlier."

Steve nods, turning away from you so fast you almost wonder if he's mad. He disappears into the hallway, and you hear the click of the door being closed behind him, followed by the distant sound of footsteps as he makes his way downstairs.

Left alone in his room, you wander over to the bed and sit down on the edge, now wrapped in your towel. The duvet is soft against your bare skin, and the pillows smell like him. You can't help but wonder what it would be like to curl up here with him, to feel his warmth surround you as you drift off to sleep.

Probably not the kind of thought you should have in your friend's room.

The door opens again, and Steve steps back in, two glasses of something clear and fizzy in his hand. "Here you go," he says, handing you one of them. You take the drink gratefully, sniffing at it before taking a sip. It's some kind of spritzer, sweet and tangy. "And here's your dress."

It's draped over the curve of his arm. Steve sets his own drink on the nightstand before sitting down on the bed beside you, extending his arm so you could take the dress.

You do take it, but make no move to put it on. "I didn't know you were that good at chicken fighting," you say, trying to make it sound light-hearted.

Steve smiles. "Pretty sure it was all you."

"Of course not," you playfully nudge him. "We're a team."

He looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he reaches for his drink and takes a generous sip. "Yeah, a team," he repeats softly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He studies you for a moment, taking another sip of his drink. The silence stretches between you. You wish you knew what was going through his mind, if he was feeling the same things you were.

"It is something," you quietly insist.

Steve looks at you, his eyes flickering uncertainly. "I don't know what you mean," he says finally, but there's a catch in his voice that betrays him, a hint of vulnerability that you've never heard before.

You stand up. He looks at you like you had just slapped him. 

"I'm still wet," you explain. Then, way too quickly for your embarrassment to go unnoticed, you add, "from the pool, I mean! Not...I don't want to make a mess of your bed or anything, you know...I mean, by sitting there while I'm wearing a wet bikini and-"

Steve cuts you off with a laugh. "Hey, hey," he says, reaching out to take your hand. "It's okay. You're fine. You can sit here." He squeezes your hand gently, and there's a warmth in his touch that sends a shiver through you. "And if you did make a mess, I'd clean it up. No worries."

You sit down again. Better than awkwardly standing there. 

"Very gentlemanly of you," you murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Steve shrugs, returning your smile. "I'm not that bad, am I?" he asks, his voice teasing.

"The worst. But you're a good partner in chicken fighting, though."

Steve swallows hard.

"Just that?"

There is a moment of silence, as you and Steve stare at each other. You know exactly what he means, what's behind that question, behind the look he's giving you right now, studying your face like it's the first time he's seeing it. At least...you think you know. 

He puts his glass aside again. You open your mouth to say something, but he's faster.

"I need to go."

"Wait-"

He doesn't wait. Steve is on his feet in a second, almost at the door in two. 

But you, somehow supernaturally faster…you grab his wrist. You grab his wrist with both hands and oh God, Steve's not quite sure what to do with you now. He doesn't respond, doesn't move. You tug at his arm, wanting him to turn around, look at you. He doesn't.

"Steve."

His name feels like a whisper on your lips. It's not loud, but it's urgent. 

Steve is having a hard time remembering why he's supposed to keep his distance from you. He turns around to look at you, your hand slipping down to his, still not letting him go…and he realizes it was a bad idea.

The desperation in your eyes mirrors his own, and before he knows what he's doing, Steve is leaning in, hands grabbing your face, mouth finding yours, lips parting. 

He's not gentle, not soft. 

You moan into the kiss and Steve kicks the door closed without looking, his hands finding your waist as you cling to his neck, the towel falling at your feet. Your lips part and he slips inside, tasting you, feeling the warmth of your breath on his skin as you gasp, stumbling back as he pushes forward.

The bed is soft but cold beneath you as you land, Steve on top of you, pinning you down."God," he groans into your neck. "Sorry."

You giggle. "God, sorry?"

He groans in reply, lips moving against your neck as he continues to kiss his way down your collarbone. "I mean it," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. "I shouldn't be doing this."

"M' not...complaining."

Steve laughs roughly into your skin, pressing his lips to the dip between your breasts and finally looking up into your eyes. He pauses for a moment, searching for something there. You can see the uncertainty in his expression, the fear of losing control, of what will happen if he really lets go.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you say automatically.

He chuckles at your answer, a soft, low sound that vibrates through your chest. "You're sure?" he whispers, leaning in to kiss you again, this time softer, slower. "Because I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to take advantage of you."

"How could you possibly take advantage of me?" you ask, sounding almost annoyed.

Steve smiles. "I don't know. I just..." He trails off, pressing a quick kiss to your chin. "I just want this to be right."

You can feel his hesitation, his worry, but you don't want to push him away. You reach up, gently cupping his cheek, and look into his eyes. "I want to."

"You want to?"

"Yes."

There's a moment where the weight of what you've just said seems to press down on Steve, making him pause. He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or fear, but finds only the truth. He exhales shakily, looking like it takes every ounce of his self-control to do so. "Tell me you're not drunk."

You reach up, tracing his jawline with your fingers. "I'm not drunk."

"Fuck..." he mutters, trying to concentrate as you trail your fingers down his neck, over his collarbone. "Really? Don't lie to me."

You smile, shaking your head in disbelief. "I'm not drunk," you repeat. "I had like…two drinks. Are you drunk?"

Steve laughs, a choked-up sound. "I've had more than that," he admits. "But I'm…I'm okay." He looks at you for a long moment, like he's trying to commit your face to memory, just in case. Then he leans in, kissing you softly, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that belies his earlier urgency. "But even if I were drunk, you're welcome to take advantage of me anytime."

You smile against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'll keep that in mind," you whisper, feeling a rush of affection for him. Steve groans into the kiss, pressing your back against the mattress as his hips move between your legs. His skin feels hot against yours, his muscles tense, and with nothing but the thin fabric of your bikini bottom and his swim trunks between you, there's little left for the imagination.

"Steve," you breathe out as he kisses his way down your neck, nipping at your skin with his teeth. His name feels heavy in your mouth, like you've been holding it there for years and it's finally been given the chance to be spoken. "Steve…"

"You keep saying my name like that and I'm going to lose it."

You feel the wet heat of his mouth as he kisses his way back down your neck, over your collarbone. His fingers are patient, too patient as they trail up your sides, over your ribs, stopping just shy of your breasts like he's afraid he'll go too far, too fast, too soon.

"Can I-"

"Yes."

His laughter is soft as he pulls back to look at you, eyes half-lidded and mouth slightly parted. He brushes a strand of wet hair away from your face, tracing the line of your jaw with his thumb. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"What were you going to say?"

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Something about wanting you. About how I can't believe I'm finally here with you." His fingers drift lower, tracing the curve of your neck before one hooks playfully under the delicate string of your bikini top. "I was going to ask if I could touch you."

You nod, feeling the anticipation building inside you. "Yes," you breathe, arching into his touch. "Please."

His smile is slow, almost wicked. He lets go of the string and instead cups your breast, thumb tracing the hardening peak of your nipple through the thin fabric of your top. Your back arches further, and a soft moan escapes your lips as his fingers find purchase and squeeze. He pulls back slightly, watching as you close your eyes, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "Is this okay?" he whispers, tracing a circle around your nipple with his finger.

"Yes," you manage to choke out.

Steve hums in understanding, his touch growing more confident as he cups your breast in his hand, squeezing gently before circling your nipple with his thumb. The sensation is almost too much, making your hips twitch against his as you arch further into the touch. 

He wonders for a moment if he should take it further, if he should untie the knot and push the bikini top down, revealing your breasts to his touch...would you be okay with that? Or should he keep going, teasing you until you beg? His eyes flicker down to your lips, watching as they part slightly with each shallow breath, how your tongue darts out to wet them. 

You're so beautiful, he thinks, almost dizzy from the sight of you.

He can feel the warmth between his legs, the insistent pressure as his cock strains against the fabric of his trunks. You'll be the death of him, he's certain. He's already so fucking hard and you're not even naked yet.

He leans in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Can I?" 

He kisses your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. And then his fingers slide lower, tracing the line of your stomach, pausing at your navel… 

"Can I touch you here?"

The feel of his fingers tracing the line of your stomach, so close to where you ache for him to touch, is almost too much to bear. You chuckle as you arch your back, offering him more of your skin, more of yourself, then grabbing his wrist when he doesn't seem convinced, guiding his hand lower. 

"Please," grinning, you run your fingers through his hair with your free hand, feeling the dampness there as it clings to the strands, "stop asking."

He smiles against your skin, his fingers finding the soft, warm skin of your inner thigh, tracing up and down, so close to where you're aching for him. "You're sure?" he whispers, his voice low and teasing. "You're sure you want this?"

"Steve Harrington, you-"

But you can't even finish the sentence before he's kissing you, his mouth warm and wet and demanding as his fingers finally slip between your legs, sliding beneath the thin scrap of fabric and you gasp into his mouth, arching into his touch, forgetting whatever insult you were going to say.

You feel the rough pad of his index finger against your clit, and then he's pressing, circling, teasing.

"Fuck."

"You're so wet," he breathes, watching your face. "So fucking wet for me, honey, God," His fingers move faster, his touch more demanding as he presses deeper, finding your entrance and circling, circling, wanting to push inside. 

You grip the back of his head, your other hand clutching at the duvet beneath you, your hips arching off the bed as his fingers move in a blissful, insistent rhythm. It's been so long since anyone has touched you like this, since you've felt this kind of need and desire, but this…this is even better than you could have imagined. This is Steve, your Steve.

"I want you inside me," you pant before you can think twice about it, your words breathless and urgent. "Please."

Steve hums, his fingers still working their magic as he leans forward, kissing your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. "I want that too," he whispers, and then he's pushing the bikini bottoms aside, throwing them across the room, revealing your wet, aching folds to his gaze, moving to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, over your hip, and finally to the juncture of your thighs. 

Shit. He parts your legs with his shoulders, bending his knees to kneel between them. "Let me make you come first."

With...his mouth?

You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at his face, more than a little self-conscious now. "Wait, but you...you're gonna...?"

He wraps his arms around your hips, holding you still as he leans in, his breath warm against your exposed skin. Curiously, he asks, "You don't want me to?"

You shake your head; no, of course you do. But the idea of him going down on you...it's so intimate. So much more than just having sex. "I just..."

He looks up at you, and there's something in his eyes that makes you forget whatever you were about to say. Something that makes you feel safe and wanted and desired. "You just...?" he whispers, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your inner thigh.

It's hard to concentrate when he does that. You squirm a little, but his hold on you is surprisingly firm.

"I just..." You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. "I just haven't had anyone do that for me in a really long time." It's true; the last time you can remember was with a boyfriend years ago, and even then it was more of a "be polite" thing than anything else. But with Steve...it feels different. "Do you *really* want to? Because you don't have to if-"

You feel him smile against your skin as he continues to gently kiss his way up your thigh. "I want to," he whispers, and the way he says it, the sincerity in his voice, makes you believe him. "I really want to. But, um…only if you want it too."

You open your eyes, watching as he looks up at you, waiting for your answer. He looks so hopeful, so eager. If he wants this, if he wants to make you feel this good...how can you say no?

With a shaky breath, you nod, your fingers threading through his hair. "Okay," you whisper. "Okay."

Steve hums in satisfaction. You feel a shiver run down your spine as he slowly pulls your legs wider apart, resting his elbows on the bed as he leans in closer, his hot breath fanning across your folds. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he gazes up at you, watching your reaction, almost daring you to tell him to stop. 

You watch, mesmerized, as he tilts his head, licking his lips before he leans in, pressing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to the very center of you. 

Boy... does he know what he's doing.

Your eyes flutter shut as he begins to lick and suck, his tongue dancing over your most sensitive skin, his fingers curling into the flesh of your hips, urging you to arch into his touch. You gasp, feeling your whole body tense, your hands tangled in his hair, your nails almost digging into his scalp. He moans, his breath hot against you, and you realize he's watching your reactions, taking cues from your body. 

"Good?" he asks, as if you're not already on the verge of coming. 

But you can't answer, can't form a coherent thought, let alone a word. So you nod.  Frantically so, head thumping against the mattress. He smiles against your skin like he's won some sort of prize, and then you feel the slip of his fingers, two of them easily sliding inside you, tight but wet enough to be ready. You cry out, his name a desperate plea falling off your lips as he thrusts his fingers deeper, curling them up to find just the right spot. 

"Oh, God..." you moan, your hips bucking up against his hand. "Steve..." Your fingernails dig into the duvet, your back arching as he expertly works his fingers inside you.

Steve seems to sense that you're getting close, the way your hips are moving erratically against his hand, the way your breath is coming in short, ragged gasps. He looks up at you for a moment as if to gauge your reaction, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He keeps his fingers exactly where they are while he leans up over your body to kiss you, propping himself up on one elbow.

"You taste so good," his voice is a whisper against your lips as they part beneath his. "So wet. God, I want to feel you around me." 

"Yes, please."

Your enthusiasm makes Steve grin against your lips. "Please?" he muses. He's hard, of course he is hard in his swim trunks, cock straining against the fabric as it leans against your thigh. But he doesn't want to rush this. Not with you.

"Steve," you admonish, sliding your hands up his arms.

His fingers are still moving, but more slowly now, less urgent. It's almost as if he's teasing you, drawing this out. Your hips rock up against his hand, and you feel a surge of wetness between your legs as you arch your back, seeking more contact. His lips find yours again, tongue sliding against yours as he thrusts his fingers deeper, curling them to hit just the right spot. You moan into the kiss, your body trembling as the pleasure builds, your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Oh God," you say in a shaky voice. "Steve, please..."

He groans against your lips, curling his fingers deeper inside you, searching. "Please what?" he whispers as he kisses along your jaw, teasing, not mean, never mean, but drawing it out just a little bit more.

In lieu of an answer, you find yourself arching your back in a desperate manner. His fingers brush against something deep inside you, something that has you gasping and tightening around him, close too close. His fingers find the rhythm you've been craving, your orgasm building, building, building.

"That's it," he whispers against your neck, his own breath hot and uneven. "That's it, baby."

And you do. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before, a rush of pleasure so intense it makes your vision blur, your skin warm all over. 

Steve, watching your expression as you come apart beneath his touch, feels the warmth of your release coat his fingers, the tightness of your body around them. God. It's a heady sensation, knowing that he can make you feel this way.

His fingers are slick with your wetness as he pulls them free and gently pushes you back onto the bed. You're lying flat on your back again, and he's grinning as he looks down at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You're...very good at this," your voice is a breathy whisper as you glance up at him, a flush rising in your cheeks. You chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him down for a gentle kiss. Steve's skin is warm beneath your fingertips, his kiss featherlight soft against your lips. "Do you want-"

"Yes," he cuts you off with a husky laugh, leaning down to nip at your neck. "If you do," His hand finds the string of your bikini top, finger following along it all the way up to the bow. With a practiced flick, he undoes it but doesn't yet pull the fabric away, watching your eyes as he lets the knot slide free, half expecting you to tell him to stop. You don't, though. You watch him, your chest rising and falling with every breath, and something in his chest aches at the sight.

"You can take it off," you reassure, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "It's just me." 

You hope that comes across as playful and confident, but maybe you don't seem so convincing when you're still a little breathless, a little sensitive, so you decide to take matters into your own hands and reach up, fingers shaking only a little, to pull the cups of your bikini top down and away from your chest. 

Steve watches you, his expression somewhere between adoration and awe as you reveal yourself to him like a fucking gift unwrapped. 

"You're unreal," he breathes. "You're so..."

When he reaches out to touch, just the very tips of his fingers brushing against the sensitive flesh, you try to encourage him by arching into the contact.

"So fucking beautiful," he whispers, leaning down to kiss your collarbone. "I can't get enough of you." 

His hands slide down your sides, over the smooth skin of your hips, and then lower still, cupping your ass. He pulls you closer, pressing your body against his, slowly grinding against you. "Do you want..." he tries, an urgent edge creeping into his voice. "Do you want me inside you?"

Steve looks like he's about to explode at the mere suggestion, his expression a mixture of raw desire and aching need. You're about to reply when he nips at your neck, his teeth grazing the skin there. You momentarily lose your words.

"You're killing me," he half groans, half laughs, his hips moving harder against yours as he pushes himself as close to you as he possibly can. You can feel him through the thin fabric of his swim trunks, hard and insistent, and you're sure it wouldn't take much more of this teasing before he loses control completely. "Just say the word," he whispers, kissing along the line of your jaw, "and I'll give you anything you want."

"Can I...can I touch you?"

You feel Steve stiffen at your request at first, his body tensing beneath your fingers. "Of course you can," he breathes, a shudder working its way through him. "You can do whatever you want, baby."

You reach down, fingers shaky in your eagerness to please. You grasp the hem of his trunk and tug gently, almost hesitant, but he's already cooperating, kicking them off and letting them fall to the floor without so much as a second thought.

"Oh,"  you breathe, eyes widening as you take in the sight of him, naked and perfect in front of you. Steve's cock is already hard, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip, and you can't help but reach out and touch it, tentatively at first, but then more confidently, wrapping your fingers around the base of him and waiting to gauge his reaction.

"Oh, fuck," he moans, closing his eyes as you stroke him. "That feels...that's so good."

Your fingers feel warm and soft around him, and with each gentle stroke, he feels himself growing harder and harder, unable to contain the pleasure building inside of him. He opens his eyes to look down at you, watching your expression as you touch him, your focus solely on the way your fingers slide up and down his length.

Before you can get too carried away, though, Steve's hands are grabbing yours, guiding them away from his cock rather urgently. "If you want me inside you," he pants, a strained smile tugging at his lips, "you're going to have to stop that." His voice is a little shaky, a little rough, and you can tell he's struggling to keep himself in check.

You grin up at him. "I...do want that."

Steve's answering smile is a little more confident now, and he leans forward, brushing the pad of his index finger across your lips, tracing the shape of your bottom lip as he does so. "I think you've had enough teasing today," he whispers, hand moving to cup your neck, his thumb rubbing gently over your pulse point. "You really want this?"

"Yes," you breathe, unable to keep the word from slipping past your lips. "Yeah, I do."

Steve's thumb continues to trace circles around your pulse point as he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. His kiss starts gentle, a mere brush of his mouth against yours, "Yeah? Can I?" sliding his hand down your stomach, between your legs, he adds, "Fuck, yeah, you're...you're wet enough."

You gasp into his kiss as he brushes his fingers against you. "Yeah," you moan, arching your hips up into his touch, with a grin, "Yeah, I am, I...you're gonna make me beg or something, huh?"

"I'd never make you beg for anything, sweetheart."

His fingers move in a slow circle, spreading your wetness around your entrance, making sure you're as ready for him as you can be.

You reach up, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pull him closer as he begins to shift between your legs, his hand coming back up to gently guide himself towards your entrance, and then he looks down at you, searching your eyes for some sign, some reassurance, before he's pushing inside, slowly, gently, taking his time to ease his way into you. 

You gasp at the feeling of being stretched, filled, but at the same time it's perfect, it's...right.

He leans forward, bracing himself on his arms, and watches as you arch your back, your lips parted in a silent moan. "More?" he whispers, his voice a rough rasp. "Should I...?"

"More," you breathe, meeting his eyes.

And Steve gives it to you. He slides deeper, pushing in farther, stretching you just enough to make you feel so full of him. You're tight and he's impatient, but he makes sure he doesn't rush, doesn't force it. You feel the muscles in his back and arms tensing as he fights against the urge to go harder, how much he wants to lose control and just fuck you into the mattress.

He takes you like he's been dreaming of it for years, like he's never going to get the chance to feel you like this again. Slowly.

"Steve," his name rolls off your tongue like a sigh the moment he's all the way inside you, your muscles clenching around him in an attempt to hold him close. 

He tries to remember how to breathe, pressing his lips to your shoulder. He feels you squeeze around him and muffles a sound between a moan and a growl against your skin, "Can I move?"

"Yes, I...yes."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to adjust his angle, and then pushes back inside you. The sensation is almost too much, the way your body seems to fit so perfectly around him, the way your muscles clench and release, drawing him deeper still. Fuck. You're so wet that he can feel himself sliding easily in and out of you. The sounds of your skin slapping against his is a perfect counterpoint to the gasping, keening noises you're making into his shoulder.

He knows he won't last half as much as he'd like if you keep that up.

"God, that's it," he growls, the words lost in the movement of his hips against yours. "Tell me how it feels, sweetheart." One of his hands slides down between your bodies, cupping your aching clit, rubbing in a tight circle as he thrusts into you. The sensation is overwhelming, too much and not nearly enough all at once.

Your legs twist, one hooking behind his back for leverage, and you arch into his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders as you feel the tension building, the familiar tightness coiling in your core. "So good," you moan, thrusting your hips up to meet his, wanting more of that friction, more of his skin against yours. "Can you go...faster, please?"

He's lost to the sensation of your body moving against his, the feel of you slick and hot and tight. He's close, so close, but he doesn't want this to be over yet. He pulls back slightly, only to slam back in harder, the head of his cock hitting the spot inside you that makes you arch your back and gasp.

His hand moves faster on your clit, circling and pressing, and you're so close now, so close, you can feel it building, making you shiver and writhe underneath him. Steve leans down, lips finding the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping as he thrusts harder, deeper, faster.

"Yes," you moan, arching into his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Fuck, yes."

Steve lets his hand move from between your legs to the back of your knee, hooking it there, holding you open to him as his cock slides in and out of you with a harsh, wet sound. You feel so full of him, stretched and sore and aching in the best way possible. 

He's so close now, the tension in his body almost painful as he fights against the urge to come before you do. Steve watches your face as you writhe beneath him, lips parted and flushed, eyes glazed over in pleasure  like you can't quite focus. It's the most erotic thing he's ever seen. He doesn't want this to end. Being inside you like this, feeling the way you move against him...he doesn't think he'll ever get enough.

Your nails scrape down his back, leaving little red lines in their wake. Steve thinks he's going to lose it every time you do that.

"Fuck," he groans, the word caught in his throat as he thrusts harder into you. The sounds of your skin slapping against his makes it almost unbearable and he has to think of something else, anything else, to keep from coming. "Feels good, sweetheart?" he whispers, his hand moving between your legs again, this time finding your clit and rubbing in a steady, circular motion.

You arch into his touch, your hips moving in time with his thrusts. "So close," you moan, your voice shaking. "I...I..."

Steve feels the tension building inside you, knows that you're close. He watches your face, the way your eyes have almost rolled back in your head, the way your lips are parted and your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. 

He leans down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing as pushes inside to the hilt, holding you there, feeling your body trembling beneath him. You cry out then, your back arching off the bed, and Steve feels you tighten and pulse around him, gripping him like a fist as you come. 

The sensation is almost too much, but he somehow manages to ask, "Can I come inside you?"

You nod, your eyes closed tightly, and he thrusts once, twice…then one last time, feeling himself spill inside you as he moans, body tensing and then relaxing, spent. 

Steve collapses on top of you without pulling out, sweaty bodies sticking together. He somehow finds the energy to kiss your shoulder, your neck, your ear, nibbling and sucking until you laugh, shifting beneath him.

"You're heavy," you tease, but you don't really mind. It feels right to have him pressed against you like this, his heart thumping against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

He chuckles, nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck. "Sorry," he mumbles, before pulling himself up enough to look down at you. You're beautiful, even with your hair tangled and your lips swollen from his kisses. "Do you want to get cleaned up?" he asks, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

"I think I love you."

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and for a moment, you're not sure if you should take them back. But then Steve's eyes widen, his lips part in surprise, and you know it's too late. You've said it.

"Sorry, I shouldn't...I mean, I-"

Steve cups your face in his hands, his eyes wide and serious. "I love you too," he says, his voice a little unsteady. "I have for a long time." 

He leans in, pressing his lips to yours gently, then more firmly, as if he's making sure this is real, that you feel it too. 

But you feel it too.

God, you feel it too.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀

(eddie munson x secret admirer!reader)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • eddie edit © @fefemunson! • ao3

Summary: After four long years of pining, it’s high time you tell your crush you like him and quite possibly your last chance to, luckily there’s no better time for love confessions than Valentine’s Day. If only you hadn’t chosen to do so anonymously, because you’re pretty sure Eddie Munson is hoping his secret admirer is someone else.

Warnings: pining, angst, misunderstandings, very brief (blink and you miss it) descriptions of oncoming panic attack (doesn't happen), Heather Holloway being a sweetie, and a whole lot of fluff

authors note: no, you're not imagining things. i'm reposting a story i already have up. unfortunately, i seem to have an anti who has been flagging anything of mine that gains traction as content that it is not so it's hidden to those who don't have the settings on (most people) and goes to die away, never to be interacted with again. they're attempting to do the same to Magical Mysteria, as they had the original flagged and, therefore, hidden. because everyone seemed to really relate to reader and enjoyed reading this particular fic, i've decided to give that anti the finger, so here's a repost.

word count: 10k

You stood posted by a row of lockers, peaking around the corner of the hall to watch as the longtime object of your affections laughed at something one of his friends said.

“Are you stalking him again?”

You jumped, clutching your biology book to your chest as you swiveled around to face Heather, your best friend.

“Geez!” You hissed out, voice low as you checked to make sure you hadn’t attracted his attention.

But it’s you, so of course you hadn’t. Eddie was still leaning up against his locker and chatting away, face framed by the mane he called his hair. His curls were defined much more than usual—clearly he’d washed his hair before school which meant he must have been up early. Why did you know that????

“I’m not stalking him,” you grumbled and Heather giggled. “I’m just observing him.”

“Well, stop observing him and go talk to him.” She nudged your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“I’m gonna—,” You answered with false bravado that soon wavered, “. . . eventually. Look, I have a plan. Okay, today is a new day, Valentine’s Day and the perfect day for romance. No more watching from the sidelines─”

Heather coughed out a stalking, followed by another cough, all of which you ignored.

“No more quietly pining, I’m telling him how I feel.”

Heather raised her eyebrows, tongue clicking. 

“Let me get this straight, you’re not only going to actually exchange words with him, you’re actually going to tell Eddie Munson about your feelings?”

Your heart fluttered just at the mention of him.

Edward Wayne Munson. Eddie.

You’d had a crush on him since your freshman year of high school, and contrary to your best friend’s earlier statement, you had exchanged words with him already. Sorta. Basically.

Freshman year you’d ate shit in the hallway, tripping over literally nothing and all your belongings had scattered, he’d stopped walking to help you pick your things up before he was off again. It wasn’t much conversation, but he did say something about those invisible rocks people left lying around.

Then your sophomore year, he’d sat behind you with his club at the school’s mandatory pep rally. One of his friends had accidentally jostled you and Heather a little too roughly when he was finding his seat and Eddie had apologized on his behalf.

Then last year he’d held the cafeteria door open for you and your friends when you slipped in. That time, you’d been the one to thank him and he had said you’re welcome. Almost unprompted!

So, yeah. Maybe you were a little delusional, it didn’t matter though. What mattered was you were running out of time. 

Somehow, Eddie had managed to fail the past two years, allowing you to catch up to him but that meant you were now a senior as well. You’d let the other chances to approach him pass you by because you were too scared of rejection, this was your last chance.

The college acceptance letter you’d received at the start of the week also spurred your bravery, if he rejected you, you only had a few months left until you were on your way to California, there’d be all those states between the two of you. 

You had nothing to lose, so today was gonna be the day.

“Yes,” you took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as the determination sank deep into your bones. “I’m gonna tell him.”

“How are you gonna do that?” She cocked her head, the curls of her side ponytail bouncing.

“I’m glad you asked, my friend.” You grabbed her hand, dragging her down the hall to your partially opened locker. You pulled the door open fully to reveal a bouquet of roses, set on top of your books.

Her face wrinkled up in confusion, “You bought yourself flowers again?”

“No.” You glared at her, a hand scratching your head as you hissed out through gritted teeth, “And we promised not to bring that up anymore—these are for Eddie.”

Heather perked up at that, a hand resting over her chest as she fawned, “Dude, that is so cute! When are you gonna give them to him?”

“That’s the thing, I’m not actually going to give them to him directly. I need your help. You’ve got history with him, yeah?”

You already knew she did so it didn’t surprise you when she nodded. You slipped one rose from the bouquet and handed it to her. 

“Can you leave this on his desk?” 

“Sure! Wow, I can’t believe I get to be part of your love story,” she marveled, twirling the stem between her fingertips.

God, you hoped it’d be a love story and not a tragedy.

“And these are for you.” You pulled out a smaller bouquet of pink roses, and Heather just about burst into tears.

The two of you had been best friends since middle school, and often spent your free time watching corny teen movies, usually living through the main characters of the romance ones. You’d had a couple of almost-boyfriends, in the end you hadn’t been interested in them enough to accept when they’d try to make it official. And Heather simply hadn’t caught the eye of anyone, which was ridiculous to you considering how pretty and nice she was, so you were usually her valentine on Valentine’s Day. This was the first time you actually got her flowers instead of a bunch of chocolates to eat the night away, you’d figured she deserved them. 

She’d had a crush on Steve Harrington, but he hadn’t noticed her and ended up dating and getting dumped by Nancy Wheeler. Then he’d dated every other girl except her. You feared your non-existent relationship with Eddie might go the same way.

“Dude,” Heather yanked you in for a hug, squeezing you to the point you thought your ribs might be bruised.

“Uhm. Heather. Ow.”

“Oh, sorry.” She released you, holding you by your shoulders, “Okay, so I just give it to him?”

“No, no, no, no, no. There will be no interactions. Just leave it on his desk.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

You were about to reply when the first bell cut you off and threw you into a panic, nudging Heather in the direction of the classroom so she could beat Eddie there. Heather took off running once she realized the reason for your worry, only you both failed to remember Eddie was late to everything. 

You reluctantly made your way to your first period, plagued by thoughts of Eddie’s reaction to the first rose.

Would he like it? Oh, you hoped he liked it.

What if he thought it was some prank? What if he threw it away? Would he do the same to the rest?

Oh, well. There was no backing out now.

Your carefully thought out plan was put into action. You’d made sure to play sick the last 15 minutes of every class to get an excuse note to the nurse, only you didn’t go to the nurse. Instead, you ran around leaving a rose in Eddie’s various hang outs. One at the creepy old bench you knew he did business at. Two roses with the stems placed through the slits of his locker, three on his windshield wipers, one of the younger students in your art class was in Hellfire with him and after swearing him to secrecy, Will had promised to deliver three to Eddie personally, without revealing your identity.  

During lunch, you found yourself behind the stage of the cafeteria, in part of the drama department. It’s where Hellfire took place. 

You’d been there a handful of times, only when your curiosity for the metalhead got a little too overwhelming for you and you wanted to feel closer to him without having to face him. It was only ever set up on Fridays, the day Eddie got to school early enough to do so. 

You made your way over to sit in the chair closest to his throne, casting it a couple of nervous glances.

This would be where you left the last rose, so of course, everything about the set up, the throne had to look daunting to you now; a representation of how you were seeing Eddie as your confession grew nearer. If things didn’t go as planned, it’d be the last time you could come here.

The thought made your stomach hurt, a large void beginning to form there. 

The last rose was much too personal to leave just anywhere, where someone without a key to the room would find it. No one but the Hellfire club would occupy this area today. Attached to the rose with a ribbon was a note with a simple message that meant more to you than you cared to admit. You’d written it when you first came up with your plan at the start of the week and had been debating on whether or not to sign your name since then. 

The answer should’ve been obvious, right? This whole thing was to let Eddie know how you felt about him, and your romantic intentions were clear with the red roses. This note would finish implying the rest. And if you wanted Eddie to know it was you who admired him,  you just had to write your name.

Yeah, simple as that.

You clicked the pen in your grasp, placing it just over the paper. 

You wavered, licking your lips as you tried to convince yourself to just own your goddamn name. That’s all you had to do. Write on the paper.

Just write on the paper.

Your hand was beginning to shake, and with a heavy heart, you realized your name wouldn’t be going on this note.

You weren’t brave enough for that. You set your purple pen down, staring down at the words written in pink ink before you rolled the paper up, making sure the ribbon was secured (you’d used a hole puncher to slip the ribbon through) and left it on the seat of the throne before scurrying out of the room as fast as you could.

—

Eddie was at a loss, completely stupefied.

When he’d arrived at his history class, after having mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of boredom he’d face, he was surprised to find a single rose on his desk. By surprised, he meant incredibly suspicious. A glance around the room confirmed he wasn’t being watched, everyone was gossiping about Emmy Switcher’s upcoming party, so he’d settled into his seat and marveled at it.

Eddie wasn’t one to ever really get things on Valentine’s Day, not counting the mandatory valentine’s cards in elementary and middle school. The last time he’d gotten a card was his first senior year, and it had been a prank by a couple of girls on the softball team and their boyfriends. Embarrassed the shit out of him. The following Valentine’s Day he’d faked being sick to avoid falling victim again—god, he craved affection so much it made him pathetic enough to still hope for something gross and cheesy to happen to him. 

A rose was harmless though, right? Unless it was poisoned or something. Eddie lifted it to his nose, but all he could pick up was the seductive floral scent and when he didn’t immediately pass out from chloroform, he figured it was just a rose.

He glanced around again in vain, hoping someone would somehow stick out and when no one did, he held it in his grasp, rough fingertips stroking over the soft petals for the duration of the class.

He’d been stunned when he arrived at his locker to find two roses hanging out of it. A few people were staring at him as he carefully pulled them from their place, but they looked more curious rather than shy or mischievous. He had a feeling whoever was leaving the roses for him wasn’t around. 

He refused to leave them in his locker, the stems clutched in his hand as he went about his day and found more. Eddie was more than proud to display them, somewhat smug at the attention they were garnishing him.

Yeah, fuckers. Someone finally liked him. Eat shit.

He’d spent his English class convincing himself he’d never find out exactly who this someone was. He was pretty fucking stressed after that. He tried to come up with a roster of sorts, girls he thought might be interested in him enough to maybe leave him pretty flowers and woo him right out of his Reeboks.

He’d only been able to come up with four—impressive—but his first pick he was quick to scribble out. He hadn’t had a decent interaction with her and he figured it was creepy of him to put her at the top of the list all because of his wishful thinking. 

The second girl listed was possible, maybe. Chrissy Cunningham. He’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember since she was always nice to him. She’d dumped Jason a couple of months ago and he’d been dealing to her for a short amount of time, but she seemed pretty flirty to him. Although, flattery did work on him.

The third name made him nervous, and not in a good way. Tina Sawyer. They’d both got pretty drunk at her Halloween party and hooked up in her bathroom but she avoided him like the plague afterwards, obviously embarrassed about interacting with him, which was typical for the lot of Hawkins.

He’d been sure it was a drunken mistake but sometimes, he’d catch her staring at him, and she didn’t look all that disgusted with him.

The last name on the short list was that of Tammy Thompson. She had made her interest in Eddie pretty clear his junior year, always trying to sit behind him in classes so she could play with his hair. Unfortunately Tammy was very, for the lack of better words, aggressive with her affections. He’d made out with her once and it had been sloppy and messy in the most unattractive of ways. It was like tonguing a dog.. Then he remembered she’d actually been able to graduate, unlike him, so he was spared. 

By lunch, Eddie was ready to try to figure out who his secret admirer was. Out of the two remaining girls on his list, he was leaning more towards Chrissy, who he felt wouldn’t be ashamed to hold his hand in public. 

He and his lunchbox full of drugs—and some snacks—made their way to the Hellfire lunch table where he spent a significant amount of time studying the two girls.

“Uh, are you okay, Eddie?”

Eddie glanced up at the concerned face of Will Byers, who’d arrived much later than the rest of the guys and Stephanie, one of the two girls in Hellfire. The question drew the attention of the rest of the table and Eddie internally sighed.

“Yeah, I’m fine—what are those?” Eddie asked, eyes honed in on the roses resting on Will’s tray.

The younger teen handed them over, “A girl told me to give you these.”

Eddie felt his heart skip a beat, “You know who she is?”

Will nodded and before Eddie could demand a name, he rushed, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy!”

Eddie scowled, carefully setting aside his roses so they wouldn’t be involved in his annoyance. 

“Byers, I’m gonna level with you. I’ve been in this miserable prison for six long years. While I’ve had my fair share of hookups, I have not ever had a girl like me enough to leave me roses and do cute shit before. And I fear I never will again. That’s why I’m actually gonna need you to tell me who it is so I can have a girlfriend by the end of what is supposed to be the most god awful romantic day of the year. ‘Kay?”

Eddie’s eyebrows dart up, face set in an intimidating glower but Will remembers how scared you looked when you trusted him with this task. He also knows, very well, how it feels to love someone without them ever knowing because you fear what their response will be. He’d also seen Eddie eyeing both Chrissy and Tina.

Will knew what it was like to have that special person interested in someone else, too. So, he’d protect your secret.

“I swore.”

Eddie groaned, head dipping forward in a brief moment of defeat before he slammed his fist on the table, making the other occupants jump. 

“Whatever, I’ll find her myself.” Just as Eddie stands, an idea occurs to him. Will said he wouldn’t tell him who it was, but the youngest Byers hadn’t said he wouldn’t tell him who it wasn’t, “Is it Tina?”

Will shakes his head, nose wrinkling. Nothing against her, she just wasn’t the nicest to him or his friends. Not the meanest, still.

Eddie breathes out a sigh, mumbling an oh, thank god as he makes his way to the cafeteria doors. That only left one possibility, and he was due to meet up with her in just five minutes. He couldn’t fight the grin off his face.

── 

Your heart was racing a mile a minute, having witnessed everything transpire at the Hellfire table.

You’d selected your lunch table four years ago because of the perfect view of Eddie it provided you, but right then it was killing you. You’d ruined your manicure, picking aggressively at the polish as you watched Will and Eddie, breathing out a sigh of relief when it looked like Will hadn’t revealed your identity.

Eddie hadn’t seemed too happy about that.

Then he stormed out and you fought very hard with yourself to not follow after him because then Heather would be right and you’d be a stalker.

“Regret it yet?” Heather asked after she’d swallowed a bite of her sandwich. 

“No.” You sorta lied. Yeah, you kind of regretted it but at the same time, knowing Eddie wouldn’t have to let you down gently made you less anxious. Besides, it wasn’t like you could just climb up the stage and duck past the curtain leading to the hellfire room without one of it’s members spotting you from their table. They’d tell Eddie in a heartbeat, especially if they found out the last rose and that damn note was there.

“Sure,” Heather drawled, glancing over her shoulder as you picked at your food, appetite suddenly gone. 

Maybe you really should have written your name on that love note. 

“Well, I hope you mean it, because Dream Girl is on her way to meet Ice Cream.” Your head snapped up at the mention of Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie’s code names you’d given them so both you and Heather were free to talk without either of them suspecting anything. You referred to Chrissy as Dream Girl because you’d known all about Eddie’s crush on her (while Heather had been depressed about Steve and Nancy, you’d eaten your weight in ice cream over Eddie and Chrissy’s more than friendly interactions with each other, which had nothing to do with Eddie’s code name—he was ‘ice cream’ because you wanted to lick him all over).

Sure enough, you looked over Heather’s shoulder, following her gaze to see Chrissy bidding her friends goodbye before she walked right out of the doors Eddie had pushed past minutes ago and as you watched her exit through the double doors, something inside you withers and dies a bit.

You knew Eddie sold to her (gave her a discount because she was pretty and because of their flirting, hearing him say that made you want to drive a knife right through your chest), you and Heather had followed them out a couple of times which is how you were both aware of the flirtationship.

After the first time you’d spied on them, the two of you had gone back to your home where Heather held a mock funeral for you. Now, you wished it had been a real one because you were sure Eddie had not only loved your roses, he also assumed they were from Chrissy. They would send him right into her arms at that shitty ass bench. And when he’d get a hold of the love note, well, you’d be the reason behind why Eddie and Chrissy would be hand in hand come Monday, canoodling by their lockers and kissing like no one else was watching. All the things Eddie should have been doing with you.

You should have signed your name on the fucking note.

─

Eddie had paced a pathway, disturbing the mounds of fallen leaves surrounding the picnic table. 

His stuff, another rose he’d found waiting for him included, was on the table and he’d taken off his jacket, despite the chill of the February air. He was working himself up in his head, overheating in the process.

“Eddie?”

His head shot around, grinning as Chrissy—who apparently left him roses—approached him, face broken out in a smile.

“Hey, Chris.” Eddie’s heart was racing a mile a minute, palms sweaty as he rested them over his hips, then quickly realized he looked stupid so he crossed them instead.

She laughed at his nerves with absolutely no malice and they sat down at the bench, getting down to business. She’d been about to hand him a twenty dollar bill after he slid her the ziploc bag of nugs, but he held up his hand.

“On the house.”

“Eddie, it’s always on the house. I feel bad.”

“Then stop.” He emphasized the demand with bulging eyes, smirking when she giggled. She had to like him, right?

Eddie tried to be discreet about it, plucking one of the roses from his growing pile. He played with the stem, even sniffed the petals again in hopes she’d comment about it, maybe look a little excited about it or just give him any sort of reaction to indicate it had been her.

Chrissy was too busy moving things aside in her backpack to make room for the baggy. When she finally did look back up, she smiled, but gave no hint she was even familiar with them.

“Ooh, pretty flowers. Where’d you get those?”

Was she playing coy?

“Uh, someone’s been leaving them for me all around school.” Was it you?

Chrissy’s face lit up and Eddie thought it was finally the moment of truth.

“That’s so sweet! Do you know who it is? Or is it like a secret admirer sort of deal?”

Evidently, not the moment of truth. She had to be toying with him, trying to prolong the reveal. Because if it wasn’t her, he was out of ideas. And he really, really didn’t want to be out of ideas. Not when there was someone out there, maybe thinking about him.

“I actually have no idea who it is,” he sighed out, hoping, if it was her, she’d just put him out of his damn misery already.

Chrissy glanced down at the table and Eddie perked up. Nerves? Was she finally gonna come out with it?

“It wasn’t me, Eddie…but, I wish it had been.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say, mouth dropped open a little as his eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

Okay. Hadn’t been expecting that. He was expecting a yes it was me or a no it wasn’t me but not Chrissy confirming it hadn’t been her while also telling him she liked him. 

“So, you haven’t been leaving them for me?”

Chrissy shook her head and reached across the table to place her smaller hand over his, palm warm against his skin. Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, head falling forward to rest against the table.

“Eddie?” Chrissy asked, concern lacing her voice.

He let out a very long sigh, a little miffed at how messy this whole thing had gotten. Now, there was his, Chrissy’s and someone else’s feelings in the mix. Christ.

“‘M’sorry, Chrissy.” Eddie sat up straight, face grim as he slowly pulled his hand out from underneath hers. “You’re great, fantastic, actually. You’re really nice and really pretty, but… I’ve been going crazy all day, trying to figure out who’s behind these.”

He gestures to the roses at his side, the sight of them filling him with an intense wave of longing.

“It’s been like years since I’ve gotten anything with real meaning behind it for any occasion—” he wasn’t counting the hellfire club or Wayne, referring to romantic intentions—“let alone Valentine’s Day, and someone in this school seems to be thinking about me.” 

Eddie thought about what it must have taken to do something like this, it may have seemed like a trivial thought, something simple to others. He knew it wasn’t. He had no idea who it was, but he put himself in their position. They had to know enough about him to know his schedule, where he spent time, and then make the time to leave them in those spots just before he got there. 

He’d spent the time waiting for Chrissy considering the anonymity of it. On the chance it wasn’t her, there was someone else in the school who was too afraid to approach him directly. He’d thought it might be out of fear of being seen with him, seen doing anything remotely romantic with him. Then, why even bother? They had to be afraid of his reaction, it’s what he would be nervous about if the positions were flipped.

And god, he’d never felt more alive before, more seen and all it took was a couple of roses. He felt like those fawning girls in John Hughes movies. 

“Before today, I never would have approached you about this, you know? I know we flirt, but I never would have been brave enough to cross that line.” He admitted, looking into her shiny blue eyes. Aw, man. Eddie hated making girls cry but it was true, he would have been waiting for her to make a move, or for Tina to make a move. Any of his past hookups, really. He’d have been with any of them—having craved affection and everything that came with it so bad—if they had just been the ones to initiate things on a more permanent basis. 

He would have. Past tense. They could all form a conga line and confess their undying love for him but, unless they were the one who left him the roses—the one who made him brave enough to actually go around confronting people in an attempt to seek her out—he’d let them down. 

“She made me brave, makes me feel really wanted and I don't even know who she is. It’s not you, it’s just─”

“I’m not her.” Chrissy finished for him, wiping under one of her eyes. “It’s alright, Eddie. I mean, I’m obviously a little sad, but it’s not your fault or hers. I do hope you find her, though. She’d be lucky to have you.”

She gave Eddie a sad smile, making him feel even guiltier but it’d be pretty shitty of him to try to be with her when he’d be thinking of someone else.

“Thanks, Chrissy.” Eddie stood up and gathered his things. It was clear she was upset and would probably need some time to gather herself, he didn’t want to force her to leave first or linger around and make it awkward.

He left her with a small, parting smile, relieved that he hadn’t charged her. Would have felt like a douchebag to make her pay for weed and turn her down in the span of five minutes when she’d been nothing but pleasant to him.

Eddie shook it off, determination setting in once more. Sure, he was back to the drawing board, but if all else failed, he could corner young Byers again until he finally gave him a name.

He’d come up with a pretty good list of ways he could force Will to give up the name by the time school let out and he got to the Hellfire room.

It wasn’t until he set his little bouquet and the lunchbox down (he didn’t bother with backpacks, just shoved whatever he needed in his pants pockets or the box), walking around the throne in a circle like some fucking animal because he was so restless, that he saw the rose.

The flash of white had caught his eyes and he dove down to grab it, trying to be as careful with pulling the piece of paper away from the stem of the rose, only he realized whoever left it had hole punched the thing together so he ripped the ribbon with his teeth rather than rip the note.

The ribbon was stuffed into his back pocket as he eagerly sat himself down, rose clutched in one hand and the note in his other.

Eddie,

Please excuse my lack of eloquence in this note and also in our real life encounters.

Eddie felt a shiver of excitement wash over his skin, cheeks a bright shade of pink at the confirmation he’d indeed interacted with his secret admirer before. Fuck, she’d talked to him! It made her feel even more real. 

She was a real person, someone he could probably hold hands with and kiss. Unless, this was done in a purely platonic way which would be a little fucked up. Red roses to be friends? C’mon. He read on.

I hoped you liked the flowers. I was actually debating on getting you different ones, something a little more personalized to you, but I ended up going with roses because, well, they convey romance better.

Eddie leaned over the arm of the throne, sagging back as he allowed himself to completely collapse with relief. Just for a few seconds, then his eyes were glued to the pink penmanship.

I’m trying really hard not to sound creepy because I’m totally not creepy and I know what you're thinking, ‘that’s what a creep would say’ but I swear I’m not, I just. I admire you. A lot. I have for so, so long. I admire the way you keep going, even when things are absolute shit for you, I like how you watch out for the underclassmen that come in and don’t really have anywhere to go. I like the way you dress, how pretty your hair is (even when it’s frizzy which is so unfair), how passionate you get with your rants (even though sometimes you’re an asshole about it). 

And I like your laugh I LOVE your laugh. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had what feels like the worst fucking day of my life and I’m ready to breakdown and cry and scream, but I don’t. Because I can hear you laugh your ass off at something one of your friends said in the cafeteria, by your locker or even when you’re just walking past me. And I wish I was there, laughing alongside you or making you laugh. I don’t know how your laughter makes me feel better, it just does. I get all smiley and I feel warm inside and I want to give you a hug for it, for making me feel better without even trying. 

But I can’t. You kind of scare me. Not in the mean, scary way, I’m just not sure you’ll like me. Or that it’ll go anywhere, or even if it should. 

You’re so confident, Eddie. And you’re stupid attractive (you are, and I’m sure you’re aware but I’ll go ahead and tell you I’m also physically attracted to you) and it’s so overwhelming that I can’t contain it anymore and I don’t really want to. We only have a couple of months before we’re out of here (I have a feeling this is gonna be your year, you’ll be free of this sentence, too), and I don’t want to have any regrets. The only way I’d ever regret you is by not telling you how I feel. 

So, here I am, Eddie Munson. Never thought I’d ever be confessing like this, but for the first time in my life, I feel brave. And it’s all because of you. Thank you, Eddie. I’ll be running around— dodging teachers and detention write ups— like Rocky in his training montages to get these roses to you because you deserve your flowers and I’d be delighted to give them to you today, and every single Valentine’s Day after. Actually, I want to give you even more than that. If you’ll have me.

Love,

What the fuck?

Eddie hastily searched the bottom portion of the back side of the paper, where the note ended for a signature, a name, initials, something but that’s where it ended.

 There was no name.

“NO! FUCK! NO! No, no, no, no, NO! I’ll have you, take me, just tell me who you are!” Eddie groaned out, note dropped into his lap so he could clench the roots of his hair with both fists as he doubled over.

This had to be a nightmare. It was the only reasonable explanation for someone to say all those wonderfuckingful things, just for them to disappear. 

His heart hurt and he blinked frantically to ward off the onslaught of water and sniffed to deter the tingle in his nose. 

The unmistakable sound of his own little rat pack making their way towards the room wasn’t enough to get him to pull himself together.

“Eddie, dude, are you okay?”

Eddie recalled his final option, head shooting to glance around at their faces in search of one in particular. 

“Byers. Where’s Byers?”

“His mom picked him up after lunch, wasn’t feeling good,” Mike informed him, completely unaware his grand Valentine’s gesture for Jane had been the cause of his sudden illness. 

It was the final straw for Eddie, he snatched the lunchbox and flowers and grumbled out, “Sessions canceled.”

He must have looked pissed as none of them protested, probably having something to do with most of them having dates afterwards. 

He almost made it out of the room when Gareth called him back, holding up a purple pen he’d found on the table and figured Eddie was about to forget.

“Is this yours?”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“No.” Then he walked out.

Before promptly storming back in, swiping the pen out of Gareth’s meaty hands. Eddie clicked the pen and scribbled furiously over the side of his fist until the ink finally ran. It wasn’t purple. The ink filler was pink.

His secret admirer’s pen.

“What a cruel parting gift,” he sighed, shoving the pen in his pocket before making his exit. Again.

The really sad thing was Eddie couldn’t even sink into depression in the peace of his room. Emmy Switcher had approached Rick about wanting some herbal refreshments at her party and since he was still under house arrest (how Rick managed to deal and supply in his circumstances baffled him) the job fell upon Eddie. He’d driven to Rick’s restocked, then hit the party. 

It was a horn fest, couples everywhere he looked. All heart-eyed and attached at the tongue. It was disgusting.

Eddie was pouting, quietly fuming that it wasn’t him and his secret admirer making out or cuddling or doing something equally romantic but noooooo. Just had to take the ‘secret’ aspect to its extreme. 

He banished himself to a dark corner, only interacting with people when approached for drugs or weed. He’d caught sight of Chrissy and it had looked like she wanted to come over but he’d purposely shifted his gaze. Despite the gaping hole left where his heart was, it wasn’t Chrissy or Tina, or the girl in the upstairs restroom, who’d thrown herself at him when he’d been searching for a free bathroom to piss in, that he wanted. Eddie wasn’t in the mood to rebound.

Which was kind of crazy considering he hadn’t even been in a relationship, hadn’t been dumped. He wanted everything in that note, especially the promise of more and only with its author. 

Now, Eddie hadn’t been in love before. Some serious lust and want, yeah, however, reading that note made him feel like he was falling a little bit in love and he wanted, very badly, to dive headfirst the rest of the way. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

Once he’d sold out the rest of Rick’s inventory, he stole a beer and headed for the front door. 

Once outside, Eddie took a minute to breathe. He hadn’t realized how stuffy it had been in there until he was no longer engulfed by the claustrophobic displays of affection. 

He trudged down the pathway and paused when he saw the figure of a girl sitting on the lawn. Her head was directed down towards the ground and she was most definitely not wearing the right clothes for the outside weather.

Eddie cursed under his breath, plans to immediately drive home and get crossed put on hold as he walked over, noting the dew already coating the grass.

“Hey, you okay?”

─

Drinking your sorrows away probably wasn’t the best idea, considering how much of a lightweight you were. 

Originally, you’d wanted to lock yourself away in your room for the night—and probably the rest of the weekend as well as maybe the next school week; nothing wrong with playing sick to avoid facing reality and your problems─to cry and pass out. Heather, on the other hand, had plans for you. She’d dolled you up, having to force you to wash your face and re-do your makeup once when you had started crying—put you in a cute outfit and dragged you to Emmy Switcher’s party. 

You knew her intentions were pure—as pure as underage drinking could be—but she knew her mistake when the party started to couple up. You’d been approached multiple times and she’d try to encourage you to go for the decent acting ones, you just hadn’t wanted to. When Chrissy Cunningham showed up, you’d gone for shots of the hard liquor (over the sink of course in case you gagged it up, which you did a decent amount of), sure that Eddie would soon follow and you’d be forced to witness their affection.

Obviously, you ended up shitfaced and somehow lost track of Heather. Or maybe she lost track of you. You’d very briefly attempted to find her, accidentally spotted Chrissy, now making eyes at Eddie who’d shown up, and you’d promptly headed outside, eager for some fresh air and an escape from the madhouse. The high alcohol level in your blood kept you from feeling how chilly it really was and you settled into the grass, twirling strands of it around your fingers.

You weren’t sure how long you were out there when someone approached you.

“Hey, you okay?”

You looked up, ready to ask them to just leave you when you locked eyes with Eddie Munson. Most of the liquid courage coursing through your veins evaporated, you couldn’t look at him for long, gaze moving back to the grass. What a way to start sobering up.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cause,” Eddie sat down next to you, one leg crossed and his other, knee up with his arm resting over it. His unopened beer was at his side, “You’re outside, alone, in the cold and you look pretty fucking sad.”

You scoffed, fingers still playing with the strands of grass as you tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make you seem pathetic. In that time, Eddie took you in.

He knew you, he’d seen you around school and you were nice enough to greet him. Pleasantries in passing. Pretty Hallway Girl, as you’d been dubbed—though never referred to as—until he knew your name. It had been the first one he had jotted down on his list for his secret admirer’s identity, of course he realized with your lack of interactions, it wasn’t likely. He entertained the idea of dating you often, you’d just never shown any real interest in him. Eddie thought about it a lot. Anytime he caught sight of you, really. Your pretty face didn’t make it easy for him to stop. He was a really, really big sucker for your eyes and that smile you’d give him during those brief interactions; like the two of you had some sort of secret between each other. Warmed him up inside.

And here you were, all sad at a party. He didn’t really mind not getting crossed if it meant he got to comfort you, keep you company.

“I’m just drunk,” you finally blurted out, unable to come up with anything else, “And bummed.” 

Try devastated.

“You look it,” he joked, nudging his shoulder against yours.

“You don’t look that much better.” You shot back.

“That’s fair,” he sighed, breath visible in the night air as he tilted his head back. “I’m pretty bummed, myself.”

You really didn’t want to ask, figuring he’d already had some sort of lover’s quarrel with Chrissy and you didn’t want to get in the middle of it. 

But you were an idiot, so you asked, “Why are you bummed?”

You watched him dig around the pockets of his leather jacket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out of the pack, clenching it in between his teeth as he shoved the pack back into the pocket before he shrugged off the jacket entirely—denim vest included—putting it around your shoulders.

It caught you off guard but you were grateful, your body having decided to become once more susceptible to the chill of the air and dewy grass. Eddie must have been a freaking space heater because the lining inside was blissfully warm.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, shimmying around in it until you could slip your arms into the long sleeves of it, your fingers barely poking past the hem.

“You’re welcome,” he shrugged, flicking the lighter to life as he lit the cigarette. After he’d taken a drag, he answered you. 

“Love,” Eddie blew out along with a wispy plume of smoke, “Didn’t expect it to be so complicated.”

You wanted to mime the action of staking yourself in the heart. Of course he was in love with her. She was wonderful! And on top of that, he thought she’d been the one leaving him roses! Had he read the note? Assumed it was her, too? DUH! You were definitely playing sick next week.

“Yeah, well. Join the club,” you grumbled, hugging his jacket around you. It was as close as you were ever gonna get to actually hugging him. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, hoping to school his disappointment. While he wasn’t looking for anyone else tonight, it was still displeasing to hear you were taken but of course you were. He couldn’t imagine you dating sporadically, you seemed much too wonderful for someone to even consider giving you up. No, he was gonna hurt himself with ideas involving you and a high school sweetheart stemming back to your freshman days, probably.

“Ah, I see. Is he here?”

You froze for a moment, “Uhm, yeah. He is.”

“Then why come? Or did it happen in there?” He jabbed a thumb behind him, gesturing to the party inside.

“No, it didn’t happen tonight, it was earlier. In the day. I didn’t really want to come but my best friend dragged me out here. I thought I was doing good, apparently not ‘cause here I am. I’m mostly bummed because of myself, though. I didn’t follow through on something I sort of promised myself and I messed everything up. For me. Not for him. I think he’s pretty happy, so I don’t want to ruin that. He deserves to be happy.”

Eddie could tell you meant it, you were vague as hell but whatever you’d done, however it ended, you genuinely seemed to want your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) to be happy. He hoped it wasn’t something you had to cave into for one of those meatheads. You deserved better than those jerks.

“That’s pretty selfless of you if you ask me,” Eddie raised the cigarette to his lips, admiring you.

“Eh, I guess. I fully plan on punishing myself for it, though. Really make sure to rub the salt in there, you know?” You finally turned to grin at him, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Eddie thought about how he couldn’t just stop going to school so he could avoid having to look at all the faces in the crowds and wonder if his admirer is one of them.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m right there with you.”

Sweetheart. He really was trying to kill you.

“Eddie, get your ass in there and make up with her.” You lightly slapped his arm and jabbed your finger in the direction of the house. You were not about to let your sacrifice be in vain and he’d better stop unknowingly torturing you like this.

“I can’t!” He laughed, amused with your sudden bossy attitude.

“Why not?” You whined, eager to just get him away from you. It wasn’t fair, he wasn’t being fair.

“Because I have no idea who she is.”

Once again you froze, eyes widening. Luckily for you, Eddie didn’t look too much into your reaction. He figured most people would be surprised over him nursing a heartbreak from someone he didn’t quite actually know, or was aware that he knew.

“What?” You asked, trying to seem as uninterested as possible as you played with the ends of his jacket sleeves.

“Fuck it. Someone left me roses all around the school and this really amazing love note.” For a moment, Eddie entertained the idea of trying to convey exactly what it meant to him, then he thought better of it. He’d either seem crazy, desperate or like some pathetic guy in love (which, he kind of was on the cusp of), “Pretty sure it was a girl.”

Not a single dude in the high school was romantic enough to pull it off, maybe leave him an entire bouquet, but not expand upon it like she had.

Eddie licked his lips, raising the cigarette to them once more and ready to admit that he had no fucking clue who she was, but he figured he might as well make one last rally.

“Wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

“Not me,” you lied flawlessly, with a gentle shake of your head. “Sorry, Eddie.”

Sorry I’m a big liar because HOLY FUCKING SHIT, wasn’t expecting that. 

“I figured. Still had to try, your boyfriend probably would have kicked my ass, though.” Yeah, Eddie hated Valentine’s Day.

He stubbed the cigarette out into the wet grass, and laid the rest of the way down, hands covering his eyes as the back of his head met the ground.

You frowned down at him. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Hello. 

Eddie peaked at you through his fingers, “No?”

You shook your head and as Eddie moved to push himself back up, he yelped.

He shifted onto his side, digging around his pocket for whatever it was that stabbed him.

“Ouch,” He hissed, yanking the purple pen out. “Damn, that hurt like a bitch.” 

Your eyes squinted at it in suspicion.

“Is that my pen?”

“Huh?”

“My favorite—and pricey—pen. I lost it at school today.” In fact, you were sure you had and you were sure that was your pen. You’d broken off the clip of it by accident and you recognized the large crack in the body of it, having once given into an intrusive thought regarding whether or not you had the strength to break it while you were bored in class. You did have the strength and luckily for you, it still worked. 

When Eddie made no move to give your pen back, you figured he didn’t believe you so you added, “The ink is pink, right?”

Eddie continued to stare at you, mouth slightly parted in awe, and you suddenly felt very nervous, glancing behind you to see if there was something that caught his attention but all you could see were the empty lawns.

“What?” 

He finally blinked, licking his lips again. 

“You’re a really good liar.”

“What?” You repeated, this time your question was laced more so with confusion than panic. He was right, but why was he saying that?

His lips slowly parted up at the corners until he was grinning at you so wide, his dimples were showing and you could feel your heart beating wildly against your rib cage, as if it was trying to break free to fly right over to him.

“This is your pen?”

“Yes!” Is that what his happiness was about? That he was holding your prized pen hostage?

“This is your pen?” You could tell he was having fun at your expense now, getting more giddy by the minute.

“Yes!” You laughed out, his joy contagious even if he was teasing you with your own belongings. “That is my pen. Give me my pen!”

He clicked it closed with his thumb, “I found it where we hold Hellfire sessions, same pen that was used to write my love note.”

And just like that, your heartbeat seemed to stop all together, smile dropping instantly as you wished a giant hole could form in the ground below you and swallow you up.

“That’s not my pen,” you denied, shrugging off his jacket as you quickly rose to your feet. “I gotta go, bye, Eddie.”

When you saw him starting to hastily rise, you bolted, literally running back into the house to try to find Heather and get the hell out of there.

You heard Eddie frantically calling your name but you didn’t stop, forcing your way through the bodies as you desperately searched for your best friend.

Luck was finally on your side because you were soon smashed into her back by a passing group.

“Whoa,” she laughed, turning to steady you, “There you are, I’ve been searching for you everywh—hey, what’s wrong?”

You were sure she must have noticed the panic on your face, eyes shiny with tears you refused to let fall in public. 

“I wanna go home, we have to leave.” You grabbed her hand, pulling her into a secluded corner as your head darted in the direction of the front door. You wanted to make a run for it but you feared running into Eddie on the way.

“What happened?” Heather asked, voice initially soft before hardening as her protective nature came out, “Did someone do something?” 

You shook your head, chest heaving with your breaths. You were so close to having a panic attack. 

“Eddie. He knows. He knows, Heather.” And because she was your best friend, she understood, mouth and eyes going wide.

“Holy crap. Wait—isn’t this what you wanted?” 

“No—yes—I don’t know! I can’t face him!” There was a reason you hadn’t written your name down on the note, regardless of how badly you wanted to. You were just scared.

“Why not?” She bent down, leaned in closer to hear you. This girl and her twenty questions.

“It doesn’t matter, he didn’t want it to be me, anyways. He would’ve asked earlier, and he only did it now because of that stupid pen!” You should have kept your mouth shut and just gone to buy another over the weekend, “Can we just please get out of here? We can try the side gate in the backyard.”

“Is Eddie looking for you?”

“Yes, that’s why we have to leave!” Whatever Eddie had to say, you didn’t want to hear it. Yeah, maybe he could want you but if he didn’t, was searching for you to let you down gently you’d be heartbroken. 

“He knows and you don’t think he wanted it to be you?”

“Yes!”

“Then why would he be looking for you?”

You refused to answer her, pushing her towards the back door instead. She went willingly for a few steps, then Heather stopped and you bumped into her back again as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder. 

“I think it's too late for that.” She pointed at something behind you and you followed her finger. 

Eddie was standing on top of the kitchen table a bunch of guys had carried into the living room to play beer pong on, eyes searching the room with his lips set in a frown.

He was attracting attention, a multitude of heads turning to peer up at him in curiosity.

Oh, god. He was looking for you, you were probably going to get rejected at a fucking Valentine’s Day party in some stranger’s living room.

Eddie must have caught the attention of someone near the sound system because the volume of the music was lowered and you could hear everyone muttering amongst themselves, asking what had happened to the music before they noticed Eddie.

He glanced around, not even a little nervous at the amount of people staring at him. He hadn’t planned on making a huge show of it, figured they were all too drunk to pay him any attention, luckily he was used to being a spectacle. 

Eddie used it to his advantage, calling out your full name.

The crowd muttered, everyone looking at each other in confusion or maybe trying to catch sight of you. 

It wasn’t long before someone recognized you, head turning in your direction, followed by many more—a domino effect—until just about everyone was staring at you, including Eddie.

He hopped off the table and made his way towards you, crowd parting to allow him. Heather slipped her hand into yours at your side, giving you a reassuring squeeze before she too stepped away, leaving you to finally face Eddie.

Eddie didn’t look at anyone else, gaze trained solely on you.

“Hi, again.”

You blinked, unable to keep yourself from glancing at the crowd around you, curious—nosey—to see what would happen next.

Guess you were going to have to finally face reality, no more running. You didn’t think you could break through the crowd, anyways.

“Hi,” you whispered but you knew Eddie had heard you, his lips pursed into a smile, eyes lighting up when you didn’t shut down.

“You ran away before I could tell you how I feel.” Eddie took another step, pretty much invading your personal space but he was desperate to be close to you and maybe body block you in case you tried to flee. He didn’t want you to run away again, to disappear like he feared you had when you hadn’t left your name on the note.

“It’s only fair, right? Since I know?”

You nodded again, the drum of your heartbeat loud in your ears. You were surprised you could hear Eddie over it.

Eddie stared down at you, lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t look upset or frustrated. It looked like he was thinking about something.

Little did you know he was reciting the note in his head to give him some courage, he’d memorized it.

He didn’t leave you waiting for long. 

“I admire you. A lot.” Your breath hitched as the words you’d jotted down were repeated to you, “So much that I want to stand on expensive looking, antique tables and crash parties for you. I like the way you get animated when you talk, the way you give into your intrusive thoughts at the most random of times—yeah, I saw you trying to see if your finger fit in the pencil sharpener in the library once—I like how kind you are, even when people don’t deserve it. 

“I like how you’ve never made me feel ostracized, never made anybody feel like that and I like how dramatic you are—storming off, making an exit, falling flat on your face in hallways then staying there like a dead body before you decide to reanimate again once you’re done being embarrassed. I like how you beat up your locker when it won’t open and then you give it a couple of pats to apologize once it finally does.”

Eddie chuckled at those particular memories, having been thoroughly amused when watching you and you feel your face get hot at being the cause of his cute laugh.

“And I really like your face, your pretty eyes, all of this,” Eddie gestured to you, to all of you from head to toe, “… you’re beautiful. Although, I gotta say, you drove me really fucking crazy today. Made me feel emotions I didn’t know I was capable of feeling and you scared the shit out of me when I thought I’d never get to know who the person I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with is.”

Okay, maybe you didn’t want the ground to swallow you whole.

“I know we only have a couple of months left of school and you’re probably going off to continue being amazing at some college in some big city a million miles away—‘cause that’s my luck—but I’m willing to work with that. I want to drive those million miles to give you flowers and hold your hand, kiss you, listen to you complain about your bad days, hear you brag about your good ones, kill all the bugs you’re afraid of—even though some of them freak me out, you make me feel brave, too—and just be all around disgustingly domestic with you. 

“And yes, that includes all the not so fun domestic stuff like fights—which we’ll get over, I’ll do just about anything, even cave first, if you give me those big, coy eyes of yours—and taxes. I want to do it all with you. If you’ll have me.” Eddie ended, eyes wide and just a little out of breath. 

There it was. He’d thrown it all out there, everything he wanted to offer (because he wanted to give you everything, even though it kind of terrified him).

And you—you were just staring at him, left to gape at him since you’d expected… well, you hadn’t really known what to expect since you usually ran from the consequences—be they good or bad—of your actions. 

He wanted to be with you. Holy crap, Eddie Munson wanted to be your boyfriend. Wanted to do boyfriend things like visit you at college and hold your hand. You’d thought, the whole time, it had just been you observing him. You never thought he’d be observing you, too. It all sounded too good to be true, you couldn’t really think, couldn’t really form words.

You didn’t have to, Eddie grew anxious, maybe even a little impatient despite having decided the moment you’d run away from him in the front yard that he’d chase after you for as long as it took him to get you to give him a chance.

He found himself blurting out his strongest desire, “Can I kiss you?”

This was it, you were faced with another opportunity, and this one was the actual last opportunity you had to tell him how you feel, without any anonymity. No more hiding, no more running.

“Yeah,” you breathed out and he was on you before you’d even finished saying that singular word, his surprisingly soft lips pressing desperately against yours as his hands moved to frame your face, one of his thumbs stroking along your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as you returned the kiss and just like that, what he intended to be a simple but firm kiss, turned into your lips moving against each other, a little wet and enough to have Eddie want to pop his leg up like in the fucking movies.

The only reason he kept himself from introducing his tongue to yours like he so badly wanted to was the sounds of encouragement around him; cheering and hollering. You broke away, having also heard your peers whooping and wolf whistling, to hide your face in his chest, bashfulness returning full force.

Eddie laughed and kissed the top of your head, unable to contain his grin and joy. He definitely wasn’t used to this, more accustomed to jeering, not cheering. A couple of people even clapped him on the shoulder.

“You know what, I think they’re rooting for us, sweetheart.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him, offering a small, pleased smile of your own.

“They’re not the only ones.”

Well, he had to give you some tongue for that one. The cheering and sounds of excitement got louder as he did.

—  You hadn’t walked into school hand in hand with Eddie when Monday came around—though you’d spent pretty much the entire weekend with him, driving around town, lounging around your room (he’d come in through your window) and making out—he hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting up in the parking lot and you weren’t offended in the slightest. While you wanted to see him, you appreciated the extra time to calm your excited nerves before you did. 

Heather ran up to you the second you made it to your locker, grin stretching from ear to ear. 

“I still can’t believe it. It didn’t even happen to me and I’m pinching myself because of how romantic it was!”

“Imagine how I feel,” You were all smiles as you turned the combination for your locker. But of course, since it was openly known as one of, if not, the shittiest of lockers in the school—having belonged to several wrestlers and football players before you, who’d evidently cared for it on the rough side—it didn't budge when you tugged at it.

You wouldn’t miss it when you graduated. 

With a sigh, you pulled the straps of your backpack off of your shoulders and handed it to Heather. Then, you yanked aggressively at the small locker handle. It was your routine though, so you knew it wouldn’t open then, either. It was only when you slammed your fist against it, after all the yanking, that it opened.

Roses immediately flooded out of it, piling onto the ground at your feet. You and Heather watched with open mouths, glancing at passersby, who also looked on in surprise, until your stuffed locker finally finished its floral avalanche.

“Like ‘em?”

You jumped up, and then internally scolded yourself for almost trampling a couple of your flowers. You carefully twisted around to face Eddie, who was leaning back against the row of lockers behind you, smug smirk on his handsome face.

“Yeah, what are all of these for?” You asked, still marveling at them as he pushed himself off the lockers to wrap his arms around your middle and press a kiss to the side of your head.

“I realized I never got to ask you to be my Valentine or give you flowers. So, I bought some Saturday morning,” They were on sale so he’d gone purposely overboard, “used my uncle’s collection of mugs as vases to keep them alive, then woke up at the asscrack of dawn this morning to get here before you did. I probably broke your locker even more, by the way. So, be my Valentine?”

“I’m pretty sure it was part of the terms and agreements of our relationship, but yes. I’ll be your Valentine.”

Eddie closed your locker for you, pressing his weight against it to make sure it was secure and no more roses would escape before he scooped up the ones that had fallen out, arranging them into a large bouquet which he handed to you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

You hummed happily against his lips, nose wrinkling in glee when you felt him smile.

Eddie let out a content sigh when you parted before glancing to his side at your gawking best friend.

“Hey, Heather.” Eddie wasn’t at all bothered by the audience. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks! They’re new. You done sucking face?”

“For now,” he promised, then turned his attention back to you. “I’ll see you later, beautiful. I’ve got a test to barely pass. Gotta make sure I walk that stage with you.”

Eddie pinched your cheek, pressed another kiss to your forehead and rushed off down the hall. You’d barely locked eyes with Heather when Eddie came running back, taking your face in his hands as he muttered something about one more and gave you a kiss that had you a little shaky on your feet.

‘One more’ actually turned out to mean a couple more pecks before he really forced himself away, blowing you a kiss just as he disappeared around the corner.

“He’s whipped,” Heather stated.

“Pretty sure I’m falling in love with him.”

“That’s appropriate.” You both nodded before you turned to face your closed locker, arms full of sweet smelling roses. 

“. . .  You still need to get your books, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Heather slid her arms through the straps of your backpack, over her front, so she could hold your flowers for you as you prepared to battle your locker again. It was totally worth it.

─

Eddie never ended up giving you your pen back, it’s the one he used to write love letters to you while you were away at college.  

[talktolwt]

I would like to focus on the music chosen for Hob Gadling's 80s sequence.

I'm extremely late to the world of The Sandman (finally binged it two weeks ago after my mother had been begging me to watch it with her and now I'm more obsessed than her) Bottom line: I'm unbelievably glad I finally watched this beautiful piece of television.

I have yet to read the comics but as for the first season, I have to say, without a doubt, my favorite episode is Chapter 6: The Sound of Her Wings. Death's 20-min segment is a beauty unto itself, but I'll be focusing on Hob's segment today. Specifically, his 80s scenes.

Considering I'm so late to this fandom and exploring all of its wondrous details and themes, excuse me if this has already been noted. I've been thinking about these details over and over but I need to get it out there in the Sandman world and hear everyone else's thoughts.

*Also excuse the terrible photos - Netflix doesn't let you screenshot and I was too lazy to get another app to let me bypass it. Please bear with my photos of my laptop screen.*

There are three songs that play throughout this sequence.

#1 - "She Drives Me Crazy" by Fine Young Cannibals

I accidentally deleted half my post mid-writing this but here I go again.

As we can see, after the breakup scene, we open up on Hob Gadling (he looks amazing in his 80s look, by the way) and this song plays.

Here are the lyrics:

I mean - where do I even start LMAO.

*Let me just give another note - regardless if you ship Dreamling romantically or not, I will be merely analyzing these lyrics as they are and how they convey Hob's feelings for Dream in general. But, I mean, the songs are THERE, the text is THERE. So do with that what you will.*

This will go for the following two songs as well, but these songs are placed with meaningful intention. Each of these offer a unique lens and dive into Hob's feelings.

I won't be annoying and over-explain anything, but the lyrics are clear I feel:

"She drives me crazy" - cough

"Things you do don't seem real" - in Hob's view, Dream literally is an enigma. Hob has no idea the capacities, the limits, and even the name of this being he meets every century.

"This waiting 'round's killing me" - well.

"Everything you say is lies" - now I wouldn't say particularly lies, but Dream does keep and omit things from Hob. Understandably, Hob would find himself in a confused limbo with Dream.

Here's the kicker:

"I won't make it on my own/No one likes to be alone." - HELLO. I mean, if this isn't the core message and pinnacle of Dream and Hob's lesson to immortality.

As Death mentions earlier in the episode, around 18:10, "Most of us will be glad for the company of a friend."

I feel I could go on forever and ever about the beauty of this episode and how well The Sound of Her Wings and Men of Good Fortune intertwine. They beautifully complement each other as stories lamenting the dichotomy of life and death, and the joys of humanity.

But essentially, Death reteaches Dream how beautiful humans can truly be, and in this pivotal moment, she says this zinger of a line. The camera was initially on Death but for THIS line, it cuts to Dream.

BECAUSE - poor Dream is definitely in need a friend.

Which is then shown to the audience by the 30-min long Hob Gadling sequence that ensues, and we see Dream's aversion to needing someone, to needing a friend.

But I digress - back to the song, and that one line about not wanting to be alone.

That is such a poignant line, because as much as Dream felt alone and needed company, so does Hob? An immortal, constantly seeing the death of others around him, his companions and family long gone, he needs someone.

Considering this 80s sequence ruminates so heavily on post-breakup feelings, Hob is missing Dream dearly. His constant in life.

I'm rambling too much, onto the next one!

#2 - "Shattered Dreams" by Johnny Hates Jazz

Time skip to perhaps a few hours later, who knows. We see Hob still waiting for Dream, alone in the pub.

Hm.

Literally what else could I say. I'm being slapped in the face with pining and angst and longing.

Here are the lyrics:

Some noteworthy lyrics:

"So much for your promises/They died the day you let me go" - this breakup man

"Caught up in a web of lies" - another lie motif

"I thought it was you/Who would stand by my side" - the theme of Dream and Hob being constants in each other's lives

"Shattered dreams" - I could scream. The title of the song. SHATTERED. DREAMS. giggling rn.

"Woke up to reality" - I think that's a very interesting line toeing between the constant references of the Waking and the Dreaming

Basically, I've been noting these evident similarities within the songs to align themselves to Dream and Hob's situation, and it's clear that the director/writers chose these songs with intent of it paralleling Dreamling.

So that makes it even more insane when lines like "From this empty heart" are meant to parallel Hob. Like.

Okay, last song.

#3 - "Keep On Moving" by Soul II Soul

This song plays as the night progresses. It's late, it's clear Dream isn't showing up, and Hob is feeling pretty final about that, and perhaps he's accepted it at this point. Dream isn't coming.

So this is where he speaks to the bartender and that scene ensues.

Here are the lyrics:

The themes of time and clocks are super prevalent within this song, and again it's once more clear how heavily this reflects and represents Hob.

Noteworthy lyrics:

"Why do people choose to live their lives this way?" - I think this also uniquely touches on the general aspect of humanity and one's reason to live/love life. Dream battles with his confusion/slight disappointment for humanity at the beginning, as he asks Death, "Why would any sensible creature crave an eternity of this?" And then Hob helps Dream realize why there's so much to live for. (24:30)

"I know the time will come today/The time will come one day"

"Walking alone in my own way" - Again this idea of walking alone and needing company.

"You'll be in my life, my life always" - Dream and Hob being constants again.

This all goes to say - Hob cares. He cares for Dream.

And I just think that's very beautiful. The magnitude with which Dream's absence means to him and how much their friendship/companionship both means to each of them. I just think their connection is a beautiful thing that I love seeing and rewatching. Wonderfully, these songs give the audience even more layered insight into this connection.

This was super long, and I apologize if I went on some tangents. But I also just couldn't help it, The Sandman is so incredibly rich in its storytelling and its connections and dynamics that I had to write this all down. I also just very much appreciate the amount of care and detail that goes into every aspect of television, and needle drops such as these three songs are no exception.

Thank you for sticking with me through this! Can't wait for season 2!

[wildlife4life]

WIP Wednesday

*Peeks head out from hidey hole* Hey ya'll...I'm back! It has been a hot minute since I've been truly active here. Getting through the holidays, getting ready for school, general stay at home mom stuff, and just literal lack of writers block/motivation kept from working on wips. But I have seen and very much appreciated every tag! Thank you for not forgetting about me!

Today I've been tagged by the wonderful and glamorous @giddyupbuck, @wikiangela, and @disasterbuckdiaz. Looking forward to all your upcoming works and loving all that has been posted already!

Alright, so I know several are wanting some NFL Buck and I promise I will be getting back to the fic once I am finished with my 4+1 Buck's kindness being a cockblocker. So here is some of that! Enjoy!

A tear-filled okay is Buck’s only answer and together with Eddie, they sit there for a long minute, listening to Maddie take several deep breaths, each one becoming smoother than the last. After the fourth deep breath, she answer’s Buck’s earlier worries, “No one is hurt. I’m sorry.” Her voice is a little rough and she hiccups, trying to hold back more sobs. “Okay that’s good. Means whatever has you breaking our ear drums is fixable.” Buck reassures. “Our ears?” Maddie repeats, “Oh god. Eddie?” Mortification leeched into her sadness. “I’m here. Gave Buck quite a scare, me too.” Eddie answers gently. A short second of silence, then the sound of skin smacking skin, “Oh my god, I forgot all about the kid free weeks of debauchery Buck and you had planned! Oh god! Are you two even dressed? Did I interrupt?” Buck’s cheeks flare bright red and Eddie’s brain comes to halt for a moment at the Maddie’s description of their time without Christopher. “I swear I did not call it that!” Buck hissed under his breath to Eddie. Maddie clearly heard him and gives an awkward cough, “Um no. Actually, those were Howie’s words. Apparently, Eddie, you didn’t hide the uh contents of your duffle that well.” “Dios.” Eddie groaned, his mind flashing to bag he had packed to stay with Buck for the next weeks. Of course, he didn’t bring just clothes and basic toiletries. While Buck had an impressive collection of toys and other pleasurable items of his own, Eddie was a bit possessive.  He wanted new, unused, and untouched by anyone but him and Buck. Mainly him. And Chimney somehow caught a glimpse of the debauchery Eddie was bringing with him. The elder Buckley sibling hummed, “Yea…” “Can I be struck by lightening again?” Buck mumbles, scraping a harsh hand down his heated face.

This fic is close to being done and I am super nervous because I am working on the final scene and its supposed to be very smutty with a very desperate Eddie. Never done that before and I'm hoping its up to standards. Anywho... Hope you all enjoyed! You can find previous snippets of this wip here.

Tagging (no pressure... bet you're surprised to me again! lol): @malewifediaz @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @thewolvesof1998 @jeeyuns @devirnis @lover-of-mine @911onabc @911-on-abc @bekkachaos @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @try-set-me-on-fire @fortheloveofbuddie @spotsandsocks @theotherbuckley @ladydorian05 @elvensorceress @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @jesuisici33 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @eowon @honestlydarkprincess @eddiescowboy @vampbuckley @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @arthursdent @glorious-spoon @buddierights @athenagranted @prosperdemeter2 @rainbow-nerdss @gayedmundodiaz

[playmiya]

chapter four: +1000 aura for [name] previous ⎯ masterlist ⎯ next

Rain begins pouring, finally, pitter-pattering down onto the windshields of vehicles that form a barrier around the rest of the world and the mall. The scent of soot hangs in the air, and you can finally feel the heat that seemed to surround you at all times die down.

"Fucking finally," sighs the Commissioner, wiping his bifocals with a cloth as he frowns. He's an old man, smile lines and wrinkles dotting his face, and he's been caught completely off-guard today evening.

You've been caught off-guard too, somehow wrangled into this mess and seriously questioning your life decisions. The entire point of being a vigilante was to stay anonymous, work in the shadows and not make a big deal out of whatever you were doing. You weren't blessed with superpowers that guaranteed a future in hero work. You were literally just a student. Now, hoodie and balaclava feel like a thin veil between your identity and the world as you hear the flashes of cameras over sirens.

A policeman had dragged you with him as you were about to make your exit from the scene, satisfied with the way you'd handled the many ruffians who'd emerged from the woodwork to take advantage of the chaos from the fire and ransacking local businesses. Unable to protest, you'd focused your attention on aiding near the mall, content with observing Spider-Man in action from a respectable distance.

This was too close, according to you. The commissioner had summoned both of you to hear your accounts of the fire, suspecting some foul play in the works, and this explains why you're inches away from the hero, who's in familiar, animated conversation with the senior official.

You use this time to observe him for research purposes. Upon closer inspection, he's a lot more built than the pictures do justice to describe him as. His arms are crossed over the vast expanse of his beefy chest, and you don't miss the way his biceps strain against the material of his suit as he continues talking, murmuring something about a past foe. Your eyes drop shamelessly lower, and you can't help but thank the rain for dampening the air, since his suit sticks to his torso, defining abs you're can call nothing short of washboard.

Shut up, you're not here to ogle him!, a voice in your head reminds, and you have to avert your eyes and pretend to be deeply interested in the way firefighters were raising their ladder to the third floor of the mall. You hear someone clear their throat, and snap back to the conversation at hand.

"Spider-Man just pointed out that this seems to be the work of the same criminal who set a warehouse alight last week in Minato, Vigilante," the Commissioner coughs, and you blanche at the name, a testament to how you've officially come on the radar of the administration. Jeez, couldn't you get something cool, like Supreme Leader of Counterviolence or something? Vigilante sounded so... mundane.

"Um, is that so? It could be, now that he mentioned it," you reply. You'd followed that incident live, but you don't want to let on anything about yourself that could possibly give a shred of your identity away; even something as routine as following crime in the city.

"I think it would be best if the two of you worked together on this. Spider-Man, as you know, already covers much of the city, but I'm sure an extra hand wouldn't hurt. We're already spread thin as is, and recovery efforts are going to take some time," he says, tone tired as he massages his temples. If it weren't for how overworked he sounded, you'd be surprised at his presumptuousness to enlist you in crime-fighting measures at the very first meeting.

"Vigilante, we've picked you up on our surveillance many times earlier. I know that working in the public eye is not your forte, but perhaps you can use it to your advantage to find out more about this perp," the Comissioner adds, reading your mind. You almost choke on air.

"That makes sense," you affirm quietly, still processing the implications of what he's said. "Good," the man smiles. "The quicker we solve this, the safer Shinjuku is. We'll be in touch," he says, dismissing you. Now that he's done talking, the flash of cameras become even more enunciated, and you're frozen, unsure of whether turning around will cause more of a scene or making a run for it will.

"First time with the paps?", Spider-Man asks, peering down at you. His stupid mask gives nothing away, but you're sure he notices the way your eyes widen under your balaclava as you nod. "I'm in no mood to deal with them today, either," he sighs. You look at the swarm of people eagerly poised with TV cameras and mics in their hand and squirm.

Pondering for a minute, Spider-Man offers you a gloved hand.

"Wanna get outta here?"

taglist: @diorzs @egoistars @southernfrogprincesd @dazqa @milesmoralesluvs @she-lovesmyheartshapedsunglasses @dailyakira @giocriedpower @punkhazardlaw @loverlunaire @milesmoralesluvs @thiisisntlovely @kuroppiii

[goldenempyrean]

hi can I request a fic where Nat works as a teacher and catchs a bad cold/flu which is going round. Nat tries to teach as usual but her constant sniffling and sneezing is too much, then R gets a call from the Nurses office asking for her to come and pick Nat up. maybe using the prompts “Do you actually think I’ve had time to go out and get a flu-shot?”  “It’s chaos here. I can’t just stop working because I have the sniffles.” and “Baby, I think this is more than just the sniffles.”

Nurse’s Office 

〚 Notes – This was such a cute request that I had to do it literally as soon as possible. My brain was just full of ideas for this. I’ve gotten so many reqs too, I'm genuinely almost at 40 so I may have to close my inbox soon just so I don’t get overwhelmed with them all! Slightly desperate to feedback on this too! I think it’s the longest fic I’ve done :) 〛 

〚 Summary - Nat loves her job as a teacher, she gives it her all but it seems she has a lesson to learn when it comes to taking care of herself. 〛 

〚 Wordcount - 4310 〛 

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙 

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇════════╝ 

Nat was sure she felt fine earlier that morning but as she sat hunched over her desk, she couldn’t help but squint as the overhead light shone down directly into her eyes. Looking over her lesson plan for the day, she sighed. First period was the youngest class of students that she taught and it was safe to say they were a handful. Glancing over to the main clock on the wall, Natasha realised she didn’t have long before her students were due to arrive. At least she didn’t have a lot to set out, she’d stayed late the previous night to photocopy some worksheets and papers.  

Walking round the room, Nat made sure every student had the correct worksheet on their desk, she was just placing the final paper down when she felt a sudden prickle in her sinuses. Twitching her nose only amplified the annoying itch and Nat knew she was going to- 

“Hi’kkshiew!” 

Natasha buried her face into her elbow as she sneezed, sniffling slightly afterwards. As she sniffled Nat felt the familiar feeling of congestion begin to settle in her sinuses and quickly came back to her desk to grab a tissue. The sound of a loud bell rung as Nat swiped a few from the box and she’d just finished blowing her nose when students began to fill the room. 

She took a moment to gaze around the classroom and was greeted by twenty-seven rowdy children. It wasn't the first time she'd felt anxious, when standing infront of class. Nat wouldn’t call herself an experienced teacher just yet, she’d been working at this school since graduating almost 4 years ago but even so, she still had her moments of doubt. 

She opened her mouth to say a cheery ‘good morning’ only the words got caught in her throat, leading her to cough to a little. She thought nothing of it though, simply clearing her throat a few times before continuing her greeting, trying hard to ignore the growing pain at the back of her throat. 

“...so today we’ll be looking at genetics. Does anyone know what DNA is?” She looked around among the raised hands before calling on a student, “yes?” 

The student gave a pretty good answer and Nat nodded in agreement. 

“Ah, well done, that’s correct. The only thing  I need to add is that DNA is made up – Hh- of a double hel-Hh'tshiew! Oh, excuse me!” Nat had to fight to stop herself from blushing red with embarrassment as she sneezed down against her wrist. 

Natasha rubs her eyes and her sinuses in unison, wiping at the wetness that trails from her nose. A sudden pain throbs deep within her throat, behind her sternum. And hacking, wheezing cough sent left her leaning against her desk as she tried to compose herself. 

The students chuckle to themselves as they shift in their seats. One boy turns to whisper something to his friend, and they both giggle at Natasha. The boy behind him—the one who had answered the question—looks her in the eye and laughs. Natasha's skin stings, but she refuses to let it bother her. "What?" she asks. "What is so funny?" 

  She sends them a glare, instantly silencing them before continuing on with her lesson, 

Only throughout the hour, that pain at the back of her throat only grows worse and she’s beginning to sniffle repetitively. The room feels heavier—hotter—and her vision is dimming slightly. 

But still Nat pushes through, and by the time the bell rings to dismiss the class, she’s exhausted. Her voice is failing fast and her throat is quickly being shredded with her increasing sneezes. In the small 5-minute window between lessons Nat had already gone through 8 tissues and that number only increased from there. 

Second period soon came. The school bell chimed again and soon enough, her second class of the day came flooding in, their loud chatter striking a painful throb through her temples. 

Natasha didn’t even bother to try and talk instead; she scrolled through her computer’s files to find a relevant video to play on the projector. The video barely got 5 minutes into in before Nat had to quickly scramble to grab a tissue before sneezing loudly. 

"Bless you!" a boy piped up in response, he's wearing a bright orange sweatshirt. His legs swinging back and forth under the desk. "Are you okay Mrs Romanoff? Do you have that bug that’s going round?”  

Natasha coughs into her elbow, the sound making several students visibly recoil, “I'm fine thank you.” She tries to muster up her best reassuring smile but it seems nobody is convinced. 

The students exchange uneasy glances amongst themselves as their teacher held her head in her hands. Nat grimaced, she could feel her skin breaking out into a sweat beneath her blouse and her vision is beginning to fade in and out as the room grows hotter and hotter. Even the noise from the ongoing video seems somewhat distorted as she tries desperately to not disturb anyone any further but the urge to sleep was almost overbearing and Nat could feel her eyes slowly drifting closed… 

“Mrs Romanoff?” A recognisable voice pulled Natasha from her slumber as she blinked groggily giving a little groan at the pressure which had settled behind her eyes. She tried to sniffle but was met with a snuffly noise of congestion, “Mrs Romanoff?” 

Nat blinked up, as she tried to shield her eyes from the lights overhead, had they somehow gotten even brighter? Looking up Nat saw the worried face of her colleague, Miss Leslie. Miss Leslie was older than Nat but they’d both been hired around the same time and the two of them had developed a fairly close relationship – it helped that they both shared an office space too - so it wasn’t unusual for either of them to quickly stop by in each other's classes but this time was different. 

The loud background chatter of Nat’s students was almost too much for her to handle, “Quiet!” Natasha tried to sound authoritative but her voice came out in a weary rasp, barely audible to anyone other than her close by colleague. 

“Natasha?” Miss Leslie spoke in a hushed voice, “One of your students just came into my class and said that I had to come back with him immediately. Natasha, I’m not surprised he did. You look awful honey. Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Nat mumbled, “Just a little tired. I just need to get through the rest of this lesson then I’ll drink some coffee or something.” She sniffled, feeling her nose begin to run again. 

Miss Leslie’s concerned eyes looked over Nat again then to her students, “Forget coffee, you sound like you need to be in bed. You caught whatever gross bug thats  been sweeping its way round this place?” 

“I’m fine, absolutely per-Hh- Hhet’tshoo! Hush’tshoo!” 

“No Natasha, you’re not. Seriously, go back to our office, I’m taking over for you.” Miss Leslie’s voice was firm in her words as she urged the redhead to stand, not missing the way she swayed in place, “Go sit down, I’ll be there soon.” 

Miss Leslie’s hand came to grip Natasha’s shoulder as she helped her up out of the seat, her careful eyes watching over the redhead as she wordlessly shuffled out of the room and towards her office. 

Nat wasn’t even sure how much time had passed when the door to her office swung open, letting in a cold breeze with it. She didn’t bother to look over, she didn’t bother to look anywhere, hell, even just opening her eyes hurt. Everything was a blur. 

There was a voice somewhere in the room though she couldn’t quite make out any words. Everything felt muffled. Nat barely even registered the fact that her colleague had come to squat down beside her until she felt the touch of a hand clasp her forehead lightly. 

“Oh honey, this isn’t good.” The concerned voice of Miss Leslie sighed, only then did Nat find the strength to look up at the worried face of her colleague, “You’re way too hot.” 

“Leslie? What are you doing?” Nat mumbled as she forced herself to sit upright, the room spinning as she did so, “What about the class?” 

“They're on break. Its 11pm, didn’t you hear the bell?”  

Nat shrugged, no, she definitely did not hear any bell. She was about to get up when she felt that familiar prickle in her sinuses forcing her to quickly swivel around in her chair to avoid sneezing all over her colleague. 

“Hh’iishoo! hHeh’ktshhiiew!” 

“Bless you.” The older woman replied as she squeezed the redhead’s shoulder, “You aren’t seriously thinking about going back to class still?” She asked in shock as the younger teacher went to pick up her files. 

“I have too, I have my upper-years next and we’re already behind schedule, theres so-“ Nat broke off from her teary rambles with a loud barking cough, it felt as if her chest was constricting with every breath. 

“Natasha you can’t go on like this, we’ve both seen how many bugs and germs are spreading round this place. Hell, we’re basically working in a petri-dish and I know we’re meant to push through when we’re not feeling too well for the sake of the kids but Nat, you really shouldn’t be here.”  The older woman sighed deeply as she lectured the younger teacher. 

“I- I just feel like everything’s going wrong today.” The redhead finally admitted as she wiped at her teary eyes, “I felt fine this morning and now-“ She sniffled thickly, unable to breathe properly through her stuffy nose. 

“I know, I know.” The older woman sympathised as the younger teacher went to grab some tissues from the box on her desk, “Maybe we should let the nurse take a look at you.” 

Nat sent her a look, “I don’t really think that’s necessary. It’ll just waste her time.”  She sighed wearily as she rubbed at her temples again. That congestion really wasn’t helping her headache at all. 

“Honey, I mean no offence by this at all but you’re a mess. I’ve never seen you like this and quite frankly it’s a little worrying, so please? Let me put my mind at rest, go and see the nurse Natasha.” 

Natasha took another tissue as another set of raspy coughs choked up through her throat. God I really am a mess. Nat admitted to herself. Her throat feels like a lump of coal and she swore she could almost feel the fluid in her sinuses sloshing about like stagnant sludge. Just to avoid her co-worker's concerned stare, she reached to the desk beside her and grabs a pen, feebly scribbling onto a sticky note. 

To Substitute,  

Textbooks are in the back cupboard. Get the upper-years to read page 18 and answer the questions using correct exam technique. Put an educational film on for the younger ones. Email me if needed. 

- Mrs Romanoff 

Miss Leslie gave Nat a nod as she read over the sticky note which had been pressed into her hand – though she did discreetly scribble out the final sentence when Nat’s back was turned, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly. Now come on, let me give you a hand getting to the nurse's office. I doubt you’ll make it on your own...” 

"Thanks..." Nat mutters as Leslie props her up, helping her hobble down the hallway. She grips onto the older lady's arm, feeling as though she'd collapse any second. Her lungs burn and her brain is hazy. She tries to focus, to listen to what Leslie's saying... but everything feels so far away. It's as though it's happening through the lenses of a camera. Every time she blinks, the hallway spins a little faster. Her legs are like lead weights, her arms limp noodles, and she doesn't stop shivering. All around her are the confused stares of students, not used to seeing their usually so resilient teacher being helped down the hallway but Nat doesn’t notice, she hears only a dull, thudding heartbeat as her skin tingles with fever. 

〘✧〙 

You day had been pretty boring. You’d finished all your work so you had just been sitting at your desk, scribbling away on Microsoft Paint on the computer infront of you, you were halfway through drawing a little picture of a flower when the screen of your phone lit up as it began to vibrate from across the table. Snatching your attention, you picked up the device and looked at the number displayed on the incoming call, unknown. Strange. You tried to think back to see if you could remember anyone that had been meaning to call you recently but you came up with nothing so with a shrug, you pressed on the little green button and accepted the call. 

“Hello? Is this Y/N speaking?” A friendly voice came through the phone, an older woman by the sound of it. 

“Hi, yes, it is. Can I help you?” You replied, trying to see if you could recognise the voice. 

  “This is the nurse speaking, from Natasha’s school. Natasha’s actually here with me right now, she’s not feeling very well at all. Is it possible for you to come and collect her?” 

“Nat’s sick?” Your mouth dropped open in surprise, she had seemed fine that morning, “okay, I’ll be there as soon as possible.” 

The call ended and you quickly gathered up your things before rushing over to your boss's office to explain the situation. He didn’t have an issue with you leaving, especially since you’d already gotten the day's work done, infact he even told you to take the rest of the day off – he knew you’d only be worried sick if you came back. You said a very grateful thankyou before jogging out of your office towards the company car park, quickly starting the ignition and driving off in the direction of Nat’s school. 

You made sure to park close to the entrance as you entered the school grounds. With a swift click of your keys, you locked your car and headed towards the entrance. The school Nat taught at was nice, that’s one of the reasons Nat loved teaching so much, the campus was great. Entering the reception, a young-looking brunette smiled at you over from the desk, her nametag reading ‘Miss Sharp’. 

“Hi, I got a call from the nurse to come pick up Mrs Romanoff.” You explained politely and a knowing look flashed across the receptionist's face. 

“Oh, you’re Natasha’s wife! It’s lovely to meet you finally, I’ve heard great things about you,” The receptionist smiled as you blushed slightly, “Why on earth she decided to come in today is a mystery to me, I'm not surprised that you’re here to take her home. Anyway, the nurse's office is just through the main doors, take a right and then keep going down the hall. It’s a white door, you can't miss it.”  

You flashed her a grateful smile, “Thank you so much.” 

“No problem!” 

The sound of the school bell rang as you approached the white door at the end of the corridor, getting closer you could see the distinct label of ‘Nurse’s Office’ displayed beside the door. You knocked on the door lightly and waited until you heard a faint voice call “Come in.” 

Opening the door, you were greeted by a kind, elderly face. Her nametag simply read, ‘Cindy’. 

“Mrs Romanoff’s wife? Y/N? Is that correct?” She asked. 

“Yes, that’s right.,” You replied with a nod, but the rough sound of pained coughing came from round the corner just beyond your sight, and you hoped to God that Nat wasn’t the one making it, ”You called me about Nat?”  

Cindy seemed to pick up on the worried tone slipping into your voice as you spoke, “I did. She’s been adamant on working, but I’ve kept her here for the last hour or so,” The next sound you recognised, you winced at the sound of Nat’s desperate sneezes which echoed through the office, “Poor dear... She’s been like that the whole time; I hate to think that she’s been teaching in that condition. She’s just through here.” 

As Cindy rounded the corner and motioned for you to follow, you felt your shoulders drop upon recognising Nat. Her back was resting against the wall as she sat on a bed.  The light pink blouse that she had left in earlier that morning was sitting at the end of the bed, only now the blouse was noticeably damp in certain areas and she was now dressed in a loose-fitting black t-shirt with the school's emblem embellished on the front.  

“Natasha!” You gasped, quickly scurrying to her side as you reached up to cup her feverish cheek,  "Baby, you're completely burning up." You whispered as you looked over her flushed face and wet neck.  The warmth of her skin spread to your fingers as you reached up to place your palm against her forehead, prompting you to bite your lip nervously. 

“She hasn’t let me take her temperature yet,” Cindy sighed, shaking her head in disapproval, “I was hoping you’d convince her otherwise.” 

“Nat...” You frowned as you crossed your arms, you voice taking on a serious tone. You took a firm grip on Natasha's cheek, so she’d look you in the eye and her head tilts to the side in a gesture of mild defiance. The tip of your thumb traces her cheekbone. "Nat, you're so warm, we need to know what your temp is so we can help you feel better. Please?” 

“Fine.” Natasha’s voice comes out in a throaty rasp, it’s the first time you’ve heard her speak and you definitely didn’t like how she sounded at all. If she had sounded anything like how she currently did earlier that morning, you would’ve practically forced bed rest upon her... Speaking of though, why hadn’t Nat seemed ill this morning? 

Cindy nodded appreciatively towards you as she went to retrieve the thermometer from her desk. It was the old type of one and she instructed Natasha to place it beneath her tongue as you asked the burning question, “How long have you felt sick for ‘Tasha, tell me the truth.” 

Nat thought for a moment, in all honestly, it had all her hit at once. She had felt a little sluggish this morning sure, but it was nothing compared to how she felt now. When Nat went to voice this, she interrupted by the frantic itching of her nose. Despite trying to hold back the tickle, she only had seconds to quickly snatch the device out from her mouth before sneezing down into her cupped hands. 

“Hah’hishoo! Hhih-tschiew! Hh-Hi'TshhIEW” 

“Goodness, bless you honey.”  

You expected Nat to put the thermometer back in her mouth, but she kept her hands cupped over her mouth; her eyes slightly wider than earlier as she looked towards you then down to the tissue box over on the table beside the bed. You knew instantly what she wanted, and she sent you a pitiful look as you handed her a tissue. You waited until she’d finished to pick up the nearby trashcan and you held it up so that she could throw her soggy tissue away. 

“So, how long has it been?” You repeated once Nat had settled back down. 

She shrugged a little, “I was a little tired this morning before I left, but it mainly hit after I got in, it all seemed to come at once.” 

You looked over to Cindy to see if this was even possible and she was giving an understanding nod, “That’s how the flu tends to come on I’m afraid. It usually hits pretty hard and fast. Can you finish taking your temperature for me though poppet?” The nurse kindly urged, picking up the thermometer and holding it to her mouth. Nat saw no point in arguing. It’d only end with you getting annoyed with her so reluctantly she opened and held the device beneath her tongue. 

"38.9," Cindy comments after a moment, turning the thermometer upside down to observe the final reading, "Oh, bless. You should’ve stayed home today dear." 

The way her head slumps forward in her exhaustion is heart breaking. She looks utterly miserable as she weakly excuses, “It’s chaos here. I can’t just stop working because I have the sniffles. There's already so many students off sick so I’m having to set all the catch-up work and then th-Hh-theres the overdue –Hih- inspectio-HH-Heh’iishioo! H-Heh..Heh’kshuu!” 

“Poor thing bless you, but I’m sorry baby, I think this is more than just the sniffles.” You pouted sympathetically as you sat down beside her, and in response Nat let her tired head come to rest against you, “you’re working yourself way too hard.” 

“Sniffles? Deary me, I’ve seen so many cases of flu this week Mrs Romanoff, and you’ve got one of the worst I’ve seen by far. Like I said, the flu usually comes on pretty fast, it fits your symptoms.” Cindy sighed as Nat began to cough roughly, her lungs making an awful chesty sound and you could practically hear how the congestion in her chest shifted, “I see your flu shot did nothing to help though.” 

“About that... I haven’t got one yet” Nat admitted with a wet sniffle as she brought her hand to her temple, trying to get some relief from the throbbing in her head. 

"Nat." You whispered, disappointment and pity seeping into your words as you nudged her gently with your elbow. She shifts as she sniffles against your shoulder, staring up at you with a hint of blearily defiance. You tilt her chin up, and she's looking back at you with a mix of exhaustion and guilt. "We've been over this. I told you to go and get one weeks ago. It’s important.” 

Both you and Cindy sighed as Nat sneezed again, “Do you actually think I’ve had time to go out and get a flu-shot? She only paused to accept the tissues that you’d reached forward and grabbed for her, “I’ve just been so busy lately, I guess I forgot about it.” 

"You didn't forget. You just prioritized other things." Cindy spoke up, her friendly tone being replaced by a stern motherly edge as she chided your wife.  

It seemed Nat hadn’t heard that tone being used by her before, you noticed that her lip trembled a little at the voice and how her eyes drifted towards the floor at the sharp reminder that she could have protected herself against the virus. She shifts and rests her arms at her front, folding them as she mutters a quiet, “I'm sorry." 

The way your heart squeezed at seeing her pout was indescribable, and the sight of her slightly-teary gave you no choice other than to wrap your arms around her shoulders and pull her in for a tight hug, your fingers combing through the softness of her hair as you whispered, "It's okay, moya lyubov, It's okay."  

“You should make sure she gets lots of rest and fluids, keep her hydrated.” Cindy instructed as she came to give your shoulder a much-needed comforting squeeze, you weren't exactly doing the greatest job of hiding your worry, “She’ll be okay dear, Mrs Romanoff just needs to learn when to give in and let herself rest instead of running herself ragged.” 

“It won't happened again...” The redhead mumbled apologetically as you helped her stand with a supporting hand before giving in to your urge to pick up your feverish wife, supporting her carefully in your strong arms. 

“I’ve got you baby,” You whispered, kissing her forehead when she leant it against your shoulder, hiding her face in the crook of your neck, “Thank you so much for calling me, I really appreciate you looking after her.” You gave a genuine smile to the elderly nurse as she went to hold the door open for you. 

“It’s not a problem at all. It’s my job to take care of people, be they students or stubborn teachers.” Cindy smiled as you said your final thankyous and goodbyes. 

You said another goodbye to the kind lady in the reception as she buzzed the door to let you out but not before letting her know that Nat wouldn’t be in work for the next week or so. It was a good job you’d decided to park close to the door, it meant you were quickly able to get Nat out of the windy weather and into the warmth of your car. Setting her door in the passenger seat, you reached across to buckle in her seat belt, placing another gentle kiss to her forehead, your touch bringing a sense of comfort to the fevered woman. Natasha had to turn her head away from you as she sneezed down into the collar of the fabric of the cotton t-shirt and you regretted not thinking to bring any tissues with you. 

“Bless you my love. You’ll be okay, I promise. We’ll get you home in no time, okay?” Your tone was soft as you closed the passenger door and came round to the driver's side. Sitting down in your seat, you made sure Nat was comfortable before starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. You both wanted to get home as soon as possible. 

“Thank you for coming to get me.” Nat mumbled tiredly as she let her head come to rest on the window, the coolness of the glass providing some comfort against the heat blazing through her. 

“Don’t worry about it my love, I’m sorry you’re so sick.” You replied as you speedily drove down the empty streets, “We’ll get you feeling better soon, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @mahalkitanova @romanoffskisser @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @shin-conan-kun @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @ceiestiaie @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 (tumblr is broken for some tags, sorry!) 

[syrupsyche]

Lots of brilliant Cosette notes on today's chapter alr 😍 so I'm just gonna throw in my two cents too!

Firstly, I love this quote:

God willed that Cosette’s love should encounter one of the loves which save.

especially after the Romeo and Juliet comparison from earlier. R+J is very romantic pair but ultimately theirs is a love that ultimately kills them, and so Hugo wants to set Marisette apart (and 'better' in a way) by assuring us that their love is something that will have a happy ending. And in a literal sense, Cosette's love DOES save Marius too! It is her love for him that pushes Valjean to get him from the barricades, thus labelling her as his saviour too.

Also, the contrast between Marisette's very 'pure' and sexless relationship does remind us sadly of Fantine and Tholomyès. It is lucky that Marius is such a sweet and innocent man because if he was anything like Tholomyès, Cosette would have quite literally shadowed her mother's fate. It makes me think about what would have happened if Cosette and Theodule had actually got together; I doubt their relation would have been anything as pure and chaste as Marisette.

And finally, I adore Cosette's lines:

“Monsieur, you are handsome, you are good-looking, you are witty, you are not at all stupid, you are much more learned than I am, but I bid you defiance with this word: I love you!”

—

“Don’t cough, sir; I will not have people cough on my domain without my permission. It’s very naughty to cough and to disturb me. I want you to be well, because, in the first place, if you were not well, I should be very unhappy. What should I do then?”

Her speeches have a healthy sense of sarcasm while still being full of love for Marius. She is also very clearly headstrong— "I will not have people cough on my domain without my permission"? What a slay. Obviously being sarcastic about 'owning' their space but in this private sphere of theirs, she is free to put her foot down and command him, even if its teasingly so. It reminds me of this line a few chapters back:

Ten years later, with the love of Marius in her heart, she would have answered: “A pedant, and insufferable to the sight! You are right!”

when Valjean points out how weird Marius is. All this tell us that Cosette clearly loves to make fun of her loved ones! She's so full of spunk and life and nothing like the usual image one might have had of a lonely, sheltered bourgeois girl.

Overall, a very cute romantic chapter. Hugo does have some Weird Comments when it comes to women again but this is still one of many Cosette’s shining moments where we as readers learn a little bit more about how assertive and bright of a character she is :)

[astrhae]

hi so i just read your hanahaki fic and it ruined me and like i am actually crying it was so so so good but also i read your deleted scene with jespers pov and that was amazing too!! and i saw that you said that you had another deleted scene and i would love to see that too (and any others that you have) if you wanted to share them?

(also i actually adore the entire vibe of your blog it's so pretty)

hi hello thank you so much *slides tissues over* i'm so glad you liked the fic so much and that you liked the deleted scenes too!! there are... quite a lot of them that i literally made an "appendix" section in my word document 😅 this fic truly was a monster to write because of how many scenes and jumps there were, and while that was a whole lot of fun, i also had to test and remove many, many scenes too keep it manageable. most of the deleted scenes are just dialogue without much prose to them though, because i had a Vibe but then realised the fic was going to be too long --- but here's a deleted scene that i polished up just for you 💙 it's in jesper's POV too because you all really are enabling me to write more of that 💕

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

“You kept it,” Jesper stared at Wylan.

Wylan’s gaze skittered away, hands clasped behind his back as they stood there, side by side, at the threshold of the mansion’s storeroom. He looked every bit a mercher, now: all the soft lines Jesper used to tease him about were gone, replaced by a gauntness from the sickness.

It had been a month – a month since the embassy, since Wylan had lied still on the bed, and the Shu Princess’ fiancée had come under the cover of the night. Do it, Jesper had told her to save Wylan’s life.

They’ve gone too far for me to save him, she had warned Jesper. This might not work – he might never feel again, never –

Do it, Jesper had repeated. Wylan had wanted this, had counted his own life worth more than his heart, and Jesper had to agree. Jesper had to be grateful that Grisha didn’t get sick: if Wylan came out of this not being able to love, then at least Wylan came out of this.

Then Jesper would still love him, anyway, whatever happened.

So she had done it, and Jesper had watched as a delirious, barely conscious Wylan had coughed and coughed – Wylan wouldn’t remember it, later, feverish and shivering, from both the sickness and the canal waters, and Jesper had promised, over and over again: I love you, I love you, I love you.

And Wylan, eyes clouded with fever, had tipped his head blindly toward Jesper’s voice, and apologized.

Now – now, a month since, Wylan was still recovering. He showed no signs that he remembered any of it. Jesper had been careful not to linger, unsure if Wylan wanted him, but he had stayed in one of the guest rooms that Marya had forced him into.

They ate meals together, Wylan staring at Jesper silently all the while before he disappeared again into his rooms, closing himself off as Kaz scrambled to keep the business afloat and Jesper tried to keep out of the way. With Nikolai and Zoya pleased that things had gone as smoothly as they could, Jesper wasn’t expected back in Ravka anytime soon, and he stayed in Ketterdam to pick up what pieces he could, trying to at last keep his promises.

Marya showed him the cracks in the house – the places where paint had started peeling, floorboards creaking, the carriage rattling, and Jesper placed his hand over them. He placed his hand, and called on his blessings: an act of prayer, an act of penance. He couldn’t heal the places where Wylan’s ribs had cracked from the roots that had wrapped around them, but he could at least fix the foundations. Could at least strengthen them.

He hadn’t known what to expect when Wylan had called for him earlier today.

He certainly hadn’t expected Wylan to lead him up to the attic, to show him a room full of everything he’d left behind. All the coins he’d turned into lopsided keys sitting in a jar by the far end of the room, the bullet fragments and shrapnel from his failed attempts at distracting himself. The mess of a canvas from when Jesper had tried to paint for Wylan, all those years ago, eighteen and too young to understand the weight of it. The weight of this.

His powers reached out to them all, now, the room a riot of metal and memory and color, all his hats and all the ledgers from his debts –

Wylan had kept it: all the good things, and the bad.

“I wanted to burn them,” Wylan spoke to him for the first time in weeks. “I wanted to burn it all.”

Jesper took a step inside, his feet leaving footsteps in the dust. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“I broke some of them,” Wylan admitted, staying at the threshold, gaze shifting toward the broken glasses to their right, the shredded fabric, the shattered frames. “But I – I didn’t have anything left.”

When Jesper had left – so quickly he’d terrified even himself – he hadn’t had to time to bring much. He had thought it was for the better: a new start, without all his things, all his memories trapping him. He turned around to face Wylan, now, their past in scattered pieces around them.

Jesper didn’t need any of this. He just needed –

“I would have come home,” Jesper promised again, confession turned into sin, into vice, because even now, he still loved Wylan like an addiction. Like benediction. “I would have come home, if you asked.”

“And you would have resented me for it,” Wylan’s smile was a knife. Jesper wasn’t sure if it was a knife meant to cut Jesper, or himself. Did it matter? Either way, they both hurt.

His powers itched, needing to reach out, crawling beneath his skin, clawing at it. Grisha didn’t get sick: their fevers just burnt through bone, through soul – their powers demanding more than they could give. Wylan couldn’t love again. Not after the sickness. That was fine: Jesper would love him enough for the both of them.

“I already did, a little,” Jesper admitted, because hadn’t Wylan wanted him honest? “I resented you, but I missed you more.”

Wylan studied the floor. Eyes fixed at the distance between them.

“You stayed,” Wylan whispered.

“Do you want me to?”

He had stayed in Ravka for himself, but for Wylan too. He would stay here for himself, and for Wylan too. He owed it to them both to see whatever was left between them through: Wylan wasn’t a debt to be repaid, or a broken thing for Jesper to fix. He was a chance that Jesper wouldn’t let himself lose. Not again.

A strangled noise escaped Wylan, so similar to the cough that Jesper flinched at it –

“I want you to stop hurting,” Wylan said, just as he had all those years ago, when push became shove became fall. And then – “I want to stop hurting.”

Jesper stumbled forward, stumbled closer, pulled into orbit – pulled out of it, until distance became touch and his hand reached for Wylan’s – and Wylan’s reached for his, trembling, trembling, trying.

“I want you to be happy,” Jesper took the words, and made them his own. Made them his wish. “I want to be happy, too.”

Because he was selfish, because he was certain. Because he was trying, too.

[meowzfordayz]

Hi T 🤗 I hope you're doing exceptionally well today. I'd like to participate in your Milestone 5.0 KNY drabble event pls. 🥺 👉🏽👈🏽 I think you already know which character I'm choosing 😏

Let's make it sfw, and can it be number 7 on your prompts list pls? Tysm and have a fantastic rest of your day. 😁😇✨️🫶🏽

MILESTONE 5.0

Hii !! ☺️ I'm doing alright — lazy Sunday after outdoor rock climbing for most of Saturday. 🧗🏻‍♀️☀️

... sooo your drabble turned into a one shot. 😅 I actually used my unfinished + unpublished draft of "wildflower" (from my OG MILESTONE 5.0 event) for its beginning, and it evolved from there. 🤪

ANYWHO- Ty for participating !! I hope your weekend was restful, and that your upcoming week goes smoothly. 💙

I said meet me downtown at the dive bar, you’re the only one that makes me feel alive. — Kill My Time

CW: mild sexual content

Giyuu stands, eyes darting—the entrance to your favorite bar a few long strides away—tying and untying his hair. Literally why? strands sticking damply to his neck Could you just, I don’t know, cooperate?! checking his watch 10:28pm Two more minutes to get this shit right retying his hair I guess sixth time’s the charm? as it finally settles gracefully down his back. Well. He hopes it’s graceful, willing himself to not look at his reflection as he passes the bar’s floor to ceiling windows, his pristine, white sneakers contrasting starkly with the grey muddle of pavement. I don’t have time to try again. 

Inhale.

Rolling up and down the sleeves of his aegean hoodie, cotton feeling tighter than usual.

Exhale.

Smoothing the pockets of his slim heather joggers, wishing he’d worn nicer pants.

He knows to pull, not push, the heavy wooden door—he’s made that mistake one too many times—pausing awkwardly at the hostess booth. A cursory glance at the sea of dimly lit tables tells him you haven’t arrived yet, your typical spot unclaimed and unassuming, which means you’re probably-

“On time as always,” an amused voice climbs onto his shoulder, light and assured, goosebumps raising on his forearms.

He grunts. Turns. Does his best to swallow the abrupt coughing fit threatening to overcome him; to stop his eyes from widening in pleasant surprise; to restrain himself from wrapping his arms around you in a too comfortable embrace.

You look, “You hate when I’m late,” beautiful.

Your lips curve gently—Hi—familiar gesture loosening the anxious knot coiling in his gut.

“Because it’s rude,” you snort, “Time is money.”

Time is priceless he inwardly corrects you, mesmerized by how coolly your stare grazes his lungs: by how you look so different, yet still so you. The shade and tangle of your hair, the depth of your eyes, how your skin crinkles and glows. You seem like the you he remembers. You also seem like an entirely new you. Older, wiser, tired; haunting, brilliant, stern. His hands shove self consciously into his pockets, fixated on how effortless and well dressed you are, anxious knot recoiling. If there’s anyone who knows how costly time can be—It’s me—Giyuu realizes.

“You know we can just seat ourselves,” you remark, already walking toward an empty high table—your empty high table—nestled beneath a sepia toned wall scone.

He wonders if you call ahead to make sure it’s available before you arrive; wonders if you know he’d call ahead for you; if you know about the fragments of his heart ingrained in the wooden finish; if you ever admire them, let alone notice them, glinting under the shadow of your oblivion.

Following your lead, he sits tentative and tense, unable to meet the curiosity in your gaze, warm and guarded across from him.

“So what happened?” you tease slowly, fingertips drumming faintly, tabletop sticky with the residue of earlier encounters, “You missed me?”

Some things never change his eyelashes flicker heavily Straightforward entranced by the delicate rhythm of your knuckles Painfully so.

“You’re lucky I felt like going out tonight,” you muse, sharpening, “I was about to brush my teeth,” holding his breath as you drawl, “But how could I ignore you sliding into my DMs?”

“I didn’t know how else to reach you,” he offers weakly.

“I didn’t want to be reached,” by you.

He blinks, treading carefully, “Then why did you reply?”

“Because I felt like going out, but all my friends,” my partner, “Were busy.”

All my friends. Your retort stings, the feeling that you’re hiding something vital not escaping his notice either. Another reminder of time: of time he’d squandered before he could fully comprehend the degree to which you’d etched yourself into his lungs — every breath a placeholder for the lingering heat of your mouth upon his.

“I fucked up.”

You scowl, “You’re pathetic.”

“And you’re here,” he snaps, lips thin with regret.

You flinch, wispy sliver of brightness fading from your stare. He knows you, from the touch of your palm to the twitch in your jaw; the weight of your hatred as you flit in, out, and in. His life. Your revolving door. Constant. As see through as it is unbearable.

“I’ll go,” you hiss, barstool scraping angrily as you move suddenly, “This was a waste of my time.”

He isn’t clueless. He can read between your lines—You are a waste of my time—ringing clear and bitter, inhibition surrendered when it dawns on him: If I let them slip away, then not even fate itself will be able to tie us together anymore.

“You’re the only one that makes me feel alive.”

The velvet drag of your tongue behind his ear, how you’d hold him after loving him, kisses dappled feathery soft from his closed eyelids to the tendons of his wrists. Sometimes, the sheets tangled twice. Occasionally, thrice. And rarely, he got to watch the sun rise upon the angles of your face, sleep claiming the remaining threads of your attention.

“And how about me?” you scoff, “Who makes me feel alive?”

Once upon a time, Giyuu would’ve said I do, so certain of the way you’d cup his cheeks, his nose scrunched while your laughter caressed his flushed expression. Once upon a time, he would’ve said You? Why, you’re everything to me. And that would’ve been enough. Once upon a time, too much time ago, he didn’t just know you — he’d known how to nurture you. How to love you.

“Somebody else,” he guesses quietly.

“Somebody else,” you repeat firmly, tossing him a pitying glance before walking toward the exit, words uttered too low for him to hear, “But I wish it had been you.”

—

It barely registers as Giyuu looks away, the cold press of finality, engraved into his soul by your conquest — the snipping of red thread.

[troglobite]

[extremely mild emetophobia warning]

nothing like brushing your teeth only to get a fucking weirdass catch in the exact spot in your throat that when you cough it makes you want to gag

so i had to spit and clean my mouth asap while choking/coughing and run to chug water which is the only thing that makes it stop eventually

so i swallowed quite a bit of toothpaste (still way less than i started with, and the warning says it's only an issue if it's "significantly more than used for brushing" so i'll be fine) and now i'm burping and feel awful and my throat is still being fucking weird

Great Time

esp since the power went out (again) earlier today and that meant our hot water tank didn't have much left for the shower i Really needed to take.

and also the dresser i put together and put in my closet. Fucking Reeks.

and i HAD to put my clothes in it bc i have Literally Nowhere For My Clothes To Go without it and that was the Whole Point and i haven't been able to sleep on my bed normally because of all the laundry and i still have an unpacked suitcase like this is Fucking Ridiculous.

ANYWAY.

having a great time.

[pannman]

Chapter 3 Yes! I enjoyed writing this one the most. Blitzø is fun to write dialogue for.

Here is chapter 2 ⬇️

The Cowboy's Captive

Chapter 3

Striker x fem reader

TW: Swearing, kidnapping, implied violence... the usual.

As a human stuck in hell and being held prisoner by a gang of demons you were surprisingly relieved to have been caught after your millionth escape attempt. This time it was a bit different though. Your brush with the cowboy demon Striker had you wary of seeing him again. Luckily Loona found you when she did.

All members of I.M.P were waiting when you got back. Moxxie immediately checked you over and suggested you rest your voice for a while even though you very much wanted to tell them what happened. Despite that you agreed to just nod for a while. You throat hurt pretty bad and you were feeling kind of weak. Blitzø tried to act like he wasn’t concerned but he clearly was. As far as kidnappers went they were occasionally nice to you and weirdly cared about your well being. Even though they often mentioned they were gonna kill you once you were done erasing all the footage of them from the human world. You tried to remind yourself that they were not your friends but it was days like this you couldn’t help but wonder if they were growing fond of you as well.

“Jesus, kid! You gotta stop running!” Blitzø finally said. “I’m sure she learned her lesson Blitzø” Millie said with a hand on your shoulder as you were sitting on the couch. “It’s LITERALLY hell out there. It’s no place for helpless little humans to be out and about.” Moxxie tried to come to your defense. “In her defense sir. We are holding her against her will. And since she cannot speak right now I believe someone should speak for her.” Blitzø rolled his eyes. “oh please Mox! She’s safer here than anywhere else in this shit hole!” at that you had to ask. “… Does… duh.. (cough!) Does that mean… your not… (COUGH! AHEM! COUGH! COUGH!)” you hacked and wheezed as you tried to make out the words. "Stop fucking talking” Loona said looking away from her magazine for just a moment. It was a huge contrast from earlier when she seemed genuinely worried about you. “Alright so obviously someone needs to keep an close eye on her tonight who’s turn is it? “Why, I think its ours Blitzø.” Millie responded. Blitzø pointed at M and M. “you two make sure she doesn’t try to escape…” he leaned towards them and whispered half embarrassed “and make sure she drinks plenty of water”.

That night Moxxie made you Chamomile tea and they took your laptop away after 6 o clock. It was kinda odd but nice. Being taken care of like this. Your throat felt strong enough to finally say something. “you… guys don’t wanna… kill me do you?” Millie and Moxxie were at a loss of words. They looked at each other. Millie finally confessed. “well, if we’re being honest…. Blitzø hasn’t made up his mind yet.” “MILLIE! We’re not supposed to tell her that!” “Well she’s been through a lot today! She deserves some answers!” Millie and Moxxie didn’t fight often and when they did it was very brief. As you expected Moxxie caved. “Alright. Alright. You’re right sweetie.” He looked at you with an apologetic stare. “well be more honest with you from now on just… don’t tell Blitzø. Just pretend like you have no idea.” You nodded. They both smiled. They turned out the lights and tied you to the couch but loosely so you weren’t too uncomfortable. Despite the fact that you could probably struggle your way out of them you decided you were done running. You were much better off taking your chances with your somewhat empathetic captors than endangering yourself out there where demons like Striker could get you. Things were finally starting to feel a little more comfortable. You drifted asleep feeling content.

You awoke suddenly. You felt sharp nails dig into your shoulders and the heat of someone’s breath ghosting your neck as you were hoisted upward. Despite just waking up you immediately recognized it as Striker. The demon who had tried to choke you out and take you earlier. You tried to call out but your throat was still sore. And it was not really worth it considering you could see M and M knocked out in the floor. A glass bottle was broken scattered about. You tried to struggle but Striker had tightened your restraints. He threw you over his shoulder and carried you out. You wondered how he had found you and where he was taking you. But most of all you hoped and prayed that Moxxie and Millie and were alright and somebody would save you soon.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀

(eddie munson x secret admirer!reader)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 Summary: After four long years of pining, it's high time you tell your crush you like him and quite possibly your last chance to, luckily there's no better time for love confessions than Valentine's Day. If only you hadn't chosen to do so anonymously, because you're pretty sure he's hoping his secret admirer is someone else.

Warnings: pining, angst, misunderstandings, very brief (blink and you miss it) descriptions of oncoming panic attack (doesn't happen), Heather Holloway being a sweetie, and a whole lot of fluff a/n: I did way too much for something that was supposed to be 2.k word count wise, and is definitely going to flop because of how late I'm posting it but I don't care because it is still technically Valentine's Day. A HUGE thank you to @kitmon for being my incredible beta-half (get it?) and if you like slow burns (and I mean the best ‘GET TOGETHER ALREADY but also please take your time really finding and understanding each other’ fics), go devour their masterlist. Happy reading and Happy Valentine's day ♡ word count: 10k

You stood posted by a row of lockers, peaking around the corner of the hall to watch as the longtime object of your affections laughed at something one of his friends said.

  “Are you stalking him again?”

  You jumped, clutching your biology book to your chest as you swiveled around to face Heather, your best friend.

  “Geez!” You hissed out, voice low as you checked to make sure you hadn’t attracted his attention.

  But it’s you, so of course you hadn’t. Eddie was still leaning up against his locker and chatting away, face framed by the mane he called his hair. His curls were defined much more than usual—clearly he’d washed his hair before school which meant he must have been up early. Why did you know that????

  “I’m not stalking him,” you grumbled and Heather giggled. “I’m just observing him.”

  “Well, stop observing him and go talk to him.” She nudged your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile. 

  “I’m gonna—,” You answered with false bravado that soon wavered, “. . . eventually. Look, I have a plan. Okay, today is a new day, Valentine’s Day and the perfect day for romance. No more watching from the sidelines─”

  Heather coughed out a stalking, followed by another cough, all of which you ignored.

  “No more quietly pining, I’m telling him how I feel.”

  Heather raised her eyebrows, tongue clicking. 

  “Let me get this straight, you’re not only going to actually exchange words with him, you’re actually going to tell Eddie Munson about your feelings?”

  Your heart fluttered just at the mention of him.

  Edward Wayne Munson. Eddie.

You’d had a crush on him since your freshman year of high school, and contrary to your best friend’s earlier statement, you had exchanged words with him already. Sorta. Basically.

Freshman year you’d ate shit in the hallway, tripping over literally nothing and all your belongings had scattered, he’d stopped walking to help you pick your things up before he was off again. It wasn’t much conversation, but he did say something about those invisible rocks people left lying around.

  Then your sophomore year, he’d sat behind you with his club at the school’s mandatory pep rally. One of his friends had accidentally jostled you and Heather a little too roughly when he was finding his seat and Eddie had apologized on his behalf.

  Then last year he’d held the cafeteria door open for you and your friends when you slipped in. That time, you’d been the one to thank him and he had said you’re welcome. Almost unprompted!

  So, yeah. Maybe you were a little delusional, it didn’t matter though. What mattered was you were running out of time. 

  Somehow, Eddie had managed to fail the past two years, allowing you to catch up to him but that meant you were now a senior as well. You’d let the other chances to approach him pass you by because you were too scared of rejection, this was your last chance.

  The college acceptance letter you’d received at the start of the week also spurred your bravery, if he rejected you, you only had a few months left until you were on your way to California, there’d be all those states between the two of you. 

  You had nothing to lose, so today was gonna be the day.

  “Yes,” you took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as the determination sank deep into your bones. “I’m gonna tell him.”

  “How are you gonna do that?” She cocked her head, the curls of her side ponytail bouncing.

  “I’m glad you asked, my friend.” You grabbed her hand, dragging her down the hall to your partially opened locker. You pulled the door open fully to reveal a bouquet of roses, set on top of your books.

  Her face wrinkled up in confusion, “You bought yourself flowers again?”

  “No.” You glared at her, a hand scratching your head as you hissed out through gritted teeth, “And we promised not to bring that up anymore—these are for Eddie.”

  Heather perked up at that, a hand resting over her chest as she fawned, “Dude, that is so cute! When are you gonna give them to him?”

  “That’s the thing, I’m not actually going to give them to him directly. I need your help. You’ve got history with him, yeah?”

  You already knew she did so it didn’t surprise you when she nodded. You slipped one rose from the bouquet and handed it to her. 

  “Can you leave this on his desk?” 

  “Sure! Wow, I can’t believe I get to be part of your love story,” she marveled, twirling the stem between her fingertips.

  God, you hoped it’d be a love story and not a tragedy.

  “And these are for you.” You pulled out a smaller bouquet of pink roses, and Heather just about burst into tears.

  The two of you had been best friends since middle school, and often spent your free time watching corny teen movies, usually living through the main characters of the romance ones. You’d had a couple of almost-boyfriends, in the end you hadn’t been interested in them enough to accept when they’d try to make it official. And Heather simply hadn’t caught the eye of anyone, which was ridiculous to you considering how pretty and nice she was, so you were usually her valentine on Valentine’s Day. This was the first time you actually got her flowers instead of a bunch of chocolates to eat the night away, you’d figured she deserved them. 

  She’d had a crush on Steve Harrington, but he hadn’t noticed her and ended up dating and getting dumped by Nancy Wheeler. Then he’d dated every other girl except her. You feared your non-existent relationship with Eddie might go the same way.

  “Dude,” Heather yanked you in for a hug, squeezing you to the point you thought your ribs might be bruised.

  “Uhm. Heather. Ow.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She released you, holding you by your shoulders, “Okay, so I just give it to him?”

  “No, no, no, no, no. There will be no interactions. Just leave it on his desk.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  You were about to reply when the first bell cut you off and threw you into a panic, nudging Heather in the direction of the classroom so she could beat Eddie there. Heather took off running once she realized the reason for your worry, only you both failed to remember Eddie was late to everything. 

  You reluctantly made your way to your first period, plagued by thoughts of Eddie’s reaction to the first rose.

  Would he like it? Oh, you hoped he liked it.

  What if he thought it was some prank? What if he threw it away? Would he do the same to the rest?

  Oh, well. There was no backing out now.

  Your carefully thought out plan was put into action. You’d made sure to play sick the last 15 minutes of every class to get an excuse note to the nurse, only you didn’t go to the nurse. Instead, you ran around leaving a rose in Eddie’s various hang outs. One at the creepy old bench you knew he did business at. Two roses with the stems placed through the slits of his locker, three on his windshield wipers, one of the younger students in your art class was in Hellfire with him and after swearing him to secrecy, Will had promised to deliver three to Eddie personally, without revealing your identity.  

  During lunch, you found yourself behind the stage of the cafeteria, in part of the drama department. It’s where Hellfire took place. 

  You’d been there a handful of times, only when your curiosity for the metalhead got a little too overwhelming for you and you wanted to feel closer to him without having to face him. It was only ever set up on Fridays, the day Eddie got to school early enough to do so. 

  You made your way over to sit in the chair closest to his throne, casting it a couple of nervous glances.

  This would be where you left the last rose, so of course, everything about the set up, the throne had to look daunting to you now; a representation of how you were seeing Eddie as your confession grew nearer. If things didn’t go as planned, it’d be the last time you could come here.

  The thought made your stomach hurt, a large void beginning to form there. 

  The last rose was much too personal to leave just anywhere, where someone without a key to the room would find it. No one but the Hellfire club would occupy this area today. Attached to the rose with a ribbon was a note with a simple message that meant more to you than you cared to admit. You’d written it when you first came up with your plan at the start of the week and had been debating on whether or not to sign your name since then. 

  The answer should’ve been obvious, right? This whole thing was to let Eddie know how you felt about him, and your romantic intentions were clear with the red roses. This note would finish implying the rest. And if you wanted Eddie to know it was you who admired him, you just had to write your name.

  Yeah, simple as that.

  You clicked the pen in your grasp, placing it just over the paper. 

  You wavered, licking your lips as you tried to convince yourself to just own your goddamn name. That’s all you had to do. Write on the paper.

  Just write on the paper.

  Your hand was beginning to shake, and with a heavy heart, you realized your name wouldn’t be going on this note.

  You weren’t brave enough for that. You set your purple pen down, staring down at the words written in pink ink before you rolled the paper up, making sure the ribbon was secured (you’d used a hole puncher to slip the ribbon through) and left it on the seat of the throne before scurrying out of the room as fast as you could.

  —

  Eddie was at a loss, completely stupefied.

  When he’d arrived at his history class, after having mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of boredom he’d face, he was surprised to find a single rose on his desk. By surprised, he meant incredibly suspicious. A glance around the room confirmed he wasn’t being watched, everyone was gossiping about Emmy Switcher’s upcoming party, so he’d settled into his seat and marveled at it.

  Eddie wasn’t one to ever really get things on Valentine’s Day, not counting the mandatory valentine’s cards in elementary and middle school. The last time he’d gotten a card was his first senior year, and it had been a prank by a couple of girls on the softball team and their boyfriends. Embarrassed the shit out of him. The following Valentine’s Day he’d faked being sick to avoid falling victim again—god, he craved affection so much it made him pathetic enough to still hope for something gross and cheesy to happen to him. 

A rose was harmless though, right? Unless it was poisoned or something. Eddie lifted it to his nose, but all he could pick up was the seductive floral scent and when he didn’t immediately pass out from chloroform, he figured it was just a rose.

  He glanced around again in vain, hoping someone would somehow stick out and when no one did, he held it in his grasp, rough fingertips stroking over the soft petals for the duration of the class.

  He’d been stunned when he arrived at his locker to find two roses hanging out of it. A few people were staring at him as he carefully pulled them from their place, but they looked more curious rather than shy or mischievous.  He had a feeling whoever was leaving the roses for him wasn’t around. 

  He refused to leave them in his locker, the stems clutched in his hand as he went about his day and found more. Eddie was more than proud to display them, somewhat smug at the attention they were garnishing him.

  Yeah, fuckers. Someone finally liked him. Eat shit.

  He’d spent his English class convincing himself he’d never find out exactly who this someone was. He was pretty fucking stressed after that. He tried to come up with a roster of sorts, girls he thought might be interested in him enough to maybe leave him pretty flowers and woo him right out of his Reeboks.

  He’d only been able to come up with four—impressive—but his first pick he was quick to scribble out. He hadn’t had a decent interaction with her and he figured it was creepy of him to put her at the top of the list all because of his wishful thinking. 

  The second girl listed was possible, maybe. Chrissy Cunningham. He’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember since she was always nice to him. She’d dumped Jason a couple of months ago and he’d been dealing to her for a short amount of time, but she seemed pretty flirty to him. Although, flattery did work on him.

  The third name made him nervous, and not in a good way. Tina Sawyer. They’d both got pretty drunk at her Halloween party and hooked up in her bathroom but she avoided him like the plague afterwards, obviously embarrassed about interacting with him, which was typical for the lot of Hawkins.

  He’d been sure it was a drunken mistake but sometimes, he’d catch her staring at him, and she didn’t look all that disgusted with him.

  The last name on the short list was that of Tammy Thompson. She had made her interest in Eddie pretty clear his junior year, always trying to sit behind him in classes so she could play with his hair. Unfortunately, Tammy was very, for the lack of better words, aggressive with her affections. He’d made out with her once and it had been sloppy and messy in the most unattractive of ways. It was like tonguing a dog.. Then he remembered she’d actually been able to graduate, unlike him, so he was spared. 

  By lunch, Eddie was ready to try to figure out who his secret admirer was. Out of the two remaining girls on his list, he was leaning more towards Chrissy, who he felt wouldn’t be ashamed to hold his hand in public. 

  He and his lunchbox full of drugs—and some snacks—made their way to the Hellfire lunch table where he spent a significant amount of time studying the two girls.

  “Uh, are you okay, Eddie?”

  Eddie glanced up at the concerned face of Will Byers, who’d arrived much later than the rest of the guys and Stephanie, one of the two girls in Hellfire. The question drew the attention of the rest of the table and Eddie internally sighed.

  “Yeah, I’m fine—what are those?” Eddie asked, eyes honed in on the roses resting on Will’s tray.

  The younger teen handed them over, “A girl told me to give you these.”

  Eddie felt his heart skip a beat, “You know who she is?”

  Will nodded and before Eddie could demand a name, he rushed, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy!”

  Eddie scowled, carefully setting aside his roses so they wouldn’t be involved in his annoyance. 

  “Byers, I’m gonna level with you. I’ve been in this miserable prison for six long years. While I’ve had my fair share of hookups, I have not ever had a girl like me enough to leave me roses and do cute shit before. And I fear I never will again. That’s why I’m actually gonna need you to tell me who it is so I can have a girlfriend by the end of what is supposed to be the most god awful romantic day of the year. ‘Kay?”

  Eddie’s eyebrows dart up, face set in an intimidating glower but Will remembers how scared you looked when you trusted him with this task. He also knows, very well, how it feels to love someone without them ever knowing because you fear what their response will be. He’d also seen Eddie eyeing both Chrissy and Tina.

  Will knew what it was like to have that special person interested in someone else, too. So, he’d protect your secret.

  “I swore.”

  Eddie groaned, head dipping forward in a brief moment of defeat before he slammed his fist on the table, making the other occupants jump. 

  “Whatever, I’ll find her myself.” Just as Eddie stands, an idea occurs to him. Will said he wouldn’t tell him who it was, but the youngest Byers hadn’t said he wouldn’t tell him who it wasn’t, “Is it Tina?”

  Will shakes his head, nose wrinkling. Nothing against her, she just wasn’t the nicest to him or his friends. Not the meanest, still.

  Eddie breathes out a sigh, mumbling an oh, thank god as he makes his way to the cafeteria doors. That only left one possibility, and he was due to meet up with her in just five minutes. He couldn’t fight the grin off his face.

  ── 

  Your heart was racing a mile a minute, having witnessed everything transpire at the Hellfire table.

  You’d selected your lunch table four years ago because of the perfect view of Eddie it provided you, but right then it was killing you. You’d ruined your manicure, picking aggressively at the polish as you watched Will and Eddie, breathing out a sigh of relief when it looked like Will hadn’t revealed your identity.

  Eddie hadn’t seemed too happy about that.

  Then he stormed out and you fought very hard with yourself to not follow after him because then Heather would be right and you’d be a stalker.

  “Regret it yet?” Heather asked after she’d swallowed a bite of her sandwich. 

  “No.” You sorta lied. Yeah, you kind of regretted it but at the same time, knowing Eddie wouldn’t have to let you down gently made you less anxious. Besides, it wasn’t like you could just climb up the stage and duck past the curtain leading to the hellfire room without one of it’s members spotting you from their table. They’d tell Eddie in a heartbeat, especially if they found out the last rose and that damn note was there.

  “Sure,” Heather drawled, glancing over her shoulder as you picked at your food, appetite suddenly gone. 

  Maybe you really should have written your name on that love note. 

  “Well, I hope you mean it, because Dream Girl is on her way to meet Ice Cream.” Your head snapped up at the mention of Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie’s code names you’d given them so both you and Heather were free to talk without either of them suspecting anything. You referred to Chrissy as Dream Girl because you’d known all about Eddie’s crush on her (while Heather had been depressed about Steve and Nancy, you’d eaten your weight in ice cream over Eddie and Chrissy’s more than friendly interactions with each other, which had nothing to do with Eddie’s code name—he was ‘ice cream’ because you wanted to lick him all over).

  Sure enough, you looked over Heather’s shoulder, following her gaze to see Chrissy bidding her friends goodbye before she walked right out of the doors Eddie had pushed past minutes ago and as you watched her exit through the double doors, something inside you withers and dies a bit.

  You knew Eddie sold to her (gave her a discount because she was pretty and because of their flirting, hearing him say that made you want to drive a knife right through your chest), you and Heather had followed them out a couple of times which is how you were both aware of the flirtationship.

  After the first time you’d spied on them, the two of you had gone back to your home where Heather held a mock funeral for you. Now, you wished it had been a real one because you were sure Eddie had not only loved your roses, he also assumed they were from Chrissy. They would send him right into her arms at that shitty ass bench. And when he’d get a hold of the love note, well, you’d be the reason why Eddie and Chrissy would be hand in hand come Monday, canoodling by their lockers and kissing like no one else was watching. All the things Eddie should have been doing with you.

  You should have signed your name on the fucking note.

  ─

  Eddie had paced a pathway, disturbing the mounds of fallen leaves surrounding the picnic table. 

  His stuff, another rose he’d found waiting for him included, were on the table and he’d taken off his jacket, despite the chill of the February air. He was working himself up in his head, overheating in the process.

  “Eddie?”

  His head shot around, grinning as Chrissy—who apparently left him roses—approached him, face broken out in a smile.

  “Hey, Chris.” Eddie’s heart was racing a mile a minute, palms sweaty as he rested them over his hips, then quickly realized he looked stupid so he crossed them instead.

  She laughed at his nerves with absolutely no malice and they sat down at the bench, getting down to business. She’d been about to hand him a twenty dollar bill after he slid her the ziploc bag of nugs, but he held up his hand.

  “On the house.”

  “Eddie, it’s always on the house. I feel bad.”

  “Then stop.” He emphasized the demand with bulging eyes, smirking when she giggled. She had to like him, right?

  Eddie tried to be discreet about it, plucking one of the roses from his growing pile. He played with the stem, even sniffed the petals again in hopes she’d comment about it, maybe look a little excited about it or just give him any sort of reaction to indicate it had been her.

  Chrissy was too busy moving things aside in her backpack to make room for the baggy. When she finally did look back up, she smiled, but gave no hint she was even familiar with them.

  “Ooh, pretty flowers. Where’d you get those?”

  Was she playing coy?

  “Uh, someone’s been leaving them for me all around school.” Was it you?

  Chrissy’s face lit up and Eddie thought it was finally the moment of truth.

  “That’s so sweet! Do you know who it is? Or is it like a secret admirer sort of deal?”

  Evidently, not the moment of truth. She had to be toying with him, trying to prolong the reveal. Because if it wasn’t her, he was out of ideas. And he really, really didn’t want to be out of ideas. Not when there was someone out there, maybe thinking about him.

  “I actually have no idea who it is,” he sighed out, hoping if it was her, she’d just put him out of his damn misery already.

  Chrissy, glanced down at the table and Eddie perked up. Nerves? Was she finally gonna come out with it?

  “It wasn’t me, Eddie…but, I wish it had been.”

  Eddie didn’t know what to say, mouth dropped open a little as his eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

  Okay. Hadn’t been expecting that. He was expecting a yes it was me or a no it wasn’t me but not Chrissy confirming it hadn’t been her while also telling him she liked him. 

  “So, you haven’t been leaving them for me?”

  Chrissy shook her head and reached across the table to place her smaller hand over his, palm warm against his skin. Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, head falling forward to rest against the table.

  “Eddie?” Chrissy asked, concern lacing her voice.

  He let out a very long sigh, a little miffed at how messy this whole thing had gotten. Now, there was his, Chrissy’s and someone else’s feelings in the mix. Christ.

  “‘M’sorry, Chrissy.” Eddie sat up straight, face grim as he slowly pulled his hand out from underneath hers. “You’re great, fantastic, actually. You’re really nice and really pretty, but… I’ve been going crazy all day, trying to figure out who’s behind these.”

  He gestures to the roses at his side, the sight of them filling him with an intense wave of longing.

  “It’s been like years since I’ve gotten anything with real meaning behind it for any occasion—” he wasn’t counting the hellfire club or Wayne, referring to romantic intentions—“let alone Valentine’s Day, and someone in this school seems to be thinking about me.” 

  Eddie thought about what it must have taken to do something like this, it may have seemed like a trivial thought, something simple to others. He knew it wasn’t. He had no idea who it was, but he put himself in their position. They had to know enough about him to know his schedule, where he spent time, and then make the time to leave them in those spots just before he got there. 

  He’d spent the time waiting for Chrissy considering the anonymity of it. On the chance it wasn’t her, there was someone else in the school who was too afraid to approach him directly. He’d thought it might be out of fear of being seen with him, seen doing anything remotely romantic with him. Then, why even bother? They had to be afraid of his reaction, it’s what he would be nervous about if the positions were flipped.

  And god, he’d never felt more alive before, more seen and all it took was a couple of roses. He felt like those fawning girls in John Hughes movies. 

  “Before today, I never would have approached you about this, you know? I know we flirt, but I never would have been brave enough to cross that line.” He admitted, looking into her shiny blue eyes. Aw, man. Eddie hated making girls cry but it was true, he would have been waiting for her to make a move, or for Tina to make a move. Any of his past hookups, really. He’d have been with any of them—having craved affection and everything that came with it so bad—if they had just been the ones to initiate things on a more permanent basis. 

  He would have. Past tense. They could all form a conga line and confess their undying love for him but, unless they were the one who left him the roses—the one who made him brave enough to actually go around confronting people in an attempt to seek her out—he’d let them down. 

  “She made me brave, makes me feel really wanted and I don't even know who she is. It’s not you, it’s just─”

  “I’m not her.” Chrissy finished for him, wiping under one of her eyes. “It’s alright, Eddie. I mean, I’m obviously a little sad, but it’s not your fault or hers. I do hope you find her, though. She’d be lucky to have you.”

  She gave Eddie a sad smile, making him feel even guiltier but it’d be pretty shitty of him to try to be with her when he’d be thinking of someone else.

  “Thanks, Chrissy.” Eddie stood up and gathered his things. It was clear she was upset and would probably need some time to gather herself, he didn’t want to force her to leave first or linger around and make it awkward.

  He left her with a small, parting smile, relieved that he hadn’t charged her. Would have felt like a douchebag to make her pay for weed and turn her down in the span of five minutes when she’d been nothing but pleasant to him.

  Eddie shook it off, determination setting in once more. Sure, he was back to the drawing board, but if all else failed, he could corner young Byers again until he finally gave him a name.

  He’d come up with a pretty good list of ways he could force Will to give up the name by the time school let out and he got to the Hellfire room.

  It wasn’t until he set his little bouquet and the lunchbox down (he didn’t bother with backpacks, just shoved whatever he needed in his pants pockets or the box), walking around the throne in a circle like some fucking animal because he was so restless, that he saw the rose.

  The flash of white had caught his eyes and he dove down to grab it, trying to be as careful with pulling the piece of paper away from the stem of the rose, only he realized whoever left it had hole punched the thing together so he ripped the ribbon with his teeth rather than rip the note.

  The ribbon was stuffed into his back pocket as he eagerly sat himself down, rose clutched in one hand and the note in his other.

  Eddie,

  Please excuse my lack of eloquence in this note and also in our real life encounters.

  Eddie felt a shiver of excitement wash over his skin, cheeks a bright shade of pink at the confirmation he’d indeed interacted with his secret admirer before. Fuck, she’d talked to him! It made her feel even more real. 

  She was a real person, someone he could probably hold hands with and kiss. Unless, this was done in a purely platonic way which would be a little fucked up. Red roses to be friends? C’mon. He read on.

  I hoped you liked the flowers. I was actually debating on getting you different ones, something a little more personalized to you, but I ended up going with roses because, well, they convey romance better.

  Eddie leaned over the arm of the throne, sagging back as he allowed himself to completely collapse with relief. Just for a few seconds, then his eyes were glued to the pink penmanship.

  I’m trying really hard not to sound creepy because I’m totally not creepy and I know what you're thinking, ‘that’s what a creep would say’ but I swear I’m not, I just. I admire you. A lot. I have for so, so long. I admire the way you keep going, even when things are absolute shit for you, I like how you watch out for the younger classmen that come in and don’t really have anywhere to go. I like the way you dress, how pretty your hair is (even when it’s frizzy which is so unfair), how passionate you get with your rants (even though sometimes you’re an asshole about it). 

  And I like your laugh I LOVE your laugh. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had what feels like the worst fucking day of my life and I’m ready to breakdown and cry and scream, but I don’t. Because I can hear you laugh your ass off at something one of your friends said in the cafeteria, by your locker or even when you’re just walking past me. And I wish I was there, laughing alongside you or making you laugh. I don’t know how your laughter makes me feel better, it just does. I get all smiley and I feel warm inside and I want to give you a hug for it, for making me feel better without even trying. 

  But I can’t. You kind of scare me. Not in the mean, scary way, I’m just not sure you’ll like me. Or that it’ll go anywhere, or even if it should. 

  You’re so confident, Eddie. And you’re stupid attractive (you are, and I’m sure you’re aware but I’ll go ahead and tell you I’m also physically attracted to you) and it’s so overwhelming that I can’t contain it anymore and I don’t really want to. We only have a couple of months before we’re out of here (I have a feeling this is gonna be your year, you’ll be free of this sentence, too), and I don’t want to have any regrets. The only way I’d ever regret you is by not telling you how I feel. 

  So, here I am, Eddie Munson. Never thought I’d ever be confessing like this, but for the first time in my life, I feel brave. And it’s all because of you. Thank you, Eddie. I’ll be running around— dodging teachers and detention write ups— like Rocky in his training montages to get these roses to you because you deserve your flowers and I’d be delighted to give them to you today, and every single Valentine’s Day after. Actually, I want to give you even more than that. If you’ll have me.

  Love,

  What the fuck?

  Eddie hastily searched the bottom portion of the back side of the paper, where the note ended for a signature, a name, initials, something but that’s where it ended.

   There was no name.

  “NO! FUCK! NO! No, no, no, no, NO! I’ll have you, take me, just tell me who you are!” Eddie groaned out, note dropped into his lap so he could clench the roots of his hair with both fists as he doubled over.

  This had to be a nightmare. It was the only reasonable explanation for someone to say all those wonderfuckingful things, just for them to disappear. 

  His heart hurt and he blinked frantically to ward off the onslaught of water and sniffed to deter the tingle in his nose. 

  The unmistakable sound of his own little rat pack making their way towards the room wasn’t enough to get him to pull himself together.

  “Eddie, dude, are you okay?”

  Eddie recalled his final option, head shooting to glance around at their faces in search of one in particular. 

  “Byers. Where’s Byers?”

  “His mom picked him up after lunch, wasn’t feeling good,” Mike informed him, completely unaware his grand Valentine’s gesture for Jane had been the cause of his sudden illness. 

  It was the final straw for Eddie, he snatched the lunchbox and flowers and grumbled out, “Sessions canceled.”

  He must have looked pissed as none of them protested, probably having something to do with most of them having dates afterwards. 

  He almost made it out of the room when Gareth called him back, holding up a purple pen he’d found on the table and figured Eddie was about to forget.

  “Is this yours?”

  Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

  “No.” Then he walked out.

  Before promptly storming back in, swiping the pen out of Gareth’s meaty hands. Eddie clicked the pen and scribbled furiously over the side of his fist until the ink finally ran. It wasn’t purple. The ink filler was pink.

  His secret admirer’s pen.

  “What a cruel parting gift,” he sighed, shoving the pen in his pocket before making his exit. Again.

  The really sad thing was Eddie couldn’t even sink into depression in the peace of his room. Emmy Switcher had approached Rick about wanting some herbal refreshments at her party and since he was still under house arrest (how Rick managed to deal and supply in his circumstances baffled him) the job fell upon Eddie. He’d driven to Rick’s restocked, then hit the party. 

  It was a horn fest, couples everywhere he looked. All heart-eyed and attached at the tongue. It was disgusting.

  Eddie was pouting, quietly fuming that it wasn’t him and his secret admirer making out or cuddling or doing something equally romantic but noooooo. Just had to take the ‘secret’ aspect to its extreme. 

  He banished himself to a dark corner, only interacting with people when approached for drugs or weed. He’d caught sight of Chrissy and it had looked like she wanted to come over but he’d purposely shifted his gaze. Despite the gaping hole left where his heart was, it wasn’t Chrissy or Tina, or the girl in the upstairs restroom, who’d thrown herself at him when he’d been searching for a free bathroom to piss in, that he wanted. Eddie wasn’t in the mood to rebound.

  Which was kind of crazy considering he hadn’t even been in a relationship, hadn’t been dumped. He wanted everything in that note, especially the promise of more and only with its author. 

  Now, Eddie hadn’t been in love before. Some serious lust and want, yeah, however, reading that note made him feel like he was falling a little bit in love and he wanted, very badly, to dive headfirst the rest of the way. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

  Once he’d sold out the rest of Rick’s inventory, he stole a beer and headed for the front door. 

  Once outside, Eddie took a minute to breathe. He hadn’t realized how stuffy it had been in there until he was no longer engulfed by the claustrophobic displays of affection. 

  He trudged down the pathway and paused when he saw the figure of a girl sitting on the lawn. Her head was directed down towards the ground and she was most definitely not wearing the right clothes for the outside weather.

  Eddie cursed under his breath, plans to immediately drive home and get crossed put on hold as he walked over, noting the dew already coating the grass.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  ─

  Drinking your sorrows away probably wasn’t the best idea, considering how much of a lightweight you were. 

  Originally, you’d wanted to lock yourself away in your room for the night—and probably the rest of the weekend as well as maybe the next school week; nothing wrong with playing sick to avoid facing reality and your problems─to cry and pass out. Heather, on the other hand, had plans for you. She’d dolled you up, having to force you to wash your face and re-do your makeup once when you had started crying—put you in a cute outfit and dragged you to Emmy Switcher’s party. 

  You knew her intentions were pure—as pure as underage drinking could be—but she knew her mistake when the party started to couple up. You’d been approached multiple times and she’d try to encourage you to go for the decent acting ones, you just hadn’t wanted to. When Chrissy Cunningham showed up, you’d gone for shots of the hard liquor (over the sink of course in case you gagged it up, which you did a decent amount of), sure that Eddie would soon follow and you’d be forced to witness their affection.

  Obviously, you ended up shitfaced and somehow lost track of Heather. Or maybe she lost track of you. You’d very briefly attempted to find her, accidentally spotted Chrissy, now making eyes at Eddie who’d shown up, and you’d promptly headed outside, eager for some fresh air and an escape from the madhouse. The high alcohol level in your blood kept you from feeling how chilly it really was and you settled into the grass, twirling strands of it around your fingers.

  You weren’t sure how long you were out there when someone approached you.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  You looked up, ready to ask them to just leave you when you locked eyes with Eddie Munson. Most of the liquid courage coursing through your veins evaporated, you couldn’t look at him for long, gaze moving back to the grass. What a way to start sobering up.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure? ‘Cause,” Eddie sat down next to you, one leg crossed and his other, knee up with his arm resting over it. His unopened beer was at his side, “You’re outside, alone, in the cold and you look pretty fucking sad.”

  You scoffed, fingers still playing with the strands of grass as you tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make you seem pathetic. In that time, Eddie took you in.

  He knew you, he’d seen you around school and you were nice enough to greet him. Pleasantries in passing. Pretty Hallway Girl, as you’d been dubbed—though never referred to as—until he knew your name. It had been the first one he had jotted down on his list for his secret admirer’s identity, of course he realized with your lack of interactions, it wasn’t likely. He entertained the idea of dating you often, you’d just never shown any real interest in him. Eddie thought about it a lot. Anytime he caught sight of you, really. Your pretty face didn’t make it easy for him to stop. He was a really, really big sucker for your eyes and that smile you’d give him during those brief interactions; like the two of you had some sort of secret between each other. Warmed him up inside.

  And here you were, all sad at a party. He didn’t really mind not getting crossed if it meant he got to comfort you, keep you company.

  “I’m just drunk,” you finally blurted out, unable to come up with anything else, “And bummed.” 

  Try devastated.

  “You look it,” he joked, nudging his shoulder against yours.

  “You don’t look that much better.” You shot back.

  “That’s fair,” he sighed, breath visible in the night air as he tilted his head back. “I’m pretty bummed, myself.”

  You really didn’t want to ask, figuring he’d already had some sort of lover’s quarrel with Chrissy and you didn’t want to get in the middle of it. 

  But you were an idiot, so you asked, “Why are you bummed?”

  You watched him dig around the pockets of his leather jacket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out of the pack, clenching it in between his teeth as he shoved the pack back into the pocket before he shrugged off the jacket entirely—denim vest included—putting it around your shoulders.

  It caught you off guard but you were grateful, your body having decided to become once more susceptible to the chill of the air and dewy grass. Eddie must have been a freaking space heater because the lining inside was blissfully warm.

  “Thank you,” you mumbled, shimmying around in it until you could slip your arms into the long sleeves of it, your fingers barely poking past the hem.

  “You’re welcome,” he shrugged, flicking the lighter to life as he lit the cigarette. After he’d taken a drag, he answered you. 

  “Love,” Eddie blew out along with a wispy plume of smoke, “Didn’t expect it to be so complicated.”

  You wanted to mime the action of staking yourself in the heart. Of course he was in love with her. She was wonderful! And on top of that, he thought she’d been the one leaving him roses! Had he read the note? Assumed it was her, too? DUH! You were definitely playing sick next week.

  “Yeah, well. Join the club,” you grumbled, hugging his jacket around you. It was as close as you were ever gonna get to actually hugging him. 

  Eddie raised an eyebrow, hoping to school his disappointment. While he wasn’t looking for anyone else tonight, it was still displeasing to hear you were taken but of course you were. He couldn’t imagine you dating sporadically, you seemed much too wonderful for someone to even consider giving you up. No, he was gonna hurt himself with ideas involving you and a high school sweetheart stemming back to your freshman days, probably.

  “Ah, I see. Is he here?”

  You froze for a moment, “Uhm, yeah. He is.”

  “Then why come? Or did it happen in there?” He jabbed a thumb behind him, gesturing to the party inside.

  “No, it didn’t happen tonight, it was earlier. In the day. I didn’t really want to come but my best friend dragged me out here. I thought I was doing good, apparently not ‘cause here I am. I’m mostly bummed because of myself, though. I didn’t follow through on something I sort of promised myself and I messed everything up. For me. Not for him. I think he’s pretty happy, so I don’t want to ruin that. He deserves to be happy.”

  Eddie could tell you meant it, you were vague as hell but whatever you’d done, however it ended, you genuinely seemed to want your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) to be happy. He hoped it wasn’t something you had to cave into for one of those meatheads. You deserved better than those jerks.

  “That’s pretty selfless of you if you ask me,” Eddie raised the cigarette to his lips, admiring you.

  “Eh, I guess. I fully plan on punishing myself for it, though. Really make sure to rub the salt in there, you know?” You finally turned to grin at him, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

  Eddie thought about how he couldn’t just stop going to school so he could avoid having to look at all the faces in the crowds and wonder if his admirer is one of them.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m right there with you.”

  Sweetheart. He really was trying to kill you.

  “Eddie, get your ass in there and make up with her.” You lightly slapped his arm and jabbed your finger in the direction of the house. You were not about to let your sacrifice be in vain and he’d better stop unknowingly torturing you like this.

  “I can’t!” He laughed, amused with your sudden bossy attitude.

  “Why not?” You whined, eager to just get him away from you. It wasn’t fair, he wasn’t being fair.

  “Because I have no idea who she is.”

  Once again you froze, eyes widening. Luckily for you, Eddie didn’t look too much into your reaction. He figured most people would be surprised over him nursing a heartbreak from someone he didn’t quite actually know, or was aware that he knew.

  “What?” You asked, trying to seem as uninterested as possible as you played with the ends of his jacket sleeves.

  “Fuck it. Someone left me roses all around the school and this really amazing love note.” For a moment, Eddie entertained the idea of trying to convey exactly what it meant to him, then he thought better of it. He’d either seem crazy, desperate or like some pathetic guy in love (which, he kind of was on the cusp of), “Pretty sure it was a girl.”

  Not a single dude in the high school was romantic enough to pull it off, maybe leave him an entire bouquet, but not expand upon it like she had.

  Eddie licked his lips, raising the cigarette to them once more and ready to admit that he had no fucking clue who she was, but he figured he might as well make one last rally.

  “Wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

  “Not me,” you lied flawlessly, with a gentle shake of your head. “Sorry, Eddie.”

  Sorry I’m a big liar because HOLY FUCKING SHIT, wasn’t expecting that. 

  “I figured. Still had to try, your boyfriend probably would have kicked my ass, though.” Yeah, Eddie hated Valentine’s Day.

  He stubbed the cigarette out into the wet grass, and laid the rest of the way down, hands covering his eyes as the back of his head met the ground.

  You frowned down at him. 

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  Hello. 

  Eddie peaked at you through his fingers, “No?”

  You shook your head and as Eddie moved to push himself back up, he yelped.

  He shifted onto his side, digging around his pocket for whatever it was that stabbed him.

  “Ouch,” He hissed, yanking the purple pen out. “Damn, that hurt like a bitch.” 

  Your eyes squinted at it in suspicion.

  “Is that my pen?”

  “Huh?”

  “My favorite—and pricey—pen. I lost it at school today.” In fact, you were sure you had and you were sure that was your pen. You’d broken off the clip of it by accident and you recognized the large crack in the body of it, having once given into an intrusive thought regarding whether or not you had the strength to break it while you were bored in class. You did have the strength and luckily for you, it still worked. 

  When Eddie made no move to give your pen back, you figured he didn’t believe you so you added, “The ink is pink, right?”

  Eddie continued to stare at you, mouth slightly parted in awe, and you suddenly felt very nervous, glancing behind you to see if there was something that caught his attention but all you could see were the empty lawns.

  “What?” 

  He finally blinked, licking his lips again. 

  “You’re a really good liar.”

  “What?” You repeated, this time your question was laced more so with confusion than panic. He was right, but why was he saying that?

  His lips slowly parted up at the corners until he was grinning at you so wide, his dimples were showing and you could feel your heart beating wildly against your rib cage, as if it was trying to break free to fly right over to him.

  “This is your pen?”

  “Yes!” Is that what his happiness was about? That he was holding your prized pen hostage?

  “This is your pen?” You could tell he was having fun at your expense now, getting more giddy by the minute.

  “Yes!” You laughed out, his joy contagious even if he was teasing you with your own belongings. “That is my pen. Give me my pen!”

  He clicked it closed with his thumb, “I found it where we hold Hellfire sessions, same pen that was used to write my love note.”

  And just like that, your heartbeat seemed to stop all together, smile dropping instantly as you wished a giant hole could form in the ground below you and swallow you up.

  “That’s not my pen,” you denied, shrugging off his jacket as you quickly rose to your feet. “I gotta go, bye, Eddie.”

  When you saw him starting to hastily rise, you bolted, literally running back into the house to try to find Heather and get the hell out of there.

  You heard Eddie frantically calling your name but you didn’t stop, forcing your way through the bodies as you desperately searched for your best friend.

  Luck was finally on your side because you were soon smashed into her back by a passing group.

  “Whoa,” she laughed, turning to steady you, “There you are, I’ve been searching for you everywh—hey, what’s wrong?”

  You were sure she must have noticed the panic on your face, eyes shiny with tears you refused to let fall in public. 

  “I wanna go home, we have to leave.” You grabbed her hand, pulling her into a secluded corner as your head darted in the direction of the front door. You wanted to make a run for it but you feared running into Eddie on the way.

  “What happened?” Heather asked, voice initially soft before hardening as her protective nature came out, “Did someone do something?” 

  You shook your head, chest heaving with your breaths. You were so close to having a panic attack. 

  “Eddie. He knows. He knows, Heather.” And because she was your best friend, she understood, mouth and eyes going wide.

  “Holy crap. Wait—isn’t this what you wanted?” 

  “No—yes—I don’t know! I can’t face him!” There was a reason you hadn’t written your name down on the note, regardless of how badly you wanted to. You were just scared.

  “Why not?” She bent down, leaned in closer to hear you. This girl and her twenty questions.

  “It doesn’t matter, he didn’t want it to be me, anyways. He would’ve asked earlier, and he only did it now because of that stupid pen!” You should have kept your mouth shut and just gone to buy another over the weekend, “Can we just please get out of here? We can try the side gate in the backyard.”

  “Is Eddie looking for you?”

  “Yes, that’s why we have to leave!” Whatever Eddie had to say, you didn’t want to hear it. Yeah, maybe he could want you but if he didn’t, was searching for you to let you down gently you’d be heartbroken. 

  “He knows and you don’t think he wanted it to be you?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then why would he be looking for you?”

  You refused to answer her, pushing her towards the back door instead. She went willingly for a few steps, then Heather stopped and you bumped into her back again as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder. 

  “I think it's too late for that.” She pointed at something behind you and you followed her finger. 

  Eddie was standing on top of the kitchen table a bunch of guys had carried into the living room to play beer pong on, eyes searching the room with his lips set in a frown.

  He was attracting attention, a multitude of heads turning to peer up at him in curiosity.

  Oh, god. He was looking for you, you were probably going to get rejected at a fucking Valentine’s Day party in some stranger’s living room.

  Eddie must have caught the attention of someone near the sound system because the volume of the music was lowered and you could hear everyone muttering amongst themselves, asking what had happened to the music before they noticed Eddie.

  He glanced around, not even a little nervous at the amount of people staring at him. He hadn’t planned on making a huge show of it, figured they were all too drunk to pay him any attention, luckily he was used to being a spectacle. 

  Eddie used it to his advantage, calling out your full name.

  The crowd muttered, everyone looking at each other in confusion or maybe trying to catch sight of you. 

  It wasn’t long before someone recognized you, head turning in your direction, followed by many more—a domino effect—until just about everyone was staring at you, including Eddie.

  He hopped off the table and made his way towards you, crowd parting to allow him. Heather slipped her hand into yours at your side, giving you a reassuring squeeze before she too stepped away, leaving you to finally face Eddie.

  Eddie didn’t look at anyone else, gaze trained solely on you.

  “Hi, again.”

  You blinked, unable to keep yourself from glancing at the crowd around you, curious—nosey—to see what would happen next.

  Guess you were going to have to finally face reality, no more running. You didn’t think you could break through the crowd, anyways.

  “Hi,” you whispered but you knew Eddie had heard you, his lips pursed into a smile, eyes lighting up when you didn’t shut down.

  “You ran away before I could tell you how I feel.” Eddie took another step, pretty much invading your personal space but he was desperate to be close to you and maybe body block you in case you tried to flee. He didn’t want you to run away again, to disappear like he feared you had when you hadn’t left your name on the note.

  “It’s only fair right? Since I know?”

  You nodded again, the drum of your heartbeat loud in your ears. You were surprised you could hear Eddie over it.

  Eddie stared down at you, lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t look upset or frustrated. It looked like he was thinking about something.

  Little did you know he was reciting the note in his head to give him some courage, he’d memorized it.

  He didn’t leave you waiting for long. 

  “I admire you. A lot.” Your breath hitched as the words you’d jotted down were repeated to you, “So much that I want to stand on expensive looking, antique tables and crash parties for you. I like the way you get animated when you talk, the way you give into your intrusive thoughts at the most random of times—yeah, I saw you trying to see if your finger fit in the pencil sharpener in the library once—I like how kind you are, even when people don’t deserve it. 

  “I like how you’ve never made me feel ostracized, never made anybody feel like that and I like how dramatic you are—storming off, making an exit, falling flat on your face in hallways then staying there like a dead body before you decide to reanimate again once you’re done being embarrassed. I like how you beat up your locker when it won’t open and then you give it a couple of pats to apologize once it finally does.”

  Eddie chuckled at those particular memories, having been thoroughly amused when watching you and you feel your face get hot at being the cause of his cute laugh.

  “And I really like your face, your pretty eyes, all of this,” Eddie gestured to you, to all of you from head to toe, “… you’re beautiful. Although, I gotta say, you drove me really fucking crazy today. Made me feel emotions I didn’t know I was capable of feeling and you scared the shit out of me when I thought I’d never get to know who the person I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with is.”

  Okay, maybe you didn’t want the ground to swallow you whole.

  “I know we only have a couple of months left of school and you’re probably going off to continue being amazing at some college in some big city a million miles away—‘cause that’s my luck—but I’m willing to work with that. I want to drive those million miles to give you flowers and hold your hand, kiss you, listen to you complain about your bad days, hear you brag about your good ones, kill all the bugs you’re afraid of—even though some of them freak me out, you make me feel brave, too—and just be all around disgustingly domestic with you. 

  “And yes, that includes all the not so fun domestic stuff like fights—which we’ll get over, I’ll do just about anything, even cave first, if you give me those big, coy eyes of yours—and taxes. I want to do it all with you. If you’ll have me.” Eddie ended, eyes wide and just a little out of breath. 

  There it was. He’d thrown it all out there, everything he wanted to offer (because he wanted to give you everything, even though it kind of terrified him).

  And you—you were just staring at him, left to gape at him since you’d expected… well, you hadn’t really known what to expect since you usually ran from the consequences—be they good or bad—of your actions. 

  He wanted to be with you. Holy crap, Eddie Munson wanted to be your boyfriend. Wanted to do boyfriend things like visit you at college and hold your hand. You’d thought, the whole time, it had just been you observing him. You never thought he’d be observing you, too. It all sounded too good to be true, you couldn’t really think, couldn’t really form words.

  You didn’t have to, Eddie grew anxious, maybe even a little impatient despite having decided the moment you’d run away from him in the front yard that he’d chase after you for as long as it took him to get you to give him a chance.

  He found himself blurting out his strongest desire, “Can I kiss you?”

  This was it, you were faced with another opportunity, and this one was the actual last opportunity you had to tell him how you feel, without any anonymity. No more hiding, no more running.

  “Yeah,” you breathed out and he was on you before you’d even finished saying that singular word, his surprisingly soft lips pressing desperately against yours as his hands moved to frame your face, one of his thumbs stroking along your cheek.

  Your eyelids fluttered shut as you returned the kiss and just like that, what he intended to be a simple but firm kiss, turned into your lips moving against each other, a little wet and enough to have Eddie want to pop his leg up like in the fucking movies.

  The only reason he kept himself from introducing his tongue to yours like he so badly wanted to was the sounds of encouragement around him; cheering and hollering. You broke away, having also heard your peers whooping and wolf whistling, to hide your face in his chest, bashfulness returning full force.

  Eddie laughed and kissed the top of your head, unable to contain his grin and joy. He definitely wasn’t used to this, more accustomed to jeering, not cheering. A couple of people even clapped him on the shoulder.

  “You know what, I think they’re rooting for us, sweetheart.”

  You pulled away just enough to look up at him, offering a small, pleased smile of your own.

  “They’re not the only ones.”

  Well, he had to give you some tongue for that one. The cheering and sounds of excitement got louder as he did.

— 

You hadn’t walked into school hand in hand with Eddie when Monday came around—though you’d spent pretty much the entire weekend with him, driving around town, lounging around your room (he’d come in through your window) and making out—he hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting up in the parking lot and you weren’t offended in the slightest. While you wanted to see him, you appreciated the extra time to calm your excited nerves before you did. 

  Heather ran up to you the second you made it to your locker, grin stretching from ear to ear. 

  “I still can’t believe it. It didn’t even happen to me and I’m pinching myself because of how romantic it was!”

  “Imagine how I feel,” You were all smiles as you turned the combination for your locker. But of course, since it was openly known as one of, if not, the shittiest of lockers in the school—having belonged to several wrestlers and football players before you, who’d evidently cared for it on the rough side—it didn't budge when you tugged at it.

  You wouldn’t miss it when you graduated. 

  With a sigh, you pulled the straps of your backpack off of your shoulders and handed it to Heather. Then, you yanked aggressively at the small locker handle. It was your routine though, so you knew it wouldn’t open then, either. It was only when you slammed your fist against it, after all the yanking, that it opened.

  Roses immediately flooded out of it, piling onto the ground at your feet. You and Heather watched with open mouths, glancing at passersby, who also looked on in surprise, until your stuffed locker finally finished its floral avalanche.

  “Like ‘em?”

  You jumped up, and then internally scolded yourself for almost trampling a couple of your flowers. You carefully twisted around to face Eddie, who was leaning back against the row of lockers behind you, smug smirk on his handsome face.

  “Yeah, what are all of these for?” You asked, still marveling at them as he pushed himself off the lockers to wrap his arms around your middle and press a kiss to the side of your head.

  “I realized I never got to ask you to be my Valentine or give you flowers. So, I bought some Saturday morning,” They were on sale so he’d gone purposely overboard, “used my uncle’s collection of mugs as vases to keep them alive, then woke up at the asscrack of dawn this morning to get here before you did. I probably broke your locker even more, by the way. So, be my Valentine?”

“I’m pretty sure it was part of the terms and agreements of our relationship, but yes. I’ll be your Valentine.”

Eddie closed your locker for you, pressing his weight against it to make sure it was secure and no more roses would escape before he scooped up the ones that had fallen out, arranging them into a large bouquet which he handed to you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

  You hummed happily against his lips, nose wrinkling in glee when you felt him smile.

  Eddie let out a content sigh when you parted before glancing to his side at your gawking best friend.

  “Hey, Heather.” Eddie wasn’t at all bothered by the audience. “Nice shoes.”

  “Thanks! They’re new. You done sucking face?”

  “For now,” he promised, then turned his attention back to you. “I’ll see you later, beautiful. I’ve got a test to barely pass. Gotta make sure I walk that stage with you.”

  Eddie pinched your cheek, pressed another kiss to your forehead and rushed off down the hall. You’d barely locked eyes with Heather when Eddie came running back, taking your face in his hands as he muttered something about one more and gave you a kiss that had you a little shaky on your feet.

  ‘One more’ actually turned out to mean a couple more pecks before he really forced himself away, blowing you a kiss just as he disappeared around the corner.

  “He’s whipped,” Heather stated.

  “Pretty sure I’m falling in love with him.”

  “That’s appropriate.” You both nodded before you turned to face your closed locker, arms full of sweet smelling roses. 

  “. . .  You still need to get your books, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Heather slid her arms through the straps of your backpack, over her front, so she could hold your flowers for you as you prepared to battle your locker again. It was totally worth it.

—

  Eddie never ended up giving you your pen back, it’s the one he used to write love letters to you while you were away at college.  

[lawyeronabike]

Misadventures in American Public Transit #4: The Airplane

If the Wright Brothers could see the state of commercial aviation today, they never would have invented the airplane. Prove me wrong.

Obviously I'm exaggerating. But there are serious flaws with American air travel that high speed rail all the more essential.

The TSA: at best, they slow you down, make you take off your shoes, unpack and repack your laptop, and generally be a nuisance. Then there's the times that they want to pat you down. I cringed at the sight of their screens, after I passed through the full body scanner, which showed an anomaly in my genital area. They patted me down last time I flew. It's billions of dollars totally wasted.

2. Planing and Deplaning: I never understood why a perk of spending more money for your ticket was to board the plane earlier. I don't give a shit if I'm the first person on or the last person. The plane will not take off until everybody has boarded. Boarding first means you have more time to sit in those cramped airplane seats. It is notoriously slow to file in and out of an airplane, and needlessly so.

People like CPG Grey love to overcomplicate things, theorizing optimal mathematical algorithms for boarding when true solutions are right in front of our faces.

So how can boarding actually be made better? Goddamn it, do it like trains. No mathematical formula for boarding would beat these two suggestions. 1) Stop assigning seats ahead of time. You claim your seat by sitting in it. 2) Have multiple doors for boarding. Shoving hundreds of people in through a single door has always been madness. Trains can board and deboard masses in seconds. It's long past time for planes to do the same.

3. The Idiocy of airline pricing: I'm not even talking about all the extra fees associated with flying. Everybody knows how annoying that is. What I'm talking about is a pricing model that would make an economist's head spin. What I'm talking about is this.

See this? This is a google price graph (Generated Feb. 21) of the cost to fly from New York to San Francisco on June 1. Why does the price dip? You have to be a psychic to play the airline pricing game. Price go up, price go down. Buy the Dip! Oops. you missed it, you have to pay more now. I don't like this. I want straightforward incentives to help me know when to buy. Amtrak for contrast, prices tickets lower, and raises prices as tickets are sold. I can buy a train ticket not worrying that I'm wasting money by not waiting for the dip.

So intrepid consumers try to save cash. They notice something weird. Sometimes, it is literally cheaper to buy a ticket to a far away place with a layover in a closer place than just to buy a ticket to the nearer place directly. It confounds common sense and is not how the world is supposed to work, according to economics. Don't believe me? Here's an example. (Prices checked on Feb. 21st)

On July 1st Delta flight 528 from Los Angeles to Atlanta costs $249. Or does it?

If you want to fly from Los Angeles to Fort Meyers FL, with a layover in Atlanta, it costs $144. Same airline. Same day. And same fucking flight. The first leg of the journey is provided by our old friend Delta flight 528.

So enterprising travelers start skiplagging. (cough cough search https://skiplagged.com/) They simply exit the airport at the layover airport, getting the correct price for a flight which was clearly mispriced. Surely, airline CEO's see this, and immediately fix their obtuse, opaque, and incredibly frustrating pricing system. Surely, airlines don't want to have a system in place which rewards people for buying seats they don't need, depriving travelers who do need them. Right?

But if you guessed they were going to be giant dicks about it, bonus points for you. Because we live in the worst timeline, they have decided to contractually enforce this insanity. It is a violation of the terms of service for most major airlines to skiplag. Take a look at this gem from Delta.

"Delta prohibits ticketing practices intended to circumvent the published fare that Delta intends to offer for your true itinerary. These practices include:.. 3) Hidden City/Point Beyond Ticketing - The purchase or usage of a fare from a point before the passenger's actual origin or to a point beyond the passenger's actual destination."

Imagine going to law school, thinking you're going to make the world a better place, only to sell out to commercial airlines and have to write shit like this to make the world a worse place.

(I hope the lawyers got paid a lot of money). I'm calling on congress to enact legislation to prohibit airlines from punishing customers for skiplagging.

We would not accept these shenanigans anywhere else. Can you imagine if at the grocery store, buying 10 oranges was cheaper than buying 5, but buying 11 was more expensive again? Can you imagine if to get into the store, you were required to wait in line while security guards with a better retirement plan than you made you take off your shoes, and funneled you in, one by one, through a single entrance, and assigned you a part of the store rather than let you pick where you started shopping? Nobody would accept this. Air travel can and be should be better. Much Better.

In Conclusion:

Plane bad, train good

[eternal-nyx]

1 MONTH ON T

 10/25/2023-11/21/2023

Days 29 - 56

Today is day 29 of my HRT diary! Holy shit! As of writing this, I have just taken my 5th injection.  Let's throw together a quick little list of the changes we've seen during month 1. 

Day 29

October 25th 2023

Hygiene: 

Looking into buying a new deodorant. Mine is slowly stopping working and I need to use so much more of it. My feet stink! I don't even wear socks or shoes. I never leave my house!!!!! This is wild. My body odor in my underarms is very much locker room stank, and my under-breasts smell like old taco bell. The amount of showers....JFC, 

NSFW: 

One inch of growth in the first month. Not mad about that at all. This thing is a plump little monster let me tell you. I get random erections, like a teenage boy. Sitting in the car? Erection that tingles and itches. Eating pizza with my family? Erection that makes me have to shift my weight, but I can't escape it! Crying over my broken bong? Yup. Erection there too. Fuck you, tick tack dick. 

I own an entire box of toys. I have a very healthy sex life and a partner who is more than willing to assist. But no matter what I try, it doesn’t STOP. And it’s not emotional its physical. I can FEEL this…..tingling? Fullness? I expected sensitive, and I expected wanting to have sex more. But being PHYSICALLY aroused more when I just wanna take a nap? Or watch tv?

Peeing is weird. I was just sitting on the toilet, peeing like one does, and I COUGHED. And my pee YEETED onto the wall instead of going in the toilet. Like....henh? The urethra in the AFAB anatomy isn't anywhere near the clit. The fuck is happening? Well. Whatever, guess this is life now. 

If my boobs don't stop feeling bruised soon I STG I might just cut them off myself. Holy fuck. Ow. 

Appetite: 

Early on I had some increased appetite that I actually benefitted from a lot. It helped me combat my ARFID ED, and was a welcome change. Though, now it's starting to taper out as nausea and PMS symptoms kick in. Hoping it comes back as my cycles hopefully cease.

Body Hair: 

Acne in places I never thought I would get it but here we are. Ass acne? Breast Acne? Thigh? Sure. I have Hidradenitis suppurativa (HS), also called acne inversus, I'm used to that shit. But my NECK?! MY SCALP? MY FUCKIN ELBOW?! The hell?! 

Vocal:

Yeaaaaaaaaaa we dropped ya'll. I'm a raspy, cracky, little bitch but OH I am loving it. I can't wait to see where it settles. 

Here are some things I wrote during earlier weeks about vocal changes:

October 18th 2023 

Night 21-Morning of Day 22

Overnight my voice really started to drop into a raspiness. It's like the beginnings of Laryngitis but instead of squeaking I'm rasping. That said, the rasping feels soothing on those sore areas of my throat. Using my voice in this comfortable range seems to help progress it without hurting it. 

October 13th 2023

Day 17 

Talking voice has begun to crack

October 16th 2023

Day 20

I think my voice just DROPPED

My throat hit an all time sore today. 

I was rubbing it and gargling numbing medicine and water. I'd taken the max dosage allowed for OTC ibuprofen and Tylenol every 6 hours on the DOT. I even took an extra of my fibromyalgia pain management medication. I had trouble eating, vaping (nicotine), smoking (medical weed), and also literally had chose my food based on what would help my throat or at least not hurt it further. I even spent parts of the day silent and nonverbal to try to sooth it and let it rest. 

However, I found that to be counter productive. I realized that using my voice in a comfortable chest voice range helped to sooth some of the tenderness. So I sung some poor man's poison and some seether. Then I went back to not talking again. It just HURT all morning. It's even affected my sleep. The throat pain bothers me more than the clit sensitivity. 

Just now, before typing this, the pain started to subside and all of a sudden my voice is like gravely and feels like I'm talking from my breastbone and not my throat. 

October 17th 2023

Day 21

The sore throat is less intense and no where near as constant. It comes and goes and so does my voice. Sometimes its normal, sometimes raspy.

Body General:

My mother noticed a change in my face shape during a video call. She said I look more like my father. 

I've noticed a change in my over all torso shape, however I'm not sure if it's due to weight loss, as I've lost 20 lbs, or the T redistributing things. Could be both I suppose. 

Menstruation:

I took pregnancy tests every single day I was late to be safe. All remained negative

After being intimate with my partner this morning, she informed me there was blood. I went to inspect, and sure enough, my flow started. My cramps are intermittent but normal for me in the moderate to severe range. So far the actual flow is light. Continuing to monitor changes. 

Misc:

Shaved off my face a few weeks back to monitor the new growth more accurately. Starting to feel itchy stubble on the chin. Here we go. 

Moody AF. Might talk about increasing my Cymbalta dosage actually. It's kind of intense.

[heretic-saint-taliesin]

DAY 9 - SALVAGE SHIP THE WRETCHED_

[Communications commence, Boris speaks cautiously_] 

Day Nine, salvage ship The Wretched. I thought I heard something on the beacon but after all that skittering I went through in the vents I’m not sure if it was real or if I’m hallucinating now. It’s been almost ten days with no one but myself to talk to_

I have to keep busy. I can’t spend another day in bed hiding like yesterday or I’ll crack_

It’s so hard to breathe today. I felt it when I woke up and it’s not going away. Like someone’s put a block of cement on my ribcage and is pressing down on it. I thought it was maybe a panic attack from yesterday - but I’ve had panic attacks before and this… This feels different. I don’t feel any more sacred or panicked than normal. I’m… I should investigate_

[Pause, there’s the sound of footsteps_]

My vision is spotty and I thought for a moment I fainted. No, I definitely fainted. Something’s wrong physically. Am I sick? No… It wouldn’t have come on this quick right… It’s so hard to breathe… Ah… Maybe_

[Boris presses something and a system beeps, there’s a whine of an error message and he groans quietly_]

Oxygen again… No wonder I’m fainting, I'm literally suffocating… I’m_

[Pause_]

I’m suffocating!_

[More frantic typing and button pushing. Boris flips several switches that click loudly. There’s the sound of something rebooting and several beeps. He suddenly breathes deeply and heavily_]

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck… Okay… Okay_

[He starts coughing, his hand can be heard gripping the panel he’s leaning on, it creaks_] 

First we had an O2 leak earlier this week and now the entire system just… Shuts down. This is not good. Not good at fucking all… What even shut it down?_

[He types a few things, muttering under his breath_]

It’s just on its last legs.It’s dying just like I’m dying - like how everything on this ship is fucking dying. Bet whatever was in the vents didn’t help either - probably tore up a few of the wires and stuff. I’m gonna have to keep an eye on it. Maybe there’s an O2 metre in Medbay I can carry on me to prevent myself from suffocating in my sleep_ 

[He sighs_]

We’re all dying together here. Maybe just falling asleep and never waking up… Arkady I wish you were here to tell me how stupid I am again_

Maybe it was the lack of oxygen slowly depleting the amount of functioning brain cells I have left but I’ve been lucid dreaming lately_

[Footsteps, Boris sounds like he’s slowly walking down a corridor, pausing between speaking to check around corners_]

The O2 leak definitely hasn’t helped it, that’s for sure. Arkady used to lucid dream and tell me about all the amazing things he could do in his dreams. I used to be jealous because I couldn’t do it_

[Shudder_]

I wish I wasn’t having these dreams_

[Pause, a door sliding open distantly and the beep of the life support system echoes around him_]

I dream of that thing. I’ve never seen it so my head just imagines what it could look like. Anything from a demonic beast to the alien from a movie Arya and I watched as kids - we were way too young the fuck were we thinking?! A-Anyway it… It’s always in my dreams. Peering from around corners and above me in the ceiling. In my head I’ll be walking a corridor like this and in the corner of my vision I’ll catch its eyes staring out of a vent grate or through a cracked panel. It appears on the comms screens - sometimes my dreams remind me of the time it talked to me_

[Another door opens and Boris goes quiet, then steps inside_]

Everywhere I see it. When I sleep and then the memory of the dreams haunts me when I’m awake. I’m checking every corner now. Every hole. I dug a torch out from the emergency hatch and I’m using it wherever it’s dark. Just in case_

It only watches though. It doesn’t attack and it doesn’t kill me. It’s like it knows that… Know that it’s not the right time yet. Not yet. It still has to toy with me a little longer before it has me_

I’ve been calling it that thing for some time now. I don’t really want to imagine it has an actual name. What kind of name would a creature so bent on killing even give itself?_

[There’s the sound of typing and general tinkering as Boris speaks. Background beeping from the systems goes off occasionally_]

Ada woulda picked a name from Pacific Rim or something. Sure it’s not a kaiju but it’s alien enough for that. Doug would’ve been more… creative. Something really stupid like “Slartibartfast” or whateverthefuck. He’s weird. Was weird_

[Pause_]

Arya and I used to have an imaginary solar system with an alien called Noona. I don’t want to give this thing a name that sounds cutesy like that though. As for this thing naming itself? Like what? People-devourer? Destroyer of ships? Or something completely incomprehensible to any language I speak? I can’t imagine_

[Pause_]

I don’t want to imagine_

I keep thinking too hard today. You deprive yourself of oxygen for a bit and suddenly all your thoughts start happening at once. Maybe my brain cells are dying. I keep… Replaying everything we went through when shit went down in my head over and over_

[Pause, the sound of a computer being shut down_]

Arya and I were together when the alarms went off. We tried to find the others because we thought it’d be safer that way. Found Mary in Medbay and Doug came to us from Comms and we were running to try and find Ada, Hollis and the Commander. ADAM was blaring out help and instructions but to no avail. The thing was getting into his systems and tearing him apart. He tried to buy us some time but what can an AI do exactly?_

We were just all running, screaming. Dying. Then we got split from Hollis and the Commander and I never saw them alive again… Ada wanted to recover ADAM’s drives and we begged her not to. She thought if she could get him functioning stronger he’d be able to jettison the creature from the ship. She… I… I_

[Pause_]

She bought Mary, Arya and I about forty minutes. Her and ADAM. It was enough to get away further. Even if… Even if I’m the only one who lived in the end the three of us made it forty minutes longer because she stayed back in the systems room_

[Heavy inbreath_]

I found her there after. She had ADAM’s motherboard in her arms. I didn’t look at the injuries that killed her. Just put her and her creation somewhere… Somewhere more dignified_

Forty minutes_

[Sniffle_]

Flight Engineer Boris Strugatsky Signing off_