#boy meets girl (1984)

[iscahmckrae]

Crossover fanfic prompt: A friendship forms between Jess Mariano and Shawn Hunter—either in New York, Philadelphia, or both, depending on timeframe.

[lovebugism]

can I request steeb taking care of shy!reader who is upset after a bullying incident in school? I figured she would be a year younger (like robin’s grade) because I don’t think anyone would touch her if king steve was around. I feel like he’s be so soft with her but also reeling at the thought that someone hurt his girl!

thanks for ur request anon! idk if i can count this as a blrub because it's nearly 3k words but alas pls enjoy! tw for blood (knee scrapes) and j*son c*rver

You come to Family Video with a scrape on your left knee.

It’s not the weirdest thing in the world — you ride a worn-down bike that’s probably older than you are. Steve’s been begging you to get a new one for as long as he’s known you, outright offering to pay for the damn thing as long as he’s sure it’ll get you to him without getting hurt in the process.

You reject him every time. “It gets me where I need to go,” you always shrug. “What more could I want from it?”

And he wants so badly to be angry at the beauty you manage to find in mediocrity. But he can’t be, really. It’s why you fell in love with him in the first place, isn’t it? Why you took the heartbroken boy in your arms on Halloween night in 1984 and convinced him he wasn’t bullshit despite what he told you. He’d be an idiot to be mad at how kind you are.

But when you walk into Family Video, halfway limping with blood dripping down your knee, he knows it’s different. 

Something more than a toppled bike hurt you.

“Oh, god, babe,” he winces from where he stands at the counter with Robin. “What happened?”

“I fell,” you shrug as he races over to you.

“You fell?” Robin scoffs. “Knock me out with a feather.” You know she’s joking, but it’s a little too monotone, and you’re a little too sensitive. Something in her words hurts more than your throbbing knee.

Steve, who knows you like the back of his hand, understands exactly what your diverted gaze means. When you look down to the floor, he shoots Robin a firm glare.

What? she mouths, obviously confused at the sudden silence.

“Can you get the first aid kit from the back? I think there might be some gauze in there,” he asks, deciding to change the conversation entirely. He wraps an arm around your waist and walks slowly with you to the counter. He meets your grimace with a soft smile. “I’ll clean it, wrap it up, and you’ll be good as new.”

You don’t give him anything in response. Not even a pity smile.

He sits you on the counter with the open first-aid kit beside you. Robin flips the store sign to closed. It’s barely five o’clock. She starts tidying up the store to go home, anyway.

Steve wipes up the warm blood with a napkin and cleans the scrape with an alcohol wipe. You hiss at the feeling — it’s like a hundred tiny bee stings. From where he sits just below you on a worn swivel chair behind the counter, he leans in to press a kiss just above the cut.

Without all the blood, it looks a lot less gnarly than before.

“See? It’s not so bad,” the boy smiles as he unravels some gauze. “I’ll patch it up, baby you for the rest of the night, and you’ll forget it ever hurt by morning.”

Again, you don’t even smile. You just purse your lips to the side and nod.

Steve’s heart stings, but he doesn’t take anything by it. He wraps the bandage down and over your knee in an even rhythm. He tries not to be so direct when he asks: “How’d this happen, anyway, huh? Did Ol’ Sliver finally give up on you?”

You shake your head, eyes on the gauze instead of the boy. The white cloth splotches with pink from where your wound still weeps. “No,” you answer quietly. “Just fell.”

“Just fell, huh?” he repeats quietly. A few caramel-colored strands fall over his forehead as he peers up at you with his chin tilted towards his chest. He tries his best to smile. “You’re givin’ me the sad eyes, babe. I feel like it was more than just a fall.”

“It was stupid…”

He scoffs. “Never.”

“A car drove by me,” you confess, only half-lying. You try to look down at him, but your gaze wavers along with your courage. “And the music was kinda loud, and it… It startled me a little.”

You don’t tell him that Jason Carver intentionally swerved on the wrong side of the road to scare you — or that he yelled mean things through the rolled-down passenger window before speeding off again. It’s easier to keep it to yourself. You don’t want it to become a whole thing.

Steve’s brows furrow as he tucks the end of the bandage to keep it from unraveling. “Were they going too fast?”

“I don’t know. Kind of.”

“It wasn’t those football assholes, was it? I swear to god, they need their license revoked.”

“No,” you answer, quick to soothe his rising anger. “It was— It wasn’t anyone. I just got scared, and I swerved off the road, okay?”

Even in your mousy voice, it sounds like you’re being stern with him. And you’re never stern with him.

“Well, that’s okay,” Steve assures with a shrug. “We all get scared. It’s better than you getting hit, I guess.”

“I guess,” you echo with a huff, a teasing smile on your lips.

Steve grins back, happy to see you less pained. He smacks a gentle kiss to your wrapped-up knee. “Go get in the car, okay? I’ll clean up here, put your bike in the trunk, and we can go home.”

You go shy as you peer at him from beneath your lashes. “Your home?” you clarify, secretly hoping he’ll say yes.

His answer isn’t surprising. “Of course, my home. You practically live there, anyway.”

You smile and brush a soft kiss to the scruff of his jaw, murmuring a quiet thank you there before leaving. You’re not limping nearly as badly as you had been before.

Robin waits for the door to ding shut before blurting: “I think it was Jason.” 

Steve stills with the first-aid kit in his hands. He squints at her from where she stands between the horror and X-rated horror aisles. 

“What?”

“I think that’s who might’ve run her off the road.”

“…Why?”

“He gives her a hard time sometimes, I don’t know,” she explains vaguely and with a sigh. “Normally, it’s stupid. Like, honestly, I just think he’s super shit at flirting. Maybe he was just trying to scare her and… got a little carried away…”

Anger burns red hot in Steve’s chest. It blooms just behind his ribcage like a flower with fire for petals.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks through gritted teeth, trying not to sound too angry. It’s not like Robin was the one who hurt you, after all — just some douchebag who wouldn’t have laid a hand on you if he knew who your boyfriend was. 

Steve’s knuckles go white as his grip tightens on the plastic box.

“Because I thought it was harmless!” Robin agonizes as she rushes to meet him. Her deep ocean eyes swim with worry, frightened that he might be angry at her. “Seriously. Most of the time, it sounds like he’s just being mean to get into her pants. And, like, I don’t know if that’s how he landed Chrissy back in the day or what, but he’s obviously got no clue what kind of girl he’s flirting with because…”

She trails off at Steve’s hardened umber gaze.

Robin groans and leans over the counter, reaching for the boy’s wrist. “Please don’t be mad at me, Stevie. My heart can take that. I’ll be sick for days—”

“I’m not mad at you, Rob,” the boy promises. He sighs. “I just gotta… go beat up a kid now.”

—————

You’re too focused on the stars and the feeling of Steve’s warm hand on your thigh to notice he’s taking the wrong route home.

The car slows way sooner than you expected. When you come back down from the clouds, you find that you’re in a near-empty lot. The car jolts softly when Steve puts it in park.

“What are we doing?” you turn to him with furrowed brows.

Steve unclicks his seatbelt. “I’ll be right back.”

You look past him, at the large building lit up by amber streetlamps and the green door with a light in its window. Every so often, someone will whip by it wearing a white jersey. Your heart sinks.

“Why are we at school?” you asked, scrunched-faced in a mixture of anger and worry. You don’t know how he knows what happened to you, only that he does know.

“I need to take care of something here. It’s okay—”

“Don’t go in there,” you plead. “Please. Let’s just go home—”

“I’ll be right back,” he repeats. He leans over the console to kiss your cheek. You don’t lean into it like you usually do.

“Steve—”

The car door shuts and cuts off the rest of your pleas.

Steve has an easy time getting into the gym. The backdoor is propped open with a small wooden block like it always is. The coaches welcome him in like usual. They beam as the old team captain waltzes into the newly painted gym like he owns the place.

“Harrington!” the burly man calls over the sounds of squeaking shoes and bouncing basketballs. “Come to turn in an application, finally? I’ve only been asking you to be co-coach since you graduated.”

Steve smiles coolly. “No. Not yet… I, uh— I actually needed to talk to one of your players.”

The man shoots him a look.

“Jason Carver.”

“Oh,” the man chuckles, a deep belly laugh. “You only wanna pull my star player out of practice, huh?”

“It’ll take, like, two seconds. Tops.”

A momentary stare-off ensues. Steve knows the answer he’s going to get. Everyone at this damn school has got a soft spot for him. Perks of being Hawkins High royalty, he figures.

“Two,” the coach says in the place of any real answer. 

He takes the green whistle from his neck and blows into it. The shrill sound echoes through the gym. Like trained dogs, the boys on the court still.

“Carver!” the man shouts, almost too loudly. Steve winces from beside him. “Get over here!”

Jason passes the ball off and jogs to meet them without question. When Steve says he’s got something to tell him, the blonde-haired boy smiles like it’s a privilege. Red-faced and out of breath, he trails behind Steve as they walk out into the hallway.

“Don’t tell me you’re coming to be assistant coach,” the boy says with an audible smile. “Coach Blair has only been talking about it for a year—”

When the double doors shut behind him, Steve whips around and shoves the boy into the lockers. They clang beneath his sudden weight and echo down the empty corridor. Jason’s smug face contorts into shock. “—What the hell?”

He tries to regain his footing, but Steve only shoves him backward again. His hands twist in the neck of his jersey. 

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Jason shouts.

Steve’s stern features never waver. He leans in close, eyes trained on the boy like a predator to prey. “Leave my girl alone,” he threatens lowly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know who your girl is—”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” Steve spits in response. The lockers bang once more when he shoves the boy backward again. “Should break your leg for what you did to her. What would the star player do then, huh?”

Jason’s wide eyes flit between the both of Steve’s. He racks his brain for what he might’ve done so wrong and who he might’ve done it to. He gapes at the realization — “Bambi? Bambi’s your girlfriend?”

“Oh, that’s what you call her?” Steve muses in a monotone, feigning interest. “How cute.”

“I didn’t know, man. I swear. If I knew, I never would’ve—”

“I don’t care. And stop pleading, alright? It’s embarrassing.”

Jason goes quiet. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Steve’s hand loosens on his jersey. His ice-cold gaze never wavers.

“I don’t wanna know what you did to her. I don’t wanna know why you’re doing it, either — if you think she’s pretty, or if she’s easy-pickings for assholes like you — I don’t care.” He presses the boy further into the lockers, their noses inches apart. “But if I hear you’re messing with her, talking about her to your friends— if you so much as look in her direction again, I promise you won’t like what I do to you.”

Jason’s jaw clenches. He juts out his chin in a feeble attempt to make himself taller. “Yeah?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

“That’s real rich coming from someone who couldn’t even beat up Jonathan Byers.”

“I’ve learned a lot since then,” the older boy promises, weirdly composed. “Feel free to find out if you don’t believe me.”

The boy stays quiet.

Steve shoves him backward when he lets go of him. He gives him a final glare and one last warning before walking back toward the gym. “And plant your feet when you’re on the court, alright? It’d be a real shame if you broke an ankle.”

—————

The drive to his house is silent.

It usually is. Most of the time, you’re too zoned into the music or making shapes in the clouds to talk. But now it’s because you’re angry. Steve would be an idiot not to notice. He can feel it radiating off of you like steam.

He reaches for the console and turns the air-con up.

“Are you hot?” he asks in a feeble attempt to break the quiet.

With your arms crossed and your gaze out the window, you deadpan: “I’m mad.”

“I feel like that’s sorta the same thing,” Steve jokes with a weak, lopsided smile.

“I didn’t want you to do that,” you choke through a tight throat. “You’re just gonna make it worse.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have gotten so bad if you would’ve just told me.”

You turn to him with eyes glassy from unshed tears. A stoplight bathes the both of you in shades of neon scarlet. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d do something about it,” you spit.

“So you’d rather let some asshole run you off the road, huh? Is that it?”

He doesn’t mean to be so harsh. He’s just upset, and the adrenaline’s making him antsy. 

Steve learned a long time ago not to be so forward with you. Even if he’s just joking around, even if he’s mad and saying shit he doesn’t mean — you’re not built for that. You’re made of something softer: marshmallow fluff and crocheted yarn and flower petals. It’s why you let Jason Carver pick on you for so long without saying a word about it.

“It’s not like that,” you argue quietly, blinking back tears as you turn away from him again.

Steve sighs. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean— I’m just upset, okay? I didn’t mean to yell.”

“I know…”

“I just wish you would tell me these things, you know?”

His hand is warm on the skin of your thigh as he smooths his palm over it. Your eyes flit to your leg and then to him. You nod. “I know. I just…” Your features crumple when you trail off. 

Steve squeezes your thigh in reassurance. “You just what?”

“I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle myself,” you confess quietly. “Everyone thinks I’m so weak. I didn’t want you to think that, too.”

“I don’t think you’re weak,” Steve scoffs out a laugh, like he almost can’t believe you’d even think something like that.

Your brows furrow. “No?”

“No. Not even a little bit. But as your boyfriend— ‘cause I am your boyfriend, right?”

You meet his teasing gaze with a half-hearted scowl. You’ve only been dating for a year and a half. You nod to humor him.

“Exactly. So, as your boyfriend, it’s my job to help you through the hard shit, you know? Just because you can get through it on your own doesn’t mean you have to.”

Your chest swells. You try not to smile too wide, but it’s hard not to. You’ve never had someone who wanted to protect you before. It’s as strange as it is gratifying.

“Okay,” you concede with a nod.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat with a giggle.

Steve leans over the console, moving slowly like his lips are made of magnets that drift to yours. Through the overwhelming urge to kiss you, he jokes: “Is it— and I’m just checking here— is it okay?”

You shake your head and lean to meet him halfway. “You’re such a dork.”

Your lips barely brush before a loud honk echoes behind you. You jolt apart from him, not noticing that the light had turned green until then. 

Steve sighs and mourns your unkissed lips. His engine roars softly as he presses on the gas.

He’d noticed. He saw the light change about twenty seconds ago — how the bright crimson changed into a softer shade of lime that bathed you in its neon hues. He just loved the way you looked in green.

[angie-likes-to-art]

Fic Recs (Stranger Things Edition IV)

My semester is over and I can finally read fanfics again!! and maybe write??? All fics are fem!reader

Marvel One Two Three Harry Potter One Two Three Stranger Things One Two Three Specific Characters Tangerine Masterlist

Like a Random Tuesday in December by @bimrwolf (18+ Only)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader Summary: “Reader had always had a crush on Steve, but he is not interested. Yet, when he starts to get closer to her, he realizes he made a mistake because it might be too late.”

Whip it! by @schoopsahoy

Pairing: Steve Harrington x roller-rink!Reader Summary: “steve gets forced into taking the kids to the new roller rink, but he doesn’t mind so much once he meets you. basically just steve being a massive simp for reader.”

Dazed and Confused by @caxde

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “you work on Hawkin's music shop, and Eddie is a regular costumer. Your friends (Steve and Robin mostly) help you to gain confidence and flirt with him.”

Start Me Up by @jobean12-blog (18+ Only)

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “Your car needs a major tune up but when you meet your mechanic, all you want is for him to tune you up.”

Dreaming of You by @boomhauer (18+ Only)

Pairing: Virgin!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “Plagued by graphic dreams about the Munson boy, you decided to see if he can make them come true.”

Sketchbook by @galaxy-siren

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Artist!Reader Request: Could I please request an Eddie x artist!reader story. Maybe he sits next to her in a couple of classes and he sees her drawing in her sketchbook and he’s just like “holy shit that really good” and he asks if he can look at some of her other drawings. She lets him forgetting that she has a couple of sketches of him.

Second Chance by @astermath

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader Summary: “steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.”

Private Viewing by @lokis-army-77 (18+ Only)

Pairing: Camboy!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary:  “What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?”

Next Caller by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple (18+ Only)

Pairing: College!Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader Summary:  “Eddie hosts a late night radio show for his college campus, where he discusses various different topics. He's mostly known for his DnD and sex talk segments. You've been a long-time listener who works up the courage to finally call in for some help.”

Deal with the Devil (Series, Ongoing) by @hard-candy-writing (18+ Only)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader Summary: “you want to piss off your parents. eddie wants to pass his classes. so you make a deal with each other: he'll date you, you'll tutor him, and you'll both end the year happy. the catch? no falling in love. slow burn romance, enemies to friends to lovers, fake dating, don't fall in love. fic takes place in 1984-85.”

[steddielicious-quaerhye]

There’s all this discourse on bi Steve that assumes that either Steve has always known or that Eddie was his awakening. But what about a dumbass Steve whose first kiss was with a guy, but he didn’t clue in until much later? In this essay, I will elaborate on…

Steve, who at age eleven is best friends with Tommy and Carol. They’ve come up with a pact to all have their first kisses with each other (Steve and Carol and Tommy and Carol, obviously), but the day before, Steve and Tommy are scared that they’ll be bad kissers and Carol will tell everyone. So the two boys decide to practice ahead of time. Of course, this is where Steve’s reputation as a Casanova starts. He just has this natural ability.

And as years pass, Steve and Tommy never really talk about it; but whenever something new comes up, they always practice before Carol. French kissing and necking and dry humping. They don’t want to blow their loads too early with their first handjobs with her, so it’s only natural that the first hands on their dicks that don’t belong to themselves are each other’s. When they’re fourteen, Tommy and Carol lose their virginity to each other and Steve fucks her right after. But it changes everything, and Carol actually wants to date Tommy. In an exclusive relationship.

Steve starts serial dating, taking first kisses and virginities all over town. None of the girls feel any different from Carol (or Tommy), so when he’s alone with Danny Mahoney in the showers after a swim meet in sophomore year and it turns into making out and sloppy handjobs, Steve doesn’t expect anything more. A mouth is a mouth and a hand is a hand, right? It’s just guys helping each other out. After all, they’re not doing anything really queer, like blowjobs or anal. At some point, Danny admits that he actually is gay. (It doesn’t bother Steve as much as he expects.)

When Steve is a junior, he starts dating Nancy Wheeler and stops fooling around with Danny (and various girls). Even though it doesn’t really count with Danny, something deep inside him tells him it does. So Steve has a proper girlfriend and doesn’t really think about anyone other than her.

And then Jonathan Byers straddles him in an alley and beats the shit out of him for calling him a queer. Steve isn’t a fan of the fists, but as he feels Byers on his hips, the clouds part and it clicks that he’s being a massive hypocrite and asshole. When all is said and done and the demogorgon is defeated, Steve still stays with Nancy. But now he knows. He’ll never tell anyone, but it really doesn’t matter what gender the other person is. Either way, it doesn’t matter. He’s in love with Nancy and they’re going to be together forever.

Months later though, Jonathan is still wary around Steve and can’t quite bring himself to trust him, despite the new camera. And Steve needs to prove that he’s changed, so makes an effort to get to know Jonathan better. And one night in April 1984, when they’re baked out of their minds in the Byers’ backyard, Steve swears that he doesn’t care if Jonathan (or anyone in his family, for that matter) is a queer, because he himself likes guys. Jonathan is the one who puts a name to what Steve is - bisexual. No one really knows what it means, but David Bowie once said that he was, and if Steve has this thing in common with Bowie, it can’t be that bad.

That winter, when Steve is suffering through a broken heart and Danny is back from Berkeley for Christmas, Steve sheepishly admits that he’s actually into guys the same as girls. Danny rolls his eyes and they fuck all winter break long. Steve is eighteen now and really doesn’t have any real friends to hang out with (at least not until he’s comfortable around Jonathan and Nancy being a couple), so he spends a few Saturday nights in spring up in Indy’s gay clubs figuring out what he likes. And he likes it all.

Well, not quite. In May, after a basketball game, Billy Hargrove corners Steve in the locker room and aggressively kisses him. He then threatens to kill him if he tells anyone. Steve believes him of course, because Billy is a fucking psychopath with issues that run a mile deep.

And no, Steve doesn’t have the chance to tell Robin about himself in the Starcourt bathroom, thanks to Dustin and Erica barging in. But once they’ve been released from the hospital, he sneaks in her window that night and tells her that he gets it.

After all, gender is such an arbitrary factor in who’s hot or not, right?

(Robin says no, boys are gross.)

See more in the series at #peak bi experience

Crossposted to AO3 here

[fangisms]

all of the girls you loved

A/N: i am a SUCKER for a good song fic and obvi a sucker for some good Taylor content (gif creds: @merakiaes)

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Every woman that he knew brought him here. You want to teach him how forever feels. 2.6k words.

Warnings: so much crying why am i in a mood, fluff mostly!, song fic, song lyrics, pet names (poppet, dear), heartbreak, brief angst, ONE FUCKING CURSE WORD. jealousy, being stood up

1984

"your mother brought you up loyal and kind"

You'd been chasing the little red haired boy through the train station for the better part of the last ten minutes. But only because he tugged at your hair and stuck his tongue out at you. He started it. He's got this worn grey sweater, and you can tell his jeans were hand-me-downs from the patchwork in the knees. Probably from the boy, his older brother, with the wavy red hair carrying far too many books and stumbling up the train's steps.

Your antagonist giggles and ducks behind the brick pillar in the center of the station. You roll your eyes and round the otherside, tapping on his shoulder with a grin. He yelps and skitters away behind his mother. She has a small baby tucked in her arm and another cooing from a pram decorated with ribbons, lace, and wicker.

"Georgie!" She scolds him for tugging on her skirt before looking down to see your little face staring back at her. "Hello, dear, what's your name?"

The boy peeks his head out from behind her leg, round cheeks flushed a soft pink from all the running. You fold your arms over your chest and scowl at him.

"Determined little thing, aren't you?" she says with a sweet smile and kind eyes, "Have you been terrorizing this young lady?"

"It's not my fault, mum! She looks funny!"

"George. That's not how we talk about other people, now, is it?" she warns.

"No, mum."

"No, of course it's not. Now, you apologize this instant. Your brothers give me enough grief as is."

His wicked gaze meets yours, and you scowl hard as you can back at him. He squints. You purse your lips.

"I'm sorry because my mum told me so!"

You pout, "apology not accepted! I hope I never see you again!"

And with that, he watched the little girl with the wild hair and the polka-dotted pinafore skip away. Never to be seen again. Until the next year. And each year following the last.

1994

"teenage love taught you there's good in goodbye"

George has got a mouth full of the loudest bubblegum in existence when he comes roaring up behind you in the hallway, laying his arm across your shoulders.

"Evening, poppet. I assume you've heard the news," he chirps, smacking his gum in your ear proudly.

"You're disgusting, George," you say, shrugging his arm away but still matching his pace, "and I don't care that you bribed Niamh Ward into being your date to the Yule Ball."

"I didn't bribe her! She asked me and I said 'yes'"—he blows a gummy bubble in your face, and it bursts with a ringing pop—"D'you reckon she'll kiss me if I dance well enough?"

He twirls off down the hallway, ending his mini routine with a flourish of jazz hands.

"I don't reckon any girl will ever want to kiss you with moves like that."

"Oh, you're just a cynic. I'm perfectly snoggable, whether I can dance or not." He takes your wrist and drapes your arm in the crook of his own, and you scoff when he leans in to pop another bubble in your face. "Who's taking you to the ball, anyway? That Durmstrang halfwit?"

You yank your arm away and stop dead in your tracks. It's a well-known fact that you'd been waiting for George to ask you to the Yule Ball since first year. You thought for sure he'd ask you. But the time came and went and you each found other dates, other outfits, other plans. And you hate that deep down, a small part of you is still waiting for him to ask you. But you'd never do that to Niamh. Not even for George.

"As a matter of fact, yes," you say, "and his name is Johan—"

"What kind of name is Johan?"

He's still smacking his gum like he knows exactly how to get on your nerves. And after all these years, it's no wonder.

"You're so immature. I'll see you later."

"Oh, come on—"

"No, George," you huff, not turning around until you clear the corner and wipe your wet cheek with the sleeve of your robes.

...

The Great Hall has never looked more decadent. Draped in glitz and the magic of the holidays. Everyone's absolutely buzzing with excitement, ever-present gossip, and the beauty of students dressed to the nines. And in the midst of it all, you still spot him from across the room.

Of course, Johan is the perfect gentleman. He even asked if you'd like to match your gown to his traditional red dress robes. It was a lovely idea, and it wasn't hard to pick out a lovely chiffon, maroon dress. He said you looked beautiful and danced with you most of the night, but there was still that sickly ache in your chest like flesh and tendon left split by two cold hands. George's hands.

After you told Johan you didn't feel well, he left you alone at one of the shimmering tables. You felt bad practically leading him on, but it's not like you'd been lying about your attraction to him. Just about your attraction to George.

You don't turn to face the person who plops onto the stool beside you. You're pretty dedicated to flicking the thin straw around the rim of your glass at this point.

"I left my date to come talk to you, so you better have a stellar reason for looking so glum."

George. You know he's trying to cheer you up. And he knows it's not exactly working how he'd hoped. "Come on, poppet. It's the Yule Ball. You've been looking forward to this for, what, six years?"

He hates that when you turn to face him, you've got tears dripping from your chin, jaw, nose, lashes. He hates that there's a small part of him that wishes he could have fixed it for you. 

"What's wrong?" he whispers, scooting closer and catching a slow tear slipping over your cheekbone. You flinch away and lean your head in your hand, closing your eyes.

"You have no idea."

George chortles and shrugs, "well, yeah. That's sort of why I'm asking." You land a hearty wallop on his arm, not even looking when you swing your fist at him. "Alright, that was deserved. Now, tell me. I don't like it when you shut me out."

"Why are you doing this, George? Why don't you just leave me alone? Go hang out with Niamh or something," you say. It's accusatory, sure, but that's the point. The inflection was aimed for the heart. Spear tipped with arsenic just to make it sting more.

He chews the inside of his cheek, rubbing the back of his neck when you dodge his gaze and sniffle.

"That might be a tad difficult seeing how she stood me up."

Shit.

"George, I didn't mean—"

"No, no, it's okay. She caught a... a stomach bug, or something. Spent all morning hunched over the girl’s toilet," he mumbles, loosening his tie. And you catch just the smallest smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. Like there's some kind of amusement in his own misery. "I feel bad for her, honestly."

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea." You grab his hand and lean closer. He looks tired up close. Like the light usually at home in his eyes as twinkled out and left him dimmed.

"You've nothing to be sorry for. Fate is fate, after all." He brushes his hair out of his face and takes a deep breath, squeezing your hand. "Dance with me?"

Yes, of course, you want to shriek. I'd love nothing more from the boy who used to yank on my hair and call me names and tell me he loved my sparkly shoes. An honor, you think, but the words don't reach. Just a smile.

"Sure," you say, letting him tug you in the direction of the crowd. The right direction, you think, the direction you've longed for. Then he spins you into his chest, and you feel the shallow rumble of his laugh in your fingertips.

"Was Johan a better dancer than me?" he says, swaying your bodies like tender obligation. You cock an eyebrow.

"Johan stepped on my toes every four steps and nearly tore my dress."

"...So?"

"Yes," you tease.

"Shut up. Let me make this dance a good one. For you."

You look up at him and he thinks he's never seen someone look so clueless and yet so completely beautiful. From the gloss on your lips to the gems on your shoes and even now, mascara smudged and hands shaky, he thinks he'd like to look at you for as long as you'll let him. And when you shuffle closer between songs, he has to catch his breath against your temple.

"Your hair's gotten so long, Georgie," you whisper, slipping your hand up and over his shoulder, to the back of his neck with a smile pressed to his warm cheek.

"Like it?"

"I’ll always like it."

He pleads to Merlin you can't feel the rattletrap pounding of his heart. His hand moves of its own volition, spread across the small of your back like he's seen in some romance films. The slow dance scene is always the most romantic. The pinnacle of their love thus far. The event to dissolve any prejudice leftover in their heads, and any pride hidden in the last cracks in their hearts.

"George, I have to tell you something important—"

"Shh, poppet, just dance with me a little longer."

And you suppose. It could wait that little while longer. Another dance. Another day. It'd come up again and break your heart, but it'd be too pressing to put off eventually.

So you let him hold your hand a little tighter, sway you in circles a little slower, and keep your heart beating a little louder.

1996

"every woman that you knew brought you here // i wanna teach you how forever feels"

The something important you had tried to tell George that night was that you'd be staying with your estranged aunt in Spain over the course of the next school year. Your final school year. You'd be leaving Hogwarts—leaving George—and spending the year homeschooling over in Spain.

You left that Spring to spend your days in the Spanish countryside, drinking in the sunshine and dancing to the music of the cicadas. It had devastated George. It had devastated all of the Weasleys. They were so used to housing you most summers, and the change was quite unwelcome. Less place settings, less baggage clunking up the stairs, less laughter. He could only hope you were happy. And that he'd be able to see you again one day in the future.

"Georgie?"

You caught him off guard. He nearly tripped and cracked a tooth on the steps when you called his name. He and his twin brother had made a spectacle of Ninety-three Diagon Alley in the time you'd been away. And you had just happened to wander in and find him hurrying up the technicolor stairs after his brother.

Nothing felt real when he met your eyes for the first time in a year and change. The sirens and bells and sparklers went fuzzy as he realized just how beautiful you'd gotten since he last saw you. Beautiful enough to make him wildly nervous. Enough to make him sweat.

"My Poppet." He says it gently, grinning when you bat your lashes and hold your arms out.

"Christ, I've missed you, George," you huff, burying your face in his shoulder when he wraps his arms around you.

"You have no idea."

You tease him with a laugh, "Well, yeah," pulling away to wrap your lithe fingers around his tie. "Look at your hair! It's so short!"

"Like it?" He runs his fingers through the scruff at the back of his head. You squint and pat the soft tufts at the top of his head.

"I love it. You know I do."

He sighs, ushering you to the back of the shop all while trying to conceal a giddy smile.

"I've had an entire year to reflect on all the reasons why you abandoned me, poppet. I made a list"—He takes your wrist and drapes your arm in the crook of his own—"Starting with that time I told you your unicorn shirt was quote, unquote, 'for babies'."

"You have to include my stunning defense, Weasley"—you clear your throat—"'I am a baby, and you're just a rotten little boy!'"

"How could I forget?" He pushes open a door to the very neglected office towards the back of the building. Papers stacked on the desk, a cobweb in the corner. Well-loved. "A little privacy, mademoiselle?"

"I'd be delighted."

He sweeps the dust off a brown leather chair by the desk, offering the seat to you with a shy smile.

"Oh, George," you whisper, fiddling with the clasp of your purse with watery eyes and a pout like the one you gave him the first time he saw you.

"Come here, sweetheart," he says, hurrying you into his embrace with the feeling of being gutted by your sad eyes weighing heavy on him.

"There's just so much"—you gasp and cover your mouth when you sob—"So much I've missed and so much I want to tell you and so much I wish I had seen and done with you..."

"I know. I know, I feel the same," he huffs, "I missed you more than words can describe. I didn't know what to do with myself."

"I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I thought—"

"No. No, poppet, of course not"—he holds you tighter, pressing you to the curves of his body, holding you like clay and hot glass—"You came back, that's all I could ever ask for."

You pull back and let him wipe the tears from your cheeks, leaving faint kisses on each temple. And when he finally tears himself away from your skin, he's only left desperate for the contact. His thumb brushes you cheek, and you hold his wrist, lashes fluttering to meet his soft gaze. Desperation. Exhaustion. Relief. It's all there in the palm of your hand, and just at his fingertips.

Twelve years is far too long to be loving anyone the way you love each other. Completely but without the parts of love we sometimes need most. The honesty and openness, the comfort, and more than ever, the kisses. He curses his wild eyes for sweeping the length of your parted lips. His wild eyes giving away his secrets and calling him a damned fool.

You catch his mouth with yours, innocent at first peck, but he kisses you back, unsure of where his hands should go, wanting perfection, especially when your nose bumps his and makes you smile into the wetness of the kisses.

"I want everything," you whisper, forced to choose between air and George, "I have loved you since the day we met."

"That's very cheesy, my dear." He rests his forehead against yours, cupping the side of your neck, thumb resting gingerly over the column of your throat. Just to hold something delicate. Fragile. His.

"Think you can do better?"

"Hmm," he clears his throat, "You stole my heart and... I don't think I want it back."

"Gross! You win."

"I meant it."

He winks and pecks your bottom lip sweetly, only to realize you're tearing up, head tilted back and hands fanning at your eyes. He holds your waist and you shake your head with a defeated laugh.

"I'm such a crybaby."

"My favorite."

"You're awful, Georgie."

"I know," he says, finally, "I know."

masterlist

[storiesforallfandoms]

Masterlist 3!

Here’s the third masterlist for all of my works! If you want to check out more of my work, here’s the links for masterlist one and masterlist two Imagines marked * are smutty imagines! Imagines marked ` are requests! Imagines marked ⭐ are personal favorites!

IMAGINES

STRANGER THINGS small ~ jim hopper` dance with me ~ eddie munson ⭐ starry night ~ steve harrington* (part five) ⭐ at the hip ~ steve harrington` ⭐ triple date ~ steve harrington (part six) ⭐ the freak ~ steve harrington (part seven) ⭐ oblivious ~ eddie munson ⭐ jason doesn’t know ~ eddie munson ⭐ this is music ~ eddie munson` ⭐

SUPERNATURAL strange human feelings ~ castiel` cleaning ~ dean winchester`

HANNIBAL into fiction` sob story ~ hannibal lecter

THE BOYS obsession ~ billy butcher* ⭐ herogasm ~ soldier boy* ⭐ alone on christmas ~ billy butcher can’t get too close ~ billy butcher ⭐ change in a heartbeat ~ billy butcher ⭐ the bad room ~ homelander ⭐

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY life father ~ diego hargreeves` rescue mission ~ klaus hargreeves’ ⭐

THE LAST OF US (HBO) friendly neighbors ~ joel miller ⭐ too sweet ~ joel miller

BARRY attraction ~ barry berkman` treat him better ~ barry berkman

AMERICAN HORROR STORY late night sins ~ xavier plympton (1984)*`

VICTORIOUS lost dog ~ tori vega` junker ~ beck oliver

HEMLOCK GROVE i don’t ever wanna see you with him ~ roman godfrey ⭐

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES roses are red ~ damon salvatore` ⭐

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH captive ~ blackbeard/ed teach ⭐

PEAKY BLINDERS moved on ~ thomas shelby

FUTURE MAN winner ~ josh futturman* ⭐

GAME OF THRONES littlest lion ~ oberyn martell (part one) ⭐ freedom ~ oberyn martell (part two) ⭐

THE WITCHER destiny ~ geralt of rivia

DOCTOR WHO looks of a princess ~ eleventh doctor ⭐

BRIDGERTON by the lake ~ benedict bridgerton

THE GENTLEMEN the assistant ~ raymond smith ⭐

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN spirit of nature ~ jack sparrow`

THE MAZE RUNNER i’ll keep you safe ~ newt`

MARVEL how things are now ~ marc spector and steven grant` ⭐ kneel ~ loki* the most wonderful time ~ bucky barnes fast ~ pietro maximoff ⭐

1917 early morning ~ will schofield*`

THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT happy birthday ~ javi gutierrez ⭐

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S i need someone older ~ william afton ⭐ the ice cream girl ~ mike schmidt

SALTBURN new toy ~ felix catton ⭐ partners ~ oliver quick ⭐

THE SANTA CLAUSE santa’s sister-in-law ~ bernard the elf

8 MILE one of the guys ~ jimmy smith jr ⭐

THE FALL GUY the space cowboy and the pa ~ tom ryder

A QUIET PLACE i’d find you in any life ~ eric ⭐

GLADIATOR II betrothed ~ emperor geta ⭐

PETE DAVIDSON your gift` favoritism`

HARRY STYLES the perfect tree a star in the making` sleepy head`

MACHINE GUN KELLY baby mama` ⭐ my queen*` getting your attention*` all the mistakes` not what it looks like` can’t keep doing this*`

EMINEM may the best artist win*` too close for comfort` ⭐ when it’s wrong but it feels right` in the dressing room*` he’s acting different` we have to stop meeting like this` every inch*` let’s surprise the world` i’m sorry i let you down`

GOODGUYFITZ wake up call*`

CORPSE HUSBAND letting go` they forgot` ⭐

ASHTON IRWIN home life` cover me*`

CONAN GRAY pushing`

MATTHEW LILLARD accidental drunk confessions`

JOHNNY KNOXVILLE feeling good*`

ALEX TURNER more than a song*` ⭐

BO BURNHAM can’t handle this right now ⭐ look at me*`

KRISTEN STEWART special customer`

TARON EGERTON he already has my approval ⭐

ROBERT PATTINSON my favorite superhero

GERARD WAY good girl*`

GWILYM LEE history repeats itself`

RYAN GOSLING play date`

JOSEPH QUINN bad idea, right? ⭐

RANBOO fluffy haired gamer boy`

JACOB ELORDI height advantage`

MOTLEY CRUE she is mine ~ mick mars`

CHRIS EVANS not used to normal` ⭐

SWAGGERSOULS our next step`

JSCHLATT too far ⭐ the hotel room* ⭐

JOHNNY DEPP just for us`

TRAVIS BARKER the parent trap`

SHIPS

family reunion ~ hermione granger x draco malfoy`

HEADCANONS

showing pedro pascal fan edits ⭐ sitting on jschlatt’s lap ⭐

NSFW ALPHABET

rook (jp capellette)*` eddie munson* ⭐ billy butcher* ⭐

[toiich]

Boy Meets Girl (1984), dir. Leos Carax

[teddypickerry]

A teen!dad jess. He has a best friend from New York (she can have a name or it can be Y/N, you can choose) (they are endgame, jess never had feelings for Rory but she has feelings for Jess, it won't go anywhere) Jess and his best friend have a kid, they co-parent (whether they are dating already or in the future is up to you) Jess gets sent to Stars Hallow, she ends up moving to stars Hallow to, to be close to Jess and so their kid can be with him too (she is emancipated, plus Jess knows she's coming because they keep in contact) if anyone reading this would like to turn this into an actual story, I'm totally down for reading it :) if you choose this request, I look forward to reading it. Thank you!!

↯ 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐆𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎?

pairings — teen dad! jess mariano x y/n

warnings — none!! (unedited tho so…)

word count — 2.9k

a/n — i’m not the biggest fan of how this turned out (feels lowk out of character even tho i typically write jess best bc i am him), but i LOVEDDDD this plot. i plan on making a part two if that’s something you guys would want!! also dad! jess is my fav (as you guys know) so to have him be bowie’s dad??? FUCKING LOVEEE.

BEING SENT TO STARS HOLLOW was worse than one would imagine. especially for jess mariano, a kid who'd been taken from his hometown and placed in a small apartment above a diner with an uncle he hardly knows. this would be enough to drive one mad, one could presume. but to make matters worse, he was leaving behind his son.

the moment liz danes found out her sixteen year old son had gotten a girl pregnant, she freaked out. as any mother would do. but liz wasn't just any mother, she was (to put it lightly) a whack-job. so she spiraled when she figured this one out. what happened when liz danes spiraled you may ask? who was there for her? her sane big brother, luke.

the practical idea seemed to be sending jess to the quaint down of stars hollow. a place where liz grew up, where she knew luke would keep an eye on him. where she also knew he couldn't cause any havoc. and his world wouldn't become corrupt like hers, being a teen parent.

the months of the pregnancy was difficult to be away. y/n was just a girl he'd met at a party, he was sick and tired of his mother's new boyfriend's hurtful words. y/n was going through something similar and they decided they'd lean on one another one night. until three weeks later when she called jess asking him to coffee, and surprising him with something much more. y/n was scared, as any pregnant sixteen year old would be. being without jess didn't help her case.

the teenage boy didn't let the separation get to them however. his nights sneaking out were spent at a phone booth in the middle of town, talking to y/n about everything and anything. his breaks at the diner were calling to ask about doctors appointments. sure, she had just been a girl he'd met at a party. but the emotional bond of a baby knitted the two together. they were scared kids, they had no one but one another. so they became much more than kids who once went to a party. they were friends.

when y/n went into labor, jess ran out of school like his life depended on it. hoping into his car and speeding back to new york. luckily making it so he could see his son born just in time. his first time meeting his son was only his fourth time seeing y/n. the fourth of many, many visits. stars hollow became less and less entertaining to him as time went on. especially after coming back almost two weeks after his son was born. the pranks, the stealing, the teasing around with this girl rory... it wasn't anything to him. he missed his son, he missed the woman who had his son. jess mariano wanted to be with his family. because for the first time in his life, he had a family. someone loved him, and he loved someone.

"1984 is the most overrated 'classic' book i've ever read," rory gilmore smiled at jess with a teasing look. now, almost a year after his son's birth, jess mariano was nearing eighteen. his adolescence was coming to an end (although it did when the stick turned pink). the toying around was still very much in his nature. hence the conversation with the good girl in a pink sweater.

"nu uh, it's a classic. you can't just hate on 1984," jess counters while standing behind the diner's countertop. the diner was slow, despite it being around the early afternoon and a sunday. which is why two teenagers were sharing false opinions like it was bible. he didn't like her — he was sure of that. ever since bowie mariano was born (guess who named him), jess's feelings had become aware. the love he felt for his son was prominent in his everyday life. unlike anything he'd ever felt before. it was hard for him to even imagine ever having feelings for someone. not when being a dad was his number one priority.

"you're just saying that," rory laughed at his words once more. her late night talks with her mother about jess seeming to not be recalled. the ones where lorelai stressed to rory what jess was going through as a teen parent, something she knew all too well. especially being away from his kid. in her eyes, he was a christopher who'd left his rory. lorelai didn't exactly want her daughter involved with that. but it was hard to resist when he kept giving rory that james dean look. matched with the leather jacket and the book references.

"when are you going to see bowie?" lorelai asked the teenage boy, attempting to remind her daughter of his priorities. jess didn't see this as a question with ulterior motives. he knew lorelai had a deep understanding of him, whether she'd like to admit it or not. "soon, hopefully."

"is y/n liking her new place?" luke questions genuinely from lorelai's side, being reminded of jess's child's mother who he'd grown fond of. "it's kinda hard to like a place where you're crashing on your friend's sofa bed." jess scoffs, being reminded of his friend's condition. when y/n had first gotten pregnant, jess was aware of the darkness in her home. especially when she freaked out to him one night. the first time they opened up to one another. she was too scared to tell her dad about the baby, knowing he'd hurt her.

less than two years later, y/n was emancipated. working a part-time job in the city. where her friends helped watch bowie when necessary. along with (hesitantly) liz, whenever jess made sure she was sober and had an okay boyfriend. it was a lonely life: just like jess's.

"that poor girl," lorelai commented with a sympathetic look making jess's stomach twist. he hated thinking about the living conditions of his family, he hated thinking of being apart from them. but when he did, he couldn't stop. which is why that night, when luke came upstairs to the apartment after closing, jess stopped him to have a serious conversation. "can i talk to you?"

luke searched his nephew's face for sincerity once he heard those words. curious if this was gonna be a 'steely dan sucks' conversation or an actual serious one. a rare option for the teenage boy. "yeah, what's up?"

there was a deep expression anguished on jess's face as he sat at the table. he was clearly unsure how to put his words, which was prominent in his eyes. "i... i can't be away from bowie anymore. i can't let y/n live in that shithole. they're my responsibility."

luke heard his nephew's words clearly. he agreed with every word, a sigh erupting when he processed the stress his teenage nephew was experiencing over this. "where are you going with this, jess?" the diner owner questioned with a calm tone. he still wanted the best for his nephew. he still wanted him to finish high school and start a worthy life. one he didn't want to be started by running off to new york and working to provide for his family. "i need to be with them one way or another. i can't be away from bowie, i can't do that to my kid. i can't be my dad."

"you're not, kid. you're nothing like jimmy, i'm telling you that right now. you would do anything to be with bowie and that proves you're better than him," luke explained before letting out a sigh and nodding his head. "you're a good guy, jess."

a conversation continued throughout the night until the two finally came to a conclusion. or at least luke did. taking matters into his own hands, he picked up the phone once his nephew hit the pillow. a hushed tone rushing into verses of explanations until it all made sense.

the next morning, jess mariano woke up like any other day. not too long after he woke up he went down to the diner to get started on work. his thanksgiving break had begun, so his monday would be spent annotating a new book for his son in between rush hours. it was when two familiar faces entered the diner that he hardly glanced up, noticing the gilmores immediately. "hey jess, how's it going?"

"well, i'm not bleeding or anything so..." jess shrugged towards the woman while he scribbled in a final note for an older bowie. rory kept her eyes on him while luke handed the two mugs of coffee. he had something in his head, especially when he kept glancing out the window every few seconds. "that's good," lorelai nodded before turning to luke.

"what are you reading now? more jane austen?" rory teased while eyeing the boy and taking a sip of her warm coffee. his eyes didn't dare look up from her while he shut the book, "uh huh." he nodded with a thin lipped smile. rory noticed the children's book in his hands and grinned, "didn't know you were that behind. that makes sense with your book taste though."

"this is bowie's, i'm just writing some stuff in the margins for him for when he learns to read," jess shrugged without noticing the sudden change in demeanor when he mentioned his son. the baby had never been to stars hollow. jess also rarely brought up his son to anyone, especially stars hollow-ers. miss patty and babette already whispered about the rebellion enough as it was. he didn't need to add to it by opening up to people who didn't care about him. "oh... that's sweet," rory forced a smile before sinking down into her seat. she felt shorter.

jess picked up the coffee to begin to refill a few cups throughout the diner. his stance was interrupted once the diner phone began to ring, luke noticed this quickly. it wasn't long before he grabbed the coffee from jess's hand and hardly offered to do refills for him instead. jess knew luke was up to something but hesitantly took the phone call, "luke's."

"nice greeting," a voice echoed on the other side making jess's infamous smirk spread across his face. y/n. "well, i thought i'd ask you to marry me. but i was worried our meat supplier was on the other line," jess teased into the phone while his hand went in his pocket. he subconsciously turned around so his back was to the rest of the diner. wanting to be alone with y/n, as if that was possible through this.

"thought so," y/n hummed with an obvious smile. "hey, bowie's missing his dad."

"is bowie's mom also missing bowie's dad?" jess asked with his typical teasing tone towards his friend. "bowie's mom may be. but she doesn't exactly want to give him the satisfaction of that. bowie's dad is very cocky," y/n says through the phone while luke spots something through the window and smiles.

the sound of the bell was a familiar one. reminding the people in the diner that someone had arrived. jess was so used to it now that he didn't bat an eye typically, but this time he glanced around his shoulder for a moment. his eyes glancing back at the figure stood infront of the door. jess's brown eyes locked on them for a second as he dropped the wired phone and bolted past the counter to them.

stood before his eyes was y/n and bowie. the eleven month old was in her arms with a pacifier between his lips. y/n wore a smile while she placed her phone in her pocket with a free hand. she was engulfed in jess's scent immediately as he threw the two into his arms. cigarettes, cheap cologne, and coffee erupting comfortably into her. "hey, watch out i have a baby."

jess ignored her words, but lightened his grip on her while taking bowie out of her arms to hold him. "bowie, hey..." his voice trailed off as he held onto his son. he was interrupted with emotion by being with his son once again. because as much as fatherhood was something he never wished upon himself, ever desired whatsoever, it had turned into the best thing that ever happened to him.

"hi kid," luke greeted the teenage girl while walking over to give her a side hug. he turned his attention towards jess who was hugging his baby with a grin he hadn't seen in awhile. "i thought about our talk last night, jess. you were right."

jess glanced over at his uncle before looking back at y/n with a smile. which shocked even him, because a smile was not something he'd done while being in stars hollow. "so..." luke's voice trailed off while he gave the floor to y/n. who took it and looked at jess, "i think bowie needs to be with his dad... and his mom."

the group shared a few looks, mixed with confusion and happiness. "i asked lorelai for a favor, y/n and bowie are gonna stay at the inn for a few weeks. until you guys can figure out a place." luke started with a nod. "you're gonna be eighteen in a few months, you're gonna graduate in a few months. i want you to do that, jess. so, i brought you some courage... as cheesy as that sounds."

jess looked between the two for a moment before sharing a nod with his uncle, as if a thank you in their own language.

"hey, i'm lorelai. it's nice to meet you i've heard so much about you. we seem to have a lot in common," lorelai interjected as she walked over and introduced herself to y/n. y/n knew her fair share of scoop of the town. her daily phone calls to jess were hardly just baby talk. she'd spent a lot of them telling him to go out with lorelai's daughter, who seemed good for him. but every-time... something was holding him back. "yeah you too, i'm y/n. thank you for everything, by the way. you really didn't have to let me."

"c'mon we're moms, we help eachother out. we can be like desperate housewives. but with no men," lorelai smiled while giving y/n's hand a squeeze. "oh! this is my bowie, rory."

"hey," y/n greeted with an awkward wave towards the other teenage girl who still seemed in shock by the situation. she forced a smile and waved, "hey."

the dispute was a lot more awkward than y/n could have hoped. but a sense of envy had taken over the both of them as they reflected on past or current relations with jess. an awkwardness that washed away quickly when y/n’s eyes locked back on jess and her son. a favorite sight of hers.

“c’mon,” jess nodded towards y/n while she took the baby out of his arms. he grabbed her bag and placed a free hand on her back, mumbling goodbyes before exiting the diner with his two. the three took the scenic tour towards the inn. bowie cracking a million smiles at the tons of birds in sight. the two teenagers reciprocating the action with shared giggles at the baby’s happiness.

the moment they entered the room, jess sat down with bowie to let y/n unpack a little bit. while the two caught up on unspoken things. “so… that was rory,” y/n says suggestively while unpacking her toiletries in the bathroom. jess was sprawled out on the bed with bowie in his arms, playing superman. he turned to her once she erupted from the bathroom and took a seat beside him. “that was rory.”

“she’s pretty,” y/n nodded with a small smile. in an attempt to be polite about jess’s possible love interest, yet he seemed hardly interested when bowie was around. “i guess,” jess shrugged before holding bowie back up in his arms. “have you asked her out yet?”

“i’m not too focused on that,” jess answered while clearly wanting the conversation to be done. y/n only smiled at the sight of the baby, gently rubbing his back. jess’s eyes locked onto her once more. watching her look at bowie with all the love made his eyes gleam. the way her smile spread with love, only made his heart beat faster happily. “thanks.”

y/n glanced over to him at his word, furrowing her eyebrows gently while she looked into his eyes. “for what?”

“for being here, i guess.” he mumbles while turning back to face bowie and bring him closer to him, the baby resting his head on jess’s chest. y/n smiled at the sight while leaning into the pillow, happily watching the two. “of course.”

so, the two laid back into the bed. smiling at the sight of their baby falling into a comforting sleep. followed by y/n minutes later, at a moment of peace. finally having someone she trusted with her baby so she could peacefully have a break. jess shut his eyes to the sound of the light breaths of both his favorite people. never having felt something so perfect once again in his life.

[buttercreamdicks]

I keep thinking about the best friend haul, and Rhett saying it was "found near a creek in 1984," and the supernatural Link theme, and it's giving me Bridge to Terabithia vibes like what if instead of meeting in first grade Rhett actually went wandering in the woods at age seven and found this shaggy-haired boy-thing by a creek and ran back home and brought it his old sneakers and clothes, and showed it his wrestling action figures, and taught it to speak. Its name is Link. Imagine the first time he introduced it to bubblegum, and fresh popped popcorn, and Twinkies. It lives almost exclusively on a diet of Reese's peanut butter cups. Imagine the first time Rhett gives it a haircut, and brushes its hair back from its face, and its proud little smile when Rhett says it looks handsome. Rhett brings it a coloring book full of mythical beasts from school, and somehow it already knows all the animals. There are things that live in the forest that it is afraid of. Rhett has never seen them, doesn't even know if they're real, but it draws their pictures over and over. To make them seem less scary, Rhett names them The Randler -- for R and L, Rhett and Link, he shows Link when he's teaching him how to write.

Everyone thinks Rhett has an imaginary friend till he's way older than he should, till Rhett actually starts bringing Link around, telling people he's from a different town, he goes to a different school. Link always says something weird, doesn't really get the whole people thing at first, but Rhett covers for him. They spend every day together. The boy grows almost as tall as he does.

It almost kills Rhett when he graduates high school and realizes he's going to have to move away from the boy in the woods. Freshman year, at least the days he can't sneak Link into the dorm, is hell. So he comes up with a plan: They'll get an apartment. They'll get Link a job. Link starts doing Rhett's homework with him, and it turns out Link is brilliant. He can play a bunch of instruments -- the trumpet, the shruti box, he even makes the recorder sound good. There is a pit of guilt in Rhett's stomach that he never thought about Link needing to go to school.

So he makes up a fake diploma, some fake credentials, and he gets Link enrolled in college with him. They go to a frat party for the first time together, shotgun their first beers. Link is a total lightweight, he falls in love when he's tipsy and cries when he's drunk. Rhett has to wrap him up tight in his comforter when they get home. Their apartment comes with a battered old set of pots and pans left behind by the last roommates, and Rhett learns to cook while Link watches. Link mostly learns to use the microwave. Link can take twice the courseload, finishes in half the time, so they can graduate together. They make a plan to move to a bigger city. They go on double-dates together, and Link even starts to like a girl. Rhett feels a pit of something else in his stomach he doesn't know how to name.

Everything is going great, Rhett thinks, everything is going according to plan. But some nights he wakes up and peeks into Link's room and Link isn't there. The first times it happens, Rhett calls his name in a whisper, looks around the whole apartment and turns on all the lights, but he can't find him. In the morning Link is back in the kitchen eating cereal, where he should be.

The next few times Link disappears, Rhett goes further than the apartment, out into the dark, walking around their neighborhood with a flashlight at first, and then with no light at all, still whisper-calling Link's name. Link always comes back by the morning. Rhett starts to notice that on the nights when Link doesn't disappear, he doesn't really sleep either. Rhett sometimes stands by his bedroom door to hear him tossing and turning, humming songs to himself. Rhett learns to navigate their streets by moonlight, stops whispering Link's name into the empty humid night air, just walks in the quiet darkness between the street lights, trying not trip over the uneven pavement cracks, looking for his friend.

He tries to imagine what Link is doing, sometimes, while he walks. At first he thinks maybe out with a girl that he doesn't want to tell Rhett about, but then that seems unlikely, Link seems as devoted to his girlfriend as ever. Then he thinks maybe getting into trouble, out at some bar or bent over some pool table, some group of assholes goading him to snort a line or to bet on the corner pocket, all the people who might take advantage of someone like Link, who still doesn't really understand people, still doesn't really understand what it means not to be entirely honest. But mostly Rhett pictures Link wandering the neighborhood just like he is, sweating on warm nights and wrapping his arms around himself on cold, under the dark black sky. It's blanker than the sky where they grew up, the orange lights along the big-town streets block out all the stars.

In fact he imagines when he finally finds Link, one of these nights, he'll grab him by the shoulders and say "What are you doing, man?" and then walk him home, and that'll be the end of it.

But what actually happens is one night he makes a left turn, and takes a walk through the park. Or at least, their little city calls it a park -- really it's nothing more than a playground and a glorified patch of unkempt trees, the last refuge of suburban deer. Rhett walks past the swingset and the slide, onto the little path into the wooded area, idly dragging his hands along the overhanging branches and leaves. And then he sees him. Link, in his little nest of soft grass and dirt, sleeping soundly.

Rhett gulps down some feeling, swallows it hard, and turns to walk quickly back home.

But he goes back the next few nights, just to watch. Link sleeps at the bases of trees, curled up in the roots, a little smile on his face. Rhett starts to notice how many fallen leaves he tracks into the apartment. The chunks of dirt that fall powder dry off his shoes when he stomps his feet at the door. How when they're out in the city, his hands are shaky. He startles back at every close-passing car. At night, asleep in his own private forest, the moonlight glitters off of his dark hair, which he's been growing long again.

Rhett remembers that first haircut, the way Link looked with his hair swept back from his forehead, clipped uneven by Rhett's mom's stolen kitchen scissors. The way Link delighted in food with crinkling cellophane wrappers. How happy he seemed not to be alone anymore in the woods, where the Randlers could get him. When Rhett brought his sleeping bag and called it "camping" to his brother and spent the night, Link curled against Rhett's side, putting Rhett's body between him and the quiet empty night. A funny thing was, over the years, Link had learned to cut Rhett's hair too, and their friends', he really enjoyed it. He had hands that fluttered gently around Rhett's face, soft fingertips that brushed the little bits of hair from the back of Rhett's neck. He always stood Rhett in front of the bathroom mirror afterward, to make sure Rhett liked it, and Rhett always looked at the reflection of Link's hopeful, happy face behind him. That first haircut, Rhett had snuck a shaving mirror from his parents' house too, and stashed it in his backpack. He remembered how proud Link looked when he saw his own face. But he also remembered afterward, Link's hands coming up out of habit to tug at the hair, now gone. Rhett had always pushed his hands down, told him, "Stop doing that, it makes you look weird."

Now he sits and watches Link, asleep in the grass and the rustling leaves. It's getting late into the fall, and here in the park, Rhett notices for the first time, away from the lights, up through the baring branches, you can see more of the stars. Asleep like this, Link's face is boyish and peaceful. His hair is a mess, there are twigs in it, the shaggy back of his head all ruffled from sleep. It makes little wings where it curls down over his ears. That was the first thing Rhett with his kitchen scissors had clipped away. And Rhett thinks to himself: What have I done?

[boba-beom]

❦ With You | K.TH

pairing: taehyun x f!reader

genre: fluff, bestfriends to lovers | oneshot

warning(s): senior year high school, set in 1984, relationship to be established, confessions, ft. the rest of txt, taehyun’s a lil nervous <3, yn a little bold, kisses.

summary: before the school term comes to a close for the festive holidays, your best friend of four years had asked you to go to the winter ball with him. however, there’s one more thing he wants to tell you.

wc: 2.3k

note: inspired by the last scene in s2 ep9 of stranger things. and the song ‘Every Breath You Take’ by The Police was perfect after I remembered taehyun talking about it and playing it on one of his vlives at the time :’) this was also written a while ago but I edited it a little and wanted to post this as my last taehyun fic to end tyun month :> thank you again @fairybinie for beta reading and for the advice 🫶🏼

SHORT PLAYLIST (recommended)

the hazy, vertical streaks from the moonlight passes through the open blinds, caressing over taehyun's face as his sister, hyunjae, straightens out the frills of his collar and adjusts the flimsy ribbon after. he turns his body, puffing in front of the mirror, loosening the tension and nervousness in his wrists, tilting his head left and right.

"aw, my not-so-little brother knows how to clean up well." hyunjae coos, lightly patting the top of his head.

"agh, you're gonna mess up my hair!" he swats her hands away, caving over his hair before fidgeting with the front pieces of his hair, making sure they would stay in place until he meets his date.

"so... are you gonna ask her today?"

the young male adjusts his outer coat, brows scrunching as he looks at his sister through the mirror, "ask who?"

"yn? aren't you going to ask her to dance with you tonight?" she sighs as she pinches the bridge of her nose, thinking how her brother could possibly be lacking in basic knowledge of making the first move—especially with his crush.

if there's one thing taehyun is good at, it's definitely being oblivious towards any female kind and their attempt to flirt with him. he's never dated, he's only confessed to one girl in middle school when he gifted her a heart-shaped box of chocolates. she accepted them, but refused to be his valentine, and since then he's never wanted to embarrass himself like that again.

"of course I'll ask her to dance with me. she's my date anyway, and I should tell her then..." he trails his words, thinking about what he would say once he finds the right moment later on in the evening, "I just hope a good song comes on." as cliché as that may sound.

hyunjae sees how anxious he is as he lets out a deep sigh. both their heads turn towards the open window from the sound of a car's triple beep in front of their house. the loud noise was soon followed by a few male voices shouting out his name, almost chant-like.

"good luck, 'lil man." hyunjae reaches out to pat his hair once again, but misses as he ducks and opens the front door.

"ayeeee, someone looks dashing tonight!" beomgyu screams with the upper half of his body out of the window. the other three males starts cheering and whistling as taehyun approaches the car with long, confident strides.

opening the door behind the driver's seat, he sits comfortably as he looks at the rest of them, "not too shabby yourselves guys." he chuckles, buckling his seatbelt.

"how are we feeling, boys?" yeonjun laughs, excitement clear in his voice. he briefly locks eyes with taehyun through the rear mirror, expecting him to answer the question.

"i just hope she doesn't reject me." taehyun speaks without hesitation. kai and beomgyu looks at him with their brows stitched together.

"are you kidding me? i'm sure she won't reject you, it's yn we're talking about." beomgyu sighs.

"and what's that supposed to mean?"

"that you have to be really dense to think she has no interest in you." soobin butts in, looking back at him from the passenger seat.

"he's book smart, just not girl smart." kai joins in.

"okay, okay. that's enough guys. i'm sure our boy can manage." yeonjun cuts off their bombarding banter towards taehyun.

taehyun rolls his eyes at his friends' continuous teasing, completely ignoring yeonjun. the topic for conversation slowly went round to each person—and about their dates—until they arrived at the venue for the winter ball.

the group of five made their way towards the entrance, keeping their eyes out for their dates. it was convenient that majority of their dates arrived together, as expected when asking people from the same friend-group. taehyun watches his friends greet their dates and entering in with linked arms, their outfits complimenting each other's nicely.

"we're gonna go ahead." soobin firmly pats taehyun's shoulder as he nods in response.

a few minutes passes by and taehyun is still standing by the entrance, yet his posture never fails him. he looks down at the cuffs of his black dress shirt, adjusting them out of restlessness, in the hopes he hasn't been turned down.

"taehyun? sorry i'm late." a soft voice speaks.

from the cuffs of his sleeves, he sees a shiny pair of white, mary jane pumps pointing towards him in his line of vision, less than half a meter away from his own black, dress shoes.

lifting his head slowly, his eyes travel up the figure in front of him; skin-toned stockings visible until the thin layer of white chiffon material just about lingers by the knees. he looks up to admire you in your entirety, a sweetheart neckline accentuating the length of your neck with a dainty pearl necklace sitting prettily at the base of your neck.

"yn," his voice almost breathless, "you look beautiful."

you chuckle at his compliment, looking down at the ground before your fingers subconsciously fiddles with the pearl strap of your purse.

"you don't look too bad either, kang."

he smiles at your implied compliment, holding out his arm for you to take, "shall we?"

as soon as the both of you walk through the tinsel curtain, you're met with snowflake-shaped lights projecting on the ground. your peers' arms are linked with their dates while they meet up in groups and you do the same.

you meet with a few friends, separating yourself from taehyun while he went to see his friends too. long conversations were made, and pictures were taken at the open photo booth that the school had hired for the evening. there were props and multiple photos could be taken so you were willing to try it out.

taehyun is sitting at his designated seat on the same table as his friends, locking eyes with you for a split second from across the room before you start making your way through the sea of students.

as you make a bee-line towards him, your eyes are trained on him, getting closer and closer. his side profile was stunning; his sharp jawline in full display as he slightly leans over the table to talk to yeonjun opposite him, and with every laugh, you saw the occasional appearance of his sharp canines which showcased his dimple.

in your four years of high school, you never found anyone just as handsome as kang taehyun himself. and you granted yourself lucky to have him as your best friend.

you approach his seat, resting a light hand on his shoulder until the boys stopped talking, causing taehyun to look up at you.

"hey, want to take a photo together over at the photo booth with me?" the freckles of light from the disco ball sparkles over your face, looking almost angelic as he gets up on his feet.

"that's our boy!"

"go taehyun!"

you hear beomgyu and kai exclaim along with the others as you take ahold of taehyun's hand in yours. taehyun could only pray that you don't look back at him because only then would you see how enamoured he is by you. the heat from his cheeks quickly spread and made its way to the tips of his ears—he's in too deep.

opening the curtains to the photo booth, he picks up a white feather boa and loosely twirls it around your neck accompanied with a quiet laugh from you. in return, you pick up a black masquerade mask for him to wear, only making his full attire look more complete than it already was.

you continue shuffling, making sure you were in the middle of the photo booth, "come closer." you speak up, gently tugging on his sleeve making him shuffle closer to you until he reluctantly resorted to resting his hand on the small of your back.

"i- is this okay?" taehyun was always wary of his hand placements, you knew that and you were more than comfortable with being this close to him.

"perfect, these photos are gonna look really nice." you're smiling at the photographer, posing your wrist as you splay your palm open and the end of the boa hanging off it. all while taehyun looks at you in awe. you've always been one to try new things, even putting yourself out there and not giving a single care to what people think of you. he found that quality admirable, really.

after a few more pictures were taken, and keeping the same props, it was time for the last photo.

"tyun, look at me." you whisper.

he turns his head to face you, your faces within centimetres apart until your noses brushed against each other. you hold the end of his chin still with your index finger and your thumb, closing your eyes, he mimics you until you feel the softness of his lips against yours, it was almost euphoric.

you just kissed your best friend.

the sound of the photographer snapping the last shot interrupted the momentary trance you were both in, the flash visible through your eyelids.

"we'll get them later, let's go." you pull back and hold his hand again. he was trailing after you while you make your way towards the bowl of fruit punch.

"so how did your photos go?" beomgyu comes into view beside you, passing the both of you already full cups of the punch.

taehyun stays silent, taking a sip from the drink while his other hand is still holding yours.

"it was fun, i think you should try it out. i heard there's more props if you ask the photographer." you take a sip from the drink, keeping eye contact with beomgyu while you watch his eyes flick back and forth between you and your date.

"if you say so," he says, walking away with a small smile tugging at his lips.

a new song fills the room, a song that only released last year. you remember hearing it a few times on your parents' radio and it being one of the most replayed songs since it was released. your peers and their partners gather onto the dance floor, girls with their arms draped over their date's shoulder, and some guys nervously resting their hands on their date's waist.

perfect. taehyun clears his throat before taking away your cup and placing both of them down on the closest table. he lifts a hand up, the other tucked behind his back as he asks, "yn, would you perhaps want to dance with me?"

you observe the way he's slightly bowing in front of you, your heart fluttering in your chest from his chivalrous gesture. "perhaps I do, kang." you say as you accept his hand, leading you onto the empty spot on the dance floor.

the lights dimmed down a little more than before, only the ambient lighting from the decorations and the disco ball reflected onto your faces. taehyun's hands were fumbling with the material around your waist, you could tell he was nervous but you wanted him to be comfortable with you like he always is. the only difference this time is that you're both dressed up and he hardly ever sees you dressed up.

"hey, ease into it. left then right, remember?" you reassure him after he visited your house one time and your older brother teased you about dancing with taehyun. your mother made sure to teach both of you the basics.

you hold onto one of his hands on your waist, letting his palm relax against you then letting go and bringing yourself closer so you could rest and bend your elbows over his shoulder, your temples leaning against each other.

a couple of minutes into the slow dancing made you feel so weightless. the strong scent of his cologne lingering by your nose, his soft and controlled breathing in front of you just felt so comforting. your faces were centimetres apart, no different than before, but both your eyes were briefly shut.

"yn?" taehyun speaks up softly, and you hum back in response. "there's something i've been meaning to tell you."

"mhm? and what is that?" you pull back to look at one of the features you love on his face. it's just one of those instances where you capture how his eyes could quite literally encapsulate the entire galaxy if possible.

"as a best friend, you're amazing, truly." he starts. you huff out an airy chuckle with your fixed attention on him. "but I want to get to know you beyond that. I really like you, yn. more than words could ever explain."

your eyes soften from his confession, knowing this was your best friend since freshman year and without a doubt, you were feeling quite the same.

"can i be your boyfriend?" he asks, head slightly tilting down to read your expression.

you pull him towards you, closing the proximity until your lips were just about grazing against each other. "i would love you to be my boyfriend, kang taehyun." you whisper before closing the gap and giving him a longer kiss than at the photo booth. he securely wraps his arms around your waist, chests colliding until your lips part.

"you really thought after i kissed you back there i'd say no?" you nudge his shoulder, catching his cheeks flush the smallest pink hues you could see.

"i really wasn't sure what that was, but if it's a kiss from you then i don't really mind." he shrugs nonchalantly.

"so i could say no as long as i give you kisses?" you tease him back.

"well... not quite, i want both." he shyly smiles with his dimples caving in his cheeks.

you peck his cheek in response to comment, "you really are cute, kang taehyun."

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[dwobbitfromtheshire]

18+ MINORS DNI for a little bit of smut.

1984

Steve understood broken hearts. He's had his heart broken very recently, and he's broken them in the past. Although, he's always rejected them in the beginning before even thinking about starting something with them. He couldn't even think about using them unless he knew for sure they could handle it. He was used many times before, and before he had fallen in love, he used to be able to handle it. He was a bit of a slut, he could admit, but he could never drag someone along. It just seemed cruel. Rejection is a part of life, and he had to accept that or risk being stuck behind. Some people didn't learn that, though.

He was flirting with this girl in his science class for a while now, and he thought things were going great. He talked about how he had gotten out of a serious relationship, how unsure he was of jumping into another one. She had sympathized with him and said she wasn't looking for anything serious. Steve had grinned when he found a note in his locker asking him to meet her in a dark broom closet. Maybe right now, it didn't have to be serious. Maybe that could come later. Besides, it's been a while since he made out with a girl in a broom closet. Steve should have known it was too good to be true.

"Betty?" Steve called out as he knocked on the closet door, and the door was pushed open.

Steve grinned and slipped inside the darkened closet. The lights never worked in this one. He knew it, and so did everyone else. It was why it was dubbed the make-out closet. Although, he didn't learn this fact until very recently. He felt out with his hand and grinned when he found Betty's curly dark hair. He cupped her cheek and gently pushed her up against the wall, slotting his mouth against hers. She started to resist, so he pulled away, thinking that she had changed her mind. Suddenly, she was gripping the back of his jacket and pulling him flush against her. Was she taller than before? Maybe she was standing on something. Boy, that should have been his first clue.

She was kissing him this time, sloppy and eager. Her plump lips were perfectly soft. Wait, plump? Weren't her lips thin? Yeah, okay, so this wasn't Betty. It wasn't the first time he made out with a mysterious girl in a darkened closet. His hands moved from her hips and started wondering under her shirt. The girl moaned against his mouth and shuttered against his fingertips. Steve moved to cup her breast. . .wait. . .he had thought she had felt flat, but there was no way a girl could be this flat. Steve froze for a moment before slipping his tongue inside her mouth. He didn't want to stop kissing whoever this was. Steve froze. Something felt hard, and it wasn't just him. Oh. . .he was making out with a guy.

Hmm, just to be sure. Steve cupped their face and moved his hand to press against their throat gently. Yeah, okay. That was an addams apple. Yeah, he was tonguing a guy. Why wasn't he freaking out? Maybe he was enjoying it too much. He felt the same as if he were making out with a girl. His pulse was racing, and his stomach was fluttering rapidly. He was also hard as a rock. Hmm, maybe it didn't have to be a big deal. Was he that comfortable in his sexuality? He didn't get a chance to answer because the guy he was kissing had pulled away.

"Were you trying to choke me in a kinky way or kill me kind of way? Or did you just feel my throat and realize that I was a guy?" He asked.

"Uh, do you want the honest answer?" Steve asked.

"Yes," he chucked.

"I just realized you were a guy," he replied.

"And you just continued to kiss me?" He asked, his voice laced with amusement.

"A good kiss is a good kiss," Steve muttered.

"So, it doesn't matter to you whether they have a dick or not as long as it's a good kiss?" He asked, laughing.

"Yeah, can we go back to kissing?" He asked.

"You don't want to freak out first?" He asked.

"I'll freak out later," Steve said and then paused. "It's not like I haven't thought about it, you know. When a girl has, you know, sucked me off, I've thought about what it would be like to give head. I thought maybe it was just one of those thoughts that get into your head, like when you look at a pen and wonder how it's made."

"Now, you're thinking that you've never been straight," he cackled. "I shouldn't laugh."

"No, it's funny, you should laugh," Steve snickered.

"So, do you want to find out what it's like?" He asked.

"What? . . .oh, yeah, yeah!" Steve exclaimed and sank to his knees.

When Steve walked out of that closet, he had a grin on his face so wide that it looked like he had a hangar in his mouth. Nothing could have brought him down, not even when he saw Betty at his locker, where she told him about her plan to stand him up for rejecting her friend that one time. He called her childish, scoffed, and continued onto his next class. It wasn't until a couple of years later that Steve had found out who he had been with in that closet.

1986

Steve was sitting on the floor of his living room with Robin and Eddie, enjoying pizza. They had all just come out to each other.

"Okay, Stevie, what made you realize that you weren't exactly straight?" Eddie asked.

Robin clutched her stomach as she burst into laughter.

"Shut up, Robin," Steve said, blushing.

"Oh, this is a good one," Eddie cackled.

"I mean, I think on some level I always kind of knew that something was up. But yeah, this girl set me up to be stood up in the make-out closet. It was dark, and all I knew was that I was supposed to be making out with this girl. I felt that there was someone there with long hair, and it took me longer than I realized that I wasn't making out with a girl," Steve said.

"It took him less time to realize that he liked kissing guys," Robin laughed. "I mean, he felt up the shirt. . .the girl had no breasts!"

"Hey! The girl could have lost her breasts to cancer, and as we learned from that bar that we went to, he could have been transgender," Steve said and then smiled fondly. "That guy was a great kisser."

"He had the best stories too," Robin said. "Hey, you never told me why that didn't work out?"

"The girl who he was in love with came back to town," Steve said. "Apparently, she now knows about him and accepts him. They got their own place and everything with a little dog. Although her parents disowned her."

"Aww, good for Brian," Robin said. "And fuck Brian's girlfriend's parents. We should invite them over for dinner! Brian and his girlfriend. Not his girlfriend's parents. They could meet Vickie."

Eddie suddenly burst into laughter.

"It's a small world," Eddie cackled.

"Oh, you know Brian, too?" Robin asked.

"What?! No, but he sounds cool," Eddie said. "I just think I know who was in that closet."

"Shit, seriously?!" Steve asked.

Eddie leaned forward, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and pulled Steve into a kiss. He pulled back, grinning.

"Does that seem familiar?" Eddie asked.

"Oh my god!" Steve giggled.

"You couldn't have just told him. You had to kiss him?" Robin sighed. "Right in front of my pizza, too."

"Telling him wouldn't have been as fun as showing him," Eddie said with a grin.

"Yeah, maybe you should show me again," Steve said. "I think I'm starting to forget."

Eddie grinned and crawled over to him. He pushed Steve down and straddled him.

"Wouldn't want you to forget, hmm?" Eddie said.

He kissed Steve. Robin made a noise of protest.

"I am taking the rest of the pizza and watching TV upstairs!" Robin exclaimed. "Let me know when you're done defiling my best friend! And use a condom! You've given him enough kids, Munson! Happy for you dinguses!"

Eddie laughed against his lips, his body shaking with laughs.

"Lights on or off?" Steve grinned.

"Oh, the lights on this time, big boy," Eddie said.

He moved down Steve’s body and started undoing Steve’s pants. He paused before raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve said.

"This time, I'm going to find out what it's like," Eddie said.

Quick as a flash, Eddie had his pants as well as his boxers off. Eddie cackled gleefully before wrapping his lips around him and taking him deep into his mouth. He looked up at Steve the entire time.

"Oh, fuck!"

Anything can happen with the lights on or off, but it was always better with the lights on. More things to see with the lights on. Steve couldn't have been more grateful for the girl who stood him up. Who knows? Maybe he and Eddie would have continued to dance around each other forever. Sometimes, good things come from being rejected.

[mayonnaise2004]

Meeting + Dating James Hetfield

(I’ve never actually written for a real person.. huh? Also, guess who’s back! Yeah I feel so much better after that break and plan to start writing again. Just on my own time of course 🩷)

- In 1981, You were fresh out of college and decided ‘Hey, I’m an adult now. I could move away and start a new life!’ And so, you did!

- you got a stable little job as a waitress, lived in an apartment and began to build yourself up from nothing.

- it wasn’t until 1984 that you met James, and oh boy was it the best year of his life

- You had heard about some new metal band performing at one of the local bars and since you didn’t have anything planned that night, you decided to go. I mean it’s one concert! It’s not like it’s gonna change your life.. right?

- The show started around 7:00 and ended at 10:30. For those 3 hours and 30 minutes, James could not help but glance at you in the crowd, and the fact the light made you look like an Angel sent from above didn’t help either. God, he was in love.

- After the show the usual happened; Fans came to ask for pictures, autographs and the whole nine yards. Originally he thought you had left, so imagine the shock that went through him when you bought a band shirt and asked him to sign it.

- He could feel the eyes of his bandmates as he signed your shirt and brought up a conversation with the usual starter. ‘What’s a pretty/handsome little thing like you doing in a place like this?’

- He had to whack Lars and Kirk on the back of the head once they got backstage because he wouldn’t stop making kissing motions with their hands

- You found him sweet. The way his lips practically disappeared when he smiled, the touch of interest in his eyes when you asked how long he had been performing.

- He was truly a breath of fresh air. He was polite unlike the frat boys you were used to and god the look on those eyes made you feel like the only person in that room.

- The offer of a few drinks was something you could not resist. He was sexy, good with his fingers, offering to pay for your drinks and was willing to spend time with you after rocking the hell out? How could you say no?

- The whole night was a blur of dancing, giggles and a hole lotta bitter tasting booze. You hadn’t had this much fun since college!

- The next morning you woke up with an extremely painful hangover, curled in the blankets that were left in the tourbus.. with passed out James Hetfield beside you with a mess of curls.

- He was embarrassed. The poor guy had planned to ask you out the night before and had wanted to take you on a decently romantic date. Change of plans I suppose?

- Needless to say, he took you to get some McDonald’s fries to ease your hangover hunger and the two of you seemed to bond.

- After a day on the town, he brought you back to the stadium since the band had another week of shows in your town and of course, offered to take you on a proper date.

- James is a very social person, the type of boy who could make friends with a corpse. So if you two do date expect to know/ be introduced to a lot of the people he knows.

- He’s very loving. His main display of affection is touch.

- definitely the type of guy to put you in a headlock and smother you with kisses.

- Get ready to be at a lot of concerts and backstage, it’s like a whole new world.

- helping him write lyrics

- hanging out with him and the band! You get along with everyone and it’s mostly a fit of giggles between you and Kirk.

- He’s an ominous jealous type. He’ll just quietly watch from the distance as a guy openly flirts with you, glaring daggers into his head.

- Loves to slow dance with you. It’s a great way to just destress from the famous lifestyle.

- He does plan on marrying you. He just can’t exactly afford it at the start of the Metallica gig.

- sneaking away at parties to kiss or just be wholesome

- having matching necklaces that little girls would usually wear (like the ones you see at Claire’s with the hearts or unicorns.. he doesn’t give a shit.)

- wearing his band shirts

- if you're going out at night with your friends, best believe you're being sprayed with his cologne. The last thing he needs is a man flirting with you when he’s not there.

[ginsengkitten]

༺ Beautiful Dangerous༻

A slashxreader fanfiction

༺☆༻

Chapter One:

Tower Records

word count: approx.: 2900

Trailer/Moodboard here :)

☆ Authors Notes ☆

ty for reading. This is mostly a world building intro but I hope y’all like it :) - also I will be including photos and music that inspires or I felt matches each chapter, just for fun. This story takes place in some sort of fictional timeframe of 1984-86 ish when GNR had just started developing/finalizing their OG line up. I know not all the pics and timelines necessarily add up but this literally isn’t real so whatever!

Track list:

You really got me - The Kinks

Green Onions - Booker T. & the M.G.s

Foxey Lady - Jimi Hendrix

Your parents had shipped you out to your cousins home in the Hollywood Hills every summer since you were 10. The sprawling green hills sprinkled with Tuscan topped mansions upheld to excite you. Simply because there was so much more to be discovered outside of the ritz. This summer was going to be perhaps the best one yet, because now that you were turning 18, Uncle Rob would finally allow you to go down into the city for the first time.

Uncle Rob and Aunt Shena were the most uptight, stick up the ass, pair of individuals to bethrall the hills. You would think with the unceasing access to every pill, herb, and juice in Hollywood from Robs fancy job would have eased them up over the years; their long time neighbor, Dave, was one of the most sought out coke suppliers in the area - or at least that's what your cousin Daisy has told you- and Daisy liked to dramatize occasionally.... Daisy also says that her parents think too much ibuprofen could spell a trip to the confessional at church. This statement however was proven to be true because of the time Aunt Shena almost refused to give you a 50 mg Tylenol the time you had started your period in their guest bedroom.

Needless to say, it was in agreement with your own parents that you'd not be permitted to go down to the city until you were 18. "The city is where the devil preys on gods most vulnerable and precious spirits" Aunt Shena would recite this at least ten times throughout each summer visit, sure to remind you of the evil that lurked in the streets below. Most summer weeks were spent at the house, but it sure beat Indiana summers back home. Mondays were family nights at home, Tuesdays were beach days, Wednesdays were usually home days too but occasionally sailing on the family boat was allotted. You didn't have a boat back home in Indiana. Daddy's money was steady but not BOAT money steady. Plus it was Indiana- where would the sailing even take place? Lake Michigan?

Thursdays, the cinema would have discount movie matinees. If the film had been pre approved through the other moms in Aunt Shenas crochet circle, then she would take you and Daisy to go see it as a treat. Occasionally, Daisy would ask to use the restroom and you both would sneak into another screen room to peek at the other movies you weren't allowed to see, up until you accidentally snuck into a showing of 'The Evil Dead'. Both you and Daisy had nightmares for weeks and her parents couldn't figure out why, and no shot in hell would either of you admit what happened.

Daisy was fun and secretive like that. You appreciated her ability to lie straight to her parents face. Daisy liked to adventure a little bit more than what her parents would allow. Naturally she became versed in the art of bullshitting her parents.

Daisy was almost like a stranger to her parents. It was sad in a way but mostly just impressive. Daisy would steal cigarettes from her dad and stash them in her pencil case and sell them to the other girls in her church group. She also snuck out regularly, mostly to the local park to meet up with boys from school. She was brave. Real brave. She was cool. Real fucking cool. In fact, she was so cool and so brave, that she got the mastermind plan to steal her fathers Pontiac Firebird while he was away on business and Aunt Shena was knocked unconscious from her qualludes. (But god forbid ibuprofen right?).

"I don't know why I hadn't done this sooner!" Daisy bounced in the drivers seat like a mental patient. The engine cried out aggressively and the whole vehicle roared awake. There’s no way the entire street didn’t hear that. "And you're SURE your mother isn't going to find out? What about your daddy?" You pegged for final assurance from Daisy before becoming an accessory to theft. "Daddy won't ever know. You know why? Cuz' you remember Jeff from my church? He showed me how to roll back the odometer on a car in exchange for...well for never-mind but you don't gotta sweat about a thing Y/N. Now cut the square talk we gotta get to Tower Records before it closes!".

That's another thing Daisy kept secret. Her music. Daisy had a whole stack of vinyl records along with a record player, stashed under her bed. She would purchase raunchy records like Tina Turner and Cheap Trick, and slide them in the back of the more inconspicuous records like Chuck Girard and Bob Dylan. One of Daisy's boyfriends last summer had gifted her an Aerosmith record. Daisy played it for you once and that's how you first learned what rock music was. Some kind of bug bit you then. You itched to hear more, but between the uber cult of Daisy's parents and your own sheltered family back in indiana, who were perpetually trapped in the era of disco music, rock music was hard to come by. Rock music was foreign to you but felt familiar. You'd never felt a craving for sound before hearing it. So when Daisy devised to steal her dads car to go visit Tower Records in the city, you shoved all notion of "evils that lurk below" and the two of you ripped down to the sunset strip.

-

It wasn't that you weren't adventurous too. You could be if you wanted to. You were just too busy to be bothered with mischief like Daisy. While you believed yourself to be an open minded individual, it was clear Aunt Shenas repeated affirmations of danger sat in the back of your mind, welling up further and further to the forefront while the lights of the city glittered closer and closer into view.

"Wow wow wow Y/N...look at it all right? You seein this?" Daisy's eyes glazed over as the neon lights poured over the Pontiac. It was like nothing you had ever seen before. Or her. Daisy had only made it down to the city a handful of times but never at night. Each building had its own neon get up signage. Loads of people strolled the night street. It was busy! Your heart pounded in your chest a little bit. Fear and excitement all in one. You couldn't take your eyes off the passing sceneries. You tried to take it all in. Burger joints you had seen a million commercials for bustled with crews of hot rods parked in the parking lots, engines proudly displayed. Beautiful women leaning into the windows of old rusty cars, hung out on the darker corners in big groups for some reason. Was everyone down here revolting against wearing clothes?

"Tower Records baby!" Daisy sang as she pulled into the parking lot. Huh. It wasn't really a tower like the name had suggested. Rather a dingy stand alone strip mall off the corner of the strip. The disappointing reality shocked you back to your more cautious senses. If anyone finds out we're here we're totally busted.

You stepped out of the car and a wall of hollywoods finest scents burned your nose. The air down here wasn't like the air in the hills. Air can't be so different like that can it? "God I hope they have the new Cyndi Lauper release." Daisy said, pushing into the store door with her back.

The door chirped out a small out of tune "ding!" To notify the staff of the new and completely out of element customers entering. Two scrawny flower fresh girls in inconspicuous uniform-like attire, looking plain and straight as an arrow. The saying "bull in a China shop" but as if curiously reversed "China in a bull shop". Daisy somewhat fit the bill better but you-you did not look hip enough to be in a record store, or the state of California. Even if it was a dingy strip mall. Which made you all the more nervous.

A few other customers sleuthed the aisles, clearly regulars. You tried to stay out of everyone's way while you tried to keep track of Daisy darting into the vinyl labyrinth. You scanned the sea of music. Tracing your fingers along the spines of sleeves. So much rock music! You glanced around to see Daisy already chatting up one of the grungy male employees. Your eyes caught a gorgeous vibrant yellow sleeve and you plucked it out. 'Are you experienced' by Jimi Hendrix.

You'd heard of him you think. Maybe on the news somewhere? He seems like a big rocker name.

You made your way over to the front corner  of the store by the check out where they had open record players where customers could play records and listen to new samples. You held the album in your hands and stared at its dazzling colors. Almost spellbound until;

"Foxey Lady."

The sudden voice snapped you out of your trance and you looked around. Suddenly catching the cashier at the empty register. Did HE say that? To ME? You hesitated to question if he spoke to you. He seemed like the type to cause trouble. Was this a cat call? Is this what cat calling is? One time mother had been cat called in front of a sears and daddy found the man who did it and really gave him a reaming. She warned you about dirty and dangerous men in the streets who call women obscenities for fun. What jerk cat calls a young woman shopping at their own store?

"Excuse me…?" You questioned.

"The record." He pointed to your hands gripping the yellow vinyl.

"Foxey lady. It's the best song on that album." He connected. Your eyes glance back down at the track list and sure enough 'Foxey Lady' was spelled out. Your face suddenly blooms pink in embarrassment as you look back up to him. That's not what you were expecting from this guy.

He leaned his back against the wall behind the counter. It was impossible to tell if he was looking at you because his eyes were protected from a curtain of thick, pretty dark curls and sunglasses….indoors….at night. His arms crossed coolly. He had an aura of mischief about him. He was almost like a ghost. Dressed in all black leather. You'd never seen someone dressed in only black clothes before. Maybe he was a rocker type too.

"Oh..uh….I'll need to give it a listen then." You replied politely and cordially with a nervous smile, averting his face to hide your obvious embarrassment. You became slightly flustered. He didn't drop his attention towards you. You start to fiddle with the record, somehow losing your sense of coordination because you were being watched. Suddenly the record isn't lining up correctly. The lid almost clamps on your hand but something catches it and spares your fingers. You look up again and he's now in front of you, acting like some sort of hero. An intense mixture of tobacco, rubbing alcohol and an almost sweet musk surrounds you. You now see that he is in fact looking at you. You stare at him like a deer in headlights. Stunned, embarrassed and confused at how he managed to sneak his way over to you so quickly. "Here, I'll play it for you." His lips curl up slightly into an almost sickeningly lovely smirk. He places his hand upon yours and kindly removes it out of the way. You step aside and allow him to continue, still stunned and nervous.

Not only had your heart already been on high alert from the firebird thievery, a guy was now in your direct personal space. A potentially dangerous guy. Well no- he wasn't cat calling you after all right? And he just helped you and? He is sort of nicer than you expected. He just seems so...cool?

All up in your personal space. It wasn't like you were a prude! You'd kissed a boy before! Even held hands too. Granted the kiss was on the cheek. But this guy just kind of....took over. His presence was so laid back and yet demanded the attention of the room. It was hard not to want to stare back at him. You wanted to better analyze this predator/prey situation here. If he's so dangerous, why is he being so kind? It took one glance at him up close and you were starting to call bullshit on Aunt Shena's precautions altogether. You'd been in the city for almost an hour and remained entirely unscathed.

Your hand still felt electric from his touch. His eyes only briefly detaching from you to put the record on.

A funky rock ensemble flowed out of the record. The same type of musical pleasure you had heard from the Aerosmith record, revisited your body. A rougher, harder groove than what's on the radio. It was melodic and fierce. The guy redirected himself to you once more. Watching you for your reaction to the song. You nervously nod your head to the beat, meeting his gaze. Once you connect sights, your stomach jumps in a swirl. Butterflies soar in circles inside you. This oddly intimate interaction but you couldn't seem to pull away. Almost spellbound yet again but for an entirely different feeling.

He began mouthing the lyrics, still staring back at you over a sea of tension thick air.

'You know you're a cute little heartbreaker'

Your face is rushing hot. It was almost like he was intentionally singing these words to you.

'And you know you're a sweet little love maker'

He smirked at this one. You turned now what you must have assumed was red with embarrassment. You break your gaze and look down at your shoes and then glance around the shop to locate Daisy. The shop was mainly now empty as the night had grown in. Daisy could still be found giggling away with another boy in the far end of the store. Your heart fluttered rapidly. You suddenly feel the air in front of you grow warmer. Looking back he had stepped closer to you and space between you had shrunk. He continues.

'I wanna take you home-

I won't do you no harm'

He held a smug look on his face as his lips mouthed these totally obscene lyrics to you. Like he knew it was not something you'd ever heard before. Your naïve shock seemed to entertain him.

'You got to be all mine, all mine'

Ooh Foxey Lady.'

"You dig it?" He asked still holding a smirk. "Definitely" You admit all too quickly. He give a slight breathy chuckle. Your sure answer when you had seemed so unsure about everything else til then was cute to him. A gal who was on board for rock n roll was nothing but perfection to him. But you didn't look the part, and that amused him. Your light floral scent drifted sweetly around him, he was unable to ignore you as soon as you had walked in and he had watched your every move. A nervous animal. Timid and clearly not someone he had seen in before. The girls that normally perused Tower Records were hot but they were rough around the edges. You- you were something sweet…something different altogether he thought. You were like a breath of fresh air to him. What's that saying...opposites attract?

"You like it so much you can have it." He said, his voice a lower octave.

"Oh well I was thinking of buying something el-" you started to politely object.

"No. " he laughs at your oblivion. "Just take it. It's yours." He pushes it into your hands. You're a little in shock once more just at the thought of stealing? Twice in one night? You really like the record and you would love to own it...but. You look around nervously.

"Here Foxey, All you." He firmly asserts it into your grasp, lets go and begins to walk back behind his counter.

"Y-you could get into trouble for this you know." You point out with concern for this kind stranger. He waves you off with his hand. "we're closing miss, you'll have to get." busying himself in false cashiering practices he had probably never paid attention to until now. Daisy meets you mid store. She hardly notices the record in your hands or the insane cashier who just let you steal from his store. "I've just met the cutest boy, Y/N! And he’s in his own band! I'll tell you on the way back. “ She giggled. “Let's get sodas maybe too if some where's open." Daisy ushered you to the door, blind in her own personal thrills to notice you looking back over your shoulder to meet the gaze of the cashier once more, who to your delight had removed his sunglasses, already staring back at you, watching you leave. He gave you another sly smile and you returned one of your own, forming some sort of mutual pact of this secret.

Why did he think you would keep this a secret? Why did he trust you like that? You were going to after all, but how did he know?

Doesn’t he care about getting in to trouble?

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka x Narrator & Sam Kiszka x OC.

Chapter Two

Summary: The Jones Family are new additions to the sleepy community of Beech Run. A tight knit scattering of rural houses, where everyone knows everyone. Deeply religious and overbearingly strict, the daughters of the family are kept under lock & key by a fanatical Father and submissive Mother. They watch from bedroom windows as their neighbours, The Kiszkas, draw intense curiosity and desire to be free. Madness of youth , hope & obsession collide to bring the danger of forbidden love to poetic ends. (Era A/U)

A/N: This chapter is particularly seeped in religious doubt. There's sexual activity in church. Spanking and cock warming and talk of it being a punishment from God. If you are particularly religious or have any trauma regarding this I urge you not to read. These views are the views of a character I have created and do not directly display the views of the writer.

Warnings:Religious trauma. Parental trauma. Intense emotions including desire, obsession, grief and yearning.Loss of virginity.Explicit sexual activity.Heavy praise kink.Severe edging.Oral sex m/f.Fingering.Masturbation.Dirty filth talk.

Summer 1984

I would have taken a thousand punishments in the wake of the memory of that hazy afternoon. Surrounded by tall grass and the sound of crickets on the breeze. Jake, and his exploration of my body, like a dream that I'd yet to wake from. Still frames in my mind, of his mouth and his eyes and his voice. I could still smell his flesh long after I parted from him. Consumed by it even as I stood at the foot of the stairs, beyond the hour of our curfew. My fate already sealed.

Jolene was unrepentant. The flush of her cheeks and the ravaging of her hair telling a story that she would never utter in words. I knew better than to ask. But when she'd appeared, breathless and without remorse, I knew that Sam Kiszka had been gifted with her heart, and perhaps more.

I don't think either of us came away from that afternoon exactly as we'd arrived. If innocence was the price paid, I felt a little richer for what I'd received in return. Perhaps a bird with clipped wings losing it's feathers, only to find that beneath there was an even greater bird just waiting to fly. That was how I imagined myself. On the verge of taking flight.

"Explain to me, boy."

Dad was standing in the hall, formidable and with a rage simmering away beneath a steady gaze. I'd only ever seen him this vexed once before, during a time when he'd been forced to reconsider the limits of his power over our brother. I thought, perhaps, that Ben would take his moment to exert his mounting power. But he wasn't the alpha, not yet.

"Car trouble, Dad." He replied nonchalantly, throwing his jacket on the bannister. "We're only a half hour late."

He would lie for us, but only to better serve his own needs. If he wanted to take Harriet Dinsmore out again and use the car, he'd have to pretend that nothing nefarious had happened out there while he was meant to be our escort.

"Don't you lie to me, boy!"

The way he spat the words out made me flinch. Instinctively reaching for Jolene's hand. The two of us ravaged and ruined by those boys, softly acknowledging that flower petals had been plucked in those fields. And we would take whatever punishment would accompany it.

"I had a phone call from Mrs. Dinsmore. Thanking me for my son getting Harriet home at a reasonable hour." He said, meeting his son at eye level. "And then she also happened to mention that young Lewis had been glad to see my girls down at the creek today."

I sensed the fear in Ben's eyes. The boy he once was never too far away. Bolstered by his freedom and the reluctance to lose it, he backed down immediately. And my lungs deflated.

"I left them in town, I swear." He pleaded, "I didn't know they went to the creek. I swear, Dad!"

It was pitiful. The way his cheek was turned as our Father struck it. That painful retrospect of what he could or should have said playing over and over in his mind as he looked directly at us. As if somehow Jolene and I had caused this. As if he didn't understand quite fully how free will worked just yet, and he'd had a choice. He could have told the truth.

"I'll deal with you later."

There was a look of reproach as Ben stormed up the stairs, clutching his cheek in a shame that was yet to properly manifest itself. He'd treat us like ghosts for the rest of the summer, but we truly didn't mind.

I was sad to see him go, still. Without the focus on Ben it meant that it was my turn to feel my Father's wrath. A wrath that he truly believed was descended from God himself. Sometimes I wondered if the truly believed that, or if it was a diocese of lies he told himself in order to sleep at night as the tyrant he truly was.

"I expected better from you." He said, standing with his finger extended at me. "I expect my daughters to uphold the values of this house and the church we embody. Not go against my word at the first opportunity."

He cast his eye towards Jolene, who would stand firm. She'd finally experienced something worth holding on to. Something she would protect, even in the face of God's wrath; which seemed to always wear our Fathers face.

"Dad, we're sorry." I apologised, although the validity of it felt like a sin within itself. "We had every intention to go into town with Ben. It was awful hot though, and we just wanted to cool off by the water. We didn't know that there would be others down there. Promise."

There were flecks of spit in the corners of his mouth as he leaned in. A tremble of his lip as he tried to keep his tongue in check. I could see my Mother lingering in the kitchen door way, like a shadow that bore no use without the shade she dwelled in. Both of them prisoners to their own demeanours. I hoped that there'd been a time, once, where they'd known how it felt to lay down and feel what I had felt that afternoon.

"Proverbs 19:9 - A false witness shall be punished, and a liar shall be caught." He quoted, as he often did, when he needed witness to his tyranny. "And I'll not have liars for children."

I didn't feel much like a child. And he would see me punished like the young woman I was becoming. Yanking me away from my sister, digging venom into my flesh with fingertips that intended to bruise me.

"You'll go to the church. And you'll pray on it until the sun comes up. And if I don't find you on your knees, you'll stay there until supper tomorrow."

Jolene knew better than to protest. Her hands flew to her mouth as he handled me out of the door and out towards the car. Her silent pleas for him to let me go left on the tip of her tongue. I wouldn't struggle. And she knew that I would go to my punishment as willingly as she would go to hers. And somehow, we knew, that we'd meet in the aftermath.

I was grateful for the sweet coolness of the church floor. The ebb and flow of a breeze that in the shade was a welcome respite from the summer heat. My knees were bent, pressed into the red velvet tuffet as I rested my elbows on the solid wooden edge of the kneeler bench. Genuflecting to the lord with my fingers entwined and a solemn knot in my stomach.

That was where he found me. Alone in my retribution. The gentle click of the church door alerting me to his presence, although I didn't turn and look. I allowed the echo of his footsteps to guide him towards me, my eyes burning into the effigy of Jesus Christ on the cross. My knuckles white, palms growing steadily more sweaty.

In the candle light it appeared as if Jesus was smiling at me. And I wondered if it were a cruel trick to lull me into thinking that I was absolved. The devil painted such a beautiful picture in my mind, and he arrived just when I thought I could be saved.

"I followed you." He said, his voice echoing against the rafters. "I didn't think he was going to leave you here, though."

He would know me in my anguish. I dared to turn my head a little, greeting him with a soft apology for the state in which he'd found me in.

"You should leave, Jake." I whispered, afraid that if my voice carried any higher God himself would hear.

He was wearing the same shorts, sunburnt shoulders now covered by a light blue shirt. Half of his hair tied back, the rest tumbling down against his neck. As I swallowed, I realised my mouth was unflinchingly dry. The sight of him an unholy memory of what he had done to me mere hours ago.

"I'm not leaving this church until you do." He assured me, slumping down onto the dusty floor, his back against the kneeler. He propped his forearms up on bent knees and sighed heavily. He didn't ask me to stop praying. He just...sat there.

"You'll be here until dawn." I warned him.

"So be it." He replied, without hesitation. "If I'm the cause of your punishment, I'll be the remedy too."

I didn't quite know what he meant. I didn't dare ask him to explain. The darkness was drawing ever closer and the temperature was dropping. The candles flickered in the encroaching draft, and my knees began to give way. The warmth of the afternoon felt like a fever dream. And he could feel the way my body began to tremble against the enormity of it all.

"Here." He offered, rising to press himself against my back, "Lean against me."

He took a little of my weight, but still didn't make me stop my prayers. He was like scaffolding around me, holding me up as I tried to right the perceived wrong I had done. His body still felt warm and tender against mine, his breath exhaling on the line of my jaw. His chest against me, arms tucked around my waist. I felt completely detached from the divine. As if my soul wanted nothing more than to dwell with Jake.

"We didn't do anything wrong today, Bonnie. You know that, right?"

I wasn't a moral compass on what was right and what was wrong. All I knew was that I'd done something which merited the endurance of midnight prayer. I couldn't speak to it, the softness within which I recalled the heat of the afternoon. It had me tongue tied as I tried to speak to God and beg for his forgiveness for such wretched wickedness. The wickedness of pleasure.

But God didn't speak to me that night. The only voice I could hear was Jakes.

"Do you want to be punished?" He asked, "For what we did?"

His question caught me off balance. My breath caught a little and a tiny, almost indiscernible gasp escaped my lips. This involuntary move made him hold me a little closer, a little tighter. Pulling my body up and more earnestly against him.

"God see's everything." I replied, trying to breathe against his palms that were flat to my sternum. "I'll be punished regardless."

He breathed an amused little sigh into my ear.

"If God see's everything, he's an immoral voyeur who knows that the flesh he created cries out for touch." He explained, taking the liberty of wrapping his fist around the hem of my dress. "Don't you think what we did down by the creek was a gift from God?"

When I thought about it like that, like it was God's hand guiding me into sin, I didn't want to believe in him anymore. And not because the God I'd been raised to fear might have been a foolish idea created by men who desired control over others, but because there seemed to be no God that could ever satisfy me.

"What are you saying?" I asked, keeping still as he pulled my dress up, revealing my underwear to the altar.

"Puppets. All of us. Moving around by the command of one puppeteer." He continued, his voice low and commanding. "All seems a little... inconceivable. Doesn't it?"

I was powerless to stop it. The thrum of blood beating in my core. The way it seemed that every muscle and sinew in my body seemed weak against his strength.

"All these moving parts, tethered by invisible strings to a hand nobody can see." He preached now, tucking the back of my dress into my bra strap, viciously pulling down my panties until I was fully exposed where I knelt. "You could kneel at this altar for hours in penance and feel nothing. Or you could let me help you feel something."

"You blaspheme." I whispered, closing my eyes as he slipped a righteous palm down the curve of my ass.

"You blaspheme!" He growled, "Against yourself, against your body...against me."

Perhaps I did. Fear was the definition of every corner I'd ever turned. Fear of God. Fear of my Father. Fear of wanting something I knew neither of those things would ever allow. It all seemed trivial though, somehow, when Jake ran such careful hands over me. When I could feel his body responding to mine. Heavenly, almost.

"Proceed, then." I allowed, fingertips digging into the bench. "If you're here to make me feel something. Go ahead."

If Jake was here, perhaps he was sent by God to instruct my punishment? Or maybe it was all just a bunch of nonsense. Maybe he was here because he wanted to be? Maybe all of this was just fuelled by nothing more than two people who wanted this?

I could feel the trembling in his body as he prepared himself. My underwear languished at my knees, my dress pulled up so that my entire lower body was on display. I remained in my kneeling position as he pulled himself back, taking a deep breath.

"Do you want to be punished, Bonnie?" He asked again.

"There is no God, is there?" I almost sobbed. "Only us?"

"Have faith in me." He replied so softly, his hand slowly riding down my thigh. "I'll never worship anything but you, Bonnie. I swear it."

I'd never forget that night in the church. The way my fear in God died and in it's place was planted a new found obsession for pleasures I'd been repeatedly denied.

Jake was nothing if not gentle with me. The soft rise and fall of his hand as it skimmed the inside of my legs, parting them a little where I knelt. His arm was pressed against my collar bone, keeping me steady when I might weaken. His subtle whispers were for me, not even God was privy to them as he spoke directly into the shell of my ear.

And then I knew his purpose. The slow roll of my body as he leaned it forward. The sharp recoil of his previously gentle palm as it reeled back. And the bitter sting of it as it connected with my flesh. The sound echoing around the church walls. And my silent scream ringing out into the far reaches of my mind, unable to flow out of my mouth as I bit down heavily on my lower lip.

Jakes hand lingered on my ass. Squeezing it as he centred himself. The very act he'd just performed seemed to draw such high levels of arousal that his breath seemed to cease for a moment. His mouth resting breathlessly against my shoulder as he pulled back once more. This time the connection was even more unyielding. And he moaned, digging fingertips into my tissue where I knew it would bruise.

Each time he spanked me I could feel myself drawing closer to something divine. Not God, not a deity I could believe in. The tears of it dripped down my inner thigh and rolled down my leg into the fabric at my knees. This was something else. Something only Jake could give me. My senses were entirely heightened. The sound of it against church rafters. The sting of it on my reddened skin. The pain of each squeeze as he revelled in it, and the way he seemed to go deeper into an arousal he could only speak of in feral groans with each snap.

"Your silence wont make a difference." He said, noticing the droplets between my legs for the first time. "Your body speaks where your voice will not."

I was still learning. "Once more." I urged.

I needed it. Whatever this feeling was. I craved it. The way his reactions made me wetter and wetter. The way his ministrations made it unbearable for him. The way I knew it was because of me that he damn near sank his teeth into the flesh at the base of my neck. Fighting for his life as he breathed harder. Kneading my ass cheek, rolling his palm over the heat.

"Tell me how much you need it." He begged, "Tell me how much you need my palm across your sweet little ass."

I began to think, perhaps, that he needed it more than I.

"Is it wrong how badly I need it?" I dared to ask, my voice quiet and small.

"No." He breathed. "You don't have to be pure if you don't want to be."

He did it again. Harder. With more vicious intent. The sensation of it sending ripples through my flesh and down into the folds of my beating pussy. That time I couldn't hold myself together. Whimpering so wretchedly that the candle flames danced in my breath.

"Again." I beseeched.

He didn't preach to me again that night. He pummelled his hand over my ass repeatedly until I gushed a river. My cries finally finding their voice. Ascending like a choir into the bell tower. With each switch of his wrist he grew more insatiable. And it seemed that he couldn't bear it any longer once he was done with me. Almost as if all it would take would be one more strike to make him ravage me.

He was exhausted by the time he hastily pulled up my panties. Ruffling down my dress, making it appear as if he'd never touched me at all. Nuzzling against my neck, his nose pressed against my jaw. Trying to swallow and breathe, like he'd lost all control. And despite the drop in the temperature, his brow was covered in a sheen of sweat.

I fell helplessly into his arms. My legs buckled under the weight of what we'd done. And he held me tenderly. The hand which had executed my desired punishment now brushing back my hair and lovingly stroking across my temple. I didn't reach orgasm, neither did he. But there was this strange comforting feeling I knew we both shared that something had inexplicably changed there in the church that night.

Once we had both calmed, we found ourselves tangled in a sweet embrace as we sat on the cool church floor. He coiled a light touch beneath my chin, cupping it in the curve of his index finger as he tilted my head up to meet his gaze. And he kissed me with all the uncontrollable arousal he'd supressed. His tongue explored mine. His gentle lips soft like pillows, opening and closing at slow intervals to allow his tongue to retract. Pulling back just enough to look into my eyes as daylight began to turn the black night into a pale blue hue.

"Why don't you ever stand up to him, your Dad?" He asked, playing absently with my fingers as we held each other. "You're eighteen. Surely that has to count for something?"

I knew he would ask eventually, I thought perhaps it would have come a little later.

"It's not like it is at your house." I sighed, "Your parents actually care about what you want. I don't think my Dad ever stopped to wonder if any of us wanted any of this. It just... is."

He stroked the back of my hand and curled both of his around it, closing around it like an oyster shell. "It doesn't have to be."

I wanted to join him in his hopefulness. But with the sun coming up I knew that I would have preferred to face the consequences of him being there alone. Another punishment. Another atonement for something I'd done that felt good.

"You'd better go before he gets here to pick me up." I responded, with my heart sinking even as the words spilled out. "I don't want you to have to deal with him."

But Jake was staunch. Sometimes I forgot that he was older than me.

"I'd take him on in a heartbeat if it meant that I got to keep you." He said reluctantly, sweeping his lips across my cheek. "Find what you love...and let it kill you."

The day I met Jake was the day that everything started to make sense. The night I spent with Jake in that church was the night I knew why. The pieces of my life finally started to fit. And there was no joy to be found in anything except for him. And I knew that I was irrevocably in love with him. Doomed, some might say.

Jolene was sitting in the window as I arrived home. Her forlorn morning stare reaching out to me through the glass as I climbed out of the car, the journey home wordless and without any conclusion. My Father had simply walked into the church, ascertained that I hadn't fallen asleep at my post, and opened the door for me to walk outside.

The weary walk to my room was peppered with my Mother taking my cardigan at the door and sheepishly asking me if I was feeling alright. I felt a sense of betrayal from her that usually simmered below the surface, but that particular morning it raged so aggressively I could barely look at her.

"May I go to sleep now?" I asked, ascending the stairs as my Dad silently nodded his approval.

No sooner had I opened the door, Jolene flew to it. Dark circles painted beneath her eyes, as if she hadn't drawn a wink of sleep either. Her nails bitten down to the quick and almost manic as she gripped my shoulders.

"Did Jake find you?" She demanded, frantic as I tried to sit at my desk. "I saw him, his car sped out of the driveway after Dad took you out. He looked pretty pissed."

There was a strange sense that my head was under water. It felt like my ears were blocked and my vision blurred. I hadn't slept, I'd been on high alert. And every time I thought it was safe to, I forgot that it hurt to sit down.

"Yes, yes... he found me." I sighed, pulling off my dress and slipping into my night gown. "We can talk about it later, now I really need to sleep."

She continued to fret as I climbed into bed. I hadn't realised that my body had been tensed, my muscles suddenly relaxing as I pulled my blanket around me. In here nothing else mattered and I closed my eyes. Feeling Jolene's unease as she lingered on the edge of her bed on the opposite side of the room.

"Let me sleep, Jo." I said, eyes still clamped shut.

She hesitated a little before responding.

"I had sex with him, Bonnie." She whispered, forcing me to open my eyes.

I wasn't really sure what I'd expected her to say. That perhaps they'd exchanged a sweet kiss. That she'd let him trail his fingers up her shirt, but nothing quite so absolute as the full act.

"What do you mean?" I asked, reluctantly sitting up as a beam of morning light began to creep in through the crack in the curtains.

She rolled her eyes and began wringing her hands between the folds of her night gown nervously.

"That's why we were late to get back to meet Ben." She explained, her eyes trained on the closed bedroom door. "All of this is my fault. I should have been the one doing midnight prayer. I'm the reason we were late. I'm the one who committed the sin."

She'd endured her own type of punishment. I could see it in the way she couldn't settle. Her knees in a frenzy as they shook up and down, her fingers in her mouth as she continued to chew on her nails. I opened up my blanket and invited her to lay with me. Immediately she drew the same calm as I had from being shrouded in pillows and blankets. Our bodies side by side as I hunkered down with her. Something we hadn't done since childhood.

"Was it what you wanted?" I asked, delicately pushing her hair away from her tired face. "With Sam? Did you do it because you wanted to?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Of course I wanted to. He didn't make me do anything. Maybe I got caught up in the moment, but he was gentle with me from start to finish."

He was just like Jake. She weaved a tale so soft and seeped in romanticism that I was swept away with it. The way he'd offered her his hand to hold. The way he'd wanted to show her where all the fish liked to gather at an old bridge further down the creek, and they'd sat with their feet dangling off the edge talking about nothing of consequence. It sounded like a perfect summer afternoon. And she'd let him kiss her on that bridge for the first time, her and I locked in our unfolding stories at the same time.

"One minute we were kissing on that bridge and the next he scooped me up and carried me to the river bank. I don't think either of us had any idea what we were going to do. It just...happened."

She didn't have an inkling of regret. Even though she was sleep deprived, there was a sparkle there in her eyes as she talked about him. About the way he'd soothed her with caresses, assuring him it was what she wanted when he would have stopped. Calling her his little grasshopper because she'd been so excitable. He'd been slow and careful with her, repeatedly asking if she was ok throughout the whole thing. Taking care not to hurt her. Promising to shoulder the brunt of any punishment laid out.

"He's going to ask Dad for permission to date me." She said wistfully, "I told him that it didn't matter whether he asked for permission or not, that we'd never be allowed to date. But he was adamant. He said he wasn't going to let it come between us."

Our secrets were ours to keep. I knew that the minute Sam Kiszka crossed that street and onto our porch that they would unravel. I wanted to keep our secrets safe. It didn't matter how many punishments we endured. Jake seemed to understand this. His was a far more mature and level headed approach. Jake would have followed me anywhere, in pursuit. He would have snatched me up and taken me anywhere I pleased. But he knew better than to try to defy a man who was neither sound nor reasonable.

"I know he think's that he's doing the right thing, but he can't ask Dad to date you. It'll only make things worse." I worried, careful not to bring my own intentions into it.

Jolene's eyes moved down. Gentle disappointment laced in her heavy breath. When she looked up it was with forlorn dismay. A film of tears threatening to spill over her lashes.

"He's in my bones now, Bonnie." She sniffed. " I want my chance with him in every life time, not just this one. Don't you understand that?"

Such a romantic little thing, she was. I carried the bruises of the sexual deviances of what I'd done, but she'd known something I'd yet to know. A secret that was all hers, that I was no part of. I wondered why Jake hadn't tried to have sex with me, why her and Sam had come to it so soon? She was so eager to have everything so suddenly, part of me wondered if she hadn't instigated it herself.

It didn't really matter. Her mind was so staunchly set that I couldn't argue with it.

"Ok." I conceded. "Well, did it hurt?"

The swell of her smile was enough to keep me awake. The fissures of a giggle threatening to give way.

"A little." She replied, "I didn't know what to do at first. He laid me down and touched me, told me it was so that I'd be ready. And then he kissed me all the way down until his mouth was... you know...and then he kissed me there a little while. I don't know what came over me, I just knew that I'd let him have his way after that."

A flush of pink rushed to her cheeks. She seemed more awake than she had been a moment ago.

"And then... it was like a hot knife cutting through butter. Smooth and slow. And I could feel it sting, but only for a moment. And he asked me if I was alright, he never stopped looking into my eyes for any hint of pain. I just kept nodding, trying to keep it together. Not knowing if I should make a sound or stay silent. If I should move and let him do all of it. I just laid there for the first few minutes, taking it all in. Like even as it was happening I knew I'd recall it like a dream."

Theirs was a sweet summer love. A tender fairytale I could see a shadow lingering behind. But I didn't dare tell her. I hoped that it was stay where it was and leave them be. She deserved a summer of love.

It made me wonder what was going on in Jakes mind. The opportunity to descend into sexual madness had presented itself twice now, and twice he hadn't tried to take my virginity. I questioned whether it was a long game he was playing, or if he simply did not desire to have it.

"Did you do it with Jake?" She asked, almost as if she'd heard the reverb of my thoughts.

I couldn't lie to her. "Not all the way. With him, it's like he's playing this long game. Almost like he can't bear to take it too far too soon."

I knew she would think that I judged her. But what one brother would do wasn't always going to be what the other did. She was well suited to Sam, and yet their shared penchant for chaos was the face of that very shadow I could see behind them.

"Do you love him?" She asked, yawning and rubbing her eyes as the sun crept in.

That was something which seemed to have a more simple response. I didn't know his favourite colour or the way he liked his eggs cooked. I didn't know what songs he liked to listen to in the car on long journeys, or if he ever sang in the shower. These were things I ached to know, and resolved to know in due course. The little things. It was the biggest thing which drew me to my conclusion.

"He took a risk coming to the church last night." I replied, feeling my eyelids grow ever heavy. "For that alone, I will love him."

It felt as if I'd only closed my eyes for a moment. I was drifting from a dream that I wouldn't remember when I opened them. I could hear familiar voices rising, my name somewhere on the breeze. Perhaps I was still dreaming? Somewhere in the distance I could hear my Father's voice. His venomous sermon waking me, and I sat bolt upright in a panic that I hadn't known would come.

I had no sense of the time. The sun was beating down from the centre of the sky, my curtains rippling in the warm summer breeze as my window sat at half mast. And outside the peace of the afternoon was broken by the sound of my sister's screams.

I grabbed my robe off the hook on the back of the door and flew downstairs. The front door was wide open, so rarely was it ever left like that; I knew immediately that something was wrong.

My Mother was standing on the porch, pacing a little as she watched from her safely appointed spot in the background. My Dad was standing at the foot of the driveway, holding Jolene back as he pointed an ominous finger at Sam. He was flanked by his older brothers, who were trying to convince him to pull back. Jolene was crying. Tears streaming down her face, begging to be let go of. Trying to rip at Dad's shirt, like an animal caught in a snare trying to fight for it's life.

The moment I appeared Jake's eyes lost their focus. He let go of his brother. Bile began to rise in my throat and I shook my head, terrified that he was about to move towards me. The very motion of my head seemed to break his heart. He would have made his claim, would've fought for me. But now was not the time.

"Please, Mr. Jones. Just hear me out!" Sam pleaded, trying to reach for Jolene. "I love her, Sir. I wont hurt her, I promise!"

It was as if he couldn't feel the push and pull of his daughter who wriggled on the end of a hook that only he had the power to reel in. He barely shook against the onslaught of her efforts to break free. His eyes burning into the boy who had come to ask for his permission.

"You set foot over here again, boy, and I'll call the police. You hear me?!" He threatened, "This is my land. My daughter."

Josh was still fervently attached to Sam's shoulder.

"With all due respect, Sir, my brother is a good person. He doesn't mean any harm to your daughter." He reasoned, holding a palm up towards my Dad to signal a cease fire. "We only live across the street. Only seems natural they'd take a liking to each other."

He didn't know it, but he was kicking the hornets nest. I wanted to intervene, feeling useless as I stood there with a voice that couldn't speak and feet that wouldn't move. I felt no better than my Mother as I watched the screen door over at the Kiszka house fly open. Their sister appeared, trying to explain what was going on in violent hand gestures, as their Mother stormed across the front yard and over to where her boys were trying to avoid a scuffle.

"Marie, come and take your daughter." Dad said calmly, shoving Jolene back towards the house as my Mom scurried down the porch steps to retrieve her.

I stayed close by. I didn't know what else to do.

"Boys, get back in the house!" She demanded, pulling them apart like rubber bands. "Mr. Jones, I know you're a well respected pastor in this town but I don't like your attitude towards my family. We welcomed you in to the street, we were met with indifference. So I'd kindly ask that you don't raise your voice or your hand to my son again!"

The way she stood there, fierce and unflappable. I'd only seen her a handful of times, taking groceries into the house or tending to her flower beds around the edge of the porch. Sometimes she would sit with Mr. Kiszka on the porch of an evening. The two of them sharing a drink and watching the world go by. That sort of slow living I thought only existed in movies.

"You keep those feral mutts away from my girls." Dad argued, that terrible finger of devout judgement mere inches away from her face.

But she remained unperturbed. Josh and Jake lingered at her back, Jake not knowing whether to stay behind his Mother or come to my side. I continued to subtly shake my head every time I caught his eye.

Mrs. Kiszka, with her arms folded and her eyes wide with rage, kept her lip tucked firmly under her teeth as she weighed and measured my Father. I noticed Ben lingering by the garage door, an oily rag in his hand and the car bonnet propped up as he stared at the chaos unfolding. An onlooker, no better than I. And I hated myself for it.

"If my feral mutts go anywhere near your girls, it's because they were invited." She bit back, keeping her voice low and steady. "It only seems hospitable that we extend the invitation right back."

Such poise and grace deserved accolades. She took a few tempered steps back, raising a cheerful grin as she looked back at the house and regarded only me and my sister.

"Girls, you are more than welcome over at our house any time." She said sweetly, "You know, it's downright cruel the way you keep them cooped up like that during summer."

She gathered up her boys and began the triumphant walk back across the street. I knew the rage that simmered beneath my Father's still frame was unfathomable. He remained where he stood for a few more moments, deftly trying to fight against raising his voice or going over there to continue the fight.

I left him there. Taking Jolene from my Mother, ushering her back inside to calm herself. Utterly broken by the events that had unfolded. I looked back only once, to see Jake staring at me from his driveway.

Dad went into his office and slammed the door behind him, the sound shaking the walls of the house. I sat Jolene down at the kitchen table and made some tea, her face all pink and blotchy from the tears. I could hear the sound of lawn mowers humming outside in the distance, and Ben hammering away at something in the garage.

Like it had never happened.

But it had. And there was no going back from it. Shaken and ruined by it, I sat holding her hand. Trying to ignore our Mother as she appeared, cleaning away the dishes at the sink as if she was looking for something to occupy herself.

"You girls, you know you shouldn't get him angry like that." She dithered, almost as if she couldn't see the state in which Jolene remained in. "It's so much easier to just... not push his buttons."

"And I suppose by not pushing his buttons you mean never speak a word, stay in our rooms and be on our best behaviour at church?" I replied, urging Jolene to drink her tea.

She pushed it aside. "I don't care what anyone says, I won't be kept apart from him."

Mom dropped a glass in the sink. "Oh, Jolene... you know your Father just wants the best for you. To marry a good Christian boy from the church."

"I don't want no one but Sam!!!" She yelled, our Mother flinching back as if she'd thrown hands. "You'll never understand! Just because that's what you did, it doesn't mean that's what I have to do! Look at you, like a frightened little puppy! Scared of what he'll say if you step out of line! I'm not afraid anymore. And if you want me to stop seeing Sam, you'll have to kill me."

I didn't know it at the time, but Jolene had set in motion a course of events that would never be able to wash it's hands clean of the blood that would be spilled. I would often think back to that day in the kitchen and hear the sound of that glass shattering in the sink, our Mother's hand bleeding out under the run of the faucet. And I would wonder what might have been if she'd just kept it a secret a little while longer.

That night, I couldn't sleep. My pattern ruined from the previous night of wakefulness and the day I'd spent catching up. Unable to settle in my bones thereafter, after being woken so abruptly. Jolene had spent hours beneath her blanket, refusing to be comforted. Sobbing into her pillow until her breath had gone shallow and I could discern the waves and depth of sleep that had taken over.

I kept the window half open. The heat still bearing down, even when the sun had set. The trails of the night breeze gliding over my leg as I hitched it over my blanket and tried to distract myself with a book.

The way that Jake had looked at me was etched in every single thought I had. Barely able to eat supper at the excrutiatingly silent dinner table, unable to focus on anything but the way he'd wanted to step to me. That same tangible desire that was being screamed out of Jolene's lungs existed within mine.

Only mine was a little quieter. A little more serene. But no less bold in it's approach. I wanted him so bad I couldn't read any of the words on the page. I had to actively stop myself from going to the window to see if he was waiting there with a sign. I knew that if I did I wouldn't be able to stop myself from climbing out and going to him.

I didn't need to wonder, though. The night was so thick with atmosphere, the sound of the crickets had shrouded his movements. It wasn't until his hands curled around the window frame, pulling it open as wide as it would go, that I looked up from my book and felt my heart begin to rage within my chest.

He fell into the room, knocking over my pencil pot as he climbed over my desk. Admonishing himself as Jolene stirred a little, but did not wake. He silently placed the pencils back where they belonged and stealthily moved over to my bed.

It felt as if I hadn't seen him for days. About to whisper my fears as he placed a warm hand to my mouth and hushed me before I could utter one word.

"Ssssh now." He whispered, "You don't want to get us caught, do you?"

I shook my head with his hand still firmly planted there. His body was firm against mine, his eyes scanning my face in the low, golden glow of my bed side lamp.

"You sure do look pretty when you're all tucked up in bed like that." He said quietly, smirking as he released me. "Get dressed. Meet me out on the porch roof."

I glanced at my alarm clock. It wasn't yet midnight. I knew that if I could slip back in before sunrise, the risk would be lessened. I thought about it as I watched Jake climb back out, waiting until he was completely through the frame before yanking off my night gown and carelessly picking up the first thing I could grab out of my closet. Conscious that one creak of the floor boards could wake Jolene.

Would I even care, even if I did get caught sneaking back in? Would the consequence be worth it? I clasped my bra on, pulling the straps over my shoulders as I shimmied into a pair of white linen shorts and a blouse. I shoved my feet into a pair of sandals and knew that the regret would haunt me for the rest of my life if I didn't climb out of that window right then and there.

The sight of Jake in the summer moon, silver light illuminating his side profile as he sat on the edge of the porch roof waiting me, it was all I needed to know that I might never climb back inside the window. He was looking up at the stars, completely enchanted by the expanse of little white dots scattered across the noir. And when he noticed me, his face transformed from one of spacial wonder to one that knew it's home when it saw it.

"Do you trust me?" He asked solemnly, extending his hand for me to take as I climbed out.

He was wearing a muted purple t-shirt, ripped at the hem and paired with a pair of washed out old levi's. His hair hadn't been brushed, I could make out the knots even in the light of the moon. The wild elements of him only serving to make my heart beat faster. There wasn't anything about Jake that made me think that I was about to enjoy a peaceful evening. Everything about him had my danger receptors firing in all cylinders. And yet, I did trust him.

"Why, shouldn't I trust you?" I asked, letting him guide me down the trellis that ran down the side of the porch, his hands reaching for my waist as he helped me onto the ground.

"That very much depends." He fired back, "If your Dad intends me to bring you back without knowing how much I've fallen in love with you, then no."

His words stilled me. There under the moon, he caught me with a gentle gaze that guided me into a kiss that could have been witnessed by every eye in the whole world and I wouldn't have cared. His palm rested on my cheek, his hips angled towards mine. Heaven tasted like his tongue which gently probed into my mouth and brushed over mine, sending a rush of arousal to my beating pussy.

"What happened today shouldn't have happened." He said, keeping his forehead rested against mine. "I can't pretend that I understand why the fuck your Dad is such a narcissistic bastard. But I'll take you the fuck away from here. Just say the word. I've been working at my Dad's music store, saved up enough to get my own car. A little left over, too. We can go anywhere you want. I'll look after you, Bonnie."

I almost died inside at the sentiment. Waves of heat and flutters of excitement churned away in my stomach as he awaited my response. There wasn't a single condition to the way that I loved him. I didn't know how or why or even when I knew that it was love, the exact moment I could have hand picked from the little ones we'd shared. But I knew, beyond all conviction, that I would have followed him into the fire and brimstone of hell if that was where he was destined to go.

Jake made the dead parts of me breathe again. The parts of me that I'd long since disregarded and thought could never be resurrected. And I wanted so badly to honour that. To take his hand and let him lead me as far away from Beech Run as was humanly possible. But I couldn't leave Jolene. Not with the threat of the days events still hanging over her head. Without me, there was no guiding light for her.

"I promise." I whispered against his open mouth. "One day I will ask you to take me away from here. But not yet..."

For now, I let him take me across the street and up the gravel of his driveway. Every light in his house was out, save for the flicker of something glowing behind the half raised garage door.

"I meant what I said." He reminded me, stopping right before he would open it fully. "I'm gonna show you how much I've fallen in love with you."

"Maybe I'll show you." I countered, leaving him a little bewildered as he pushed up the garage door.

"You deserve to have beautiful memories. I really hope this is one of them."

The garage was only a small space. Littered with music paraphernalia. Multiple piles of vinyl in cardboard sleeves. A few stereo systems of varying degrees of use were dotted about. There was a drum kit right at the back and a set of guitars leaning on stands sitting on a moth eaten old carpet. On the walls there were posters, some of them lovingly placed in glass frames and others haphazardly tacked to the wall and ripped at the edges. I didn't recognise any of the faces in the images, but they looked like musicians or from movies. In the centre of the room was a couch with a pull out bed. He'd taken the liberty of making it up, surrounded with pillows and several blankets and comforters like he'd tried to build a soft little nest.

And all around the room were the dainty flickers of tea light flames. Hundreds of them, lovingly placed and ignited to fill the room with a soft glow that gave me a lump in my throat as I looked at what he had done for me. If he had wanted me to remember this, it would always stand proudly at the front of everything I did that summer.

"You did all this, for me?"

He went over to one of the stereo's and at the very top was a record player. He set the pin into the grooves, and let it begin to spin. I didn't recognise the song, but it set the mood perfectly.

"This is the least of what I'd do for you." He said, pulling me in to slow dance as I rested my head against his shoulder. "And when you finally decide to run away with me, then you'll know how far I'm willing to go."

We made out on the pull out bed for a little while. His smile as I kissed his teeth made him giggle, sharing laughter as we kissed amongst the piles of vinyl and instruments. I could have stayed like that forever, just taking in the memory of his lips and the way it felt to have his arm tucked beneath my head as he pulled me in. Sometimes his hair would fall out from behind his ear and sweep across my cheek, making me shudder at the sensation of it. And he would gallantly tuck it back, taking a moment to catch my expressions in the candle light.

"Tell me what you know about sex." He said, playing with the cord on the waist band of my shorts. "Do you ever think about it?"

I suddenly felt so very small in his arms. "Of course I think about it."

The steady beat of his heart became so erratic I could hear it in his breath. He was doing anything to distract himself, twirling the little string of fabric between his fingers and only looking at me when I hadn't said anything for a while. Like he'd been waiting for me to speak and didn't want to break the spell.

"I know enough about sex to know that I think about it." I offered, "Why do you ask?"

He couldn't look me in the eye, then. Preferring to shoot his gaze at the stereo, the clear plastic hood of the vinyl section propped up like a car bonnet as the pin skipped over to the next song.

"What I did to you in the church... and in the field the other day... I don't want you to think that it's all I want." He sounded sincere, bringing his eyes back to me after he'd finished speaking.

I could see the conflict. His desire to protect me and fuck me at odds with one another. I pulled him into another superfluous kiss. It had been enough for him to do all this for me. To lay the bed out with all the soft comforters and pillows and light all the tiny little tea candles, pick out his favourite music and making sure he said all the right words.

"But I also want you to know that I would do it all again. Over and over. Because your body does something to me that is beyond all fucking reasoning." He trailed his hand down from my throat into the valley of my breasts. "It started the first time I saw you in the window. Took every ounce of strength I had not to get too hard. And then when I saw you coming towards me down by the creek, I felt dizzy for the first time over a girl. I wanted to give you something, something that would make you feel good. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to know what you felt like. I couldn't get the thought out of my head for hours, even in the church I wanted to pull your panties all the way down. I wanted to just pull my zipper down and let it happen. But I knew that if I did, I'd regret it. You deserve to be courted sweetly. Not spanked to the edge of tolerance under God's roof..."

"I liked it." I cut him off, his fingertips pushing the edge of my blouse away from the curve of my breast. "I'm not made of porcelain, Jake. I wont break. I've been treated like I shouldn't be exposed to sex my whole life. Like it was a dirty sinful thing that would land me a one way ticket to hell. I don't care where I end up after I die. I just want to live..."

"Then we'll live." He agreed, wordlessly tugging at my clothes until he had taken them off and thrown them down by the bed.

In my underwear, I'd been conditioned to feel shame. But there was nothing but power there as Jake knelt at the foot of the bed and stared at me as if he'd unearthed buried treasure. His tongue sat the edge of his teeth, his eyes moving down from the way my hair tumbled over my breasts right down to the curve of my ankles.

"You ever seen a hard cock before?" He asked, shedding his t-shirt and unbuckling his belt. "I don't want to scare you."

I couldn't help but giggle. "I'm not afraid."

Perhaps there was a part of me that was curiously on edge. It wasn't fear, but as he began to take apart his zipper I could feel the apprehension rise. He didn't take his eyes off me. Carefully watching for my reaction as he pushed his levi's down. Beneath the fabric of his white boxer shorts I could make out the line of his cock. He gripped it tightly, giving it a little shake as he released some of the tension.

"It's not fully hard yet." He explained, "Do you want to touch it until it is?"

I swallowed thickly, the lump in my throat somehow bigger as he kicked off his jeans and scrambled up the bed to lay back down at my side.

"Show me how you like to be touched." I said, letting him guide my hand over the bulge, almost like the fabric between his flesh and mine was a slow introduction to how he liked it best.

"Just wrap your hand around it." He instructed, watching as I coiled my fingers around the shaft. "Yeah, just like that. And then squeeze it a little. And move up and down slowly."

The pulse quickened immediately. A rush of blood taking him to a solidness I hadn't expected. And it made me wet. I could feel the crotch between my thighs grow moist, and he noticed it too. Tracing the line of fabric that had darkened in colour, breathing heavily as he ghosted a feather light touch over my mound.

"I'm trying to take it slowly, but I need to have your body free of these..." He pulled on the waist of my panties, moaning softly as I continued to move my hand precisely the way he'd told me to.

"We're always trying." I mused, rolling onto my back so that he could take my underwear off. "Trying to be good. To work hard. To do what's right. Why don't people ever try to do what they want, what they need?"

"Oh, they do." He replied, peppering my breasts with kisses as he unclasped my bra and threw it down with the rest of my clothes, his body above me as I looked up at him. "They just don't talk about it."

The way he slid down my body, taking my panties with him, I couldn't bear it. " Oh...I guess that makes sense."

His head snapped up from covering my stomach in soft little kisses. His hair already knotted up and fucked.

"For instance, right now all I want to do is make love to you. But that's our little secret. Nobody else gets to ruin this for us. This is ours. Between nobody but me and you. Ok?"

I barely noticed that he'd rendered me naked. I laid there without a stitch on, his body lingering above me as I watched him move back. He was so beautiful. I couldn't take my eyes away from how his stomach moved as he breathed. The way his messed up hair sat at his shoulders. Even his thighs were making me feel like I'd never really been alive up until this moment. I'd just existed through out a series of events that had brought me here.

"You have no idea how possessed I am by you." He told me, sliding his hand down behind the waist band of his boxers as his eyes closed a little. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you bewitched me."

There was humour in his inflection, enough that it drew a breathy little giggle as he pulled out his cock. He let his boxers fall to the ground, observing me as I laid on the little nest he'd built for us.

"It's got a hold of me, too." I confessed, "Whatever this is. I'm a part of it."

It seemed to be enough that we were both entangled within this spell. He stood there gently stroking himself as I parted my legs. Letting him enjoy the view, taking in the sight as I watched him right back. He seemed to know the pattern of his own touch, letting his cock stand as he rounded a palm over his balls and left a shimmery trail at his bellybutton as his tip leaked.

"I don't want to wait anymore, Jake."

There were such things as ghosts. Not the people who had once lived and had died, but the versions of ourselves that had been and were never more. I felt like a ghost as he coveted me. My thighs welcoming his body between them and the rush of arousal that flooded every nerve ending was like lightening striking the earth.

I didn't quieten myself for Jake. For him, I did not enter a room as if I were not invited. For him I opened up, offering him my heart and my virginity; the two things perhaps the greatest gifts I had to offer him. And there was no confusion over what it meant to him. He laid down on top of me, holding his weight just enough so that I could feel his intention and taste his breath. The softness of his approach in direct contrast to the unrelenting hardness resting at the unopened door.

"Can you feel that?" He asked quietly, his lips brushing against mine. "It's all for you, Bonnie. All of it."

I knew he was mine the moment he shifted. His weight rolling down, hips dancing forward. And I was a vessel on calm seas. He didn't take his eyes from mine as he slowly entered. The tip just sitting in the tightness, stretching me out and making me wince a little. But it wasn't unbearable. I placed my hands around him, keeping him tethered. Ensuring no part of him would retreat if my expressions betrayed me.

"Ok?" He checked, moving a subdued kiss across my cheek bone, sweeping his lips across to where his whisper entered my ear. "Does it hurt?"

"Just keep going." I urged, certain that the burn and the ache would subside, "Don't stop..."

He let out the most delicious sound as he slowly continued to enter. Moaning softly, his breath warm against my cheek until he was entirely within me. And I could feel his groin rub against my thighs, soft pubic hair against my mound. And there he stayed, leaning up on forearms so that he could get a better look at me.

"I'm not going to fuck you, not yet." He explained, his palms coming to rest against my temples. "I just want to commit this feeling to memory."

I'd never felt more full. Almost like he was nearing the inside of my stomach, the pain and the sting of was worth all the misery of wondering what it would feel like. Because it simply wasn't how I could have ever imagined it.

"I love you, Jake." Was all I could fathom to say, staring up at his intense brown eyes that couldn't seem to look away from me.

He mouthed the words back to me, resting his forehead against mine, breathing a little harder as I clenched my pussy around him. The action was somewhat involuntary, as the inevitable burn began to lay waste to a feeling that was entirely new. With every flex he moaned again, and the melody of it drew a throb from me that almost demanded movement.

"So... tight..." He fought against it, keeping his cock nestled inside me, making a home for it as he buried his lips against my jaw and whispered sweet words that made me fall in love with him over and over again.

He would have stayed like that forever. And I would have kept him there for eternity. But the need and the animalistic urge to thrust was one I hadn't been prepared for. The way my body felt the rigid pull back was a delight. And the slow push back inside was delicious and my senses were spilling over with every thrust, every touch. Every breath and every kiss. Every word spoken and every soft moan. My mouth filled with his tongue, my fingers digging into the soft flesh at his waist. His cock slammed into me, fucked me and made love to me so softly at first and then when I couldn't stop myself from crying out he let himself take it a little harder, a little rougher until we were moving in unison.

"You feel so good, Bonnie." He told me, breathless between kisses, "I claim you..."

"I claim you, Jake..." I panted it, my voice coming out like a desperate whine that didn't quite sound like anything I'd ever spoken like before.

He seemed to like it. Bringing his mouth down to my hard nipples and clamping his lips around them. He sucked so gently, keeping his rhythm so perfectly I could feel my body start to vibrate. Overstimulated and ascending to the stars that he had promised me.

And yet, I had a feeling that he was nowhere near to being done with me.

To be Continued...

'

'

'

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire

[double--hh]

Henry, reluctantly exploring the Astral Circle Appartment Complex, "I swear, I hear a little girl around here, sound like shes nine or something... where's her parents?!"

Quachil, manifesting itself through a wall, "Mmm, I'm 15, so shut the fuck up."

___

*~imagine phones exist in the 50s~*

Ciprianni- can you shrow the hole vid

Steven- *show *whole

Ciprianni- I'm from Italy!!!!!!!!!!

Steven- I pound dudes!!!!!

___

Teutates, writing a very strongly worded letter to Abducius, "Yo, bro, what should I start this off with?"

Ah Puch, "...to whom it may aggravate?"

Teutates, "...Shit, no, that's now the title of a song, think of something else."

___

Anastacha, walking with her friends, "If you remove all veins, arteries, and capillaries from your body and lay them end to end, you will die...or whatever."

One of her friends, "...I'm starting to see why your dad left."

___

Robertsky, walking outside in a torrential thunderstorm, "I got a pocket full of sunshine... why'd you make me ginger?!"

Insert Robertsky getting struck by lightening.

___

Nacha, sitting in Mia & W's apartment with Mia, holding some failed essays from Anastacha...

Mia, "Nacha, I'm getting pretty worried about Anastacha, like, look at what she wrote for one of her essay openers, 'Buckle your seatbelts boys and girls, Teacher or whoever is reading this at this spectacular time in your life.. da-da-da... so sit down and shut up and listen to my 3-AM-Monster-Energy-ADHD-Medicine-Induced-Self-Hatred-Fulled-Extravaganza about the Industral Revolution... or whatever.'"

Nacha, sighing and pinching her eyebrows, "Why am I not surprised... That's the last time I'm letting Francis help her with school work."

___

Mia, two seconds away from a mental break down, knocking on the Rudboys' door.

Steven answers, "Oh! Mia! What's up?"

Mia, eye twitching, "Steven, take me to the range before I pull my hair out."

Steven, nodding, "Lemme grab Ciprianni, meet me downstairs."

~20 minuets later~

Mia, unloading a full magazine at moving targets, hitting all of them.

Ciprianni, mildly concerned, "How... the hell is she doing that?!"

Steven, watching her, "Man, she was a WAC, armorer type. Kinda in her blood."

Ciprianni, shaking his head, loading his pistol, "You Americans concern me."

___

Izaack, writting frivolously in his notebook, "Mn-hm, and anything else you'd like to add?"

Mia, chuckling, "Ah, yes, list the source as... 1984 by Gorge Orwell."

Izaack, stopping mid sentence and slowly glares at Mia, frowing, "...You did not just quote another book and passed it off as facts about the Trojan Horse Project again... did you?"

Mia, taking a sip of her coffee, "What? So I'm the bad guy for reccomenting you more books to read after your 'minute and minute' fiasco earlier today, Gauss?"

Izaack, scribbling out everything except for the book title, flipping it shut, "I'll have you know, Ms. Stone, I read every damn day and our teleprompter is new!"

Mia, smiling, "Oh you're such a phony, Izaack, it's amusing."

Izaack, snapping a finger at her, "Ah! Catcher in the Rye! J.D. Salinger!"

Mia, nodding, "So you do take my recommendations!"

___

The Schmicht's, moving into the Apartment, "Oh, Gloria, I think we did just right chosing this place!"

Gloria, smiling, "Yeah, yeah, watch there be some sort of fanclub for your novels!"

Anold, placing a box down, "Heh, I doubt it! I'm still trying to find a time and place for a meet and greet!"

The Sverchzt's, Lois, Margrette, and Rafttellyn, looking up from the stair case,

"Oh my god, is that the Arnold Schmicht?!"

"You think he can give up an early copy of Ceasefire of Hostility?!"

"I have GOT to get his signature!"

"Do you think we can invite the both of them to tomorrow's meeting?! He said his wife is his muse from the last interview!"

Gloria looks out the door and watches the group of book nerds scramble down the stairs, whispering to eachother.

"Bubbles, because you live on the same floor, you better share the spoilers!"

"Oh hush I will!"

Arnold, "Who was that, sweetie?"

Gloria, "Your fanclub."

[greenishghostey]

Snap & Bite

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: You'd known Eddie since he moved to Hawkins back in 3rd grade. You guys weren't friends - he likely didn't even know your name anymore. But it's amazing how much you can connect with the town freak when sitting outside the principal's office.

Word Count: 3,618

Warnings: None! This is just a good ol' fluffy meet-cute oneshot

Author Notes: Right, this was meant to be short and sweet but its over 3k, but still, enjoy! I'm not sure if this idea has been done before. But I hadn't seen any fics relating to bonding outside the principal's office which would be on brand for Edward.

///

You had never, in your many years of education, been sent to the principal’s office. Keeping your head and staying out of trouble was all you wanted since school was already rough enough. Being one of the few artsy and “out-there” kids in bumfuck Indiana made you a prime candidate for teasing and general unwanted attention. Whether it was about the few streaks of paint that had gotten on your jeans or the fact that you weren’t willing to help anyone with their art projects - it didn’t matter; any facet of your being was an issue in the eyes of Hawkins’ graduating class of 1984.

None of it had been your fault - well, at least not entirely your fault. Marissa Shannon, in all of her venomous, permed glory, chose a dreary Wednesday to push you to breaking point. Normally, Marissa would make passing comments about you, maybe a few to your face, and be done with it. However, today she had taken it upon herself to cross one boundary you held dear. She touched your stuff, your art stuff. 

You were hunched over your various research notes - a mix of library printouts and battered textbooks, working on one of the essays that would be presented alongside it all. You had only just finished the second paragraph when water soaked the entirety of your desk. The paper immediately darkened, the book covers curled even more, and there was no way in hell you were going to save your essay.

A huge puddle formed across your work, and Marissa’s surprised giggle had you almost seeing red. You didn’t say a word, only staring at her for a few seconds. The urge to retaliate didn’t come in the form of words but rather actions. You picked up your plastic pallet full of almost dried-up paint and hurled it at Marissa’s chest, coating her white polo in various shades of green and brown. 

Her shrieking and lunging at you was the last thing you saw before being sent to Principal Higgins’ office by Mrs Gilmore - not before she made it clear that she “was so so disappointed in you”. Apparently, the whole situation had only been an accident. That may have been true, but it didn’t change the fact that Marissa laughed at you. That was the part that cut the deepest. Even when it wasn’t intentional torment, she still couldn’t say a simple sorry. 

The walk of shame to the office was silent. Your sneakers dragged along the floor, and you shoved your hands in your hoodie pockets. So much for keeping your head down. You’d made it to the final months of being in Hawkins and just had to lose your cool. Also, staining a rich girl’s white top - that was gonna bite you in the ass later. 

Outside of Higgins’ office, there was a small row of uncomfortable plastic chairs against the wall. Those chairs weren’t somewhere you wanted to find yourself. Since freshman year, you’d only seen bleeding boys, crying students and pissed-off parents sitting there. If they called your mom, you were so dead. 

Graduation could not come soon enough. It would be such a sweet relief to leave for art school out in Chicago. You were still dragging your feet when the school receptionist, Ms Prince, nodded in greeting and gestured to the chairs. 

A voice, a boy’s, piped up when you walked through the door, “the hell you doing here?” Your gaze snapped up to meet the wide, confused stare of Eddie Munson. 

Now that you thought about it, you had also seen Eddie sitting on those chairs a lot. He tended to lounge back outside of Higgins’ office - whether he was all beat up or just twiddling his thumbs. Everyone and their mother knew that the boy’s very existence was enough for teachers to send him to the principal's office. It surprised you that he actually showed up instead of going to hibernate in his van. 

You and Eddie were in the same grade and had been since he moved to Hawkins back in third grade. Back then, he was a weedy little kid with shaggy hair who everyone thought was mute or deaf because he never spoke. There had also been a rumour that he was actually a girl, but his parents had wanted a boy, and that’s why he had to live with his uncle. In retrospect, you realised that third graders could be fucking evil. Around sixth grade was when Eddie “the freak” came about. Eddie got taller than the other boys in your class and decided that he’d had enough of cowering in corners. You remembered the first day that he talked back to Ricky Galloway, the ringleader of the bullying. 

Admittedly, Eddie’s comeback to Ricky wasn’t anything amazing; it was some snarky comment about the school’s baseball team always losing. Eddie promptly had an entire lunch tray poured over his head, but he had that manic smile on his face. The smile that made everyone uncomfortable. The smile that made people scared of him. 

Eddie was the antithesis of what you wanted for your last few months in education. So, you ignored his confused question and sat down a few chairs away from him. Talking the town pariah would likely only get you into deeper shit. Your attention turned to a loose thread on your grey hoodie, twirling it around your fingers. The quiet was actually really uncomfortable, but you weren’t going to change that. 

“You okay?” Eddie’s voice cut through the hum of the fluorescent lights above you. He really couldn’t sit still or keep quiet for more than a minute. It wasn’t that he was annoying - you found him strange in an intriguing way. But you just weren’t in the mood to talk at any length. Besides, he didn’t know you.

“Yeah. ‘M fine.” You sighed, eyes still focused on fiddling with the thread. 

“Then how come you’re here? You’re like one of the super quiet girls.” Eddie pressed, also fidgeting like you. He was playing with the heavy, silver rings on his right hand. You’d noticed his eclectic taste in jewellery as it evolved - the pig head ring was actually kind of cool. 

You appreciated that Eddie was still nice, even after curating his infamous title and reputation. He was only the mean and scary dude when it was called for. It was more of an armour rather than his actual personality. 

“Got in an argument with someone in class.” The thread broke away from the seam on your hoodie. God fucking damn it. “Gilmore sent me straight here.”

“The art teacher?!” Eddie sputtered, his voice growing up an octave and making you jump. “Shit, what’d you do? You gotta be her favourite for sure. You shiv someone with a brush?” 

Normally, Eddie’s attempts at lightening the mood wouldn’t have bothered you. It was just him trying to seem less scary. But you were sitting there being reminded of the fact that you were the favourite of the artsy kids. You were one of the super quiet girls, and you had snapped. Hit your boiling point, and it wasn’t quite finished yet.

“What? Because I’m the weird little art girl, so I can’t possibly just argue with someone? Is that it?” You spat, finally turning in your chair to meet Eddie’s wide gaze. “Or, or, no, is it because I’m quiet? Being quiet isn’t because I want to be. It just makes everything easier. You might want to give it a try sometime.” That final comment tumbled from your lips before you could fully think about it. Eddie didn’t deserve to be talked to like trash when he was just trying to be friendly. You took a deep breath, deciding to apologise and explain yourself better, but a snort cut you off. 

Which grew into a full-body laugh. Not like the crazy cackle he did at the basketball team across the cafeteria. This laugh had his eyes wrinkle at the corners and an unrestrained smile worm its way across his face.

You hadn’t had or said anything even a little funny. You’d nearly ripped his damn head off. “Wh-what - am I that pathetic?” Eddie tried to contain his barks of laughter, pressing them down into more of a giggle. No one would ever believe you if you said that you’d seen Eddie Munson giggle.

“Nah, not pathetic at all.” He sighed, finally catching his breath and wiping at his eyes. “I get chewed up by everyone here every day. But, you know, you’re the first person to do it and actually make a decent point.” 

“What do you mean? I basically just told you to shut up.”

“Well, yeah, but you said it in a weird way, and you’re right. Shutting up is easier.” Eddie’s eyes softened as he let his head fall back against the bullet board behind him. A small smile remained on his lips as he went back to fiddling with his rings. You sat in stunned silence, unsure whether or not to keep the conversation going. He’d be well and truly put in his place by you snapping at him, but now you wanted him to talk again. Eddie always spoke in a somewhat cryptic and odd way. You assumed it was because he saw the world a little differently from most people.

“Wasn’t weird, just very direct… and a little mean. Sorry about that. It’s been a shitty day.” You confessed, bringing one of your knees up onto the chair to rest your chin on. Shooting Eddie a tight-lipped smile was the best you could offer, in addition to an apology. 

Another snort came from him; it wasn’t in malice. He was genuinely a bit amused by you. “Thought we were giving quiet a try?” 

“God, you suck, man.” You breathed out a laugh. It was so fast that Eddie nearly missed it, but it caught in his ears and rang through his head. The icy exterior that you were putting up had started to be chipped away - not quite at melting point. “Right, here’s a question, why are you here?”

“Oh, just the Wednesday usual,” Eddie stated matter of factly. “Breathed too loud in math.” Part of you knew that his answer was going to be some degree of teachers being assholes. In junior year, you’d watched Eddie, full of the cold, be marched out of Physics because he kept sneezing. He didn’t even try to defend himself when it was something he couldn’t help. Eddie just dragged himself out into the hallway, waiting to be told off.

“And - and I made eye contact with Gina Lawson.” He added, beginning to speak more with his hands. “That girl hates me. I think she’s convinced by all that cult leader crap that goes around.” Eddie shrugged, trying to brush off the knowledge that his very presence had made a girl so uncomfortable. He had fun when it came to messing with guys who thought they were God’s gift but scaring girls always made him feel a little gross.

“Nah, Gina thinks your trailer is kitted out with furniture made from cheerleader skin.” You joked. “Way worse than just the cult stuff.” You had fully turned in your chair towards Eddie. Talking to him was actually helping you feel a little better about everything. His lightheartedness allowed you to have a much-needed cooling-off period. 

“Huh, that one’s news to me, actually.” Eddie beamed like he was pleasantly surprised by this new stain on his reputation. In your mind, you could imagine him doing a paraphrased version of that one Sally Field speech on one of the cafeteria tables, “I can’t deny the fact you hate me!” 

“Yeah, the girls have upped the ante with you. The skin furniture and blood drinking are the locker room favourites.” Last week before gym class, you had overheard a few girls talking about Eddie and “his cult”. It was like the guy was some kind of vampiric leper that also ate puppies on the weekend. You had to wonder if people could actually hear themselves talking about Eddie. Every rumour and claim was more outlandish than the previous week’s. 

“See, that’s how I know it’s all made-up shit.” Eddie grinned, pointing a finger at you. 

There he went again with his odd way of speaking. Truthfully, you found yourself enjoying the fact that he could keep a conversation going so smoothly, if not a bit strangely. “What part? Is blood drinking your hard limit?” You giggled. 

Giggling wasn’t something you were really known to do. Especially in front of a guy. Wednesday was panning out to be fucking bizarre. 

“The blood is for the sacrifices. Obviously.” Eddie said snarkily. You feel him implying “duh”. “You know how hard AB+ is to come by these days? That’s the man downstairs’s favourite.” You had to give Eddie a lot of credit for being able to commit to a bit. If anything, though, you were actively encouraging him to keep it going. This was the most you’d laughed in a while. 

“It’s AB- that’s the rare type.” You interjected. Catching Eddie slightly off guard if his curious look was anything to go by. He did this thing where he tilted his head like a confused shaggy dog. “AB+ is pretty common. It’s negative that’s the hard to find one. My mom’s a nurse, so yeah.” Your voice trailed off slowly. He didn’t ask about why you’d said that. You shouldn’t have just shared the information. Eddie didn’t care. You had probably ruined the bit; you never were the best with jokes.

“Learn something new every day, huh?” Eddie smirked. He had also shifted in his chair to face you fully. “You ever think about joining a cult? We’ve only got one other girl, Abby, and zero medical knowledge between any of us.” 

His response took you aback for a few seconds. Eddie met your awkwardness head-on and with encouragement. 

“Hmm, tempting. Can I be the official pentagram artist?” You asked. The air of comfort that now filled the stuffy waiting area outside Higgins’ office was a welcome change. Maybe facing the principal - and then your mom later - wouldn’t be so hard. 

The big, almost goofy smile you had become familiar with in the last few minutes appeared on Eddie’s face again. You weren’t entirely sure why he was smiling and laughing with you so much. The laughter was usually directed at you. But he would have understood that better than anyone. Eddie had the town church group ready to throw him in the lake to see if he was a witch at a moment's notice.

“If there’s anyone who gets to take that title away from me, it’s gonna be you.” Eddie asserted. “I remember seeing some of your stuff before. Like that one - the picture of the lake last winter when it nearly froze over. That was yours, right?” 

How did he know that was your work? You hadn’t put a name on it when Mrs Gilmore insisted on displaying it outside her class. Your dad had let you swipe his good camera for the day since you needed to find some artistic inspiration around Hawkins. The town was very much lacking in any form of aesthetic intrigue, so you marched yourself into the surrounding woods. It was a really cold winter last year, and as Eddie reminded you, the lake had the perfect layer of glittery ice and frost over it. The backdrop of leafless trees and the brilliant, crisp blue sky made for a gorgeous contrast and arguably one of the best paintings you’d ever done. 

A painting that Eddie remembered fondly. 

“Yeah, that one was me. How’d you know that, though? I didn’t let Gilmore put my name near it.” You questioned, filled with curiosity now that Eddie was deciding to fully let his mean and scary mask slip away. 

Eddie’s eyes widened suddenly, and his jaw twitched. He knew you hadn’t put your name on it, but he thought you would have at least forgotten that tiny detail. Now he had talked himself into a corner that you had him pressed into - with no escape other than the plain truth.

“That art contest we had in middle school, eighth grade. You won it with that drawing of big cleaning in the woods near the trailer park.” Eddie admitted, back to fidgeting slightly, but this time with the ends of his hair. “You paint trees and clouds the same way.” 

It was true; you did. Back in seventh grade, your art teacher caught onto your love for the subject and taught you neat little painting tricks for landscapes. To this day, tree trunks and every form of cloud was painted in that same style. It was a subtle little marker of your work. No more than some purposeful brush strokes, a bit of smudging and an ungodly amount of colour mixing. The fact that Eddie - the guy who you assumed didn’t even remember your name - remembered how you painted fucking bark was-

It was-

It just was. That was all your mind could string together from the information.

“I’m really surprised that you remember that. Like, no one’s ever noticed any of the little things I do.” You gaped, still in shock at Eddie’s words. “The way I do clouds is something that Gilmore fucking despises, actually. Says I shouldn’t use my hands so much.” 

“Well, that makes it even more sick.” Eddie smiled, knocking his knuckles against the chair between the two of you.

“You entered that art contest too, though, didn’t you?” You asked, raising your brows at the now shy boy beside you. You remembered that he entered, but you couldn’t remember what he had painted. 

Eddie was picking at the stray threads on his ripped jeans now. “Ah-ha, yeah. I did the gnarly-looking dragon painting. Had messed up wings and bloody teeth and everything.” He laughed nervously as he recalled his early attempt at art. Eddie had gotten a hell of a lot better with his drawing since then. 

“I actually really liked that one. You actually did something you thought was cool instead of just the standard fancy-schmancy art choices.” You reassured with a soft chuckle. “It was that other thing, though, yeah? Because it had two legs instead of four.”

Eddie was going to start getting dry eyes with how much his were widening that afternoon. First, you play along with his super mega satan blood cult schtick. Now, you remembered that his painting wasn’t of a dragon but a wyvern. A big difference that not many run-of-the-mill folks would know. A winged lizard thing was a dragon, end of story. Centuries-old folklore be damned. 

You stared as Eddie hastily started pulling off his leather jacket and heavily decorated denim vest. He was damn near ripping the clothing off so he could get to the patch of skin on his arm that might impress you a little. 

“What the fuck are do-” You started hesitantly. A guy started hauling his layers off. You’ll be a bit on guard even if said guy was Eddie - the apparent big softy.

“That drawing I did. I did a better one last year.” Eddie explained, down to his long-sleeved black t-shirt and quickly yanked one of the sleeves up. The majority of his arm was exposed before you saw it. On the back of his bicep was a hissing, scaly wyvern tattoo. “Can’t believe I forgot where I got the idea for this bad boy from.” He grinned, proudly thrusting his arm closer to you. 

You quickly leaned over the empty chair, itching the get a better look at his arm. Tattoos always interested you, and you planned to get one once you got to Chicago next year. They were still illegal to get in Indiana, but it didn’t surprise you even a little that Eddie was covered in ink.

“Dude. You drew that?” You chirped, grabbing Eddie’s arm and moving it so you could see the full wyvern. “This is fucking cool! Did you do the shading and detailing too?” 

Eddie could feel a distinct, yet somewhat foreign, heat crawling up his neck. You had his arm in a firm grip, which was skin-to-skin contact. He was eighteen; sue him. He nodded enthusiastically to your artistic questions about that particular tattoo and if he had others. 

Neither of you took notice of principal Higgins exiting his office to call one of you inside. He stood there, tiredly watching two of the oddest children he had ever met bonding over illegally done tattoos. After about thirty more seconds of observation, Higgins cleared his throat loudly, causing you and Eddie to flinch back into your seats. 

“Good afternoon, students.” Principal Higgins greeted coldly. “Munson, you first. Get moving.” He gestured for Eddie to follow him as he floated back into his stuffy little office. It stank of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener - to try and cover the cigarette smell.

Eddie raised his eyebrows at you and gave you a little wave as he stood up - collecting his various layers of jackets as he went. You weren’t entirely ready to have your interaction with Eddie Munson finish there. 

“Hey?” You whispered, waving your hand to get his full attention. “Good luck in there.” 

Eddie only snorted and shot you that genuine toothy grin you had started to like quite a lot. He pointed into Higgins’ office, then at himself, then mimed a noose around his neck. All of it done with a mischievous glint in his warm brown eyes. 

You giggled again. Eddie “the freak” Munson was the first person to make you giggle.