#but the toaster makes the bread the way she likes it so who cares

[squidthusiast]

“Tinkers with home appliances (bad habit)” Me too, Marina. Me too.

(I wonder if Pearl has ever walked in on Marina sitting in a pile of deconstructed toasters with an absolutely devastated expression.)

Oh you bet it has happened

[incorrectbatfam]

Wayne Tower yelp reviews pls (wrong answers ofc)

★★★☆☆ Disappointed but not surprised

Was invited to the Wayne Gala held at the Tower this year to accommodate special guests from the Justice League. Was photographed by reporter Clark Kent. Wanted to meet Superman but he didn't show up. Food and atmosphere was good. Got told off for swinging from the chandelier. Why have a chandelier if not for swinging?

★☆☆☆☆ Not even gonna dignify it with a title

I'd give zero stars if I could. The CEO is a massive fucking asshole. He's full of nothing but smooth-brained takes. He claims he'll be there when you need him but never shows up. And when you RIGHTFULLY resent him, he'll turn around and pretend YOU are the bad guy. That isn't even touching on his AUDACITY to replace you so soon after you leave. You think you know this man, you think you've grown to trust him, and then he goes and stabs you in the back. Believe me when I say RUN. Get as FAR away from this company and that bastard Bruce Wayne as you possibly can.

★★☆☆☆ SOS

I work here. Too many emails. Half the execs are Boomers who can't export a PDF. The break room is out of coffee. My dad won't stop visiting the office. When will the nightmare end???

★★★★☆ Imperfect but respectable

I had the opportunity to visit Wayne Tower on Bring Your Child To Work Day. The building is up to code and I was able to view all the health code certifications. I admire that Wayne Enterprises takes care of its employees by allowing ample vacation time, in-house daycare, and well-maintained recreation spaces. The cafeteria did not have as many vegetarian options as I would have preferred, but I have been informed that they operate on a rotating menu, so I shall revisit again next week and possibly amend my review. I would leave five stars but I ran into Tim Drake on the way out and that brought the whole experience down a notch.

★☆☆☆☆ No Chipotle

Was told there was a Chipotle here. Did not find Chipotle.

★★★☆☆ Badge entry didn't work

I'm on the night shift at the company's call center. One time I was already running late but for some reason I couldn't badge in. The janitor wouldn't let me through even though I had proof I was supposed to be here. Had to escalate to the CEO. Still better than working the Batburger drive-thru though.

★★★★★ Hi Dad

Hi Dad.

★★★★☆ Good but...

I love the bathrooms. They're easy to find and very accessible for a wheelchair user like myself. There's plenty of space for me to navigate and the products are top-notch, especially the hot towels. The toaster oven under the sink also doesn't make sense, but then again, my lockscreen is Nightwing so I can't judge.

★★☆☆☆ No cats allowed

I got written permission from the CEO himself to bring my cat to the office, but the doorman turned me away. Next time, there should be better communication between the employees.

★★★★☆ Rooftop makes for good date

I brought my girlfriend up here for our anniversary date. The building has a beautiful view of the city and the restaurant was great. The bread was a little dry, but nothing that a little butter couldn't fix. Unfortunately, she's an on-call detective and we had to cut our evening short, but that's not the staff's fault.

★☆☆☆☆ Got called Bri'ish

Someone called me Bri'ish.

[patscorner]

So Much More

Summary: After a bad day, you seek comfort in your girlfriend.

wc: 2,032

Contains: slightly suggestive...?

______________________________

To say it'd be a bad day would be an understatement. For starters, you woke up alone, instead of intertwined with your girlfriend, like you usually would. Waking up next to KK was easily one of your favorite things to do, basking in the quiet mornings you have together.

But today, she had an early morning practice to go to, so you woke up relishing in the ghostlike scent that she'd left behind. Not only that, but you woke up with a headache right over your eyebrows, making it hard to do easy tasks such as keeping your eyes open. But you had three hours till you had to go to work, and you didn't want to hear your boss bitch about how you'd called in too late. You really didn't feel like being written up, so you dragged yourself out of bed and trudged to the kitchen.

You put a bagel in the toaster and decide to make some coffee. That's mistake number one because as you go to lift the mug, your knee gives out, and in an attempt to steady yourself, the hot coffee spills all over your KK’s shirt. Quickly, it starts to burn, so you swiftly put the mug down and take the wet shirt off. You curse as you pull the shirt off and use it to clean up some of the coffee that's spilled on the floor.

Wait…what's burning?

Your eyes widen as your head snaps to the toaster, watching as gray smoke wafts through the air. “Shit, shit, shit!” You pop the toaster and pull the bagels out, wincing as the charcoal bread stings your fingers. “Motherfucker!” You exclaim, frustratedly giving up. Guess no breakfast for you.

Definitely another mistake, but at that moment, you didn't care.

You stomp into your bedroom and begin searching for the outfit of the day. Normally, you enjoy this process, but when you notice that KK had forgotten to do the laundry before she left, your hope dwindled. Finally, though, you made your way out of the house and to your car. You sigh heavily as you notice a white ticket in your window. This isn't the first time you'd gotten an unnecessary ticket, but being a transfer, they hadn't put your name in the system yet, so you just had to deal with the growing stack of white papers in your glove compartment.

The day drags on as you feel yourself growing increasingly overwhelmed. As another disgruntled customer complains to your boss about how you refused to take their expired coupon, you grow even more eager for your lunch break. The routine was always the same, you'd take your break and call KK, who was usually doing homework or hanging out with Ice and Paige, and you'd rant about your shitty customers and boss. And KK would listen and add her own comments, never failing to lighten the mood. But a frown makes its way to your face as you call KK twice, and you get no answer. You notice she hasn't answered your messages since she sent the ‘good morning’ text.

You text her again before slamming your phone frustratedly down on the table. You ignore the stares you get as you fight the tears threatening to fall. You get up from your chair, the wood scraping on the tile floor of the café. Fuck it, you'll eat in your car.

Finally, finally, the day is over. Finally, you get your car and drive away from the job that doesn't pay you nearly enough for what you go through every day. Finally, you pull into the college dorm parking lot and sigh as you notice your neighbor parked in your spot again. Finally, you walk past that same neighbor’s door, having no energy to argue about it. Finally, you approach your door and groan as you hear Sexyy Red blasting on the other side. Finally, you open the door and you smile as you finally see your girlfriend.

Your smile falters as you look around the room and notice there are 4 more people in your home than what you want there to be. KK must've invited Paige, Ice, Azzi, and Aubrey over after practice. You feel frustration brewing inside of you as you see the mess they've made of your dorm. KK is on live, doing a talent show with Aubrey and Ice standing behind her, doing some dance. Paige and Azzi are sitting off-camera, Azzi's legs over Paige's, the blonde's hand rubbing Azzi’s leg lovingly.

Gross.

They don't notice you walk in, but they do notice when you put slam your bag down on the table.

“Oh, hey, baby.” KK says, barely sparing you a glance. It hurts, of course, and normally, you'd have said something. But with two thousand people watching, as well as four other unwanted guests, you hold your tongue. Instead of answering her, you walk over to her and wrap your arms around her waist, resting your head on her shoulder.

You and KK weren't a secret. You were just really private about how much of your relationship was on the internet. Knowing this, you didn't think it'd be that big of a deal if you were close, and even if it would send shockwaves through the internet, you were too tired to care. Apparently, KK hadn't noticed your gloomy mood, or if she did, it didn't stop her from shrugging you off and muttering something along the lines of ‘we're on live’. You back away immediately, unwrapping your arms from her completely.

“Are you fucking serious?” You say taking a couple steps away from her.

You watch her eyes widen as she glances between you and the live. You already know you're gonna regret doing this in front of everyone.

“You don't answer my texts all fucking day, and then when I come home, I find out that have you've been on your phone, you'd just rather fuck around with random people than spare your girlfriend a text.” At this point, Aubrey had ended the live, and she and Ice had migrated to the couch awkwardly.

“What the hell is your problem!? You can't curse on live!” She asked bitterly. You and KK rarely fight, and never in front of people, so this was so new for everyone around you. Usually, you'd talk this out later when you were both much calmer, but now, it's too much.

You scoff dryly. “Me cursing is seriously what you're worried about right now?!”

“Bab-”

“No, don't fucking ‘baby’ me. After the shit day I had, all I wanted to do was come to a clean and mostly empty house, and as much as I love to clean up after you and your friends, it wasn't necessarily on my agenda tonight.” Tears have started to fall at this point, all of your emotions from today finally boiling over.

You frustratedly wipe your tears away. “Fuck.” You whimper quietly. KK knows you, inside and out, and she knows when you're angry at her, or if your irritation is just misplaced. She quietly grabs your hand and leads you into your bedroom, hand on your waist, closing the door softly behind you.

“What's going on, baby? What happened?” She sat on the bed, against the headboard, and pulled you onto her so you were straddling her. Your cries haven't stopped, and your silent tears have turned into sobs as you lay your head on her chest. It's been a long day, and all you could do was cling to her shirt like your life depended on it. She wraps her arms around your back, gently rubbing circles under your shirt.

“Shh, I know, baby, I know, it's gonna be okay.” She whispered, kissing just above your ear, on the crown of your head. You cry for god knows how long, KK never stopping her words of comfort. She knows that in times like this, logic doesn't matter.

You sigh deeply into her chest, hiccuping as you feel yourself starting to relax. Your sobs turn into cries, which turn into soft sniffles. She feels your body relax into hers, almost as if you've melted. “Do you wanna talk about it?” She spoke softly into your ear.

You pull away, and her hands cup your face to wipe your tears. You smile at her gesture before nodding. “It's just been a long day. I didn't feel good when I woke up, and I got another ticket, and work was shitty, and you didn't answer when I called you on break, and that bitch parked in my spot again and-”

“Baby, baby, take a deep breath. You're gonna work yourself up again.” She's right, and you know it. You sigh as you plop your face back onto her chest.

She laughs lightly. “I'm sorry I didn't call you, baby, I completely lost track of time after practice. It won't happen again.” She kisses your head.

“It better not. Next time I'll just beat your ass.” you say playfully. She smiles, her hands dropping to your thighs. “I have no doubt- speaking of which, do you need me to beat up that lil’ girl downstairs? This is like the third time she's done that shit.” You laugh, placing your hands on her chest, leaning in to peck her lips.

“Mmm… I missed you.” She murmurs before leaning in to kiss you again. You grin as you ball her shirt up in your hands, pulling her closer, your lips just grazing hers. “I missed you, too.”

She groans as she smashes her lips against yours. The kiss turns heated quickly, and as much as you'd like to continue, you know there's people in your house. So reluctantly, you pull away, and ignore KK's protests as you stand up.

“C'monnn, man.” She whines, reaching for you as you grab a towel. “I'm gonna wash my day away. I'll be back.” You whisper, pecking her lips again, dodging her grabby hands. “You're so fucking lame.” She groans as you walk out of the room. You see the girls playing a game of uno, SZA playing low in the background. Paige lets out a sigh of relief when she sees you.

“Thank God. Time was almost up.” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion before Ice looks up and groans. Paige laughs as she digs into her pocket and pulls out a twenty dollar bill.

“You couldn't have waited-” She checks her phone. “-Two more minutes?” Ice deadpans. You raise your eyebrows and Ice cowers a little bit. “What the fuck are you talking about?” You ask.

“I told Ice that you two weren’t fucking, she said that if fifteen minutes went by, you definitely were.” Paige shrugged. “You saved my wallet.”

You gape at Azzi, who's shaking her head. “Do not look at me. I told them you'd beat their ass.”

“You're a fucking idiot.” You say looking at Paige.

“That's what I said.” Azzi mutters.

“How?! Ice did the exact same thing, yell at her, too.”

“Why the fuck are either of you betting on our relationship?” You raise your voice, but you're not being serious, and they know that.

“That's what I said.” Azzi repeats.

“Yo, who's side are you on?” Paige turns to her. Azzi raises her eyebrows. “You're an idiot, and I will always stand by that.”

The room erupts into laughter as you shake your head. “Yo, yo, wait, how scared was KK?” Aubrey asks through her laughter.

“I wasn't scared!” KK calls from the room.

“That face you made before you went in begs to differ.” Paige calls back.

“Girl boo, can you shut the fuck up?” KK shouts back.

You shake your head as you head to the bathroom, the laughter quieting as you walk further away from it.

Even though your day was shit, and even if you broke down, you know that no matter what, KK would be there for you.

And as you showered, you thought about how she had already been through so much with you, and you know that, without a doubt, she's willing to go through so much more.

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris-deactivated20240 @cosmopretty @hellokittyfeenie @averagelobotomyenjoyer @elliewilliamsthang @chelisbae

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Let’s Start The Day! Version 2. 

Previous Tape:

Riley sticks the tape into the VCR and it begins to play. The tape opens with a glitchy title card saying: “Let’s Start The Day!” Riley sees Wooly in his bedroom, laying in his bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. It is completely dark outside. He’s just laying there, in dead silence for a couple minutes.

“I think… I’m gonna get a snack.” he says to himself, getting out of bed. Then he notices us. 

“Oh… um hi there! Morning already?” he says nervously, “I’m Wooly, Let’s start the day!” he gets out of bed. “First… let’s make the bed-” the tape glitches, the book on his nightstand falls on the floor. It’s the same smiley flower book from the library. “Oh!” Wooly notices and picks it up. He stares at the bed for a couple seconds. “I gotta make the bed… I should probably make the bed right?” Riley types in yes. “But I don’t want to make the bed…” he groans. He stands there staring at the bed for a bit longer. “You know what? Who cares! Nobody cares. And when I wake up in the morning I’ll have to do it all over again and again and again and- forget it! I’m not making the bed.” he pouts. He takes his night-cap off his head. “I need to put my nighty-night cap away. Can you tell me where it goes?” Wooly’s room is a bit different from Amanda’s. Next to the nightstand is a dresser, with a photo of him and Amanda on it. Next to that is a chair with a stuffed rabbit in it, and next to that is a small shelf of books and toys. Riley selects the toy shelf. “No… not in there.” he smiles, shaking his head. Then Riley selects the dresser. “You are right… but… I think I’m gonna put it on… the bunny! Haha now it’s Bunny's turn to go to bed!” he laughs. “Are you hungry? I think you’re hungry. Guess what? I am too! Let’s go to the kitchen! Huh? Where’s Amanda… looks like she’s sleeping in. Silly Amanda…” Wooly chuckles, before letting out a big yawn. The tape zooms in on Wooly’s alarm clock, which shows that it’s 2am. Wooly looks extremely embarrassed. 

“Okay you got me… I just couldn’t sleep…” he sighs. “Becaaaaause I was just soooooo excited thinking about what adventure Amanda will come up with today!” The window keeps glitching back and forth between day and night. “Oh? Morning already? I better go make breakfast!” the tape glitches into the kitchen. 

“You know sometimes Amanda and I eat breakfast together… or at least… we used to…” he says sadly. Static starts to appear on the tape but quickly disappears. “Maybe we should make breakfast for Amanda too.” Wooly suggests. “You know, Amanda made breakfast for me once! It was very good! Until… I passed out and woke up in the darkest part of the woods… mmm… What’s that? You think we should prank her back?” Wooly asks. Riley did not say that. “Ooooh. It’s tempting… but no. You should always be nice to your friends and family, even when they aren’t nice to you!” Riley thinks this is a bad message to be teaching kids. “You shouldn’t fight back, you're never gonna win. There’s no point asking for help, no one will listen… no one cares…” red static starts to cover the tape. “Whoopsie! I started thinking some really sad thoughts there. Sorry about that! Heh heh… I hope morning comes soon so we can go on an adventure! You know, doing fun things is a really good way to get your mind off of things that scare you, stress you out, and make you sad! Let’s make some breakfast so when Amanda wakes up we can go on our adventure right away! Let’s make some bacon and toast!” 

Wooly goes over to the cupboard. “Can you grab me some bread? I’m too short to reach…” he says. The options are bread, cereal, and muffins. Riley clicks the muffins. “No these aren’t right.” Then the cereal. “Amanda’s gonna wake up if you don’t hurry.” Then the muffins again. “We can’t put this in the toaster!” he snaps. Now only the bread remains. Riley clicks it. The bread lands in Wooly’s hands. “I don’t know how Amanda puts up with you.” He puts the toast into the toaster and walks over to the fridge. He opens the door and looks inside. “Can you tell me where the bacon is?” But there is no bacon. Riley clicks on the apple juice. “Hmm… Amanda might like that, but she can probably pour her own." Then Riley clicks on some chicken. “That’s not a breakfast food, silly.” he laughs. Then they click on the eggs. “That could go pretty good with the bacon, can you help me find it?” Riley selects the jam. “We’ll need that for the toast… which goes with the bacon we’re gonna cook. Where is it?” Riley clicks on some milk. “Seriously?! Why do you have to mess with us all the time? The bacon is right-” Wooly into the fridge. “There… oh… oh… oh no! We’re out of bacon?! What do we do?” a text box appears and starts typing on its own. Meatman. “No, I don't wanna go there.” Butcher. “I’m not going there.” The tape starts glitching and the butcher shop starts to appear. “WE’RE NOT GOING IN THERE!” Wooly screams. Suddenly he’s back in the kitchen. Wooly starts to hyperventilate a bit. Riley notices some smoke coming from the toaster. 

“Wait… what’s that smell…? Oh no oh no!” Wooly runs over and pulls the toast out of the toaster. “No no no! It’s burnt!” he looks at the ground in defeat. The smoke alarm goes off.  “We’re out of bacon… the toast is burnt… breakfast is ruined… I can’t do anything right…” he takes a bite out of the burnt toast. Riley hears footsteps stomping down some stairs. 

“Wooly- What the heck are you doing?!” Amanda snaps, completely annoyed. Just then, the sprinklers go off. “Ugh! Just great! Now I’m all wet!” 

“Amanda…” Wooly whimpers. 

“Wooly…” Amanda sighs, “what happened? Do I… do I even want to know?”

“I was hungry so I thought I’d make breakfast because the book fell and the sky was having a rave… and the bunny looked so silly in the hat and then we were out of bacon… and the butcher showed up and the toast burnt and I… I… I actually have no idea… am I even making sense?” 

“Yeah no. I’m not even going to begin to try and unpack all that. You need to go to bed. Let’s just dry you off and get you to sleep.” Amanda replies. The alarms and sprinklers suddenly turn off. 

“I don’t need sleep… I need to clean up the kitchen…” Wooly mumbles.

“Come on Wooly.” Amanda sighs. They go into the bathroom and Amanda whips out the hair dryer.

“Hehe this is fun.” Wooly giggles. Amanda rolls her eyes. 

“Alright, all dry. Now go to bed.” 

“But I’m still hungry. Ah… Achoo!” 

“Go. To. Bed.” 

“Okay…” Wooly whimpers and sulks off. Amanda shakes her head. She dries her hair and goes back into the kitchen. 

“What a mess.” Amanda sighs. “Both Wooly and the kitchen.” she looks perplexed for a bit, staring at the kitchen. “It’s not like him to go off script like this...” she notices that Riley is still here. “Oh… I guess I should end the episode huh?” she says then she thinks about it. “Actually, you can help me.” The tape glitches and the kitchen is all clean, the toaster is fixed, and everything is back how it was at the beginning of the episode. “I need to write a list of all the things I need to do. Can you help me?” Riley types in yes. “Thank you!” Amanda pulls out some paper and a pad. 

“Let’s see… I know we need to go shopping.” Amanda looks around the kitchen. “How about this, I’ll tell you what I need and you write it down! Hmm… well we’ll need to get bacon from the butchers… I don’t really like that place but I really like bacon… as long as you’re with us it should be fine! We need apples and peaches from the store… eventually we’ll have to return our library books too…” Amanda lets out a big sigh. “Aww none of this is fun. But… I guess you grownups have to do this all the time right? I kinda like that… it makes me feel like… I could be a grown up too…” Amanda pauses and thinks for a bit. “ We’re probably not going to be able to do it tomorrow if Wooly really is sick… but we’ve got adventures planned out for the rest of this week. I guess it’ll have to wait till next week. Haha… I really feel like an adult now!” she laughs. The tape ends and the credits roll. It glitches straight to:

Amanda the Adventurer 

2001 Hameln Entertainment

Then the jingle plays and the tape falls out. If not for Hameln… Amanda really would be an adult right now. Riley thought.

POV: Wooly wanted a midnight snack but didn't want to admit it.

Next tape:

[dizzzydancin]

Step On Me- A John Dory-centric Fanfic

Life isn't always easy having to care for your younger siblings; John Dory can attest to that.

(to be frank I never post on tumblr and never had a tumblr account before this, so i hope someone enjoys this :3 you can also read this on Ao3 if you prefer)

Are You Satisfied? - Chapter 1

Don't want to be a fool for you

Just another player in your game for two

You may hate me but it ain't no lie

Baby bye bye bye

A heavy hand reaches out from under the several blankets stacked upon one another, searching the nightstand for a yellow and pink, fuzzy, little bug that blares pop music at an ungodly loud volume at eight A.M. every morning. Once the hand feels his hand brush up against the fuzzy little bug, he boops its little nose, making it close its mouth and go quiet.

Yanking one of the blankets from over his face, John Dory (the oldest brother of five at age 25) rolls out of bed and slides his feet into the pink bunny slippers that he received as a joke gift for Christmas the year prior, but saw no reason to throw out perfectly good slippers, so he ultimately kept them.

With a loud yawn and a stretch that caused several pops to sound from his aching joints. Despite only being 25, John felt as if he woke up 80 years old today. Taking care of your younger siblings can do a number on you, believe it or not.

The pod is eerily quiet. It almost makes John feel uneasy; he's so used to the loud and chaotic nature of living with his siblings that the pod feels odd with his brothers all fast asleep in their rooms.

The pod itself wasn't very big in retrospect. Since he was the oldest, John got his own room. The next brothers in line, those being Bruce and Clay, shared a decently sized room just down the hall from John's room. Of course, the youngest two, Floyd and Branch, shared a room as well, but it was quite a bit smaller. It could probably pass off as a closet, and the two boys shared a bunk bed so that there would be no floor space at all.

It's not like John chose to live in such a place. The only reason he's still here is because it was his grandma's old pod before the incident. Though, back then his grandma didn't exactly know she was going to have to raise her daughter’s kids by herself.

That's all in the past though. Every adult figure John had ever looked up to in his life was gone now, and he had to strap in to take care of his siblings who were teenagers now.

Putting all those thoughts aside, JD makes his way into the pod’s kitchen to start throwing together breakfast for his brothers who need to be up by 8:30. They're on a strict schedule and John does his best to not break that schedule for the sake of Clay, who needs that structure in his life. It doesn't bother John most of the time, he just gets so tired of having to get up early in the morning.

With the clock constantly ticking away, JD finally starts getting to work making breakfast.

John pops two pieces of bread into the toaster at a time, and while that's toasting, he gets to work scrambling eggs. Breakfast doesn't take very long at all, it usually never does, and soon enough he's got a plate of warm scrambled eggs sitting on the counter, and a stack of toast on a napkin sitting right beside it.

He peers out from around the kitchen wall and shouts to his still-sleeping brothers.

“Munchkins, let's go! Come get it now or you'll miss it!”

Almost immediately he hears shuffling coming from inside the bedrooms, and as per usual, Clay is the first one to leave his shared room and come into the kitchen. The poor kid is rubbing their eyes and has some serious bedhead going on, but his hair usually looks like that.

“Morning, bro. Looks like you slept well!” John laughs, which earns a deadpan look from Clay.

“Sure, if I didn't have to listen to Bruce’s obnoxious snoring. I swear I saw the lamp shaking!” Clay huffs as he makes his way over to the counter to grab a plate and fill it up for breakfast.

John can't help but laugh some more at their complaining.

The next two to wake up were Bruce and Floyd if the yelling of, “damnit, Floyd!" and some banging on a door was anything to go by.

When John peaks around the corner, he sees Bruce hit the door one more time before groaning and dragging his feet into the kitchen.

“What's got your hair in a knot?" John teases, only to get a nasty look from Bruce. Man, those are popular today.

“Floyd ran into the bathroom before I could. He's going to be in there for like 20 minutes!" Bruce complains, only to get a, "No I'm not!” from Floyd behind the closed bathroom door.

Bruce rolls his eyes as he walks over to the cooler and grabs a jar full of strawberry jam for his toast.

The last one to pull themselves out of bed was Branch, who was wearing his boyfriend's hoodie and yawning so loud the neighbors could probably hear him. He walks straight past all of his brothers and straight to the scrambled eggs, where he helps himself to a sizable portion before taking a seat at the table and digging in.

“Well good morning to you too, sleepyhead.” John jokes, ruffling Branch’s hair which only earns him a sigh through the nose in response. Finally, one of his brothers doesn't give him sass so early in the morning!

While the rest of his brothers are making their plates and sitting down to eat, John manages to snag a piece of toast for himself and bites into it with a satisfying crunch. He usually lets his brothers get their tummies full before he eats anything at all, but most of the time he can get a little breakfast in for himself and not have to worry about leftovers.

Once everyone is sat at the table, besides Floyd, of course, JD slides in his chair and watches everyone enjoy their breakfast for a moment, feeling accomplished as their caretaker. That doesn't last long, however, because he needs to check in on everyone.

John clears his throat to get everyone's attention. “Alright, boys. What are the plans for today?"

As if on cue, Floyd walks into the kitchen in a white robe, a green face mask covering most of his face. It makes everyone stare, and Floyd throws his hands up in defense.

"I got hungry! This face mask is taking forever to dry.” He complains as he grabs two pieces of toast, slathering both of them in butter and peach jelly.

“You look like you're covered in slime." Branch comments.

“Yeah? At least I'll have glowing skin by the time I'm 40!" Floyd argues.

“Okay, okay! I asked a question, I'd appreciate it if everyone answered me." John interrupts.

"Sure, nosey.” Bruce scoffs, making Clay snort beside him.

“Ha ha, very funny." John laughs sarcastically, “I'm being serious though."

“Sounds stalkerish." Bruce rolls his eyes. “Just going out with some friends, that's all. Got invited to play Squish Ball, so I'll be out late.”

John takes note of that. Clay is the next to speak up.

"I'm going with Viva to the library. They just got a new shipment of classics and I wanna check them out.” Clay puts his plate in the sink, before heading off back to his room to get dressed.

“Don't stay out too late, and tell Viva I said hi!" John shouts back. “What about you, Branch? Going to see your boyfriend?" John teases, dragging out the ‘y’, only to get a piece of toast chucked at his head.

"Yeah, and what of it?” Branch sasses before standing up.

"Nothing!” JD laughs. "Stay safe, okay?”

Branch only rolls his eyes in response. That only leaves Floyd, who's quietly eating his toast behind the counter.

As an asshole older brother, John Dory walks over and pokes Floyd in the side as he walks past, starting to put what was left of breakfast on a plate for himself.

“Don't do that!" Floyd laughs, folding in on himself and holding his side.

JD watches as the now-dried face mask cracks a little on Floyd's face, but doesn't mention it to him. “Got anything going on today?"

Floyd's face drops almost immediately, and it worries John. “No, not today." Floyd just shrugs, immediately losing his appetite and sliding his plate over so John can have what's left of his toast.

Before John can ask what's up with him, Floyd slams the bathroom door shut, going back to his skincare routine and leaving JD looking for answers.

“Damnit." He grumbles, looking over at his nearly empty plate and Floyd's half-piece of peach jelly toast.

There's no use in letting it go to waste, he supposes.

One by one, his brothers leave off to their respective plans for the day. He almost doesn't even get a bye in response, having to remind both Clay and Bruce to say it before they leave.

The only one that doesn't leave is Floyd, who curls up on the top bunk of the bed and strums quietly at his guitar.

John is left alone, mostly by himself, with the quiet strumming of muffled guitar from across the house, and his head full of questions.

[egletsfics]

Nyan Neko Sugar Highschool - Chapter 1

STORY SUMMERY: What if Rakuchan, Koneko-chan, Hitoshi-san, Bokutachi-kun, and all your favorite characters from the hit anime Nyan~ Neko Sugar Girls went to... high school?! What if... they were having a School Festival at that highschool? And what if... there was aishiterus and love at steak during that School festival?!!!!!

Read to find out about all the crazy highschool dramas going on at... NYAN~ NEKO SUGAR HIGHSCHOOL! (Highschool AU/ MochiceShipping (Raku x Koneko)/ StockholmShipping (Bokutachi x Hitoshi)

Chspter 1: Neko High School

Authors AN: I used to have a old authers notes 4 chapter 1-2 but for sum reason they got deleted and i forgot wut they were so im writting a new 1 here:

Konichiwa minna-san! 2day Im back with A NOTHER FAFNICTION!!!!!!!! This is about nyan~ Neko suger girls, 1 of my faverite animes. Its a highschool AU story so DONT LIKE DONT READ dont complain in teh coments and stuff if u dont liek it!!!!

Well n e ways… HOPE U ENJOY :D !!!!!!!

๑ஓ-----------------‧₊˚ʚ♡ɞ˚₊‧-----------------ஓ๑

1 day it was a day.

Raku-chan and Koneko-chan, who were just normal neko highschoolers, woke up on that day, and they thought it would just be an ordinary and sugoi day like every day was. But today was NOT a normal day...

...IT WAS DA NEKO SCHOOL FESTIVAL!!!!!!!!!

The Neko School Festival was a festival at Neko High School which was where raku-chan, Koneko-chan and and their tomadachi Hitoshi-San went to school. (translator note: tomdachi means friend)

It was a festival where students did stuff and it happened at school, which was why it was called a school festival.

"BEEP BEEP BEEP" beeped the alarm clock at Raku chans house.

"NYA why r u so loud and annoying u BAKA ALRAM CLOCK!" Rakuchan yeled angerly and she hit the alarm lock until it turned off.

She yawned kawaiily and opened her eyes sleepily and saw the time on the clock:

7:50 am

"N-N-n-N-N_N-N-NANIIIIIIIIII>?!!!!!" Raku-chan said in shock. "I ONLY HAVE 10 MINUTS 2 GET 2 SCHOOL N-N-NYA?!!!!"

Raku-chan ran into da kitchen and put a piece of bread in da toaster. Then she pput on he school unifrom really fastly. It was a sailor uniform with a super short sexy navy blue and pink skirt, a white short sleeved top, a blue and white collar, a pink ribbon, sexy lacy white kneesocks, and pink school loafers. She put on sum kawaii light pink eyeliner and put on mascara and fake sparkly eyelashes and put on a pair of really kawaii wing earrings and a sparkly pink gemstone covered collar with white and pink lace around it and a silver bell in the middle.

Meanwhile, Koneko-chan was waiting outsaide Raku-chan's house (they were nextx door neighbors) and kind of worried bcuz it was already 7:52 and they had 2 go to school by 5 minutes. She wondered if Raku-chan was asleep, or if she had just overslept like she did every year on the first day of school.

Raku chan heard the toaster ding and the bread popped out. She grabbed the bread wit her hands but it was very hot.

"AH! H-h-h-h-hot!!!" The bread bounced around in Raku-chan's hands before she put it in her mouth. She got her kawaii bag and opend the door and went outside.

Koneko-chan was still waiting outside. "Raku-chan! We have to hurry, schol starts in *looks at watch* 5 MINITES!!!!!!" said KOneko-chan.

"Ya I know Nyaaaa desuuuuuu!!!!!!" Raku chan said back.

"Ok lets go!" said Koneko-chan.

Raku-chans super awesome giant sugoi boobs were jiggling up and down as the nekos girls runned to school. Konekos-chans chest wasn't as big but she didn't really care because she was not self conshis.

"Koneko~chan~ aren't you excited for da school festival today???? isn't it SO SUPER SUGOI NYA!?!!!!" said Raku chan.

"Yes, I think it will be super kimochi as well Raku-chan, everyone sure put a lot of effort into making our last school festival at Neko High School extra sugoi," said Konkeo chan.

Suddenly Raku chan was quiet. She was thinking really hard abuot something.

The thing Raku was thinking about was her super giant huge crush on her best tomadachi, Hitoshi San. Calling Hitoshi-san sugoi would be like calling the moon a rock. It was technically true, but the mere word "sugoi" failed so utterly and completely at conveying just how incredible Hitoshi-san was that it made the entire Japanese language seem like a joke.

Raku chan's eyes became misty as she started daydreaming about Hitoshi-san's piercing blood-scarlet eyes, his dark deep ocean blue hair, and his hot steamy shrexy bod. She blushed. Hitoshi-san really was so sugoi desu!

Raku-chan's daydreaming became more serious as she started considering what this school festival meant to her relationship with Hitoshi-san. This was her last chance to confess her feelings to Hitoshi-san!

She started practicing the confession in her head. Romantic music began playing in her imagination as she stood with Hitoshi-san on the school roof, watching the fireworks together. Hitoshi-san... watashi... watashi wa aishiteru anata desu!  (translators note: I... I love you desu!)

Hmm... no, that was too straightforward. And also, she really needed to reexamine her imaginary internal music catalog. Stacy's Mom was not romantic enough.

What about, "watashi wa kimochi daisuki Hitoshi-san desu!"? (translatros note: I really like you a lot Hitoshi-san desu!)

No, it was too weak of a statement to properly convey the depths of her feelings. So how was she going to go about the confession?

She needed to hurry up and think about the best way to confess to Hitoshi-san before the festival was over. She might not get another chance after this one!

"Um, are u ok Raku-chan, ur kind of quiet today nya. Did something happen?" asked Koneko-chan.

"O-oh nya desu, n-nothing much nyahahaha!" Raku laughed awkwardly and anime sweatdropped.

"Oh, okay then. Lets go inside, we're already at school after all," said Koneko-chan, pointing at the school gates. "Just in time! We aren't late after all."

"O-ok let's go nya desu!!!" Raku chan said and then they went inside Neko High School.

๑ஓ-----------------‧₊˚ʚ♡ɞ˚₊‧-----------------ஓ๑

RATE & REVEW 4 MOAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ezekieltobiasfletcher]

Keep It Simple

The worst of my bout with COVID is over. Tomorrow will be two weeks since I noticed the uncomfortable tingle in my throat. Yesterday marks one week since I suffered the worst of it. I am on the mend, but some symptoms still linger. As much as I want them to go away, I need these remaining mild symptoms to linger a little while longer as a reminder. I need to be reminded of the promises I made to my higher power that I would take better care of myself. To sleep when I am tired, and not to use substinances, screens, and people to distract myself from the work and pains of living my life on life's terms. I need to be reminded of how honest I was with myself as I pleaded through prayer to survive this virus. I need to be reminded that I will not find my salvation in thinking about what I need to do. I will only save myself by focusing on my higher power and walking my talk. If I want things to be different, then I need to continue breaking from my old habits and coping mechanisms and act as-if, being different, everyday, one day at a time.

I had very little appetite while I was in the depths of COVID. For a few days, all I could tolerate was Lipton Noodles packets with some added rice. The first day I felt a little better, I knew I needed to consume calories, protein, and fiber to help my decimated digestion system. I decided to keep it simple, and made myself two eggs, scrambled in the pan, and two slices of wheat toast with butter. I also decided to nourish my soul by playing one of my favorite games with my mind. I call it, "look how lucky I am..."

I was raised by an early Boomer mother, born in the latter half of the 1940's. She was raised by parents who grew up during the depression, and she also spent a great deal of time with her maternal grandparents, who together with my maternal grandparents, all survived The Great Depression. The love and hardships that my mom was raised with gave her the ability to always find silver linings and to make do with what she had. I will write more about her someday, but for today, I just want you to know that I am very grateful for her and her simple, everyday values that bring me comfort when I need it most. My mother's spirit is part of the great amalgamation that is my "higher power".

As I was making my breakfast, I put on a YouTube Music playlist called: Depression Era, Golden Age of Radio. I remembered stories I was told about what it was like living through world wars, the 1918 flu, and the Great Depression. While preparing my meal, these memories of stories from my family made me thankful to have a stove, cookware, a toaster, sliced bread, butter, eggs, salt and pepper, and a warm home with indoor hot water plumbing to live in. By my grandparents and great grandparent's standards, I have everything I need to live a good and simple life. By simply having a job and a home in the United States, I am in the top 5% of the world. Look how lucky I am.

As horrible as COVID has been for me, it helped me get to bed earlier, I haven't had any marijuana in two weeks, I've limited my screen time, I removed all the social media apps from the home screen of my phone, I've logged off from work by 5:30pm each day, I'm being more intentional about my meals, and with not getting the munchies from the pot, I'm not snacking all the time like Scooby and Shaggy. And as shitty as being sick was, literal pun intended, I am back to my pre-COVID lockdown weight. So yeah... I'm letting this recent mental bottoming out affect me, and I'm getting out of my own way and drawing even closer to my higher power. Look how lucky I am to be alive and be able to change for the better.

For what it's worth, that meal of eggs, toast, and a small glass of orange juice, it was the most delicious fucking meal I have had in a long time. I never want to forget the depth of gratitude I felt on that morning; ever.

[apriiicotx]

ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

check notes at the end.

All-purpose flour. My mom wanted to bake a cake for dad. “I want to do something special”, she smiled. “There’s no flour” I reminded her. My parents never really got along, so I couldn’t understand why she wanted to make that cake. I didn’t feel anything when they divorced, “about time” my 6th grade self thought. I remember coming home that day and hearing them yelling at each other again. I placed my bag down and took my shoes and my coat. I was hungry so I went to the kitchen, where my mother was. It seemed things had cooled down. She was putting the groceries away. My father came back yelling at her, he didn’t even notice I was there. My mother screamed. The flour spills and packs of frozen vegetables are scattered on the floor. I hate cleaning up messes. 

Baking Soda. I loved doing science experiments. Throughout elementary school, I was always the kid chosen to represent the class for science fairs. My favorite experiment was the exploding volcano. 

Salt. I had a friend in middle school who was obsessed with salt. In science class, she’d bring out tiny salt packets, pour them in the palm of her hand, and lick them. She kept this habit up for 6 months every day. Later that year, I heard she was in the hospital from a stroke. Didn’t know high blood pressure ran through the family. 

Unsalted Butter. I prefer toast for breakfast. As a kid, I’d wake up before my parents and place two slices in the toaster. I had to be quiet because I didn’t want to wake my sleeping mom. I heard the floorboard creek, uh oh, she was up. I hurried up and took the bread out of the toaster. I wanted something on it. Jam? Peanut butter? There was only butter. I grabbed the butter, my mom was there with me. “Butter makes you fat.” were the last words I heard before I saw her hand slide across my face with force.

Sugar. My dad always said I had a sweet tooth. Even though Mom and him argued a lot, he always made sure to bring me home something after his nights out. 2nd grade, it was a chocolate donut. 5th grade it was chocolate chip cookies. In 7th grade it was lipstick, I was confused. The color matched the kiss mark on his neck and mom didn’t wear lipstick. In 9th grade, it was pink lipgloss, and I accepted it. My then-boyfriend said he loved the way it looked on me. 

Vanilla extract. Why is it so expensive to buy? I wanted to give her a gift. Her birthday was coming up. She always talked about this dagger necklace that was on display every time we walked by the store. I think I had mixed feelings for my best friend, romantic feelings. I wanted to impress her but I only had forty dollars to my name, well, at least until my next paycheck came out. 

Two large eggs. My sports bra couldn’t fit me anymore. My 5th-grade body is now my 9th-grade body. I had to buy a bigger bra. I told my mom, and she said to just check in the back of her drawer and use one of hers. I didn’t know my size. At school, in the janitor's closet, my boyfriend said he loved my breasts, and he grabbed them harshly, we continued to make out. I asked my best friend to help me figure out my size, she took me to the department shop and they measured me. She also wanted to grab a new bra. “We have the same bra size,” she said as she took off her shirt. We were in the same changing room, her breasts were large in my opinion. I wanted to kiss them. 

Chocolate Chip Chunks. I used to steal chocolate from this small corner store near me. I’d eat them at a nearby park on the swings. If my mom saw me eating this, she’d kill me. “It'll make you fat.” I didn’t care. I’m always hungry at home and I’m tired of eating apples and carrots for snacks. I just want to be able to eat sweets like the other children.

*. * ·*. * ·

author's note:

this is a story I wrote during my freshmen year winter term in my creative writing class :D! it was little prompt/ outline we're supposed to follow and here was my take on it.

[the-missann]

Hours and hours into the night

“Did I really have to come out with you just to do this?”

Ami, sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, let out a chuckle at his associate as she sat in the passenger’s seat with her body curled up with something on her phone.

“Of course you did. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling us about getting witnesses?”

Cassie let out a small laugh. “To what? A crime you guys are committing? That’s an issue since I won’t lie about whatever I saw here.”

“You also won’t snitch, but that’s not what I was talking about. We’re not committing a crime, someone’s trying to frame my guys—as usual—and I told them lay low for a while. So, they’re helping out one of the churches with a food drive.”

Cassie then took her eyes off her phone for the first time since the car parked and looked out the tinted windows just to see that exact sight.

Several boys around her age were helping to carry boxes or set out food and other items while a small line of people started at the tables.

“What kind of food do they have at these things anyways?” Cassie asked.

“Easy to transport stuff. So bread, soup they can just take from cans donated, and other easily heated foods. One time, I decided to donate something so they could have a hot breakfast.”

“Oh, what was it?”

“Toaster strudels.”

Cassie touched her stomach. “Man that sounds good right now.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No, it’s still school hours and I haven’t gone home yet for lunch.”

“Well, I could have something delivered to us.”

“Nah, you don’t have to do that…” She paused. “Well, if you do, then at least let me pay for it.”

Ami chuckled. “I’m supposed to be getting you something for helping me out.”

“And you should know I don’t like owing people.”

“Why is that? You like to help people, but you don’t want to owe them anything?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t hold stuff like this over people’s heads. Like we’ll go home and weeks from now I won’t even care that you’re making me be out here. On the other hand, I’ve dealt with too many people who use their help as a means to get a favor out of me.” She shook her head. “Since I was a little kid, I had to deal with that, so I learned early not to put up with it.”

“You always sound like you’ve lived a hundred lives.”

“Feels like that sometimes.” She let out a sigh before finally returning her attention to her phone.

“Well, what do you want to eat then?”

She hummed and for a moment, Ami assumed she hadn’t heard him. He looked over and saw her intently focused on her phone. He was about to speak up when she finally spoke again.

“You think you could find a good sandwich place? I’m really craving one for some reason.”

“Oh, for sure. So, can I guess no vegetables?”

“Unless they have cherry peppers. Otherwise, no vegetables.”

“So specific. As long as I’ve known you, I’ve learned there are some people in this world who care for nothing at all and some who care about every little thing.”

“Me being the latter?”

“You know it.”

“I think that’s a good thing. Being picky shows you know what you want. Anything else and you’re indecisive and vague.”

“I feel you there, I guess people just mainly see it as being stuck up.” Ami paused. “Speaking of that, has anyone ever thought you were stuck up?”

“Dude, who are you even talking to? Yes.”

“Okay, okay. I just figured with how shy you were originally that people just figured you to be that, not stuck up.”

“Can I ask why you thought I was shy? I mean, when we first met, you ran up on me asking about some guy I hadn’t seen in a while.”

Ami chuckled. “Well, I didn’t really think you were shy, it was everyone else who made it seem that way. Some of my girls knew about you and they told me you were pretty quiet and didn’t talk in class. I assumed you were shy then.”

“What girls? I don’t remember anyone always being in my classes.”

“That’s because they were really never there. The girls in question were friends and would alternate who’s in class and who wasn’t, but they both barely showed up to school.”

“Oh, that makes sense then. Well, I guess that is how a lot of people saw me. Everyone except Bushi for some reason.”

“How’d he see you?”

“Like normal, if anything he never even noticed I didn’t talk to anyone.”

“Maybe it’s because he’s blinded by-”

“By nothing.” She shook her head. “I think that’s why me and him get along so well. He doesn’t really see me as anything but his friend and I don’t see him as anything but that as well.”

“Friends with-”

“Will you shut up already?”

Ami laughed while finally placing the order and handing the phone over to Cassie for her to put in the payment option. She huffed while doing so, but quickly typed everything in before returning the phone to him and getting back on her own phone.

“Okay, I have to ask this. What are you doing on your phone? You’ve been on it since I picked you up.”

Cassie grinned. “Distracted are we? Simple man distracted by phone.” Cassie giggled.

“More like you’re so intense it’s hard not to look at whatever you’re making that face over.”

“Well… if you must know-” she leaned over presenting her screen to him, “-I’m playing a game. It’s a farm sim and right now, I’m working every day to get everything in the game. The hundred percent is a draining task I have yet to complete.”

“Ah, I’ve seen this game before. Is it really fun?”

She nodded and leaned back in her seat. “Fun for both the casual cozy player and also for the completionist min-maxer like me.”

“Min-max being?”

“Essentially someone who wants to play in the most efficient way possible.”

“That doesn’t sound like you though.”

“I know, I don’t really min-max because I often do things that I like and that are less efficient.”

“And you still complete the game that way?”

“Yeah, it’s actually really cool that I don’t have to follow guides or anything to play at a high level. I just have to find what I like and what works and go with that until I get to the end,” she said with a big smile.

“Man, you’re about to get me into another game.”

With a teasing smile, Cassie said, “maybe you should.”

“Come on, you already got me into that JRPG—which by the way my best girl is still better than your best boy—and actually took days out of my life.”

“Good, you’re living the life of a true gamer.” She paused. “And by the way, my best boy is the most superior character in the whole game by the way.”

Ami leaned back in his seat and shook his head. “Okay, you know what, I’ll try it out for a few days. If I get caught up for hours, I’m calling it that.”

“But this game’s totally casual, you can stop playing for days or even weeks and you’ll come back still able to play. I mean, the game’s core audience are casual gamers anyways, you know, people who are normal and don’t spend seven hours searching for a rare drop.”

The first real pause in the conversation came now and Ami thought on it for a bit longer. Eventually—and like Cassie assumed he would—he caved in and took out his phone.

“You can play it on mobile?”

“Yep.”

He sighed. “Fine, I’ll give it a shot, but you’re helping me learn all the good stuff.”

“Of course, I don’t want you to make some of the mistakes I did.”

“You? Making mistakes? I can’t believe I heard that out of your mouth.”

“I admit when I make mistakes, I just don’t make mistakes that really matter.”

Ami chuckled at her prideful comment and once the game was downloaded, he started to play it on his own for a second before Cassie leaned over to see his screen and their endless conversation went on through the afternoon.

[ohimesama]

2.10.23 Friday

6:53 am Punch-In! But 7:13 am now...

First routine on going... Good Morning Angels...

I was with Kuya Oliver...

7:23 am

This house of Mommy Adnil R-None is full of symbols...I wonder why... Now, today this am.... Hmmm..... Usually there are 2 trash cans outside the room of Mommy Adnil but today and now only 1... Very immature people here...

It is supposed to be 2 trash cans... But look, angels...

Sometimes,angels people have to talk or verbalize their message or write a note or letter...

Going to their kitchen...Immature people here...

Someone just left the 2 breads inside the oven toaster...I told Ms Enaoj, "Karma begets Karma"... But why???

7:36 am

Mommy Adnil is eating her breakfast now... I need money,Ms Enaoj knew and I appreciate being here and I do care for Mommy Adnil coz all of us we will be like her,one day... Moment to learn her case, bedridden stage 4 butt bedsore...

But as individual still hoping and praying for progress in the future... In a lil while...

My Fear:

I have fear, so many fears... One of my fears is to get old or aging without money... I wanna aged with grace and I miss going to my derma, one day again...Someday...

I wanna aged just like other old people who can hire a caregiver but hoping for more success...

I do appreciate Mommy Adnil's hardwork on her Avon thingy...

8:01 am

I know my patients, I know my boss, I know it is ohkay to be friends with your boss or employer... I value friendship and I know the truth... I know the rules of professionalism and I also know how to be flexible... But I hope everyone is matured on viewing things... I need money, I know my credibility... Let's not make a small issue big just to destroy the professionalism... Coz in reality me and Anid only got half of 3500 per day... This is not about money but of course I need money... We value friendship, we crossed-out the ot... Let's be fair on giving each other a comment.

8:59 am

Done,cleaning Mommy Adnil's room and living room, again the living room is not really my task... It is just freewill coz there are so many pussy cats here....

The other trash can is over-lapped by the other...

9:03 am

Being a caregiver is not really easy... Your emotion will go up and down like what I posted sometimes you will get mental block...

Mommy Adnil is nice but like what I posted she is like a mother hen always protecting her 5 children most specially Ms Enaoj... That without Ms Enaoj approval we can't make a decision. Sometimes she is nagging on you that you will get confuse... But she is an old person already... Giving way can't harm you as a caregiver but explain your side to her family...

Being a caregiver in a private house can give anxiety to you as a caregiver, of course, this is private house you don't know the family here except if Nightingale will make a back-up but unfortunately there is no back-up coming from that fucking Nightingale.

I'm here as a caregiver and I'm different in our house and I was different before time that I was really pampered and had yaya's or assistant... Being a caregiver is a lonely job and you need to have full and over-flowing of maturity. It can give you a heavy anxiety and complex on your personality even if you are a college graduate or even a sales lady like Anid. It can makes you crazy but you have to balance your sanity...

My personal case:

I still want a progress and still thinking of money... I have so many missed things in life. I do have a self-pity in me coz of this windblow trap cult of ManaloZ since 2007? I feel low coz of the windblow trap....I wasn't able to grow as a successful person, that gives me a self-pity...

I wanna buy starbucks everyday, I wanna see camel and donkey... Things that I wanna do... I wanna gain upper men's friends... But now, I feel that someone is caging me unfairly since 2007... I feel self-pity... Still,thinking of money.

And this how can you see me??? I LOVE THE AL-MAKTOUMS PRETTY FACES... Many more Al-Maktoums....CAN'T POST EVERYONE HERE... Pretty faces...

For the interfering women and group:

Get your own bf's... Stop getting my type... I feel bitter coz all my exes and bf's were stolen...

10:42 am

I feel confuse... I'm already menopause angels... It didn't really come out from my spotting last monday.... My future is gone...But again having a child is just an additional evidence of some couple's love... or I would wanted to gain genuine men's upper friendship with stability...

I wanna have a better life... I wanna be successful... I wanna buy starbucks everyday...

6:28 pm

Kuya Oliver will fetch me tonight after my duty...

[unpapillcn]

                          ❝  𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 . ❞

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀  .  .  .

name ( s )  :  matilda  anne  tallis  ,  a . k . a .  matilda   .   d . o . b .  october  24  ,  1996   .   in  :  san  francisco  ,  california   .   she  holds  citizenship  in  the  united  states   .    she  speaks  :  english  ,  but  watches  films  in  other  languages  ,  namely  italian  and  spanish  ,  yet  she  still  does  not  understand  either  well  even  though  her  uncle  spoke  both   .   religious  beliefs  :  born  to  agnostic  parents  and  raised  by  an  atheist  uncle  after  age  eleven   .   educational  achievements  :  dropped  out  of  university  within  a  year  of  enrollment  as  a  student  of  the  undecided   .   current  occupation  :  seamstress  /  tailor   .   eye  colour  :  dark  brown   .   hair  colour  :  naturally   dark   blonde  ,  but  she  changes  it  often  and has  gone  through  dark  brown  ,  copper  and  icy  blonde   .   height  :  5′6″   .   distinguishing  characteristic  :  dainty  cupids  bow  shaped  lips   .

beverage  of  choice  :  coffee  ,  orange  juice  is  a  strong  second   .   reading choice   :   most  classic  literary  novels   .   exercise  preference  :  honestly  ,  none  but  walking  is  nice   .   watching  :  the  great  british  bakeoff  or  scooby  doo  ,  she’s  not  ashamed   .   podcasts  :  true  crime  podcasts  ,  but  never  at  night   .   designers  :  herself  ,  she  can’t  afford  most  of  the  designer  things  anyway  ,  but  dior  is  the  dream   .   accessory  :  a  wise  woman  once   said  a  smile  ,  but  matilda  will  take  a  hair  ribbon  to  tie  her  hair  back   .  prized  possession  :  the  home  her  parents  left  to  her  after  they  passed  away  and  a  tin  can  of  italian  amaretti  cookies  (  though  that’s  more  of  a  favourite  than  prized  possession  )   .   random  :  various  useless  inventions  can  be  found  around  the  house   .  she  has  a  dog  named  jack  she  recently  found  and  has attempted  candle  making  —  it  backfired.

inspo  ;    𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦  :  𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴  ,  𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴  ,  𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘩𝘭𝘣𝘢𝘶𝘮 : 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘴  , 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘵  :  𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯 𝘦 ,  𝘢𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩   :  𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯  , 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺  :  𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘢  ,  𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘦  : 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘦

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄  .  .  .

𝘵𝘸  :  𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 , 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦

⧽    1996 matilda was born. she grew up in san francisco, california as the oldest child to the tallis family. it was the very same estate in russian hill she resides in today — of sorts, and up until age eleven it was a very happy childhood. her parents were adventurers, or so was the way they explained their occupation to a young matilda at the time; the truth was a bit more complicated than that.

⧽    in ‘07 aged eleven, matilda and her younger brother were orphaned, due to a tragic accident, a fire, and placed in the care of her uncle / godfather, a watch repairer in massachusetts. he was a peculiar man who had settled in the states only recently from england, but one who always allowed the children to invent so the house was a bit of a mess with useless inventions that took twice as long as doing it by hand, like dropping bread into the toaster.

⧽    between that and the at-home sewing lessons matilda gave herself after her uncle went on about the inaccuracy of a period film the family watched one evening, she thought most of her future was set, or at least there was the outline of one. it was a far cry from the adventurers her parents had become, but maybe that was a good thing.

⧽     now, the house in california had been left to matilda and her brother, which they were supposed to obtain when she became legal age, but at eighteen she found that not to be the case, things were tied up. it wasn’t until about a month ago that she was able to claim the estate but it has been years since anyone has lived in that house.

⧽    so she took it upon herself to fix when she moved to san francisco, back in june 2022 but it has not been an easy task with the house still yet to be fixed. and how she'll manage to pay for it? well, the closest answer matilda came to was making business cards and working out of one of the many rooms of the homes as a seamstress and tailor, something she did back in massachusetts as an apprentice, and so she did.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒  .  .  .

⧽    old friends. she lived in san francisco from 1996 until 2007 when she was just eleven. they could have gone to school together, been friends of the family, don’t remember each other etc since she didn’t keep in contact with anyone likely

⧽    handy? the home her parents left to her located in russian hill is in a bit of a state, in a word, a mess. she’s been attempting to fix up every single room, maybe rent a few out in the future but it’s a wip currently and will gladly take help. she also has a bit of a miss havisham quality about her and likes to keep things for memory but also redecorate. she changes her mind far too often too. just after matilda had fixed up the living room she hated it, so back to square one.

⧽    the problem. the estranged family member who has come out of nowhere because that home? that fortune? he believes he is entitled to that and maybe has a few secrets to share

⧽    she put some youtube videos online about her sewing projects namely one about turning an old couch into an outfit, but those aren’t that well viewed

⧽    sewing. she’ll make an entirely new outfit if needed or just hem the pants that are too long. she’s tried to get her business off the ground but as of now is working via word of mouth and always looking for her next walking mannequin.  

⧽    a little over a decade since matilda’s parents accident and she still isn’t completely sure f the police report told all, in fact, she knows it didn’t. now she has started to look into it again and needs a little help.

⧽    the model from nyc. a few years before sf, matilda went to new york, the two girls became fast friends and she helped matilda to stay in the model house for free while she was trying to get into fashion school

⧽    more ideas coming i swear!

[madmunson]

The Freak, Eddy Munson.

word count ; 20.4k

author’s note: hey guys ! i apologize for the cliffhanger, but i fully plan on making a part 2! also, this is my first fanfiction about eddie munson and stranger things overall (unless you wanna count the byler fic i wrote in 2017 when i was like 14) so the characters in the story might be different than in the show, but that’s just due to being new.

the story is about a feminine reader (Y/N) who moves from the snowy state of Colorado to the state of Indiana, specifically Hawkins out of desperation for a story. a bunch happens, some unexpected hookups and friendships. also, everything that happened in the show happened in this story, three years prior in ‘83.

disclaimer: drug talk, cussing, smut, talk of mental illness.

“Hi, I was calling about my daughter's schooling? We just moved from Colorado, I signed all the forms, I just wanted to make sure everything was in line for her to start tomorrow. Thank you! Yea, her name is Y/N, Y/L/N. Appreciate it so much! Thank you, bye-bye" Your mom paced as she spoke to the school on the landline, appearing stressed.

You were dreading this day. you often wondered why you couldn't have just stayed in Colorado, where you grew up, everything you knew was there. Your father, however, had other ideas. "Any publicity is good publicity," he would state, which would make Hawkins, Indiana the absolute perfect place to flourish. He would often talk about his future career goals, how reporting about the strange things occurring in that town would show all of his higher ups just how amazing of a reporter he was, you guys would thrive there. But you just didn't buy it. Rumors spread like wildfire over state lines, it's not like things that happen in Hawkins happen everywhere else, any other day. The radios, television stations, newspapers, you just couldn't escape it. For your father, this cesspool of a town was a aspiring reporter's dream breakthrough, but for you, it was misery.

"Ah, so throwing me straight into that hell hole, huh? You couldn't have given me one day to settle in?" You grab your finished bread from the toaster, as well as the strawberry jelly from the fridge, and stare at your mother.

"Y/N, please don't start this again. You nagged the whole drive here. Wasn't that enough for you 'settling in'? It seems to me you've known this was going to happen, and you've been preparing for that. Besides, education is important. The sooner the better, smart girl." Your mom sighs, setting the phone back on the wall and making her way to you. She gently places her hand on your left shoulder and states, "making new friends won't hurt, you know."

"Mom you know that's bullshit. I'm going to stick out like crazy here. I stick out everywhere. Didn't you learn from last year? Those kids were relentless, and that was in a state I grew up in! I can't imagine what it'll be like here."

"Nonsense." Your father interrupts, heading to the fridge to grab some orange juice, "If you're anything like your pops, you'll know you'll get through this. Starting out with negativity will only worsen your chances darling."

"Bullshit, dad."

"Calm down, Y/N! There's a few boxes in the van still, would you mind?" Your mom suggests. You roll your eyes at her and flail your arms in irritation. "Thanks honey! It's so nice to know I can depend on my daughter without the attitude," she sarcastically states, "teenagers."

You begin unpacking all of the boxes in your room in agony. This was the biggest issue with your parents: they didn't hear you, only listened. It always left such a hole in your heart, like you're screaming only to realize nobody can hear you, and they'll proceed as normal while you're stuck hiding. You would think to yourself about how one simple day to readjust would be nice, but in a family that only cares about academics & proving your father, nobody could be bothered to care about that additional day. Only you know how much that would've helped you.

Instead, you sit on your bed, staring out of the broken blinds of the bedroom in your new house. It astonished you, how you went from a nice home in a nice suburb of Colorado, a house you grew up in, to move to some trailer park for some conspiracy theory.

Time passes, you start to disassociate into the nothingness of the Indiana sky until your sight is interrupted.

Across the street, you notice a man exiting a van. He's cute, kind of mysterious, and you found yourself lost in thought by the mere sight of him. He had this long brown curly hair you almost melted over, and you could see the back of his denim outfit perfectly. You couldn't help but want to know more about him, but also couldn't help but dismiss him. "He's probably older," you mumble to yourself, trying to dismiss the thought of him & boys away from your cluttered brain. After all, you haven't even started school yet. Who knows if the same curly haired weirdo will inhabit the same space?

"What?" Your mom questions as she taps on the door, not waiting for a response before entering.

"Oh, nothing. I was just watching the neighbors." You sigh, and close both the blinds and curtain surrounding the transparent glass that held you captive.

"Can you remind me again, exactly why we're here? Why we left the three story, decently maintained house I grew up in?" You continue.

"Like fuck mom, I learned how to walk there, talk there. Does that seriously mean nothing to you? As opposed to some theory dad is chasing?"

"One, watch your language. I'm not gonna tell you that again. Two, Y/N, you know how he sees things," she sits on the bed next to you and lightly sets one leg over the other, rolling her eyes with the quick motion. She always did this when she was ready to talk serious,

"Why don't you just give it a shot, huh?" She asks, as if the answer wasn't entirely in front of her eyes:

- You didn't want to restart and make up for almost eighteen years of your fucking life. Duh.

But to be honest, that wasn't the only reason. This whole town *was* the reason. Michigan would've been okay, you were hoping for Minnesota for hockey, but Indiana?

But the more you thought about it, the more the other factors seemed to rear their heads more presently, as she seemed to dismiss them entirely:

- This whole town was defined by a rumor, the same stupid rumor that involved the Indiana Government and some, like, ten year olds,

- Your dad was never going to seriously find anything even *slightly* interesting here, unless he exposed the town for it's sheriff or chemically discolored appearing water, or Bigfoot that lives in a lab somehow.

and a bunch of other reasons, reasons you were so pissed off over, you didn't even want to think about comprehending.

"This is fucking stupid," you mumble in response. Your mother seems to almost ignore the comment, brushing you off as quickly as you spoke moments prior.

"And you never know," she continues, "this could very well be the groundbreaking story he deserves. Would it kill you to have hope?"

"I'm restarting my whole life in some freak show town because dad is a wannabe reporter. Sound about right? Yes, it would kill me to have even an ounce of hope."

"You're so dramatic, in the nicest way possible. Wouldn't you want this to be worth something? Is it really worth that much to be correct? You know, why don't you find something you're passionate about?"

"Yea, I guess." You shrug, and look at the stained carpet beneath you.

"All of our savings are tied up for this move, this is going to be a really stressful time for us, and we can use all the support we can get." She stares at you with a pout, not a sad pout like kid's make when they don't get their way, but more the type of face you make when you really just want to express that empathy & receive sympathy from somebody. You sigh, but nod, and reassure your mom the best way you can. After all, why be a dick when they're going through just as much? Even if you didn't mean it, even if you already hated it there, your agreeing seemed to shift your mom's mood, and that's all you cared for.

"I'm sorry," you finally speak, "I'm just scared."

"We all are, hon. Your father included. But it's okay, just please at least give this new town a chance."

You didn't want to agree. You wanted to shout, tell her that no matter how much she tried, she could never make this house a home, you wanted to breakdown. Mixed emotions were reoccurring throughout this moving process, going from wanting to throw a fit like a toddler, to wanting to sucker punch your dad in the face for even thinking about coming up with the idea. God, how you wanted to just look at your parents, both at once, and tell them how it is. Tell them exactly how messed up it is to downgrade in such a way, over a story that was mostly hearsay like a game of telephone. You heard so many things in your head, all ranging from the "fuck you"s, to the "care about your child more", all deprecating comments you would much rather keep to yourself, for your sake & theirs. You let out a sigh, and choose to spare your mom her tears, and your dad the fighting.

"Yea, mom."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

𓆩♡𓆪

Your alarm clock blares precisely at 5 in the morning, the sun isn't even up. You sigh, and struggle to turn the alarm clock off, staring at the blank ceiling for a moment before ultimately deciding to stand and prepare for your day.

You dreaded this, for you weren't the same as the other girls you had often went to school with. In Colorado, kids didn't bother you because you kept to yourself. In Colorado, you had a band, and nobody cared because you didn't talk outside of your circle. In Colorado, you were neither present, nor thought about, and that's exactly how you liked it. But kids tend to pick on the new student, regardless of the school. Like in the TV soap-opera, wannabe-relevant drama programs your mom watches. It's exactly like that. That's the only thing you can point out being accurate with those pictures.

Three years prior, in 83, the news was flooded state wide with a missing child's case, and with it came all of the rumors and criticism. You never knew exactly what happened, kids in your old school said they heard from their parents that the kid was neglected, especially by his father, and there was a police chief in on hiding the disappearance. Other rumors speculated as far as to accuse the child's own mother of the kidnapping. Or the father, who (again) was not involved, nor seemed to publicly care. Or somehow, a monster. Bigfoot, you told yourself. They're hiding his ass here.

Nonetheless, to this date, you don't know what is the truth, other than the kids involved in this case closely still attend Hawkins public school, maybe even your new high school. *Most* of the children were specifically kept hidden, had their names changed in articles, the best attempt at anonymous television hearings the 80s had ever seen, all thrown into Witness Protection, supposedly. All but the missing kid: Will Byers. That sounded selfish to you, forcing these little kids to hide like that, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you'd be their new target. Maybe there was more to the situation than you knew. Maybe Bigfoot was secretly Will's best friend.

The thought of this upset you more, though. Not more upset at Will, not at yourself, not at those other kids, but at your dad. After all, he wasn't a goddamn detective. He was barely a reporter.

Your mind flooded with awful scenarios, some of which you could partially admit to yourself were completely impossible of occurring, but that didn't stop your brain.

You hop in the shower, and walk to school, as you see the back of some van as it screeches from behind you, speeding ahead. Maybe the dame from yesterday.

"Asshole! Your parents ever teach you slow and steady wins the race prick?!" you speak in response to the tires squealing like a barn animal as they pass you, but the driver was too far gone to hear the insult.

You walk the few miles, and make it to your new high school a little late, without a care. You had a plan: lay low. If you were late, they'd simply never notice.

But regardless, without a shadow of doubt,

Here you are. You've just entered Hawkins High School, home of the tigers, standing firmly on the school yard. Your family has just moved from Colorado, to Indiana. you arrived in Indiana the morning before. Now you're here, terrified but also irritated. Actually, the more you thought about it, anger consumed that fear. You wanted to break somebody's kneecaps. Everybody's kneecaps. You started to want somebody to say something to you, almost.

𓆩♡𓆪

The bell rings, as students flood in. You check the paper schedule your mother wrote you, and head to your first period.

"Oh, perfect timing Ms.Y/L/N, everybody I'd like to introduce you to your new classmate, Y/N!" Your teacher smiles. You didn't even mean to be on time. The whole plan was to show up late, to make it easier, but tossing and turning kept you up all night so frankly you were up too early to be late, even if you took hours to get ready. Immediately, you look around at the unfamiliar faces in the crowd that induce paranoia. "Where are you from? What brings you to our lovely little town?"

"Our cursed ass town, you better leave while you can" An unidentified man mumbles from the back.

"Munson, shush. The town isn't cursed just because you can't graduate. Maybe pay attention to your grades, and not some mumbo jumbo curse, hm?" Your teacher snaps back. You choose to ignore her questions, and during the ruckus of her unnecessary conversation with the other student, you decide to instead proceed to an empty seat in the back row. She seems to pay no attention, before continuing her subject: English.

As for the teacher, she was this little old lady, maybe 4'11" with a gray mop on her head. Easily 70's. Your first impression of her showed you that as long as you kept your chin facing the vinyl flooring, and she didn't seem to have a first impression of you.

You pull out a notebook and start to draw, and make little song notes on the lines surrounding the doodles.

You were a singer, in a band from Colorado. It stressed you out to think that they might replace the singer. You started to plot different outcomes, and in your notebook wrote, "solo artist?"

Again, your teacher seems to almost take no notice, and rambles about the importance of English in "the real world".

Oh, how you hated that saying. It used to make you wonder if your existence took place on a fake world, and if not, then where that dumbass saying arose from. You would hear people say it to you often, people like your dad who had no idea what "the real world" was themselves, and instead chose to preach a sentence they knew nothing about. You hated that saying. You were never the type of person that needed to hear it, you weren't like the rest of these kids.

"Solo singer, huh?" The familiar voice preaches.

"Sorry?" If you were being completely honest with yourself, you didn't even realize how quick it took you to space out. It took you longer than you'd like to admit that he read what you wrote in your notebook, immediately after the thought coming to the conclusion to cover your notebook with your arms. He laughed, and you looked away from him. You could've swore you wrote that sentence moments ago, almost making you annoyed that he felt like he just *had* to say something.

"No, seriously though, you play anything?"

"Munson! Y/L/N! Would you like to enjoy the discussion?"

"Honestly, not really." You speak before even processing your next thought.

"Wow, excuse me?"

"Well, Ms. Ancient English Teacher, I think she said 'not really'. She's kinda quiet though, so maybe I misheard her. Don't worry, I'm trying to get her to talk more," he winks at you. You roll your eyes, and your teacher simply shakes her head at you both, letting a small word slip before inevitably continuing: "Degenerates."

Not long after your teacher resuming her rambling about "real world grammar", the bell rings, and you find yourself being the one of few last people to exit the classroom. But before you could even walk through the hallway, you're bombarded by a man you've never talked to.

"Hey sweetheart," the voice said from next to you. You proceed to try and pick up your pace, your locker was only a few more down. But he was adamant, "Hey, wait up!".

For a moment, you thought to yourself, "already? I just got here."

But after his endless attempts at getting your attention during this small walk, you decide to listen to him, and stood in front of your locker so  you could not only see the person you were talking to, but also you would have room to make an exit if need be. That was apart of your brain though, always making a mental note of each exit. It's how you learned to cope in Colorado, so this felt like second nature almost. Except for the tall lanky stranger in front of you.

"You stalking me yesterday?"

"Um.. excuse me? I don't even know who you are." You realized at that moment who you lived across from now. Can't complain, though. He was douchey, but it turned you on, as much as you hated to remind yourself that.

"You just moved into my trailer park, right? Forest Hills?"

"*your* trailer park?"

"Well, sure, when you're the freak of the school you need somewhere to put the caution signs." You rolled your eyes in response. Oh, how fascinating, the freak kid likes to talk about being a freak, real turn of events. The truth is, anybody at this age is immature, not because they choose not to be (which might be the case for some people), but because their brains simply can't comprehend it. And if you fit any young, impressionable mind into a box to define them, it starts to become their whole personality, everything they talk about is how they're this, or how they're that, how people do/don't like them because they are this/that, blah blah blah. Your classmates aren't mature. He isn't mature. You aren't mature. Hell, your parents aren't even mature. You think about how you ended up here, in this dead end town, in that old worn down trailer that barely has gas, going to some poor excuse for a school filled to the brim with these white-picket-fence-American-dream idiots, barely living. You only became more irritated by the sight of the school, don't even get you started on the kid with the name tag labeled 'freak' standing in front of you.

"Okay, sure, well I'm going to be late to my second period so if you'll kindly move-" You didn't necessarily care to hear it, and you certainly didn't have the time to hear him ramble about being a freak. You tried to maneuver through the space between the two of you.

"They'll eat you up here, ya know. God knows I want to." He mumbled, moving ever so slightly to let you pass. You refused to make eye contact with him, and instead proceeded to bump into him as you walked passed, placing your headphones back over your ears. You could feel the presence of his eyes burn through the back of your skull, and just to confirm it, you turn around and make eye contact with him. For a label, he was pretty attractive. He stood in that same place he just talked to you at, biting his lip with his arms crossed. You choose to break the eye contact, and continue to second period.

As much as you hated to admit it, everything you heard in middle school was right. Kids in the school would talk about how their siblings in high school say its hard, and the other kids are mean. Soon a trend started, where kids around you wrote in their composition notebooks about "How To Survive Highschool", some of which had all the simple generic rules of surviving anywhere. But nonetheless the lists ranged with different kids, some writing about how making friends was the *most* important, other kids writing about how playing sports for scholarships were important, whatever. Truth be told, not all of them were that far off. But there was one key all of them were missing: Do Not (under any circumstances) Fit Yourself in a Box. Stay to yourself, those people aren't going to matter after high school, and they aren't going to help you graduate. 

𓆩♡𓆪

The day went on as normal until lunch. You did your best to not stand out as the weird kid, and went mostly unnoticed, until it came to bring groups like this. Lunch was always the hardest, regardless of what school you went to, regardless of what state you were in. People this naive tend to thrive on the others around them, and will jump in on any given circumstance, to fuel their own ego and in attempt to make everybody *think* they're cool. You've witnessed the generic "band geek" join in on bullying of the weird kids in your own school, anything was possible. Still, you tried to keep your head low.

"Hey, you new here?" A voice from behind you speaks. You choose to ignore her, and continue waiting in the lunch line for the lunch lady to fill your tray. She continued to make little "psst", and "hey", remarks at you in an attempt to catch your attention, but when that didn't work again, she began to speak once more. "Uh.. hello?" She presses again, but the outcome is the same, you proceed further, tray in hand, trying your best to tune out the annoyance. "Look, I'm not trying to like, start anything, but I've been seeing Munson staring at you. Little stalker can't take his eyes off of you. I'm just trying to let you know, from woman to woman, he's bad news." 'Okay,' you thought, 'I'll bite.'

You turned around in pure irritation, everything around you went blurry as you faced her to share eye contact with her. This was the moment you thought about earlier that morning, with the kneecaps. Even though this girl wasn't necessarily picking on you, the phony kindness and pretending like she knew you got old quick.

"Yeah, okay, well from woman to woman, I couldn't be bothered to give a shit. I'm not interested in the freak you seem to think you're better than, or anybody here. As a matter of fact, I'm not even interested in this food. So thank you *so* fucking much, you made me lose my appetite." You storm out of the line and throw your tray away. You're not the type to normally snap under pressure like this, but you were waiting for a moment *somebody* would approach you. That anxiety of waiting, only made you more furious in the moment. You hear footsteps trail behind you, the same girl as before, "Hey! Wait!"

You make it to the bathroom, and she follows you. This time, you feel your blood start to boil. Who is this girl and why won't she leave you alone? What does she seem to want? And why does she seem to care so much about what you do?

"Oh, my god, what could you *possibly* want this time?" You sigh in exhaustion and almost exaggeration, and turn to face her, the only other girl in the bathroom.

"I think we got off on a bad foot here, my name is Chrissy."

"Thanks? Is that all you came in here for? To tell me your name?"

"Yes!" She says a little too excitedly, "Well, no. Kind of? I mean, not necessarily. I was-"

"Spit it out, Chrissy." You scoff.

"Look, this town, these people, aren't normal."

"Clearly. Day one and I have 'the freak' and 'daddy's money' on my ass." You air quote in response, throwing your shoulders down. "Oh, you must be talking about the monster that hides in the woods and destroyed your beloved mall? Look, I don't mean to be a bitch, but I moved here *because* my dad is chasing your crazy town conspiracy, I don't want to hear about Bigfoot here, too." You attempt to move past her, but she shifts.

"I'm not only talking about Hawkins." She mutters, "The whole world knows about that. I'm talking about here, what *truly* goes on behind closed doors, the people that try to hide those stories, IN this high school. Eddie Munson is a satanist, nobody's ever reported him but he makes satanic sacrifices with that Hellfire Club. The basketball team is trying to get more evidence though." You couldn't help but laugh in response, which fumed her.

"I'm serious! They play this stupid game that hails the devil! Dungeons and Dragons." She whispers, almost fearfully.

"Dungeons and what now?"

"You haven't heard of it? Its all over the papers right now, they make these sacrifices to satan, and listen to this devil worshipping music, they *really* hurt people, Eddie Munson mostly." To be truthful, you never bothered to read anything in the papers, news bored you.

"The news bores me." You weren't sure what else to say.

"No, listen! Sure, it's all rumors, but I don't trust him. You have to stay away!"

"Okay." You sighed in agreement, "whatever." You couldn't lie to yourself though, the extreme amount of worry on her face might've also worried you, and also might've further stressed you out. You hated rumors. You hated stupid high school drama shit. You hated everything Chrissy was. But her opinion seemed genuine, and from a place of worry. Besides, there's always a catch to guys that hot, anyway.

"I never asked your name, I heard the teacher say it in third period but completely forgot?" She says, almost hinting to ask your name. You didn't even realize you had third period with her. Your guess is you were zoned out for most of the day, as usual.

"Y/N,"

"Nice to meet you, Y/N, wanna come over after school maybe?" Normally, you would decline. But you almost felt bad for treating her like shit in the lunch line, and your mother is always talking about how making even *one* friend wouldn't hurt. This went against everything you stood for, keeping to yourself, laying low, graduating, and leaving this Jersey-Devil-Bigfoot-Infested town, but Chrissy intrigued you.

"Sure, I'll bite." You respond, just like you thought before snapping at her. She tells you to meet her in the parking lot after school, and tells you what car is her's. You part ways, and take the opposite hallway to your next period.

𓆩♡𓆪

"Hey mom, yeah it's Y/N. Listen, I'm with my friend Chrissy-" You call, and your mom cuts you off in excitement, asking all sorts of questions about your new friend. Her genuine excitement made you smiler harder than you'd like to admit. "MOM! Mom, calm down, I'll tell you all about it when you get home," you sigh to her, cutting her off, "I love you so much, bye mom!"

"Not too many friends?" Chrissy asks, sitting on her bed.

"Not necessarily. I just moved from Colorado here, my dad's chasing some story."

"Oh, yea, our 'crazy town conspiracy'!" She chuckles, throwing air quotations.

"Yeah, sorry, I guess I'm just a little on edge. Is there anything else you can tell me about Munson?" You sort of accidentally blurt out, while you sit in her chair across from her and cross your arms, scratching your upper right forearm in nervousness. This wasn't like you. Even in Colorado, with the close circle you did have, you never hung out. You were always satisfied with calls on the landline, or talking in school, it brought far too much anxiety to "hang out". Also, it went entirely against your beliefs, and your own "High School Survival Guide", but you would get tired of remembering that. Chrissy was your exact definition of a high school girl before you talked to her: varsity cheerleading team, dating the biggest jock in school Jason, good grade achiever, teacher's pet, white picket fence family, everything down to a T. You didn't quite know what about her made her so different, maybe it was your brain tricking you, but it didn't seem like she really wanted that, either. After all, why would she willingly go up to the new girl, who didn't talk, was reserved, told off Eddie Munson, and flipped shit at her? She was looking for a way out. At least, that's what your brain suggested.

"Girl, I told you to stay away," She starts.

"Sure, whatever, but what's up with him?"

"Lives with his uncle at those ran down trailer parks. Mostly loves alone though, that man works nights so Eddie gets to do his practices and shit alone," she laughs.

"Always a catch, huh." You sigh.

"A catch?"

"Yes, as in, he's super-"

"Don't say it,"

"Super hot. All I'm saying is of *course* he has to be into some weird shit."

"You're better off finding another guy at school. Like my boyfriend, Jason Carver, he's totally yummy!"

"What teenager says 'yummy'? What are you, my mother? Got a novel to go with that? Little bath time?" You both laugh. It felt so good to laugh.

"Oh, shut up! I'm serious, though! I know a few people that know Steve Harrington, you seem like his type, I'll set you up!" She smiles, as if you've lived in this same town your whole life and *just* so happen to know who Steve Harrington is.

"Who... is Steve Harrington..." You ask.

"Are you kidding?! Only the king of Hawkin's High, you've never lived until you've seen Steve "The Hair" Harrington shotgun a beer at a party!" You look at her absolutely dumbfounded, because again, you had no idea who this man was.

"Shush! I'm setting you up! I don't care! You need to get laid!"

"Fine, fine!" You agree, only because you know it'll make Chrissy shut up about it. Who the hell is "The Hair", anyway?

"By the way, don't apologize for earlier. You started to a second ago. This town leaves a weird feeling on people, especially that high school."

"Why did you decide to follow me?" You blurt.

"Because, silly, I can see you. You want friends, don't want to fit in. I was that way at a time," she sighs, and looks down, "until I met Jason. He brought on a crowd I could've never imagined."

"Like in a bad way?" You ask.

"Sometimes, yeah. But other times, it's okay. You learn to grow with the eyes constantly on you, you can't really avoid that dating the most popular guy in Hawkins and being in the varsity cheerleading team."

"Right..."

"You should try out!" She suggests, but you laugh in response. She seems almost taken back by this.

"Yeah, sorry Chrissy, not my thing. I'll mess around with 'The Hair', I'll be your friend, but cheerleading is a no-go for obvious reasons." you point to yourself, your unbrushed hair that covered a good part of your face, and your outfit that you literally pulled from your dad's closet. Flannel jacket and baggy black and gray jeans, mom's tight shirts, as always. Everybody in Colorado could recognize you from the back — you were the only girl dressing like you smoked weed without ever actually trying it there.

"Oh, come on, please? You're perfect for it! They'll love you!"

"Chrissy. No."

She continues to on and off press you about joining the whole time the two of you hang out. She does your makeup, and styles your hair, which is normally far more girly than you'd like. You never wore makeup, and normally wore your hair down and over your face as a method to avoid being perceived anyway. Everything you did was in effort to never be noticed, never be thought about, and always be ignored. But this time, with Chrissy, everything felt so hyperfeminine. You really wanted to feel more comfortable with Chrissy, more than you'd like to admit. But this was never you. This.. was exactly what you *didn't* want. Eventually, after enough prying and probing about the subject, you're able to at least think about it, and tell her so.

"Fine. I'll think about it, okay?"

She seems excited, and suggests you stay the night, to which you agree. She picks out some of her cutest clothes for you to wear the next day, and you both continue through your night as normal, you listening to Chrissy's gossip, and learning more about her custom "Survival Guide":

- Stay pretty,

- Stay classy when needed, be a slut when needed,

- and Date Mr. Popular.

Chrissy ended up calling her friend that knew "The Hair", and suggested a double date for the two of you, in addition to Jason and (obviously) Harrington, which again, you felt like you needed to say wasn't you, but Chrissy wouldn't care about all of that.

She finally tells you it'll take place *that* night, after you've probably asked six hundred times or so.

Not enough time to prepare, both mentally and physically (though, Chrissy's probably already got "physically" covered, you being her little doll in her little chair in her big pretty doll house and all). You felt yourself beginning to have a panic attack.

"Oh my god, are you a virgin?"

"No! What?"

"Sorry girl, you just seemed worried. Tripping me out."

"Because I *am* worried, you've been talking on the phone for, like, ever, why didn't you think to tell me it was gonna be tonight?"

"Last minute surprise! Don't worry, *I'll* bring your game!"

𓆩♡𓆪

Chrissy sneaks you out of her bedroom, and into her car so you two can go on a double date. She begins telling you every good little thing about this Steve, almost so flirtatiously you could tell even *she* wanted him at a time. You didn't see what she seen in you, or what anybody did as a matter of fact, so dates were always hard. Even then, you haven't been on an *actual* date in forever. All you've been prone to is meeting some dude at his house, hooking up with him, and leaving. That's all you've been accustomed to, especially in your old High School.

Finally, the two of you arrived at a diner. Steve and Jason were talking like they had been there for hours prior, like they had known each other. As you found out, Steve already graduated, but when he was there, he literally reigned King in those halls. Everybody either wanted him, or wanted to be him, supposedly. And he was an attractive man, but something about a man *knowing* he's attractive, is a turn off.

"So, Y/N, tell all of us about yourself! I know very little, but Jay and *especially* Steve know nothing about you! Anything cool you're into?" Chrissy smiles as she hints to you, taking a sip of her milkshake.

"Uh, you know, I write a shit ton of music,"

"Boring!" Jason chuckles. This is the exact reason you hated jocks, even if he was kidding. You roll your eyes, super exaggerated, so he thinks you're joking back. So much for making friends.

"No, I think that's like, totally cool!" Steve smiles, almost desperately. You laugh in response, with a quick "thank you," and brush it off.

You spend the night talking about Colorado, and your old friends there, Steve stopped being into it an hour prior and Chrissy was blowing Jason in the back seat. So it was complete silence. Awkward, frustrating, and gross silence with the occasional slurping sound from the seats behind your's. Steve drove you home, and you didn't really care. For all you knew, they'd have an orgy. It wasn't really a big deal to you. Steve tried to initiate coming inside, but you laughed in response.

"Nice try, tiger. You were into me for maybe the first ten minutes."

"Maybe talk about something other than Colorado and how much you hate high school!" He laughs back. It made you happy to know at least there wasn't any animosity.

𓆩♡𓆪

When you got home, you instantly ran into your mother who had a million questions about your nightly adventures. You knew how lonely she was, ever since your dad took on writing full-time, and you've always been the only child.

"Uh, I went on a date," you state, smiling at her as you walk through the kitchen and into the living room. "No big deal though, we didn't really hit it off,"

"I'm sorry baby," she sits next to you, laying her feet on the coffee table as she laid back on the spring exposed couch. She always thought the pillows would cover them. They did not. "What happened?"

"Just no spark. I'm boring. Plus, I couldn't get this other guy out of my head, I just felt weird the whole time."

"Ouh, a crush? Better not be that boy from across the street you were staring at yesterday. I seen him come home today, and he is bad news. I could practically smell the blood on him!"

"One, not a crush, and two, why does everybody keep fucking saying that?!" You shout, standing up. "I wasn't looking at him yesterday, christ mom! I was simply looking outside."

"He's bad news!" She responds, only slightly moving forward from her once comfortable spot. She stares at you, not breaking eye contact, like she's trying to let you know she's serious. It's a joke. This whole situation is a joke. That look she always gives, is a joke. Here you were, just trying to throw her a bone for once, but she started before you could even finish. You hated that. Both of your parents were this way, it's why you didn't get along with either of them.

"Can you think of *anything* original? Like, why, because he plays some stupid ass game, he's also giving satan a handjob, right?!"

"Excuse me?! Language!"

"No! Hell no! I'm just trying to be nice because i know how upset you are *all* the time, because dad's always in the room with a tinfoil cap on and you're stuck in the bathroom reading Fabio novels. I couldn't even finish my *one* sentence!"

"You teenagers. You don't get it,"

"What is there to get?"

"It's not even the game, Y/N, look at him! That long brown hair, those satanic eyes, I bet he's been to jail, or worse, you never know what he could-"

"DROP IT!" You yell before she could even finish.

You hated fighting. That's part of the reason you never wanted to be recognized as a real, living human being. Anything that could have the slight inkling of confrontation threw you off like it was some sort of odor, making you entirely agoraphobic in your worst times, like back in Colorado. Not that you couldn't fight if you had to, because you could, you had male cousins teach you, but you hated the attention. You hated the eyes following you, hated pretending to be anything other than simply non-existent.

"I don't know why you think you can talk to me like that, but this is done. If you ever so much as think about speaking to me like that," she comes up to you with her hand raised, "you will be out of my house quicker than you can even process the first letter in that sentence. Got it?"

"Sure." You look away.

"Now the boy? You said you were thinking about somebody else! Tell me about him, what does he look like?"

"Long brown hair, and satanic eyes. I'm going to sleep. Night."

𓆩♡𓆪

The next day, Chrissy picked you up and finally met your mom. Your mom was absolutely thrilled to see her, and even more excited that you had a friend. This always made you feel so socially awkward, her acting like you're 3 years old at your first sleepover all over again. But you couldn't even lie, the older you got, the more that was a reality. You just loved being alone.

"We're gonna go mom, okay?" You hugged your mom goodbye, and went off to school. That day, as Chrissy told you, you were gonna try out for the cheerleading team. It was weird for you, and you'd almost rather die, but your mom mentioned it could be nice to have on college forms and that's all you've thought about since.

The thing with cheerleaders, and jocks, or just people like that overall, was they were their own special kind of label. As much as you could say you hated high school, and everybody in it, on and on for days — you could *especially* talk about those people. The same people that just make you blow steam through your ears, eyes and nose, they're so piercingly nauseating to be around. They bring a whole definition to the word "label", and embody it. You never wanted to be somebody like that. For example, when Chrissy told you that, you pretended to be getting ready in the bathroom for twenty minutes but you actually sobbed the whole time. Something about feeling so included, only made you feel more empty.

Which didn't make sense, but also did, in a way. You realized how your mental anguish was weighing in you particularly heavy today, and you just wanted to be done with the day.

"Hey girl, what's up? You barely talked the whole way here?" Chrissy smiles, wrapping her arm around your waist as she tags along next to you.

"Yea, really bad day is all," you half smile. You were telling the truth to her, for once. For some reason, you were up again all night tossing and turning over that same Munson boy everybody's telling you to stay away from. It wasn't even out of interest, but lust rather. You couldn't get the idea of what he would taste like on the tip of your tongue, you couldn't keep your mind away from his body for so long it was starting to affect your days in such a manner. But what she didn't *fully* know, wouldn't *fully* kill her.

"Oh, totally! Everybody has them, as they say. But hey, I was wondering if you'd come over after school? We can do makeup after cheer!"

"Hey, that's *if* I get accepted," you hoped you wouldn't.

"Bullshit, of course you will! You're like, my best friend, and I'm basically head of the team!" Oh shit. Right.

"Oh, goodie! Yay!" You said super unenthusiastically, but also nervously.

"Quit stressing! You got this!" But as she lets her sentence out, Jason came over. You hated cheesy love, but kind of adored the amount of love he had for her. Every time he seen her, he told her just how much he loved her, and lifted her off the ground as he hugged her. He was also very, immensely protective over her, like pitbull protective. Love was always your guiltiest pleasure, and your biggest secret. It was easier to convince yourself you hated it, anyhow.

"Hey, Y/N! How are ya?" Jason asks, lovingly smacking your shoulder and bringing you under his wing as well.

"I've been better. Nervous."

"She has cheer tryouts!"

"Oh, look at you, little miss cheerleader!" He laughs. It was very obvious that you didn't quite fit into that scene.

"Yep!" You laugh back, throwing up a thumbs up.

"Well good luck, you got this," he says, shaking you.

"I was just telling her that Jay! See, I told you Y/N!" Chrissy was always *somehow* giddy in the morning. Jason and I continued to just talk with her, and joke with her before the morning bell. You guys always had plans to meet up after every class now, as if you didn't just get there the day prior. It felt nice to have friends, especially this quick, in such a shitty town.

The first bell rang, and that was your sign to separate, Chrissy and Jason their way, and you your's. You go back to your regular self, chin facing down and staring at the linoleum. You didn't think you've ever felt so confused, or so manipulated. You wished you hadn't met Chrissy, that you would've lived like this forever, things might've been better, although you almost hated that version of events more.

Everything about this made you feel so gullible, and torn. You almost hoped Eddie would be in class today, just to give you that serotonin boost for later.

Today, he decided to sit behind you.

𓆩♡𓆪

Your english teacher continues to go off about the same book you read already, given your old high school were in a few units ahead by eleventh grade. You kind of liked this though, because it meant that you already knew the answers, and absolutely did not have to do a damn thing that whole period. It made relaxing nice, the longer you were left away for the better.

You feel a piece of crumbled paper by your feet, and turn around to make eye contact with him. He smiles at you, and winks, before putting a single finger over his mouth.

hey, seen you talking to head bitch in charge. everything good?"

You lightly smile before quickly hiding it, and shake your head. Why he felt like it was any of his business was astounding.

not that it's any of your business, but yes, why?

you crumble it up, and reach back to jokingly toss it at him. he smiles at you back, before quickly urging you to turn around, "come on sweetheart, you like your reputation don't you?" He whispers into your ear. You absolutely classified this as enough for fuel later, but the more the merrier.

"Nod if you agree, got it? Now's not the time for words." He states, again in a whisper, sparing the ears around him. You nod a few times, and not too fast, to not seem to eager.

"Good girl," he breathlessly responds, "do what I tell you and just pass the note the way I did. Watch me, and nod if you agree." He demonstrated, after writing on it once more and winking at you, by crumbling it up and putting it at the leg of the desk, backpacks blocking it, and reaching with the hand closest to not cause any commotion. This time, you quickly nod. No other man had ever made you feel so ready, so quickly. A huge part of swearing off of love, is often forcing yourself to hate it and not want any part of it. Meaning, you never wanted this. Even now, you weren't sure if you did want that, but you did know you wanted him.

You do as he says, and reach with the hand furthest back, quickly glancing over the teacher and other kids in the class. Once in the clear, you unfold all the creases and crevices it holds. You were even prepared with a response just incase she heard it, "I just messed up the notes I was taking before, needed a restart" or something cheesy like that.

you know, i see the way you look at me?

do you now?

yes doll, it's not that hard to tell.

what do you want?

you.

sorry? i don't just put out for anybody.

i never suggested you do. i just know the facts; i. you are exactly "my type", ii. we can have the best sex you will ever have (aka i'll give you the best dick you've ever had), iii. you're hot & i need you

meet me in the locker room. i'll leave the class first.

no, bathroom in the south hallway and i'll leave first. nobody will suspect it i leave first and you just happen to need to leave, they'll know i'm following you.

oh yea, creep. you're on ♡

oh, hearts now? we're on that status??

shut up and figure out a way to fuck me

He keeps the note after laughing a little bit at your response. Something about what you said got to him, and that only turned you on more.

"Hey uh Ms. Oldie-But-Goodie, I need to go take a waz, cool?"

"Fine, Eddie," She sighs. You can feel him standing up behind you, and he quickly mumbled "yep thank you". He taps your shoulder twice, but the shoulder facing away from people, and a motion people couldn't see. With another quick motion, he drops his hand, implying five minutes. The way his confidence radiated caused you to almost soak through your underwear, luckily the teacher (or anybody else, for that matter) never gave a shit to pay attention to Eddie because everybody continued their notes as the two of you shared a smile before he vanished.

You watched the clock slowly, anticipating the clock to strike five minutes. When it finally did, everybody was working silently per suggestion of pulling out workbooks. You raised your hand, telling your teacher you forgot it in your locker. To your surprise, she was actually more than okay with it. She told you to take your time, and wrote you a hall pass even. You had no time to think about how weird that possibly was, before Eddie scooped you up from the closed door behind you, and kissed your lips in one swift motion.

"Come on sweetheart," he smirks, leading you across the school to the South bathroom. "This one is the only one that can lock from the inside, and you can't unlock it from the outside."

"Perfect." You smile back. He locks the door behind you, and places you on top of the counter by the sink mirror. He begins placing small warm kisses down your neck as he paces his way to your breasts. He knew what he was doing, handling you with care as he felt on you. The heat between the two of you became sharp, and the normal school noises that inhabited the hallway became silent. Everything around the both of you stopped, besides the two of you. It was deafening, and absolutely incredible.

He continued to make out with you, intertwining his fingers with your hair and grinding to fill in the empty spaces between the two of you. You could feel him through his jeans as he gripped on the key spots on your body, like your lower back and thighs. He traced his fingers over the center of your lower half, lightly grazing his hand over your panties. You let out a sharp moan, aching for him as he teases.

"Slow down, princess," He smirks. He begins making eye contact with you while he continues, pressing harder as he traces his finger up and down. Everything around you felt like it was on fire, the desire became roaring. He painted a picture with his fingertips as he grabbed you, holding you ever so perfectly you could feel almost every piece of him on your dripping core as he strokes upon you. You couldn't take it anymore, and he could tell. "You want me?" He stares at you, almost with a pout. He was saying it mockingly, which turned you on even more. 

He began kissing further, before pushing your bottoms to your ankles and moving your panties to the side. He smiled as he inserted himself into your tight entrance, slowly but passionate.

He began gripping on your thighs as he pulled you closer to him, sweaty skin slapping amongst each other. You whimper under his touch, and whine for him. Clapping continued to ring against the walls, bouncing off the tiled walls of the public bathroom. He muttered sweet and savory nothings, watching with intent your every move. He forced himself so deep inside you, you could feel him in every inch of your core. You began to moan his name, and absolutely beg for more.

The pressure became too much, but in the best way possible. You'd been with guys like him before, the guys who smell of musk and beer in the best possible way, the guys who have the edgier look. But they never took care of you the way he did, never talked to you the way he did. You cried out for him as he continued, not paying attention to exactly how loud you were, and ignoring the effects of doing so. 

"Eddie, fuck!" You shutter, biting your lip.

"Tell me how good that is, princess," He spoke with hoarseness attacking his vocal chords.

"So good, Eddie, please don't stop!" You yearned.

"Finish for me,"

"Yes, Eddie," you whimper, your legs shaking in delight, straddling him as the walls surrounding you collapsed and pulsed. You felt every ounce of pressure escape through your moans, and you could feel every nerve ending in between your fingers as you gripped onto the sink. You writhed, and wiggled below him, begging him for more. The pressure build up had caused your whole body to shiver, little bumps covered your spine as he was covered in your mess. You loved seeing him so astonished, like he was truly taken back by your center, and the result of his madness. 

 Everything was in slow motion, you could only focus on him bouncing off of your pelvis and those sweet brown eyes staring back at you as he did so.

He moved your t-shirt and flannel as he continued, lifting up your top and playing with your nipples with his tongue. This caused you to moan more, and almost immediately build up that same pressure once more.

He went faster, thrusting his hips to match your sweet spot. Eddie picked you up, and moved you more at an angle, so he could caress your breasts while he urged you. He smiled at you from your chest, staring up at you with those same lovely and full brown eyes.

"Eddie, I'm about to finish again," you moan, begging him to continue. He moved up from your chest, gripping on your hair as he moans in your ear, picking up his pace once more. This time, you both came at the same time, his pulsing inside of you only made your orgasm more unnerving and numbing. He loved seeing your eyes rolled back, and worshipped you for the sight.

"Good girl," he speaks, trying to regain his balance as he helps you come down. "You could take out planets, doll," he laughs breathlessly, placing his lips in your forehead as he kissed. He pulls your shirt back down, and proceeds to fix his jeans. He smiles at you. You hop off the counter, and turn to fix your hair and outfit to appear less suspicious. He appears behind you in the mirror, placing his arms around your waist as you continue.

"I hope we can do this more," He smiles at you.

"Me, too," you agree, turning around and kissing him.

"No commitment though. I can see you're kind of enjoying your time here, wouldn't want to ruin that."

"Enjoying?" You turn around to face him, "barely! I like having friends though, but that's about it."

"Which again, my presence will ruin, no?" He smiles, "don't worry, I'm good at keeping secrets." He kisses your head.

"Who goes out first?" You ask in response. He hands you a zip up from his backpack.

"I want you to zip this up, hood included, and walk out to the closest bathroom."

"Damn, didn't know this was a spy mission," you chuckle, taking the hoodie.

"Well, sweetheart, when you're moaning somebody's name as loud as *you* were, it's important to be cautious," he pokes.

"Deal," you sigh half jokingly, "so I run to the nearest bathroom, make it into a stall, and then what?"

"Take the hoodie off, put it away, and pretend to use the bathroom. I'll leave shortly after, and we'll make our way to second period?"

"Oh fuck, first period! Do you think she's gonna question?"

"Nah, she probably forgot two minutes after we left. Even if people seen us both gone, I highly doubt anybody would make the assumption."

"Okay. Thank you, Eddie Munson," you smile, grabbing the zip up as you place it over your flannel.

"No, thank you, Y/N. Shall we meet again?"

You laugh, "of course!"

And then you proceed. You zip it up all the way like he stated, hood included, and make your way to the closest bathroom and quick. You do exactly as he suggests.

The bell rings shortly after, and you find yourself in the hallways with Chrissy again.

𓆩♡𓆪

"Girl, you look vibrant!" Chrissy laughs, "get laid?"

You wanted to question how she was able to look at you and know, but instead pushed it away.

"You and Steve actually hit it off maybe? Snuck him in? Oh, my god, I need details!"

"No! Absolutely not!" You respond, almost shocked.

"Woah, okay, virgin, calm down!"

"Not a fucking virgin." You sigh.

"Nobody gets that defensive, unless they're ashamed of *who* they were fucking. I'd be that way, too, if I was fucking somebody like Eddie Munson," she laughs. You can tell she meant it to be a joke, and there was absolutely no way she would've known that for certain, she just picked somebody she hated to talk shit about. But your mind couldn't help but race, why would she say something like that *now* of all times? You nod in agreement, and silently wait for Jason to distract your friend.

"Woah, ya okay? You got silent," she states.

"I fucked some random senior in the bathroom. I don't know him, but that's why I seem 'radiant'." You lie. The anxiety consumed you, you definitely did not want her to assume you were sleeping with Eddie, even though you actually were. If it was some random senior, she wouldn't ask too many questions. Hopefully.

"Girl why didn't you tell me! I wouldn't have judged!" She exaggerates, "who? You got a description?"

"Yeah, ginger hair and blue eyes. Kinda short. I lied about it because I don't know who the person is,"

"Makes sense!" She smiles, half ignoring you as she sees Jason enter the same hallway. She does his usual, picking her up and spinning her into a hug. He kisses her forehead, and again, put both arms over the two of you, like he usually did. This time, he must've seen Eddie enter the same hallway and stare at you.

"Hey! Munson! Fucking keep your eyes to yourself, freak!" He shouts to the boy.

"Cheerleaders, huh?" He says, looking at mostly you as he proceeds past the two of you.

"Watch it! You make even just *one* more look at her, I'll end your shit!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Jason Carver. Don't you have anything better to do? Like play with balls with your teammates?" He says. He rolls his eyes once more as he turns around, and blows a kiss to you.

"Hell was that all about, Y/N?" Chrissy asks.

"Isn't it obvious, Chris? The freak has a crush on our girl here," Jason laughs.

"Yea, right!" You awkwardly laugh back.

𓆩♡𓆪

The end of the day approached sooner than expected. You were so nervous about cheer tryouts. Your plan was to totally flop it, even Chrissy wouldn't take on a cheerleader she knew wasn't good. You told yourself that, above all, you knew you had to embarrass yourself. Something that might even humiliate the cheer squad enough that they *never* ask you to join again.

The only issue with that was you weren't an improvisational person. This act was going to be hard to fake, especially given the fact that you *willingly* had to humiliate yourself. Or maybe that wasn't an option.

You had meant what you told Eddie earlier, you liked having friends, a lot more than you credit. Before, you were content, you had that small group of friends that you never hung out with outside of the school walls, they never asked how you were (or cared to, for that matter), and you were in a place of minimalism satisfaction. You thought you might've been happy then, might've found your purpose, even. You imagined living life quietly, secluded, continuing to live every day like you weren't a real human being. But when you fell into this sinkhole of a town, into this shitty high school with what-you-thought-were-shitty people but turned out to be potentially-not-so-shitty people, you found yourself to be even more content than before. Was this happiness? And if it was, why not suffer through a few uncomfortable things to continue the high?

You decided to give it a shot inevitably. You tried to tell yourself you didn't care what Eddie thought, or his cult of freaks, or your parents, or the other people in school, but you most definitely did. When you looked into the mirror, you seen somebody completely different now.

In a matter of days, you went from somebody who couldn't care less what other people thought because you were practically in a world by yourself, somebody who was okay with (and actually preferred) being secluded. You wore what you felt comfortable in, what everybody identified as satanic because it was "grunge" or "punk", and didn't care about the devil worshipping rumors. You didn't care to acknowledge them, the rumors, or anything outside of yourself inside your own brain. You were content. But now, everything seemed to matter. You wanted to stay happy, wanted to stay in the moment, and maybe worried about potential rumors.

As much as you hated it, you had to choose between cheer and Chrissy, or Eddie.

Something that maybe made you genuinely happy, or a quick fuck in the bathroom.

"I really appreciate you guys for being so patient during that brief wait," Chrissy started. To be completely honest, you didn't even realize there *was* a brief wait. You almost started to space out again, wondering how much time had passed, but you managed to snap yourself out of that rabbit hole. "But stakes are especially high today. We will be accepting three of you today for the fall, which I know doesn't sound like a lot, because it isn't." She continued.

"Typically, per season, we have three of our *devoted* girls drop for different reasons, and we're already approaching our beloved big first game, so we need replacements." She smiles at you, as she paces the gym floor in front of the bleachers. You flash a smile back, before quickly looking down. The last thing you'd want is a rumor about *only* getting accepted in the cheer squad because you kissed Chrissy's ass. "Alright girls, lets get up and moving! I'll show you the cheer, and we'll see who performs best!"

She takes a few graceful steps back, turning on the radio before standing in a star pose, throwing her pom-poms up as she sways her hips from side to side. She makes eye contact with the crowd, smiling, as a good performer does. You made sure to take every mental note you could, although part of you knew Chrissy wouldn't let you fail. She then forces her pom-poms down, continuing to move her hips in the same direction. She places her head facing the gym flooring, rocking her arms in a rhythmic motion as she almost punches the air beneath her, before staring back at the crowd and smiling as she places both pom-poms sky high and flashes them. After this move, she combines them together and forcing them back down, coming back up in the air while separating them and shaking them. She then arches her back, rotating her bottom half slowly, before picking up those same pom-poms and doing the same trick.

"That's it for now! You'll have much more to learn if we accept you, but we didn't want to overwork you girls today. After all, our squad is a family," she states, winking at you. "Now, if you girls will get up, we'll trade spots, and I'll start the music again!"

And as she says, the groups switch places, leaving four (what you could only assume to be) judges on the bleachers. The music starts up, and you start repeating the same moves - star pose starter, smile, pom-poms in raised in glory in the air, hips going side to side, pom-poms down, hips still moving, smile, rhythmic kicking the air's ass beneath you, coming back up and smiling again, flash pom-poms, shake ass.

Chrissy lets out a screech in excitement, "you all did so good! Oh, you guys are gonna make this a hard decision for the squad. If you'll excuse us, we have to deliberate. Talk amongst yourselves!" She smiles at you once more, before exiting with the three other girls that were sitting on the bleachers. Yep, definitely judges.

What feels like hours pass of you staring out wondering how you'll ever recover if this flops before the squad re-enters the gymnasium. You felt that it was especially important to remind yourself how much this slight misery could lead to even more happiness. Isn't that how shit works though? The cliché sayings like "suffer through", "brighter on the other side", weren't helping you in that moment, and especially wouldn't help if the cheerleading gig was a no. You thought of all the ways to tell your mom you wanted to transfer again, just incase, despite how much you hated yourself for it. The old you couldn't have cared less about this shit. It made you upset mostly, but also angry.

"We have our results!" 'Shit,' you thought, but as she begins reading off the names, to your surprise-not-so-surprise, you were one of the three! You let out a sigh of relief, but half of your mind was pre-occupied thinking about how Eddie and you could never happen again. You worried he'd be hurt, but at the same time, you knew he *wouldn't* be, which almost hurt more. After all, the two of you literally hooked up once, and in the school bathroom at that.

"Hey! I'm so proud of you!" Chrissy smiles, pretending she wasn't the key factor in your accomplishment.

"Couldn't have done it without you!" You smile, half heartedly.

"Of course you could've! You were practically born with that skill, I could tell watching you. All the judges said your name first and I was so excited because I *knew* this meant you'd be cheering!"

"That's so sweet, thank you,"

"Speaking of which, did you maybe want to come over? We can practice the rest of the cheer! And just talk, you know?" Chrissy smiles, reaching her hand out, "what do you say?"

"Sure, why not?" You smile.

"Girl's night!" She chuckles, grabbing your arm as you walks with you out of the high school.

Something about this experience felt so warm. You genuinely felt happy, even if it meant you'd have to pose as a cheerleader for a minute.

As soon as you hop into Chrissy's car, she starts explaining something about how the two of you would be going to a mall outside of Hawkins. She didn't particularly *hate* your style, but you could tell she wasn't a fan, but that's what had made it so unique to you. However she did have a point. Soon, everybody's eyes will be on you the same way they're glued to Chrissy.

"So," she starts, "what do you say we get you out of this get up?"

"Chrissy, I just sat down."

"Right, right, but to play the part you must first look it, no?"

"Fine, you're right,"

"There's a mall just outside of Hawkins-"

"The last job I had I was sixteen working at a place helping kids sled in Colorado, I have literally no money, I'm sorry, I-"

"I invited you, not asked you to pay. Please, my treat! Anything to get you out of these bummy clothes?"

"Damn, bummy huh?" You laugh, "sure. I'll allow it, but only this once! Next time, I got you."

"Yeah, yeah." She smiles, "Now, to the mall!"

𓆩♡𓆪

Chrissy picks out the Gap store, and insists you try on as many small skirts and tight tops as you can. She smiles at the ones she loves, pours at the ones she hates. At one point, you stepped out in something you thought she'd love, and she puked (rather, pretended to).

"Style is like, the most important thing in high school," She speaks,

"And how so? Is graduating not on the list?"

"Okay, dummy, obviously! But I mean as far as popularity goes. Some of the outfits you picked out are so cute! But I want to get you a few more, that way you have something else for when you aren't staying the night!"

"Didn't know we agreed upon moving in, seems a little fast!"

"Oh, shut up! Now, go to the trendiest isle and think to yourself, 'would Steve bang me in this?'."

"Chrissy, there was no-"

"'No Connection', yeah, I get it. But a boy is only good for one thing, fuck a 'connection'! You think me and Jay had one to begin with?"

"Jay and I."

"What?"

"You said 'me and Jay', but that's not really the proper way to-"

"Okay, smart ass, come on!"

At the end of the day, Chrissy bought you seven different outfits, all small skirts with tight tops she thought would suit you and your body well. She said the body is the most important thing to (and on) a woman, which you obviously didn't agree with, but there was never enough time in a day to go on the proper anti-misogyny rant, so you strayed away from the idea. You didn't respond to her comment, though.

She insisted on dressing you the next day, still. She said you could leave the bags at her house, and she would take you tomorrow, and you could drop the bags off at your house the day after before school. The plan didn't make sense, because she could just take you home now, but you could tell Chrissy loved the idea of dressing her own little personalized doll.

Hours went on after the two of you got back home, with Chrissy sitting in front of you, doing hair and makeup she thought would not only suit you well, but bring out your best features. She used color theory in comparison to your eyes for eyeshadow, lipstick that would compliment the eyeshadow but not grossly over-do it like a bright blue eyeshadow and fuchsia lip stain. She told you she had been doing makeup for as long as she could remember now, and reassured you when you felt like it didn't fit right on your skin.

"You look beautiful, Y/N," she smiles.

"Thank you," you just hoped Eddie didn't see you, and make this harder than it already was. 

𓆩♡𓆪

The morning comes sooner than you'd hope, and next thing you know you're up two hours earlier than normal, dressed up as Chrissy's Mini-Me, nervous as hell to take on the day. But she's supportive, and tells you she has your back. In your mind, fitting in might be the only way to avoid what you initially thought was the inevitable bullying, and maybe you could drop the image by college, when you're ready to leave this mess of a town. You packed your other clothes in your bag, just to be on the safe side.

The last person you wanted to see today was Eddie Munson. All night, all you thought about was him. The thought of him kept you awake, tossing and turning in Chrissy's abnormally big bed throughout the early hours of the morning, it was a damn good thing Chrissy knew how to cover dark circles, and made her skill apparent with you.

She told you she'd meet up with you after every class, which felt reassuring.

Regardless, first period struck quicker than you had prepared for, resulting in you and Chrissy separating ways.

When you entered your classroom, you seemed to get even more glances than the day previous. You couldn't even blame these people, everything had happened so quick, it was shocking even for yourself. One day, you enter this unfamiliar high school, hating all of the people occupying both the school, and the town, you stayed to yourself, dressed differently, and kept your head down. But that was yesterday. Now, you're in Chrissy's clothes, a small skirt and a tight short sleeve shirt, with her sneakers, her makeup, and a high pony tail she styled. You felt almost reinvented, for better or for worse, and adjusting now was even harder. You didn't know how to flaunt your style, the key to confidence, it was like you were the same you, in Chrissy's skin.

One of those eyes particularly was none other than Eddie Munson himself, but not in fascination. Instead, disgust.

You decided to avoid the back seats, because that's where he frequented. You didn't want to hear the freak talk about his freak problems, or try to inflict those same freak problems onto you. Despite how much you had thought you changed, and despite how much you thought you were into Eddie, you still had the same end goal: Lay low, get the fuck out of here. Now, there were just extra steps.

But Eddie avoids that hint, and instead of taking the back row of seats, takes the seat right behind you in the first row. You gulp, but not out of fear, out of irritation.

Your teacher comes in, and she's ready to continue on another English related (but also partially unrelated) tangents, trying to avoid eye contact with her or moving too much to catch his eye. But his eyes never left you.

Thirty minutes had past without you catching a single piece of information before you're passed a note from behind. It's from him.

We need to talk. I'll leave the class first, wait five minutes, follow behind.

Okay?

☐ yes     ☐no

You lightly roll your eyes, and look up at the teacher. To your surprise, she was actually standing facing the chalkboard. Again. Just as she was when the two of you snuck out before. She hadn't said anything to either of you about how the two of you didn't come to class, meaning Eddie's suspicion that she was too old to remember. You thought people would take advantage of that, the way you and Eddie did, but apparently most people cared about their education to some degree. Nevertheless, you decide you'll meet up with him, but again, nobody can see you two. You look around at the classroom, a few kids were asleep, therefore proving the thought about them caring about their education to be false, but who could avoid napping this early? You probably would, too, if it weren't for Munson. However, others were taking the notes the teacher forced them to. Now was your time. The same way it had been before. 

☑ yes.

You wrote a further note. 

unless this is about me, and the cheer squad. eddie, we have to stop seeing each other. but i'll be fine with one more meet up. 

You crumble up the piece of paper, and drop it below you, underneath your chair and his desk. Again, the exact same as it was before. You take one more glance at the people surrounding you, every single one of them doing the exact same thing they were moments prior. You let out a sigh of relief, you were in the clear. The last thing you'd want was to damage your newfound reputation before you were really ever able to lay in it, especially since getting on the cheer squad. 

He kicks the piece of paper to his hand subtly to make sure the teacher doesn't hear and turn around, otherwise foiling his plan. You hear him let out a sigh of relief behind you as well, and you couldn't help but worry.

"Hey Teach, I gotta take a leak." Eddie blurts. Nice, really classy.

"Go ahead, Munson, but if you aren't back in ten I'm going to assume you're skipping again, and I will get the principal. Do not push." She responds, not turning away from the chalkboard in front of her. Eddie supposedly snuck out of class often, and she always said the same bottomless threats, but inevitably never followed through. 

"Better make it quick." He whispers.

You do exactly as he says, wait the five minutes, and come up with an excuse. At this point in time, she's suggesting her students open a page in their workbooks, and start their homework. You knew this would make the perfect excuse, the same one you used last time. 

"Um, Ma'am? I left my workbook in my locker, do you mind if I go get it?"

"Oh Ms.Y/L/N, you must be more prepared than this. Seems like you're often forgetting that workbook, right? Unless that isn't you, but I'm never mistaken. But I'll allow it this once more. Please, just make it quick, Ms. Cheerleader."

𓆩♡𓆪

He was waiting outside the classroom door still, and as he heard the door open he jumped, hoping it wasn't the infamously harsh teacher.

"What?" You asked him. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the gym, knowing it was empty for the first period. You had maybe twenty minutes left of that period anyway, and five before the principal went searching for Eddie per Ms. Infamous' request. You didn't necessarily want to follow him, and the whole walk there spoke out about it, "where the fuck are we going Munson? The principal will be out any minute looking for you, and you're going to royally doom both of our asses, do you even get that?"

Suddenly he stops.

"If you don't want to follow me, don't. I'm not taking you anywhere you didn't agree to. Do you still want to talk, yes or no?" He hisses, sharply.

"Fine." You mumble.

"Sorry, princess, I didn't quite catch that. What?"

"Fine!" You blurt.

"Huh. See I knew you could use your voice for something other than moaning my name." He smirks, you do your best to just brush him off. No way the freak, of all people in this hell-hole school, would be the one to turn you on.

Finally, you're in the gym. He leads you behind the bleachers, and pulls out a cigarette. "Want one?"

"You can't smoke in a school, Munson."

"Can't fuck in school either, but you weren't complaining about that. But, suit yourself." He shrugged.

"Give me one." You stuck your fingers out, and he placed a stick between your fingers. After all of this, God knows you'd need a cigarette anyhow. He smirks, and lets out a quick, "well okay", with a slight scoff. He lights it for you, and you take a long drag.

"So," he starts, "if you're doing this, what are you doing hanging around Chrissy, sweetheart?"

"Woah, what?" The question made you cough. Or it was the smoke.

"Honey I know I didn't stutter." He takes an even longer drag.

"Not that it's your business, but we're friends." You sigh.

"Friends?" He chuckles at your response. "Yeah, right, the social outcast and the varsity cheerleader. Sure, makes a cute match." He shakes his head and looks at you once more. "Seriously. What are you doing?"

"You don't even know me, Munson, why do you care so much? Don't you have pigs to go slaughter or something? You think just because you banged me means you know everything? Please."

"Ouch!" He states, putting his hand over his chest and stumbling backwards, "That one hit."

"I'm being serious."

"As am I."

"Munson. I'm done with this little game you're trying to play here. You have maybe two minutes before the principal comes searching for you, and I won't be here for that bust. So again, what the hell do you want?" You're irritated now, his shitty responses to you almost felt more disrespectful than how he was the first time you had the unfortunate opportunity of running into him, and definitely more than the interaction you shared in the bathroom. You hated the way he acted like a friend who's known you forever, acted like he knew *everything* about you enough to simply *know* when your behavior was off.

"You seriously *are* new here," his tone shifts to condescending, "as I explained last time, Y/N, that old hag says that every time. I guarantee she's too old for this job, and doesn't even remember who I am." He had a point, she was fairly old.

"Okay, then aside from that, what do you want?"

"To talk to you." As if it wasn't obvious.

"Clearly." You hit your cigarette again, not breaking eye contact with the freak.

"I know who you are," He states, "not you, but what you believe in. You don't want to fit into the high school stereotypes." He starts lightly pacing.

"Even then, *you* fit into a high school stereotype."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"'The Freak'. Like some sort of nut house, or circus show."

"Oh, what, did *she* tell you this?"

"I'm capable of making my own opinions, and my own decisions. Just because I'm a cheerleader now doesn't mean any of that has changed."

"Clearly." He says sarcastically, raising his hand and pointing at your outfit. He wasn't dumb, he knew it was her outfit. Anybody could assume so.

"Okay, fuck you. I don't have to deal with this."

"Hey, stop," he attempts to grab your wrist.

"I don't-" you started, looking at his hand on your wrist, but nonetheless stopping in your tracks.

"Freak out if you need to." He says.

"What? You don't even fucking know me, Eddie!"

"I can tell you need it. Say what you need to say." You could tell he was being genuine, but that almost seemed to worsen your anger. Why is he doing this? Why is *anybody* doing this? Why won't people just leave you the fuck alone?

"What do you want from me, Munson!" You shouted.

"Talk."

"Oh, my god, fine!" You shouted once more, "You want me to talk, I'll fucking talk!" You took a few steps back from him.

"I hate it here," You started, "Everybody's just so close minded and stupid, which I already knew, but coming here only shows me that truth more! We're young, we're stupid, and our brains simply can't comprehend it. And if you fit any young mind into a box to define them, it starts to become their whole personality. I thought I would be happy being a cheerleader, because Chrissy makes me so happy, but it's not *me*, nobody knows *me*." You looked at him in his eyes sharply.

"You're no fucking different, Munson!" You pointed at him, "You're no different! You're a label, and it's all you can seem to talk about. 'I'm a freak' this, or 'I'm a freak' that, or how nobody likes you because you're a freak, like grow up!" His eyes seem pained. You didn't want to hurt *anybody* from the beginning. If people would've just left you alone, the way you intended, the way you wished, you wouldn't be here. And neither would he. You take back your tone a bit, but you aren't necessarily finished with your point.

"You're not mature. I'm not mature. Nobody in this fucking school is mature. I've been here one day, and all I've been doing is conforming to a label. Like you! Like Chrissy! Like this whole goddamn infectious school. I don't know or care if the rumors are true about this shithole town, but I do know one thing, this town is a virus! And you know what," you continue.

"My parents aren't even mature. I was from Colorado! Sure, shit wasn't perfect, but I was better off not tied down to a label! I had three friends, we called after school, we talked during school, that was it and I was perfectly happy. Now I'm here because my piece of shit dad thinks he can fulfill some dead end dream, in this dead end town, in that dead end, old worn down trailer, going to this dead end, poor excuse for a school filled to the brim with these white-picket-fence-American-dream idiots, and I'm barely fucking living. I'm a cheerleader, somehow, like I even want to be doing this or want to be here. Just because I 'conformed' doesn't mean I feel any different, or am any happier." You stop.

He pauses in silence. You could tell he's at a loss for words. But when he finally opens his mouth, he smiles. "So you were stalking me?"

You were absolutely dumbfounded. Is that seriously all he heard?

"You're joking? That's all you heard?"

"'in that dead end, old worn down trailer', I knew that was you! I seen you, you looked lost in space. I asked you that the day I met you, before the bathroom interaction, of course."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." You sigh. You throw your cigarette on the ground adjacent to his shoe, "you know, I still don't know if everything they say about you is true, you might've made me finish, but I don't want anything to do with you." You harshly continue. You start to walk away, but he didn't seem to be finished.

"You know, Y/N, you're fitting yourself *right* into that box you hate. This isn't on me, this isn't on Chrissy, this is on you. You're worse than 'the freak'."

"Excuse me?"

The bell rings. Oh shit. Chrissy's classroom is three doors down from yours, and the gym was on the other side of the school. You didn't continue before sprinting as fast as you could to her class. The last thing you heard from Eddie Munson's mouth was, "unbelievable."

𓆩♡𓆪

"Chrissy! Hey!" At this point, you're out of breath, and little strands of hair are starting to poke out of your high ponytail.

"Girl, what happened to you? You look like you saw a ghost!" She chuckles, wrapping her arm with yours.

"I left first period early, and completely forgot where my locker was!"

"It's like, close to your first period though? Right?"

"Oh, good, thank you! Must've slipped my mind!" You try to brush it off, but she stops you in your tracks, staring at you blankly.

"Are you okay?" She asks.

"No," You weren't able to process the question before answering, "I mean, shit, yes! Yeah! Absolutely! I'm actually doing great." Shit. She was definitely not buying your bluff, and it might've been time to think of a new excuse, but you were frozen. You've been like this since you were a kid, confrontation was impossible for you, and anxiety was frequent, when times like this happened you always found yourself lost outside of your mind.

"Well, okay," She brushes it off. You feel a huge weight lifted off your shoulder as you try to pace your brain back to normal. "I'm always here, you know? Like if you need me,"

"Right, thank you, same goes to you."

She walks you to her locker and talks about Jason standing up for her in first period, supposedly the teacher called her out for an inaccurate answer and he just did not like that. Jason was known to be a prick, and she stated that, but she couldn't help how it made her feel. You were kind of grossed out, Jason was the embodiment of what you hated in a person, he had his own special label. Jason walked forward, grabbing Chrissy and lifting her, spinning her in his grasp, "hey baby!"

"Hey J!" She giggles. It's cute, but relationships were never something you were particularly into. One time, you went to a school dance in 6th grade per request of a boy in your class, and he tried to french kiss you with cheeto crumbs in his gums, and worse, cheese fingers. Ever since that point, the whole idea of men sort of felt repulsing. To be fair, that wasn't it. There was a whole separate occasion when you were eight learning how to read big books, finding one of your mom's "novels" that also turned you away from the idea. You've always felt like a hopeless romantic though, even if you didn't want to admit it, the couples you'd see in school or at parties always made you feel so incredibly lonely. In secret, you'd even read romance novels. And what happened with Eddie, only made you more of a hopeless romantic. You wanted to say you almost liked him, that attention to detail, everything. But you just told him you wanted nothing to do with him. You couldn't help but ask yourself if you were making a mistake.  Regardless, you just try to space out just enough to tune out the whole romance shit, mostly out of a broken heart, but something catches your eye.

Eddie walks down the hallway, he seems... devastated. For a moment, you felt awful. You felt a feeling you never felt before, empathy and almost sorry, as much as you hated to admit it.

"Hey Munson! Keep your eyes to yourself, bitch!" Jason shouts, he must've seen him looking at you. "Y/N, you want to stay away from him"

"I know." You say loud enough for him to hear as he walked closer, but continued to look away from him. You leave Chrissy with Jason, and Jason with Eddie. All you wanted to do right now was be alone. Something didn't feel right with the situation. Did you maybe hurt his feelings? Was he just trying to help? Did you really want to be associated with Chrissy and the jocks? But most importantly, who is Eddie Munson?

𓆩♡𓆪

Third period came too fast, and that was the class you had with Chrissy. She seemed worried about you when you entered, and immediately approached.

"Hey, you okay?" She sympathetically smiled.

"Uh, yeah. Just needed to step away." What was going on with you? Why are you acting like this?

"I could imagine, Eddie is kind of a scary sight!" She chuckles.

"Chrissy, can we please? Just sit down?" You ask, walking past her and sitting in your seat. You couldn't help but space out all period. Chrissy kept looking at you, and asking, "are you okay?". You would just nod.

What was so frustrating about this, is the fact that you simply couldn't process how much would happen in such a quick matter of time moving here, it was something your brain couldn't simply comprehend, like the kids in this school were vultures, and they could smell you before you roamed the halls. How did you get involved so deeply, when all you wanted to do was be left alone? It was stressful, it was irritating, and you hated yourself for constantly asking yourself how Eddie was doing. It was damaging.

Finally, the bell rang. Chrissy tried to approach you again, and ask if you would hang out with her again after school. She has this idea that some self care would be perfect for your messed up emotional state. But she didn't know even the smallest bit about it. You didn't want to let her down, but you also didn't want to be around anybody. You told her that after lunch, you were going to leave.

"Why? What's going on with you?" She asks sincerely.

"I just," you started, but as soon as you opened your mouth, that same feeling struck you. The disassociation started, the panicking, the confrontation related anxiety attacks, everything. "I'm having a family emergency!" You lied.

"Oh, my god, shit are you okay? Is your family okay?"

"What?" Shit. You stared at her blankly, almost forgetting the lie you just told her. "OH! Yes! Wait, no! My mom uh," and then everything went blank. You just stood there, shrugging, trying to speak.

"Don't worry, Y/N, I totally understand. Sit with us at lunch, okay? I'll make sure I watch the exits so you can leave. After last summer, this school has been a prison, they'd never understand a 'family emergency' unless a parent called. We got you!"

"Oh, okay. Thank you Chrissy." You smiled, even though it felt fake.

She grabs your arm and the two of you walk to her fourth period meeting spot. Of course, on the journey, you see Eddie, the school was only so big. He still looked stressed, but when he'd make eye contact with you, you could sense his anger. That's really the only emotion you could sense in those deep brown eyes, frustration, irritation, and anger.

"Thought you didn't want to see me anymore? Stop looking." He said loud enough for you to hear as he walked by. This made Chrissy stop dead in her tracks, and become so angry it was mostly violent.

"Munson! Watch who the hell you're talking to! You wouldn't want me to get Jason right?" She shouted back. People started to stop, and watch the fight.

"Why don't you ask your little best friend what happened, huh? How the fuck are you gonna tell somebody you never want to see them again, and then look at them every chance you get?" He was looking at you while he was shouting, focusing his anger at you as he approached closer. "This is exactly what I meant about you being in that box you hate so much, Y/N. Look at you. It's sad. Leave." He paused, only to get closer, allowing him to be quieter with his words. "Nothing. Is going to stop me from graduating, and leaving this wasteland town, this year. Especially not you, or your little cheer squad friends. 86' is *my* year baby, and yeah, you were good in that bathroom, but not good enough to stop me. If you want to hate me, then hate me baby, clearly you're not the only one. And the feeling's mutual." He puckered up to the air, and stepped back, holding eye contact with you.

"What is he talking about?" She looked at you, "I told you to leave that freak alone!"

"Ah, yes, the freak. How many months ago was it that you were asking 'The Freak' for drugs? 'Do you have... something stronger?' Remember that, Chrissy? Not so pretty and perfect now, coke face!"

"You said you wouldn't-"

"What, are you afraid the whole school is gonna know about you wanting your fix from none other than the freak, Eddie Munson, himself? It's not like I said, out loud, to the whole school," he pauses, and shouts as loud as he possibly can, "HEY GUYS! LITTLE MISS CHEERLEADER HAS A DRUG PROBLEM!" He again pauses, and smiles at Chrissy.

"Funny enough, you said I wasn't as bad as you thought, your exact words were you thought I was going to be mean, but I wasn't. Who was there when daddy wasn't? When Jason wasn't? And then you get right back on top of Jason, the professional, what is it he does now? Toss balls in a laundry basket? Oh yeah! Professional Balls Fondler."

"Munson, he's gonna kick your-"

"OH I hope he does!" He shouts back. He places his hands on his head, both fingers in the air to imitate horns, and sticks his tongue out. "Good day to you, Chrissy, and Y/N. 'The Freak' has better shit to do than argue with the cheerleader, and the emotionally confused outcast." He bumps into you as he passes.

"What the hell was his deal?" She said afterwards, flailing her arms. You didn't even respond, instead ran to the doors, with Chrissy yelling your name behind you. You knew this school was a prison. You knew you'd get in trouble for leaving. You couldn't care anymore. The bright blue sky of the early Indiana morning shined behind you as you ran what felt like miles from the school. Something about this hurt more. You'd been in fights with friends before, even dating back to Elementary in Colorado, everybody has disagreements and that's bound to happen. But this was nothing like that. This wasn't some children disagreeing at recess and not being friends for a week. He wasn't your friend, there was no reason for this to hurt. But regardless, his words hurt you, and you couldn't understand why so much.

𓆩♡𓆪

You didn't stop until you were certain you were far enough away from the school. You didn't know the extent of which Hawkins was a prison, but you didn't want to be unlucky enough to find out. You had ran so fast, for so long, the sky started to appear blurry, and little dots blocked your vision around you. You started panting, and sweating horribly, before pulling your backpack temperature water bottle out and taking a swig. The sun was so bright it was starting to give you migraine. You were never the most active one, especially in spur of  the moment decisions . If you had any less sense, you'd lay down and take a nap here. For obvious reasons, you made your brain decline, despite all the reasonable excuses it tried to muster up, and you proceeded walking. But even then, by the time you stopped, you still had a long walk home.

Your brain started thinking endlessly about Eddie's words, and you realized he was right. But you'd never admit that to him. You were far too stubborn, far too hot-headed. If he was right, you'd simply show him, but never speak to him again. At least, that's what you told yourself. You told yourself that the moment you got home, you'd call Chrissy, and tell her you'd rather be seen as an outcast than a cheerleader, and that would be the end of it. You told yourself you would go home, and change into *your* clothes, lay in *your* bed, do *your* homework, and finally start thinking for yourself for the first time since you've been here. But again, that's what you told yourself. The likelihood you'd follow through with any of those ideas was low, you set a bar for yourself so low you were practically in hell with Eddie, limboing with satan himself.

Finally, you were at your house, bracing yourself for all the questions your mom was practically guaranteed to ask. By now, it was pretty late, you had taken your time walking the few miles home and the sun was bound to start setting any second.

When you entered your house, both of your parents were sitting on the couch. This was a frightening sight, because every time they were sat in this position, it meant there was going to be a family fight.

"What?" You blurted, setting your bag on the floor.

"First of all, what the hell are you wearing?" Your dad said, slightly raising his voice. He was always the modest type, despite how much that angered you. Anything above the knees was a no-go for that man.

"I stayed the night at Chrissy's house, these are her clothes."

"We hardly have time for the whore-talk, Y/N, any other circumstances, you wouldn't hear the end of it." He responded.

"Believe me. I know." You sighed, rolling your eyes as you attempted to walk to your room.

"Who's Eddie Munson?" Your mother asked, as if she didn't already know.

"What?" You asked in response, clearly exhausted. Oh, how you were so tired of hearing that name, or thinking about that man.

"Chrissy called. Said you've been chatting it up with a new boyfriend?"

"B-Boyfriend? Hardly!" You shouted, "why does it matter anyway!"

"Do you know who that kid is, Y/N! He worships the devil!" Your mom blurted.

"Based on what? A board game?"

"It's more than that. You're so naïve, it's repulsive! If you had any sense, you'd read the damn paper! They sacrifice shit in that 'game'!" Your dad chimed in, standing up and practically stepping in front of your mother to shout at you. "Seems all helpless and innocent, until that pervert satan worshipper kills my daughter!"

"Oh, my god, will you shut the hell up?" Exhaustion hit your vocal chords harder than the previous sentences prior, you were so tired of the 'devil worshipping' topic, it had been thrown around like crazy relating to literally everything this year: music, games, hairstyles, anything! It was redundant, and annoying.

"Y/N! Don't you dare talk to us like that!"

"You know what? Fine. I'm sorry. I will never speak to Eddie Munson, the devil worshipping freak, OR my newfound friend Chrissy, the whore, ever again. Are you fucking happy now? Leave me alone!" You stormed off, borderline pushing your dad out of your face as you continued.

"Y/N, get back here this instant!"

"I'm almost an adult! Stop treating me like a damn kid!" You slammed the bedroom door behind you, and locked it. The locks on every door were probably the only good part about this trailer.

You fell back into your bed, crying the moment your face it the pillow. You just kept telling yourself just how much Eddie was right.

Your parents left you alone all night, but that didn't prevent the hours passing slowly as you laid awake in bed. You peaked out your window, at Eddie's house.

"Ugh, fuck it!" You said out loud, turning on your flashlight and grabbing some clothes out of your closet. You finally fixed your hair, the way *you* did it, and not the way Chrissy did it.

𓆩♡𓆪

Now you're here, standing in front of Eddie Munson's door, questioning everything. Before your brain can even process it, you're knocking.

"Y/N what a pleasant, and unexpected, surprise!" He says sarcastically.

"Can I come in? My parents will kill me if they see me out here. Chrissy told them everything."

"Oh! You're cheerleading best friend didn't have your back? Shocker, I must say. Come on in, darling."

"Why are you here exactly?" He asks, stepping back inside his trailer. It was oddly pretty if you looked only in the living room, the place had its own smell that wasn't necessarily bad but potent.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, "and I told myself I wasn't going to apologize, I wasn't going to admit you were right, I was just gonna leave her and be my own person, ignoring you forever. But then I got home,"

you were starting to ramble, and pace.

"They flipped shit at me. For no reason. And I'm just so tired of hearing satanism being correlated with every single thing, especially you, because I just can't stop thinking about you."

You looked at him and held eye contact, before immediately looking back down and continuing.

"The Eddie I seen in the gym, he grabbed my wrist and told me to let it all out. Nobody has ever done that before. And I started asking myself, 'this big, bad, satan worshipping guy, why would he do that?' Unless he wasn't the same person they were saying."

"Honestly, doll, I don't know what to say."

"Good, because I'm not done. I laid awake, for hours, thinking, 'can I say anything? Can I even go to his house, right now, and tell him I'm sorry? Would he even listen?'"

"Of course I would."

"That's beside the point. I just, I didn't mean to be an asshole in the gym. I'm just so tired, and I hate it here."

"I can see right through you, you know." He stated, holding his hand out. You take it, and he leads you to the couch, allowing you to sit down as he grabs you some water. "The thing is, I'm a hopeless romantic. When I seen you, I had never seen somebody so... perfect for me. I didn't know how to talk to you, what to say, you were just in your own little world. But when I seen you with Chrissy, it just, I couldn't describe it. I hated seeing somebody conform like that."

"It wasn't me."

"Not at all."

"How could you tell?"

"You know, it's not that hard. A lot of it is in the body language. You just, seemed more tense around her. Like you had something to hide."

You nodded in agreement, before looking back down at the flooring of his living room.

"Hey, Y/N?" He started.

"Yes, Eddie?"

"I forgive you."

You smiled at him, and thanked him quietly.

"Is that why you're here?" He asked, staring at you lustfully.

"Yes. I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Couldn't stop thinking about me, huh?"

Something about the way he said it, made you feel something you'd never felt before.

Like all the disgust you felt when thinking about romance, about guys, vanished in that moment, leading you to decide to play into this.

"Not at all," you smirked, looking back into his eyes. "But, I can't help but ask, why are you awake so late, Munson?"

"Would you believe me if I said I couldn't sleep?"

"Hm?"

"Couldn't get my mind off of you. I haven't been able to since you got here. You know, I hate to admit, I seen you move in. I must've looked at you long before you looked at me, and when I met you in the hallway, I couldn't stop thinking about this exact moment."

"This exact moment, huh?"

He pulled you onto his lap, straddling your legs over his.

"Yeah." He mumbled, looking at you as you sat on his lap. You knew if he kept looking at you this way, kept talking to you this way, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself. He's not what he appears to be. You stared down at his lips.

"If you want a taste, all you have to do is use your words." You nodded in response, but he just chuckled. He moved his face closer to yours, and repeated himself. "Use your words, sweetheart."

"Please," you muttered. He smiled at you once more, shaking his head.

"I need you, Eddie," you spoke quietly.

"Your wish is my command, princess."

𓆩♡𓆪

He began kissing you, grinding into your hips as he picked up the pace. Your hand was tangled in his hair, individual strands created fines over your fingers as you matched his movements in sync. Nobody had ever made you feel like this, or even close. You felt so bare, so vulnerable to Eddie, in all of the best ways possible. You could feel yourself tearing apart with every thrust, every bite he placed on your bottom lip, and you wanted him so bad it made you ache. Your heart was racing, your mind was nowhere but everywhere at the same time, your skin felt tense and deserving, and all you wanted was him.

"Eddie,"

"Yeah?"

"If you don't take me right now, I'm going to lose my mind."

"As I've said before love, your wish is my command."

He stood up, and reached for your hand upon doing so. You accepted, taking his hand, and in one swift motion, he was attacking your lips before you were even fully able to stand. His hand placed on the small of your back, balancing you perfectly upon his embrace. He lead you to his kitchen table, his lips still not leaving yours.

You propped yourself up, intertwining your fingers with his jeans waist band as he crashed into your mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groans against your bottom lip, "I can't take it anymore,"

He takes your bra off with one swift motion, and begins kissing down your neck, leaving chills as he travels down. He began caressing your bare nipples with his tongue, sending a chill down your spine while doing so. You're barely able to keep up with your breathing, as he slips a finger in between your legs, stroking over your covered bottom half.

"Please, don't stop," you plead, as you pull on his hair with one hand, the other hand supporting his on your lower half. As he begins moving his finger faster, you feel the wetness through your panties. The underneath of your skin felt like it was on fire, and you simply couldn't take it anymore.

"Please," you begged, not even caring if he realized the change in tone.

You felt the heat from his mouth trickle all the way down to your own waistband, before he removes that barrier as well.

"Please," you whined.

He smiles at you from your core, as he slowly pulls your panties down, exposing your wet center. He then pulls them over your knees and to your ankles, tossing them to the side in one smooth motion. He lightly travels one of his hands up your leg, spreading your legs to make an entrance for himself. The other hand was placed at the small of your back, holding you center for his next move.

"I love this view," he whispered, before burying his head in between your legs. He ran a tongue  along your soaking folds, causing you to release a breathless moan.

"How does it feel, princess?" He asked. He felt so absolutely amazing, you wanted to tell him how you ached for him so bad it made your skin crawl, but you couldn't process words enough to tell him so. You nod quick, before he lightly chuckles, continuing.

He  switched from licking between the lips surrounding your center, to kissing your clit, blowing cold air as he pleased. He began to pick up the pace in the movement of his jaw, taking everything in as he drew patterns on your clit with his tongue. You were a moaning mess. Your skin felt hotter now, everything around you felt numbingly silent, all you wanted was him. "Fuck, Eddie, you feel so good," you muttered, before you could even process the words in your brain.

"You taste so good," He continued his pace, until he decided to push his tongue in your tight entrance, slowly at first, but fastening as he pleased. You arched your back until it felt like you were sitting straight up, his hand still pressed on the lower small of your back. He continued with that pace, until everything around you felt heightened. The air felt heavier, the numbing silence got stronger, there was this whole body clenching tension. You felt yourself building up.

"E-Eddie I'm close," you moaned, without a care about how loud you were. He just laughed in response, and sped up. You let go of his hair, and gripped the table with both hands and you felt yourself release, practically screaming his name.

"Good girl," he smiles, with you all over his chin. He continued to feel inside you with his tongue, allowing you to come down. When he feels your body calm down, he stops to come up and glance over your body. He wipes his chin, and hold your hand. "How was that princess?"

"Absolutely amazing, please," you moan, still not fully regaining your breath, "I want all of you, Eddie."

His eyes light up from your response, and he nods, "I'd do anything for you." With that, he begins tugging at the belt attached to the right jeans that are pressing his bulge. You smile at the sight. This moment felt so different than anything you'd ever experienced, and you couldn't help but continue to think that same thought. He made you feel so good.

Finally, his jeans were to the floor, and he was standing back over you. He places his right hand behind your head, lightly gripping on your hair, as he pushes his way into your mouth with his tongue. He pressed himself against you while he kissed you, you could feel his erection through his thin boxer shorts. It made you want him more. He started kissing down your neck once more, occasionally nibbling and sucking the skin almost bare, but you didn't care. In that moment, you could only think about him, and about how good he was to you. Without a second thought, your hand meets the top of his back, leaving crimson lines as you dragged down. He moaned against your mouth once more, sweet and sinful nothings.

You traced your fingers over the scratches, leading your hand down his back and to his front. Suddenly, you find yourself feeling against the same member that is pressed against your center.  He groans, and moves you to the edge of the table.

"I'll go in slow, stop me if there's any pain, unless you're into that," he smirks. You didn't want to bore him with the kinky stuff now, all you wanted was him. You watched him slowly pull his boxer shorts to his knees, then again over his ankles. Size, or lack thereof, was never an issue to you, you were a virgin before. Not only that, but you never had the desire to care about that. However, to say you were surprised with him, would be a complete understatement. You would've never expected *all* that from Eddie All-Hail-Satan-Munson. "Earth to Y/N," he starts again, you finally snap back into reality and chuckle. "Like what you see?" He softly chuckles to break the silence.

"Absolutely. Take me, Eddie." You watched as he slowly placed his tip at your entrance.

He wraps his left arm around your right shoulder, pulling you closer, as he uses his right hand to hold him up firmly against the table. Your ass is almost completely off the table, but he uses that to his advantage. You gasp as he pushes himself deeper inside you, "keep going," you whine. He softly scoffs at you, "somebody finally learned how to use her words." You throw your head back in complete infatuation as he pushes his length inside you fully, "Eddie, oh my god!" You shriek, again, clearly unapologetically.

"Look at me while I'm inside you." He demands, starting to speed up his thrusts. You were no longer able to hold back, and couldn't hide the uncontrollable moans falling from your lips. You simply nodded, and allowed him to continue. He locked his hips every thrust, making sure he hit *every* sweet single sweet spot he could. You stared into his endless brown eyes, and begged him to continue to remind him just how elated he made you, just how good he felt inside you. You tuned out everything around the two of you, and instead focused on the sounds of skin clapping together in sync. You watched as his bangs stuck to his face, sweat and clothes on the table, everything felt so passionate. He was able to reach spots you never imagined, convincing you at several points he was in your lower stomach. You told him this many times, and he would stare back in awe, letting profanities leave his lips like a poem.

As he speeds up his thrusts, he moves the arm holding you up vertically, and you put your around his neck to hold yourself better. He uses this opportunity to follow up your spine with his other hand, holding your other shoulder. You were now in his arms, him and your's. Never breaking rhythm. He begins going faster, creating a trail of small kisses from your jawline all the way down to your collarbones. He would graze over your ear with his lips, either groaning, or  whispering profane nothings you weren't even sure he realized were being spoken, telling you how tight and wet you felt, how beautiful you are. His thrusts continued to bounce in all the right spots, leaving you to feel the same pressure as before, only second fold. Your brain feels like its about to shut down, you're shaking, and you had that same numbing feeling throughout your whole body.

"I can't," you started, "can't hold it anymore,"

"Then let go sweetheart," he groans back. Suddenly, the pressure is diminished, and with it comes that same release of all tension, leaving your body to feel almost limp, and relieved. At that same time, you feel him twitch inside you, groaning your name as he releases. He continues for one short moment, slower, allowing you to come down.

"My god," he stated, staring at your naked body covered in sweat beneath him, "that was-"

"Phenomenal." You finished for him.

"Yeah. Oh my god." He breathlessly lets out.

𓆩♡𓆪

After questioning for about ten minutes about the experience, Eddie finally excused himself to get you a change of clothes. You grew to adore the sight of him, as much as you would've wanted to hide that. You didn't know if this fling should be just that, or if he potentially wanted something more. That was the only issue about this whole experience. Well, that, and the obvious questions of sneaking back in, what you were gonna do if you were caught, the whole nine yards. If you were caught, you'd be kicked out. No questions asked. Also, what about tomorrow? About Chrissy? Would you have to hide this from her, so she wouldn't tell your family? What else was there to do? Leaving her in the dust simply wouldn't work, she clearly had your family's landline.

"Hey, Y/N," Eddie waves his hand in your face, whistling. "You okay?"

"For sure. Yeah." You quickly respond, still darting your eyes slowly back and forth, trying to regain control of your brain for a moment to process.

"Y/N, seriously, what's up? Was it something with the sex?" He places a Hellfire shirt and some boxers adjacent to you, and stands back in front of you.

"Not at all, Munson," you said, putting the baggy t-shirt over your head, "just, you know, terrified."

"Care to explain why?"

"What is there to do now?" You hop off the table, pulling the boxers to your lower waist. His shirt was bigger on you, with the bottom half caressing just above your knees. He smiles at the sight.

"I think I kind of love seeing you in my clothes," he continues to stare at you, dodging your question.

"Eddie, seriously." You say, "if my parents find out, I'm kicked out, or dead."

"Then, don't let them find out?" He pointed out, as if it was that easy.

"But Chrissy-"

"Fuck Chrissy, Y/N!"

"If I just ditch her like last week's mail, she's probably gonna have a thing or two to say to my parents."

"Good point, she'll sing like a choir."

You pause, and stare at him in irritation. Frustrated at his response, you cross your arms and slightly pout. Is he really not seeing the whole point? Like, that's not exactly what you're trying to explain?

"Right, sorry," he continues, "Y/N, it pains me to see you forced into this. The truth is, if you continue to pretend to be her friend, you're going to be stuck being *her*, and not *you*. She's going to suck all the life out of you, all of those cheerleaders and jocks are like that. Hence I try to stay out of it, but somebody wouldn't listen to *me*. Real quick though, I was correct. Not that that matters." You roll your eyes at his comment, choosing to ignore his remarks. Instead you face away from him, stare at the wall, and let your brain do what your brain does best: Over think.

"What if I do just ditch her? The worst my family can do is kick me out,"

"You wouldn't lose yourself to her, and as long as I'm here, you'll never be homeless." You turn back to him.

"You mean that?"

"Duh. I love having you around princess," He smirks, kissing you on your forehead. He uncrosses his arm and sighs briefly, "However, I don't think you should go home *just* yet." He stares at you once more, tapping his finger on your nose before turning around and continuing, "now that is mostly selfishly, because I want you here with me, but also just logically."

"I'm not following?" You say, hinting at him to continue.

"Well doll, the whole damn park probably heard you scream my name so lovely tonight. Don't know how mom and pops would handle their daughter being intercoursed by the satanist boy across the street." He jokes.

"Valid point."

"Why don't we go out? You and me?"

"Right now? At 4:03 in the morning? On a Thursday?" Instead of responding, he simply places his hand out, reaching for your's. You laugh, "you're an idiot, Munson," but take his hand, of course. "Where will we go?"

"That's a surprise, doll."

𓆩♡𓆪

You and Eddie hop into his van as he drives to the hill close to the Hawkins High School. He smiles at you before taking the key out of the ignition. 

"Hey, I'm sorry for earlier," he apologizes, staring into your eyes, "I don't hate you, I could never hate you, I was just hurt."

"The thing is, you told me to vent, and then couldn't even take it,"

"Well, there are ways to vent without intentionally *trying* to hurt somebody." He states, "even then, I was still wrong for what I said and outing us like that. You didn't deserve that."

"Thank you. I forgive you, Munson. And I'm sorry for what I said to you, everything they say about you is wrong, and you deserve better than that."

"Thank you, sweetheart. And hey, for what it's worth, I love this style, too."

"I don't." You laugh. He reaches your hand out in effort to grab yours,

"Shall we?" He states. 

"Absolutely."

He grabs your hand and exits with you on the passenger side. "Last one to the top gives the other oral?" He laughs.

"You're on, Munson, but you should know I took track in middle school."

"Oh, I'm frightened." He chuckles. On three, the two of you ran as fast as you could to the top of the hill, him surprisingly beating you by a long shot. He was there one moment, and the next, you could see him in the distance of the dark night sky. 

It was beautiful. The wind was bitter, but in the most calming way possible as you rushed through the breeze. At the end of the day, you realized just how happy he made you. And you never wanted this to change, despite the way everybody else seemed to feel about it.

[elius-learns-to-write]

Mum Friend

Hey Besties <3 this is the last post of the day :) Hope you enjoyed them all and feel free to have an amazing day or treat yourself because you deserve it. enjoy :)

Summary: Caring in the little ways

You would 110% be described as the mum friend of the team 

You made sure Tony and Bruce ate

“Tony! Bruce! I made you both some pasta” you called pushing the door to the lab open with your back “no thanks kid we’re too busy to eat right now” Tony muttered waving his hand dismissively not even bothering to look up from his work bench as Bruce nodded in agreement. “Jarvis activate ‘Make time’ please and thank you” you said to the AI as the men made noises of protest but still sat done and waited for you to give them the food.

You kept Nat company as she spent hours in the training room

You watched as Nat pummelled the punch bag, grunting at the impact “Nat take a break and grab some water you look like you're a walking corpse” you spoke from the bench worry evident in the scrunch of your eyebrows knowing she tends to overwork herself when she is stressed “I’m fine Y/n just 10 more minutes and I’ll be done”, one thing Nat always tired to do when she was stressed was brush of your concern by lying straight to your face “you said that an hour ago, come on let’s go watch a movie yeah?” you said walking out the room knowing she’d follow after you.

You looked after Thor when he was upset

You put the Pop-Tarts in the toaster as the man sat on the couch with a numb sort of look on his face, the kind of look you wear when you have lost all hope. You wouldn’t have one of the strongest and kindest men you knew give up. “Hey you know when I first met you I knew we would be good friends and I’m just realising that I never said thank you for everything you did for me, well continue to do for me so thank you” you said plopping into the empty space next to him, you knew he wouldn’t answer and that was fine as long as he knew he was cared for and had a positive impact on someone's life.

You made sure Loki was okay even though he claimed he didn’t need help from a child

You had always sat with Loki when he was reading in the library Stark had invested in (something you made sure happened for Loki’s sake) and it was something he found annoying (-ly enjoyable). “Why do you always have to sit with me when I’m reading? You do realise i can take care of myself” he muttered eyes glued to the page “oh I’m not doubting that I just think it’s nice for everyone to have someone and I want to be your friend. Anyway you’re the one who keeps reading out loud to me” you replied happily as he turned the next page and with that he carried on reading.

You helped Sam make food for family BBQ’s (you were always invited as well)

You counted the number of bread rolls Sam had packed making sure there was enough for everyone to have at least 2 “Sam did you eat 2 of these?” you asked moving to pack a toy for the youngest kiddies coming as you knew you would be on babysitting duty as the closest in age “what noooooooo” the man denied unconvincingly “good thing I told Sarah to get some spares, she says to tell you to not make me do everything for you because you’re not paying me it technically counts as child labour” you quipped

You helped Steve remind Bucky why he continues to help him

“Steve was telling me that last week you asked if maybe Tony would let you get a cat” you said holding a box behind your back as Steve and Bucky gave you a quizzical look “sooooo I asked if I could get a cat and we all know how bad he is at saying no to me and basically what I’m trying to say is I got you a cat, meet Alpine” you slowly handed the box to Bucky as he opened it with teary eyes “Thank you so much doll” the man spoke as he held the kitten with so much care. You didn’t just do this to make him happy, you knew that if Steve knew Bucky had something to comfort him when he couldn’t do it himself then he would also be happy. “Ahh it’s nothing, just make sure I get your legendary pancakes tomorrow morning and we’ll be fine” you called over your shoulder as you walked down the hall back to your room.

You helped Wanda and Vision cook for everyone

“Okay and then we add this?” Vision questioned as the both of you held spoonfuls of spice, heads tilted to the sized and eyebrows scrunched. You looked exactly the same and the witch made a mental note to get Jarvis to rewind the security cameras and get a picture of that. “Y/n yes, Vision darling no” she giggled at the man’s face as you fist bumped the air and whispered “suck it metal man”. It was times like this she was glad to have a kid who cared enough to play some sort of family with the two of them.

So yes you were the youngest of the team

But you were also the most caring and the one who took their time with people even though you had better things to do 

You would 110% be described as the mum friend

[killervelveteenrabbit]

Miraculous Cooking Headcanons

Marinette’s breads, cakes, and pastries make her parents proud. But she finds herself slightly out of her depth preparing any other dishes. Also, you don’t want to be in the same kitchen while the world’s clumsiest chef is working her magic. CRASH BANG CRUNCH BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

Adrien has all his food brought to him on silver trays and no real reason to be in the kitchen. Consequently, he can’t operate any kitchen equipment more complicated than a toaster. At least years of formal business and society dinners have taught him which fork goes where and what it’s used for.

As the daughter of a professional chef, Alya may be the best all-around cook in her class. In between everything else she’s doing she often cooks dinner for her late-working parents and finicky little sisters. (Nora Anansi seems to live on a steady diet of egg whites and protein powder.) Her only weakness is a tendency towards overspicing; you enjoy her fricassée de chatrou at your own risk. Well, Nino likes it.

Speaking of Nino, he helps with mealtime at home and can assist with the basics, when supervised. Take your eyes off him for one minute and he’s checking his phone, getting into butter-knife sword fights with Chris, or wandering off someplace. At least he can help set the table, after Mrs. Lahiffe has yelled at him two or three times to get off the damn computer.

When she was ten, Chloe made a big deal about learning how to cook. She had Daddikins buy her all kinds of cookbooks and utensils, the best money could buy. Three months into her obsession, Chloe caused a grease fire that forced the evacuation of the entire Le Grande Paris hotel. Since then, she’s insisted that cooking is beneath her, which is fine by both Mayor Bourgeois and Mme. Cesaire.

As latchkey kids of single fathers, Mylène, Sabrina, and Alix are all competent cooks. Alix won’t admit to it when pressed, self-conscious of having something so girly in her skill set. Sabrina occasionally shares her homemade cookies and cakes with Chloe, who pretends not to care but secretly enjoys them. Mylène, of course, specializes in vegetarian and vegan dishes—her father credits her with helping him lose weight for his lead role in “The Mime’s Incredible Adventures”.

Ivan can prepare simple after-school snacks, usually spreading something on another something. Honestly, that’s about it. Lately he’s helped Mylène in the kitchen when he happens to be visiting… mostly with the dishes.

Lila often wakes up to find all her meals for the day prepared for her by her early rising mother. If forced to cook for herself, Lila quickly feigns injury or allergy and cons someone else into doing it for her. For the record, she’s polite when confronted with other people’s bad cooking… unless they’ve somehow screwed up an Italian dish. She goes off, almost like they’ve insulted her entire nationality.

People don’t do sit-down meals onboard the Liberty. If you get hungry, you cook something, and you offer it to the others or you share it with anyone who asks. Staples include pasta dishes, sandwiches, appetizer platters—anything two or three people can share. Both Couffaine twins have learned how to prepare brownies using the “secret family recipe” for special occasions.

Nath just can’t be bothered. Left to fend for himself, he would subsist on a diet of cold-cut sandwiches and thrice-reheated coffee.

Marc will tell you his cooking abilities are nothing special. For example, there are these homemade crepes he makes, but they’re no big deal. And he knows how to make noodles from scratch, but that’s kid’s stuff. And his coq au vin just isn’t as good as what his grand-mère makes, never mind what she says…

Max realizes cooking and baking are merely domesticated forms of chemistry. Markov finds a recipe that sounds good, Max gathers the ingredients, he follows the procedure recipe to the letter… but it never looks or tastes the way it’s supposed to. He’s considered taking the oven apart to see if it’s preheating correctly, but Mme. Kante has asked him not to, so there.

Kim works part-time at his family’s Vietnamese restaurant, but he’s more adept at serving the food than preparing it. He’s tried his hand at a few of the house specialties but always botches it—too much of this, too little of that, and the result is unbalanced and unpalatable. By the way, balut is not his favorite food, but he enjoys telling people it is, just so people can ask about it and he can describe it in vivid, terrifying detail. When he explained it to Rose once about three years ago, she fainted. Juleka got mad about that, but she said she still wanted to try it.

When Rose cooks, it’s important that it not only tastes good, but it looks good. Consequently, she tends to overwork things. Her vegetables are sliced too thinly, her cookies have too much icing, her soufflés collapse if someone even looks at them wrong, and the last birthday cake she made for Juleka was about 25% cake and 75% sprinkles and fondant.

Zoe chose Home Ec as an elective at her boarding school in America. But she spent much of the class period messing around and chit-chatting with whatever clique she was trying to impress. All she really got out of the class was how to boil noodles and make passable cupcakes. They don’t let her cook now that she’s in Paris… apparently this one time, Chloe nearly burned down the hotel? Zoe knows better than to ask for details.

Le maison Graham de Vanily boasts a kitchen staff specializing in the French delicacies to which Amelie is accustomed. They’ve allowed her curious son to watch them work, and he’s picked up a few things. He’s learned how to prepare cognac shrimp with beurre blanc just the way Mother likes it, and it’s a shame Marinette will never get to try his tarte aux groseilles—a worthy addition to her family’s repertoire of pastries.

The Tsurugi household also maintains a staff trained in its mistress’s native cuisine. But for Kagami, the cooking lessons are enforced, with her mother as judge. Kagami’s various takes on miso soup are excellent, but the subtleties of her mother’s favorite nikujaga recipe continue to elude her.

[mviswidow]

watching your hands

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Prompt: OMFG *peeks* ur reqs are open? are u comf with r being into pottery andd iss touch starved asf so when nat comes home finally, she hugged r from behind and peppers her with kisses and bites on her neck. nat would also reprimand r to just focus on pottering while u know ehe she would yeah yeah - 🍓🧃⛓

A/N: i’ve been dying to write this since i got the request omfg also i took like one pottery class in summer camp like years ago so let’s pray i remember how this works

You rolled your neck in a feeble attempt to relieve some of the tension built up there before pressing back down on the pedal to get your wheel spinning again. The quiet Mamma Mia soundtrack you had playing was helping to keep you from getting too stressed.

You were almost done throwing the mug you were making Natasha when you heard a door down the hall open, and you knew that she’d soon come to find you.

You were right, and smiled to yourself when you heard her close the door and bring a chair behind you, putting her arms at your waist and kissing the back of your neck.

You shiver involuntarily, which makes her laugh and you roll your eyes, despite her not being able to see you.

“I missed you,” you murmured when her hands rub up and down your thighs in a way that seemed innocent, but you knew she was teasing.

Nat smiled against your neck and squeezed one of your legs, “I bet you did.”

You shook your head, holding back a giggle. You leaned forward after turning down the wheel to grab a rib so you could smooth the outside of the mug. Natasha moved her hand up to grope you unexpectedly and your hand jolted forward, making the clay collapse and you whined loudly, “Natty, now I have to start all over.”

She apparently thought it was very amusing because you could hear her hold back a laugh as she apologized, “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll behave.”

You wet the clay again and formed it into a lump, speeding the wheel up again and centering it it quickly before creating a dimple in the center with your thumb and pressing down slowly to get the middle to open up.

You felt Natasha’s chin on your shoulder and you knew she was watching you now. She adored watching you throw. You knew it was because of your hands, she’d complained once that you were teasing her to make it look hot on purpose, but you had her pull up a random pottery video on youtube to see that everyone did it the same way.

Nat would get giddy when you told her she was going to make something, but she’d do her best to play it off and let you go into the small pottery studio in your house alone before following you in a few short minutes later, which was her way of failing in not seeming eager.

You opened the well further with your thumb by pressing outwards, making it deeper and finishing up the base of your mug. You suddenly felt Natasha’s hot breath on the crook of your neck and before you knew it she was slowly peppering your neck with kisses, and you were sure her eyes were still trained on your hands.

You took a steadying breath as you started to pull the clay upwards, though it was proving difficult for you to keep your mind on what you were doing when she bit down on your neck before soothing the skin with her tongue. You whimpered at that, drawing in a sharp breath and she rubbed circles on one of your thighs with her thumb.

“What happened to behaving?” you asked, thinning the edges and bringing the clay up further.

“What are you making?” she mumbled, avoiding your question.

“Uh, it’s a mug for you, since you dropped your old one,” you answered, referring to the toaster incident you’d had earlier in the week, when Natasha had her mug resting on the corner of the kitchen island and knocked it off when the bread in the toaster popped up and startled her.

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest?” she hummed, now switching to the other side of your neck and starting to leave a hickey.

Your hand twitched as she did so, and you were lucky enough to have been reaching in rather than pulling. Nat tutted from behind you and bit your earlobe gently, “Stay focused, pretty girl. We don’t want any more mistakes, do we?”

“N-No,” you stuttered, which caught you by surprise.

You sighed softly and got back to work, doing your best to distract yourself from your currently evil girlfriend’s open mouth kisses on your shoulders and the occasional nips at your skin.

“Is this a good size, babe?” you asked quietly, pulling your hands away and momentarily slowing the wheel by relieving the pedal of most of the pressure your foot was putting on it.

Nat nodded against you and kissed the side of your head, “It’s perfect, kotenok. Thank you.”

You smiled proudly as you grabbed the rib again, “You’re very welcome.”

You worked diligently, trying to be quick and careful before Natasha could sabotage you again, though you didn’t think she really would. Nat was singing along to the song that was playing, which calmed you as you smoothed out the rim of the mug.

Finally, you trimmed the excess clay at the bottom and used your wire to disconnect the mug from the wheel and nudged Natasha, who knew you were done but was reluctant to get up, “Up, baby. C’mon, I’ve gotta move this.”

She grumbled, but drew back and moved her chair to where she found it before leaning against a counter as she watched you move the mug to a mat.

You washed your hands in the sink and took your apron off with a sigh, flexing your hands as you walked over to Nat and wrapped your arms around her waist, letting her pull you into her.

“Thank you for keeping me company, Tasha.”

“Of course, malyshka. I can’t stand not being around my best girl.”

[turtle-steverogers]

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

-

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

-

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

-

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

-

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

-

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

-

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

-

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

-

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

-

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely