#creamy leather sectional

[garfinski]

Family Room in Atlanta Mid-sized mid-century modern loft-style dark wood floor game room photo with gray walls, no fireplace and a tv stand

[twistedlovelines]

Please! Please! Puh-LEAZ! Elaborate on Lilia, Crewel, and Rollo with bow tying. 🎀🙏🏻

I'm thirsty. Parched. Delirious even! m(；∇；)m

Thank you!

tying a ribbon around his cock (Lilia, Crewel, Rollo): round 2 <3

18+, MDNI

a/n: oh no!! (rushes to bring you water). don't die of dehydration please QWQ

(Elaboration of this)

Tags: d/s dynamics, light bondage (tying a ribbon around his cock), light darcyphilia in Rollo's portion

LILIA VANROUGE

Lilia’s not unfamiliar with experimentation; he’s turned from a general to a father, and has dyed his hair every color conceivable- not to mention his experience in the kitchen! So when you bring up the concept of tying ribbons around him, he’s absolutely ecstatic. Cater’s shown him a few different styles based off of trending characters or whatnot, but did you have any particular ones in mind?

He sits happily perched over your shoulder as you scroll through a few options you had saved, explaining the appeal in each type. A few catch his eye- cutesy ones with a bit of edge, as well as ribbons with more textural elements to them, but ultimately he suggests that life is too short to only choose one, so why not buy them all?

The actual act itself is rather intimate, Lilia leaning back on his hands as you’re on your knees, making sure to fasten the ribbon around his cock just right. He can’t help but grin. What a sacred act of ownership this is! He’s seen human traditions similar to this throughout his travels, but he never thought he would be on the receiving end of one. 

“Is it tight enough for your liking?” He chuckles, letting out a sharp exhale as the fabric momentarily constricts his cock with little to no room for movement.

“Apparently not, if you can still talk like this~”

How cruel of you…perhaps he ought to pay back the favor.

DIVUS CREWEL

As much as he had teased you for suggesting the idea, Divus practically preened when you had suggested the idea of tying a ribbon around his cock. Who was he to deny your desire to possess him as he possessed you? 

Neither of you were unfamiliar with kinks such as this, as your partner had taken care to be upfront with his preferences and desires when you began your courtship. Still, this was a different dynamic than what you had naturally grown to fall in to. An array of collars and ties made of silk, leather, and other quality materials lay neatly in a specific section of Divus’ closet, and this would be the first time they would be worn on him.

Frankly, he’s rather proud of you. He doesn’t doubt you’ve learned well from both him and other resources you’ve sought out, and he trusts that he can bare his neck to you without fear. 

The ribbon is silk, richly dyed black with a lace trimmed edge. It slides around his cock easily, the fabric so soft that you have to tighten it a hair more than you had assumed so that it stays in place. As you tie the final bow on his cock, Divus moans softly, his thighs relaxing underneath you. 

“You spoil me, my love.”

ROLLO FLAMME

Never had such a thought even crossed his mind.

A tender act of devotion expressed through such filthy means, a desecration of what is sacred, a blatant act of utter dishonor- how shameless of you, to have even voiced such ideas into existence, and with that, possibility. Do you have no regard for his propriety? 

Your smile is all he needs as a response, and he’s all the more chagrined because of it. 

Of course you would suggest something like this to him. You never had much care for traditions in regards to romance, much less intercourse. Still, the concept sends a fierce heat through his body, his hand tightly clutching his handkerchief in a futile attempt to ground himself.

Still, when you show him the selection of ribbons you had procured, he begrudgingly chooses one the color of a white dove, the color slightly creamy. When you suggest the addition of pearls and lace, he only huffs and turns his cheek. 

“Fine.”

He refuses to look you in the eye as you tie the ribbon, head turned to the side as his legs are hitched around your waist. You’re on your knees, settled between his legs, yet he can’t shake the feeling of helplessness of being laid on his back as you’re decorating his cock.

A small whimper tears its way out of his throat, and you coo, stroking the uncovered flesh of his cock with affection. 

“Are you alright, darling?”

You catch a glimpse of tears in his eyes as he finally faces you, face flushed with embarrassment and desire.

“Hurry up,” he rasps, hips uselessly stuttering under your touch, “or are you unable to follow through with your barking?”

a/n: rollo....orz he's sooo cute i love he...

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Years Of Imitating Mastery, Have Only Made Me A Better Thief

Summary: There was a look in his eyes, a sorrowful longing that he was more familiar with than he would like to be. He didn’t look like Nimloth, not really. Or Elrond and Celeborn angst for Day 3: Extended Family @tolkienfamilyweek

Celeborn had avoided him thus far; nothing obvious or malicious, he was always perfectly civil, but over time it was hard to ignore that when they brushed past each other their eyes never met, that he always seemed to filter out of a room when the others present grew too thin to act as buffers between them, that he didn’t seem fully at ease when Elrond’s gaze rested on him on the rare occasions they did exchange pleasantries.

It didn’t bother him. It didn’t. He had dealt with far worse rejection than the polite avoidance of some distant relative he’d never known. It wasn’t as if Celeborn seemed to distrust him, he had never seemed wary when Elrond was to lead beside him in battle (which was more than he could say for certain Sindar). Occasionally disapproving to be sure but that could easily fall into the category of people who questioned the ethics of letting someone his age fight at all, which he did not mind on principle considering those people were probably right.

On one occasion he could have sworn he saw him flinch momentarily at the eight pointed star on the hilt of his sword when Elrond had been sharpening it over his knee; he had a right to that of course, they all did. It was no one’s fault, not really, it just was.

He rifled through his journal, leather dyed forest green with thick swathes of creamy paper, different shades, textures and scents betraying the way he’d been clipping things into it once the original piece had run out some 30 years previously. He’d have started using a new one, he could certainly afford to, but this had been the first thing he’d been given for no ostensible reason other than that he may like it (he’d gone with Maglor to gather some supplies and he’d assumed it was a ledger for official matters yet he’d come home to find it resting on his pillow. It had been seven silver coins, he remembered that still). He liked to have some reason to carry it around with him so he could remind himself that for reasons beyond his understanding he had been loved by those who were not meant to be capable of it.

At present he was searching for a particular section, the notes he had accumulated over a few particular Avari dialects, as if the few minutes before he needed to be the picture of composure and a fountain of diplomatic knowledge by the High King’s side would give him anymore conversational skill in some of the only languages he had never heard spoken. Still he could not take his page of verb conjugations into the banquet so best try while he could.

‘I hope I’m not interrupting?’ Elrond stifled a sigh and shut the journal on his desk, resigned to his fate of not understanding everything said in discussions for the first time since he came into Gil Galad’s service.

He turned to meet the gaze of his visitor ‘Not at all, was there something you needed Lord Celeborn?’

Rather than an answer he got another question, he should have been used to it after living with elves so long but it still grated at his edainic sensibilities. ‘Are you content in Lindon?’

Well what was he to make of that? Could it be political somehow, Celeborn and Galadriel had seemed pleased enough with Gil Galad’s position but who could begin to parse the web of complexities of their manoeuvrings? ‘Very, my lord. Gil Galad has been exceedingly welcoming and there is no one more worthy of my loyalty.’ Perhaps a little on the defensive side but not nearly as confrontational as he had the slight reputation for being at times.

He did not seem to take offence, smiling, ever so slightly unsure, and pausing before speaking again in a tone almost too gentle to be heard, ‘I’m glad to hear it. You remind me greatly of your grandmother, you know.’

There was a look in his eyes, a sorrowful longing that he was more familiar with than he would like to be. He didn’t look like Nimloth, not really. He’d seen paintings of her, talked to others who had met her, never had any similarity been apparent or commented on. Everyone always said the same thing, Luthien dominated leaving only the barest trace of anything else to be found by those who saw only what they wished to see. Elrond decided to be kind and turned to compose himself by fixing the braids bound above his head, hair black as a void, thick and wavy, as far as you could get from the smooth curtain of silver depicted on the statues of Celeborn’s long lost cousin.

He was interrupted out of his musings by Celeborn hesitantly moving forward to stand in front of him. ‘I- thought that you might like to have this. I guessed that you might not have many things from Doriath.’ In his outstretched hand was a hair clasp, beautiful in its elegance, emerald green coloured glass shaping interlocking leaves and blossoms.

He spoke, only confirming what Elrond already knew, ‘It was her’s.’ This was all he had of her and he was giving it away to someone he barely knew, someone who had never met the elleth he was clearly mourning deeply.

‘Really, lord Celeborn, I cannot accept-’

He placed it into his hand and gently closed Elrond’s fingers around it as if they were delicate, more delicate than the glass itself, liable to be snapped if handled too roughly. Celeborn had seen him rip an orc’s arm out of it’s socket once. He got the feeling that he had tried to forget that, it would complicate matters, make it harder to pretend he was that pale silver haired girl laughing among the trees and muddying her dresses by playing in the riverbanks trying to drag him along with her with childish pleading. Elrond wished once again that images and snatches did not cross from others to him so naturally. Without the confirmation he could have pretended as well.

‘Please. It is yours by right.’ They stood there for a moment, both uncertain but Celeborn hiding it a great deal better.

‘Would you like me to show you how to use it?’ Celeborn smiled at him. It was a nice smile, fond and soft, one you would give a favoured nephew of about ten, not an estranged cousin raised by your worst enemies and trained in all manner of brutal warfare. One he might have given an Elrond raised in the Havens of Sirion, a sweet and naive youth who had never come into being. Is that who Celeborn was choosing to see before him? The perfect Sindarin prince who had died many times since the siege of Sirion, who had perhaps never existed in the first place but who could know now?

Elrond nodded slowly and sank down in front of his mirror obediently; Celeborn gently pulled out the gold pins holding his hair in tight braids about his head and found the brush to slowly smooth out the kinks. Did he breathe easier when the Noldorin patterns were no longer visible or was it just Elrond’s imagination prescribing motives to kindness because that at least was familiar to him. He thought he could feel some satisfaction as the last one unwound; the mark of his ‘captors’ gone from an ellyn Celeborn wished to see as one of his own people.

He found himself wishing for one terrible moment that he could be who Celeborn so clearly wanted, that the complexities could be so easily brushed away with fond and comforting strokes. That maybe if he was Celeborn would stay for a few moments longer; he was gathering his hair in his hands and plaiting pieces of it back from his face patiently, genuinely trying to show him how so he could replicate it. He remembered hearing somewhere that Celeborn and Galadriel had a young daughter and thought fancifully if this was how he was with her. He’d had many families already and it seemed unfair to ache for another when all that he touched burned away in his palm. He wanted nonetheless.

It had been long since he’d felt someone smoothing his hair so gently and the warmth of the gesture made him ache and want to claw desperately and seize at this warmth that seemed so close to genuine affection until he looked up at Celeborn’s face and something in his eyes made the hopeful smile growing on his face falter. He had that far off gaze again, the melancholy one he’d known earlier that told him he was not truly here. He was in Doriath or in Sirion, with Nimloth, Luthien, Elwing or perhaps with a son that belonged to Elrond’s mother and no other.

As a solitary tear slipped past Celeborn’s cheek and was quickly brushed away he decided with a growing weariness that Celeborn needed this more than he did. Elrond was kind above all, a conscious decision for kindness’s sake and a selfish, childish impulse that still believed that if he was more obliging, more helpful, more sweet, more loveable they would stop leaving. One day. When Celeborn was visiting he wore his hair like he’d shown him and dressed in flowing silver, grey and white, certain brooches, necklaces, circlets and weapons left pointedly in his chambers.

He spoke Sindarin perfectly of course, when he sung in it there was no trace of who had taught him to do so. Maglor Feanorian was, rather ironically, entirely forgotten when he sang, no one questioned where he might have learned to manipulate the nature and possibly, some murmured, people around him despite how obvious it should have been that there was one particular bard infamous for using those exact techniques. After all with his ebony waves down to his knees, bright eyes and distinct otherness that could only be Maiarin why should his skill at Song be worth commenting on?

He still smiled brightly when Celeborn kissed his forehead in greeting or complimented and offered advice (generally very good when not affiliated with the Kazhad in any way) on his diplomatic endeavours. The snatches of that girl were never far from Celeborn’s mind when Elrond smiled. Was this all he was, a poor substitute for a thousand different people, a corrupted reflection from a mirror of other people’s regrets? Was it even right to resent it when as Celeborn’s hands had started running through his hair for one moment he’d closed his eyes and wished them to be those of a kinslayer? Even as the warmth he craved lingered in his chest it was replaced with a gnawing emptiness, even greater than before. But Elrond was kind so he smiled as if nothing was amiss.

[carelessflower]

sunday recap 🥓😽

so many things today but more importantly SO MANY CATS LET GET THIS THROUGH SO WE GET TO CATS

fit check, i changed like 5-6 times wanna lean into a coquette style but sadly this the shirt with the closest match I could find

seafood buffet because we didnt have any breakfast so this kinda our brunch. this just opened in the mall near where I lived lmaoo, basically they served seafood in any kind, and also there bbq and hotpot too but we didn't take the hotpot. all seafoods are very fresh (look at that tank!!!) again ranking

grilled shrimp and oyster with cheese: 8/10, the cheese is like too sweet and fatty

grilled snail with scallion: 8/10, good but nothing special

sashimi: 9.2/10, very solid!!! and u can get as many as u want

sushi: 7.8/10, idk I dont grab those much there not much variation also it can make u full quick

grilled abalone (not pictured): 9/10, for the price we can get as much as we want and I think its neat! also it got run out so quick lmaoo

seafood soup: 9/10, phenomenal, like I had two bowl of these

grilled everything (had pork chest, pork, beef, octopus, grouper fish, okra, eggplant and cheese fish ball): 9.5/10, I love the way they marinated the meat!!

durian ice cream: 7.5/10, nothing special also it all durian which I dont like and they run out of chocolate ice cream :((

flan with coffee sauce: 9.2/10, smooth, creamy with that bitter sauce like it just top notch flan, literally one of the best I've ever eat

also on the way down i saw they're having this cat contest thing like there so many booths it looked so fun (pictures later cuz I took like A LOT)

first tried a bunch of stuff at uniqlo, obsessed with these snoopy shirts and these cutest zip up, like the zip up are clothes for children but there big size and I can fit in there too

trying on, the shirts is from the male section and the zip up and hoddies are from children section biggest size they look so cute tho icant think of the way I would wear the white zip up a lot and the green shirt is xs so I def need a size bigger

next is cotton-on, they're having this collab with polly pocket which is sawr cute if only they're not like fucking expensive, like why is that shirt 30$ and that tiny MICRO purse 28$ like I dont get it, it not even real leather! also oversea website having XL size but vietnamese store doesn't is criminal

tried on a bunch of stuff the sale associate was looking at me like crazy also the price there has only gotten more ridiculous with time. the black shirt was giving sabrina carpenter and there another one with blue background and red font just like short n sweet aesthetic lmeow. the cardigan looked so close like that coloring the cutest but it looked wear on my body. the mentioned polly pocket shirt, I mean idk it fit but it expensive and also I dont like too much figure hugging in my clothes. same with the other shirt who I think the color pretty nice

can you guess which one i got hehe

[sirowsky]

--Meeting Expectations--

Alright, we're off! Today's the big day and this is the first of the six stories that I'll be posting. I won't beg and plead for people to reblog or comment, but I really would appreciate it, as this is my attempt to celebrate myself, on this one crappy day of the year.

This is the one story that's based on a prompt, by the fabulous @bilibiche You asked for Whiskey, and that's what you got!

Rating: Mature Warnings: Not much, but perhaps a little self-doubt and self-image issues? Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x female reader, established relationship. Word Count: 580 Author’s Masterlist

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   “Oh, come on now, doll. You look positively scrumptious,” Jack drawls as his eyes shamelessly roam over your features.

   He looks hungry enough to mean it, but you’re still unsure about the dress. It’s a damned celebrity wedding, there’s gonna be paparazzi in every bush, and professional photographers inside both the church and the venue.    Looking good to the man who still thinks you’re gorgeous even when you’re wearing worn old sweats and you’re covered in dirt from tending to the horses and haven’t brushed your hair in a week, isn’t filling you with confidence at all.

   “I don’t wanna look edible, I wanna look respectable and elegant,” you shoot back, but that just prompts him to rise to his feet, approaching you with pure honey diluting the already smooth chocolate of his eyes.

   “Sweetheart, if looking only the way that the rest of the world expects you to look is what matters to you, then by all means, go change.    But I, for one, would much rather see you look like you, and be comfortable all night, than torture yourself in clothes that’ll make you feel disconnected and shallow.”

   Crap. He always knows exactly what to say to break down your defences.    And of course, he’s right as well. You are thinking only of not embarrassing yourself in front of the world press and hundreds of influential rich people, not about what you actually want or feel good about.

   The dress that you’re wearing is quite tough. Deep green with sections of creamy white and green leather, discreet contrast stitching in bright yellow and small lace detailing here and there, also in green.    When you’d tried it on at the store, it had felt so right on you, perfect for your figure and your personality, and when you’d taken it out earlier that morning while you were trying to decide what to wear, it had instantly spoken to you.

   You have other dresses, simpler and with cleaner lines, almost business-like in their restraint, as well as real red-carpet pieces that would certainly not be sneered at even by the most high-browed snob.    But those aren’t appropriate for a wedding, and they’re also just… not you.    You sigh heavily and step over to the far side of the closet where your shoes are stacked.

   “Don’t you dare pick heels, now, sugar,” he warns, knowing how much you hate wearing high heels, since you spend your days in boots or sneakers while working outside.

   You pick a pair of flat white ballerina style shoes, slip them on and then stare poignantly at your husband for a verdict, to which he simply smiles and nods his agreement from where he’s standing at the foot-end of the king-sized bed.

   “Perfect. We’re gonna be the hottest couple at the wedding,” he purrs, and you can’t help but smile.

   “Well, you’re certainly hot enough,” you hum, eyeing him up and down appreciatively, to which he proudly puffs up his chest.

   “Only next to you, darlin’. Only ever next to you.”

   “Oh, aren’t you full of praise today,” you say while playfully bumping your hip against his as you pass him on your way to the bedroom door.

   It makes him huff a laugh and before you know it, he’s caught up to you and has his hands on your waist, whispering in your ear, now with honey in his voice too.

   “What else is there to say? I just love you that much.”

THE END

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Thank you for reading and helping me celebrate! I wish you a wonderful day <3

Tagging a few people who I think might wanna read these stories: @startrekkingaroundasgard @deadhumourist @tintinn16 @suttonspuds @tanzthompson @shsoba05 @f0rever15elf @justnat15 @lowlights @dornish-queen @radiowallet @spishsstuff @harriedandharassed @i-love-movies @tiffanypooh @chaoticfestninja @insomniamamma

[baravaggio]

I've kind of been thinking on it but the idea of getting into perfumes and having a "signature scent" has kinda appealed to me more and more lately. But the thing is I'd have no idea where to start. My sense of smell is p notably underdeveloped and while I do have a few things I'm partial to, its all so vague rn I might as well be grasping as straws lol but id still like to try. So how could/should I go about figuring these things out for myself to start exploring and finding what I like

Hmmm I'm not sure what you mean when you say your sense of smell is underdeveloped...do you mean you often don't smell things that others might, that you have a hard time recognizing or putting words to specific scents, or both?

If you have things that you're partial to that's as good a place to start as any! When I started getting into perfume more seriously I knew that there were a few things I broadly liked - any time I'm at a TJ Maxx I'm sniffing whatever vetiver scented candles they have, when I was a kid I loved running around the men's section of department stores and shoving my face in the leather belts and shoes, and I've always enjoyed more green smells like sweet freshly cut grass, the soft bamboo you find in room diffusers, or the sharp medicinal quality of chopped rosemary. This hasn't entirely informed what I choose to sample, but it's definitely tracked with what I've found I've enjoyed. You can browse sites like Fragrantica by note and read what others are saying about perfumes that contain that note, if something catches your interest, bookmark it!

Beyond that, I think a big part of beginning to identify scents and your relationship to them is learning to put your personal experience of smell in your own words. Smell broadly! The things in your spice drawer, the dirt outside, your pets if you have any, grocery store bouquets, etc. Pay attention to what feelings and memories these smells evoke for you, what else they remind you of, or any other sensory qualities you experience when you smell them.

An example: I learned I like the scent of labdanum, a resin that comes from a plant that's not native to my area, because there was an addictive sensual aspect to my beloved churchy, meditative Basilica that I couldn't put my finger on...I noticed I "smelled" whatever it was mostly on the sides and back of my tongue, that it gave me an excited, butterflies in my stomach feeling whenever I felt it rolling around in my mouth, even though it didn't exactly read as sexy to me. When I got to smell labdanum on its own in this perfume, in all its brazenness, shamelessness, and severity, I began to appreciate how much it had been transformed texturally & softened by the creamy milk note in Basilica. Marquis de Sade's labdanum is raw pine sap, olive brine, fetish gear under a smart suit, the thrill of being pushed to your olfactory limits, the push and pull between revulsion & pleasure. Basilica's labdanum, tempered by heady serene church incense, wood rafters, kitchen herbs, and luscious cream is like waking up in the warm bed of a saint who left you in the middle of the night with the inside of your mouth still sticky. It's now a note I recognize & seek out, and it's entirely because I have my own set of (admittedly crass) associations with it, some more abstract, others specific.

This beginner's guide to perfume has a lot of helpful tips, here's some examples they give for things you can do to build your "scent library"

Other practical tips for navigating everything that's out there:

Consider what you want a fragrance to do for you on a basic level. Do you want it to mirror your personality or enhance it? Do you want it to help you give a different vibe or change your mood? Do you want it to be safe enough to wear to work/school or more unique & out there? I think that if you have a hard time picking out scent notes, it can be more useful to pay attention to whether a perfume is having the desired effect on you than the specifics of how it smells.

Use sites like Lucky Scent or Scent Split to purchase small samples of things that catch your eye, stop into stores that have perfumes available for sample and spray stuff on skin or test strips (Sephora, Ulta, Macy's etc). Sample broadly! Even if a perfume isn't exactly up your alley, you can still learn a lot about your preferences from smelling them.

If you have scents you've enjoyed smelling on yourself or other people, look them up on Fragrantica and browse the notes and reviews to look for things that are similar.

Sorry this is so long...I hope this helps a little! Just let your curiosity lead you, the more fragrances you try the more you'll be able to articulate what you like and what's not for you! Good luck! ❤️

[callsign-magnolia]

Lost In Translation // Snake in the Grass

Warning: Angst, cursing

Collaboration w/: @alltimereverie

Bradley Bradshaw as Noah

Bob Floyd as Harrison

Better Than I Imagined | Masterlist

He leaves in four days. Another deployment, another six months of wondering what to do with myself in my free time. I straightened out the navy tea length dress as I knocked on the door. It took a moment before it swung open, revealing Katy’s blonde hair and a large smile gracing her face. “Oh! Liz, we are so glad you could make it! Come in! Come in!” I stepped inside, feeling weird that I didn’t just walk through the door. I went to walk into the living room when Katy slipped past me, holding her arms out. “Ta-da!” 

Oh my god. She changed everything since she moved in. The entertainment center was no longer filled with movies Noah and I loved, and pictures of us and our friends. It had flowers, books and pictures of him and her. The only picture of us still there was in the back and it was from junior year of high school. He had just hit the winning home run for the baseball team and his mom caught a picture of us, mid hug. 

“Had to clean the place up a little, it was very… masculine.” I pursed my lips. It was his house, he was a single guy in the navy so of course it looked like a bachelor pad. I ran my hand along the floral throw blanket that rested on the back of the couch, the same place that his Philadelphia Eagles blanket used to be, the one I bought him. “You like it? I couldn’t bare to look at that ugly green and white blanket anymore.” My heart sunk a little at her words. “I love that blanket, it’s the one we share when we go to games in the winter.” Her nose twitched and I narrowed my eyes at her just slightly. 

“Liz! Thank god! Look I need your help in the kitchen, I’m trying to make mom's creamy tuscan chicken and it’s not coming out right.” I chuckled as he came out of the kitchen, apron on and in a panic. “Alright, you always needed help in the kitchen anyway.” I said before following him. “The consistency isn’t right.” I looked in the pot and saw it was watery. “You just need a little more flour.” He nodded and scooped some out of the bag. “A little at a time. There we go.” He added it little by little until it was perfect. I smiled at him and saw tears in his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He shook his head, leaning back on the island in the kitchen. “It’s just… this is the first deployment that I’ll be gone on the anniversary of mom’s death.” My bottom lip poked out as I saw the tears fall down his face. 

“Oh, Noah.” I pulled him into a hug, one hand resting on the nape of his neck and the other rubbing his back. He sobbed into my shoulder as his arms encircled my waist. “I hate that I won’t be here. I usually sit out there all day and make sure she has fresh flowers-” “I got it.” I said leaning back. “I will make sure she has fresh flowers on her grave and I will sit out there. I haven’t been in a while, it’ll do me some good.” He pulled me back into him and I relished in it, his arms around my waist and his cologne invading my senses. We stayed like that for a moment before we heard someone clear their throat. We looked to see Katy in the doorway, her lips pursed in a thin line and her arms crossed over her chest. 

“I was coming to see if Liz wanted to see how I did our bedroom?” He nodded, wiping his face. “Go, I’ll pour you some wine.” I sighed and nodded, following her upstairs and into their bedroom. His black comforter had been traded out for a gray and white floral, a baby pink blanket laying across the bottom. Her jewelry box had been added to the top of the dresser, as well as another stack of books, all law related. There were plants in a few places around the room. In the corners, on his shelves and even in front of the windows. It was beautiful but not Noah. “Like it?” I nodded. “It’s pretty. Different but pretty.” She nodded, smiling at me. We headed downstairs, and I fell back onto the leather sectional, sinking into it. She sat down, crossing her ankles and giving me a stern look. “It’s not really appropriate to just flop onto someone’s couch.” Noah isn’t just someone. I went to open my mouth and retort when Noah came in. “Babe, what did you do with the riesling in the fridge?” Katy furrowed her brows, turning back to look at him. 

“I took it back to the store and got some cabernet. I don’t drink riesling.” Noah tilted his head back, groaning. “Babe, Liz can’t have red wine. It throws her into a migraine, that’s why I had the riesling. I always keep a bottle on hand for her.” Her eyes widened and she looked at me. “Oh, Liz! I’m so sorry! If I had known I would’ve left it!” Her lip twitched as if she was fighting a grin. “It’s okay Noah, I haven’t had enough water today anyway.” He gave me an apologetic look and nodded before walking back into the kitchen. “Sure you don’t want some red wine? Surely you can fight off a little headache.” I pursed my lips, fighting the urge to snap at her.

“My ‘little headaches’ tend to make me puke and knock me off my feet. So no, I’ll just have water.” I said politely and she giggled. “I’m surprised you wanted water. It looks like you don’t drink it anyway.” My eyebrows shot up and I looked at her. “I’m sorry?” She placed her hand over her heart and feigned surprise. “Oh, I meant no offense. I was just concerned for your health.” I scoffed, looking away from her. “Here you go. Water for my best girl.” Noah said before handing me the glass and kissing my head. “Thanks, Noah.” He smiled at me before he went to walk back into the kitchen, being stopped by Katy who reached up, her arm sneaking around his neck and she pulled him into a kiss. I bit my lip, sipping my water trying to ignore them. He pulled back, chuckling at her. “Later.” He said before walking back into the kitchen.

“Do you love him, Liz?” I furrowed my brows in confusion, looking at her. “Of course, he-” “He’s your best friend, but are you in love with him?” My mouth hung open. I needed to tell her no, but I couldn’t. “Yeah, I figured as much.” She huffed before scooting closer, gently putting her arm around my shoulders. I was so uncomfortable with her that close, I wanted the couch to swallow me into it. “Let me break this to you gently. If he wanted you, he would’ve made you his a long time ago, sweetie.” Tears sprung to my eyes at her words. “You’ve got to let this go. This pining for him is only going to ruin everything.” 

She was right, it was one sided. The unrequited love you hear about in stories, but mine will never be returned. “I can’t have you ruining this, Liz.” I stood, brushing her off me and grabbing my purse. “Okay dinner is-where are you going?” Fuck, I hoped I could rush out without him stopping me. “Home.” I heard a few things clatter on the table and feet rushing. “Woah, hey. What’s this about?” I shook my head as he grabbed my arm, turning me to face him, his other hand gripping my wrist to keep me from turning away. “Nothing I just, there are some important plans that I have to have turned in tomorrow morning that I haven’t finished. If I don’t finish them, I will lose my job.” He furrowed his brows, because he knows good and well I finish everything in the office. I never bring work home. “Liz, come on.” I shook my head and pulled back. “I’ll see you later.” I said before rushing out the door. “What did you say to her?” It was distant, I'm not even sure I heard him right but I just rushed to my car. I got in, once again sobbing as I cranked it and backed out of his driveway, starting the short drive to my house. 

~~~

“What did you say to her?” Noah asked, whipping around to look at Katy. “All I said was that you didn’t love her-” “What the fuck, Katy?!” Her eyes widened in surprise at his words. “So what? Do you love her?” He nodded, tossing his arms out. “Of course! She’s my best friend!” Katy ran her hands through her hair, almost pulling on it in frustration. “Oh my god! She’s in fucking love with you, Noah!” He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Where did you get that from?” She scoffed. “We were sitting here and I asked her.” He quirked a brow at her words. “And what did she say?” 

Katy stilled, realization hitting her. “No-nothing.” He pursed his lips, nodding. “That’s fucking low.” He said before marching upstairs to their now shared bedroom, grabbing his already packed duffle and an extra set of pajamas. “Where are you going?” He grabbed a few last things from the bathroom, shoving them into his bag. “I’m going over to Liz’s.” Katy sputtered over her words, trying to find what to say. “You’re leaving me?” He nodded. “At least for the night.” She followed him down the stairs. “But you leave in four days!” He nodded. “I do. But you decided to sit here and make up some stupid lie out of jealousy. So I’m gonna go and spend my night with Liz. If you want to fix this, you can call me in the morning.” He said before walking out.

~~~

Once I was home I threw my purse to the side and yanked off the combat boots I had on. She was right, he would never return my feelings. I can’t keep going on like this, breaking my own heart. I laid on my couch, sitting with those thoughts. “He’ll never love me like I love him. Who was I kidding?” I asked out loud. After a while of just crying in the dark I fell asleep, dreamlessly hoping that one day he would return my feelings. 

I stood and walked to the door, opening it for him and he engulfed me in a hug. “Oh, thank god. You weren’t answering your phone, I thought something happened to you.” He said and I looked at my phone, 911 still pulled up on my keypad. I looked at my recents and saw sixteen missed calls and nine texts, all with varying levels of concern. “No. No, I’m fine.” I said turning to him. “What are you doing here?” He furrowed his brows. “I’m here for you.” He said coming over and taking my hands. “I’m so sorry for what Katy said. She never should’ve said those things to you.” My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. “Wha-really?” My mouth went dry at his words. I had to be dreaming, there’s no other way this could be happening. 

I awoke with a start when I heard banging on my front door. I looked to the door, questioning if I heard it right. My heart pounded and I rolled into the floor, army crawling to where I threw my purse and digging my phone out of it. I heard it again and I quickly dialed 911. “Lizzy, please. I’m sorry about what she said.” I calmed when I heard Noah’s voice on the other side, letting me know it wasn’t someone here to hurt me.

But his thumbs rubbing over my knuckles told me otherwise. “Of course, Liz. I love you, you’re my best friend. I never expected another girl to understand our relationship but Katy said she’s willing to learn.” He said before pulling me into a hug. No, fuck! He came here to tell me how much I mean to him as a best friend. Tears slipped down my cheeks and onto his shoulder as he held me. “I hate to do this, but Katy and I got into it.” He said before holding up his bag. “Mind if I crash in the guest room?” I thought for a moment. He ships out in four days, I should kick him out and tell him to go back to his house and make her leave. But I wanted to be selfish, I want him to myself at least for tonight before he ships out for six months. “Yeah, of course.” I said, wiping my eyes. “She really hurt you, didn’t she?” I pursed my lips and nodded. It was the truth. “I’ll have a talk with her. You’re too important to me to lose you.” He said, kissing my forehead like always. “Let me get set up in the guest room and then I will order your favorite from the chinese place.” I smiled at him before he walked away. One night, I can be selfish for one night. What harm could it do?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dhwanishah09 @wkndwlff

[ethel6770]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: HOBO Lauren Leather Wallet, cobblestone.

[resydesign]

The 5 Pillars of Modern Furniture Design That Bring Sophistication Home

As our lifestyles become more fast-paced and tech-driven, our home decor follows suit.

Large luxury sectional sofas and other modern furniture prioritize clean lines, neutrals, and functionality.

By harnessing these core principles, you can craft an elegant, inviting space.

Simplicity of Shape

Minimalist forms streamline rooms visually. Tables have straightforward rectangular or oval shapes. Chairs use slender profiles without excessive ornamentation.

This simplicity of structure focuses attention on negative space instead of distracting details. It also makes modern decor easier to integrate with various color schemes and accessories.

My friend Amy recently re-decorated using modern sectionals. The smooth shapes help open up her small living room, while the neutral grays mix effortlessly with pops of color in pillows and drapes.

Subtle, Neutral Palettes

Vibrant, oversaturated hues are out - and subdued neutrals are in. Modern palettes rely on blacks, whites, and natural tones like beige, brown, and gray to cultivate soothing, sophisticated environments.

Popular pairings include:

Creamy whites + charcoal grays

Textured beiges + chocolate browns

Camel tans + ecru off-whites

These muted color combinations keep the focus on shapes and textures. They also contribute to a clean, spacious aesthetic.

Natural Textures and Finishes

The materials of modern furniture take center stage, from polished metals and smooth leather to natural stone and wood grains. Modern textures add organic depth and dimension.

Metallics (brass, silver, bronze) have an elegant luster that accentuates any decor

Leathers and vinyls provide supple, cozy seating and remain easy to clean

Stone surfaces bring the outdoors in through organic veining in marble and quartzite

Wood elements showcase the mesmerizing patterns found in natural tree growth

My brother Sean's new mid-century living set has a beautiful wooden media console. The swirling knots and grains are like a miniature landscape!

Purpose-Driven Features

Today's on-the-go households need furniture that multitasks - sectionals with storage compartments, tables with built-in wireless charging, and so on.

By focusing on function, modern designs cater to modern lifestyles in discreet ways. This also reduces decorative clutter for a more minimalist look.

Clean Lines and Silhouettes

The ultimate trademark of contemporary style is uncluttered lines and edges. Sharp angles mingle with flowing curves and underscore the absence of excessive ornamentation.

From trim, tapered chair legs to the linear profiles of platform beds, modern silhouettes celebrate the sleek and streamlined. This creates an overall look that is both refreshing and space-maximizing.

Bring Modern Sophistication Home

The tranquil colors, intentional emptiness, natural textures, and clean outlines that characterize contemporary decor work together to craft serene, fashion-forward living spaces.

As you re-design your home, leverage these core aspects of modern furniture. Experiment with different shades of beige sectionals or add organic warmth with wood media consoles.

Use the tenets covered here as guides to help shape the soothing, tech-savvy haven of your dreams. The results will welcome both comfort and modern elegance across every square foot!

[subiysu-chan]

Marauder Era Character designs (while they are still in Hogwarts)

Lily Evans:

I think her daily outfit would consist of her Hogwarts robes with plad bell pants underneath (it's so 70s) for additional modesty (much needed with James Potter) not to mention her prefect badge on display. On weekends, she would wear a baby-doll dress from the 60s. She would have this outfit for the summer as well (British summers aren't that warm, so I think it could be okay). For semi-formal occasions, such as a Christmas party or a Slughorn dinner, I think since she won't be overly concerned about being jumped and flipped, something without bifracated garments underneath would do. A very simple casual 70s dress could do the trick, although, because it would be Christmas time she would mostly this garment, no need for anything bifracated underneath, allowing her the freedom of a casual and long dress more flattering to her figure. Because it's Christmas time or dinner party, I think Gryffindor red would be nice. Her shoes would be a bit of simple leather one with a few little ties.

Slightly longer than shoulder-length dark red hair, almond-shaped emrald green eyes, hourglass figure and plenty of freckles. A front strand of her hair would be always braided and decorated with some ribbon or a floral accessory.

As a child, her clothes would be lighter both in color and in cut, but as she gets more assimilated into wizarding culture and grows into a beautiful young lady, darker colors and more covering clothes would match. She'd also have to be more careful with her image, avoiding green or anything that would reflect poorly on muggleborns, so mini-skirts are completely out of the question, same for form-fitting pants unless there is something on top to hide the shape of her hips and thighs.

Petunia Evans:

I think a true, more classical 70s silhouette would be all to her adventage, with a simple knee-long dress with perhaps a floral pattern or a pair of bell pants with some shirt. Petunia is a comformist and a trend chaser, and would artificially curl her hair to achieve the fashionable shape. Her shoes would be simple mary-jane shoes, nothing special. Overall, a very feminine and fashionable look to her.

Alice Longbottom (née Selwyn):

Healthy!Alice is described as round-faced and short-haired. Since she was an Auror at the time of her incapacitation, me thinks she would probably be a finishing student, and later a beginner Auror.

She would mostly wear her Hogwarts uniform with drawers/bloomers underneath, nothing very special, with some practical flying shoes.

On off-days, she would wear flying pants (equipped with some nice corsetry to it doesn't show anything extra as she's bent over her broom), a long-sleeved shirt and a buttoned flying robe (the front section cut to allow easier leg movement and broom gripping) without much padding yet, but it would be plad and a creamy yellow as a base color, with pinkish and brown motifs. I think it could be plad, because it's fun.

Later, it would be a an Auror's uniform she'd wear: a purple flying robe with padding at the shoulders, flying pants and boots (long, with lacing and a bit of a heal to grip the broom).

[onslowstoneworks]

All the Surprising Colors of Quartz and Granite Countertops

If you are designing your new kitchen and think that custom granite or quartz countertops are only available in gray and white, you are in for a surprise. Onslow Stoneworks in Morehead City offers up a huge array of options in colors that you may not have been expecting. These are only a few of the slabs and samples you might find in their gorgeous showroom.

Absolute Black for a Trendy Industrial Finish

Yes, you can go dark and dramatic when you add Absolute Black in granite to your home. Its rich ebony depths feature slight variations in lighter hues that give it life and excitement. Pair it with all-white or polished natural wood cabinetry for an elegant finish.

Blue Pearl Brings the Seaside Inside

Have you ever watched the ocean change colors all through the day? Blue Pearl granite offers up an intriguing base color that always looks a little different based on the time of day and available natural light. Darker streaks of gray and black produce a surface destined for your beachfront home.

Tan Brown Explores the Depths of Rich Rusty Tones

Bring home the luxurious red tones found deep in a forest of pine trees with this unique granite slab. Its rusty base color blends with bold black to create a texture reminiscent of tree bark that takes your rustic farmhouse decor to the next level.

Endless Quartz Countertop Choices with over 400 Available Options

If you don't see exactly what you want in the display of natural stone slabs, walk over to the quartz section and dive into a huge collection of samples.

Bianco Calacatta for Timeless Elegance

Introduce European styling into your kitchen countertops with this marble look-alike featuring a creamy base color with daring veining in deep gray. Nobody will ever know that it isn't natural marble.

Symphony Strikes All the Right Notes

Pair your personal taste for neutral tones with Symphony. Its active textured swirls of off-white, gray, and black are itching to show off your white kitchen.

Bamboo Offers Organic Looks in a Durable Surface

Your guests will want to run their hands over this intriguing quartz surface. Flecks of glass are blended with a sandy base to create a countertop that is both unique and perfectly appropriate for a summer beach home.

Pick a Polish to Highlight Your Choice

Not everyone wants a granite countertop that features a high-gloss finish. When you order your custom countertops, you can opt for a polished, honed, matte, or leathered look.

Visit Onslow Stoneworks to Explore the Best Countertops Found in Morehead City

These are only a few of the hundreds of options available at Onslow Stoneworks on Arendell Street. The best way to find the perfect piece of stone to complete your countertop project is to give them a call today to schedule your personal tour of their available slabs and quartz samples.

Source URL  :-  https://creepersaustralia.com/all-the-surprising-colors-of-quartz-and-granite-countertops/

[mypoisonedvine]

contains adult themes such as sex and sexuality, drug use, violence/assault, and misogyny; other things to be prepared for include complete irrelevance to the canon of stranger things, 17-year-old jason is trying to bang 15-year-old elle which makes me wanna peel my face off (but it's accurate to the film), reader is adopted and has some issues with her bio parents, mileven and lumax with background robin/vickie, and dad!hopper being MVP as per usual

note: significant sections of dialogue were lifted directly from the film, because why mess with perfection? I still took liberties with it, but for some of those really iconic scenes, please know that I'm not the reason those lines are so hilarious. credit for the scenes I transcribed go to Karen McCullah & Kirsten Smith, the screenwriters of 10 Things I Hate About You, who of course themselves based the work on The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare.

length: 20k words

for @get-your-fics midsummer night's writing challenge!! thank you for hosting rosie!

As his hand slid up her creamy white thighs, she could feel his huge member pulsating with desire…

Mike was looking down at his hands, interlaced in his lap, until Ms. Kelley shut her laptop.  She smiled at him politely, and he smiled back.  “So!” she began, checking his file again.  “Michael—”

“Just Mike,” he nodded.

“Right.  Well, we’re glad to have you at Hawkins High— it shouldn’t be too different from your last high school!  You were well-behaved your freshman year, correct?”

“Uh, mostly… one or two tardies, that’s it,” he assured.

“Great!  That means if you see me again, something’s gone horribly wrong.”

“Huh?”

“This is where kids with behavior problems get sent.  Deviants, misfits, sluts, weirdos, creeps— they all have to come in and chat with me to get their shit straightened out.”

“Their what?” Mike repeated.  “Are you— am I in the right office?”

“Not anymore, my novel isn’t gonna finish itself,” she announced.  “So scoot.”

He didn’t, at first, too stunned.

“Scoot!”

He jumped up, trying to process what conversation just occurred, only to bump into someone as he backed out of the doorway.  “Watch it!” a firm voice warned him, and he spun to look up in ill-suppressed terror at the guy he’d just collided with.

Mike was too intimidated to even choke out an apology; it’s hard to say where to start with what scared him most.  Maybe the chains, maybe the leather jacket and denim vest, maybe the glare?  Yeah, it was definitely the glare— that was what made Mike cower and dart away before it could get any worse.

“Ah, Mister Munson!” Ms. Kelley greeted with faux sweetness.  “I see we're making our visits a weekly ritual.”

As her smile fell, Eddie’s grew.  “Only so we can have these moments together,” he cooed, taking another step inside.  “Should I hit the lights?”

“Oh, very clever, trailer park boy,” she offered flatly as she examined the incident report already in his file.  “Apparently you exposed yourself in the cafeteria?”

“I was just joking around with my bandmates,” he promised.  “It was a bratwurst.”

“Bratwurst,” she repeated, raising an eyebrow and glancing down— ostensibly at his handcuff belt buckle.  “Aren’t we the optimist?”

A hint of Eddie’s resolve faded as she tilted her head and smiled at him cheerily again.

“Next time, keep your dangler in your Wranglers, mkay?” she suggested, chipper yet hollow.

Eddie shook his head as he left, leaving Ms. Kelley to return to her desk and re-open her computer.  Examining her screen, she erased one word and replaced it.

…she could feel his huge bratwurst pulsating with desire…

~

“Hey!  Mike, right?” 

Mike turned, seeing another sophomore standing in front of him with a high top on his head and hightops on his feet.  “Yeah!” Mike answered.

“I’m Lucas,” the other student offered with an extended hand for a shake.

Mike sighed with relief as he returned the handshake energetically, noticing Lucas’ basketball uniform.  “You know, normally they send down one of those audio/video geeks.”

Lucas nodded; “Yeah, I know— I know what you mean.”

Right on cue, Dustin Henderson rolled by with the A/V cart.  “Hey, Lucas,” Dustin nodded, “where should I put the radio equipment?”

Lucas coughed and brushed Dustin away.  “Lucas?” he shook his head, pretending he had no idea who that could be, as he ditched a bewildered Dustin and guided Mike along down the hall.

As they walked past a crowd of popular seniors, Lucas motioned towards them.

“So, over here, you’ve got your basic beautiful people,” he explained, “unless they talk to you first, don’t talk to them.”

“Is that your rule or theirs?”

“Watch,” Lucas offered, nodding in their direction.  “Hey there,” he greeted.

“Who are you talking to?” Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington asked with a sneer.

“See?” Lucas smiled at Mike, who shook his head as they moved along.  “Anyways, you’ve got your Diet Coke drinkers,” he explained as he motioned toward a crowd of students all holding red cans.  “Very edgy, don’t make any sudden movements around them.”

Mike nodded in understanding, trying to keep up— literally, since Lucas kept walking quickly, but also in terms of the explanation of Hawkins High’s social dynamics.

“You’ve got your basic stoners—”

A senior with long black hair and bloodshot eyes caught Mike’s attention.  “Hey, nice threads, man,” the stoner complimented with a smile, “Ocean Pacific?”

“And your surfers—”

Mike gawked at the muscular, tan guy with a blonde mullet and, for some reason, no shirt on.  “Does he walk around like that at school?” he wondered aloud, but Lucas didn’t notice.

“— even though the closest they’ve been to the ocean is when they drink Ocean Spray cranberry juice.”

As Lucas laughed at his own joke, they walked through the courtyard.  

“And this is our fearless Hawkins High basketball team!” Lucas explained, setting his hands on one of the player’s shoulders as they passed their lunch table.  “Go Tigers, huh?”

The players scowled at him as Lucas’ hand was shrugged off; he crossed his arms.

“Yesterday I was their up-and-coming star,” Lucas recalled with a roll of his eyes.

“What happened?” Mike asked.

“Patrick McKinney started a rumor that my Converse were fake,” Lucas explained with a sigh.  

“So they’re freezing you out?” Mike realized, offended on his behalf and concerned that everyone here was that superficial.

“I’ll get back in, don’t worry,” Lucas assured, but Mike wasn’t really worried about him so much as himself.

It was right then that Elle Hopper walked by, carrying with her the essence of youthful beauty and ingenue-ity.  Her busy patterned jumpsuit was every bit as colorful as her spirit; she laughed lightly with the redhead at her side, a few words of a conversation about a trip to the mall floating through the air.  

As time seemed to slow just for her, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, sending a wave of the scent of candy-sweet perfume right in Mike’s direction.

“Oh— wow,” Mike sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him.  “Who’s she?”

“She’s out of your league is who she is,” Lucas warned.

“And?”

“And she’s got this super scary dad— won’t let her or her sister date.  Ever,” Lucas announced firmly.

“How bad could he be, is he a hardened criminal or something?”

“Worse,” Lucas shook his head, “he’s the sheriff.”

“That’s worse?” Mike frowned.

“A criminal will just kill you.  The sheriff will actually get away with it.”

~

“So,” Ms. O’Donnell began, “what did everyone think of The Sun Also Rises?”

Bethany Walters raised her hand instantly, and you rolled your eyes— because of course she would.  “I loved it,” she cooed when she was called on.  “I was soooo romantic!”

You grimaced, unable to stop yourself from commenting (a habit of yours).  “Romantic?  Hemingway?!  Please— he was an abusive alcoholic misogynist—”

The rest of the class was already groaning and rolling their eyes, a few mutters of not this again here and there, but you kept going.

“— who squandered half his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers.”

Yes, it was just like you to say something like that when Bethany was just trying to express a perfectly harmless opinion, but it was just like Jason to take it further.  “As opposed to an unlikeable, self-righteous loser with no friends?” he quipped.

You weren’t planning on saying anything, but thankfully Ms. O’Donnell stood up for you anyway.  “Quiet, Jason,” she scolded lightly— she was never that hard on him, because he was the star of the basketball team, but she also didn’t let him bully you that openly in class.

“I guess in this society, being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time,” you concluded, shooting Jason a look over your shoulder, who simply smirked back at you.

And if it was just like you to say something snarky and politically-charged, and just like Jason to use it to insult you, then it was just like Eddie to show up late as if it were no trouble at all.  “What did I miss?” he asked with a smile as he burst in.

You answered instantly, without looking back: “The oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education.”

“Great,” Eddie nodded, spinning on his heel and walking right back out again.

“W-wait!” Ms. O’Donnell called out, but Jason spoke again and took her attention away.

“How about we make a new rule— don’t come to class if you can’t handle your PMS,” he suggested jokingly.

“Jason!” she snapped.  “Watch your attitude.”

You smirked to yourself smugly, but that moment of righteous indignation didn’t last long.  

“And you,” she added, turning her attention to you, “go to the office.”

“What?  Why?!” you protested.

“Because— because you’re being disruptive!” she decided.

Sighing, you got up from your seat and slung your backpack over your shoulder.  As Jason snickered at you gleefully, you ‘accidentally’ let your textbook swing into his face, smacking that shit-eating look right off of him.

It was only a minute-or-so walk to the office, where you heard Ms. Kelley calling out to her assistant as you walked in. 

“What’s another word for engorged?” she asked her, stumping the receptionist.

“Tumescent?” you offered.

“Great!” she smiled, typing at her laptop; you had some inkling what she was using that word for, though you wish you were blissfully ignorant to her erotic exploits.  “So, were you terrorizing Ms. O’Donnell’s class again?”

You frowned.  “Terrorism is a pretty strong word for simply expressing my opinion.”

“How about the way you expressed your opinion to Billy Hargrove?  By the way, his testicle retrieval operation went quite well, if you were wondering.”

“In my defense,” you smirked, “I didn’t know he actually had balls when I kicked him.”

“The point is,” he sighed, less amused, “you tend to make a bad impression on others, and that’s not actually something to be proud of.  People see you as—”

“Opinionated?”

“The term used most often is ‘heinous bitch’,” she corrected.

The words themselves didn’t bother you too much— yes, they were sexist, but that was nothing new here— but the knowledge that people were actually saying this to Ms. Kelley gave you pause.  Were you really so traumatizing that they had to discuss you with the counselor?

“So, you might want to work on that,” she offered.  “Bye!”

You scoffed.  “As always,” you began as you stood, “thank you for your excellent guidance.  I’ll let you get back to writing about aching cores and quivering members.”

As you turned, quietly proud of yourself for standing up to her, you heard her ponder to herself, “huh… quivering member, I like that…”

~

In the parking lot, you and Robin were walking side-by-side to your car (since she’d gotten a ride from you today, and also every other day for the past year and a half) when you were nearly run over by Jason screeching up to the curb in his car; it was just like him: shiny and new, overvalued, a fabulous body with subpar machinery under the hood.

“Hey,” he nodded at you, flashing that taunting grin, “didn’t anyone ever tell you that you dress like a bog witch?”

“Aw, do you really mean that?” you beamed excitedly, and he frowned at his failed insult as he pulled his car up a little further.  If only he would’ve kept driving straight forward forever— he would’ve gone over the edge of the quarry eventually; but instead, he stopped… in front of your sister.

“Hi, ladies,” he greeted suavely, “care for a ride?”

You and Robin watched from beside your car— it was just like you, too: classic, older on the inside than it was on the outside, and debatably in need of a polish— in horror as Elle and Max hopped into the back of Jason’s convertible with all the girlish glee of two ingenues in over their head.

“Well, that’s a… charming new development,” Robin frowned.

“It’s disgusting,” you spat, hopping into the driver’s seat and turning the engine over.  As you pulled out of your spot, you nearly slammed into one of those varsity basketball dweebs speeding by on his bike.  “Hey!” you shouted at him, leaning out your window.  “Didn’t your mommy tell you to look both ways before riding that thing in the street?”

The kid cowered and biked away, and you shook your head as you pulled it back into the car.  

“I swear, these kids are getting dumber every year,” you sighed.  “I think there’s a little too much chlorine in the Hawkins gene pool.”

As Lucas pulled over by the curb by Mike, the new student stared at you and Robin driving away in the beat-up vintage.  “Are you okay?  She almost hit you,” Mike noticed.

“Oh, that’s nothing with your beloved’s older sister,” Lucas scoffed.  “I’m lucky I still have all my parts.”

“Wait, that’s Elle’s sister?!” Mike realized.

“Uh huh, in the legal sense,” Lucas agreed.  “Sheriff Hopper adopted them both when they were little— I assume he found his first daughter abandoned by a tribe of rampaging bitches or something.”

That was just one of many theories about how exactly your dad came to adopt you and your sister, though the real story was much less interesting; speaking of him, he usually got home from the station after you returned from school, with him working later in the afternoons and all.  When he returned home that particular day, he found you reading Jane Eyre on the sofa, and he smiled at you.  

“Hello, honey,” he greeted.  “Make anyone cry today?”

“Not yet,” you returned, “but it’s only four-thirty!”

He hummed and leaned in to kiss you on the forehead as you turned your page.  Right about then, Elle walked through the door— and you knew that she thought she would’ve just made it in time to beat Dad home by the cringe that crossed her face when she saw him.  “Hi Daddy!” she beamed, trying to play it cool.

“And where have you been?” you asked, getting a grimace from her for your shameless sell-out.

“Nowhere,” she dodged.

But Dad missed the exchange entirely, still going through the mail.  “What’s this?” he asked when he saw a massive white envelope.  “It says Sarah Lawrence?”

You hopped up off the couch at lightning speed, snatching the letter away and shredding it open like a kid on Christmas— but not you, some other generic kid, because even when you were little you liked to open presents carefully (it helped you temper your expectations).  “Oh my god!” you shrieked when you saw a massive congratulations.  “I got in!  I got in!!”

“Honey, that’s great,” your dad offered, “you can use that to negotiate better scholarships at Indiana State!”

You frowned.  “I know you want me to stay here—”

“We decided that you would stay here,” he countered.

“You decided.”

“So, what, you’re just gonna leave?” he realized with a saddened frown.

“We can dream,” Elle mumbled to herself— but not quite enough to herself, because you caught it and you raised your eyebrows in challenge.

“Why don’t you ask Elle who drove her home?”

“Don’t change the…” Dad trailed off, turning to Elle as he took the bait completely.  “Who drove you home?”

“N-now, don’t get upset, Daddy,” she pouted, “but… there’s this boy—”

“Who’s about as sharp as a marble,” you interjected.

“And I think he might ask me—” Elle continued, but this time your dad interrupted her.

“I think I know what he’s going to ask you.  And I think I know the answer: No!” he announced proudly.  “It’s always no!  You know the house rules: one, no dating until you graduate.  Two, no dating until you graduate!  Pretty simple stuff!”

“Daddyyyy,” Elle whined, making you roll your eyes at her.  “It’s so unfair!”

“You know what’s unfair?” he returned, looking at you too.  “Last week I had to drive a girl to the hospital, she went into labor alone in her car on the side of the road— and she’s fifteen.  You know what she said to me in between bouts of screaming in my backseat?”

“I’m a crackwhore who should have made my sleazy boyfriend wear a condom?” Elle assumed.

“No,” Dad frowned, “she said I should have listened to my father.”

“Oh, she did not,” Elle scoffed disbelievingly.

“Okay, no, she didn’t— but she was probably thinking it!” he insisted.

“Can we focus on me for a second please?” Elle pouted.  Like everything isn’t already focused on you, you thought to yourself.  “I’m the only girl in school who’s not dating.”

“No you’re not— your sister doesn’t date,” your dad reminded her.

You chimed in quickly: “And I don’t intend to.”

“And, why is that again?” he asked you with a pleased smile.

“Have you seen the unwashed champions of idiocracy that go to that school?!” you replied.

“God, where did you come from?  Planet Loser?” Elle spat.

“As opposed to Planet ‘Look at me! Look at me!’” you offered in your best passé, vapid voice with your eyes rolled back halfway.

“Okay, here’s a solution,” Dad decided suddenly, making you both perk up.  “Old rule’s stricken, new rule: Elle, you can date—”

She lit up immediately.

“When she does,” he finished, pointing at you.

“B-but, she’s a total freak!  What if she never dates?!” Elle whimpered.

“Then you’ll never date!  Oh, I like that,” he announced proudly.  “And I’ll get to sleep at night— the deep slumber of a father whose daughters aren’t out being impregnated.”

His police radio went off and he sighed.  

“I don’t have time for this right now,” he decided, directing his attention at you specifically for a moment: “We’ll talk about college later.”

Elle tried to get him to stay with a whine, but he was gone, and she was pissed at you once more.  “Can’t you find some loser sad enough to wanna go out with you so I can be normal?” she pouted.

“Sorry,” you shrugged, “guess you’ll miss out on some fabulously witty banter with Jason.”

“You suck!” she exclaimed as she stormed off.

“You suck!” you imitated her quietly before you went to your own room.

~

Mike’s patient, anxious waiting paid off when Elle sat down at the library table, setting down her books with a sigh.  

“Can we make this quick?” she asked, sounding a little exhausted already.  “Tammy Thompson and Tommy Hagan are having a horrendous, public break-up in the courtyard.  Again.”

“O-oh, yeah, okay,” Mike agreed, still a little stunned that he was sitting across from the object of his affection.  “I thought we’d start with pronunciation…”

“That’s the worst part,” Elle pouted, “I feel like I’m trying to cough up a loogie.”

“Well, then how about we start with cuisine?” he suggested, heart racing even though he’d practiced this a thousand times in the mirror at home.  “We could go to that French place on the square, maybe Saturday night?”

“You’re asking me out?” Elle realized, gentle shock lifting into a wide smile.  “That’s so cute!”

Mike’s eye twitched.

“What’s your name again?”

“Uh, it’s Mike,” he answered, “listen— I know your dad doesn’t let you date, but I thought if it was for French class—”

“Wait a minute, Mark,” she interrupted.

“Mike.”

“My dad just came up with a new rule!  He says I can date if my sister does,” she recalled.

“Really?” Mike perked up.  “Well, then let me ask you, do you like D&D?  ‘Cause we should totally do a oneshot together—”

“Uh, big problem, Mick,” Elle reminded him, “my sister is a perfect specimen of freakazoid.”

“Yeah, I noticed she’s… antisocial,” Mike offered sympathetically.  “Any idea why?”

“I don’t know,” Elle considered, glancing upward as she thought about it.  “She used to be, like, really popular, but it was like she got sick of it.  I’m pretty sure she’s just incapable of human interaction.  That or she has a brain tumor or something.  Either way, she’s a bitch.”

“Well, yeah,” Mike agreed half-heartedly, “but there’s plenty of guys who wouldn’t mind going out with a… difficult girl.  I mean, she’s not ugly; and people do crazier stuff all the time!  Jump out of airplanes, ski off cliffs, swim with sharks… it would be like extreme dating.”

Elle knitted her eyebrows together.  “You think you could find someone that extreme?”

“Why not?” Mike shrugged.

“And you’d do all that for me?” she pressed softly, reaching out to brush her hand over his arm.

Mike would do anything for her to touch his arm like that again.  “I-I mean, I could look into it…” he offered as his brain short-circuited.

And so he was determined. Which was why he and Lucas weren't actually paying any attention in science class that same day.

As they pretended to make progress on their frog dissection, Mike and his new friend were really scoping the room for local talent to potentially date Hawkins’ resident mega-bitch.  Their search so far had only turned up men like themselves: that being men afraid to get the Hargrove treatment and have their future generations compromised.  Turns out guys are generally pretty protective of their nuts.

“I told you it was impossible,” Lucas sighed, “no one will go out with her.”

Mike’s attention was taken by the partners two tables over— a massive, freckled kid with a leather jacket, and his buddy with a mess of rocker hair and a custom denim jacket; the latter was fooling around with butterfly knives, before using them to impale the frog carcass, because apparently the little pins provided just weren’t doing it for him.

“Hey, what about him?” Mike wondered, watching with a tilted head.    

“Woah, no, you don’t want to mess with that guy,” Lucas shook his head, “don’t even look at him.  He’s a criminal, he deals the harder stuff around school— you know, more than just pot.  I heard he lit a state trooper on fire.  He just did a year at Rikers.”

“Hey, well at least we know he’s horny,” Mike shrugged.

“I’m serious, he’s unhinged!” Lucas warned.  “He sold his own liver on the black market for a new set of speakers.”

Meanwhile, the metalhead had taken out a cigarette and was leaning down to light it on a Bunsen burner.  The display should’ve deterred anyone, but it made Mike smile optimistically.  “He’s our guy,” he insisted.

~

The basketball team was joking around at lunch as Chance shared an X-rated story from his date the night before, and Lucas took a deep breath as he waited for the perfect moment.

When all the guys laughed at something Chance had said, Lucas quickly slipped in and tried to blend in as he laughed along.

“Oh my— oh my god,” he got out breathlessly as he laughed, “wow, Chance, you’re hilarious.”

He wiped his eye, still laughing as the rest of the table’s reaction died down and they all glared at him.

“Are you lost?” Jason asked coldly.

Lucas sighed.  “No, I just… I thought maybe it was all water under the bridge by now.”

“It’s been less than forty-eight hours,” Andy noticed.

“Wow, nice counting, Andy— tomorrow we’ll work on shapes,” Lucas encouraged flatly.

Andy nearly jumped across the table, but Jason put a hand on his chest to hold him back.  

“Actually, truth is, I came here to… make a suggestion,” Lucas added, making Jason’s eyebrows raise.

“Go on…”

“You want Elle Hopper, right?  The sophomore?” Lucas continued.

“Yeah,” Jason shrugged, “she’s cute.”

“But she can’t date until her sister does,” Lucas went on.  “Your problem could be solved if you found someone to take her out.”

Jason laughed.  “Does anyone hate themselves that much?”

“Probably not, but people do like money…”

As Lucas bounced his eyebrows up and down, Jason seemed to put together what he was implying.  “You want me to pay someone off to date her?”

“I mean, I don’t want you to, but it’s an idea,” Lucas corrected.

“Do you know anyone that desperate for cash and unfazed by the prospect of emasculation?” Jason returned.

“Meet Eddie Munson,” Lucas beamed, motioning to the opposite end of the cafeteria where Eddie was ‘subtly’ trading a bag of pills for a twenty-dollar bill with another student.

“Munson?  The Freak?  I heard he ate a live duck once,” Jason grimaced.

“Everything but the beak and feet!  Clearly he’s a great investment,” Lucas beamed, but Jason remained suspicious.

“What’s in this for you?” he wondered.

“I think you know,” Lucas sighed, “I want back in— I know I’m still on the team, but I wanna be really on the team again.  I miss you guys!”

“You miss your chance to be popular,” Jason corrected.

“Also that!” Lucas agreed in a continued upbeat tone.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” Jason agreed cautiously.  “Now, back to the loser table with you.”

As Jason shooed him away, Lucas moved across the way to the table where Mike was watching it all go down disapprovingly.  “Why do we need to get him involved again?” he wondered with a shudder.

“Calm down, he’s just our money man,” Lucas soothed.  “We let him think this is all his idea, meanwhile he’s busy dealing with Eddie and you have time with Elle.”

Mike sighed, concerned, but knowing he was out of other options.  Still, in a battle for ‘the girl’, he didn’t feel equipped to face a popular, handsome senior.

But when Eddie looked at Jason, he didn’t see a popular, handsome senior; none of that mattered to him.  He just saw: douche with a quaff.  So, while he was out taking a smoke break on the stands by the soccer field, he was surprised to see that very quaffed douche approaching him.

“Hey,” Jason offered Eddie with a nod— that very nod that made girls want him and guys want to be him, but it was powerless on Eddie, who just glared back at him while exhaling a cloud of smoke.  “How are you?”

Eddie blinked forward, barely aware of the Tiger-pride-green blur beside him.

Jason stammered as he tried again to break the ice.  “I, uh, had some great duck last night—”

“Do I know you?” Eddie wondered.  “Shit, are you buyin’?”  He didn’t seem the type, but hey— as long as he had cash, he was Eddie’s type, customer-wise.

“Uh, no,” Jason shook his head nervously.  “Well, actually, yes— but—”

“I don’t sell roofies, Romeo,” Eddie warned him.

“I’m not buying drugs!” Jason barked, a little too loud for something that’s supposed to be secret.  “I’m buying a date.”

Eddie’s eyes widened.  “Listen, Carver, you’re a good-looking guy, but—”

“No no!” Jason rushed out, face turning pink.  “Not for me!  For her!”

Jason pointed down the field to where you were running drills, sweating and determined, grunting as you kicked the ball across the grass.  “The Hopper chick?” Eddie noticed.

“Yeah!”

Eddie laughed sharply, and so did his friend beside him.  “Yeah, sure thing, champ— I’ll get right on that,” Eddie agreed sarcastically.

“Look, until someone goes out with her, I can’t bag her sister,” Jason explained with a sigh.

“What a shame,” Eddie stuck out his bottom lip, “how many years of therapy will you need to cope with this trauma?”

“I know you don’t care about me,” Jason crossed his arms, “but I’m thinking you care a bit about Andrew Jackson?”

“That racist son of a bitch?  He was a piece of—” Eddie began, but then Jason pulled the twenty out of his pocket and brandished it proudly, making Munson shut his mouth.

“Whaddaya say?” Jason prompted.  “For a crisp twenty, you could take out the lovely Miss Hopper—”

As they glanced down the field, the guys winced at the sight of you roughly body-checking another player, who fell to the ground with a cry.

“For a crisp thirty—” Jason began again, summoning a ten from his pocket.

“Well, now, let’s think about this,” Eddie pondered aloud.  “You’re paying me to take her out, but I’ve gotta actually take her somewhere: we’ll say the movies.  That’s fifteen bucks for two tickets.  We get popcorn, that’s… fifty.”

Jason scoffed.  He knew there was more than a little inflation going on in those numbers, but he also knew that the freak had him under his thumb in these negotiations.

“She’s gonna want Junior Mints, what do you know, we’re looking at seventy-five already,” Eddie smirked.

“What kind of gold-plated Junior Mints are you buying?” Jason rolled his eyes.

“What kind of girl is this chick’s little sister?” Eddie countered.  “Is she really worth it, or are you just blowing hot air?”

Jason was powerless to even such an obvious trap— he could never say no to a dare.  Eddie was really saying, are you chicken?  And Jason could probably be talked into fighting a bear while only armed with a butter knife if it was all to prove he was not, in fact, chicken.  “Fifty,” Jason spat, “final offer.”

A bill was produced from Carver’s designer wallet, and Eddie’s ring-covered fingers snatched it away and stuffed it into his pocket.  “Pleasure doing business with you,” Eddie offered with a sarcastically-saccharine smile, but Jason only rolled his eyes and wandered off.

Just then, Coach Hastings blew the whistle.  “Good hustle, girls, good hustle!” he offered to the team.  “Take a water break!”

Seeing the group of players disperse, Eddie waited until you were on your way to the cooler to snuff his cigarette and jog up beside you.  You shot him a look before he even said anything.  “Hey there, girlie,” Eddie greeted you, “how ya doin’?”

“Uh, sweating like a pig,” you answered, wiping your face on your uniform, “and yourself?”

“You sure know how to get a guy’s attention, huh?” he laughed nervously.

You seemed amused, but in more of an at way than a with way.  "My mission in life," you quipped.  "But, hey, clearly I captured your attention.  Lucky me."

He grinned as he watched you chug your water.  "So I'll pick you up Friday then?"

You choked, laughing as you nearly spit the water right onto him.  "Yeah," you agreed sarcastically as you wiped your chin, "sure, Friday."

"I'll take you places you've never been before," he promised lasciviously.

"Like where, the crackhouse on Miller Street?" you rolled your eyes.  "Do you even know my name, screwboy?"

"I know more than you think," he challenged.

"Well, for that to be true," you returned, "you'd have to know more than the average eighth-grade dropout."

You turned to leave, walking away with a shake of your head.  "Well that's easy!" he laughed as he called after you.  "I did eighth grade twice!"

From across the field, Mike and Lucas watched you ditch Eddie with cringes on their face.

"We're screwed," Mike sighed.

"Now wait a minute, where'd all your optimism go?  I wanna hear you upbeat!" Lucas beamed.

"We're screwed!" Mike repeated, a forced, cheesy smile glued to his face between two thumbs-up.

"That's better," Lucas approved, patting Mike on the back.

~

As you exited the local records store, empty handed due to the continued lack of good punk records available, you sighed at the sight of Eddie Munson leaning against your hood.

"Nice ride," he noticed.  "Vintage fenders?"

"Are you stalking me?" you asked instead, brushing past him to try to unlock your door, but he slid in front of you with crossed arms.

"I was in the laundromat," he assured, tilting his head to the washateria across the street, "I saw your car, that's all."

"Funny, you don't strike me as someone who washes their clothes," you mocked.

"Well, if you must know, I was there to make a sale," Eddie admitted.

"And what are you here for, blocking my door?" you wondered.

"To say hi!"

"Hi."

You tried to reach around him again to get the key in the lock but he put his hand over it.  "Not much of a talker, are you?"

"Not much of a listener, are you?  I'm not interested."

"Are you scared of me?" he asked— not a threat, not hopeful or disappointed, just a genuine question.

"Why would I be?"

"I dunno, most people are."

"Well, I'm not."

"Okay, you're not scared of me— but I bet you've thought about me naked," he purred, leaning in a little closer.

"Am I that transparent?" you gasped, faux worry dropping into deadpan disdain.  "I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby."

Just when he let you get into your car, finally, Jason Carver and his dick-compensation-mobile pulled up and screeched to a halt right behind you, blocking you in.

"The fuck?!  Is there some kind of creep convention going on at the record store?" you groaned, laying on your horn.  "Carver!" you barked as he hopped out and strolled by you.  "Move your gaudy-ass car!"

"No, thanks," he smiled at you as he walked along towards the storefront.

You felt helpless, until you got a dangerous idea— and fed up as you were, you couldn't resist it.  Flooring it in reverse, those vintage fenders of yours piercing right through the cherry-red paint and imported metal underneath.

Jason sure whipped his head around fast and gaped his mouth at the damage.  "You bitch!" he screeched.

Hearing Eddie's belly laugh, you looked at Jason and offered him only a flippant shrug and a "whoops!"

"WHOOPS?!" your dad repeated, pacing around the kitchen as you sat at the table.  "My insurance doesn't cover teen angst!"

You shrugged again.  "Then tell them it was a seizure or something."

"Are you punishing me?" he wondered.  "Because I don't want you to go to Sarah Lawrence?"

"Are you punishing me for standing up for myself?" you countered.

“No, but I’d prefer you didn’t do it in such an expensive way!”

You scoffed.  “I’d prefer that you stopped making my decisions for me.”

“Well—” he began, but he was cut off by his police radio sounding off.  

“Chief Hopper, come in— Chief Hopper, this is dispatch, we have a 10-54…” the nasal feminine voice came through.

You both sighed and he picked up the radio.  “Chief here, I’ll head there now.”  He turned to you with a pointed finger.  “We’ll discuss this later,” he promised, or threatened, depends on how you look at it.  As he left, Elle stormed in, fuming at you.

“Did you just maim Jason’s car?!” she yelped.

"Allegedly," you grinned.  "Looks like little miss princess is gonna have to ride the bus with the unwashed masses.”

~

As Eddie shut his locker, he was startled by Jason glowering on the other side.  “Shit,” Eddie blurted out.

“When I shell out fifty, I expect results,” Jason frowned.

“I’m working on it,” Eddie insisted, brushing Jason off as he grabbed his books and shut his locker.

“Standing by while she violated my car doesn’t count as a date,” Jason reminded him.  “I don’t get any if you don’t, so you better figure out how to charm this chick or—”

“I just upped my price,” Eddie decided suddenly.

Jason had just turned to walk away, but that made him look at Eddie again.  “Excuse me?”

“A hundred bucks a date, in advance,” Eddie announced.

“Forget it,” Jason dismissed.

“Then forget her sister,” Eddie shrugged.

Jason hesitated, wondering if Elle was really worth all the trouble.  Maybe she wasn’t, to him— but the street cred he’d get if he deflowered her was.  He groaned as he reached for his wallet, and Eddie grinned proudly.  “You’d better be as smooth as you think you are, Munson,” Jason warned as Eddie snatched up the bill.

The interaction still had Eddie in a particularly bad mood during shop class, making Mike even more hesitant to approach him;

“Wh-why can’t you talk to him?” he asked Lucas.

“I talked to Jason,” Lucas replied.

“Yeah, but you know Jason,” Mike reminded him, “and Jason isn’t… unstable.”

“Just go, chicken,” Lucas rolled his eyes, shoving Mike forward— and he stumbled, but made his way over to Eddie’s workstation.  

When he got a glare from under a curly fringe, Mike just blurted it out: “We know what you’re trying to do… with Hopper?”

“Yeah?  And what are you gonna do about it?” Eddie challenged.

“Uh— help you!  We wanna help you,” Mike explained quickly.

Eddie wrinkled his eyebrows together, standing up straighter and crossing his arms.  “Why, exactly?”

Lucas appeared behind Mike, resting his hands on his shoulders.  “You see, my friend here is… mildly obsessed with her sister, Elle.”

“What’s the deal with this girl, her tits shoot fireworks or something?” Eddie scoffed, and Mike nearly jumped on him for saying that— as if that fight wouldn’t be pitifully uneven.

“Mike’s love for her is… a little purer than that,” Lucas promised, “especially purer than Jason Carver’s.”

“Look,” Eddie leveled with the two of them, “I’m in this for the cash.  Carver can plow whoever he wants.”

“Okay, there will be no plowing!” Mike exclaimed, voice cracking.

“Listen, Eddie— uh, Ed,” Lucas smiled, “this whole thing— we set it all up!  We told Jason to pay you off, so Mike can get the girl.  Mr. Popular is just a pawn.”

Eddie seemed to like that; maybe even someone as detached from the popularity hierarchy could still enjoy a little humiliation for the star point guard.  “So, are you gonna help me tame the beast, then?” 

“Are you talking about Hopper, or your hair?” Lucas joked, though he dropped his smile when Eddie glared at him.  “O-okay, yeah, we’re gonna do some research, we can find out what she likes and stuff.  We’re your guys.”

“In a strictly non-prison-movie way,” Mike added anxiously.

~

Mike and Elle were walking around the old bridge— she promised to show him the prettiest place in Hawkins, he thought about turning it into a line but he resisted the urge, and he delicately broke the pleasant silence.  “So, have you heard about the party Steve Harrington is throwing at his parents’ lake house?”

“Yes,” Elle pouted, “and I really really wanna go, but I can’t.  Not unless my sister goes.”

“I’m working on that,” Mike promised, “but she’s not going for my guy.”  He paused before he continued, narrowing his eyes.  “She’s not a, uh…”

"A friend of Billie Jean?” Elle finished.

“No, I’m not asking if she’s a Michael Jackson fan,” Mike corrected, “I meant—”

“I know what you meant!” Elle rolled her eyes.  “Billie Jean King?  Tennis player, women’s rights advocate, giant flaming lesbian?”

“O-oh,” Mike stuttered, “I don’t really watch tennis…”

“Or the news, apparently,” Elle sighed.  “The point is, no, I don't think so.  I found a picture of Rob Lowe in her drawer once so she's at least got some interest in men.  Jury's still out on her bestie Robin Buckley, though…"

"But that's the kind of guys she likes?  Pretty guys?"

Elle shrugged.  "All I know is she said she'd never date a smoker."

“Okay, no smoking,” Mike nodded, “what else?”

“Listen, I try not to get too deep into my sister’s twisted psyche,” Elle sighed.

“But we need to know more!” Mike insisted.  “We need to go behind enemy lines…”

Even though it was his idea, Mike felt a little out of his depth watching Elle go through your room; it looked sort of how he imagined it might, except for missing a giant cork board with pins and red yarn outlining your plan to cause men as much suffering as possible.

“Okay, here we go!” Elle announced excitedly as she rifled through a drawer.  “Class schedule, reading list, concert tickets… ha!  Black panties!”

Mike cleared his throat as she held up the offending pair of lacy underthings.  “What does that tell us?”

“That she wants to have sex some day.”

“Couldn’t she just like the color?” Mike wondered, flustered.

“You don’t buy lingerie unless you want someone to see it,” Elle insisted.

“Oh,” Mike nodded, perking up slightly.  “So… can I see your room?”

Elle blinked quickly, getting a bit tender all of a sudden.  “No… a girl’s room is very personal…” she explained shyly.

“Right,” Mike agreed nervously.

~

Two sophomores didn’t exactly blend in at The Hideout— it was a dingy old hole-in-the-wall, with grimey old bikers getting drunk in every corner… and Eddie, shooting pool by himself in the back.  He straightened up when they approached him, nursing his beer with a raised eyebrow.

“We have information for you,” Mike explained.

“Don’t say it like that, it sounds weird,” Eddie frowned, “she’s just a girl, not a… spy or something.”

“Right,” Lucas agreed as Eddie took another sip from the brown bottle.

Mike narrowed his eyes.  “Should you be drinking alcohol when you don’t have a liver?”

“What?!” Eddie scrunched up his nose.

“Nothing,” Lucas shook his head.

“The first thing is she hates smokers,” Mike explained.

Eddie groaned.  “I’m gonna have to quit?  Fuck, this is getting more unpleasant by the minute—”

“Just for now!” Lucas bargained.  

"And there’s another problem: Elle said that her sister likes, uh, pretty guys,” Mike added.

There was a tense pause, until Eddie’s eyes widened.  “Are you saying I’m not a pretty guy?”

“H-he’s very pretty!” Lucas smacked Mike on the back.  “He’s gorgeous, look at him!”

“S-sorry, I wasn’t sure,” Mike mumbled awkwardly.

Eddie brushed off the insult quickly, taking a big puff off of his cigarette— maybe he appreciated it more, knowing he’d have to cut back for a while after this.  Meanwhile, Mike pulled out a folded up piece of heart-shaped mini-notebook paper (borrowed stationary from Elle, obviously) and read the list aloud.

“Okay, ‘likes: Thai food, feminist prose, and—’” he cleared his throat before he continued— “‘angry girl music of the indie-rock persuasion.’  Here’s a list of CDs that she has in her room.”

Eddie looked at the list in disdain.  “So I’m supposed to, what, take her out for noodles and spoken word and sit around listening to chicks who can’t play their instruments?”

“Have you ever been to Club Nina?” Lucas wondered.

“Her favorite band is playing there tomorrow night,” Mike explained, and Eddie sighed as he pressed his lips together.

“I can’t be seen at Club Nina,” Eddie shook his head.  “First of all, that’s rival turf, second of all—”

“She’ll be there, she’s already got tickets for her and Robin,” Lucas pressed.  “Just… tolerate it, for a night.  And maybe don’t deal any drugs there.”

“Can I at least do some drugs there?” Eddie frowned.

“As long as you’re not too out of sorts to do some major seducing,” Mike offered.  “She has a pair of black underwear!  If that helps.”

“I mean, it couldn’t hurt, right?” Lucas elbowed Eddie playfully, who jerked away.

As stupid as it was, Eddie found himself still wondering about your alleged black panties as he walked into the club to look for you the next night. He found you horribly frustrating, sure, and the feeling was mutual, but picturing you in something like that was... not too terrible.

Eddie noticed the looks he was getting from the girls at Club Nina, and they weren’t exactly approving; a man invading their space was bad enough, but a metalhead in the land of the soft-rockers was turning heads.

He ignored it for the most part and sat down at the bar, ordering something light enough that he could keep his wits about him, but hard enough that he could tolerate this whole situation.  Believe it or not, he didn’t actually like getting repeatedly insulted and degraded by you— it wasn’t even the sexy kind of degrading, just your incessant hatefulness chipping away at his dignity.  But damn, he could feel the added weight of Carver’s money in his wallet, and he liked that.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for you to show up at the bar, ordering two waters like the lightweight you were.  He pretended not to see you, but you didn’t offer the same courtesy, making a groan of disgust at him.  “If you’re planning on asking me out again, just get it over with,” you pleaded distastefully.

He looked at you with an irritated frown, pointing at the band behind him.  “Keep it down, maybe?  I’m trying to listen.”

That seemed to throw you off, and he enjoyed your moment of bewilderment.  “Did you leave your cancer sticks behind?” you asked.

“Yeah, permanently,” he nodded.  “Turns out they’re bad for you.”

He shrugged, and you dropped the sarcasm for a split-second.  “You did?” you pressed, surprised.

“You know,” he changed the subject instead, “these guys are no Adolescents or Souixsie and the Banshees, but they’re alright.”

“You know Souixsie and the Banshees?” you repeated, flabbergasted.

“Why, don’t you?” he joked.  He got down another sip of watered-down liquor, before turning to face you directly.  “You know, I was watching you before,” he admitted, yelling to be heard over the crescendo of the song, “I’ve never seen you look so sexy!”

Of course, that was right about when the song ended, and Eddie looked around the club as he realized the entire swarm of alt chicks had heard him.  As they laughed at the scene, he smiled awkwardly and watched you get visibly embarrassed— good to know you had emotions other than rage, contempt, and boredom.

“Why don’t you come to Steve Harrington’s party with me?” he challenged, and the moment faded as the next song began.

“You never give up, do you?” you frowned, starting to walk away and back into the dancing crowd.

“Was that a yes?” he wondered.

“No!” you shouted back to him.

“Was it a no?” he added.

“No!” you said again, and he smiled.

“I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty, then!” he called to you, but you were lost to him again— for now.

~

Elle and Max, dolled up in their finest party gear, crept carefully across the foyer towards the front door.  Elle knew all the creaky floorboards to avoid, yet even in their silence they seemed to trigger Chief Hopper’s sixth sense.  “You should have used the window,” he announced as they deflated.

“H-hi Daddy,” she greeted as if all were normal.

“Hi,” he returned as he looked at them.  “Where are we going?”

“Um, just a small study group of friends,” Elle insisted, and Max nodded along.

“Otherwise known as an orgy?!” Dad barked.

“Mr. Hopper— Chief, sir— it’s just a party,” Max soothed.

“And Hell is just a sauna!” he returned.

As you came walking down the stairs into the middle of the argument, oblivious, your dad snagged your attention.  

“Are you aware of this party?” he asked.  You simply shrugged, on a mission for snacks.  

“People expect me to be there!” Elle complained.  “I have friends waiting for me!  Daaaddddyyy!!”

“If your sister’s not going, you’re not going,” he stood fast.

Of course, that turned her ire towards you.  “Why can’t you be normal?” she whined.

“Define ‘normal’,” you challenged as you crossed your arms.

“Going to Steve’s party is normal!”

You scoffed.  “Steve’s party is just a lame excuse for all the youthful morons of Hawkins High to drink beer and rub up against each other in hopes of distracting themselves the pathetic emptiness of their—”

Elle and Max interrupted to finish your rant: “meaningless, consumer-driven lives,” they groaned in unison.

You hadn’t realized you were so predictable, and your shock gave Elle an opportunity to make one more plea.

“Can you just, for one night, forget about your crusade against all things enjoyable and just be my sister?  please?  C’mon,” she begged, stepping up closer, “please, do this for me.”

It was more sincere than you were used to from her, and it reminded you of simpler times, of when she thought you were the coolest big sister ever and she was your favorite person— before she was spoiled by the world and you were soured by it.  Those memories were what convinced you to somberly nod.  “I’ll make an appearance,” you agreed, and she squealed as she hugged you joyfully.

“Oh god, it’s starting,” your dad mumbled to himself in a daze.

“It’s just a party,” Elle promised him, but he stiffened up suddenly.

“I want you to wear the belly,” he announced.

Elle whimpered out her “Daddy, no!” but it was too late, he’d already gone to fetch it from the closet, and you watched with schadenfreude as he pulled out the padded faux-pregnancy jacket.  

“Not all night,” he promised, “just around the living room for a minute while you contemplate the weight of your decisions.”

She held her arms out in defeat as he slipped it on over her dress, smiling proudly at his work.

“Every time you even think about kissing a boy,” Dad lectured, “just imagine wearing this all the time.”

“You’re such a space cadet,” she sighed.

“Okay, we’re going now,” you announced as you headed for the door, but he stopped you.

“Wait a minute: no drinking, no drugs, no kissing, no tattoos, no piercings, no getting in vans, no— no ritual animal slaughter!” he enumerated.  “Oh god, I’m giving them ideas…”

You startled when you opened the door and saw Eddie standing there, fist raised as he was about to knock.  “What are you doing here?” you asked him flatly.

“Nine-thirty, right?” he smiled, “I’m early.”

“Whatever, I’m driving,” you insisted.

He leaned to the side to look over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow.  “Who knocked up your sister?”

~

Lucas held on tight to his drink in a plastic cup as he attempted to keep Max Mayfield’s attention for at least a few minutes at a time.

“You know, I’m on the basketball team,” he reminded her with a grin.

“Right,” she mumbled, unimpressed, but he was a little too tipsy to notice that his lines weren’t working.

“Do you, uh, play any sports?” he asked.

“I skate, if that counts,” she shrugged.

“Oh, rollerblading is cool!” Lucas beamed, but Max rolled her eyes and walked away at his incorrect guess of what kind of skating she meant.  “Ever been to Rink-O-Mania?” he called after her, sighing when he realized he’d officially struck out.

You brushed past him, knocking into his shoulder as he pouted.  Eddie was still following you, for some reason, dodging dancing girls and kissing couples along the way.

Jason clicked his tongue at you as you passed by.  “Lookin’ fresh,” he cooed, in that way that was mostly mocking yet probably a real come-on if you went for it: Schrödinger’s pick-up line, if you will.

“Oh my god, did you feel that?” you looked around at the air.  “My pussy just dried up so fast it actually dropped the humidity in here!”

Jason seemed a little too interested in an update on your genitals, but you were already walking away, trying to lose him and Eddie now.  “Hey, is your sister here?” he asked you loudly.

“Stay away from my sister,” you warned.

“I will,” he promised, “but, you know, I can’t guarantee that she’ll stay away from me…”

You shook your head as you shoved your way into another room of the Harrington’s massive lodge, accidentally stumbling upon two jocks wrestling and throwing punches on the floor.  A crowd had gathered around the scene to cheer them on, and you sneered in disgust at the uncivil display.

“Hey, hey!” Steve himself appeared, trying to break it up.  “Take it outside!”

One jock pulled the other up by his shirt, and the two of them went tumbling back— right through the window.  They didn’t even stop swinging as they fell onto the grass, and Steve’s face went blank with numb shock.

“Th-thanks,” he mumbled to himself, and you gave him a pat on the shoulder as you passed by.

“At least we’re on the ground floor,” you offered him quickly, but a tap on your shoulder pulled your attention away.  

“Hey,” Jason smirked as he let you get a good look at him with his arm around your sister’s shoulders, “look who found me.”

You weren’t even angry— which was a nice break, really— you were just worried now.  “Elle, wait,” you called to her as they walked away.          

“Please don’t address me in public,” Elle requested with a roll of her eyes.

“I just wanna tell you something!” you pleaded.

“I’m being a normal teenager for a night— you should try it,” she suggested, and the two of them disappeared into the crowd again.

Just in time for your impending breakdown, some guy walked by holding a tray of shots.  “Shots, anyone?  Ladies?”

You grabbed one with each hand and tossed them back in rapid succession.  You reached for a third when Eddie reappeared, snagging it out of your hand.  “What are you doing?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m getting trashed, dude,” you offered in a fake party-boy voice.  “Isn’t that the point of all this?”

Eddie shrugged.  “Think the point is to just… be yourself.”

You snorted.  “You might be the only person who thinks I should be myself.”

At the same time that you were ditching Eddie again, Mike was finding Lucas.  “Have you seen her around anywhere?” he asked as he scanned the crowd.  For all his excitement to find her, he seemed to get overwhelmed when he saw Elle coming down the stairs with Max.

“Come on, man, relax,” Lucas assured as he patted his shoulders.  Mike took a deep breath.  “Just be yourself.”

Nodding, Mike summoned his courage and approached the girls.  “H-hey, Elle,” he greeted politely.

“Hey,” Elle returned, “Mike, um— do you know Max?”

Elle grabbed the redhead and shoved her towards Mike so she could try to break away.

“Oh, yeah,” Mike nodded, “we have Math together, right?”

Max hummed as she crossed her arms; “Great,” she offered unenthusiastically.

“You, uh, look really amazing tonight,” Mike offered Elle, and Max cringed as he failed to take the hint.

“Oh— um,” Elle stalled, and Jason descended the stairs to slip his arm around her.

“And we all know I look amazing,” he interjected, making the girls giggle and Mike roll his eyes.  “C’mon, Elle, let’s go— there are jell-o shots in the kitchen.”

He was already turning her around to guide her away, forcing her to look over her shoulder to wave at Mike: “See you around, okay?” 

Mike watched helplessly as Jason took his dream girl from right in front of him— the blonde even offered him a thumbs up on his way out, to add insult to injury.

Eddie found you again in the study, starting to work on another drink.  “Hey hey hey,” he interrupted as he gently lifted it away from you, watching you whine and make grabby hands for it.  “Why don’t you let me have this one, hm?”

“No!” you pouted, jumping for it, but he held it up higher— it forced you to push yourself up against him to try to get it, and he forced himself not to notice how it felt to be close to you.

Someone walked by with their own drink, just about to have a sip when you snatched it away instead, running off before Eddie could set down the cup and catch up.  “Shit,” he hissed to himself.

As he tried to navigate past other partygoers to get to the kitchen, he heard the blasting stereo change songs to something not actually awful (in his opinion): Def Leppard.  Unfortunately, you seemed to like Pour Some Sugar On Me, too— considering you hopped up on a table and started dancing there instead.

“How’d you get her to be normal?” Jason laughed as he appeared beside Eddie— and he couldn’t decide if he was more disgusted by Carver’s glee watching you, or Carver’s chumminess with him.

“Hey!” Eddie called to you, getting through the crowd of cheering guys as quickly as he could, but you couldn’t hear him through the overwhelming sound and the haze of drunkenness.  He watched you dance, a mix of concern, embarrassment, and arousal stirring in him as your moves became more and more suggestive.  “HEY!” 

When he shouted the second time, it didn’t quite get you to look at him but it did startle you, making you whack your head on the chandelier— which in turn made you stumble and fall.  When you came down dramatically, he held out his arms and managed to catch you, looking at your startled, panting face.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, but you looked angry at him again.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, trying to wiggle out of his embrace, but failing.

“You’re not fine,” he groaned, “c’mon…”

He didn’t exactly carry you, mostly because you wouldn’t let him, but he didn’t let you walk on your own when he saw how wobbly your legs were.

The sounds of the party faded into the distance as you walked in the grass, up to the shore of Lover’s Lake where the Harrington’s had some rustic old swings hanging from under a massive tree by the water.

“I-I just need to lie down somewhere,” you insisted, stumbling again as Eddie had to grab at your waist to keep you upright.

“No, you can’t lie down right now,” he sighed.  “If you lie down you’ll go to sleep.”

You pouted as he set you down on a swing.  “I like sleep,” you protested.

“Can’t sleep if you might have a concussion,” he explained, watching you slump against the rope beside you.

He was about to fuss over you a little more, try to keep you awake somehow, but he saw Mike storming down across the grass.  

“Hey,” Mike greeted as Eddie stepped past you slightly to meet him.  “We need to talk.”

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Eddie informed him, gesturing towards you.

“Well— it’s over, okay?  All of this— the deal’s off,” Mike frowned.

“Huh?”

“She never wanted me,” he realized with a sigh.  “She wanted Jason the whole time.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.  “Listen— do you really like this girl?”

“Yeah!” Mike assured.

“And she’s worth going through all this trouble?” he pressed, stepping forward towards the new kid.

“I— I think so.”

“Either she is or she isn’t,” Eddie frowned, “and considering we made it this far, she must be— so you need to keep fighting for her!  You’re twice the man that Jason is, if she’s got two brain cells to rub together she’ll figure out she’s better off with you.  Capice?”

Mike puffed up his chest a bit.  “O-okay!” he decided.  “I’m gonna go for it!”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” Eddie cheered, slapping Mike on the shoulder before he ran off back to the party.

Eddie was smiling as he turned to you, only to lose his grin and rush over as you started to fall forward out of the swing.

“Woah woah!” he yelped as he knelt down in front of you and held your face with both hands.  “Gotta stay awake, remember, sweetheart?”

You stuck your bottom lip out.  “You’re so patronizing.”

He smirked.  “Leave it to you to use your vocabulary words when you’re totally shitfaced.”

When you fluttered your eyes shut, he lightly smacked your cheek, the rings hitting a little extra hard on your jaw as you groaned.  “What are you hitting me for?”

“Because you might have a concussion,” he reminded you.  

“And you want to add to it?” you assumed, awake enough for him to let go of your face, which he did.

“If you go to sleep now, you might not wake up.”

“You don’t care if I never wake up,” you dismissed.

He smiled at you, a little too amused by such a morbid sentiment.  “Sure I do!”

“Why?” 

He almost let his smile falter.  “If you died, I might have to go out with a girl who actually likes me,” he answered.

“If you could find one,” you snorted, eyes still shut but face curling into a proud grin at your own joke.

“See?  Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?” he teased.

You sniffled and sat up a little straighter, so Eddie stepped back and sat down on the swing beside you.

“So, why’d you let him get to you?” he wondered, looking out across the lake sparkling under the glow of a half-moon.

“Who?”

“Jason.  You’re normally so unaffected.”

“He always drives me crazy,” you admitted, “but messing with my sister is crossing the line.”

“Well, you’ve chosen some creative revenge,” he laughed, “by drinking through the Harrington’s liquor cabinet.”

You laughed along with him, a rare moment where you two overlapped— and not even in a negative emotion!  “You know what they say,” you replied.

“What’s that?” he wondered.  But you didn’t continue.  He looked to the side and saw you falling down again.

“Shit,” he spat, leaning forward and catching you at your shoulders, tilting your face up to his.  “Wake up!  C’mon, look at me, sweetheart, listen to me— open your eyes…”

He was a little overwhelmed by the way you did exactly as he’d asked, fluttering your eyes open at him, something entirely new in them that he’d never seen on you before— or maybe anyone, at least this up close.  “Hey,” you smiled softly.  “Did you know your eyes are a little bit hazel?”

He smiled back at you, examining your face, wondering for a split second if he should go for it.

But before he could, you keeled over and wretched— right on his white Reeboks.  “Shit,” he said again.

~

Elle was waiting out in the cool night air, her thin cardigan not doing much for her as she watched Jason drive off with a slew of girls in tow; he’d tried to get her to go to another party, but along with her curfew coming up, it turned out that he was sort of a dud.  For all his alleged charisma as one of the most popular guys in school, he didn’t know how to talk about anything but basketball, plus his ‘boys’ and their misadventures— usually drunken ones.  She tried to cut him some slack since he was likely a little tipsy, but she still couldn’t justify the way he talked about his ex-girlfriend.  It was just tacky!

As she waited for you to hopefully reappear soon and drive her home, Mike brushed by.  “Have fun tonight?” he asked, somewhat sharply.

“Tons,” Elle sighed, expecting him to stop and getting a little more shy when he didn’t. “Hey, um, Mike?” 

He stopped and turned, and she gave him a pitiful look.

“Any chance you could give me a ride home?”

Eddie hadn’t driven a car as small as yours in a while— and it wasn’t even small, it just felt that way compared to his van.

You reached forward and turned up the stereo, a Patti Smith song getting louder as you did.  “I should do this,” you announced.

“What?” he wondered.

“This!” you said again, pointing to the radio.  “Make music, start a band!  Aren’t you in a band?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you knew that,” he admitted.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do, too,” you decided with firm defiance.  “My father would love that.”

“I didn’t think you were the type to worry about what your father thought,” Eddie noticed.

“Oh, so now you’ve got me all figured out?” you scoffed.

He shrugged.  “I’m getting there.”

You deflated slightly as you looked out the window.  “Nobody knows anything about me,” you admitted, “except that I’m ‘scary’ or whatever.”

He smirked slightly at your air quotes.  “I’m not known to be particularly enjoyable either.”

When you looked at him, he felt a little penetrated by your stare, so he looked back at the road ahead.

“Look at us, having a little talk about real stuff,” he blurted out, trying to break the tension.  “I mean, you’re usually so closed off and now I think you might spill your guts or something.  Oh, right— you already did…”

And you stiffened up again.  Right on cue.

Whereas your conversation with Eddie died a few minutes before you pulled up to your house, Elle and Mike’s only began when he put the car in park.  “You never wanted to hang out with me, did you?” he realized, irritation tinting his voice.

“I— I did!” Elle lied, trying to be nice.  But she was always trying to be nice, and that wasn’t enough; Mike scoffed in frustrated disbelief.

“You didn’t!”

Elle deflated.  “Yeah… okay.  Not really.”

“Well, then that’s all you had to say!  You could’ve just said you weren’t interested and none of this would’ve happened— but then you wouldn’t have gotten your night with Jason.  That’s what this was all about, wasn’t it?”

“But I—” she began, cut off by Mike’s rant.

“You know, you can’t just treat people however you want because you’re beautiful.  Lucas told me you were vapid, and I defended you!  I— I learned French for you!  And then you just—”

She cut him off with a kiss— a sweet kiss, not too short, but exactly the sort of kiss two sophomores should share in a car after a party.  When she pulled away, she smiled a little, and Mike blinked at her a couple times.

“Goodnight,” she offered softly, getting out of the car and walking up the steps to her front door.

Mike turned to face forward again, dumbfounded expression morphing slowly into a grin.  “And I’m back in the game!” he beamed, pumping his fist triumphantly.

~

As you walked into class, you tried to avoid the eyes on you— but you couldn’t, just like you couldn’t avoid throbbing in your head.

“Nice moves last night, señorita,” one of the stoners in class nodded approvingly as you came in.

“That was radical, dude,” a surfer boy offered with a ‘hang tight’ hand symbol.

And then there was Jason.  “What do you owe you for the table dance, babe?” he taunted.

Shuddering, you sat down as Ms. O’Donnell began.  “Settle down, please,” she begged the class.  “Whatever happened outside of school hours is not to be discussed now.  Wouldn’t you rather hear about your midterm assignment?”

The class groaned in unison.

“You’ll be writing a sonnet,” she explained, “in the style of William Shakespeare.”

When you raised your hand, you saw the look on her face, and you knew what she was expecting.  And you didn’t blame her.  You spoke when she pointed towards you.  “Should it be in iambic pentameter?”

She seemed suspicious of such a simple question.  “Um, no, it doesn’t have to be,” she replied.  “Why?”

“I just wanted to know…” you mumbled sheepishly.  “Is that so wrong?”

“Um, no,” she decided.  “That’s a good question, Miss Hopper… and it doesn’t.  Thank you for asking.”

She wasn’t the only one shocked by your sudden interest in her teaching, and you noticed the way the entire class was looking at you.  “What?” you scoffed, and you shook the moment off as Ms. O’Donnell began lecturing again.

~

Mike and Eddie sat beside each other as they watched your soccer practice from a safe distance.  “What’d you do to her?” Mike wondered.

“What?  I didn’t do anything— did you see how drunk she was?” Eddie shook his head.  “What made you think something happened, anyways?”

“The fact that the plan was working,” Mike answered.

“Why do you care?  I thought it was over.”

“It was,” Mike agreed, smiling, “until she kissed me.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Eddie congratulated, “I told you to go for it.”

Lucas, meanwhile, was running the track— and he stopped when he passed the two other boys.  “Alright, I talked to her,” he informed them, “I got the scoop.”

“What’d she say?” Mike wondered excitedly.

“Hates him with the fire of a thousand suns,” he announced with a sarcastic smile.  “That’s a direct quote.”

Eddie sighed, looking a little defeated.

“H-hey,” Mike tried to comfort him, “maybe she just needs a day to cool off?”

But the three of them had to lean away to dodge a soccer ball that came flying over, narrowly avoiding nailing Eddie in the head.  When they looked up together at the source, they caught your glare coming their way.

“...or two,” Eddie added.

~

You groaned as you sat with Robin on the bench, watching the prom committee hang up posters all over the courtyard for the wretched event.

“Can you imagine going to that brainless display of teenage vapidity?” you rolled your eyes.  

“Uh, I can,” Robin admitted, “if I had a date.”

“I thought things were going okay with Vickie,” you frowned at her.  

“Well, yeah, they’re okay, but it’s not like that, yet,” she explained.  

“You’re sparing yourself by not going,” you insisted, “the whole thing is a patriarchal sham anyways.”

“Even if you go with a girl?”

“Yes,” you groaned, “because you’re still supporting the institution.  It’s basically a mating ritual you have to dress up for!”

“Alright, we won’t go,” she promised.  “I didn’t have anything to wear, even if I knew how to ask Vickie…”

“You’re looking at this all backwards,” you sighed, “we’re not missing out— we’re making a statement!”

“Oh, great,” Robin beamed sarcastically, “something new and different for us!”

Across the courtyard, Elle was busy reviewing her Science homework at a table when Jason popped in beside her.  “Hey there, cutie,” he cooed.

“Hey…” she mumbled, focusing still on her textbook, in fact she hadn’t even looked up at him.

“Studying hard, huh?” he noticed, trying to prompt her again.         

“Can I help you?” she wondered flatly.

“Well, it would help me a lot if you say yes when I ask you to prom,” he quipped.

Elle only sighed, turning the page in her book.  “You know the deal, Jay— I can’t go if my sister doesn’t go.”

“Good thing she will.”

That got Elle to tear her eyes away from cell biology so she could look at the senior beside her.  “Since when?!” she gasped.

“Let’s just say,” Jason purred, scooting closer to her, “I’m taking care of it.”

~

Eddie chewed on the inside of his cheek as Jason rambled about the money he’d just handed him.  “That’ll cover flowers, limo, tux, the whole enchilada.  I don’t care what you do, just make sure she gets to the prom.”

Eddie suddenly handed the money back.  “You know what?  I’m sick of being a pawn in your little game, okay?”

Jason scoffed at the money.  “Then make it two hundred,” he decided, summing another bill to add onto the small pile in Eddie’s palm.

Hesitating, and then sneering, Eddie stuffed it into his pocket.  The money felt like it would burn a hole through the denim if he left it there too long— he went to the music store first, wondering if he should spent it; wondering if he should try to talk to you instead of just watching you play around on a bass you’d borrowed from the wall of instruments.

In a moment entirely out of character for him, Eddie just couldn’t muster up the courage to do it, to tap you on the shoulder and get your attention.  He could stand on tables in the cafeteria and make a fool of himself playing at the Hideout for whatever crowd of drunks accidentally stayed for Corroded Coffin’s show, but he couldn’t just… say hi to you.  You just looked so at peace sitting there on the amp, rocking your head between the big headphones that dwarfed your face; he was happier just watching you play for a few minutes, leaving before you opened your eyes and noticed him.

He watched you from between the stacks at the bookstore, too, swallowing as you flipped through Sylvia Plath.  What was it that was making him so nervous to approach you all of a sudden?  It’s not a crush, is it?  No…  no, it’s probably my natural aversion to pain.

Just when he was afraid you were about to leave and he would miss his chance, he jumped up from behind Adult Non-fiction and surprised you before you could head for the door.  “Excuse me,” he smiled, “have you seen The Feminine Mystique?  I lost track of mine.”

You looked appropriately disappointed and unamused, but he was used to that by now.  “What are you doing here?” you asked him flatly.

“I heard there was a poetry reading,” he replied, not even trying that hard to sound believable, since you’d never believe it.  You knitted your eyebrows together and opened your mouth, apparently searching for the exact words to cut him down.

“Y-you… you’re so…” you started a few times, and Eddie grinned as he realized he’d stumped you for the moment.

“Charming?” he finished for you.

And in a moment entirely out of character for you, you gave up, shaking your head and trying to step past him to walk away.  He side-stepped and planted himself in front of you.

“Irresistible,” he offered instead.

“Unavoidable,” you corrected.

“Inevitable,” he agreed with a wink.  “Love always is.”

“Love?!  Jesus Christ,” you spat, laughing sharply at how absurd it was.

“You do realize you’re not as mean as you think you are, right?” Eddie wondered, following you closely as you kept marching towards the door to leave.

You spun to look at him as you replied, “and you’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Ooh,” he winced playfully, “someone still has their panties in a twist.”

“Don’t even for a minute worry that you have any effect whatsoever on my panties,” you snapped.

“Then what did I have an effect on?” he encouraged.

“Other than my gag reflex, not much,” you frowned.

“Gag reflex, huh?” he purred, and you grimaced as you rolled your eyes.

“God, you’re barbaric!” you announced as you shoved a book into his chest— The Feminine Mystique, of course— and utilized the moment he spent looking at it to exit the store.  He didn’t even really process that you were already gone until he heard the little bell on the door chime, and he sighed.

~

Eddie just wanted to get his lunch in peace, but those two pipsqueak sophomores flanked him as he moved through the line.  “What’s the word?” Mike asked.

“Well, you were right— she’s still pissed,” Eddie replied.

“Sweet love, renew thy force!” Lucas exclaimed, and Eddie made a face at him.

“Don’t say shit like that to me, people can hear you,” Eddie warned him.

“Look,” Mike interjected, “she’s embarrassed!  Sacrifice yourself on the altar of dignity and even the score.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie departed the lunch line early— he didn’t want green bean casserole anyways— and left Mike and Lucas to look at each other.  “Don’t say shit like that to him,” Lucas soberly instructed Mike, “people can hear you.”

They were right, though, and the next day, he acted on their advice.

You were out on the field with the team, running drills, clearing your head in the only way you knew how.  Of course, Eddie couldn’t stay out of your head for long— or out of your way.  

You didn’t notice the speakers turning on at first; you heard it, but you didn’t think much of the static buzz of silence.  It wasn’t silent for long, though, and everyone turned their heads when they heard an electric guitar begin playing.  You looked up in the bleachers, and widened your eyes at the sight of Eddie hopping up into view as he played, a long black cord trailing behind him.  The marching band had left some of their equipment up after practice, including the microphone intended for the national anthem singer, and Eddie leaned into it as he began to sing along with his own playing.

“I gotta tell you what I'm feeling inside, I could lie to myself, but it's true—”

“Oh my god, is that—?” you heard a teammate of yours whisper to another, and they were all looking at you suddenly— and so was he.

“There's no denying when I look in your eyes,” he continued to sing, “girl, I'm out of my head over you…”

You turned around when drums and bass began to play as well, from the other side, and you laughed at the sight of the other members of Corroded Coffin— the logo made in tape on the kick-drum was a good sign that that’s who they were.

“And I lived so long believing all love is blind,” Eddie continued, “but everything about you is telling me this time, it’s forever—”

You finally recognized the KISS song and laughed in some impossible combination of disbelief and unsurprise: because of course Eddie would pick a KISS song to serenade you, but oh my god, was he really serenading you right now?  In front of everyone?

“This time I know, and there’s no doubt in my mind,” he sang passionately as he played, “forever, until my life is through, girl I’ll be loving you forever…”

The other musicians were singing harmonizing vocals, and your team was staring at you in shock as Eddie pointed at you in a break from his guitar playing; they knew before then that he was singing to you, but apparently even further confirmation continued to blow their minds.  You couldn’t believe it either, because, you know… it was you, and this was some kind of modern-fairytale bullshit, and you realized that you only never wanted it because you never thought it could happen.  Romantic surprises, sudden music, kisses in the rain?  Maybe for other girls— girls like Elle— but never for you.

Except here it was happening to you.  “I never thought I’d lay my heart on the line,” Eddie sang into the microphone, “but everything about you is—”

It came to a literal screeching halt, and everyone covered their ears at the feedback from the speakers.  Vice Principal Owens apparently didn’t take too kindly to the noise and disruption, as he appeared on the side of the field to chew Eddie out.  “What is the meaning of this?!” he yelled, and the drummer bailed first, tossing his sticks and grabbing a hi-hat and tom and making a break for it.  As the soccer team cheered and clapped for the performance, Eddie unplugged his guitar and sprinted from the Vice Principal.  “That’s school property!  That’s school equipment you stole!”

You laughed as the chase began, and Eddie caught your gaze for a second to give you a shrug as he swung the Gremlin over his back and dove off the bleachers.

“I hope you enjoy detention, Munson!” Owens yelled his threatening promise as he shook his fist— obviously incapable of keeping up with a freak on the run.

~

Coach Hastings stalked the columns of uniform plastic seats-and-desks, eyeing his quarry of quivering detention-goers.  A split-second of eye contact with one of them, before the kid jolted and stared down into his lap, made the coach smile somewhat menacingly and approach his desk.

“You look nervous, son,” he noticed with a grin, and the boy hesitantly blinked up at him.

“Yes, sir,” he agreed.

“You’re sweating like a pig,” the coach continued.

“Y-yes, sir,” the student agreed again.

“Your eyes are red!  You’ve got pot, don’t you?”

Apparently too scared (and stoned) to deny it, the kid awkwardly pulled a baggy out of his pants pocket and let Hastings snatch it away.

“I’m confiscating this,” he announced as he took it, marching back down the row and snagging a snack bag of Cheetos on his way as well.

Eddie scoffed slightly to himself as he saw it; not exactly a subtle plan, especially to Eddie, whose occupation at the school’s main dealer gave him unique knowledge of the coach’s habit.

He was just preparing to space out for an afternoon of mind-numbing boredom when you came in through the door, and he sat up slightly in surprise.

“Um, sir?” you got the Coach’s attention, meeting him at his desk at the front.  “I… have some ideas for practice tomorrow.”

“Now’s not the best time, Miss Hopper,” he replied quickly.

As he turned his back to the class, you made quick eye contact with Eddie to motion to him, pointing towards the window.  He sat up further, but tilted his head.  “The window!” you mouthed.

When Hastings turned around to look at you again, you played it off with a forced laugh.  

“Y-you know, we have that really big game soon against the Paxville Poodles…” you began again, stalling poorly.  Eddie quietly got up from his seat, just as Hastings made a move to turn around, and you unthinkingly reached out and grabbed his arm, making him look at you suspiciously.  “Your bicep is huge!” you blurted out.  “Wow— and look—” you grabbed the other— “this one’s even bigger.  You don’t take steroids, do you?  Because I’ve heard steroids can cause some shrinking of the, uh, package.”

The other students murmured and snickered to each other as Eddie crept around the back of the room, towards the open window at the front; you repositioned yourself and Mr. Hastings to keep Eddie’s path exactly behind him.

“But I didn’t come here to talk about your package!” you added.

“God, I hope not,” the coach agreed.

Eddie’s next step made a bit of noise— that damn chain on his jeans wasn’t very quiet— but you stopped him from turning to look by talking more.  “The point is, they always beat us,” you continued, “and I’ve got this plan to help us win this year!”

“Which is?”

“That… thing you taught us!” you answered chipperly as Eddie kept creeping towards the open window.

“What thing?” Hastings wondered.

“Misdirection.”

He narrowed his eyes.  “I taught you that?”

“Yeah!  You, o-or, you know, Siegfried and Roy— anyway—”

When he tried to turn his head over his shoulder, you had to reach out and grab his chin to turn his bewildered face towards you.

“They look left, we go right!  Bang, we score, we win,” you tilted your head and smiled wide.  Panic was setting in because you really thought Eddie would’ve made it out by now— he was close, but not there, and the coach was clearly losing his patience.

“But, how do we make them look left?” he wondered.  Eddie was halfway out the window, no looking back now… literally, meaning he didn’t see what you were about to do.

“Uh— like this!”

A rush of adrenaline compelled you to do it— or maybe it came right after you did it, honestly it was all a blur— and you lifted the bottom of your shirt up to your chin.  The classroom gasped, the coach’s chin dropped, and you cringed internally as you realized how far you’d gone: but you didn’t regret it, yet.  Actually, it was pretty funny, if you thought about it… not that you had exactly thought this through.

Hastings stared at you, dumbstruck and more concerned than aroused, the thoughts of what the hell is wrong with this girl? and oh god, am I gonna lose my job? obvious on his face.  The detention attendees began to whoop and holler as you dropped your shirt and Eddie was long-since freed.  “Okay!” you said with a thin voice, clearing your throat.  “Well, now that you’ve seen… the plan… I’m gonna go… and show the plan to someone else.  Okay.”

He said nothing, watching you walk away, and the classroom applauded you on your way out.

~

“I can’t thank you enough for breaking me out,” Eddie smiled as he paddled the rickety canoe.

“Oh, I do that all the time,” you dismissed jokingly.  

“How’d you keep him from seeing me?” he wondered.

You snorted a bit.  “I, uh, dazzled him with my… wits.”

Eddie shrugged and looked out at the water on every side, pulling the oars in now that you were stuck in the smackdab middle of Lover’s Lake.  “So, what’s your excuse?” he asked suddenly.

“Hm?”

“For acting the way we do.”

You considered that for a second, glancing out over the lake.  “Maybe it’s, like, daddy issues— ‘cause I don’t know my biological parents or anything.  Elle’s write her letters and stuff but mine don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Okay, maybe it’s that,” he nodded, “or…”

You sighed.  “I don't like to do what people expect.  Why should I live up to other people’s expectations instead of my own?”

He smiled, clearly proud of himself for getting you to fess up.  “So you disappoint them from the start and then you're covered, right?” he suggested, and you shrugged.

“Something like that.”

“Then you fucked it up,” he laughed.

“Huh?” you frowned.

His eyes seemed to sparkle more right before he said it— did he have some way of voluntarily doing that?  “You never disappointed me.”

You smiled a bit, but hoped he wouldn’t see that stupid, girlish emotion on your face.  “What about you?” you countered quickly.  “What’s your damage?”

“Oh, gosh, where to start,” he began, tapping his chin as he looked up and to the right like he was picturing it all, and you laughed.  “Daddy’s in prison, mommy’s… god knows where— last I heard she was in Washington?”

“Wait, the state, or D.C.?” you asked.

“I don’t even know!” he chuckled..

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve got no clue where my mom is, either,” you shrugged. 

“I know misery allegedly loves company but, no, that doesn’t make me feel better.”

“There were a lot of rumors about what your parents were up to,” you admitted.  “Cult and traveling band were both popular.”

“Well, there are a lot of rumors about a lot of things,” he replied, “but they’re all bullshit.”

“So, the state trooper?” you challenged.

“Ridiculous,” he shot it down.  “You made out with a chick at a party?”

“Fantasy,” you rolled your eyes.  “Of theirs!  Not mine— I don’t wanna kiss anyone in public.  The duck?”

“Hearsay,” he smirked.  “Billy Hargrove’s balls?”

“Well, that one’s actually true,” you admitted, “but he deserved it!  He groped me in the lunch line.”

“Ah, don’t tell me that,” Eddie warned, “or I’ll go kick ‘em back up again myself.”  He clicked his tongue and tossed his fist as if to demonstrate.

“Why were you held back again?  I know the porn career’s a lie.”

“Do you?” he challenged.

You tried not to get too flushed imagining that.  You were strictly against porn, on feminist grounds, but… it was an interesting mental image.

He laughed first, then you followed suit.  “I missed a lot of classes, yeah, but I don’t have any good excuse.  I— to be honest, I have a lot of trouble with reading.  It takes me hours, gives me a headache… so I keep failing English.  And it’s not like I’m making ‘A’s in anything else…”

You tilted your head as you looked at him.  “Eddie, are you dyslexic?”

He raised an eyebrow.  “No, I’m bisexual,” he corrected.

“Dyslexia is a learning disorder, it causes difficulty in reading,” you explained.

“Not even gonna react to the bisexual thing, huh?” he pressed.

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” you encouraged.

“No cure for it,” he shook his head.

“For the dyslexia, dumbass!” you snapped, and he laughed.

“Okay, okay, I will,” he promised, “if you go see about getting that stick up your ass surgically removed.”

You rolled your eyes, but you still couldn’t stop a smile from filling your face.  “I thought you didn’t mind it.”

“I don’t,” he smiled.  “‘Cause I know you’re actually just a hopeless romantic under all that venom.”

You glanced down at the floor of the boat, at Eddie’s Reeboks across from your worn-out Converse.  You heard him whisper your name, so you looked up again, and he pulled you into a sudden kiss.

Kissing in a boat on Lover’s Lake— a little on-the-nose, maybe, and another one of those things you never expected to happen to you.  You never expected to like it so much, either, but you smiled into it and wrapped your arms around his neck.  Pulling you back with him, he fell into the front end of the canoe with you on top of him, kissing you harder.

Unfortunately, you both got a little carried away… and when he tried to roll you onto your back so he could lay above you, it knocked the small boat off-balance and sent you both tumbling into the lake.

You came up with a gasp, and a laugh, as Eddie came back facing the wrong way and yelling your name fearfully— like you’d drowned in the last three seconds.  Hearing your laugh, he spun around and put on a self-effacing smile before swimming a little closer and kissing you again.  You let him, even though that warm feeling in your chest was just getting hotter until you worried it would burn you up from the inside out; you brushed dripping, limp curls out of his face and grabbed him by the back of the neck to keep him close.

~

Half-dry from the journey home, Eddie walked beside you up to your front porch.  Not exactly wanting to bring in a lake-damp drug dealer, you guided him to sit next to you on the steps, and he seemed to look somewhat reverently out at the surrounding neighborhood.  “Beats the trailer park?” you assumed.

“Yeah,” he smiled, “but it’s not as bad as people think it is— I guess neither are we, though.”

“Okay, then tell me the truth,” you requested.

“The truth?  I’m afraid of the dark,” he grinned.

“No, something real,” you protested.

“Okay…” he agreed, lowering his voice and leaning in to kiss your neck.  “You’re sweet.”

You smiled, and he moved around to kiss the other side, giving you an eyeful of his fringe.

“And sexy,” he added.  “And completely hot for me.”

“You’re… very self-assured,” you giggled, “anybody ever told you that?”

“I tell myself every morning,” he agreed with a smile, “part of my daily affirmations.”

Your eyes drifted over his face— over his gentle eyes and soft lips and strong jaw— and you wondered how you never noticed how perfect he was before.

“Go to prom with me,” he said suddenly.

The moment left and you felt a little suspicious.  “Um, are you asking me, or telling me?” you wondered with a raised brow.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” he promised.

“No it won’t, it’ll be a circus of patriarchy and the hypersexualization of the American teenager,” you insisted.

“It’ll be fun if you come with me,” he clarified.  “I thought you liked doing what nobody expects?  The only one who expects you to go to prom is me.”

“Why do you even wanna go to the prom?!” you wondered.

“Maybe I’m more conventional than I look!” he defended.  “Maybe I only never went because I never had a beautiful girl to take.”

“I don’t buy it,” you scoffed.  “Why are you so insistent on this?  What’s in it for you?”

“Do I need to have a reason to want to be with you?”

“You tell me,” you challenged.

“You know something?  You need therapy,” he frowned.  “Maybe a shrink can help you unpack this inability to accept affection.  Were you not hugged as a child or something?”

“Right,” you snapped, “because all my problems are caused by being adopted— I forgot.”

“I didn’t— that’s not what I was saying,” he defended.

“So, what are you saying?  If I’m not madly in love with you, something must be wrong with me?”

“I think if you don’t trust me by now—!”

“By now?  One kiss and you’re totally trustworthy?” you tilted your head.

“We kissed twice,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, my mistake,” you scoffed, leaving the question of whether the number or the kisses were the mistake hanging in the air.  Shaking his head, Eddie pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his vest pocket.

“Damn it, they’re soaked,” he groaned as he opened it.

You snatched it away.  “I’ll throw them out for you,” you offered sharply as you stood up and stormed inside, slamming the door behind you.

~

Max Mayfield startled when she opened her locker, a flood of folded papers spilling out— origami stars.  She tilted her head as she knelt down, picking one up to unfold.  Because you’re funnier than people realize, it had written inside in somewhat poor, yet meticulous, handwriting.  Wrinkling her eyebrows together, she snagged another from on top of her textbooks.  Because you’re the most beautiful when you’re in class, listening and thinking.  It was cheesy, but she bit her lip as she imagined who this… extravagant secret admirer might be.  About to unfold another, Lucas leaned beside her at the lockers.

“Huh,” he noticed, “wonder who did all this just to ask you to prom.”

As he crossed his arms in front of his chest, she noticed the band-aids around the ends of many of his fingers.  “Basketball injury?” she assumed.

“No,” he denied sheepishly, “just, uh, papercuts…”

She smiled as she raised an eyebrow at him.  “So, you think this… stalker guy is asking me to prom?” she noticed.

“I— um, I assume,” he shrugged.

“That’s presumptuous of you,” she laughed.

Across the hall, Vickie was emphatically agreeing to Robin’s more tree-friendly prom invite: no letter or origami or notes or anything, just the courage to finally ask, and that was all she had wanted anyways.

All across the school, plans were being made, except for Elle: she had more options than most for her date, yet was forced to choose none because you were still resisting Eddie with what little fight you had left in you. 

After catching her glare each time you passed in the hall at school, you decided to attempt a peace offering at home.

You hesitantly knocked on her bedroom door after dinner.  “Come in,” she called from the other side, but her annoyance was obvious.  Especially when you entered and found her sitting on the bed, reading a book, ignoring you completely.

“Listen,” you sighed, “I know…”

She didn’t shut her book or look up at you.  You sat down near her feet and carefully took the book away; she crossed her arms as she finally returned your gaze— though hers was much sharper.

“I know you hate having to sit around at home because I’m not, you know, popular or dating or anything,” you informed her.

“You don’t care,” she rolled her eyes.

“I do care!” you insisted.  “But I believe you should do things for your own reasons, not someone else’s.”

“I wish I had that luxury,” Elle snapped, “but I can’t do anything because you don’t want to!  You know I was the only sophomore asked to prom?  And I can’t go because you’re too uptight and feminist-y to just go out with that Eddie guy.”

You frowned.  “How do you know about Eddie?”

She rolled her eyes.  “I’m sixteen, I’m not stupid.  And everyone heard about him serenading you on the soccer field anyways.”

Your cheeks warmed at the memory.  “Well, that’s not the point.  I can go out with him if I want, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to prom.”

“Prom is actually gonna be fun you know, it’s not this horrible institution that you think it is,” Elle promised.  “And Jason asked me and—”

“He never told you we went out, did he?” you interrupted, and Elle’s jaw dropped.

“You’re joking, right?” she assumed; you shook your head.  “You and Jason?!”

“For a few months, freshman year.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because he’s sooo cute,” you answered with a Valley-girl-voice, but it didn’t do as much to diffuse the tension as you’d hoped.

“You hate him!” Elle noticed.

“I do now.”

“What happened?” she wondered, and you looked away because you thought it might be easier to say it if you weren’t looking right at her.  Even if she hated you, you didn’t want your little sister to think of you in the way she might when you admitted it.

“Well…” you trailed off, but she beat you to it.

“No,” she sighed, “you didn’t— you did it?!”

“Once,” you interjected firmly, as if that made it any better.  “Just once, because, you know, everyone was doing it.  I wanted to be cool— I wanted to feel normal.  But afterwards, I told him I didn’t wanna do it anymore because I wasn’t ready.  Aaaaand he dumped me.”

Elle blinked at you in bewilderment.

“After that, I decided to never do anything else again just because everyone else was doing it.  I haven’t since!  Well, except, you know, going to Steve Harrington’s party and getting wasted.”

“How did I not know about this?” Elle wondered.  Apparently she confused being popular with being omniscient.

“I warned him that if he told anyone, all the cheerleaders would find out how small his dick is,” you snorted.  Elle didn’t seem as amused, though.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she wondered.

“I wanted you to make up your own mind about him,” you replied.

“Then why did you help Daddy keep me hostage here?!”

She got up off the bed and stood, frustration switching to anger, and you wrinkled your eyebrows as well.  “Because I wanted to protect you!” you replied.

“By not letting me experience anything?” she countered.

“Not everything is worth experiencing, Elle!” you snapped.  “Not everyone can be trusted!”

“I wouldn’t know!” she announced furiously.  “You were too busy worrying I’d make the same mistakes as you to let me make my own!”

She stormed out of her own room and left you alone in it with a slam of the door.  You sat on the bed for a minute, considering what she’d said.  Noticing the picture on her nightstand, you sighed at the shot your dad had taken of the two of you, years ago, in line at Disneyland.  She used to think you hung the moon back then… why couldn’t things still be that easy?

~

You glided down the stairs quickly, holding up the end of your dress, and passed Dad as he watched TV.  “Bye, I’m going to prom,” you offered him flippantly as you passed.

“Ha ha, very funny,” he returned flatly.  Of course, when he caught you and your outfit in the corner of his eye, he realized you were serious.

Before he could even ask what was going on, you were out the door.  He would’ve chased you in search of more information, but he was distracted by Elle marching by next in her sparkly, colorful gown.

“What’s that?” he asked when he saw the midriff-baring garment.

“A prom dress!” she answered joyfully.

“I seem to be hearing that word a lot lately,” he frowned.

The doorbell rang, and Elle scampered across the foyer to answer it.  On the other side, Mike was waiting in a suit with a corsage in hand ready to give her— but he stalled when he got a look at her all dolled up (even more than usual).  “Wow,” he beamed, “you look… bitchin’.”

She smiled and started to leave with only a wave to her dad, but he crossed his arms.  “Stop,” he insisted, and Elle sighed as she froze.  “Turn.” 

The young couple turned, Mike looking a bit anxious as Elle prepared for the usual.

“Explain,” Hopper demanded.

“Well, you know how you said I could date if my lovely, wonderful big sister dated?” she batted her eyelashes.  “Turns out she found this guy who’s sort of perfect for her, which is sort of perfect for me, because Mike invited me to the prom—” she squeezed her date’s hand for emphasis— “and I really wanna go and I’m technically allowed since she’s going, and I know you’re a man of your word so you’ll stick to the rule you made.  Right?”

There was a heavy pause; Mike extended his hand to the Chief politely.  “Nice to meet you,” he greeted.

Elle took his hand instead and guided him out the front door.  Powerless, Hopper stepped up to the open doorway and watched them run to the waiting limousine together.  “Back by eleven, you hear me?” he called out.  “One minute past and the entire police department will be looking for you!”

They got in the car and drove off as he watched with a sigh.

~

You’d sort of been expecting Eddie to wear a t-shirt with a tuxedo pattern printed on it… maybe that’s what everyone expected of him.  But he was wearing a real one, in a dark cranberry color that seemed to bring out that little bit of hazel in his deep brown eyes.

It was stupid how easily his one simple glance over your body could make you fight the urge to blush.  You knew you looked good, you actually felt good, but it was different to see Eddie acknowledge it.  “Wow,” he offered with a wide smile.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “uh, you too.”

He handed you a rose before you hooked your arm in his to walk inside to the decorated gymnasium.

“Where’d you get a tux?” you wondered.

“Wayne had one,” Eddie shrugged.

“Really?” you pressed, and Eddie laughed.

“Hell no, he couldn’t even help me with my tie!  I… had a friend help me get this,” Eddie admitted, internally disgusted with himself for referring to Jason Carver as a friend.  Then again, he was disgusted with himself for doing this for Jason’s benefit at all, but at least there was a real benefit for himself, too: the only girl he’d ever really fallen for walking arm-in-arm with him to prom.  “Where’d you get the dress?” he wondered.

“Oh, um,” you blinked quickly, “I guess I really was a hopeless romantic deep down after all… ‘cause I had a nice dress in the back of my closet, just in case someone ever wanted to see me in it.”

There was a little moment of pause as Eddie imagined you saving a dress like this for someone special, hardly believing it was him.

“Listen, I shouldn’t have questioned your motives for asking me out,” you blurted out suddenly.  “I was wrong.  I’m sorry.”

He’d never seen you so… humbled?  And it made his heart twist.  “Don’t sweat it,” he encouraged, “you’re here with me now— that’s all that matters.”

~

Jason was already wearing his tux— and a sparkling-white smile— as your father opened the door.  “Hello, Mr. Hopper,” he offered charmingly, even though anyone with half a brain knows to call him Chief Hopper.  “I’m here to pick up Elle for the prom?”

Saying nothing, the Chief shut the door as suddenly as he’d opened it.

~

As you walked in to the room, dancing and general merriment in every direction, you caught Elle and Mike dancing cheek-to-cheek not too far off— and your sister offered you a quick wave and a gentler smile than you’d seen on her (directed at you, at least) in years.

Robin and Vickie, as always, were dancing to the beat of their own song, ignorant and uncaring to the judgment of others; Lucas guided Max to the dance floor, and you were one of many who noticed how good the unlikely pair looked together.

You were so caught up in it that you almost didn’t notice the music changing to another song— your favorite song.  Eddie nudged you with his elbow and pointed at the stage, where the band from Club Nina joined the musicians already playing, and you gasped.  “Oh my god!” you choked.  “It’s—!”

“I had a friend help me with that, too,” Eddie grinned at you, drinking in your ecstatic excitement.  You looked like a kid in a candy store as the lead singer waved at you; first humbled, then unabashedly joyful… so many new emotions that Eddie wasn’t used to seeing you show, but he liked this one so far.  He liked how beautiful you were when you let yourself be openly happy— it reminded him of the way you looked dancing to this song at that club all those weeks ago.  He hadn’t just been putting on the moves, he really thought you looked sexy when you let go and enjoyed yourself.  And now you looked that way again, but you were dancing with him.  You looked, and felt, freer than ever.

~

Elle was on her way to freshen up in the girls’ room— because the last thing she needed now was a lifting false lash with everything else going so perfectly— when Andy and Patrick stopped her.  “Woah, hey,” Andy said as he grabbed her shoulder, “what’s going on?”

“What?” she wondered.

“Where’s Jason?” they pressed.

“I dunno, probably off somewhere picking his nose?” she replied sarcastically.

“Oh my god,” Patrick laughed.  “I knew he couldn’t do it!”

“Huh?” she asked.

“He was so sure he could pop your cherry tonight,” Andy explained, bemused, “but he was full of shit— as per usual.”

Elle stepped back.  “What a creep!” she spat, but they weren’t even paying attention anymore, just chuckling to each other about how they wouldn’t let their team captain live this one down for a while.

As for Jason, he wasn’t too far away after all— he was angrily storming through the dancing crowd towards you and Eddie.  “Hey, freak!” he yelped just before grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and pulling him aside, though not quite far enough away.  “What’s Elle doing here with that pipsqueak?!  I didn’t pay you to take out her sister just so some little weirdo could get with her instead.”

Eddie whipped his head around, praying to whatever deity would listen that you hadn’t heard, but it only took a split-second to see the look in your eyes.  And there was a third emotion he’d never seen on you before: real heartbreak.  No anger, no rage, just devastation.

“Wait,” he pleaded as you began to walk away.

“I can’t believe I was right about you,” you replied with a shake of your head, “the first time.”

Jason let Eddie go to unsuccessfully chase after you; he was disinterested in the Freak versus Bitch drama unfolding once again, much more focused on getting back at Mike Wheeler for screwing him over.

Lucas tried to intercept him, but he got shoved roughly to the ground on the way to Mike.  “You messed with the wrong guy,” Jason informed him with a sneer, “and now you’re so done.  You and that prissy bitch.”

“Watch what you say about her,” Mike warned angrily, but Jason wasn’t exactly intimidated— in fact, he almost looked amused right before his fist collided with the sophomore’s face.  Mike crumpled to the ground, not exactly a match for Jason’s strength… but then again, neither was Elle, and she was the one who swung back— right in the nose.

“That’s for making my boyfriend bleed!” she explained as he clutched his face.  “That’s for my sister,” she added as she kneed him in the gut, “and this… is for me.”

A swift kick to the crotch sent him to the ground, and Elle stepped over him to offer a hand to Mike.  He took it, looking up at her in awe as she helped him stand again.  “Uh, boyfriend?” he noticed.

It was the kind of move you would’ve been proud of, if you were there to see it; apparently ball-kicking ran in the Hopper family, and not just in the soccer sense.

“Please, let me explain,” Eddie begged as he chased you out of the gym.

“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory!” you returned sharply.  “It was all a set-up, by fucking Jason!  I should’ve known it was too…”

Too good to be true.  You couldn’t admit that, you’d already given away so much.  “It wasn’t— that was just how it started!” Eddie promised.  “But I really fell for you.”

“Yeah?  Funny what money can do to a person.”

“I never cared about the money!” he insisted, and when you spun around to challenge that, he grabbed your shoulders.  “I only cared about you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” you sneered, and he did want to show you— he wanted to wipe that all-too-familiar look off your face and go back to how things were.  He kissed you, hard and forceful, but you pushed him off with a whine.  “I hate you!” you spat as you managed to fight him off— not that he was trying that hard to force you to stay, he knew that was wrong… though he wished he could.  He wished he could hug you tight enough to keep you here until you would listen, but you were too stubborn for it to work anyways.  It was that stubbornness that made him resent you in the beginning, then it was one of the things he fell for— and now it was the reason you were walking away, and he was just watching you go, unwilling to hurt you anymore.

~

“You’re sure you don’t wanna come?” Elle asked again, pityingly, as Mike held her hand.  You shook your head.  “Okay, well, we’ll miss you.”

It was sweet, but it was a lie; a young couple didn’t want you chaperoning their movie date.  Lies can be so sweet that way, the best ones usually are.  You watched them walk together down the sidewalk, knowing it wouldn’t cheer you up to go with them.  “Is she gonna be okay?” Mike whispered to his girlfriend, though not quietly enough.

“I hope so,” Elle replied softly.

As they left, your dad appeared and sat next to you on the steps, groaning as his older joints made it a bit more of a task.  “Where’s she going?” he wondered.

“To meet a bunch of bikers,” you offered quickly.  “Big ones… full of sperm.”

“Not funny,” Hopper frowned.  You gave him a look, and he smiled slightly.  “A little funny.”

It still wasn’t enough to make you smile back, and you looked forward at the houses across the street again.  

“So… the dance,” he remembered, “was it groovy?”

Even that couldn’t make you crack a smirk, though you wanted to.  “Some parts…”

“Which parts?” he wondered.

“The part where Elle beat the crap out of some loser,” you recalled— the stories around school were already glorious.  You were pretty sure the rumor that she pulled some Karate Kid moves and spin-kicked him in the face was just a rumor, but you liked picturing it anyways.

“Elle did what?” he gasped.

“What, are you afraid she’s taking after me?” you challenged.

“No,” he answered quickly, “I’m impressed.”

You looked at him again, soaking in that all-too-rare approval.  It’s not that he wasn’t affectionate… well, he wasn’t, but it was only because he had trouble expressing himself.  It made his eloquence going forward even more unexpected.

“You know, fathers don’t like to admit when their daughters become capable of running their own lives,” he explained.  “It means we’re obsolete… we’re spectators.  Elle still lets me play a few innings— you’ve had me on the bench for years— and when you go to Sarah Lawrence, I won’t even be able to watch the game.”

You were about to complain about the baseball metaphor until you realized what he was really saying.  “When I go?” you repeated excitedly.

“Don’t tell me you changed your mind now!  I already sent them a check,” he answered with a slightly mischievous smile.  Exclaiming in joy, you threw yourself on him for a tight hug.

~

“I assume you’ve all prepared your sonnets for today?” Ms. O’Donnell looked over the room.  She frowned when she saw Jason sinking into his chair.  “Mr. Carver?”

“Uh… I, uh, have a doctor’s note,” he explained.

“Oh— well, regardless, sunglasses are not permitted indoors,” she reminded him.

Sighing, he took the aviators off, and the class snickered at the sight of two black eyes on either side of his bandaged nose.

“Would anyone else like to read theirs for us?” she encouraged, and you waited a second before raising your hand.

That seemed to surprise everyone— most of all Eddie, who lifted his head from where it had been resting on his desk.  Some of your classmates assumed the worst— here we go and time for a feminist lecture that rhymes and all that— but some seemed to sense what was really coming.  Ms. O’Donnell, pleasantly surprised, stepped aside to let you come stand at the front.

You opened your notebook and did your best not to look at everyone looking at you.

Clearing your throat, you began.  “I hate the way you talk to me,” you read aloud, “and the way you cut your hair.  I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.”

Your reading was particularly flat and unemotional, just hoping to get this over with, yet at the same time, so many emotions were flooding you inside.

“I hate your stupid white Reeboks, and the way you read my mind— I hate you so much it make me sick, it even makes me rhyme.”

You spared one half-second glance up, and even just in your peripheral you saw Eddie’s face, and you had to fight getting choked up.

“I hate… I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie,” you whimpered, voice breaking, “I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when— when you make me cry.”

As a hot tear crossed your cheek, you fought the instinct to defiantly wipe it away— for once, you wanted to feel this, and you wanted to be seen even at your most vulnerable.

“I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call,” you continued, approaching the end.  “But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you; not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

The way Eddie was looking at you was just too much; the way everyone was looking at you was just too much.  You stormed out of the class, leaving them in stunned silence, crying harder as you ran down the hall.

~

Your face was dry by the time you got to your car; maybe you’d let Eddie play with your heart and invade your mind and cry way too much, but you decided that was over now— no more tears over boys.  Especially dumbass, annoying, sexy, horrible, gorgeous boys who play you for a fool and have the audacity to fall for you in the process.

You were about you open your driver’s side door when you saw the sparkling white resin in the front seat, and you bent down, greeted by the Fender Stratocaster you’d been eying resting in your seat.

Reaching in through the open window, you pulled it out delicately and inspected it like it was magic— because maybe it was.

“Nice, huh?”

Eddie’s voice behind you made you jump and spin, and he smiled at you expectantly as he shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted back on his heels for a second.  “A Fender Strat?” you noticed.  “Is this— is this mine?”

“I figured you could use it,” he shrugged, “when you start your band.  Or join mine.”

You smiled slowly as you looked at it again, and then back at him.

“Besides, I had some extra cash,” he explained.  “Some jerk paid me to take out this amazing girl…”

“Yeah?” you smirked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but, uh, I kinda fucked it up.  ‘Cause I totally fell for her.”

You loved the way he looked with a flush tinting his cheeks.  “Really?” you pressed.

“Of course,” he grinned.  “Very rare to find a girl who’ll flash someone to break you out of detention.”

It was your turn to feel your face warm, then, wondering how long ago he found out about that.  Dropping your forehead into one of your hands in embarrassment, you laughed shamefully at the memory, hardly believing you’d done something so impulsive.  As risky as it was, you actually kind of liked the person you were when you were with Eddie.

With a gentle grip on your wrist he moved your hand away from your face, the other tilting up your chin so he could kiss you.  You let him, for a moment, but before you could properly melt into him you carefully pushed him back by his shoulders.  

“You know you can’t just buy me a guitar whenever you screw up, right?” you asked.

“I know,” he agreed, “but hey!  There’s always drums, bass, tambourine… triangle…”

You snorted your laugh and he kissed you again.  You pushed him away again.  “And don’t just think you can—”

He kissed you again, a little harder, and you gave in to it willingly.

Yeah, all that cheesy romance stuff? Sappy poems, public serenading, making out in front of everyone as the bell rang and the day ended? Turns out it really can happen for a girl like you. It can happen for a guy like Eddie, too; neither of you expected it to, but it did. And as you spent the rest of your senior year getting to know him better, you found a lot more things about Eddie Munson that you would've hated if you learned them before— but they only made you love him more instead.

[failedintsave]

85 92 skwistok plzzz

[Trope Mashups]

Innocent physical contact/kink

This started as "innocent" but then Skwisgaar wanted to be a rascally goofball so idk it's not exact but 🤷🏼‍♀️ hope you still like it!

Almost one third of Toki's total birthdays had been spent celebrating with the band. His twenty-first had seemed at the time like the height of debauchery, with its marathon bar-crawl-turned-house-party that, after a neighbor called in a noise complaint, migrated first to the strip club before finally ending with him passed out in the sand as the sun rose over the ocean. He'd been sure nothing would ever top it, and that the hangover would kill him. Then their first record went platinum, money started pouring in, and twenty-two made the previous year's blow-out look like a kindergarten graduation.

"Here we ams."

The lock beeped as Skwisgaar swiped his key card, opening the door to their blessedly quiet penthouse suite and immediately disappearing around the corner. Thick, creamy rugs covered the parquet flooring, a wall of glass overlooking the Côte d'Azur below. The sky and water alike were dusky with pinks and purples, the sun already hidden by a low bank of clouds along the horizon. Shadows stretched long in the dying light, and it took Toki's eyes several seconds to adjust so he could enter without tripping over Skwisgaar's abandoned suitcase ahead of him.

After a decade of screaming groupies, of binge drinking and drug-fueled hijinks, Toki decided that for his thirtieth, all he wanted was to get away. He dropped his luggage just inside the foyer—someone would take care of it later—and made straight for the white leather sectional that dominated the lounge, diving onto it with a running leap.

"Ohh, dis is niiiice," Toki sighed, twisting up in the cashmere throw draped artfully over the back of the couch. He was accustomed to luxury, but his standards were meager compared to Skwisgaar's requirements for accommodations. Letting him plan their holiday had been a good choice, Toki was sure the amenities here lacked for nothing.

"You likes it?" Skwisgaar reappeared, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. He must have gone to freshen up after their flight.

"I loves it."

"Dats good, cuz you owns it now. Happy boirthdays, hueghueh." Skwisgaar dropped the towel on the floor, moving to straddle Toki's lap as he sat up.

"Oh, was de wallpapers not to your liking before? Dids dey not haves cucumber water bidets installed?" Toki squeezed Skwisgaar's thigh, the couch cushions creaking as he reclined. "I thought it smelled like sawdust in heres, how much dids you remodel?"

Skwisgaar shrugged, "Was just easiers dis way. No checkingk in and outs. Can come backs whenever want."

"Mm. Dat do sounds good." Toki leaned forward for a kiss, Skwisgaar meeting him halfway. "Thank you."

"Of course. But I has anudder soirprise too." He punctuated the statement with another press of lips, and Toki melted into it until he felt the stretch of an elastic band at the back of his head.

"What ams you doing?" Pulling back, Toki's brows rose as a satin mask was slipped over his eyes.

"What does it looks like I am doing?"

"I don't knows? I can't see?"

Skwisgaar batted his fingers away when he reached for the blindfold. "Ezacktlies."

"But—"

"You don't trusts me?" Mock-offense made Skwisgaar's voice hike in pitch. "After I wents to all dis trouble!"

"Ja, swipings your credit card sure can takes a lot out of you." Toki was rewarded for his cheekiness with another light swat.

Climbing from Toki's lap, Skwisgaar continued his lament, the sound of his voice floating away as he crossed to the opposite side of the room, as best Toki could judge without peeking. "So unapprciateds, I don't know why I tries."

After a minute, footfalls announced his return, then his hands tickled over Toki's chest and stomach, finally alighting on his waist. Skwisgaar slowly, carefully peeled away Toki's shirt, readjusting the blindfold when it shifted as the tee was pulled over his head. Toki saw only a brief glimpse of flickering light, surmising that Skwisgaar must have opted for candlelight as the night grew deeper. That made him smile, it was awfully romantic.

Skwisgaar brushed Toki's hair over one shoulder, ducking to plant a trail of kisses up his neck, but the notion of a quiet, tender evening was quickly ejected from Toki's mind as nimble fingers fastened something around his throat.

They'd discussed restraints, even employed them a time or two, but never on Toki and never without warning first. His initial burst of shock abated quickly, dissolving into a warmth that simmered low in his belly; his hands were still free, he could object if it turned out to be too much for him. Curiosity won out. He waited.

Muted clattering on the coffee table piqued his interest next, Toki's mind racing with possibility. Skwisgaar had a tendency to over pack, his suitcase quite large for a weekend away, but Toki assumed the bag had been jammed full of hair products and backups for his backup outfits. Perhaps there was something more rousing smuggled away in the Swede's carry-on. His pulse quickened, his legs jumping in anticipation.

A bit more racket from the table, then the unmistakable sound of a plastic cap being flipped open. Though he couldn't see him, Toki could sense Skwisgaar standing directly in front of him, looming tall. When he spoke, the bassy timbre of his voice sent an excited shiver through Toki's system.

"Okej, now opens your mouth."

Toki obeyed, gripping the edge of his seat to keep his hands still. Immediately, he jolted backwards, his tongue coated with creamy sweetness.

"Dats cold! What de hell?!" He ripped the blindfold from his eyes, blinking up at Skwisgaar holding a fork.

He'd been correct about the lighting, though less so when he imagined hundreds of pillars and tapers encased in hurricane glass cylinders, rose petals scattered to enhance the mood. Instead, melting slowly at the center of the coffee table, sat a square dessert topped with a handful of guttering candles.

"What?"

Toki loved sweets. He loved sweets, but that fondness for treats had taken its toll on his body in a dangerous way. Their doctor warned him that as he got older he needed to be even more careful to mind his glucose levels, so meals lately had been more restrictive and his alcohol intake (a bit) more mindful.

An assortment of syrups and toppings and jars of sprinkles bordered the platter bearing a sweating ice cream cake, each bottle and container bearing a green sunburst label that read 'sugar free!' in blocky lettering. It seemed his dietary concerns had been considered when these offerings were laid at the altar.

"You gots me a birthday cakes?" Toki lifted his gaze from the dessert to Skwisgaar still hovering over him. "Wait. Why you takes my shirt off?"

"Tch, does you want to gets you clothes all sticky?" He still held a forkful of cake, his other hand cupped beneath it to catch any drips.

Toki looked down, finally paying attention to the shift of fabric against his otherwise bare chest. The sensation hadn't registered through his burgeoning arousal, and now confusion flooded into the mix. He grabbed the terry cloth and yanked, pulling the bib from around his neck, mouth hanging open incredulously.

"What de hell ams dis for?!"

"It's cold, you said sos yourself! I didn't think you'd wants to gets any on you eidder!" Skwisgaar's lip trembled, clearly fighting laughter at this point. To stall, he ate the bite of cake himself, then his head tipped to the side, all honey and false innocence when he asked, "What dids you expects when I said soirprise?"

The bridge of Toki's nose prickled as a blush spread over his cheeks, his jaw jutting forward in a pout. "Ha ha, you's very funny. And yes, I did think you hads something else ups your sleeves. You gots me. Great jobs, jerk." He crossed his arms obstinately over his naked torso. "Thought you was supposed to be nice to me at least for today."

Skwisgaar smirked. He turned and stabbed the fork into the center of the cake, a flag planted to claim some conquered territory, then picked up one of the aluminum cans from the table, tossing it so that it spun end over end in the air before slapping against his palm when he caught it again. It made a quiet sloshing sound as he shook it under Toki's nose.

"I didn'ts say dat you was wrong ins your assumptions. Dis ams clearly too much whipped creams for a slice of cakes." The pink tip of his tongue slid along the edge of his teeth and he eyed Toki expectantly. "Well? You gonna makes a wish or not?"

Growling wolfishly, Toki lunged forward and blew out the candles with a mighty puff. In the same motion, he snagged Skwisgaar behind the knees and dragged him laughing onto the cushions as the room was plunged into twilit shadow.

No wish necessary.

[idesofrevolution]

Okay: Bad Boy Musky Transformation it is. Enjoy!

I knew, of course, that Marco sold whatever the degenerates in the neighborhood needed. Weed, Acid, Ecstasy, Shrooms, Coke... take out the hard ones and you have his menu. He always seemed to afford the good things in life with his dark money. Two weeks ago he’d bought a Ducati; a week prior it was a 60 inch TV! God knows it wasn’t from dutiful employment, but I knew damn well just what it was that afforded him these luxuries: whatever could be inhaled, snorted, or smoked. And yet, here I was, working two jobs at McDonalds & Popeyes just trying to afford my garbage studio apartment. 

He’d only ever been kind to me, I’ll admit. He’d bring by a pizza he said he couldn’t finish, or his old speakers he’d upgraded. Nice guy, if a bit dim. Always out in the courtyard, laying by the pool with his shirt off. Always surrounded by other guys who’d slip him a hundred. It’s not fair! Four years of college and what did I have to show for it? Student loans and no job prospects. Yet there he was: no trade, no job, no future really; but living like a king. So it was one day where I’ll fully admit that my jealousy overwhelmed me. 

I was short that month, for the first time mind you. Short only by a hundred dollars for rent, but I had already gotten a notice on my door. Pay tomorrow or get lost. It was this desperation that made me remember every deal that thug made, every 8-ball, every eighth, every pill... Would he really notice a hundred missing from his pile? I knew for a fact that every Wednesday night, precisely at 10, Marco would leave for the hookah club and not return until 4 or 5 at the earliest. I knew he locked his door, a few locks actually, but I also knew that the moron left his window cracked nearly every night. It just so happened that on that particular evening, he did just that. 

In that fleeting moment of curiosity, a plan built up in my head. I watched him loudly slam his door, lock his several locks, and saunter out down the stairs. I waited about five minutes before creeping out of my apartment, careful to watch for other prying eyes. I had to be quick. I made a run for it, bolting to his open window on the balcony. It slid open quite easily, and I heaved myself over the ledge and into Marco’s dark apartment. I landed on the ratty old carpet and quickly shut the window. Looking around the apartment, it was a three bedroom for sure. In the same state of disrepair as mine, but furnished with some of the most expensive, gaudy things I’ve ever seen. Brand new leather couches, a coffee table made completely of glass, a massive stereo system next to his 60 inch TV... An absolute manchild lived here.

However, I wasn’t there for the TV or the oversized sectional. I had a sneaking suspicion that he, like many of us, kept his extra money somewhere in the bedroom. Ensuring that no noise would come from my steps, I snuck quietly down the hall, covered in paintings of scantily clad men toward the bedroom. Interesting, he swung that way, huh? Opening the door, a wafting stink hit me in the face. The room was covered in dirty laundry, used condoms, half rolled  blunts, and lines of coke on nearly every surface. This is what I was expecting, and I was surely right. Holding my nose shut, I crept toward his dresser, and began to ruffle through his belongings. Damp socks, damp underwear, damp lycra, everything in there was damp and reeking. I slammed each of the drawers shut, and opened the closet. There, on the tile floor behind rows of pristine sneakers were a pair of destroyed old Vans; and inside each were rolls of hundred dollar bills. Jackpot. I knelt down and grabbed one of the rolls, momentarily unclamping my nose to remove the rubber band. The smell was unbelievable. It took me aback, just how strong it was. I’m sure each of the pairs of Huaraches, AF1′s, and the like had strong scents of their own, but from this single pair of beat up old Vans was the most salty, sweet, almost cheesy footmusk that I’d ever encountered.

For a mere second, I contemplated bringing one of the shoes to my face, letting the dirty, wet insole touch the tip of my nose. However, it was in that second that I should have just left well enough alone. The lightswitch flipped on, and looming over me was the hulking, shirtless Marco. In my right hand was his wad of cash, in the left was his grody sneaker. My face flushed, and my stomach dropped to my toes. He crossed his arms and smiled.

“If you wanted a loan you could have just asked...” Words were caught in the back of my throat. I wanted so terribly to make up some fantastic excuse as to my presence in his closet, but the frog in my throat had other ideas. The growing grin of Marco, paired with him beginning to kneel down to my level made my heart nearly stop beating. “And if you wanted a sniff I’d have given it to you.” He smirked and slowly pulled the shoe from my hand, taking a quick whiff of it’s stench. He turned quickly and laughed, waving the wafting scent away from his face before grabbing the back of my head and plunging it right into the shoe. “Okay, deep breath now.”

I tried to struggle, to fight back, but the man was nearly twice my size and pure muscle. There was no chance of me weaseling my way out of this. I had to just play along with this weird fetish that he seemed to have. I inhaled a quick breath, barely getting any stink. 

“No, no. I said deep breath.” I felt a strong hand shoot to my crotch, grabbing my junk within my jeans. The shock of this invasive gesture broke my concentration, and a gasp of breath escaped from my mouth. Into my nose, my mouth, my sinuses, my brain did the musk penetrate. I moaned loudly, the confusion of a powerful grope and a powerful scent submerged me into a strange state of consciousness. Or rather, a lack thereof. I was inhaling the footsmell like air, and I couldn’t get enough. My cock began to tent in my pants, and I felt my right hand drop the roll of cash I thought I so desperately needed. “Ahh, haha. That’s right, let it in. Let me in.” 

His voice seemed distorted, as if we were in a deep cavern, it echoed in my skull. He removed the shoe from my face, pulling me to my feet by my bulging groin. Guiding me toward his bed, I sat down on the smelly sheets, no longer in complete control of my faculties.

“Take your clothes off.” His words entered my ears like soft velvet, it felt wrong to disobey. In fact, I wanted to obey. For the first time, I wanted to listen to whatever this man told me to do. His bulging muscles, his plump lips, the way his crooked smile felt so dangerously mischievous, the way his smell took my breath away like a vacuum. For the first time, this man was everything I wanted. I ripped my clothes off and lay there on his bed wearing nothing but my bare, cold skin. Smiling, he took hold of my throbbing, upright cock in his rough hand. Ripples of goosebumps ran up and down my body as he slowly ran his calloused hand up and down my shaft. Each stroke allowed a groan or a moan to sneak out of my lips, before he leaned down atop me and planted a soft kiss onto my lips. He tasted like an ashtray and as his tongue slipped into my mouth, rolling atop my own, I could feel some of his taste transfer to me. I can’t explain it, as we kissed I could feel that taste of cigarettes and blunts seep into my tongue. I pulled his pants down, his thick, uncut cock tumbling out of his compression shorts onto my stomach. He smiled as he pulled away from the kiss. I stuck my finger under his foreskin, swiping it around, and brought it to my lips. It tasted like ripe, sweaty cock, and I began to crave it. “Oh yeah, babe you’re a keeper.”

He jumped up, and pulled me toward the edge of the bed. I got a perfect frontal view of his gorgeous cock and saggy balls, his virile and manly smell kept pouring into my nose and into the depths of my mind. He grabbed me by the back of my hair and pulled my eager mouth forward, engulfing his slick, smelly cock. I suckled, my loud slurping seeming making him even hornier. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him fiddling with something just out of view. As he thrust down my throat, I realized just what it was that he had. His used condom, I presume from whatever sexy fuck occurred the night prior, was in his hands. I closed my eyes as I felt its rubbery walls close tightly around the tip of my cock, slickly sliding down my shaft until his cold, creamy load touched my slit. With a loud snap, I looked down and saw his thick white cum completely enveloping my cockhead. I only got a quick glance before he’d pulled out of my mouth, replacing his succulent cock with my now favorite smelly shoe. I licked the sole, letting the thick toejam season my ashy tongue as the musk thrust into my nose once more. 

I knew what was coming, and I was prepared when I felt that slippery cock slip like butter into my tight hole. He’d grabbed my cock, covered in his seed, and jerked in tandem with his thrusts into my ass. Sensory overload. His smell, his seed, his cock, his taste, the very sight of him... It was all him. He was marking me. I was his property, and I was glad to oblige. Every single hard smack against my ass cheeks, every stinking waft into my brain, every breath of his smoky breath coming out of my mouth... It was too much! He fucked like a madman, stroking my cock into his slime until I felt a strange tingling in my cockhead. It was a slick, penetrating sensation of his seed... slurping into my slit! I was nearly screaming as I felt it sink deep down my shaft, into my engorging balls. It was stewing, brewing inside my growing sack! I heard him howl as he unloaded his fresher load into me. 

I felt his cock within me shooting spurt after spurt... going from ounces to gallons very quickly. His cum spread throughout my body like water into a balloon. I could feel the silky liquid beneath my skin, creeping, inflating every part of my body. It seeped up my throat, into my mouth, behind my very eyes into my brain. The pressure grew as I felt growth, I felt strength, I felt different. My body was gelatinous beneath my skin, before slowly firming into a much larger form. An improved form. I pulled Marco’s shoe from my face, and looked at my changing body. The cum kept flowing as I saw my muscled arms, my bulging abs, a grotesquely inflated ballsack... He leaned down and kissed me again, giving me another much needed taste of his addictive taste. My brain was melting, reforming, changing... Things were fuzzy and blurred before it was my turn to blow my load. In it, was who I used to be, my failures, my strife, my worries and obligations... Flowed like a jet out of my cock into his condom. Cum flowed out of the top of the condom, before Marco ripped it from me, letting the hot juices pool between us. 

“Lookin’ good, babe.” He smiled at me, and I looked at the man I loved with a smirk. Yeah, I sure fuckin’ do look good. We laid there all night long, fucking and kissing and sniffing and tasting... By the time the sun came up, I was in his clothes, I reeked of his sweaty manly musk, I was wearing my favorite pair of red Vans, and I was readying an 8-ball for pickup later that morning (after a few lines for me and the boyfriend). I kicked back and lit a cigarette, enjoying the laid back life I’d come to love with my man.

It’s a love story. How touching. So let me know what you think. Give me some anons on your opinions! Also, toss a few quid into the tip jar and I’d be eternally grateful <3 <3

[jubilexe]

Retail Therapy - Luke Patterson

Julie and the Phantoms

Request?: Nope.

Word Count: 4.8K+

Summary: Alive!Luke x Alive!Reader/ Alive!JATP x Reader. After a fight with your parents, you go out for a little retail therapy and meet a certain Rockstar. I think I will prolly do a part 2 or more let me know if you want one, btw this is not proofread or edited. Luke sings to you in this chapter and he sings ‘Can’t take my eyes off you’ by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons, so you can listen to that if you want.

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any.

-

“Julie please, my parents and I just got into another huge fight about my art and I need moral support.”

“But my dad wants me to watch Carlos and I can’t bail again.”

“Please just get here! I need you, Jules,” Y/N radiated distress and it was clear to all the people in the Claire’s she was currently in.

“Fine, I can call my tía. I’ll be there in an hour, but you owe me an ice cream cone!” Julie said laughing, Julie had been Y/N’s best friend since they met in the seventh grade when they both accidentally wore the same shirt three days in a row and became friends, they often would laugh about it. Y/N told her where to meet and thanked her friend quickly hanging up the phone. She heaved all her shopping bags up and looked around.

“Why am I even in this store?!” She hmphed loudly drawing the attention of the other shoppers once again. She marched out of the store towards the food court where she was meeting Julie. A new store caught her eye and she stopped for a minute debating if she had enough room for more bags. She quickly made her mind up deciding that she could make room, after all, she had her dad’s Platinum Amex and she was not going to waste this opportunity. Y/N walked quickly to the entrance of the quaint book store. She turned into the book store slamming into something, it was just her luck to run into a wall today and I mean why not seeing as the rest of her life was falling to pieces around her. She fell onto her back looking at the ceiling her bags scattered around her. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” A boy came into her sight. He had shaggy brown hair and was wearing a light yellow apron with a name tag. Guess she didn’t run into a wall after all, but again that was just her luck. Her eyes began to water as all the emotion crashed upon her like a tsunami. She gritted her teeth pulling herself together.

“I’m fine,” Y/N looked at his name tag. “Luke.”

“Woah how’d you know my name?” Luke stepped back and Y/N let out a breath of laughter.

“Nametag,” She said as the tears began to pool in her eyes.

“What? Oh my god, why are you crying?” Luke looked at her panicked, he didn’t do the best around crying girls. She held up a thumbs up. 

“I said I’m- I’m,” She coughed lightly trying her best to get out the words. 

“Here let me help you up,” Luke stuck out his hand to her nervously. She grabbed it and using her other hand tried to wipe the onslaught of tears off her face. Luke kept a hold of her hand pulling her to the back section of the store. 

“Um you can stay back here as long as you’d like,” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and accidentally running into the desk behind him knocking a book off the desk he looked at it quickly.

“Here you can read this maybe it’ll make you feel better,” he picked the book up shoving the book into her arms. He ran out of the room quickly.

“Oh? I- Thank you!” Y/N called out into the store. Luke ran back into the room his arms heaving all the girl’s bags.

“How were you carrying this much?” He wheezed dropping the bags by her. She laughed wiping more tears away and smearing her mascara. Luke backed up again.

“I have to get back to work but just leave when you want and if you need anything I’ll be up at the front counter,” he nodded at the girl giving her a thumbs up, and walked out again. She sat at the back of the store composing herself. She picked up the book looking at the title. It was ‘The Outsiders’ and a pretty beaten up copy at that the book was filled up with loose pages, she flipped through it and set it down on the table next to her. She turned to grab her bags. She didn’t notice but the book slipped off the table into one of her bags. She also didn’t notice her journal/ sketchbook drop from her purse as she grabbed everything trying to flee as quickly as she could. She collected the rest going out into the main store and heading to the counter.

“Thanks again for the help,” She leaned on the counter gazing at the boy in front of her.

“No problem, um you can come back anytime, that is if you want to of course no pressure,” Luke stumbled over his words.

“Of course, yeah,” She nodded, but she was not going to come back, not after that humiliating experience. He smiled dopily at her.

“Can’t wait,” he leaned on the counter as well.

“Um yeah,” she felt a twinge of guilt at the totally sweet look he was giving her. Her phone chimed loudly and she pulled it out.

“That would be my cue to leave,” She turned quickly dashing out of the store making her great escape.

“Bye then,” he waved confused. Y/N pulled out her phone checking the text.

‘Where are you? I got here 10 minutes ago.’ - From Julie. Y/N sighed speeding up her strides to get to the food court quicker. She spied Julie sitting at a table in the middle of the court. She made her way through the throng of people and sat down at the table setting her bags down under it. 

“What happened?” Julie asked eyeing the girl.

“I had a bit of a break down in a store, but a nice employee helped me out so I’m good,” Y/N laughed quickly.

“Are you okay, your eyes are really puffy. Do you need eye drops?” Julie stuck her hand in her purse and Y/N stopped her laughing again.

“I don’t need anything I’m good I promise, I just want to spend time with my best friend,” Y/N laid her hands down on the table in front of her. Julie rested her hands on top of the girls.

“If it’s any consolation I am supportive of your art,” Julie smiled sweetly. Y/N’s heart melted at the girl’s words, it did mean a lot to her.

“Thanks, Julie, now if you could convince my parents to do the same then that would be a dream come true,” a weak smile crept its way onto Y/N’s face. Julie squeezed her hand.

“How about we go get that ice cream and we can talk a bit and walk around, I think we both need it,” Julie stood up interlocking her hand with Y/N’s and pulling her towards the creamy treat.

-

It’d been a few weeks since the mall incident and things were not getting any easier for Y/N. Fights seemed to be on the daily now and the yelling was beginning to drive the girl insane. So she spent as little time as possible at her house only going over to sleep and do school work, other than that she was at the park painting or reading through the book that had slipped into her bag. She had planned on returning it to the booking clerk after she had read it, but now it had been three weeks and she had yet to. She would have hung out with Julie, but she was busy with her new band and nonstop rehearsals, they were set to debut at a spirit rally at school next week and they needed to be perfect. She still hadn’t met the band, but she had permission from Julie to crash anytime she wanted and she was planning on taking full advantage of this pass soon.

Her favorite pass time though was reading the book though so she had kept it, she loved to just read and look at the little notes and doodles in the margins, it really gave her a view of what was going on in Luke’s head. Although sometimes it was hard to decipher the hieroglyphics that was Luke’s handwriting.

She had discovered that the writings of S.E. Hinton were not the only thing hidden away in the eggshell-colored pages, there were journal entries and songs. She didn’t feel comfortable reading through the entries but she sure did love reading the works of musical genius, Luke’s, songs. They were so well written and heartfelt it helped her understand this boy that she barely knew, this boy so full of passion, feeling, emotions, and kindness.

And that’s where she was now reading a song of loss and regret under the cloudy sky. One that she related to personally, it reminded her of her parents and that even if she was having a hard time with them she would always love them even if they weren’t in the picture.

“If you could only know I never let you go,” she hummed along to the words, and sure she didn’t know the tune the words were initially meant for but she could sure try and make her own melody. But her phone interrupted her startling her out of her own little world within the words. She hurriedly wiped at her tear-stained cheeks and took the device out. It was 4:30, Julie and the Phantoms were at rehearsals right now and this was the perfect opportunity to infiltrate the jam session, so Y/N hopped on her bike and sped towards the Molina residence.

-

Y/N stopped on the cobblestone path leading to the studio loft and set her bike against the stone wall. She could already hear the music drifting from the open window of the studio. She crept to the porcelain white door and stood on her tiptoes looking through the long windows. Y/N could see Julie on the piano and three boys surrounding her. There was a tall lanky one wearing a pink shirt and had a fanny pack slung across his chest, he had blond hair and was on the drum, there was a raven-haired one clad in flannel and leather he was on bass guitar and another one that wasn’t facing Y/N, from what she could see he was a brunet and was wearing jeans and a blue sleeveless hoodie, and he was on a guitar she thought. Julie looked up and jumped a little but she just laughed it off stopping the music and gesturing for Y/N to come inside. Just as Y/N was about to move away from the door the brunet turned around her her heart stopped she could hear all the blood rushing and it was deafening.

It was Luke from the bookstore. Y/N felt herself pale and she quickly hid from view she slid down to sit against the door and the pavement, her eyes darted around looking for a place to hide, any place at all. But before she could move the door gave way and she fell onto her back. Julie had opened the door at the whole band formed a circle around the starfishes girl. Luke broke out into a fit of giggles.

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” he managed to get out through the laughter. Y/N deadpanned and scoffed.

“Tell me about it,” she sighed. Luke came to a stop and offered her a hand. She did not grab the hand though instead opting to roll onto her stomach and push herself up. Luke lowered his hand awkwardly and Alex snickered.

“You two know each other?” Julie asked looking between the pair.

“Kind of,” Y/N shrugged looking at the dopey grinned boy. “We met at the mall a few weeks ago, you remember Julie we had an ice cream cone that day.

Julie nodded and looked at Luke.

“Oh, so this is the guy you stole a book from!” Julie laughed at the panicked face you made. Luke sent Y/N a confused look.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry I’ve been meaning to return it,” Y/N dug through her backpack and pulled out the book victorious. She handed the book to Luke quickly and added a quick explanation and a sorry.

“Hey it’s okay, you kind of left something too, I had been wondering where it had disappeared to though,” he laughed and snatched Y/N’s journal from his bag handing it to her. Throughout their exchange Julie, Alex, and Reggie just stood awkwardly shuffling their feet.

“Oh! I thought my dad took this... Oh My god wait please tell me you didn’t look,” Y/N paled again. Luke and Y/N stared at each other for a minute silently.

“Um only a little,” Luke looked down to the ground guiltily. Julie coughed and clasped her hands together.

“Why don’t we play something for Y/N while she’s here!” She said sitting down at the piano. The rest of the boys picked up their instruments, Alex sitting at the drums, Reggie standing with his bass next to Alex and the door, and Luke standing next to the piano and the couch. Y/N took a seat on the couch farthest away from Luke, she was feeling a bit awkward.

“So this is Bright,” Julie said to Y/N as well as making the boys aware of what they’d be playing for her. Julie played the first notes on the piano taking a breath and smiling, she was really in her element right now and it showed.

“Sometimes I think I’m falling down. I wanna cry, I’m calling out,” Julie sang out hitting each note with perfection. Y/N got goosebumps on her arms while listening to Julie’s voice, it was really breathtaking.

“For one more try, to feel alive.” The boys still hadn’t played their instruments and Y/N looked at each of them confused. Luke sent her a wink and threw his guitar over his shoulder with finesse. Y/N smiled brightly and gave him thumbs up. She reached into her bag pulling out a paper and a pen. She wrote a 9.5 

“What?! I deserve a 10,” Luke frowned strumming a note as Julie sang, “Life is a risk but I will take it, close my eyes, and jump.”

“It’s because you’re a show-off,” Y/N held out the f sound. Luke laughed and threw his head back.

“I’ll you show you what showing off really looks like,” he grinned at her. Just ask he said that Julie sang, “Come on let’s run!”

And that's when the boys hopped into action the music hitting Y/N like a wave. Luke played the guitar his hands moving effortlessly on the frets, he had so much passion in his eyes and Y/N couldn’t tear hers away. Luke looked at her holding her gaze intently.

“Life is a risk but we will take it, close my eyes and jump,” Luke’s voice came out gravely and husky, giving Y/N goosebumps once again. Reggie sang along with him dancing around the middle of the loft. Y/N felt like the breath was knocked out of her, the band was, to put it simply, dazzling. She had so many thoughts for them but she knew she it’d be impossible to tell them how amazing they were in words. Luke walked closer to Y/N kneeling in front of her while still playing his instrument. 

“Come on let’s run!” Luke sang to her, the rest of the band along with him. He hit the high note with ease and Y/N breathed in deeply. Luke continued to sing, but he pulled her up quickly and they danced together, it was a mess of rocking together and lots of spinning on Y/N’s part while Luke jumped up and down still having to play. Reggie came in and joined them, and he and Alex shared a look. They all jumped around in a circle and Y/N jumped onto the couch singing along with the chorus.

“Shine together bright forever!” Y/N picked up her water bottle using it as a mic. Luke couldn’t keep his eyes off her, she was electric. 

“In times that I doubted myself, I feel like I needed some help,” Luke sang and the only instrument playing was coming from the piano. Luke walked up to the couch below Y/N and they stared at each other.

“Stuck in my head, with nothing left,” Luke sang to her. Julie shot Y/N a look telling her to sing with him.

“And when I feel lost and alone, I know that I can make it home,” Y/N sang nervously fearing she’d mess up the words, but Luke just smiled at her and Y/N instantly felt at ease. Y/N looked away from Luke for a minute nodding at Julie and they sang together.

“Fight through the dark, and find the spark!!” Julie raising her voice and held out the note. Luke still couldn’t pull his gaze away and he lifted Y/N off the couch spinning her and making her squeal, she was set on the ground and she started dancing again. 

“We will fight to shine together! Bright forever!” They all sang out and the song ended. Y/N laughed with glee and jumped up and down.

“You guys are amazing!” She smiled at Alex and hit Reggie’s shoulder, feeling at home with the guys already, even if they only met a few minutes ago. 

“I’m gonna run inside the house and grab some snacks and we can hang out!” Luke ran to the door and exited. Y/N laughed, he didn’t even ask if she was free, she was but still. She enveloped Julie in a hug and they laughed together. Y/N’s phone rang in her pocket and she pulled it out and looked at the screen, her mom was calling. A deep frown set into her face and she clutched the phone.

“I’m gonna take this,” She said and made her way out sitting against the stone wall and taking a deep breath trying to prepare herself. She hit the answer button and held the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” She whispered.

“Y/N Y/L/N, you need to get home right now, you have been gone long enough. Get over yourself, you will not become an artist and you will do what we say we are your parents,” Y/N’s mom and dad said, not even letting Y/N get a word in. She breathed in deeply and shut her eyes tight willing herself not to cry.

“Mom, Dad, I’m not coming home,” Y/N got out her voice faltering. Her dad scoffed.

“Don’t be ridiculous you will come home immediately,” Her mom sighed. Y/N shook her head even though her parents couldn’t see.

“I’m not coming home not again and not ever, not until you support me,” she almost lost herself there but she shut her eyes again keeping the tears at bay, she wouldn’t cry for something she needed to do.

“I’m gonna be staying somewhere else from now on, I’ve already got all the stuff that I need and you won’t see me again until I prove you wrong.”

“People will like my art and even if they don’t I like my art and it’s what I’m passionate about and I won’t stop, I won’t give up, I can’t,” Y/N hung up the phone not even giving them a chance to respond, she clicked into her settings turning off her location and stuck her phone next to her. She brought her knees to her chest and she breathed deeply, she heard someone taking a seat next to her, she didn’t look assuming it was Julie.

“I know what it’s like,” Luke laid his head against the wall and put his hands at his sides. Y/N’s head shoots towards Luke.

“It’s you! I thought you were Julie,” Y/N said. Luke started to get up.

“I’m so sorry I’ll go,” he stood up all the way. Y/N grabbed his hand and pull him back down they were now sitting shoulder to shoulder and looking at each other. Y/N breathed in deeply again the tears finally going away.

“Stay.”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop drop, by the way,” Luke laid his hand on top of her hesitantly. She laughed shaking her head.

“It’s okay, can you tell me about it?” She asked him referring to what he said earlier. He nodded slowly trying to articulate what he was thinking.

“Okay, but bear with me I’m gonna start at the beginning,” he stated and Y/N intertwined their finger hoping to make him more comfortable.

“My mom and dad bought me my first guitar when I was about 8,” he started squeezing her hand.

“When you said beginning I didn’t think it’d be beginning, beginning,” she laughed. He sent her an annoyed look and she giggled laying her head on his shoulder.

“They didn’t get me into lessons but my neighbor ended up teaching me, I knew immediately that music was what I wanted to do and my parents didn’t quite feel the same but they let me continue playing regardless, but then I started a band called Sunset Curve when I was fifteen, that’s when they tried to take my guitar away,” he deflated slightly and Y/N nestled into him a bit more.

“Of course I hid it where we were practicing and didn’t tell them where, but the fights got so bad that I ran away, on Christmas Eve.”

“Now I’m staying here, but I get how it feels to not be supported by the ones who matter most, so if you need someone who knows what you’re going through you can come to me if you want,” he said facing her as she took her head off his shoulder. They were centimeters apart at this point, they were practically breathing in each other’s air.

“You’re staying at Julie’s?” She asked their noses almost touching.

“Yeah in the loft with Alex, he’s not living at home either, his parents weren’t cool after he came out to them,” he said sadly his eyes fluttering shut. She studied his face, he had freckles that you could only see close up, and there was a small scar just on the bridge of his nose.

“It’s cool that you guys have each other,” Y/N interlocked both their hands.

“You could have us too,” he whispered. “If you want us.”

“I’d really like that I think,” she moved in closer, her lips ghosting over his as he whispered, “I’m glad you want me, us.” They knew each other better than anyone, sure they hadn’t been together long but they’d seen into each other's world through music and writing and art, they saw the most intimate parts of each other. A crash from the garage and Alex fell through the crack in the door and he shot up looking like a deer in headlights. Luke and Y/N jumped away from each other and Y/N hit her bike knocking it over and the contents of her other bag on it spilled out, a mess of clothes and tampons came out and Luke looked horrified. His eyes fell upon a single bra and he stumbled back covering his eyes. Alex ran back into the studio slamming the door behind him. Y/N quickly scooped up her stuff putting it back into her bag making sure to zip it up this time. Luke still was on the ground covering his eyes.

“You can look now,” Y/N let out an airy laugh. Luke shook his head.

“I’m too embarrassed,” he sat up still covering his eyes. Y/N scooted over to him so that she was sitting in front of him on her knees, she brought her hands up to his slowly moving them away. She and Luke looking into one another’s eyes for the millionth time that night. She slowly tore her gaze away and stood up.

“I should probably go find a hotel to stay at,” she whispered picking up her bike. Luke jumped up grabbing her wrist.

“You can stay here! I mean if it’s okay with Julie, we’ll have to ask,” he said holding onto her hands and grinning at her.

“It’s okay with me!” They heard Julie’s voice from inside the studio. Y/N laughed pulling Luke into a tender hug, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her hips. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and whispered, “Thank you for everything Luke.”

“You’re welcome,” he kissed the top of her head lightly pulling her in tighter. Drops of rain began to dribble into them until it was a downpour. Luke tried to pull her inside but Y/N pulled him back and they spun together in the rain. Y/N let out a joyful and bubbly laugh that had Luke laughing along with her.

“Sing to me music man,” Y/N spun Luke around and dipped him. He grinned at her and began to sing.

“You’re just too good to be true,” they spun together again.

“Can’t take my eyes off of you, you’d be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much,” Luke spun Y/N in and they rocked together. Y/N slid her arms up around Luke’s shoulders and they smiled at each other.

“At long last has arrived and I thank God I’m alive,” he smiled to himself at the line. Y/N spun away and jumped in the rain and a puddle of water exploded under her baby blue converse.

“You’re just too good to be true, Can’t take my eyes off of you,” and the lyrics were true for Luke he could pull his gaze from the magnetic girl in front of him. She held out her hand and Luke grasped it as she spun in her back hitting Luke’s chest. Luke sang more to her and he was almost to the chorus now.

“There are no words left to speak. But if you feel what I feel, please let me know that it’s real.”

“You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you,” Luke hummed and Y/N got ready to sing the chorus with him.

“I love you, baby!” They both sang out at the top of their lungs.

“And if it’s quite alright, I need you baby! To warm a lonely night!” Y/N sang out Luke practically had heart eyes. This wasn’t like before in the studio during Bright, Y/N wasn’t hesitant at all she had the aura of a thousand burning stars and the confidence to show it.

“I love you, baby! Trust in me when I sayyy!” Y/N sang again and Luke continued this time.

“Oh, pretty baby! Don’t bring me down I pray,” Luke spun down onto his knees and held his hands out to Y/N.

“Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay! And let me love you, baby!” Luke sang pulling Y/N in they were once again close, chest to chest the rain streaming down their faces and their foreheads pressed together.

“Let me love you,” Luke sang in a whisper. Y/N hooked her arms around his neck and their lips were close, but not close enough to connect.

“You’re just too good to be true...” He closed in, their lips connecting for half a second but once again they were interrupted by a car beeping from in front of the house. Y/N pulled away quickly and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“That’s probably Julie’s dad with the pizza,” Luke said sadly knocking on the white door for the rest of the teens to come out.

“That was quite the show you two put on,” Reggie said as they came out. Y/N blushed which is something she didn’t normally didn't do so you knew she was very embarrassed.

“Shut up, dude,” Luke punched Reggie’s shoulder. They all began walking to the house, the rest of the teens holding umbrellas but Luke and Y/N were still exposed to the weather. They lagged behind a bit and Y/N took Luke’s hand into hers. They got to the door and they were the only ones out there. The rain pitter-pattered against the covering of the porch. Y/N and Luke faced each other and Y/N smiled at him.

“Thanks again for everything, Luke.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Luke stepped up to her.

“How did you know that was my favorite song?” She grinned at him.

“I have my ways, star,” he cooed and Y/N smiled at the nickname. She stood on her toes and pecked him on the cheek and she dashed inside. Luke stood there alone and touched his cheek softly and grinned, she’d be the death of him, but he was ready to do anything for her. He was falling, and falling hard for that matter.

-

Thank you for reading and let me know if you want a part two, and feel free to enter my taglist link in bio!

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-eight: alex’s nineteenth birthday

It took Sam a few moments to realize that she was no longer back in her apartment, but at the new place in Hell's Kitchen. But she had found her way back to that safe place, even if the surroundings had changed to of great extent. She shook her head to rid of her dream world and she placed the journal down on the table before her.

Marla had slept through the throes of jet lag for what felt like forever, and swift phone call back to Jon and Marsha's place allowed her to figure things out from then onward as the summer days dwindled down to autumn there in New York. Indeed, Anthrax themselves would make their grandiose return to the United States in no time once another trio of dates wrapped up for them. A full four weeks off and they would make the flight back to Europe for a fuller stint of the tour, and albeit one that would last them all the way to Christmas. It almost felt as though Jon was making it up as he went along but she had to take his word for it, especially given the shakiness of the music world, and especially since Aurora and Emile hadn't returned to New York City themselves.

Her best friend had gone off with her new groom and in turn left her there at the altar herself. She sat there on a stool next to the phone on the wall and she listened to Jon talk about things there at the label. Marla still hadn't woken up and Zelda had long left the apartment to deal with her own affairs with the Cherry Suicides: the latter of whom did, however, leave her duct taped boots there at the apartment, right next to the coffee table. There was that vase there at the far end, right where Sam had been laying, and she yearned for those yellow tulips once again. Sam cleared her throat but she never said anything while she listened and hung onto every word.

She had to do so: she was the most important person there at the label at the moment next to Jon.

“Besides, Alex's birthday is coming up here in a few weeks time,” he added at one point, and that coaxed a smile out of Sam.

“He'll be nineteen now! Still just a hatchling.”

Jon chuckled at that, but Sam was serious upon saying that. Alex still was a young boy about to make his transition into manhood. A nineteen year old kid who had already put out an album and yet she still struggled to make her way through the art world. There had to be an opening of sorts, something that could potentially free her from the whole tedium of going to school and going back home. It wasn't just the change in surroundings, but rather there had to be an escape out of there somehow.

Something to move her away from it all, even if it was just for a little bit, even as she and Jon bode their goodbyes and she hung up the phone.

The thrill and rush of being on tour had something to do with it. Being out in the world at large. All the world was a stage after all. She had that itch she couldn't seem to scratch once again, and the first day of school had to prove to be something more for her lest she find herself bounding off of the walls of Hell's Kitchen once more.

She strode back out of the kitchen so as to fetch her journal. So much drawing in such a short amount of time, and she remembered that school was about to start off a brand new quarter and ultimately a brand new year within a few days time.

She returned to those three drawings that happened as if they each were a hallucination. Something that came forth from another part of her mind, a place that no one knew about before. But she had to keep it under wraps for the time being, for the time in which she had right there at that very moment, that precise moment in time, the very present. At some point, Joey needed to know how she felt about him, and if it had to take her utmost intimate pieces of art to do such a thing then she was willing to undertake that task.

Marla needn’t know about them, not until there came a time in which she had to talk about them for real. But then again, she had her privacy at her fingertips, the precious bit of privacy all to herself. She had her mind’s eye fixed on the three men among the pages of that journal, the three men whom everyone knew but also didn’t know at the same time.

A knock at the door caught her attention and thus jarred her back down to earth once again. She closed the journal and clambered to her feet. Lucky for her, Genie had curled up with Marla in the bed down the hall. Sam recognized that head of blonde hair down past the shoulders now tied up tight in a snug ponytail upon her head coupled with the doll-like features.

“Oh, hi, Bel,” she greeted her.

“Hey! Is Marla up?”

“Nah, she's been out like a light for the last day and a half. I think she got up once after you left the morning after. What’s going on?”

“A little bird told me that it’s about to be someone’s birthday soon,” she replied in singsong voice. “A certain boy who happens to play guitar in the only five piece band for miles.”

“Let me guess,” Sam started as she let her into the apartment, “Jon told you.”

“I won’t tell,” Belinda giggled, and then she shut the door behind her, and she turned towards Sam with her eyebrows knitted together.

“She got up once after I left,” Belinda echoed her. “Only once.”

“Yeah, Marla’s just been wiped out lately because of the damn jet lag,” Sam answered, and she tucked her hands into her shorts pockets. “I've been sleeping well, though.”

“I have, too—wow.”

“So what'd you have in mind for little Mr. Alexander?” Sam took her seat on the arm of the couch closest to the door.

“Well, I was thinking that—since he's a guitar player—maybe you and I can look into playing around with leather and make him a new strap?”

“Ooh, yeah! Like you can craft out the leather and I can paint on designs and whatnot on there. That's a great idea, Bel!”

“We'll have to do some reading, of course, but it's definitely something I've thought about in the past. Getting into leather work. It's just something that fascinates me.”

“It sounds fascinating—like glass work.”

“Well, since Marla isn't up, I'm thinking maybe you and I can go over to the book shop up the block here and find something about that.”

“I'll take it,” said Sam as she reached for her purse on the hook behind her. “Totally nice day for a walk, anyways.”

“Right?”

Without another word, the two of them headed outside to the hazy gray afternoon and they made their way up the block to the book shop in question. Sam thought about that one place that she and Cliff had gone to down by L'Amour all the while, even as she and Belinda looked up the books in the crafting section, tucked back in the far corner of that main room. She gazed on at the beading books and the paper crafts, and she thought about Joey all the while: on the front covers, those beads arranged in all those arrows and points made her think of Native American baskets.

And then she remembered that Joey's birthday was coming up as well, exactly two weeks after Alex.

“Hey, Bel, you wanna do something for Joey's birthday?” she asked her.

“Sure!” Belinda then turned her attention to her from a book she had swiped from the shelves. “What'd you have in mind?”

“Something Native American related. You know, the whole leather work guitar strap thing but with something that's faithful to his heritage, though.”

“Okay—well, I'm reading this here and it's rather easy to figure out. It's getting my paws on a leather work kit is the real bitch about it, though. This thing here says a single hundred piece kit is almost fifty bucks.”

“It's worth it, though,” Sam pointed out.

“Absolutely. I think there is in fact a place for that—up the block here. Where I can get a couple of strips of nice leather for those two boys and just buckle down with the tools. I think you can get paints there, too.”

Indeed, the two of them headed back out, complete with Belinda buying that craft book as well, and then they further headed up the street to that craft shop in question. Just a walk along that sidewalk made Sam wonder about her own desires to break free of it all in favor of a change of pace. She peered up at the buildings that lined the streets and the hazy sun overhead. It was in fact home to her after all.

“I literally love how we can go just about anywhere here in New York,” Sam remarked as Belinda held the door for her.

“Right? Everything we want and need—right nearby. We can either walk there, or hitch a ride on the bus or the subway. We can give it all what for even if we can't find what we're looking for with these two boys.”

“I'm gonna give you what for if you don't wrap it up in paper,” Sam teased her, and Belinda chuckled at that as they stepped inside the craft shop: rows of shelves stood before them, underneath a series of soft fluorescent lights, and Sam was greeted by the fresh smell of new tools right there in their face.

“How 'bout you wrap the whole entire thing up in paper with a little bow on top?” she retorted back. Sam then stopped right in her tracks, and she took a glimpse over at Belinda and the mischievous look on her face.

“When you say 'entire thing',” Sam began in a soft voice even with no one else in that shop there with them, “do you mean his dick or his guitar?”

“Both,” Belinda replied without a shred of irony or hesitation.

“So you want me to wrap up his dick and his guitar in paper?” Sam asked her with a straight face.

“Yes? Yes.”

“Who're we talkin' about?”

Belinda nibbled on her bottom lip, but she never said anything. Instead, she lunged forward to the row of metal shelves right in front of them.

“Bel, who're we talking about?” Sam asked her again as she adjusted the strap of her purse, but Belinda paid more attention to the leather kits in front of her face.

“We's talkin' 'bout leather, baby,” she said as she took off the first one right over her head. She then turned to the spools of leather on the far side of the room.

“What color do you think they'd like?” she asked Sam.

“I'm feeling black with Joey and—creamy white for Alex. By the way, you didn't answer my question.”

“What question's that?”

“Who were we talking about back there?”

Belinda pursed her lips together and she never said anything as she picked up two small spools of black and white leather for the guitar straps in question. She then led Sam back to the front of the shop, past the single file of paints for the leather in question.

“We's talkin' 'bout leather,” she repeated again. “By the way, that book said that black can hold just about any color while off white leather looks best with jewel tones.”

“Yes, but—who are we talking about?” Sam corrected her as she picked out a quartet of bottles, one scarlet red, one solid black, one pure white, and one sapphire blue. And Belinda still never replied to her as she doubled back to the register and she paid for it right there. Sam shook her head the whole entire time she put down the money and tucked her wallet back into her purse.

Belinda carried the leather kit and the pieces of leather under her left arm, and Sam volunteered to carry something for her.

“I got it, I got it—by the way, I was talking about both of them.” She raised her eyebrows at Sam, who then looked on at her with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Talking about both of them,” she echoed her over the noise of the street.

“Yeah. Sam, Alex is of age now. You can do whatever the hell you want with him now.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what?”

“I do not like the way you said the word 'but' just now.”

“Thinking about Alex's butt?” Belinda teased her as she adjusted the kit and the bag of leather with her free arm, and she gave her blonde ponytail a little toss back.

“Pfff, you wish,” Sam scoffed; she felt her face growing warm with embarrassment, or the warmth of the late summer sun.

“What, you don't think he has a cute butt?”

“I haven't looked.”

“Well, next time you see him—like at the party that they're throwing for him—you oughta have a look. Libra boys have nice rear ends—at least so I'm told.”

“Nice and round, I assume?”

“Maybe,” Belinda replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

Within time, they returned to the apartment and Marla still hadn't woken up yet.

“Well, let's see,” Belinda started once she had set everything down on the kitchen table. Sam took her seat next to her, and she gave her blonde hair another toss back even though she had no need to do so from the tautness of her ponytail. “—the leather has already been treated... I'm gonna have to cut these so they resemble to guitar straps. I'm gonna need you to help me. Even though it's gonna be a bit before their birthdays, and Joey's birthday in particular, I'm glad we're getting a head start on this.”

“I am, too!” Sam declared.

“Lucky for us, we have these special scissors just for cutting leather—do you know how tall they are?”

“Joey and Alex? Joey is about middle height, like I can look at him right in the eye.”

“How tall are you?”

“Five foot seven. I'm thinking he's five foot nine?”

“Okay. What about Alex?”

“He's a big boy, I know that much. I kinda have to look up at him. And I've seen him next to Chuck, who's pretty tall in his own rite—and I've seen him next to Joey, too.”

“And how tall is he in comparison to Joey?”

“He's taller. By how much, I don't really know, to be honest. But I know he's taller.”

“Okay—I'll see what I can do.”

Indeed, Sam watched her go forth with the leather scissors and the measuring tape and the pencil for two guitar straps.

“If nothing, I can make Alex's a two piece and I can find a buckle,” Belinda told her.

“Hmmm...” But Sam never went any further than that. Instead, she watched Belinda spread out the leather, twin black and white stripes before them on the wood. She picked up the pencil yet again, that time to sketch out the designs on the upside of the leather.

“Okay, so let's figure this part here will be on Joey's shoulder... and this part here will be on Alex's shoulder...”

She sketched out the ever so faint sketch of a bouquet of roses for Joey's strap, and then a cluster of something that resembled to tulips on Alex's strap. Sam looked over at the bottles of paint next to her: on one hand, she was glad that she hadn't picked out yellow for Alex's white leather. But then again, the very sight of those tulips made her think back to those drawings in her journal. Two pieces for a strap for Alex, which meant one of them had to find a buckle for it: Belinda sewed the ends of those off in place for a buckle, and then with the pick, she poked three holes into the larger part for the adjustment.

And within time, she took the awl and the hammer and began work inside of those lines.

She took her time in engraving into the black leather and then the white leather, but Sam didn't mind in the least. They were making something together for the two birthday boys. She propped up her chin inside of the palm of her hand as she watched Belinda ever so gingerly carve into the leather with that fine chisel tip, complete with a tap of the hammer head. The little continuous clink! that came out of the hammer's head didn't bother her in the least. The petals of the flowers all came to fruition even without a full color scheme: indeed, Belinda added a few more spirals and dots on Joey's leather for a more of a Native American look. She also added something that resembled to a Day of the Dead skull on both of their straps: the skull on Alex's strap had a flower tucked right behind it.

It took her most of the afternoon to completely fill out the engraving on the sketches on both straps of leather, but she managed to do it right there, right before Sam's eyes. A bit of work, for sure, but she could make it work.

“Gonna have to run a thread through these first,” Belinda said once she set the awl and the hammer down. “So they don't come unraveled and whatnot...”

The big fat needle and the thick thread. Even more time and at that point, the straps were stitched and engraved, and lay there in anticipation for the head of a paint brush.

“Okay, you ready?” Belinda asked her.

“Lemme get my fine tipped brush...” Sam doubled back to her room for that fine tipped paint brush in question, and she returned with that plus a wash basin for the paints. Careful not to get any extraneous paint on the nice leather, she kept her hand right over the engravings for Joey's guitar strap.

“Red and white roses,” Belinda muttered as the paint collected at the deepest parts of the engravings.

“And red and white roses,” Sam added as she added a kiss of white on the otherwise red petals in the center piece of the bouquet. The colors bled for a second before they dried out right there. “Red and black tulips for Mr. Skolnick—”

“And white and blue sugar skulls, too, I presume,” said Belinda.

“White and blue for Mr. Belladonna—black and blue for Mr. Skolnick—”

Within time, Sam had painted the leather and the sun had set over Hell's Kitchen. It made sense that the flowers would be in bloom and the sugar skulls would have their full color right there. Sam held the leather back on the table so they could have a better look at them.

“Beautiful,” Belinda remarked. “They're just... they're gonna love these.”

“Too bad we don't have a leather working class at the school,” Sam said, “I actually kinda like this.”

“I do, too! We can suggest it when school starts, though.”

The two of them leaned back in their seats and looked on at the leather before them.

“I'm kinda hungry, you want something to eat?” Belinda asked her.

“Yes please. I gotta feed Genie, anyways.”

 * * * * *

 School had started for the two of them as well as Marla in what felt like no time, and Sam wondered what exactly Bill had in store for her as she signed up for an appointment with him at one point in the future. Just so long as it didn't involve her working with something tedious like any of those general education classes: she was already taking three of those that term, and in turn less time to focus on the crux of her art degree. Marla assured her that it wouldn't be anything too serious, but then again, she herself had her focus firmly on her own senior project.

Meanwhile, Sam and Belinda had the leather straps placed in boxes and then wrapped up for Alex and Joey's birthdays in the coming days. For the first week of school, she had her eye on the daunting task of junior year of college and preparing for her even more daunting senior year, but she also had those two young men on her mind. She hoped that Joey would love his new guitar strap in particular: indeed, she thought of Alex's words about how he held his guitar during the shows of that North American stint. She knew that she kept it just between herself and him, but something in the back of her mind made her consider if Joey would question the length of it.

In the meantime, for the first two weeks of school and before Alex's birthday, Sam put in her final hours at the label before they were bought out. She had no idea what Aurora was going to do afterwards, and she sure as anything had no idea what she was to do with it, especially when school finished out for her. She and Belinda came to their spot up the street after school the last Friday afternoon of the month, and Aurora greeted them both a smile on her face, much to their surprise.

“What's going on?” Sam asked her as she put her arms around her.

“I'm pregnant for real now,” Aurora told her, to which the two of them gaped at her.

“Seriously,” the former blurted out. “Like, you're not messing with us right now.” And Aurora shook her head.

“Osegueda can relax now, I s'pose?” Belinda joked.

“Yes, he can!” Aurora proclaimed.

“When did you find out?” Sam asked her.

“Just a couple of nights ago. I was gonna call you, Sam, but I guess you and Marla have your work cut out for you this year.”

“Hell yeah, we do—especially me.”

“Anyways, I felt weird, like internally, and so I went out for a test.” Aurora set her hand on the lower part of her belly. “Bun in the oven, ladies.”

“Please don't drink at Alex's party next week,” Sam pleaded her.

“He'll be nineteen, so there's not going to be any alcohol there,” Aurora assured her, “and even if there was, I've got Emile to check on me for that.”

“By the way, where's his party even gonna be?” Belinda asked.

“The Zazulas' place. I'll come get you guys if you wish.”

Given Alex's nineteenth birthday took place on a Tuesday, Sam, Marla, and Belinda all had to hustle out of school following their last classes of that day. But Aurora and Emile waited them there at the curb in their car: a packed caravan en route to the Zazulas' house at the far side of town. At one point, Belinda turned to Sam with a twinkle in her eye.

“You got the—” Sam then took out the square package enveloped in pearly white wrapping paper and with a black bow on top from her hand bag.

“Right here.”

“You guys found a buckle for that thing?” Marla asked them.

“Beautiful platinum buckle—brand new, never been used,” Belinda told her, and she never went any further than that, which led Sam to assume that she found it in the garbage somewhere. The guys from Testament were all there, as were Scott and Charlie, and James and Kirk. Sam chuckled at the memory of Lars in the kitchen the first time she and Joey went there together as she held her and Belinda's gift to Alex underneath her arm.

Aurora and Emile made their way to the other side of the house, while Sam and Belinda took to that kitchen door. Alex himself stood at the far edge of the house with a brown glass bottle in one hand: he and Greg were talking about something.

He almost didn't look the same with those tight leather pants. The black curls dangled about his shoulders like the ears of a dog: his hands pressed to his slender but shapely hips didn't help matters, either. She pictured Alex strutting along like he meant it, with that black hair splayed all around his head, and that plume of silver strong and high like a lightning bolt.

It was right there that Sam wanted him, and she wanted to see him naked for real. To see him and Joey both naked.

He had passed the right age after all: she could dream about him the way in which Belinda had joked about before.

A teenage kid about to bid his teen years farewell, and he stared back at her from across the room. Even though he was still underage, he held that empty brown bottle in one hand.

She nibbled on her bottom lip at the sight of him but then she and Belinda bowed into the house together.

They were greeted by the warm aroma of freshly baked cake in the kitchen and a small cluster of presents on the table.

“Aw, just a little party,” Marla was saying as she signed the birthday card to him with a bright red pen.

“That's really all he wanted,” Chuck told her. “Party with us, and then he's going upstate with his parents and his brother tonight. Gonna be up there for the rest of the week after this.”

“Quick little party with us and then his parents are taking him out to dinner right afterwards,” Eric called from the next room over.

“Yeah, that's it.”

Sam then turned her head and she realized that Alex and Greg were a few feet away from there. She could walk past the back door and have a better look at them, but there had to be a reason behind it. Chuck handed Belinda the card for a signing; the aroma of the cake was almost intoxicating, as if it was right there and ready to slice into for all of them. Sam then had an idea.

“I'll be right back,” she told Belinda with a raise of her finger, and she nodded in response to that. She bowed out of the kitchen and towards the back door, which hung right open for the stubborn warmth of the Indian summer.

She could walk by and make it look as though she was going to the bathroom or going to ask Marsha a question. Indeed, Sam strode on by so she could have a better look at the bottle in Alex's hand; he had turned to the side so it hung there right by his hip. It was sarsaparilla.

That also gave her a chance to look at the curvature of his thighs, albeit for a few seconds. She couldn't believe she had done that, either, given she already had a boyfriend. She had a boyfriend and he couldn't be there, and she couldn't tell him about it, either. She shook her head as she doubled back in the next room over and back to the kitchen to sign the card and to speak to Belinda. Lucky for her, Chuck had left the room so she stood there alone with her eye on the tags on each of the presents upon the table. Sam strode up to her with the warmth still fresh in her face.

“I need you to slap me across the face,” she said to her.

“Why?” Belinda laughed.

“I’m having—thoughts,” she stammered, even though they were alone in the room.

“Having what?”

“Thoughts. About… both Joey and Alex.”

“Like… what do you mean?”

Sam leaned in closer to her face and hunched her shoulders a bit.

“Thoughts,” she breathed right into her ear. Belinda looked on at her with a bewildered expression plastered on her face, and then her eyes lit up.

“Really? Sam, you little vixen! I knew you had it in you!”

“Yeah, but—Joey's kinda my boyfriend, though.”

“So? Just 'cause you got a boyfriend doesn't mean you have to restrain yourself to him. Live and let live a little.”

She sighed through her nose. Maybe Belinda had a point as she wrote “happy 19th birthday, Alex—with love, Samantha” at the bottom right corner of the card. Nothing fancy, nothing more, nothing less. She hoped that something would in fact happen that evening as she made her way back towards the front door for a bit of fresh air.

She recognized Frank's lush dark hair as he all but stumbled in through the front door.

“Easy there, big fella!” she declared to him, and he burst out laughing at that. She turned to the side and she almost ran into something slender but soft.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted Joey, much to her surprise.

“Hi,” he returned the favor and showed her a grin all the while.

“I didn't think you'd be here,” she confessed.

“I ain't turning down free food, y'know,” he told her.

“Okay, that makes sense.”

Joey peered over his shoulder for a second, and then he returned to her.

“I've been thinking of your lips lately,” he confessed to her in a husky voice.

“It's funny, I, uh—I have been, too,” she said. He lowered his gaze to her mouth and he moved in closer to her.

“Um—Bel and I made something for you—for your birthday coming up here,” she sputtered.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, you just—you just might like it.”

He showed her a little smirk: and she brought her eyes back down to those dark lips. She needed to kiss them. She needed to do something right there lest something happen there in the house that would wedge them apart. She closed her eyes and she leaned in closer to his face.

“Sam?” Marla called her. She opened her eyes and she stared on at Joey's face: his brown eyes gazed back at her, as rich and full as the earth underneath them.

“You're being paged,” he whispered to her. She turned around right as Marla emerged from the kitchen.

“Could you get Marsha, please? She's in the back of the house.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sam returned to Joey, who still showed her that smirk on his face.

“I'll be right back,” she vowed to him.

“I'll be waitin' for ya,” he vowed back to her, complete with a wink. She rounded him and headed towards the back of the house. She was about to head into that corridor there when the back door swung open before her. Greg bowed in first, and then Alex followed suit. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted him.

“Hi—what're you doing?” he asked her with a grave look on his face.

“Oh, just—talking with Joey and now I'm getting Marsha.”

“Oh, I see.” He never changed his expression for a second, but she knew what he was thinking. She dropped her gaze to those lips and then to his neck and that prominent Adam's apple. She brought her attention only to his face instead and the puzzled expression there.

“Are—you alright?” he stammered.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just—I just—'scuse me—”

“Yeah, of course,” he assured her with a puzzled look on his face. She bowed into the back room there, where Marsha looked over something on the desk. She raised her gaze to Sam.

“Marla wants you in the kitchen,” she told Marsha.

“Cake's probably ready,” she replied to her with a twinkle in her eye.

Sam nodded and then she returned to the hallway, where Alex had gone off to somewhere else in the house. Indeed, she headed over to the back door, where Aurora was about to take her seat on the step there. It was almost too much to bear right there. She needed to get out of that house because the thought of Joey and Alex getting into it at the latter's birthday party was almost too much to bear for her.

“I need you to cover me,” Sam quipped, and Aurora looked on at her, stunned.

“Cover you in what?”

“No, cover for me,” she corrected her.

“Yeah, cover you in what?”

“Aurora!”

“What?”

“Cover for me. Keep people busy. If they ask about me, tell them that I had to run next door real quick.”

“Why would I say that?”

“Because you’re my best friend.”

“Well, yeah, but really why would I lie to people about where you went?”

“I thought you were only a few weeks pregnant?”

“I am! But what’s that got to do with it?”

“Ugh, never mind.” But before Sam could do anything more, Marsha surfaced from the room there and she gestured for Sam to follow her into the kitchen. Indeed, she helped Marsha decorate the long rectangular sheet cake, in particular the “happy 19th birthday, Alex” right in the middle with the royal blue icing.

“Dunno if Zelda's going to be here,” Marsha confessed to her as she finished the piping of the roses at each of the corners, “she said she probably won't make it because I guess the girls are hard at work right now in the studio—but let's get this sweet little party started, though.”

Sam struck the match and lit the wicks of the candles.

Alex had taken his seat at the head of the dining room table with a small white party hat atop his head: the little sliver of gray poked out from underneath the edge, and his face turned a soft pink with being put on the spot as Marsha set the cake down before him.

“What do you wish for more than anything in the world?” Louie asked him, and Alex turned his gaze to Sam at his right. He squinted his eyes at her, but he never said anything. He then leaned forward and blew out the candles in a single breath. The wisps of smoke faded into nothing before their faces as Belinda and Scott both clapped their hands in unison. He offered to slice the cake but Marsha insisted.

She handed him the first slice of vanilla and raspberry cake, and then everyone else followed suit.

“Wanna open your presents, young man?” Jon called from the far side of the room.

“Yes please,” Alex called back, “my parents are gonna wanna know what they got themselves into here...” His voice trailed off. Sam watched him dig into his cake, small bite after small bite. He ate slowly: indeed, she found herself doing the same thing. It was delicious cake after all. But she wondered what he had wished for before he blew out the candles.

Granted, if he talked about it, then it wouldn't come true. But it still made her curious nonetheless.

Jon handed him Chuck, Eric, and Frankie's gifts first, followed by that small square black and white box. The first thing he did before opening each of them was put the bows on his chest. He read the labels carefully right before hand as well, and he was careful to unwrap them as well with a sliding of his fingers under where the paper ended and the tape started, and so he peeled the paper off as opposed to tearing it apart. A new tuner from Chuck and Eric both, a Gary Moore shirt from Greg and Louie both which warranted a look of surprise from him.

“Wow, where'd you guys get this?” he asked Greg.

“Thrift shop. Lou found it when he and I were looking for new boots for ourselves, and I was like, 'dude, yes! He loves Moore!' So I got that for a nickel.” He neatly folded the shirt and placed it on the table next to him, and then he turned to that square box.

“From Samantha and Belinda,” he stated, and he opened the box.

“Miss Shelley and Miss Grimes,” Jon followed up as he headed back into the kitchen once more.

And Alex's face lit up at the sight before him there.

“Oh, wow!” He held it out from the box, and he looked on at that clean creamy white leather with his mouth agape.

“What is it, a belt?” Scott asked them.

“A guitar strap!” Sam corrected him. “A little bit of leather work from both me and Bel here.”

“This is gorgeous!” he declared as he held the strap before him and his eyes caressed over the design of the tulips and the sugar skulls. “Oh, and it's adjustable, too! This is absolutely beautiful, ladies—thank you!” Sam put her arms around him first, and then Belinda followed suit. He had a slender little body and yet he was as soft as childhood.

“Got our work cut out for us now,” Charlie confessed to Scott in a not so low voice.

“I know, right?” Scott retorted with his eyes squinted.

But Alex was more than happy to have it all around him for the time being, especially by the time Aurora took a step next to him.

“Now, I hate to draw the spotlight away from the birthday boy here,” she began, “but I wanted to tell you all that Emile and I are pregnant.”

“Aw!” Marsha called from the kitchen.

“We thought we were when we were over in England last month, but—it's official now!”

“Start of a new chapter in life and the start of a new life,” Scott declared as he raised his glass to them, but then again, Alex bowed his head a bit at that. Today was his day after all, and for Sam, that was oddly selfish of Aurora to do that to him. This was the second thing she had done that seemed so unlike her, at least for as long as Sam had known her. Thus she reached her hand towards him, just as Aurora began conversing with Marsha, Emile, and Scott about something.

“Happy birthday, though, Alex,” she told him as he took a sip of his sarsaparilla.

“Thank you,” he replied to her with a serious look on his face, “and yeah, thank you, everyone!” That warm blush returned upon his saying that. “When I'm done with my cake and my drink, I'm gonna call my dad and tell him that life is good right now.”

Indeed, he turned his attention back to Sam for a moment.

“And I go upstate for a whole week.” When he said that, he glanced across the table for a second. She followed his gaze and there was Joey at the far end. She sat closer to Alex than she was her own boyfriend; she then climbed to her feet and she strode on over to him as he finished the rest of his cake.

“Hi,” she greeted him, and he brought a napkin to his lips. Chuck burst out laughing at something and thus he moved his head in closer to her.

“Wanna do sump'n this weekend?” he offered her in a low voice.

“Up by your place?” she asked him.

“Your place and then mine,” he corrected her.

“I'd love to,” she replied in a low voice.

“I'll pick ya up after school,” he told her as he finished the last few bites of cake. Sam wondered exactly what he had in mind as she made her way back to her spot in between Belinda and Alex for the time being.