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gabriel-xander · 14 days ago

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Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

27: DJ KHALED!!!! (Another One)

♪────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

You unlock the door to Sans’ workshop, and you are pleasantly surprised that it actually worked. He did say it was the key, but still. Maybe you have unresolved trust issues? Ah, but that’s a problem for a future you to worry about.

Sans is already inside, sitting in the pink beanbag while lazily writing some things down in that journal of his. That reminds you, you didn’t actually get to read anything from it yesterday night since you were too preoccupied with something else.

He doesn’t look up when you enter, though you notice him tensing up and faltering with his writing for a moment. You make sure to lock the door behind yourself, smiling awkwardly at him.

“Hey there, bone boy,” You toss the key in your hand, “Did you want this back now?”

Sans raises a bone brow and finally looks up at you, “huh? no, i… i made a spare for you. that’s yours if you want it.”

“Really?”

“figured i can… i trust you enough for you to have it. ‘sides, if we ever need to talk about serious stuff or whatever, we can just do it here now. don’t gotta worry about undyne finding you and thrashing your ass.”

You hum softly while making your way to the other beanbag. “Aw, that’s a shame. I really liked that place in the Waterfalls.”

“oh, uh…” His cheeks flush a very soft pink, barely noticeable were it not for you looking at him so intensely, “then… i guess we can do that. and–you can use this place for anything else, you know? if you just want to chill… by yourself or together. it’s whatever.”

God, he’s so awkward sometimes. You’d think he’d be better at this stuff, but no he’s just as emotionally constipated as every other man you’ve ever spoken to.

“anyway,” The Comic snaps his book shut, “you’re back early, huh?”

“Yeahhh, Pollux noticed I wasn’t all there and basically told me to leave to focus on myself. Seriously, I think you’d like him, he’s really nice! You should come with us tomorrow night and get to know him.”

Sans grimaces at the suggestion, “i think i’m good. one of us gotta be the actual loner.”

“And you’re up awfully early. Papyrus was sure you’re snoozing away right now.”

“heh, can’t blame a guy for getting excited about his old toy working again. but hey, you okay? you said you weren’t all there.”

“Mhm, I guess I was just anxious thinking about that Gaster thing from last night. I couldn’t focus on anything else,” You tell him honestly.

“great, ‘cause that’s what i wanted to talk to you about.”

With a sigh as if it causing him great inconvenience, Sans gets up from the beanbag to get closer to the machine. It was still on, but the screen was showcasing something different that you weren’t sure how to describe. You might be a smart cookie, but you’re not Sans smart, and you’re certainly not smart enough to understand the things he specializes in.

“i was messing around with it this morning–a little after you went to work. pretty cool, right? look at me go, being productive and all that.”

“Wow.”

“anyway, i realized that it’s not… 100% working just yet,” He leans an arm on the console of the machine, looking at it longingly like it’s an old friend, “i still need to do some fixing up on my part. on the bright side, it really shouldn’t take too long to get it to proper working order. i’m pretty sure gaster did most of the work, the rest of it is pretty superficial.”

You nod along to his words, not really getting the deeper meaning behind them but hoping he feels heard anyway. No, actually you can comprehend enough that it’s not fully working, but that’s about it.

“That’s great, right? That means you can boogie and do your thing soon.”

“half right. based on the set number of coincidences, and perfect alignments that involve you, i think it’s clear that both you and myself are supposed to use it together.”

“Ahh, okay. So, we’re gonna get roped up in some wacky adventures!” You stand up and put your hands on your hips, “Quick question, bone boy.”

“‘sup?”

“What exactly does it do? Er–what is it supposed to do?”

“it was a personal passion project of mine before gaster… you know. anyway, i call it the dj.”

“…The DJ.”

His grin turns mischievous and full of schemes: “the dimensional jumper.”

“…Okay, fine. That one was good,” You grin back, “Wait a damn minute. A Dimensional Jumper? This machine…!”

“yeee-up. this bad boy can take us to different alter–or in your words, different au’s and different timelines. once i get it fixed up, you can expect us to visit our first au, so you gotta be ready for that.”

You blink owlishly like a frog, “Are you serious?! Isn’t that a little…”

Isn’t that too fictional and crap? You can come to terms that you’re practically living that fan-fiction life, but going to different Au’s?! Also, is that even safe for you two?! What about the laws of time travel and crap!!

“Wait, why do we have to go there in the first place?” You ask him, because you know, that’s a vital point of this in the first place.

To your horror, Sans just shrugs, “no clue. but…”

Sans has to remove his gloves to use the terminal, stuffing his cute pink gloves in his pockets. Whatever the fuck he types makes the screen change, going back to the previous screen from last night that showed the different AU’s and timelines. The flashing dot was still there, blinking away lazily.

“my theory is that gaster is trying to lead us to somewhere, to this au. i don’t know what what we’re supposed to do or how we’re supposed to do it, but whatever it is we’ll probably figure it out once we’re there.”

You wince, “That sounds really risky. What if it takes us days or weeks to do what we need to do? What are we gonna tell our friends? What about Papyrus?”

“one thing at a time, [y/n], don’t stress it. the dj isn’t even working yet, so let’s worry about all that stuff later,” The skeleton then bumps your arm with his bony hands. “on the plus side, papyrus isn’t completely clueless on this stuff, either. he doesn’t care about all this like i do, but he’s caught up with my space and time shenanigans.”

…Oh yeah. In the Pacifist route, there was a secret you could get about Sans’ room that let you learn about the workshop in the first place. Papyrus saved you from the treadmill saying how Sans liked to prank across space and time.

Cool facts.

“Sounds good but, Sans,” You gesture to the screen, “Which AU is this? I mean, I know about a few of them, but at a very surface level.”

Sans fingers are hard and pointy, and when they press against the buttons it makes a very satisfying clicky-clacky noise.

Nice.

The screen zooms into that enlarged into that particular AU. Folders and folders appear on the screen, and when Sans hovers over one it opens up and even more files jump out of it for you to read. The text was too small for you to really comprehend what you were seeing, but Sans was kind enough to just tell you anyway.

“oh, this one is one of the older au’s. everyone’s personalities and roles gets swapped with each other.”

You widen your eyes and smile big, “Oh, my gosh! Wait, this is UnderSwap!”

“pfft–ah-ha ha ha! wow, you’re also a huge dork too!” He snickers, “of course you’d have a name for the au.”

“Okay, I get it, I get it,” You roll your eyes, “But anywho, the first stop is UnderSwap?”

“yeah, sure. do i gotta tell you the important rules of dj-ing, or do you know the gist of it?”

“Dude, the most I know about anything related to time travel or universe jumping is Back to the Future.”

“…so, no?”

“So, no.”

“hmm.” Sans leans against the machine, careful not to press against any buttons, “it’s not really as complicated as they make it in the movies, i swear. also, this isn’t time traveling per say, so we don’t got as many rules, either.”

You raise an eyebrow and smirk knowingly, “‘Per say,’ but there is a grey area.”

“look at you, einstein,” Sans smiles cheekily while patting your shoulder, “i really don’t think we gotta worry about that now, especially in this au. so we’ll get back to that later.”

“Alright, alright. So, the rules?”

“unless it’s another me, or in this universe, i guess it’d be papyrus, no one can know about the au’s. seriously. don’t tell ‘em where we came from, who we really are, or how we got there.” Sans pauses for a moment, “actually, it’s best if we avoid the other me altogether. if they found out we got our dj working, they might try getting me to do the same to theirs.”

You hiss, “Oooh, and it won’t be that simple…”

“right, cause my guess is, they don’t have a you,” Sans crosses his arms, “i guess… wow, yeah. this is an au…”

“An AU or timeline? I think this is an alternate timeline, no? There’s nothing else that’s different so far, only that I exist.”

“...i think you’re right. this timeline changed irrevocably the moment you were inserted. but the fact that we will be going to the other au’s with you existing, does that not make this a whole new au in itself?’

“Okay, Socrates. Let’s not think too hard about that before we just go in circles or implode,” You pat his back with a sympathetic nod, “Short story long, avoid the “you’s” in the other AU’s and timelines, and just keep our DJ-ing secret in general.”

“yep, yep.”

“But what if we need help? Oh-ho! Or what if the fucking goal of the mission is some metaphorical shit like: ‘friendship was the real treasure the whole time’?”

The monster snorts and shakes his head, “if it really is something corny, then we’ll figure it out once we get there. next rule… hm, never stray too far from me. i get the feeling you’re no push over, but we don’t really want you to have to go too far if you need to protect yourself.”

“Aww, so you’ll be my knight in shiny, tinfoil armor?” You bat your eyelashes dramatically while clasping your hands together by your head, “Oh, Sans. You’re so romantic.”

He shrugs with a blush, going along with it, “i do okay.”

“Next rule?”

“uhh… oh. don’t do anything that would dramatically affect future events of the au or timeline. i feel like that’s a given, but it’s harder than you’d think. after all, take us for example. i know you changed a lot just by showing up.”

You puff out your cheeks, “You’re right, I guess… Man, I didn’t realize-”

“-don’t tell me you’re gonna fall into a self-pity party. come on,” Sans nudges your arm, “it’s not your fault you’re just so cool and amazing, you can’t help but fuck up a timeline just by walking in a room.”

“…”

Is Sans… Was that Sans’ attempt at flirting?

“Were you just trying to flirt? Was that flirting?”

His face flushes a deeper pink, his eyes avoiding you while his smile wobbles.

“oh, come on. was it that bad?”

You laugh, unable to help your teasing, “It wasn’t baaaad, but I know you can do so much better than that. Put more backbone into it.”

“ouch,” Sans puts a hand to his chest, “i guess i gotta up my game. and here i thought you liked it better when i was fully authentic.”

“Mehh, a little fairy-tale romance is nice,” You playfully shake his shoulder, “Anywayyy, we keep getting off track. Any other rules I should know about DJ-ing?”

“not that i can remember. you make me head empty.”

…Sure, that one was a little better.

“Alright, little buddy.”

“please don’t call me little buddy when i’m trying to flirt with you.”

“How about lil’ bro then?”

“that’s even worse, actually.”

“You never like my ideas.”

“when have i ever-”

“-SANS!”

“oh, my god–what?”

“Focus.”

He sighs in defeat.

“no, i really can’t think of any other rules. but in the meantime, i suggest you start prepping to get ready for an adventure. at this rate, i’d give us…” Sans pulls back his sleeve but the man isn’t even wearing a watch, ”about another two to three weeks before i have this working.”

“Awesome possum, I’ll talk to Grillby and Pollux about giving me a vacation. Eugh, not a good look to ask for vacation days already, but it is what it is. Oh!” You clap your hands together suddenly, making him flinch, “By the way, I wanted to ask about that notebook from yesterday? I never actually got to read it since we got so distracted.”

Again, he blushes and looks away, “yeah, about that. i uh, i changed my mind. i only gave it to you in case i needed to convince you that i wasn’t lying about the timeline and resets and all that.”

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed about it.”

“ah-hem. so, you said before you have two brothers, right?”

What a terrible transition to topics. Still, you’re nice and merciful, so you let it slide. Besides, you love talking about your precious brothers and abuse any opportunity to yapp about them.

“So true, bestie. Let me tell you about the time Alejandro and Noah accidentally stole a couple of penguins from the Zoo.”

“…wait, what?”

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

@adriixboo

@fluffyart5000

@fetusbaconegg

#fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #don't forget fanfiction #sans undertale #sans x reader #undertale #sans

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hippiegoth97 · 1 year ago

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Diary of a Hawkins Hussy: A Stranger Things x Reader Anthology

Banner by me :)

Master List

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, alcohol use, heavy kissing, protected sex, oral sex, fluff, crying, mention of character death, mention of small argument, break-up

Word Count: 14.6k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Diary Entry #6: Scott Clarke

December 8th, 1984

Dear diary,

Tonight I attended the volunteer meeting for this year's Snow Ball dance for Hawkins Middle School. I'd been approached by the PTA to volunteer as the DJ for said dance, which I'm more than happy to do. All of us met in the teacher's lounge at the middle school, sharing coffee and cookies as we discussed the plans for the event. I didn't necessarily need to be there for the entire thing, except for the five minutes spent telling me not to play any music that would be deemed as vulgar. But I stuck around anyway, Ididn't have anywhere else to be.

I listened to the various issues of chaperones, decorations, photos, ticket sales, refreshments, dress code, etc. until my ears were about to bleed. It was all pretty damn dull. Safe to say I hope I never end up in meetings like this because I happened to pop out a child of my own. But, nevertheless, I sat and heard it all. No one else got up to leave once their particular subject was covered, so I figured it would be rather rude to do so myself.

I recognized a few faces as well. Nancy Wheeler, who's helping with refreshments and decorations. Jonathan Byers, the photographer, naturally. I almost never see him without a camera around his neck. And someone Ihaven't had the pleasure to speak to yet, Scott Clarke. I know his face and his name very well. A certain group of middle schoolers have told me all about him, how kind and smart he is, what a great teacher he's proven himself to be. And damn, does he know how to rock a mustache. But that part is just my own observation.

I'd meant to have a small word with Scott once the meeting concluded, get to know him a little better. But everyone cleared out pretty quickly, so Ididn't get the chance. Oh, well. I suppose there's always time for introductions at the dance itself.

December 16th, 1984

Dear diary,

Last night was the Snow Ball Dance. Oh, it was a magical night. All the kids were dressed up nice, and it was so sweet to watch them dance with their little crushes and take photos with their friends. I played all the right songs to fit every single moment, I've never felt music flow better, even at my own school functions. And best of all, I got to officially make Scott Clarke's acquaintance...

The 1984 Hawkins Middle Snow Ball Dance is in full swing. You're situated at the DJ booth at the head of the gymnasium, a couple bins of records from the shop sat beside you on the platform. "Lucky Star" by Madonna plays over the sound system, and you look out over the space. The decorators really outdid themselves. Blue and white streamers surround the massive area that's been transformed into the dance floor. A shining disco ball spins overhead, casting little spots of light all around like illusionary snow.

A sea of kids fills out the floor, dressed to the nines in their holiday best. Cutesy dresses and scrunchied ponytails, sweater vests and suit jackets. They look absolutely adorable. It makes you miss your own school dances. The music, the sickly sweet fruit punch, hearts all aflutter while you wait for your all-time crush to ask you to dance. The sweating hands meeting waists and shoulders when you finally take to the floor. Apprehensive kisses during the slow songs, once you've made sure the chaperones aren't looking. It's a universal adolescent experience, charged with anxiety and hormones from slowly budding bodies. And that's before high school.

Homecoming and prom are different animals entirely. There's louder, more mature music. Not too mature, of course. Sexual energy runs rampant, from suggestive dancing, to sneaking off to the library to make out or hook up. Someone's always spiking the punch with vodka. And it isn't unheard of to end up smoking weed in your date's car while they try to cop a feel. But there's none of that to be found here, no. This is far more innocent and naive. The sweet spot in life between becoming who you're meant to be, while also free from any real worries in the world.

You make further observations, finding Nancy Wheeler stationed at the punch bowl, and Jonathan Byers snapping photos for the kids. Parents and teachers are spread out around the perimeter, ensuring there's no funny business going on. What funny business could go on between ten-to-twelve-year-olds, you have no clue. Scott Clarke is taking tickets at the door, leaving you only able to see him through the little windows on the other side of the gym. You're hoping he'll get to switch jobs with one of the chaperones at some point, and maybe you'll manage to catch his eye.

"Twist of Fate" starts to play, and you see Dustin Henderson enter the dance to meet his friends. He's looking very sharp this evening, a spiffy suit and his hair styled into an adorable curly coiff. You wonder if his mom helped him get it that way, it looks really cute on him. He joins Will, Lucas, Mike, and a redhead you've come to know as Max Mayfield. She's been around the shop a few times with her older brother, Billy Hargrove. They definitely do not get along, they constantly argue with each other. Typical sibling rivalry. You watch the kiddos converse, your heart swelling at their smiles and inaudible laughter. They've been through a lot, with Will going missing, and his ongoing troubles. He seems to be doing a whole lot better now, and you're glad to see that his friends have stuck by him after all this time.

You decide to slow things down a bit, putting on Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time". Lucas and Max are the first to go towards the floor, and then a pretty girl asks Will to dance. This leaves Mike and Dustin without partners, and you feel a bit bad for them. Dustin attempts to ask one of the perceived popular girls to dance, and fails miserably. The look of rejection on his face breaks your heart. He goes in again, but the girls scurry away when they see him coming. He looks all around him, finding there's nobody left to ask. Dustin goes off to the side, sitting on the bleachers to cry. You're just about to leave your post to ask him to dance to help him feel better. But before you can, you see Nancy approach him instead. They go out to the floor together, making all the other girls get jealous that they aren't the ones dancing with him now. You smile at the cute display, it's very sweet of her to do that for Dustin.

"Looks like Henderson is the coolest kid at the dance now." A male voice says beside you, taking you by surprise. You turn to find Scott Clark standing on the platform with you, hands clasped behind his back. It appears he's gotten the chance to switch jobs after all.

"Yeah, all the girls will be clamoring for a turn now." You giggle, making him laugh lightly as well.

"Y/N, right? I saw you at the meeting last week." Scott says, smiling down at you. He's very tall, and slim. He's wearing a grey sweater vest with reindeer on it, with a simple black jacket over top and matching slacks. The collar of a white button-up pokes out from the vest, and the knot of a red tie as well. His kind face gazes down at you, a thick mustache and parted black hair dressing it with humble masculinity.

"Yes, that's right. And you, are the famous Scott Clarke." You reply, putting your hand out to shake his. He takes hold of it, chuckling at your words.

"Famous, huh? And why would that be?" He asks curiously.

"Well, the charges in your A.V. Club just happen to be some of my best customers. I own Waxed Out Records downtown. And those kids cannot get enough of you." You explain, and he nods.

"Oh, I see. I'm glad I'm interesting enough for them to tell such a beautiful woman like yourself about me." He laughs, blushing slightly.

"Hmm, smart, handsome, and good at flattery? I can see why the kids like you so much." You giggle playfully. You're getting a little excited now, only a couple minutes in and Scott has already called you beautiful. You hatch an intriguing idea inside your head, quickly shuffling through your albums to find Synchronicity by The Police. You slip it out of the sleeve, and put it on your turntable. The opening notes of "Every Breath You Take" flow through the speakers, and you turn to a rather quiet Scott with a proposition. "Care for a dance, Mr. Clarke?" You ask, holding out your hand.

"Oh, I'm not much of a dancer, Y/N. It's very kind of you to offer." Scott shakes his head, feeling very bashful all of a sudden.

"I can show you, it's easy." You insist politely.

"It wouldn't be appropriate, I'm meant to be watching the kids." He shoots you down again, but you refuse to give up so easily.

"And what better place to watch them from than up here? You can see the entire floor, Scott. And I'll help you keep watch." He considers your words carefully, and you continue. "It's one little dance. C'mon, it'll be fun." You flash him your best smile, luring him in.

"Alright. But only because I'd be an idiot to say no to someone so pretty." Scott answers, somewhat flustered. It's not like him to toss responsibility and professionalism out the window like this. But he likes you, even if you are a little over-assertive. He hardly ever lets loose. Hell, he isn't sure he has let loose before in his entire life.

"Keep it up with those compliments, Scott, and we're gonna have a lot more to worry about than just dancing." You quip as he lets you take his hand. You lead him to a more open space on the platform, placing his hands on your waist. "There we are." You say softly, smiling kindly at him. He tries his best to return it, but it comes out a bit crooked. His large palms warm your flesh through your blouse and jeans, sending a rush of excitement over you. Your wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing your bodies closer together. He breathes in sharply at the proximity, clearly nervous at doing such a bold thing with a woman he's just met. "Okay, now, just feel the music. Move with it." You instruct, leading him to sway side to side to the song.

He accidentally steps on your foot, making you yelp. "I'm sorry. I told you, I'm no good at this." He apologizes, about to pull away. But you stop him.

"It's okay, Scott. Just relax." You reassure him, and he takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. You continue to move together to the music, and he gradually gets the hang of it. "See? You've got it." You giggle with pride, and he smiles. You gaze into each other's eyes, realizing just how romantic a moment like this is. Slow dancing to a cheesy song, bodies held close together, radiating with intense anticipation.

"How old are you, anyway?" Scott asks, finding his voice after a good period of silence.

"Twenty. What about you?" You turn the question back onto him, though you don't really care how old he is.

"Thirty-six." He answers. "Probably a little old for you, right?" He asks in a self-deprecating way.

"Not at all, Scott. I don't care about stuff like that. Look, I know we just met, like, five minutes ago. But, I really like you." You speak honestly, unable to help yourself. You really dig Scott's quirky, inexperienced disposition. He's sweet, and gentle, reminding you of someone you lost, that the world lost. Bob. The name pops into your head against your will. The name still brings you quite a lot of pain, even after all the time that's passed. It's funny, because Scott is almost the exact opposite of him, at least in regard to looks. But dancing with this man reminds you of the amazing person you once had, the one you set free and into the arms of another.

"I like you too, Y/N. You seem very nice. I'd like to get to know you better." Scott says sweetly, and you feel a twinge in your chest. You love the idea of getting closer to Scott, very much. But you also have an odd sense of deja vu, like you're heading down the same dead-end road you have before.

"W-When?" You shove the unpleasant thoughts from your mind, suppressing the wince that begs to plague your face.

"Oh, well, I'm not sure. I could come by your store sometime, if you like." He offers, and you nod frantically.

"I'd like that. I'm there almost every day, so whatever works for you." You reply, speaking a little too eagerly. You're overcompensating, and you hope it isn't obvious to him.

"Sure thing. I'll be there as soon as I have the time." He says, though his eyes drift away from yours for a moment. He gets an odd look on his face. Confusion, and possibly disgust, as he looks out at the crowd of kids.

"What's wrong?" You ask.

"I think I just saw Mike Wheeler kissing his cousin." Scott says, still looking behind you into the crowd.

"What?" You ask with a laugh. Surely he can't be serious. "Mike Wheeler? Kissing his cousin? No way."

Scott observes the girl in question for a moment longer, not registering your words just yet. But once he does, he realizes that he must be imagining things. But that girl Mike's with looks just like the cousin he brought to school while Will was missing. Well, not just like her. That other girl had blonde hair, and this one has brown. But...their faces are almost identical. Aren't they? Be serious, Scott. That's ridiculous. You know Mike, there's no way a boy like him would kiss his own cousin. Don't be stupid. He chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he dismisses the idea altogether. "Sorry, I must be mistaken. She just looks a bit like someone else. Forget it."

"Whatever you say. Where are they anyway?" You ask, turning your head to pick the little couple out in the mass of children. Scott points them out to you, and you don't see anything out of the ordinary. You have no idea who this 'cousin' is that he spoke of. But you doubt Mike would ever do something like that. You're surprised he's kissing a girl at all. He gives off the impression that he believes all girls have cooties, pretty typical for boys his age. "It's cute, let them have their little kiss. We were in their shoes once." You say, hoping he's not going to go bust them for 'breaking the rules' or something.

"I suppose you're right. Though, I wouldn't know from experience. If my crap dance moves weren't enough indication." He jokes, putting himself down again.

"You're not crap, Scott. You're doing great." You're reminded of a certain now-deceased RadioShack employee again, who had the same habit of doubting himself at every turn. It's getting harder to ignore, and you wonder if maybe this whole thing is a bad idea.

...the rest of the night was pretty uneventful. Scott and I finished our dance, and he told me he'd come visit me soon at the store. He returned to his post as a pair of watchful eyes, and I continued to spin the records for the kids. It was nice, he was nice. But I feel so guilty, diary. I hate that I kept thinking about my ex most of the time we were dancing. It probably doesn't help that they were close friends, either.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying they're the same person at all. I thinkI'm just looking for Bob in places he isn't, because I feel awful for letting him leave my life. Maybe if we'd stuck it out, he wouldn't be dead. Maybe if we'd tried a little harder, Iwouldn't be killing myself over this new potential partner. Ugh, I feel like crawling out of my own skin at this point. I think I need a good smoke to mellow myself out. I'm off to the alley behind the store, I gotta clear my head.

December 20th, 1984

Dear diary,

After a few days of waiting, wondering if Scott would follow through (while also wondering if I even wanted him to follow through), he finally showed up to the shop this afternoon. He was very happy to see me, and seeing his friendly smile made he happy to see him, too. We had a nice long chat, learning the basics. What I found most interesting, though, was his fondness for Weird Al Yankovic. Of all the music in the world, this man enjoys song parodies. It suits him, though, in an odd way. I guess it just further presses him into that nerd archetype.

We also talked about movies, horror and science fiction, in particular. It appears we have that affection in common. So we made an arrangement for me to go to his house tomorrow night to watch one. The Thing, a big favorite for us both. Scott totally geeked out telling me about how the impressive effects were achieved, and I was utterly spellbound while listening to him speak. He's got a confident, precise tone when he knows what he's talking about. I felt like one of his students, strangely enough. I'm sure it's just a habit for him to talk in such a teacher-ly way. It only added to his charm, though.

After a while, he had to get home. The sun had long since set outside the shop, drenching Hawkins in ice-cold darkness. I definitely wasn't looking forward to the freezing walk to my car in the lot after closing. Scott left for the night, and I feel much more confident about pursuing...whatever this is with him. I think I need to stop fixating on the past, and focus on the present, diary. Bob is gone, and he's never coming back. And I have a chance here, to have something good. Not a one-night stand, or a fling that I know is inevitably going to end. But a real relationship.

December 22nd, 1984

Dear diary,

I had a wonderful time with Scott last night. We put on the movie we previously agreed upon, and got cozy on his small sofa. He put his arm around me right away, keeping me close. I immediately felt so comfortable and safe with him. And I swear, neither of us meant to rush into anything. But it was like we couldn't help ourselves, forgetting all about the film and ending up a sweating mess on his couch. I never expected him to be up for that so early, but I didn't mind either way. And I don't regret it either, it felt so right...

"Alright, popcorn, wine, lights off..." Scott lists on the way back from his kitchen with a large bowl of popcorn in his hands, flicking the living room light switch to darken it on his journey. "...am I missing anything?" He asks as he sits down beside you on the sofa.

"Nothing besides press 'play'." You answer with a smile, stealing a small handful of corn from the bowl. You pop a piece in your mouth, munching giddily. You've been buzzing with excitement from the moment you entered Scott's house. It's humble, but very neat and tidy. He's got shelves of books on all manner of scientific subjects, and more knick knacks and figurines than you can bother to count. A telescope sits by the window to your right, positioned at the night sky. A coffee table sits a couple feet ahead of the couch, two half-drunk glasses of wine sat atop it. Everything else in his home is pretty standard, a good lot of it showing obvious signs of love and care. There's not a speck of dust to be found anywhere, no area neglected by his clear attention to detail.

"Perfect. Showtime." He says gleefully, clicking the remote to start the tape. His lanky arm goes around your shoulder, bringing your body in closer to his. You lean into it, accepting his warmth. His thumb brushes over your arm lightly, making your skin tingle. You continue to take small bunches of popcorn from the bowl in his lap, trying your best to keep your mind in an innocent enough place. You doubt Scott would be very receptive to you making any moves tonight.

You both focus on watching the movie, doing your best to ignore the air around you charging up with intense energy. Scott's thumb continues to brush up and down your arm, which usually wouldn't get you so hot and bothered. But the whisper of skin against skin is driving you crazy. You sigh lightly, shifting a little in your seat as you struggle to contain yourself.

"Everything okay?" He asks with quiet concern in your ear, and you swear you can almost feel his mustache tickling your flesh. It sends a shiver up your spine, making you gasp. "Are you cold?" He asks, drawing your face to turn towards his. "I can get you a blanket if you'd like." He offers, wearing a sweet smile you recognize all too well.

"No, I'm okay. Thank you, though." You reply, barely above a whisper. You've just now realized how close his mouth is in relation to yours. You find yourself staring at it, wanting so badly to lean in and kiss him. But you're afraid that if you do, it'll scare him away. Your eyes flick back up to his own, finding his expression has changed. His mouth is slightly agape, and you can feel his thumb brushing even quicker against your skin now. He's nervous, coming to the same conclusion you did just seconds ago.

"O-okay." Scott exhales shakily, preparing to take a leap. One he had no real intention of taking tonight, but he finds himself ready to take the plunge all the same. There's something about you, the way you look at him. It's as if you've known him for years, and you see him in a manner no one else has before. It feels entirely impossible, hell, it is impossible. You barely know each other at all, everything you've learned thus far is only surface-level. But nevertheless, his mind beckons him to say 'screw it' and dive in head first anyway. Before he can change his own mind, he presses his lips to yours.

"Mmm." You immediately melt against him, admiring the way his mustache bristles against your nose. Rushed breaths leave you both as you explore each other's mouths. Scott's a little shy, at first, afraid to open up to you. But you work him up to it, carefully reading his lips with your own, encouraging him to do the same. He responds pretty well to this, allowing you to pry his mouth open just a tad. You slide the tip of your tongue inside, coaxing his own to come out and play. He does, again, very cautiously. But what starts off as little darts in and out, turns into writhing and tangling with you in no time at all. You moan into the kiss, your entire body heating up from the inside out. You clumsily move the popcorn bowl off his lap and over to the table, scrambling to put yourself there instead. "Is this okay?" You ask between kisses.

"Yeah." Scott responds simply, his hands going to your waist out of instinct. He's not completely new to this, he's had a few girlfriends over the years. And he's also a man of science, he knows his way around the female anatomy. It's definitely been a while for him, and he usually doesn't move so damn quickly. But it's like his body is begging for yours, eager to do a very different kind of dance than the one you shared at the Snow Ball.

"Touch me, Scott. Please." You plead, rolling your hips over top of him. You can sense his erection forming in his jeans beneath you, the stiffness felt through your own layers of cotton and denim.

"W-where should I..." He starts to ask, unsure what to do next.

"Anywhere." You whine as you grind on him steadily. His hands go for the closest place, taking hold of your ass. You moan in his grasp, his long fingers massaging with just enough force to bring you pleasure. He's so gentle with you, and you're really enjoying it. You're getting so wet already, your panties becoming slick. You break away from his lips, lifting your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N." Scott says in awe, eyes boggling at your perfect tits sat inside your pink bra.

"Thank you. You're very handsome too." You reply breathlessly, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. The straps fall down your shoulders, and you slip the thing off to join your top.

"Wow." He murmurs. His hands leave your ass, slowly creeping up your sides. His fingers are a little cold, giving you goosebumps. He caresses your flesh on his way upwards, meticulously watching every move his hands make. He eventually closes around the swells of your chest, using that same tender pressure from before.

"Scott." You moan his name aloud, rolling your hips faster, pressing yourself down onto his dick even harder.

"Y/N." He groans at the friction, unable to believe any of this is happening. He wonders if maybe he should stop, if perhaps this is all moving too fast. But the unbelievable sounds you're making while he touches you, the way you're riling yourself up by grinding on his lap... It's too much to say 'no' to. He wants you, every little part of you. Right now.

"I want you, baby. Can I have you?" You ask, stealing the desperate thought right out of his head.

"Yes." Scott replies. Having earned his permission, you waste no time in tugging at his sweater. He lifts his arms up to help you take it off, revealing his thin torso once it falls away. He's got a light peppering of chest hair, and a little bit of a belly. And every last inch of his pale body drives you wild. You lean down to press a blazing kiss to his neck, lightly sucking on his flesh to leave a small hickey behind. "Damn." He murmurs, savoring the way your lips and teeth feel on his throat. He grabs hold of your breasts again, carefully rolling your nipples between his fingers. You whimper at the stimulation, biting down a little harder on Scott's neck. Not too rough, just enough to drive him nuts. He moans breathily in response, delighting in the calculated sting.

"You like that?" You ask seductively, lifting yourself up a bit so you can reach his concealed cock. You palm him through his jeans, and he moans a little louder this time.

"Yes." He replies, hoping you never stop touching him. His lips find yours, your tongues gladly meeting once again. Your hands go for his belt, fumbling to open it up. The buckle jingles once you do, and you waste no time unzipping his pants and reaching inside. Your grope him through his briefs first, just in case he changes his mind. "It's alright, keep going." Scott encourages you to take what you want, he has no intention of stopping you. You smirk against his lips, and slip under the elastic of his underwear to fully grab hold of his dick. "Fuck." Scott mutters as your palm closes around his shaft.

"I thought teachers weren't supposed to swear." You tease, pumping him slowly in your hand. His cock is long and slim, just like the rest of him.

"I don't make a habit of it, but what else can I really say when you've got your hand in my pants?" He chuckles back, taking a turn kissing your neck now. The hairs of his mustache make you flinch at first, and he stops. "You alright?" He asks, worried he's done something wrong.

"Yeah, it just tickles." You giggle, tilting your head to give him better access. You hold back the urge to squirm when the caterpillar on his face meets your flesh. His warm lips leave wet kisses on your skin, the hums of his moans and grunts vibrating against you. You continue stroking his length, keeping your slow pace. You'd hate for him to cum too early. You're so absorbed in the feeling of his heated kisses, and how perfect his dick is in your grasp, that you're taken by surprise when Scott lowers his head to take your left nipple into his mouth. He suckles on you gently, rolling his tongue around the bud. His hand still massages your other breast, leaving no part of your chest neglected. "Fuck, baby." You whimper, squeezing him slightly.

"Take it easy, I won't last long if you do that." He says hastily, not wanting to stop worshipping your perfect tits.

"Sorry." You loosen your grip, and stop stroking him altogether. You keep his cock warm in your palm, waiting for him to be ready for the next step. You watch his mouth work its magic on you, switching over to your other boob now. You reward him with whimpers and moans, an occasional 'feels so good'. You're completely soaked inside your jeans, growing more needy by the second. You want him inside you, you don't want to wait anymore. But you force yourself to take this slow, to let him set the pace.

"Can I keep going, Y/N?" Scott asks, pulling his swollen lips away from yours chest.

"Yeah." You nod, eager for him to touch your wet pussy. He reaches his hand down to the button of your jeans, undoing it with ease and pulling the zipper down. He gazes into your eyes, holding your stare as his spindly fingers slip inside your panties. His fingertips brush against your needy clit, making you moan for him. He smiles at your reaction, rubbing slow, methodical circles around the puffy nub. "Fuck." You whimper. His touch is too perfect. He knows the exact right amount of pressure to use, the right speed to warm you up for him.

"You like that?" Scott asks lowly, mirroring your question from earlier.

"Yes." You answer impatiently, giving him another hungry kiss. He pushes you a bit further, gliding two fingers inside your dripping cunt. You moan against his mouth, unable to resist taking his bottom lip between your teeth. He curls his knuckles inside you, brushing against your g-spot. You're already such a mess, your juices forming a small puddle in his palm.

"God, you're so wet." Scott says, as if he's surprised that you're this turned on.

"Just for you, baby." You smirk, rubbing the tip of his dick with your thumb. You spread the sticky bead of precum around in circles, hoping to lure him towards fucking you.

"I like it when you call me that. No one's ever done that before." He says in adoration, giving you a meaningful look while his fingers continue to move inside you. Your heart flutters, taken aback by his affectionate words.

"Then I'll call you baby any time you want." You reply, cupping his cheek and giving him a much more tender kiss this time. Scott carefully maneuvers you to lay you down on the couch, with him kneeling above you. You continue to kiss passionately, hands still shoved in each other's pants. He pulls away for a moment, breathing heavily in your face. "What's wrong?" You ask, noticing he looks disappointed all of a sudden.

"I just realized I don't have any condoms." He answers sadly. He mentally curses himself for not keeping such things on hand. "I'm sorry." He apologizes, about to get off of you and shut this whole thing down. But you gently put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"I keep a few in my purse." You state simply, leaning over the edge of the couch to pick up your bag from the floor. You dig around for a moment, before pulling a Trojan out and handing it to Scott. "And just so you know, I'm on the pill. So even if we didn't have one, it wouldn't really be a problem." You explain casually, letting your purse fall back to the carpet below.

"I'll keep that in mind." He responds awkwardly. He's a little shocked at you being so forward, despite the fact that you've been building up to sex for the last fifteen minutes.

"Now, where were we?" You ask teasingly, putting your hand on the back of his head to bring him back down to you. You devour his mouth with your own, clumsily removing your jeans and kicking them onto the floor. He does the same, having taken his hand away from your pussy. You let out a light whine at the loss, which made his cock twitch. He stops kissing you, taking a moment to look at your entire body in the dim light from the TV.

"You're absolutely gorgeous, Y/N. I've never been with anyone like you." Scott compliments you, running his hands along your sides with care. Everything about you is so perfect in his eyes. Your supple skin, the curves of your breasts, hips, and thighs, and the face of a goddess to top it all off. You're an absolute dream, one he never wants to wake up from.

"You're too sweet." Your cheeks tinge bright pink at his compliment. You've heard those words so many times, from so many people. But they never fail to make you feel special, like it's the first time you've ever heard them. You spread your legs open, prompting him to keep things moving. His eyes drift down to your cunt, breath catching at your arousal glistening in what little light flashes from the television. He sits back on his knees for a moment, opening the condom and rolling the latex over his cock. He crawls over to you, putting himself between your legs. His hands rest at your waist, gripping your hips tenderly.

"You ready?" Scott asks, eyes meeting yours again.

"Yeah." You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. He's looking a little nervous again, which you find extremely cute. He scoots himself closer, his tip just barely making contact with your slick entrance. You whimper beneath him, hoping he'll tease you just a bit more. He does, slowly rubbing the head of his dick up and down from your clit to your folds. "Scott." You let out a needy moan, your hands going to his shoulders to hang on and keep him close.

"Those noises you make are driving me crazy, Y/N." Scott says, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of his tip sliding against your pussy. You're so warm, and soaked, he can't help spreading your arousal all around. Wet sounds mingle with your heavy breathing, the horrific screams from the movie serving as mostly-ignored background noise.

"Baby, please...I need you inside me." Your back arches off the couch as his teasing becomes too much, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Right, sorry." He chuckles breathily, realizing just how long he's been winding you up. Scott lowers his head to give you another kiss, carefully thrusting his hips forward to slip inside of you. You moan into each other's mouths, keeping your bodies still for a moment. His cock fills you up nicely, his tip hitting your cervix. Your walls are so snug around him, he could just melt.

"Please..." You plead against his lips, wrapping your legs around his waist in a desperate attempt to make him start thrusting.

"So impatient..." Scott chuckles lowly, setting a slow, gentle pace. His dick glides in and out of your pussy, brushing ever so slightly against your g-spot. He keeps kissing you the whole time, his tongue rolling passionately with yours. He's not really one for dirty talk, he thinks the humble moans and grunts speak for themselves. You don't mind being quiet, savoring every thrust Scott makes and letting out shuddering breaths and muted emissions of pleasure. It's comfortable, and affectionate, letting you both enjoy this act for what it is. An expression of intense feelings for the other person, illustrated with languid bodily movements.

Scott increases his speed just a tad, rocking his hips against you nice and steady. You don't usually go so slow, but doing it with him feels just as good as the rough, filthy fucking you usually do. If not better. He's worshipping your body with his, holding you in a caring grasp to make you feel safe. And you're keeping him just as close, arms and legs wrapped around his slender form as much as you can manage. Your pleasure builds gradually, far longer than you've ever done before. But as Scott's mouth moves in perfect sync with yours, and his length fills you again and again, you jump to the only possible conclusion. You're not just having sex with Scott Clarke. You're making love to him. Well, more like he's making love to you.

The thought makes your stomach drop, the way it does when you ride a rollercoaster over that first towering peak, plummeting at high speed down the rickety wooden slope. You're afraid. Afraid to let yourself be loved. Afraid of this not working out. Afraid of being alone again. Afraid that once this night is over, Scott will regret moving so fast and end things before they really begin. You're so lost in these frightening ideas, that you don't notice his body going still over yours.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" He asks softly, wiping the tear from your cheek you didn't even know was there. You open your eyes, finding his concerned face inspecting your own.

"Nothing." You shake your head, trying to play it off. You force a smile, doing your best to throw him off the scent. But your trembling bottom lip gives you away.

"Am I doing this wrong? Am I hurting you?" He asks in a worried tone, which makes you laugh. His brows furrow in confusion, wondering if you're making fun of him.

"No, of course not!" You reassure him, cupping his face kindly. "You're doing great, I promise. I'm just in my own head." You explain with a sigh, wanting to change the subject. You can't believe you're actually crying in the middle of sex. How embarrassing.

"In your own head about what?" He presses you, overcome with an intense desire to fix whatever it is that's making you sad.

"Scott, it really doesn't matter, okay? Just, please, continue." You insist, becoming a little frustrated now.

"It matters to me." He says sincerely, stroking your face. How can you possibly blow him off when he's looking at you like that?

"I just—" You pause, sighing again. You're not sure how much you should tell him. "I just really like you, and I haven't had the best luck with relationships. I don't want to mess this up." You say, giving him just enough for him to understand, without going too much into detail.

"I really like you too, Y/N. Should we stop?" He asks.

"Do you want to stop?" You turn the question back around on him. You want to keep going, to let him into your heart despite all your fears.

"No. Do you?" He answers honestly. He's been enjoying this time with you, even if it's been interrupted by your own self-doubt. He understands where you're coming from. This thing you have is so new, if not a little terrifying. But nothing about it feels wrong, quite the opposite, actually.

"No. I really don't." You shake your head, smiling for real this time. "I want to keep going. Please?" You bite your lip expectantly, hoping he'll continue.

"Okay. But if you need me to stop, just say so, and I will. Deal?" He says sweetly.

"Deal." You reply. And with that, his lips find yours, reigniting the intense flame inside of you. He starts to thrust again, having kept himself sheathed within your walls this whole time. "Can you go a little faster?" You ask, and he obliges your request. He's still going far slower than most men do, taking his time, enjoying every stroke. "Feels so good, baby." You whisper the praise between kisses, the pleasure knotting itself back up within your belly.

"Mm, so do you." Scott replies breathlessly. He adds a little more force behind his thrusts, just enough to pull those irresistible sounds from your lips. He slowly pulls out, and shoves himself back in a bit quicker.

"Oh!" You moan in surprise, the sensation absolutely exquisite. "Keep doing that, Scott. It's perfect." He does as you request, finding it very enjoyable himself. Carefully slip out, and gently slam back in. He keeps it up, drawing whimpers, groans, and grunts from the both of you. Your bodies start to sweat as pleasure builds up at a sluggish pace. You continue to writhe and kiss together on the couch, ignoring the TV screen turning blue as the tape comes to an end. You don't care about anything except touching and tasting each other any way you can. You could honestly stay like this all night, everything you're doing feels better than you ever thought possible.

"Are you getting close, Y/N?" Scott asks, nearing the end himself. He's surprised to have lasted this long, but it appears pacing himself is really paying off.

"Yes. Speed up a little, baby." You plead, struggling to keep hold of his back with your sweating hands. He nods, thrusting into you with more effort. "Just like that...fuck, don't stop." You whimper as he hits the special spot inside you harder and faster, bringing you so very close to the edge.

"I won't, I promise." Scott groans, lowering his head to kiss and nip your throat. He can feel your walls threatening to clench around him, pulsing themselves tighter and then looser again. Your juices lube him up, keeping his thrusts fluid and mechanical. He can feel you wetting his pelvis and thighs, sure to leave a spot on the couch. He doesn't mind cleaning up after you. It'll serve as a pleasant reminder of your first night together when he scrubs it out of the cushion later on.

"Oh, Scott...You're gonna make me cum, baby." You moan loudly in warning, your nails digging into his back as you're about to reach your peak. In response, he thrusts even faster, desperate to lose control alongside you. His cock hits deep inside you, sending you careening into ecstasy. "Fuck!" You cry out as your high takes you down. You claw at his back, needing something to hang onto as your thighs begin to shake. Your pussy clamps down on him, pulling him into the pit of bliss with you.

"God, Y/N—" Scott groans against your throat, bucking his hips as his own orgasm washes over him. His sticky load fills the condom, his toes curling at how tightly your cunt is squeezing him. You cum messily around him, the spot beneath you dampening even more. He continues the thrust lazily inside you until his cock goes soft, the two of you sharing passionate kisses while your high subsides. He eventually pulls out, getting off the couch to throw the condom away. He returns to your side, gesturing for you to sit up. You make room for him to sit down, laying your legs across his lap.

"You want a smoke?" You ask, reaching for your purse again.

"No, thank you. And I'd prefer you didn't either." He says politely. He's always found smoking to be a nasty habit, the scent of the smoke alone makes him gag.

"Oh, okay." You ditch the idea altogether, and instead scoot yourself closer to sit sideways on his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck, laying your head on his chest.

"Did you have a good time, Y/N?" Scott asks softly, apprehensively putting his own arms around your waist to hold you close.

"I had a great time, baby." You answer, lifting your head up to give him a gentle kiss. "Did you?"

"Of course. How could I not?" He smiles, brushing a few loose hairs away from your dampened face.

"So, what do we do now?" You question, gazing at Scott's glistening skin that's tinged blue from the idling television.

He thinks it over for a moment, looking around the room for a potential new activity to do together. His eyes settle on the telescope, peeking out at what small amount of sky he can see through the window. It looks pretty clear tonight, and there's few things in the world more romantic than stargazing. "Get up for a second. I want to show you something." He says with a grin, patting your thigh.

"Sure thing, Mr. Clarke." You giggle as you stand up.

"Ugh, please don't call me that." Scott groans, chuckling anyway. He knows you're only teasing, but that name reminds him too much of work. And that's the last thing he wants to think about right now.

"Sorry." You apologize, your cheeks going a bit rosy for saying the wrong thing. You thought maybe he'd be into it...but perhaps that's only because you're into the kinky teacher/student dynamic. You really should know better, Scott's far too clean cut for that.

"It's alright. C'mere." He takes hold of your hand, leading you over to the window. The sheer curtains are parted, the telescope already set to point upwards at Orion. Scott leans down, looking through the scope to make sure it's in the proper position. It ought to be, he's not one to let these things be imprecise. He smiles, satisfied with his findings. "Have a look." He gestures for you to have a turn.

You bend over and squint your eye to gaze into the telescope. You find a vast space of stars sparkling in the sky, some brighter than others. "What exactly am I looking for?" You ask, wondering if this is all an elaborate ruse so he can stare at your ass. Head out of the gutter, Y/N. He's just trying to be romantic. Would it kill you to think with your brain instead of your pussy for once?

"Well, I have the telescope pointed directly at Orion. If you can make out the brightest stars, you should be able to see the general shape of a warrior form." Scott explains in the same confident tone, once again putting you in a studious position. That definitely doesn't help the dirty thoughts inside your head.

You push the lust away, focusing on what he's actually saying. You slowly piece together the shapes, finding a man wielding a bow and arrow twinkling back at you in the night sky. "I see it." You giggle with delight at figuring it out, thanks to Scott's helpful advice. "Is it your favorite, or something?" You ask, standing upright once again.

"It's hard to pick just one. But it's probably one of the easiest to find." He chuckles, and you step closer to him.

"Is that really the only reason? Convenience?" You ask lowly, placing your hand on his chest. The other lowers between your bodies, taking hold of his cock. His breath catches at the contact, he'd honestly almost forgotten either of you were naked until this moment.

"N-no. Of course not." Scott answers shortly, growing in your hand as you start to pump him. Your touch feels really good, but he was trying to have a real conversation with you. He takes hold of your wrist, politely pulling your hand off of his dick. "Slow down, Y/N. We don't have to do everything in one night." He says, making your cheeks burn in shame.

"Sorry." Your face falls, unable to look at him. Typical you, always changing the subject to sex. Using your body as a shield to avoid facing your fear.

"It's alright. No need for the long face." He smiles, lifting your chin up with his finger so he can look into your eyes. "You're not used to pacing yourself, are you?" He asks knowingly, trying his best to dissect what's going on in that gorgeous head of yours.

"No. Not really." You scoff at yourself, rolling your eyes. Of course a brilliant man like him can see right through your defenses.

"I'm not judging you, by the way. It's just an observation." His words attempt to comfort you, but all they do is make you feel worse. "How about we get ready for bed, and I can tell you everything I know about the stars?" He offers, giving you an excuse to stay the night. He certainly doesn't want you to leave, especially not when you're still upset. He knows none of that is on his account, but nevertheless, he wants to ease your mind anyway.

"That sounds nice." You nod, and he leads you by the hand to his bedroom after turning off the TV. He goes to the closet for some pajama bottoms, and gives you one of his shirts to sleep in. You slip it over your head, the scent of fabric softener wafting into your nose. He pulls back the covers on the bed, gesturing for you to climb in with him. "Oh, can I use your bathroom first?" You ask.

"Of course. It's just down the hall and to the left." He replies, getting into his side of the bed to wait for you. You leave the room, quickly locating the bathroom. You step inside, closing and locking the door behind you. You sit down on the closed toilet, suddenly overcome with a fresh batch of tears.

What the hell is wrong with me? You do your best to keep your sobs silent, folding over yourself as you're wracked with guilt. Guilt that shouldn't even be there, but it's turning your stomach nonetheless. You feel like you're betraying Bob by being here, which you know is so fucking stupid. You broke up a long time ago, he started dating Joyce, and then he died in an accident at the Lab. You have no reason to mourn. You have no reason to cry. He wasn't yours anymore, and he still isn't. Hell, you didn't even go to the damn funeral. Because it would've hurt too much.

"Y/N? Is everything alright?" Scott raps two small knocks on the door, snapping you out of your fixation.

"Yeah. I'll be right there." You reply in as calm a tone as you can manage. He can't know you've been crying over a dead ex in his bathroom like a crazy person.

"Okey-doke." He says, and you hear his footsteps recede back down the hall. You let out a sigh of relief once he's far enough away. You have no idea how you're going to last the night like this.

You quickly relieve yourself and wash your hands, checking your eyes to make sure they aren't puffy or red. Deciding they look fine, you go back to the room and climb into bed to cuddle up with Scott. "Sorry, too much wine for my tiny bladder." You say simply, and he nods in understanding. You bring your body close to his, laying your leg over his own and resting your head on his chest. His arm comes around to keep you close, and you share a chaste kiss. You exchange a friendly look with him, the fear and sadness magically washing away again. "So, tell me about those stars." You request, stroking the small tuft of hair on his chest.

"You got it." He coos. He begins to tell you all about the constellations, individual stars within them and what they represent. He expands to the subjects of planets, galaxies, even the universe as a whole. You listen intently, to his fascinating words, and the steady beat of his heart within his chest. His bedtime lecture eventually lulls you to sleep, a very light snore escaping you. Scott takes notice, smiling to himself for calming you down enough to rest. He saw how watery your eyes were when you came back to the room, and his heart ached to see you look so sad. He doesn't know what the cause is, he's sure you won't tell him for a good while. But the least he can do is try to make you happy, and wait until you're ready to fess up.

...this morning, Scott woke me up with some coffee and donuts he'd snuck out to get. He said he didn't have anything to cook me breakfast, so this was the next best thing. I assured him he doesn't have to do all that for me, but he insisted on it. We also made a date for Christmas Eve. I'm not spending it with my parents, and the rest of my family is states away. Scott doesn't have anyone here, either. His parents passed a couple years ago, one after the other. And everyone else is scattered too far and wide to be worth the trip.

Scott plans on cooking a nice dinner for us, which sounds absolutely perfect. We also agreed there's no pressure about buying each other gifts, since we're still so new. But I feel like I should get him something anyway. Something small that I know he'll like. It'll probably have to be something from the shop, given the short notice. I think I've got a B-52's album with his name on it.

December 24th, 1984

Dear diary,

Merry Christmas! I know, I know, it's a day early. But the Eve still counts in my book. I'm very excited to spend tonight with Scott, and to give him the present I've picked out for him. I did not in fact go with the B-52's, or any album at all. I thought it would come off a little lazy if I gave him something from my own store. But I happened to find a miniature brass telescope he can put on his desk at work. It makes sense because he's a science teacher, and it'll also remind him of me every time he looks at it. It's simple, not too flashy, but meaningful. I can't wait to give it to him later, and I really hope he likes it.

I don't expect him to give me anything, since we agreed upon 'no gifts' before. But I just couldn't help myself. Scott means quite a lot to me, even in the small amount of timewe've known each other. And I feel bad for crying the way I was during our first official date. I don'twant him to think I'm not interested in him, or that he's doing anything wrong. He's as far from wrong as you can possibly get. He says and does all the right things, and he's so damn sweet and decent. I really, really like him. I feel like he's exactly what I've been needing. A stable, well-adjusted person who will take care of me. I'll let you know how tonight goes, hopefully it ends with us in his bed like last time.

December 25th, 1984

Dear diary,

Merry Christmas (for real this time). Scott and I had the best time last night. Every last second made me feel like I was in a sappy movie, and I promise Ididn't cry. Well, except out of happiness...

"Merry Christmas, Y/N. Come in." Scott says once he'd opened the door to let you in his house. He's dressed in a red and green striped sweater, paired with some black slacks. His mustache is freshly trimmed, his hair combed nice and neat. "I'll take your coat." He says as you remove it, revealing a short red velvet dress with spaghetti straps. "You look ravishing, honey." He compliments, his eyes dragging over your body. He usually isn't one to ogle, but he can't resist admiring the curves of your hips and your cleavage that's on full display.

"Thank you, baby. You're looking very handsome yourself." You repay him the flattery, noticing his gaze eating up your form which makes you smirk. You knew this little number would catch his eye. You've paired it with some simple red heels, gold jewelry, and light makeup. You give him a quick peck, walking past him towards the living room. You set your purse down on the couch, which holds the small box containing Scott's gift. You'll wait until after dinner to give it to him, hoping to keep it a surprise.

"Dinner's almost ready. Should I pour you a drink?" He asks, putting your coat on the rack beside the front door.

"Yes, please." You give him a content smile, and he nods before disappearing into the kitchen. He brings two glasses of red wine over, handing one off to you before sitting down.

"The roast still needs another thirty minutes. I hope that's okay." Scott says nervously.

"That's fine. I'm just happy to spend this special night with you." You reply sweetly, taking a big sip of your wine.

"Me too." He smiles, running his fingers against his glass anxiously.

"You feelin' okay, baby?" You ask, putting a hand on his thigh to help him relax. He melts at your touch, finding your kind eyes.

"Yeah. Just a little nervous." He chuckles breathily.

"Why's that?" You question, scooting closer to him.

"Well...I know we said no gifts. But, I wanted to give you something anyway." Scott answers, hoping you'll enjoy what he has in mind. He's done a little reading about oral sex, in an effort to expand his horizons. You make him feel open to trying new things, even if they're rather daunting.

"That's okay, I may have gotten you something too." You say cheekily.

"In that case, why don't you go first?" He suggests, putting off his bold proposition for the time being. As much as he wants to please you, he's afraid of executing it poorly.

"Sure." You chirp, setting down your glass. You reach inside your purse, pulling out the small box that you've wrapped up and topped with a bow. "Here you go." You hand it over to him, watching intently as he tears open the paper. He pulls off the top of the box, and his eyes light up at the trinket inside.

"Ah, a telescope." Scott chuckles. He takes it into his hand to admire it.

"For your desk." You explain, drawing his eyes to you.

"Thank you, Y/N. It's very thoughtful. And I'll think of you every time I look at it." He says sweetly, pulling you in for a kiss. You gladly accept his lips on yours, and it doesn't take long for him to push things further. His tongue slips into your mouth, pulling a quiet moan from you. He breaks away briefly, holding your stare with dilated pupils. "Your turn." Scott says lowly, setting his gift on the table. He carefully lays you down on the couch, crouching over you and removing your high heels. They fall loudly to the floor, and he keeps your legs spread open for him. You can take a guess where this is going, excitement growing within you.

"Scott." You whimper when he lowers his head to kiss your neck. His mustache tickles your flesh, and he keeps traveling downwards. He leaves a blazing trail along your chest, one of his hands slipping underneath your dress. His fingers brush against your panties, finding a wet spot already starting to form. He pulls them to the side, and quickly finds your clit. "Fuck." You moan as Scott rubs slow, careful circles on your sensitive bud.

"Have you figured out what your present is yet?" Scott asks, raising his head to look at you. There's a hungry glint in his eye, something you never expected to see from him. He slips two fingers inside your pussy while he waits for you to answer, smiling at the vulgar noise that leaves your lips.

"Yeah." You nod. "I take it you did a little research first?"

"Of course. What kind of man would I be to go into this blind? I want you to actually enjoy it, after all." He explains confidently, pumping his digits in and out of you as he speaks.

"I'm sure I will, Scott." You say softly, bringing his lips back to yours. You really can't get enough when it comes to kissing him. He's got the freshest breath out of anyone you've ever been with. Minty and clean, only slightly tasting of wine. And he's so unbelievably tender with you, like you're a delicate flower in his caring hands. It's not in the way that he thinks you're fragile, it's moreso that he feels you deserve to be cherished. You also love the way his mustache bristles your upper lip, you're not sure how he keeps it so neat and soft. It's oddly comforting, and reminds you of his maturity.

"Can I keep going? I'd hate for the roast to burn." Scott asks, his concern for the food rather endearing.

"Please do. I'm excited to see what you've learned." You give him a nod and a kind smile.

"Right." He exhales nervously, sitting back on his knees for a moment. He glances down between your still-spread legs, finding the sight of soaked red lace looking back at him. Scott reaches his hands beneath your dress, looping his fingers around either side of your panties. He looks to you for permission, and you give him a nod. "Okay." He breathes, pulling your underwear down your thighs and all the way to your ankles until they're removed entirely. He lets them fall to the floor, and then pushes the bottom of your dress up to expose your pussy. You lift your ass for a moment so he can tuck the material underneath you. Once you lay back down, he spreads your legs open wide. His eyes double, captivated by the glistening sight before him. He licks his lips involuntarily, suddenly feeling rather hungry. His lust-blown pupils flick to you. "You ready, honey?" He asks.

"Yes, baby. Make me feel good." You encourage him to have a taste, anticipation building in your core.

"I'll try my best." He crawls over to you, crouching over himself to position his face in front of your cunt. He admires it for a moment, your swollen bud, your pretty pink lips, and your slick, throbbing entrance. God, every last inch of her is beautiful. He decides to make a move, his tongue slipping out of his mouth to gently prod at your clit. The second he makes contact, your hips buck off the couch.

"Fuck." You moan, and it motivates him to keep going. He drags his tongue downwards, swiping through your silk. You let out another filthy sound, making his cock twitch. He slowly moves up and down along your pussy, savoring your sweet, musky flavor. He's never had anything like it, it's so unique...and addictive.

"Mmm." Scott hums as he continues to taste you, exploring every centimeter of your cunt.

"Feels so good, baby." You praise, unable to resist rolling your hips to meet his lazy strokes. Pleasure builds within you, slow and steady. That's another unique thing about Scott, he takes his time. But he does it in a way that's unbelievably enjoyable for you, making you savor every last bit just like he does. No one has ever managed to do that before, and certainly not in a way that brings you such intense ecstasy.

"You're so...sweet." Scott says between tentative licks, picking up his speed a little. He swirls purposeful circles around your bud, know that's the main spot he should be paying attention to.

"You like the way I taste?" You ask, lifting your head to look down at him between your thighs. His eyes meet yours, and you can see his thin tongue rolling against your soaked pussy. The sight pulls the knot inside you even tighter, knowing such a wholesome man is doing such a dirty thing to you.

"Yeah, I really do." He smiles, pressing himself further into you. His lips close around your swollen nub, sucking firmly.

"Oh my god." Your head falls back at the intense sensation, and your hands weave into Scott's hair to keep him close. You grind your hips a little more, unable to control yourself. He's making you feel so good, and it's only his first try. "You're doing such a good job, Scott. Fuck..." You trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as he brings two fingers to your tight entrance. He slips them in with ease, curling the knuckles to hit your g-spot.

"Mmm." Scott hums against you, making your thighs clench. Wet noises from his tongue and fingers pleasing your pussy fill the room, mingling with your breathy moans. His cock strains inside his slacks, growing more needy by the second. Your juices are like nectar to him, and those goddamn whimpers and cries of his name are driving him insane. He's afraid he might make a mess in his pants with how hot this whole scenario is. His free hand firmly grabs hold of your thigh, trying to keep you from squirming too much while he eats you out.

"Go a little faster, baby." You plead, needing just a bit more to really get going. Scott obliges your request, pumping his fingers quicker inside you, and sucking harder on your clit. "Yes...just like that." You smirk at his willingness to take your advice. He keeps it up, bringing you closer towards the edge. You moan and writhe and grind against his face, gripping his hair tightly in your hands. Sweat gathers in your underarms and the backs of your knees as he works you over. It won't take much longer for Scott to make you cum. He's managed to keep his speed and pressure completely consistent. "Don't stop, baby. I'm really close." You say breathlessly, lightly tugging on his hair.

"Mmm." He grunts against you, trying his best to not change a single thing about what he's doing. His eyes gaze up at you again, finding a beautiful, fucked-out mess waiting for him. Your head is pressed back into the cushion of the couch, your eyes fallen shut and your mouth making the prettiest noises. And he's the one that's made you unravel like this. He can't believe how well he's doing on his first attempt, and it's only turning him on more with every passing second.

"Oh god, I'm gonna cum..." You gasp as your high finally takes hold. "Scott!" You cry out his name, walls snapping around his fingers, trapping them inside. Your thighs tremble, and complete bliss rips its way through you from head to toe. A small dose of juices spills from you, making a mess of Scott's cheeks and chin. He groans at the warm fluid hitting his tongue, unexpectedly blowing his load inside his briefs. His hips stutter against nothing at all, his sticky release spurting out into the cotton fabric.

"Jesus." Scott pants as he pulls away from your spent pussy. He removes his fingers, leaving you completely fuckstruck on the couch. You try to catch your breath, still seeing stars. You feel his weight leave the sofa, drawing your eyes open.

"Where you goin', baby?" You ask, swallowing thickly.

"I just need to, um...change clothes." Scott says awkwardly, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Did I make that much of a mess?" You tease, looking him over. Your arousal is glistening on his mouth, and chin, even in his mustache. But there's nothing on his sweater, so it leaves you confused.

"No, no. I—" He starts to explain with a laugh, before cutting himself short. He snaps his mouth shut, completely sure you don't want to hear about his little mishap. But you just smile, giving him a knowing look. It certainly isn't the first time a guy has found going down on you particularly enjoyable.

You pull your dress back down over yourself, and stand up to comfort him. He's so ashamed of it, when he definitely shouldn't be. You put your hands on his shoulders, bringing yourself close to him. "It's okay, Scott. It happens. You were just enjoying yourself, that's nothing to be embarrassed about." You say in a reassuring tone.

"I suppose you're right. I just wasn't expecting it." He replies bashfully, his cheeks going bright red regardless of your kind words.

"If anything, I take it as a compliment. You liked pleasing me so much, that it made you feel just as good. What's wrong about that? Hm?" You add, hoping he'll see that there's nothing weird about him cumming like that.

"I know, I'm just being silly." He smiles, glad that you don't think any less of him for this. He's about to give you another heart-melting kiss, when the kitchen timer dings. "Oh, the roast is ready. Can you take it out of the oven for me? I'd like to get cleaned up."

"Of course, baby. I'm on it." You pat his chest, and head for the kitchen. You locate the mitts, and carefully remove the huge heavy pan from the oven. You set it on top of the stove, overwhelmed with the scent of tender, succulent meat. You're tempted to take the lid off and have a peak inside, but you're guessing Scott wants to present the meal to you himself. You leave the roast alone, and retrieve the wine glasses from the living room instead. You take a seat at his small dining table, finishing off your drink to quench your newfound thirst. Scott joins you at the table, his face clean of your juices, and his clothes set back straight. "Feelin' better now?" You ask cheekily.

"Very much. Would you like a refill, honey?" Scott smiles, reaching for your empty glass.

"Yes, please. And dinner smells delicious, I can't wait to try it." You reply, your stomach growling in agreement.

"Comin' right up." He leaves the room again, and you lean over to watch him move around the kitchen. He puts on a white apron to keep his clothes from getting messy while he slices up the meat. He really is a stickler for tidiness, but you like that about him. He has his routines, though he's already made several concessions for you. He doesn't usually have messy sex on the couch, or move about the house in the nude. But when it comes to you, he'd let all of his self-imposed rules go out the window if it would make you happy.

You find yourself feeling a little lonely, so you go to the kitchen to keep him company. "What's cookin', good lookin'?" You tease, finding him carving into the roast with a large knife and two-pronged fork.

"Got bored out there, huh?" Scott asks with a chuckle, glad for the company.

"Maybe." You say playfully, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his middle. You do your best to stay out of the way of his knife, and he sighs blissfully at your touch. You rest your head against his back, feeling unbelievably happy in this moment. He's your sweet, handsome man, preparing a delicious dinner for the both of you, on Christmas Eve. You'd be hard pressed to find anything that gets better than this.

Neither of you say anything else, just enjoying one another's presence in this cozy little house. Fresh snow falls outside, and Scott puts some Christmas music on the radio after setting dinner out nicely on the table. You sit down and eat together, not talking about much other than how delicious the food is. Your bellies are warm and full after dinner, leaving you both ready to take this to bed for the night. Scott leads you gently by the hand, and the two of you make love between his extremely comfortable sheets. It's passionate, and adoring, even loving, if one wants to be bold. Your mouths and hands wander all over each other, writhing and grinding your bodies together until you're left moaning one another's names and covered in sweat.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N." Scott coos, cupping your face in the post-orgasm afterglow.

"Merry Christmas, Scott." You say just as sweetly. You share a gentle kiss, before he pulls out and tosses his used condom away. He gets back into bed, pulling your body close to his. You nuzzle your head into his chest, humming with contentment.

"Can I tell you something?" Scott asks, sounding a little nervous again.

You lift your head up to meet his eyes, further confirming your suspicion. "You can tell me anything." You answer, wondering what's got him so anxious. Maybe he wants to ask you to officially be his girlfriend.

"Okay. Um, just know, you don't have to say it back. I-I know it's really early and everything..." Scott explains, his voice stuttering throughout. And that's when it clicks. You know exactly what three little words he's going to say. "But, uh, I really like you, Y/N. I mean—" He keeps trying to spit it out already, but he's seriously struggling. You decide to help him out. You give him another, deeper kiss. He melts into you, cupping your face to hold you close. After you've calmed him down, you slowly pull back.

You gaze deep into his eyes, cheerful tears pricking your own. "I love you too, Scott." You laugh through a happy sob, overcome with emotions.

"Really? You mean it?" He asks as his own eyes start to water, unable to believe you reciprocate these feelings so soon. He's had a hard time believing he feels this way for you, too. But he's far from an irrational man, he doesn't throw the 'L' word around willy-nilly. There's just something about you, that makes him want to hold his heart wide open and let you in entirely.

"Of course I do, baby." You tut. "Look, I'm sure you feel as crazy as I do saying it so early. But we get each other, on so many levels. And every time I've been with you, it's like I'm coming home. Like I finally have the one thing in life I've been missing." You say tearfully, ignoring the fact that the reason you feel this way is because he reminds you of someone else. But he doesn't need to know that. Because regardless of that fact, you still love Scott entirely as he is anyway. You promise yourself that one day, you'll tell him all about Bob. But it shouldn't be today.

"I feel exactly the same way, Y/N. I care about you so much. You make me feel like an entirely new person, the man I've always wanted to be. I love you, honey." He sniffles, a couple tears rolling down his cheeks. He pulls you in for more heated kisses, unable to get enough of your adoring lips.

...we kept kissing for what felt like hours. And when we eventually became too tired to keep going, Scott held me close in his arms and stroked my hair untilI fell asleep. We slept in late, and had leftovers from last night once we managed to get out of bed. We spent the entire day together, cuddling on his sofa, and talking aboutanything that came to mind. He even made us some hot cocoa, and I repayed him for going down on me. Scott seemed to enjoy that, he said nobody else has ever done that before. It appears I'm pulling many firsts out of him, and every one makes me feel like it's my first time too. I think now Iunderstand what Madonna's "Like A Virgin" was talking about.

January 1st, 1985

Dear diary,

Happy new year! Sorry, I'm still a little tipsy from last night. Scott came over to my place this time, and we had lots of champagne and crappy snacks to ring in the new year together. We watched the ball drop, and our special midnight kiss quickly turned into the best drunk sex I've ever had. It was hot, and heavy, and a little rougher than we've been before. It was perfect, though my head pounding this morning has me wondering if I should swear off booze altogether.

Scott's still passed out in bed, snoring loudly with his limbs splayed about. I hope he won't be too upset at me for letting him sleep so late. He's usually quite the early bird. But Ican't possibly disturb him like this, he's so cute when he's sleeping. He's so peaceful, especially when his arms are wrapped around me. And the way his hair gets all messy throughout the night is so damn charming. I love watching him sit up in bed, rubbing his eyes while a scraggly black birds nest sits atop his head. It makes me giggle every time, even though he hates it.

January 4th, 1985

Dear diary,

Winter break is officially over, which means I'll have to get used to sharing Scott with Hawkins Middle. I absolutely hate the idea of that, but I know his job is important. He loves those kids, and he loves sharing the wonders of science with them. And I'm sure those kids adore him, too. How can they not? He's kind, and sweet, and unbelievably smart. I don't think I could find one person that doesn't like him if I tried.

In other news, it appears construction of the new Starcourt Mall is beginning. I have no interest in going there once it's open, except maybe to scope out the competition. From what I've heard, the building is going to be massive, one of the largest structures Hawkins has ever seen. I can't say I'm not a little nervous about it killing the small businesses in town once it's finished. They're building it pretty quickly, too. Everyone keeps talking about how much progress is finished with every passing day, though I haven't looked for myself yet. It's a little out of the way, and I'm not sure I even want to look.

January 12th, 1985

Dear diary,

I told Scott about Bob today. I hadn't meant to just yet. But I guess Scott was still curious as to why I was so upset during our first night together. I decided to be honest with him, I don't want there to be any secrets between us. I told him that Bob and I used to go out, and it got pretty serious. I told him we broke up due to our work monopolizing all of our time, and then Bob started dating Joyce Byers. I told him that I had gotten over Bob, until the accident at the Lab happened. I told him that, despite having been apart for so long, Bob's death hit me really hard. I told him that I was upset on our first night because I was afraid of us not working out. Afraid of losing someone I care about again. And that, in a way, I felt like I was dishonoring Bob's memory by being with someone else.

Scott completely understood. He told me he'd attended the funeral, since they used to be close friends back in their school days. They'd always meant to reconnect when Bob came back to Hawkins, but it never ended up happening. So after Bob's passing, Scott felt guilty for never making time to see his old friend. We comforted each other for a while after that, sharing stories of happy memories that the both of us made with him. It was a surprisingly cathartic, mature conversation. We cried, and laughed, and held each other close through all of it.

I have to admit, I was a little afraid of losing Scott altogether after telling him everything. I was so scared that he'd feel used or something, not that I've actually been using him. I just mean that, I initially saw something in Scott that I used to see in Bob. So it was like I was getting him back, while also mourning him and moving on at the same time. Ugh, I don't know if that even makes sense. I hope it does. Because now, I feel like I'm actually able to be happy for an extended period of time. Possibly even forever.

January 18th, 1985

Dear diary,

Scott took me out on a very sweet date tonight. We went for a walk around the park, bundled up snugly in our coats and hats and mittens, watching the snow fall from the sky to the glittering blankets of white on the ground. Scott cleared off a bench under one of the streetlamps, and we sat together and drank some hot spiked cider he'd brought in a thermos. The air may have been nipping our noses pretty hard, but sitting with him in the quiet night was wonderful. It was so simple, and also absolutely perfect.

February 14th, 1985

Dear diary,

Love is in the air. The snow is beginning to melt, the shop is running smoothly, and Scott and I are stronger than ever. We've both been rather busy, but that's to be expected. We still find plenty of time for one another, spending as much of every weekend together as possible. Speaking of which, we'll actually be celebrating Valentine's Day tomorrow. Scott still popped by to give me a cute teddy bear and some chocolates during his lunch break, which was so sweet of him to do. He was even wearing a red sweater vest with little hearts on it, he was looking handsome as ever. It took everything in me not to drag him behind the counter and get on my knees. But there will be plenty of time for that tomorrow.

February 16th, 1985

Dear diary,

Yesterday was, in one word, fantastic. Scott whisked me away from the store once he was finished with work, I left the younglings in charge for the night. We made a quick stop to my apartment so I could change clothes, he told me to wear 'something nice'. I wore a cute little black dress, and some extra special lingerie I'd picked up from The Love Hut in preparation for this occasion. Scott took me to Enzo's for dinner, that yuppie Italian place. The food was amazing, and Scott gave me these gorgeous diamond earrings. I'd never expected something so extravagant, but they have to be the prettiest piece of jewelry I own.

After dinner, we went back to his house to watch a movie. He'd rented Heartbeeps from Family Video. It was meant to be a silly sci-fi romantic comedy about two robots who fall in love or something. But, ugh, it was absolutely horrible! Scott and I spent the whole time making fun of the terrible dialogue and special effects. He thoroughly apologized once it was finally over, but all I could do was laugh. It's not his fault, the premise itself didn't seem all that bad. But let's just say that Andy Kaufman should stick to his usual record player routine.

Once we got over the awfulness of the film, we shared some ice cream and went to bed. I 'unwrapped' Scott's present, standing at the foot of his bed in a red babydoll with faux-feather trim and a matching thong. His jaw nearly fell through the floor when he saw it, and he was on me in seconds. I've never seen him so ravenous before, but he's grown far more confident in the bedroom department as of late. We went at it for at least a couple of rounds, having to change the sheets once we finished. Scott didn't want to stop making me cum, and I let him devour me until I truly couldn't take another orgasm. I'm not saying he's lost that caring tenderness, mind you. Far from it. Every kiss, touch, and thrust is still tied up in silk ribbons of love and adoration. And it leaves me a total love-drunk mess every time.

March 21st, 1985

Dear Diary,

Well, it's official. I'm single again. It definitely wasn't by choice. But regardless, I'm once again left alone in this world. It's not Scott's fault, truly. We've been happier than ever, soit's nothing wrong with our relationship either. It's something entirely out of our control. Scott's aunt Sylvia is sick, like, 'a couple months left to live' kind of sick. Her husband died a long time ago, and they had no children of their own. Scott is the closest one to her, so it's been decided by him and the rest of the Clarke family that he has to go to Idaho to keep her comfortable until she passes away.

I begged him to let me go along, but he said I would hate it. He claims Idaho has even less to do in it than Indiana, and Sylvia's condition makes her delirious and prone to violent outbursts. He doesn't want me to see that, despite my insistence that I could handle it. It kind of turned into a bit of an argument, actually. But we couldn'tpossiblystay upset at one another for long. We love each other far too much to keep shouting the way other couples do.

He said it would only be for a few months, and that once he returns, we could pick things up again. But all I could think about was where I'd heard that before. I don't want him to leave, diary. I don't want to stop watching stupid movies, or taking long walks together, or cuddling in our beds after making the sweetest love we've ever had. I don't want to sit here in this stupid fucking town waiting for him to come back. It's not fair! Don't I deserve to be happy, diary? I work hard, I take care of myself, I don't do bad things. Have I not earned just a little bit of happiness? Must I always get fucked over by life?

At this point, all I can do is cry and be angry. I've been out of the shop for the last few days, and Scott's going to come by tonight to say his final good-bye before heading out on the road. On what would have been our three-month anniversary. I wish I could convince him to stay, or bring me along. But he won't hear any of it. He doesn't want to put me out, or disappoint his family. This fucking sucks, diary. I can't take losing the man I love again. I can't bear the burden of caring so deeply for someone, only to have them be taken away from me. Once we share that last kiss, once Scott gets in his car and drives away, I'm done with love. For good.

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