#heather van every

[kitsunetsuki]

David Chan - Heather van Every (Playboy 1971)

[70ssmut4]

[pseudo-satisfaction]

[kaplak1864]

Heather Van Every

[donkepp05]

Heather Van Every

[udmurt1984]

Heather Van Every

[carolinanadeau]

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968)

[heatherfield]

Walk Me Home | A “Headless” Fic Chapter Eleven

Story summary: Brom and Matilda find their relationship status is more complicated than ever after the explosive reveal of a year’s worth of secrets. How do they navigate their way forward when they struggle to know what’s true? And yet, to their friends, some things couldn’t be more obvious. (Explores what happens in between the climax of the finale and the epilogue of “Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story”.)

Chapter summary: After Diedrich throws a slight wrench in their plans, Matilda and Brom find themselves at the Bishop family home.

Chapter Characters/Pairings: Brom and Matilda, Diedrich Knickerbocker 

Rating: Teen

Author’s note: I’m sorry this is a little late! I mean, I wasn’t writing this up to the last minute... :S I am excited that I can now see how a bunch of individual scenes I’ve pictured for awhile will now come together. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Link: AO3.org

[fbfh]

rodrick x hyperfeminine hcs pt 3: changes: the big prom: the sex romp: the season finale

wc: 2.2k

genre: angst and fluff, teenage dream

pairing: rodrick x hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: roddy has low self esteem, madison and heather are not good friends prom trope, happy ending

summary: you and rodrick are both planning on ditching prom because if you can't go with each other, you don't want to go at all. fate has other plans, and rodrick thinks maybe prom isn't that overrated after all.

song recs: teenage dirtbag - wheatus, wasting love - iron maiden

a/n: LAST PART IN THE RODDY X HYPERFEM ARC!!! send me roddy asks bc this boy deserves more love. also if you get the clone high reference in the title I love you

(optionally) the iconic dress

tags @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @marveldemigod17 @celootaku1 @stay-to-reblog @whos-mixxie @mikulovingtrash @inthemindofaweirdo @b0nes-phobic @myymmeloo @wanderlustingcastaway @debbi3-debaser @lubunnii @imaybewrongbutidoubtit @cloverhasnobrain @bessonasa @strangelysamantha @1-800-starkindustrie @brookeskitty @1ummcalhoody6 @always1s4youbitch-blog @citri-koi @vincentluvr444 @brunnetteiwik @melllinaa @reeces-pieses @mentamaree @jasontodd-artemisgrace4life @jinniy

You’ve spent the last few weeks throwing yourself into the project of planning Heather and Madison’s prom outfits 

And hair

And makeup

And accessories

But that all comes with the territory of getting ready for prom

Once you decided to put them in soft pastels and flowy floaty ball gown dresses, word got out pretty quickly that that was the look for prom season in plainview

Everyone was getting the poofiest, softest dresses they could get their hands on

Soon selkie dresses and all their knock offs were sold out everywhere

Even white and pastel suits and tuxedos were selling like hotcakes 

Heather and Madison keep asking about your dress, but you don’t have the heart to tell them you don’t have one yet

Because you don’t plan on going

If you can’t go with Rodrick you don’t want to go at all

You don’t want Heather and Madison to be disappointed, so you haven’t told them that your real plans for prom night are to stay at home in your cozy pink pajamas and watch romantic comedies while you throw chocolates at the screen like a heartbroken Elle Woods

Rodrick has similar plans to blow off prom night

With less romcoms and pedicures, but he still has no intention of going

He managed to score Iron Maiden tickets for the friday after prom for him and the guys

Even though Ward is probably going to flake on them so he can spend the weekend with his girlfriend

Her parents are out of town then, so none of them can blame him

Rodrick’s been going out of his way to throw out every flier and leaflet about prom that gets sent to their house before his mom can see it

And it’s been going fine 

Until Greg decides to be a little asshole and get revenge for a harmless prank Rodrick pulled on him

Sure, Greg’s skin was stained blue for the rest of the week

But still

That doesn’t warrant showing their mom all the prom flyers and convincing her that Rodrick can’t possibly miss out on this developmental milestone 

Rodrick was desperate not to go

And he almost got away with it

But before he knows it, it’s prom night and his mom barges into his room with the flier insisting he goes

Rodrick tries everything he can think of to change her mind

“Mom, I don’t have anything to wear.”

She digs through his closet and holds up the only clean shirt and tie in his closet, giving him a look in response

“I don’t have a ride.”

“You can take your van.”

“I don’t have a date!”

That one gets him a 10 minute lecture about building character and planning ahead

“And I’m sure if you ask nicely there will be some girl who will dance with you. To real music, not that… screaming and thrashing and noise you’re always playing.” Susan says, pausing the spotify playlist he’d been blasting

Rodrick rolls his eyes at how out of touch she is

Everyone at school thinks he’s some loser punk

And now he’s going to show up late to prom with no date??

He’s glad prom is only for seniors, because he would never be able to live this down otherwise

Maybe it won’t be too bad

He can just sit in the parking lot and blast Green Day until it’s time to leave

“And don’t you think you can just go somewhere else, or hide in your van. You know my friend Linda?”

Susan doesn’t wait for Rodrick to answer

“Well, she’s a chaperone, and she’ll tell me if you’re not there. Okay? This is for your own good, Rodrick.” 

Fuck

Well, that idea’s out

“Fine, I’ll go…” Rodrick agrees, reluctantly giving in

Susan is delighted

She starts to leave so he can get changed, but he stops her before she can

“Can I borrow your eyeliner?”

A little while later, he’s sitting in his van in the school parking lot

He was already wearing black converse and ripped black jeans, so he just had to throw on the black button up and red tie his mom found

His hair was perfectly messed up from the nap he was startled awake from when his mom barged in

He shoves his headphones in his pocket, and after putting it off for as long as he can, he gets out and closes the door

Maybe it won’t be so bad

Maybe there will be some live music that’s actually decent

Ward and his girlfriend are already there, so maybe they’ll take pity on him and let him third wheel for a while so he doesn’t feel like such a total loser

He opens the doors to the gym, and is met with a hellscape of fluffy pastels and cutesy radio pop

Even the guys are in white and soft shades of blue and green and yellow

He feels like he’s going to throw up

He's in hell

This is what hell looks like

Among the hellscape of fluffy pastel tulle, Heather and Madison text you in a fit, wondering where the hell you are

You’re missing prom for god’s sake

You text them back the same thing you’ve been telling them all night

You’re running late, you’re having wardrobe malfunctions, but have fun and you’ll be there soon

When their dates leave to get them drinks, Madison sees someone sulking at a table

It’s Rodrick Heffley

She subtly takes a picture of him from across the room and texts Madison

🚨HEFFLEY ALERT🚨

He looks fucking pathetic lmao

Like how sad can u get lskjsldkfjd

Heather responds, laughing at what a loser he is

Only Madison didn’t just text Heather

She texted the group chat with Heather, her, and you

Your phone starts blowing up with more texts from Heather and Madison

You finally check their texts, assuming it’ll be more of the same

Your heart drops when you see a picture of Rodrick sitting alone at a table

“He couldn’t even get a date?? How pathetic 💀”

Your stomach sinks as you feel your heart break for Rodrick

He doesn’t deserve this

And neither do you

Rodrick should get to enjoy his prom

And you should get to have at least one chance with him

You have to see him

You have to crash prom and tell him you’ve been crazy about him since the moment you saw him

You have to ask him to dance with you

You have to try

Realizing how much you have to do in such a short amount of time, you throw yourself out of bed

You dig through your closet until you find your sweet 16 dress

It’s not at all on brand with the unofficial theme for prom, but it will have to do

You grab shoes and some matching jewelry and get dressed in a hurry

After throwing on the slinky, glittering, hot pink evening gown, you put on a pair of matching marabou heels

Your earrings and choker accent your glittering dress, and the high slit in the floor length skirt shows off your shoes perfectly

You finish pulling yourself together and rush out the door to get to prom as fast as possible

You feel like Cinderella rushing to the ball, hoping to meet prince charming

And you really feel like you have a shot at pulling this off. 

Rodrick feels like absolute shit

He didn’t think prom could feel this awful, but here he is

Alone at a table like a total loser while everyone else is dancing and having a good time

He looked around for Ward

And found him and his girlfriend hooking up under the bleachers

And in the bathroom

And in an empty classroom

So third wheeling is officially not an option anymore

He feels like everyone is laughing at him

Some of them literally are

And in a room full of poofy pastel dresses and suits, he sticks out like a sore thumb

His outfit does kind of look like Gerard Way in the music video for Helena

But that’s obviously lost on all his mainstream pop obsessed classmates

He’s in a crowded room full of everyone in his grade

And he’s never felt more alone

This is torture

He’s about to get up and leave when the doors open on the other side of the gym

Heads turn as a gasp fills the room, followed by low murmuring

The crowd parts like Moses parting the sea, and Rodrick looks over curiously

You emerge from the graveyard of pastel tulle in a gorgeous, slinky, hot pink dress that looks like Elle Woods and Marilyn Monroe combined

And you’re looking right at him

His heart starts pounding

You walk toward him as a hush falls over the room

This can’t be real

There’s no way this is real

“Hi, Rodrick.” you say softly

He’s confused as fuck and feels like he could cry 

You actually know who he is??

You know his name???

“...Hi,” he chokes out, unsure of where the hell this is going

You look up at him with your pretty sparkly eyes and he feels like dreaming

“I…” you start, and he realizes you’re looking at him the way he looks at you, the way he’s been looking at you since he first saw you

“I never got to thank you for playing at my party.” You say softly

Thank him??

You actually liked it??

Everyone is staring at you with their jaws on the floor, but neither of you notice or care right now

He manages to choke out a response that probably sounds really stupid, but you just giggle sweetly

Are you blushing??

“Would-” you start, finally deciding to swallow your nerves and bite the bullet 

You have to go for it

You’ve never liked someone as much as you like Rodrick and if you don’t try now you’ll regret it for the rest of your life

Rodrick’s heart is hammering in his chest

You look so pretty he could die

“Do you want to dance?”

The words are out before your nerves can take over

He looks at you in disbelief 

“Yeah,” he breaths, hoping that if this is a dream that it’s one he won’t wake up from for a while

You step closer to him, but you both freeze as the next song starts playing

It’s another oversaturated top 50 pop song

You grimace in unison 

Rodrick notices your mutual distaste for the overplayed song

If you really liked loded diper…

��Uh, here,” he pulls out his headphones and offers you one

“Thanks,” you say, trying to suppress the butterflies erupting inside you

It feels intimate, sharing headphones and listening to his playlists

You fight a giddy smile and pop in the headphone as he hits shuffle

A flash of fear that you’ll judge him for his music taste and this whole beautiful dream will be ruined burns through him

Your pause as the music begins to play

Rodrick’s fear vanishes as fast as it came when you look up at him with enthusiastic sincerity

“I love Iron Maiden!”

“Really?” he asks

He thought you couldn’t surprise him anymore than you have tonight, but this just keeps getting better and better

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling brightly as you place his hands on your waist

You sway softly to the beat of the song

You rest your head on Rodrick’s chest, a banger of a song playing in one ear, and Rodrick’s thudding heartbeat in the other

Neither of you are aware of the stares, of Heather freaking out behind you, of the whispers and the gossip or one of the teachers cashing in on winning a bet that Rodrick would actually dance with someone by the end of the night

Even if you did, you wouldn’t care

Rodrick holds you tight, never wanting this night to end

His heart starts pounding harder as he looks down at you, and you pull away from him enough to look up at him

He swallows, hoping this goes well

“Me and the guys are going to see Iron Maiden next friday and I have an extra ticket, would you want to-”

You’re already nodding

“Yes!” you beam

Going to an amazing concert with the hottest guy you’ve ever seen is literally what you’ve been dreaming of for years

Rodrick lets out a chuckle, overjoyed that this worked, that he’s dancing with you and you said yes

He makes a mental note to thank his mom for forcing him to come here

But he forgets it as soon as you stretch up, pulling his face down to yours

You press a warm kiss to his lips, one full of anticipation, one you’ve both been dreaming about

He pulls you closer, melting into your touch

He thinks maybe high school isn’t as bad as he thought

[brutal-nemesis]

YYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Spiderwebs #27: Proof

Masterlist

content: immortal whumpee, captivity, starvation, gore, organ stuff, self-injury

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ��

Heather dreaded the end of the three months, and it was not entirely an irrational fear. Jackie was capable of killing her. She had chainsaws and scalpels, but what were blades in the face of an immortal? What were weapons in the shadow of an undying rage? Maybe that was a ridiculous thought, but it seemed a very real threat to her. He probably hated her even more now. Heather would too, if she was in his place.

The days passed. The final week arrived. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. She became so anxious at work that she threw up in the bathroom. Thursday. Friday. She considered leaving him locked in there forever, just so she never had to confront him. Saturday. And finally, Sunday.

Sunday morning was too cheery for such heavy work, so she waited until Sunday evening. Sunday was the Lord’s day. That didn’t mean anything to her anymore, but it was a memory that kept running in her mind. In any case, she had made her decision. She was going down there. Heather wasn’t that cruel, as to completely abandon him, and she wasn’t a monster. She had to check up on him eventually. 

She wasn’t going unarmed, that was for sure. The scalpel and the pistol were secured in her bookbag, and then she set off. She found the basement door across the hallway. Right where it always was. She moved the table from where it stood guard, pushed it aside. But she hesitated before turning the lock.

One, two, three heartbeats. Then her hand darted out to the doorknob. She twisted the lock until it clicked open.

Nothing happened. There was nothing but silence. She was still alive, still breathing. Her colleagues never saw the bruise on her neck—she covered it over with makeup—and it faded away over the months. But the memory was still there, the pressure on her throat.

Heather swallowed her tension, then entered the doorway. The lights were off. This wasn’t helping things, but she persevered. She closed the door behind her, then turned on the lights. She walked down the stairs.

She reached the last step. The room was a mess. Furniture toppled everywhere, items strewn about in furious abandon, the smell of dust clouding over them. The light was so dim as to cast the room into a yellowish, dull tint. A place more fit for slaughtering pigs than living in.

She looked up, let her sight adjust. She almost flinched. 

Jackie was staring straight at her. He was sitting on the bed, across the room. 

He looked different. Different in a bad way. He’d gotten much thinner, first of all, hollowed at the edges like a stray dog. His hair was matted and longer than it had been before. His eyes seemed strained, and the shadows underneath them were heavy.

He blinked, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real. He did not say anything.

Three months. Heather was starting to realize what she had done. They reserved solitary confinement for the worst of the worst. Even then, they fed their prisoners. Three months was a long time. 

“Jackie?” she called out. “It’s me.”

He blinked again.

She stepped forward, cautiously, treading slowly so as not to startle him. He watched her all the while, with that feral sort of stare. There was an insubstantial aura to him, like he’d flicker or fade away if she wasn’t careful, if she wasn’t watching closely enough. She held her hand out, aiming to put it on his shoulder.

To her great bewilderment, he stood up to face her. “You win.”

She froze. “What?”

“You win, I said. I give up. You can do whatever you want with me. You—” His calm voice began to crack, took on a tilt. “I can’t live like this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll never do anything like that ever again. I missed you, I—”

“You… missed me?” Surely, she’d heard him wrong. Or he really had lost his marbles.

He continued to speak, eyes wet and shining all the while. “I missed you so much. I—I love you, Heather. Don’t ever leave me again. Please.”

Well, this was certainly… new. This was different. All the way from murderous hatred to… love. But that was ridiculous. That was…

“What do you mean, you love me?” She furrowed her brows. “Are you being serious?”

“Yes, completely.” He nodded, desperately, like his life depended on her believing him. Perhaps it did. “I love you.”

It was the way he kept repeating it, the strain in his voice. This wasn't right, but she didn't want him to stop. It overflowed from his mouth like honey. And he sounded so eager, so fervent.

He grabbed her sleeve, tightly. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t.” This was quite a pleasant surprise to walk in on. Even if he was lying, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

His expression was earnest, in any case. He was staring into her eyes like she was an angel. Her fear was gone entirely. She had nothing to be afraid of. Everything had worked out perfectly. It was too good.

He stared at her, waiting. 

She slapped him, hard. Hard enough that his head was pushed back. Hard enough to make him flinch. He cowered under her gaze. But he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. 

She leaned in closer. Her lips almost brushed the shell of his ear. “You’re pathetic.”

He didn’t reply, still didn’t move, although his breathing had become shallow and hitching. His gaze had gone somewhere else, somewhere distant.

“You’re not going to hit me back, are you?” she asked softly. 

He shook his head.

“Good. Do you still love me?”

He nodded. It was disgusting, the look on his face. He would roll over and fetch if she asked him to.

“Prove it.”

“What do you want?” He fixed on her, again, that earnest expression. “I’ll do anything.”

Silently, she handed him the scalpel from her book bag. She pushed his hand forward, pressing the blade gently to his sweater, just slightly to the left. Still guiding his movements, she helped him trace two curves over the fabric, perfectly mirrored, creating a single shape—the lover’s symbol, sweet in its simplicity. She let go and waited for his reply.

He understood. He knew her well enough. Jackie steadied the scalpel, grasping it until his knuckles were straining under the skin. He aimed it above his chest. 

With a sharp jerk, he plunged it into himself. He began to dig out his own heart. 

It took an uncomfortably long time—that is, uncomfortable for anyone else. Heather was loving every second of this. The blade went in, dragging through flesh and cotton, then ripped out, over and over. He was not as precise as Heather. Didn’t have a surgeon’s careful hand. The surrounding skin and flesh was torn and rendered into jagged edges. His ribs cracked, his blade squelched. Blood dripped down onto the concrete, onto his lovely checkerboard sweater. His eyes went unfocused. Even with his sallowed skin and hollowed bones, he was very pretty. He winced, but he never stopped. Jackie coughed, and more blood trickled out his mouth. 

By the time he’d severed an artery, his motions grew lethargic. His blood dripped thick, nearly the consistency of jam. His heart wasn’t healing as quickly as it usually did. The wound was dark, festering in his chest.

Heather took his hand and, with gentle motions, helped him cut out the rest of the organ. The arteries, the veins, the remaining tissues. She snapped ribs away where necessary, letting them drop to the floor. His bones were surprisingly brittle. They cracked like twigs, while his pulse slowed and smeared on her skin. 

It was a marvel of muscle and nerves, even though she had seen it many times before. Light broke apart and glittered on its surface. It lay heavy in his hands, warm and still weakly beating. 

He handed it to her with another rasping cough. Blood slicked both of their palms. His eyes fluttered, but snapped open before they could close.

She took it, felt the warm flesh press against her hand, felt it convulse in erratic rhythms. “Oh, good boy. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Jackie was completely out of it. He may not have heard her praise at all. He blinked at her once more, then placed a steadying hand on her arm, swaying on his feet all the while. Before Heather could react, he fainted. 

She did not catch him in time. He lay there, sprawled on the ground. All bones and blood. There was a gaping hole in his sweater, and dark red was splattered all over his cracked lips. 

She knelt down to pick him up. His head lolled to one side, and his limbs went limp in her grasp. She could not feel a pulse. Anyone else would have thought he was dead, but Heather knew he would wake up soon.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Wow, love really does fix everything :)

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl

@lthrboy

@whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation

[kitsunetsuki]

Heather van Every (Playboy 1971)

[70ssmut4]

[munson-blurbs]

Billy Hargrove is into you, and you assume that you don't deserve better than that narcissistic douchebag. When heartbreak inevitably happens, Eddie Munson is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), oral (f! receiving), protected p in v, Billy is a POS, reader is insecure about her body (no descriptions given, though she mentions not liking her stomach)

**Billy is very manipulative to get reader to sleep with him, though she does consent**

WC: 5.7k

A/N: This is based on two real experiences I had when I was younger. It's incredibly self-indulgent, but has also been wonderful for my healing process. I hope it can help someone else, too. (Also, sorry if it's rambly; it was cathartic but also emotionally difficult to write).

--

As the last swimmer exits through the iron gates, you breathe a sigh of relief at the end of another shift. Lifeguarding at Hawkins Community Pool wasn’t necessarily a difficult job, but it sure was tedious. Your flip-flops thwap against the pavement as you pad into the locker room to get dressed, skin sticky from sunscreen and that infamous mid-July humidity.

“So,” Heather says, twisting her blonde hair into a ponytail as she changes from her swimsuit into shorts and a t-shirt, “you ready to hear that secret?”

You nod enthusiastically. It’s all you’d been thinking about since you’d climbed down the lifeguard tower when her watch duty began, and she’d whispered that she had something to say to you privately. 

Heather’s eyes gleam as she announces, “Billy told me he thinks you’re hot!” She claps her hands together excitedly. “Not that he needed to; anyone can watch him check you out all day long,” she adds with a smirk. 

“Me?” you ask incredulously, unable to muffle your surprise. On instinct, you wrap your arms around your waist protectively. Heather might be comfortable changing in public, but your own body insecurities made it torturous for you to even be naked privately. 

“Yes, you!” your co-worker giggles. “You should talk to him.”

You’re still mulling over the prospect of Billy Hargrove being into you when your ride pulls up to the pool gates. Waving goodbye to Heather, you hop in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. He picks you up every night you work, and the two of you always split a joint in your backyard before he heads back to the trailer park. It makes your crappy summer job all worth it; God knows the pay isn’t even going to cover your textbooks when you go back to college in August.

“Save any little gremlins today?” he jokes, turning down his music so he can hear your answer.

You shake your head and laugh. “Nah, just yelled, ‘no running!’ about 84 times.” Leaning back in the seat and stretching your legs, you glance over at him. “But Heather told me something interesting.” Eddie cocks his eyebrow, and you take that as a sign to continue. “Apparently, Billy Hargrove thinks I’m hot.” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. Sure, he’s not exactly your knight in shining armor, but he’s an attractive guy who has a thing for you.

“Oh, ew.” Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Please describe the look on that douche canoe’s face when you turn him down.”

“Who says I’m turning him down?” you quip, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Your best friend sighs. “Well, you should,” he says pointedly, never one to mince words. “Guys like Hargrove only want to get in a girl’s pants and then find a new victim.”

“Why are you being such a bummer?” you snap. Eddie just keeps his eyes on the road, oblivious to your glare. “If Jeff was about to get laid, you’d be throwing him a goddamn parade!”

He chuckles tersely. “That’s because Jeff getting laid would be a fuckin’ miracle.”

You look around, exaggerating your movements for emphasis. “Well, asshole, I don’t exactly see a line of people forming to sleep with me, either.” With that, you pull your knees to your chest and turn your body so that your back is to him.

The car is silent, save for the sounds of Metallica’s Ride the Lightning album crackling through the speakers. After what seems like an eternity, Eddie pulls into your driveway and throws the van in park.

“Did…did you still wanna smoke?” he asks quietly, twiddling with a loose thread on the ripped knee of his jeans.

“Nope.” You jump out of the van, slamming the door shut behind you. “And you don’t have to drive me home tomorrow. I bet Billy will do it.”

You hear him calling your name as you stalk into your house. Honestly, you could really use some weed right now, but you’re too infuriated at him to push it all aside for a quick smoke session.

The next day, you make a point to sit next to Billy when you take your break. He’s smoking a cigarette, occasionally flicking ash into a chipped tray on the table. 

“Can I bum one?” you ask, pointing to the rolled tobacco between his plush lips. 

Billy smirks, reaching for the pack of Marlboros and holding it out to you. “Didn’t peg you for a smoker, sugar.” He passes you his lighter, and you spark up and inhale deeply.

“I usually prefer something greener, but this’ll do.” You take another drag, trying to work up the nerve to say what’s on your mind. As the smoke curls around your mouth, you notice Billy’s eyes trail down the curves of your body, as though he’s trying to drink you in. “Something I can help you with, Hargrove?” you tease, impressed with the way you easily flirt with him. It’s so unlike you, but it feels good.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling softly. “You can hang with me tonight. Got the place to myself, so, y’know…” He trails off and raises his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

Your stomach flip-flops despite yourself. This is what you want, right? No more waiting around for Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet. It’s not going to happen, never going to happen, not when you look the way you do. And if a gorgeous man like Billy Hargrove is actually willing to have sex with you, you’re in no position to turn him down. “O-Okay,” you stammer, hoping he doesn’t sense your nervousness. “I’m working till nine tonight; is that–”

“Perfect,” he interrupts, flashing you a megawatt smile. “I finish at six, but I’ll stick around just for you, pretty thing.”

Pretty. He called you pretty, and he wants you. Wants you enough to hang out at work for an extra three hours just to be with you.

The rest of your shift drags by; all you can think about is Billy. The way he feels, the way he tastes, what he looks like underneath those swim trunks.

The only problem is that he’ll also want to see you naked. The thought sours your mood. You try not to catch glimpses of yourself in the bathroom mirror after you get out of the shower, and now you’re about to let him see you, completely vulnerable.

Stop being such a baby, you scold yourself. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Billy’s waiting outside the locker room once your shift ends. He takes your hand in his larger, stronger one, and leads you to his car.

“Seems kinda silly, getting changed out of that cute little swimsuit,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, “when you’re gonna get undressed again so soon.” He leans you up against the passenger door, pinning your hips back and kissing you hungrily. One hand roams under your t-shirt to the swell of your breasts, breaking away when he feels the fabric of your bra. “You tryin’ to hide these from me, sugar?” He starts to reach for the clasp, but you stand up a bit straighter.

“Did you wanna, like, grab something to eat?” you ask shyly. “We can stop by Benny’s on the way to yours if…if you like burgers?” You cringe as the words leave your lips. Could you sound any more pathetic?

Billy just chuckles patronizingly. “That sounds like a date, and, uh, I don’t do dates.” He leans in, taking your earlobe between his teeth. “But I do other stuff real well.”

Something isn’t right. This isn’t what you want, but you should want it, and so you push down the apprehension and try to focus on the man in front of you. “That’s fine,” you murmur, even though it isn’t. People have casual sex all the time. It doesn’t mean he’s any less attracted to you. Like he said, he’s not the dating type, so why cause problems where none exist?

“I don’t know if I can wait until we get to mine,” he growls, and you can practically taste the spearmint gum that he was chewing earlier. “Might just have to do you in the backseat, hm?”

You nod as he opens the door for you, pretending for a millisecond to be a gentleman. He clambors in behind you and slams it shut, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling his waist. You can feel his erection pressed against your clothed sex, and you allow yourself to smile. You did this to him. You got him hard. Not Chrissy Cunningham, or Heather, or Bo Derek. You.

He starts to take off your shirt, but you push his hands away. “Something wrong?” he asks, giving an exasperated sigh. Did you already fuck this up?

“N-No, it’s just…” you avert your gaze, too embarrassed to make eye contact. “Could I keep my shirt on? I don’t really like my body, and I’d just feel better if I didn’t, um, take it off.” Heat blazes behind your cheeks, and you will yourself not to cry.

“For fuck’s sake,” Billy grumbles under his breath, flexing his biceps as he stretches. He lets his hands fall to your ass with a soft smack. “You got me all worked up, and now you’re not even gonna let me see your tits?”

You duck your head in shame. “I’m kinda insecure about the way I look,” you admit, hoping it will soften his heart. Though kinda is an understatement. 

He rolls his eyes, running his tongue over his teeth impatiently. “Y’know,” he finally says, squeezing the plush of your ass, “you might feel better about yourself if you got naked for me.” 

You inhale sharply; that’s not at all what you expected him to say. Maybe something reassuring; something about how much he liked the way you look. Instead, he’s clearly irritated with your hesitation. 

“M-Maybe.” It’s worth a shot, and you slowly peel off your top and unhook your bra, letting it fall to the floor of the car. You watch anxiously as his eyes flit across your bare chest, waiting for his reaction. An indication that he just has to have you and only you.

Instead, he clicks his tongue and simply says, “not bad.” He fumbles with your shorts button before unfastening his own. He strokes his cock lazily, staring at you. “Touch yourself, sugar. Get yourself ready f’me.”

There’s something screaming at you that this isn’t right; he should at least attempt to get you off instead of asking you to do the work for him. But you do as you’re told, not wanting to humiliate yourself further. 

You shimmy out of your shorts, pushing your panties aside and rubbing slow, timid circles around your clit. You’ve done this plenty of times to know what feels good, yet you can’t seem to get it right when it counts. Billy doesn’t notice—or care—that the moans floating past your lips are fake, and he lines himself up with your entrance. 

“Condom?” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes again.

“Doesn’t feel as good,” he grumbles, but he reaches into his wallet and pulls out the square piece of foil and tears it open, sliding the rubber over his thick cock. He pushes into you, not bothering to take his time as he ruts up. “Move your hips for me,” he tells you. “Bounce up and down; damn, do I gotta walk you through everything?”

Tears prickle at your eyes, and you manage to blink them away before he can see. Maybe this’ll get easier with time, you think. Maybe I’m just too nervous. You will yourself to relax, holding onto his broad shoulders as you lean down to kiss him.

“Feels good, yeah?” Billy grunts, and you nod as you zone out. You throw out a few more half-hearted whines as his hips stutter against your pelvis and he spills into the condom. “Fuck, there ya go, take it,” he croons, sweat trickling down his forehead. As soon as he rides out his orgasm, he’s hoisting you off of him so he can clean himself up. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.” You try to sound enthusiastic. “Could you, um, drive me home?”

“Whatever,” he shrugs, but waits for you to put your clothes back on and climb into the passenger seat.

He wants to do this again tomorrow, meaning he wasn’t completely repulsed by your body. So everything should be good, right?

The next week and a half is filled with lust-fueled backseat romps, usually ending with Billy coming and you…well, returning home to use your trusty vibrator. You’re starting to feel a bit more comfortable, but not in your own skin. It’s more that there’s a certain power behind Billy choosing you when he could be with literally anyone else. You hold your head a little higher, walk a little taller. Even your parents notice on your weekend trip to visit your grandparents in Indianapolis, though you didn’t clue them in on the source of your newfound confidence.

When you get back to the pool that Monday, you’re about to whisper in Billy’s ear to ask if he has a second to “check out a situation in the locker room” with you. What you find stops you dead in your tracks.

His arm is wrapped around Heather. They’re laughing together and she presses her lips to his cheek; he tilts her chin so he can kiss her passionately. It’s more tender, more loving than the way he kisses you.

The ground starts to spin, and you grab onto a plastic chair to steady yourself. As soon as Heather walks away, you march over to Billy.

“What the fuck?” you hiss, trying to keep your volume down. You wince as your voice cracks, giving away the sadness tucked inside your frustration. “Are you with Heather now? Like, with her?”

“Uh, guess so,” Billy replies snidely, twirling a toothpick between his teeth.

You bite your lower lip, willing yourself not to cry. “I thought you said you weren’t the dating type?”

He shrugs. “Just kinda happened,” he says nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just destroy your world. “You were away, she asked me to go to Scoops and grab some ice cream; one thing led to another, and…” he trails off. “Not like you and I were exclusive or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t wanna be!”

“And why do you think that is, huh?” Billy shoots back. “Why do you think I’d rather be with Heather than with you?” He scoffs, leaning back in his chair slightly. “You’re so goddamn uptight, y’know? Always worrying about the way you look, about people seeing us in the car. Heather just…goes with the flow. I can’t deal with someone so high-maintenance. Actually, most guys can’t.” With that, he storms out of the break room, leaving you trembling.

A wave of nausea washes over you as you slump down in a seat. All you wanted was to be wanted, and you blew it. Billy’s right; your insecurities keep you unloveable.

You try to take deep breaths, letting the tears slip down your cheeks. Your shift doesn’t start for another ten minutes, so you pray that you’re able to collect yourself before you’re due to start your watch. You’re sobbing too hard to notice the two boys peering into the lounge, watching you with growing concern before dashing to the nearest payphone. 

You slide on your sunglasses to hide your red, puffy eyes. The last thing you need is people asking you what’s wrong. Just as you’re about to walk over to the lifeguard stand–to switch with Billy, of all people–you feel a tap on your shoulder.

Eddie.

“Um, hey,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head nervously. “Will and Dustin called; said they saw Hargrove yelling at you, and you crying. Told me to ‘get my scrawny ass here, stat.’” He gives a terse chuckle. “Exact quote, by the way.”

You want to wrap your arms around him and never let go, but you remember what he said to you. Worse, that he was right. “‘M fine,” you lie, and Eddie sees right through it.

He gingerly takes off your sunglasses, heart breaking as he gets a glimpse of your tearful expression. “C’mere,” he says, pulling you in for a tight hug and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. It’s so tender, sweet, and selfless. It’s Eddie.

“Go tell your boss that you’re not feeling well, yeah?” he says finally, still not letting you go. “We can go grab something to eat, and you can tell me everything.”

“‘M not hungry,” you shake your head, “and I just wanna go home.” Your voice is whiny, but you’re too sad to care.

“Okay, well, you’re still leaving,” Eddie insists, and you don’t have the energy to argue. “The sheep,” he gestures to where Dustin and Will are standing, and they wave as though they’ve been caught, “will tell your boss that you’re sick. Lady problems or whatever.” You feel his fingers intertwine with yours as he leads you to his van. “And you can tell me as much as you want, ‘kay?”

You nod wordlessly as Eddie gives the younger kids a thumbs-up. He normally chooses the music, whether he’s the driver or the passenger, but this time, he tilts his chin towards the radio and says, “all yours.”

You turn the dial until you hear a Fleetwood Mac song, expecting Eddie to crack a joke or complain about your selection, but he just taps the steering wheel to the beat. When he drives to a gas station to fill up his tank, you don’t think anything of it until he comes back out with a bag full of Haagen-Daaz.

“Got all your favorite flavors,” he announces, plopping back into the driver’s seat. “I know you said you’re not hungry, but you will be at some point. So…sustenance.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you manage a small “thanks,” as he drives you back to your place. When he pulls into the driveway, he waits awkwardly for you to say anything else.

Finally, he breaks the silence by handing you the bag from the Shell station. “Don’t want this to melt,” he offers lamely, frowning when you burst into a fresh round of tears. You hear him mutter, “that’s it,” and he kills the engine, jumping out of the van to run to your side. “Up and at ‘em.” He pulls you out of your seat, scooping you up and flinging you over his shoulder with ease. He kicks the van door closed, walking to your front door before setting you down. 

“That’s my favorite method of transportation,” you giggle softly, and he breathes a sigh of relief as your humor peeks through. 

“Save a horse, ride a Munson, right?” he jokes back, blushing when he realizes the double entendre he just made. “Uh, anyway, I can leave if you want…” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets nervously. 

“You can come in,” you say, unlocking the door. He follows you, heading straight for the kitchen and grabbing two spoons from the drawer. 

“Figured we could start with cookie dough,” he says, holding out the pint. “Ladies first.”

The two of you sit on the couch in comfortable silence as you dig into dessert. Halfway through, you look up at him through misty eyes. “I’m waiting for the ‘I told you so,’” you say softly. 

“Huh?”

You tell Eddie everything: Billy’s claim that he wanted something casual, his reaction to you asking to keep your shirt on, the venom he spewed earlier today. “I never should’ve trusted him.”

But Eddie’s seeing red, fists clenched and jaw squared in pure rage. “The fuck did he say?” He stands up so quickly that he nearly knocks over the pint of ice cream. 

“Where are you going?”

“To kick his sorry ass!” Eddie exclaims, grabbing his keys from the table where he tossed them. 

“He’s not worth it,” you tell him. “Just…can you stay here and eat ice cream with me? Please?”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbles, plopping back down next to you. “But I still wanna punch him in the face.”

“You and me both,” you agree, taking another spoonful before posing the question you’ve been too afraid to ask. “Do you think I’m a slut?”

Eddie nearly chokes on his bite of cookie dough. “A slut? Because you slept with some douchebag?”

“No,” you say quietly, “for having sex with someone because I wanted to feel beautiful.”

His whole body deflates. “That’s why you…why wouldn’t you think you’re beautiful?”

You bark out a tense laugh. “Where to start? Um, my face, my hair, my body…oh, and apparently, now I’m too insecure and uptight to love, so…”

Eddie cradles your face between his strong, calloused hands. “Listen to me,” he says. “You are the most goddamn beautiful person on this Earth. Your eyes…I could stare into them all day. You have the cutest nose I’ve ever seen. Your smile makes me smile. And your hair…no matter how you wear it, you always look good. Sometimes you say things like, ‘ugh, my hair’s a mess today,’ and I’m just flabbergasted.”

“Flabbergasted?” you interject, amused by his word choice.

“Flabbergasted,” Eddie affirms. “And your body is…I’m gonna sound like such a creep here, so forgive me, but your body is so fucking hot. Like the night we had that argument, you said something about no one else wanting to sleep with you. But I know for a fact that that’s not true.”

“It’s not? Who wants to sleep with me?”

Eddie laughs nervously as he slowly raises his hand. “Um, me? But not, like, in a smash-and-dash way. Like in a take you on dates, hold your hand, be your boyfriend kinda way? Oh my God, just tell me to shut up. Please.”

“You’re just saying that to cheer me up,” you mutter.

“Nope. It’s the truth. Cross my heart.” He makes the slashes across his chest with his fingers. “Wait…the thought of us together cheers you up?”

You nod shyly. “Just never thought you’d be into me like that.”

“Well, I am. I so fuckin’ am, holy shit.” Eddie looks like he wants to kiss you, but he’s holding back. “Can I take you on a date? Maybe tomorrow?”

“I’d love a date with you, Eddie Munson.” You watch as a grin spreads across his face, and you rest your head on his shoulder. He lays his arm along the back of the couch, not quite sure whether to put it around you. That’s how the two of you fall asleep as the remaining ice cream melts in its container.

Seeing Billy at work the next day still stings a bit, but it’s easier than it was. You know he’s an idiot, a player, a manipulative piece of shit. And you have a date with Eddie, who is the kindest, gentlest soul you’ve ever met. And you deserve that kindness.

Eddie picks you up from work as usual, but instead of his typical ripped jeans and a concert tee, he’s wearing…well, un-ripped jeans and a concert tee. But he smells like a new cologne as he kisses your cheek, blushing as he pulls away.

“You look absolutely incredible,” he muses, reaching over to hold your hand. “Seriously, I’m so lucky you agreed to go out with me, shit.” He smiles at you, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Nothin’, I just…” He can’t seem to shed his dopey, lovesick grin. “Told myself I wasn’t gonna kiss you; like, kiss you kiss you, until the end of the date. But you just look so goddamn gorgeous.”

“Shut up,” you duck your head, trying to hide from him. “I’m the lucky one. My date is hot and has a kickass personality to match.”

“Guess we both got lucky tonight.” Eddie bites his lower lip when he realizes what he’s just implied. “I mean–”

You squeeze his hand, effectively silencing his racing thoughts. “Where are you taking me?” you ask, trying to change the subject. It’s not that you were embarrassed by his Freudian slip, but after what happened with Billy, you weren’t looking to rush into sex.

“You’ll see,” Eddie says, excitement building in his voice. A few moments later, you’re walking into the Coffee and Contemplation Café, with Eddie holding the door open for you. Your sundress swishes along your thighs as you take a seat across from Eddie. He immediately takes your hands in his, caressing them with his thumbs.

“Eds?”

“Mm?”

“I need to look at the menu.”

“Oh.” He lets go of your hands, looking a bit sad as he does. “Sorry, baby. Shit–can I call you that?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I really like that, actually.” Baby. You’re Eddie’s “Baby.”

When the waitress comes around, you order a vanilla latte, and Eddie orders coffee with cream and two sugars. “That’s what Wayne always orders when we go to the diner,” he explains. The two of you decide to split a piece of crumb cake–one slice, two forks.

“This is a really nice date, Eds.” You wrinkle your nose. “Hmm. I need a cute nickname for you now, huh?”

Eddie taps his chin as though he’s deep in thought. “How about…stud muffin?” He feigns offense when you giggle. “What? Am I not studly?”

“Oh, the studliest,” you reassure him, still laughing. “I like ‘babe,’ though. Because you are a babe.”

“I dunno…kinda like stud muffin better,” Eddie teases, taking a sip of his coffee. “Now, tell me all about your day.”

And so you fill him in on every detail, from the kid who peed in the pool to the mother who berated the lifeguards for “allowing” it to happen. “Like we can control their bladders or something,” you add with an eye roll, and Eddie cackles. A strand of hair falls in his face, and you tuck it behind his ear.

“Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, peering at you from under impossibly long lashes. That’s when you lean in and kiss him, soft and slow and sweet. He’s not expecting it; probably thinking he was going to initiate when he dropped you back off at home. His lips remain frozen for a second until his brain registers what’s happening. Then he’s kissing you back, palm on your cheek.

“Was that okay?” you ask finally. Eddie’s response is to slam a $10 bill on the table and grab your hand, leading you back to his van. He kisses you again against the side door; it reminds you of how Billy kissed you that night that you…

Eddie notices that you’ve stopped kissing him back, and he pulls away. “Baby? You good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer. He’s not Billy. Not even close. Not even a little bit. You take a deep breath. “Just nervous, c-cause the last time I did this, it, uh, didn’t end well for me.”

Eddie wraps his arms around your waist, gently pulling you towards him. “Hey, hey,” he coos. “There’s no rush, yeah? And I’d never–never make you do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I know.” And you do. So for now, you just rest your head against his chest, listening to the beautiful sound of his heartbeat.

The next month before you leave for school is filled with dates, each better than the last. Eddie takes you to the carnival, the drive-in movie theater, picnics at Lover’s Lake…anywhere he can. The kissing gets more fun; you’re able to focus on Eddie–your Eddie–and not on your past experiences.

The night before you’re set to go back to college, you’re ready to take that next step with him. The two of you are sitting on his bed and listening to music; your plans for an outdoor music festival having been squandered by the pouring rain. You move closer to him, straddling his waist as you press your lips to his neck.

“‘M gonna miss you s’much,” you pout, moving your mouth to his. “Want you, babe. All of you.”

Eddie gives a terse chuckle. “I want you too; so fuckin’ bad. But we don’t have to do this just because you’re leaving. I’m not gonna break up with you. In fact, I…” he swallows thickly before continuing, “I think I love you, baby. Shit, no; I know I love you.”

“I know I love you, too,” you smile, kissing him again. “And I want to have sex with you because I love you, and I want to show you.” You dig your fingers into Eddie’s hair, nuzzling your noses together. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” he breathes, hands settling on your hips. “You’ll let me know if you wanna stop, right? Just tell me, and we can go back to cuddling. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you say, and it’s the truth.

Eddie nods. “Okay. On your back, baby. Let me take care of you.” 

You do as he asks, and you feel his lips trail down your torso, stopping just before he reaches the throbbing ache between your legs. “Yes?” he looks up at you patiently.

“Yes.” With that, he unbuttons your shorts and tugs them down your legs, running his middle finger along your lace panties. He shivers as he feels how wet you are, all for him, and he nearly tears the underwear in half trying to yank it off of you.

“Wanna taste you,” Eddie mutters.

“Y-You can taste me.” You whimper, and Eddie wastes no time licking a soft stripe along your folds, easily finding your clit. “Right there.” His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, flicking his tongue over it. “Holy shit, yes, right fucking there.”

Eddie detaches from your sex for a second, chin already shiny with your slick. “Keep makin’ those pretty noises f’me, please.” He sounds just as desperate as you do as he plunges back between your legs, this time slipping a finger inside you as he licks. You’re moaning, and there’s no faking it this time. Eddie’s touch has you floating, You can vaguely sense him rutting up against the mattress, so turned on just by eating you out. He’s holding onto your hips, eyes never leaving your body.

“Gonna come, feels s’good,” you whine, never wanting this feeling to end. You grind up into his face as you ride out your orgasm, gripping the sheets and screaming his name. “Eddie, Eddie, I’m coming, holy fuck!” After he brings you back down from the high, you push yourself up onto your knees.

“Where ya goin’?” he asks. “Was that too much?”

“Just wanna return the favor.” You lean over to rub him through his tented jeans, but he shakes his head.

“Not tonight,” he mutters, “I’m too pent up. I’ll never last in that perfect little mouth of yours.” He kisses you deeply, and you can taste yourself on his lips. “Can I be inside you?”

“Yes, babe. Please.” You look down, realizing that your shirt is still on. You want to show him all of you, let him touch every last inch of your body, but you hesitate to take it off.

Eddie must be able to read your mind, because he tilts your chin in his direction. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wanna see you naked,” he admits, “but only if you’re ready. You can keep it on if you’re more comfortable.”

You inhale in for three and exhale for three before you respond. “I’m ready. I’m comfortable.” You lift the shirt above your head, revealing your bare breasts. The incredulous stare on your boyfriend’s face is almost comical. “Are you okay?” you giggle.

“No, I think I died and went to Heaven,” he says, letting his thumbs graze over your hardened nipples. He undresses himself in record time, revealing his long, thick cock. Pre-cum drips from the tip. “Baby, I wanna spend all night touching you, but I’m gonna bust if–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him. 

He reaches into his dresser drawer, pulling out a condom and removing it from its wrapper. “Can you put it on me?” he whispers, and you oblige, rolling it down his length. He hisses at your touch, too sensitive to ask you to linger there. He sets you back on the pillows, slowly pushing into you a little at a time until he’s fully inside. “Good, baby?”

“Mhm,” you mewl. “S’good. You can–you can go faster, whenever you want.”

Eddie threads his fingers with yours, putting your hands up next to your head as he rocks into you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he groans. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you.” He punctuates each I love you with a kiss to your lips.

“I love you, Eddie. ‘M all yours.”

“All mine,” he echoes, “my baby’s all mine. And I’m hers. Her pussy belongs to me and–shit–my cock belongs to her.” He squeezes your hand, not possessively, but as a reminder that it’s him. It’s him, it’s you, it’s the two of you together. His eyes never leave yours, and he suddenly smiles. “You make me so damn happy.”

“This has been the best summer of my life,” you agree, “and it’s all because I have you, babe.” 

His chest rubs against yours ever-so-slightly, and the sensation of your breasts has him weak. “I’m gonna come.” His expression is apologetic. “Shit, I didn’t wanna–”

“Let go for me,” you assure him, feeling yourself come undone as you speak. “We c-can come together.” Your second orgasm of the evening happens on his cock as he spills into the condom with a wanton moan. He’s still for a minute, catching his breath before removing himself from your warmth.

“I love you,” he says as he kisses you, sliding off the barrier and tying it. “Let me toss this, and then can we cuddle? I kinda just wanna hold you.”

“I’m down to cuddle before round two,” you say, laughing at his dumbfounded expression. “Don’t worry; I’ll give you a few minutes to reload.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he says, climbing back into bed and sighing happily as you snuggle into his chest. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

--

[donkepp05]

Heather Van Every

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

What I think each Yellowjackets character’s Letterboxd top 4 would be

*I’m including movies past the 90s even though some of these characters didn’t live long enough to see them*

Natalie

I think Nat is a huge horror movie fan (specifically 80s slasher and demonic possession) and loves edgy gothic vibes. I also think she would love some artsy indie movies about sex and challenging gender roles (and just some cool action movies with hot badass women).

Honorable mentions go to The Craft and Kill Bill

Misty

We all know Misty is a theater kid. She loves musicals and I think girlie is definitely singing Sweeney Todd and Phantom of the Opera songs to herself 24/7. And I feel like I don’t even need to explain the Steel Magnolias inclusion, she had that monologue memorized like it was imprinted on her soul.

Honorable mentions go to Hairspray and Hamilton

Jackie

I know Jackie loves a good chick flick, particularly those with homoerotic subtexts. I think, if she had gotten to live long enough to start coming to terms with her sexuality, But I’m a Cheerleader would definitely be her gay awakening. And then Bottoms once she’s tip-toed out of the closet a little bit more (RIP Jackie Taylor you would have LOVED Bottoms). And of course, I had to add Beaches because of the “Are you quoting Beaches at me right now?” line, and also because I think Jackie would watch it and shed a secret tear because it makes her think of her and Shauna.

Honorable mentions go to Uptown Girls and Heathers

Van

Van would definitely refuse to watch anything past the 90s. She loves comedy classics and queer staples. I know Van quotes The Godfather in the full Italian accent constantly (especially around Nat to piss her off) and she’s watched The Princess Bride an ungodly amount of times and knows pretty much every line (Buttercup was her queer awakening).

Shauna

Like Jackie, Shauna love movies about intense (homoerotic) friendships. I know she relates to Needy in Jennifer’s Body living in Jennifer’s (Jackie’s) shadow and resenting her for it but also being so obsessed and intertwined with her; and she also just loves the visuals and its satire on female exploitation. Shauna maybe relates to and roots for Pearl a little too much, she loves a movie about a woman desperate for recognition and teetering on the edge of insanity while maintaining a sweet and innocent facade. Also I can see adult Shauna in particular just being charmed by Little Women (partly because of the love triangle but mostly because of the womanhood and female friendship themes).

Honorable mentions go to Juno and Scream

Also side note: I feel like Shauna would love Daria, but it’s a TV show so I didn’t include it.

Laura Lee

Laura Lee loves uplifting and wholesome movies. I can see her shamelessly liking kid’s movies well into adulthood. She likes movies centered around helping people in need like The Rescuers or going through hardship and discovering faith like Soul Surfer. Girl is religious-religious so her favorites are definitely going to be centered around faith and Christianity. But she also just likes a simple feel-good film; the cheesiest, sappiest movies you can imagine.

Lottie

Okay Lottie was hard to pinpoint but I’m pretty sure she would like angsty, artsy shit. Like, in high school, she would pretend to love chick flicks like the rest of her classmates but when she gets home she’s putting on the darkest and most depressing weird girl movie you’ve ever seen. I think she likes Suspiria for the occult themes, the otherworldly feeling of it, and eccentricities of the main character who never knows what’s real and what’s not, which she relates to. I think she likes some mental illness movies like Donnie Darko because of her diagnosis and upbringing and The Virgin Suicides because she’s lonely and feels overly-controlled by her parents. And Amelie because she once again relates to the loneliness and likes that the main character discovers her gift for helping people. I think Lottie would prioritize good cinematography and visuals in movies, too.

I don’t think Lottie would really watch movies as an adult because she would be too busy running a cult and disconnecting from society, which is why these picks are centered around Teen Lottie.

-

I couldn’t think of what Tai would like! She is a mystery to me. I can see her maybe liking something like Whiplash because she is super driven and ambitious and kind of tortures herself for success? But idk. Please comment or repost with what you think her’s would be!

[intothedysphoria]

Steve started going to the gym the day after Eddie dumped him.

Technically, the two events were unrelated. Eddie avoided the gym like the plague so it wasn’t like Steve was going out of his way to meet him and they had a 30% membership discount the month of April, so really he was just taking advantage of a good deal.

Honestly, Steve worked out when he was stressed and he really needed that adrenaline hit to stop himself from crawling into the fridge and never coming out again.

He’d gotten up at 6AM, made sure that he looked semi presentable to be out in public and was just settling onto the running machine when the sound of Metallica started blasting from the Pilates room just opposite the regular gym.

After Steve recovered from his almost panic attack thinking that Eddie was actually getting fit, and the confusion at the instructor using fucking Metallica for 6AM Pilates, Steve decided in a bored, sad, slightly horny way, to check out the class.

Well, the instructor definitely wasn’t Eddie.

Eddie didn’t have those muscles.

Eddie didn’t have bleach blonde hair.

Eddie didn’t have a fucking tongue piercing.

Steve quickly decided he was in way over his head and frantically started to back away from the door but it was too late. The guy had already seen him and was gesturing him over.

Fucking shit.

The instructor was called Billy. Which was fun. He’d just moved to Hawkins from Los Angeles (why???????) and he was always up for new students so why didn’t Steve give it a go, he promised the Metallica was just a joke since it never failed to wake everyone up.

Steve was not a Pilates guy. That was all he learned from the hour long session. Well, that and when Billy’s tongue flicked out and did a little corkscrew, he looked like he’d be really good at eating- no Steve. Bad thoughts. No rebound.

Billy clapped a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder on the way out and Steve swore he started developing a semi.

This was not going to work.

He did what he always did when considering bad horny decisions and called Carol. The conversation was short and to the point.

“Babe didn’t Munson dump you literally like yesterday?”

She was popping her gum across the line. It was infuriating. Steve took a deep breath before responding.

“Well yeah but-“

Carol cut him off. She had a habit of doing that.

“Yeah but nothing babe.” Her voice trailed out of his phone like cigarette smoke, dancing across his room. “Either you let me key his dumbass weed van or you give up any dreams you’ve ever had about bouncing on blondie muscleface’s dick. Kay babe?”

Then she hung up.

Steve decided to go to Pilates class every day for the following two weeks. It kind of grew on him. Heather, the assistant instructor was bitchy and fun in a way he liked and her long acrylics reminded him of Carol. He made a mental note to himself to introduce her to Robin.

Things on the Billy side of things had not improved however. They’d gotten significantly worse. He was getting boners in public like a teenager, couldn’t speak in full sentences and his heart started doing that gooey mushy thing, especially when Billy told him he’d done a good job.

It’s a rebound not a crush had become his new mantra. Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly true.

It was definitely a crush. A big one. Even bigger than the ones he’d had on Jonathan or Nancy or Eddie. And it was a problem.

He didn’t do a Clueless and start wearing revealing athletics wear or anything but he did start flirting just a little. To test out if what he thought had been completely made up in his brain or if something was actually happening.

Billy consistently responded with innuendos so intense, they would make Tommy ask him to cool it.

Ok. So Billy seemed to like him back. All Steve needed to do was ask him to dinner or something. No biggie.

He walked into next Mondays class with a mission which was immediately shattered by Billy wearing a signed Corroded Coffin t shirt. And Corroded Coffin was still small as shit, if Billy had it signed, he was friends with Eddie no doubt.

Running out of the class may not have been the most dignified option but it was the only one his dumbass brain could think of at the time.

He ran all the way back to his apartment onto his bed then cried. After half an hour he decided to check his phone only to be faced with a text from a number Steve must have just thought he’d blocked.

Eddie 💖🖤☺️

Can we talk?

Steve messaged back telling him to go away but five seconds later relented and said sure.

The phone started ringing immediately.

“Hey Steve. Why’d you run out of Billy’s Pilates class?”

Steve wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both. He decided to keep his tone on the cooler side of polite.

“Did he tell you about that?”

There was a long silence for about five minutes before Eddie answered.

“Look Steve……….I know I wasn’t a gentleman when I dumped you. I shouldn’t have just run from the restaurant. That was a dick move. But I really do like Jason and I know for a fact Billy likes you. And you deserve each other. Really.”

Steve sniffled but didn’t answer

“Friends again?” Eddie’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Friends.”

Billy looked slightly frantic the next Pilates class. His hair was a mess and he was wearing a hat with a food stain on it somehow. His face visibly relaxed when he saw Steve.

Billy wasn’t a rebound. He was kind and friendly and opened the door to people who were struggling to get out. His hair was a stupid 80s mullet in 2024, his tattoos were atrocious and Steve thought it might be too soon to say it but he was pretty sure he was in love with him.

Dinner was a good start though, Steve thought as Billy laced their fingers together after the class. Dinner was good.