#its because my mom sang it that way

[smile-dance-breathe]

making my mom sing animal crackers in my soup to see if my misremembering lyrics is her fault

[sometimesanalice]

Leave a Light On {vol. i}

Summary: When Bradley had given you a key to his place, what he probably didn’t expect was to find you there at 2 am sitting at the piano you’d helped him find.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 7k

Warnings: lots of pining and yearning (Minors DNI)

(this was the story I was working on back in January, before the 'Like I Can' series and anything else on my masterlist. I'm so excited to share it with you all! This will be a 2-part series.)

When Bradley had given you a key to his place, you imagine he probably thought you’d check on his plants every now and then. That you’d pop by to give them a quick water and then be on your way.

Maybe that you’d take the Bronco out for a quick spin, so that his baby it didn’t sit there too long going unused. You were one of a very small handful of people he trusted to drive his most prized possession. There was something special about being behind the vintage wheel with the sun on your face as you cruised along the highway, even if it wasn’t the same without him sitting there smiling next to you.

He’d already put his mail on hold with the USPS, but you knew that he knew he could count on you to rescue any stray package that might slip through the cracks and make its way to the front door of his charming craftsman bungalow.

What he probably didn’t expect was for you to be there sometime past 2 AM sitting on the creaky bench of the old, but well-loved, piano that you had helped him to find.

You should be tucked away under the comforter of your own bed, in your own room, at your own place.

Instead, your fingers are navigating over the black and ivory keys trying, yet again, to make it through a tricky passage on a song that you’ve spent the better part of the last three months trying to perfect.

He was coming home soon and you couldn’t wait to hold him, to love him, to surprise him.

Each time he leaves, it gets a little easier to miss him. You wear your longing like a locket rather than an albatross around your neck, always there but easier to bear.

Rooster had a way of filling a space in a way you’ve never experienced before. His larger than life charisma was one of the first things that had caught your attention, followed by that damn smile of his.

He was always humming in the kitchen.

Or whistling in the car.

Or playing the piano to decompress after a long day.

Or listening to something on his mom’s refurbished record player.

His presence always so tangible and warm, like a blanket pulled fresh from the dryer. With Bradley around, you could wrap yourself up in the sheer comfort of him.

And when he was gone, it was the quiet that you struggled with the most. A constant reminder of just how far away he was. No texts or calls or voice memos throughout the day. No little everyday sweet somethings that let you know he was thinking of you.

The sound of silence followed you everywhere. Its heavy companionship making itself known regardless of how loudly you sang along to his favorite songs on the playlist he had made you or how many times you played through the song you were learning just for him.

You had grown up in the silence, you knew it well.

Parents who stayed together because it was easier than splitting the house and sharing the kid. And on the rare occasions it wasn’t quiet, it was loud. The kind that was inescapable regardless of how much you buried under the covers or how far you tucked yourself away in the corner of the backyard.

Until one day the glossy, satin walnut upright piano appeared along the wall in your barely used dining room. And then it soon became your favorite way to cover the quiet and to mask the loud.

Looking back on it now, maybe your parents had wanted something to fill the silence too.

The hours and hours of lessons you and Bradley had both been forced to sit through as children was something that the two of you had bonded over pretty early on. And while he had kept up with playing, it was something that had fallen to the wayside in your life. First with school, then with a career, and now with purposeful avoidance.

There was once a time when reading sheet music had come as easily to you as reading a book. And then one day, they were just a bunch of random dots scattered in between and across five lines on a piece of paper.

There was once a time when you didn’t even need to look down to know where your fingertips were flying to. And then one day, all your fingers could do was stumble and trip over the keys as you winced at the dissonance it created.

And when Rooster had learned about your mutual musical upbringing, he had made it his personal mission to try and get you to play something for him. He was so sweet, so sincere in the way he’d ask you, all big brown eyes and hopeful smiles.

It had always made your chest tight to brush him off. It was something he clearly wanted to share with you, but that part of you ached like a phantom limb. You didn’t know what would be worse embarrassing yourself or disappointing him with your lack of skill when it was something that you used to be so proud about.

It was easy to dodge him at first during nights out at the Hard Deck with your understandable Not with all these people here’s to your practical Mozart would just bring the vibes down’s to your evasive Maybe next time’s. 

And when his polite requests were met with empty answers, he took it a step further.

One night in his bed, the curtains fluttering as the sea breeze mingled with his sandalwood scent, he’d whispered into your heated skin, “I’ll get you to play something for me one of these days. Maybe I just need to find the right form of bribery.”

His teasing innuendo juxtaposed deliciously with the deliberate touch of his fingers and tongue as he’d played your body to a perfect crescendo.

It reached a point where you couldn’t stomach to see the dejection in his eyes, the hurt he tried so hard to hide when you’d deny him yet again, that you had to own up to your closely guarded secret.

The confession had whooshed out of you in one breath, leaving you feeling deflated and defeated afterwards.

When you eventually mustered the courage to look at him, he’d been wearing the softest look of understanding on his face, as if he could sense the toll it took to admit the loss of that part of yourself. Then he gathered you in his lap and held you, all while the tears of frustration simmered behind your tightly squeezed eyes.

And when he offered to help remind how to read that language without words, to help you remember the letters of the keys beneath your fingers, it had made your heart hurt a little less.

You weren’t ready then, not like you are now.

But nothing gave you as much pleasure as it did to watch Rooster seated in front of the well-worn and well-played upright piano of Penny’s at the Hard Deck. There was nothing more exhilarating than seeing him in his element so at home on the bench, scuffed and scratched from performers of the past, as he shared that part of himself with everyone in the bar.

He made it look so easy. So damn effortless. His thick fingers flying purposefully over the keys as he played from memory. His joyous enthusiasm electrifying and substantial enough to get the whole bar singing along with him.

It always drew him a lot of attention.

How could it not? He was magnetic on a bad day and captivating the rest of the time. And entirely too handsome for his own good.

Interested eyes, curious eyes, hungry eyes followed him around more often than not after an impromptu performance.

However, those brown eyes of his were always set on you.

Never wavering, never straying from you as he’d weave his way poco a poco, little by little, back through the packed bar. Handing out high-fives to people on autopilot as he passed by to return back to your side. Glistening with the sweat he worked up and grinning widely as he’d greet you with a How’d I do, sweetheart?. Those big, capable hands sliding around your waist, in the back pocket of your jeans, under your top to rest on your low back.

The two of you never stuck around for long after he wrapped up. You didn’t mind helping him find ways to put that excess adrenaline to good use. Usually in the backseat of the Bronco.

You’ll never forget the first time Bradley serenaded you. The song meant for you and you alone.

If someone were to cut into that soft, pink part of your brain, you’re pretty sure they would find that memory pressed there like flowers between the pages of a book. Forever apart of you.

It was the song that always took you right back to that little vinyl shop along the pier. And back to that date that had almost derailed it all.

When Rooster had picked you up to take you to dinner all those months ago, he had seemed a bit antsy and absentminded.

Sure, he had gotten out of the Bronco to come fetch you like a gentleman, instead of sending some half-assed Here text like your ex had been fond of doing. You thought for sure he’d be hustling you back inside after he caught a glimpse of what you were wearing once you opened your front door to greet him.

So you were surprised when he’d simply pressed a dry kiss to your cheek and escorted you to his car with a hand placed respectfully between your shoulder blades instead of cheekily in that space between your low back and ass.

That spot that toed the line between decent and indecent. That spot that made him smirk when you’d give him a pointed lift of the eyebrow, because the two of you knew exactly what he was doing. And better yet, liked it.

However, that night it was almost like he was going through the motions, like he was already somewhere else.

The car ride to the restaurant was silent except for the white noise of the highway as he drove. The circular knob for the radio set to the left.

Off.

Which in hindsight should have been your first warning, since Bradley was never not listening to the Oldies station. A vintage vibe for your vintage boy. 

When you were finally seated across from him at that new trendy Thai place you had been dying to go to, his fingers wouldn’t stop tapping out some unheard tune. On the tops his thighs. On the top of the table.

His eyes were landing everywhere else other than on you. On the large leaves of the potted palms, on the ornate pattern on the gold silk that was swathed across the ceiling, on the intricate hand-painted tiles on the floor.

You’d been trying to carry on a conversation for the past fifteen minutes and were feeling completely on edge when you had to repeat yet another question for him.

The anxious feeling growing in the pit of your stomach had been getting more and more difficult to ignore. You could tell he wasn’t really there, what you were trying to figure out was whether or not he just didn’t want to be there with you.

And god, the drinks hadn’t even come out yet. There wasn’t anything for you to distract yourself with other than your water glass, and even that was already empty except for a few melting ice cubes.

His half answers and noncommittal noises were rapidly clearing things up for you.

He’s breaking up with me.

It was at that crushing realization that the waitress had returned with your drink orders. The bright orange concoction that she set in front of you had been topped with a lovely purple orchid and glittery swizzle stick.

A happy looking cocktail for the girl who thought she was going to have another great date with the guy who was saved in her phone as “Golden Boy”.

“Have you two decided on what you want to eat? Or would you like to hear the chef’s specials again?” the waitress had asked, her gaze bouncing back and forth between you and Bradley.

You could tell that she was sensing the brewing tension between the two of you.

“I don’t think we’ll here much longer, maybe just the check--”

“Sorry, if we could have a few more minutes to decide--”

You’d both started speaking at the same time only to turn to the other wearing matching faces of absolute confusion. He’d gone ramrod straight in his chair, his fingers finally still on the tabletop. The shock in his eyes was apparent, and you could only assume it was there because you beat him to the punch.

The waitress had looked at you sympathetically before saying she’d come back in check in a few minutes and then quickly spun on her heel to take her hasty leave.

It was the look that she’d given you that had really sealed the deal for you, and wasn’t that just great? You wouldn’t have been surprised if the rest of the waitstaff was already hearing about the couple fighting at Table 12 and taking bets about whether or not they’d break up.

Lucky them, dinner and a show.

You’d reached the fruity drink in front of you, the condensation from the glass leaving a ring on the table and took a large sip for moral support. Feeling the weight his stare on you the whole time as you savored the tart taste of passionfruit as it burst across your tongue.

He’d just have to wait. It was your turn to ignore him.

As you’d swallowed it down, it had left you feeling more than a little angry that it tasted so good when you were feeling so shitty. He knew how much you liked an over the top cocktail, why couldn’t he have picked some dingy hole-in-the-wall to do this at rather than ruin this place for you? The hot prickling sensation of righteous indignation filled your chest.

You really didn’t want it to drag out any longer, setting your liquid courage back down you’d met his stare and got right down to it, “If you’re going to break up with me, Rooster, can you just do it now? I’d like to still be able to order Pad See Ew in the future without thinking about you and this moment.”

You removed the napkin from your lap, folding it up primly before placing it back upon the table as you waited for the final nail in the coffin to be pounded in on the remains of the happiest-and-easiest-and-clearly-too-good-to-be-true relationship you’ve ever had.

“Wait, what? I don’t want to break up.” His eyes were wide and searching, the hurt in his voice had been evident. And it was the first time all evening that he seemed to be present with you, like your Golden Boy had finally showed up to the date. “I thought things were going well. More than well, actually.”

“Yeah. I mean, I did too. Until tonight,” you’d agreed, defeatedly. “I’m really confused here. You’ve been completely distant tonight. Not to be vain, but look at me,” you gestured to the sexy lowcut dress you’d worn for the evening. It was something you’d been saving in your closet for the right occasion. And you’d thought it was going to drive him wild, but he hadn’t even given it a second glance.

You’d leaned in a bit, lowering your voice, “It’s a boob and leg dress, Bradley. I look really fucking hot, and frankly, I didn’t even think we were going to make it here once you saw this. It wouldn’t have been the first time we’ve missed a dinner reservation. And you haven’t said a single thing about it.”

It felt like a silly thing to be upset about in the grand scheme of things, but his inattentiveness that evening had stung more than you’d wanted to admit to.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I noticed,” he’d retorted hotly. His eyes had been heated as he’d matched your movement and leaned in further across the table. “Half the men in here noticed it too the second you walked in.”

You didn’t bother trying to hold back your scoff of frustration, the man was infuriating.

“Then I don’t understand why you’re making me feel like being here- with me- is the last place you want to be right now?” You’d given up on trying to sound unaffected, this was not the evening you had envisioned. It felt like being blindfolded on a rollercoaster, unable to see what exactly you were hurtling towards.

“I got my new orders today,” he’d blurted out, his eyes trying to read yours for the reaction. “I’m being send as aerial escort for a diplomatic mission. I ship out next Monday for six weeks.”

He’d told you later that he was grateful it wasn’t a longer one, he knew he was lucky because he could have just as easily been sent away for a deployment longer than you’d actually been together.

“Oh.”

You’d known that that moment would have happened eventually with his job, so you shouldn’t have been surprised. However, it was one thing thinking about it theoretically rather than looking at a ticking clock with a deadline.

“Cards on the table, sweetheart?” He’d waited for you to nod before continuing on, “I am really fucking into you. I’m trying not to put pressure on this, because I’m pretty sure you’re my dream girl. I wanted to take you out for a nice meal, get you a couple of those complicated fun drinks you like. I even looked at the menu in advance, they have one here that they light on fire and it seems like something you would love.”

He was right, it was something that you’d love. You had even eyed it when you first got the menu, but you hadn’t wanted to get anything that would draw you more attention when you already felt like you had too many pairs of eyes on you.

“Then I wanted to take you home with me and tell you after we had a great time out. I wanted to ask you to save that Sunday before I leave for me, so that we could spend the whole day together.” His fingers had started playing that unheard tune on the table again. “I wanted to show my girl the best time, to keep her wanting to come back and to stick around. So that someone else doesn’t catch her eye, so that I don’t lose her to someone better than me while I’m away.”

His confession had your heart taking up residence in your throat. Having him lay it out for you so clearly and knowing that he’d felt as serious about you as you did about him was everything you had wanted to hear. However, one thing nagged at you.

“Bradley, you make me happy. Like really, really happy. I’ve only got eyes for you. If I’m being honest, this stopped being casual to me around our third date. And I trust you enough to know you’d tell me if this”, you’d gestured between the two of you, “wasn’t what you wanted anymore before starting up with someone else. I hope I have that same trust in return, because if you’re worried about me stepping out on you while you’re away, I don’t know how this is going to work. And I really want it to work.”

“Shit, I’m really striking out here. Batting 0 for two,” he’d sighed out more to himself than to you, leaning back in his chair and running his hands through his hair. “Our third? Really? I thought for sure after that disaster that you were going to block my number.” He huffs a laugh, cheeks turning the same shade of pink that they had that chaotic evening on the beach.

“Bradley, it was comically bad.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at the memory of it. “You were trying so hard and you were so flustered. It was so endearing.”

“Who would have guessed getting attacked by seagulls and coming home covered in sand flea bites could have been so appealing?” He joked self-deprecatingly.

“Me, I could have. Since I was with you,” you said sincerely, “No one I’ve dated has ever put half as much effort into trying to make me happy as you have.”

The two of you exchanged a soft, tentative smiles.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you had a wandering eye or anything, I promise.” His eyes pleaded with you as he reached for your hands and threaded his fingers through yours, his palms slightly sweaty. “This deployment is different for me. I’ve never had to ask someone to wait for me before, never had anyone who wanted to. And I’ve been really in my head because I was trying to find the right way to tell you, to ask you.”

You were still getting to know all of the expressions of his face, but the look of open insecurity he was wearing was new to you. And you’d felt something deep in your chest release and unlock.

For how easily he owned a room, for how confident he could be, getting to see these tender parts of him because he trusted you with them had made you ache in the most bittersweet of ways for the man who was in front of you.

You held his gaze, taking in his anxious expression. How anyone couldn’t want this man or didn’t think he was worth the wait was incomprehensible to you.

“So Sunday the seventeenth, huh?” you’d said with a grin.

His relief was palpable as he’d squeezed your hand a bit tighter, “Yeah, baby, you up for it?”

“A perfect day with my dream guy?” you mused, squeezing his hand back, “Yeah, I think I’d be up for that. I’m up for all of it.”

Not just the date. Not just the deployment. You already knew. With him, you wanted it all.

When the waitress returned a few moments later, Bradley ordered a green curry for himself and the Pad See Ew for you. Along with one of those complicated, fun drinks that arrived with fanfare and flames, all while he played with your fingers.

And after you were finished, she’d dropped off a fluffy looking coconut covered dessert that she’d stated was on the house as walked away with a wink.

You’d totally called it, dinner and a show.

As you’d left the restaurant, he tucked you in close under his arm pressing kiss after kiss to your temple as you made your way back to the Bronco.

And later, when he had taken you back to his place for the night, your boob-and-leg dress forgotten somewhere on the floor, he’d apologized again. This time with his mouth on your body.

Twice.

It had been a fluke, really, finding that record tucked away in that small, but well-kept shop on that Sunday before his deployment.

You’d surprised him with a certificate for a haircut and hot towel shave at an upscale barber for a little pre-deployment pampering. He’d gotten his hair trimmed the day before and he was somehow looking even more sunkissed than usual. His patterned shirt was mostly buttoned up and he had on your favorite pair of jeans- the ones that might have been a bit too snug, but did devastating things for his ass.

It was the outfit he’d been wearing when you had first met.

You and Bradley had spent a lazy, perfect morning at the beach reading and lounging and trading sea salt kisses before changing and to grab a bite to eat. He’d held up a towel up around you to slip into your sun warmed dress, behaving himself for the most part. But you’d still caught him sneaking a peek from over the top of the terry cloth.

After eating a late lunch at his favorite little café that served the best cioppino, you’d popped in and out of the various shops that dotted the boardwalk near the pier. It might have been the bottle of wine you shared, but he made sure to stop at every photobooth you passed along the way, collecting strip after strip of snapshots and tucking them into his shirt pocket.

His hand staying in yours the whole time.

When he’d spotted the tiny record store, he’d cheerily pulled you along with him wanting to look for new additions for his ever-growing collection. It was his newest hobby after getting his mom’s old record player restored. You had even helped him build the sideboard he had specially ordered for it to display his prized collection in the living room of his home.

You could hear him talking excitedly to an associate about some Jerry Lee Lewis albums, who offered to take a look in the backroom for him. You never had good luck when you tried to search for specific things, so you were happy to meander around a bit aimlessly and see what spoke to you.

Casually flipping through the stacks, you’d gasped when you landed on what appeared to be the holy grail of all vinyl records ever made.

“Bradley, look!” You’d held out the record for him like a prize. And he abandoned his own search to come join you on the other side of the store.

“Soldiers’ Sweethearts, huh?” He grinned at your find, his eyes crinkling around the edges. The navy colored jacket highlighted a trio of glamourous looking women, each of the three records featured a different performer and their covers of songs popularized during WWII.

“Mm-hmm,” you’d preened, feeling entirely too pleased with yourself. “You’re a soldier, I’m a sweetheart. I’ve never seen anything more perfect in my life. I have to get it.”

“Well I’m not a soldier, technically,” he’d chuckled, as you’d rolled your eyes at him. The joke had you scrunching your nose, and his mustache grazed you as he leaned in close to press a quick kiss to it. “But you’re definitely a sweetheart, sweetheart.”

You were still trying to learn the ins and outs of that part of his life. But you’d liked how he never made you feel stupid when you had questions. More often than not he seemed excited to answer them for you, that you were interested in what he did.

Rooster gently took your newest most prized possession into his big hands, “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Flipping the album over, he’d scanned the tracks listed on the back for the three records. “Some classics, but a lot I don’t think I know. Definitely some intriguing titles, like ‘Daddy’,” he read aloud with a raised eyebrow and a grin that could only be described as lewd.

The man was a menace and had no problem finding new ways to make you blush. You were grateful that the shop was empty except for the two of you, as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

“What about ‘Who’s Taking You Home Tonight’? Have you heard that one before, sweetheart?” His large body moving in and crowding yours, the smell of his cologne making your thoughts go a bit fuzzy around the edges. Your heartbeat kicked up in tempo as he brushed a piece of hair off your forehead.

That find was definitely a jackpot.

Him and those records.

“Mm, or how about ‘Make Love To Me’?” He’d murmured into your ear, his free arm slid slowly against your waist, making a home for itself low on your back. The warmth from his hand seeping through your dress and into your skin.

It was heady being the target of all his heated words and teasing tone. The pull in your low stomach getting more intense with every moment you’d stayed pressed against his hard body. You could see how his pulse was pounding arditamente con forza, boldly with force, from how close your face was to that thick throat of his. And you had wanted to--

“I knew we had it somewhere!”

The associate’s cheery announcement as he returned from the backroom startled you back into yourself. Feeling flustered you’d tried to pull away, but Bradley just kept his arm locked around you as he’d made his way to the counter.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. We’ll take this one too,” he stated as he’d smoothly placed your Soldiers’ Sweethearts album on the top of the pile he had accumulated. Only letting go of you to pay.

Naturally, you’d wanted to play the record the second you made it back to Bradley’s place.

He set it up for you before giving you a lingering, deep kiss leaving you to your own devices as he worked on the final few things left on his to-do list before his deployment early the next morning.

You were happy to make yourself comfortable on his wide seat couch with an Old Fashioned listening to Jo Stafford’s soothing voice with your eyes closed, wanting to luxuriate in the moment.

One where Bradley was less than twenty feet away puttering around in his kitchen and humming and murmuring to himself.

One where you could call out to him and he would be in front of you in a few long strides.

You wanted to avoid thinking about the next day and the beginning of your new normal.

One where you couldn’t expect text messages from him throughout the day.

One where concern and uncertainty would follow you around like a dark cloud until he came back home to you.

But he was here for now. And you wanted to savor it all, to soak up all of its sweet, syrupy goodness like the expensive cherry in your glass.

He must have sensed the turn in your thoughts because his sandalwood scent gave his closeness away before his voice did, “What do you say, Miss Soldiers’ Sweetheart? Can you spare a dance for me?”

You opened your eyes to see him standing before you with his hand outreached for you. The smile so gentle and open on his face, made it impossible for you to do anything other than wordlessly nod your head in agreement as you’d let him pull you up from your comfy perch.

“Apologies in advance for any injuries caused by my two left feet,” you joked a bit bashfully as he wrapped his arm around you.

“Lucky for us, I was gifted with two right feet. Don’t worry, we’ll even out each other,” he murmured.

He pulled you into his gravity, pressing your joined hands against his chest where you could feel the steady beat of his heart. The hand on your lower back urging closer, closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between your bodies. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head where you had tucked it into that safe space where his neck meets his shoulder.

take me in your arms, and never let me go whisper to me softly while the moon is low

True to his word, he’d guided you in a smooth, easy rhythm. The confidence in his steps as you were held within his sturdy arms was enough to make you feel secure in your own movement. With him you were completely taken care of.

hold me close and tell me what I wanna know say it to me gently, let the sweet talk flow

Your other hand slid up slowly from where it was resting on his shoulder to wrap around his neck, fingers threading through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck as your thumb traced the thick column of his throat.

Come a little closer, make love to me

He held you tighter, held you closer, as the song came to an end. The easy rhythm turning into a gentle sway that continued as the next song began. And the one after that.

That night in his bed he moved against you with such purpose, such tenderness. The sex with Bradley was always stunningly good, he was never content to let himself come until he’d rendered you thoroughly boneless and breathless. He was easily the best you’ve ever had, but that night it was different between you two.

The mood weighty and intense, both of you exposed in a way you hadn’t been before. But there was no mistaking the deliberate way he touched you, the unwavering way he rolled his hips against yours, the unguarded way he held your gaze as if he was committing that moment to memory as he made love to you.

He’d held you close to his warm body, his fingertips leaving trails of goosebumps, as you shivered through your orgasm. His mouth pressed against your ear as he whispered soothing sweet somethings until he followed you over the edge.

For Bradley, you were up for it. For him, you’d be up for all of it.

yesyesyes

Things were a bit too quiet for you.

You heart clenched in a different way when you looked at Penny’s piano on those evenings you spent with the Dagger Squad without him. The ache was still there, but so was a new kind of longing. Part for him, but also for yourself.

But you’d made it through that deployment with the help of your three favorite sweethearts: Jo, Vera and Anne. Although you always queued up one song in particular anytime you found yourself missing him a bit more than normal.

And when Bradley returned back home to you six weeks later, it was easy to fall right back into him. That quiet period was almost too easily forgotten when he was around to fill a space.

That night at the Hard Deck when he serenaded you for the first time, it was normal for him to strut over to the old jukebox to unplug it. His timing impeccable as always, silencing whatever country song Jake had queued up.  

What wasn’t normal was the way he took you by the hand leading you directly to the old upright and pulled you right onto the bench next to him.

There was already some sheet music spread across the shelf, you’d noted as he’d wiped his hands on the outside of his jeans before settling his hands on the keys. It only took you a couple bars of the intro to realize what song he was playing, already completely enamored before he’d even opened his mouth to sing.

It was your song.

Nothing in the world could ever compete with Bradley Bradshaw’s deep, raspy voice singing just for you. The significance of the song meant for you and him alone.

You heart had swelled in your chest until you thought it might burst from happiness. Never in your life had you been so thoroughly swept off your feet. It was a gesture came from his heart that made a home in yours.

Ever the showman Rooster put on a full performance, his aviator sunglasses sliding down his nose as he really leaned into it.

Your wide grin had turned to laughter when a few members of the Dagger Squad jumped in as back-up vocals, singing into their beer bottles in a way that obviously had been rehearsed. You didn’t know how he managed to keep it a secret. While Rooster was a vault in his professional life, when it came to his personal life Bradley couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

The whole bar was having fun with the jaunty tune, some couples dancing along in smooth circles on the sticky wood floor as he crooned. He’d leaned over to place a kiss on your cheek every now and then in between verses, and you’d felt yourself fall for him even harder.

He’d pulled you into his lap once he was done playing, as the din of the resumed chatter softly cocooned you. You’d seen all you needed to know reflected in his eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

“Will you play it again?” you’d asked against his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.” And you rested your head on his shoulder watching his fingers get into position on the keys once more as he played the few opening notes.

Somewhere you heard a groan followed by a grumbled, “Not again.”

“Shut it, Bagman,” you bossed at him, not even bothering to look in his direction. You only had eyes for Bradley.

“You heard the lady,” he chuckled. “Shut it, Bagman.”

And then he played it again.

take me in your arms, and never let me go

You should be asleep in your own bed and not at his place with only the soft light of the lamp above his piano and a now cold cup of tea to keep you company.

Tired of tossing and turning, you’d given up on the idea of getting any sleep at your own place after the second hour of trying. Throwing on your slippers, you’d grabbed your keys and then drove over to his place, still in the oversized t-shirt you’d put on before bed, in hopes that scent of his sheets would help lull you to sleep.

But all it did was make you miss him more.

It was too quiet without his soft breathing next to you as he held you close and tucked against his chest.

Too quiet without his records.

Too quiet without his happy humming.

Too quiet without him.

The sound of the tea kettle on his gas range had helped fill the silence, but it was his piano that had called you as you had waited for the water to boil. The sheet music you had left there from the last time you were over beckoning like a siren’s song.

It was your secret.

Only for a few more days, only until he came home.

You wanted to surprise him, to sweep him off his feet the way that he always did with you when he played for you.

During that first deployment, for the first time in years, your fingers yearned for the feel of cool, smooth keys beneath your fingers.

You hadn’t even told Bradley, the one person who would understand it the most, that you’d been thinking about it. Let alone that you were actually taking classes again. Making up excuses about manicures or errands or spin classes for why you were busy for an hour every Tuesday at five PM.

The thing that had once hurt your heart the most, was now the only thing that helped soothe the ache of missing him. The only thing that made you feel close to him when you were thousands of miles apart.

You wanted that familiar comfort of making music. You wanted it because you missed him, but you also wanted it for yourself.

A co-worker had given you the name and number for her kids’ instructor, Mrs. McMullen, an elderly woman who started teaching after her husband passed away. It took you couple weeks to work up the courage to make the call, the sticky note burning a hole in the pocket of your purse you had tucked it into.

You had been an anxious mess the day of your first lesson, hands shaking like you’d had one too many shots of espresso. It felt strange, a little surreal sitting there in the body you’d grown into on the padded bench in her cozy living room. One of the walls filled with shelves and shelves of sheet music, her own personal library.

And for a brief moment, you were transported to a different year on a different bench in a different room. Now and Then. Older and Younger. Both versions of you there to learn. All too familiar, yet entirely new.

You started with the basics. A reintroduction to those lines on the page and the notes that spoke their own language for those who knew how to read it.

Your fingers wanting to move quicker than your sluggish mind, like an echo of a memory of how it used to be. You winced and apologized after every wrong note, until she put her hand on yours, her skin looked as delicate as her fingers did, and said gently, “We learn by doing, mistakes only mean that you are trying. Once more, once again.”

After that first lesson, you’d gone back to your car and promptly burst into tears. Overwhelmed tears, happy tears. That tender part of you still soft, however no longer aching.

You’d left feeling lighter as you pulled away from her house to go meet up with everyone at the Hard Deck, but also with a packet of sheet music to practice for your next lesson.

When Rooster had told you about getting his new orders, when he had asked you again if you were still up for it. You’d told him the same thing you had at that date, you were up for it all.

You would take the sadness with the sweet any day of the week for as long as he was yours.

You’d known how you would fill the space he left behind. And exactly how you wanted to welcome him home. You’d been excited to put that certain song just for him in your cart, and then tacking on one more song to your order, a song that would be just for you.

Both you and Mrs. McMullen had be surprised at how you’d been able to pick things back up over the months, you still weren’t anywhere as good as you were when you were younger, but it wasn’t nearly as daunting as it used to be. And when you showed up to your next lesson after your songs had been delivered, she was more than happy to help you figure out ways to simplify the songs a bit so that you’d be ready when he returned.

And now you’re bent over Bradley’s piano with a pencil tucked behind your ear as you played through the hardest bit of the song, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve gone over it tonight. This morning? You were in that liminal space between yesterday and today. Where the time on the clock was just a suggestion because it felt neither here nor there.

You had practiced and practiced the song you had wanted to play for him once got home. You’re pretty sure Mav wasn’t supposed to tell you the significance of that particular song, but it had made your heart flutter wildly in your chest when he’d told you. And every time you’ve heard it since then.

It was polished, it was perfect, it was ready. All you needed was him.

The one you’re playing now con amore, with love, is the piece you pull out when you long for him the most.

The cover of the song had made you think of him from the moment you’d heard it. It was more lyrical and delicate than the original, and captured just how you felt about him. Just how much he meant to you. Sometimes you sing along with it, sometimes you just let the keys and pedals express the things you otherwise could not.  

It was the song of your heart.

Your fingers trip over one of the notes yet again, probably from the lack of sleep, but you weren’t ready to crawl back into Bradley’s comfy bed. Not just yet.

Sighing, you pull the pencil from behind your ear, muttering to yourself out loud as you note the spot on the page. It was already filled with little pencil marks, some older and some newer. All made because you were trying.

Once more, once again.

Breathing out slowly, you settle your hand back on the keys-

“Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?"

Read {vol. ii} here!

He's a sneaky one, friends! I have Part 2 in the works, not to worry! We have to see how it all plays out! (put intended)

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist for the grand finale!

Here's a link to the Soldiers' Sweethearts Album, if you're curious!

But this is their song, the one Bradley serenaded her with! Jo Stafford's version of 'Make Love to Me'

I ended up making two moodboards for this part!

Here's the more colorful one! And here's the more yearn-y one!

You can check out my other stories here!

And a big thank you to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for letting me spam you about this one!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[shadowsndaisies]

the hard deck: athena settles debts (pt 4)

WC: 898

synopsis: what if Mav's daughter settled his tab that night in the hard deck

main masterlist

athena-verse masterlist

a/n: this was brought on as i rewatched top gun maverick again, because i love it. and even though i should be finishing the last update of season 1 for codename: nightingale (which is only missing the final fight btw its almost done!!!) i took a little brain rot break. also top gun's been officially added to my masterlist!

You'd heard the jukebox get pulled and then the piano, and you couldn't move. Even when Phoenix tried to convince you to join her by the piano. You watched as Hangman and Coyote stayed with a few others by the pool tables at first, but even they started wandering over eventually.

Hangman, however, moved slow. He lingered by you first, saddling up beside the table. And ehen he realized your gaze was going to stay focused on your beer's label, where your fingers were slowly peeling it off the bottle, he knocked on the table. A look far more gentle than you'd anticipate in such a public place crossed his face as your eyes met his.

" 'Thena?" he calls your callsign with a softness that you know is real, and your lips tug down at the thought of having to lie to him when he's being so open with you.

Before you can say anything else before he can ask more, Penny rings the bell again, and chants of "overboard" can be heard. Saved by the bell, literally.

"Go," you nod. "Penny beckons," you tease softly, forcing your lips to turn up.

He nods, and both Payback and Coyote go with him.

When you follow them with your gaze, you meet your dad's eyes, and when the three younger pilots take up positions, boxing him in, a small quirk of a smirk curls at your lips, because it would be him. He seems to catch your eye just in time and offers up a half smile in response. You watch as Penny gives a nod, her head jerking toward the door. Then the three hoist your dad up in their arms and carry him, before throwing him out, a small amused smile now on your lips, as you make a note to stop by the Kazansky house tomorrow, Ice would love to hear about this.

You're so focused that you miss the first few notes. It's not until a familiar voice fills the space with lyrics that you learned as a baby that there's a sickening twist in your stomach and a renewed need to leave as you push out of your seat, leaving the half empty beer behind.

You move to the bar as Bradley begins to sing and have to force yourself not to look at him. You know what you'd see, aviators perched low on his nose, still slightly crooked from when he'd caught a fastball to the face as a teenager. Curls that are almost golden in the light but had to be matted somewhat by the heat and sweat inside the bar. He had that stupid mustache just like his father's, that was just borderline within regs. You know his dog tags were visible on top of his tank top, with some stupid Hawaiian shirt hanging open. You know what you'd see, so you do your beat to avoid looking.

If you had caved, what you would've also seen is how he searched for you while he sang. A slow scan of the bar, for the girl he learned the lyrics beside, propped on an old piano as a toddler as your father's and his mother sang along, holding little you in her arms. In the mass of people surrounding the piano though, he's having a hard time finding you, why did he pick this song?

"Hey, Penny," you call her name, and her head snaps to you, from where she'd been watching your dad get tossed out.

Your lips quirk on end a bit. Years have gone by, and her relationship with your father, volatile as it can be, still has been the most steadfast of your life. She was your mom in all the ways that mattered.

"I didn't realize they called you back too," she says, talking a bit loud over the music.

"Best of the Best, Miss Penny," you muse, though there's a hollowness in your chest as you say it, she seems to catch it.

"What can I get you, sweetheart?" she asks, grabbing a glass and you shake your head.

"No, I, uh… I'll settle for the old man," you tell her, head tilting as you slide your card across the bar.

"No, he'd—"

You cut her off, though, before she can argue. "No, let me. I, uh, I was heading out anyways. You know him, he'd hate to have an open tab," you admit, throwing in a joke to add some levity.

"Sweetheart-" she tries again, and you know she can read you. Despite all the years and gaps in your relationship with her. This was the woman who took you to buy pads for the first time, you knew that she knew you.

"Please, Pen, I… I can't be here, not with this. It's so much worse for him, too. Let me settle it," you admit to her rawly, and her gaze moves to where there's a live performance.

"History's a fickle thing, isn't it?" she offers instead, taking your card. "The ones we truly care about, they always seem to come back in the end, though."

"You'd know better than me, Pen," you shoot back, your tones got a bit defensive but she doesn't even flinch.

She hands you your card with a bittersweet smile, "I guess I would," she nods.

You let out a sigh, and look back at her, "Tell Amelia I'm back?" you ask, and she nods. "At the end of this, whatever it is, tell her I'll take her for ice cream?" you tag on, signing the receipt.

"I will, she'll hold you to it though (Y/n)," Penny confirms.

"I'd expect nothing less as a woman of the Navy," you muse, tucking your card away and turning from the bar.

Rooster's still singing, his voice as pretty as ever. And you can't help your self. You cave.

sue me, you think as you look over at him just once as you pause by the door.

"Well, kiss me baby! Ooh! That feel's good!" he sings, and you smile to yourself despite the ache, shaking your head as you push the doors and walk out. He had a smile on his face, and maybe, maybe you could learn to be okay.

Maybe.

(Probably not.)

You're unlocking your truck when you hear your name. "Athena!" You pause and turn, surprised to see both Phoenix and Hangman; after all, they always seem to be at ends.

"Where are you going?" Phoenix is the one to ask, her cheeks are flushed and her chests heaving a bit from how she'd all but been screaming the lyrics from beside Rooster.

"Home, gotta get some beauty rest before tomorrow," you tell them. "Make sure I'm ready to show you all up," you cover.

"Are you sure?" Phoenix asks, hesitating by the door.

"Yeah, I'll see you bright and early," you reassure her.

She seems to take your word as she nods once at you before heading back into the bar. Hangman, on the other hand, has stayed outside.

"Bravado was never your strong suit, 'Thena, it's mine," he drawls, and though the words are cocky, you understand the question hidden there.

"Go inside, Jake. I'll see you tomorrow," you say softly before getting in your truck. "I gotta keep both my feet on the ground," you add, willing him to understand, before shutting the door.

You notice he stays, watching as you pull out. It's only once you pull out on the road that he turns to go back in.

He be-lines straight to Coyote, missing the look that Rooster sends him as struts back in. The one that lingers on the door, waiting for you to walk back in as well, not that you do.

...

a/n: come talk with me about this athena idea if you want, it's been a while since i've posted anything not DC, so it was kind of fun. I have a longer non-related top gun fic in my drafts too, but that'll come after cnng probably

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

[raya-hunter01]

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt. 6

Roman X OC(Kara)

Jey Uso X OC (Tia)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspicious.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

Six Months Later

Pensacola, Fl

Roman's House

That’s it….Ten years and it’s over just by signing some papers," I said as my mom sat beside me while I looked at a copy of the divorce papers.

“Roman, you messed up and what you did was unforgivable. This is all that should matter to you right now,” my mother said placing Logan in my arms as I sat her on my lap.

Her little smile as she put her tiny fist in her mouth made my heart smile.

 “I know princess, granny needs to hurry up your bottle, don’t she?” I said chuckling as she laughed at the sounds coming out of her mouth as I gently bounced her on my lap.

“Granny only got two hands and she’s coming.”

“I’m just kidding Ma, I’m happy you here and don’t know what I’d do without you and Ma Rebecca. I just hoped that Kara and I could have work things out, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Son, I’mma need you to snap outta this because this little girl needs her father, and she needs you focused on her. She already ain’t got a damn mama if we keeping it real,” my mom said cutting me deep with her words, but it was true.

I had got Tia transferred to Raw to get her outta my hair, which has been a godsend. She sees Logan whenever the mood hits or she needs something. She still won’t sign over her rights…

“I am focused on her. I’ve gotten my schedule lighter. She going to start traveling with me..I got that part mama; I just need Kara now.”

“Roman! Kara is not going to help you raise a baby that is not only a reminder that you betrayed her, but its mother is her sister! Now you starting to scare me with your delusion. It’s over son and you set this all in motion…

"Mama, I know-"

"Deal with it and figure out a way to get that fool to sign over her rights. Hell, call your lawyer back and tell him you want to go for full custody and don’t give her no money,” she said, giving me Logan's bottle before leaving the room without another word.

“I guess it’s just us, huh, baby girl?” I asked feeding her as she gripped my hand greedily sucking her bottle

Taking my mother’s advice, after feeding Loogan and burping her, I quickly shot my lawyer a text to go ahead with getting Tia served.

Hopefully, he could get it done today before she leaves out for Raw later on today.

After laying Logan down I went on Instagram and saw Jey had posted a live and had pinned it to his page. Being nosey, I clicked on it and instantly wished I didn’t.

Jey was filming the highway, the road almost seemed deserted the Boston skyline in view. I knew it well from the few times I had visited Kara.

As I was about to get off, I heard a familiar laugh as Piece of my love by Guy began playing in the background.

“It's 5 am, we out here Boston! What ya’ll know bout ridin’ round the city, listening to dat good old school music, just vibin’ wit yo’ people,” he said turning the camera on Kara who was driving and dancing in her seat.

“You can have a piece of my love,” she softly sang shooting Jey a quick glance with a smile when she saw he was recording her.  

“It’s waiting for you,” Jey said slyly finishing the lyric without missing a beat as Kara laughed and turned her attention back to the road shaking her head.  

“You ain’t ready for this Mr. Fatu,” Kara muttered under her breath as I growled.

“A’ight now, you know I stay ready,” he said chuckling, turning around showing Trin asleep with her head in Jimmy’s lap. “What’s up ya’ll,” Jimmy said nodding his head to the music.

Damn, I kinda miss the days of my cousins and I traveling and just vibin' without a care. It made the time go by and if I’m honest I missed them all.

“We’re almost there,” I heard Kara say as Jey flipped the camera to show his face. “A’ight, we out ya’ll, we gettin' ready to turn it in. Been a long ass flight, and we bout to all get some sleep,” he said abruptly ending the live.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered trying not to disturb Logan as she slept.

He just won’t give up, what right did he have even being in the car with her? A car I paid for…Sleeping in the house I’m paid for…

Damn, why couldn’t he stay away from her?

---

Kara’s Condo

Boston, MA

Kara’s Pov

“Jey, if you ask me one more time if I really want to come tonight I’mma slap the fuck outta you,” I said as he held his hands up in surrender.

“Aye, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I know Tia gon’ be there,” he said as I shook my head.

“I’m going to watch your Raw debut, I ain’t worried about Tia and whatever drama she got going on,” I said reassuring him as he gave me a hug.

“I’ll see you later,” he whispered giving me a kiss on the cheek

“Ya’ll drive safe, I’ll see you in a bit,” I said as he picked up his bag, heading for the door.

“Sis, you comin’ right?” he asked as Trin smiled.

“Yes, I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll ride with Kara over there,” she said as he gave her a thumbs up before leaving.

“He’s such a goof, should have seen him in the car rental place,” Trin said as I laughed pouring us a glass of wine.

“Trin, he means well, don’t do him like that,” I said as she chuckled.

“I know he does and look at you defending your man.”

“He isn’t my man Trin.”

“You know I can’t wait for ya’ll to finally get together. Especially since you’ve already test drove the merchandise.” Trin said as I coughed, almost spitting out my wine as she laughed.

“I can’t believe you,” I coughed as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Aye, just calling it like I see it. You were riding him like you were at the rodeo weren’t you?”

“It was good too…Ugh, see, I hate I even told you. Now I’m thinking about it,” I laughed as Trin sipped on her wine unbothered.

“I’m just sayin’ if you need that itch scratched, Jey’s a willing participant.”

“Trin, in all seriousness though, I’m just trying to focus on getting back to me right now. I got a lot of shit to process before I even think about being somebody’s girlfriend.”

“I get it, you don’t want to take that energy and resentment into a new relationship,” Trin said as sighed in relief, someone finally got what I had been trying to say.

“Speaking of Roman, these the divorce papers, huh,” Trin said picking up the stack of papers off the table.

“Yep, it’s a done deal. I can breathe now,” I said sitting next to her and sipping on my glass of wine.

Roman and I went through therapy as suggested by our lawyers. It was terrible but I made it through. Roman was upset that I still wanted to go through with the divorce, but he didn’t contest it anymore.

“I can’t believe he sent you flowers,” Trin said reaching over to look at the note that was attached to the bouquet of red and white roses.

“Thank you for trying, I know I didn’t deserve it. Just know I will always love you and I’m always here. Maybe we can be friends someday -Roman.”

“Damn……Do you think you’ll ever forgive him?” Trin asked as I sighed putting down my glass.

“I think I forgave him the moment he broke down and cried in therapy about what happened. The more he talked, the more I realized at first, he was a victim in Tia’s game.”

“I can see that, but what about after the first time?”

“That’s where he has to take accountability, he made some choices that he’s going to have to deal with the consequences of and it’s no longer my problem,” I said as Trin nodded in understanding.

“Now…Tia on the other hand, I’m avoiding that bitch like the plague tonight. I don’t want to go to jail,” I said as Trin laughed.

“I feel you cause even though I got bail money you too cute for jail,” she said as I held up my glass and we toasted.

“Here’s to Jey and a night of celebration,” I said honestly happy for the first time in a long time.

I was going to see Jey tonight and for tonight none of the drama with Tia mattered. This was about Jey and his new beginnings as a singles wrestler.

-----

Monday Night Raw

Jey’s POV

“Man, I can’t believe I’m here,” I said nervously pacing as Jimmy shook his head at me.

“Aye, calm down and enjoy this moment. You gon’ be fine,” he said as I saw Tia coming over.

“Ah hell,” I whispered as Jimmy turned around chuckled. “You already know she gon’ try you.” Jimmy whispered as I rubbed the back of my neck.

“Man, I ain’t got time for this shit,” I whispered as Tia smiled walking past Jimmy as if he wasn’t there. “Well hello to you too, Tia,” he said as she shot him a sly smile before turning back to me.

“Hey, Jey long time no see,” she said with a flirty smile.

“You just really have you no shame,” Jimmy asked as she rolled her eyes at him.

“I’m just talking to him, no harm in that,” she whispered as I looked at her in disbelief.

“Jimmy, give us a minute, Uce,” I said as he got up and left us alone.

“Jey, I just thought since you’re going to be on the Raw brand we could catch up some time,” Tia said as I looked at her like she was crazy.

“Uh, I don’t even like you like that,” I said as she walked closer.

“I’m just trying to welcome you to Raw, I know it gets lonely on the road. Maybe we could reconnect and make some magic happen,” she said touching my chest as I backed away.

“Tia, I think you need help…Like mental help, your obsession with Kara and the people she loves ain’t normal,” I said trying to wrap my brain around how crazy she was.

“I’m not worried about her, I know I’m the better woman and you know it too,” she said trying to put my arms around her as I backed away with my hands in the air.

“Look, don’t ever try me like dat ever again. You know I love Kara and unlike Roman I’m hip to your bullshit. Stay away from me and Kara,” I said as she frowned.

“Kara don’t love you, if she did, ya’ll would have been together years ago,” Tia said spitefully with a smirk.

“Tia tend to your own business, and be a mom to your child. You know the one who hasn’t heard from you in months while you parade on this show and in the streets like a cat in heat,” I said as the smirk fell from her face.

“I have settled that with her father and it’s none of your concern. Still, Kara’s lap log I see,” Tia said as I chuckled.

“Still jealous of your sister, I see,” I said as she slapped me.

“Tia…… Get some help,” I said taking myself out of the situation and walking away from her. “Jey! I’ll see you soon, the road gets lonely!” she yelled as I kept walking.

I needed to get ready for the show and I didn’t have time for her craziness.

“Hey, what was all of that Jey?” Tom, who was one of the higher ups asked, stopping me before I got to my dressing room.

Great, the last thing I needed was him taking this back to Paul causing an issue. I just got here and didn’t need no drama.

“Uh, just some personal stuff, but I took care of it,” I said as he nodded. “Well, that was really unprofessional how she was acting. That was sexual harassment.”

“Look, I gotta get ready for the show. It’s all good Uce, I took care of it” I said trying to get him to drop the subject, but I knew by the look on his face it wasn’t going to be the last I heard about it.

---

Monday Night Raw

Kara’s POV

“Mom, you don’t have to throw me a party,” I said as Trin, and I pulled into the building.

“Sweetie, you got accepted back into medical school. We are celebrating and that’s final,” she said as Trin smiled.

“You know we game for barbecue, yo’ daddy can throw down. I’ll get Jimmy to do that Samoan dish you like too,” Trin added.

“The one with the pineapple chicken?” I asked as Trin nodded… “Oh, I’m there,” I said as Trin, and my mom laughed.

“Thanks for the reinforcements Trin. Sweetie, Logan will be here on Friday, but if you’re uncomfortable Janice can get her,” my mom said as I sighed.

“Mama, I will be fine. I know it’s your weekend to have Logan I wouldn’t do that,” I said as the line got quiet.

“I don’t want you to be overwhelmed baby,” my mom said as I gave Trin a small smile.

“It’s ok mom, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Enjoy the show baby, and I’ll see you Thursday, love you.”

“Love you too mom,” I said, hanging up and taking a deep breath.

“You know it’s ok to not be ok,” Trin said as I parked the car.

“I’m ok…I just don’t see myself being heavily involved in Logan’s life. Does that make me a terrible person?” I asked as Trin looked at me with a sad smile.

“No, it makes you a person that has been hurt and your feelings are valid, but I also know you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means if that baby needed anything you would make sure she had it,” Trin said as I bit my lower lip trying not to cry.

“I would, but I don’t see myself babysitting and doing all the other auntie stuff, it would be a constant reminder of everything,” I said as Trin nodded.

“Maybe as time passes you will feel different,” Trin said as we walked towards the talent entrance.

“I don’t think so Trin, even though she’s not to blame for what her parents did.” I said as Trin showed her ID and we got our passes from security.

“Well, let’s just enjoy tonight and worry about everything else later,” Trin said as we headed inside to get ready for the show.

“You won’t hear no complaints from me,” I said happy we could just go enjoy the show. No more Roman, Tia, or Logan talk.

------

Monday Night Raw

Jey’s POV

Man, the crowd is on fire and rocking, but it’s only one face I’m looking for right now and I can’t find her. Finally, after Sami left the ring, I spotted Kara in the third row wearing my hoodie.

Trin was beside her in a ball cap and her reading glasses, I had to give it to them they blended in well with the crowd. I’m glad too because the last thing I wanted was someone to take pictures of them and posting it online.

I can see the headlines now “Roman Reigns ex-wife attends Raw with TNA superstar Trinity.”

Getting out of the ring I signaled for Kara to head backstage as she nodded and whispered to Trin.

Once I saw them grab their things, I slowly made my way up the ramp. Everything was finally sinking in as the crowd continued to sing my music and I wanted to take it all in.

Tonight is something I will never forget, giving them one final wave I went backstage into gorilla and was met with a round of applause.

“Welcome to Raw Uce!” Cody said giving me a hug.

“Thanks, man I’m glad to be here, Uce,” I said looking around for Kara but didn’t see her. Where are they? I know they had their passes.

“Hey, don’t freak out, they made it back. Kara just didn’t want people in ya’ll business. Go down the hall and make a right, she’s there waiting for you,” Cody said as I smiled.

“Aye, good lookin’ out Uce,” I said shaking his hand before going to find Kara.

 Rounding the corner, there she was leaning up against the wall with her hands in her pockets.

“How did I do?” I asked as she looked at me with a smile, running towards me and jumping in my arms as I held her close.

“Amazing, I’m so proud of you,” she whispered against my ear as I sighed holding her tighter.

“Thank you for ridin’ wit me and believin’ in me.”

“E le aunoa ma le faavavau” she said as felt my heart swell.

“Always and forever,” I said as she looked at me with a shy smile.

Our moment was short lived as I saw Jimmy and Trin heading towards us. “Aye, that was awesome Uce,” Jimmy said as put Kara down and Trin came over to give me a hug.

“Alright now brother-in-law. That’s what I’m talking about.”

“Thanks, sis,” I said watching Kara as Jimmy put his arm around her as she welcomed his embrace, leaning her head against him.

 Releasing Trin from my embrace I saw a look of confusion pass Kara’s face for a second before she tried to play it off.

I looked over my shoulder and there in the corner hiding behind the curtain was Tia.

She was watching Kara like a hawk, almost envious. Something was wrong. Something wasn’t clicking in Tia’s head.

“She just won’t get the hint, huh?” Jimmy asked as I shook my head signaling for him to shut up.

“Get the hint about what?” Kara asked as I lightly pushed Jimmy.

“I handled it, why you even had to bring it up,” I hissed as he shook his head.

“Look at that fool over there staring at us, does it look like she understood what you said,” Jimmy countered as I sighed.

“I handled it, Uce.”

“Uh, can somebody tell us what’s going on?” Trin asked as Kara looked at me.

“Look, Tia came on to me, I shut it down, we exchanged some words and that was it,” I said as Kara chuckled, shaking her head at Trin, who seemed nervous.

“Now, remember what we talked about earlier Kara,” Trin said as Kara looked at her with a smile.

“Oh, I remember, I’m just gon’ go holla at her for a minute…. Excuse me,” Kara said walking towards Tia who was smirking.

“Kara it ain’t worth it,” I said as she walked up to Tia. “Hey sis, long time no see, it’s been about what…Six months,” Tia said with a smile.

Kara’s POV

“Yea, it has, and I see your still up to the same bullshit,” I said wanting to smack the smirk off her face.

“What? I just offered Jey a good time, the road can be stressful, especially on the man. You know that better than anyone right?” Tia asked as I chuckled at her lame attempt to rile me up.

“You should know by now offering your services to taken men never works out in your favor though, does it? I mean you get so desperate you let men call you by their wives names while they fuck you.” I said not caring who knew at this point.

“Damn…You get down like that Tia?” Jimmy asked as Trin sighed. “Jurdy, I’ll fill you in later, be quiet," she whispered as Tia had the nerve to look embarrassed.

“He’ll come to me…They all come to-”

“Look, I’mma keep it short and sweet because I don’t have time for your games.”

“Oou lil sis is hot because she knows if I want Jey, I could take him.” Tia said as I chuckled as I felt Jey behind me.

 “Keep your distance, Tia,” I said as she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please,” she muttered as I felt the urge to knock her ass out.

 “Tia! Come near him again, and that last ass whoopin’ I gave you will feel like a walk in the park…Try me.” I hissed as Jey gently grabbed my hand unclenching my fist.

“Kara, let’s go” Jey said as I refused to move. “I look forward to it,” Tia taunted as Jey shook his head trying to put a little distance between me and Tia.

“Man, gon’ wit dat bullshit, Tia. You done did enough now,” Jey said as I stepped into her space as she nervously bit her lip.

“I’mma stomp yo’ ass in the ground, keep coming at me like you crazy.”

“Aye, Tia, I know you a couple chocolate chips short of a cookie, but you better find you something safe to do. That ain’t the move baby girl,” Jimmy said as Tia growled.

“I hate you bitch!”

“Hate….Nah, you love me….Love me so much you wanna be me and apparently want every dick that’s ever been inside me too,” I said casually as Jey cleared his throat putting his arm around my waist trying to hold me back.

“Been inside you! Twin, you done hit the homie and ain’t said shit!” Jimmy exclaimed as Trin sighed.

 “Jurdy, read the room, keep up, and shut the hell up,” she said as Jimmy got quiet.

“You nasty bitch!” Tia shouted as I smirked at her. “Nah, that would be you and your sour-ass pussy,” I said, as Jey pulled me close steering me away from Tia.

“A’ight, let’s go ma. We need to talk,” Jey said as I looked back at Tia as a stagehand approached her.

“Tia, bossman wants to see you,” he said as Tia plastered on a smile following him.

“I’ll see you soon Jey,” she laughed as I tried to get out of Jey’s embrace.

“Fuckin’ parasite,” I hissed as Jey pulled me into his locker room, locking the door behind us.

“Are you done?” he asked as I rolled my eyes irritated as hell.

“No…..She always is up to something, I just don’t understand,” I said as Jey took off his black jacket, tossing it on the couch.

Damn, he looked fine as hell…Focus Kara, you're mad right now.

“Don’t let it bother you, the stuff she doin’, it don’t even matter.”

“What do you mean it don’t matter? “I asked as a look of determination adorned his handsome face as he slowly came towards me, almost like a lion stalking its prey.

“You ain’t slick, you know what you be doing wit ya chest and tattoos all out,” I said as he laughed. “I'm serious, you can stay over there, sir.”  His smile making it hard for me to stay angry.

“I ain’t doin’ nothing,” he whispered closing the distance between us as I tried to remain strong.

 “Yes, you are, Jey,” I whispered, feeling like my heart race as he caressed my face with his hands. Closing my eyes, I felt the tension leaving my body simply from his touch.

“I’mma need you to realize something important,” he said as I melted even further into his touch.

“What do I need to realize?” I asked, his lips dangerously close to mine. “I only want you; I’ve always only wanted you,” he whispered our lips meeting in a searing kiss.

It had been six months since the last time our lips touched and the

Feeling lightheaded I clung to him as our tongues fought for dominance, with Jey winning in the end as I whimpered in need.

He had me Feenin’ for more as we reluctantly parted to catch our breaths.

“Kara, you ain’t gotta worry about Tia, I ain’t Roman. I ain’t jeopardizing being with you for nobody,” Jey said reassuring me as I nodded.

I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that until now.

“Jey, I don’t want you to feel obligated to do all this. Visting me every week, being there-” I started as he cut me off with a gentle kiss.

“When you’re ready, I’m ready. I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he whispered wiping my tears I didn’t even know had fallen.

“You ain’t gotta cry no more, I got you….Until my last breath, I got you.”

“I know,” I whispered leaning against his chest enjoying being wrapped up in his arms.

Damn her..Damn me for allowing Tia to rile me up. I was making strides, but everything still had me fucked up.

Damn Tia and Roman for that matter….

“Do you want to go out with us to eat?” Jey asked as I chuckled looking at him. “Nah, ya’ll can go eat, I got to finish an assignment. Someone had me chauffeuring them around this morning before daylight, even had to take them at a rental this afternoon,” I joked as he laughed.

“Aye, we said thank you. But real talk, tomorrow I wanna take you out and spend some time wit you before we leave out on Wednesday,” he said as I smiled, actually looking forward to it.

“I’mma hold you to that,” I whispered, ignoring my vibrating phone in my back pocket.

-----

Kara’s Condo

Roman’s POV

“Pick up the phone Kara,” I muttered dialing her once again as it goes to voicemail.

“It’s your girl Kara, I’m busy so leave your message at the beep and I’ll get back with you.”

“Kara, just please call me back..I..I need to see you.”

Ending the call, I dialed her right back but this time it went straight to voicemail.

“Did you just ignore my call? Are you with him?…..You are…. Your with Jey ain’t you? Is he kissin on you?......Is he holdin’ you like I used too, dickin’ you down like me. Hmm….Hmm…..Answer the damn phone Kara!” I yelled, hanging up trying to calm myself down.

I tried to wait, but she playin’…Pulling out my spare key to her condo I let myself in.

Did she know I had a key? No…. But that is beside the point.

I felt resentful as I took in how she had the house decorated so welcoming.

“My beautiful family tree,” I muttered reading the letters above the painted tree on the wall of the living room. Pictures of her parents, her brother, even pictures of her and Jey throughout the years. Hell, Jimmy and Trin made the family tree wall.

“I can’t believe this shit,” I hissed, walking into Kara’s bedroom, getting even more pissed seeing Jey’s bag beside her bed.

“In my fucking house,” I muttered looking around the room.

That live from Jey rattled me so much this morning, I charted my jet this evening and flew straight here.

He really been in here, layin’ in this bed with Kara…My Kara…. I don’t give a damn what no divorce papers say…She’s still mine.

I needed to know how deep this shit was getting between Kara and Jey and I needed to know now.

Fucking him one time to get back at me is one thing but actually being in a relationship with him is taking shit too far.

 Hearing the door open, I sat in the chair by the bed. I didn’t care who was with her, we were going to talk.

“I’m fine Jey, I just got inside,” she said as I snarled. “I’m going to shower and finish up my assignment. Just bring me back a fry and a ginger ale. I’m not that hungry, it’s late.”

“Really? Oh, he just Mr. perfect, huh. Doin’ late night ginger ale runs,” I seethed quietly hearing the happiness in Kara’s voice.

“Ok I’ll see ya’ll in a few,” she said, ending the call as I heard her moving around the hall.

“That man,” I heard her sigh as I felt the jealousy within me burning deep.

I had to stifle a groan as she opened the door and I saw she had taken off her shirt. “What tha shit!” Kara screamed, covering herself with her shirt as I stood up.

“Kara, where you been?” I asked as she looked at me in confusion. Almost like she thought she was hallucinating.

“What the hell are you doing in my house Roman?!” Kara yelled turning on the light.

“I wanted to see how your little visit with my cousin was goin’ but you ain’t answered my question. Where you been, because Raw ended about two hours ago?” I asked, walking towards Kara as she put her shirt back on.

“First of all, who da fuck do you think you are! We’re divorced, where I am and who I’m with is none of your damn concern. Now how did you get in here?!” Kara yelled pissed off as I scoffed.

“I had this made before the landlord gave you the keys. I mean did you really think, I was gon’ let you be out here and not check in on you.” I said as she reached for the keys, but I put it back in my pocket.

Kara’s POV

“This ain’t checkin’ in, this is stalking. You shouldn’t be here at all! Give me the keys Roman!” I yelled, still in shock I had found him in my bedroom, sitting in here like a fuckin’ serial killer.

“Have you slept with Jey since that night?” Roman asked as I looked at him like he was crazy.

“That is none of your business, give me the key, Roman!” I yelled as he ignored me.

“Not until you tell me, then I’ll give it to you.”

“Have you been drinking?” I asked, smelling the alcohol on his breath as he came a little closer.

“I ain’t drunk, I am in control Kara. I got this shit, I only had a brandy on the plane.”

“I can’t tell you flew from Pensacola to Boston to ask if I’m fucking your cousin,” I said as he rolled his eyes.

“Are you fuckin’ him, it’s a simple question?!” Roman yelled as I sighed rubbing my temples.

“Answer me, Kara.”

“Do you see a ring on my finger..No you don’t because I am single. You made sure I became single when you stuck your dick in my sister and got her pregnant!” I screamed as Roman came even closer.

“Are you fucking Jey? It’s either yes or no Kara.”

“It’s none of your business, just give me the keys and leave Roman.”

“Just answer the question, Kara!” Roman screamed as I looked at him like he was crazy.

“Roman, I’mma need you to calm do-”

“I have tried and tried to get back together wit you and this is the thanks I get!  You out here with him in MY HOUSE that I’M PAYIN’ for!” Roman ranted as something inside me flipped.

“It’s MY HOUSE and I don’t owe you shit! Get out!.....Now Roman!”

His arrogant stance as he refused to move pissed me off even more. He really thinks he can control me..

“I ain’t leavin’ till you answer me,” he said as I nodded in understanding.

“Ok, I see I’mma have to remind you with who you dealin’ wit,” I said leaving the room.

“Where you goin’ Kara, I aint done talkin’ to you,” Roman said walking behind me as I went into the kitchen.

“I told you to get out, but you trippin’. You trippin’ hard but let me help you out, let me get on your level,” I said reaching in the drawer pulling out my large chef’s knife as Roman growled in frustration, but backed up a little.

“Really, so you gon’ stab me Kara?” he asked as I pointed the knife in his direction.

“Roman I promise you, we gon’ be on an episode of The First 48 if you don’t leave the keys and get outta my damn house!” I screamed as he sighed, reaching in his pocket putting the keys on the counter.

“Kara, we need to talk about Je-”

“I don’t want to talk to you…I want you out!” I cried as Roman sighed, turning around to leave. A wave of relief washing over me as I heard the door close.

Trying to control my tears I tried to take a few deep breaths as I looked at the keys on the counter.

He really had keys made to my house and came in here trying to tell me what to do.

Another reason I didn’t want his money everyone was advising me to take. He thinks he owns me.

“Definitely getting the locks changed,” I whispered heading to lock the front door, stumbling back in shock seeing Roman with his hands up in the air being held at gunpoint by Tia.

“Oh, hey sis, come on in and join the party, I mean you are the guest of honor after all,” Tia said as Roman looked back at me. His remorseful gaze pierced my soul as she smiled, pointing the gun at me.

"Oh, my God."

Taglist:

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[maybxlle]

✧˖°. 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

masterlist | home | rules

contains: a daughter of aphrodite panicking over our favorite white boy. and vise versa (jason grace x daughter of aphrodite!reader)

warnings: shitty ass writing, language, use of yn, and CRINGE. it's pretty bad, read at your own risk ⚠️

author's note: first fic! also, its probably gonna be bad (because i'm a shit writer 😃) im SO sorry about all the cuts! i cannot write. [send in requests y'all!] ALSO if you see any incorrections, no you didn't.

special mentions: thank you so much @canonfeminine for helping me come up with the joke percy says and @hopelesslyromanticshark because i kinda stole her formatting and her amazing advice (love ya coves!)

final word count: 2,098 words

now playing 𓏧 down bad by taylor swift

jason grace was walking outside cabin 13 when he heard you tweaking.

it was only 11am and it sounded like you had been up all night.

"y'all, you know that one song from taylor's new album? down bad? that's so me about superman." you sighed, "i don't even think he cares about me. not even a little."

"now i'm down bad, crying at the gym. everything comes out teenage petulance. fuck it if i can't have him. i might just die, it'd make no difference." you sang under your breath.

jason peeked in the cabin. he saw you hanging off hazel's bed upside down, piper was on the floor painting her nails, while annabeth was sitting in an armchair, reading, and hazel was at her desk, writing a letter to chiron about why they should have state of the art, gold-plated horse feed. they were only in the hades cabin because nico was with will in the infirmary. (awww <3)

"ma'am, we know all of this before. you never shut about hi-" piper began.

"SHUT THE ACTUAL FUCK UP BEFORE I SHOVE A FOOT DOWN YOUR THROAT."

annabeth made a condescending mom face. "yn," she said gently. "maybe you should go to sleep."

you just glared at her until she looked back at her book (rolling her eyes).

"maybe he does like me! he just doesn't know it yet." you triumphantly said.

piper snorted. you got up, and whacked her with your pillow until she fell over.

"ok, geez, i get it. cough cough bitch." piper um-coughed out.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME? SAYS THE WHORE!"

hazel finally looked up, innocently, from her crazy letter, "ok, girls, let's calm down?"

you and piper obliged, scowling at each other.

"anyway, bACK TO WHAT I WAS SAYING. maybe he is in love with me, he just doesn't fucking know it yet!"

"wait, isn't superman jaso-"

"BITCH SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE I GO TO THE DAMNED CABIN AND GET THE FUCKING DUCT TAPE. you don't know who the fuck is lurking."

jason took that as his cue to get the fuck out of there.

our favorite white boy RAN to his boys.

he gathered them in percy's cabin. "guys, i just overheard something."

"what? that the superman theme song plays wherever you go?” percy snickered.

while percy and leo... snort-laughed, frank actually asked what happened.

"basically, i was walking past cabin 13 and the girls were in there, right? so i overhear yn saying something about 'superman' and how this song -down bad i think?- relates to them or something."

suddenly all the boys had their thinking faces on.

"what if she's in love with the actor of superman?" frank suggested.

leo had this eerie look on his face. "grow a couple of brain-cells chinese canadian baby man. she's in love with jason."

everyone just looked at leo. "ok, think about it. who the fuck else flies here? only jason. who else flies? superman."

jason thought about it. "that would make sense since piper was about to say my name when yn cut her off-"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAD WITH THAT???"

"i didn't think that yn would ever like me back." he said matter-of-factly.

to be fair, jason had a crush on you since he arrived at camp. you were so pretty but you were so lively too. your personality was bright and radiant and maybe a bit crazy. just a bit though. but in a good way!

you just radiated positivity as if you were the sun. to him you could've been.

jason didn't realize he zoned out until leo was about to shove a shoe in his mouth.

"LEO?! WHAT THE FLIP ARE YOU DOING?!"

"oh i got him back guys! you like... died." leo said.

"so you were going to resuscitate me by shoving a shoe in my mouth?"

"yeah, basically!"

jason didn't know what to say to that so he didn't say anything!

"can we get back on track?"

"yes," percy answered. "we shall."

"first things first, we already know that you love yn so much from the bottom of your heart. but how are you going to tell her?" frank asked.

jason was at a loss.

"don't worry, i'll sleep on it."

"hey sparky!" you exclaim.

"oh h-hey yn." you side-eyed him, wondering if he heard your gods-awful conversation yesterday.

then you slapped yourself. (mentally?) of course he wouldn't do that! he's your sweet little superman who you are hopelessly in love with!

"do you wanna race to the top of the lava wall with me? don't be shy, you always lose!" you asked.

"um, i don't think i can today yn, sorry."

you were a little lot disappointed. you just really liked him and he fucking rejects you??? what if you tell him how you feel and he doesn't feel the same way? what if you become the laughing-stalk of camp? “k, bye jase.”

after he left you sprinted to your girls.

"BITCHES, CODE RED. WHO HAS AN EMPTY CABIN?"

hazel slowly raised her hand. "just don't mess it up again. if piper doesn't want your foot in her face, don't put it in her goddamn face. ok?"

you scowled at her before sprinting to hazel’s cabin.

you guys took your seats from yesterday.

“JASON WAS ACTING FUCKING WEIIIIRD THIS MORNING.” you glared at piper.

“what the- wHY ARE YOU GUYS LOOKING AT ME?!” piper screeched.

annabeth spoke up, “you were the one who practically said jason’s name.”

“annie. you just said it. SUPERMAN ONLY BITCHES.” you said.

“what if that did happen?” hazel asked. “he’s not a pretty, perfect, goody-two-shoes princess? like you think he is. ”

“YES HE IS SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH HAZEL.”

annabeth, piper, and hazel all just looked at each other, tired with your shit.

“I CAME HERE FOR HELP, NOT THE BITCHY JUDGING COUNCIL!”

"i think she's onto me." jason said to his little boy band.

percy looked up from his game of chess with frank and stroked his chin, "why may that be?"

jason scratched his neck sheepishly, "um, she, like side-eyed me?”

“this is yn we’re talking about. she side-eyes everybody.” leo said.

“BUT NOT ME!” jason panicked.

frank tsked at percy, “what move you gonna make?”

“oh, shut it frank. i’m invested. what else did yn say?”

“i… don’t remember.”

all the boys collectively looked at him.

“I WAS NERVOUS! WHAT IF-”

“SHUT YOUR BLOODY MOUTH!” leo exclaimed. “we need a fucking plan.”

“do you have a plan leo?” frank asked.

“i actually do, frank. gather round children.”

after some meticulous planning, and a couple phone calls, a plan was set.

a prom dress, a boom box, and taylor swift.

exciting right?

it was two days after that stupid conversation (that jason totally didn't overhear).

annabeth, piper and hazel came to drag you from your seat at the docks where you were reading an angsty romance (like the sad emo girl you were after being rejected by the love of your life).

"what the fuck do you whores want?"

"ok rude," annabeth replied, "but you have to come with us."

"we have something exciting for you!" hazel said enthusiastically.

you looked at hazel, "haze, 'excitement', does not exist for me anymore. ever since the love of my goddamned life rejected me- "

piper cut you off, "ok shut up yn. first of all, he didn't even reject you. he just said he can't climb the lava wall with you. just come with us. please don't make a big deal about it."

you looked at the girls suspiciously, "what's in it for me?"

the girls shared a look, "that's a secret. but believe me, everything's in it for you."

"i look like a fucking bratz doll!" you screeched.

"ok, so?" piper replied. "I DON'T WANNA LOOK LIKE A DOLL THAT GOT BOTCHED PLASTIC SURGERY!"

piper was doing and messing up your makeup while annabeth and hazel were looking for a good outfit.

"also miss bitchy," you said, "why am i wearing this much makeup? and why is annabeth and hazel trying so hard to find an outfit?"

piper could see that you were clearly becoming suspicious. she just gave you a small (knowing) smile, "oh don't worry about it sweet."

you were about to jump her when hazel and annabeth came holding ... a prom dress and two inch heels?

“are you shitting me? what the fuck is this?” you asked.

“yn, just put it the fuck on! no. arguments. ” piper said.

you weren’t someone to refuse looking good. (even if piper messed up your makeup.) “fine, but i’m watching y’all.”

they nodded while you went to the bathroom to change.

you came out and hazel to do the back. “ok, how do i look?” you asked, deadpan.

“yn! you look stunning!” hazel exclaimed.

you looked decent. you had an old prom dress that the aphrodite cabin just happened to have and slightly crusty heels.

“this will definitely work. he’ll be drooling all over her.” piper said to annabeth.

you were so confused, what the fuck is happening?

"excuse me? what's going on? cause i am about to shit my pants." you said.

annabeth, hazel, and piper just looked at each other and said, "don't worry about it dear." and burst out laughing. (about what? that wasn't even funny???)

suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"oh my fucking gods, who is it?!" you shout.

piper looked at you. "chill," she opened the door, "hey leo."

"why is leo here?!" she ignored you! leo pulled her outside, when she came back she nodded to annabeth and hazel.

"ok yn! time for your surprise!" hazel said, knowingly.

then, hazel blindfolded you, annabeth and piper grabbed your legs, while leo grabbed your arms. while you were screaming to satan.

next, y'all went on your merry way going gods-know-where!

suddenly you were dropped straight on the fucking ground so hard your ass hurt and all your bindings slipped off.

you were in the middle of the fucking woods. and you could distantaly hear hazel, piper, leo and annabeth running away.

really where you were dropped was gorgeous. you were at a clearing in the middle of the woods. it was around sunset so everything was lit up with the golden sunlight streaming through the leaves. you could hear the faint sound of a creek in the distance.

all of sudden you heard footsteps. you got up of your ass and cursed under your breath when you realized you have no knifes because somebody took them from you.

you turned toward the sound when you saw him.

jason, all dressed up in a matching suit.

"oh, h-hi jason. whatcha doing here?"

"oh, just waiting for a pretty girl so i can give her a dance."

you looked around confusedly. "jase, i think you went the wrong way. all the pretty girls are back at camp."

he chuckled, then pulled a boombox from his ass. "would you give me this dance milady?"

you were so so so baffled. what was happening? but your heart belonged to him. "um, sure?"

he clicked play on the boombox and 'you belong with me' by taylor swift started playing. he grabbed your hands and placed them on his shoulders. (TRUST ok? they're waltzing to "you belong with me", but its fine.

you felt like your heart was going a million miles a second but in slow motion at the same time. you were panicking but you felt so content.

the bridge was playing and you realized how much the song relates to you and jason.

you guys were best friends before you something happened two days ago.

y'all knew each other better than the back of your hand.

he would bring you ice cream when you were on your period and when you weren't.

anytime he had to go on a quest without you he brought you souvenirs.

you told each other about your crazy dreams. like when elmo was chasing you down rodeo drive.

the song ended.

"i-" you looked up.

"um-" jason cut you off.

"you go first." you were terrified, your heart pounding in your chest.

"well, i've had the biggest crush on you, yn. since i arrived, really-"

you cut him off, pulling his mouth to your own.

you were in euphoria for a minute until you both pulled away.

"soooo?" you were giddy, "what now?"

jason looked thoroughly confused, you were too. "i don't know but we'll get through it together."

your cold heart melted a little at that.

"i have a question," you asked, walking away. "did you have a crush only because of my fat ass?"

"oh my gods, yn!"

author's note: so yeah um... there it is. it sucks, i kinda hate it but i thought it was a good idea and i wanted to start writing.

[waitmyturtles]

Love In The Big City: An Homage to the Best Queer Show I Watched This Year*

(*that actually aired this year, because I watch a lot of old shows.)

(TW: suicide attempt)

The time I spent reading the novel and watching the television drama series of Love In The Big City by Park Sang-Young was some of the very best time I invested in art this year.

(credit: @/khunkinn)

I wanted to try to keep up with the amazing LITBC Book Club (click the tag below to see all the club's meta!) earlier this year, but I couldn't on my mom schedule. So here's a wrap-up homage to my overall thoughts about this amazing book and its equally amazing drama adaptation, and hopefully I won't repeat anyone's points from earlier meta.

Earlier this fall season, as the drama was just released, I noted my overall thoughts on Park Sang-Young's 2021 novel. What's so great about the moment in time when a book and its drama adaptation meet the same levels of excellence in art, is that you get to see what each artistic medium can really offer by way of its specific ability to penetrate and dissect certain emotional states. With the drama adaptation, we got a more in-depth sense of the visual and behavioral whimsy of Go Young's T-aras friend group. We got a living, breathing sense of the simultaneous quiet and frantic pulse of the Seoul that Young occupied. We could almost taste and smell the sweat, the tequila, the apple martinis of the nightclubs that Young danced in at all hours.

I happened to love the novel, as I wrote in my previous piece linked above, because I love to cringe at really well-written, pathetic narrators. Like Proust's narrator, like Karl Ove Knausgard in his hefty autobiographical series, "My Struggle," you can read the internal musings of these narrators, and you squirm and cringe, being all like.... "really, bro? I know I have trouble getting it together -- emotionally, physically, sexually, everything -- but, dude, YOU are taking the CAKE."

The reason for the squirm is because excellently-written narrators like Proust's narrator, like Knausgard himself (okay, we can argue about "excellently written," but that's for another piece), are emotional pathologists, dissecting every minute whim of a feeling into words, cutting words that account for every last iota of mental anguish that these narrators feel at every given moment.

It's a brutal accountability test for us readers to weather. And, of course, as the very best art does -- it forces us, the readers, to face our own recognition of the kinds of emotions these narrators are detailing, and asks us to relate to them, vis à vis how we ourselves understand these emotions. Thus, a resulting squirm and cringe, as we reckon with our own emotional accountability in that very moment.

I had so many of these wonderful moments when I was reading the novel version of Love In The Big City. Go Young was so cringe. So pathetic.

(credit: @/my-rose-tinted-glasses)

And while the novel delved brutally into the reasons WHY Go Young was so pathetic and cringe, I enjoyed the drama's ability to sensually and holistically take me into that WHY place as well.

For me, Go Young's journey into the adulthood he ends up in begins with the intergenerational trauma and the avoidant attachment he must have with his mother. I say "must" because he's all she's got, and Go Young, to his misfortune, knows this, and must deal with it, and with her.

This is despite her utterly rejecting his identity, his sexuality, and forcing him at a young age to face conversion therapy in as abusive a situation as possible, literally being kidnapped into the therapy. We know from the novel that his therapists end up realizing that his sexuality is not his "issue," and that the "issue" is his actually deranged, Christian-devoted mother.

The drama doesn't get into that level of details. I will absolutely estimate that it COULDN'T get into that level of detail due to potential censorship, and the portrayed meaning of such a comparison as to show a devout Christian mother as a neglectful, bigoted mother.

But what the drama showed me, in real time, were the spontaneous movements and moments that punctuated Young's life, that were totally derived from the low self-esteem, the lack of internal love and respect he had for himself for most of the series. The emptiness, the lack of BELIEF that he had in himself, that stemmed from the refusal of his mother to accept him lovingly and holistically. I'd recommend LITBC to any potential parent as a guide on how to NOT parent your kid.

As someone trained in the social services, and as a steadfast lover of intergenerational trauma in shows -- and how dramas demonstrate the long-term impact of intergeneration trauma unto their characters -- Love In The Big City is utterly SUPERLATIVE in this category.

And this kind of neglect that young queer people so very often face in their families NEEDS to be depicted in art, so that we can see the risks of what these young people could, and will, grow up to be, without nurturing love in their life.

So. Man. Go Young goes fucking ham on fucking hipster doofus Yeong Su in a restaurant. Yeong Su, who himself deals with a kind of internalized homophobia that results in him producing bigoted "research" on homosexuality. And Go Young, unconsciously hoping that he could find love with a most unlovable man, subsequently attempts suicide.

Go Young breaks up with Gyu Ho minutes before Gyu Ho is to depart to China. I saw that moment as Go Young "releasing" Gyu Ho from the burden that Go Young assumes himself to be -- emotional baggage, Kylie, and all.

Go Young cavorts with Habibi, a man escaping just about everything by way of luxury hotels and unfulfilling work. After his real relationship with Gyu Ho, Go Young follows Habibi on Habibi's orders, having little to no agency in the coupling until the absolute end, as he leaves Habibi with a note. Habibi, who himself is also a subject of clear internalized homophobia, another example of the absolute wrath that social bigotry can lay waste on a queer individual.

Love In The Big City balanced these brutal moments of internalized trauma, bigotry, and homophobia with LIFE as it could be lived: life spent working, writing, drinking, partying, sucking dick and moving mattresses, catching up with old friends, supporting engagements, comforting friends after break-ups, BEING PRESENT for yourself and your family and your friends.

There was a shift of growth and responsibility in Go Young's life when his cancer-addled mother sank her head down on his lap in the sunlight of a park at the end of the second chapter of the drama. But what was so OUTSTANDING about the drama version of Love In The Big City, is that the drama didn't assume that that shift would be a great dramatic moment. Go Young certainly got into a relationship with Gyu Ho afterwards.... but he damn fucked it up at the end.

AND IT WAS OKAY. Even though we viewers were fucking heartbroken, IT WAS OKAY....

... because I believe Love In The Big City was communicating to us that it's perfectly okay to stumble in one's continued growth, in the movement forward of one's life. Go Young gets a new apartment, new light in his windows and his life, and celebrates the move (and the end of Eun Su's engagement) on his rooftop with his besties.

The novel ends a bit more brutally than the drama. In the drama, we do very much get to see Go Young doing a moving-forward thing. I was screaming and pacing at @lurkingshan when I finished the novel, and I felt slightly more uplifted when I watched the drama.

I love that I felt those two ways about my experience with each medium. Again, it shows what I GOT from the experience of reading and watching this story separately. And the drama very much played up the T-aras group more for kicks and lights (especially in the hospital), but I still got such a brutal sense of Go Young's internal mishegoss, that maybe I needed those gworls, too, the way Go Young always did.

The other best queer show that I watched this year did not actually air this year. That one is 2022's The Miracle of Teddy Bear from Thailand, which I will review soon for my Thai QL Old GMMTV Challenge project. The Miracle of Teddy Bear was rooted in anger and accountability against parents, adults, and society, for the wreckage that bigotry and abuse can render, internally and externally, on the bodies and minds of young queer people. It was an utterly exacting exercise in a brutal breakdown of queer pain.

Love In The Big City, in comparison, was a visual meditation on the mundanity of an individual's life -- depicting all the cringe and the pain associated with it -- vis à vis broken and incomplete love from family and lovers. But Love In The Big City also had LIFE, LIFE LIVED, woven through it all. Go Young kept clubbing with his friends, because he needed it, because he needed his friends, because his FRIENDS needed the club, and because his friends needed HIM.

While I felt a broken heart for his relationship with Gyu Ho at the end of the drama, what I had for Go Young was hope -- a hope that, while I knew the man, in fiction, would still experience hurt while moving forward, would still very much move forward nonetheless, on his own accord.

(credit: @/khunkinn)

(tagging @neuroticbookworm for awareness <3)

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part VI)

Pairing | Eddie Munson x shy!reader

Warnings | 18+ minors and blank blogs don’t interact, bullying, discussions of anxiety, oral (f receiving), virginity loss, protected P in V sex.

Word Count | ~16,400 

A/N | Oh you won't be able to move for all the fluff. Cheeky shout-out to @heydreamchild for this post which made me lose my mind in the tags and think about Eddie's relationship with Wayne's mug collection.

Taglist (please don't ask to be tagged if you won't interact with the fic)

Previous Chapter

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦ 

 You screw your eyes shut instead of watching the ping pong ball continue its high arch over the remaining cups on the other side of the table. You hear it hit the floor, the barely suppressed scoff across from you at another missed shot. 

Your cheeks are burning, have been since you started this game. You open an eye to find May smiling at you encouragingly as she lines herself up for her turn. She’s more practised than you. Invited to more of these parties, asked to play more of these games. The ball flies from her hand and lands with a gentle splash in one of the three remaining cups in front of you, her expression now tinged with satisfaction. You can’t blame her, you’d look the same if you were good at any of this. You fish the ball out and sip the lukewarm beer for a second before forcing the rest of it down just to get this turn over with. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, handing the ball to your partner and stepping aside to let him take his turn. Safely at the corner of the table, you glance quickly at the clock on the other side of the room. It reads 11:03pm, and you wonder if you could negotiate heading home by eleven thirty. 

Not likely. 

When you’d walked through the door, shoulders pressed between both your friends, you had yourself convinced that you would have a good time tonight. Tipsy from the white wine your mom let you drink under her supervision, warm with joy from an early evening spent with May and Heather in your room. It’s your favourite part of going out; the hour or two before. When it’s just the three of you, with nobody else to perform for, you fit right back together as you always did. Swapping gossip, exchanging compliments. Painting Heather’s nails a soft pink, her steady hands painting yours in return. You worked on May’s make up, smiled shyly  into the mirror when she set your hair up the way you like it and told you with a pout how jealous she is of its texture. 

You listened to Heather, gentle and happy at seeing her boyfriend, at the flowers he’d brought her. You spoke to May about the film you should rent for your next movie night; a comedy with popcorn or a weepy chick flick with chocolate. You’d watched from your bed, grinning and heartsore while May leaned into Heather’s shoulder, serenading her while she applied her lipstick. Heather rolled her eyes fondly as May crooned into her ear, “I can’t fight this feeling anymore!” 

Later, head truly fuzzy from paint stripper vodka and lemonade, you’d screamed all the words to Power of Love with them. Hands in the air, hips swaying, content in the knowledge that, if everyone in the house has drank as much as you, none of them will care to remember how you danced and sang tonight. It was exactly as you wanted it to always be. With your friends, believing entirely, at least in the moment, that you still put each other first. That you were friends now not just because you used to be. 

Only, Heather’s boyfriend had appeared like a grey cloud in the blue sky of your evening. Before you knew it, she was settled under his arm on a couch at the other side of the room, sipping light beer and talking with the friends he’d brought back from college for the weekend. All boys you can’t stand, and know May can’t stand either. The last time you saw them, when May had told them proudly that you were well on your way to NYU to study Comparative Literature, you’d watched two of them make eye contact, sniggering with each other into their beer. You weren’t proud of yourself for adding that you still might do Chemistry, not that it had helped much. 

Soon after, May was called over by some cheer friends. She’d grasped your hand and pulled you along with her, both a blessing and a curse that she refuses to leave you out. Lacking some of your usual self-consciousness, both from your continual sips at your drink and the fact that Caroline, blessedly, hadn’t shown up, you’d managed a brief, fairly friendly chat with Tracy about whether she was wearing too much blush (she was) followed by how well the basketball team will do this year (hell if you know). 

Then, when Josh, a boy May has had a simmering crush on since you were freshmen, invited her over to play beer pong, you let her pull you with her again. And here you are, paired with this boy in green and white. Ethan flashes his white toothed smile every time you miss a shot on account of your shaking hands. A charming smile that tells you how girls might get into trouble on his account; girls like Caroline, girls like Erin. You wonder if it was that smile that made Erin follow him upstairs that night, that made Caroline fall back into his arms with little complaint, all the blame placed elsewhere. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, squeezing the top of your arm before turning his attention to the table. May smiles at you again as Josh chugs beer down in a quick gulp, sending you all the signs of gratitude that make you feel guilty for thinking almost exclusively about the ways you could leave soon.

When it’s your turn again, you take stock of the cups across from you. Two on your side, four on theirs, so with any luck this is your last turn. You watch the ball just brush the opposite rim of one of the cups, before bouncing lamely to the table. “Okay, that one was close.” Ethan says kindly, elbowing you.

“Nah, her head’s in the clouds,” Josh says with a smirk, catching the ball and bouncing it a couple times off the table. “Too busy thinking about…Munson, right? Would not have thought that was your type, but uh, I guess that explains why you wouldn’t let Andy-”

“Leave her alone, Josh,” May cuts in, leaning away from him with a scowl. You feel a rush around your ears, your heart in your throat. You like to forget this fact, but sometimes you’re reminded of it like seeing it written in bright red neon. Just about everybody knows what happened between you and Andy to varying degrees of detail, and they can all use it against you whenever they want. 

“It’s not that serious,” he says, the following laugh more defensive when May rolls her eyes. “You are dating the freak, right?”

Your toes curl. “Don’t call him that.”

“C’mon, man,” Ethan sighs. “You’re killing the mood.”

“It’s dead and buried,” May corrects, face set in that brilliant frown that gets your heart pumping when it’s directed at you. 

Josh glances between the three of you, landing particularly on May and her crossed arms. He looks to Ethan again for support, throws his hands up when he finds none there. “Fine,” he says, smacking his teeth. “‘S boring playing girls anyway.”

He bounces the ball across the table to Ethan, and stalks off with his shoulders sagging. May’s face softens when she comes over to you, your chest warm at her concern. “You okay?”

“Mm. Thank you.”

She pouts, swaying a little. “Why are guys such jerks?”

“Um, I’m right here,” Ethan laughs, chucking the ball back and forth between his hands. There’s that smile again, easy and sharp and clean. You think of Erin, dragged through mud. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, barely glancing at him. 

“No problem. He’s an idiot when he’s drunk.”

If you were braver, you’d say he’s an idiot sober, too. 

“Looks like we need to even the teams up,” May says brightly. 

“Oh, that’s okay,” you answer, the only relief from the situation that this may give you a chance to escape for a brief moment. “I wanna get some water. You guys can keep playing.”

“You sure?” She asks, leaning in so it really is just the two of you, giving you a hit of tuberose and orange blossom, the same perfume she’s worn since your first high school party in ‘83. “I’ll come with you if you want.”

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing her arm gratefully. “I’ll be right back.”

The air is fresher the second you’re in the hallway, without the clutch of warm bodies forcing you to mutter ‘excuse me’ enough that the words lose all meaning. The damp heat picks up again in the kitchen, smaller groups standing around with cups in their hands, some swaying to the distant music. You glance at the sink, find a couple crowded in front of it, their eyes intent on eachother. Even your slightly fuzzy mind decides against trying to navigate around them in search of water. 

“Hey, Ringwald.” It takes a good couple of seconds for you to register that the greeting might be for you. It requires a tap on the shoulder, Erin’s half there smile directed your way. She holds up a cup. “Want some?” 

You glance into it, find clear liquid that gets your hopes up. “Water?”

She snorts. “I know I’m pretty badass, but six shots of vodka in one cup is a little much. Even for me.” 

You take it gratefully, screaming at your tipsy brain to remember not to drink too much of someone else’s water. A couple gulps and you hand it back to her, surprised at how much you needed it, throat a little scratchy from singing earlier before your joy left with Heather. 

“So, uh, how are you?”

You nod, giving her a close lipped smile. “Yeah, fine. How are you?”

Erin tilts her head, her right eye narrowing. “No, I mean, like really how are you?” She waves her cup around, as if gesturing to the entire house. “Seems like you and May are friends again, I guess.”

“We were always friends,” you assure, heart panging. “She was just,” you search for it, unprepared for this conversation. Where you normally would avoid answering altogether, your cottoned up mind combined with the earnest desperation to defend your friend ends in a rambling answer. “I didn’t tell her the right way, you know? She was hurt, finding out from somebody else about, you know, Eddie and I. But we talked it all out and she’s forgiven me.”

“Forgiven…you?” 

“For not telling her myself.”

Erin taps a finger on her cup, considering you. “That’s what she was angry about?”

Your mouth opens, thoughts tangling. “Um, I mean, among other things,” you rush, giving her a reassuring smile. “But everything’s fine now.” 

“Okay,” she says, that half smile returning. “Glad to hear it, Ringwald.”

“I, um,” you step a little closer, forcing yourself to look right into her eyes. “I did want to say thank you for that actually. I just-” You just worried endlessly about approaching her, how you would even thank her for preventing you from being quizzed about your sex life in front of an entire group. You shrug, and luckily Erin seems to understand.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “You shouldn’t have had to explain yourself in the first place. But those girls are pretty vicious when they smell blood.”

You’re struck with a pity for her you know she’d probably hate you feeling. You try to remember what she was like before her entire friend group turned on her, before she was taken in by that sharp smile. She still had the sarcastic wit, you’re sure. But without the undertone of anger that comes along every other sentence; less bite. Erin has always been confident, but now she carries herself like somebody full of righteous indignation and nowhere to put it.

“You can have the rest of this,” she says, handing you the water and looking away like she’s read your whole thought process and wants out of the conversation quick. “Those six shots actually sound kind of appealing now.”

“Okay, well, see you later?”

She gives you a little thumbs up as she passes. You watch her elbow past the couple at the sink to reach the bottles and cups piled beside it. Already feeling more sober than you had when you walked in, you finish the cool water, resisting the temptation to start playing with the material of your skirt. 

“Hey, uh…hey.” You look over at Neil from your Physics class, recognising the sound of somebody trying and failing to remember your name. “Could you talk to Munson for me? Tell him I’m good for the money, it’s just that it’s another week before I get paid.”

You blink. The information takes a second to move from your ears to your brain, longer to process their whole meaning. You feel a flutter in your chest; something like excitement, something like relief. “Eddie’s here?”

“Yeah, and he’s making a really big deal out of twenty dollars, you know?”

You look over his shoulder as if Eddie might be standing out in the hallway, finding only the empty doorway. “Where is he?”

“Uh, he was by the stereo I think? So, you’ll talk to him?” 

“Um, sure,” you mumble, pressing past him to walk down the hall back into the living room. There’s May, laughing as Ethan tips his head back to drink, the table laden with a new set of cups. On the other side of the room, Heather, nodding at something and looking serious as ever. 

And then you catch him; a head of messy curls, denim on leather, the cut out t-shirt you know Eddie sewed on himself by hand. He’s standing right next to the stereo, sorting through records. His curls shift with a shake of his head and you just know his expression is dismayed, truly disappointed in the collection. To his side, a group of boys is searching their pockets, failing to hide their efforts to pool money together. 

Eddie’s presence pulls at you, an invisible but physical tug, and before you know it you’re crossing the room towards him. He jumps a little when you rest your palm on his back, his hand flying to his wallet chain. Then his brown eyes land on you, and you feel the unique joy of watching Eddie realising it’s you. His expression turns in an instant from guarded to happiness. Round eyes look you up and down once in surprise to confirm it’s you, once again in appreciation. He leans right into you, smile a little wolfish. “Well, hey. What brings you to my darkened corner, sweet thing?”

What can you say to that? That in the six, seven hours since you’ve seen him, you’ve felt the lack of his presence? That you’ve spent the last hour in particular wishing you’d never come here, wondering why you didn’t go home with him instead? 

“Was surprised to see you.”

“Yeah, well,” he starts, gesturing with his head to the boys behind him. “My services were required, you see.” His eyes track down again, zeroing in at the place on your legs where your dress ends, the fishnet tights wrapped around your thighs. “You look, uh,” he clears his throat, clearly searching for the right word. “Shit. I mean, fuck. You look good.” 

Your cheeks warm. You turn to the side a touch, pressing your knees together. “Thank you.”

“I um, really like these.” His hand teases the hem of your dress, thumb brushing across the string of your tights. Eddie’s fingers are a warm sting that has your breath catching, your body aching to be closer to him, to more of his heat. 

“Munson?” Sounds from behind him, and the spell is broken. Eddie jumps again, hand parting from your skin like he’d touched a hot stove. His hair flies around him as he turns, face becoming impassive again. 

“Gentlemen,” he says, standing in front of you. “Managed to pool your allowances?” 

“Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie’s head tilts. “For future reference, save the shit talk till after you have the product in your hand. Unless you wanna add another ten percent for the ounce-”

“No, it’s fine,” another says, elbowing his friend. “It’s all there.”

Eddie sighs, taking the collection of rumpled bills from his hand. You watch him stand in front of the antsy boys, counting each note twice over just to watch them squirm. “Mm. Looks like it’s all here.” He brings his wallet from his back pocket, attached to his jeans by a chain, and tucks the money inside. Then, after glancing around him quickly, Eddie’s right hand disappears into the front of his pants. 

“Kept it warm for you, boys,” he cackles, pulling out a plastic baggy filled with green clumps and hurling it towards them. 

In the next second, he’s grabbed your hand and is pulling you through the crowd to the sound of, “Munson, you prick!” from behind you. You can hear Eddie’s almost manic giggling over the music, your heart pounding from speeding after him and the fear of the chance at being followed by five boys, all half drunk and furious. 

Eddie’s hand remains tight around yours until the cool air out the front door hits your heated skin, finally slowing to catch his breath, still chuckling to himself. You watch him, wide eyed, as he leans back against the front wall, head falling back and then forward to look at you. His eyes flash, his face tells you he’s proud. 

“Why did you do that?” 

His laughter stops when he spies the serious look on your face, your hands fiddling with your skirt. “Ah, shit. Sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t plan for you to be around but there wasn’t much I could do, sweet thing. It was already down there, y’know?” 

“That’s not what I- Why would you aggravate them like that, Eddie?” 

Something a little cold comes over his face then. “Satisfaction, pure and simple,” he answers. “The only kind I can get out of guys like that.”

“But, if you didn’t speak to them like that-”

Eddie’s already shaking his head. “If I didn’t speak to them like that- Hell, if I gave them that weed for free, got on my knees and asked for an ounce of kindness, come Monday they’re still gonna throw me, or Jeff, or any of the guys from Hellfire into a locker,” he tells you, voice a plea for you to understand. “Or call me a freak, or lock one of the freshmen, who still barely know their way around the building, in a supply closet for an hour.” Eddie tilts his head at you. “It’s got absolutely nothing to do with me aggravating them or not, okay? It's not about how nice I am, or how I talk to them - it's about this," he stresses grabbing his long hair, then his shirt. "And this. And D&D and the fucking trailer and my piece of shit father. No amount of sweet talk will fix it cause they don't want me to be nice; they want me to change. And I can’t do that, okay? More importantly, I won’t do that.”

Everything he says makes your chest hurt.

It makes sense, that this is how Eddie Munson thinks. Since your first stumbled word, you’ve been hiding yourself away, blending into the crowd to avoid all the pain that comes with being singled out. But him? Eddie has no interest in curling in on himself, shrinking his personality to fit in. Everything he says, every move he makes, is unapologetic. As true to himself as that shirt. 

But it hurts to think that something so unnatural to you could be right. For all your good will, all your work and staying under the radar, it hasn't saved you. Your need to keep quiet only led to Caroline’s harshness, the laughter from the cheer girls. Your desperation to avoid judgement only opened all the right doors for Andy to hurt you the way he did, for everyone around you to know exactly how. All your complacency, all your acquiescence, none of it kept your friends nearly as close as you’d wanted them. 

You swallow, catch Eddie’s eyes, and whisper in earnest. “I don’t want you to change.” 

You could cry at the relief in his face, the fast blinking that vanishes the shine in his eyes. His head tilts. “No?”

You shake your head vehemently, wishing he would hold your hand again so you could play with his fingers. He pushes himself off the wall and leans into your space, hair falling towards you. You look between his eyes and his collar, debating hiding your face there. 

“Not even my driving?”  

“Okay,” you answer, watching his dimples press into his face. “Maybe I’d like you to change one thing.”

“I knew it!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up. “Sweet girls like you are only ever after one thing. You wanna fix me, huh?”

“No,” you whisper, smiling to the side. “Just, gently improve your interest in speed limits?” 

“Yeah? And what about my proclivity for pineapple and olive pizza?”

You chew the inside of your lip, suppressing giggles. “I think, given time, I can learn to live with it.” You feel a buzz of pride at Eddie’s laugh, the crinkle around his eyes he gets when he’s really, truly happy. “I do mean it, Eddie. I like you exactly as you are. More-” You take a breath. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

Eddie’s hand finds yours again, your fingers curling into his, your knuckles at his palm. 

“Like me enough to come home with me?” 

You want to. Desperately. The relief you felt at seeing him, your whole body telling you that you’d rather spend an evening with Eddie than here, navigating social circles you’ll never really be a part of. 

“I have to tell my friends first,” you say, watching Eddie nod. 

“Sure thing. I can wait.”

“Okay.” Your gaze travels between his eyes and his collar again, stalling your departure. You want a kiss. Want to kiss him all the time, even for a short goodbye. Eddie, sensing your hesitance to leave, narrows his eyes a little like he's trying to work you out. He catches your eyes dart to his lips, and they curve. 

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to you. It’s a perfect, innocent little thing. But you like it, like the domesticity you’re learning with Eddie. You want kisses goodbye and hello, his hand in yours in the car. You want elbows meeting sides while cooking together, waking up in the middle of the night just to hear Eddie breathing before you fall away again, catching sight of each other in the mirror while you brush your teeth in the morning. You want your daily life, with Eddie in it, with all the things he adds just by way of existing. 

You give him another quick peck, face hot, and run into the house before your mouth asks him to leave with you now and never come back. 

You find May in the kitchen, huddled together with a couple of the cheer girls as well as Ethan. She waves brightly when she catches sight of you, gesturing you over. “Hi!” She calls, hair mussed, clearly having continued to drink since you parted. “Where did you go?”

“Um, I was thinking I might go home,” you say, fiddling with your skirt. “M’tired.”

“Oh, are Heather and Patrick leaving too?”

“No, no. I ran into Eddie. He’s gonna give me a ride home.” 

You brace yourself, the back of your neck prickling with tension. You watch the expression on May’s face shift from confusion, not to anger or disappointment, but amusement. 

“Ohh-kay, you’re tired,” she laughs, shaking her head. You make a noise in embarrassment, checking to see if the rest of the group are listening in and she grins at you, pulling you into a quick, floral smelling, hug. “Have a good night, okay? I’ll see you later.”

You give her a squeeze back, chest warm. “Yeah, later.” 

You give a half hearted wave to everyone else, navigating your way to the living room. Heather is where she has been all evening, under Patrick’s arm. “Hey,” you say, avoiding eye contact with the boys around her. “I’m gonna head.”

“Already?” Heather pouts. A quick throb or annoyance rises and falls, your anger that she wouldn't have noticed either way reasoned with the fact that it was your decision not to spend any time with this group. 

“Yeah, I’m tired.”

“I thought I was giving you a ride?” Patrick asks, leaning over.

"No, Eddie's gonna take me home."

There’s a moment of quiet, information sinking in before Patrick's face displays a shocked frown. "Eddie? Munson? You're getting in that scrap heap he calls a van?" 

You look from him to Heather, spy the clear guilt on her face when you say, "He's my boyfriend. Heather didn't tell you?" 

“She most certainly did not- when the fuck-”

“I’m sure she can fill you in,” you say, voice edging towards breaking, thinking about her encouragement, her fingers on the cross around her neck. Heather's mouth opens, her hand coming to that very pendant, and you shake your head. "Bye." 

She calls your name behind you, but doesn't come after you when you leave. 

Eddie is waiting for you still, balancing a seat on the porch rail and smoking when you emerge. A dimple presses into his face when he flicks the cigarette away and slides down. “All good?”

You grab his hand, bury your face into his shoulder to lean on him a little. Breathe in leather and drugstore shampoo - Eddie, Eddie, Eddie - until your heart stops throbbing painfully. 

“All good,” you mumble, turning your head to look at him from his shoulder. “Home?”

You realise how tired you are when you are settled in Eddie’s van, your eyes and limbs heavy. You half want to curl up in the soft seat and drift, but get taken in by watching Eddie as he drives. His fingers following the guitar licks of his music on the steering wheel, his hair shifting when he rocks his head forward. The way he glances at you when he turns, catches you staring and grins to himself every time. 

"You know, I didn’t really have you down as someone who’d be into paaarties,” he says, eyes wide with his mocking tone. He glances at you again, at your worn out state, and half closes an eye. “And I gotta say, you don't seem like you were having a good time."

You think about that for a minute, wondering how best to explain your complicated relationship with social events. “I like dancing with my friends,” you start with a shrug. “And getting ready.” You lean your head back. “It’s like the only time the three of us are together anymore.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, glancing over at you. “Why’s that?”

Why is that? You’ve wondered it yourself. It felt like, suddenly, though maybe it happened very slowly without you realising, whatever delicate thread held you together started to strain as you moved in different directions. Or, as they did; leaving you lonely in the place you used to share. Waiting for them to visit, when it suits them. 

They changed. You stayed the same.

Only, you must have changed a little. You replay that last moment with Heather tonight in your head, wondering if you’ve ever shown her your hurt, your anger. Six months ago, you doubt you’d even have left at all. It’s more likely that you would have stayed, wishing to be anywhere else, until they wanted to leave. 

Eddie looks over at you following your long silence, adopts the soft, encouraging smile he gives you to show you he’ll wait for your answer, regardless of the reasons it’s taking you so long to find it. You get an inkling, then, of why you’ve changed, if only a little. 

“We’re all just…different than we were,” you say finally. 

“People change, I guess,” Eddie nods. “For better or worse.”

You think you might be better.

Exhaustion takes over when you cross the comforting threshold into Eddie’s home; the familiar smell and warmth of it sending a message across your body that you can relax now. You clean your teeth with the brush Eddie presented you with the first time you stayed over, scrub at your face with warm water until all that’s left are panda eyes you don’t have the fortitude to deal with. When Eddie takes his turn in the bathroom, you search through the little drawer he’d cleaned out for you to find soft cotton pyjamas that have your eyes drifting the second you have them on. 

When Eddie returns, you’re standing in the middle of the room fiddling with your hands, still a little worried about the assumption of getting into his bed when he’s not there. 

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he says, holding the covers open for you and tucking them over your shoulder when you’re settled on the good pillow, the one he insists you take every time. You watch, heart sore, as Eddie removes every one of his rings, counting the little metallic clanks as he drops them on the table. Then goes his bracelet, his watch and his wallet chain. You stare shamelessly as he pulls his shirt over his head, soft hair following the collar up, up, up, and dropping down again in a curly mass around his pale shoulders as the fabric pulls away. You hear the distinct clink of his belt, curl your knees up at the heat the sound sends through your core. Eddie wiggles his hips a little as he pulls his jeans down, stepping out of them ungracefully, kicking them off his heels. He stands before you in his blue plaid boxers, all pale tattooed skin. 

“You’ve been staring at me all evenin’,” he says, approaching you, dropping down in a squat so his face is right by yours. 

You can’t argue, but find yourself fiddling with the duvet, pulling it up to your cheek and half hiding in it to mumble into the polyester. “I like looking at you.” 

“Yeah? Well, looking’s free. Usually touching would cost you,” he says, reaching out with a finger to pull the cover down from your face and leaning in like he’s sharing a secret. “But, uh, just between you and I, sweet thing, you can touch for free, too.” Your toes curl, glancing quickly at Eddie’s pink mouth, watching his lips tilt. “Need some of my services just now?”

“Yeah,”

He hums, his big hand capturing your cheek to tilt your face to his. Eddie’s kisses are gentle and warm. You taste dried toothpaste on his lips, the lasting smoke in his breath from that final cigarette. Then, when your kisses have turned too sleepy to last, just soft presses to his bottom lip, he climbs into the other side of the bed and reaches out for you, fingers wiggling. You tuck yourself into his side, and fall asleep quick. 

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You drift to waking, gently pulled from sleep by sunshine peeking through cheap blinds and the distant sound of a barking dog. You are comfortably cozy under the sheets. Even having shifted to either side of the bed in the night, no longer tangled, you can feel the heat of Eddie at your back. 

You half snooze for a long time, eyes drifting open to take in the contents of the room. The amps and the Corroded Coffin wall hanging, a closet slightly more full than the first time you were here, a floor still messy but less littered with piles of half clean half dirty laundry. Eddie’s acoustic guitar, his writing overtop in white, THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS. 

You close your eyes again. The next time they open, the room is brighter. Turning ungracefully, you come face to face with Eddie, and huff a soft laugh through your nose. Eddie’s hair in the morning is a beast, pressed to either side of his face from his tossing against the pillow. Some locks frizzed to the point of dullness, some still set in loose curls; both types tossed over the front of his face. Reaching out, you tuck each lock back until you can see him properly, every pretty feature of his face.

You consider trying to wake him, but find yourself simply shuffling closer, tucking yourself into him, nose at his neck. Eddie hums, one arm coming up instinctively to settle over your half asleep body. 

You finally jump awake to the sound of the front door falling closed in a swinging slam. Eddie blinks opposite you, fully registering the noise and your presence together. He hums, closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath through his nose and opens his mouth wide to yawn so loud he might as well have screamed. 

“Coffee, boy!?” Wayne calls as Eddie stretches and cracks his pale limbs. He glances at you in question. 

You chew the inside of your lip. “Should he know I’m here?”

Eddie takes this in for a second, then smiles. “I mean, he’s about to, either way.”

Regret at not having asked Eddie to set an alarm rids all the warm cosiness of the scene. Your face feels hot already at the thought of facing Wayne on a Saturday morning having clearly slept in this bed. “He’ll- he’ll think we-”

Recognition dawns on Eddie’s face, and he shakes his head quickly. “He won’t think anything, sweetheart,” he tells you, leaning in till he’s put himself in your eyeline. Eddie’s expression is earnest until it shifts into an amused smile. “I’ll even tell him you slept on the floor to preserve my innocence. Score you some points with the old man.”

Eddie’s sleepy laughter has some of the tightness in your chest abating. The sight of his eyes crinkling at the sides, dimples digging into his cheeks, is a treat you don’t usually get so early. 

“What time is it?” You ask, realising it may not be early at all if Wayne’s back. Eddie grabs his watch from the bedside table, blinks away residual blurriness.

“Nine thirty.”

Later than you’ve slept since school started back up, yet even now, the thought of curling back up in Eddie’s arms and snoozing for a little longer is an attractive prospect you’re seriously considering.

“I heard your caterwaul of a yawn, boy! How many coffee’s am I making!?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. You nod. He calls back. “Three! If you can count that high!”

The sounds of clinking mugs and sizzling oil mix with Eddie’s soft grunts as he gets himself dressed, jumping up and down to pull his jeans over his feet and searching through the closet for a t-shirt adorned with three angels, all smoking. 

He takes you in when he’s put his rings on, no doubt almost as messy haired as him, watching him from his bed. Brown eyes bright, Eddie leans in to give you a soft kiss. 

“Morning, sweet thing,” he says. His hand cups your cheek, letting you press into his wide palm. “Take your time, mm? I’ll assure Wayne my innocence remains intact.”

Your nose scrunches at his teasing, even as you turn to press a quick kiss to the centre of his hand. Eddie rubs a thumb under your eye, then shuffles out his door. Immediately, the noise of clinking plates is smothered by the exchange of familiar jabs and teases between the uncle and nephew. 

The days you’ve spent here have made you realise how special their relationship is. Not something less than father and son, but in fact something more. Wayne looks upon Eddie with the exasperated fondness of a dad, but reserves the true judgement they can be prone to. No passive aggressive comments about Eddie’s track record at school, nor questions about the way he dresses, despite the bookmarked King James bible that sits on the coffee table. He’s ruffled Eddie’s hair kindly every time he’s been here while you were doing homework, hung his latest C- graded test up on the fridge. Eddie told you Wayne bought him that acoustic guitar when he was thirteen, saved up for months to take him to a real music shop in Indianapolis and let him pick one out. 

You can see, even, the parts of Wayne that have filtered straight down to Eddie. Their humour overlaps, the way they can banter back and forth with each other, never crossing the line into hurt. Though, where Eddie can’t help but grin at a good joke, Wayne remains deadpan through every jibe. 

Wayne, when he gets talking, can spin a yarn the same way Eddie can. Stories about his nights at the factory, his old job driving trucks across the country, his youth, told not in a long ramble, but structured perfectly to have you on the edge of your seat. 

You know now that Eddie’s kindness, the way he treats you, was a gift from Wayne. His genuine interest in your life, your plans. His continual, earnest offer of food from his fridge every time he sees you. When your mom made a lasagne for you to take in thanks for all the evenings you’ve spent here, Wayne didn’t send the dish with Eddie to school, but drove to your house with it cleaned to a shine to hand it back and thank her personally. Soon after, Eddie let it slip that the daisies he brought you for your first date were bought at Wayne’s insistence. 

You’d wondered, that day at the lake, how a boy treated like Eddie is treated could be so bright and kind. 

Wayne was the answer. 

So you should be braver, emerging from Eddie’s room in that big hoodie of his he’d been lending you on and off and shorts you’d left here the last time you stayed over, no doubt still sporting panda eyes from last night. But you find yourself making use of the long sleeves, fidgeting with your fingers against the fabric. 

Eddie’s in the midst of getting his wrist thwacked with a spatula for attempting to steal a streak of bacon as Wayne transferred them from pan to plate. Gasping, he holds his hand in the air and lets his wrist fall limp. “I- I can’t feel my fingers!”

Wayne silently watches Eddie flop his hand back and forth, only a slight crinkle at his eyes suggesting he finds anything his nephew is doing at all amusing. When he catches sight of you, his gaze barely flickers from your messy hair to Eddie’s hoodie. “Mornin’,” he says, turning his back to a still howling Eddie to shake the pan. “Eggs? Bacon?”

The temptation to refuse, to be polite and pretend you don’t want anything from him prickles at the back of your mind. Only, experience has taught you he’ll only plate you up something anyway. There for you if you change your mind, something both he and Eddie say frequently.

“Please,” you nod. 

“You gonna set the table, Eddie?”

“How can I?” Eddie cries, wrapping his other hand around the injured arm and holding it up as if the ailment has moved all the way to his elbow. “With this!?”

Wanting to make yourself useful, you venture into the cutlery drawer yourself, giggling as Eddie shakes his limp hand at you, before pulling up the fold out table at the other side of the kitchen. “You’re on coffee duty then, Ed.”

Eddie gives up the routine at the prospect of picking out mugs, his eyes shining. It’s an activity he seems to enjoy deeply; shuffling over to the expansive collection and perusing them like he doesn’t already know exactly who’s getting what.

Eddie likes to give Wayne a novelty Garfield mug, something about the quiet, serious man drinking from the head of the large orange cat tickling him. For himself, a black mug with THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE printed in white letters around a cartoon duck. For a while, he has been trying out different mugs for you, showing the best of Wayne’s extensive collection. But he’s settled on a white NASA mug Wayne picked up on a trip to Houston. “For my smart girl,” he’d said the first time he handed it to you, expression all fondness and pride. 

Eating together is becoming familiar to you now. Wayne has picked up on your tendency to keep quiet the same way Eddie did, sometimes asking you questions but generally letting you decide when you want to speak without much prying. 

“You two got plans?” He asks, glancing briefly at you then turning to Eddie when you look unsure. 

“Uh, nothing solid,” Eddie says, focused on the construction of an increasingly complex breakfast sandwich. “But I was thinking about heading to Greenfield to pick up an album. I had loan of Accept’s newest record from Jeff before he remembered I had it.” His tongue peeks out at his concentration, topping the egg, bacon, hashbrown and tomato with a final piece of toast. “Didn’t think three months was too long to keep it. I mean, what’s an album between friends?”

You watch in near fascination as he manages to keep it all in tact through a large bite. He chews slowly, and swallows. “I’d welcome a road trip buddy if you’d be so inclined, Princess.” 

Your face warms at the name used in front of Wayne, but you nod. 

“There’s a good bookshop, too,” he says, clearly holding himself back from taking another significant bite. “S’where I got my copy of Orpheus.” He must see something, excitement probably, move across your face, because next Eddie is flashing a pleased smile. “Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

When you’re all finished, dishes washed by you at your gentle insistence, face scrubbed further with luke warm water from the tap and hair finger combed through, you leave a yawning Wayne to his fold out. 

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The shop, located two towns over from Hawkins, smells like the music room at your first school. The memory hits you as soon as you walk through the door; standing in three lines and belting out an off tune Amazing Grace with another thirty kids. Playing with claves and tambourines. Eddie seems in his element here, directing you through display shelves of pop and country records around a corner to the back where his kind of music is kept. “Course, some albums I just use the cassette,” he tells you, rifling through a couple of records. You look around the section yourself, counting up the albums you recognise from Eddie’s desk, his glove compartment. “But when I love an album I kinda have to get it on vinyl, you know?”

You don’t, not really. You have your own pile of albums in your room, all plastic rectangles ready for your cassette player or your walkman. Your dad has a collection of country records, your Mom some Joni Mitchell, the Crosby, Stills and Nash records she played constantly when you were a child. Before Eddie started asking you to pick out albums you thought looked good in his room, you hadn’t touched a vinyl since your aunt asked you to put on the White Christmas over the holidays. 

Eddie senses your confusion, and shrugs. “I mean, I wanna see the album art for real,” he tells you, finding one as an example. “Not quite as effective at four by three inches, right?” You recognise it immediately as Holy Diver. Eddie has a shirt with this cover on it; a demon standing over a priest splashing in water. He was wearing it that day in the woods, when you ran right up and kissed him. He takes the record from you when you nod, placing it back carefully. 

“And there’s albums a stereo just can’t do justice to. They’re useful when I wanna skip songs. But hearing it from start to finish? At the highest quality? It just needs a record. Ah-” He finds the album he came here for and shows you. A blue background, with a chrome, blocky heart shape filled with valves and pumps. "Metal Heart," Eddie explains. "Latest, and best, album by Accept. They're this German heavy metal band? The lead guitarist, Wolf Hoffman?” He sighs wistfully, looking off into the distance. “Man, what I'd do if I got him in a room alone.”

You make an awful snorting sound when you laugh, have to ignore the delight on Eddie’s face lest you burn up entirely. "So,” you start. “Heavy metal is different from regular metal, or is it just another term for it?”

Eddie's face lights up at the question, putting on a refined accent. "Heavy metal, young lady, is a type of metal that encompasses many genres,” he explains, bringing a hand up to add to the role. “For example, one could say all thrash metal is heavy metal, but only a simple fool, would seek to claim that all heavy metal is thrash metal. Do you follow?” His character falls apart at your giggle. “I said metal too many times, huh? Note taken. You wanna listen?" 

At your nod, Eddie walks you back round to the front towards a row of glass booths housing record players and headphones. You watch his hands move carefully, treating the record with the same care he uses to hold your hand. When it's in place, he dons the headphones and places the needle, nodding his head until it reaches the start of the particular song he wants you to hear. His hair fans out a little as he removes them, making to place them over your ears until you flinch and he jerks them back. 

 “A little loud,” 

“Ah, shit, sorry,” he says, turning a knob on the record player. “I forgot. Princess ears.” He replaces the headphones, eyebrows raising in question. The volume more manageable now, you nod happily, listening to pulsing guitars build in intensity, joined by thrashing drums and eventually the telltale screeching voice that immediately transports you into Eddie’s room, the soundtrack of his life. 

Eddie’s eyes are all soft excitement, shining at you, watching for your reactions. 

If you had to make a list of all the things to like about Eddie, his passion would surely sit near the top. The way he fizzes all over to talk about music, and Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings. The way he’s desperate to share his interests with you. Not out of expectation for you to feel exactly the same about any of it, and certainly not with any assumptions that you should understand it already. Just to share, to let you in, to show himself to you. 

You wish you were more like him, that way. That you weren’t more comfortable hiding, keeping bits of yourself under lock and key lest their exposure leave the most delicate parts of you open to attack. You try to imagine Eddie using anything like that against you. You remember him leaning across the table to you on your first date, listening to you ramble about wyverns and etymology while your feet tapped your anxiety out onto the floor. He’d thanked you for sharing. Very metal, he’d said. 

Three minutes in, and you realise Eddie’s been playing the whole song in his head, because he brings his hands up to follow the chords playing in your ears with an imaginary guitar, hair shaking as he throws his head back and forth. Then he flashes his smile, soft cheeks displaying his dimples and smile lines.

You can’t help it. 

You step forward until your feet are patterned with his. You reach out for his sleeve, playing with the chains keeping the left connected across his wrist. Eddie’s still watching you when you tilt your chin, leaning towards him to press your lips to his. Anxiety prickles along your spine, but you know that nobody can see you. Even better, you know that Eddie is between you and the door, hiding you from the world. With the distinctive chains of his jacket in your fingers, his music sounding through your headphones, his lips on yours; everything around you is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

Safe, safe, safe. 

He pulls away with a huff of breath against your lips, giving you a series of chaste pecks like he isn’t quite ready to stop kissing you entirely despite protesting lungs. Your face burns, but it’s worth it for the way Eddie is staring at you when you finally open your eyes. 

“What was that for?” He mouths, gaze flicking to your lips and back to your eyes.

You bring your foot up, pressing the top of it to the back of your ankle and sliding it up and down your calf. A braver version of you would say what every part of you is screaming. Instead you shrug, still fiddling with his sleeve. Eddie tilts his head, clearly unsatisfied, but doesn't press you. 

"I like this," you tell him as it finishes, removing the headphones. 

"Well, that settles it," he answers, sliding the record from the player back into its sleeve. "You're coming home with me." 

You watch Eddie navigate the shop like it's a second home. He stops off at the cassettes, rifling through for anything new, anything he might not have heard before. He grabs a couple blank tapes too, looks at you to the side with pink cheeks. "In case I wanna make any more mixtapes." 

At the desk, Eddie places everything down carefully while you wait at the empty till. After a good thirty seconds, you start playing with the rings on Eddie's left hand while his other raps against the wooden desk. "Uh, hello? Anybody- ah, shit." 

"Munson," says the bespeckled boy who emerges from the back room. 

Eddie’s fingers twitch, and you cease your fidgeting to look up at him, find his face pulled taught. "Oh, hi. I, uh, didn't think you worked on Saturdays anymore." 

"Switched to the weekend shift," he answers, stony faced. "That gonna be a problem for you? Surely you’re not still in highschool?"

Eddie frowns, hand twitching again as he sighs. "Listen, man, I'm not looking to argue-"

"Don't know why else you'd show your face. You know your money's no good to me." 

Eddie slumps, all the easy happiness pulled from him. He hasn’t looked at you once, and your heart aches. 

"I'm buying these," you declare, searching through your bag for your purse. Tissues, no, lipgloss, no, mixtape, no. 

They both turn to you. The boy behind the desk takes you in finally, his nose wrinkling. "Oh yeah? You a metal fan?" 

"Mm hmm,” you say, voice higher than you’d like. 

"Okay, name three Metallica albums."

You glance at Eddie, find him rolling his eyes until you ask. “But Metallica only has two albums, right?" 

Eddie’s immediate smile is warmth inducing, causes you to shuffle with shy pride. You thrust out the money in your hand, start gathering up the items again to place in your shopping bag while Eddie grins in the face of the scowling man. 

"Whatever,” he says finally. “I don't wanna see you around here again, Munson." 

Eddie gives him a little salute, then grabs the bag from you and takes your hand to leave.

"Jesus," he breathes as soon as the bell announcing the doors closure sounds. "You can't talk like that, sweet thing. We're in public. You’ve-" He scratches at the back of his neck. “You’ve really been listening to me talk about it all the time, huh?”

You frown. “Of course, Eddie. I like it,” you answer, tugging his hand to start the walk back to the van. “Who was that?" 

Eddie’s smile drops. "Uh, Peter? We actually, kinda used to be friends. I introduced him to all his favourite bands back in the day, you know? Then suddenly he’s the gatekeeper of metal- I mean it’s a fucking joke.” He opens the side door, placing your bag behind the front seat. “S'how I met Gareth, really. Poor kid couldn't name two Dio albums so he gets insulted buying the latest one, what the hell is that? We all have to start somewhere. I mean, when I met that guy he was a U2 fan. Anyway-” he continues, closing the door. “I told him he was being a dick and he got all pissy about it." 

You chew your lip. "He acts that way, because you called him a dick?"

Eddie blanches, his head falling back with a quick groan. "Okay, I wanna add a disclaimer that I was sixteen and dumb," he starts. "And he really was being a dick, acting like- like all those guys metalheads are supposed to hate in the first place, and-" 

"And?" 

"And I hit him. Real gentle. With my fist." 

"Eddie,"

"Sweet thing, even you woulda decked him if you'd been there. I swear. And, I just can't fucking stand that shit, you know?" 

You do know. Eddie is all gentle touch and soft smiles around you, but something changes in him when he’s witness to injustice. He'd had to miss a date just last week because he had detention, brought about by standing over a sophomore who'd dared to mess with one of the freshmen in Eddie's club. "You make one vague threat about human sacrifice and suddenly everyone's got an opinion on what constitutes bullying," he'd complained later. "If teachers aren’t gonna teach that kid not to be a cunt, why shouldn't I scare it out of him?" 

You've heard him call the whole group his little sheep, laughing like he doesn't kind of mean it. Like he doesn't think of them as weird kids he'd gathered together in something of a herd, a pack. Like he doesn't think of himself as their shepherd, as their protector. 

"Point is," he says now. "He's the one in the wrong, I swear. Shit. I can't believe he works weekends now." 

"Well, I can go in for you." 

"Yeah? You can set him straight, my baby metalhead. Fuck- didn't even say thank you. Was too busy trying to pretend I wasn't half fucking hard-" You make a soft noise and Eddie blinks, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry. How much was it again?"

You press a toe to the top of your other shoe shyly. "Can't I buy you them?" 

"Huh?"

"Like a gift?" 

Eddie’s face twists. You thought he was just being a gentleman, when he’d paid sneakily on your first date. You know now that’s only part of it. He likes driving you places but won’t accept gas money, likes making you dinner at his home but won’t let you pay for groceries when you tag along on errands. The only thing he doesn’t get twitchy about is your baking, but that’s because you’re there eating them too. You think this might further influence from Wayne; a certain pride, a refusal to accept anything monetary from you. 

"But, sweet thing-"

"Please, Eddie?" 

He watches you, conflicting emotions passing along his expression. "Okay. But you’re picking out a book. A real fancy one. I wanna see leather binding yeah? And one of those little ribbons attached, okay?" 

Your toes curl, nodding happily. "Okay."

You feel more at home as you walk through a glass door to the smell of old paper and ink. 

Joan Baez croons from the record player in the corner. The woman at the register nods as you enter but offers no other greeting. Eddie follows after you when you make a beeline to the poetry section; full of battered, well loved books with cracked spines and fading covers. 

You send Eddie a shy look, spine prickling from being watched in what feels like a solitary activity. You rub your thumb at a dusty shelf, wondering how to tell him, when he leans in a little. "Hey, you’ve been taking all my music recommendations. Anything for me to read?”

“Oh,” you say, mind lighting up before dimming at the thought of being too pushy, or recommending something he might hate. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon,” he says, leaning in more until he's all you can see, tilting his head until you’re looking into his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

You chew the inside of your lip. “Mm. Maybe- Have you ever read The Metamorphosis?” 

Eddie leans back, shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Can’t say I have.”

“I think,” you consider it again. “I think you’d like it. It’s about, well- A man turns into…an insect.” You simmer over the fact you want to share, let yourself believe that Eddie will be as willing as always to hear it. “It was written in German, and the word for what he turns into literally translates to, like, an animal you can’t sacrifice. Like, vermin?” Eddie’s watching you round off this information in a rush, smiling a little. “Kafka, the writer, didn’t want the actual animal to be specific. But sometimes it’s mistranslated and people say he turns into a beetle, or…or a cockroach,” you trail off, cringing at the sound of yourself. “I’m not selling it very well.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he answers. “Sounds suitably weird. Kafka, you said? I’ll get searching.”

Eddie disappears round the corner, leaving you to comfortable contemplation of the poetry selection. Rilke's entire works, some Wilde, some Shelley. You search for something new and land on a name you've never heard. Drawing it from the shelf, you peer at the cover, a silhouette of a bridge bathed in orange, with the Selected Poems by Marina Tsvetaeva printed above. 

You read a couple of the shorter poems, struck by her voice, her imagery. Turning to a random page, see the original Russian on one side, the English translation on the other. The title, asking the question, Where Does Such Tenderness Come From? Your heart pangs in recognition of her feelings as you read, the best part of poetry always finding yourself reflected back at you. 

You and your eyelashes - she writes. Longer than anyone’s, as if she knows about the eyes you wish you had the confidence to stare into without respite.

“Found anything?”

You jump, closing the book quickly as if you’d been reading something illicit. Eddie gives you a quick up and down look, keeping his distance until your shoulders drop their tension. “Yes,” you say, turning the book so he can see the cover. “I’d never even heard of her but I like her already.”

“Enough to kick poor Rainer off the top spot?”

You feel that strange warmth that comes with being known, the little reminder of things that Eddie has learned and remembered about you. “Not quite, but I’ll still give her a chance.” You glance down at the book in Eddie’s hands, glad to see he’s grabbed your recommendation. “You like it?”

“Seems weird as fuck,” he confirms matter of factly. “So it’s almost like I’m contractually obliged to read it, you know?”

He pulls the new book gently from your hands, retrieving his chained wallet from his back pocket. "My turn," he says with an unusual seriousness. “You want any others?”

You shake your head, lean up to give him a soft kiss on the cheek, surrounded and sheltered as you are by shelves and books. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Nah,” he says, face a soft pink. 

Later, when Eddie has followed you perusing shop windows, and you are full up on drive through fries, eaten in the front of Eddie’s van as you listened to his story of negotiating $20 of payment between his entire band for their nights playing at the Hideout, Eddie drives you back, glancing over at you every so often like he wants to say something, but turning his head back to the road every time instead.

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

You feel relaxed, content, sitting comfy on the couch outside of Eddie’s trailer. He popped his head in earlier and found Wayne still sleeping, so you settled here to read in companionable silence. You, discovering more of Marina’s voice, drifting back again and again to the one poem that makes your chest full. 

Eddie lies with his head resting on your lap, flicking through the short novella. You play with his hair throughout, curling locks around your fingers and stroking his fringe back from his forehead. Occasionally, you glance down at him, taking in his furrowed brow and eyes shining wet at a couple moments. 

“Well, that was fucked up!” Eddie cries, snapping the book shut and somehow managing to whisper a yell. “He just dies? And they don’t care?”

You close your book to focus on him, resting it next to you. You let your fingers tangle into his hair, scratching softly. Eddie, even in his indignation, tilts his head towards the satisfying feeling like a cat. “Mm. That’s the point. He was living his life for his family, but they didn’t really care about him.”

“Yeah, but there’s not caring about someone and there’s hurtling fruit at them,” he reasons. “That Kafka guy had issues, I can’t be the only one who’s noticed.”

You crack a shy smile. “I think he’s brilliant.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie’s dimples tease you. “You’re a freak.” 

Your stomach flips at the affection in his voice, fingers stilling in his hair for a second before resuming their gentle caress. 

It hits you then, watching Eddie's pretty face, that you’re going to be alone with him again through the night, without interruption, and your throat lumps. As if he realises at the same time, Eddie sits up, hair still at angles from your exploring hands. His mouth opens, then closes again, his eyes flicking from your face to your hands where you’ve started fiddling with the hem of your shirt. 

Forcing yourself to take on his example, you ask, “what are you thinking, Eddie?”

“Big question,” he says. “But uh, I guess, I never thought…I never thought sex was that important, you know? Hell, I lost my virginity in the bathrooms at the Emerson Theatre.” His eyes scrunch closed as soon as he says it, like he regrets letting that particular detail slip right now. When one opens, and finds you smiling at him encouragingly, he sighs with his whole body. “And, I hope you know that it wouldn’t matter to me if you had been with somebody else,” he continues, eyes wide. “Like, at all. But at the same time, I’m happy I’m first, you know? Cause I know I can look after you. I can give you what you deserve. Which, again, technically should be a big fancy bed and linen sheets, but some people have absolutely no patience, so-”

“Eddie,” you groan. But it has no bite. You’re already smiling at him, grabbing at his palm to play with his fingers, heart full. 

He clears his throat. “So yeah, that’s what I’m thinking about. Also seeing you naked, obviously. But that takes up a good 30% of my brain pretty much all the time so it’s not entirely relevant here.”

“You’re so annoying,” you laugh, watching him clutch his chest in mock hurt.

“I just bared my soul to you!” He cries, watching your giggles incredulously. “Do’st thou mock me? Have you no heart, woman?”

You bury the rest of your laughter in his neck, feeling a kind of dizzy happiness that makes it hard to stop. Eddie’s chest shaking under your cheek tells you that he’s as affected, a hand coming up to stroke at your hair as the mirth fades. Turning to look at where your hands have started up playing with his fingers again, you think about what you want to say.

“Eddie,” you whisper, pulling from his neck, looking between his eyes and his forehead as you search for the bravery he has in spades, the ease to tell him that it always had to be him. 

Only, the front door of the trailer opens, revealing a sleepy looking, shirtless, Wayne. 

“Oh, Jesus, have some decorum, man!” Eddie yells, covering your eyes with his hand. 

“Evenin’, Eddie,” he says, followed by your own name. You wave, blinking to Eddie’s palm. “Get everything you wanted?”

“Yup, sweet girl bought me my very own Metal Heart,” he grins, tapping the album where it sits at his side on the couch as you wrestle his arm away. “Sleep well?”

“As good as I can.” He answers earnestly. “Just makin’ coffee then I’ll hit the road. You want anything?”

"I want you to put some clothes on!"

“No, thank you,” you answer over him, shaking your head and leaning into Eddie’s arm. When Wayne's gone, you glance up, find those soft eyes, those long dark eyelashes. Longer than anyone's. 

"What are you thinking?" 

You answer honestly. "That you're gonna look after me." 

"I will," he nods, sounding almost stern. "As long as you want me to." 

You wish it was easy to say, but all you can do is think it. 

Always, always, always.

Wayne leaves with a gruff goodbye, a reminder to Eddie that there's left over pasta in the refrigerator. You remember the first time you were here at the same time as Wayne, the almost desperate rush to get into Eddie's room the second he was gone. 

Now, you and Eddie stay, settled into one another for a long while after, until the sun has moved from high overhead to just behind the trees in front, turning the scene to a silhouette backlit with orange light. Eddie disappears, comes back with bowls of that pasta. You talk about school, and Eddie's band. He explains more about thrash metal, you tell him your new favourite German word you’d learned only yesterday. When the orange fades to blue-black, Eddie looks over at you. 

"Ready?"  

You wonder what it means, that despite the increasing thrum of your heart in your chest, you don't even have to think about it. "Yes."

He holds your hand all the way to his room, guiding you through like you don't know how to find his bed at the end. When the door is closed, sheltering you from the world outside, you wrap your arms tight around him, give yourself the comfort of hiding in his collar, feeling the slow rise and fall from his breath. 

Eddie hums, his hand coming to that space at the back of your neck that eases everything in your body that you’re used to holding tight. “How you feeling, honey?”

“Good,” you mumble. Then, wondering if he can feel the heavy beat of your heart. “Nervous.”

“Okay,” he says, fingers stroking and squeezing at your tender skin. “What are you nervous about? Anything we can fix?”

You let that thought sit. You are still learning how much Eddie means it when he says things like that. Still practising the belief that Eddie wants you to share your worries, carry some of the burden for you. The responsibility of trying to shed the weight, the disappointment of knowing some of it just has to be carried.

You’re resigned to telling him, but finding the exact reason for the nerves twisting your stomach takes its own time. With anyone else, you’d be worried about pain, about what happens if you have to stop. These concerns float away on their own at the feeling of Eddie’s hand stroking at you, his lips pressing kisses at your temple. Then you land on it, and press your face deeper against the softness of his shirt.

“I don’t know, I guess- What should I do?” You ask, voice small. “So it’s good for you, too.”

You feel his sigh from the rise in his chest, the shake of his head from the brush of his hair against your cheek. 

“Will you look at me?” He asks, waiting for you to tilt your head to find him. “You want the truth?” You nod, chin still tight to his shirt. Eddie’s eyes narrow a touch, leaning down conspiratorially. “It will feel good for me,” he starts, his free hand rubbing at your waist. “If we can get your pussy all soft, first.” A surprised throb between your legs has you clenching down on nothing, close to whimpering at the gentle roughness of Eddie’s voice. “All soft, and wet enough that I can just slide in, fill you up easy. Making you cum on my cock, sweet thing. That’s what’ll feel good, for me.” Eddie gives you a wolfish grin as he starts walking you backwards towards his bed, raising his eyebrows in question. “Think we can do that?”

It’s easy, then. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Mm, my good girl,” he says, holding you with the backs of your knees pressed to the side of his mattress, his nose at your temple. “Can I kiss you?”

Even easier. “Yes, Eddie.”

His lips press soft across your cheek and down to your mouth, warm and waiting for him. He's gentle with you, none of the fierceness you've felt in Eddie's kisses more recently. Like he's restraining himself, learning how you like to be touched in the lead up to something new. Your hands find his shoulders, soft cotton of his shirt, and rub at the fabric. His tongue flicks subtly against your bottom lip, but you're already desperate to taste him for real, letting him press deeper without any more prompting. 

You feel it at the sound of his laugh, the sudden curve of his lips, the huff of air from his nose against your cheek. The addictive high of showing Eddie how shameless he makes you, the knowledge that he sees you as you are. Not a wallflower here, or a naïve girl. Not an ingénue, to be taken advantage of, or protected from corruption. 

With Eddie, you can be as you are. Inexperienced and desperate in equal measure, as nervous as you are sure. 

"Fuck," Eddie breathes, pulling away only to blink down at you for a couple seconds before he captures your mouth again, tongue pressing to yours, hot and wet. You whine slowly, rising in volume, your fingers clasping at him. "S'alright," he soothes, giving you another press to your pout. His hand rubs at the back of your neck, encouraging you to lean your head into his support, give him space to leave plush kisses down the side of your throat. 

"Eddie," you whisper, softer than you'd expected. Not a moan, or even a plea for more. Just to say it, to feel the shape of his name in your mouth again. 

"So sweet," Eddie says, voice a wonderful vibration against your sensitive neck. "Sweetest girl I've ever seen- fuck. Can I?" His hands tug at the hem of your sweater and you nod desperately, helping him pull it off over your head. His lips return to your skin the second the material is on the floor, a wet press down to the softness of your chest. You feel his smile, his excited breath. He sucks, pulls at your flesh until it aches and you squirm. “Mm,” he sighs. “Can’t help it. Wanna mark you up-”

Gentle hands peel your bra from your chest, the tenderness vanishing with his tongue finding the pert bud of your nipple, treating the sensitive peak to wet warmth and friction that has your toes curling. The quick scrape of teeth makes you bat at Eddie's shoulder even as your body tilts to follow his mouth when it retreats. 

He gives the other similar treatment, groaning when your fingers drift upwards to tug at his hair. Another little squeak at the graze of his teeth and he’s pulling away to look at you. Your heart jumps at the sight of him, hair mussed from burying himself into your skin, face a light pink, lips wet and kissed dark. The way his eyes flick about you, you’re sure you must be in a similar state. 

Eddie’s throat bobs. “Wanna sit up on the bed, there?”

You nod, letting him help you up to the mattress and stand between your swinging legs.

“Need to go over something else, before we really get started,” he tells you, walking you back to sit on the bed, legs swinging off the side. Eddie drops to his knees to take your ankle in hand and pull at your laces. He sets your sneakers to the side, pings your socks over after them. He presses tickling kisses up your calves, eyes all bright when you laugh and kick at him slightly. 

Once he’s back at your height, his hands move to your waistband, thumbing at the button of your shorts. “You know that any time you wanna stop, you just say, okay? I mean it, sweet thing.” He pops the button, pulls at the zip. When his hands smooth under the denim to your hips, helping pull them down, he continues. “Doesn’t matter when. Even if I’m making this face-” He scrunches his nose up and lets his tongue hang out in a gross approximation of his expression when he cums and you can’t help but cover your eyes at the image. “What, you don’t like it?”

“That’s not what you look like!”

“That’s right, you’re the expert now, huh? This better?” He asks, stretching his lips flat and crossing his eyes. 

“Stoh-op!” You cry, somewhere between giggly and mortified. Eddie’s face settles back into its regular pretty softness, all shining amused eyes and laugh lines. 

“That’s exactly what you say to me if you want me to, mm? Or slow down or anything else you want, okay?”

“Yes, Eddie,” you murmur, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. “Will you,” you swallow, playing with the neckline of his shirt. “Can you keep talking to me? While…”

“You say that like I'm gonna be able to stop talking. Hips up, sweetheart,” he says, helping you lie back so he can pull at your shorts. “Nah,” he breathes, hands disappearing to drag his shirt over his head. “You’ll be sick of my voice by tomorrow.”

Eddie helps you shuffle up the bed, your head falling easy to the good pillow. 

“Never,” you tell him, arms opening to pull him in. He finds your mouth again, kisses a little more desperate, already a touch breathless. Your fingers brush at the back of his hair, soft curls between his shoulder blades. 

Eddie’s hand dances over the soft skin of your stomach, pulling giggles from you when he hits ticklish spots. His fingers edge at the frilled waistband of your panties, waiting for your hips to tilt towards him to dip inside. 

“Oh, honey,” he says with a gentle pout, fingers meeting the hot wet warmth between your legs. “Should’ve told me you were feelin’ desperate.”

Your thighs twitch at the first gentle circle around your clit. Eddie’s thick fingers, the roughness at their ends that catches the sensitive bud so perfectly with each little rub. Already your mind feels light with pleasure, body sinking into the bliss of being touched by Eddie. You’re caught between watching his hand where it disappears, the impression of his knuckles moving under blue cotton, and pulling up the courage to stare back at Eddie as he scans every twitch of your face. He grins at you when you manage to turn to him, licking his lips quickly. The little peek of his tongue, the memory of all the ways it makes you weak for him, has your legs kicking and twitching.  

“Feels good, yeah?” He asks, eyes flickering to your lips as they open to let out a moan. “Want me to open this pussy up, sweet thing? Get you ready for me?”

You like that, enough that you nod desperately without thinking twice. “Yeah, want- please, Eddie?”

“Jesus,” he huffs a laugh, his fingers easing downwards only to drag slick from your pussy back up to your twitchy clit. “So fucking good, baby. Say please again?”

Your hips tilt up, chasing his hand though he makes no move to deprive you of it. Your whole body feels hot; from his words, his voice, as much as his touch. When you chance a look in Eddie’s eyes, all the warm brown has been swallowed up, leaving his gaze dark and intent on you. You curl your fingers into his shoulder, stare at the pick hanging from his necklace, swaying with the subtle movement of his torso following the pace of his arm. “Please, please, Eddie.”

You make a high noise of protest when his fingers pull away from your bud, shivers running up your spine at Eddie’s patronising coo, the jutting of his plush bottom lip. “Like I said, no patience. Isn’t that right, sweet thing?” He sighs, pushes at your thighs to catch a glimpse of the dark, sodden material between your legs. “Just gotta get these off you, give me space to work, hm?” 

Eddie disappears from your side, moving down the bed to sit between your legs. His fingers hook quick into your waistband to pull your panties down your thighs. 

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, rubbing the wet cotton between his fingers. “Maybe you can be patient. You been wet all day, pretty?” You watch him lean over, hooking your panties over the headboard.

“Eddie,”

He only flashes you a grin, hand strokes at your thigh, fingers digging into the softness to push your leg back. You feel the sticky split of your cunt as it opens up for him, the wave of cool air against your heat. 

“Fuck, look at her,” Eddie breathes, dropping down to his front. His wide eyes blink in near fascination, like it’s anything new to him, watching your cunt flex and shine. “You want two?”

You clench down at the thought. “Yeah.”

Eddie hums, nips at the skin of your leg as he drags his fingers through your slick. The first press inside is a good stretch, lacking the edge of pain that comes with three. They sink inside easily with a wet noise that would have you squirming away if you weren’t so fuzzy in the head, so desperate for the pleasure Eddie’s touch promises. The pads of his fingers find the spot at the end of you that he has mapped out, pussy fluttering around his fingers in protest every time they leave to press back in. 

“Feels good?” Eddie asks, rubbing his face against your leg. You hum. “You want another?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, craving more, wanting everything. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Mm. Open those legs just a little more, baby- yeah, good girl.”

Eddie gives you one final press of his lips to your thigh as he withdraws his fingers, stroking at you again to gather your slick across all three. You feel the blunt ends of his digits at your entrance, the first push and-

“Oh,” you whine, the familiar ache nothing compared to the euphoria of Eddie’s tongue coming to lap at your sensitive clit. Your hands fly down to his hair, clenching around soft curls as if there’s any possibility he might pull away. He groans, sending a pleasant thrum across your nerves. “Eddie, please.”

Your hips twitch when his fingers meet resistance half way deep, but Eddie stops his approach before you have time to register any discomfort. Clenching tight around his half buried fingers, Eddie lathes his tongue, wide and wet, from where his digits disappear inside to the top of your pussy. Your legs kick again, clit throbbing under his attention. He waits patiently for your body to relax into the pleasure, gently pulling his fingers back before pressing even deeper into your supplicating cunt. 

“S’good, Eddie,” you whine, thighs pressing at the sides of his head without your wherewithal. All you know is you can feel him everywhere you need him most. His curls in your hands, tickling the sensitive insides of your legs. His tongue on your clit, gentle sucks that feel like kisses. His fingers filling you, stretching you and rubbing just right at the top wall of your cunt to send tingles along your spine. Ecstasy builds everywhere you can feel him, from a aching twitch between your legs to a wave that passes over your entire body. 

Eddie’s name escapes you on repeat without shame. You hear him curse, feel the breath of it against your clit, as you squeeze tight around his fingers, pulsing with each peak of the high. 

You finally slump into the mattress again, boneless and tingly. You ignore the wet sound produced by Eddie’s hand leaving your pussy, focusing on how he grins at you as he crawls up your body to settle over you, eyes crinkled at the sides with his satisfaction. 

“Jesus, you’re so hot,” he laughs, leaning down to plant a breathless kiss to your lips. “Thought your thighs weren’t ever gonna let me up. Started planning a life down there, you know?” 

You giggle, but can’t think of anything clever to say back, caught up in the perfect view of Eddie above you. Pink and lightly freckled, lips dark, the entire bottom half of his face shining from looking after you until he drags your slick to his tongue with his thumb. His hair falls forward like a curtain around your faces, tickling your cheeks until you reach up to tuck it back. He leans absent mindedly towards your hand then, enjoying the warmth of your palm. 

As you caress Eddie’s face, he gives you a gentle, wide eyed look. “You still wanna?” He asks, a little rushed. “Cause we can stop right here.”

“I want to,” you answer, just above a whisper, but sounding as sure as you ever have done. “If you do.”

“Yeah,” he nods, like he hasn’t quite registered the full meaning. Then, as if he’s taken it in, “yeah. Okay. Okay.”

Eddie climbs off the bed, leaning over his bedside table to search through the drawer, hands emerging with a box labelled TROJAN and a bottle of clear liquid. You watch him fumble a little with the box until it opens, and pull out a square wrapper that has your face feeling hot, as if the presence of condoms is any more illicit that how Eddie has been touching you already. 

“Look away!” Eddie jokes when he finds your eyes on him as he pulls at his belt. “Gotta keep my modesty in tact.”

You jokingly cover your eyes, hearing his laughter along with the clink of his belt, his zip pulling open. The mattress dips with Eddie’s return, and you peek through your fingers at him before settling your hands at your sides. Your mind fizzes at the sight of Eddie naked, settled on his knees between your thighs. Your eyes trace all the ink that decorates his torso, the softness of his stomach. The patches of dark hair on his chest, between his legs. His cock is a dark pink, swollen enough that the tip kisses his stomach. Eddie drags a hand over it with a soft groan like he’s been tortured by the wait. If he registers your staring, he doesn’t point it out, focusing on tearing open the foil wrapper and pulling a clear condom down over his length with a sigh. 

Your fingers pull at wrinkles in the sheets as Eddie squirts some clear gel from the bottle into his palm, dragging his hand over his cock again to spread it. “What- what’s that?”

“Oh, uh, lube?” Eddie says, throwing the bottle down on the mattress with a bounce. “Makes it easier to, like, move I guess.”

“But-” You’d press your knees together if Eddie weren’t settled between them. “I’m wet.”

Eddie’s eyes flash, lips quirking. “You are, huh?”

“Eddie,” 

“Mm. I know, sweet thing. But a little extra never hurt, mm?” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

“Okay,” he answers. “I think it’ll be easiest like this, probably?” He drags the spare pillow from his side, tapping your hips gently to place it under you, tilting your body up to him. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, Eddie. S’good.”

“Okay,” he breathes, shuffling forward. With one hand, he strokes gently at your thigh. The other finds your pussy, his thumb playing with clit until you’re feeling pleasured and loose, settled back onto the bed with fluttering eyes. “Still want this, Princess?”

You stare at him, heart sore as you take in his open expression. You can see the evidence of how desperate he must be, how much he wants this. But he looks at you, and you know he meant it when he said you could stop at any time, that he isn’t expecting anything from you, even now.

This body of yours is used to freezing up, follows a routine of tensing and shaking at questions less serious than this. You breathe, swallow, force yourself to look him in the eye. “I want you, Eddie.”

He watches you, searching for your certainty. You smile, a nervous thing, but real, and he nods. “Okay,” he says. “I’m gonna go slow. If it hurts, you say, yeah? Or kick me in the balls - whatever’s easiest.”

You giggle, shaking your head at him, your body feeling loose and relaxed by the time you feel the tip of him catch at your entrance. You make a soft noise at the back of your throat, wanting to watch him but also wanting desperately to keep yourself relaxed and open. You close your eyes, feel the softness of Eddie’s sheets under your fingers.

“Sweet girl,” Eddie murmurs, still circling your clit as the tip of him sinks inside. You feel the aching stretch of him, the pleasant warmth of Eddie’s cock under rubber. He’s saying something, talking to you like he promised, but you’re focused on your breath, on fighting the urge to bear down on him. 

He must be a couple inches deep when he stops and pulls back only to press forward again and you think, for a second, you will be able to lay back and take all the pleasure Eddie always gives you, but-

His thumb circles just perfect at your clit and your pussy flutters, the new tightness resisting the slow press of his cock. It’s a sudden, shocking hurt that has your hips flinching to another stab of pain. Before you can help it your body is tensing all over, a soft pained sound escaping your throat. 

“Fuck,” Eddie says, voice rough, and that the squeeze of your pussy must feel good doesn’t even register. You can only think that he must be as frustrated with your body as you are. Not in control, but a witness to it falling back into routine, pulling taught even as Eddie starts hushing softly. The more you tense, the tighter you feel, the pleasant ache of him pushing inside quickly turning to a stinging stretch that has you clenching fists in the sheets, tears springing to your eyes. 

Eddie pulls out from you, and your chest throbs.  

“I’m sorry,” you cry, wanting to close your legs and hide away from him. 

Eddie’s warmth doesn’t vanish as you fear. In fact it grows as he leans over you, an arm coming to circle your waist. You feel his free hand at your hair, stroking it back from your face. “Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, his breath a gentle caress against your cheek. “You’re in that head, mm? C’mon out.”

The tears that had been bubbling under your eyelids spring free when you open them, tracking down your cheeks as Eddie shakes his head. He wipes each of them away with his thumb until they stop coming. “Sweet thing,” he breathes. “It hurt, and you needed to stop. It’s okay.”

His thumb strokes over your cheek again and you lean into it, resting your palm at the back of his hand as you sigh. Your fingers weave with his, everything better now that you can touch him, now that you can’t run away into your head away from his voice, so close to you.

“Wanna get dressed? We can watch something, mm?”

You shake your head immediately, feeling determined. “Can we try again?”

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to, Eddie.” You assure, hoping he believes you. You rub your cheek into his palm again. “But, can we stay like this?”

There’s a pause as Eddie blinks at you, then his mouth turns up. “Wanna change tactics, huh, Princess?” You nod, watching as he pulls away briefly to help pull the pillow out from under your hips, his hands pressing at your thighs so he can settle properly between them. You whine softly at the feeling of him, still hard and pulsing, between your legs. 

Eddie comes back to you with a kiss, lets you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, get your fingers pressed to his warm skin, playing with the ends of his hair. 

“Forgot who I was dealing with, didn’t I?” He says, rolling his hips so the tip of his cock drags over your twitchy clit. Your toes curl, the ball of your foot stroking a little at the back of Eddie’s calf as your legs curl round him. “My girl needs to touch me all over, huh?”

Eddie grins down at you, wiggles his hips just to hear you gasp at the friction of your clit, feel the way your digits dig at him, your right hand rubbing at a lock of his hair. Tension pours from your body at the weight of him all over you, the chance to watch Eddie’s joy at touching you, the pleasure he feels in tandem with yours at every roll of his hips.. 

He kisses you again, then both your cheeks and your nose and chin, peppers them in quick succession across your neck to get you giggly and soft. When he emerges, you watch each other. Eddie’s gaze flicks about your face while you count down the checklist of your favourite features; dimples and quirked lips, wrinkles at the sides of his eyes and laugh lines.

“Again?” He asks, one hand moving from your thigh to grasp his cock between you. You nod, press your digits into Eddie’s shoulder as his tip opens you up. 

“Good fucking girl,” he breathes through the first slow thrust, voice clear as day now he’s so close. “You’re so good, baby.”

Pleasant shivers run through you at the praise. When the stretch makes your body pull taught, your fingers press at Eddie’s skin, letting him feel your need to slow. When the sound of his shaking breath, the sight of his eyes fluttering at the tightness of your cunt around him, has you excited and pliant again, your fingers playing at the ends of his hair tell him that he can start moving once more. Eddie pulls back each time before pressing deeper, humming you through each new tender stretch until you feel the wiry hair above his cock tease your clit. Your hips tilt, chasing the delicious rub, and you feel Eddie’s cock twitch inside you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, face dropping into your neck to groan. “How’s it feel?”

Your cunt flutters at the strain in his voice. This time, rather than sending warnings across your body at an unpleasant sting, your pussy bearing down aggravates a dull throb. Like pushing on a sore tooth, it’s painful and addictive all at once, clenching down again for the satisfying feeling of Eddie’s cock twitching inside you, the sound of him groaning against your skin.  

“Good, Eddie,” you say honestly, fingers stroking through his hair. “Will you- can you move?”

“Yeah- fuck,” he nods into your neck, laughing softly. “Just gimme onnnnne second. Jesus. ‘How do I make it good for you?’ She asks, with heaven between her legs.” 

Your body shakes as both of you giggle together, cut off by another whimpering moan from Eddie. “Aw, shit, don’t laugh or I’m really gonna embarrass myself.”

He tilts his head to the side, looking at you with his chin at your collar. His hips pull back, relieving your pussy of the ache until he slides forward again, letting you feel full, the weight and warmth of him inside you. It’s different than his fingers, which map out the best spots and play with them. Eddie’s cock, thick and heavy, drags along all of them at once. 

His face is so close by yours, watching desperately for every sign of pleasure, any hint of discomfort. You open your mouth to reassure him, but all that escapes is a soft, pleased sound that makes his hips stutter.

“Feels good?” Eddie gasps, nodding like he wants to encourage you to agree.

“Yeah, s’good,”

“Fuck,” he says. “You’re gonna want this all the time now, yeah? Need your pretty cunt full of me?”

Pleasant tingles of shame dart up your spine, and one of Eddie’s hands slips between your bodies to rub at your clit again. 

“Yeah? Say it, sweet thing.” He groans, hips stuttering at a clench of your cunt around him. 

“Like being full of you, Eddie,” you whine, fingers tightening in his hair. “Want it all the time.”

“Jesus- Christ, you’re so good,” he breathes, his fingers bullying your sodden clit. The ache of his cock falls away in comparison to the onslaught of stimulation there, leaving only the satisfying resistance to your cunt clenching down, the sweet fullness, the friction against your sensitive walls. “You’re so good, letting me hear you. Your pretty voice- fuck. Just for me. Think you can cum?”

“Uh huh,”

“Yeah? Like this? Just like this?”

You nod desperately, hips twitching towards him. Chasing the rub of his fingers, the feeling of being stretched full when he presses deep, the throb of his cock inside. 

“You cumming, sweet thing?” He asks, as if he can’t see the flutter of your eyes, feel your body clasp around him. “Yeah? Holy-”

Your high is a gentle thing, compared to what you felt with Eddie’s fingers and tongue. A quick rise and fall focused at the top of your cunt that shifts quickly into the numbness of overstimulation. The lasting ache is too present for anything more, but it feels like a promise, a hint of how good it can be with Eddie, if you do this with him again. 

You feel boneless and tired while he finds his pleasure, staring down at your warm, satisfied face as he groans. You can feel him inside, the twitch of his cock as he groans, the sudden warmth behind rubber. 

His body half collapses on yours, sweat slick skin sticking together. You wrap yourself around him, foot stroking at his calf, hands scratching at the back of his scalp while he tries to catch his breath against your neck. You can feel the pound of his heart where your chests press together, know he must feel yours. When they slow in tandem, beating together, you find Eddie’s wide, soft eyes. 

“That-” his voice cracks, his throat clears. “Was that okay?” When you nod, offering a tired smile, he strokes some of your hair back. “I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” He says, waiting for you to nod again. 

You take a shaky breath as Eddie’s softening cock pulls from you, stealing all the soothing warmth inside and leaving you with a sensitive, fluttering pussy. You whimper softly at the tender feeling. “I know,” he breathes. “I know, sweet girl. Gimme one second.”

Shivers run up your spine when Eddie disappears briefly to deal with the condom, a little prickle of something unpleasant at your neck. You’re only starting to replay everything you just did and said that might be shameful, embarrassing, in your head when he returns. Eddie wipes warm damp cloth between your legs. He smooths away the uncomfortable, cooling stickiness. Predictably, he tosses the cloth over his shoulder to fall back into bed and pull you into his chest. There, with his arms tight around you, his adoring gaze set on you, any shame your mind could convince you to feel falls away. Why would you dwell on it, when you can let yourself feel all the warmth Eddie brings? 

You lie together for a few minutes, tracing Eddie’s tattoos. Over and over, you drag your pointer finger over the lines forming CORRODED COFFIN under his ribs, letters on Eddie’s skin.

“Thank you,” you murmur eventually, watching Eddie’s eyebrows pull together. You kiss his chest. “I’m glad it was you.”

“Yeah?” He asks, voice breaking a little at your immediate nod. “Well, uh, thank you for trusting me, sweetheart.”

You lie together until the sweat on your bodies is cool and sticky. When the first shiver runs up your body, Eddie helps you stand from the bed like he expects you to be walking like a new-born deer. You manage into the bathroom by yourself, emerge washed and clad in cosy pyjamas, his soft hoodie. Eddie takes his turn, and returns to bed with steamed warm pink skin and dripping hair that sprinkles droplets on your face when he shakes it out like a dog.

You drift asleep with Eddie’s breath at your ear, his fingers stroking steady at your waist.

You wake the next morning to that same sunlight through blinds, the same dog barking in the distance. If it weren’t for the new ache between your legs, you might have thought you’d dreamt the entire perfect day, woken up to find it was Saturday again.

You turn yourself over to Eddie’s side, find his long bare back, pale and dusted with freckles. In a second, you’ll curl yourself around him, wrap an arm over his torso so he can wake up feeling something like the way you feel when he holds you. 

But now, your rapid pulse pounds in your ears. Even as he sleeps, your body won't allow you to say it, or even whisper it. Your throat closes up with the thought of too much, too soon. 

But you ache to do something, to let the feeling out somehow. Caught between your throbbing heart and the worries that have kept you quiet your whole life, you shuffle forward, reach out, and draw eight letters, one after the other, on the soft skin of Eddie’s shoulder. 

I L O V E Y O U

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

Next Part

[robthegoodfellow]

I'm Glad My Dad Died

mungrove | slightly expanded version of fic written for @strangerthingscharityzine | ao3

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Billy had a secret: he was glad his dad was dead. So glad that even when his mom sold their house in Ocean Beach and moved them to Hawkins, Indiana, uprooting him from his friends and the sea and everything Billy loved, he still wouldn’t go back to the way things were. Given the options—California, dad alive; or Indiana, dad dead—he’d pick the second every time.

He would, even though Hawkins was its own hell. Learned the hard way that among prepubescent country bumpkins, embroidered roses on your shirt and hair like Shirley Temple bought you a one-way ticket to Loserville.

It was the fall of 1979. Disco was dying and former flower children were gearing up to vote for Reagan. Kumbaya over, time to make America great again.

So, yeah—sixth grade sucked, but stuff at home was world’s better. They were living with Aunt Doris—because San Diego was too expensive, his mom said, and wouldn’t it be nice to get a fresh start?

Mom was really into the whole fresh start thing—which Billy suspected was fueled by guilt and determination to be the kind of mother she hadn’t been before. And… he appreciated that. He did.

But—he wished she would stop? Put down the pen, step away from the extracurricular sign-up sheets.

Because if the outfit put a target on his back, swim team aimed the bow, and band fired the arrow. 

You’ll miss the water, honey. And you love music! 

She wasn’t wrong. He did love those things—but not enough to willingly wear a Speedo in public or blunder through some Beethoven on the flute. Also in public.

Oh—why the flute? Because she’d fed him a steady diet of hippie tunes from the cradle and knew how much he dug Jethro Tull. Perfectly reasonable explanation—his peers would definitely understand.

Here lies Billy Hargrove, innocent victim of social homicide. 

The bullying was relentless, but Billy figured he could take it. No middle school bully could come close to the one he’d lived with all his life. 

You know, the one he was glad was dead.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Billy hadn’t wanted to attend the talent show, but Mom insisted it was important to support his friends. By which she meant her friends—women she’d been palling around with who had kids in said show.

Kids she’d been aggressively arranging playdates with like Billy was five. 

Patrick’s talent was making twenty free-throw shots in a row. Robin’s was singing “This Land is Your Land” in four different languages. His mom and Mrs. Buckley had laughed about keeping the less than patriotic lyrics, assuming the Spanish rendition would fly over people’s heads.

Billy felt bad even thinking it, but he did wonder if his mom pushing these particular friends at him was part of her fresh start campaign.

Pat was black. Robin was a girl. And his dad had a habit of muttering snide remarks about anyone who wasn’t a WASP packing a sizable stinger—who wasn’t a clone of Neil Hargrove, basically.

And look, Pat and Robin were—fine. But he knew and they knew that they were only hanging out because their moms wanted them to, which was awkward as hell. Made his palms sweat whenever they were together or whenever they said hi at school despite him being a fairy freak according to kids whose opinions mattered. 

They were nice, but it felt like pity. Embarrassing in a way that made him shrivel up inside.

So he wasn’t in the best mood, slumped in the auditorium between his mother and Doris, praying no one pelted him with shit from behind. Mom felt crappy enough about all those years with Neil—Billy didn’t need her kicking herself for scooping him out of the fire and into a frying pan.

Pat set a record—28 in a row—and Billy clapped. Robin sang her song wearing a daisy crown, and Billy clapped. Dully, he watched as stagehands set up the next act, hauling out a drum kit.

Gareth, this shrimpy sixth grader, sat at the drums. Then an eighth grader came out, followed by a couple kids in seventh, the former bearing an electric guitar, one of the latter a bass. The guitarist waved, leaned into the mic—skinny guy with a buzzcut, eyes big and dark as an alien. 

We are Corroded Coffin—paused as a contingent of the audience went nuts—and this song is called Paranoid.

In the next row, a kid whispered, excited: Think they’ll make Coleman pull the plug again?

Gareth banged his drumsticks, counting them off. 

The opening riffs were like nothing Billy had heard before—this grind of chords that rattled teeth, thrummed in the chest. He straightened, compelled forward, a fishing line hooked deep.

Buzzcut was bent over the strings so low that all you could see was the top of his head, a fuzzy cue ball. Then Gareth kicked in, and the front man wailed the first verse, this nasal staccato, sort of speak-singing.

Billy scrambled to decipher the rapidfire—caught bits of the first verses. Then the bridge begged for help, and the rest landed loud and clear.

I need someone to show me The things in life that I can't find I can't see the things that make       true happiness I must be blind

The words were meant for him—just for Billy. It’s me. The guitarist leapt, plunged into a driving solo. The song’s about me.

Make a joke and I will sigh And you will laugh and I will cry Happiness I cannot feel And love to me is so unreal

Helpless, Billy turned to his mom, who grinned, whispering they’re great, aren’t they? He could only nod, swinging back to the guitarist, riveted until the final blaring note.

For Christmas, Billy unwrapped the smallest package under the tree—a cassette. It was all he’d asked for: Black Sabbath’s greatest hits album.

Because that night of the talent show, he sold his soul for rock n’ roll.

More specifically, for heavy metal.

More secretly, for the boy with the big brown eyes.

Eddie, he’d found out at school the next day, gossip overheard at lunch. The boy was Eddie.

Eddie Munson.

And whenever Billy caught a glimpse of him, the rest of that year, he thrummed like an electric guitar.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Unfortunately, his passion for headbanging and powerchords did not meaningfully improve the remainder of middle school, and by the time he walked the stage at eighth grade graduation, Billy resolved to make a change—give himself a fresh start on his terms.

First, he mowed endless lawns and bought a new wardrobe: bootcut jeans with matching boots, which lent him some height and a certain swagger; button downs in dark colors worn open to his sternum and white tees like the crew from Outsiders; a bitchin’ leather jacket.

His hair had progressed from Shirley Temple to Farrah Fawcett, so he trotted to the barber for a Bon Jovi bi-level. Almost chickened out at the mall when he got his ear pierced, but loved the way the earring swung from his left lobe… though the right would’ve been more accurate. 

He quit band and swim. Thought maybe he’d try basketball instead, and enlisted Pat to help him practice.

They were actual buddies by then.

Lastly, he took up smoking. Marlboro Reds, because they were badass. Soldiered through the pack all summer, suppressing a gag on every pull till he was puffing like a chimney.

August before ninth grade, Pat’s brother let them tag along to a party at the quarry; if Billy got in good with upperclassmen, it could pave the way to social acceptance—maybe even… popularity?

Total pipe dream, but then… it worked.

That night was one for the record books: first time smoking dope, shot-gunning a beer… first time a girl went down on him.

First time he’d seen Eddie in two years. Wouldn’t even have recognized him, except the eyes hadn’t changed. Eddie was a junior and looked it: taller, wild dark hair to his shoulders, tattoos peeking from his sleeves. He made a brief appearance and vanished—there to sell some supply, not socialize.

Billy wished he’d stayed. Admitted then what he was most excited about for high school: the chance to see Eddie Munson again.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Ironically, the object of Billy’s obsession had suffered a fall from grace in the transition to the big leagues: swirling rumors swore he was a Satan-worshiping anarchist and a burnout to boot. A weirdo who played geeky games with his loser friends.

Except—unlike Billy, Eddie didn’t give a fuck. While Billy strutted around vaguely unsettled, ill at ease with his costume, this immersive performance for the foreseeable future, Eddie had unveiled his freak flag—reveled in it, let it fly.

Regret gnawed at him, grew in Billy’s gut—knew if he were a little braver, he could trash this cool kid stuff and… 

End of Eddie’s senior year, Billy was sick at heart. Knew he’d missed his shot.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

So imagine his confusion, surprise—his hidden euphoric delight—when Billy spotted that dark mop atop a wiry frame loping across the parking lot on the first day of eleventh grade.

Eddie should have graduated, but for whatever reason… hadn’t.

Thus, a new resolution: seize this chance. Be Eddie’s friend.

By second semester, Billy had worked his way up to casual chit chat and also, incidentally, was a raging pothead—so much so that his mother was worried, and she had spent the 60s stoned out of her gourd.

Let him experiment, Doris advised, winking at Billy over dinner. His grades are fine. What’s the harm?

The following evening, Doris showed him her special cookies stashed in the freezer, cautioning him to only ever take one bite and be patient. Billy asked if he could give one to his friend.

Top tier moment, right up there with Dad dying. Eddie’s eyes lit up all starry, demanded Billy come hang so they could make like Keebler—try the old elfin magic—and Billy was blessed to learn that Loaded Eddie = Handsy Eddie.

Blessed and cursed, because Eddie learned that Blazed Billy = Honest Billy. Tell me a secret, Eddie said, tickling. Tell me a secret.

Nothing happened. Eddie was just… affectionate. Bit of a snuggler. Who now knew he was the reason Billy was such a metalhead. 

And that Billy was glad—about his dad.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Eddie was held back again, and suddenly math and history were Billy’s favorite classes because Eddie sat next to him in the back row. Seemed to do decently with Billy there egging him on.

Thus, his final resolution: graduate with Eddie. Drag him across the finish line if necessary. Billy held study sessions he didn’t need at the library after school, invited Eddie to join—and Eddie did.

Eddie invited Billy to come see his band play at a local bar on Tuesdays—and Billy did.

Tell me a secret, Eddie said one weekend, when they were sharing a bowl, and Billy snorted, gazed into bloodshot eyes. Glad you got held back. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing this. Eddie smirked, soft. Getting high? Billy laughed. Hanging out.

Billy turned eighteen that March, and the Buckleys and McKinneys came over to celebrate, as usual. Unusual was the doorbell as they were about to eat, Eddie and Wayne trooping in, sorry for being late.

Robin picked up on something that night—cornered him in the bathroom. Are you and Eddie…? Billy went tight, and she rushed to reassure. It’s okay if you are. I am, too. So Billy breathed, calmed. I am. I dunno if he is. Robin arched her brow. From where I’m sitting, odds are good.

Billy spent weeks yanking hope by the roots.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Come May, they walked in green cap and gown—hugged in the milling crowd, Eddie cackling wet in his ear, a clinging koala. Didn’t think I could do it.

Billy brought him along to Robin’s graduation party. In the backyard, her old childhood treehouse beckoned, and they heeded the call.

Tell me a secret, Eddie said, sitting back against mossy boards. They weren’t even high. He flicked Billy’s earring—set his heart swinging. That should be on the other side, Billy said, and stared until Eddie flushed red, understood. I got a secret, he said, and Billy didn’t dare to know but did. 

Eddie said it: I’ve wanted to kiss you all year.

A click as Billy swallowed, bone dry. Then do it.

And Eddie did.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

[rainforestakiie]

Just asking because I love your fanfics of Adamsapple, but I am just wondering if you ever going to write lesbian Adamsapple .

Not that you have too ! I am just wondering :) (if it's not your cup of coffee, that's okay !)

sending adamsapple vibes to you :)

hi!

thank you for the request! i have written lesbian pairs in the past! so no worries!

i hope you don't mind, i used this for my next prompt~ i really hope you like it! i worked so hard on it and i think it's so cute!

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Halloween Party~

@adamsappleweek

The Hyacinth family had just settled into Salem, Massachusetts, a town her mother called "the heart of witchcraft" with a voice thick with reverence. To Adam, nicknamed Adelle, though, it was just a place, its mythical tales and whispered legends as hollow as childhood stories. Magic and witches, as far as she was concerned, were relics of overactive imaginations, nothing more.

Her mother, however, adored these legends—so much so that she even called herself a "white witch," casting mock spells and filling the air with laughter, as though she held some secret knowledge of spells and potions. Adelle sighed, her gaze drifting toward the view from her new bedroom window.

The house itself was ancient, a looming relic from the days of the infamous witch trials. It creaked and groaned in a way that might’ve unsettled anyone else, but her mother loved it, claiming it practically sang to her the moment she laid eyes on it. Outside, the streets of Salem were already cloaked in a Halloween charm, even though October’s end was still a week away. The decorations were woven through the town with a zealous dedication that made Adelle roll her eyes. Every lamp post held tiny jack-o'-lanterns, their carved faces glowing in eerie, flickering orange light, as though they were whispering secrets to each other. Paper bats hung from trees and telephone wires, their wings swaying with every gust of wind, casting fluttering shadows on the cobblestone streets below.

The store windows along the main street were alive with decorations, too—glittering witches’ hats, fake cobwebs with thick, glistening threads, and cauldrons bubbling with misty fog from carefully hidden smoke machines. Orange and yellow banners danced across the length of every building, their fabric rippling like flames in the chill autumn breeze. Salem was fully enchanted by the spirit of Halloween, embracing it like a second heartbeat.

Just as Adelle’s gaze traced the flickering jack-o'-lanterns one last time, her bedroom door swung open, and in drifted her mother with the effortless, theatrical grace she seemed to embody. Her long, wild curls, dyed a deep purple, tumbled down her shoulders like an enchanted cascade, bouncing as she moved.

"Adelle," her mother exclaimed, her voice a mixture of mischief and glee, “Your room is positively bare! How can you live like this? We need to bring some spirit in here!”

Adelle eyed the cardboard box her mother had placed on the floor, frowning as she crossed her arms.

“No thanks,” she replied, her tone flat.

The thought of her room being smothered with the same decorations she saw all over town felt exhausting. But her mother’s eyes sparkled with a glint that suggested she might have other plans.

Adelle's mother clucked her tongue, undeterred by her daughter’s reluctance. She knelt beside the cardboard box, lifting its flaps with the careful enthusiasm of someone unearthing buried treasure. From within, she pulled out strands of twinkling fairy lights shaped like little pumpkins and a velvet black garland that sparkled with flecks of silver.

“Come on, honey, we could at least hang these,” she coaxed, draping the garland over her shoulders like a feather boa. “Imagine—your room could look like a magical hideaway, just for Halloween!”

Adelle slouched further; her arms crossed tight over her chest. "No thanks, Mom."

Her mother’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, the pumpkin lights dangling limply from her hands. She let out a wistful sigh.

“You know,” she began, her voice softer, laced with nostalgia, “When you were little, you loved Halloween. You used to wear the cutest costumes.”

Her eyes sparkled as memories drifted back. “I’ll never forget the year you dressed as a duck—oh, the fluffiest little duckling waddling around the neighbourhood!”

Adelle groaned, but a faint blush crept into her cheeks as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a little kid anymore,” she muttered, turning back toward the window, resting her chin on her arms as she looked out over the decorated street. The gentle sway of the paper bats, the soft glow of jack-o'-lanterns—it was all perfectly charming, she supposed. Just not for her.

Her mother sighed again, the longing in her expression clear. She sat down on the edge of Adelle’s bed, looking at her daughter with a blend of sadness and affection.

“I know, sweetheart. You’re growing up,” she said quietly. “But sometimes, it’s nice to hold on to a little magic.”

She glanced down at the pumpkin lights, the glow of nostalgia making her look younger. “I guess I just miss the way things used to be.”

Adelle’s resolve wavered as she caught her mother’s wistful gaze reflected in the window. Halloween used to mean something more, didn’t it? She just couldn’t remember what.

Adelle shrugged, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Yeah, well… things change. They kind of had to after Dad.”

Her mother flinched, her face falling for a split second before she composed herself, brushing a lock of purple hair behind her ear.

“Please, Adelle,” she murmured, the strain clear in her voice. “I’m trying. You’ve got to meet me halfway here.”

Adelle didn’t respond, simply resting her chin on her folded arms, her gaze fixed on the Halloween-lit street outside. Her mother sighed deeply, her shoulders rising and falling with the weight of it.

"Listen," she said after a long pause, "there’s a Halloween party tonight—just a small one, at the town hall. You should go. It’s a good chance to meet people your age, maybe make some friends."

Adelle’s eyebrows knitted together as she scoffed. “It’s not even Halloween yet. Halloween’s next week. Why are they having a party now?”

Her mother offered a gentle smile, an expression that held both amusement and a hint of pleading. “Because, sweetheart, that’s just how Salem is. Halloween starts early here, and everyone loves it. They celebrate for weeks.”

Adelle’s lips twisted into a reluctant frown. She could already feel the layers of arguments building up. “Mom, I really don’t want to go. Parties aren’t my thing, and I’d rather just… stay here.”

Her mother clasped her hands together, giving Adelle the wide-eyed, pleading look that had somehow managed to persuade her in years past. “Adelle, please, just give it a try. You might end up liking it here, but you have to actually get out there and see the town—meet people! I promise, it won’t be so bad if you just let yourself have a little fun.”

Adelle crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her voice hardening. “Fun? Mom, what am I supposed to wear? I don’t have a costume, and I’m not just going to throw on some random outfit.”

With a sly smile, her mother glanced down at the box, nudging it toward Adelle with her foot.

“That’s why we brought these along,” she said, her tone a mix of playfulness and determination. "There’s bound to be something here that you can use."

Adelle groaned deeply, her face scrunching up in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

She glanced into the box, catching sight of mismatched fairy wings, glittering masks, and a feathery witch’s hat that looked suspiciously homemade. The thought of putting any of it on made her cringe, but her mother’s eyes glinted with hope, as though this one small gesture could make all the difference.

With a reluctant sigh, Adelle glanced back at her mother, who was waiting with bated breath, a soft, hopeful smile dancing on her lips. She might just have to meet her halfway after all.

Adelle sighed as she fastened the simple black cloak around her shoulders, letting the dark fabric drape to her knees. The costume was as plain as she could get away with—just a simple black dress, a pointed hat with a slightly bent tip, and a thin cloak that trailed behind her. There was nothing sparkly or dramatic, just plain black and white, understated, and perfectly unremarkable. Her mother clapped her hands, her eyes shining with excitement. “You’re going to have a wonderful time, Adelle,” she insisted with a warm smile, as if sheer optimism could magically conjure up a perfect night. Adelle wasn’t so sure, but she forced a strained smile and waved back awkwardly before stepping out into the crisp evening air.

She walked slowly, her footsteps echoing along the winding walkway as she moved down from her house. When she reached the top of the street, Adelle stopped in her tracks, watching as other people her age, but dressed in elaborate costumes—filtered toward a towering white mansion at the end of the street. She felt a pang of dread as she looked at them, each wearing intricate, dazzling costumes that seemed almost too perfect. They walked in groups, laughing easily, glancing back over their shoulders to share in some private joke. Adelle, alone and feeling like an outsider, hesitated. Part of her debated turning around, marching right back to her house, and shutting the door on all this forced Halloween cheer.

But when she glanced back over her shoulder, she saw her mother standing on the doorstep, watching her with that hopeful, encouraging smile that Adelle couldn’t shake. The moment their eyes met, her mother gave an eager wave, silently urging her to keep going. Adelle rolled her eyes, muttering to herself, but she sighed and trudged forward, dragging her feet as she joined the throng headed for the party.

When she finally reached the house, her mouth dropped open despite herself. It was huge, like something straight out of a fairytale—a sprawling, three-story mansion with tall, arched windows and white columns that rose up like the spines of some ancient, regal creature. The place was breathtaking, painted a pristine white that seemed to glow beneath the moonlight, its walls adorned with garlands of dried corn husks and glimmering strands of fairy lights woven into the banisters. Whoever lived here had gone all out.

The front lawn was a Halloween wonderland, lined with pumpkins of every size and shape, each one carved with expert precision. Some had intricate, swirling designs; others had faces so detailed they almost seemed alive, as if they might start whispering secrets any moment. A graveyard scene sprawled across the lawn, complete with fake tombstones that were chipped and mossy-looking, as though they'd been ripped straight out of a Gothic novel. Gnarled, bare-branched trees wrapped in fake spider webs stood on either side of the path, and tiny plastic spiders hung from invisible threads, swaying gently in the breeze. The smell of autumn leaves and warm cinnamon floated through the air, adding to the eerily enchanting atmosphere. Even the wrought-iron gate looked like something out of an old, haunted manor, its metal twisted into delicate curls and loops, catching the light from nearby lanterns that flickered softly, casting long shadows across the ground.

Adelle stood there, her heart sinking as she looked around, feeling painfully out of place in her modest costume. She was just the quiet, bookish girl—the one who never got invited to anything, who spent her weekends buried in novels or working on her latest project. This wasn’t her world. The dread in her stomach twisted tighter as she watched the other teenager’s stream through the front doors, their laughter echoing off the mansion’s walls. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong here. Her mom may have forced her to come, but… was she even invited? What if she stepped inside only to get strange looks or—worse—be asked to leave?

She swallowed hard, the weight of nerves pressing down on her. Maybe no one would even notice her, she thought with a hollow feeling. But just as she was about to turn and leave, something stopped her, a strange pull toward the house she couldn’t quite explain. Taking a deep breath, she hesitated, looking up at the glowing mansion one last time before slowly making her way to the entrance, each step heavy with uncertainty.

Adelle pushed through the crowded doorway and stepped into a whirlwind of noise, lights, and chaos. The house was packed with people, some crammed into the living room where music blared from giant speakers, shaking the floor with a bass-heavy beat. Others were sprawled across couches or clustered in corners, holding plastic Halloween-themed cups decorated with cartoon ghosts and bats. Some people balanced two or even three cups each, while one guy she passed was laughing wildly, juggling four cups in his hands before losing balance and spilling half of one on the carpet. She felt herself shrink under the flashing lights, her small, simple costume a stark contrast to the bold, glamorous, and often risqué outfits around her.

She moved awkwardly through the throng, feeling as out of place as ever. In one corner, she spotted a group of college-aged guys setting up a beer bong, chanting and clapping as someone took a turn. Another girl in a glittery devil costume and a guy dressed as a pirate shared a sloppy kiss in the middle of the room, oblivious to everyone around them. Adelle clenched her jaw, her face heating up in embarrassment. She had never been to a party like this before.

She was still trying to figure out where she might escape to when a tall guy with tousled hair stumbled into her path, flashing her a lopsided grin.

"Hey," he shouted over the music, his voice barely cutting through the noise.

Adelle tried to respond, mumbling a quiet “hi,” but he leaned in, clearly unable to hear her. Before she could say anything else, he shrugged and pushed one of his cups into her hand with a wink, then disappeared back into the crowd. Adelle looked down at the cup in her hand, the liquid inside a murky mix of brown and orange. She lifted it to her nose, cringing at the strong, sour smell.

"I'm such a weirdo," she muttered to herself before taking a small sip. The bitter taste hit her tongue, making her grimace, and she quickly glanced around before tipping the rest into a fake potted plant when she was sure no one was looking.

She wandered through the party aimlessly, just trying to make it through at least an hour before she could slip out without feeling guilty. Eventually, she found herself in the kitchen, where another small group had gathered around a large, ornate punch bowl. The punch inside was an eerie shade of green, glowing slightly under the dim lights. The whole scene seemed like something out of a cheesy horror movie. She was about to turn and leave when a voice rang out behind her.

"Hey, you!"

Adelle froze, slowly turning to see a girl with platinum blonde hair and a silver tiara fixed on her head. She looked every bit the part of a fairy-tale princess, though her eyes glinted with an edge that told Adelle she was no damsel.

 “Yes, you,” the girl continued, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t recognize you, and I definitely don’t remember inviting you to my party. Are you new or something?”

Adelle’s face burned with mortification as she realized all eyes in the kitchen were now on her. She stammered, unsure of what to say, feeling smaller and more out of place with each second that passed. One of the other girls, dressed in a cat costume with thick, dark hair and a smirk on her face, leaned into her friend’s shoulder, snickering.

“Oh my God. She’s a party crasher. How adorable.”

Adelle tried to find her voice but only managed a soft, “I… I’m really sorry… I just moved here, and my mom, she, um, thought I should come.”

The blonde girl, who Adelle realized must be the host, clicked her tongue and nodded thoughtfully.

“Oh, you must be the Hyacinth girl?” She turned to her friends and waved a dismissive hand. “Chill out, guys. My dad invited her mom to the party or something—guess they work together.”

One of the other girls, with wild red curls and a smug grin, wrinkled her nose.

“Ew, handouts,” she sneered, crossing her arms.

The blonde girl rolled her eyes, seeming almost exasperated. She stepped forward, offering Adelle a small smile that seemed to say she was at least somewhat sympathetic.

“I’m Lilith, by the way,” she said. “You’re cool to hang out if you want. Don’t mind the heckling frogs over there—they’re just drunk.”

She motioned to the two other girls, who both flipped her off in unison, though they seemed amused.

Lilith continued the introductions, gesturing to the others around the room.

 “That’s Eve,” she pointed to the redhead girl, “And Selena. The guys are Marcus, Steve, Luke, and Tony.”

One of the guys, a lanky boy with a wry grin, raised his beer in a lazy salute.

Eve, who was still leaning into Selena’s side, peered at Adelle curiously. “What’s your name then, new girl?”

Adelle managed a half-smile, her cheeks still warm with embarrassment. “Uh… I’m Adam.”

Her name hung in the air for a moment, and the girls blinked in surprise while the boys snickered. One of them, Steve, who was sitting on the kitchen counter with a can of beer, leaned forward with a smirk.

“Isn’t that a guy’s name?”

Adelle’s blush deepened as she shrugged, feeling painfully exposed. “I mean… yeah? I don’t know. It’s just what my parents called me. but I'm called Adelle as a nickname for it.”

How stupid. Why did she give them her real name?

Selena snickered, nudging Eve with her elbow. “Whoa, her parents wanted a boy that much?”

Eve chuckled, while Adelle stared down at her feet, wishing the ground would just open and swallow her whole.

Lilith shot her friends an exasperated look, her brow furrowing. “Guys, stop it. Don’t pick on her. She’s new—give her a chance.”

Before Adelle could thank her, Marcus, a tall guy with a lazy smile, pulled Lilith into his side, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Aw, you’re too sweet, Lils,” he cooed, half-mocking. Lilith rolled her eyes, but she leaned into him with a small, almost smug smile, clearly enjoying his attention.

Adelle tried to relax, still feeling like a fish out of water. She could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on her, waiting to see if she’d prove to be as awkward as she seemed or if she might surprise them somehow.

Adelle lingered awkwardly on the edges of the group, trying not to look as out of place as she felt. Lilith glanced over at her, sensing her unease, and offered a soft smile.

“So, what brought you to Salem?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Where’d you move from?”

Caught off guard by the friendliness in Lilith’s voice, Adelle relaxed just a little. “Oh, uh… we moved from a small town up north. My mom wanted a change.”

“She loves… all this witch stuff,” she admitted, waving a hand vaguely to indicate the Halloween decor and the general spooky atmosphere that filled the house.

Lilith chuckled. “You’ll fit right in then. Salem’s all about the witchy vibe. People here go all out, especially around Halloween.”

Adelle smiled, feeling herself start to ease up. Lilith seemed nice, a little snarky but welcoming enough. For a moment, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she could find a place here. But then, Eve piped up from behind her, and the conversation took a turn.

“Oh, speaking of witches… Morningstar, anyone?” Eve said, her voice lilting with mischief as she smirked at Lilith.

Adelle noticed the way Lilith’s face lost its colour just slightly, her confident expression faltering.

Selena, standing beside Eve, let out a loud laugh. “Yeah, remember how terrified you used to be, Lil? You actually thought Morningstar was real and was gonna yank you out of bed by your ankles!”

Lilith flushed, trying to keep a straight face but clearly embarrassed.

“Oh, shut up!” she protested, crossing her arms. “You were the one hiding under my bed and grabbing my ankles! You would’ve believed she was real, too!”

The group erupted into laughter, and Adelle found herself smiling, though she was utterly lost. Curiosity got the best of her, and she hesitantly asked, “So… who’s Morningstar?”

The laughter died down, and Lilith let out a resigned sigh. “Oh, she’s just a legend around here. A story to scare the kids, y’know?”

She rolled her eyes, but Adelle could sense a hint of discomfort in her expression.

“She’s more than just a story,” Eve said, grinning mischievously. “She’s the witch of Salem. The most famous one.”

Eve’s eyes gleamed as she poured herself another cup of punch. “Legend says she used to lure children to her house to suck out their souls. And her house? It’s a museum now, right across the street.”

Adelle felt a strange chill creep up her spine as Eve went on. There was something almost too eager in her tone.

Lilith took a step closer, arms folded, as she began to explain. “So, the story goes like this: In 1693, Morningstar was accused of witchcraft and executed for, well… stealing the life force of children to stay young and beautiful. She was said to be the most beautiful girl in Salem. Men would line up to propose, but she refused them all.”

“Which probably didn’t sit well with the men of the time,” Eve chimed in with a smirk. “Women back then didn’t just stay single. If you were pretty, you were expected to marry and, you know, ‘pop out some kids.’”

Selena let out a low, wicked laugh. “Rumour has it she even turned down the mayor’s son. That was the real reason they called her a witch.”

She rolled her eyes as if the notion were ridiculous but still somehow thrilling.

Lilith continued, her tone dropping to an ominous whisper. “And before her execution, she supposedly cursed the town. Said she’d come back if a virgin ever lit the Black Flame Candle on Halloween night. She’d rise from the dead and make Salem crumble. But, honestly…”

She shrugged. “She probably just said that to mess with people.”

The group chuckled, but Adelle stayed silent, a strange knot of unease forming in her stomach. She couldn’t tell if it was the way they were speaking or just her own overactive imagination, but the story left her feeling strangely cold.

Eve, noticing Adelle’s quietness, grinned slyly and slinked over, poking Adelle’s side. “Oh, don’t tell me. You’re scared, aren’t you, new girl?”

She gave a mock shiver, cackling as the others began to snicker.

Adelle shook her head quickly, face heating up. “I’m not scared. It’s just… it’s just a story, right?”

Selena sneered, nudging Eve and mimicking Adelle in a high-pitched, mocking tone. “‘It’s just a story.’”

The group burst into laughter, and Adelle’s cheeks grew warmer as she shifted her gaze to the floor, desperately wishing she hadn’t said anything.

Lilith stepped forward, but her voice had lost the friendliness it had held earlier. Now it was laced with a condescending edge.

 “Of course it’s just a story, Adelle. Morningstar isn’t going to pop out of the shadows and drag you away.” She smirked as the group laughed harder, casting sly, mocking glances at Adelle.

Adelle swallowed, her mind racing. The teasing stung, but she forced herself to keep her chin up, meeting their gaze as evenly as she could manage. “I’m not scared,” she said quietly but firmly.

Eve snickered, raising her eyebrows. “Oh, really? Well, if you’re not scared, then you wouldn’t mind going to the museum, right?”

Her tone was dripping with challenge, and the others leaned in, watching Adelle expectantly.

Adelle hesitated, the knot in her stomach twisting tighter. “I… I mean, I don’t know…”

Selena gave her a mocking pout. “Aww, what’s wrong?”

“Too spooked?” she taunted; her voice sugary-sweet but laced with mockery.

Adelle felt something harden inside her, a flash of defiance flaring up as she straightened her back. She wasn’t going to let them get to her.

“I’m not scared,” she said firmly, her gaze steady. “Fine. Let’s go to the museum.”

The group shared amused looks.

Adelle trailed behind the group, her weary green eyes studying the other teenagers as they walked ahead, whispering and giggling among themselves. A chill ran down her spine, the night air growing colder as they moved further away from the safety of the warm, bustling house. She felt a mix of excitement and dread; she had only just moved to Salem and didn’t know her way around. What if she couldn’t find her way back later?

Eventually, they stopped in front of what must be the oldest building in Salem. The house loomed before them, an ancient structure with weathered black and white siding that seemed to lean slightly, as if it were trying to tell her secrets long forgotten. The windows were dark, with long-dried vines snaking around them, and a crooked black wooden gate marked the entrance to a wildflower garden that thrived chaotically. The flowers were vibrant, bursting with colour against the eerie backdrop of the house, but they only added to the witchy atmosphere that surrounded the place. The garden looked as though it hadn’t seen a gardener in years, but that only added to the allure, the sense of magic and mystery that hung thick in the air.

Adelle stood by the wooden fence, staring at the house with wide eyes, biting her bottom lip anxiously. Her heart began to pound with a thrilling fear she had never experienced before, a mix of excitement and the kind of apprehension that comes from being on the brink of something unknown. The group continued to giggle and push each other playfully, their laughter echoing against the silence of the night. Lilith turned to Adelle, her smile bright and inviting as she patted Adelle’s arm.

“Come on then, let’s go inside!”

Adelle’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What? How? It looks closed!”

Steve snickered, leaning casually against the fence. “Trust us when we say a locked door has never stopped us before.”

Adelle swallowed thickly, glancing nervously at the looming structure. “You’ve… done this before?”

Eve flashed her a playful grin, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Of course! Don’t worry, nothing bad will happen.”

“Yeah,” Tony chimed in with a nonchalant shrug, “We’ve been sneaking into Morningstar’s museum for years. It’s no biggie.”

Adelle inhaled deeply, her stomach twisting. Lilith tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “Getting cold feet?”

She shook her head vigorously. “Of course not! I’ll be fine!”

Lilith’s smirk widened, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Okay then, come on! Let’s go in!”

When nobody else moved to follow Lilith, Adelle frowned, a sudden uncertainty creeping into her. “Is it just… us?”

Lilith raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Is something wrong with that?”

Adelle flushed, shaking her head quickly. “No, of course not! I mean, that’s fine, I just thought…”

Eve laughed, a light sound that cut through the tension. “Relax! We’ll be coming in afterward!”

Lilith gave Adelle a reassuring pat on the shoulder and easily climbed over the gate, which hung crookedly on its hinges. “It doesn’t open anymore; it’s like, nailed into the ground or something now.”

Adelle hesitated, glancing down at her long, ankle-length dress. She really didn’t want to chance climbing over the fence, but Lilith gave her a determined look. With a sigh, she pushed her thick, red and brown hair back and carefully climbed over, relieved when her skirt didn’t catch.

Lilith smirked as she led Adelle down the white stone path to the old wooden door, which looked decidedly wonky. Leaning against it, Lilith pulled a long pin from her hair, flipping it over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist.

“Just give me a second~” she cooed, pushing the needle into the lock and twisting it.

Adelle shifted nervously, glancing back at the others waiting behind the fence. Eve waved at her smugly while the others snickered, their laughter sharp and teasing.

“Um, are you sure you do this often?” Adelle asked weakly.

Lilith hummed as she continued to work on the door, twisting the knob until it clicked and swung open.

“Yep! All the time!” She grinned wickedly and stepped aside, gesturing for Adelle to go in. “After you~”

Adelle’s gaze flickered between Lilith and the dark doorway, her heart racing. Lilith beamed at her, and with a soft push, encouraged her further. “I’ll be right behind you, and then so will the gang.”

Taking a deep breath, Adelle nodded and shuffled forward, poking her head inside first before slowly stepping in. Her green eyes scanned the interior of the dimly lit building, trying to make sense of the shadows and shapes that surrounded her. Just as she turned to ask Lilith to follow her inside, the door slammed shut with a resounding thud, followed by an uproar of laughter from outside.

Panic surged through Adelle as she rushed back to the door, yanking the handle with desperation, but it wouldn’t budge. More laughter spilled from the other side, where Lilith’s voice rang out, filled with mockery. “We’ll let you out in the morning, Adelle! If Morningstar hasn’t sucked your soul out! She likes to eat the ugly ones!”

The laughter continued, and tears pricked the corners of Adelle’s eyes as she realized the cruel game they were playing. She pressed her forehead against the cool, solid wood, feeling utterly alone and scared. How had she let herself be dragged into this?

Adelle’s heart pounded, thudding loudly in the silence of the darkened room as she twisted and pulled at the old door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Lilith’s mocking laughter and Eve’s high-pitched giggles echoed through the thick wood, muffled but merciless. Adelle bit her lip, fighting against the prickling of tears that threatened to spill.

“You’ll be fine, new girl!” Lilith’s voice called mockingly through the door, laughter trailing behind. “If Morningstar’s real, maybe she’ll finally get a meal out of it! She likes the… ‘weird’ ones!”

More laughter, taunting and vicious, surged from the other side, mingling with the cool October wind. Adelle’s chest tightened as she pressed her forehead to the door, her fingers numb against the worn wood. She could barely make out their voices as they continued joking, their footsteps receding down the path and back toward the gate. They didn’t even look back.

Adelle swallowed hard, forcing down the rising panic. She took a slow, shuddering breath and turned to face the dark, her eyes adjusting slightly as she scanned the room. Dust coated everything—long-forgotten furniture cloaked in faded sheets, an ancient fireplace with scorched, splintered logs still resting inside, and eerie shadows cast by the faint slivers of moonlight filtering through a small, dusty window high above her head.

A low creak sounded from deeper within the house, and she froze, every muscle taut.

It’s probably just the house settling, she tried to convince herself. But the noise felt almost… intentional, like a warning whispered from somewhere unseen.

Taking another deep breath, Adelle reached out to steady herself on a wooden table by the door. The wood was rough under her fingers, brittle and dry, and as she brushed a layer of dust aside, her hand landed on something cold and metallic. She squinted in the faint light to make out a tarnished candelabra, its candles melted and hardened into strange, twisted shapes.

A sudden chill swept through the room, raising goosebumps along her arms as she shivered, her witch’s cloak doing little to shield her from the strange, unsettling cold. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, as though unseen eyes were tracking her every move from the darkened corners.

Forcing herself to step forward, she whispered aloud, more to comfort herself than anything.

“It’s just a house. An old, empty house.” Her voice was a frail whisper, swallowed by the heavy silence.

But as she turned to glance at a shadowed alcove, something caught her eye—a faint glimmer, hovering in the air. She squinted, trying to make sense of it, and realized it was a delicate, translucent thread floating down from the ceiling. She craned her neck to look up, and her breath hitched at the sight.

Carved into the darkened wood above her, a faint symbol glowed, flickering like a dying ember. It was an intricate design, like a knot twisted upon itself—a strange, ancient marking she didn’t recognize. Beneath it, words appeared to be carved into the wood, barely legible under the faint glow:

“Let those who trespass be warned: the soul is the price of arrogance.”

A chill prickled along her spine as her eyes traced the faint lines of the inscription. Her fingers itched to touch it, but she resisted, feeling an almost tangible sense of wrongness radiating from it.

A noise—a soft whisper, so quiet it was barely audible—drifted from somewhere deeper within the house. It sounded almost like a voice, a murmur in a language she couldn’t understand. Her heart pounded as she strained to listen, her pulse hammering louder with each passing second.

“Lilith?” she called out, even though she knew it was pointless. Her voice was barely more than a breath, swallowed by the shadows.

The whispering grew louder, accompanied by the faintest hint of a melody, ghostly and eerie, echoing through the empty halls. Adelle’s hands trembled as she took a step back, her eyes darting from one shadow to the next, convinced something was lurking just out of sight, watching her with cold, ancient eyes.

Swallowing her fear, she forced herself to think. There had to be a way out, some other door, a window she could pry open. She just had to find it and get out—away from this place that seemed to breathe around her, whispering secrets she didn’t want to hear.

She took another hesitant step, her foot landing on a loose floorboard that creaked sharply beneath her weight. The sound echoed, and with it, the whispering stopped. Silence fell, heavy and oppressive, and in that stillness, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand

Adelle inhaled deeply, the chill of the air prickling her skin as her heart raced in her chest. Shadows enveloped her, wrapping around her like a heavy cloak, while her green eyes darted through the darkness of the room, seeking any sign of life or light. Right, she thought, steadying her breath. They said it was a museum. That means there has to be a switch somewhere, a flicker of magic to bring the place to life.

Shuffling her feet cautiously, Adelle edged toward the left, her fingers stretching out to brush against the cool, rough surface of the wall. She felt her way along, her heart thrumming in time with the whisper of her fingertips until, finally, she stumbled upon what could only be a switch. With a flick, her pulse quickened; a sigh of relief escaped her lips as dim, flickering lightbulbs sputtered to life, illuminating a room straight out of a fairytale—or perhaps a nightmare. Dust danced in the air, caught in the soft glow, and cobwebs draped like delicate lace from the ceiling, giving the place a hauntingly beautiful charm.

Pulling her pointed witch’s hat from her head, Adelle raked her fingers through her unruly hair, exhaling in frustration.

“Fucking bitches,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the door, which now felt like a barrier between her and the outside world. Striding towards it, she pounded her hands against the wooden surface, her heart sinking as the lock held fast.

Silence draped over her, thick and suffocating. Lilith and her entourage had vanished into the night, leaving Adelle to stew in the shadows of this forgotten museum.

“Of course they’d leave,” she muttered bitterly. “They locked me inside for a stupid prank.” The room felt emptier now, as if the walls were closing in around her, mocking her isolation.

“Childish,” she rolled her eyes, exasperation bubbling up within her. Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, she twirled around, surveying her surroundings with a mix of irritation and wonder. “And my mom wonders why I don’t have any friends? Because they’re all stuck-up bitches!”

But as the echoes of her words faded into the stillness, Adelle found herself drawn to the peculiar beauty of the museum. Dusty artifacts lined the walls, each one holding stories of their own, waiting to be discovered. A strange warmth flickered in her chest, nudging her to explore further despite her indignation.

Curiosity gnawed at Adelle, compelling her to wander deeper into the shadows of the museum. The air was thick with dust and an intoxicating blend of mystery and magic, each corner whispering secrets of the past. The story of Morningstar, the most infamous witch of Salem, beckoned to her—after all, her home had become a museum. If this place truly belonged to her, what wonders might it hold?

As Adelle stepped carefully across the creaky wooden floorboards, the first thing that caught her eye was a massive cauldron sitting ominously in the centre of the room. Its surface was slick with dust and draped in cobwebs, giving it an air of sinister allure. Intrigued, she approached, her heart racing at the thought of what it might have been used for. In front of the cauldron, enclosed in a glass case, was a leather-bound book that seemed to thrum with energy.

Her eyebrows shot up as she read the label on the glass.

 “The Spell Book of Morningstar?” she whispered, her voice barely breaking the silence. “Given to her by the devil himself?”

The implications sent a shiver down her spine, but she pressed on, her fascination overcoming her apprehension. The book, bound in what appeared to be human skin, claimed to contain the recipes for her most powerful spells and incantations.

Adelle grimaced, stepping back as a wave of unease washed over her.

“Oh, so creepy,” she muttered, shaking her head as if to dispel the dark images that danced in her mind. With a huff of indignation, she turned to explore further, her heart still racing but her curiosity ignited.

As she wandered through the museum, her gaze fell upon an old candlestick that bore a single black and white candle, nestled within a host of dust and cobwebs. Drawn to it, she approached slowly, her green eyes scanning the label beneath.

“Black Flame Candle,” she read aloud, the words hanging ominously in the air. “Made from the fat of a hangman. Legend says that when lit on a full moon, it will raise the spirits of the dead.”

A snort escaped her lips, a mix of disbelief and amusement bubbling up within her.

“It all sounds so ridiculous and over-the-top!” she exclaimed, the laughter echoing off the walls. How could anyone actually believe in this? None of this could seriously be real, could it?

Adelle's green eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and curiosity as she surveyed the dimly lit museum once more. A stand of cigarette lighters caught her attention, the vibrant colours glinting in the flickering light. A playful idea sparked in her mind, and she grinned.

“Let’s light this sucker and meet this gorgeous witch!” she chuckled to herself, moving toward the counter.

With a determined flick of her wrist, she snagged a random lighter, admiring the way it gleamed in her hand. She twirled around, her long black and white skirt swirling dramatically, the fabric flowing like a spellbound mist. Her heart raced with a heady cocktail of fear and excitement. None of this could possibly be real; they wouldn’t keep the genuine candle in a place like this, right?

Adelle approached the black flame candle, her pulse quickening as she flipped the lighter open. The small flame flickered to life, a tiny sun of orange illuminating her face. She held it up to the candle, the moment stretching as she pressed the flame to the bent wick.

As if in response to her daring, a black flame sprang forth, and she gasped, eyes wide with astonishment.

“Whoa,” she whispered, marvelling at the eerie beauty of it.

But just as quickly as the flame ignited, the atmosphere shifted. A ghostly wail of wind swept through the room, sending chills down her spine. The temperature plummeted, and Adelle felt the air grow dense around her.

Then, without warning, a reddish glow began to seep from beneath the floorboards. A startled squeal escaped her lips as the boards started to bounce and tremble as if alive. The cupboards and drawers sprang open and shut, creating a chaotic symphony of creaking wood and clattering objects. Her heart raced as she stumbled back, nearly tripping over the cauldron, her breath hitching in her throat as a flame suddenly flickered to life beneath it, casting a warm green glow throughout the room.

“What’s going on?” Adelle gasped, panic washing over her. In a flurry of motion, she ripped herself away from the cauldron, only to stumble back into a wooden beam, disoriented. Every lightbulb in the museum exploded in a shower of glass and sparks, bursting like colorful balloons. Candles flickered to life all around her, bathing the space in a warm, golden light, their flames dancing wildly.

Outside, the sky roared with thunder, and the house shook, tremors vibrating through the very ground beneath her. Adelle sunk to her knees, instinctively crawling under a nearby table, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of the chaotic scene unfolding before her.

Then, with a rush of energy, the door to the museum burst open, shimmering with magic and spilling golden sparks into the room. A hauntingly beautiful, bell-like cackle echoed through the air as a silhouette of a woman emerged, casting a spell of enchantment over the space.

“I’m home!” she sang, her voice rich and melodic, as she stepped into the museum, her boots tapping lightly against the wooden floor. “And my curse worked perfectly!”

Adelle peeked out from beneath the tablecloth, her breath catching as she watched the woman stretch her arms overhead, reaching for something hidden among the beams. Another enchanting laugh spilled from her lips, and she bounced on her feet.

“My lucky rat tail! Exactly where I left it!” she declared, holding up the odd trinket before tossing it aside as if it were a mere afterthought.

As the woman began to hum to herself, Adelle watched in awe, captivated by her presence. She scanned the room, her eyes wide with surprise. “What did those fools do to my home? Dazzle, frazzle? Where are my babes?”

Adelle practically jumped as two fuzzy figures suddenly rubbed against her sides, emerging from the shadows.

“Ah!” the woman exclaimed, turning in Adelle's direction but missing her entirely.

“There you both are, my babies! Did you miss me?” she cooed, kneeling to greet two vibrantly coloured cats—one bright red, the other a curious pink. Their odd colours seemed to shimmer with the remnants of magic, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the museum.

The witch stood up gracefully, her two cat familiars, Dazzle and Razzle, purring contentedly at her feet. She regarded the candle with a curious hum, tapping her chin as her eyes sparkled mischievously.

“But who lit the black flame candle? Hmmm?”

The cats mewed in response, and the witch let out a soft, melodic laugh that sent shivers down Adelle’s spine. With a twirl, her layered skirt of white and red swirled around her legs like a blooming flower, enchanting in its movement.

“Well, no matter!” she declared, her voice lilting with enthusiasm. “We have much to do!”

Adelle watched as the witch glided out of sight, her footsteps echoing softly before fading into the creaking of the floorboards above. Curiosity gnawed at Adelle, urging her to inch forward. She pressed her hands against the worn wooden floor, poking her head out to scan the museum.

Where had the witch gone? She listened intently, faint sounds drifting down from upstairs, and it dawned on her that Morningstar had truly vanished into the upper levels of the house. The still-open door beckoned her like a siren's call. This was her chance—to escape, to run home, and to pretend none of this had ever happened.

Taking a deep breath, Adelle blinked in resolve. She steeled herself, gathering her courage to dart toward the door. But just as she took her first step, it swung shut with a resounding thud, causing Adelle to yelp. She spun around, her large green eyes wide with shock, and froze upon discovering the witch lounging lazily atop the very table she had been hiding beneath.

Morningstar was a striking figure. With white skin accentuated by rosy cheeks and cascading blonde hair threaded with soft coral streaks, she looked every bit the enchanting witch. Her eyes, an unusual light yellow with vibrant red pupils, sparkled with mischief. Shorter than Adelle, her figure was graced by a beautifully fitted dress, layered in shades of white, purple, and red, complete with a corset that hugged her curves. A fluttery cloak of white and purple draped elegantly around her neck, while a top hat adorned her head—curiously, a snake coiled around it, as if guarding its secrets.

Adelle’s breath caught in her throat as the witch’s playful smile widened, her eyes twinkling with intrigue.

“And who might you be, hmm?”

Adelle opened and shut her mouth like a fish out of water.

“I-I’m… Adelle,” she stammered, taking a stumbling step back as Morningstar leapt to her feet and began to circle her like a curious cat.

The witches familiars puffing out their fluffy chests as they lounged comfortably.

Adelle gasped, instinctively pulling her arms close to her chest when Morningstar playfully poked her side, a giggle spilling from her lips as she glided her hand along Adelle’s back and down her arms, sending a warm tingle of unexpected thrill racing through Adelle.

The witch leaned in close, her breath warm against Adelle’s skin, their noses nearly touching. “Well, Adelle, I suppose I ought to thank you.”

Adelle turned crimson, her heart pounding in her chest as she met Morningstar’s gaze. “Th-thank me? For what?”

The witch’s eyes gleamed as she leaned in even closer, almost conspiratorially. “You lit the candle, did you not?”

Adelle nodded, a lump forming in her throat. “I-I did…”

Morningstar’s hands curled around Adelle’s arm, holding it close as if to draw her nearer.

“Then I should thank you for raising me from the dead,” she cooed sweetly, her voice dripping with charm. “A virgin lit the candle on a full moon, Adelle.”

“W-what? No! I-I—this isn’t real!” Adelle sputtered, her mind racing.

The witch giggled, following Adelle as she instinctively tried to back away. “But you did, Adelle. You lit my black flame candle on a full moon. You brought me back from the dead, just as my curse foretold.”

Adelle held her hands up defensively, trying to create distance, but Morningstar’s radiant smile only widened. “Look, Miss Morningstar—”

“Lux,” the witch interjected playfully. “My name is Lux Morningstar.”

Adelle blinked, caught off guard. “Lux?”

“Indeed!” Lux spun around in a dramatic flourish, her skirt swirling. “And you, sweetheart Adelle, are now part of my enchanting tale.”

Her tone was teasing yet playful, and despite the circumstances, Adelle felt an inexplicable connection forming—a magnetic pull toward the vibrant witch standing before her, shimmering with mystery and charm.

“What do you mean?” Adelle asked, her curiosity igniting like a flame.

Adelle felt her heart racing as Lux moved closer; her luminous presence almost overwhelming.

“You really must let me thank you for lighting the candle,” Lux insisted, her bright eyes sparkling with mischief and excitement.

“No, no, you don’t understand!” Adelle shot back, shaking her hands defensively. “I didn’t really do much—well, I didn’t do anything at all!”

But no matter how much she tried to create distance, Lux was like a shadow, her gaze unwavering, her grin enchanting.

“Oh, but you did,” Lux cooed, tilting her head in that adorable way that made Adelle’s cheeks flush. “What year is it, Adelle?”

Adelle paused, caught off guard by the question. “Um… 2024?”

Lux’s laughter rang out like wind chimes dancing in the breeze. “Exactly! Nobody has lit my candle in over three hundred years, Adelle! I really must thank you!”

Adelle blushed deeper, stammering, “N-no, you really don’t need to! I mean—”

She looked down, feeling small under the witch’s piercing gaze. “I wouldn’t have even been in here if it wasn’t for those… um…”

“What happened?” Lux leaned in; her curiosity piqued. “Did somebody hurt you?”

Adelle shook her head vigorously. “No, no! I wasn’t hurt. It was just a nasty prank, and…”

She sighed, the weight of the evening washing over her. “It was just a bunch of other people at a party. They wanted me to sneak into the museum with them. If I wasn’t such a coward, I might have gone with them. They locked me in here and said they would come back to let me out in the morning.”

A glint of mischief danced in Lux’s eyes as she stepped even closer, her voice lilting with amusement. “You know, I am a very powerful witch.”

Adelle gasped, her eyebrows shooting up. “That’s true? Oh, haha, of course it is! You’re right here!”

Lux’s grin widened, revealing sharp teeth that made Adelle’s breath hitch. “Adelle, I’m a very powerful witch, and I owe you a favour.”

Adelle blinked slowly, confusion clouding her mind. “I don’t… get it?”

Lux leaned in closer, squeezing Adelle’s hands gently, her breath warm and sweet against Adelle’s lips. “I’m saying, why don’t we go ‘prank’ them back?”

Adelle’s breath caught in her throat, her mind racing. “Y-you’ll really do that? For me?”

“Of course I will,” Lux replied, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down Adelle’s spine.

Adelle squeezed Lux’s hands in return, her excitement bubbling over into a radiant smile that made Lux’s cheeks flush pink. “Yes! Let’s do that! Fuck yeah!”

Adelle practically jumped to her feet, her joy infectious. Lux stood there, momentarily stunned by Adelle’s enthusiasm, her heart fluttering at the sight of the other girl’s exuberance.

“Yes, let us do that,” Lux agreed, her voice now brimming with a conspiratorial thrill. The air around them buzzed with possibility, magic swirling in the atmosphere like fireflies igniting the night.

“Okay! What’s the plan?” Adelle asked, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.

Lux grinned, her eyes glinting with mischief. “First, we need to gather supplies.”

Adelle’s pulse raced with anticipation. “What kind of supplies?”

Lux turned, glancing back at the museum. “You’d be surprised what we can find in a place like this.”

She gestured around the room, her long skirt twirling as she moved with purpose. “Let’s explore, shall we?”

With that, they set off together, the witch leading the way and Adelle following eagerly, both charged with excitement and the thrill of the unknown. As they wandered through the dimly lit museum, Adelle couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to embark on the most magical adventure of her life.

The atmosphere in the museum crackled with energy as Adelle and Lux exchanged wicked glances, their plans set in motion.

“We’re going to teach them a lesson they won’t forget,” Lux said, her voice dripping with playful malice.

Adelle couldn’t help but grin back, her nerves melting away in the warmth of Lux’s presence. “So, how do we start?”

Lux pondered for a moment, tapping her chin with a delicate finger. “Well, we need to channel some good old-fashioned witchcraft. Let’s use a little bit of what I’ve got lying around here.”

Adelle watched with wide eyes as Lux glided through the museum, her fingers brushing against various artifacts and trinkets. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a vial filled with a shimmering liquid that glowed like moonlight.

“This will be perfect for a little potion of fear,” she said, her voice lilting with mischief.

“Potion of fear?” Adelle echoed, her heart racing.

Lux chuckled softly. “It’s harmless, I promise. Just a little something to give them a good scare, a reminder not to mess with witches.”

“Okay!” Adelle exclaimed, adrenaline pumping through her veins. “Let’s do it!”

With their mischievous scheme ready to unfold, Adelle and Lux slipped through the back door of the museum and into the crisp night air. The moon hung majestically overhead, casting a silvery glow that bathed Salem in a magical light.

As they made their way toward the party, the thumping music pulsed in the distance, vibrating with a life of its own. Adelle stepped closer to Lux, who offered a sweet smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Taking Adelle’s hand in her own, she pulled her nearer, their fingers entwining seamlessly.

Standing just outside the house, they faced one another, the anticipation crackling in the air between them.

“Trust me, okay?” Lux whispered softly, her voice warm and inviting. “I know we’ve just met, but for this next part to work, you really need to trust me.”

Adelle's vibrant green eyes widened, their depth enchanting Lux as she felt herself getting lost in them. After a moment’s hesitation, Adelle nodded, her heart racing in sync with the electricity of the night.

Lux twirled her finger above them, summoning a spark of golden magic that shimmered around them like fireflies caught in a soft breeze. A gasp escaped Adelle’s lips, and she instinctively clung to Lux as they began to rise from the ground.

The world below fell away as they levitated higher and higher, finally landing gracefully on the roof of the house. Adelle's legs trembled beneath her, but the thrill of flight exhilarated her. Lux maintained her hold on Adelle’s hand, grounding her with a reassuring grip.

 Adelle’s heart raced at the thought of confronting the group.

“What if they don’t take it well?” she asked, her excitement tinged with uncertainty.

“Don’t worry, my sweetheart,” Lux said, her smile confident. “A little magic goes a long way.”

As they stood atop the roof, the cool breeze tousling their hair, Adelle gazed down at the lively party below. Colourful lights twinkled like stars, and laughter floated up, but it felt distant now, as if they were in a different world altogether. The thrill of being up so high with Lux filled her with a mix of exhilaration and nerves.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Lux murmured, her voice soft yet electric. She pointed towards the moon, which hung like a silver coin against the backdrop of dark velvet skies, illuminating the scene with an ethereal glow.

Adelle nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from the otherworldly sight.

“It really is,” she breathed, her heart racing. “But why are we up here?”

Lux’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned to Adelle, her grip tightening around her hand. “This is where the real fun begins. We need to give them a taste of magic they won’t forget.”

Adelle felt a tingle of excitement run down her spine. “What do you have in mind?”

With a playful grin, Lux leaned in closer, their faces almost touching. “Trust me and keep your eyes on the ground.”

Without another word, she raised her other hand, and a shimmer of golden light enveloped them. Adelle felt a warm rush as the energy pulsed between them, vibrant and alive. Lux's magic swirled around like glittering fireflies, casting a spell over the roof.

“Now, watch,” Lux instructed, her voice low and enticing.

As Adelle focused on the partygoers below, she watched in awe as Lux began to weave her magic. With each graceful motion of her hands, she summoned wisps of light that danced through the air like playful spirits. The lights flickered and twirled, drawing the attention of the party guests.

“What is that?” someone shouted, pointing upwards.

Adelle’s heart raced as she watched the group below, their expressions shifting from confusion to delight. The flickering lights coalesced into shapes—tiny figures that swirled around the partygoers, mimicking their movements with exaggerated motions.

“What the hell is going on?” Eve exclaimed, her voice cutting through the music.

“Is it a prank?” Tony added, squinting up at the roof.

“Or a show?” Marcus mused, clearly captivated by the spectacle.

Lux leaned closer to Adelle, her breath warm against her cheek. “Let’s add a little sound to the mix, shall we?”

With a mischievous wink, she gestured with her fingers, and the soft hum of ethereal music filled the air, weaving seamlessly with the beats of the party below. The tiny figures danced to the rhythm, swirling in a hypnotic pattern that had everyone entranced.

Adelle couldn’t help but giggle at the chaos unfolding.

“This is amazing!” she whispered; her eyes wide with wonder.

Lux smiled, a radiant expression that lit up her face. “Just wait. We’re just getting started.”

With another flourish of her hands, the lights began to pulse in time with the music, intensifying the experience. Suddenly, bursts of colour erupted from the wisps, showering the party with sparkles of light that twinkled like stars falling from the sky.

Screams of delight mingled with laughter as the guests began to dance and reach for the shimmering lights, completely unaware of the source of their enchantment.

“Now for the grand finale!” Lux announced, her excitement palpable.

Adelle felt the rush of magic surging around them, filling her with an intoxicating thrill. Lux raised her arms high, summoning a swirl of luminous energy that spiralled into the air above them.

“Let’s give them a night to remember!”

With a final flourish, she unleashed the energy into a dazzling explosion of light that filled the night sky, illuminating the house and surrounding area with a brilliance that rivalled the sun. The air crackled with magic as the vibrant colours twisted and twirled, forming a shimmering spectacle that left everyone below in awe.

“Wow!” Lilith gasped, her mouth hanging open as she stared upwards, eyes wide with disbelief.

Lux turned to Adelle, her face aglow with delight. “See how they’re captivated? This is the magic of fear and wonder combined.”

Adelle felt giddy, an infectious laughter bubbling up within her. “This is incredible! They’re completely enchanted!”

As the grand display faded, leaving trails of sparkling light to drift down like confetti, Adelle could see the group below looking utterly mesmerized.

“We’ve done it!” she shouted, her excitement bursting forth.

Lux beamed back at her, the moonlight casting a soft glow around them. “Oh, sweetheart Adelle, this is just the beginning of our magical adventures. They’ll never forget tonight!”

She stepped forward, the night air swirling with magic as she raised her arms. A shimmering mist began to form around them, swirling like smoke as she chanted softly, her voice rising and falling in a melodic rhythm.

“Is that…?” Lilith started, her voice trailing off as the mist enveloped the clearing.

Suddenly, with a dramatic flourish, Lux thrust her hands forward, sending the mist rushing toward the group. It coiled around them like serpents, dark and whispering, sending chills down their spines.

“What the hell?!” Marcus shouted, stumbling backward as the mist swirled ominously around them.

Eve shrieked, her voice piercing the night. “What is this?!”

Lux laughed, a sound like tinkling bells, as she leaned closer to Adelle. “Watch closely, my sweetheart.”

With another flick of her wrist, the mist began to transform, taking on the shapes of grotesque apparitions—twisted figures with hollow eyes and gaping mouths that wailed in despair. The group gasped, fear flashing across their faces.

“W-what is happening?!” Luke stammered, his bravado fading.

Adelle couldn’t help but laugh, a sound bubbling up from within her as she watched the chaos unfold. “This is amazing!”

Lux shot her a knowing smile, her eyes alight with excitement. “We’re just getting started.”

She swirled her arms, and the apparitions began to dance, flickering in and out of existence, their mournful wails echoing in the night. The group backed away, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Please, stop!” Tony pleaded, panic creeping into his voice. “This isn’t funny!”

“Oh, but it is!” Lux sang, her voice dripping with enchantment. “You see, this is what happens when you mess with witches. A little fear goes a long way!”

Adelle felt a thrill of power surge through her as she watched her former tormentor’s squirm. Lilith, who had always seemed so confident, now looked small and vulnerable, her bravado replaced by sheer terror.

“Please, just let us go!” Selena cried, her voice trembling.

Lux paused, her laughter softening as she considered their pleas. “Alright, I think we’ve made our point. But remember this night, my sweetheart friends. Respect the magic, or it will come for you again.”

With another wave of her hand, the mist retreated, dissipating into the night like smoke. The apparitions vanished, leaving the group gasping for breath, their faces pale.

Adelle stepped forward, her heart racing. “Next time, think twice before locking someone inside a museum.”

Lilith, still trembling, nodded frantically. “We’re sorry! We didn’t mean it!”

“Consider yourselves warned,” Lux said, her tone playful yet firm. “One last thing~”

Adelle watched in awe as Lux's demeanour shifted. The playful glimmer in her eyes transformed into something deeper, more powerful.

Lux stepped forward, her presence commanding the attention of every soul below, and began to sing. The night air shimmered with magic as her voice floated down, hauntingly beautiful and rich with emotion.

“I put a spell on you, and now you’re mine…”

The melody wrapped around the partygoers like a silken thread, drawing their gazes upward, mesmerized by the enchanting figure on the roof. Lux’s voice rose and fell, each note dripping with allure, cascading down like a waterfall of sound that beckoned them to dance.

“You can’t stop the things I do, I ain’t lyin’…”

The crowd swayed as if caught in a gentle current, their inhibitions melting away with each haunting lyric. Faces lit up with smiles, feet began to tap, and before long, laughter and joy swirled through the air like autumn leaves caught in a breeze.

Lux twirled gracefully on the rooftop, her skirts swirling around her like a spellbinding fog, her hair cascading like a golden waterfall. The glow of the moon illuminated her, casting an ethereal light that made her seem otherworldly.

“You’re in love with me, now, I can see…”

Adelle felt her heart race as she watched the spell take hold. The partygoers danced and twirled, entranced, lost in the rhythm of the night. It was as if the world below had transformed into a fantastical dream, every soul enchanted by Lux's melodic voice.

“I put a spell on you, and now you’re mine…”

The crescendo of the song echoed through the night, wrapping around each partygoer, compelling them to dance as if they had no choice. Adelle couldn’t help but join in, her laughter mingling with the music as she swayed her body to the hypnotic rhythm.

As the final notes echoed into the night, the last traces of the spell lingered, binding the partygoers in a euphoric trance, and Adelle turned to Lux, her eyes wide with wonder.

“This is incredible!” she exclaimed, her voice barely rising above the joyous chaos below.

Lux flashed her a bewitching smile, her voice a gentle whisper. “Welcome to the magic of the night, sweetheart. Together, we can make it last forever.”

The two sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the side, their laughter echoing into the night. Below them, the crowd swayed and twirled, caught in a spell that rendered them blissfully unaware of anything outside their euphoric dance. It was as if the world had melted away, leaving only the rhythmic beat of the music and the joy of movement.

Adelle couldn’t take her eyes off the scene, mesmerized by the sight of Lilith and her friends—the very ones who had locked her in that eerie museum—spinning in circles, unable to resist the magic.

"Look at them," she said, her voice tinged with disbelief. "They can't even stop to catch their breath."

Lux leaned into Adelle’s side, a playful nudge that sent warmth spiraling through Adelle.

"Don’t worry, it’ll all wear off when the sun rises," she replied with a soft smile, her voice as soothing as a lullaby.

Adelle turned her gaze to Lux, eyes sparkling with admiration. "You’re amazing. You really are."

Lux’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink as she looked down, shyly brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you… nobody’s ever said that before," she admitted, a hint of vulnerability colouring her tone.

Curiosity bubbled within Adelle, and she hesitated for a moment before asking, “Is it true? The myth about you… sucking out the souls of children?”

Lux’s expression shifted, a shadow of sadness flickering across her face. She shook her head, her voice firm yet gentle. “Of course it isn’t. I never harmed a child. I’ve never harmed anyone.”

Adelle frowned, sensing the weight of unspoken stories behind those words.

“Lux?” she began, her voice soft with concern, but before she could continue, Lux stood up, her beautiful dress billowing in the wind like petals in a breeze.

“Adelle, would you like to go flying?” she asked, her warm smile radiating excitement.

Adelle’s eyes widened, her heart racing at the thought. “Flying? How?”

Lux giggled, her laughter like the tinkling of chimes. She held out her hand, her azure eyes sparkling as she pointed to the scattered broomsticks below. With a flick of her wrist, one broomstick lifted from the ground, soaring gracefully into her waiting grasp.

“Like this,” she said, curling her fingers around the handle and, with a small kick, hovered effortlessly above the roof.

Adelle gasped, peering nervously over the edge.

“What if I fall?” she exclaimed, a mixture of thrill and fear swirling within her.

Lux laughed softly, the sound wrapping around Adelle like a warm embrace. “I won’t drop you, I promise.”

With a deep breath, Adelle swallowed her apprehension. “Alright…” she whispered, her heart pounding with both excitement and anxiety.

Lux brought the broomstick closer, her smile reassuring.

“It’ll be alright, really,” she assured, her voice soothing as a gentle breeze.

Adelle inhaled deeply, a shy smile creeping across her lips as she inched forward. Lux extended her hand, guiding Adelle to the spot behind her on the broomstick.

As Adelle pressed herself against Lux’s back, a delightful shiver raced down her spine.

“You’re going to need to hold on,” Lux said softly, her breath warm against Adelle’s skin.

“I-is this okay?” Adelle asked bashfully, her arms wrapping around Lux’s waist, holding on tighter than she had intended.

“Perfect, Adelle,” Lux beamed, her eyes twinkling with joy. “Just don’t lose your grip and trust me, okay?”

With a playful tilt, Lux kicked off the roof, and they both soared into the night sky. The world below faded away, and Adelle felt the rush of the wind against her face, a thrill coursing through her veins as they danced among the stars.

As Lux guided the broomstick higher into the twinkling night sky, the world below transformed into a tapestry of glowing lights and shadowy silhouettes. The crisp air rushed around them, filling Adelle’s lungs with a mix of exhilaration and magic. Each sway of the broomstick felt fluid and effortless, a reflection of Lux’s grace and confidence.

Adelle squeezed her arms tighter around Lux’s waist, instinctively pressing herself against her back. The warmth radiating from Lux was comforting, grounding her amidst the thrill of their flight. Her long brown and red curls danced wildly in the wind, swirling behind her like a vibrant banner that caught the light of the stars above. Adelle gasped in awe, her heart racing at the beauty of the night sky—each star shining brightly as if they were sparkling just for them.

“Look at how beautiful it is!” Adelle exclaimed; her voice almost drowned out by the rush of wind. She leaned slightly to the side, trying to take in the full view of the night. “I’ve never seen anything like this!”

Lux glanced back at her, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief and delight.

“Just wait until you see it from above the clouds,” she teased, a smile dancing on her lips. With a playful flick of her wrist, she guided the broomstick even higher, breaking through the thin veil of clouds that floated like wisps of cotton candy.

As they emerged above the clouds, Adelle’s breath caught in her throat. The stars shone even brighter here, twinkling like diamonds scattered across a velvet backdrop. The moon hung low, casting a silvery glow that illuminated everything around them. Adelle could hardly believe she was flying through this enchanting world with a witch as captivating as Lux.

“Lux, this is incredible!” Adelle gasped, her voice laced with wonder. She leaned closer, resting her chin gently on Lux’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing beneath her arms.

In that moment, surrounded by the magic of the night, time seemed to stand still. Adelle’s heart swelled as she inhaled the sweet scent of lavender and honey that clung to Lux. The intimacy of their proximity stirred something deep within her, a yearning that pulsed through her veins.

“Do you like it?” Lux asked, her voice soft and melodic, barely louder than a whisper as they hovered above the world. She leaned back slightly, allowing Adelle to feel her warmth even more.

“I love it,” Adelle replied earnestly, her heart racing. “I love being here with you.”

She tightened her grip, and as if sensing her need for reassurance, Lux leaned back further, allowing their bodies to meld together, every curve and contour aligning seamlessly.

The moonlight bathed them in a gentle glow, casting soft shadows that danced on their skin. Adelle couldn’t help but marvel at how beautifully close they were, the sound of their hearts beating in unison, the electric energy crackling between them.

“Is this real?” Adelle asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Is this really happening?”

Lux turned her head just enough to meet Adelle’s gaze, her expression softening.

“It’s real, Adelle. You’re here with me,” she murmured, her breath brushing against Adelle’s cheek, sending shivers down her spine.

Feeling bold, Adelle tilted her head, their faces inches apart, the world below forgotten. “Lux…” she breathed, her heart racing, and in that moment, the space between them felt charged with an unspoken promise.

“Yes?” Lux asked, her eyes locking onto Adelle’s with a spark of curiosity and warmth.

“Can I…” Adelle hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment. “Can I kiss you?”

The question hung in the air, thick with anticipation. Lux’s smile widened, and a soft laugh escaped her lips, filled with both mischief and affection. “Oh, Adelle, you don’t even have to ask.”

With that invitation, Adelle leaned in, closing the distance between them. Their lips met softly at first, a tentative brush that quickly ignited into something deeper, more passionate. Time seemed to melt away as they kissed, the warmth of Lux’s lips igniting a fire within Adelle that she had never felt before.

As they pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, the world felt different—more vibrant, more alive. Adelle nestled back against Lux’s back, her heart racing with excitement and joy, the night sky stretching endlessly above them as they flew into the unknown, together.

As they descended from the night sky, Lux expertly guided the broomstick back towards her museum house, the familiar silhouette of the building rising in the moonlight. Adelle felt a mix of exhilaration and bittersweetness as they approached the ground. With a gentle swoop, Lux landed gracefully, her feet touching the ground as Adelle carefully slid off behind her.

Once they were both safely on the cobblestone path, Adelle turned to Lux, still feeling the thrill of their flight coursing through her veins. She took both of Lux's hands in hers, looking up into the witch’s striking blue eyes.

“Thank you, Lux,” she said earnestly. “Everything you’ve done for me—it's been too much.”

Lux’s cheeks flushed a soft pink at the sincerity of Adelle’s words. A gentle smile graced her lips, a mix of warmth and shyness.

“It was my pleasure,” she replied, her voice softening as they shared a quiet moment.

With a shared glance, they entered the museum together. As soon as they stepped inside, they were greeted by the eager mews of Dazzle and Razzle, the two cats racing towards them. They wound around Lux's legs, whining for attention, their eyes sparkling with delight. Adelle laughed as she bent down to scoop up Razzle, who immediately nestled into her arms, purring loudly.

“Looks like they missed you,” Adelle said, looking up at Lux with a playful grin.

Lux chuckled, gently cradling Dazzle in her arms.

“They always know when I’ve been away. They have a sixth sense for mischief,” she teased, and then her expression turned contemplative. “But they’re not the only ones.”

As she strolled through the dimly lit museum, holding Dazzle close, her demeanour shifted. The light-heartedness faded, replaced by an underlying sadness. Adelle followed beside her, holding Razzle, sensing that there was more to Lux than met the eye.

“What really happened to you, Lux?” Adelle asked gently, her curiosity piqued. “You mentioned your curse… but what led to it?”

Lux sighed, glancing down at Dazzle as the cat curled comfortably against her chest.

“I never wanted to settle down, to marry and have children,” she began, her voice softer now, tinged with an ache. “I didn’t have feelings for any young man, which was… unusual. The mayor believed I should marry his son, but I didn’t want to. I hated him—he was a disgusting pighead.”

Adelle’s heart ached at the bitterness in Lux’s words.

“You told him no?” she asked, her grip on Razzle tightening.

Lux nodded, her expression distant as she recalled the memories. “I did. But he kept trying to force me into marriage. One day, I snapped. I used my magic, thinking it would teach him a lesson. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

Stepping closer to her, Adelle placed a comforting hand on Lux’s arm. “You were defending yourself. You had every right to refuse.”

Lux leaned into Adelle’s touch, the warmth of the gesture wrapping around her like a comforting cloak.

“You’re too kind, Adelle,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve had so much fun tonight with you. You’re… unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

Adelle felt her cheeks heat at the compliment. “I’m happy to have met you too, Lux…but why… why are you talking like this is the end? We’ll see each other again, right?”

Lux’s smile faltered, becoming more pained. Her blue eyes softened, almost glistening in the dim light of the museum. “Oh, Adelle. My candle doesn’t work that way. I’m only allowed one night.”

Adelle gasped, her heart sinking at the revelation. “One night? No, that’s not fair! You can’t just have the one night.”

Lux hummed softly, looking down with flushed cheeks. “The curse was written like that.”

“There must be a way for you to stay longer,” Adelle insisted, desperation creeping into her voice.

Lux bit her bottom lip, a flicker of hope in her eyes as she whispered, “There is one way…”

“What is it?” Adelle asked, holding Lux close, her heart racing. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Lux gasped, her gaze locking onto Adelle’s with wide, earnest eyes. “Kiss me.”

Adelle froze, surprise flooding her features. “I… s-sorry?”

Lux turned red, her fingers nervously pinching the fabric of Adelle's cloak. “I… if you kiss me…”

“If you make love to me…I can stay,” she explained, her voice trembling slightly. “A virgin must lit my black flamed candle for me to be raised from the dead. If I take that virginity…in the same night, I can stay…but there must be…feelings between us.”

A whirlwind of emotions surged through Adelle—confusion, excitement, and a deep longing she had never felt before. This was a decision that felt monumental, and yet it seemed so natural. She looked into Lux’s pleading eyes, filled with hope and something deeper.

“Are you sure?” Adelle asked, her voice a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

Lux nodded; her expression unwavering. “I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this moment with you.”

Taking a deep breath, Adelle leaned in, her heart pounding as their lips met. It was electric, a jolt of magic that surged through them both. The kiss deepened, fuelled by the connection they had forged throughout the night, binding them in a moment that felt both eternal and fleeting.

As they finally pulled apart, both breathless and flushed, Adelle felt a warmth bloom in her chest.

“Lux… I want to spend more time with you,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I-I want you stay…with me.”

Lux smiled softly, her eyes shining. “Then make love to me, Adelle…”

Adelle took a shaky breath as she stepped closer, her fingers trembling as she reached for Lux. The beautiful witch smiled reassuringly, her warm eyes meeting Adelle’s gaze as she guided Adelle’s hands to her waist. Slowly, Lux leaned in, meeting Adelle halfway until their lips finally brushed together in a gentle, tender kiss.

At first, it was soft and delicate, their lips barely grazing, testing the waters. But as they lingered, the kiss deepened, a growing warmth igniting between them. Adelle’s heart raced, and she leaned in closer, savouring the way Lux's lips moved against hers, each moment more intoxicating than the last. When they finally parted, Adelle found herself gasping softly, her cheeks flushed, and her breaths uneven.

Lux giggled, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she cupped Adelle’s face in her hands. “Have you never kissed anyone before?” she asked, her voice filled with gentle curiosity.

Adelle’s face grew even redder, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“No,” she admitted softly. “You’re… the first person I’ve ever wanted to kiss.”

Lux’s smile softened; her expression filled with warmth. “Me too, Adelle. You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted before.”

Something in Adelle’s chest swelled at those words, and before she knew it, she was leaning in again, pressing her lips to Lux’s once more. This time, the kiss was more assured, more passionate. Lux melted into her, wrapping her arms around Adelle’s shoulders, pulling her close as she returned the kiss with equal fervour. Adelle’s hands tightened around Lux’s waist, holding her close as they lost themselves in the moment, the world around them fading into nothing.

Lux slowly pulled away, her cheeks flushed as she gazed up at Adelle, who was breathless, her eyes shining with an emotion that seemed to mirror Lux's own.

“I never thought…” Lux whispered, almost to herself, her fingertips tracing a gentle line along Adelle’s cheek. “I never thought I’d feel this way.”

“I…really like you, Luxie.” Adelle admitted bashfully.

Taking a step back, Lux pulled at her cloak, untying it and allowing it fall down her body. She then took hold of Adelle’s hand again, and tenderly led her towards the staircase. Her eyes twinkles as the two began to climb the steps, towards Lux’s bedroom. Adelle had been expecting an old, cobwebbed room, but that wasn’t the case. With a twinkling golden snap of her fingers, the room morphed into a cleaner and fresher version of her room.

“You’re so beautiful…” Adelle mumbled softly, shyly. “I’ve never meet somebody as beautiful as you are before.”

Chuckling, Lux lightly began to pull at the ribbons and lace holding her dress together. “You’re beautiful too, Addie. I think you’re gorgeous. You’re more beautiful

As the first light of dawn began to break, Adelle and Lux made their way to Adelle’s home, fingers intertwined as they walked up the steps. Razzle and Dazzle trotted along behind, their soft purrs adding a quiet harmony to the early morning stillness. Reaching the front door, Adelle glanced at Lux with a warm smile, heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Mum, I’m home,” Adelle called softly as they stepped inside. She barely had a moment to breathe before her mother appeared, worry etched into every line of her face.

“Adelle! You’ve been out all night—I was so worried! I was about to call the police and—” Her mother’s voice trailed off when she noticed Lux standing by Adelle’s side.

The surprise in her mother’s eyes made Adelle blush.

“Adelle! You made a friend?” she said, delighted but still surprised.

Lux dipped into a graceful curtsy, flashing a charming smile. “My name is Lux Morningstar, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m afraid Adelle was out so late helping me…”

Adelle met her mother’s gaze, nodding with a sheepish smile. “Lux got… well, kicked out of her apartment, Mum.”

Her mother gasped, immediately rushing toward Lux and enveloping her in a hug.

“Oh, you poor thing!” she exclaimed, practically squeezing the life out of her. “Where are your parents, sweetheart?”

Caught off guard, Lux stammered, glancing helplessly at Adelle as she attempted to return the hug. “Er… well… I don’t have any, ma’am. I’m… an orphan.”

Adelle’s mother’s eyes softened even more as she clutched Lux tighter, who looked over at Adelle in quiet desperation.

“Oh, you poor baby!” her mother exclaimed, her voice thick with compassion. “Of course, you can stay here. You’re welcome for as long as you need!”

Finally, her mother loosened her hold, and Lux took a deep breath, laughing nervously as she stepped back.

“Thank you, ma’am,” she said with a grateful smile, glancing toward Adelle, who reached out to gently steady her.

“Alright, you two,” her mother said, crossing her arms but with a soft smile. “It’s very late. I want you both in bed to get some sleep.”

Adelle nodded and led Lux up the stairs, guiding her carefully so she wouldn’t trip in her still-nervous daze. They reached Adelle’s room, and as they entered, the comfort of the space settled over them both. Adelle pulled Lux onto the bed with a laugh, and they tumbled down together, Lux curling into Adelle’s side, her eyes bright and filled with quiet happiness.

“Your mum seems really nice,” she whispered, snuggling in close as Razzle and Dazzle jumped up onto the bed and settled down beside them.

Adelle beamed, wrapping an arm around her. “She is… and I’m really glad you get to stay with me now, Lux.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to Lux’s forehead, feeling her heart race at the warmth between them.

Lux closed her eyes, a soft smile gracing her lips as she nestled closer, her fingers brushing Adelle’s in a quiet, affectionate gesture.

 “I never thought I’d find this… find you,” she murmured. “Thank you, Adelle.”

They drifted into a peaceful sleep, content in each other’s arms as the morning light filtered through the room.

[rtfics]

Seeing BJ2 the 3rd time.

LONG & FILLED WITH SPOILERS

SO much to think about, and my memory is shit.

I rapidly scribbled notes during the film. But when I got home and tried to read them:

So here's an overview. I'll post other details if I ever translate my notes.

First, the casting was perfection. I'd never seen Jenny Ortega, Justin Theroux, and Monica Bellucci before, so for me they were the characters.

It was interesting that the film opens with the Warner Brothers Studio lot in black & white. Why B&W? It sort of sets the tone.

Donna Summer singing lines from "MacArthur's Park" was a foreshadowing. This film was made by a guy who was a teen in the 70s, and it's for others his age (he's only 2 years older than me). BJ2 is packed with 70s nostalgia that only those who were alive then would get.

This sequel was also made for die-hard fans of the original Beetlejuice. Burton took special care to give us the Winter River we love, but updated it to show the story and its characters aren't stuck in the past. The covered bridge is there, the church, cemetery, Miss Shannon's, and fire station are there, and so is the Maitland's building, but it's a coffee shop now.

Seeing Lydia as shell-shocked and pill-popping threw me, but the plot gave it sense (I'll go into detail in a separate post).

Rory, OMFG, I've known Rory. Anyone who's had anything to do with the entertainment/media biz, even peripherally, knows Rory. His "enabler" bullshit was so spot-on; faking that he's going to get Lydia off her dependency on drugs while keeping her hooked by making it seem that he's doing it because she's begging him. Classic user methodology. You just know he's the one who got her on "coping" pills in the first place; all the better to manipulate her. I loathed him immediately.

I adore what they did with Delia. It completely fucking made sense, and followed what's happened in the modern NYC Arts scene. I love how she and Lydia now get along, I mean, shit, Lydia's in her 50s and Delia's in her 70s, they're both middle-aged women, and, bless their hearts, the screenwriters and Burton made them act like grown women.

Astrid seemed older than 16 to me, but hey, I'm not around teenagers these days. I appreciated that she wasn't a brat. Her resentment and having her back up were appropriate for her family situation; a beloved father whose body was never found (I think); a mom always working or promoting because of Rory, doped on pills and famous for being a ghost-seeing nutjob, who can't see Astrid's father. That's a lot to deal with.

The way they handled Charles was perfect, especially his claymation demise. His afterlife body was comically gross, and an ingenious way of including Charles in the film without having to recast another actor, except for his voice. Charles being in the Netherworld provides a great thread to Delia's later death. His headstone being the shape of a shark's fin was a humorously grim touch.

The Sylvia Young Theatre School Choir sang at Charles' funeral, and their voices were beautiful.

Arthur Conti was fantastic as Jeremy (70s teens remember his grandfather, Scottish actor Tom Conti). His American accent was flawless. He was the perfect balance of cute and mature, and his niceness made his being evil all the worse; while Astrid says the incantation you can see him slightly out of focus behind her, smiling in a chilling way. I love that there isn't the slightest hint that he's a multiple murderer, and of his own parents! When he's about to get his passport stamped he shows absolutely no remorse toward Astrid, which makes his damnation all the sweeter.

Beetlejuice . . . . What can I say? Michael Keaton created Beetlejuice as we know him, and he fit right back in character as easily as drawing breath. His body language, his weird way of walking, his expressions, everything is just as you'd expect Beej to be. But then we get to see more! I can't express how happy I was to see Beej's origin story, which turned the throw-away line about having a pretty good time during the Black Death into something more substantial. Seeing Keaton as human Beej was a delight.

An important detail was that, even though Beej says his heart had long since withered, he fell for Delores. He says he was "bewitched." Perhaps not love, but lust certainly. It's quite clear that Delores was much higher in social station than Beetlejuice, so he must have thought he'd won the lottery with her choosing him. My god, his ego had no problem with his drunken ass being hauled to bed by his new wife, and his enthusiasm was huge. I love that they gave him the gut in his human form (Keaton doesn't have one).

Richard was the nice guy I hoped he would be. But it was telling that, when he says goodbye to Lydia at the ladder in the mausoleum, they don't hug. They don't even shake hands. It shows the truth of Lydia's previous statement to Astrid that she and Richard's relationship had ended long before his death.

Wolf is every 70s crime drama/movie distilled. Hammy, over the top, constantly spouting his Catch Phrase.

Why are there so many shrunken head guys? And why did Beej hire people who can't talk to answer his phones? It's loony and fits the Netherworld random logic. They're Beej's Minions.

I've seen a lot of people on tumblr, as well as professional movie critics, say there were "too many villains" and that the plot was "too hard to follow."

For those who agree with this, I recommend you never attempt to read anything by Charles Dickens, Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo, Edgar Allan Poe's detective stories, or Agatha Christie. Because your brains would fry.

Look, there are two villains. Just two.

Delores poisoned Beetlejuice, he killed her with an axe in revenge, in the Afterlife she reassembles and hunts him down, killing others in her wake, which sets Wolf Jackson and the Ghoul Squad after her, until she's defeated with a sandworm.

Rory has been manipulating Lydia, keeping her doped, gas-lighting her, until under the Truth Serum injected by Beej he spills the beans and Lydia rejects him, until he's eaten at the same time as Delores by the sandworm.

As for "Delores and Rory weren't given enough story," what more do you want? How Delores joined a soul-sucking cult? How Rory became a user, seeking out vulnerable, grieving women to exploit? We learn as much as we need to. Anything more would have stuffed the film with unnecessary crap.

The only shit I didn't care for was the baby.

The whole Counseling scene was a big gross-out, and I'm sure Tim Burton intended it that way. The original couldn't have been more gross than it was or it would have earned an R Rating, keeping out everyone under the age of 18 (21 in some states; this was the 80s). But now, Burton could be a lot more graphic. I was stunned that he had Lydia go through the "pregnancy," but it obviously didn't hurt her. For me Babyjuice has no point. It doesn't advance the plot, and its reappearance only drives home the weirdness of the ending.

What the ever fuck was the ending??

Especially Astrid giving birth to the Beetlebaby. It would suggest Beetlejuice is its father, which means he and Astrid had sex. Which we can be pretty sure they didn't . . ? In the counseling scene Beej refers to the baby as his "inner child." So its not his literal child? Even so, why would Astrid give birth to it the same way her mother did?

I've read all the theories about the ending, and at this point one's as good as the other. Perhaps that's the point: To keep us all guessing. Because I'm sure, all along, there's been a plan for Beetlejuice 3, IF this movie was a hit. If it wasn't, if it bombed (since 2010 all of Burton's films have bombed), the ending would lead to speculation forever, to people writing fucking dissertations about its symbology and metaphors, etc.

But if it was a hit, which it is, the seeds are there for a third and final film. But so fucking murky no one can guess what it'll be like.

The only part of the ending I liked was Beej shaking awake and saying, as he glances at Lydia, "I just had the weirdest dream." And Lydia looking over. Not terrified. Not screaming or leaping out of bed. Not seeing the indentation in the pillow and yelling in protest. Just staring.

Do I want a third film?

I love Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. I love it more every time I watch it. I accept everything in it as canon, even the baby, resentfully.

But Burton might fuck up the last one. He might do things I never wanted to be canon. When a sequel is made of a hit film, the creators sometimes become self-conscious. BJ2 wasn't, because it'd been 36 years since the original. They had no idea whether this version would fly. Since it has, massively, I'm afraid the screenwriters and Burton may become too aware of the audience and try to cater to it. OR they'll go the opposite direction and try to come up with a plot they think fans would never imagine.

So I'm pretty much stuck in the same place I was before I saw Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. Wary, skeptical, and cynical.

[ofishal-fish-posts]

re: the baby shark ask you got. this is going to sound very weird given the topic but uhhhh cw mentions of blood and violence???

i will never forgive that youtube video. not just because baby shark is annoying and became absolutely inescapable, but also because it makes the song really really boring. smh. before it was everywhere, when i was in summer camp, the version of baby shark WE sang started off the same way, you know. baby, mom dad, the whole shark family. but then it continued and became a narrative of someone swimming at the beach and being eaten by a shark one limb at a time, trying to swim faster but losing a lot of blood. then the song has a section describing the attempt to give the swimmer cpr but it fails and they die. then the song wraps up by describing the swimmer being reincarnated as a baby shark and you sing the first verse again. now of course i do not like the perception of sharks as bloodthirsty man eaters, but i also think it's important to let elementary schoolers sing songs that are just kind of violent and messed up. its good for them. all our favorite camp songs either made no sense or involved dying in some way thats just how kids are you know? i will never forgive them. they made our beloved gory violent shark attack song so boring. it was always annoying but at least it wasnt boring.

anyway. sorry for sending this mostly unprompted. i just needed someone to know. anyone. please did anyone else sing that version i have yet to meet someone not from my hometown who knows the violent version of baby shark

hmmm i think i would like this version of the song better as well. more suited to my personality.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

What are your opinions on each of the songs? (you can answer with as much or as little detail as you'd like)

Big shocker that the songs from the 2 good episodes are in S and the only one that isn’t is still B tier/sar

The first 2 songs in S made me either tear up/shake violently or cry, and therefore they deserve to be up there IMO. Out for love is also just genuinely catchy and had actual build up to it. Also God “Ready for This” just. OOUGGGHHH IT SCRATCHES MY BRAIN SO GOOD LIKE A WARRIOR CATS MAP. I like it a lot. You cant have multiple characters sing about working together and expect me to NOT cry.

“Stayed Gone” isn’t one I listen to often but it’s so peppy and fast and full of hatred I can’t help but enjoy it. Also everytime the song starts my brain does this

I dont know anything about Welcome Home

I have. Issues. With “Loser, Baby” but aside from those the song holds a lot more weight to it than I usually give it credit for. And for as cheesy as the start if it is, the line before of Angel talking about self destructing resonates with me a lot. Also Husk lays down in a puddle of vomit and no one talks about that ever.

I think the first song in B is “Happy Day in Hell” and I’m adding it there 1. Because it is the first song 2. It gets a reprise thing 3. Charlie almost gets hit by a truck. Other than that it’s not really my favourite but I respect the impact it has.

“Hell is Forever” just fucks. End of story. Alex Brightman killed it.

“Respectless” is good I love Velvette’s VA, but the sudden start of the song and the ending are so out of left field the first time me and my friends watched this show we had to pause cause we lost our fucking minds. Could’ve been better but I’d listen to it again, yeah.

“Hell’s Greatest Dad” is silly and funny and maybe I’m biased as a violin player and jazz enjoyer but a lot of the instrumental tickles my brain so nicely. I will say though it confuses me so much because why does Alastor care about being seen as a father figure?? My mom said it could just be him wanting to show up Lucifer and that’s it but I dunno.

“More than Anything (Reprise)” AKA “Charlie and Veggie Kiss Scene - Hazbin Hotel”

This song sounds like it’s straight out of Barbie & Th Diamond Castle and I’m honestly pissed the girls in the movie didn’t kiss so I’m coping with this. ALSO THE FACT ITS A REPRISED SONG ABOUT LOVE MAKES ME A BIT CRAZY. I never noticed this was the same song Lucifer sang to Charlie SOMEHOW but that’s actually really cute.

“It Starts With Sorry” Has a big part in Sir Pentious’s character growth and just his character in general. I’ve been working on this in my Pentious rant but I never see people mention how much this song probably meant to him. Yeah it’s super corny, but he was fully expecting to be killed and had just been told to kill himself. This was definitely huge for him and I’m not gonna be convinced otherwise.

“You Didn’t Know” is really good but Lute’s part is by far the best and I pray to GOD she gets her own song in S2 her voice actor can SING. GODDAMN! I am very interested in Lute’s character development and I love seeing what people do with close-minded characters like that and hopefully Vivzie doesn’t condemn her to Vivziepop Woman Syndrome. If she isn’t important in S2 I’m going to be pissed but I dunno maybe S3 if we get one.

“More Than Anything” Wish my dad was like this! This song is incredibly sweet and I appreciate it a lot. Honestly might go way higher on the list if I keep thinking about it.

“Whatever It Takes” Sorry you will never be Imagine Dragons. Vaggie doesn’t sound anything like herself cause her VA is making her voice so much more gruff for her character, which is fine! I like her voice (the voice direction is not very good but I digress) it’s just her voice is so high in this I can’t even tell it’s Vaggie.

“Welcome to Heaven” is boring, but we got a Molly cameo!

“Poison”. Read this and this and this. -10/10. I’d rather make out violently with Elon Musk.

[harrysfolklore]

putting the christmas tree with harry !!

this is my entry for @watchmegetobsessed’s fanficmas 2022 !! i hope you like it 💕

if you want exclusive blurbs and tropes SUBSCRIBE TO MY PATREON

ask me anything | masterlist | likes and reblogs are appreciated !

NAUGHTY LIST

The calendar marked that it was December the 19, and you and Harry still didn't have a single Christmas decoration up in your house.

To be fair, you just spent the past month travelling across South America for Harry's last shows of 2022, but now after a quick stop in Los Angeles, you were finally home in London.

So after complaining about how your house looked so sad and dragging Harry to the nearest store to buy some decorations and a tree, your plan of the evening that consisted on getting your house in the Christmas mood started.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere you go." you and Harry sang along to Michael Bublé's voice that played on the speakers.

"Oh Christmas songs, I am your slave." Harry said as he passed you a couple of ornaments to hang on the tree.

"Did you just quote your tweet from 2014?" You turned around to look at him with a small smile, he was wearing a red jumper with brown corduroy pants and everything about him looked cuddly.

You loved being home with him.

"I don't know, maybe," he shrugged before continuing, "Mum called, wants to know if we're still coming this weekend."

"Of course we are, Christmas with the Styles for the second year, I wouldn't miss that for anything." you happily said, over the two years you and Harry have been together, his family had become your second one, they received you with open arms last Christmas and made you feel like one of them.

"Remember how nervous you were last year?" a smile made its way to Harry's face as he remembered last year's Christmas, since you and Harry started dating during his 2021 tour, you only had the chance to meet his mum and sister once when they visited him for one of his shows in LA, and Christmas was going to be your second meeting.

"Give me a break, okay? It was my second time meeting your mom and I was going to crash in her house for the holidays, of course I was going to be nervous." you told him as you hung more ornaments and decorations in your tree, it was almost done and you were very happy with the results.

"And they ended up loving you, baby, just like I told you," he moved to stand behind you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pressing a few kisses to the side of your face, making you lean into him "Tree looks good, we did a great job." he kissed the side of your face again, lingering his lips there for a minute.

"We? Harry I basically did all of that on my own while you sang Christmas songs the entire time." you playfully complained, turning around to face him and place your hands on his stomach, the material of his jumper soft in your hands.

"Heyyyy! That was mean!" he made his typical 'Heyyy' face, making you throw your head back as you laughed.

“I’m so happy to be spending the holidays with you again,” you ignored his complaints and decided to be soft for a minute. It was the perfect season for it, after all, “This year was just amazing, and I can't wait to see what next year has for us, if you'll still have me, of course."

"Baby! Of course I'll have you, I'm wrapped around your little finger and you know that," he kissed your nose sweetly, making you scrunch your face a little, "Besides, who's going to put up my tree next Christmas if you're not around? I'm going to turn into Scrooge!" you rolled your eyes with affection before speaking.

"So that's the only reason why we're dating? Because I put together amazing Christmas trees?" you decided to play along with him.

"That and your fantastic arse." he placed his hands in your bum making you squeal and laugh.

"Wish I could said that your arse is fantastic too but," he raised his brow, waiting for you to finish your sentence, "I was taught not to lie to others."

"Oh come on, my arse is spectacular and you know it," you laughed at his antics again, he could be such a man-child sometimes, "You're being so mean to me today, I might have to do something about it."

"Yeah? Like what?" it was your turn to raise your brow and tilt your head, waiting for his answer.

"I'm putting you on my naughty list." he grabbed you by the hips, making your chest collide with his, you instantly moved your hands to place them on his neck.

"You have a naughty list? Who else is there?" your eyes moved to his lips for a moment, dying to taste the red wine he had been drinking from them.

"Just you, actually." he smirked and finally kissed your lips, happiness filling both of you to be home for the holidays.

taglist: @cucciolafaerie @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches @golden-hoax @alienorknight @daydreamingofmatilda @sunflowervolume66 @vanteguccir @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles @stylesmygucci @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs @pleasingrryyy @harianaswhore @leadmetogarden @abeanontoast @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @ivegotparticulartaste @eviesaurusrex @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @gumballavocadoharry @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @harrybabyyyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m @rach2602 @balletdancerry @b-reads-things @juiceboxrry @lomlolivia @itsgigikay

[mothmans-left-buttcheek]

The Bitch, the Witch, and the Star

Jay Mocking x Allie Perea x Nova James

Inspired by @eddiemunson-reader-shame and @floredaqueen FOLLOW THEM OH MY GOD!!

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary- Fresh out of school in the summer of 85. Allie Perea and Jay Mocking are enjoying the cold delights served at Scoops A’hoy until Nova James shakes up their evening.

Warnings: profanity, references to sex, a bisexual disaster, this is basically just fluff with cursing and friendly bullying

Playlist: Rio by Duran Duran, Walk This Way by Aerosmith, Cheri Cheri Lady by Modern Talking

A/N: So I’ve been engaging in fanfics for years but rarely writing my own since I’m mostly inspired by original characters, so this is a scene with two of my favorite Stranger Things oc’s including my own because I am simply self indulgent lol. Basically I thought “what if I threw three girls in love with Eddie Munson in a room” and this was the result. I’ve done my best to interpret the characters with the information I could find while also manipulating some information for the sake of timeframe, I apologize if anything is out of character!

The artwork above is just a sketch I made while letting the fic cook, it's not great, I'm more a writer than an artist, but I hope y'all like it. There’s also songs I’ve associated with certain moments in the fic, feel free to give them a listen.

(Listen to “Rio”, Duran Duran)

There wasn’t anything to do in Hawkins Indiana. Sure there were record stores and vintage diners along the main strip downtown, but those industries were carried on by traditional residents alone. There wasn’t anything charming about Hawkins, it was just your run of the mill middle of nowhere Midwestern town. Until the Starcourt mall.

The newest edition to the smallest town in the Midwest was a hit amongst locals. Normally your selections for an evening out were slim to none, you’d have to drive hours away for the best date nights. But the Starcourt Mall was a shining beacon to the people of Hawkins, a tower of neon lights that sang a song of genuine entertainment. Shaky escalators, iconic chain clothing stores, a food court fumigating with grease, and a cozy movie theater to boot Hawk theater out of business.

It had everything to appeal to anyone from a rambunctious teen to a generous grandparent, the glow of the sun coming in from the glass ceiling more than just a natural light source. It was the light of hope for social lives all across town. Not to mention the impact it had on the economy. Hundreds of new jobs opened up to the ambitious folks in Hawkins with the promise of decent salary. Many people left their jobs at their local mom-and-pop-shops, so the town lost some of its historic charm with the modern mall, but with all the beloved structure had to offer it was difficult to find real fault in Starcourt. There was a Jazzercise studio, a gaming arcade, Sears. With no competition for miles, Starcourt Mall ruled Hawkins Indiana the summer of ’85.

(Listen to “Walk This Way”, Aerosmith)

“Where’d you get that record?” Allie asked.

She lounged casually in the plush seats in Scoops A’hoy, the slightly sticky leather clinging to the dense fabric of her brown carhartt jacket. Select patches adorned the piece, their rough texture matching with the slightly worn out graphic of her Van Halen shirt. Allie’s stare was buffered by square glasses, her round brown eyes flickering across the table with growing judgment. Full cheeks which would look lovely in a smile only adding to her youthful appearance while her full lips pulled into an unamused frown. A hint of pink in her tawny skin accented by the dark birthmarks under her eye. Her brown hair tickled her shoulders with a volume brought on by messy waves.

Allie Perea was rarely seen without a displeased stare, could’ve been caused by her tumultuous family or could’ve been caused by her fresh seeded hatred for Hawkins. She’d moved in less than a year ago, yet within her first day she had marked herself as a basket case amongst her fellow classmates. The bucket of insults she had collected filtered out to one title she did her best to wear proudly, “The Bitch of Hawkins High.” She possessed an off-putting attitude ready for someone to have a problem with her and an unwillingness to be social, which made her seat in a social setting like Starcourt Mall unusual. In truth Allie stared at the girl across the sugar stained table, a shadow looming in the bright colored shop.

Brown hooded eyes stared back at her framed by thick black eye makeup, black hair teased to high heaven like a rain cloud around her head. Her upturned nose sported a septum ring and her tall cheekbones were painted with unnaturally sharp black contour, it washed out her pale skin to a sickly ivory. A Siouxsie and the Banshees shirt cut off her shoulders while fishnet gloves crawled up her arms to meet the short sleeves. She had thin lips painted in a deep red with an oval birthmark dotted just under the left of her lip.

Janice, Jay, Mocking had practically grown up in Hawkins. She memorized every store to street corner, remembered all the awkward stages of the preps and jocks that mocked her, and knew every hypocrite that attended Sunday service in the church her parents pastored. In middle school her odd tendencies were mostly glossed over thanks to the authority her parents had in the community, but she lost her safety when her childhood sketches of graveyards and growing taxidermy collections got out. Her outcast shift was welcomed by her peers with a series of rude and ironic insults, and despite all the bird puns made from her name “The Hawkins Witch” was the name that stuck the most.

So it was appropriate for the bitch and the witch to grow a relationship that benefited the both of them. Allie had someone to help her navigate and Jay could be weird without being alone. Getting to know Starcourt mall had become their pastime, so despite their antisocial tendencies the two enjoyed getting complimented by strangers or berated by their school nemesis in a building with more escape routes.

Jay had let Allie’s question hang in the air, the two giving matching deadpanned stares while Scoops A’hoy bustled around them. After a slow deliberate blink Jay eventually answered, “Sam Goody’s.”

A lick of shame twisted her tongue, and Allie caught it.

“Sam Goody’s? Isn’t that a chain store? Weren’t you bashing chain stores last week?.” Allie accused.

Jay rolled her eyes back and pulled the vinyl into her lap, “look, Tears for Fears came out with a new album and I’ve been dying to-“

“Tears for Fears?” Allie interrupted.

Jay stifled just for a moment, unsure if she misspoke, “yes? Tears for Fears, Songs from the Big Chair?”

The girl across from her adjusted her glasses and brushed her hair back.

“What happened to all the punk ideologies you were preaching last week? Not going to chain stores or feeding the industry and shit?”

“The album came out months ago and Music Mania downtown still doesn’t have any copies, one little Sam Goody’s run isn’t gonna hurt anyone,” Jay defended herself with a near perfect cadence. Like this was an argument she had rehearsed in her head.

“I’m just surprised you’re breaking your ‘goth principles’ over Tears For Fears.”

“Bitch, you listen to Phil Collins.”

“I do, oh I do, proudly in fact. But I’m not busting my balls adhering to rules of my subculture, and then breaking said rules for a pop group.”

“They’re pop-rock! You know what- forget it, I’m not taking shit from a ‘metalhead’ that listens to Prince.”

Allie slowly shook her head while maintaining eye contact, “... says the hypocrite.”

“Yeah?” Jay answered while raising her brows and cocking her head to the side.

“Well you’re a try hard.”

Allie crossed her arms, “you’re a poser-”

“You’re a virgin,” Jay interjected while slightly lunging over the table. The two were locked in a stare down for a long passage of silence.

“… do you wanna split a sundae?” Allie asked suddenly.

Jay’s eyes flickered to the table as she contemplated with a hum before she looked back up at Allie with a shrug, “butterscotch?”

She grimaced and groaned to disagree, “grody.”

Jay sighed in disappointment, turning her head to look back at the menu and consider their options. Just as she did so she was hit with a whiff of sweet perfume and a flash of baby blue in her vision. She felt her stomach drop just for a moment as she recognized the form walking up to the register.

(Listen to “Cheri Cheri Lady”, Modern Talking)

If mermaids were real she would be a siren. Warm skin shining rose gold in the light, plump round lips painted with delicate gloss, and deep doe eyes with lushes lashes fluttering with mischief. Her maple brown hair was long and rich in volume, curled to perfection while her bangs floated gently over her forehead. One birthmark kissed her left side just under her lip and another sat comfortably under her right eyebrow. She was dressed simply but with perfect measure, her blue dress hugging her slim waist and chest tightly while swaying around her wide hips and along her thick thighs.

Aknova James was borderline Hawkins royalty. Her parents were loaded so she was afforded every luxury the average resident of Hawkins would have to go out of their way for. While growing up under the influence of the Hippie movement from the prior decade, Nova grew into an incredibly classy young woman. At least she appeared classy. Just underneath her elegantly trimmed smile was a carefree attitude and an iron resolve, few people’s opinions could deter her predetermined perspective. And should someone cross her, she had a few choice words which would knock the wind out of anyone’s sails. Thankfully the shining star used her power wisely… more or less.

“Ohhh fuck,” Jay muttered as she watched the new customer pass by their table.

Allie’s brows furrowed and she twisted to try to match Jay’s gaze, “What?”

The second she spotted the cheerleader her own jaw became slack, “Ohhh mierda.”

Both the odd balls were familiar with Nova, mostly from the captivating atmosphere she carried through the halls, and long winded rumors of her privileged position. Being on the cheer team also granted her revered social status, and the outcasts clocked her high school social class from miles away. She was in a different league from the two entirely; when she entered a room, things shook. They could only hope things would shake away from them.

“That’s Nova James,” Allie commented with surprise.

“Yeah I know that’s Nova fucking James, her giant ass is ten feet away from my face,” Jay hissed. Curling her fingers together and resting her elbows on the table, her chin sat atop her intertwined gloved hands. Narrowing her eyes at the girl who had approached the desk, she grumbled under her breath just loud enough for her friend to hear.

“Shit, she looks hot. Really hot.”

“Good, she’ll take some of the attention off of you and your rats nest,” Allie teased while pulling at the wispy strands of Jay’s teased hair.

“It’s a bat's nest, god, and you know what, maybe I want a little attention! I’m hot! And when Madonna wannabe’s aren’t walking around like they’re god's greatest gift to the mall, I actually get compliments!”

Allie opened her mouth to reply to her friend’s banter but was left without any silence to fill.

“God she really pisses me off. Every time she comes in here she asks for a sample, dislikes the sample, and orders two scoops of strawberry in a waffle cone. But like three bites into the ice cream she sticks the whole thing into a bowl. You’d think she’d start cutting to the chase and getting strawberry in a bowl, but no, she goes through the whole process every time.”

The brunette stared at the rambling goth across from her with concern. “… are you stalking her?”

Jay looked back at her with a face still perplexed in frustration at the girl currently ordering, “I’m here a lot, and I like to people-watch, okay? Look- just look-“

As she insisted and subtly pointed to Nova, the girl already had a small spoon between her lips. Chewing slightly and nodding in response she tossed the spoon into a small trash bin. She pursed her lips while thinking for a moment, the dirty blonde currently working the desk sighing with an empty stare as Nova contemplated. She finally spoke up and pointed to a flavor sitting deep in the display. Allie and Jay watched intently while the employee leaned to grab a waffle cone, and after digging her scooper into the tub she lifted a perfect scoop of pink and red, followed by a second scoop to raise the height of the treat.

“Yeah, she got strawberry,” Allie nodded absentmindedly at the scene in front of her only to be immediately shushed by Jay who was still watching like a hawk.

Nova received the ice cream with a smile, licking a stripe while rummaging through her purse. She took a second bite while pulling out cash and dropped it casually by the register. Her motions stilled as she waited for her change to be rung up, and only once the receipt was handed to her did she take a third bite of the ice cream. After a brief conversation with the current employee the girl was handed a small bowl, and Nova dumped her ice cream down into the cup quickly while the waffle cone peaked out like a tall tower.

“Boom!” Jay slammed her hands against the table. “Just like I said. She literally has a pattern!”

Allie flinched, startled from the noise but nodded back.

“Yep, yeah, wow,” she began in a sarcastic voice. “She literally did exactly what you said she would do. That was crazy. I’m so- so enraged by her behavior. Good catch Jay.”

“… can you at least pretend to care?”

“I was pretending.”

“Well then do it better-“

“Hey Jay,” a new voice chimed into their conversation.

The two girls turned their gazes to the opposite side of their table to find a pretty brunette in a blue dress staring at them patiently while chewing on a spoonful of ice cream. A smirk tugged at her lips and she batted her lashes with feigned innocence. The once previously hunched over goth straightened in her seat and smiled politely.

“Hey- hi, Nova. Good to see you.” She slurred in slight panic.

“You know I thought Elvira was sitting here for a second, I was about to ask for an autograph! How are you?” Nova asked as she shifted her weight to one hip, eyes flickering between the two girls sitting side by side in the booth.

Jay let out a breathless laugh while her flattered face grew pink.

“I’m good, uhm, have you met Allie?” Jay asked as she motioned to her friend next to her, Nova’s eyes quickly followed like she had been waiting for the stranger to be brought up.

“No, not formally, I’m Nova James,” she said with an award winning grin. Her hair falling delicately to one shoulder as if it was commanded to.

Allie was struggling to respond, staring wide-eyed while her mouth hung open and a hum rang out, like she was a robot in the middle of saying hi before someone hijacked her programming. Jay gently kicked Allie under the table to silence her droning, their thick boots creating a dull ‘thwack’ against each other.

“Hi! Nice to meet you finally, formally, properly, uhm- I’m Allie Perea, I moved here a few months ago- New Mexico.” Allie came to life and spoke quickly.

“No way,” Nova’s voice peaked with intrigue, “that’s so cool! I went there for a music festival with my parents when I was younger.”

Allie was wide eyed behind her square glasses, “Oh wow, you’ve really traveled- uh, yeah we get really good groups out there. My dad took me to see Van Halen last year.” She said and after a beat tugged on her tour t-shirt.

“Those are the guys that did that one song-” Nova hummed the opening melody to Jump while squinting her eyes to place the group in her mind.

“Yeah! Yeah that’s them!” Allie answered with a grin

“Gnarly, they seem fun to hear live.” She complimented while watching the bundled up girl continue to gawk. Allie’s soft features slowly started to curl into an impressed smile, eyes shining with excitement at the mention of the band. Although the transfer student was a fresh face, the cheerleader couldn’t help but find Allie endearing and sweet.

Allie’s mind on the other hand was a whirlwind, this casual interaction defied everything she knew about the social hierarchy in Hawkins. Cheerleaders didn’t talk to basket cases and when they did they certainly weren’t nice about it. Yet the wealthy girl was currently on equal footing as the outcasts, enjoying the same atmosphere and the same sweet treat. The concept helped to soothe Allie’s rampant anxiety.

Jay looked between the two for a moment as the conversation halted, so she interrupted the awkward silence with as charming a smile as she could muster, “Well what brings you to the mall? Running some errands? Meeting up with a hot date?”

Nova laughed and waved her hand in the air, “not today, I’m just meeting up with a friend.”

Nova glanced between the two girls, her foxy eyes glimmering with cunning as her freehand pressed on the table. Leaning over the table to get closer to them she tilted her head.

“Actually, you guys are friends with Eddie Munson right?”

The question punctuated a pause in the banter, Jay and Allie flickering their eyes to meet as their faces twinned in confusion.

“Yeah? We are.” Jay answered uncertain.

“Does he have a job right now?”

It was then Allie barked a harsh laugh, a mocking smile stretching her lips.

“I think Eddie’s allergic to work! Guys been slacking off all summer, super bummed about being held back… I shouldn’t have said that last part.”

“It’s fine, I suspected as much.” Nova pulled out a small paper from her purse and slid it onto the table.

“My dad’s looking for someone to keep our pool clean for the summer, pay’s pretty good. If you guys could let him know I’d really appreciate it, have him give me a call if he wants the job.”

As the paper rested between the pair they both moved to inspect it, and sure enough it was Nova’s phone number. Written plainly but perfectly nonetheless. Jay ran the paper between her hands for a moment while she glanced back and forth between the paper, her friend, and the cheerleader.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, we will let him know of the opportunity.”

“Great, you guys are the best! I’ve gotta go but I’ll catch you later,” Nova gave them a playful wink and walked off, her hips swaying side to side as she waved to someone beyond Scoops A’hoy. “Isa! Over here!”

Jay scrambled to lean on the table and watch the swaying of her skirt, “hate to see her leave, love to watch her walk away-“

“Holy shit what was that?” Allie exclaimed as she grabbed Jay’s arm and shook her harshly. “How did she know your name?”

“I don’t know!”

“I thought I was gonna die! Pinche madre, she knows my name now!” Allie deflated in her seat and slapped her hand against her chest.

Jay was too busy examining the slip of paper in her hands, bouncing slightly in her seat while relishing over the dark ink, “and we have her phone number! She gave us her number!”

“… yeah, for Eddie…” Allie corrected with a studious cadence.

Jay turned to look at her, both staring deadpanned as they had earlier.

“… and? She handed it to me.”

“I don’t think she wants you as her poolboy.”

“Hey, I could make a great pool boy. I’m fit, I’m handy-“

“Jay, she wants to fuck Eddie.”

“Ew!” Jay’s face scrunched up like she had tasted a fresh lemon and she dropped the number on the table.

“Gag me with a spoon, don’t put that image in my head!”

“It’s obvious! If her family was really just looking for someone to clean their pool they’d get some average Joe off the street, but Nova’s looking for someone specific to take it. I mean she went out of her way to talk to us just to get to Eddie!”

Allie waved her hands in the air for emphasis and finally slapped them back down in her lap, her friend watching with her lips pressed thinly together and a stare that suggested denial. With a groan Jay dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her face harshly.

“Oh god, she’s gonna fuck Eddie…”

Allie nodded back, the thought that they were accidental accomplice’s in an aspiring hookup was awkward enough. But when factoring in that one of the most popular girls in Hawkins High was making a pass at their loser Dungeon Master, a guy so different from her, a whole new cloud of shame hung over their heads in response’.

Considering Eddie’s romantic track record, Nova’s chances with him were shaky; his last relationship ended in a felony and his crush turned out to be a lesbian. Whatever the result, Allie and Jay had to endure bearing witness. The two girls sat in quiet contemplation, imagining what kind of dumpster fire Eddie would make out of Nova’s advances while also reeling that they encountered a wild cheerleader and survived unscathed.

“… do you wanna split a sundae?” Allie asked with disdain still present in her attitude.

Jay raised her head, humming in contemplation, “butterscotch?”

“… fuck it, sure.”

[waywardangel-wilds]

What's your headcanon for Katniss and Peeta's children?

How old was Katniss when give birth to their daughter?

How many years apart between them in age?

Your headcanon for their name?

Who gets the singing and art skill from their parent?

Bonus question : please give recs of your fav everlark post-Mockingjay fanfic.

Thank you :)

@curiousthg

How old was Katniss when she gave birth to her daughter?

I know that canon is somewhere around 30-32 but my soul wants it to be 35. Probably because I personally consider 35 to be the best age to get pregnant by. I also like the idea of K&P having elementary-aged kids while they're in their 40s. 40 is such a hot age, its also such a good age to be parents IMO. 40 is just great.

How many years apart are they in age?

I picture them as being 4 years apart at the maximum. I think that makes sense for the epilogue ages we get hinted at. Toddler is 1-3 so the boy is somewhere in that range while the girl is between 4-7. I think that makes sense.

Your headcanon for their name?

I'm a strong believer in Willow and Rye. Those names just sound so Twelve to me. There's also something 'traditional' about those names, in that they're callbacks to Katniss and Peeta's own families (that is assuming the baker names all the kids after bread/bread-related/adjacent items). It's a way of honoring the dead, which I think is extremely important to them.

Who gets the singing and art skill from their parent?

I'm the controversial everlarker. I don't love stories where one kid is super Peeta-like and the other is super Katniss-like. In my experience kids aren't like that, they don't typically take after their parents' talents/hobbies/skills. I think each kid might have a special bond with either parent surrounding one of these skills but I think it's unrealistic to expect one of them to be super artsy and the other to be super outdoorsy. I just don't see it. I also think Katniss and Peeta would love it if their kids pursued other interests that are in no way connected to their own just because that is something they never got the chance to explore at all. I might be biased by my own family (my family has lived through war and military occupation), but because of that context I see Katniss and Peeta being those parents who go all out for every single interest their kids have. Oh, this summer little Rye is into swimming? It's swim world now baby. Little Willow wants to do soccer? The whole family has jerseys now. I don't think there's anything wrong or bad about the kids doing their parents' hobbies or anything like that - I just think it's unlikely they would inherit so much from their parents. I think both kids have wonderful memories of baking and painting with Dad as well as hunting, camping, and singing with Mom. I don't think either of them is necessarily amazing at those skills nor do I think Katniss and Peeta push them in that direction because one way or another all those skills were cultivated from a need to survive. Peeta bakes for work but also paints for therapy. Katniss hunted to survive and also sang for the emotional value she got out of it. These hobbies/skills have their baggage to them. I think that's something to keep in mind. Hell, my grandpa is a hunter, grew up a hunter, and used to hunt during the war so my family could eat something other than rations. None of us know how to hunt. It's something he decided he didn't want to trouble us with. There's baggage there.

Bonus question: please give recs of your fav everlark post-Mockingjay fanfic.

I am the worst for fic recommendations because I never remember the titles of anything. Rn I can recommend my friend @vasilissadragomir 's fic Us Among The Living (it is very good and she puts so much love and care into it!!) and my own growing together fic which is (I swear) going to be updated soon. Other than that I'd have to go on a hunting spree myself to figure out the names of stuff lol.

[starfirewildheart]

Chapter 5

Scars and Souvenirs 

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 1,568

Rating: some angst some fluff

(Personal note: real life has been kicking my ass lately and it's taking its toll. I struggled with this chapter. I hope it's OK. Also if you wanna chat about Henry, any of his characters, movies or even has out stories feel free to DM me.)

Sy laughed as his three year old niece gave Deb the third degree. Millie was completely enamored with Sy which he was so shocked by since he spent most of her life in the middle east but was incredibly grateful for it. 

"Why didn't ya bing mah unka Sy sooner. He coulda skeered da torm away?" Millie huffed at Debbie. She believed her Uncle Sy could fix everything, even bad weather.

"I'm sorry sweetie but he had to help your grandma with some stuff earlier," Debbie explained. Millie was the cutest little girl with blond hair and blue eyes and at three already had Sy's stubbornness and attitude. Seeing them together, Sy huge and Millie so tiny was cute but watching the big, bad, marine be bossed and pushed around by this tiny little girl was the most adorable thing ever.

"Why didn't you do it?" Millie pouted at Deb.

"Cause she didn't want me too. She wanted to spend time with Uncle Sy," She explained. 

"Why not?" Millie questioned. "You do it den Unka Sy be here wif me!"

"Cause she said she wanted him, not me" Deb shrugged. 

"Why?" She asked again.

"Stop bein stupid 'silly millie'." Amy and Mike's oldest kid, Robbie sneered. He was six and he thought little sisters were the worst. 

"Hey," Amy, Mike and Sy all said at the same time. "We don't call people stupid young man," Amy finished.

"Yea poopy head!" Millie stuck her tongue out at him.

"No ma'am," Sy shook his head. "You don't get to call him names either."

"Whhhhyyy?" She whined. "He is a poopy head!"

"Silly Millie, silly Millie," Robbie sang.

"Cause it's not nice," Sy explained while trying not to laugh. "But mostly because I said so." He pointed at Robbie. "That means you to."

"Otay," Millie nodded and played with the doll she had in Sy's lap.

"Fine," Robbie sighed.

Sy's phone rang and he looked at the screen before turning it to silent with a huff. Deb looked at him quizzically but before she could ask her phone rang. She looked at the screen and did the same thing Sy had done.

"What's going on?" Amy asked but just as she did her phone rang. "Hello?"

"Are they there?" Sara demanded.

"Hello to you too mom," Amy rolled her eyes as she excused herself to the kitchen for privacy. 

"Are they there?" She huffed again.

"Yes they are here. The storm was worse down their way and they couldn't get home. They were exhausted and not in any shape to be alone anyway."

"They were here but she decided I didn't need to have a discussion with my own son. She has no right to try to come between us. He's my son and I have a right to know what…"

"No you don't!" Amy yelled into her phone. "Yes, you are our mother but that doesn't give you the right to know every tiny detail of our lives. Whatever Sy went through over there we know it was awful and if he doesn't want to retell it or doesn't want us knowing then we should be ok with that. All that he needs from us is for us to love him just like he loves us. Is that not enough for you?" Amy was near breathless from her rant but when she heard the click of Sara's phone turning off her blood boiled and she growled rather loudly.

"Don't ruin your relationship with her because of me." Sy had stepped into the kitchen when he heard Amy's raised voice. "I don't know why she's being this way but she's dead set on knowing it all and I don't just don't think I can do it."

Amy hugged him. "You don't have to, Sy. If talking about what happened helps you I will gladly listen to every detail. I will continue to love you just the same if you never tell me anything that happened. You are my little brother." 

He walked over to the counter and leaned his hip against it, arms crossed over his chest. "I should just disappear.  It would make everyone's lives easier."

"You better not disappear! We need you," Amy insisted 

Millie came running into the kitchen ending their conversation.  "Unka Sy!" She ran up to him with her little arms in the air and he scooped her up.

"And what do you want?" He asked her as he tickled her and made her squirm and giggle.

"Come pay wif me!"

He sighed dramatically then flipped her upside. "I guess,  if I have to."  

They spent time playing with the kids before they had their dinner and got ready for bed both falling asleep after a story.

Once it was quiet Sy's mind started to go into hyper vigilance again and he was getting antsy. His eyes were darting to all the windows and doors searching for the enemy. When Amy came back downstairs and called them to the kitchen so they could all eat dinner Deb got an idea. "Amy, do you have any card games or board games?"

"I do!" She jumped up excitedly and went to gather them up.

"You did it now woman," Sy shook his head. "She loves playing games."

Deb held out her hand to him and tried to pull him up which was futile until he helped. "Games are a good distraction," She explained as she guided him toward the kitchen. Once he was in front of her she smacked his ass. "Woman?" She growled. 

He bit back a shocked squeak and spun on her quickly wrapping his arms around her and roughly squeezing her ass with both hands. "Yea, woman." There was a playfulness in his eyes as she reached back and swatted at his hands. "Mine", he growled deep in his chest as he pressed his forehead to hers.

"Only yours, always," She promised. He kissed her until she was breathless and leaning heavily against him. "Mmmm," She sighed contentedly.

"Found em," Amy held up the boxes triumphantly. 

Thirty minutes later they were deep into a game of 'Syverson rules Uno' which she learned ment the deck had three special make your own wild cards, one of which Sy made a draw 10 card and you could 'stack' draw cards. The first hand Debbie had to draw eight and Sy enjoyed that just a little too much. So now, about half way into the game, Debbie was in a fit of hysterical laughter, Amy was in tears from laughter, Mike was trying to hide his smile and Sy was cursing. "Biggest bunch of fuckin bullshit I've ever seen in my life." He grumbled. "You keep laughin'" he shook his finger at Deb. It only made her laugh so hard she snorted which led to Amy's hysterical laughter and poor Aika looking at them all like they were mad. "It's not that funny!" Sy huffed at his sister.

"You," gasp, "had to," snort, "draw," guffaw, "18!" Tears from laughter streamed down Amy's face.

He shook his head and glared at her before picking up a pretzel twist and throwing it at her head which Aika happily munched as soon as it hit the floor. "Play!" He growled. 

Deb tried to control her laughter but failed, earning her own pretzel to the head. "They're your rules Syverson! I'm just playing by them," she explained innocently. 

"Uh-huh," he nodded, giving her a look that was supposed to be of anger but he couldn't hide his grin. 

They continued to play games for a couple of hours before Deb noticed Sy starting to wear out. "I hate to end a fun time but I'm getting kinda tired. I think I'm ready to stretch out."

"Of course," Amy stood up and gave her a hug. "You know where everything is but if there is something you can’t find just let me know."

"Thank you again for letting us crash here," sis. 

"You know you're welcome here anytime. " She gave him a hug then shooed them off to bed.

~~~~♡~~~~

Deb made sure Aika had been walked then crawled into bed where Sy was already waiting. The coolness of the sheets was welcoming on her sore, aching body. She wasn't really sleepy but physically she was beyond exhausted. Sighing contentedly when Sy pulled her against his side she pressed a kiss to his chest. "You feeling better sweetheart? "

"Still not right but much better than earlier. I'm so sorry you have to go through this with me. You deserve so much better."

The sadness in his voice broke her heart. She raised up on her elbow and looked at him. "I'm sorry you have to go through it baby, that you went through any of it. You're wrong though. I don't deserve better because there is no one better."

He turned on his side and hugged her to him pressing a kiss to her head nearly purring as she ran her nails lightly up and down his back.

"Mine," She said softly.

"All yours sugar. Only yours."

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