#robertas gym

[robertasgym]

21-Day Weight Loss Home Workout without JUMPING

Welcome to our 21-Day Weight Loss Home Workout plan – no jumping required! If you're eager to shed those extra pounds without bouncing around like a basketball, then you've come to the right place. Our program is designed to make fitness fun and accessible right in the comfort of your own living room.

Get ready to sweat it out with a series of exercises carefully crafted to help you reach your weight loss goals without putting extra strain on your joints.

From squats and lunges to core workouts and stretches, we've got a variety of moves to keep you engaged and motivated. So, grab your workout mat, lace up those sneakers, and let's get started on this journey to a healthier, happier you – one step at a time!

Set realistic goals – aim for progress, not perfection, and break your goals down into manageable steps. Celebrate each milestone along the way. Good luck and have fun!❤️💪

**If you want to be notified when I upload a new video, make sure to subscribe to our channel. I upload new videos everyday from Monday to Saturday!

[walkworkouts]

Discover the Fitness Power of Walking At Home

You'll feel more energized and focused after this 15-minute fitness walk! A fitness walk makes everything healthier! If you want results, this is how you should walk! One of the quickest and easiest strategies to reduce weight is to exercise by walking. You can burn calories and lose weight rapidly and simply by doing walks at home! Thus, if you're seeking a quick and simple method to shed pounds, try this walking workout! Everyone, let's go for a walk!💪❤️

[fitnessmantram]

Exercise for Hips and Waist | Best Exercises for Curvy Hips and Glutes |...

[o2livesecret]

The 3 Best Exercises to Lose Weight Fast! | @o2livesecret

[yvegottired]

did 10 minutes pf a 37 minute workout and decided to call it a day

[pitchsidestories]

training season II Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1140

summary: Lucy and you're married, but she still wants to impress you especially during gym sessions with the team.

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, we hope you enjoy it as much as we did while writing the oneshot.

Staying focused.

That was always your priority when you were in the gym with your Barcelona teammates.

Your hands were getting sweaty as you did your last set of leg presses on the machine.

Alexia did the same exercises next to you. You liked being in her presence, she always made sure you pushed yourself.

But today, she seemed distracted, pausing in the middle of her set.

“Y/n, your wife…“, she said into the silence.

“What about her?“, you huffed as you pushed the weight with your legs once again.

Alexia rolled her eyes: “She’s annoying.“

“Annoying, huh?“, you laughed. You set your feet down and turned towards your wife.

“Look.“ Alexia nodded in her direction and resumed her exercises.

Lucy was in the middle of the floor, doing push-ups in rapid succession.

You smirked: “Luce is trying to impress.“

“I wonder who she’s trying to impress here. It’s definitely not us.“, Mapi teased. She was sitting on a gymnastic ball and grinned at you.

You shrugged innocently: “Who knows.“

Still, your gaze subconsciously drifted back to your wifes biceps.

“Pretty obvious.“, Alexia concluded with a raised eyebrow.

On the order side of the gym, Lucy looked over to Mariona who was next to her on the floor, massaging her muscles with a foam roller.

“Mario, is she looking?“

“Yes, and everyone else too.“, the midfielder replied, sounding bored.

Patri joined the conversation, letting herself drop on the mat next to Mariona: “Also you know that this rooms isn’t that huge and everyone can hear you, right, Lucia?“

“Shut up.“, Lucy replied jokingly.

The younger player just shrugged: “Your wife doesn’t look too impressed so far.“

Lucy frowned as she looked over towards you: “It’s because Alexia and Mapi keep distracting her.“

“Or you need to do something more impressive.“, Mariona suggested.

The defender stopped doing push-ups and considered her teammate for a moment: “I think I have an idea for that.“

She got up, moved over towards a pull-up bar and started doing pull-ups. No break between the exercises, just steady and quick movements over and over again. The veins in her forearms started to protrude and her breathing pattern was off,

You could tell when your wife was overdoing it.

“Lucia Roberta Tough Bronze!“, you called her.

She let go of the bar and dropped to her feet: “Yes?“

The smile on her face let you know that she got what she wanted. Your attention.

“Sarina Wiegman would kill you if she saw you doing that!“, you warned her. It was a running gag between the two of you. Her national team coach was always worried about Lucy doing too much at her age.

Your wife shrugged: “She’s not here though!“

“Still, that’s why we won the world cup against your team, you never listen to the advice your coach gives you.”, you remarked with the hands demonstrative on your hips.

“Excuse me what?!”, she replied, in an attempted scandalized tone.

“You heard me.”, you countered smirking.

“You know that’s a lie. You were just lucky.”, Lucy protested, despite her playful annoyance, her green eyes lit up during your banter, there were only a few things she enjoyed more than this.

“Yes, it was. But maybe you should focus more on your running than your arms.”, you continued, the smirk on your lips deepened as you padded her shoulder, feeling the muscles working underneath the skin.

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”, the defender pouted. Although she clearly enjoyed that you finally touched her.

“Oh, nothing.”, you answered innocently.

“You couldn’t go a day without touching my biceps.”, your wife responded confidently, flexing said body part to underline what she just said.

“In fact, y/n already touched it.”, Mapi observed with a cheeky smile on her face. Obviously, the heavily tattooed Spaniard was on her side.

“Mapi!”, you scolded only half-heartedly.

“See? Maybe you should work on your arms instead.”, Lucy gave you one of her winning grins.

“Rude. Gym session is over though, so it’s time for training and there I want to see you run.”, you reminded her winking.

“Don’t worry. I’ll try to tackle you not too hard.”, the older woman promised snorting.

Watching you two from the distance Alexia turned curiously to the other English player in the room:” Keira? Were they always like that?”

“Yeah, we’re lucky that we’re in training otherwise they’d start making out.”, Keira made gagging noises.

“That sounds like them.”, the captain admitted.

“It’s weird.”, the red-haired midfielder told her teammate.

“It’s not!”, Lucy  promptly shot back.

“Oh, thought you were too busy flirting with your wife.”, Keira mocked her.

“She’s very sensitive about it.”, you explained quickly.

“Lucia?”, Mapi called your wife.

“Huh?”, she looked up to her.

“Let’s see who’s the first one on the training pitch!”, the Spanish woman proposed to the older player who never said no to a challenge.

“Obviously me!”, Lucy yelled excitedly, before the two of them start running, leaving everyone else behind them, almost crashing into a staff member while doing so.

“I won’t let you win, you impressed your wife enough.”, you could hear Mapi shout at her.

With a loud sigh Ingrid wrapped her arm around your shoulders, while you both walked in a normal pace to the training pitch:” They don’t belong to us, y/n.”

“Of course not.”, you agreed smiling.

“No, we always know they’re your two idiots.”, Alexia shook her head.

Watching your wife and teammate race each other, you sighed: “Yeah okay, they are.“

“See.“ Alexia gave you a told-you-so-look that you chose to ignore.

On the other side of the pitch, Lucy announced proudly: “I was first!“

“No, you weren’t.“, Mapi disagreed, pouting.

Lucy lowered her voice: “Shhh, don’t tell anyone.“

The Spanish defender let out a laugh, her gaze shifting in your direction: “I’m sure your wife still loves you anyway.“

“I do.“, you confirmed, wrapping her arms around your wifes waist as you arrived on the pitch.

She turned towards you, looking directly at you: “Just for the record, we were here at the same time.“

You nodded slowly: “Sure, love.“

Lucy considered you for a moment. With a smile on her face, she pressed a kiss to your temple and whispered: “I can’t wait to go home with you later…“

Keira grimaced in disgust: “Too much information.“

“Sorry.“, you grinned innocently. You took a step back from your wife. There was still a light training session to be done and you needed to focus on that.

But the truth was, you could not wait to go home either.

You would never admit it but yes, it worked. You were, in fact, impressed by her silly antics.

Even after years of marriage, your gaze always found her in every room.

There was no need to impress you, she always had your attention.

[kisskissbanggang]

Disavowed - pt. 2

[5.5k Words/20min. Read - Priest!Chris x Reader - NSFW/Smut - Church, Your Mind is Playing Tricks on You, Confrontations, Something Feels Off, Catholic Guilt, Priest Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Truck Sex, I Swear This is a Halloween Series]

[a/n: finally time to get halloween cranked up to speed 💕 ty to @magicficwriting and @therhythmafterthesummer for beta reading 💗]

[Part 1 | Come Say Hi!]

It felt forbidden to be in a room full of people and be the only one to know that Christopher, Father Bang, was a disgusting hypocrite. 

The day of your realization had been Sunday, obviously. It was now Thursday, after school, and you were all crowded into the modest boardroom next door to the faculty lounge of Pinewood Falls Prep. The walls were probably supposed to be white, if it weren’t for decades of wear and cigarette smoke. Even if the smell didn’t persist, the resulting hue of curdled cream lingered.

“So that settles it. It is generous of you to step up, dear… Dear?”

An elbow gently dug into your own at the conference table. You were so distracted. 

Your gaze swung to your side to identify who just nudged you, when you recalled that Jisung was the one who so politely saved you a seat. Reverend Han, you had learned, was the other young man that helped Father James serve mass alongside Chris.

That creep.

Chris, that is. Not Jisung… although you had to admit that you weren’t exactly in love with how polite the deacon was. 

“Dear…?”

You finally snapped out of your brooding then, finding Sister Judith rolling her eyes at the front of the room.

“Poor lamb must be sleeping with her eyes open,” Father James chuckled. To your chagrin, Chris laughed along. You wanted to shout it out at the whole room right then, just what a liar and a fraud the deceptively handsome priest was.

“I was saying,” Sister Judith reiterated, “that I know there’s a litany of work left in the wake of Jacqueline’s sudden departure, but that it’s generous of you to volunteer and step up to take it on, dear.”

“I did…?” you murmured out loud, stricken with disbelief. Jisung patiently nodded to confirm it for you.

To say that Sister Judith’s assistant left suddenly was an understatement. When you arrived at work early on Monday morning, her desk behind yours, in front of the Sister’s office, was empty. Every notepad, pen, and paperclip was gone, as if no one had ever occupied the space in the first place. Sister Judith wouldn’t tell you why Jacqueline left, but you supposed it was none of your business. At the beginning of today’s meeting, Father James had simply said it was a shame, but you were surprised that no one at all seemed to particularly care that the young woman had vanished so abruptly.

“You won’t take on everything, of course,” Sister Judith clarified. “You’ll be taking care of Jacqueline’s filing duties and backing up the receptionist when Roberta is unavailable. That’s all.”

“What about the lunchtime study group in the library?” Jisung suddenly asked. “Jacqueline was running it.”

“You can take that on if you have the time, Reverend,” suggested Sister Judith.

Jisung slouched back in his chair, as though he suddenly regretted saying anything in the first place. “Oh, uh,” he scrambled shyly, “that’s no problem, I guess. I just don’t know if the kids will take a liking to me–”

“Not like Christopher, you mean,” Father James laughed heartily, clapping a hand on the priest’s shoulder. “They practically flock to him.”

Chris humbly waved him off. “I hardly have anything worthwhile to teach; it’s just gym,” he denied. “I make myself available; that’s all. You have plenty to teach! Make yourself available, Jisung, and they’ll flock to you, too.”

The staff all but fawned over the platitude. Your pen’s barrel creaked in your hand, you were so close to snapping it in half. That pretty boy golden child had everyone wrapped around his little finger and it made you livid.

You left the staff meeting in a daze, trying to figure out why on Earth Chris refused to acknowledge you with any ounce of recognition. The whole ordeal felt like he was taunting you, and it was on the verge of working. There was no way it wasn’t him that you’d slept with. You remembered far too much of the whole night.

Maybe it was because your pride was admittedly hurt. You weren’t typically one for one-night stands like the one you were positive you engaged in, but the idea had intrigued you enough to want it. Now it just felt like you were being punished, some cosmic joke at your expense because you acted on your desires for once and now you couldn’t get it out of your head.

Indeed, even though you’d gone to your interview and mass with only an inkling of what exactly had transpired on Friday night, that fuzzy recollection had since turned high definition and was currently blasting at full volume in a maddening loop in your head. You had tried a divey little bar in Briar Bay, only a thirty minute drive away. There were no bars in Pinewood Falls from what you could tell, so the short trip seemed worth it. The bar had been a dank hole in the wall, a cozy hangout popular with the boat crews and mussel farmers that worked the bay. You’d noticed Chris before he ever saw you. He wasn’t wearing his clerical collar that night, obviously. Instead, you were drawn to this man sitting alone at a table in the corner, with the brim of his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. You had left him alone and minded your own business at the bar…

Until a beer appeared in front of you before you could even start a tab. The bartender pointed at the sender.

Right at Chris.

Here, now, today, you were feeling self-conscious and self-righteous all at once while you grabbed your bag from where you’d stowed it in your desk, back in the main office. It had been a long day of school, and the weekly staff meeting made this one feel even longer. Chris had shared one single flash of recognition with you at mass on Sunday, but never again in the days since. He had to be too ashamed, you were positive. Grouchy was an understatement for how you were feeling. You were on edge. All week, you strained to make pointed eye contact with this man, see if you could catch him replicating that explicitly guilty glint in his eye that he had during church, and he was staunchly refusing.

Even over dinner, you drifted, like a wraith, into the dining room of the boarding house and barely paid attention to your perfectly charming and sweet housemates. Seungmin and one of your fellow boarders, Felix, had worked so hard on making a gorgeous dinner, but you were so plainly pissed to the point that you couldn’t properly taste food. The worst part, honestly, was that you weren’t solely thinking of outing this disgusting man.

You were plagued by how much you couldn’t stop thinking of your night together. Not only were you burdened with this miserable secret, but you were the only one who knew what this man looked like under his clothes, the way he acted in bed. He was horrendously attractive. He was regretfully skilled. Those juvenile little hickeys he left all over you took days to vanish. In fact, most of them finally faded just the previous morning–something you’d never experienced before. The longest a love bite had ever stuck around on your skin was maybe three, four days, but five felt like a ridiculously long time. It was only adding to the way you couldn’t get the picture of Chris’ bare chest or carved hips out of your head, couldn’t shake the feeling of his soft lips or his rough stubble. 

One stupid hickey remained–angry and red and framed with teeth marks–right between your cleavage. More like a bite than anything.

This was going on far too long. 

It was Friday. Your housemates probably thought you were sick in the head. They’d been so cordial and polite, trying as much as they reasonably could to get you to open up and share a little, maybe unload some of the burden you were clearly carrying. The previous week, before you’d ever slept with Chris by accident, you were gladly chatting and helping with housework, staying up late to wash dishes with the boys and sip iced tea on the porch, wrapped up in sweaters when the breeze picked up.

You almost felt ill. More than the guilt, more than the shame, more than the way you were convinced everyone knew you were complicit in Father Chris’ sin, you hated that you wanted to be right. The way he ignored you was too practiced, too aloof. What hurt more than him not showing any guilt was him not even showing any hint of knowing you existed in any capacity outside of school. You tried like hell to keep your head down, get your work done, try to confront the pile of Jacqueline’s filing left unfinished.

It was the damned filing that did you in, ultimately. An approved stack of staff schedules now sat at the top of the pile, unearthed after you made some progress in your fastidious sorting and storing. Fr. Bang, Christopher was staring right at you, begging you to glance at the piece of paper. Planning: 2nd Period.

You wished you would move on and let it go, but you peeked at the clock on the wall. It was almost a quarter after 9 o’clock. There was plenty of time. 

You would do it.

No, you wouldn’t. You would work through the mountain of filing.

Yes, you would. You would confront this asshole once and for all and get him to admit that he recognized you, that he was disgusting and immoral.

The hallway was crushingly empty as you walked to the gym. Your shoes clicked loud on the aged linoleum floor. It was disarming, being this hyper-aware and critical of your own actions. Something resembling embarrassment clung to you like static.

Why were you so obsessed with doing this?

Walking into the gym, you almost chickened out when you found it empty, even though that was the entire point of catching him during his planning period in the first place. You scanned the basketball court and the stands extended from the wall, finding no sign of life and abashedly turning right back around to leave.

“Wait, I’m here!” rang out a voice behind you. “Can I help you with something?”

You warily turned back to face the voice, finding it to belong to no other than Father Chris. 

He smiled softly, kindly attempting to keep you from running off. “That’s right,” he nodded with recollection. Your gut twisted. “You’re the new office manager, right?”

That was it. This was your breaking point. “You’re kidding, right?” you scoffed. Chris’ eyes widened in bewilderment.

“I’m… what?” he asked. “Are you alright, dear?” He stepped closer, and flinched when you smacked away his outstretched hand.

“That’s rich!” you cackled. “How long are you going to keep lying? How long until you stop pretending you don't know me?”

Chris shook his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, dear,” he said. “What are you telling me? I’m afraid I don’t understand–”

“Seriously?!” you balked. “You’re going to act like we’ve never met?!”

“We met before?” the priest blinked at you, maybe even a little bashful. Flattered, even. “Maybe in a dream, but I don’t think so.”

You huffed so hard, so affronted by the response, that it could’ve been mistaken for smoke spilling out of you. “That is some nerve you have, asshole–”

“Hey,” Chris said sternly. “Calm down.”

And you did. God, you hated that you did. Worse yet, you weren’t even sure why you calmed down at all. The energy from your outburst was simply sapped out of you in its entirety.

“Do you want to talk?” Father Chris offered. “It seems you have a lot on your mind.”

Unsure what else to do, you indignantly folded your arms. “Fine. Yes. I’d like to talk.”

He nodded seriously. “Okay, I’ll be more than glad to. I have a meeting about a baptism here in ten minutes, but how about tonight? Somewhere we can have some privacy.”

“Oh? And where’s that?” you impatiently asked. If he suggested the Trawler, you’d scream right there and then.

“I live in Briar Bay for a couple more weeks,” he explained. As if you didn’t already know this. As if he didn’t tell you on Friday night. “How about Reflections? It’s a nice little cafe I like.”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, unsure. All the energy you originally had to pursue this issue was gone, vanished and leaving a vacuum in its wake that made it difficult to proceed. However, the idea of getting that confession was still too sweet.

“Fine,” you agreed, almost defiant, like you weren’t giving him exactly what he wanted. “Okay.”

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

Not okay. 

The worst part of Briar Bay being a “short” 30-minute drive away meant that every five minutes, you were wondering what the hell you were hoping to achieve. What, Chris would admit what he did and you would be satisfied? You would simply leave? Were you going to turn him in and humiliate him, really punish him for being so terrible? What exactly did you want here?

And still you were thinking about how gorgeous he was in bed. This still weirded you out. You explicitly recalled hardly being able to remember anything during your interview with Sister Judith earlier that week, but days later and now you could perfectly recall the cute way he scrunched his eyes shut when he climaxed? That queasy feeling settled in your gut again. By the time you turned off the small highway into Briar Bay, you almost felt feverish. Nauseous and everything. You were nervous trying to pick out each business. The Trawler passed by on your left down the main road, but finally you caught it. Reflections was apparently a sweet little coffee shop at the end of the main street, the last business next to the main route down to the bay. And out front, sipping from a paper cup in a cardboard sleeve on the patio? 

Father Chris had the audacity to be the picture of serenity. His shitty powder blue truck was parked out front. He was dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a sweater. A ball cap was pushed low over his brow, just like the week before. 

Fucking creep.

You nervously pinched at the hem of your top. In a move of pure desperation to hold any power you had left, you put on the exact outfit you’d been wearing Friday night last week. A crop top of reasonable length, a belted pair of cute jeans, some casual sneakers, and a cardigan because it was getting a bit chilly out. You weren’t totally sure what you were looking to get here, but maybe this would be the element that finally got that look of recollection you were so hungry for.

As you should’ve predicted, he wasn’t even outwardly excited to see you when you approached. Just a glance and a soft smile before he motioned to the chair across from him. You stiffly took a seat, when Chris pointed out toward the cliffs looking over the bay, up the hill from the cafe. “So you’re new, right? You just moved to town?”

He waited patiently until you silently nodded before continuing. “That’s Barrett Bluffs. There used to be a church there until it burnt down a hundred years ago. I just noticed that there’s actually a square patch of dirt up there. Maybe it really did burn down, except the story is it spontaneously combusted. The local kids used to dare each other to look over the edge.”

“Why?” you asked, attempting to remain nonplussed. 

Chris laughed into his drink. “I guess there’s a cave on the cliff face or something. The local legend is that a vengeful spirit lives in it. I dunno. Kids are wild.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, distant while your gaze was still fixed on the square patch of earth at the top of the bluff. “They’re pretty imaginative.”

“What’d you want to talk about?” he suddenly asked. You snapped out of it.

“I just don’t understand why you’re pretending you don’t remember me,” you simply stated.

Chris shrugged helplessly. “Because I don’t? Would you like me to get you something? Their chai here is delicious.”

You felt like your face was about to crack into a thousand tiny pieces. Every single option ran through your mind at once, tripping over each other. Really, you could argue this some more, or just leave it alone… but you did neither of these things. Instead, you got out of your chair and simply walked back up the street. Chris hopped to his feet and jogged after you, finishing his drink in the process and tossing it in a garbage can.

“Where are you going?!” he frantically asked you.

He followed you all the way to the Trawler, where the bartender waved hello to you, driving you even more mad than you already were. You grabbed Chris by the elbow and practically threw him into the chair in the back corner. He watched, bewildered, as you pointed at the bar.

“I was there,” you heatedly explained, “you were here. You bought me a drink and I came over to sit down. You said you liked my perfume and I said I liked your cologne, and we had a great time, and you kissed me in the back parking lot out there in front of your truck before you offered to give me a ride back to your place!”

How you remembered all these finer, non-explicit details, you had no idea, but they were all clear as day all of a sudden. Chris, meanwhile, was beet red in the face. 

“Uh, er,” he floundered. 

And there it was.

That tiny, miniscule little flex of muscles in his face, his eyes widening a millimeter.

A fucking confession of guilt if you ever saw one, you were convinced.

Was this what it was like to go crazy?

Except he doubled down. Chris squared his shoulders and smiled that same humble smile. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I really have no clue what you’re talking about. But for what it’s worth, I’m having a nice time. You pretty much tricked me into a date. Smart play, too, since it’s the only way I can enjoy one.”

One final option lay in front of you, one you were finally angry enough to use it. You bluntly yanked the neckline of your blouse down, exposing that one last hickey, the one that looked more like you were attacked by some animal. Chris’ eyebrows raised in surprise, his focus darting to where the mark was and away. 

“Still insisting I’m crazy? You're a real piece of work, Father,” you scowled. “Hope you're pleased with what you got.”

You let go of your top, grabbed your bag, and stormed out of the bar through the back door, the nearest entrance and into the small parking lot there just so you could get some fresh air. An uncomfortable heat surged up your back and radiated through your chest like a fever. You were nearly on the verge of furious tears. Squeezing between two pickups, you were so distracted that the rearview mirror of one of the vehicles smacked your shoulder. Fuck Chris. You would turn him in, maybe even before mass on Sunday–

Rushed footfalls on the gravel of the parking lot startled you, and you turned with only enough time to gasp when you found Chris there, his hands already cupping your face and pulling you in for a heated kiss. You barely had time to register all of this between the priest panting hot, desperate in your mouth, his cologne and aftershave making your olfactory senses tingle. His lips were still so soft. And then you remembered that this was disgusting.

The force of your slap against Chris’ cheek was more of a shove, getting him the hell off of you. You found yourself leaning back against the bumper of the truck you’d squeezed past, still holding your hand out to keep him back. 

Chris massaged his cheek and jaw where you’d hit him. He was still panting. “I hate this,” he said with a firm shake of his head. He wasn’t even looking at you. “I hate this so fucking much.”

The cursing would’ve surprised you if you weren’t already plagued with memories of him cursing over and over again the previous week.

“What?” you rhetorically asked. “What do you hate, exactly? I thought you didn’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Would you knock it off?” Chris snapped at you. You leaned back against the bumper of the truck, as much as the metal surface would allow. “We both know I’m fucking lying, I’m lying through my goddamn teeth!” he brokenly ranted. “But what I want to know is how the hell do you remember so much?!”

“Am I not supposed to?” you asked, uneasy.

Father Chris shook his head again. “No, because I barely remember anything. All I know is… is–”

“What?” you prodded. You stood up straight and took a tentative step closer. “What is it?”

“I want you, and I fucking hate it,” he spat. “I shouldn’t be tested like this. I don’t deserve this! I’m stronger than this.”

These were more admissions than you were even hoping to achieve. Yes, Chris remembered sleeping together. Yes, Chris was disgusting and immoral, and wanted more.

You didn’t feel triumphant. You didn’t feel victorious.

You felt smug. A craving erupted inside you, swallowing you whole.

You wanted to punish him. You wanted him to live in that fraught feeling of deplorable desire.

“Are you?” you questioned him. A smirk pulled at the corner of your mouth. “Are you stronger than that?”

Chris glared at you, brows furrowed as he digested the fact that you were blatantly mocking him now. It was difficult to assess his next move, but you didn’t have to wait long for another hint, because he simply took that option away and flatly answered you. Chris reached for you again, grabbing at your sleeve and pulling you close so he could kiss you again.

And this time, you let him.

When you weren’t almost gagging on his tongue in your throat, you adored how pissed he looked just kissing you. By now, you were dealing with his hands, too, desperately grabbing and squeezing you. He even began kissing your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin and nipping at you until you pushed him off again. You both caught your breath for a moment, but Chris nonetheless grabbed at your hips again.

“I’m not letting you mark me up again,” you scolded him.

He nodded obediently, despite already kissing your neck some more. “Sorry,” he panted against you, “I just, I need more– We’ll get in my truck, okay? And–”

“What,” you grinned, taking a chance to softly place intermittent kisses of your own on his throat. “You going to be a coward and hide me away at your place again?” From this vantage point, you could see he was wearing a small, golden crucifix just under his sweater. Cute. 

“Don’t want to?” he asked, fumbling in his pockets while he let you kiss him. “That’s fine, it’s dark enough, just in the truck is fine–”

You raised an eyebrow in questioning. “But you parked back at the–”

“What? No,” he interrupted. “It’s right here; come on.”

That made no sense. Chris’ wreck of a truck was back at Reflections–

But the metallic clatter of a keyring stopped your line of thinking in its tracks. Chris backed you up to the passenger side door and unlocked it before he scooped his hands under your ass, eagerly hoisting you up onto the bench seat. He was already working your belt until you grabbed the collar of his sweater and pulled him into the truck with you. You refused to let him lead here. If he was questioning his fortitude, you’d make it exponentially worse. 

Chris wrestled with you a bit to get comfortable in the cab of his truck, ending up sitting in the passenger seat with you straddling his lap. He was incredibly hard between your legs. When you worked your hips down against his, the friction drew the deepest, most regretful moans out of him that you’d ever heard. His strong hands clutched at your hips until you finally unbuckled your belt yourself. He leapt at the opportunity, still kissing your lips, your jaw, your neck, but now his starving touch drifted down from where it’d moved to your breast, down to slip under your panties and between your legs. You gasped and sighed in pleasure, his long fingers rubbing your sensitive clit before dipping into your wetness. 

“Fuck,” Chris gruffly cursed again, “you feel so good.”

“You still hate it?” you teased, almost laughing when he nodded pathetically.

“You’re so bad for me,” he whined. “I just want more.”

You almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

Chris watched in the dim of his truck, only illuminated by a couple security lights behind the old bar as you knelt up so you could shimmy your jeans down, and off one leg. You sat back down on his lap, your damp heat resting back against him but going no further. He looked up at you expectantly.

“Well?” you grinned. “Go on. Make your decision.”

A hesitance sank in between both of you while he considered this, his eyes glazed over and shining. You didn’t blame him. Truth be told, you were surprised with yourself, too. You weren’t typically one for such intensity, but there was something about holding this much control that you were getting satisfaction from in an unexpected way. You scolded yourself for a moment for coming on too strong.

Until Chris warily removed his hat and lifted his sweater off along with his undershirt, revealing his crucifix sitting on his bare collarbones. He set these on the driver seat beside you both, before his hands now wavered at his belt buckle. Father Chris quietly sucked in a breath, as if it were a long, drawn out gasp, astounded at his own actions when he unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans. You could feel the velvety, smooth head of his erection up against you. He paused again.

You pressed your lips to his temple, a tender little reprieve in the middle of this regrettable tryst. “Did you make your decision?”

Chris could be felt nodding before his hands pushed your hips down against his own. You both groaned then, his gorgeous cock slowly stretching you around him. He sucked a breath in between his teeth. “Fuck, baby,” he gritted out. “Feel how you’re opening up for me, it’s so goddamn good–”

You loved the way blasphemy sounded coming from him while you adjusted to him inside you, enough that you immediately took over and began riding him, never giving him a chance to suggest it or try taking the lead. Again, if he was going to decide to be immoral, you were going to really throw that into perspective. 

Chris cried out loud in pleasure when you dropped your hips down onto him and began working his erection into your depths, trying to search out that good angle while the priest was lost in the moment. He was so fucking hot like this, whimpering under you while his thrusts met yours, with no one to blame but himself by this point.

Right?

There was one second where you began to doubt yourself, maybe wondering if you were taking this too far, but Chris interrupted you. Even though you were hellbent on not letting him take control, you couldn’t bring yourself to resist when he grabbed onto your thighs and helped you grind into him instead of riding him, helping you climb that high you were chasing. Worse yet, he pulled down the neckline of your blouse like you’d brazenly done back at the bar, except he went further by pulling your breast to his mouth. His tongue lewdly ran over the bite mark you never managed to get rid of, but he kept his teeth off of you, opting instead to wrap his lips around your hardened nipple, overstimulating you just long enough to coax an orgasm out of you. It hit you hard and suddenly, a sharp gasp punctuating that blissful release as you shuddered around his erection still grinding into you. Chris’ actions got a bit more desperate now, goaded on by how you swept your fingers through his hair before clutching on, reeling his head back onto the back of the bench seat and riding him harder, your rhythm relentless and pushing him closer and closer over the edge.

“It’s good, right?” you sweetly asked. “You gonna cum for me, Chris?”

“Fuck, hold on,” he croaked, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy before you gently pulled his hair again. “Gimme a second, we can’t–” he pleaded, all pouty and doe-eyed, “goddamn, hold on, I can’t–”

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

But he did.

At least, you thought he did.

Because, as if nothing had happened at all, the next thing you knew you were waking up in a bed that wasn’t yours. It was his again. The way you seemed to know this instantaneously didn’t ring as odd to you when it probably should have, but there was far too much to be confused by going on at once. How did you even get here?

You blearily sat up, the crust in your eyes making it even more difficult to see, along with how dark it was. The bed was empty but you knew it was his. You tried to make out the rest of the room, get further confirmation of this fact you already knew, until you found your bag on the floor. Your phone was on the brink of death when you fished it out, but it was still able to report that it was five in the morning. 

The weird thing, at least in your mind, was that you were clothed and alone. You did just fuck Chris in the parking lot behind the Trawler, didn’t you?

… Didn’t you?

It felt like you did. But, even now, fully clothed in this veritable stranger’s bed…

It felt like it’d been a vivid dream. 

You slipped out of the bed, not even covered in a blanket. Your shoes were still on your feet. The room was a bit cold, enough to wake you up a bit faster. Judging by the view out the window, Chris lived in an upper floor unit, likely a private walk-up like many of the old houses in the area seemed to be updated into. This house was old indeed, listening to the creak of the floorboards as you warily walked out of the bedroom and found yourself in a small kitchen. A frayed cord hung from the ceiling. Following it upward, it was attached to an old attic door.

“I wouldn’t pull that if I were you,” came a voice, bringing you back to the oddity at hand. There was Chris, sitting at his tiny kitchen table. He almost looked sick, his cheeks pale. You were certain if you felt his forehead, it’d be clammy. A mug with three tea bag strings hanging out of it was clutched in his hand, shaking the smallest bit for you to see. “The attic door is broken,” he explained, not looking at you. “The super is supposed to take care of it.”

You looked up at the door again. It didn’t appear broken, but you left it alone.

Chris grimaced into his mug. “Did you and I… Did we hook up again?”

You nodded, a gesture you weren’t sure Chris saw but he nodded back nonetheless. 

“I shouldn’t be wanting this,” he frowned. 

You were at a loss of what to say. Instead, you comfortingly ran your fingers through his hair. Truth be told, the fact that neither of you were freaking out over not concretely remembering this was probably the least weird aspect of it all. You both had your own, much bigger concerns.

Chris took a sip of his tea. His hand twitched, making him sloppy. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m better than this. I’m not supposed to want you.”

“I’m sorry,” you weakly attempted.

The young priest raised an eyebrow at you. His eyes were bagged and red, bloodshot like he hadn’t slept in days. “No, you’re not.”

It wasn’t a denial. It was a diagnosis. 

And he was right. 

Chris betraying his vows and giving into you was the most potent adrenaline rush you’d ever experienced. That was the case the first time, and it was the case now. 

And if he didn’t stop you, you’d make his life a living hell until he repented.

[eulaliasims]

hi eulalia! I love the look of your apartment building in this post /eulaliasims/731892277884092416/ryan-roberta-and-robby-moved-into-a-slightly . would you happen to have an empty version of that lot (or other apartment buildings you made) lying around that you could share maybe? or some screenshots of the floorplans/layout?

Hi nonny! I do love posting floor plans, so here you go:

Ryan's OG apartment:

I don't remember if I ever shared pictures of this one outside of gameplay posts? It's three identical apartments, one on each floor.

New apartment:

And this one has three identical apartments on the top floor, and on the ground floor is a smaller one-bedroom apartment and a gym. I like the layout on the two-bedroom apartments a lot, it's nice to decorate and play. :)

[canirove]

The Princess & the Football Player | Chapter 34

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"Wow, Ellie. Your face looks so red... Did I catch you shagging Declan?"

"Shagging?" I laugh.

"Yes, shagging. You know what it means, right?"

"I do, Sophie."

"And?"

"And what."

"Did I interrupt anything?"

"No, you didn't."

"Yet!" Declan says as he walks into the bathroom. 

"Ignore him" I reply, rolling my eyes. 

"Then why are you so red?" Sophie asks.

"I joined him and the boys at the gym and then when they were done training we played a little football game."

"Wait, they know?"

"Yep, he told them yesterday. I was starting to bore myself to death because I couldn't leave the apartment or do anything when they were here."

"And how did they react?"

"The new players freaked out a bit, they didn't know what to do or what to say."

"The usual around you, then" Sophie chuckles.

"Yeah... But the ones who were already playing for West Ham when Dec and I were together, were really happy to see me again."

"Because they also know you are meant to be" she smiles. "Have you talked about when you are coming back home? How long do you plan on living there?"

"I don't know. We've decided to spend the new year with Mason and Roberta because I haven't seen her in ages, but nothing else."

"I'm sure she'll love that. But then you could come over. Both of you. We all miss you, and you owe mum, dad and grandmama a chat."

"I know I do" I sigh. "Them, and Charles too. Do you know anything about him? David told me he left for Monaco."

"No, nothing. But he looked so gutted that night… Ellie, he loves you."

"I know he does. But I couldn't keep lying to him or myself. You know it better than anyone."

"I do, yes" Sophie sighs. "Anyway, I better go. Our beloved cousins have invited me to have tea with them and share gossip."

"Enjoy" I chuckle.

"Yeah, enjoy" she says, rolling her eyes. "Once we hang up you'll leave to go shag Declan, while I'll have to listen to Eugene talk for hours about her dog having problems going to the bathroom or how she's fallen in love with a new guy she's met twice."

"You'll be fine, Sophie. You can do it."

"I can, but I don't want to" she complains. "So you better enjoy your shagging, make one of us happy."

"Sophie, we aren't..." 

"Bye, sis. Love you!" she says with a big grin before hanging up.

"So... Are we shagging or not?" Declan says behind me.

"Jesus Christ, you scared me."

"Sorry. But are we shagging or not?"

"Can you all please stop saying that... word" I say as a turn around to look at him. He's leaning on the bathroom's door only wearing his boxers, his hair a perfect mess after training, his arms crossed over his chest and making his biceps pop. And all that while giving me that smile that he knows makes my insides melt. "We are shagging. We definitely are. But one thing" I say as I get up from the sofa. "Please stop using the word shagging."

"I promise, your Royal Highness" he smirks before lifting me in the air and throwing me over his shoulder, walking towards our room while I giggle like an idiot.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I'm so glad you could come, bro" Mason says, hugging Declan. "It must have been crazy these past days."

"It has, yeah. And it still is" he sighs.

"How long are you gonna be staying at Rush Green?" Roberta asks him. 

"I'm not sure. Eleanor has an event in a couple of weeks and they are planning on letting the press ask her questions so she can explain everything and stop all the bullshit, but she also wants to talk to Charles first."

"I wish she had come. I miss her so much..."

As Roberta says those words, someone rings the bell at Mason's house. 

"I'll get that" he says.

"Is anyone else joining us?" Declan asks.

"I don't think so. Mason asked around and everyone is either staying with their families or going to a party."

"Who could it be, then?"

"I... Eleanor!" Roberta yells, running towards her friend and hugging her.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Eleanor!" Roberta yells, running to hug me. "Oh, Ellie, I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you too" I say, hugging her back. 

"Aren't they cute?" Mason smiles.

"Very" Declan replies.

"But what are you doing here?" Roberta asks. "Declan said you were staying with your family!"

"That was a little lie, we wanted to surprise you" I say, breaking our embrace. "Oh, shit. I think my hair has got tangled on something."

"Let me... There."

"What are you wearing on that hand?" I ask while scratching my head. "That actually hurt."

"Oh... I just... Umm... We got engaged!" she yells again, showing me the huge diamond on her hand.

"You what?" Declan and I say at the same time.

"Surprise!" Mason says with a shy smile.

"When did that happen?" I ask.

"And why didn't you tell me? I'm your best friend, Mase!" Declan says.

"I know, I know. We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a while, you know? And since you had enough on your plate already with what happened over Christmas..." he shrugs.

"But you could have told me you were planning on doing it! Ask me for advice when you went to buy the ring, about how to do it… I don't know!"

"I'm sorry, Dec. Please don't get mad."

"I'm not mad, I'm just... You are engaged!" Declan says, hugging his friend.

"I'm so happy for you, guys. But now I want all the details" I tell Roberta.

"Why don't we tell you everything while we have dinner? I don't want the risotto to get cold" she says, linking her arm with mine and starting to walk towards the kitchen. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Three, two, one... Happy new year!" we all scream, fireworks being heard all around us, the sky full of different shapes and colours. 

"I love you, future husband" Roberta says to Mason.

"I love you too, future wife" he replies before kissing her.

"Can I get a new year kiss too?" I ask Declan.

"Just one?" he says with a cheeky smile.

"I mean, making out with you to start the new year sounds perfect" I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. "And it is a bit cold here in the garden, it will definitely help me warm up. But doing it in front of Roberta and Mason..."

"They are too busy with each other, they won't care."

"Yeah, they won't" I chuckle.

"Making out session to start the year, then?" he says, gently brushing his nose against mine. 

"Making out session to start the year" I giggle. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Are you guys naked?" Roberta asks after knocking on the door.

"What?" I mumble. 

"What time is it?" Declan yawns.

"Guys, I need an answer. Are you naked or not?"

"Yes, but you can't see anything."

"Oh, great" Roberta says, storming into the room. "Because I don't want to see your dick first thing in the morning, Declan. That's not how you start the new year."

"That's how I've started the new year" I smirk.

"And you definitely enjoyed it. Have you always been that loud?"

"I… guess? But maybe you heard us because you aren't loud enough anymore. The boring married life has started" I tease her.

"Whatever" she says, rolling her eyes. "Breakfast is ready, so if you want to join us, you know where to find us."

"Thank you, Roberta" Declan says.

"And happy new year!" I laugh, lifting the duvet on his side and leaving him stark naked in front of her.

"Oh my God!" she screams before running away.

"Eleanor Victoria Alexandra!" 

"Yes?" I say, giving Declan my most innocent smile.

"I'm gonna have to do something with you. That behaviour isn't appropriate for the future Queen of England."

"Something like what?" 

"Remember that time you tied my hands with my belt?"

"I do. It is a very fond memory" I smirk.

"Well, it's time I get my revenge" he says, leaving the bed.

"It's been years, Declan! Time to move on!" I laugh. "What are you doing in the bathroom?"

"I needed this" he says, showing me the bathrobe's belt.

"And what are you going to do with that?" I ask, biting my lip in anticipation.

"Lay down. Hands over your head."

"Yes, sir." 

"That's perfect" he says after tying my wrists together. "Are you comfortable there or is it too tight?"

"I'm good."

"Great. Now open your legs. Wide" he orders me again.

"And now?"

"Now I'm gonna eat you out, and then fuck you until neither of us can't keep going. And you can't put your hands down. If you do, I'll stop or go so slow you'll start begging."

"That won't happen" I smirk.

"We shall see" Declan replies with a similar smile before disappearing between my legs.

[st0rmgr3y]

post no.2

pic of what tomorrows meals are looking like ^^ too close to 1000 cals i might leave some of my lunch

got my mom to buy me a fitness watch so i can track my steps without having to have my phone on me, i need to get into a healthy sleep schedule as well so that i can start exercising in the morning as well, if anyone uses the robertas gym 1000 calorie vids could u tell me if they're any good? pretty happy with today i definitely was tempted by some cake but i did some jumping jacks any time i thought about it. tomorrow is gonna be pretty hard since i have college and that means i'll have to eat lunch around friends and then ik dinner is gonna be alot as well since theres gravy and idk how to estimate the calories in that, plus veggies cause i dunno what they're gonna be yet.

[singlesablog]

Have a Nice Day: The 1970s

“Alone Again (Naturally)” (1972) Gilbert O’Sullivan Epic Records (Written by Gilbert O’Sullivan) Highest U.S. Billboard Chart Position – No. 1 

To think that only yesterday I was cheerful, bright and gay Looking forward to who wouldn't do The role I was about to play But as if to knock me down Reality came around And without so much as a mere touch Cut me into little pieces

Leaving me to doubt Talk about, God in His mercy Oh, if he really does exist Why did he desert me In my hour of need I truly am indeed Alone again, naturally.

                                    – Gilbert O’Sullivan

Welcome to my childhood.  “Alone Again (Naturally)”, certainly one of the most depressing songs ever recorded, was my first most favorite record ever.  I remember it playing at the Boys Club of Savannah over the loud speaker in the gym along with all of the other groovy, long-haired country-tinged soft rock oozing out of the airwaves at the time.  It is a song about a young man being jilted at the altar, swearing to himself he will throw himself off a tall building soon, and then about the unexpected death of a parent and a mother mute with grief…and I loved it.  I would wander around the Boys Club with my own mute, melancholic fantasies of sorrow and loneliness, oblivious that most boys my age were still into Snoopy and Bubblegum music.  Listen: it was the 70s—no subject seemed off limits.

The open of the song is Sullivan’s signature broken piano style, something that sounds like a mistake but by being repeated within the song ends up as a very effective method of expressing brokenness itself.  Gilbert was Irish-born to a working-class family and moved to England as a child; his actual mother ran a sweet shop and his father was a butcher.  He was a natural musician, and intent on pop success he invented a Chaplin-esque, waifish turn-of-the-century affect: suspenders, shorts, a tilted cap. By the time of “Alone Again…” he switched to an even more ridiculous 1920’s college prep look, sporting V-neck sweaters with a large silly G pasted on them.  No matter; the songs spoke for themselves, little dour slices of life with old-fashioned melodies and a vintage feel, and proved enormously successful: he was the top star of 1972.

I mention this because it feels as though Gilbert’s catalogue is as lost as his records once sounded.  In America he is rarely mentioned (or so it seems to me) even though he had 3 top ten hits in the US (a second single, “Clair”, reached no.2 that same year, followed by a slightly funkier song in 1973 entitled “Get Down” that made it to No.7).  He was Grammy-nominated that year for Song of the Year and Record of the Year, along with Roberta Flack (for “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”) which she won (deservedly) for both. It is astonishing to my adult self that these two records exist in the same universe, much less the same year, Roberta’s record still feeling endlessly modern and fresh, and O’Sullivan’s feeling like it belongs in the Norton Anthology of English Literature instead.

This is not to diminish Gilbert in the least (he is still alive and working and, of course, very famous in Japan, like all the major/minors are).  If I happen to hear this record it is just as wonderful as it ever was, and it will still fill the 7-year-old in me with those wistful feelings of chances lost and memories of being jilted, even though my only real tragedies up to that point consisted of finding that the milk had run out for my Cap’n Crunch cereal that morning.  And yet I would still find myself wistfully kicking around the empty basketball gym, avoiding all of the other rowdy boys, just waiting around to see what the 70s had in store for me, and surreptitiously absorbing all of those groovy tunes ricocheting across the gym.

_

“Alone Again (Naturally)”, besides being a well-covered and highly regarded song (Nina Simone recorded a version), is notable for another inflection point in history: in 1991 O’Sullivan sued rapper Biz Markie for prominently using the piano break in the Hip hop song “Alone Again”.  Gilbert won 100% of the royalties for the rap song, and this would help to establish the industry standard for clearing (and paying for) any sample by another artist, which has changed the music business to this day, for better or for worse.

[robertasgym]

100-Minute Weight Loss Marathon: Full-Body Intense Workout

Join us for an exhilarating 100-minute weight loss marathon that promises to ignite your fitness journey like never before! This full-body intense workout is designed to push your limits, burn calories, and sculpt your physique in a dynamic and engaging way. Are you ready to embark on this 100-minute journey? Sign up for this Weight loss marathon and watch your fitness story rewrite itself. No matter your fitness level, modification awaits. Conquer your goals, redefine fitness, one sweat drenched minute at a time! Goodluck and have fun on your workout! You can do it! ❤️💪 **If you want to be notified when I upload a new video, make sure to subscribe to our channel. I upload new videos everyday from Monday to Saturday! 

[walkworkouts]

15 Walking Exercises You Can Do at Any Age

Walking for 15 minutes every day offers advantages that exceed your expectations, which is why we're here today with a 15-walking exercises at home designed for everyone irrespective of age, to learn the fundamentals of incorporating a healthy routine into your daily. The benefits of this activity include muscular building, bone health, and maintaining optimum cardiorespiratory health. It's now up to you to get up and work those muscles in order to become a better version of yourself! Good luck! 💪❤️

[hakawati]

Tagged by @hakkiest: tag 9 people you'd like to get to know better (this is very cute I've never done it before :) )

Last song: Inni Mnih by Mashrou' Leila, I miss their music deeply and it will resonate forever. I think about this song a lot.

Favorite color: Everything greens, I don't think there's a more beautiful color.

Currently watching: Not watching anything, I would like to watch A League of Their Own, especially after I heard that interview excerpt from Roberta Colindrez.

Last movie: That stupid Netflix choose-your-own-story special from September with my sisters, I do not remember anything about it at all.

Currently reading: Gyn/Ecology: the Metaethics of Radical Feminism by Mary Daly and La Fortune des Rougons by Emile Zola technically but I haven't been able to sit down and read for a while with everything going on. They distributed free books somewhere I go often and I got a lot of new ones I'm super interested in so i really need to go through my pile of unread physical books like desperately

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Sour over everything to be honest but I love sweet and spicy, especially when it's local dishes or desserts.

Relationship status: Single (understandably so do you know where I live)

Current obsession(s): Listening to my parents talk about the past. Eating breakfast and not using my phone for however long I can in the morning. Strawberry ice cream. Researching about crochet and and accessible gyms near me. The neuroscience of substance use and the role of early life adversity on the speed of maturation of the corticolimbic pathway. Lesbianism in my region historically.

Last thing I googled: The chemical structure of petrichor, OChem things lol

Currently working on: Applying to graduate school. Reviewing for an OChem exam. Filling out my sketchbook. Getting new glasses. Being happier? Learning crochet. I'm getting back into pastel art which used to be my favourite.

I don't have many mutuals so if you see this consider yourself tagged :) but also @libracorpvs @multiversegideons @conectan (if you'd like to no pressure!)

[feisar]

Gay dating in boston sucks so bad its all people who are like ivy league educated and their only hobbies are going to the gym and watching netflix. I need to date a freak bear that would find posts by dr. roberta bobby funny and knows what a drive impact is

[atmilliways]

Dreams In Which I'm Dying (1-2)

parts 1 & 2 of 16 | 365 & 951 words | Teen +

part 3 | parts 4 & 5 | parts 6 & 7 | part 8 | part 9 | parts 10 & 11 | parts 12 & 13 | part 14 | parts 15 & 16 (complete) | read on Ao3

Written for the Stranger Music Anthology prompt, Mad World by Tears for Fears. This is a Donnie Darko AU! (It’s not vitally important to have seen Donnie Darko before reading this fic, but it’s a cool movie so you should watch it if you haven’t yet.)

Summary:

Eddie Munson hesitates right outside the doors to Hawkins High, blinking at the crowded parking lot. He can’t quite put his finger on why this isn’t what he expected to see a moment ago, or why his head feels stuffed with cotton. It's not unlike being high, but . . . more like waking up from a vivid dream. Or, Eddie Munson gets a taste of what would’ve happened if he hadn’t picked Chrissy up after the championship game. - “If a Tangent Universe occurs, it will be highly unstable, sustaining itself for no longer than several weeks.” — The Philosophy of Time Travel (Sparrow, Roberta)

1 - Cold

Eddie Munson is cold. It’s cold in the Upside Down. Once the novelty of adrenaline and sheer off the charts levels of what the fuck is off the charts wears off, though. . . .

The cold is in his goddamn bones. So the shiver doesn’t feel out of place at first, between that and the fucking demon bats clawing their way through the dark mirrorverse version of his bedroom door. The hairs at the nape of his neck standing on end also feel pretty goddamn warranted, given the situation. And yet, as he grasps the bedsheet rope hanging from the gap in the ceiling, Eddie looks around.

Nothing has caught his eye, making him hesitate. 

He doesn’t see anything, it’s more like a feeling. A nothing that hangs in front of him like an invisible bubble, long and thick and leading towards the trailer’s front door. Might be because he hasn’t exactly gotten a good night’s sleep since his world started imploding on Friday, and now it’s. . . .

Jesus H. Christ, he has no idea what day it is anymore. 

Glancing at his bedroom door again, Eddie can see how hard it’s rattling on its flimsy hinges. They’ll get through it soon, and then what? He played, they followed; he and Dustin holed up inside the trailer, they followed; once through the gate and back in the real Hawkins, they’ll follow.  

It’s a compulsion kind of feeling, carrying with it an icy grain of inevitability. He's responsible for Dustin's safety, goddammit. If that means following invisible sleep deprivation bubble trails in the air because he knows it’s the right thing to do, then so be it. 

After all, he might die tonight either way. 

With that crappy self-motivational speech under his belt, Eddie cuts the rope. He ignores Dustin’s wailing protests. Chances are thigh that the chest-height trail he follows is a hallucination, but he’s already in an alternate fucking dimension, so who’s to say. If he is going crazy, it’s not like he’ll have a chance to tell anyone and get whisked off to Pennhurst.

He runs out the trailer door, almost tripping over the threshold with all the grace of a jet engine plummeting to earth.

2 - Hesitates

Eddie Munson hesitates right outside the doors to Hawkins High, blinking at the crowded parking lot. He can’t quite put his finger on why this isn’t what he expected to see a moment ago, or why his head feels stuffed with cotton. It's not unlike being high, but . . . more like waking up from a vivid dream.

Grant thumps into him from behind and almost sends Eddie sprawling. “Hey,” Eddie barks, not sure why it comes out so sharp. Jesus, someone walking into him should not make him this jittery.

“Dude, don’t stop right in front of the door,” Grant retorts with a smirk, riding too high on the successful campaign to be annoyed.

The basketball game is over too, a mix of students and adults still flowing out the open gym doors into the night. Eddie had planned to sidle over there, find Chrissy, and give her a lift back to his place for that sale, but . . . something in his gut is muttering nope, uh-uh, not today. He waves to Grant and Jeff as they leave, then digs around in his pockets for his smokes and zippo. Lights up while he loiters with the Hellfire members who don’t have their own wheels.

“Bum one?” Gareth asks hopefully, but Eddie upends the battered pack to show how empty it is. Deflating, Gareth turns to the younger kids. “You guys all got rides?”

If they don’t, Eddie is already prepared to offer. Not that he’s exactly sure when he decided on doing that, when he should go off-load the last of his Special K stash. He'd sworn to Wayne he’d flushed it. . . .

(A little white lie, he figures, because selling isn’t taking it and that was the meat of what he’d promised. But, if he sells it, what happens if he flunks again and needs to stave off a breakdown? Or spiral into one, whatever.)

It's well-hidden. What Wayne doesn’t know won’t hurt him. It's fine.

Distracted, he gazes off at nothing in particular as he smokes. Movement somewhere high catches his attention and he focuses on one of the lamps doing a poor job of illuminating the parking lot. There’s something perched on it, the size of a cat but all the wrong shape. It has too many tails and arms that bunch around it like spider legs but bulkier, connected, and seems to stare right at him. Eddie can feel it watching, even though he can’t see any glint of eyes.

Slowly, it raises one leg—Jesus H. Christ, it’s webbed, like some sort of fucked up bat wing—and curls the clawed end in a slow approximation of a wave. 

“Henderson!”

Eddie nearly swallows his cigarette and reels around to see, of all people, Steve Harrington jogging over. 

The Hair. The Golden Boy. King Steve, who had graduated last year and by all rights should have scraped this shitty town from the bottom of his shoe by now. Eddie feels both shocked at their little nerd herd earning the royal-emeritus attention and not surprised to see the guy in the slightest.

Must be all the many, many of Dustin’s stories about the guy finally sinking in. That, and the fact that Steve is a walking high school wet dream, his own graduation notwithstanding.

“Henderson,” Steve says again, closer now. “You guys need a ride home?”

“I thought you had a date,” Dustin sputters. “You said you couldn’t play because you have a date!”

Steve rolls his eyes, even as Gareth watches the exchange suspiciously. Eddie hasn’t forgotten the King Steve days either, but the exchange so far does lend credit to Dustin's claims that Steve has changed.

“Rude. I did have a date, I took her to the game. Which is over now, ergo so is the date.”

“Ergo,” Mike scoffs under his breath. (Which is funny, because he’s backed Dustin up on a lot of the ‘Steve is so badass’ stories.)

Because Eddie is staring at Steve, their eyes catch. And, okay—Eddie knows he can come across as intense, especially with the jumpy, keyed up energy buzzing through him right now. The look he gets isn’t as dismissive as he’s used to from the jock crowd, though. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Steve is trying to puzzle him out. . . . It’s giving him the strangest sense of déjà vu.

“And you’re not driving her home?” Dustin crosses his arms. “I thought you were a gentleman, Steve.”

Jesus, Eddie thinks, averting his eyes and sucking on the last of his cigarette, the attitude on this kid.

“She said she wanted to go with her friends to the diner,” Steve protests, exasperated. “But fine, you’re good, I can tell. Wheeler, Erica, how about you? Who would you rather ride with, me or Nancy?”

Mike grimaces at his older sister’s name. In contrast, Erica marches towards Steve, her American flag cape fluttering behind her. “I’m riding with you, since there’s ice cream in it for me.”

There isn’t an ice cream parlor between the high school and Maple Street, as far as Eddie knows, but Steve takes it in stride with a shrug and a nod. Suddenly they and Dustin are heading for Steve's car, calling goodnight and good game to Eddie and Gareth over their shoulders.

“What,” Gareth says after a moment, “the fuck was that?”

“No idea,” Eddie mutters, pinching and rolling the spent cigarette between thumb and forefinger. The motion is so familiar that he doesn’t have to watch to know when the tobacco has finished falling, just pockets the empty filter and paper to toss later. He needs to move, needs to get out of here. “Want a lift, or are you still gonna wait for your mom?”