#she has a boyfriend and a dog now so i guess i just moved down the list of priorities

[galsinspace]

Sometimes I make stupid bitchy petty decisions that will make things worse and I hate myself for it, but also, haven't earned the right to be a bit stupid and bitter?

If I've been friends with someone for a year and I helped her move and comforted her as she cried and spent hours in a bathroom stall with her because she was too drunk to move, can't I be a little bitchy when she doesn't text me back anymore? Scrolling up our chat history is a sad sad experience, a bunch of messages from me that she never answered. And I always accepted it because I know she's busy, I forget to reply too, but I'm just so fed up.

She called me two days ago to ask if I could help out at work. I couldn't. I messaged her yesterday because I need a certificate from work. She didn't reply. I messaged her today and said that I'm aware she never really replies but that I wanted to invite her anyway to hang out with me and some other people tomorrow. And that's when she replies.

Never replied to my nice and normal messages asking how she's doing and if she wants to hang out, but suddenly when I'm being slightly bitchy she's like "why are you being so hostile". I just don't really know how to handle this

[zapernz]

imagine sam folding and being subby for his overly girly and cutesy girlfriend after she ask’s nicely :)))

⋆obey⋆

nsfw; sub!sam x dom!fem!reader, nipple play, biting, dry humping

use of; baby

a/n love this prompt aaaahhgggg

“please, cmon, you always take the lead.. why can’t i for once?” you plead to sam, propped up against the headboard, holding your thighs while you straddle him. he sighs “i dunno princess, will you be able to? what if you don’t like it? shouldn’t we talk about it more?” he tilts his head to the side as he questions you.

you squirm on his lap making his thought to tell you ‘no’ dwindle away. “please sam, please, please, it’ll be so good, promise!” you plead again, still squirming in his lap. his hands move from your thighs to your hips to stop the unintentional grinding on his dick. he groans “y’gotta stop movin like that baby, uh- so what, you want to be a dom now or something?” he smirks teasing you.

getting antsy you start trying to squirm against the hold he has on you, “sam, cmon just let me try, cmon pretty please?” you whine. your grinding on his dick in just the right way, he’s just a man, and fuck it’s hard to turn this down, and honestly all logic flew out the window the moment your hips started moving on him. he squeezes your hips encouragingly, “alright you have me, do as you want.” he sighs in defeat.

you move his hands off your hips, with a stutter from him, he was going to open his mouth and ask you what you’re doing. but you’re in charge so he lets you move his hands above his head. “keep them there, no touching.” you say. he blinks at you in disbelief, “no touching?!” he exclaims. he loves touching you, feeling your warm body, memorising every curve and dip.

“you heard me.” you say with an odd stern tone to your voice. sam huffs a noise of semi approval. you move your hands under his shirt, slowly touching, trying to memorise him, as he had you. he groans when your fingers brush lightly over his nipples, and unexpectedly pinch them hard, making a loud noise of surprise. “fuck! what the fuck!?” you chuckle, “y’know it feels good baby, trust me.” he opens his mouth but shuts it, the way you’re talking sends a shiver if anticipation down his spine, and makes his dick twitch uncomfortably in his pants.

your feverish hands move quickly to take his shirt off and latch your lips onto one of the sensitive buds, his hips unintentionally buck up and he stiffles a moan, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. removing your mouth, while on the way to the other, you mumble “sensitive boy huh? who would’ve guessed.”

at this he whines. a pathetic, pitiful whine, you’ve never heard something like that from him, and were determined to get more. you latch your mouth onto the other bud, nipping every so often, making him writhe and squirm.

you take your mouth off of him replacing it with your fingers. teasing and pinching at them, you strategically place your knee in between his legs, settling right where his aching dick rested.

he immediately starts bucking his hips to finally get the friction he’d be so desperately trying to acquire. “ohhh fuckk” he moans out loudly. you watch him, as your usually dominant, fucking-you-until-you-scream-boyfriend, has his hands obediently above his head, his nipples being pinched and played with, and bucking against your knee like a rabid dog.

you try experimentally pinching a bit harder, making his gasp and bite his lip, “fuck- yeah like that- hard!” he barely manages to make out through the moans. you moved your lips down to his neck, sucking harshly, not just nipping, but biting, your teeth sinking into his skin, every bite makes him let out a guttural moan if pure pleasure and ecstasy.

moving down to his collarbones, repeatedly sinking your teeth into the flesh, leaving your mark all over him, unable to be hidden. his erratic hips buck up against your knee, the confinement of his jeans making him get closer and closer to the edge. he can feel the coil, but the pleasure is to immense, he can’t even form a word or sentence, just moans, whines and whimpers. he just needs something to throw him over the edge.

and then you do it.

smirking to yourself, you move your mouth down to one of his nipples, lightly sucking at first, but then all of a sudden, you bite it, hard. and thats what did it. his hips are stuttering, his breathy moans are constant, as you pull back you watch as the orgasm washes over him.

slowly he comes down, his hips slowing down and eventually stopping, his breathing becoming more steady, and moans turn into pants.

“holy fuck” he sighs, covering his face with his hands.

[bagerfluff]

50% Galra, 100% Stunning

Keith Kogane x Non-Binary Reader

Prompt - "You're Stunning"

You furrowed your brows as you walked around the castle looking for your boyfriend. This was the third time this week that he ran off after dinner. You wondered if everything was okay.

Keith had been separating himself from the team ever since he found out he was Galra. You didn’t care though. You still saw him as Keith, the hothead, mullet, lone wolf Keith. But you wondered if Keith was okay. Allura hadn’t reacted the best when she found out. 

You guessed that was expected. The Galra had killed her entire race, her father. But that didn’t mean she could be mad at Keith forever. He was only part Galra. He wasn’t even purple like the rest to them.

And he didn’t have weird ears. Or fur. Keith was still Keith, even if he had Galra blood. But You assumed that Keith needed to be reminded of that. So you spent a few vargas trying to find him. And so far, you had not been able to find him. 

You had checked his room, but all you found was an empty bed. you had checked that training deck. Always a smart choice to look when looking for the hot head. But you didn’t find anything there. Not even evidence that someone was there.

So now you were lying in your bed trying to think where Keith might be. You had spent a couple of doboshes thinking before you shot up from your bed.

The red lion’s hanger! It was the only place that you hadn’t checked and the last place that Keith could be. You quickly left your room and started running to the lion's hanger. Once you got there, the doors opened, and you walked inside.

Once inside, you could see that the red lion was curled up in the middle of the room. But no Keith. you looked around the room once before moving closer to the lion. Once you got close enough, you could hear the red lion purr.

“It's okay girl” you spoke calmly, but once you walked around the head, your eyes widened. There, curled up against the lion’s stomach, was Keith. Though he looked a little different. He still had his gloves and classic red jacket.

But he looked more Galra. His skin and hair were purple, but his hair looked fluffier. He also has ears on the side of his head. They looked like dog ears, but purple and fluffy. When you got closer Keith’s head shot up.

It was then that you realized that his eyes were yellow. Not just his pupils. All of his eyes. Keith also had claws. Sharp claws that lay and the end of his fingers. You also noticed that Keith had tears in his eyes.

“W-why a-are y-you h-here?” Keith asked. “Because you left after dinner, and I wanted to make sure you were okay” You said as he walked closer to Keith. You sat down next to Keith and looked at him.

So maybe Keith was purple and had weird ears and fur. But Y/n still didn’t care. But it looked like Keith did. “B-but w–why?” Keith asked as he looked up at you. When You looked over to Keith, your heart broke into a million pieces.

Keith’s eyes were filled with sorrow and fear. Like he expects you to hate him. “Because I love you” you said as he reached over to take Keith’s hand. Keith flinched before letting you take his hand.

“B-but I l-look like t-this” Keith stated while gesturing to his body with his other hand. Your heart might have broken even more at that.

“I l-look l-like Galra,” you stared at Keith for a while before moving his other hand under Keith’s chin so he could make Keith look at him. “You’re stunning” you said as you moved your hand from Keith’s chin to his cheek. Wiping Keith’s tears off his face.

Keith showed a small smile before you brought him into a hug. Keith then hugged you back as he tightened his grip on him. You brought your hand to Keith’s hair and played with it.

Maybe you guys should wait before telling the team Keith could do this. But you would be by Keith’s side the whole time. Because You loved your boyfriend.

Even when he was purple. 

[lucysarah-c]

Hi! Happy new years eve ✨🥂 hope you had an awesome 2023 and all my best wishes and blessings for 2024 🫶🏼

Now, I can’t get this idea out of my head. Levi adopting a kitten with his girl. I always thought of Levi like a cat person, idk he just seem to fit on it. And as a cat person myself I would love to read something about it.

I can imagine him thinking is a bad idea but then he cant go anywhere in the house without the kitty 🫶🏼 so adorable I guess

Ahhh happy new year!! Thank you for all your well wishes and sending them back to you! I'm sorry it took me this long to write this for you sweetie! T-T so sorry

It started in the least expected way. Levi and his group of friends had been trying to find new ways to spend time together in their difficult adult lives. They wanted to revisit certain activities they used to enjoy in their glory college days and bond a little. You, of course, didn’t complain. If Levi decided to go camping with his friends or hiking on any weekend, it was also a chance for you to hang out with your friends at home, maybe watch a movie he doesn’t like, and have a “me” afternoon. It was all positive until Levi began to notice something during their hangouts.

Dogs.

All of them, particularly Mike and Erwin, had their own respective big, fluffy, loyal-to-death dogs that they would take with them on hikes, jogs, or even camping trips. You could see from the look in your boyfriend's eyes that he was envious. The only reason you and Levi hadn’t adopted any pets before wasn’t because of you in particular. You grew up with pets, loved them, and felt that the house was missing something without a fluffy companion. And don’t get me wrong, Levi had always had a soft spot for animals. But, in his own words, “As a kid, my family could never afford one… and Kenny hated them so.”

When you two moved in together, he didn’t want any pets due to "too much hair, too much mess, and too much money spent on the vet." But now, you could see in his eyes that he desired one, especially when they took pictures with his friends' dogs, and Levi hardly ever took pictures himself. Sooner or later, you brought up the idea, and he seemed excited. You quickly guessed that he wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it since perhaps his pride stopped him from admitting that now all the previous reasons he had given you to say no weren’t that important.

One lazy Saturday, you were walking past the doors of a shelter. Both of you admitted that if you were going to get a pet, it would be a rescue, giving the chance for an animal to live the American dream (two adults with good salaries, a pretty house, and no kids) after someone had made them believe they were trash. Both of you talked to the receptionist, who said that soon she would walk both of you to the dog’s department to choose. But when the guide came back and you were ready to go in and check out the puppies with your boyfriend, he was nowhere to be found.

Quickly, you followed the sound of people talking, and there he was, talking to a vet at the cat’s side of the shelter. The vet seemed to be deeply engrossed in conversation with him as you reached his side.

“Lev? Love, they are waiting to show us the dogs,” you called to him before smiling softly at the vet, acknowledging their presence.

“Oh, I was just telling him that she never gets close to anyone, not even to us. It was almost magical seeing her trying to reach out to him,” the vet said, and you quickly concluded it was the cat that was rubbing the top of her head against the front of her cage, trying to reach Levi.

“Aww, poor thing,” you said as you bent down slightly to have a better look at her face and perhaps give the cat some love through the small space of the bars. But the cat quickly moved away from your touch and softly hissed.

It hurt you, despite knowing that all cats have their temperament, until the vet spoke again, “Oh, she has always been a little grumpy; she’s not a fan of people.”

Levi also bent down to the cat's level, and he seemed to be the chosen one because the cat was continuously bumping her head against the cage, seeking more love from him. “Well, that makes two of us,” he commented, admitting his antisocial tendencies.

“When we found her, we thought she was feral because of the damage from living on the streets and her attitude, but we found she was chipped. We contacted the owner, but he said that since she couldn’t have more kittens, they left her in the streets,” both of you slightly raised to look at the shelter’s owner with heartbroken faces. “She’s been here for a while, but nobody wants her because she’s old, grumpy, and because of all the pregnancies she had, she has FIV, which is an expensive treatment an-”

“I’m taking her,” Levi interrupted the vet without a second thought, and you were about to comment that the plan was to get a dog, nothing against taking the little cat.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of responsibility, and she’s rather old,” the vet warned.

“I’m sure. What do I have to do to take her home?” Levi replied with confidence.

That’s how Chai Tea, or just Chai, came into your life. She was a grumpy old lady, but you two loved her to death, especially Levi. She seemed to be a golden brownish Persian, which made sense given her breeding history, but one of her ears was damaged from living on the streets, giving her a permanently angry face. The first sign of her enjoying being a spoiled princess was during her first visit to the vet after her adoption, when the instructions were to reduce her food rations because she was already a bit too chubby.

“Shhh, don’t listen to the vet. You’re perfect,” you heard Levi whispering as he rocked her in his arms in the kitchen. “Here, have some ham.”

She was obsessed with him, and he was obsessed with her. Did Levi complain about the hair? A lot, but at least he took the effort to vacuum and brush her himself. In his own words, “If I can make her life worth it for even a little bit at the end of it, then I’ll do it.”

It was endearing to receive a text message from Levi saying "On my way home," and then witness the little fluffy ball rushing down the hallway with her short legs once you tell her "Chai! Daddy is coming home!"

It was incredibly cute how she would meow all the way to the front door, occasionally looking back at you to make sure both of you were going to greet him.

It’s rather funny how he went to a shelter to get a big dog for his "bro's" adventures and came back with a cat that demanded to be picked up and rocked in his arms while he prepared dinner. Even funnier is how he accepted it. Now your camera phone is full of pictures and videos of Levi humming lullabies, sleeping with a cat on top of him, or holding her up in the air so she can hunt a moth.

A little bit jealous? Perhaps. Sometimes, Levi seems more eager to greet the fluffy cat when he gets home than he is to greet you. But being able to give an elderly cat a second chance was a better experience than anything else.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @s0meb0dy-0nce-t0ld-me @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[nolita-fairytale]

new year's eve & day with chef luca

a/n: just a little headcanon that came to me on my hot girl walk, lightly inspired by marc vetri's episode of chef's night out & t. swift's 'new year's day.' wherever you are in the world right now, happy new year, loves!

i wrote this with the world of burn your life down in mind, writing in original characters from it. however, if you haven't read the series, you should still be able to read this headcanon!

new year's eve & day with boyfriend! luca:

astrid and lina (your former sisters-in-law) come to visit copenhagen after christmas and right before new year's, and you're determined to show them a great time.

jesper has made plans for the evening, picking out which club you'll convene at to ring in the new year. what is supposed to be a few cocktails at a trendy new speakeasy bar hidden inside of a hotel lobby quickly turns into dancing at a trendy club a few blocks down.

it's you, luca, mathilde, emil (mathilde's husband who, i've always pictured as rege-jean page) jesper, astrid, and lina. astrid is making friends right and left and you and lina are thick as thieves, so happy she came out to visit. ("i suppose he's beginning to grow on me," lina admits with a sigh and a playful eye roll, in reference to luca).

"where to next?" lina asks. "oh my god, i'm starving!" astrid adds, before trying her best to rally everyone to grab a first bite of the new year. it's a no brainer to invite everyone back to you and luca's place for food, riding high on good company and fancy champagne.

you make a simple yet delicious and easy pesto spaghetti as luca stays by your side, whispering in your ear while he thinks no one is paying attention: "you know i love our people... but i can't wait to get you alone, my love."

while you plate up bowls of pasta, luca pours everyone a night cap, and you all spread out around the living room to eat. it feels good to be in the best company -- some from your life pre-copenhagen (and pre-luca), and the others, the most important people in this new chapter of your life that you've come to love so deeply.

everyone stumbles home or back to their hotel between 2 and 4 am, and by the time everyone is gone, you and luca are exhausted. you both agree that while you weren't expecting to have as long of a night as you did, you're glad you hosted and cooked for your people.

the next morning, luca makes good on his promise from the night before, his mind set on starting the new year with bang. "well, we gotta start the new year off right, darling? don't you think?" he asks you as he presses you into the mattress, his hands sliding underneath the t-shirt you put on before bed. "well, we did miss the fireworks last night," you justify with a giggle as you chase his mouth with yours. "guess we'll have to make some of our own."

by the time you're out of the bed (and out of the shower), astrid and lina are ready to reconvene. you and luca meet them at one of your favorite bakeries for brunch (and a little hair of the dog). you go around the table sharing favorite memories from the year before and resolutions for the new year.

post-brunch, you and luca take the most leisurely stroll home and then a long nap.

at some point, you begin to clean up from last night's impromptu pasta party, hand washing your stainless steel pans and wondering how the hell all of this glitter got into your apartment.

"anything you wish for the new year, my love?" you ask luca as he goes through a drawer in need of a decluttering.

"well, we are opening a restaurant together," he replies, cheekily. "so i suppose that."

"i suppose," you return, before leaving a soft kiss against his lips. you move on to your next house project, reflecting on just how beautifully both you and luca have woven your lives together over the past year.

[petrichor-idyllic]

HiI would like to request two Minho x female reader please.

1. Minho gets in the shower ro relax and reader joins him and they are starting fluffy but when they start cleaning each others body things get heated and it turns into smut.

2. Reader and Minho liked each other but noone had time to explore the feelings. But when Minho gets back from that night with Thomas in the maze the reader is so happy hes still alive and there is some tension building up...later on the keepers meeting (book scene) where Minho is a total hottie and says the most iconic stuff as usual reader cant help herself and once the meeting is over she suddenly kisses him.

Thank youuuuu <333

Okay, yes I can totally do this, however I am still new and bad at tumblr so idk how (or if it's even possible) for me to respond to something twice. So, here is the first one and I will try to write both and post them at around the same time, so keep your eye out for the second :))

REWARD AFTER A LONG DAY'S WORK

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above- 1. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, guess I've put it off long enough so have some actual smut. Unprotected intercourse. Reader is on birth control because I said so, we ain't having any Glader babies running around. Unedited because I refuse to reread my own sex scenes- cope. Minors DNI 18+.

You and Minho have been dating for a while now. Everyone in the Glade knows because, well, it's kind of hard not to notice.

When Minho isn't out in the Maze, he's clinging to you like there's no tomorrow. Probably because for him, there might actually not be. His job is dangerous, and he could literally die every single time he heads out there.

So, he spends as much time as he physically can with you.

Not that you're complaining. You love Minho- I mean, who wouldn't? He's basically your personal guard dog, not to mention he's passionate and caring and does everything he can to make sure he's not making you uncomfortable.

He's literally the perfect boyfriend, much to the other Glader's dismay- it means you're probably not going to be single again anytime soon. And with you being the only girl, there's definitely some pouting in Minho's presence.

Speaking of your boyfriend, you haven't seen him since you greeted him at the Doors. He's been pretty busy recently, especially with Alby doubling down on the workload.

"Newt," you spot the blond from a mile away as he sits in a group of boys but that doesn't stop you from approaching him. People are starting to settle down for the night. The Doors are closed, dinner has been and gone, and the dim light of numerous flames is the only thing keeping the Glade alive. "Have you seen Minho?"

"Hm?" He blinks for a second, pulling himself out of his current conversation and processing what you just said. "Oh, yeah, he's in the shower- he got stuck in the Map Room late. 'Said sommet about needing to relax." The boy shrugs, clearly having not paid that much attention to his friend.

"Alright, thanks," you flash him a smile before heading in the direction of the shower block. The showers are actually normally empty at this time, because this is around the time that you take a shower, and the boys respect that.

"Minho?" The sound of running water fills the rows of showers, covered with curtains.

"Hm? Yeah?" He responds, voice gravelly and tired.

"Is everything okay? Newt said you needed to relax?" You creep further forward, not wanting to startle him as you stand outside of the closed sheet.

"Yeah," you can hear the smile in his voice, "yeah, I'm alright, just a rough day."

Silence settles as you can hear Minho quietly hum to himself out of satisfaction. You smirk to yourself for a second before you speak.

"Yanno, I also need to have a shower," you pause slightly, "do you mind if I join you?"

The curtain moves, not exposing Minho but he does stick his head out, smirking at you. "You wanna shower with me?"

You shrug, feigning innocence, "Might help you relax, yanno?" He rolls his eyes, dropping the curtain and letting it fall back in place.

"Get your ass in here." You snort a laugh, doing as you're told. You strip from your clothes, hooking them over the top of the curtain bar with Minho's clothes. There's no way you're leaving them on the floor. You're already taking a risk getting undressed in an open area- though the Gladers know better due to routine.

You move the worn piece of fabric, slipping into the small area as Minho has his back to you, hogging the water. Though, you take a second to admire your boyfriend's perfect form.

His back is muscular and toned- he's obviously got an athletes build. He runs the Maze all day, every day. But even so, seeing his perfect body us more than enough to have your heart racing, even if you see it pretty much every day.

"Are you gonna move, or what?" Minho scoffs as your blunt tone, stepping aside to let you squeeze next to him, allowing the luke-warm water to hit you both.

He looks down at you, his smile is soft as he drinks in your appearance. It's not like he hasn't seen it before- you guys struggle to keep your hands off of each other most of the time. But still, he always feels so lucky to have you, and he thinks you're gorgeous.

They could dump a bunch of girls in the Glade tomorrow and Minho wouldn't care.

You picked him- him! He at least has something good going for him.

"The shuck you staring at, pervert?" You joke and he jabs you in the ribs, causing you to squeak.

"Uh, my girlfriend? I'm allowed to look at my girlfriend last time I checked."

"I'm allowed to look at my girlfriend," you mock him, making him push his tongue into his cheek. "What happened today, anyway? I've barely seen you."

"Sorry," he mumbles, throwing his head back and letting the water wash through his hair, running down to the front of his neck and down his defined chest. "A couple of Runners are getting frustrated and have started causing problems. It happens every now and then after someone becomes a Runner, and they think they're gonna change the world or some shit, and then they throw a tantrum when nothing happens."

"That sounds pretty klunky," he hums in agreement. You and Minho are long past the honeymoon phase, but that's not a bad thing. You're comfortable with each other, and it also means you know one another, and your bodies, pretty well. "You want me to wash your back?"

"Of shuckin' course, I do," you roll your eyes at him, but you still take the soap off of the shelf. You run your hands over his back, letting your nails sink in, but you know Minho doesn't mind.

You trace your fingers over the occasional white line; the scars are old, and it's been a while since Minho's been seriously hurt. But they're still a bitter reminder that he's literally risking his life on a daily basis.

"Alright," Minho turns to face you, pressing a quick peck to your lips, "your turn- spin."

"You're not at scary as you look, you know that, right? The other boys would never let it go if they saw you acting like this."

"Yeah, yeah, but they're never gonna see it, are they?" You turn around, facing the wall as Minho's hands start to run along your back. "It's all for you." Minho has you rolling your eyes a lot, but you do release a snort as well at his cheesey behaviour.

You let yourself relax, melting into his touch as you lean back, resting your head against his shoulder. You let him massage you, feeling him press light kisses against your shoulder and the side of your neck.

"Minho.." You murmur, letting out a satisfied breath, feeling heat starting to surge between your legs. Minho had always been an expert at doing so little to get so much out of you. It's almost annoying, but definitely a skill to be sure.

"Hm?" His teeth graze against your throat from behind as his hands come to your hips. He's not forceful by any means, but you take the opportunity to push your ass back against him. He quickly reciprocates the action, as you feel him getting hard against you.

Likewise, it doesn't take much to get him going either.

His boldness grows as he very gently drags his fingers down your mid-drift. Your head starts to feel fuzzy, and you gasp as his hand only travels lower.

"Can I make you feel good?" He mumbles mainly into your hair as his warm breath catches against your ear. "Can I touch you?"

You nod, your words catching in your throat as you suddenly forget how to function.

"Use your words for me," it takes you a second, but overwhelmed by need in the growing steamy room, you manage to squeak out a vaguely strung-together sentence.

"Please, touch me, Minho."

He's more than pleased to oblige, dipping his fingers lower and between your folds. You breath hitches, becoming heavier as he starts to gently rub circles over your bundle of nerves.

His rhythm is painfully slow as he teases you, knowing exactly how to make you melt under his touch. You whimper, clinging to his arm for some kind of support.

Your body already aches for him, but with his current actions, he knows you're not going to achieve anything.

"Minho, please," you stress, grinding against his hand to try and desperately get some more friction. Well, he can't say no to you, so he increases his movements.

He adds a little bit more pressure, touching you exactly as you need to be touched. It doesn't take long for you to feel tense in your lower stomach, your body trembling, mumbling gasps escaping you.

And then Minho pulls away.

You whimper at the lack of contact, turning to face your boyfriend. An attempt of a pout is quickly dispersed as Minho pushes his lips to yours. You hum into his mouth as you let him push you against the cool wall of the shower.

One of your hands comes to the back of his neck as he holds your face and you hip. Your other hand brushes against Minho's hardened dick, breaking the kiss for a second.

"Can I-?" You ask.

"Please." He begs.

You run your thumb over the tip, feeling him shivering against you as you connect again. Slowly, you start to touch him more, but he doesn't let it last long.

"We've, uh, we've been un here a while- you wanna hurry this up before someone comes looking for us?"

You smirk. "Sounds like a good idea."

Minho's mouth goes to your neck, hiking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist. His teeth nip at your skin as you gasp, feeling him fill you.

His pace starts slow. Probably because you're not exactly in the most natural position. But with your soft mewling into his ear and nails carving into his back is more than enough to make him rougher.

He knows your body perfectly, and he can tell you're close simply from the noises you're making. As much as he'd hate to admit it, he still hasn't quite built up a resilience to your vagina just yet, which is why he puts more attention on you. Finishing too early is natural, but he's still embarrassed by it.

His fingers once again reach for your clit, and very quickly waves of pleasure are washing over you, leaving you trembling and moaning as Minho holds you in place.

After a few more thrusts, he groans, trying to use the crook of your neck to stifle his noises. His body relaxes, falling limp. You listen to his heavy breathing for a short while, taking the time to compose yourself.

"You good?" You chuckle as he pulls back, also pulling out of you. In response, he kisses you again.

"I shucking love you," he mumbles as he presses your foreheads back together.

You, once again, roll your eyes, but you can't help the soft smile playing on your lips. "I love you too, slinthead."

Yeah, okay, I've actually finally wrote smut. And it's not even good smut- I am not proud of this. But I also refuse to reread it because I cannot read my own sex scenes without cringing so y'all are just gonna have to deal with it.

I'm definitely better at writing spice and fluff- but I am here to entertain the people and ask and you shall receive.

Bit dramatic lmao, but anyway I hope y'all kinda enjoy :))

I am sorry.

[fandomtherapy44]

Sober Buddies Ch.1 Help lines and cults

Summary: Y/n is new at college and trying to find a footing in everything. When she meets a guy who introduces her to something that could really help find her path.

warnings : Swearing

WC/ 2.3k

AN/ Hey Ya'll welcome to my serious I'm so excited to make this series. So it will use some plot lines from season six but a lot will change including CJ but his key character notes will still be there. Without further ado enjoy Sober buddies.

I got the divider from

Firefly Graphics

College, was an escape from my life at home, something I had always wanted. And in Boston: my dream since I was a freshman in high school. At Worthington, I had worked so hard to get here, and I finally did. It's about two weeks away from the start of school and today I get to check out my dorm that I’m sharing with two other girls- which should be fun, hopefully. I walked into the room where three beds were barely fitting together. I put my things on the middle bed when the door bursts open. “Uh, who the hell are you?” I turn and a pretty blond girl is standing there. 

“Um, I'm Y/N, your roommate, nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand and she looks down at it like it was covered in shit. “Okay, I'm just going to assume that you're a germaphobe.” 

“Don't mind her, she's Audrey, and I'm Joey.” This girl, a brunette, actually shakes my hand. “Y/N, I'm so happy this worked out!” Audrey looks confused. “Well, she needed a place and thought, why not us?” Joey explained to Audrey, who looked like you had killed her dog in front of her.

“I promise I won't be annoying. I will even let you have the first shower of the morning Audrey.” I tried to appeal to her queen bee side.

“Fine you can stay, but don’t touch my clothes, okay?”

I raise my right hand in the air as if swearing an oath. “I promise and cross my heart and all that.” Hopefully these girls and I can become friends and Audrey won't kill me in my sleep for accidentally grabbing her dress.

It had been a couple of weeks- and it was now one week before school started. Audrey and I hadn't really been besties, but Joey and I had a pretty great rapport going on. I was looking at my classes and trying to get a handle on what I should be studying, when Audrey came bursting in. “Omg oh my gosh, do you know where Joey is?” 

I looked around. Clearly not, I thought. “I don't know Audrey, I think studying at the library, maybe.” Audrey sits down on her bed with a huff.

“Why is she studying? School doesn't even start for another week,” Audrey sighs. I knew that Joey’s English class was stressing her out. 

“Um, probably for her English class, I heard it's super hard.” 

“Right, little Miss Perfect does the super hard class and will probably get all A’s.” I could tell by the tone of her voice that this was mostly a projection of whatever had happened that she needed to talk to Joey about. 

“You know, Audrey, you could always talk to me. I can guarantee you that I've faced a similar problem.” She gives me a dirty side eye but gives in.

“I guess since you're the only one here.” 

“Great, I love being the last choice.” I set down my books and sit down on the ground criss-cross applesauce style. She rolls her eyes at me. 

“Shush my problems, remember.” 

“Yes, I do,” I reply.

“Well, I was at the bar with my boyfriend. His name is Pacey.” I nod my head trying to keep up. “And we were playing pool when this gothic hot chick came walking up- and this is the woman that he wants to live with!” Audrey threw her arms up in a dramatic flare.

“I'm confused, Audrey. Number one: what do you mean by living with her and two: why would that be a problem?” She looks shocked by my answer. 

“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’? She's hot, he wants to move, and she has space in her apartment.”

“Okay, but I'm still confused as to why it would be bad to move to a better place.” At my response, I notice Audrey is becoming more impatient.

“Because Duh! Y/N, she's hot!”

It seems like this girl has a whole lot of issues- but I'm not one to talk on that. “Look, Audrey, do you trust Pacey?” She doesn't even hesitate. 

“Yes but-” 

“There's your answer.” 

“But-” 

“But, you trust your boyfriend, and that’s what matters, even if the girl is a supermodel. If he's as good as you make him sound, then he won't even look in her direction.” Audrey takes that in. 

“I guess you're right, you know, you're not half bad L/N.” She gives me a little respectful nod. 

“Same to you, Lindell.” 

School was happening tomorrow, and I had thankfully gotten all things done. Now, I had more time to get to know Jen and her grandma, who were really sweet so far. They are sitting at a table and I go to them. “Hey Jen, Evelyn.” I greeted as I sat. 

“Oh please sweetheart, call me Grams, everyone does.” She smiles at me warmly.

“Okay great! If it's okay with you, what are we talking about?” Jen has no problem catching me up.

“Well, Y/N, Grams here has only picked up a math book because of a certain someone who teaches it.” 

“Aww, I think that's cute.” Jen did not agree with me. 

“l think it's a slippery slope. l mean, one minute you're taking an interest, and the next...you're sublimating your own thoughts and desires, and for what? For a chance to participate in the great patriarchal heterosexist fraud…”

“...that is better known as monogamy?” I answer in her pause. She gives me a quick look.

“ls that how you wanna spend your golden years? Folding some man's laundry and pretending to share an interest? l mean, haven't we come further as a sex--?” She stops and looks behind me. And she stares for a second. 

“Hi. I'm sorry, are we bothering you?” Jen asked the stranger behind me. I got curious enough and turned to see one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. “Because if it's not too much trouble, you could get your own conversation.”

“No. Sorry.” He apologized but I had a feeling he wasn't done yet. “I've been sitting there trying to figure out where l met you before… and suddenly I realized I've never met you before.” I chuckle at that. 

“Great. Well, I'm really glad that we got that figured out,” Jen states, blandly.

“I've heard you on the radio.” I knew he wasn't done.

“Jen, you were on the radio? I never knew!” I exclaimed while hitting her arm in excitement. 

“Ow! And you didn't know because it's not important. And you.” She turned back to the guy. “Okay, you got me. I'm busted. l was on the radio. But I'm not anymore, so thank you very much for listening, and bye-bye.” She tried to end the conversation. 

“So, did you get fired, or what?” The man continued.

“What is this, an interview?” Jen looks annoyed.

“I'm just curious.” 

“Well, let's just say that l had some artistic differences with the new management.” Well, that sucks she had to give that up because of a dick in a suit, I thought. “Fine. Then we'll just say that,” Jen concludes.

“Fine.” The man replies. Then Grams comes in for the clutch. 

“Excuse me, young man. Would you care to join us?”

Grams had gone, I assume, to talk to the particular professor teaching math. While the guy had joined us. 

“I'm CJ.” 

“Y/N, and this radio host is Jen.” She rolls her eyes and I nudge her. 

“It's nice to meet you two.” 

“You too, CJ.” We had gotten on the subject of where we were living, and Jen mentioned that she is currently living with her grandma.

“No, l think it's nice.” 

“Yeah, that's what everybody says. ‘Oh, you live with your grandma. That's so sweet,’. How do they know l don't beat her and leave her tied to the radiator all winter?” 

“Ah, so that's the screaming I hear when I come over.” I added in. CJ laughed at my joke.

“ls this a cry for help?” CJ asked Jen. 

“Do l look like l need help?” 

“No. Actually, you look like someone who'd probably be good at giving it.” Jen hears that and immediately gets up and begins leaving, practically running for the hills.

“This has happened to me before. This religion thing is not really–” She is already halfway down the stairs. 

“Ha, just one Second CJ,” I say. He gives me a friendly smile. 

“Sure.” I went after her.

“Jen, wait- we should hear him out.” 

“Y/N, he was totally giving weird vibes. Are you coming?” I looked back and I felt something. 

“I think I'll stay.” 

“Well, call me if you need help out of the cult and remember nine for Joey’s surprise.” 

“Gotcha.” With that, she leaves. I turn back to CJ trying to think of some good reason.

“Hey, uh, so she had to leave for a class.” We sat back down. 

“No she didn't, class doesn't start till tomorrow.” I give a small smile. 

“You're right, sorry.” 

“It's okay I know everyone isn't for the whole ‘helping thing,’ but you're still here.” I looked around and he was right, I was, which was weird for me too. 

“I guess I am- uh, you said something about helping people?” I question. 

“Right- um… no matter how I say this I'm going to sound like a dork. Have you ever heard of The Stand?” He looks at me like he expects me to run away. 

“No, no, I never have. I just moved here from Cali so I don't know a lot of stuff here. What's The Stand?” CJ gets this look of confidence. 

“It’s a peer counseling program.” I think about it. 

“So I help people.” 

“Yes yes exactly! There's an information session tonight at seven.” He hands me a pamphlet on it. 

“I'll be there and maybe I can convince Jen that this is not a cult,” He says, with a small chuckle.

“That would be great! I can't wait to see you there.” He pats my shoulder in a friendly way and he leaves. I felt a sensation of butterflies rising up from my stomach, but I quickly grabbed a fly swatter and squished them. 

I had walked over to Jen’s house. “Hey, was escaping the cult hard?” I sat down on the couch laughing at her joke. 

“Very funny Jen, actually he was talking about the stand. Have you heard about that?” She gives me a comical look. 

“Yes, it's a call line where people call to complain about who's dating who and if the professor is going to give them an A or not.”

“I thought it was a little more serious than that,” I replied. “Well, whatever it is, I'm going to go to the information session tonight. You should come; if CJ was right about anything, it is that you would be good with helping people.” She sighs and glances down.

“Ok fine I'll go. We can pick up Joey’s gift after. And are you sure that you're not doing this just because CJ is ungodly hot?”

“No, I mean it helps, but he's not the reason I'm going to go.” I wish there was something like this when I was going through… no, I'm not going to think about that. I'm here to move on from that.

Jen and I went into the building and it was covered in inspiring posters and quotes. “On the nose much?” Jen commented, scanning the room. 

“I like it, let's get a good seat.” Which wouldn't be hard. There were tons of spots; I guess the word didn't get out. The speaker started and I was trying hard to listen, but Jen- not so much.

“So as l was saying, most of what we do around here. is simply information and referrals. And 99 times out of 100 just reminding someone to take a deep breath and to keep on breathing is enough. Tomorrow will be another day. For you too. Which brings me to our number one rule around here: Never be afraid to ask for a hug at the end of a tough day.” At that Jen left. I leave my bag.

“Jen, wait, wait!”

“I'm sorry Y/N, I can't do that. If you want to stay, great, but I can't. I'll see you later.” She turns to leave. 

“Jen!” I sadly go back to my space on the couch. I go to look at my notes when the space next to me gets seated. 

“You came.” I swung my head and CJ was right there. 

“Yeah, I did.”

“So, there's the coffee maker, and here's the mini fridge that definitely is working.” CJ tells me as he shakes his head, indicating sarcasm.

“Ha, and I definitely won't smell any weird smells from here.” 

“Yes definitely.” We both laughed and I looked at the window and it had gotten dark. 

“Wow, time really does fly.” 

“So, what made you want to stay?” He looks at me with those piercing green eyes.

“Because I know a place like this would have been amazing for me when I was younger, so If I can help someone avoid those feelings that I went through, then I'm for it a hundred percent.” CJ heard me and truly felt I meant it. 

“That's the same reason I did it.” 

“Really? That's so cool!” I exclaimed happily. “So, what do you do for fun? I haven't been here for long, so if you know of any places...” He thinks about it. 

“Yeah I mean the typical places like bars, clubs, parties.” 

“Would you want to go to one together?” I asked abruptly which I never did, especially with people I just met.

“I totally would, but it wouldn't be much fun.” 

“Why?” I asked. He hesitates for a second, pondering something.

“…I don't drink.” 

“Oh my gosh, that's amazing!” I heard what I just said and felt embarrassed. “I'm sorry, that sounded super weird, but I don't drink either.” 

“Wow, it's hard to find a college girl not drinking.” CJ searches my eyes.

“True, but it's what's best for me and I'm sure for you. What about this: we’ll be each other's sober buddies.” 

“Sober buddies?”

“Yeah, when we are at the same parties, we’ll make sure the other won't even look at drinks.” He thinks about it for a second and I look at the clock. “Shit I'm going to be late and then Audrey is going to kill me.” I grab my stuff and run to the door but before I leave I turn back. “CJ sober buddies?” He gives me a smirk and nods. 

“Sober buddies.” 

I will get chapter two out as soon as possible thank you for reading!

[bizaar]

Endless Summer ✧

Part 1: Our Lips Are Sealed

Cruel Summer Masterlist

- Next

pairing: eddie munson x afab!reader

warnings: sexual content (18+ minors dni), virgin!reader, mentions of drug usage, swearing, bullying, self-deprecation, masturbation (f)

word count: 10k

a/n: so I may or may not have been writing a few chapters of a semi-raunchy little prequel to Cruel Summer, this is the same babysitter!reader at the beginning of her relationship w/ Eddie - reader is hopelessly obsessed in a totally uncool, sweaty palms sort of way and Carol Perkins is the meanest girl in school.

Carol Perkins has been talking endlessly about … something, for the better part of the ten minutes it’s been since you sat down with your lunch tray.    

You aren’t exactly sure what about, because you’re not listening. You’re just sitting there watching her lips flap.    

You might have felt bad about that even as recently as last week, but somehow you can’t seem to muster the feeling today.

Maybe it's because you didn't get any sleep last night and your brain feels like its made of television static.

Maybe it has to do with the recent events that have more or less completely soured your opinion of your so-called best friend.

Maybe it’s just that her conversations these days are not exactly the stuff of edge-of-your-seat intrigue.

You're not listening to what she's saying, but a decent part of you is fairly certain in the knowledge that whatever she is saying is bound to have something to do with her stupid boyfriend.    

Tommy Hagan has been Carol’s singular topic of regular conversation for going on two years now, and you have been bored to tears for just as long. 

Tommy said this, Tommy did that, oh my god Tommy is so funny, Tommy Tommy Tommy.   

Tommy is fine, you guess, if you like snot-nosed bullies who never matured past age twelve.

If you like a guy whose idea of trying to divert attention away from the fact that he’s more into Steve Harrington than he is his own girlfriend is by stirring up drama, and feigning some kind of bullshit interest in you.

If you like a guy who calls you Princess like it's a slur and gives you a hard shove in the back like it's a sign of affection.    

Yeah… Tommy is so not your type.  

Then again, you never would have thought he was Carol’s type, considering her interests have always swayed more Han Solo than anything else — (see: The Empire Strikes Back poster she secretly has taped to the inside of her closet door) — but you know she would go to her grave denying it if you dared to remind her of it.

She'd probably try to take you with her if you did, so you don't, especially not today when you've left more than half your faculties at home in bed.

All you can manage right now is keeping your mouth shut and moving watery canned green beans around your lunch tray with a plastic spork.

Meanwhile, Carol talks and talks and endlessly talks.

You’re on probation with Carol after last week’s debacle in the quad, anyway, so you are not invited to chime in, even if you were listening.

You’re supposed to just sit there and listen to whatever it is she has to say and nod along dutifully without interrupting.

That’s your whole job here, nothing more, nothing less.

That's fine, you don't currently have the brain capacity for anything else.

Still, a bigger part of you than you are willing to acknowledge has started desperately wishing that Tina Burton or Nicole would show up and implore her to shut the fuck up.

Once upon a time, you might have done so yourself, but you haven’t been brave enough to speak so directly to Carol since the eighth grade.     

One too many times getting your head bitten off has conditioned you to wire your jaw shut and tune it out, for self-preservation's sake, which is exactly why you’d just stood there and took every bit of vitriol Carol had to give you that morning last week, like the good dog you are.   

Apparently, someone said something about hearing Tommy talking big in homeroom about some other thing that happened over the weekend at a party you didn’t attend.

Logic would tell you that Carol knows you weren't at this party because she gave you such a heinous amount of shit over it when you told her you weren't going, but logic almost never comes into account when it comes to things like this.

Carol doesn't care about the facts, she only cares about the rumor.  

It was suggested that you’d tried to cop a feel or something. Worse than that was how it was suggested that Tommy was into it, and she went nuclear.    

Not at him, of course.

Never mind that Tommy was the one spreading the rumor in homeroom, all that mattered to Carol was who he was trying so desperately to incriminate.   

Literally anyone else, and it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. If somebody had said that it was Vicki Carmichael or Tammy Thompson or Tina, Carol wouldn’t give a shit.

She’d throw her weight around, make a show of girlie dominance, there would be a very public spat, and that would be that.

But no, it had to be you.   

Why oh why did it have to be you? You imagine she’s asking herself the same question, and you’re not sure if your ears are ever going to stop ringing after the way she’d shouted at you, in front of God and Tommy and practically everyone in school.     

He just stood there watching it happen with that smug little smirk you hate so much plastered across his stupid face.

Everyone just stood there, even you stood there, staring helplessly at your sneakers, waiting for it to end. You were an island unto your own shame... until you noticed a pair of dingy Reeboks appear beside your own.     

“Good God!” A voice as familiar as childhood rang out, loud enough to slice through the air and silence Carol mid-stream.

Like so many meerkats, the whole school shifted and turned toward the intrusion, and like a knight in leather and patchy denim, there stood Eddie Munson.

At first, you couldn't believe it was him, or that this was even really happening.

He was just standing there, like it was the most natural thing in the world to butt in like this. Like this wasn’t the first time something like this had ever happened in the history of cool kids and losers interacting at Hawkins High.

Exactly where you fall on that spectrum was yet to be determined, but what was perfectly understood was that Eddie Munson had come riding in to rescue you from the dynamic duo that is Tommy and Carol.

They were speechless — Eddie was not.  

“What on God’s green Earth is making that awful racket?” He said loudly – theatrically – and then he turned his blinding attention to you, “Sounds like someone’s skinning a cat out here,”

Then, he gave you a gentle nudge with his elbow, like you were old friends and it was some kind of an inside joke, as if you were supposed to have any idea what that meant.  

You stared back at him, wide-eyed and still too stunned to speak, and he winked at you.

You have no idea what you said following that, if you even said anything at all. You're pretty sure you blacked out.

You don’t even remember what Carol said. You know there was some kind of vicious back and forth that occurred between them before a staff member eventually arrived to break up the huddle and cart Eddie off, and you know that Carol was pissed that you didn’t defend her.

Most of all, you know you’re still paying for that imagined slight with a concentrated cold shoulder from most everyone you know a full week later, but you can hardly make yourself care about being so summarily iced out like that.    

Because Eddie Munson stood up for you.

You still can’t wrap your head around that. Nobody’s ever stood up for you like that before, nobody over the age of twelve, anyway.

But Eddie did, and you haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. You haven't been able to stop thinking about him.

You really can’t afford to be thinking about him right now, not while you're so sleep deprived and not while Carol is sitting right there. If she could read your mind she'd claw your eyes out.

Thankfully, she hasn't noticed the way your attention has begun to stray. She’s too busy talking, and it's starting to give you a headache.   

Deep down, somewhere in your subconscious, you know you ought to try and smooth things over, because for as nasty as she can be (all the time, every day) she’s still your best friend. Even though she regularly puts you on probation like this for imagined slights.

Even though your friendship has conditions and stipulations that only seem to apply to you.

Even though you have nothing in common anymore except for the fact that you’ve been best friends since you were eight years old.    

So, perhaps the better phrasing is you know you ought to try a little harder because you used to be best friends.    

Nostalgia is the ancient, flaking paste keeping the walls of your friendship standing, but the paper there has long since begun to peel to reveal the rot beneath.     

Carol is still going on about who said what and who is dating who and all the latest gossip, talking at you more than talking to you. Talking just to fill the air because there's nothing Carol hates more than an awkward silence, and any silence with you is awkward.

You’re doing your best to at least try to pretend to look interested – really, you are – but with your lack of sleep and your headache, and everything else happening in the room, there’s not much you can do to stop the way your gaze has begun to wander…    

Because Eddie Munson has entered your periphery, Eddie Munson is standing on his lunch table – Eddie Munson stood up for you.     

Good God, indeed.    

You couldn't have listened to what Carol was saying in that moment if you tried, not with Eddie standing there, larger than life and violently demanding your undivided attention.

Well, okay... not yours specifically, rather the attention of anyone who just so happens to be bored enough to tune in to his frenetic display … which is to say, you.   

You’re happy enough to let him have your attention, and you tell yourself it's because whatever he’s up to is bound to be vastly more enticing than anything Carol has to say.

No other reason, absolutely not.

You’re not sure you’d be able to resist giving it to him even if you didn’t feel that way, because if you were being honest, you would admit that you’ve been painfully aware of him from the moment you’d stepped into the lunchroom.    

Not because you’re minorly obsessed with him or anything as uncool as that. Certainly not because you’re harboring a bizarre gargantuan little crush on him, or that when you tune everything else out and let your brain switch tracks, it’s him your mind shifts to.   

No, nothing so embarrassing as that.     

He’s a rebel with entirely too much cause, standing tall on the flattop, talking big and proselytizing to his minions about something with all the fire and charisma of a bible belt preacher. You’re hopelessly lost on the context of his sermon, but you’re nothing if not convinced and entirely prepared to convert to the church of Eddie Munson.

Quietly, and so, so carefully, so as not to alert the predators lurking in your circle. Stranded in the lion's den as you are, you're stuck having to worship your false idol from afar, and you're almost content to keep doing so.

Still, your cautious reverence does nothing to ease the shock of chills that wracks your body as Eddie raises his voice.

You can feel it vibrating in the pit of your stomach and you know you must be gawping stupidly at him as the passion of whatever it is that’s got him going today takes him to the edge of euphoria.

It’s absolutely captivating to watch, and almost enough to break Carol’s concentration... almost.

This is not exactly new behavior for Eddie, so most people have learned to tune him out.     

Normally you would count yourself in among that group — you know, like a liar — if for nothing more than that good ol' self preservation.

Then again, you aren't normally dead on your feet after spending a night tossing and turning, restlessly caught in the throes of a decidedly raunchy REM cycle, the subject of which just so happens to be standing on a table across the room. 

He's the reason you didn't get any sleep last night, and despite your bone tiredness, you're suddenly wide awake.

So what if you had a sex dream about Eddie last night? So what if your skin is buzzing where you can still feel his hands pulling at you, the gentle fanning of his breath on the nape of your neck where it had felt so real...

“Sweet Girl,” he’d whispered on heady exhale in your dreams, voice thick and shot full of holes in the way you can only imagine he might sound in the throes of ecstasy.

Just the thought of it sends a bolt of heat lancing through your core and forces you to shift in your seat and, tragically, avert your gaze. 

It's just a little bit too much show for you with tell out of the question, and Eddie, or at least the version of him in your dreams, is driving you nuts.     

You are an island to your own fantasies, feeling your heart throbbing between your legs and trying to be as subtle as humanly possible about the way you’re pinching your thighs together for the faintest glimmer of relief.

You stop that right this instant you dirty slut. A snarling voice in your head warns you, and you immediately obey as cooler heads prevail.

The absolute last thing you need is to go to pieces at the lunch table in front of all your peers. In front of Eddie.

Carol would never let you live it down.

Someone shouts something at him from across the room, and you have to fight not to look for his response.

You're just a little too hot under the collar right now to watch Eddie give someone the finger, especially while you're sitting there wishing he would give it to you instead.

Jesus Christ you are so pathetic.

You force yourself to look at Carol and watch her lips move. You don't hear a word she says, but you're grateful for the distraction and the sudden pang of longing in your heart, if only for entirely selfish reasons.

You hate having to suffer in silence like this.

Once upon a time, you might have been free to share the specificities of your dream in bowed heads and hushed tones, but you are entirely certain that were you to try that now, to lean across the table and whisper conspiratorially:

“Oh my God, you’ll never guess who I had the filthiest dream about last night,” you’d be instantly crucified, socially speaking.    

Carol doesn’t care about the yearnings of your most secret self. Not anymore. Now she only cares about Tommy and who did what at Tina’s party and how embarrassing it was, and quietly sidling up to Steve Harrington.    

She doesn’t care about you, and your secrets are absolutely not safe with her, no matter what the pathetic lingering sense of nostalgia keeps telling you.

You would cut ties if you had a little more self-respect, but high school is hard enough with bad friends, you know for certain it would be next to impossible with no friends.

The concept of starting fresh and trying to make new ones halfway through your sophomore year is a Sisyphean Hurdle you have no idea how to even begin to tackle. So you grin and bear it, and swallow any biblical yearnings you happen to harbor for the town pariah for later.

Besides, if you told her, all she would do is ask you what it is you think you know about anything raunchy before dutifully reminding you that you’re a virgin.   

Actually, the technical term would be “still a virgin” and would be followed up with the demand to know “when you’re going to do something about it” — like somehow the untouched state of your being is so embarrassing.   

You suppose in the eternal tide pool of the high school diaspora, it’s just one more patently uncool thing about you hampering her.

Carol Perkins and her loser best friend who doesn’t put out, has never had a boyfriend, never even been kissed.    

You would remind her that it’s hard to put out when nobody knows you exist.

Who are you but her excessively boring shadow? You don't put out because half the time nobody even notices you're there. But that would feel too much like whining and would only become an agonizing exercise in her rattling off a list of names you’d so much rather eat glass than accompany anywhere socially.     

But you tell yourself it's not all bad, because if you're invisible, then at least you don't have to worry about how poor a job you're doing masking the way you're staring at Eddie.

You can't be embarrassed if nobody perceives you right? You're not so sure.

You don’t really know when your stupid little crush began.

He's always been there if you really think about it, a fixture in the background of the swirling miasma that is your social circle, suddenly much larger than it has ever been since High School has became your habitat.    

Hawkins is a small town, and Eddie’s lived here his whole life, same as you. He’s a year older, but that wouldn’t be enough distance to remove someone from your orbit under normal circumstances, let alone someone like him in a town like this.    

Some part of you has always been mildly obsessed with him from a purely academic standpoint — forbidden knowledge is perhaps the most tantalizing thing to a young mind, and the likes of Eddie Munson has always been completely off-limits to the likes of you.   

Eddie's father was always something closer to a Universal Movie Monster than a real person in your mind.

More like Dracula or the Wolfman than a human man with a substance abuse problem.

When you were growing up, the most you knew about it was that Al Munson was the local boogeyman, and was to be feared by school children and good Americans alike.

Eddie didn't even feature in that conversation until much later, not until the notorious Munson patriarch finally went to prison and everyone could breathe a weighted sigh of relief.

With the streets safe again, life went on, and the good people of Hawkins very quickly realized their mistake.

People start to get nervous when there are no local pariahs to blame all their problems on. Hawkins is cursed, after all, but with Al gone, that narrative quickly began to crumble.

Luckily, they had a Munson to spare, and as soon as he was old enough, everyone was happy to force the son into the void the father left in the cultural zeitgeist. 

Eddie became bad news over night, "just like his father", your parents still used to say and you were are strictly forbidden from socializing with him.

You remember a time when it wasn’t like that.

You remember when your parents spoke about Eddie with a heavy dose of sympathy, because back then it wasn't his fault his father was a monster.    

When you were little, it was “that poor kid,” but as you got older and he started getting into more and more trouble, it became “stay away from that boy – he’s no good,”

Still, there’s nothing so tempting as forbidden fruit – you’ve known that since you were old enough to recognize there was a difference between boys and girls. 

And he is nothing if not strictly forbidden to you.

Even now, sitting in the lunchroom so publicly yearning, you can still hear your father’s lecturing voice warning you that if you so much as spoke to Eddie Munson you’d get instantly hooked on drugs, knocked up, and end up living out of a cardboard box by the time you were twenty.    

Which is stupid, of course, because you’ve gone to school with Eddie since first grade and you’d seen him talk to plenty of people over the course of that time, none of whom had gone on to suffer such a dismal fate.              

Anyway, it's not like he's banging down the door for your attention. You’re fairly certain he doesn’t even know you exist.   

There wasn’t much danger in becoming corrupted by someone like Eddie Munson before Carol got popular and dragged you along with her, and that hasn’t changed just because you won a golden ticket to the cool kid’s table… by proxy — you're more of an unwanted plus-one than anything else.    

Not Charlie Bucket so much as Grandpa Joe.   

But of course, you’ve never personally subscribed to the generalization that Eddie is evil or something.    

He isn’t the boogeyman or Dracula or any of those things that go bump in the night, no matter how badly your raunchy little dreams wish he'd come bumping through your night.   

As far as you’re concerned, Eddie isn’t even all that mean or scary, and maybe that’s just because he’d treated you so sweetly last autumn at Tina Burton’s Not-Quite-Halloween party….    

Except you’re not supposed to be thinking about that, remember? Because last week's dressing down in the quad wasn't actually the first time Eddie came to your rescue.

That memory is not safe within Carol’s proximity, but it is the ambrosia that has been singularly sustaining you for the better part of a year now – a year next week on Halloween, but who’s counting?

It is a shining jewel that you keep tucked safely in the spot behind your lungs, and you just can’t help but pull the curtain back to take a peek at it.   

It was your first high school party.    

You’d never partaken in anything before that night, never even been offered, but suddenly and unceremoniously finding yourself shoved up against Eddie in a game of puff-puff-pass, you let yourself be pressured into playing.   

He must have realized you were nervous — maybe your fingers were trembling when he passed you the blunt, but suddenly, and for perhaps the first time in your life, he was speaking directly to you.    

“Have you ever done this before?” Eddie asked you quietly, a heavy dose of concern shadowing the wry quirk of his brow.   

It was startling, to realize the curse of your invisibility had so unceremoniously been lifted, leaving you suddenly exposed to the one person you were never meant to speak to.

You had to resist the urge to whip your head around and ask, “Who me?”

Yes, you.    

Eddie Munson was looking at you and asking you if you knew what you were doing.    

Like something out of one of those anti-drug campaigns, you suddenly felt the unbearable pressure to perform in a situation you’d been preparing for your whole life: if Eddie Munson offers you drugs at a party, just say no kids.    

Only you could not help but notice how genuinely concerned he looked, how soft and approachable and incredibly fucking normal.

Not nearly as scary or dangerous as McGruff the Crime Dog had led you to believe. In fact, he was entirely too enticing, and you were suddenly desperate to make a good impression.   

You opened your mouth in the fanatical hope of saying something cool and casual — yeah, of course. You’ve done all kinds of shit — and were naturally horrified to hear the truth squeak out.    

“No.”    

Eddie’s brows crept toward one another forming a deep crease of concern between them, and in a bright burst of suddenly onset clairvoyance, you could read his mind - yeah, that’s what I thought, he seemed to say.   

You watched as he stole a quick glance over his shoulder, before leaning in, invading your space almost conspiratorially as the moist pink tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke.

Your heart was beating so aggressively in your chest that you were convinced he must have been able to hear it.    

“You don’t have to breathe it in if you don’t want to.” He said, “Just puff it and pass — you’ll be fine.”    

You still remember the way his lips brushed the shell of your ear when he whispered to you, how the fanning of his breath made you shiver with the tantalizing suggestion of nicotine and spearmint secrets.    

But it was the last little bit that really did you in.    

Not the overwhelming pressure of your peers insisting that just one hit won’t kill you, but the kind assurance from the person who provided the contraband that you didn’t have to partake if you didn’t want to.

It was the suggestion of having a choice in your fate that ultimately lured you out of your field and into the underworld — sickly sweet pomegranate promises, dripping from his tongue to yours.   

You’ll be fine.

Just like your father and McGruff the Crime Dog and all those insufferable after-school specials had promised, Eddie Munson turned his gaze upon you, and you were instantly hooked.    

He passed you the blunt, and you tried not to get too caught up on the way his fingers brushed yours when you took it.

You curled your lips inward as you brought it to your mouth, and you puff puff puffed, doing your best to hold your throat closed against any swirling wisps of smoke that might slip through and poison you.

You hoped it would give the subtle impression that you knew what you were doing in order to escape the humiliation of inexperience before you handed the joint off to the next person.

It still burned in a funny sort of way, but nothing really happened.

You didn’t slip down the rabbit hole, you didn’t burst into flames, and perhaps most importantly no one seemed to notice the wool being pulled over their eyes as you dared to steal another cautious glance at Eddie.    

His lips twitched in the faintest hint of a satisfied smile, and you bloomed under the approval of someone whose attention you never realized you so desperately craved.

You couldn’t believe you’d pulled it off, and you were so pleased to have evidently made Eddie proud that is physically hurt to watch him turn away from you and take the shining warmth of his attention away, leaving you shrouded in darkness.

Tragically, invisible again, just like that.    

If only you could have been so lucky.

Trust Carol to catch you faking when you — a virgin in so many aspects — continued to remain clear eyed and level headed after three rounds of puffing and passing.    

“You’re supposed to inhale, Dummy!” She shrieked, causing everyone in the circle to laugh at your blatant inexperience.   

Everyone but Eddie, you would have noticed had you been able to look, but shame-faced as you were, you kept your gaze fixed firmly to the floor.

When your next turn came around, you inhaled deeply and felt your lungs ignite.

You coughed, of course, and choked on the musky smoke as it filled your lungs and seared them medium rare.

It only took a handful of minutes before you quickly faded into oblivion, backed by the soundtrack of everyone laughing at you again.    

The rest of that night remains a mystery to you to this day.    

You don’t remember what happened after the game or how much longer the party lasted or even how you got home, but there are some things that stand out clear as day.

Somewhere, hidden back in the furthest reaches of your subconscious, you swear you can still feel the press of his body as Eddie held you caged in the crook of his arm, with your head resting on his collarbone and tucked neatly beneath his chin.

You don’t know how, but you swear you know what his lips feel like, brushing the highest point of your cheekbone, and the long line of his nose pressed flat against your temple with his breath gently fanning the side of your face.

You’re sure you can feel the deep rumble of his voice filling you with warmth, a low timber in his chest calling you Sweet Girl as he smoothes your hair back.  

You don’t know how you know all that, only that you do.

You feel it with every fiber of your being in a way that is so goddamn real it can’t just be an effect of your stupid little crush and unchecked libido. 

How else could your dreams be so inexorably vivid?

In a moment of weakness, Eddie promised you everything was going to be okay, and you believe him to this day.        

That night at Tina’s party, academic fascination bloomed into something new, fueled entirely by teenage hormones and the need to be seen.    

Like a door that, once opened, cannot be shut again, you are always thinking about Eddie, one way or another.

Attention is the high you crave like nothing else, and you desperately want Eddie’s attention, his undivided, unfiltered, unwavering attention, fixed solely on you.

Selfishly, you want him to be as obsessed with you as you are with him, and it makes you feel like at any moment you’re going to implode in on yourself like a dying star.    

Your parents would be appalled.   

Carol would be appalled.

But Carol hasn’t noticed, because she’s still talking, and you’re still not listening, because Eddie is still going. And going. And going.   

Eddie Eddie Eddie.

Eddie is suddenly so much closer than he was a moment before.

At some point, when you weren’t looking, while you were too busy thinking about him to notice the direction his tirade had taken him, he picked his was across the lunch tables and crossed the room.

Your stomach does a cartoon flip-flop, and you hold a wheezy breath in your lungs when he vaults down from the end of his table, furthest from his seat and closest to yours.

Suddenly he's right fucking there, and you forget how to breathe.

Your eyes meet briefly as he straightens up, and you immediately avert your gaze — self preservation, remember? — feeling your face flush hot enough that you’re half surprised it doesn’t melt right off of your skull as you shift your focus back over to Carol.    

Carol... what's Carol talking about again? Oh, that's right. Tommy Hagan. Tommy Tommy Tommy.

Tommy is so goddamn boring, but in this instant, with Eddie Munson lurking within enough proximity to feel the pull of his orbit, Tommy is the most interesting person in the world.

You desperately want to know everything about Tommy and Tina and who said what about you and how embarrassing it was.   

Because you’ve changed your mind. You don't want Eddie's attention. Eddie’s attention is blinding, like looking into the sun.

It makes you feel exposed, like he’s a spotlight shining straight through to your innermost self — your secret self.

The one that thinks about him in the wee hours of the morning when sleep eludes you and deft fingers creep their way down your body, edging toward the wanting apex of your spread thighs and slipping past creamy slick barriers to pull soft, lilting breaths and his name — his blessed, cursed name — from your parted lips until you’re going hot and cold clamping your jaw shut to stop the sordid cries of your orgasm from escaping your lips…   

Jesus Christ –    

No, actually, you’re much more comfortable remaining a wallflower and letting someone else get wrapped up in that undivided, unwavering, fixed-solely-on-you attention.

Better to stand aside and make room for somebody built to withstand that kind of heat from someone like Eddie. Someone edgy and cool, who gives the middle finger to the world and dresses the part — not some midwestern babysitter from a town no one has ever heard of.    

Yeah... but he’s from that town that no one has ever heard of, too, you think watching Carol’s lips move and hearing nothing but your own heartbeat.

You gaze wanders without your permission, and before you know it, you're looking at him again – your insides seize and cramp, because this time, he’s looking too.    

Your heart spasms in your chest and scrambles up into your throat, punching an airy breath out of you and flattening your lungs.   

Fuck.    

There’s that blinding light, that feeling of indecent exposure — it’s not the sun, it's a solar eclipse burning your retinas out of your skull, and somehow you can’t bring yourself to look away.    

You’re painfully aware of how you’re staring again, though this time it is because he has your eyes and he absolutely refuses to let go.    

Somehow it doesn’t feel even the slightest bit aggressive, more like an understanding – he sees you.   

He sees you.   

You’re blushing, you know you’ve got to be bright crimson — beet red even — you can feel it.

You're sweating.

Sweet Girl — hands pulling, lips brushing, wandering fingers, gasping, gasping —Sweet Girl Sweet Girl Sweet—  

“Hello? Ground control to Major Tom.”    

Carol snaps her perfectly manicured fingers in your face, breaking the spell and bringing the quiet din of the lunchroom rushing back in on you.    

It feels like getting swamped at the beach, swept off of your feet by the tide, and rolled in the undercurrent. You crack your head on the reef and your brains come tumbling out as you're washed away into oblivion.

You have to remind yourself to breathe.   

“Are you even listening to me?” She snipes, scrunching her nose in aggravation and flattening her bubble gum pink lips into a thin, ugly line.     

You blink stupidly at her as she comes back into focus, but you don’t answer, because you very clearly hadn't and your mind is not working well enough to drudge up an excuse.    

It feels foolish to try and lie about it because Carol loves to remind you that she always knows when you’re lying, and yet the truth is entirely too dangerous.

Your secrets are not safe with her, and your biggest secret is still standing right there.

You can see him in your peripheral vision, poking and prodding you and just begging to be noticed.     

And you can't stop yourself from looking. Of course you can't, who can resist the sun?

When you do, Eddie rewards you with a brief, goofy smile. All crooked lips twisted up to one side, the faintest suggestion of teeth poking out.

It's a startling contrast to the vitriolic injustice of whatever it was that had previously gripped him in such a chokehold, and it’s contagious, that smile.

You can suddenly feel the corners of your mouth twitching in response, threatening to expose you and just daring you to try to resist.    

It makes your insides go tight and squirmy, and you have to clench your teeth to keep anything remotely similar to a straight face.    

The change in your demeanor is unfortunately not lost on Carol.      

She narrows her eyes at you, and you are powerless to stop your own from darting back and forth.

Carol - Eddie - Carol - Eddie - Carol... Eddie always wins.

You feel your heart seize and begin to palpitate as she begins to twist to see what could possibly be so important to hold your rapt attention, and you have to grip the edges of your seat to stop yourself from reaching out across the table.

You could scream stop! and make a scene, but that would only make you look even crazier than you are sure you already do.

There's nothing you can do to stop the collision, and all you can do is brace yourself for the sky to come crashing down on your head.

Unstoppable force? Meet immovable object.

Round two. Fight.        

Carol physically recoils when she sees Eddie. Dramatically so - like he'd been waiting there to douse her in a bucket of ice water.

It takes her a moment to recover, but when she does, she has nothing but spitting, poisonous vitriol for him, much to your unbearable dismay.    

“Take a picture, Freak, it’ll last longer.” She snaps.    

Something indiscernible crosses Eddie’s features as his gaze flicks over to her from you, then back again.

You watch his brows marry in the middle as he pulls a face that is tinged ever so slightly with something that looks a little too much like hurt than you're comfortable with.

The flash of vulnerability makes your stomach go tight, and you’re suddenly possessed with a violent and desperate need to make him understand that you are not with her, despite how stridently untrue that is.

You are Carol's friend, after all, even if lately you've started to feel like little more than an out-of-trend accessory.     

With her, is all that you are.      

The hurt look is gone before it has time to settle, and Eddie wrinkles his nose in disgust.   

For a long moment, they stand staring poisonous daggers at each other and daring the other to be the first to die.

She hates him and he hates her right back — cool kids and losers. Circle of life.

All you can do is desperately hope beyond hope that you’re not lumped into that circle by association. Golden ticket by proxy.   

“Seriously, what the fuck are you looking at?” Carol snaps, and strangely, Eddie's features relax.   

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his shoulders, “Just wondering how Bulimia Barbie got out of her box.”    

Your insides clench and had she been facing you, you’re certain you would have seen Carol turn white as a sheet.   

Eddie turns to make the stilted victory lap back to his seat at the head of his table, electing to take the floor this time rather than the tabletop.

You watch him go, because at this point, you're Pavloved — if Eddie is moving, you're watching — and when he gets to his seat, he gives you one last parting glance.

This time, you muster your courage and hold his gaze, pulling a face that you hope looks at least halfway as apologetic as it feels. 

That went exactly the way it was meant to, according to the strict social hierarchy of Hawkins High, and you feel terrible about it.

Not nearly as bad as you ought to feel for Carol, however.     

There are a lot of ways to get under her skin — she’s never been exactly easygoing, but even you think bringing up the eating disorder she’s been less-than-privately struggling with since the eighth grade is a low blow.

She’d been devastated when word of it got out, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her it was Tommy who’d let that information slip, because they'd only just started dating when that rumor was making the rounds.

Tommy's mean, Carol's mean too, but despite the words still hanging in the air between you, you don't believe that Eddie is mean, not truly.

Carol makes a harsh sound of indignation in the back of her throat.    

“Asshole!” She shouts unevenly, then, “—can you believe that guy?”   

You don't answer, you're still too busy trying very hard to muster those latent psychic abilities you're still waiting on to tell Eddie you're sorry.

Carol hisses your name and you snap to attention.

"— what the hell are you looking at?"   

“Nothing.” You say quickly, doing your best to curl in on yourself so she can't reach across the table to bite your head off.  

Only Carol has not believed a word that has come out of your mouth since the summer between eighth and ninth grade. She twists in her seat again just in time to see Eddie looking away, much to your patent dismay,

“…Oh, gross!” she scoffs, whipping back around to face you, “What, are you swapping eyes with the Freak?”    

The adrenaline of being caught bursts in your midsection like a firework and sends lightning rocketing down to the tips of your fingers.

"No," You lie.

"Liar," she says.

You turn your attention back to moving the bits of your lunch tray back and forth, but you have completely lost your appetite, especially as she admonishes you with a disappointed utterance of your name.

Your cheeks burn with shame.    

“I was just being friendly.” You stress, pressing the plastic tines of your spork into the bottom of the tray until they bend and snap off.   

“With Eddie Munson? Ugh — gag me!”      

The unchecked disdain in her tone doesn’t sit right with you, because it’s not like she’s ever even said two words to Eddie that weren’t hurled as insults, and you can’t help yourself clicking your tongue.    

“...he’s not that bad,” you say, immediately regretting the statement as the mean nickname comes roaring back to slap you upside the head.

Bulemia Barbie snorts out an undainty sound of disgust, you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from apologizing.   

“He’s a freak.” She snarls — so you keep saying, you think — “He worships the Devil or whatever — everybody knows that.”    

Horrifically, there is nothing you can do to stifle the bitter snort of laughter that comes bubbling up out of you.

It is a harsh, sardonic snot of a sound that escapes before you can reign it in.      

A brief flash of hatred colors her features, and you can’t help but feel that the curtain has been pulled back and you’re suddenly looking at her true self.    

"Everybody knows that." She repeats, slowly, forcefully, giving you a hard, cold look as if daring you to disagree.

Evidently, you dare, which is a shock to you.   

“How do you know?” you say, narrowing your eyes and wrinkling your nose in a quiet defiance. 

She opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, because she doesn't know. That's just what everybody says, but as far as you're concerned, no one has any actual proof that Eddie Munson worships the Devil.

Your stance gives you the upper hand in this verbal joust, and your reluctance to concede is like throwing gas on a fire.    

Suddenly, Carol is all but shouting at you as her eyes go bright and her skin flushes a blotchy crimson.      

“Oh please, like you know any better, Little Miss Babysitter!”   

She hurls it at you like a slur and you flinch as the violent intention strikes you.   

You don’t know precisely when Carol became so mean, only that it happened sometime between the transition from seventh to eighth grade, right around the time she’d gotten her first training bra and started to notice how boys were noticing her — right around the time Tommy showed up.

Since that day, everything between the two of you has been a competition that she is determined to win, despite how clearly uninterested you are in participating.

You don't want to fight, and yet you feel the strangest sense of righteous indignation rising in you because she doesn’t know Eddie. She's never even tried to get to know him, and here she is condemning him right alongside everyone else just because it’s what’s currently on trend.

You want to ask her how that’s fair, how she would feel if the shoe were on the other foot, and suddenly she became bad news overnight.

You don't, because you don't want to get your head bitten off as much as you don't want to parrot the condescending tone of your mother asking you if you’d jump off of a cliff the same as everyone.

Mostly though, you don't ask because she's right.

You don’t know Eddie any better than she does, not with all your wishing and hoping and fantasizing, and certainly not after the way he’d looked at you at Tina’s party – Sweet Girl…  

“Yeah okay, whatever,” You mumble, because there’s no point in arguing with Carol when she gets like this.   

Your submission doesn’t apparently sit any better with Carol than your challenge did. Her face twists into a displeased scowl as she snatches up the can of coke that is the entirety of her lunch and begins to raise it to her bubblegum pink lips before thinking better of it and setting it back down with a harsh sigh.    

You don’t know what’s got her so flustered, or what you did to embarrass her so badly. All you did was smile at Eddie, it’s not like you invited him to come and sit at the table with you.    

“Why do you care anyway?” She demands then, clearly not done fighting.        

“I don’t,” You say flatly, sitting up a little straighter.    

“Then how come you’re defending him?”    

You cross your arms.    

“I’m not.”    

“You are though.” She insists, like she’s caught the scent of something she can weild against you, and is trying her best to sniff it out. “You’ve got that stupid look on your face like you’re about to get all self-righteous about something. What’s the deal? Do you like him or something?”   

Your heart seizes and suddenly you can feel color bleeding into your cheeks as your armor creaks under the stress of her accusation.

How could she possibly know that?   

Because she’s your best friend, she knows everything about you…   

“No…” you say, though even you are not convinced by the quavering tone of your voice.   

Carol stares at you, briefly uncomprehending before it dawns on her, and suddenly her eyes are blazing with malicious delight.   

Shit.   

“Oh, nasty!” She shouts, then gasps, mouth falling open in scandal, “You do! You totally do!”   

“I don’t – I mean, I don’t even know him.” You stammer, kicking yourself for how your resolve has begun to waver.     

“Doesn’t mean you’re not into him! Oh, that’s so gross!” Carol sneers, she is loving this all too much, “Oh, my God, look at you – you’re blushing!”   

Your hands fly up reflexively to bracket your face, and you hate yourself for the heat you can feel billowing off you, betraying you.

Carol squeals with malevolent glee and you know you must be sweating again for the way she is looking at you, eyes bright, teeth bared, wet, and shining in a hungry grin like a predator getting ready to make a meal out of you.   

“O-okay, that’s enough.” You say unevenly, trying and failing to be firm as you are suddenly unable to keep your voice from shaking as you speak.   

She doesn’t hear you – that or she just plain ignores you because she is getting too much of a rise out of your misery.    

“What are you, like, in love with him?”    

“Carol – stop.”   

“You are! Holy shit, you totally are!” She cackles, “You want to marry him and have a hundred of his freak babies!”    

She is practically screaming and you are this close to panicking about it, glancing anxiously across the room to the table where Eddie is sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, talking and laughing with his friends about something.

You have to force yourself to believe that they aren’t laughing at you because there’s no way they could possibly be clued into your conversation with Carol … who has started play-acting that she is you, moaning loud and wantonly as you are fucked by what you can only imagine is supposed to be Eddie.

It's shockingly apropos in the worst possible way, almost as if somehow she’d found the time to steal away and read the mad scribblings you’d left smeared across the pages of your diary that morning.   

“Oh, God–!” She moans, hands flying up to tangle in her hair and igniting a burst of cold anxiety in the pit of your stomach like a Roman candle, “Oh, Eddie! Don’t stop! Right there – Yes! YES! YES!”     

You could die. You could literally die.    

People have started to look over at you, stare at you, and all of that would almost be fine if it weren’t for the fact that you are currently imploding like that dying star.   

You can’t be certain if its a result of your friend’s whorish display or just the screaming sensation of someone staring at him (because if you weren't watching him like a hawk before, you certainly are now) but Eddie’s attention snaps back over to your table in an instantly, to you, and you nearly pass out.   

You’re on your feet with a loud squeak of chair legs on linoleum – much louder than anything Carol had just kicked up. If people weren’t staring before, they’re certainly staring now, watching you frantically attempt to gather your things and make a break for it before your brain can catch up with you.   

Carol has started to come down by now, and she's leaning back casually in her chair, watching you panic.

"Seriously?" She snickers, like she didn't just publicly humiliate you, again, "You're leaving?"   

“I gotta go,” you say quickly.    

“Oh, come on, I was just kidding.” Carol sighs, “Don't be so sensitive. Where are you going?”    

You can hardly hear her over the blood rushing in your ears. Your heart is hammering so violently against your ribcage that you can barely catch your breath to try and stammer out an excuse.   

“I just remembered,” You begin, your voice hitches and threatens to break, “I have this… thing I have to do for class. Totally forgot. I gotta go work on it.”   

You shove the last of your belongings haphazardly into your backpack and slide your lunch tray into the nearest trashcan – the entire tray hits the bottom of the bin with a loud thump that has the lunch lady shouting indignantly at you from the other side of the room.   

You don’t linger to rectify your mistake or apologize or do anything of the sort, because your frantic attempts to escape the lunchroom have drawn only more attention.   

One cursory glance reveals to you that, devastatingly, Eddie’s entire lunch table has turned to watch you go.

You nearly go stumbling to the ground as you trip over your feet in your frantic attempt to get as far from there as you possibly can, as fast as you can.

“Liar!” Carol shouts after you, “Where are you really going?”   

“I’ll see you later!”    

You twist at the waist and wave when she calls your name again, and, because you're Pavloved, you can’t help look to see Eddie leaning back dangerously in his chair, craning his neck to watch you go in a way that makes your heart seize against your ribs.

His eyes go wide when he sees you looking, and he lurches forward to right himself again, briefly losing his balance and just about toppling out of the chair as he does.  

He saw everything, which means he probably heard everything which means you should probably just go find a corner to curl up and die in.

Like, right now.      

You turn and pick up your pace and blow through the double doors before anyone can get the bright idea to follow you.   

You move through the halls without really knowing where you intend to go, but before you realize it, you’re in the gymnasium, stalking across the empty floor to tuck yourself back beneath the bleachers.   

It’s not the most covert hiding spot, and you're almost surprised to find it empty considering how many people tend toward coming down here to hide and make out.

The braver, hornier couples around campus have even been known to engage in the odd session of heavy petting or dry humping back here where they can get their rocks off more or less removed from prying eyes.

More, being the keyword there. It feels like someone is being busted for that kind of under the bleachers indecency every other week.

You’ve got no such plans to follow suit, despite the ruined state of your panties, as you scramble to slip out of sight with a gentle squeak of Chucks on clear coat.  

Your heart is pounding as you pull your knees up to your chest, face absolutely burning over the way Carol’s stupid play acting has left you slick and throbbing with the memory of your stupid, stupid dream.

You bite the inside of your cheek until it hurts and violently will yourself to get a grip, because what are you going to do about it? Nothing, you're gonna wallow in shame and that will be that.   

You pull your bag into your lap and begin rifling through its haphazard contents, desperately searching for some kind of a distraction – something to take your mind off of the lingering sensation of full lips and calloused fingertips and hot fanning breath – Jesus motherfucking Christ! Get a hold of yourself.    

You need your book. You need to lose yourself in thick text, hard science fiction, and worlds and histories and glossaries of outlandish names… only your book is not here. 

Your well-loved, annotated copy of Dune, whose cover is hanging on by a thread with how many times it has been bent backward as you pour over the familiar text. Whose pages are creased and dog-eared and littered with notes and doodles and all the little lines and themes you never want to forget.   

It’s not here. Even after you dig and dig and dig, even after you dump your bag on the gymnasium floor and spread all your things out in a neat fan in front of you.

Your book is still missing.   

You hardly get the time to stress about it much further than the singular thought before the school bell rings with a shrill, metallic clanging cry. It startles your brain back into an approximation of working action and sends you scrambling to shove all your things back into your bag.   

You’re almost relieved.

Without your book, you’d just been sitting there biding your time until Carol eventually sniffed you out and you would have to brace yourself for round two, but your schedules are thankfully far removed from one another.

She’s got Mrs. O’Donnell for fifth period, whose classroom lies mercifully on the other side of the school from your fifth-period chemistry class, and the ringing of the end of lunch bell is a Godsend, solidifying your escape and requisite safety from another bout of humiliation.   

Your lab partner is a freshman, Gareth Emerson, who just so happens to be a newer addition to Eddie’s roving gang of minions.

Somehow, that is much less terrifying than you’d half expected it to be when you first noticed him in the lunchroom, sitting tucked neatly into the chair at Eddie’s side and hanging on his every word.   

It had just been nice to know that you’re not the only one so affected by his gravitational pull  

Still, you’d often wondered how Gareth was lucky enough to win such a coveted spot so early on in his tenure, considering Eddie Munson tends to be a particularly terrifying entity to the newest additions to the Hawkins High student body.

As you’d gotten to know him, you stopped wondering about that.   

Gareth’s a sweetheart. He’s nice, funny, and reminds you a lot of your neighbor, Dustin, if he were a little older and just a little bit cooler, that is.

It’s no wonder he’s so quickly found himself at a place of honor at Eddie’s side, how could anyone resist him?  

You wish you could hang out with Gareth instead of Carol.

You wish you could sit comfortably at lunch and talk about the things that actually held your interest. That you could make afterschool and weekend plans without a hint of dread, and be safe in the knowledge that a trip to the movies or to the arcade was simply that. No ulterior motives or hidden agendas, no fear of being humiliated or abused for the amusement of the people who were supposed to be your friends.

You wish you could be real friends with Gareth, but Gareth hangs out with Eddie, and the thought of joining them at their lunch table is enough to send your heart into palpitations, so you just have to settle with the friendship you have, limited to the confines of the classroom.  

“Hey,” Gareth says, frowning quizzically at you as you unpack your things and hop up onto the metal stool beside him, “What happened to you at lunch? You looked like you were about to pop.”  

Your insides clench with shame and for a very brief moment, you're afraid you're about to empty them all over the tabletop.  

“You saw that, huh?” You mumble, swallowing hard.

“Everybody saw that.” He scoffs, pulling a face.   

Everybody. The word clangs around your ribs and you have to blink back the image of Eddie leaning so far back in his chair, watching you run from the lunchroom.

Literally run. Like some kind of scared little kid fleeing the monster that lives under their bed.   

Great.  

“What does she think you did this time? Sell her firstborn child for concert tickets or something?”  

You sigh, slumping forward to prop your head up on your elbow and level Gareth with an unimpressed look.  

“Nothing – I don’t want to talk about it.”  

He takes the hint and offers you his hands in a show of surrender before turning back to the blackboard, where Mr. Kapz has stepped up and begun scribbling formulas with a hard squeak of chalk.   

You watch without really seeing, trying to keep your mind from drifting too far with all your classmates sitting around you.

There is a cold lump in the pit of your stomach as a hundred different things whisk around your mind, all fighting tooth and nail for the limited real estate left in your brain with so much of Eddie stuffed up in there.

It’s always like that though, and it leaves you feeling particularly pathetic, thinking about yourself, sitting beneath the bleachers on your own, like the loser you are, hiding from your friends, wishing things were different, wishing you could be the person they wanted you to be, wishing you could be free of them.  

You suck greedily on a sharp intake of air and shake your head to dislodge that line of thinking before it can take root and pivot to a much more pressing matter, for the sake of your own self-preservation.         

“Hey, weird question,” You start, tilting your head down toward your shoulder and speaking in a loud whisper, “But have you seen my book?”   

Gareth’s brows are pulled tight over his eyes when you glance at him, and you are quick to elaborate,   

“Dune." You clarify, "It’s all beat up and annotated…?”    

“Yeah, no— I mean, sure I’ve seen it—” 

"Recently?" You posit, hoping he understands that you've lost it and not just trying to small talk about the sorry state of a mass-market paperback.

"Yeah."

You hardly let him finish.

“Really? That’s great! Where?” 

“...Eddie’s got it.”   

It hits you like a fist to the gut, punching your lungs flat and forcing the air out. Your heart thumps a heavy beat like it always does when someone mentions Eddie and you feel your tongue go fat in your mouth.     

“Ed-Eddie Munson?” You splutter, voice an embarrassing octave higher than normal, and barely manage to get the sound out over the way your throat is closing up.    

You can feel your cheeks heating just from the sordid act of speaking his name aloud.    

If Gareth takes any sort of hint from your bizarre reaction, he doesn’t let on.  

“Yeah.” He says again.   

You blink back at him, waiting for him to elaborate and feeling your chest go tight when he doesn’t.  

“…Why does he have my book?”   

“He said you left it in the parking lot after you dumped your stuff last week—”    

Oh, for the love of God…  

In the wake of everything else that happened that day, you’d almost completely forgotten about that… 

You’d been running late for school, having spectacularly slept through your alarm and been so rudely awakened by the thunderous hammering of two little fists, doing their best to bang down your bedroom door – Dustin, shouting at you to get your ass up out of bed.  

You’d forgotten you were supposed to be carpooling that morning, and you're sure you must have broken some kind of a land speed record with how you burnt rubber to get the both of you to school on time.

Gas pedal to the floor, music cranked up to eleven, you made the distance in five minutes flat.   

After, you’d been too caught up in your sudden prospective future as a Formula One driver to notice how you were headed for disaster. Jogging across the parking lot and trying to stuff your Walkman into your backpack, you weren't prepared for the wall of denim, patches, and studs to come stumbling haphazardly out of the open door of a semi-shitty beat-up panel van and directly into your path.   

You barely had time to look up, let alone pivot to try and avoid the sudden six-foot obstacle before you, so naturally you collided.

You managed to keep your feet and even catch your Walkman with an incredible feat of feline grace, but it came at the expense of your bookbag, which went tumbling topsy turvy and upchucked its contents all over the pavement at your feet.   

Fantastic.  

They stepped into your path, whoever they were. They crashed into you, but still you stammered out an apology, because how could they have been expected to look out for you when you’re running around under a cloak of invisibility?

Then, you dropped to your knees in an attempt to catch your pens and pencils before they could roll away. You fully expected to be ignored, to watch whoever it was that had just knocked your shit into the dirt skip off to class like you didn’t even exist, but when you looked up, there was Eddie Munson, crouched on the asphalt right alongside you with his head bowed toward yours, stacking your books and muttering his own apology.   

It just about damn near knocked the wind out of you, suddenly finding yourself so close to him again after spending so long quietly yearning for his proximity.

Once you got your lungs working and inflated again, you couldn’t help but breathe deep, trying to get a sense of him and refresh the waning memory you still clung to. He smelled just the way you remembered, like camels and spearmint gum standing out over the notes of whatever cheap cologne he’d obviously dusted himself in and Old Spice.

It made your mouth water, and then go completely dry when he looked up at you, turning that honey-warm gaze on you and bathing you in his spotlight. 

You weren’t invisible anymore, you were blushing, and you’d missed whatever it was he’d said to you – fuck. 

You weren’t listening, you were staring into his eyes, at the faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose, at the plush spread of his lips, and the pink tip of his tongue darting out to swipe a slick sheen of moisture across them.   

Somewhere, distantly, you could hear your Walkman still playing, Ann Wilson imploring you to get a little more lost in him than is rightly wise…  

Oh, he’s a magic man, Mama…  

And he was waiting for you to answer him.

Fuck. What the fuck did he just say?      

“My fault…" Eddie mumbled thickly, "Didn’t see you there,”

Oh, thank God for that.   

“Oh ��� God, are you kidding?  It happens all the time.” You scoffed, dismissing the notion with a flippant wave.

It was almost a cool, collected thing to say, but then you just kept talking,

“Like. Way more than you would think,”

And talking.

“It’s actually kind of ridiculous how often people bump into me like that–”

And talking,

“Honestly, at this point, I feel like I should start wearing a bell.”   

Shut up shut up shut up already! You screamed, but before you could well and truly condemn yourself for being such a goddamn awkward weirdo, Eddie’s face twisted up in amusement and he laughed out loud.

A little too loud for something that wasn’t even halfway to being a joke – he was obviously high, the whites of his eyes were tinged an angry swollen pink, hooded and nearly closed as he peered over at you with his face split up in that crooked smile of his, but it was still so wildly endearing you couldn’t help but giggle yourself.  

You can’t believe you’d nearly forgotten that, that wonderful almost perfect moment of brushing fingers and traded looks and semi-meaningful silences.

If you really think about it, it makes perfect sense that he has your book. You haven’t seen your it since that day, haven’t even thought about it. It had been all but washed away under the bell-clanging effect of what happened later that morning between classes, with Carol jumping down your throat and Eddie riding in to pull you out of her line of fire.   

Good God!  He shouts in your memory, and you can’t help but agree with him.    

“Didn’t he give it back to you?” Gareth asks, brows marrying over his eyes.  

You give your lab partner an incredulous look because never mind how this new information is ever so subtly breaking your brain, but why on Earth would you be asking after your copy of Dune if Eddie had already given it back to you?  

Why would you even be talking about this?

The lack of logic there seems to dawn on Gareth just a tad too late to save face.   

“Guess not, never mind,” he hums, twisting back in his seat to face the blackboard.   

You sit, staring at nothing in particular as you try and fail to wrap your head around the concept of Eddie Munson carrying around your book.   

There’s something incredibly personal about an annotated book, and you can’t decide if you ought to be embarrassed about that, hoping that he didn’t stop to take the time to read any of the inane things you’d written there.

Suddenly you’re wracking your brain to try and remember if you’d gone and scribbled anything too incriminating in the margins, whether you’d absently scribbled out a dopey “Mrs. – Munson” alongside all your annotations about doomed heroes.

You imagine it written out in loopy script, replete with doodles of hearts and clouds and all the stupid cupid bullshit that is typically kept strictly within the pages of your diary. 

You’re suddenly burning with hot, whorish shame as you think back to the pages you’d frantically scribbled on in the aftermath of the wet dream you’d woken from that morning. Your fingers were trembling as you fought to get it down on paper before the vivid images and sensations slipped from your grasp and left you with nothing more than faint memories of calloused hands and full lips, burning your skin with the suggestion of phantom touches.    

Yeah, you’re going to have to go back and revisit that when you get home this afternoon, thank God you’re not babysitting tonight.   

You realize after a moment that in staring off into space, trying simultaneously to banish the feeling and relieve it, that you’ve actually been sitting, staring at Gareth, watching him wrestle with something like he’s trying to decide whether or not to let more information slip.   

Truly, you’re not sure how much more truth you can stomach here in fifth period chemistry, sitting perched on your metal stool and trying oh-so-subtly to shift over to the edge and give yourself a little relief from the way that your heart is throbbing in your panties again. 

Your guts seize like you’ve been caught red handed when Gareth twists back around to face you and ducks his head conspiratorially.   

For lack of anything better to do, you mirror his movements and hope beyond hope that, if you’re blushing, he doesn’t notice.     

“Okay, so…” he begins softly, “You didn’t hear it from me, but... he likes you,”   

You do your best not to react as your heart leaps into your throat – you don’t dare to hope to know who he means.    

“Who does?” You ask, playing dumb for the sake of your poor, nervous heart, because what if you’re wrong?  

You’re probably wrong.  

“Eddie does.” 

Then again, maybe not… oh, shit.

Gareth continues. 

“Like… a lot.” 

OH SHIT.  

Oh shit oh fuck oh sHIT be cool be cool be fucking cool!    

It takes every fiber of your limited willpower not to react, because honestly, you could scream. This is what it feels like to have your wildest dreams come true.

Eddie Munson likes you, Gareth said, like a lot, he said. 

Maybe it’s just the wrecked state you’ve been existing in from the moment you snapped into consciousness that morning, but suddenly you’re desperate, giddy, feeling the hard push of the urge to run and go find Eddie.

Find him and seize him by the shoulders and shake him and scream and shout and cheer and... and and and... and do what?

Confess your feelings?

Make some sort of grand declaration then drag him off somewhere to hop on his dick?

That’s what your ovaries are currently imploring you to do. Finally do something about that goddamn virginity of yours so Carol will climb down out of your ass.

But that’s ridiculous, right? And not at all practical, fantasizing about running off and trying to consummate what, as far as you can tell, is only a rumor before it can slip from your grasp.  

Where would you even go?  

Under the bleachers, where the braver, hornier couples go to rub up against each other and get their rocks off. 

No, no that’s stupid… and yet? 

You’ve heard the talk about Eddie, how he’s supposed to be easy or something — some part of you is pretty sure he’d be game to take you out to the back of his van if you went over and asked him nicely... just ask him nicely to lift your skirt and help you out with that pesky little virginal problem of yours, Christ, how embarrassing. 

He’d probably laugh in your face if you did. How do you know for sure that he even really likes you? What makes you think that there’s even the slightest chance that your stupid crush on him could ever be reciprocated?

You’re not a real person, remember? You don’t put out because you don’t exist.   

No, Eddie doesn’t like you, you decide in an instant, how could he? He doesn’t even know you.  

Gareth is wrong, and worse still, he’s teasing you – he has to be. It is, after all, the opening line to the oldest joke in the Hawkins High popular kid book: so, Eddie Munson wants to take you to prom…what do you do?   

It makes your chest hurt, and you have to pull your lips into a tight line to keep them from wobbling.    

Ha-ha, real funny joke, tease the loser virgin for the big stupid crush she has on the local Freak.   

“That’s mean, Gareth.” You say quietly.   

“What is?”   

You shake your head because you almost can’t bear to say it.   

“Teasing like that. That’s not nice...”   

He gives you a horrified look, like you’ve suddenly got bugs crawling out of your ears.   

“What? No, Dude, it’s not like that at all!” Gareth stresses, “I promise I’m being so serious right now. Eddie likes you. He really likes you.”     

It feels risky, but you can’t help yourself. Gareth’s a sweetheart, why would he lie to you?  

“…Really?” You ask, ever so slightly embarrassed at how small and hopeful your voice suddenly sounds and trying so, so hard to play it cool.    

“Yes… and it’s super goddamn annoying — no offense,”   

You shake your head, because in the absence of the ability to form rational thought you rely on deep-seeded pleasantries.   

“Oh, no, of course.” You say, “None taken … I think.”   

You suddenly can’t make your brain work, it just sits there like a fat grey lumpy pile of worms in your skull. Part of you is suddenly so sure that you can smell the smoke wafting up off of it as it overheats in your attempt to jumpstart it again.  

Eddie likes you. This is all really happening.  

It takes you a moment too long to realize that Gareth is still talking, and a moment even longer to clue yourself back in to what he’s saying.

“— he’s been going around in circles trying to work up the courage to talk to you, but he’s chicken shit, so he won’t do it unless he has some bullshit excuse to make it all casual — giving you your book back was supposed to be his excuse, but that was clearly a bust,”

And then, “Also, he basically threatened to kill me if I said anything so just do me a favor and be cool, alright? Pretend I didn’t say anything.”   

“…So why tell me?” you ask, almost startled by the sound of your own voice and how far away it sounds.

You’re having an out-of-body experience, that’s what this has got to be, sitting there, floating, watching yourself have this conversation with Gareth.   

Eddie Munson has your book, Eddie Munson stood up for you, Eddie Munson likes you...  

“Because he freaked when he found out we were lab partners and he’s being a huge creep pressing me for information about you, like he expects me to spy on you or something... Anyway, I figured with how fucking weird he always acts around you that you probably already knew.”   

You shake your head and hope to God the movement doesn’t cause your eyeballs to fall out of your sockets. You can’t remember if you’ve blinked over the course of the last five minutes.   

“I didn’t.” You squeak.    

His eyes go wide and you watch the color drain from his face.   

“Oh. Shit,” He says, “— well, like I said, you didn’t hear it from me.”    

You didn’t hear it from anybody. As far as you’re concerned, this conversation isn’t actually happening. Any moment now you’re going to snap out of whatever fugue state you’ve obviously just slipped into, and you’re going to find that this is all a dream – only your thigh is going raw from where you’ve been subtly pinching yourself. 

Still, you still don’t completely believe Gareth isn’t teasing you – this feels like dangerous ground and suddenly your guts are churning because you don’t know what to do with this information.

You don’t know how to make yourself understand that the one person who has always been wholly off-limits to you could suddenly be within your grasp.   

Possibility makes you ravenous and you have to fight to resist the urge to seize Gareth by the front of his torn flannel shirt and shake him, demanding more more more, that he tell you everything there is to know about Eddie and everything he’s ever said about you among the safety of friends.    

With a sharp pang, you realize that you’re suddenly violently jealous about the confidence he has to freely speak about the objects of his affections – evidently, you.  

The thought has warmth bleeding through your abdomen and filling up your chest cavity. You’re floating again, and you’re suddenly so, wickedly pleased.    

Carol would shit her pants if she found out.    

The rest of class comes and goes without incident, and you don’t hear a word of the lesson. 

You’re far too busy fantasizing about all your wildest dreams coming true, planning your future with Eddie, picturing your wedding and your first home together, growing old together, and all the road trips and holidays and milestones you’ll hit in between.

By the last twenty minutes of the lesson, you’re even toying with naming your children.   

You’re disgusting and pathetic and so far gone for him in such a stupid, irresponsible way. Only there’s one tiny little obstacle standing in the way of all of that.

Gareth says he’s not brave enough to talk to you, not without good reason, which is so painfully endearing, but a real problem because that makes two of you – you can barely even look at Eddie, let alone fathom trying to strike up a conversation. 

So, therein lies the problem. How on Earth are you supposed to marry him and have a hundred of his babies, as Carol had so eloquently put it, if neither of you can manage to buck up the courage to have a normal conversation?   

The bell is ringing before you can decide how to become a human being again, you’re still more cloud than girl when you catch Gareth as he begins packing up.   

“Listen, tell Eddie…” You start, feeling suddenly too shy to have his name in your mouth – it feels heavy on your tongue, forbidden, and you chicken out, “Tell him… that I don’t bite. If he wants to talk to me … then he should just come talk to me, right?”   

Gareth rolls his eyes,   

“I told him that, like, a hundred times… but I’ll tell him again. I’ll say you said so this time.”   

The promise pleases you immensely, only there is one glaring issue with that plan. He was never meant to tell you how Eddie supposedly feels about you. You’re not supposed to know he likes you.  

You bite your lip and feel your brows creep toward one another, forming a deep crease of worry between them.  

“Is that gonna get you in trouble?” You ask.  

Gareth opens his mouth to speak, then snaps it shut again as the words fail to come, like he too had very conveniently forgotten that the information he’d just passed to you was decidedly not for you.   

He hums thoughtfully, brows furrowed, and face pulled tight into a mask of displeased concentration.  

What to do, what to do.   

Finally, after a moment that feels like eternity, one you spend fidgeting with your fingers twisting them to the point of pain, holding a breath in your lungs almost like you’re afraid if you breathe he’ll take it all back.

Gareth shrugs.   

“...well, I don’t see why he needs to know that I’m the one who told you… people talk.”    

Truer words have never been spoken.   

A hundred years and a short lifetime ago, you and Carol spent an evening trading secrets and the deepest desires of your heart, and you jumped up and down on her springy mattress, screaming along to the Go-Go's and promising one another that, just like the song said, your lips were sealed.

You can’t help but wonder if she ever really meant it, if she would have laughed and recoiled and teased you mercilessly if you trusted her with your secret feelings about Eddie Munson. Only you had made the same decision and elected not to tell her even back then, even when your secrets were still safe with her.   

Can you hear them? They talk about us, telling lies, well, that’s no surprise.   

People talk, Gareth said.   

“They certainly do.”  You hum, shouldering your bag and following him out the door. 

[bingbongsupremacy]

How To Kiss

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

Warnings: Confusion about Sexuality. I've never actually read a teen magazine so idk if they had shit like this. Sounded good. Ellie and Reader are like teens in this rn. It's going to fast forward to when they're older in the part 2 im going to do.

I haven't had my first kiss yet. Hopefully someday bros.

Summary: The day you and Ellie discovered you were both gay.

Song: I kissed a girl - Katy Perry

(Btw Credit to Liv McConnel at teen vogue for the kissing steps. I took them from there. )

Also Joel works at an Auto Shop in this.

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*****

My fingers brush over the shiny pages of Savage Starlight. Ellie quietly hums along while tapping her foot on her space themed bed cover.

" Fuck no. " Ellie mutters, flipping the page of the comic. " That ass. " She whispers.

A small grin makes its way onto my face. Ellie's habit of talking to herself while reading her comics is the funniest thing.

I finish the book and turn to look at my best friend. Her brows furrow in concentration. Her top teeth softly bite down on her lower lip, her gaze focused on the pages in front of her. She lets out a sigh and shuts the comic, glancing over at me. " I can't believe we have to wait until next month for the next book. I need to know now! " Ellie complains with a huff.

" I know! " I turn my gaze up at the ceiling. " At least we have the rest of the books to re-read. "

Ellie hums in agreement. " What should we do now? Joel's not going to be home for another hour. He's bringing pizza. "

Ellie's adoptive father was working a late shift at the auto shop he worked at.

" Nice! " I sit up and turn to her. " Guess what I snagged from my sister. " I smirk while pulling open my brightly colored backpack.

" Um uh a dog? "

I roll my eyes. " Why the hell would I keep a dog in my backpack for so long, Ellie. "

Ellie shrugs and leans back against her headboard. " Variety is the spice of life. "

I chuckle. " What the fuck. "

I pull out a teen magazine. " It's a girl magazine thing! My sister has like seventy of these from when she was younger. I found them when I was snooping around this morning! " I grin while flipping through the pages. I open up to a page of Justin Bieber. " Justin Bieber is in like almost all of these! "

Ellie crinkles her nose. " Bro not Justin. "

I roll my eyes and toss one of the magazines to her. " I thought we could look at them. "

We flip through the pages of the magazines. We take some quizzes (All of which Ellie makes fun of) and read some of the advice.

" How To Kiss " Ellie reads out loud. " What the hell. " She goes to turn the page.

" Wait! Let's read it. " I reach for the magazine.

" Why? It's not like you have a boyfriend. " Ellie smirks.

I glare at the girl. " Fuck you, Ellie. I just want to read it, okay? Who knows, we might need that in the future? "

" Fine. " Ellie sighs. " Fine. "

The two of you huddle around the brightly colored magazine.

1. Build up to the kiss.

2. Make sure the kiss has your, and the other party’s, consent.

3. Start things slow.

4. Keep your mouth soft and relaxed.

5. Switch your area of focus and/or your speed.

6. Speaking of area of focus — move things away from their lips.

7. Go easy on the tongue.

8. Don’t overthink it.

9. Talk about it afterward!

" Doesn't sound that hard. I literally could've told you that. " Ellie mutters. " Kissing isn't a hard concept. "

I continue on reading through the different categories. " But like, it seems hard. How do you know if the other person likes it? "

Ellie grabs a small ball from her bedside table and starts throwing it up into the air. " They'll probably tell you. "

" Have you had your first kiss? " I ask while watching the other girl curiously. She would've told me if she'd been kissed, right? I mean, we tell each other everything. It's always been that way, always will be that way.

Ellie pauses throwing the ball and glances down at me. " No. " She admits, a small blush crawling onto her cheeks. " But I mean, kissing can't be that hard. It's like...common sense. People do it all the time. "

I frown. " What if I'm a bad kisser? "

" You won't be. " Ellie shakes her head. " Stop reading that shit, it's getting in your head. Let's just do something else. Like watch a movie or something. "

" Seriously tho, El. What if I'm a bad kisser. What if the person I kiss is so horrified by my kissing, they leave me? " A million scenarios run through my head.

Ellie lets out a groan. " Oh my god. Will you just stop. You're going to be a fine kisser. " Ellie meets your gaze. " Look, if...if you want to...we could like I don't know. Practice or something. " A tinge of red spreads over Ellie's cheeks. She avoids my gaze, instead staring straight at the magazine.

I look at her in shock. Kissing Ellie? I'd be lying if I said I never had thoughts of kissing her before...but everyone has thoughts, right? I mean Ellie's eyes are some of the prettiest I've ever seen. She's definitely attractive. But I like boys. I think. Plus Ellie's not gay. Right?

Ellie shifts uncomfortably. " Never mind, that was-that was stupid of me to offer. Let's just watch a show-"

" No. " I shake my head. " Let's do it. I mean, we both need practice. " Suddenly it feels like my heart starts pounding faster. My fingers feel the urge to fidget with something out of pure anxiety.

Ellie nods and moves the magazine to the side. She positions herself in front of me, on her knees. Ellie eyes meet with mine before she glances down at the magazine, obviously looking over the steps.

I'm about to comment on her hypocrisy when she suddenly puts her hand on my chin. She draws her face close to mine. Her minty breath fans over my mouth, causing me to freeze in anticipation.

Ellie slowly leans in. In seconds, I feel her warm lips on mine.

My heart feels like it explodes. Butterflies seem to soar around my stomach, confusing me. What am I feeling? What is this? How is this happening?

My eyes study Ellie's relaxed face. Her eyes are closed. Her long brown lashes rest peacefully on her cheeks. Deciding to follow her lead, I try to relax. I close my eyes and follow her slow mouth movements.

All worries and thoughts of mine seem to melt away. What are the steps again? I don't remember?

We spend who knows how long kissing before Ellie starts to speed up. She places a small kiss on the corner of my lip before pulling away panting.

The loss of her lips leaves a pit of disappoints in my stomach. I ignore it and look up at her eyes.

An unfamiliar expression is sprawled on her face. Maybe realization?

" That was.." Ellie begins.

" Not bad. " I grin.

Ellie chuckles. " Yeah. Not bad. " Ellie shuts off the radio and turns on the small tv on her dresser. " What should we watch? "

_______

We never kissed again after that. Things remained the same. Ellie and I still hung out every Friday at her house to read comics and watch movies. We sat together at school with Dina and Jesse.

The only things that changed were my feelings. I started to develop a crush on Ellie, not that I could ever act on it. Ellie didn't like me back.

It wouldn't matter anyways. Ellie's sister Sarah ended up getting really sick, causing Ellie's family to move to another state to get better care for her. Somewhere along the line we stopped talking. Slowly, calls every day turned to calls once a week and eventually to once a year.

I get it. Life goes on. I'm in the past. Friendships die. Nothing lasts forever.

[luvhockey111]

doomsday

based off of doomsday by lizzy mcalpine!

summary: Quinn Hughes and Elouise “ellie” were high school sweethearts. Everyone surrounding them were just waiting for the day that Quinn would pop the question. What happens when Quinn turns cold?

warnings: sad quinn, sad reader, kind of asshole quinn, angst a little bit

Quinn and Ellie had been dating since their freshman year of high school, to be more specific November of 2013. They were so deeply in love, when quinn went to the University of Michigan, Ellie followed. When Quinn had to move to Vancouver, he bought an apartment for the two of them. There truly was no Quinn without Ellie and vice versa. They made their apartment a home, even buying a dog right before quarantine in March of 2020. Their relationship never once faltered. That is until Ellie got a job offer in Michigan in September of 2022. Ellie’s dream had always been to be a physical trainer for a sports team. While Quinn tried and tried for the Canucks to hire her, they just simply did not need another trainer. It never crossed Quinn’s mind that Ellie could possibly consider leaving Vancouver to work. I mean Vancouver had been their home for the past 5 years, Quinn had been her home for the past 9. Eloise had found out about this job last month, she had told quinn right when she found out, since that day he had been nothing but cold. A shell of the man she loved.

“El I just don’t understand why you would go and apply for this job in Michigan, do you not care about me?.” Quinn had never raised his voice at Ellie, not in all her years of knowing him. “Quinn this is my dream, you know that. I’ve followed you every step of the way since we went to college, I’ve been working towards this job since senior year of high school. I’m not going to let it get away.” Eloise could feel her body start to over heat, her eyes get watery and blurry and her throat starting to close. Why couldn’t Quinn understand? “I told you that you don’t have to work I can provide for you El” Quinn started yelling. “You’ve had no problem letting me take care of everything and pay for the past 5 years so what’s the problem now.” “Are you insinuating that I have been using you?” Ellie was furious now. How could Quinn, her perfect boyfriend who has never raised his voice or ever mistreated her say imply such a thing? “It’s not insinuating, if I am straight up saying it Eloise.” Quinn had completely run cold. “Okay, you know what quinn I’m booking my flight for tomorrow morning. I start next week. I thought my boyfriend would be happy I’m finally getting what I’ve been dreaming about, but I guess not.” Eloise already had started packing earlier that day while quinn was at training. “Eloise if you take this job we are over.” Quinn said with a shaky voice, tears brimming just above his waterline. “I guess we’re over than, I’ll get my stuff and go to a hotel tonight.” Eloise was trying her hardest to keep her composure. She knew it had to have been a heat of the moment thing, but even then, if he is that willing to throw 9 years down the drain over a little distance, maybe he wasn’t the one.

“Pull the plug in September I don't want to die in June I'd like to start planning my funeral I've got work to do

Pull the plug, make it painless I don't want a violent end Don't say that you'll always love me 'Cause you know I'd bleed myself dry for you over and over again”

It was now December 23 2023

Ever since Eloise left that night she had not seen or spoken to Quinn. He had not reached out and neither had she. It would be a lie to say that she had not thought about texting him everyday. However, as far as she knows he is living his bachelor life up in Vancouver. She knew Quinn would be coming back home to Michigan for Christmas, as he did every year. Last Christmas Eloise had opted on buying herself and her mom a week long cruise over the time period she knew Quinn would be back in their hometown. This year was different, although she still did not want to see Quinn or speak with him, she had done a lot of self evaluation and decided that maybe it was for the best that the 2 split. I mean they had been together since freshman year of high school. She truly had not known herself without the presence of Quinn, and same goes for Quinn. It could possibly be right person wrong time or simply just someone who wasn’t meant to be. Eloise was currently shopping in her local Trader Joe’s when she had heard an all too familiar voice. Now it’s not the voice that she had heard everyday for 9 years but it was a voice she could pick out of a lineup for sure. It was the voice of the little brother she never had. “Yup, okay Jack I’ll get that fried rice you like. Oh my god leave me alone you’re such a child.” Luke groaned loudly, Eloise let out a quiet laugh at the sound of this conversation, knowing the antics of her old second family all too well. She was in the aisle next to luke and could still hear him loud and clear. All of a sudden the voice started sounding louder and closer. “Jack I swear if you tell mom I’ll…” Luke locked eyes with Ellie and looked as if he had just seen a ghost. “Uh yeah jack I’ll see you when I get home.” Right as he hung up on jack he ran to Ellie, engulfing her in a bear hug. Right as they connected Ellie could feel herself starting to get choked up and tears welling in her eyes. “Oh El I’m so sorry about everything, I’m sorry I didn’t reach out, I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay lu, I know how close you and Quinn are I didn’t expect you to. I did miss you a whole lot though.” Luke and Eloise had always been extremely close. She had known him since he was 10 and watched him grow up into an amazing hockey player and an even better person. She reminisced back to when she had first gotten her license and the first thing she did was drive Luke to hockey practice because Ellen and Jim were busy, and Quinn and Jack were out of town. He was like the brother she never had. Luke and Eloise had talked for about 5 more minutes before jack called complaining that he was out for too long and he had to eventually part ways from Ellie. After seeing Luke it made Eloise realize how much she had missed Quinn, but if it was that easy for him to walk out of her life and not reach out then it would be just as easy for him to ignore her, or to do it again. December 25, 2023

Christmas was always Eloises favorite holiday. Every year that she had been home for Christmas she would walk down a street in her town that was filled with lights and people after their Christmas dinners. This year had been no different. After her family dinner she had grabbed her coat and went to walk down the street. Now, every year she had done this walk with Quinn, this year it felt like a part of her had died on this walk. The part of her that enjoyed Christmas, or any holiday for that matter. She had realized on this walk she had become a shell of the person she once was. She had realized how pathetic she probably looked to an outsider. It was never about not knowing herself outside of being in a relationship with Quinn, it was the pride she took in it, how he made her a better person, he pushed her to chase after her dreams, he did all that he could to get her every resource possible so that she could follow her dreams. All in all she realized that she’s the villain in her own story. Yes, Quinn had blown up on her when he really had no right to, but she was the one who packed all of her stuff without telling him, she was the one who left their shared home of the past 5 years without a word, and she was the one who had blocked his phone number meaning to have unblocked it by the next morning. As Eloise realized she never unblocked his phone number she broke. What if he had tried reaching out to fix everything? What if he missed her as much as she missed him and she would never know? Quinn’s perspective:

A piece of Quinn had died a little bit with every text he had sent to Eloises phone number and every time it had shown up as not delivered. Quinn had been siliently dying inside due to his ego not wanting to tell anyone about the breakup, although everyone could tell something was wrong. He had kept up with her life ever since they split. He as well was a shell of a person ever since she had walked out that door. He texted her everyday multiple times without fail, he had called her at least once a day to hear her voice and laugh on the answering machine. He knew that Christmas was her favorite holiday and he knew she was in town because Luke had told him. So he had decided to text her to wish her a Merry Christmas.

“The death of me was so quiet No friends and family allowed Only my murderer, you And the priest who told you to go to hell And the funny thing is I would've married you If you'd have stuck around”

Eloise had felt her phone buzz in her pocket

Q💘: Merry Christmas El, I know today is your favorite. Remember our first Christmas together when you still had braces and a unibrow lol. You still were the most beautiful girl I had ever laid my eyes on, well I mean you still are but you get the point. I know you won’t see this message and haven’t seen the other probably millions of texts I’ve sent, I still love you and will continue to love you for as long as I’m living but I think it’s doing me more harm then good. Until we (hopefully) meet again my Ellie girl.

“I had no choice in the matter Why would I? It's only the death of me”

[luke-hughes43]

getting rusty

so eventually stella and luke are gonna have kids but they don't for a while so that stella can play softball for a bit. instead they get a dog, here's how that conversation went. this is before they get engaged but after they move in together.

~

stella's pov

so luke and i are cuddled up in the apartment just spending time together since he's been on a bunch of roadies and i've been busy with class.

he's softly rubbing up and down my back like he always does and it's very comforting. i randomly ask him, "can we get a dog?"

"why?"

"because i get lonely when your gone for 2 weeks at a time and i know you get lonely when i have to travel. plus it will be fun, and they are so cute. please luke?"

i shift and prop my chin up on his chest and give him the iggest puppy dog eyes i can muster to get him to cave. he sighs, playfully rolling his eyes, "fine. we can get a dog."

"yes! thank you. thank you. thank you. i love you. i love you. i love you." i say and then i pepper his face in kisses with a smile. he smiles too and wraps his arms around me before rolling me over onto my back. he leans down and to kiss me and pulls away with a smile. he says cheekily, "you're so lucky i love you stella zegras."

"and i thank god ever day for that luke hughes."

we stay looking at each other for a good 2 minues before i gently shove him off me and sit up, "ok, let's go get our dog."

"wait now?"

"yes now. come on." i say and get out of bed. i grab a hoodie, that is definitely luke's, and find some shoes before heading to the door to get keys and my wallet. he slugishly follows behind me and hugs me from behind right as i get ready to open the door.

"sweet girl, can we do this tomorrow? i just wanna stay in bed and cuddle with you and kiss you."

"luke you have a game tomorrow and i have class on monday. we have to do it today. when we get back, we'll cuddle i promise. with our new puppy too!"

"fine." he says and grabs the keys from me. we head to the nearest adoption center. i immediately fall in love with all of the little puppies running around. i look up at luke smiling with all of the puppies running aorund me.

he smiles at me and i can tell that he loves seeing all of these puppies too. i get him to sit next to me and this cute little yellow lab runs right over to him and plops himself on luke's lap. i look at luke who's so happy with this little puppy in his lap.

i smile at him, "luke?"

"what, huh?" he sas as i break his attention from the puppy in his lap. i move next to him and lean my head on his shoulder looking down at the little guy that ran right to luke. i ask, "is that the one?"

"yea. he's so little."

"i know. i'll go talk to the recepionist and tell her we found the one." i say and stand up to give luke a chance to hang with our new little friend. i find the woman at the desk and say, "hi. we found the one we want. my boyfriend has him right now."

"ok. can you walk me over to them, so that i put it in the system right?" she says. i nod and walk over to wear luke was. she smiles, "oh you got a good one. he's one of our best puppies. a little shy but still a good boy."

"he's adorable. he walked right over to my boyfriend and just plopped himself in luke's lap." i say smiling at my boyfriend being obssessed with this puppy. the woman smiles, "so he chose you?"

"i guess." 

"that's usually a good sign. i'll have you come with me to fill out the paperwork and everything. we have a leash and collar for you as well." she explains and i fill out all of the paperwork with mine and luke's information on it. i pay the adoption fee and she hands me a leash that matches the collar for the little guy. she asks, "do you have a name for him for the adoption certificate?"

"not yet. i'll go ask my boyfriend." i say smiling. i walk over and crouch down next to luke with a smile. i press a kiss to his cheek and put an arm around him. i ask, "do you have a name for him luke?"

"no. do you?"

"how about rusty?" i suggest and the dog perks up at it and looks at me and luke. we both chuckle and smile. luke says, "rusty it is."

I smile and kiss luke's cheek again before going back oer to the woman. i smile, "his name is rusty."

"ok. here's is the paperwork and that little guy is all yours. he's had all of his shots too so you don't have to worry about that. you guys are all set to take him home."

"thank you." i say smiling before going back over to luke. i lean down and rub his back to get his attention, "babe. we're all set to go. let's go home and show this little guy his new home." luke just nods and shifts rusty before standing up holding onto him. i reach into his pocket and grab the car keys. he says, "woah, who said you were driving?"

"there's two options luke; either i hold the dog and you drive, or i drive and you get to hold rusty all the way home."

"you can drive." he says holding rusty a little tighter. i smile and start walking to the car. i make the drive home and we shortly arrive at the apartment. i take a pic of luke holding rusty before i get out and head inside. luke is following behind me. 

we get upstairs to our apartment and once inside, luke finally puts rusty down to let him run around and explore the place. however rusty just sits at luke's feet. i giggle and pick him up. i say to rusty, "ok little man. this is your new home. as we have establish, you love your dad. let's go see our room yea?"

i walk him down the hall into mine and luke's room and he immediately jumps down from my arms and runs up onto luke's side of the bed. i giggle, "you just lost your side to the dog babe."

"that's fine. i'll just take yours." he says and walks over to wear rusty was laying. he picks rusty up and climbs into bed with him. i shed the hoodie and my shoes and climb in after luke and cuddle into his side.

luke wraps an arm around me pulling me close to him and rubs my back like he was earlier. he presses a kiss to my head and then scratches rusty's head. he smiles, "this was a really good idea."

"yea it was. he's the cutest thing."

"not as cute as you."

"we've been together for 4 1/2 years babe, you don't need to flirt with me." i say giggling. he presses a kiss to my head and says, "I know. i just like to remind you how much i love you and that i'll never take you for granted either."

"i love you too luke. can we take that nap you mentioned earlier?"

"yea." he says. i nod and cuddle myself into him even more. he tightens his grip on me and i drift off to a peaceful sleep while listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires- Part 26

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 765

Masterlist

Minor disclaimer bc I don't wanna get cancelled: 99.999999 to infinity% of people with autism will not become stalkers. The person in this part is a bad apple. People using the autism as an excuse for the way he acts is me commenting on how society at large will use anything as an excuse for the way a man behaves towards a woman. Am I making sense? Also, this is based on a real thing, but not very accurately.

You sit down at Nadia's desk.

I’m sitting on the edge of her bed, and the distance between us feels too far, but I leave it. I don't think you want me any closer right now. There's probably no rage room in the world that can fix what you're feeling.

“So I reported him. Mitch,” you say, drumming your fingers against the tabletop. “I felt unsure about it from the start, but I just wanted him to stop bothering me, you know? Anyway, everyone had been looking away while he was… But once I called the police, suddenly everyone–” You pause. “And I mean everyone, Joe. His family, our teachers, even the police themselves! Everyone had an opinion. Everyone was telling me to withdraw my statement. They said: ‘well, he has autism. He doesn't know what he's doing. You'll be ruining his life!’”

I want to go back in time and punch everyone who told you not to protect yourself - and I think you can tell. My hands ball into fists on my knees. You smile sadly at me and continue:

“So I told the police I changed my mind, and that I didn't want to press charges after all. That's what it is in English, right? Press charges?” you ask this of Nadia.

She shrugs.

“Close enough.”

“Right. So. I did that. I told the police I wouldn't press charges if Mitch agreed to just leave me alone, and he agreed to that at the time. Only he didn't leave me alone after. He started following me everywhere I went. I could be walking my aunt's dog and I'd feel his eyes on me. I think he even hacked into my email, but I can't prove that. Once, though, I caught him–” you cut yourself off.

Nadia speaks up:

“She's too embarrassed to say it, so I will: he was standing by her bedroom window, masturbating.”

“I'm not embarrassed,” you say. “I’m disgusted. It was disgusting.”

“Same difference.”

“So, what?” I ask. “Is that why you came to America? Did you run away?”

“No,” you say, but a complicated emotion crosses your face that makes me wonder. “In high school, teachers kept telling me to just keep the peace. They said that once I graduated, I'd never have to deal with Mitch again. Only I graduated, and I moved to Utrecht to go to school there and guess what? It didn't make a difference. I got so tired and I just… I figured if I just kept talking nicely to him, at least it all wouldn't escalate. So that's what I did.

“But that just made him convinced we were in some kind of relationship, or something. And when I left for New York, I mean, that wasn't because of him. It was because of the job and because I'd always wanted to. But I can't say that Mitch finally leaving me the fuck alone wasn't a great side effect. I thought he must have seen me going that far away as some kind of breakup, or he'd gotten bored, or he'd found somebody else… I don't know.”

“But then you came back,” I offer.

“Yes,” you agree, and the way you look at me is intense. “But then I came back. I'm sure if he hadn't gone and died, he would’ve showed up in person one of these days.”

This is a pretty big secret to keep from your boyfriend.

The three of us fall silent. I can tell Nadia wants to say something, and I think you can tell I want to say something. But none of us say anything, because there isn't anything to say.

“You probably think I should have told you,” you say. It's like you're reading my mind.

“I can understand why you didn't.”

“But you still think I should have.”

And I would have made it far more painful than I did.

“Fine. Yes,” I admit.

You should have told me, (Y/n). You should have told me just how bad this was so I could have killed this motherfucker the first day I got here. No matter how jetlagged I was, I would have found the energy to put him in the ground.

“Well,” Nadia says, clearing her throat. “Anyway. He's dead now, so. It's over.”

“As if,” you say. “He's been texting me incessantly for two weeks. The police are going to want to ask me questions.”

“But he killed himself,” Nadia says. “He was mentally ill. What's to ask?”

For some reason, your eyes meet mine. But only for the briefest moment. Then, you look away.

“I hope you're right,” you say. And then, smiling weakly, you add: “so, what's for dinner?”

[random-person10]

Heartbreak High

The new one, not the old one.

This show has always managed to confuse me and I don't know if it's an Australian thing or a writer's thing. I'm pretty sure it's the former coz it happens every time I watch anything Australian.

But this season was even more confusing than the first. Like in the first season, it was chaotic to me how everyone ended up fucking almost everyone, I could not guess who was going to get together at fucking all. All it took is for these fuckers to make 4-second eye-contact and BAM sex, get a grip. Ig teenagers are actually like that and I'm just a loser. Anywho, this season, the only thing that confused me was Rowan's whole character arc.

Let me break this down:

He said that when he came to Hartley High, he was just ready to move on from his brother's death, or maybe he wanted to move on in Dubbo, I dunno I kind of didn't pay attention. But like, he started killing birds and terrorizing Amerie with them on the first fucking day of being there, because she didn't remember him?

This motherfucker went into the forest, while Ant was busy threatening to cut his dick off, killed a bird, and put it on her bag? Sorry but how fast does this man act? What a machine.

Then he dated her ex-boyfriend? For what reason? Was it strategic? I still haven't figured that one out yet. Like sure it'll make Amerie jealous but he seemed genuinely into him so I don't think that's it. Actually, thinking about it now, Malakai is hot and Rowan was all "forget Amerie" or whatever so that bit does make sense tbh. I cried when they broke up go away, imagine the person you're dating calls u by their ex's name? ugh sad

Then after breaking up with Malakai and getting his heart savagely broken, he just starts dating Amerie? At first, I assumed that was because he planned to hurt her emotions, but he literally spoke about her to 'Jett' like he was into her, so that confused me. I thought he hated her?

Like bro seemed to not have a plan. I know he's not mentally stable and all that but like what was going on in his mind? He's trying to ruin her life, but also likes her, but also thinks she murdered his brother.

And why did he tell Malakai to fuck off when he started dating Amerie? Like was that genuine possessiveness or was that part of the plan? (My little brain was like "awe he wants to protect Malakai from whatever he has planned at that dance so he's telling him to go away, cutee he still likes him" but I'm delulu so ignore that)

AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF

His delusions just vanished with Amerie saying: "he died because he loved you" and a clip of Jett not being a part of Rowan's hallucination anymore... like excuse me, I need a clip of this man going to a therapist and actually acknowledging his schizophrenia, not whatever this form of fucking 'closure' is.

It was so half-arsed, it made me mad.

Man, I genuinely liked the guy, but it seemed like they created his plot 4 episodes into the season. Nothing linked.

Still was very obsessed with the show tho. The sarcasm and the sibling vibes were very entertaining. STILL THE PLOT MAKES VERY LITTLE SENSE. But, again I'm very bad at paying attention so I might've got it all wrong.

Side note: the principal's dog (Joan of Arc) with her little fuchsia-coloured vest were the highlight of this show for me, isn't that kinda sad? There is a scene where the principal is talking to Cash, and Joan is facing the opposite direction and I laughed at that for like 30 minutes, tragic.

[gladdygirl18]

Omgggg I just had the absolute BEST labor day weekend with my boyfriend (hope yall had a blessed and fun labor day weekend too 🥰🫶🏾)

Blue me, orange BF

So this Sunday, I was going over to my boyfriend's house because on Labor Day, we were going to a RenFaire! This was gonna be my first ever Renfaire and my boyfriend decided to make it a date! So when we get to his place, his dogs were so happy to me (has 3 really big dogs: Juniper, Boston, and Wendy; all absolutely adorable and very energetic 💖🫶🏾) I knew his parents well since this wasn't the first time at his house

Nothing much happened the first night there, but when morning hit, omgggg what a morning! I am a pretty heavy sleeper, but if an alarm goes off or there's a sudden movement and/or noise, I wake up, and I wake up to my boyfriend straddling me and kissing me, trying to get me up (I'm awake but not up; yes there is a difference)

"Come on, baby girl. Get up, please. Get up sugar" he says in between kisses

I ofc continue to lay like the lazy log I am (alliteration 🤓), and I eventually get up to him tickling me. Bro, I tried to hold in my laughter, but I failed miserably 😅🤭 but it was fun, tho

After getting up and moving around, me, my boyfriend, his mother, and Wendy are in the room where my BF and I were sleeping in just to chat (she is so fucking chill I love that woman God bless her 🥰💖🫶🏾) I am sitting between my boyfriend on the bed while his mother is sitting on a cot. Wendy walks in and starts nuzzling her cold, wet nose on my boyfriend's feet, to which he jerked back in response. His mother, being oh so amazing says "get him, Wendy, get him!" I said, "Don't worry, I got this," and started tickling his feet

He laughs for a bit before saying, "That's it! Come here, you!" And starts tickling my sides and armpits.

Now, for me, depending on if you have nails or not, determines how I respond to being tickled. When I was with my GF, her nails sent shivers down me spine as she traced them all over me. With my boyfriend, he doesn't have nails, and digs into my spots.

I WAS FUCKING CACKLING AND SNORTING LIKE A FUCKING WITCH 🤣🤣😆😆🤣💖💖🫶🏾🫶🏾🤣

His mother only smiled before leaving the room with Wendy in tow, leaving me with the tickle monster I call boyfriend. I fell onto my side but he kept tickling. I haven't laughed that hard in a long fucking time, nor have I ever been tickled like that ever, and it. Was. AMAZING 😆🥰🫶🏾💖

Anytime I tried to twist away, he would only readjust his hands to tickle me more. Now I knew I was ticklish but I didn't know I was this fucking ticklish. The places he got me the most were the spots between my armpits and top ribs (the sides of my boobs I guess you could say), my sides, my belly, behind my knees, and my feet. I was fucking cackling omgggg

"What's wrong baby? What's so funny? What are you laughing at?"

AHHHH I FUCKING LOVE HIM 😆💖💖😆💖😆 HES SUCH A TEASE

Now ofc, the rule still applied: if it was too much, say grapefruit. Did I say grapefruit? Nope; i was having too much fun!

HE TICKLED ME FOR LIKE 10-15 MINUTES STRAIGHT 💖😆😆🥰💖🫶🏾🫶🏾💖 I WAS IN HEAVEN

I'm as serious as a heart attack, if I wanted him to stop, I would have said "grapefruit" but I was enjoying myself so much that I didn't want to say it, nor did I have a desire to. The safeword is mainly for when we're doing "Rated R" stuff, but it applies to EVERYTHING, even tickling, and while yes I was left breathless with laughter, I was having the time of my fucking life that I really saw no reason to say it

After tickling me, I was left panting on the bed with giggles flowing from my lips. After some time before getting dressed to go to the renfaire...

HE TICKLES ME AGAIN FOR ANOTHER 10-15 MINUTES 💖😆🤣🫶🏾🤣🥰🤣🤣🫶🏾💖

Even now, I still his thumbs in my armpits and fingers squeezing my sides and ribs and belly that made me snort 🤭🫶🏾💖🤭

After that, when we were about to leave, his mother wanted to take a picture of us. I was already smiling, but my boyfriend insisted on tickling me. His mother goes "don't tickle her" "she wasn't smiling big enough" I fucking can't with him I love him 😆💖🤣🤭

Here is a quick Pic of the 2 of us at the renfaire. I was a pirate and he was a druid (iykyk) it was so much fun! And I'm going again in about 2 weeks 😆😁💖

Throughout the day, I would often poke him cuz all he has is a cloak, and I have a corset so my sides are protected. After I tickled his side and go to walk away like the little innocent pirate I am 🤭💖 he takes me by the back of my corset and pulls me into his chest and whispers "just wait till we get back to the house. You are so gonna fucking get it"

So later that night, we're in the basement watching TV and me being a cheeky little brat, I decided to tickle him, and of he tickles me back. "Told ya id get you for today. Did you think i forgot?" Then I remembered smth "his feet are ticklish"

I go for his feet and omg his starts cackling!

"Wait, plehehease! They're reheheheally sensitiiiihihihihive!"

AHHH HES SO CUTE 😆🥰💖🥰😆🥰💖

And he wasn't kidding too. While I don't have nails, I was practically damn near not even dragging my fingers up his sole and all he kept saying was "I can still feel that." THEN HE FUCKING SAID....

"You would need like a feather or a brush to really get me going, but this is already a lot to handle."

Come this morning, he is once again trying to get me up by kissing me and then he starts tickling me. I really tried hard to jot laugh and squirm but it was so fucking haaaaard 😆😆🥰💖🤭🤭💖

"Huh good to know" and proceeds to tickle the shit outta his feet. He ofc then got his revenge on me

"Come on baby. You know you wanna wake up. If you don't I'll keep tickling you and Mr. Bellybutton."

Yes he says that and shiiiiiit if that's the case, lemme stay my ass in the bed 🤭💖

But yeah, that was my labor day weekend. Once again, I hope yalls labor day weekend was great safe and blessed! Stay tuned for more Tickle Tea Stories

Tagging the fwends (and acquaintances): @giggly-squiggily @sunstone-smiles @burningablaze @cutesmokes @otomiyaa @ticklishthoughts1 @ticklishfanart

[incorrecttowerofgodquotes]

Gundam: The Witch From Mercury Season 2: Episode 10 Review

- Starting off the episode with a mass murder, beautiful. Though the good thing is that there’s a cool down period so if we can draw out the fight long enough, we may be able to win

- Chuchu begging Secelia despite her being a Spacian, how far we’ve come. And the fact that she hooks her boy Rouji up to get some tech info is also great.

- Felsi is the best girl and I will accept no disagreements. The way Earth House just adopts her like a homeless puppy is funny. Also the fact that she was so willing to do something besides wait for Petra to get better is great. She is the ultimate kusogaki as she is the only one going to the final battle.

- GOD DAMN IT ANIME GIVE ME YOUNG ELAN FOOTAGE!

- I’m guess the backstory was cut due to time constraints but I just want to see who the Elan’s were before they’re unfortunate unpersoning. However, we were still given delicious 5nore crumbs so I will accept it. It’s interesting how El5n stated El4n was the lucky one despite earlier in the series saying he was unfortunate. He finally realized that even though El4n died, he had someone who loved him, and now he knows just how important his actions towards Norea were. His line about envy could be directed at either Norea, Suletta, or El4n, and I hope he finds his own self separate from the Elan persona that had been forced on him

- Suletta and Guel’s duel was so stupid but so adorable. It really hammers home how they’re still children and they’ll do childish things. Also Guel 100% threw that duel, or at least they animated it so it was clear Guel knew how to fence but Suletta was just floundering. He’s the ultimate supporter of lesbians and I love him for that. Please G-Witch, give him a boyfriend. Also Guel slapping himself to remind himself not to butt in on SuleMio’s affairs, lol.

- The talk between Suletta and Miorine with slash playing in the background was just *chef’s kiss* perfect. Right or wrong, and even if there’s nothing to gain, Suletta wants to move forward. And she wants to move forward with Miorine. They have to face their problems head on. They lock fingers, willing to move on together.

- Guess they didn’t have the money for Delling’s VA. But it is nice to see a realistic depiction of a coma patient. Though I’m not sure if he appreciates being yelled at after he wakes up

- What is Prospera searching for? It can’t be the Calibarn. Is it something special Notrette made? And who removed it?

- What deal did she make with Shaddiq? Is she taking his harem squad? Did she plan to work with him on Earth?

- The fact that the tomato is literally embedded with love in its very DNA is beautiful. The tomato has always represented love in this series, and here we see that it’s very creation was because of Miorine’s mother’s love for her.

- Poor Suletta is struggling hard in that Gundam, but also it’s the coolest suit in the show so far. IT HAS A FREAKING BROOM. SHE IS LITERALLY THE WITCH FROM MERCURY. RECLAIM THE SLUR

- Suletta is talented. Aerial used to overshadow as we didn’t know how much handholding Eri was doing, but this proves she’s great even without it. But I don’t think it’ll be enough to defeat Eri all by herself. She needs others to help her. They all need to come together and create a better future!

- Lauda, my son, please stop this. We are destroying the Death Star right now. Have your angst moment later. And dear god don’t make your brother kill you, and don’t die of heatstroke like a dog in a car with the Schwarzette. I’ve seen some people say Guel might die but I reject that reality. After all the suffering he’s been out through, he needs to live.

I feel like we’re in a weird space where there both could and couldn’t be a second half. We have a lot to wrap up, but also we’re closing up Suletta and Miorine’s personal journeys. Though I hope we do get the second half and have it focus on Earth and the Space League. And maybe we’ll get to kill Peil while we’re at it

[pbandjesse]

The coughing continues. Thankfully I was able to sleep easier but the Mucinex I took made me wake up with gummy eye balls and it was terrifying and horrible. And every time I moved I would start coughing again anyway. So was it worth waking up with very gummy and very red eyes? No. But at least I got some sleep.

James left for work long before I got up. I had planned on sleeping until 930 but my coughing woke me up around 830. And after washing the junk from my eyes I would just lay in bed and scroll on my phone until I couldnt take the coughing anymore. The coughing is a lot worse when I'm laying down.

I got up and got dressed. I took my time trying to make myself feel better. Even wore the new sparkling eyeliner stick I got. And it helped. I felt a lot better even if it wasn't perfect.

I made an omelette for breakfast. I think the pan was maybe to hot because the eggs did not spread. But I put cheese in it and had Sriracha mayo and avocado with itbsnd it was honestly great.

I would do a little more organizing. Pulled all my materials for my workshop. And went to take the box to the car.

I could not have chosen a better time so do this. As I was walking to the car a neighbor I hadn't met was walking there dog. Around me and James's age. And then another. Neighbor came out and these to neighbors started talking and as I walked back they introduced themselves. They had also just met.

The first neighbor is Ryan and his dog I believe is named Lenny or Lemmy. Unsure. But he seems great and lives right across from our house with a partner. The other neighbor is Sean (guessing at the spelling), and he is Victoria's boyfriend! And he let us know that she's pregnant! Ah! And due soon! I guess I just through her winter coat was big!

I ended up standing outside with these guys for a half hour talking and it was just awesome. What nice people. I got to learn some stuff about characters in the neighborhood and their back stories. Ryan has an art and music teaching background but works in content creation for an AR company now, and Sean, who I didn't catch what he does, but his mom was an art conservator for the national gallery! Incredible.

I'm literally pleased how nice everyone has been. I hope that trend continues.

I headed back inside and grabbed a few things and then I was off to my workshop. I was nervous! But the nerves were not needed.

Because almost no one showed up. I don't know why this program seems to have this problem. People sign up! But they don't follow through. But it wasn't completely a no show.

I best Michael there. But waited by the door sitting in my wagon with all my materials. And he brought his dog! A mini Australian shepherd named Quin. Who was a bundle of energy but was so lovely.

The space we were working in was very very hot. But it it was fine. It would cool down. Me and Michael covered the tables with trashcan and I set everything up.

And then my one family came. They had come to my workshops before, and I specifically remember the dad from the Lego printmaking class because he made a helicopter. And they were really sweet.

We started at 1230 and I talked about the flamingo, the history of plastics, and how those things relate. Especially through plastic flamingos and acrylic paint. We went through the steps for drawing it out and encouraged them to make changes from my original example.

Michael would do a painting to. Though he left his half finished so his girlfriend could do the other half which I thought was sweet. But I'm besides jumping in to give some techniques and technical advice, it was mostly quiet working.

I made a new painting and I thought it was really funny seeing my simple example vs my new more textured piece. But it was even better seeing what everyone else did. The whole family all did two tones flamingos. The mom did a sunset. The dad added frogs and fish. And the daughter painted very tiny hermit crabs. It was so fun.

We finished up around 230. We cleaned up together and I after giving them my website and letting them know I would have another nat guard workshop soon! I hope they join.

I was down in Towson so I decided to go to the goodwill right there before getting a late lunch.

It was a good stop. I got this very cool corner cabinet for my table top. And it needed a little fixing but I had a vision. I had a nice conversation with the cashier and then I was off.

I went to Chipotle but the line was very long. It was like all the staff changed at the same time. But it was fine. I listened to my podcast. And once I got my food I felt a lot better.

I had plenty to save and brought that home for lunch tomorrow.

I walked to the five below and got a couple little blind bags. And some candy. And a little black romer. And then it was time to go home.

When I got back here I was a little tired.

I got changed and worked on my drawing for the day. I went and cleaned up the small room. And then James was home. I was so happy to see them.

They had been planning on playing a game with friends tonight but that got canceled so instead they would make a run to the apartment. Get my mirrors and and few other things.

And while they were gone I worked on creating a rainbow on the small rooms window out of cellophane. Which took a while to cut out but I'm really pleased with it and it even casts a beautiful rainbow on the wall from the alley lights.

James came back and brought Sweetp to the bedroom so they could unload the car. And then we would work on fixing the curtains that didn't go well yesterday. And they look so much better. We swapped the swing out rods for a regular rod and that seems like the better move for now. The swing outs may be used in our bedroom but we will see what happens.

While James was hanging the curtain I worked on putting fake stained glass on the corner cabinet I got. I also added a little handle where it's had gone missing. And I put that on my desk and it's perfect.

I would work on hanging s few of the mirrors. I had to ask James for help with holding my very heavy shield one, and because the ceilings are lower I had to move the other things in the wall but it's fine. I am really pleased with how it's coming to there. I also hung a mirror on the back of the bathroom door and I absolutely love how it looks.

I would order another bath mat for the bathroom. And text me my mom. And eventually I went to take a bath.

It was a lot harder to get the water to be warm enough but I struggled through and washed my hair and while it was unpleasant at least I was clean.

James gave me an early birthday gift after my shower. An absolutely giant frog plush and a pin of the Maryland Pennsylvania railroad pin. So sweet. I love them. Both the gifts and my husband.

We are laying in bed and watching a scary video. And I feel happy. Tired, sick of coughing, but happy. And I have two days to rest and do moving things and what ever else. I hope I can just keep feeling better.

I love you all. Goodnight everyone.