#and her at 15 years old before she fell ill

[hey-its-sybarite]

My dog died just before this Christmas. She was 15 years & 8 months old - an impressive age for a border collie. The breed average is 11 years. I had her from 12 weeks old and she was my very first dog. I’ve never known a love so uncomplicated and easy. She was, TO ME, literally perfect. In fact, that’s the first thing I said when I laid eyes on her.

Now it’s NYE, and we always distract our dogs with giant ostrich bones to enjoy while distant neighbours set off midnight fireworks. We never spent NYE out because our animals got scared of the noise. I can’t bear to think I don’t get to see her tonight, pleased as punch with a bone the size of her head.

I understood we’d lose her, I knew she was getting up there. We had discussed all our options for her care and treatment with our vets so there were no surprises. But damn it, it still hurts. It hurts SO much more than I was anticipating. Sorry for the downer post but if you get to kick the year off with your pet best friend, I am so happy for you! Give them all the love they can stand. Give them extra from me.

#my best girl #she was named Texas after the Stevie Ray Vaughan Song Texas Flood #the photos are her at around 3 months #and her at 15 years old before she fell ill #nye #new year’s eve #new year #christmas #dogs #pets #border collie #tricolour border collie #border collies #melancholic #pet death

[multifandomfanatic02]

"My Little Partner in Crime."

pairing : father!Alastor x daughter!reader

synopsis : you spent nearly 80 years by your father's side without him knowing who you truly were. Don't you think it's about time you told him the truth? Would he despise you?

warnings : weep bitches.

word count : 3,106

          It had been 76 years since she had passed. Yet she remained in the body of a 15 year old girl. In hell, of course no one aged. Not many child sinners were often found in Hell but she was special. While she wasn't an overlord, she was a brilliant mind behind one.

           In life, [Y/N] felt she had been misplaced in the world. So many terrible things had happened at such a young age. She got by though. Through learned methods and maybe a little bit of her genes had helped too.

            She was orphaned at the age of 10 years old. Father died before she was born and mama fell severely ill when she was 10. It was an unfortunate circumstance for such a young child to be in, however it only got worse from there. After both parents had died, she ended up in a very poor fostering system. In which none of the children were treated right. It was so much worse for her.

             [Y/N] was the daughter of an infamous serial killer in Louisiana. Which did not look good to potential foster parents. If her father was a fucking psychopath, what would she be like? In a way, they weren't far off in their speculations. And they proved to be right later on.

            Her mother didn't find out about the love of her life's deeds until he was pronounced dead one eventful night. Gunshot to the head in the midst of burying his own victim. Regardless of what was said about the man, she still loved him all the years after before falling to her own demise. It wasn't like he was a crazed monster, in fact, he likely saved more people than he killed. He only went after the worst of the worst.

            It was obvious that the man loved his wife more than life itself. More than his job. It saddened her knowing that he would never get to meet his daughter. Children were never planned or even talked about between the two considering sex was kind of a sensitive topic for the both of them and for different reasons. So the one time they decided to 'experiment' she ended up conceiving. Funny enough, 6 weeks later was when he died. Neither parents had knowledge of [Y/N] presence yet.

          [Y/N] was scorned throughout the entirety of her foster community. Not for anything she did, no no. But for something her father did. No one wanted her. Regardless, she was happy that she was on her own in a way. Her 4 years in foster care were quite peaceful.

            It wasn't until she was 14 that she had been finally picked out of the system. An old man, maybe in his fifties, had come to get her. The fostering system, not wanting her to continue her stay any longer, kept their dealings with him under wraps so everything stayed out of legal documents.  [Y/N] wasn't adopted, no, she was to become his wife and to bear several of his children. Figures. What else would a man like him want in a child. Women were still known as the caretakers at the time. Nobody in this day and age was evolved like her father whom treated her mother like a queen when they were alive.

            Thankfully it never got too bad before she decided to take her fate into her own hands. She was an avid reader. Her favorite things to read were the medical books found in her room when she was in the system. So she eventually learned a thing or two. It started off with a crushed pill in his drink every morning to stave off his libido. So he was never in the mood to touch her. (Don't ask where she gets the medication, it's a secret.)

               Wearing him down slowly every day and night for the next year before his untimely death. An insulin overdose. It'd be like he died in his sleep. During an autopsy, no one would even know. She grinned ear to ear, feeling the man's pulse disappear from his neck. She took a breath before calling 911 in a faked panic tone. Convincing actually. "Hello? I n-need help. My husband isn't b-breathing, I think he may be dead. Please come save him! He can't die! I love him!" She managed to force tears from her eyes.

             Ultimately, he did indeed pass away and she was finally on her own. I guess it wasn't a totally bad set up since his property, belongings, and money went to [Y/N]. It was short lived, unfortunately. All that money that went to ballrooms and jazz music. It was paradise and worth every penny she thought. Only to die at the age of 15 from an infected fox bite. (Random, right? Just like dad's lol)

           [Y/N] had been in Hell for 76 years. She wasn't well known unlike her companion. Sticking to the man like glue after all this time. She worked well with the Radio Demon. Their minds complemented each other very well. Almost to a point of familiarity. When she first arrived in Hell, it was like she had made a big boom in the talk of the town. She was a mastermind and very talented at killing and pranks. It sparked a lot of the overlords' interest, especially since she wasn't interested in becoming an overlord herself. All she wanted was to enjoy her dark and very humorous afterlife. [Y/N] of course declined all their business proposals, even the famous Vox.

             There was one she couldn't turn away from. He was charming and the two immediately had an unbreakable connection. The connection itself was unreadable but it was there nonetheless. He made a deal with her, promising absolute protection from the exterminators and other overlords and in turn she would help with his dealings. It was a fair trade, the Radio Demon was a bit impulsive with his actions while [Y/N] methodically planned all her own dealings 30 steps ahead. And with her being 15, well, she was thought to be an easy target.

              It was actually strange, they look alike too. The same color scheme, same nose and eyes. Both shared that constant shit-eating grin and composure. The only difference between them being that he's an elk demon while she, a fox demon. It was literally just the tail, antlers, and hairstyle that set them apart.

               Overtime, the radio demon, opened up to her piece by piece. Alastor, that was his name. It didn't take to long for her to come to the realization that he was in fact her beloved father that her mom talked about oh so much. It was clear. It wasn't just their appearance but mannerisms that were so similar. Her name being the same as his mothers surely didn't help either. He thought nothing of it. Alastor didn't know, he was too oblivious to anything that wasn't himself. And up to now, it never felt like the right time to tell him, so it's been a secret.

            Turns out she wasn't the only one to have this realization. Carmilla Carmine along with many other overlords figured it out before even she. Carmilla being a mother herself felt empathy for her and talked to her whenever she needed it. Rosie found a deep love for [Y/N] herself, acting as a mother figure as well. The little darling was just like her bestie, Alastor, how could she not? Other overlords weren't as reasonable and often threatened to use the knowledge as a weapon against her. What would Alastor think? Did he ever want a child? Would he stray away from her if he found out? Often enough, the overlords who threatened her ended up without their lives by her hands by the end of the day.

         Seventy-six years, Alastor had kept [Y/N] by his side every step he took. It wasn't until his powerful fight with Vox that he decided to step away. He disappeared for 7 years without notice. It broke her heart into a million pieces but just like before in life, she marched on and kept her promise to him.

           It wasn't until news arrived in Pentagon city about this Hazbin Hotel that she'd heard Alastor's name after so long. He was working as the host of the hotel. It wasn't often [Y/N] showed emotion but this time she couldn't hold it in, tears streamed down her face. Her sturdy smile began to slowly break apart. It seemed her father was her weakness. While he didn't want to admit it, it was mutual. He left without saying a word to avoid seeing her disappointment in those little eyes of hers. He didn't want her see him so weak. In a way, he subconsciously felt he had some kind of responsibility over her.

            The walk to the hotel was nerve-wracking for [Y/N]. Seeing him after all this time felt bittersweet. She was excited of course but she was awfully upset about his random disappearance.

Knock, knock, knock

        The Princess of Hell had opened the door, to her surprise to see a red and black fox demon with a huge smile on her face. Charlie was suddenly having a flash of deja vu. Where else has she seen this before? In any case, it wasn't the most obvious thing to pop out at her. This girl was a child. There shouldn't be a child in Hell, whose cruel idea was it to send her down here Charlie thought.

          "Princess Charlotte, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is [Y/N]." She bent down pulling her dress between her fingers to greet her.

           "Just call me Charlie! It's nice to meet you too! Are you here to stay in the hotel? If so we would love to have you here with us. Especially someone as cute as you." Charlie reached out to pinch the young demon's cheeks before composing herself.

           "I actually am, among other things. I was hoping I could be of service to you." Charlie sat questioning her proposal for a second.

             "I'll gladly accept any help I can get but love, you are a child, don't you want to focus on going to heaven and get out of this place?" Charlie bent down to her level and took the girl's hands in her own.

              "Don't let her age fool you, my dear. She is a very capable demon. In fact, better than most overlords I know." The familiar radio static voice tickled [Y/N] ears as Alastor materialized behind Charlie. He smiled genuinely as he held out his arms, waiting for her embrace. Tears suddenly streamed down as she ran into his arms. The two holding onto each other as if one of them would disappear forever.

               "I apologize for my sudden departure, darling. I hope you know that I would never leave you willingly. It was the only way I could keep my side of the deal." He stroked her hair in attempt to calm her sobbing. She couldn't say anything, she had already forgiven him a while back. Alastor couldn't do anything to make her hate him.

               "Alastor aren't you going to introduce us? Who's this sweet thing?" Angel dust walked to the doors to join him and Charlie. The rest of the sinners in the lobby following suit.

              "I guess you could say she is my partner in crime. This little darling has been by my side for nearly 80 years. I owe a lot of my victories to her truth be told." Everyone stood around confused, expecting a different answer. There's absolutely no way she could JUST be his partner they look too much ali-

             "Al, is that.. is that all she is?" [Y/N] sent vaggie daggering eyes as a warning not to continue her statement. Getting the hint, Vaggie backed off and went to sit on the couch in the center of the room. "Nevermind, forget I said anything."   

              "Hey [Y/N], it's been a few months. How you holding up. Still getting into trouble I hear." Husk gives the fox demon some pats on the head.

               "It's nice to see you again Husker, I would like to thank you for looking out for me these past few years." Her grin grew looking up at the fluffy demon.

             "Just doing what the boss told me." Alastor often had souls he was contracted with look after her in his absence. There wasn't much he could do, but knowing she was safe and sound and thriving eased his cold heart. It wasn't often he found himself tied to someone. But there he was, worried for the safety of someone else. A child no less. It took a while to understand his feelings but he eventually did accept it. He cared about someone other than himself.

               Introductions to the residents went smoothly, all of them having such lively personalities she thought. What an amazing new family to have. Besides missing Mama, this was much better than what she had in life ironic as it is.

           The times were changing and everything felt still, peaceful. [Y/N] had an amazing new family and business. Angel Dust being like an amazing big brother and Charlie like an amazing older sister. However the biggest change was how close she got to Alastor. He insisted her bedroom be near his radio tower so he could watch over her. It was so out of character for the residents that have only known him since he joined the hotel staff.

              She was back to being glued to his hip. Her charm helping to gain more residents with her adorableness. It brought on a whole lot of business deals for the feared radio demon as well. Everything was perfect. Something still weighed on [Y/N]'s heart. Alastor needed to know the truth. Why the two of them have such a strong connection. And why they can't seem to ever let each other go. It's not something easily brought up in conversation. Thankfully, luck was on her side one day during one of their business outings.

           "So.. do we have a deal?" Alastor held his hand out to damaged overlord. The enemy's eyes flickered over to the fox demon, causing a distraction. Long enough for his partner to sneak a gun to the young girl's temple. Her composure stabled, a smile creeping on her face.

            "Before I agree to this deal, you are going to hear me out. Or my partner here will end the little girl's life. And you'll be pickingup brain matter off the ground." Alastor's eye twitched, returning his hands to the top of his cane. His expression eased back into his typical smile, seeing her unfazed by the imminent threat.

         "Fine. What do you want?" The man smiled seeing Alastor accept his conditions.

           "[Y/N]. I want the girl." The Radio Demon's breath hitched in his throat upon hearing the request. Never. Never in a million years, he thought. "You see that BITCH had me killed. Secretly drugging me for a year. Didn't think I would have noticed, huh? She never payed for it, she never had to answerfor her crime. Got her out of that shithole of a foster care and this is what I get?"

            He forcibly grabbed the collar of her prim and proper dress, picking her up to his face. Her ears folded to the back of her head, scowling at the man now. "You were going to make me a child bride."

         "You are a woman. You do what I say. If you don't accept my proposal, I'll tell daddy here your little secret. Won't he be surprised." Her eyes turned red at his words, both her and Alastor, in his demon form, shoving an arm through the man's chest in unison. All he felt in that moment was fear, dying for a second time.

            It took a second for the man's words to process in Alastor's head. Secret? What secret? He didn't want to pry but it was obviously tearing [Y/N] up inside. Her expression said it all. All he wanted was to know she was okay. It was time to let him know. And whatever decision he made, she was going to be okay with.

           "There's something I need to tell you."

           "Darling, you don't have to tell me anything if you are not comfortable. That fuck was just trying to get under your skin." And it worked.

             "No. You need to know." [Y/N]'s lip began to quiver in fear. Scared she was suddenly going to be a disappointment. How could she keep this a secret for so long. He had the right to know. Now. "My name is [first name] [Shared last name]. I..  I am your daughter."

                The gears in his head turned as he tried to process the new information. When something suddenly clicked in his head. The love of his life just before he died, was constantly sick and had been for a few weeks. Alastor had just thought she had a cold and constantly doted on her, trying to provide the best medicine he could.. hm.. find. She never took it thankfully. She was pregnant.

           He hadn't thought about it before now but it has come to his attention that the reason why he cared for this child so much was because she reminded him of his wife. She was careful with every decision, she was always calm in every situation she's been in, and they both had that beautiful fire in their eyes. The fire that let everyone know that they weren't going to submit to nobody. The dynamic between him and his wife wasn't much different from the dynamic between him and his daughter.

              Why hadn't Alastor seen it before. [Y/N] was obviously named after his mother. The girl was literally his mini me. He couldn't help but let a tear or two drop from his eyes before bending his knees to look at her at her level.

            "Tell me... what uh. What happened to your mother?" Alastor held the girl's cheek in his hand caressing it gently and wiping away her own tears, slightly smearing the blood on his hand.

             "Mama died of the influenza virus when I was 10. I'm sure she's in Heaven, having the time of her life." Alastor pulled his daughter into a tight embrace, never wanting to let go.

            "After all this time, I've had a precious piece of her with me. And I won't ever leave you alone again."

A/N: Yall let me know if you liked this concept, this was fun to do. I know it's kind of out of character for Alastor but I hope it healed something in y'all with daddy issues 🙏

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin #the radio demon #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbinhotel #alastor imagine #alastor x y/n #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fluff #alastor fanfiction #alastor oneshot #alastor x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n

[mysteria157]

Those Moments In Between

Moment One: An Old Flame

Rating: Explicit 

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: fluff, profanity, explicit sexual content (whole lotta smut, I’m talking: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, creampie…lol you get it).

Word Count: ~6k

Summary: When Nanami has no choice but to work overtime, you bring him dinner as a surprise. But you unexpectedly find his ex-girlfriend already keeping him company. 

Takes place a few weeks after Chapter 15 of It Had To Be You!

Notes: I had this idea way back when I wrote chapter 15 weeks ago and I finally made it a reality last night LOL. I don’t have a beta reader, so sometimes there may be a mistake or two. I have a habit of being way too detailed when I write, and that includes smut. So hopefully you enjoy it! 

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Happy reading!

Divider: @sweetxmelody

Those Moments In Between Masterlist | Moment Two TBD...

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

MINORS DNI

Nanami knows better.

He knows that his ex-girlfriend, Pia, is just as devious as she was when they were in undergrad. 

When they were younger and together, she gave sweetness and tender love that made Nanami stick around a bit longer than he should have. Though they had nothing in common and she was far too outgoing, she helped him embrace many different things that were normally out of his comfort zone.

She taught him how to express public displays of affection in his own way. She taught him how to express what he felt when it came to romantic love. 

He was grateful for it. Truly.

Indirectly, her personality only made him realize just how ill-suited they were for one another despite her good intentions.

Pia was spiteful to those who disagreed with her, disrespectful to those who did not have the same values as her, and outlandishly rude to those who came on to Nanami. She covered it all up with smiles, jokes as a means of apology, and an innocent glint in her eyes that Nanami at the time, didn't have the experience to see through.

Gojo had tried to warn him, year after year.

But he was young--his disdain for Gojo was five thousand times more intense than it is now--so Nanami treated everything that fell from Gojo's lips as a ploy to annoy anyway. 

Nanami remained oblivious to her behavior, caught in the haze of young love, until their final year of college.

That haze had gradually become easier to sift through. The complaints from his friends finally began to register in his mind. Then, one day between classes, a significant moment allowed him to finally blink away the fog.

Every action that he had once dismissed, enticed by the flutter of her lashes and the touch of her lips, rose to the surface from an ocean of naivety--loud and unfiltered.

He despised himself for having to come to the painful realization that Gojo had been right all along. 

Nanami allowed Gojo to mock him for a week before reverting to his habit of telling him to shut up unless he had something meaningful to contribute to their conversations. 

Despite feeling embarrassed and heartbroken, he cut ties--clean and simple--moved on with his life, and never heard from her again.

Until now, that is, as she is currently in Nakameguro for a project to market her wine enterprise. She specifically chose his company to assist in expanding her business in the Japanese market, and he despises every minute of it. 

Pia clearly wants to make up for lost time because she goes to great lengths to be close to him. 

She has a habit of discreetly slipping into the elevator just before it closes, coincidentally finding herself alone with Nanami every time. With a simple smile and a polite greeting, she faces the front and they ride in silence, but with every encounter, she subtly edges closer and closer to him. 

Like clockwork, without fail, she makes a point to peek into his office every morning, disregarding his attempt to keep the door closed. She greets him, extends an invitation to lunch—an invitation he consistently declines—and continues with her day. 

Being a recluse by nature, he rarely leaves his office except for coffee runs to the breakroom or when Yuji relentlessly calls for his presence. But with Pia’s presence, he can hardly focus when she’s around. He refuses to engage in conversation or give her an opening to pursue him romantically. Because he knows she will. So now he makes Yuji come to him and will bring his own coffee from home. 

He chooses not to confide in you about his struggles.

You had only met her once, but it was more than enough. Because to you, Pia is overwhelmingly beautiful, with a well-traveled life and wealth. You are an amateur ceramic artist with modest savings, a mother that you can’t stand, and a body that had recently been stretched and marked by childbirth.

You thought Kento deserved better—deserved someone like Pia. 

You were grappling with the overwhelming responsibilities of taking care of Ulani, trying your best to navigate through postpartum depression in a healthy way, and coming to terms with a body that seemed alien to you.

So the sight of Pia for the first time, radiant and flaunting a badge of honor for dating Nanami, did nothing but throw you into a deep pit of insecurity.

Kento lifted you out of that dark place, demonstrated to you again—without fail—how devoted he was to you then and always.

He made it abundantly clear that he was yours. 

He’s determined to never make you feel unsure of yourself again. 

So it's not a big deal. She’s just a nuisance that he has to dodge for the next week. 

Just another week until she goes back to Italy where she—hopefully—will never return.

What’s the worst that can happen?

It turns out, a lot.

He tries to stay one step ahead, deliberately exchanging a brief greeting with her in the lobby to prevent her from slithering into his office. He even waits until the office is deserted, and the day is nearly over before stepping into the elevator. 

He doesn’t know how he got out scot-free, but Friday rolls around and he thinks that he just might pull this off.

But Yaga chooses today of all days to ask Nanami to stay behind to consolidate a few contracts that only Nanami—unfortunately—has access to. In normal circumstances, Nanami would decline and suggest pushing it off until Monday.

It’s even more unfortunate because he has plans tonight. He wants to help you make dinner and spend time with his daughter and he shouldn’t even have to think about excuses because he hates overtime. But, the consolidation is due Monday, and he wants to get it done now so that he can avoid the hassle later on.

You don’t sound upset when he calls you to break the news. Your usually calm voice is slightly downcast with a gentle sigh that you think he can’t hear.

“I guess it’s rare so I shouldn’t be mad but,” you complain weakly, your words tinged with a slight whine that makes Nanami smirk to himself. “I made Katsudon.” 

He groans, mouth instantly watering at the mere thought. 

“I’ll be home as soon as I can, my love. I promise.” 

You grumble a reply that makes him chuckle, a tender sound resonating deep in his chest as he listens to you tell him that you love him before hanging up the phone.

***

It’s seven o’clock and he’s fighting a migraine. But he’s almost done, and he’s determined to finish the last stack of contracts that require organizing before he can make his way home to you and Ulani.

As he pens his signature on the bottom of one contract, there’s a knock on his office door, prompting him to invite them in—assuming it’s merely the janitor since everyone else on the floor left hours ago. 

That’s all he thinks to himself; he focuses his attention on yet another clause, preparing to initial his name on the side when everything comes to a screeching halt. 

Because standing before him isn’t the janitor—it’s Pia.

Pia, clad in a tight black dress that not only defies workplace etiquette but also starkly contrasts the one she wore earlier in the day.  

Earlier that day, he followed her every movement as she got into her car and drove away, silently relieved that he could finally relax. Yet, here she is; her dark brown wavy hair hanging over her shoulder in a manner far too seductive for his comfort, and black heels clutched in her hands instead of adorning her feet.

It takes him only a second to assess how quickly he can maneuver past her without a word. He will take the steps if he has to, or maybe he can grab the remaining contracts and finish the rest at home and—

“Gojo always mentions how you never stay late anymore, so I’m surprised to see you here,” she purrs, her Italian accent grating against his ears, exacerbating his throbbing migraine behind his eyes. Her lust-filled, indecent intentions taint her dark brown eyes, reinforcing the strong urge within him to leave, quickly. 

He’s not the type of man to belittle a woman’s appearance because they all possess their own beauty. His mother hammered that among other things about the respect of women deep into his skull before he hit puberty. But he’s well-mannered enough to acknowledge beauty and let the line be drawn there—because other women aren’t you, and he doesn’t have a wandering eye. 

He never has and he never will.

“Is there a reason why you are here, Pia?” he questions, discreetly binding the stack of contracts together so he can swiftly grab them along with his blazer and push her out of the way if he has to. “Your project finished at the end of the business day, so I assumed you would be on your way back to Italy.”

She scoffs a deep and guttural noise that makes Nanami’s stomach twirl in distaste and intensifies the pounding behind his eyes. “You know exactly why I’m here, Kento. Don’t be dull. You never were back then, and you aren’t now.”

His stomach churns, the knots tightening with each passing moment between them. The tension becomes unbearable, culminating in a swift rise from his seat as he retrieves his blazer behind his large, deep red chair.

“You need to leave,” he demands, his voice devoid of the polite courtesy he had extended to her during her visit. He tucks the contracts beneath an arm, grabs his car keys, and makes for the door—but she’s quick to sidestep so her frame blocks his path. 

Irritation surges within him, an emotion that others—excluding you—are keen to elicit when they begin to waste his time. 

“Pia, please move out of the way so that I can go home.”

She arches a perfectly groomed eyebrow, adding to the torment coursing through his stomach. “So you’re saying you don’t even want to talk? It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, and you’ve done nothing but avoid me during my entire stay.” Her whiny, petulant tone and childlike frown only serve to trigger flashbacks to times when she didn’t get her way, intensifying the deep divide that caused their separation.

“And you don’t understand the reason why?” he retorts, irritation heavier and thick in his mouth. A frown etches itself onto his lips, and his patience dissipates in the tense air encircling them. 

A noise in the lobby—a noise that implies someone can be listening—makes his heart stammer in his chest and the hairs on the back of his neck rise. 

While she has an agenda, he does not. He refuses to allow others to lose respect for him in this office, thinking he indulges in infidelity during his free time when that couldn’t be further from the truth. He couldn’t care less about others’ opinions, except when it involves you and your relationship—that’s where he draws the line. 

Unaffected by his sarcastic remark, she delicately places a perfectly manicured hand on his chest. He’s quick to react, catching her wrist in a way that makes his blazer fall to the floor, pulling her hand away from him as his body begins to shake in frustration.

 “I don’t know where you’ve gotten the impression that I want anything with you, but I won’t be entertaining it. What we had was a long time ago and it won’t ever be reignited again. Try your best to understand that,” he states firmly.

“But—” she begins to protest.

“Enough, Pia. Leave. Now.” 

He isn’t asking nicely anymore, his head pounding, and the decision to simply push her out of the way is made. Just as he prepares to do so, the door swings open, and the person he longs to see the most but also wishes wasn’t here right now, rushes in.

“Ken, I thought I could bring you dinner and—” you stop mid-sentence, words wedged in your throat as you take in the scene in front of you. You’re holding a Tupperware container, the steam inside condensing along the edges.

Nanami with papers under one arm and the other dropping from a delicate wrist to flop down at his side, his hair disheveled from hours of musing, his face clearly disturbed. And Pia, beautiful and ethereal as usual as she whips around to look at you. 

Since that first day you met her, you haven’t encountered Pia again. And Kento’s unwavering loyalty and trust have provided no reason to entertain the thought of her. 

However, Nanami’s stiff stature, Pia’s tight dress that reveals a bit too much in the front, and the stiletto heels swinging from her finger in one hand make it abundantly clear to you why she is here. 

At seven o’clock at night.

With no one else around.

You want to shy away from the implication, to fend off your surprise with a shy chuckle, and let the poisonous current of insecurity draw you away like that time before. But Nanami had skillfully put those doubts to rest weeks ago. 

Now you’re just irritated.

“Pia? What are you doing here?” You keep your tone light, masking the annoyance bubbling inside you. Pia’s earlier sultry gaze has vanished, replaced by widened eyes and hands smoothing her already unwrinkled dress, anxiously. “Kento told me the project ended a few hours ago. Aren’t you flying back to Italy soon?”

She fumbles, her rose-tinted lips curling as she searches for something to say, gripping her heels tighter in her hand. It’s reminiscent of watching a child scrambling for an excuse after being caught with their hands in a cookie jar.

Nanami remains silent, astonished. In the past, any other woman daring to breathe his air while Pia was present would have been met with scathing words and threats. But now, that Pia is desperately trying to produce an excuse for her late presence within a workplace when she she should be on a flight home.

“She was just leaving, love,” Nanami interjects, trying his best to make the situation as simple as it can be. Pia agrees, blushing and nodding, hastily slipping her heels back on with hands seemingly covered in sweat.

Watching her struggle to secure her heels, her fingers slipping on the buckle, reignites a surge of confidence deep within you. The once persistent insecurity in her presence now feels like a mere joke. In this moment, she becomes the joke. 

And you want to savor every minute of it.

The next words spill from your mouth, impossible to contain. You wiggle the small Tupperware container in your hands, gesturing towards her and offering a shy but satisfied smile.

“I was just bringing my husband dinner,” you chuckle airily, the lie slipping from your lips with ease. You relish the reaction from them both. Pia’s hands slip on her heel strap, causing her to stumble. Nanami struggles to contain his composure, eyes wide as saucers, his breath caught in his throat as your words ring in his ears like a piercing siren.

“Kento is the only one on this floor, it’s awfully late and I doubt you would have left earlier without saying goodbye. Surely you—” you pause, pretending to be taken aback before leveling an accusatory gaze at her. She looks up from her hunched position, hands still fumbling with the straps of her heels, her eyes wide and beautifully tan skin appearing pale. You’re not one for pettiness, but the delight from the sight of her struggling courses through your veins. “Surely you’re not here with the intention to do something else, are you?” 

“No!” she quickly retorts, her voice both loud and tinged with a hint of nervousness that makes the corner of your lip twitch. “No of course not—”

“So what are you doing here?” you cut her off with a narrowing of your eyes, repeating your question from earlier with a touch less feigned innocence, your tone slightly more serious and impatient. 

“L-leaving actually! Just wanted to say goodbye to Kento before my flight in the morning,” she stammers, now standing three inches taller, maintaining an air of elegance and grace even as her embarrassment paints her cheeks red.

She hastily bids Nanami farewell—a choked and tight goodbye—, a lopsided and anxious smile directed at you, and stumbles once more as she hurriedly exits the room, a snort of amusement escaping your lips as she trips before disappearing from your sight.

You close the door behind her, shutting away her presence for good.

The room falls into silence, Nanami’s face turning a vibrant shade of red that forces you to suppress your laughter with every ounce of effort you can muster.

“Love, I can explain—,” he begins, but you promptly cut him off, a giggle escaping despite your best attempts to hold it back. 

You know he would never do anything. Nanami would probably take infinite shifts of overtime instead of letting a woman who was not you touch him. In fact, you heard the entire conversation before you rushed in, and it makes your heart flutter with love that is already overflowing for him. 

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles.

But it’s so funny to watch him squirm, his face burning even more and his movements awkward as he clutches the bundle of disheveled contracts in his hand. His expressions of frustration and his furrowed brow only serve to ignite a warmth in your stomach. 

You love to tease him. And now you’ve been given the perfect opportunity to make him sweat.

“There’s no need to explain, Ken. I’m just messing with you,” you reassure him, taking his free hand and gently pulling him back to his desk. Turning to face his still-nervous figure, you retrieve the papers from his grasp and place them neatly on his large mahogany desk. 

“I heard the entire conversation. I am curious though,” you begin, pressing him down into his chair. He’s silent as he watches you push the chair back a little, so you have room to stand between him and his desk. “What do you think she would have done if I hadn’t come in time?”

“Absolutely nothing because I don’t—” he starts, but his words are abruptly cut off by the touch of your hand gliding against the fabric of his chest. Unlike Pia’s touch, your fingertips radiate heat and beckon him in a way that has his cock twitching in his slacks. His heart skips a beat as he watches your own manicured nails circle the buttons of his dress shirt before undoing them quickly. “We can’t—”

“Why?” you interrupt, your voice low and hot, instantly drying up his throat. Your fingertips dance along the exposed skin of his chest, gently teasing him as your nail flicks against a pink nipple before trailing down between the contours of his abs. You tap your fingers along the downy hair that trails under his slack and his stomach bunches in response, twitching from the stimulation, his heart skipping and his throat tightening slowly. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

He doesn’t. God, he doesn’t, and the words ‘no’ are out of his mouth before he can stop them, giving you his consent even though he’s embarrassed out of his mind. His migraine becomes an insignificant thought, the pulsing from earlier falling into a slow ebb, eclipsed by the escalating desire coursing through his veins. 

Nanami has never been the type of man to do this sort of thing. While he likes to be inside you anytime he can, he cherishes the privacy that safeguards both himself and you, more. 

But he can’t lie to himself that the thought of something happening in this office with you hasn’t crossed his mind multiple times—especially when you used to work together.

The sound of you undoing his belt buckle has his heart racing, thumping loud and heavy in his chest and his face is on fire as he watches you release him from the confines of his pants, his cock already hard and leaking. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down and finding it difficult to contain your own desire from the sight of him. The area between your legs throbs as you trace your eyes down a cock that you’re intimately familiar with. Warm and achingly heavy, leaking with anticipation and pleading for your touch. His abs tense with a sharp intake of breath as you wrap your hand around him, a pleasurable hiss escaping his throat as he watches you stroke him languidly. 

You press your free hand into the arm of his chair, leaning in until your lips are mere inches apart. Inhaling his ragged breaths, you admire the way his deep brown eyes blow out, leaving only a ring of burnt umber for you to gaze into. 

Your grip on him has his mind foggy, desire overtaking any rational thoughts that he would normally use right about now. 

But you’re so good. 

You’re curling your wrist with every upward stroke just the way he loves and his abs bunch with every jolt of pleasure that zips inside of him.

He has to touch you, has to get his hands on you in some way to ground himself, and he instinctively reaches out for you when suddenly you tsk, pulling back slightly to create more distance between your lips.

“No touching.”

Oh.

You never deny him when you’re both like this. You always want his hands on you. The fact that you’re now denying him, gazing at him with a dangerous look in your eyes, shocks him. And it arouses him to a degree that makes him choke on a breath. 

He sags back into his chair, gasping for breath when your hands trail down to cup his balls. He digs his fingers into the chair’s armrests, scratching red leather, and he’s desperate to keep himself from cumming too soon.

“Did you—did you lock the door?” he manages to gasp, grasping onto any shred of coherent thought he has left.

You tilt your head in confusion, gaze at him with an indifferent stare, and then shrug nonchalantly before sagging down to your knees in front of him. The sight makes his toes curl in his expensive Chukka boots.

The rational part of his mind urges him to get up and check the door. Just get up and make sure the door is at least locked before anything else—but then his thoughts are short-circuiting and stuttering as your tongue slides wet up his shaft and you swallow him down to the base without a care in the world.

The back of his head slams against the cushioned chair as a surge of pleasure courses through his veins. You’re wet and sloppy, teasing him with your gaze as your mouth stretches from the thickness of him—and he’s struggling to hold on, struggling to keep his orgasm at bay even though it’s right there.

He tries to reach for you—tries to card his hands through your hair but you smack it away and glare at him with such a ferocity that he’s embarrassed for even attempting. 

Marketing templates. Morning traffic. A cold cup of coffee. 

He thinks of everything he can to resist the warmth in his stomach and the coil tightening along his spine; because you suck his cock in a way that makes him fidget in his chair, humming and gurgling into his ears in a wicked melody that’s making him go insane.

You’re enjoying every second of this and it only makes him blush harder with just how exposed he is to you right now. The mere weight of his cock in your mouth and the slightly salty taste of him makes your panties damp, your cunt pulsating and aching to be filled. 

And you’ll make sure it happens.

So you patiently wait until he’s panting harshly, his grip on the arm of his chair growing tighter and tighter. You wait until that crazed look dances in his eyes—the one you’re so familiar with right before he cums. And right when he’s on the cusp, you pull away. 

He exhales hard and sinks into his chair almost in relief as the band inside of him relaxes slightly, desperately trying to catch his breath and hissing as the cold air of his office wraps around his wet cock.

“Pia really did have a plan, didn’t she?” you playfully tease, standing to card your fingers through his blonde locks. Your fingertips glide across the faint traces of sweat, your hand moving along with the shake of his head in response to you, his gaze unfocused.

You kick off your shoes, hook your thumbs into the corner of your leggings, and slide them down and off your legs—his eyes following every inch of creamy brown skin that is revealed to him. 

You’re wearing an oversized sweater, a soft cashmere that he got you simply because he wanted, and it now covers your faint stretch-marked thighs. They are your battle scars, your own reminders of the journey your body underwent to grow and birthed the beautiful daughter you both have now.

His breath falters as he watches you gracefully perch on his large desk, placing your legs on top and bending your knees so your fuzzy sock-covered feet press against the rich mahogany. Leaning back on one arm, you effortlessly open your legs for him. His naturally narrow eyes widen at the sight of your white damp panties, and he longs to lick, suck, and slide his cock inside the very place they conceal.

The glint in your eyes is mischievous and taunting, delighting in the way he struggles to stay seated even as you slide one of your hands down into your panties.

“Can I—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“No.” 

You leave no room for argument and don’t offer anything else as you begin to circle your clit leisurely, arching into the touch as echoes of pleasure hum to life. It’s not long before you’re pushing your panties to the side to expose yourself to the open air. Your cunt throbs with desire when you hear Nanami groan softly under his breath. 

You’ve never been this bold, never entertained the thought of anything voyeuristic. But Nanami seems to awaken something within you, something you’re slowly embracing. He’s so shy about sex outside of the privacy of your home, and it only makes this more exciting that he’s even entertaining it now.

“Did she do this with you?” you ask him, your voice breathless as you sink two fingers into your wet cunt. The corner of Nanami’s eye twitches from the sight and you swallow down a giggle that threatens to escape. “Did she ever make you watch her while she touched herself?” 

You moan softly as you curl your fingers up as best as you can from your angle. Nanami’s fingers dig into the leather of his chair with barely contained restraint. 

“Answer me, Kento.”

“No. She didn’t.”

Satisfied with his answer, a sense of pride flaps in your chest, and you gleefully continue fingering yourself in front of him. It always takes you a while to get off with your fingers, so you use that as ammunition to watch Nanami squirm. 

You watch the way his exposed muscular pectorals move with his increasing breaths. You watch the way his cock twitches, hot and heavy against his stomach, leaking precum onto his abs. And you soak up the way he traces his eyes along every inch of you, leaving nothing without his attention.

When you finally cum, sharp and abrupt, he’s hanging on by a thread—ready to abandon your command to be still, yank you to him, and sink inside. 

He watches your cunt flutter around your fingers as you slowly come down from your high, gasping like an angel into the office air. Breathless, you stand on shaky legs and move to stand before him, lifting slick-covered fingers to his mouth which he readily opens without command, desperate to taste you any time he can. He groans softly against your fingers, eyes drooping, tongue sliding wet between your digits. The sight makes your cunt throb weakly, faint embers that had just died down, licking to life again.

You taste like everything to him, everything he wants and everything he needs.

But it’s not on the menu tonight.

You straddle his lap wordlessly and smack his hands away when he tries to wrap large hands around your waist. He swallows his frustration, yearning to touch you, yet willing to comply for the promise of more.

Using the remnants of your arousal between your legs, you coat him, stroking him enough to make sure you take him effortlessly, and then you guide him to your entrance and sink down to the hilt. The feel of him inside you is glorious, stretching you in the way you like that makes your cunt tremble to life around him, grateful for his presence once again. 

“Fuck,” he hisses—chokes with eyes squeezed shut, hand gripping the chair until it groans. You’re so wet, so fucking warm and tight that he’s shaking--practically trembling and swallowing a whimper as he fights the urge to grab your hips.

You didn’t need much to get used to him. You’re a masochist when he stretches you—you crave the way your cunt tenses from the intrusion, gripping him like a vice.

You’re a champ, enveloping him and giving him little time to acclimate before you’re bouncing on his cock with a finesse that would make any woman jealous.

You slide both hands into the hair at his nape and pull so that he cranes his neck back to gaze up at you. He’s slack-jawed, panting with breaths that tickle your lips, his eyes heavy with desire. 

“Did she ever fuck you like this, hmm? Come into your office when you would work long hours and ride you until you couldn’t see straight?” 

He can only shake his head ‘no’ in response, his throat too dry to speak, his lungs burning. He craves your touch, your lips on him, something to anchor him as he struggles to keep up. It’s the only way he can stay sane when the neurons in his brain are frying by the second. He begs wordlessly, groans deeply up into your mouth, pleading for anything.

And thankfully, you grant him a searing kiss. Your lips mold against his, tongues battling for dominance that he willingly surrenders to. His every thrust hits that perfect spot within you, brushing away hints of oversensitivity and bringing forth faint pleasure that makes you dig your hands into blond tresses and pull tight.

The pleasure caresses the insides of your thighs and tightens the muscles of your legs. Every brush of your clit against the skin of his abs shoots electricity throughout your cunt and up to the base of your spine, igniting a simmering fire that begins to heat deep pools of lava that reside there.

You pull away from his lips with a harsh moan, gasping into the warm air of his office, riding him harder to the point that the legs of his chair begin to squeak.

He knows you well. He knows how you get demanding and delirious and incoherent when you ride him, and he loves to count the seconds until that switch in your brain goes off. And it’s not even a second later when—

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good. So, so good,” you moan against the skin of his lips. “Fucking me just the way I like Ken.”

He watches every move you make, tracing his eyes over the contours of your face and the way your loose curls cling to creamy brown cheeks.

His eyes roll when he picks up your whispered chants. You’re a woman possessed and you take what you want—when you want. And he gives and gives with every yes, yes, more Ken, you’re so good, please, please, please yes!

Your pupils are blown and glazed over with desire, but suddenly your brows furrow in frustration. 

“She walked in here in a tight dress and high heels looking to get you in the same position that I have you now. But at the end of the day, you’re mine.”

There’s not an ounce of coyness in your words. You’re so serious, firm, and unyielding that it makes him shudder, a groan sliding from his parted lips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and—

“Look at me,” you command, voice low, panting from exertion and the feel of your body beginning to draw tight with embers of a powerful orgasm. His eyes roll back without hesitation, locking with yours. “Unless—unless some other circumstance tears us apart, you—you are mine. Pia can have all the money and fame, but she will never have you. I do.”

“Yes,” he whispers, the word tumbling from his lips without faltering. His hips struggle to keep up and his thighs begin to stiffen as pleasure begins to curl deliciously so that his hands dig into the chair. His fingers slip against the leather, sweaty and tingling.

“You’re the father of my child.”

“Yes,” he chants again, breathless and quivering as the rubber band along his spine grows taught, stretching and shaking from the tension.

“You sleep next to me. You kiss me. You fuck me.”

“Yes, only you—only you.”

You tremble from his words, satisfaction oozing like hot thick globs along your skin. “That’s right, Kento,” you purr as your hips begin to roll against him, your clit carrying currents of pleasure through your veins, that pool of lava at the base of your spine boiling and rising to the brim.

“Please,” he whispers, his plea pulling you from your desire-induced haze. You look down at him, admire the flush of his cheeks, the warmth of his breath against the collarbone of your sweater, the sweat that beads along his hairline. “Please.”

“Please what?” you tease, trying to maintain a playful demeanor even though your hips are beginning to ache from overuse. You come to a stop on top of him, your breaths mingling together.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, always gentle and caring, even when he’s bursting from the seams. You love him so fucking much.

“Will you make me cum?”

“Always,” he responds without hesitation, his words filled with conviction. You lean in, pressing your lips against his, savoring the affection he willingly gives you. When you pull away, you brush thick blonde locks from his forehead, exposing more of his sharp features that will never fail to make your heart race.

“Then touch me, Ken,” you whisper, your voice laced with desire and anticipation.

Without wasting a moment, he swiftly lifts you in his arms, his cock still nestled inside as he carries you towards his desk.

Your breath catches as you stare up at him, the sound of papers scattering to the floor filling the air. He pulls your sweater up, revealing every inch of your faintly stretch-marked belly, before tugging down a cup of your bra, heady eyes watching as one of your breasts spills from its confines. 

He’s too fast. You fumble for words and let out a surprised yelp when he yanks your waist toward the edge of the desk. He presses your knees as close to your chest as you will allow, and then he slams into you once—and then twice before picking up a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

He devours you, tongue flicking and swirling wet and dripping around your exposed nipple as he pounds into you unabashedly, the desk squeaking and groaning from his efforts.

All bravado that you had earlier splinters away with each smack of his muscular hips against you, the skin of his abs brushing against your clit deliciously, coaxing moan after moan from your lips. His tongue flicks your nipple again before he bites the hardened bud, and your cunt flutters—clenches around him, your thighs beginning to twitch even though they’re pressed to your chest.

“I’m all yours. Always yours,” he whispers against your lips, blonde tresses gliding against your cheeks.

You hope there’s no one on this floor, or that no one has decided to come back for something because the last thing they need to hear is Nanami Kento, Director of Strategic Partnerships, railing his girlfriend on his over-priced, too-large mahogany desk.

You can barely breathe, your moans growing in pitch, the sound of skin on skin echoing through his office, your hands sliding up to dig fingers into the skin of his back. You don’t even have the chance to tell him you’re close. 

The stroke of him inside you, the slap of his skin against your bundle of nerves, and the feel of his mouth trailing along the sweaty column of your neck with a deep and heavy cum for me baby breaks the seal inside of you.

The lava boils over—pools along your bones, hot and delicious and caressing every nerve ending within you, your cunt squeezing him without remorse. You can’t help the loud moan that shakes from your lips, growing in pitch when the pleasure seems to spike and overheat you in oversensitivity, your entire body tingling and shaking like an exposed nerve.

Nanami takes every ounce of pleasure you offer. Everything, every part of you is precious—treasured in a way that no one else will ever be able to comprehend. He takes every breath, every hitch in your throat, every droplet of sweat on your skin, every whimper and moan and scratch of your nails against him. He savors it all—needs it to survive, to know that you have chosen him, that you want him, that you love him.

You’re the only woman who makes Pia tremble and stumble over her words. You are a force to be reckoned with, and he knew that the moment you snapped at him when you first met. You’re fierce in the way you love, strong with the words you say, and so fucking beautiful that he cant help but feel proud of just how threatened Pia was by the sight of you.

Those words you spoke confidently to her have played like a record in his head since you forced him into his chair.

“I was just bringing my husband some dinner.”

My husband.

My husband.

He’s thought about it, so many fucking times. And he swears it will happen. Soon.

One day you’ll be his wife.

His wife.

His wife.

His thoughts come to a sudden halt because he’s cumming, catching him off guard, that rubber band snapping in half, pleasure yanking from the base of his spine and pulling a harsh groan from his chest as he spills inside of you.

His hands slip from behind your knees and smack onto the wood of his desk and you wrap your legs around his waist as you both regain your breath. He’s putty against you, melted and loose and molding against every crevice of you as he takes in your intoxicating scent. Lilac from your body wash, shea butter from your lotion, and a hint of cooking grease that wafted onto your skin when you made dinner.

Your fingers lovingly comb through his sweaty hair, your legs blissfully achy, your cunt satisfied and throbbing, and your heart coming to normal sinus rhythm in your chest.

“Ome is probably wondering where I am,” you finally speak, breaking the tranquil silence of his office. “She offered to watch Ulani when I left.” Nanami hums against you, a low and gravelly sound that’s typical of him when he’s ready to go to sleep. “Bring the rest of the contracts home. No more overtime.”

As if he would even entertain the thought of being in this office a moment longer. “Okay,” he agrees, pressing his lips to your neck. He still has his arms around you, still connected to you despite having softened inside you minutes ago. 

But you don’t mind. You cherish these moments with him, holding them dear in your heart, knowing that each one is a gift.

Because you’re the only one who can revel in the way he needs you, the way he craves having his hands on you, the way he murmurs his adoration into your skin. And you love every bit of it. You love him.

“Will she be back?” you ask, a hint of hesitance in your tone.

He shakes his head, groaning softly as you scratch that spot behind his ear. “No. Never.”

“She better not,” you jest, an eyebrow lifting to the ceiling, gazing at no one. “If she pulls shit like that again, there won’t be a happy ending for you.”

He barks out a laugh against your neck, lifting his head to take in your blissed-out form. Fatigue weighs heavy on your eyes, your lashes delicately curled, your hair spread out on his desk to make you look like the most otherworldly thing he has—will ever see. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

He kisses you tenderly once and then twice, before resting his head against your chest, the soft cashmere of your sweater caressing his cheek. His eyes catch something on the corner of his desk.

The Tupperware of food that you brought still emits steam, a homemade Katsudon by your hands, just for him.

His heart thrums in his chest, full and filled with warmth.

His wife.

Soon.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)

#Nanami kento #Kento nanami #Nanami Kento x reader #Nanami Kento x black reader #Nanami Kento x black fem reader #nanami x you #Nanami Kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #It Had To Be You #mysteria157 #anime x black reader #Nanami Kento fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk x black reader #Nanami Kento smut #jjk au #masterlist #It Had To Be You masterlist #nanami kento fluff #jjk fluff #jjk smut #Those Moments In Between #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #Baby Daddy Nanami Kento #one shot #black fem reader

[mypoisonedvine]

contains adult themes such as sex and sexuality, drug use, violence/assault, and misogyny; other things to be prepared for include complete irrelevance to the canon of stranger things, 17-year-old jason is trying to bang 15-year-old elle which makes me wanna peel my face off (but it's accurate to the film), reader is adopted and has some issues with her bio parents, mileven and lumax with background robin/vickie, and dad!hopper being MVP as per usual

note: significant sections of dialogue were lifted directly from the film, because why mess with perfection? I still took liberties with it, but for some of those really iconic scenes, please know that I'm not the reason those lines are so hilarious. credit for the scenes I transcribed go to Karen McCullah & Kirsten Smith, the screenwriters of 10 Things I Hate About You, who of course themselves based the work on The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare.

length: 20k words

for @get-your-fics midsummer night's writing challenge!! thank you for hosting rosie!

As his hand slid up her creamy white thighs, she could feel his huge member pulsating with desire…

Mike was looking down at his hands, interlaced in his lap, until Ms. Kelley shut her laptop.  She smiled at him politely, and he smiled back.  “So!” she began, checking his file again.  “Michael—”

“Just Mike,” he nodded.

“Right.  Well, we’re glad to have you at Hawkins High— it shouldn’t be too different from your last high school!  You were well-behaved your freshman year, correct?”

“Uh, mostly… one or two tardies, that’s it,” he assured.

“Great!  That means if you see me again, something’s gone horribly wrong.”

“Huh?”

“This is where kids with behavior problems get sent.  Deviants, misfits, sluts, weirdos, creeps— they all have to come in and chat with me to get their shit straightened out.”

“Their what?” Mike repeated.  “Are you— am I in the right office?”

“Not anymore, my novel isn’t gonna finish itself,” she announced.  “So scoot.”

He didn’t, at first, too stunned.

“Scoot!”

He jumped up, trying to process what conversation just occurred, only to bump into someone as he backed out of the doorway.  “Watch it!” a firm voice warned him, and he spun to look up in ill-suppressed terror at the guy he’d just collided with.

Mike was too intimidated to even choke out an apology; it’s hard to say where to start with what scared him most.  Maybe the chains, maybe the leather jacket and denim vest, maybe the glare?  Yeah, it was definitely the glare— that was what made Mike cower and dart away before it could get any worse.

“Ah, Mister Munson!” Ms. Kelley greeted with faux sweetness.  “I see we're making our visits a weekly ritual.”

As her smile fell, Eddie’s grew.  “Only so we can have these moments together,” he cooed, taking another step inside.  “Should I hit the lights?”

“Oh, very clever, trailer park boy,” she offered flatly as she examined the incident report already in his file.  “Apparently you exposed yourself in the cafeteria?”

“I was just joking around with my bandmates,” he promised.  “It was a bratwurst.”

“Bratwurst,” she repeated, raising an eyebrow and glancing down— ostensibly at his handcuff belt buckle.  “Aren’t we the optimist?”

A hint of Eddie’s resolve faded as she tilted her head and smiled at him cheerily again.

“Next time, keep your dangler in your Wranglers, mkay?” she suggested, chipper yet hollow.

Eddie shook his head as he left, leaving Ms. Kelley to return to her desk and re-open her computer.  Examining her screen, she erased one word and replaced it.

…she could feel his huge bratwurst pulsating with desire…

~

“Hey!  Mike, right?” 

Mike turned, seeing another sophomore standing in front of him with a high top on his head and hightops on his feet.  “Yeah!” Mike answered.

“I’m Lucas,” the other student offered with an extended hand for a shake.

Mike sighed with relief as he returned the handshake energetically, noticing Lucas’ basketball uniform.  “You know, normally they send down one of those audio/video geeks.”

Lucas nodded; “Yeah, I know— I know what you mean.”

Right on cue, Dustin Henderson rolled by with the A/V cart.  “Hey, Lucas,” Dustin nodded, “where should I put the radio equipment?”

Lucas coughed and brushed Dustin away.  “Lucas?” he shook his head, pretending he had no idea who that could be, as he ditched a bewildered Dustin and guided Mike along down the hall.

As they walked past a crowd of popular seniors, Lucas motioned towards them.

“So, over here, you’ve got your basic beautiful people,” he explained, “unless they talk to you first, don’t talk to them.”

“Is that your rule or theirs?”

“Watch,” Lucas offered, nodding in their direction.  “Hey there,” he greeted.

“Who are you talking to?” Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington asked with a sneer.

“See?” Lucas smiled at Mike, who shook his head as they moved along.  “Anyways, you’ve got your Diet Coke drinkers,” he explained as he motioned toward a crowd of students all holding red cans.  “Very edgy, don’t make any sudden movements around them.”

Mike nodded in understanding, trying to keep up— literally, since Lucas kept walking quickly, but also in terms of the explanation of Hawkins High’s social dynamics.

“You’ve got your basic stoners—”

A senior with long black hair and bloodshot eyes caught Mike’s attention.  “Hey, nice threads, man,” the stoner complimented with a smile, “Ocean Pacific?”

“And your surfers—”

Mike gawked at the muscular, tan guy with a blonde mullet and, for some reason, no shirt on.  “Does he walk around like that at school?” he wondered aloud, but Lucas didn’t notice.

“— even though the closest they’ve been to the ocean is when they drink Ocean Spray cranberry juice.”

As Lucas laughed at his own joke, they walked through the courtyard.  

“And this is our fearless Hawkins High basketball team!” Lucas explained, setting his hands on one of the player’s shoulders as they passed their lunch table.  “Go Tigers, huh?”

The players scowled at him as Lucas’ hand was shrugged off; he crossed his arms.

“Yesterday I was their up-and-coming star,” Lucas recalled with a roll of his eyes.

“What happened?” Mike asked.

“Patrick McKinney started a rumor that my Converse were fake,” Lucas explained with a sigh.  

“So they’re freezing you out?” Mike realized, offended on his behalf and concerned that everyone here was that superficial.

“I’ll get back in, don’t worry,” Lucas assured, but Mike wasn’t really worried about him so much as himself.

It was right then that Elle Hopper walked by, carrying with her the essence of youthful beauty and ingenue-ity.  Her busy patterned jumpsuit was every bit as colorful as her spirit; she laughed lightly with the redhead at her side, a few words of a conversation about a trip to the mall floating through the air.  

As time seemed to slow just for her, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, sending a wave of the scent of candy-sweet perfume right in Mike’s direction.

“Oh— wow,” Mike sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him.  “Who’s she?”

“She’s out of your league is who she is,” Lucas warned.

“And?”

“And she’s got this super scary dad— won’t let her or her sister date.  Ever,” Lucas announced firmly.

“How bad could he be, is he a hardened criminal or something?”

“Worse,” Lucas shook his head, “he’s the sheriff.”

“That’s worse?” Mike frowned.

“A criminal will just kill you.  The sheriff will actually get away with it.”

~

“So,” Ms. O’Donnell began, “what did everyone think of The Sun Also Rises?”

Bethany Walters raised her hand instantly, and you rolled your eyes— because of course she would.  “I loved it,” she cooed when she was called on.  “I was soooo romantic!”

You grimaced, unable to stop yourself from commenting (a habit of yours).  “Romantic?  Hemingway?!  Please— he was an abusive alcoholic misogynist—”

The rest of the class was already groaning and rolling their eyes, a few mutters of not this again here and there, but you kept going.

“— who squandered half his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers.”

Yes, it was just like you to say something like that when Bethany was just trying to express a perfectly harmless opinion, but it was just like Jason to take it further.  “As opposed to an unlikeable, self-righteous loser with no friends?” he quipped.

You weren’t planning on saying anything, but thankfully Ms. O’Donnell stood up for you anyway.  “Quiet, Jason,” she scolded lightly— she was never that hard on him, because he was the star of the basketball team, but she also didn’t let him bully you that openly in class.

“I guess in this society, being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time,” you concluded, shooting Jason a look over your shoulder, who simply smirked back at you.

And if it was just like you to say something snarky and politically-charged, and just like Jason to use it to insult you, then it was just like Eddie to show up late as if it were no trouble at all.  “What did I miss?” he asked with a smile as he burst in.

You answered instantly, without looking back: “The oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education.”

“Great,” Eddie nodded, spinning on his heel and walking right back out again.

“W-wait!” Ms. O’Donnell called out, but Jason spoke again and took her attention away.

“How about we make a new rule— don’t come to class if you can’t handle your PMS,” he suggested jokingly.

“Jason!” she snapped.  “Watch your attitude.”

You smirked to yourself smugly, but that moment of righteous indignation didn’t last long.  

“And you,” she added, turning her attention to you, “go to the office.”

“What?  Why?!” you protested.

“Because— because you’re being disruptive!” she decided.

Sighing, you got up from your seat and slung your backpack over your shoulder.  As Jason snickered at you gleefully, you ‘accidentally’ let your textbook swing into his face, smacking that shit-eating look right off of him.

It was only a minute-or-so walk to the office, where you heard Ms. Kelley calling out to her assistant as you walked in. 

“What’s another word for engorged?” she asked her, stumping the receptionist.

“Tumescent?” you offered.

“Great!” she smiled, typing at her laptop; you had some inkling what she was using that word for, though you wish you were blissfully ignorant to her erotic exploits.  “So, were you terrorizing Ms. O’Donnell’s class again?”

You frowned.  “Terrorism is a pretty strong word for simply expressing my opinion.”

“How about the way you expressed your opinion to Billy Hargrove?  By the way, his testicle retrieval operation went quite well, if you were wondering.”

“In my defense,” you smirked, “I didn’t know he actually had balls when I kicked him.”

“The point is,” he sighed, less amused, “you tend to make a bad impression on others, and that’s not actually something to be proud of.  People see you as—”

“Opinionated?”

“The term used most often is ‘heinous bitch’,” she corrected.

The words themselves didn’t bother you too much— yes, they were sexist, but that was nothing new here— but the knowledge that people were actually saying this to Ms. Kelley gave you pause.  Were you really so traumatizing that they had to discuss you with the counselor?

“So, you might want to work on that,” she offered.  “Bye!”

You scoffed.  “As always,” you began as you stood, “thank you for your excellent guidance.  I’ll let you get back to writing about aching cores and quivering members.”

As you turned, quietly proud of yourself for standing up to her, you heard her ponder to herself, “huh… quivering member, I like that…”

~

In the parking lot, you and Robin were walking side-by-side to your car (since she’d gotten a ride from you today, and also every other day for the past year and a half) when you were nearly run over by Jason screeching up to the curb in his car; it was just like him: shiny and new, overvalued, a fabulous body with subpar machinery under the hood.

“Hey,” he nodded at you, flashing that taunting grin, “didn’t anyone ever tell you that you dress like a bog witch?”

“Aw, do you really mean that?” you beamed excitedly, and he frowned at his failed insult as he pulled his car up a little further.  If only he would’ve kept driving straight forward forever— he would’ve gone over the edge of the quarry eventually; but instead, he stopped… in front of your sister.

“Hi, ladies,” he greeted suavely, “care for a ride?”

You and Robin watched from beside your car— it was just like you, too: classic, older on the inside than it was on the outside, and debatably in need of a polish— in horror as Elle and Max hopped into the back of Jason’s convertible with all the girlish glee of two ingenues in over their head.

“Well, that’s a… charming new development,” Robin frowned.

“It’s disgusting,” you spat, hopping into the driver’s seat and turning the engine over.  As you pulled out of your spot, you nearly slammed into one of those varsity basketball dweebs speeding by on his bike.  “Hey!” you shouted at him, leaning out your window.  “Didn’t your mommy tell you to look both ways before riding that thing in the street?”

The kid cowered and biked away, and you shook your head as you pulled it back into the car.  

“I swear, these kids are getting dumber every year,” you sighed.  “I think there’s a little too much chlorine in the Hawkins gene pool.”

As Lucas pulled over by the curb by Mike, the new student stared at you and Robin driving away in the beat-up vintage.  “Are you okay?  She almost hit you,” Mike noticed.

“Oh, that’s nothing with your beloved’s older sister,” Lucas scoffed.  “I’m lucky I still have all my parts.”

“Wait, that’s Elle’s sister?!” Mike realized.

“Uh huh, in the legal sense,” Lucas agreed.  “Sheriff Hopper adopted them both when they were little— I assume he found his first daughter abandoned by a tribe of rampaging bitches or something.”

That was just one of many theories about how exactly your dad came to adopt you and your sister, though the real story was much less interesting; speaking of him, he usually got home from the station after you returned from school, with him working later in the afternoons and all.  When he returned home that particular day, he found you reading Jane Eyre on the sofa, and he smiled at you.  

“Hello, honey,” he greeted.  “Make anyone cry today?”

“Not yet,” you returned, “but it’s only four-thirty!”

He hummed and leaned in to kiss you on the forehead as you turned your page.  Right about then, Elle walked through the door— and you knew that she thought she would’ve just made it in time to beat Dad home by the cringe that crossed her face when she saw him.  “Hi Daddy!” she beamed, trying to play it cool.

“And where have you been?” you asked, getting a grimace from her for your shameless sell-out.

“Nowhere,” she dodged.

But Dad missed the exchange entirely, still going through the mail.  “What’s this?” he asked when he saw a massive white envelope.  “It says Sarah Lawrence?”

You hopped up off the couch at lightning speed, snatching the letter away and shredding it open like a kid on Christmas— but not you, some other generic kid, because even when you were little you liked to open presents carefully (it helped you temper your expectations).  “Oh my god!” you shrieked when you saw a massive congratulations.  “I got in!  I got in!!”

“Honey, that’s great,” your dad offered, “you can use that to negotiate better scholarships at Indiana State!”

You frowned.  “I know you want me to stay here—”

“We decided that you would stay here,” he countered.

“You decided.”

“So, what, you’re just gonna leave?” he realized with a saddened frown.

“We can dream,” Elle mumbled to herself— but not quite enough to herself, because you caught it and you raised your eyebrows in challenge.

“Why don’t you ask Elle who drove her home?”

“Don’t change the…” Dad trailed off, turning to Elle as he took the bait completely.  “Who drove you home?”

“N-now, don’t get upset, Daddy,” she pouted, “but… there’s this boy—”

“Who’s about as sharp as a marble,” you interjected.

“And I think he might ask me—” Elle continued, but this time your dad interrupted her.

“I think I know what he’s going to ask you.  And I think I know the answer: No!” he announced proudly.  “It’s always no!  You know the house rules: one, no dating until you graduate.  Two, no dating until you graduate!  Pretty simple stuff!”

“Daddyyyy,” Elle whined, making you roll your eyes at her.  “It’s so unfair!”

“You know what’s unfair?” he returned, looking at you too.  “Last week I had to drive a girl to the hospital, she went into labor alone in her car on the side of the road— and she’s fifteen.  You know what she said to me in between bouts of screaming in my backseat?”

“I’m a crackwhore who should have made my sleazy boyfriend wear a condom?” Elle assumed.

“No,” Dad frowned, “she said I should have listened to my father.”

“Oh, she did not,” Elle scoffed disbelievingly.

“Okay, no, she didn’t— but she was probably thinking it!” he insisted.

“Can we focus on me for a second please?” Elle pouted.  Like everything isn’t already focused on you, you thought to yourself.  “I’m the only girl in school who’s not dating.”

“No you’re not— your sister doesn’t date,” your dad reminded her.

You chimed in quickly: “And I don’t intend to.”

“And, why is that again?” he asked you with a pleased smile.

“Have you seen the unwashed champions of idiocracy that go to that school?!” you replied.

“God, where did you come from?  Planet Loser?” Elle spat.

“As opposed to Planet ‘Look at me! Look at me!’” you offered in your best passé, vapid voice with your eyes rolled back halfway.

“Okay, here’s a solution,” Dad decided suddenly, making you both perk up.  “Old rule’s stricken, new rule: Elle, you can date—”

She lit up immediately.

“When she does,” he finished, pointing at you.

“B-but, she’s a total freak!  What if she never dates?!” Elle whimpered.

“Then you’ll never date!  Oh, I like that,” he announced proudly.  “And I’ll get to sleep at night— the deep slumber of a father whose daughters aren’t out being impregnated.”

His police radio went off and he sighed.  

“I don’t have time for this right now,” he decided, directing his attention at you specifically for a moment: “We’ll talk about college later.”

Elle tried to get him to stay with a whine, but he was gone, and she was pissed at you once more.  “Can’t you find some loser sad enough to wanna go out with you so I can be normal?” she pouted.

“Sorry,” you shrugged, “guess you’ll miss out on some fabulously witty banter with Jason.”

“You suck!” she exclaimed as she stormed off.

“You suck!” you imitated her quietly before you went to your own room.

~

Mike’s patient, anxious waiting paid off when Elle sat down at the library table, setting down her books with a sigh.  

“Can we make this quick?” she asked, sounding a little exhausted already.  “Tammy Thompson and Tommy Hagan are having a horrendous, public break-up in the courtyard.  Again.”

“O-oh, yeah, okay,” Mike agreed, still a little stunned that he was sitting across from the object of his affection.  “I thought we’d start with pronunciation…”

“That’s the worst part,” Elle pouted, “I feel like I’m trying to cough up a loogie.”

“Well, then how about we start with cuisine?” he suggested, heart racing even though he’d practiced this a thousand times in the mirror at home.  “We could go to that French place on the square, maybe Saturday night?”

“You’re asking me out?” Elle realized, gentle shock lifting into a wide smile.  “That’s so cute!”

Mike’s eye twitched.

“What’s your name again?”

“Uh, it’s Mike,” he answered, “listen— I know your dad doesn’t let you date, but I thought if it was for French class—”

“Wait a minute, Mark,” she interrupted.

“Mike.”

“My dad just came up with a new rule!  He says I can date if my sister does,” she recalled.

“Really?” Mike perked up.  “Well, then let me ask you, do you like D&D?  ‘Cause we should totally do a oneshot together—”

“Uh, big problem, Mick,” Elle reminded him, “my sister is a perfect specimen of freakazoid.”

“Yeah, I noticed she’s… antisocial,” Mike offered sympathetically.  “Any idea why?”

“I don’t know,” Elle considered, glancing upward as she thought about it.  “She used to be, like, really popular, but it was like she got sick of it.  I’m pretty sure she’s just incapable of human interaction.  That or she has a brain tumor or something.  Either way, she’s a bitch.”

“Well, yeah,” Mike agreed half-heartedly, “but there’s plenty of guys who wouldn’t mind going out with a… difficult girl.  I mean, she’s not ugly; and people do crazier stuff all the time!  Jump out of airplanes, ski off cliffs, swim with sharks… it would be like extreme dating.”

Elle knitted her eyebrows together.  “You think you could find someone that extreme?”

“Why not?” Mike shrugged.

“And you’d do all that for me?” she pressed softly, reaching out to brush her hand over his arm.

Mike would do anything for her to touch his arm like that again.  “I-I mean, I could look into it…” he offered as his brain short-circuited.

And so he was determined. Which was why he and Lucas weren't actually paying any attention in science class that same day.

As they pretended to make progress on their frog dissection, Mike and his new friend were really scoping the room for local talent to potentially date Hawkins’ resident mega-bitch.  Their search so far had only turned up men like themselves: that being men afraid to get the Hargrove treatment and have their future generations compromised.  Turns out guys are generally pretty protective of their nuts.

“I told you it was impossible,” Lucas sighed, “no one will go out with her.”

Mike’s attention was taken by the partners two tables over— a massive, freckled kid with a leather jacket, and his buddy with a mess of rocker hair and a custom denim jacket; the latter was fooling around with butterfly knives, before using them to impale the frog carcass, because apparently the little pins provided just weren’t doing it for him.

“Hey, what about him?” Mike wondered, watching with a tilted head.    

“Woah, no, you don’t want to mess with that guy,” Lucas shook his head, “don’t even look at him.  He’s a criminal, he deals the harder stuff around school— you know, more than just pot.  I heard he lit a state trooper on fire.  He just did a year at Rikers.”

“Hey, well at least we know he’s horny,” Mike shrugged.

“I’m serious, he’s unhinged!” Lucas warned.  “He sold his own liver on the black market for a new set of speakers.”

Meanwhile, the metalhead had taken out a cigarette and was leaning down to light it on a Bunsen burner.  The display should’ve deterred anyone, but it made Mike smile optimistically.  “He’s our guy,” he insisted.

~

The basketball team was joking around at lunch as Chance shared an X-rated story from his date the night before, and Lucas took a deep breath as he waited for the perfect moment.

When all the guys laughed at something Chance had said, Lucas quickly slipped in and tried to blend in as he laughed along.

“Oh my— oh my god,” he got out breathlessly as he laughed, “wow, Chance, you’re hilarious.”

He wiped his eye, still laughing as the rest of the table’s reaction died down and they all glared at him.

“Are you lost?” Jason asked coldly.

Lucas sighed.  “No, I just… I thought maybe it was all water under the bridge by now.”

“It’s been less than forty-eight hours,” Andy noticed.

“Wow, nice counting, Andy— tomorrow we’ll work on shapes,” Lucas encouraged flatly.

Andy nearly jumped across the table, but Jason put a hand on his chest to hold him back.  

“Actually, truth is, I came here to… make a suggestion,” Lucas added, making Jason’s eyebrows raise.

“Go on…”

“You want Elle Hopper, right?  The sophomore?” Lucas continued.

“Yeah,” Jason shrugged, “she’s cute.”

“But she can’t date until her sister does,” Lucas went on.  “Your problem could be solved if you found someone to take her out.”

Jason laughed.  “Does anyone hate themselves that much?”

“Probably not, but people do like money…”

As Lucas bounced his eyebrows up and down, Jason seemed to put together what he was implying.  “You want me to pay someone off to date her?”

“I mean, I don’t want you to, but it’s an idea,” Lucas corrected.

“Do you know anyone that desperate for cash and unfazed by the prospect of emasculation?” Jason returned.

“Meet Eddie Munson,” Lucas beamed, motioning to the opposite end of the cafeteria where Eddie was ‘subtly’ trading a bag of pills for a twenty-dollar bill with another student.

“Munson?  The Freak?  I heard he ate a live duck once,” Jason grimaced.

“Everything but the beak and feet!  Clearly he’s a great investment,” Lucas beamed, but Jason remained suspicious.

“What’s in this for you?” he wondered.

“I think you know,” Lucas sighed, “I want back in— I know I’m still on the team, but I wanna be really on the team again.  I miss you guys!”

“You miss your chance to be popular,” Jason corrected.

“Also that!” Lucas agreed in a continued upbeat tone.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” Jason agreed cautiously.  “Now, back to the loser table with you.”

As Jason shooed him away, Lucas moved across the way to the table where Mike was watching it all go down disapprovingly.  “Why do we need to get him involved again?” he wondered with a shudder.

“Calm down, he’s just our money man,” Lucas soothed.  “We let him think this is all his idea, meanwhile he’s busy dealing with Eddie and you have time with Elle.”

Mike sighed, concerned, but knowing he was out of other options.  Still, in a battle for ‘the girl’, he didn’t feel equipped to face a popular, handsome senior.

But when Eddie looked at Jason, he didn’t see a popular, handsome senior; none of that mattered to him.  He just saw: douche with a quaff.  So, while he was out taking a smoke break on the stands by the soccer field, he was surprised to see that very quaffed douche approaching him.

“Hey,” Jason offered Eddie with a nod— that very nod that made girls want him and guys want to be him, but it was powerless on Eddie, who just glared back at him while exhaling a cloud of smoke.  “How are you?”

Eddie blinked forward, barely aware of the Tiger-pride-green blur beside him.

Jason stammered as he tried again to break the ice.  “I, uh, had some great duck last night—”

“Do I know you?” Eddie wondered.  “Shit, are you buyin’?”  He didn’t seem the type, but hey— as long as he had cash, he was Eddie’s type, customer-wise.

“Uh, no,” Jason shook his head nervously.  “Well, actually, yes— but—”

“I don’t sell roofies, Romeo,” Eddie warned him.

“I’m not buying drugs!” Jason barked, a little too loud for something that’s supposed to be secret.  “I’m buying a date.”

Eddie’s eyes widened.  “Listen, Carver, you’re a good-looking guy, but—”

“No no!” Jason rushed out, face turning pink.  “Not for me!  For her!”

Jason pointed down the field to where you were running drills, sweating and determined, grunting as you kicked the ball across the grass.  “The Hopper chick?” Eddie noticed.

“Yeah!”

Eddie laughed sharply, and so did his friend beside him.  “Yeah, sure thing, champ— I’ll get right on that,” Eddie agreed sarcastically.

“Look, until someone goes out with her, I can’t bag her sister,” Jason explained with a sigh.

“What a shame,” Eddie stuck out his bottom lip, “how many years of therapy will you need to cope with this trauma?”

“I know you don’t care about me,” Jason crossed his arms, “but I’m thinking you care a bit about Andrew Jackson?”

“That racist son of a bitch?  He was a piece of—” Eddie began, but then Jason pulled the twenty out of his pocket and brandished it proudly, making Munson shut his mouth.

“Whaddaya say?” Jason prompted.  “For a crisp twenty, you could take out the lovely Miss Hopper—”

As they glanced down the field, the guys winced at the sight of you roughly body-checking another player, who fell to the ground with a cry.

“For a crisp thirty—” Jason began again, summoning a ten from his pocket.

“Well, now, let’s think about this,” Eddie pondered aloud.  “You’re paying me to take her out, but I’ve gotta actually take her somewhere: we’ll say the movies.  That’s fifteen bucks for two tickets.  We get popcorn, that’s… fifty.”

Jason scoffed.  He knew there was more than a little inflation going on in those numbers, but he also knew that the freak had him under his thumb in these negotiations.

“She’s gonna want Junior Mints, what do you know, we’re looking at seventy-five already,” Eddie smirked.

“What kind of gold-plated Junior Mints are you buying?” Jason rolled his eyes.

“What kind of girl is this chick’s little sister?” Eddie countered.  “Is she really worth it, or are you just blowing hot air?”

Jason was powerless to even such an obvious trap— he could never say no to a dare.  Eddie was really saying, are you chicken?  And Jason could probably be talked into fighting a bear while only armed with a butter knife if it was all to prove he was not, in fact, chicken.  “Fifty,” Jason spat, “final offer.”

A bill was produced from Carver’s designer wallet, and Eddie’s ring-covered fingers snatched it away and stuffed it into his pocket.  “Pleasure doing business with you,” Eddie offered with a sarcastically-saccharine smile, but Jason only rolled his eyes and wandered off.

Just then, Coach Hastings blew the whistle.  “Good hustle, girls, good hustle!” he offered to the team.  “Take a water break!”

Seeing the group of players disperse, Eddie waited until you were on your way to the cooler to snuff his cigarette and jog up beside you.  You shot him a look before he even said anything.  “Hey there, girlie,” Eddie greeted you, “how ya doin’?”

“Uh, sweating like a pig,” you answered, wiping your face on your uniform, “and yourself?”

“You sure know how to get a guy’s attention, huh?” he laughed nervously.

You seemed amused, but in more of an at way than a with way.  "My mission in life," you quipped.  "But, hey, clearly I captured your attention.  Lucky me."

He grinned as he watched you chug your water.  "So I'll pick you up Friday then?"

You choked, laughing as you nearly spit the water right onto him.  "Yeah," you agreed sarcastically as you wiped your chin, "sure, Friday."

"I'll take you places you've never been before," he promised lasciviously.

"Like where, the crackhouse on Miller Street?" you rolled your eyes.  "Do you even know my name, screwboy?"

"I know more than you think," he challenged.

"Well, for that to be true," you returned, "you'd have to know more than the average eighth-grade dropout."

You turned to leave, walking away with a shake of your head.  "Well that's easy!" he laughed as he called after you.  "I did eighth grade twice!"

From across the field, Mike and Lucas watched you ditch Eddie with cringes on their face.

"We're screwed," Mike sighed.

"Now wait a minute, where'd all your optimism go?  I wanna hear you upbeat!" Lucas beamed.

"We're screwed!" Mike repeated, a forced, cheesy smile glued to his face between two thumbs-up.

"That's better," Lucas approved, patting Mike on the back.

~

As you exited the local records store, empty handed due to the continued lack of good punk records available, you sighed at the sight of Eddie Munson leaning against your hood.

"Nice ride," he noticed.  "Vintage fenders?"

"Are you stalking me?" you asked instead, brushing past him to try to unlock your door, but he slid in front of you with crossed arms.

"I was in the laundromat," he assured, tilting his head to the washateria across the street, "I saw your car, that's all."

"Funny, you don't strike me as someone who washes their clothes," you mocked.

"Well, if you must know, I was there to make a sale," Eddie admitted.

"And what are you here for, blocking my door?" you wondered.

"To say hi!"

"Hi."

You tried to reach around him again to get the key in the lock but he put his hand over it.  "Not much of a talker, are you?"

"Not much of a listener, are you?  I'm not interested."

"Are you scared of me?" he asked— not a threat, not hopeful or disappointed, just a genuine question.

"Why would I be?"

"I dunno, most people are."

"Well, I'm not."

"Okay, you're not scared of me— but I bet you've thought about me naked," he purred, leaning in a little closer.

"Am I that transparent?" you gasped, faux worry dropping into deadpan disdain.  "I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby."

Just when he let you get into your car, finally, Jason Carver and his dick-compensation-mobile pulled up and screeched to a halt right behind you, blocking you in.

"The fuck?!  Is there some kind of creep convention going on at the record store?" you groaned, laying on your horn.  "Carver!" you barked as he hopped out and strolled by you.  "Move your gaudy-ass car!"

"No, thanks," he smiled at you as he walked along towards the storefront.

You felt helpless, until you got a dangerous idea— and fed up as you were, you couldn't resist it.  Flooring it in reverse, those vintage fenders of yours piercing right through the cherry-red paint and imported metal underneath.

Jason sure whipped his head around fast and gaped his mouth at the damage.  "You bitch!" he screeched.

Hearing Eddie's belly laugh, you looked at Jason and offered him only a flippant shrug and a "whoops!"

"WHOOPS?!" your dad repeated, pacing around the kitchen as you sat at the table.  "My insurance doesn't cover teen angst!"

You shrugged again.  "Then tell them it was a seizure or something."

"Are you punishing me?" he wondered.  "Because I don't want you to go to Sarah Lawrence?"

"Are you punishing me for standing up for myself?" you countered.

“No, but I’d prefer you didn’t do it in such an expensive way!”

You scoffed.  “I’d prefer that you stopped making my decisions for me.”

“Well—” he began, but he was cut off by his police radio sounding off.  

“Chief Hopper, come in— Chief Hopper, this is dispatch, we have a 10-54…” the nasal feminine voice came through.

You both sighed and he picked up the radio.  “Chief here, I’ll head there now.”  He turned to you with a pointed finger.  “We’ll discuss this later,” he promised, or threatened, depends on how you look at it.  As he left, Elle stormed in, fuming at you.

“Did you just maim Jason’s car?!” she yelped.

"Allegedly," you grinned.  "Looks like little miss princess is gonna have to ride the bus with the unwashed masses.”

~

As Eddie shut his locker, he was startled by Jason glowering on the other side.  “Shit,” Eddie blurted out.

“When I shell out fifty, I expect results,” Jason frowned.

“I’m working on it,” Eddie insisted, brushing Jason off as he grabbed his books and shut his locker.

“Standing by while she violated my car doesn’t count as a date,” Jason reminded him.  “I don’t get any if you don’t, so you better figure out how to charm this chick or—”

“I just upped my price,” Eddie decided suddenly.

Jason had just turned to walk away, but that made him look at Eddie again.  “Excuse me?”

“A hundred bucks a date, in advance,” Eddie announced.

“Forget it,” Jason dismissed.

“Then forget her sister,” Eddie shrugged.

Jason hesitated, wondering if Elle was really worth all the trouble.  Maybe she wasn’t, to him— but the street cred he’d get if he deflowered her was.  He groaned as he reached for his wallet, and Eddie grinned proudly.  “You’d better be as smooth as you think you are, Munson,” Jason warned as Eddie snatched up the bill.

The interaction still had Eddie in a particularly bad mood during shop class, making Mike even more hesitant to approach him;

“Wh-why can’t you talk to him?” he asked Lucas.

“I talked to Jason,” Lucas replied.

“Yeah, but you know Jason,” Mike reminded him, “and Jason isn’t… unstable.”

“Just go, chicken,” Lucas rolled his eyes, shoving Mike forward— and he stumbled, but made his way over to Eddie’s workstation.  

When he got a glare from under a curly fringe, Mike just blurted it out: “We know what you’re trying to do… with Hopper?”

“Yeah?  And what are you gonna do about it?” Eddie challenged.

“Uh— help you!  We wanna help you,” Mike explained quickly.

Eddie wrinkled his eyebrows together, standing up straighter and crossing his arms.  “Why, exactly?”

Lucas appeared behind Mike, resting his hands on his shoulders.  “You see, my friend here is… mildly obsessed with her sister, Elle.”

“What’s the deal with this girl, her tits shoot fireworks or something?” Eddie scoffed, and Mike nearly jumped on him for saying that— as if that fight wouldn’t be pitifully uneven.

“Mike’s love for her is… a little purer than that,” Lucas promised, “especially purer than Jason Carver’s.”

“Look,” Eddie leveled with the two of them, “I’m in this for the cash.  Carver can plow whoever he wants.”

“Okay, there will be no plowing!” Mike exclaimed, voice cracking.

“Listen, Eddie— uh, Ed,” Lucas smiled, “this whole thing— we set it all up!  We told Jason to pay you off, so Mike can get the girl.  Mr. Popular is just a pawn.”

Eddie seemed to like that; maybe even someone as detached from the popularity hierarchy could still enjoy a little humiliation for the star point guard.  “So, are you gonna help me tame the beast, then?” 

“Are you talking about Hopper, or your hair?” Lucas joked, though he dropped his smile when Eddie glared at him.  “O-okay, yeah, we’re gonna do some research, we can find out what she likes and stuff.  We’re your guys.”

“In a strictly non-prison-movie way,” Mike added anxiously.

~

Mike and Elle were walking around the old bridge— she promised to show him the prettiest place in Hawkins, he thought about turning it into a line but he resisted the urge, and he delicately broke the pleasant silence.  “So, have you heard about the party Steve Harrington is throwing at his parents’ lake house?”

“Yes,” Elle pouted, “and I really really wanna go, but I can’t.  Not unless my sister goes.”

“I’m working on that,” Mike promised, “but she’s not going for my guy.”  He paused before he continued, narrowing his eyes.  “She’s not a, uh…”

"A friend of Billie Jean?” Elle finished.

“No, I’m not asking if she’s a Michael Jackson fan,” Mike corrected, “I meant—”

“I know what you meant!” Elle rolled her eyes.  “Billie Jean King?  Tennis player, women’s rights advocate, giant flaming lesbian?”

“O-oh,” Mike stuttered, “I don’t really watch tennis…”

“Or the news, apparently,” Elle sighed.  “The point is, no, I don't think so.  I found a picture of Rob Lowe in her drawer once so she's at least got some interest in men.  Jury's still out on her bestie Robin Buckley, though…"

"But that's the kind of guys she likes?  Pretty guys?"

Elle shrugged.  "All I know is she said she'd never date a smoker."

“Okay, no smoking,” Mike nodded, “what else?”

“Listen, I try not to get too deep into my sister’s twisted psyche,” Elle sighed.

“But we need to know more!” Mike insisted.  “We need to go behind enemy lines…”

Even though it was his idea, Mike felt a little out of his depth watching Elle go through your room; it looked sort of how he imagined it might, except for missing a giant cork board with pins and red yarn outlining your plan to cause men as much suffering as possible.

“Okay, here we go!” Elle announced excitedly as she rifled through a drawer.  “Class schedule, reading list, concert tickets… ha!  Black panties!”

Mike cleared his throat as she held up the offending pair of lacy underthings.  “What does that tell us?”

“That she wants to have sex some day.”

“Couldn’t she just like the color?” Mike wondered, flustered.

“You don’t buy lingerie unless you want someone to see it,” Elle insisted.

“Oh,” Mike nodded, perking up slightly.  “So… can I see your room?”

Elle blinked quickly, getting a bit tender all of a sudden.  “No… a girl’s room is very personal…” she explained shyly.

“Right,” Mike agreed nervously.

~

Two sophomores didn’t exactly blend in at The Hideout— it was a dingy old hole-in-the-wall, with grimey old bikers getting drunk in every corner… and Eddie, shooting pool by himself in the back.  He straightened up when they approached him, nursing his beer with a raised eyebrow.

“We have information for you,” Mike explained.

“Don’t say it like that, it sounds weird,” Eddie frowned, “she’s just a girl, not a… spy or something.”

“Right,” Lucas agreed as Eddie took another sip from the brown bottle.

Mike narrowed his eyes.  “Should you be drinking alcohol when you don’t have a liver?”

“What?!” Eddie scrunched up his nose.

“Nothing,” Lucas shook his head.

“The first thing is she hates smokers,” Mike explained.

Eddie groaned.  “I’m gonna have to quit?  Fuck, this is getting more unpleasant by the minute—”

“Just for now!” Lucas bargained.  

"And there’s another problem: Elle said that her sister likes, uh, pretty guys,” Mike added.

There was a tense pause, until Eddie’s eyes widened.  “Are you saying I’m not a pretty guy?”

“H-he’s very pretty!” Lucas smacked Mike on the back.  “He’s gorgeous, look at him!”

“S-sorry, I wasn’t sure,” Mike mumbled awkwardly.

Eddie brushed off the insult quickly, taking a big puff off of his cigarette— maybe he appreciated it more, knowing he’d have to cut back for a while after this.  Meanwhile, Mike pulled out a folded up piece of heart-shaped mini-notebook paper (borrowed stationary from Elle, obviously) and read the list aloud.

“Okay, ‘likes: Thai food, feminist prose, and—’” he cleared his throat before he continued— “‘angry girl music of the indie-rock persuasion.’  Here’s a list of CDs that she has in her room.”

Eddie looked at the list in disdain.  “So I’m supposed to, what, take her out for noodles and spoken word and sit around listening to chicks who can’t play their instruments?”

“Have you ever been to Club Nina?” Lucas wondered.

“Her favorite band is playing there tomorrow night,” Mike explained, and Eddie sighed as he pressed his lips together.

“I can’t be seen at Club Nina,” Eddie shook his head.  “First of all, that’s rival turf, second of all—”

“She’ll be there, she’s already got tickets for her and Robin,” Lucas pressed.  “Just… tolerate it, for a night.  And maybe don’t deal any drugs there.”

“Can I at least do some drugs there?” Eddie frowned.

“As long as you’re not too out of sorts to do some major seducing,” Mike offered.  “She has a pair of black underwear!  If that helps.”

“I mean, it couldn’t hurt, right?” Lucas elbowed Eddie playfully, who jerked away.

As stupid as it was, Eddie found himself still wondering about your alleged black panties as he walked into the club to look for you the next night. He found you horribly frustrating, sure, and the feeling was mutual, but picturing you in something like that was... not too terrible.

Eddie noticed the looks he was getting from the girls at Club Nina, and they weren’t exactly approving; a man invading their space was bad enough, but a metalhead in the land of the soft-rockers was turning heads.

He ignored it for the most part and sat down at the bar, ordering something light enough that he could keep his wits about him, but hard enough that he could tolerate this whole situation.  Believe it or not, he didn’t actually like getting repeatedly insulted and degraded by you— it wasn’t even the sexy kind of degrading, just your incessant hatefulness chipping away at his dignity.  But damn, he could feel the added weight of Carver’s money in his wallet, and he liked that.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for you to show up at the bar, ordering two waters like the lightweight you were.  He pretended not to see you, but you didn’t offer the same courtesy, making a groan of disgust at him.  “If you’re planning on asking me out again, just get it over with,” you pleaded distastefully.

He looked at you with an irritated frown, pointing at the band behind him.  “Keep it down, maybe?  I’m trying to listen.”

That seemed to throw you off, and he enjoyed your moment of bewilderment.  “Did you leave your cancer sticks behind?” you asked.

“Yeah, permanently,” he nodded.  “Turns out they’re bad for you.”

He shrugged, and you dropped the sarcasm for a split-second.  “You did?” you pressed, surprised.

“You know,” he changed the subject instead, “these guys are no Adolescents or Souixsie and the Banshees, but they’re alright.”

“You know Souixsie and the Banshees?” you repeated, flabbergasted.

“Why, don’t you?” he joked.  He got down another sip of watered-down liquor, before turning to face you directly.  “You know, I was watching you before,” he admitted, yelling to be heard over the crescendo of the song, “I’ve never seen you look so sexy!”

Of course, that was right about when the song ended, and Eddie looked around the club as he realized the entire swarm of alt chicks had heard him.  As they laughed at the scene, he smiled awkwardly and watched you get visibly embarrassed— good to know you had emotions other than rage, contempt, and boredom.

“Why don’t you come to Steve Harrington’s party with me?” he challenged, and the moment faded as the next song began.

“You never give up, do you?” you frowned, starting to walk away and back into the dancing crowd.

“Was that a yes?” he wondered.

“No!” you shouted back to him.

“Was it a no?” he added.

“No!” you said again, and he smiled.

“I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty, then!” he called to you, but you were lost to him again— for now.

~

Elle and Max, dolled up in their finest party gear, crept carefully across the foyer towards the front door.  Elle knew all the creaky floorboards to avoid, yet even in their silence they seemed to trigger Chief Hopper’s sixth sense.  “You should have used the window,” he announced as they deflated.

“H-hi Daddy,” she greeted as if all were normal.

“Hi,” he returned as he looked at them.  “Where are we going?”

“Um, just a small study group of friends,” Elle insisted, and Max nodded along.

“Otherwise known as an orgy?!” Dad barked.

“Mr. Hopper— Chief, sir— it’s just a party,” Max soothed.

“And Hell is just a sauna!” he returned.

As you came walking down the stairs into the middle of the argument, oblivious, your dad snagged your attention.  

“Are you aware of this party?” he asked.  You simply shrugged, on a mission for snacks.  

“People expect me to be there!” Elle complained.  “I have friends waiting for me!  Daaaddddyyy!!”

“If your sister’s not going, you’re not going,” he stood fast.

Of course, that turned her ire towards you.  “Why can’t you be normal?” she whined.

“Define ‘normal’,” you challenged as you crossed your arms.

“Going to Steve’s party is normal!”

You scoffed.  “Steve’s party is just a lame excuse for all the youthful morons of Hawkins High to drink beer and rub up against each other in hopes of distracting themselves the pathetic emptiness of their—”

Elle and Max interrupted to finish your rant: “meaningless, consumer-driven lives,” they groaned in unison.

You hadn’t realized you were so predictable, and your shock gave Elle an opportunity to make one more plea.

“Can you just, for one night, forget about your crusade against all things enjoyable and just be my sister?  please?  C’mon,” she begged, stepping up closer, “please, do this for me.”

It was more sincere than you were used to from her, and it reminded you of simpler times, of when she thought you were the coolest big sister ever and she was your favorite person— before she was spoiled by the world and you were soured by it.  Those memories were what convinced you to somberly nod.  “I’ll make an appearance,” you agreed, and she squealed as she hugged you joyfully.

“Oh god, it’s starting,” your dad mumbled to himself in a daze.

“It’s just a party,” Elle promised him, but he stiffened up suddenly.

“I want you to wear the belly,” he announced.

Elle whimpered out her “Daddy, no!” but it was too late, he’d already gone to fetch it from the closet, and you watched with schadenfreude as he pulled out the padded faux-pregnancy jacket.  

“Not all night,” he promised, “just around the living room for a minute while you contemplate the weight of your decisions.”

She held her arms out in defeat as he slipped it on over her dress, smiling proudly at his work.

“Every time you even think about kissing a boy,” Dad lectured, “just imagine wearing this all the time.”

“You’re such a space cadet,” she sighed.

“Okay, we’re going now,” you announced as you headed for the door, but he stopped you.

“Wait a minute: no drinking, no drugs, no kissing, no tattoos, no piercings, no getting in vans, no— no ritual animal slaughter!” he enumerated.  “Oh god, I’m giving them ideas…”

You startled when you opened the door and saw Eddie standing there, fist raised as he was about to knock.  “What are you doing here?” you asked him flatly.

“Nine-thirty, right?” he smiled, “I’m early.”

“Whatever, I’m driving,” you insisted.

He leaned to the side to look over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow.  “Who knocked up your sister?”

~

Lucas held on tight to his drink in a plastic cup as he attempted to keep Max Mayfield’s attention for at least a few minutes at a time.

“You know, I’m on the basketball team,” he reminded her with a grin.

“Right,” she mumbled, unimpressed, but he was a little too tipsy to notice that his lines weren’t working.

“Do you, uh, play any sports?” he asked.

“I skate, if that counts,” she shrugged.

“Oh, rollerblading is cool!” Lucas beamed, but Max rolled her eyes and walked away at his incorrect guess of what kind of skating she meant.  “Ever been to Rink-O-Mania?” he called after her, sighing when he realized he’d officially struck out.

You brushed past him, knocking into his shoulder as he pouted.  Eddie was still following you, for some reason, dodging dancing girls and kissing couples along the way.

Jason clicked his tongue at you as you passed by.  “Lookin’ fresh,” he cooed, in that way that was mostly mocking yet probably a real come-on if you went for it: Schrödinger’s pick-up line, if you will.

“Oh my god, did you feel that?” you looked around at the air.  “My pussy just dried up so fast it actually dropped the humidity in here!”

Jason seemed a little too interested in an update on your genitals, but you were already walking away, trying to lose him and Eddie now.  “Hey, is your sister here?” he asked you loudly.

“Stay away from my sister,” you warned.

“I will,” he promised, “but, you know, I can’t guarantee that she’ll stay away from me…”

You shook your head as you shoved your way into another room of the Harrington’s massive lodge, accidentally stumbling upon two jocks wrestling and throwing punches on the floor.  A crowd had gathered around the scene to cheer them on, and you sneered in disgust at the uncivil display.

“Hey, hey!” Steve himself appeared, trying to break it up.  “Take it outside!”

One jock pulled the other up by his shirt, and the two of them went tumbling back— right through the window.  They didn’t even stop swinging as they fell onto the grass, and Steve’s face went blank with numb shock.

“Th-thanks,” he mumbled to himself, and you gave him a pat on the shoulder as you passed by.

“At least we’re on the ground floor,” you offered him quickly, but a tap on your shoulder pulled your attention away.  

“Hey,” Jason smirked as he let you get a good look at him with his arm around your sister’s shoulders, “look who found me.”

You weren’t even angry— which was a nice break, really— you were just worried now.  “Elle, wait,” you called to her as they walked away.          

“Please don’t address me in public,” Elle requested with a roll of her eyes.

“I just wanna tell you something!” you pleaded.

“I’m being a normal teenager for a night— you should try it,” she suggested, and the two of them disappeared into the crowd again.

Just in time for your impending breakdown, some guy walked by holding a tray of shots.  “Shots, anyone?  Ladies?”

You grabbed one with each hand and tossed them back in rapid succession.  You reached for a third when Eddie reappeared, snagging it out of your hand.  “What are you doing?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m getting trashed, dude,” you offered in a fake party-boy voice.  “Isn’t that the point of all this?”

Eddie shrugged.  “Think the point is to just… be yourself.”

You snorted.  “You might be the only person who thinks I should be myself.”

At the same time that you were ditching Eddie again, Mike was finding Lucas.  “Have you seen her around anywhere?” he asked as he scanned the crowd.  For all his excitement to find her, he seemed to get overwhelmed when he saw Elle coming down the stairs with Max.

“Come on, man, relax,” Lucas assured as he patted his shoulders.  Mike took a deep breath.  “Just be yourself.”

Nodding, Mike summoned his courage and approached the girls.  “H-hey, Elle,” he greeted politely.

“Hey,” Elle returned, “Mike, um— do you know Max?”

Elle grabbed the redhead and shoved her towards Mike so she could try to break away.

“Oh, yeah,” Mike nodded, “we have Math together, right?”

Max hummed as she crossed her arms; “Great,” she offered unenthusiastically.

“You, uh, look really amazing tonight,” Mike offered Elle, and Max cringed as he failed to take the hint.

“Oh— um,” Elle stalled, and Jason descended the stairs to slip his arm around her.

“And we all know I look amazing,” he interjected, making the girls giggle and Mike roll his eyes.  “C’mon, Elle, let’s go— there are jell-o shots in the kitchen.”

He was already turning her around to guide her away, forcing her to look over her shoulder to wave at Mike: “See you around, okay?” 

Mike watched helplessly as Jason took his dream girl from right in front of him— the blonde even offered him a thumbs up on his way out, to add insult to injury.

Eddie found you again in the study, starting to work on another drink.  “Hey hey hey,” he interrupted as he gently lifted it away from you, watching you whine and make grabby hands for it.  “Why don’t you let me have this one, hm?”

“No!” you pouted, jumping for it, but he held it up higher— it forced you to push yourself up against him to try to get it, and he forced himself not to notice how it felt to be close to you.

Someone walked by with their own drink, just about to have a sip when you snatched it away instead, running off before Eddie could set down the cup and catch up.  “Shit,” he hissed to himself.

As he tried to navigate past other partygoers to get to the kitchen, he heard the blasting stereo change songs to something not actually awful (in his opinion): Def Leppard.  Unfortunately, you seemed to like Pour Some Sugar On Me, too— considering you hopped up on a table and started dancing there instead.

“How’d you get her to be normal?” Jason laughed as he appeared beside Eddie— and he couldn’t decide if he was more disgusted by Carver’s glee watching you, or Carver’s chumminess with him.

“Hey!” Eddie called to you, getting through the crowd of cheering guys as quickly as he could, but you couldn’t hear him through the overwhelming sound and the haze of drunkenness.  He watched you dance, a mix of concern, embarrassment, and arousal stirring in him as your moves became more and more suggestive.  “HEY!” 

When he shouted the second time, it didn’t quite get you to look at him but it did startle you, making you whack your head on the chandelier— which in turn made you stumble and fall.  When you came down dramatically, he held out his arms and managed to catch you, looking at your startled, panting face.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, but you looked angry at him again.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, trying to wiggle out of his embrace, but failing.

“You’re not fine,” he groaned, “c’mon…”

He didn’t exactly carry you, mostly because you wouldn’t let him, but he didn’t let you walk on your own when he saw how wobbly your legs were.

The sounds of the party faded into the distance as you walked in the grass, up to the shore of Lover’s Lake where the Harrington’s had some rustic old swings hanging from under a massive tree by the water.

“I-I just need to lie down somewhere,” you insisted, stumbling again as Eddie had to grab at your waist to keep you upright.

“No, you can’t lie down right now,” he sighed.  “If you lie down you’ll go to sleep.”

You pouted as he set you down on a swing.  “I like sleep,” you protested.

“Can’t sleep if you might have a concussion,” he explained, watching you slump against the rope beside you.

He was about to fuss over you a little more, try to keep you awake somehow, but he saw Mike storming down across the grass.  

“Hey,” Mike greeted as Eddie stepped past you slightly to meet him.  “We need to talk.”

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Eddie informed him, gesturing towards you.

“Well— it’s over, okay?  All of this— the deal’s off,” Mike frowned.

“Huh?”

“She never wanted me,” he realized with a sigh.  “She wanted Jason the whole time.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.  “Listen— do you really like this girl?”

“Yeah!” Mike assured.

“And she’s worth going through all this trouble?” he pressed, stepping forward towards the new kid.

“I— I think so.”

“Either she is or she isn’t,” Eddie frowned, “and considering we made it this far, she must be— so you need to keep fighting for her!  You’re twice the man that Jason is, if she’s got two brain cells to rub together she’ll figure out she’s better off with you.  Capice?”

Mike puffed up his chest a bit.  “O-okay!” he decided.  “I’m gonna go for it!”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” Eddie cheered, slapping Mike on the shoulder before he ran off back to the party.

Eddie was smiling as he turned to you, only to lose his grin and rush over as you started to fall forward out of the swing.

“Woah woah!” he yelped as he knelt down in front of you and held your face with both hands.  “Gotta stay awake, remember, sweetheart?”

You stuck your bottom lip out.  “You’re so patronizing.”

He smirked.  “Leave it to you to use your vocabulary words when you’re totally shitfaced.”

When you fluttered your eyes shut, he lightly smacked your cheek, the rings hitting a little extra hard on your jaw as you groaned.  “What are you hitting me for?”

“Because you might have a concussion,” he reminded you.  

“And you want to add to it?” you assumed, awake enough for him to let go of your face, which he did.

“If you go to sleep now, you might not wake up.”

“You don’t care if I never wake up,” you dismissed.

He smiled at you, a little too amused by such a morbid sentiment.  “Sure I do!”

“Why?” 

He almost let his smile falter.  “If you died, I might have to go out with a girl who actually likes me,” he answered.

“If you could find one,” you snorted, eyes still shut but face curling into a proud grin at your own joke.

“See?  Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?” he teased.

You sniffled and sat up a little straighter, so Eddie stepped back and sat down on the swing beside you.

“So, why’d you let him get to you?” he wondered, looking out across the lake sparkling under the glow of a half-moon.

“Who?”

“Jason.  You’re normally so unaffected.”

“He always drives me crazy,” you admitted, “but messing with my sister is crossing the line.”

“Well, you’ve chosen some creative revenge,” he laughed, “by drinking through the Harrington’s liquor cabinet.”

You laughed along with him, a rare moment where you two overlapped— and not even in a negative emotion!  “You know what they say,” you replied.

“What’s that?” he wondered.  But you didn’t continue.  He looked to the side and saw you falling down again.

“Shit,” he spat, leaning forward and catching you at your shoulders, tilting your face up to his.  “Wake up!  C’mon, look at me, sweetheart, listen to me— open your eyes…”

He was a little overwhelmed by the way you did exactly as he’d asked, fluttering your eyes open at him, something entirely new in them that he’d never seen on you before— or maybe anyone, at least this up close.  “Hey,” you smiled softly.  “Did you know your eyes are a little bit hazel?”

He smiled back at you, examining your face, wondering for a split second if he should go for it.

But before he could, you keeled over and wretched— right on his white Reeboks.  “Shit,” he said again.

~

Elle was waiting out in the cool night air, her thin cardigan not doing much for her as she watched Jason drive off with a slew of girls in tow; he’d tried to get her to go to another party, but along with her curfew coming up, it turned out that he was sort of a dud.  For all his alleged charisma as one of the most popular guys in school, he didn’t know how to talk about anything but basketball, plus his ‘boys’ and their misadventures— usually drunken ones.  She tried to cut him some slack since he was likely a little tipsy, but she still couldn’t justify the way he talked about his ex-girlfriend.  It was just tacky!

As she waited for you to hopefully reappear soon and drive her home, Mike brushed by.  “Have fun tonight?” he asked, somewhat sharply.

“Tons,” Elle sighed, expecting him to stop and getting a little more shy when he didn’t. “Hey, um, Mike?” 

He stopped and turned, and she gave him a pitiful look.

“Any chance you could give me a ride home?”

Eddie hadn’t driven a car as small as yours in a while— and it wasn’t even small, it just felt that way compared to his van.

You reached forward and turned up the stereo, a Patti Smith song getting louder as you did.  “I should do this,” you announced.

“What?” he wondered.

“This!” you said again, pointing to the radio.  “Make music, start a band!  Aren’t you in a band?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you knew that,” he admitted.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do, too,” you decided with firm defiance.  “My father would love that.”

“I didn’t think you were the type to worry about what your father thought,” Eddie noticed.

“Oh, so now you’ve got me all figured out?” you scoffed.

He shrugged.  “I’m getting there.”

You deflated slightly as you looked out the window.  “Nobody knows anything about me,” you admitted, “except that I’m ‘scary’ or whatever.”

He smirked slightly at your air quotes.  “I’m not known to be particularly enjoyable either.”

When you looked at him, he felt a little penetrated by your stare, so he looked back at the road ahead.

“Look at us, having a little talk about real stuff,” he blurted out, trying to break the tension.  “I mean, you’re usually so closed off and now I think you might spill your guts or something.  Oh, right— you already did…”

And you stiffened up again.  Right on cue.

Whereas your conversation with Eddie died a few minutes before you pulled up to your house, Elle and Mike’s only began when he put the car in park.  “You never wanted to hang out with me, did you?” he realized, irritation tinting his voice.

“I— I did!” Elle lied, trying to be nice.  But she was always trying to be nice, and that wasn’t enough; Mike scoffed in frustrated disbelief.

“You didn’t!”

Elle deflated.  “Yeah… okay.  Not really.”

“Well, then that’s all you had to say!  You could’ve just said you weren’t interested and none of this would’ve happened— but then you wouldn’t have gotten your night with Jason.  That’s what this was all about, wasn’t it?”

“But I—” she began, cut off by Mike’s rant.

“You know, you can’t just treat people however you want because you’re beautiful.  Lucas told me you were vapid, and I defended you!  I— I learned French for you!  And then you just—”

She cut him off with a kiss— a sweet kiss, not too short, but exactly the sort of kiss two sophomores should share in a car after a party.  When she pulled away, she smiled a little, and Mike blinked at her a couple times.

“Goodnight,” she offered softly, getting out of the car and walking up the steps to her front door.

Mike turned to face forward again, dumbfounded expression morphing slowly into a grin.  “And I’m back in the game!” he beamed, pumping his fist triumphantly.

~

As you walked into class, you tried to avoid the eyes on you— but you couldn’t, just like you couldn’t avoid throbbing in your head.

“Nice moves last night, señorita,” one of the stoners in class nodded approvingly as you came in.

“That was radical, dude,” a surfer boy offered with a ‘hang tight’ hand symbol.

And then there was Jason.  “What do you owe you for the table dance, babe?” he taunted.

Shuddering, you sat down as Ms. O’Donnell began.  “Settle down, please,” she begged the class.  “Whatever happened outside of school hours is not to be discussed now.  Wouldn’t you rather hear about your midterm assignment?”

The class groaned in unison.

“You’ll be writing a sonnet,” she explained, “in the style of William Shakespeare.”

When you raised your hand, you saw the look on her face, and you knew what she was expecting.  And you didn’t blame her.  You spoke when she pointed towards you.  “Should it be in iambic pentameter?”

She seemed suspicious of such a simple question.  “Um, no, it doesn’t have to be,” she replied.  “Why?”

“I just wanted to know…” you mumbled sheepishly.  “Is that so wrong?”

“Um, no,” she decided.  “That’s a good question, Miss Hopper… and it doesn’t.  Thank you for asking.”

She wasn’t the only one shocked by your sudden interest in her teaching, and you noticed the way the entire class was looking at you.  “What?” you scoffed, and you shook the moment off as Ms. O’Donnell began lecturing again.

~

Mike and Eddie sat beside each other as they watched your soccer practice from a safe distance.  “What’d you do to her?” Mike wondered.

“What?  I didn’t do anything— did you see how drunk she was?” Eddie shook his head.  “What made you think something happened, anyways?”

“The fact that the plan was working,” Mike answered.

“Why do you care?  I thought it was over.”

“It was,” Mike agreed, smiling, “until she kissed me.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Eddie congratulated, “I told you to go for it.”

Lucas, meanwhile, was running the track— and he stopped when he passed the two other boys.  “Alright, I talked to her,” he informed them, “I got the scoop.”

“What’d she say?” Mike wondered excitedly.

“Hates him with the fire of a thousand suns,” he announced with a sarcastic smile.  “That’s a direct quote.”

Eddie sighed, looking a little defeated.

“H-hey,” Mike tried to comfort him, “maybe she just needs a day to cool off?”

But the three of them had to lean away to dodge a soccer ball that came flying over, narrowly avoiding nailing Eddie in the head.  When they looked up together at the source, they caught your glare coming their way.

“...or two,” Eddie added.

~

You groaned as you sat with Robin on the bench, watching the prom committee hang up posters all over the courtyard for the wretched event.

“Can you imagine going to that brainless display of teenage vapidity?” you rolled your eyes.  

“Uh, I can,” Robin admitted, “if I had a date.”

“I thought things were going okay with Vickie,” you frowned at her.  

“Well, yeah, they’re okay, but it’s not like that, yet,” she explained.  

“You’re sparing yourself by not going,” you insisted, “the whole thing is a patriarchal sham anyways.”

“Even if you go with a girl?”

“Yes,” you groaned, “because you’re still supporting the institution.  It’s basically a mating ritual you have to dress up for!”

“Alright, we won’t go,” she promised.  “I didn’t have anything to wear, even if I knew how to ask Vickie…”

“You’re looking at this all backwards,” you sighed, “we’re not missing out— we’re making a statement!”

“Oh, great,” Robin beamed sarcastically, “something new and different for us!”

Across the courtyard, Elle was busy reviewing her Science homework at a table when Jason popped in beside her.  “Hey there, cutie,” he cooed.

“Hey…” she mumbled, focusing still on her textbook, in fact she hadn’t even looked up at him.

“Studying hard, huh?” he noticed, trying to prompt her again.         

“Can I help you?” she wondered flatly.

“Well, it would help me a lot if you say yes when I ask you to prom,” he quipped.

Elle only sighed, turning the page in her book.  “You know the deal, Jay— I can’t go if my sister doesn’t go.”

“Good thing she will.”

That got Elle to tear her eyes away from cell biology so she could look at the senior beside her.  “Since when?!” she gasped.

“Let’s just say,” Jason purred, scooting closer to her, “I’m taking care of it.”

~

Eddie chewed on the inside of his cheek as Jason rambled about the money he’d just handed him.  “That’ll cover flowers, limo, tux, the whole enchilada.  I don’t care what you do, just make sure she gets to the prom.”

Eddie suddenly handed the money back.  “You know what?  I’m sick of being a pawn in your little game, okay?”

Jason scoffed at the money.  “Then make it two hundred,” he decided, summing another bill to add onto the small pile in Eddie’s palm.

Hesitating, and then sneering, Eddie stuffed it into his pocket.  The money felt like it would burn a hole through the denim if he left it there too long— he went to the music store first, wondering if he should spent it; wondering if he should try to talk to you instead of just watching you play around on a bass you’d borrowed from the wall of instruments.

In a moment entirely out of character for him, Eddie just couldn’t muster up the courage to do it, to tap you on the shoulder and get your attention.  He could stand on tables in the cafeteria and make a fool of himself playing at the Hideout for whatever crowd of drunks accidentally stayed for Corroded Coffin’s show, but he couldn’t just… say hi to you.  You just looked so at peace sitting there on the amp, rocking your head between the big headphones that dwarfed your face; he was happier just watching you play for a few minutes, leaving before you opened your eyes and noticed him.

He watched you from between the stacks at the bookstore, too, swallowing as you flipped through Sylvia Plath.  What was it that was making him so nervous to approach you all of a sudden?  It’s not a crush, is it?  No…  no, it’s probably my natural aversion to pain.

Just when he was afraid you were about to leave and he would miss his chance, he jumped up from behind Adult Non-fiction and surprised you before you could head for the door.  “Excuse me,” he smiled, “have you seen The Feminine Mystique?  I lost track of mine.”

You looked appropriately disappointed and unamused, but he was used to that by now.  “What are you doing here?” you asked him flatly.

“I heard there was a poetry reading,” he replied, not even trying that hard to sound believable, since you’d never believe it.  You knitted your eyebrows together and opened your mouth, apparently searching for the exact words to cut him down.

“Y-you… you’re so…” you started a few times, and Eddie grinned as he realized he’d stumped you for the moment.

“Charming?” he finished for you.

And in a moment entirely out of character for you, you gave up, shaking your head and trying to step past him to walk away.  He side-stepped and planted himself in front of you.

“Irresistible,” he offered instead.

“Unavoidable,” you corrected.

“Inevitable,” he agreed with a wink.  “Love always is.”

“Love?!  Jesus Christ,” you spat, laughing sharply at how absurd it was.

“You do realize you’re not as mean as you think you are, right?” Eddie wondered, following you closely as you kept marching towards the door to leave.

You spun to look at him as you replied, “and you’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Ooh,” he winced playfully, “someone still has their panties in a twist.”

“Don’t even for a minute worry that you have any effect whatsoever on my panties,” you snapped.

“Then what did I have an effect on?” he encouraged.

“Other than my gag reflex, not much,” you frowned.

“Gag reflex, huh?” he purred, and you grimaced as you rolled your eyes.

“God, you’re barbaric!” you announced as you shoved a book into his chest— The Feminine Mystique, of course— and utilized the moment he spent looking at it to exit the store.  He didn’t even really process that you were already gone until he heard the little bell on the door chime, and he sighed.

~

Eddie just wanted to get his lunch in peace, but those two pipsqueak sophomores flanked him as he moved through the line.  “What’s the word?” Mike asked.

“Well, you were right— she’s still pissed,” Eddie replied.

“Sweet love, renew thy force!” Lucas exclaimed, and Eddie made a face at him.

“Don’t say shit like that to me, people can hear you,” Eddie warned him.

“Look,” Mike interjected, “she’s embarrassed!  Sacrifice yourself on the altar of dignity and even the score.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie departed the lunch line early— he didn’t want green bean casserole anyways— and left Mike and Lucas to look at each other.  “Don’t say shit like that to him,” Lucas soberly instructed Mike, “people can hear you.”

They were right, though, and the next day, he acted on their advice.

You were out on the field with the team, running drills, clearing your head in the only way you knew how.  Of course, Eddie couldn’t stay out of your head for long— or out of your way.  

You didn’t notice the speakers turning on at first; you heard it, but you didn’t think much of the static buzz of silence.  It wasn’t silent for long, though, and everyone turned their heads when they heard an electric guitar begin playing.  You looked up in the bleachers, and widened your eyes at the sight of Eddie hopping up into view as he played, a long black cord trailing behind him.  The marching band had left some of their equipment up after practice, including the microphone intended for the national anthem singer, and Eddie leaned into it as he began to sing along with his own playing.

“I gotta tell you what I'm feeling inside, I could lie to myself, but it's true—”

“Oh my god, is that—?” you heard a teammate of yours whisper to another, and they were all looking at you suddenly— and so was he.

“There's no denying when I look in your eyes,” he continued to sing, “girl, I'm out of my head over you…”

You turned around when drums and bass began to play as well, from the other side, and you laughed at the sight of the other members of Corroded Coffin— the logo made in tape on the kick-drum was a good sign that that’s who they were.

“And I lived so long believing all love is blind,” Eddie continued, “but everything about you is telling me this time, it’s forever—”

You finally recognized the KISS song and laughed in some impossible combination of disbelief and unsurprise: because of course Eddie would pick a KISS song to serenade you, but oh my god, was he really serenading you right now?  In front of everyone?

“This time I know, and there’s no doubt in my mind,” he sang passionately as he played, “forever, until my life is through, girl I’ll be loving you forever…”

The other musicians were singing harmonizing vocals, and your team was staring at you in shock as Eddie pointed at you in a break from his guitar playing; they knew before then that he was singing to you, but apparently even further confirmation continued to blow their minds.  You couldn’t believe it either, because, you know… it was you, and this was some kind of modern-fairytale bullshit, and you realized that you only never wanted it because you never thought it could happen.  Romantic surprises, sudden music, kisses in the rain?  Maybe for other girls— girls like Elle— but never for you.

Except here it was happening to you.  “I never thought I’d lay my heart on the line,” Eddie sang into the microphone, “but everything about you is—”

It came to a literal screeching halt, and everyone covered their ears at the feedback from the speakers.  Vice Principal Owens apparently didn’t take too kindly to the noise and disruption, as he appeared on the side of the field to chew Eddie out.  “What is the meaning of this?!” he yelled, and the drummer bailed first, tossing his sticks and grabbing a hi-hat and tom and making a break for it.  As the soccer team cheered and clapped for the performance, Eddie unplugged his guitar and sprinted from the Vice Principal.  “That’s school property!  That’s school equipment you stole!”

You laughed as the chase began, and Eddie caught your gaze for a second to give you a shrug as he swung the Gremlin over his back and dove off the bleachers.

“I hope you enjoy detention, Munson!” Owens yelled his threatening promise as he shook his fist— obviously incapable of keeping up with a freak on the run.

~

Coach Hastings stalked the columns of uniform plastic seats-and-desks, eyeing his quarry of quivering detention-goers.  A split-second of eye contact with one of them, before the kid jolted and stared down into his lap, made the coach smile somewhat menacingly and approach his desk.

“You look nervous, son,” he noticed with a grin, and the boy hesitantly blinked up at him.

“Yes, sir,” he agreed.

“You’re sweating like a pig,” the coach continued.

“Y-yes, sir,” the student agreed again.

“Your eyes are red!  You’ve got pot, don’t you?”

Apparently too scared (and stoned) to deny it, the kid awkwardly pulled a baggy out of his pants pocket and let Hastings snatch it away.

“I’m confiscating this,” he announced as he took it, marching back down the row and snagging a snack bag of Cheetos on his way as well.

Eddie scoffed slightly to himself as he saw it; not exactly a subtle plan, especially to Eddie, whose occupation at the school’s main dealer gave him unique knowledge of the coach’s habit.

He was just preparing to space out for an afternoon of mind-numbing boredom when you came in through the door, and he sat up slightly in surprise.

“Um, sir?” you got the Coach’s attention, meeting him at his desk at the front.  “I… have some ideas for practice tomorrow.”

“Now’s not the best time, Miss Hopper,” he replied quickly.

As he turned his back to the class, you made quick eye contact with Eddie to motion to him, pointing towards the window.  He sat up further, but tilted his head.  “The window!” you mouthed.

When Hastings turned around to look at you again, you played it off with a forced laugh.  

“Y-you know, we have that really big game soon against the Paxville Poodles…” you began again, stalling poorly.  Eddie quietly got up from his seat, just as Hastings made a move to turn around, and you unthinkingly reached out and grabbed his arm, making him look at you suspiciously.  “Your bicep is huge!” you blurted out.  “Wow— and look—” you grabbed the other— “this one’s even bigger.  You don’t take steroids, do you?  Because I’ve heard steroids can cause some shrinking of the, uh, package.”

The other students murmured and snickered to each other as Eddie crept around the back of the room, towards the open window at the front; you repositioned yourself and Mr. Hastings to keep Eddie’s path exactly behind him.

“But I didn’t come here to talk about your package!” you added.

“God, I hope not,” the coach agreed.

Eddie’s next step made a bit of noise— that damn chain on his jeans wasn’t very quiet— but you stopped him from turning to look by talking more.  “The point is, they always beat us,” you continued, “and I’ve got this plan to help us win this year!”

“Which is?”

“That… thing you taught us!” you answered chipperly as Eddie kept creeping towards the open window.

“What thing?” Hastings wondered.

“Misdirection.”

He narrowed his eyes.  “I taught you that?”

“Yeah!  You, o-or, you know, Siegfried and Roy— anyway—”

When he tried to turn his head over his shoulder, you had to reach out and grab his chin to turn his bewildered face towards you.

“They look left, we go right!  Bang, we score, we win,” you tilted your head and smiled wide.  Panic was setting in because you really thought Eddie would’ve made it out by now— he was close, but not there, and the coach was clearly losing his patience.

“But, how do we make them look left?” he wondered.  Eddie was halfway out the window, no looking back now… literally, meaning he didn’t see what you were about to do.

“Uh— like this!”

A rush of adrenaline compelled you to do it— or maybe it came right after you did it, honestly it was all a blur— and you lifted the bottom of your shirt up to your chin.  The classroom gasped, the coach’s chin dropped, and you cringed internally as you realized how far you’d gone: but you didn’t regret it, yet.  Actually, it was pretty funny, if you thought about it… not that you had exactly thought this through.

Hastings stared at you, dumbstruck and more concerned than aroused, the thoughts of what the hell is wrong with this girl? and oh god, am I gonna lose my job? obvious on his face.  The detention attendees began to whoop and holler as you dropped your shirt and Eddie was long-since freed.  “Okay!” you said with a thin voice, clearing your throat.  “Well, now that you’ve seen… the plan… I’m gonna go… and show the plan to someone else.  Okay.”

He said nothing, watching you walk away, and the classroom applauded you on your way out.

~

“I can’t thank you enough for breaking me out,” Eddie smiled as he paddled the rickety canoe.

“Oh, I do that all the time,” you dismissed jokingly.  

“How’d you keep him from seeing me?” he wondered.

You snorted a bit.  “I, uh, dazzled him with my… wits.”

Eddie shrugged and looked out at the water on every side, pulling the oars in now that you were stuck in the smackdab middle of Lover’s Lake.  “So, what’s your excuse?” he asked suddenly.

“Hm?”

“For acting the way we do.”

You considered that for a second, glancing out over the lake.  “Maybe it’s, like, daddy issues— ‘cause I don’t know my biological parents or anything.  Elle’s write her letters and stuff but mine don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Okay, maybe it’s that,” he nodded, “or…”

You sighed.  “I don't like to do what people expect.  Why should I live up to other people’s expectations instead of my own?”

He smiled, clearly proud of himself for getting you to fess up.  “So you disappoint them from the start and then you're covered, right?” he suggested, and you shrugged.

“Something like that.”

“Then you fucked it up,” he laughed.

“Huh?” you frowned.

His eyes seemed to sparkle more right before he said it— did he have some way of voluntarily doing that?  “You never disappointed me.”

You smiled a bit, but hoped he wouldn’t see that stupid, girlish emotion on your face.  “What about you?” you countered quickly.  “What’s your damage?”

“Oh, gosh, where to start,” he began, tapping his chin as he looked up and to the right like he was picturing it all, and you laughed.  “Daddy’s in prison, mommy’s… god knows where— last I heard she was in Washington?”

“Wait, the state, or D.C.?” you asked.

“I don’t even know!” he chuckled..

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve got no clue where my mom is, either,” you shrugged. 

“I know misery allegedly loves company but, no, that doesn’t make me feel better.”

“There were a lot of rumors about what your parents were up to,” you admitted.  “Cult and traveling band were both popular.”

“Well, there are a lot of rumors about a lot of things,” he replied, “but they’re all bullshit.”

“So, the state trooper?” you challenged.

“Ridiculous,” he shot it down.  “You made out with a chick at a party?”

“Fantasy,” you rolled your eyes.  “Of theirs!  Not mine— I don’t wanna kiss anyone in public.  The duck?”

“Hearsay,” he smirked.  “Billy Hargrove’s balls?”

“Well, that one’s actually true,” you admitted, “but he deserved it!  He groped me in the lunch line.”

“Ah, don’t tell me that,” Eddie warned, “or I’ll go kick ‘em back up again myself.”  He clicked his tongue and tossed his fist as if to demonstrate.

“Why were you held back again?  I know the porn career’s a lie.”

“Do you?” he challenged.

You tried not to get too flushed imagining that.  You were strictly against porn, on feminist grounds, but… it was an interesting mental image.

He laughed first, then you followed suit.  “I missed a lot of classes, yeah, but I don’t have any good excuse.  I— to be honest, I have a lot of trouble with reading.  It takes me hours, gives me a headache… so I keep failing English.  And it’s not like I’m making ‘A’s in anything else…”

You tilted your head as you looked at him.  “Eddie, are you dyslexic?”

He raised an eyebrow.  “No, I’m bisexual,” he corrected.

“Dyslexia is a learning disorder, it causes difficulty in reading,” you explained.

“Not even gonna react to the bisexual thing, huh?” he pressed.

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” you encouraged.

“No cure for it,” he shook his head.

“For the dyslexia, dumbass!” you snapped, and he laughed.

“Okay, okay, I will,” he promised, “if you go see about getting that stick up your ass surgically removed.”

You rolled your eyes, but you still couldn’t stop a smile from filling your face.  “I thought you didn’t mind it.”

“I don’t,” he smiled.  “‘Cause I know you’re actually just a hopeless romantic under all that venom.”

You glanced down at the floor of the boat, at Eddie’s Reeboks across from your worn-out Converse.  You heard him whisper your name, so you looked up again, and he pulled you into a sudden kiss.

Kissing in a boat on Lover’s Lake— a little on-the-nose, maybe, and another one of those things you never expected to happen to you.  You never expected to like it so much, either, but you smiled into it and wrapped your arms around his neck.  Pulling you back with him, he fell into the front end of the canoe with you on top of him, kissing you harder.

Unfortunately, you both got a little carried away… and when he tried to roll you onto your back so he could lay above you, it knocked the small boat off-balance and sent you both tumbling into the lake.

You came up with a gasp, and a laugh, as Eddie came back facing the wrong way and yelling your name fearfully— like you’d drowned in the last three seconds.  Hearing your laugh, he spun around and put on a self-effacing smile before swimming a little closer and kissing you again.  You let him, even though that warm feeling in your chest was just getting hotter until you worried it would burn you up from the inside out; you brushed dripping, limp curls out of his face and grabbed him by the back of the neck to keep him close.

~

Half-dry from the journey home, Eddie walked beside you up to your front porch.  Not exactly wanting to bring in a lake-damp drug dealer, you guided him to sit next to you on the steps, and he seemed to look somewhat reverently out at the surrounding neighborhood.  “Beats the trailer park?” you assumed.

“Yeah,” he smiled, “but it’s not as bad as people think it is— I guess neither are we, though.”

“Okay, then tell me the truth,” you requested.

“The truth?  I’m afraid of the dark,” he grinned.

“No, something real,” you protested.

“Okay…” he agreed, lowering his voice and leaning in to kiss your neck.  “You’re sweet.”

You smiled, and he moved around to kiss the other side, giving you an eyeful of his fringe.

“And sexy,” he added.  “And completely hot for me.”

“You’re… very self-assured,” you giggled, “anybody ever told you that?”

“I tell myself every morning,” he agreed with a smile, “part of my daily affirmations.”

Your eyes drifted over his face— over his gentle eyes and soft lips and strong jaw— and you wondered how you never noticed how perfect he was before.

“Go to prom with me,” he said suddenly.

The moment left and you felt a little suspicious.  “Um, are you asking me, or telling me?” you wondered with a raised brow.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” he promised.

“No it won’t, it’ll be a circus of patriarchy and the hypersexualization of the American teenager,” you insisted.

“It’ll be fun if you come with me,” he clarified.  “I thought you liked doing what nobody expects?  The only one who expects you to go to prom is me.”

“Why do you even wanna go to the prom?!” you wondered.

“Maybe I’m more conventional than I look!” he defended.  “Maybe I only never went because I never had a beautiful girl to take.”

“I don’t buy it,” you scoffed.  “Why are you so insistent on this?  What’s in it for you?”

“Do I need to have a reason to want to be with you?”

“You tell me,” you challenged.

“You know something?  You need therapy,” he frowned.  “Maybe a shrink can help you unpack this inability to accept affection.  Were you not hugged as a child or something?”

“Right,” you snapped, “because all my problems are caused by being adopted— I forgot.”

“I didn’t— that’s not what I was saying,” he defended.

“So, what are you saying?  If I’m not madly in love with you, something must be wrong with me?”

“I think if you don’t trust me by now—!”

“By now?  One kiss and you’re totally trustworthy?” you tilted your head.

“We kissed twice,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, my mistake,” you scoffed, leaving the question of whether the number or the kisses were the mistake hanging in the air.  Shaking his head, Eddie pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his vest pocket.

“Damn it, they’re soaked,” he groaned as he opened it.

You snatched it away.  “I’ll throw them out for you,” you offered sharply as you stood up and stormed inside, slamming the door behind you.

~

Max Mayfield startled when she opened her locker, a flood of folded papers spilling out— origami stars.  She tilted her head as she knelt down, picking one up to unfold.  Because you’re funnier than people realize, it had written inside in somewhat poor, yet meticulous, handwriting.  Wrinkling her eyebrows together, she snagged another from on top of her textbooks.  Because you’re the most beautiful when you’re in class, listening and thinking.  It was cheesy, but she bit her lip as she imagined who this… extravagant secret admirer might be.  About to unfold another, Lucas leaned beside her at the lockers.

“Huh,” he noticed, “wonder who did all this just to ask you to prom.”

As he crossed his arms in front of his chest, she noticed the band-aids around the ends of many of his fingers.  “Basketball injury?” she assumed.

“No,” he denied sheepishly, “just, uh, papercuts…”

She smiled as she raised an eyebrow at him.  “So, you think this… stalker guy is asking me to prom?” she noticed.

“I— um, I assume,” he shrugged.

“That’s presumptuous of you,” she laughed.

Across the hall, Vickie was emphatically agreeing to Robin’s more tree-friendly prom invite: no letter or origami or notes or anything, just the courage to finally ask, and that was all she had wanted anyways.

All across the school, plans were being made, except for Elle: she had more options than most for her date, yet was forced to choose none because you were still resisting Eddie with what little fight you had left in you. 

After catching her glare each time you passed in the hall at school, you decided to attempt a peace offering at home.

You hesitantly knocked on her bedroom door after dinner.  “Come in,” she called from the other side, but her annoyance was obvious.  Especially when you entered and found her sitting on the bed, reading a book, ignoring you completely.

“Listen,” you sighed, “I know…”

She didn’t shut her book or look up at you.  You sat down near her feet and carefully took the book away; she crossed her arms as she finally returned your gaze— though hers was much sharper.

“I know you hate having to sit around at home because I’m not, you know, popular or dating or anything,” you informed her.

“You don’t care,” she rolled her eyes.

“I do care!” you insisted.  “But I believe you should do things for your own reasons, not someone else’s.”

“I wish I had that luxury,” Elle snapped, “but I can’t do anything because you don’t want to!  You know I was the only sophomore asked to prom?  And I can’t go because you’re too uptight and feminist-y to just go out with that Eddie guy.”

You frowned.  “How do you know about Eddie?”

She rolled her eyes.  “I’m sixteen, I’m not stupid.  And everyone heard about him serenading you on the soccer field anyways.”

Your cheeks warmed at the memory.  “Well, that’s not the point.  I can go out with him if I want, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to prom.”

“Prom is actually gonna be fun you know, it’s not this horrible institution that you think it is,” Elle promised.  “And Jason asked me and—”

“He never told you we went out, did he?” you interrupted, and Elle’s jaw dropped.

“You’re joking, right?” she assumed; you shook your head.  “You and Jason?!”

“For a few months, freshman year.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because he’s sooo cute,” you answered with a Valley-girl-voice, but it didn’t do as much to diffuse the tension as you’d hoped.

“You hate him!” Elle noticed.

“I do now.”

“What happened?” she wondered, and you looked away because you thought it might be easier to say it if you weren’t looking right at her.  Even if she hated you, you didn’t want your little sister to think of you in the way she might when you admitted it.

“Well…” you trailed off, but she beat you to it.

“No,” she sighed, “you didn’t— you did it?!”

“Once,” you interjected firmly, as if that made it any better.  “Just once, because, you know, everyone was doing it.  I wanted to be cool— I wanted to feel normal.  But afterwards, I told him I didn’t wanna do it anymore because I wasn’t ready.  Aaaaand he dumped me.”

Elle blinked at you in bewilderment.

“After that, I decided to never do anything else again just because everyone else was doing it.  I haven’t since!  Well, except, you know, going to Steve Harrington’s party and getting wasted.”

“How did I not know about this?” Elle wondered.  Apparently she confused being popular with being omniscient.

“I warned him that if he told anyone, all the cheerleaders would find out how small his dick is,” you snorted.  Elle didn’t seem as amused, though.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she wondered.

“I wanted you to make up your own mind about him,” you replied.

“Then why did you help Daddy keep me hostage here?!”

She got up off the bed and stood, frustration switching to anger, and you wrinkled your eyebrows as well.  “Because I wanted to protect you!” you replied.

“By not letting me experience anything?” she countered.

“Not everything is worth experiencing, Elle!” you snapped.  “Not everyone can be trusted!”

“I wouldn’t know!” she announced furiously.  “You were too busy worrying I’d make the same mistakes as you to let me make my own!”

She stormed out of her own room and left you alone in it with a slam of the door.  You sat on the bed for a minute, considering what she’d said.  Noticing the picture on her nightstand, you sighed at the shot your dad had taken of the two of you, years ago, in line at Disneyland.  She used to think you hung the moon back then… why couldn’t things still be that easy?

~

You glided down the stairs quickly, holding up the end of your dress, and passed Dad as he watched TV.  “Bye, I’m going to prom,” you offered him flippantly as you passed.

“Ha ha, very funny,” he returned flatly.  Of course, when he caught you and your outfit in the corner of his eye, he realized you were serious.

Before he could even ask what was going on, you were out the door.  He would’ve chased you in search of more information, but he was distracted by Elle marching by next in her sparkly, colorful gown.

“What’s that?” he asked when he saw the midriff-baring garment.

“A prom dress!” she answered joyfully.

“I seem to be hearing that word a lot lately,” he frowned.

The doorbell rang, and Elle scampered across the foyer to answer it.  On the other side, Mike was waiting in a suit with a corsage in hand ready to give her— but he stalled when he got a look at her all dolled up (even more than usual).  “Wow,” he beamed, “you look… bitchin’.”

She smiled and started to leave with only a wave to her dad, but he crossed his arms.  “Stop,” he insisted, and Elle sighed as she froze.  “Turn.” 

The young couple turned, Mike looking a bit anxious as Elle prepared for the usual.

“Explain,” Hopper demanded.

“Well, you know how you said I could date if my lovely, wonderful big sister dated?” she batted her eyelashes.  “Turns out she found this guy who’s sort of perfect for her, which is sort of perfect for me, because Mike invited me to the prom—” she squeezed her date’s hand for emphasis— “and I really wanna go and I’m technically allowed since she’s going, and I know you’re a man of your word so you’ll stick to the rule you made.  Right?”

There was a heavy pause; Mike extended his hand to the Chief politely.  “Nice to meet you,” he greeted.

Elle took his hand instead and guided him out the front door.  Powerless, Hopper stepped up to the open doorway and watched them run to the waiting limousine together.  “Back by eleven, you hear me?” he called out.  “One minute past and the entire police department will be looking for you!”

They got in the car and drove off as he watched with a sigh.

~

You’d sort of been expecting Eddie to wear a t-shirt with a tuxedo pattern printed on it… maybe that’s what everyone expected of him.  But he was wearing a real one, in a dark cranberry color that seemed to bring out that little bit of hazel in his deep brown eyes.

It was stupid how easily his one simple glance over your body could make you fight the urge to blush.  You knew you looked good, you actually felt good, but it was different to see Eddie acknowledge it.  “Wow,” he offered with a wide smile.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “uh, you too.”

He handed you a rose before you hooked your arm in his to walk inside to the decorated gymnasium.

“Where’d you get a tux?” you wondered.

“Wayne had one,” Eddie shrugged.

“Really?” you pressed, and Eddie laughed.

“Hell no, he couldn’t even help me with my tie!  I… had a friend help me get this,” Eddie admitted, internally disgusted with himself for referring to Jason Carver as a friend.  Then again, he was disgusted with himself for doing this for Jason’s benefit at all, but at least there was a real benefit for himself, too: the only girl he’d ever really fallen for walking arm-in-arm with him to prom.  “Where’d you get the dress?” he wondered.

“Oh, um,” you blinked quickly, “I guess I really was a hopeless romantic deep down after all… ‘cause I had a nice dress in the back of my closet, just in case someone ever wanted to see me in it.”

There was a little moment of pause as Eddie imagined you saving a dress like this for someone special, hardly believing it was him.

“Listen, I shouldn’t have questioned your motives for asking me out,” you blurted out suddenly.  “I was wrong.  I’m sorry.”

He’d never seen you so… humbled?  And it made his heart twist.  “Don’t sweat it,” he encouraged, “you’re here with me now— that’s all that matters.”

~

Jason was already wearing his tux— and a sparkling-white smile— as your father opened the door.  “Hello, Mr. Hopper,” he offered charmingly, even though anyone with half a brain knows to call him Chief Hopper.  “I’m here to pick up Elle for the prom?”

Saying nothing, the Chief shut the door as suddenly as he’d opened it.

~

As you walked in to the room, dancing and general merriment in every direction, you caught Elle and Mike dancing cheek-to-cheek not too far off— and your sister offered you a quick wave and a gentler smile than you’d seen on her (directed at you, at least) in years.

Robin and Vickie, as always, were dancing to the beat of their own song, ignorant and uncaring to the judgment of others; Lucas guided Max to the dance floor, and you were one of many who noticed how good the unlikely pair looked together.

You were so caught up in it that you almost didn’t notice the music changing to another song— your favorite song.  Eddie nudged you with his elbow and pointed at the stage, where the band from Club Nina joined the musicians already playing, and you gasped.  “Oh my god!” you choked.  “It’s—!”

“I had a friend help me with that, too,” Eddie grinned at you, drinking in your ecstatic excitement.  You looked like a kid in a candy store as the lead singer waved at you; first humbled, then unabashedly joyful… so many new emotions that Eddie wasn’t used to seeing you show, but he liked this one so far.  He liked how beautiful you were when you let yourself be openly happy— it reminded him of the way you looked dancing to this song at that club all those weeks ago.  He hadn’t just been putting on the moves, he really thought you looked sexy when you let go and enjoyed yourself.  And now you looked that way again, but you were dancing with him.  You looked, and felt, freer than ever.

~

Elle was on her way to freshen up in the girls’ room— because the last thing she needed now was a lifting false lash with everything else going so perfectly— when Andy and Patrick stopped her.  “Woah, hey,” Andy said as he grabbed her shoulder, “what’s going on?”

“What?” she wondered.

“Where’s Jason?” they pressed.

“I dunno, probably off somewhere picking his nose?” she replied sarcastically.

“Oh my god,” Patrick laughed.  “I knew he couldn’t do it!”

“Huh?” she asked.

“He was so sure he could pop your cherry tonight,” Andy explained, bemused, “but he was full of shit— as per usual.”

Elle stepped back.  “What a creep!” she spat, but they weren’t even paying attention anymore, just chuckling to each other about how they wouldn’t let their team captain live this one down for a while.

As for Jason, he wasn’t too far away after all— he was angrily storming through the dancing crowd towards you and Eddie.  “Hey, freak!” he yelped just before grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and pulling him aside, though not quite far enough away.  “What’s Elle doing here with that pipsqueak?!  I didn’t pay you to take out her sister just so some little weirdo could get with her instead.”

Eddie whipped his head around, praying to whatever deity would listen that you hadn’t heard, but it only took a split-second to see the look in your eyes.  And there was a third emotion he’d never seen on you before: real heartbreak.  No anger, no rage, just devastation.

“Wait,” he pleaded as you began to walk away.

“I can’t believe I was right about you,” you replied with a shake of your head, “the first time.”

Jason let Eddie go to unsuccessfully chase after you; he was disinterested in the Freak versus Bitch drama unfolding once again, much more focused on getting back at Mike Wheeler for screwing him over.

Lucas tried to intercept him, but he got shoved roughly to the ground on the way to Mike.  “You messed with the wrong guy,” Jason informed him with a sneer, “and now you’re so done.  You and that prissy bitch.”

“Watch what you say about her,” Mike warned angrily, but Jason wasn’t exactly intimidated— in fact, he almost looked amused right before his fist collided with the sophomore’s face.  Mike crumpled to the ground, not exactly a match for Jason’s strength… but then again, neither was Elle, and she was the one who swung back— right in the nose.

“That’s for making my boyfriend bleed!” she explained as he clutched his face.  “That’s for my sister,” she added as she kneed him in the gut, “and this… is for me.”

A swift kick to the crotch sent him to the ground, and Elle stepped over him to offer a hand to Mike.  He took it, looking up at her in awe as she helped him stand again.  “Uh, boyfriend?” he noticed.

It was the kind of move you would’ve been proud of, if you were there to see it; apparently ball-kicking ran in the Hopper family, and not just in the soccer sense.

“Please, let me explain,” Eddie begged as he chased you out of the gym.

“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory!” you returned sharply.  “It was all a set-up, by fucking Jason!  I should’ve known it was too…”

Too good to be true.  You couldn’t admit that, you’d already given away so much.  “It wasn’t— that was just how it started!” Eddie promised.  “But I really fell for you.”

“Yeah?  Funny what money can do to a person.”

“I never cared about the money!” he insisted, and when you spun around to challenge that, he grabbed your shoulders.  “I only cared about you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” you sneered, and he did want to show you— he wanted to wipe that all-too-familiar look off your face and go back to how things were.  He kissed you, hard and forceful, but you pushed him off with a whine.  “I hate you!” you spat as you managed to fight him off— not that he was trying that hard to force you to stay, he knew that was wrong… though he wished he could.  He wished he could hug you tight enough to keep you here until you would listen, but you were too stubborn for it to work anyways.  It was that stubbornness that made him resent you in the beginning, then it was one of the things he fell for— and now it was the reason you were walking away, and he was just watching you go, unwilling to hurt you anymore.

~

“You’re sure you don’t wanna come?” Elle asked again, pityingly, as Mike held her hand.  You shook your head.  “Okay, well, we’ll miss you.”

It was sweet, but it was a lie; a young couple didn’t want you chaperoning their movie date.  Lies can be so sweet that way, the best ones usually are.  You watched them walk together down the sidewalk, knowing it wouldn’t cheer you up to go with them.  “Is she gonna be okay?” Mike whispered to his girlfriend, though not quietly enough.

“I hope so,” Elle replied softly.

As they left, your dad appeared and sat next to you on the steps, groaning as his older joints made it a bit more of a task.  “Where’s she going?” he wondered.

“To meet a bunch of bikers,” you offered quickly.  “Big ones… full of sperm.”

“Not funny,” Hopper frowned.  You gave him a look, and he smiled slightly.  “A little funny.”

It still wasn’t enough to make you smile back, and you looked forward at the houses across the street again.  

“So… the dance,” he remembered, “was it groovy?”

Even that couldn’t make you crack a smirk, though you wanted to.  “Some parts…”

“Which parts?” he wondered.

“The part where Elle beat the crap out of some loser,” you recalled— the stories around school were already glorious.  You were pretty sure the rumor that she pulled some Karate Kid moves and spin-kicked him in the face was just a rumor, but you liked picturing it anyways.

“Elle did what?” he gasped.

“What, are you afraid she’s taking after me?” you challenged.

“No,” he answered quickly, “I’m impressed.”

You looked at him again, soaking in that all-too-rare approval.  It’s not that he wasn’t affectionate… well, he wasn’t, but it was only because he had trouble expressing himself.  It made his eloquence going forward even more unexpected.

“You know, fathers don’t like to admit when their daughters become capable of running their own lives,” he explained.  “It means we’re obsolete… we’re spectators.  Elle still lets me play a few innings— you’ve had me on the bench for years— and when you go to Sarah Lawrence, I won’t even be able to watch the game.”

You were about to complain about the baseball metaphor until you realized what he was really saying.  “When I go?” you repeated excitedly.

“Don’t tell me you changed your mind now!  I already sent them a check,” he answered with a slightly mischievous smile.  Exclaiming in joy, you threw yourself on him for a tight hug.

~

“I assume you’ve all prepared your sonnets for today?” Ms. O’Donnell looked over the room.  She frowned when she saw Jason sinking into his chair.  “Mr. Carver?”

“Uh… I, uh, have a doctor’s note,” he explained.

“Oh— well, regardless, sunglasses are not permitted indoors,” she reminded him.

Sighing, he took the aviators off, and the class snickered at the sight of two black eyes on either side of his bandaged nose.

“Would anyone else like to read theirs for us?” she encouraged, and you waited a second before raising your hand.

That seemed to surprise everyone— most of all Eddie, who lifted his head from where it had been resting on his desk.  Some of your classmates assumed the worst— here we go and time for a feminist lecture that rhymes and all that— but some seemed to sense what was really coming.  Ms. O’Donnell, pleasantly surprised, stepped aside to let you come stand at the front.

You opened your notebook and did your best not to look at everyone looking at you.

Clearing your throat, you began.  “I hate the way you talk to me,” you read aloud, “and the way you cut your hair.  I hate the way you drive my car, I hate it when you stare.”

Your reading was particularly flat and unemotional, just hoping to get this over with, yet at the same time, so many emotions were flooding you inside.

“I hate your stupid white Reeboks, and the way you read my mind— I hate you so much it make me sick, it even makes me rhyme.”

You spared one half-second glance up, and even just in your peripheral you saw Eddie’s face, and you had to fight getting choked up.

“I hate… I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie,” you whimpered, voice breaking, “I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when— when you make me cry.”

As a hot tear crossed your cheek, you fought the instinct to defiantly wipe it away— for once, you wanted to feel this, and you wanted to be seen even at your most vulnerable.

“I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call,” you continued, approaching the end.  “But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you; not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

The way Eddie was looking at you was just too much; the way everyone was looking at you was just too much.  You stormed out of the class, leaving them in stunned silence, crying harder as you ran down the hall.

~

Your face was dry by the time you got to your car; maybe you’d let Eddie play with your heart and invade your mind and cry way too much, but you decided that was over now— no more tears over boys.  Especially dumbass, annoying, sexy, horrible, gorgeous boys who play you for a fool and have the audacity to fall for you in the process.

You were about you open your driver’s side door when you saw the sparkling white resin in the front seat, and you bent down, greeted by the Fender Stratocaster you’d been eying resting in your seat.

Reaching in through the open window, you pulled it out delicately and inspected it like it was magic— because maybe it was.

“Nice, huh?”

Eddie’s voice behind you made you jump and spin, and he smiled at you expectantly as he shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted back on his heels for a second.  “A Fender Strat?” you noticed.  “Is this— is this mine?”

“I figured you could use it,” he shrugged, “when you start your band.  Or join mine.”

You smiled slowly as you looked at it again, and then back at him.

“Besides, I had some extra cash,” he explained.  “Some jerk paid me to take out this amazing girl…”

“Yeah?” you smirked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but, uh, I kinda fucked it up.  ‘Cause I totally fell for her.”

You loved the way he looked with a flush tinting his cheeks.  “Really?” you pressed.

“Of course,” he grinned.  “Very rare to find a girl who’ll flash someone to break you out of detention.”

It was your turn to feel your face warm, then, wondering how long ago he found out about that.  Dropping your forehead into one of your hands in embarrassment, you laughed shamefully at the memory, hardly believing you’d done something so impulsive.  As risky as it was, you actually kind of liked the person you were when you were with Eddie.

With a gentle grip on your wrist he moved your hand away from your face, the other tilting up your chin so he could kiss you.  You let him, for a moment, but before you could properly melt into him you carefully pushed him back by his shoulders.  

“You know you can’t just buy me a guitar whenever you screw up, right?” you asked.

“I know,” he agreed, “but hey!  There’s always drums, bass, tambourine… triangle…”

You snorted your laugh and he kissed you again.  You pushed him away again.  “And don’t just think you can—”

He kissed you again, a little harder, and you gave in to it willingly.

Yeah, all that cheesy romance stuff? Sappy poems, public serenading, making out in front of everyone as the bell rang and the day ended? Turns out it really can happen for a girl like you. It can happen for a guy like Eddie, too; neither of you expected it to, but it did. And as you spent the rest of your senior year getting to know him better, you found a lot more things about Eddie Munson that you would've hated if you learned them before— but they only made you love him more instead.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #10 things I hate about you #mileven #lumax #rovickie #stranger things fanfiction #AMidsummerNightsWritingChallenge

[kisses-from-crows]

Crossed Wires - Campbell Bain - Ch. 6

Pairing: Radio Host!Campbell Bain/Popstar!femReader

Summary: Y/N and Campbell agree to meet and discuss a plan to put the pesky dating rumors to rest. Campbell is just hoping to get to the bottom of this mysterious interview.

Genre: enemies to lovers, slow burn, modern au, reader insert, forced proximity, misunderstandings, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4,199

Warnings: Swearing, Yelling, Mental Illness, References to Alcohol

Chapter 6: Cocoa and Conversations

Beginning | Previous | Next

TMZ: Breaking News! A source close to Rodger Del Ray Jr. states that he and F/N L/N have amicably called it quits. The couple has ended their three-year engagement over issues with the prenup. Click here to read more about the split!

Posted: 1 year ago

“My place is swarmed with paps right now. Can we meet at yours?” Y/N messaged.

Campbell’s heart dropped to his stomach. Y/N at his apartment? Images of dirty dishes and piles of laundry flashed through his mind. His fingers twitched over the screen as he wracked his brain for excuses. For any single reason to keep her out of his space. Dread filled his whole body at the thought of it.

They had to meet somewhere else, anywhere else. What would they even do at his house? He barely kept any food that wasn’t frozen or microwaveable. What kind of snacks did she eat? What if she didn’t like any of the drinks he had? What if she thought his decorations were dumb? It had to be somewhere else.

Memories of getting swarmed in the restaurant flooded his consciousness. Phantom sensations of running through the streets, gasping for air, and the weight of her hand in his. Campbell flexed his hand unconsciously at the thought. A repeat of that incident would just make everything worse. His apartment was the only option.

“What time?”         

Around 7:15 Campbell was scrambling around his apartment in a feeble attempt to make it presentable. Shoving clothes into closets and frantically washing dishes that had begun to develop their own ecosystem. He may work well under pressure, but it didn’t ease the overwhelming panic that sat on his chest. Once his closets were thoroughly stuffed and his dishes mostly done, Campbell decided the space was as good as it was going to get.

He plopped himself down on his threadbare old couch and waited. And waited. And waited. Feet tapped the floor impatiently as hours ticked by. Unable to stand the rising pressure, he checked his phone. It had only been two minutes.

Nervous energy took hold of his being. Campbell sprung to his feet and began rearranging the furniture in his living room. He took to manic interior decorating like a fish to track and field. In a matter of minutes, the armchair was in front of the window, and he was struggling to push the couch across the room. With an effortful grunt, he pushed against the couch with all his might before collapsing into a heap on the ground. As he began to catch his breath, the buzzer to his apartment rang out. He scrambled to the intercom.

“It’s unlocked.” He rasped out. And fell dramatically to the ground once more. Moments later there was a knock on the door. He miserably crawled over and fumbled with the door handle from the floor. It opened to reveal a pair of fine brown leather boots.

“Hi- why are you on the ground?” Y/N asked puzzled, she crouched low and gave him a once-over.

“Dinnae worry bout’ it,” Campbell said breathlessly. Were the impromptu workouts going to be a more frequent thing? Because that was going to be an issue. Upon discovering he had no immediate injuries requiring medical attention, Y/N stepped over his prone figure and into the apartment.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” she said politely, the pleasant tone a contrast to the rather presumptuous way she had entered the apartment. Campbell pulled himself to his feet, nearly stumbling into an unsuspecting Y/N, but righted himself moments before collision. He let out a breath of relief. The idea of touching her made his skin feel tight and tingly.

“Aye, I’m rather fond of it. Something wonderful about having yer own space.” He followed behind her, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “It’s not much but it’s home.” She must be used to her penthouse on the Upper East Side. A lush life surrounded by doormen in well-pressed uniforms and influencers awash in petty status symbols. The heels on her tall boots clicked across the wooden floor. The sound paused as she stopped to examine a picture frame on the wall.

In it, a younger Eddie gave a crooked smile as a younger Campbell slung an arm around his shoulder with a smile so wide it took up his entire face, eyes disappearing behind his rosy cheeks. It had been taken in the old studio back at St. Jude’s. He had only been 19 at the time. There was something so innocent and unsullied in those scrunched-up eyes.  Something tugged at his heart as he realized just how young he looked. He remembered feeling so much older.

Behind them stood a merry Rosalie, a coy-looking Francine, and… Fergus. His throat felt tight. Fergus was making some ridiculous face, with his brows scrunched together and his teeth protruding over his bottom lip. The corners of Campbell’s mouth tugged upwards despite the way the well-worn cracks in his heart had once again sprung a leak.

She smiled and traced a finger along the image of him before remembering herself and withdrawing her hand. Her eyes flashed quickly to the side to see if he noticed. He did.

“Is that you?” She said with a warmth in her voice that he wasn’t quite familiar with.

“Aye,” Campbell said a bit shyly as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He felt rather vulnerable as she absorbed a crumb of that part of his life.

“Who’s this with you?” She asked, squinting her eyes eagerly and leaning closer to the photo. That was a loaded question. Campbell settled on the safe option.

“That’s Eddie McKenna, he’s the reason I’m even a DJ today. I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without him. Though if yae ask him, he’d insist I had enough stubborn will to do it on my own. But I like to think I wouldn’t have enjoyed it half as much” Fondness laced through his words as he recalled the influence the older man had on his life. Eddie was the closest Campbell ever got to a supportive father figure. Eddie believed in Campbell like no one ever had, defended him in his absence, and looked after him to his own detriment. He really needed to call him.

“He seems like a great guy. You think rather highly of him, huh?” Y/N turned to look at him, with a glimmer in her eyes that Campbell knew better than to call longing. And yet. “Must be quite the endeavor to get into your good favor.” The honeyed warmth in her voice soured with a tinge of bitterness. Campbell couldn’t quite wrap his head around where it came from.

Turning on her heel, Y/N took a few steps forward into the kitchen. Awkwardness sat on her tense shoulders like a yoke as she looked around the small space, unsure of what to do with herself. Campbell studied her stiff movements as she navigated the unfamiliar environment. She eyed the chairs to the kitchen table warily, as though picking the wrong one would cause a trap door in the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Based on the grim expression on her face, it seemed she might prefer the trapdoor option. Clearly, he was going to need to take the lead on this.

“Aye, there’s no reason to look so glum. Let me remind yae, yae came here willingly. Just take a seat.” Campbell flashed her his signature disarming grin. “Do yae want anything to drink before we get down to the nitty-gritty?”

Upon hearing a lack of response, he turned to look over his shoulder at Y/N. Meeting her gaze briefly, her eyes betrayed just how uncomfortable she was. Not quite to the same level it was at the restaurant, but that deer-in-the-headlights look was making a strong appearance. Okay, a slow approach would be best then.

“Do yae like cocoa? I make a damn good cup of cocoa.” His gaze didn’t leave hers as she gave a small nod with a rather pathetic attempt at a smile. He grinned in return and gathered the ingredients for the drinks. Campbell bounced happily, remembering that he had snagged more mini marshmallows on the way home. He turned on the stove, electric only of course, and began heating the kettle full of milk.

“I can’t remember the last time I had hot chocolate.” Y/N mused; amusement floated through her voice with a note of something more Campbell couldn’t place.

“Seems yer long overdue then, if yae ask me.”

“I guess so.” Y/N played with rings on her fingers. Twisting the silver bands, pulling them off one by one, and setting them on the table. Before putting the rings back on and repeating the process over in a sort of nervous ritual.

As the milk came to a boil Campbell pulled it from the burner and poured it into the two mugs. He tore open three packets of cocoa mix, stirring one and a half packets into each until he was satisfied with the consistency. Just as he went to pick up the mugs and bring them to the table, a tiny voice shouted out in his mind. Without a second thought, he pulled out a small espresso mug and poured a splash of his cocoa into it for Fergus. It was their ritual, and he wasn’t going to stop it now.

He carried the mugs to the table, shoving down the complicated feelings fighting their way to the surface. The mugs clicked against the table as he set them down haphazardly, a bit of steaming hot cocoa spilling over the side and onto his fingers. He quickly shoved the afflicted knuckle into his mouth to soothe the burn. Y/N sucked in a breath, air hissing between her teeth. Eyes flitting between his knuckles and his furrowed brow, assessing the damage.

“Are you all right?” There was an unusual tenderness in Y/N's voice. Campbell gave a non-committal shrug and removed his fingers from his mouth, shaking them.

“S’alright.” He gave a cheeky smile. “Would take more than that to take me down.”

He sat down and pushed the fuller mug across the table to the not-so-empty seat opposite him. She gave him a grateful smile and picked up the mug. The sight of that second cup of cocoa doing anything other than growing cold and remaining miserably untouched was a little jarring to Campbell. She blew on the liquid to cool it off before bringing it to her lips. Her eyes lit up with delight as she began to down the chocolate beverage. Moments later she yanked the cup from her mouth and let out an undignified wail.

“Oh god, I burnt my tongue!” Y/N whined, panting dramatically in an attempt to cool off her mouth.

“What didya do that for? Yae just watched me burn myself not three seconds ago!” Campbell laughed at her theatrics and took a sip from his own mug.

“God, that is it good.” Y/N practically groaned. Ignoring Campbell’s teasing she went back in for another ill-advised swig of cocoa.

“Oi, I almost forgot!” Campbell exclaimed, leaping from his chair suddenly, nearly knocking it over in the process. Y/N jumped slightly at his sudden movement but kept her composure, staring after him curiously. He bounded across the kitchen to snatch his prize from the cupboard. Treasure in hand, he plopped himself back down into his seat.

He tore a messy hole in the bag of marshmallows and stuffed his fingers in to grab a handful. Campbell plopped them messily into his mug with a proud smile, picking off the rogue mallow stuck to his finger with his teeth. Without asking, he reached in to grab another heaping handful, dropping them into Y/N’s mug with even less ceremony than the first. The sheer number of mallows could not be contained by the measly mug. They toppled over the sides and onto the table.

Y/N let out a loud sudden laugh that staggered out of her like it caught her by surprise. She picked up her mug gingerly to preserve the marshmallow mountain, but to no avail. A few more precious morsels fell into her lap. A lopsided smile slowly took over most of her face, tongue poking out slightly from between her teeth. It was goofy, and adorable, and perfect.

Campbell felt his heart stutter in his chest for just a moment. It was a foreign sight, such a raw genuine smile gracing Y/N’s face. When had he ever seen her smile like that? With the way the emotion shifted in its place like it was unused to being there, he wondered if anyone had ever seen it. He liked it.

“I have to admit, you make a pretty good cup of hot chocolate. This is amazing! Really-” Y/N rattled off praises that made the tips of Campbell’s ears turn pink. A thin hot chocolate mustache lined her top lip. He smirked as he took in the sight. She didn’t have a clue as she continued to take deep gulps of the now cooler cocoa. Her lips probably tasted just like chocolate right now.

Well, that was new. Campbell’s eyes widened at his traitorous thoughts. He scrambled to remember why they were here, drinking together and laughing.

Enemies. They were enemies. Who were using each other to get out of a sticky situation, that’s all. They hated each other. It was nothing more than that.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, desperately trying to urge his mind off its current topic of interest. Y/N bounced slightly in her seat, happily downing the rest of her drink, blissfully unaware of the war happening behind Campbell’s eyes. He wracked his brain for something to say, anything.

“So apparently yae and I are dating.” Brilliant Campbell, just brilliant. Evasive maneuver of the century. Y/N choked on the last of her cocoa. She attempted to compose herself through poorly hidden coughs.

“Are we now? Well, you could’ve at least told me.” She smirked as if she had any dignity left after that coughing fit.

“Well, I’m just as surprised as yae are.” Campbell smiled, leaning back in his chair and locking his hands behind his head. A perfect picture of feigned indifference. His heart, however, beat out a confusing rhythm in his chest. “Yae wanna stage a messy public breakup? Could be fun!” A conniving smile slid across his face as he hatched an overly elaborate scheme that was likely doomed to fail.

“Let’s not reinvent the wheel here, we just need to stick to the original plan. And the rest will work itself out. No reason to give the vultures the false satisfaction of being right.” Y/N said, unable to meet his eyes as she smoothed out invisible wrinkles on her wool sweater. Gone was the carefree Y/N who had been laughing moments before. In her place was the media-trained figurehead he knew and loathed. ‘False’… something about that wording made Campbell’s chest ache a little.

“Aww come on, wouldnae be fun! We could come up with a whole buncha shite about each other. I would say I couldnae handle yer fifteen-step skincare routine and the way yae slept with all the lights on like some sort of serial killer. And yae could say how it would never work because I’m far too handsome and too good of a lover. That the pressure of knowing yae couldnae find better just got to yer head” Campbell teased, wiggling his eyebrows. He longed to get a rise out of her, leaning across the table to see even a glimmer of irritation in Y/N’s eyes. She rolled her eyes, but no wrinkle appeared. Damn, he was losing his touch. He leaned back in his seat and pouted slightly.

Silence stretched out between them as Y/N pretended to sip from a mug that Campbell knew damn well was empty. She was stalling. No more beating around the bush. He had very little to start with, but this game of cat and mouse was wearing on his patience.

“Why did yae choose me for the interview?” Campbell verbally laid his cards out on the table. “Back in the bistro yae said yae didn’t leave by choice. That yae needed MY help. Mine specifically. I wanna know why.”

“Right into it then? Alright.” Y/N said wearily, eyes trained on the table. She rubbed a hand over her face with a sigh, unsure where to start.

“Here’s the truth… a lot happened. I wish I could say it all started with the paps in the park.” Y/N slowly eased into the story as if she were wadding into uncomfortably cold water. Campbell remembers the incident well. Videos of Y/N surrounded by photographers in Central Park, screaming and yelling at them. The clip of her throwing a $12,000 camera to the ground had been inescapable for weeks.

“That thing,” Campbell wasn’t quite sure what the thing she referred to was. “had been building for months… hell years.” Her eyes flicked back and forth as though she was replaying a scene in her mind.

“It’s so exhausting, you know? Living that life. It all seems so exciting at first, all the fancy cars and the famous people and the endless glamour.” She picked at a loose thread on her sweater. “But it wears on you. You begin to realize these people; they all surround themselves with disgusting amounts of wealth to distract from how empty they feel inside.” Y/N’s voice was tinged with a trace of bitterness as she spoke. Her fist tightened around the handle of her empty mug. Campbell wondered if it might crack under her grip.

“Your life just isn’t your own. It becomes its own consumable product. Everything you do is calculated and controlled by people on your own damn payroll.” Should he have started recording before this conversation started? “Where you go, what you do, who you meet, what you eat. All of it, planned down to the last detail. And god forbid you deviate from that plan.” Y/N hissed out the last bit, brows scrunched together, jaw clenched.

At that moment, Campbell felt like he was seeing her for the first time. Not Y/N the popstar, not Y/N the brand, but Y/N the person. She was complicated and messy and bitter. She was utterly human.

Her eyes glazed over as she became aware of just how much she had revealed, just how vulnerable she had been. But that was the point of it all. So why did it bother her so much? Was it that difficult of a story to tell?

“I fell into a really dark place. I felt so out of control, I just lost it. And after everything happened in the park, it just all went to shit. A couple of months later is when…” She paused, eyes tinged with guilt flicking up to meet his. “That was when I started researching you.”

Campbell sucked in a breath. Researching him? What the hell did that mean? Even worse, what did she find?

“What?” He said, unsure of where this was going.

“I don’t know, I was mad at the world. I needed something to latch on to. I was jealous of you. The way you seem to do whatever the hell you like, and everybody loves you!” She spat out the words like they disgusted her. Campbell blinked owlishly at her outburst.

“Well… not everyone.” Campbell attempted to cut the tension, uncomfortable with how deeply serious the conversation had gotten. “There’s always Rodger.”

Y/N leveled a glare at him over the mention of her ex-fiancé. Alright, so maybe there was such a thing as a bad time for humor.

“I don’t know why I thought this was going to work, this was a stupid idea.” Y/N shook her head and started to stand. Surprising them both, Campbell sprung up and grabbed her hand, gripping it tight.

“Dinnae go. It’s not stupid, just sit back down. I’ll be quiet, I promise.” He pleaded with her gently, sinking slowly back into his chair with his hand still wrapped around hers. A silent bid to stay.

Y/N sat back down cautiously. Their hands lingered a beat too long before she pulled hers back into her lap. Campbell’s hand stayed right where it was.

“I thought maybe if I knew more about you, I could figure out… how to be more like you.” Her voice trailed off at the end like she was ashamed of it. Campbell fought the smirk that threatened to take over his features, letting the snide remark die in his throat. He promised to be quiet, and he very much intended to keep that promise.

“There was this article… from a smaller publication in Glasgow. It was from ages ago. But there you were, wearing the goofiest button-up I’d ever seen. You had been DJ-ing at some hospital fair.” Y/N words hung in the air as Campbell’s blood ran cold.

Hardly anyone knew about his past medical history. That part of his life stayed back in Glasgow. His time in St. Jude’s wasn’t something he was ashamed of. Regardless of the potential ramifications it could have on his career. Yet Campbell could never forget the effect that knowledge had on Fergus. What it cost him. What it drove him to do.

“I know about St. Jude’s.” She said finally. Campbell felt his cold blood start to boil. He carried the weight of everything associated with St. Jude’s every day of his life. It was an experience he wasn’t very willing to relive outside of his little family that he found there. The ones that got it.

“So what? Yae found out my deep dark secret and decided what? That yae’d throw me a bone because you pitied me?” Campbell broke his oath of silence.

“Campbell, no-“ Y/N interjected.

“Well, I dinnae need yer stupid pity. I’ll have yae know I am doing quite well by myself.” Campbell felt the anger rise in him with each word that he spoke. “So yae can take yer pity and shove it right up yer arse because I AM NOT ILL.” His voice rose as he stood up.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” Y/N pleaded with him, crossing the floor into his space. He huffed as he took a step back.

“I know exactly what yae meant, yae spoiled princess.” Campbell spat. “I’m no charity case.”

“I never said that! You’re not listening to me! Please.” She reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled back as though he’d been burned. “What can I say to make you believe me?”

“Yae cannae say a thing because it’s none of yer business.” He waved his arms indignantly, forcing distance between them. “Yae dinnae know what yer talking about so just shut it.” Anxiety took over him. His head pounding as unpleasant memories came flooding back.

“I know more than you think… I know what happened, Campbell.” Y/N’s voice got notably softer as she spoke. “I know what happened to Fergus.”

That was the final straw.

“GET OUT” Campbell lost the last shred of his composure. “YAE DINNAE GET TO TALK ABOUT HIM”

Y/N stepped back in shock; eyes wide. Without another word, Campbell grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him toward the door. His touch was far gentler than his tone.

“Yae need to leave, yer no longer welcome here.” His nostrils flared as he flung open the front door, ushering her to leave.

“Wait Campbell, please, I wasn’t finished” Y/N pushed against the door as he attempted to close it on her.

“Nae, I think yer quite finished all right.” Campbell attempted to close the door again, she was stronger than she looked.

“Campbell listen!” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes tight like the words pained her. “I got hospitalized.”

He paused, limbs going slack as he processed the words.

“After that day in the park, they had me forcibly hospitalized.” She gathered all the courage she had left to look him in the eyes. Hopefully, he could see the truth in them. Maybe they could communicate something that she wasn’t quite ready to put into words. But the look in his eyes froze her to the spot. The anger had melted away to reveal something much softer. Something akin to understanding. A feeling so unfamiliar to her, that it made her weak at the knees. ‘I was hoping you could understand.’ The words died on her tongue before she could speak them.

Time slowed as they stared at each other. Both feel far more exposed than they were comfortable with. Campbell blinked like he was breaking out of a trance. He cleared his throat and turned his back to the door, walking slowly back to the kitchen. He took a deep breath in and out just like Eddie had shown him all those years ago. The voices in his head got quieter but didn’t fully leave.

“Where are you going?” Y/N called after him, voice thick. Campbell rummaged through the cupboard above his fridge and pulled out a bottle of whisky.

“I figured we were gonna need something stronger than cocoa.”

_________________________________________________

A/N: Have you guys ever heard that saying that if your brain tells you take a break and you ignore it, your body will force you to. that essentially happened to me this week. i had the worst cold but i’m on the up and up now! thank you so much for reading this story and i appreciate all your kindness on my other post about needing a break. love you guys!!! have a good week, you deserve it!! <3 -Ducky

#campbell bain #david tennant #fanfic #fanfic writing #taking over the asylum #campbell bain x reader #kisses-from-crows #modern au #campbell bain fanfic #enjoy! #multi part #enemies to lovers #WIP

[thedeafprophet]

Character Summary: The Percipient Scientist

Josephine Ashwood

Pronouns: She/her

Ambition: Nemesis

Profession: Correspondent

Main Skills: Watchful, Shadowy, Artisan Of The Red Science

Main Quirks: Melancholy, Steadfast, Subtle

They say…

“A determined and studious woman, leading many studies at the university. Though often quiet, with luck you'll get to hear the thoughts within her mind”

Further Writeup under the cut:

(warnings for very parental death, sibling death, illness, and spoilers for Nemesis)

Backstory

Josephine was born in April 1876, to Dorothy and William Ashwood, in a dockside community in Liverpool. Her brother, Gabriel, had been born 7 years before her. Her father was a dockworker, and her mother worked part time in service, and did piano in the rest of her time. For the first 8 years of Josephines life, things were as simple and as happy as they could ever be.

It was the summer of 1884 that things took their first turn to the worst, as an illness swept through the community. Many fell victim to it, and among the casualties, Josephine's parents were lost to the sickness as well. Following their parents deaths, 15 year old Gabriel was left to care for both himself and his little sister, pushing through jobs to try and keep their home and his sister safe from the world that had little care for them.

It was 2 years after this that the event that would shake Josephines world and set her path would occur. Even now, Gabriel's murder is an event Josephine can't understand; a level of cruelty so uneeded and so severe.

All that Josephine has left of her birth family is her father's silver pocket watch which she had taken off of her brother. Inside, a picture of the two of them as children, the only physical reminder of what once was. And all that Josephine had in that moment was an envelope and a name, and above all else a question; why?

It would be many years later before Josephine would embark on her quest for vengeance. Many years before she was able to. But the seeds of the future all began far back within her past.

It was perhaps as fortunate that it could be that Josephine ended up being sent to the industrial school, or unfortunate for how she was moved from the only home she had ever known. Perhaps, it simply was. Josephine's initial arrival at the school was poor. Following her brothers death, Josephine didn't talk for almost 1 year following, which made it difficult for her to accommodate to the new location. With peers and staff who cared little for her, most paid her no mind, and she simply drifted into the background. From the sidelines, Josephine watched, and observed.

It wasn't too long however, that Josephine met Jamie, two years her elder and outcasted just as she was. Jamie was pestering and talkative and didnt mind much at all that Josephine didn't talk. It was through this friendship that Josephine was able to find a semblence of herself again, and find her words. The late nights where Jamie would whisper endless tales they'd made up in their head warded off nightmares, and the books they brought her encourgaed her to learn. A year later, the two of them would meet Alex, and when Josephine was 13, the three of them would depart the school together.

During her teen years, Josephine's thoughts began to fester. She continued to self educate, to learn through books everything that she could. She dreamed of possible futures; of the places she could learn and study, if only she had the aims. But beyond all of that one thing remained; rage and confusion over the loss of her brother. By her late teens Josephine was enaged fully in trying to track down any information she could.

Meanwhile, her relationship with Jamie and Alex became strained. Josephine couldnt understand Jamie's aim to join in with society when she saw it for all the scam that it was. Furthermore resenment grew as she knew oppurtunities that would be availible for them would never be an option for her. Meanwhile, Alex seem almost partonizing towards her continued search into her brothers death, warning her against how all consuming this seemed of her, questioning her inability to move on.

Regardless all of this, when Josephine's search for her brothers killer led her towards the neath, the other two joined in her descent.

It was 1898 when Josephine came to the Neath, at 22 years old.

Game Timeline Events

The neath provided oppurtunities to Josephine that the surface never did. In her initial aim to track down information, Josephine became swept up in some minor matters of detective work, which eventually lead her down a further path of understanding of the neath.

Her discovery of the correspondence stones and the learning of it in general presented something uptmost appealing to Josephine; something inbetween a puzzle and a mystery, something she could learn about.

Though she would later face their scrunity for revealing of a truth, Josephine found her place within the university. Even without a typical academic background, Josephine's publishings had proved her worth, and she found herself among her staff. Had she not had other pressing matters to attend to (and temporary banishment on her hand) she would have been more then happy to spend her days within her lab, researching as much as she could on this strange, mysterious world she found herself within.

However even with all these new oppurtunities, Josephines path stayed firm. She would find answers, even if she didnt like the answers she found. The iron republic left a heavy mark upon her psych, and the further she dove into this mystery the more it consumed her. Little else entered her mind as she tracked down her nemesis, as she schemed to find her way to end Cups once and for all.

Of course, that confrontation did not go as she initially planned. In that moment, with her enemy at her feet, her emotions at all time high... well, perhaps the choice was more an impulse then it was a rational descion. But suddenly it was like she was 10 years old again, and all she wanted was the hope of seeing her big brother once more.

It was not, of course, a deal well thought through. Even without the memory loss, Gabriel stood now 6 years younger then her, the dynamic of their ages now fully swapped. He was left confused and scared at the world around him, and Josephine was left heavy with the level of descion that she had made for him.

The ending of her quest had done nothing to soothe Josephine's emotions, and she found herself all the more anxious and confused. So when Jamie came to her with the concept of the railway, for science of course, Josephine jumped at the oppurtunity to have something new for her mind to focus on.

It would be here where she would meet September, whom she would grow close and later marry. It would sometime after the start of the railway when london would face its first yearly summer disaster, and it would be after she would dream of much colder month.

It would be here she would learn her enemy was much grander then she could have realised

And the railway would not lead her to learning anything new; there was Nothing for her to learn.

A couple exceptional stories are also canon to Josephine's timeline:

Lost In Reflections

The beginning of Josephine's friendship with July and inclination further into her revolutionary ties. In the end, Josephine chose to smash the mirror.

The Shallows

Josephine learned further on the information behind October; and most important, learned of who exactly was behind the death of mirrors

This was the beginning of Josephine's dynamic with October, made all the more awkward with Josephine's secret fact that she released the shade of Mirrors from it imprisonment in parabola.

#i tried to not make this write up so long..... i failed #i have more to say but this is already so so long ajdfkkgkgh #anyway: Her #fallen london #fallen london oc #oc: josephine #my writing

[xixi-isbest]

Tbh this is my first post of trolls and I was having a hard time figuring out what to post first so I decided to post my oc Ane :3

She’s 14-15 years old, quite short for an average troll but she says she’s still growing, comes from a secret village that never lost harmony and didn’t separate like the tribes. She’s a pop/rock mix. She has 2 older siblings; her oldest sister Xime and her older brother Gio. She has a mom who fell ill. Her father is dead…

These are random doodles of her the rough sketch is her before her whole change or smth. I’m thinking on moving all of her lore here idk.

#trolls #trolls band together #idk what else to tag #first post??

[junipers-hellspace]

I Need Help .

Hi Tumblr. I feel pathetic for reaching out here but I have no where else to go. My name is June. I'm a 15 year old mentally unwell teen girl who is in an abusive relationship and I need help getting out of it.

My girlfriend and I have only been together for a few months. We've known each other for a little over a year now. We are both mentally ill and we both have shitty home lives. I'm recovering from a self harm addiction and anorexia. I've stayed with my girlfriend for as long as I have with hope that she would get better but she hasn't - she is actively getting worse and harming me and every one around her. I'm telling you all this so you have a backstory.

Anytime I do something that upsets my girlfriend, she threatens suicide. She will say she wants to/is going to overdose or simply kill herself and keep me up for hours trying to talk her down and then stop responding. In the morning she tells me she stopped responding because she fell asleep and didn't warn me. Every night she does this I have horrible panic attacks because when she stops responding I'm left to think she went through with it and killed herself. She does this every time I have to talk her down, which is at least once a week - normally more. This is extremely detrimental to my mental health. The thought that my girlfriend killed herself and I couldn't convince her not to is horrible, I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

She's also extremely obsessive and possessive. At first, I didn't see this as a problem because I am also that way. I was also extremely obsessive towards her and toxic in that way. I admit I was wrong for that and I was toxic. But she took it further than I ever have or ever would. I recently got back in contact with an ex of mine because he reached out to me. I never intended to replace my girlfriend with him or even get back into a relationship with him. When I told her I was talking to him again she said I was going to replace her and started talking about wanting to kill herself because of this. She got into a verbal, screaming fight with her father because he wouldn't let her come to my house. She told me she planned on physically fighting him that night if he didn't let her come over and that she would stab him. She has put me above her friends and has started ignoring her friends and getting mad at them for trying to be with her and not letting her be with me every moment she can. She has damaged her relationship with her father, her mother, and her friends because of me.

She talks about wanting to kill or injure people a lot, to the point where it's not just intrusive thoughts, it's something she wants to do and as she has stated, is willing to do. She has talked about being a sadist and wanting to hurt/hit me before. And she does. She does hurt me. She bites me to the point of leaving deep marks that last days, she twists my wrists and arms until they almost break, and she never stops. I've cried and begged her to stop hurting me before and she smiled at me and didn't stop. She has a history with hitting people and being physically abusive towards her friends and family. She has told me this herself. When she gets upset, she hits things. I don't want to be one of those things.

As I stated earlier, I'm in recovery for a self harm addiction and for anorexia. My girlfriend says she supports me and will help me recover, but she doesn't. When we hug she feels the need to tell me she can still feel my rib bones so I haven't gained as much weight as I think I have - but the thing is, with recovery, the way your body looks and how much you weigh doesn't matter. You are supposed to heal your relationship with food and yes of course get to a healthy weight. I don't know if she knows how triggering what she says is because she says it a lot. She always mentions how I am still bony and it's triggering She also encouraged me to relapse and cut myself again just so I could make her a vial of my blood. She wanted me to cut myself and ruin my progress and mental health and risk getting sent back to a psych ward just so she can have a vial of my blood.

I'm scared to break up with her because if I do I know she will try to kill herself. And if she succeeds, her blood will be on my hands. I will be the one who caused it. And if she doesn't succeed, I'm scared she will come to my house and hurt me. I'm scared she will hit me or kill me. I don't know what to do. I can't tell her parents and I can't tell my own because that would be unsafe and I would be put in more danger.

That's why I'm coming here. I need help. Any help. I need advice. What do I do. If you get this on your feed and you read this far, please reblog. It could save my life. Thank you

#spilled thoughts #self help #self improvement #help #toxic relationship #relationship #mental health #mental illness #actually mentally ill #tw abuse #emotional abuse #tw sui ideation #trauma #actuallymentallyill #addiction #please help #intrusive thoughts #relationship problems #relationship advice #what do i do #bpd #bpd thoughts #bpd vent #actually bpd #ptsd #actually ptsd #self h@rm #self h@te #cvtt!ng #cvtting addict

[reccyls]

akuneko chapter 2.5 (part 2)

some more summarizing. i was actually taking notes as i went this time so this one is a lot longer than the first part.

we get our official introduction to hanamaru, voiced by eguchi takuya

Forgot that Teddy doesn't know that the master is from another world. Master comments that Hanamaru's full name (Kawakami Hanamaru) sounds like a Japanese person's name. Teddy went like "Japanese? What's that?" and the Master is like "Uh… Over here you'd call it the Eastern Country, I guess?" and Teddy was like, "What do you mean, 'over here'???"

Hanamaru actually refused to become a butler before. He said that he wanted to wait for 5 years first. He used to visit the mansion a lot 5 years ago but hasn't been by in a few years. All of the other butlers are acquainted with him.

He gets along well with Lamli too, who usually doesn't take to other people very quickly.

According to Boschi himself, Hanamaru is even less disciplined than he is haha. Haures says that he'll be taking naps all the time, has a massive sweet tooth and he steals sweets from the kitchen… (Muu went like, "Oh Boschi, that's you!" lmao). Personality-wise, he's described as lazy and bluntly honest and probably wouldn't use honorifics while speaking to the Master.

He fights with a sword, but isn't formally trained to be a soldier like Teddy. But he is very skilled. He apparently fought an angel one on one and lived (remember he isn't a butler and doesn't have their powers). Haures describes him as having a once-in-a-generation talent, and Teddy is immediately like "I want to fight him" lol

Hanamaru lives in an old church in the middle of the forest. Including Hanamaru, there are 5 people living at the church- the other four are orphans that Hanamaru is taking care of, as the church doubles as an orphanage. There was a nun who took care of the children, but around the time Hanamaru arrived at the church, she fell ill and died. So Hanamaru began looking after the kids in her place. That was about 10 years ago.

The kids are 2 girls and 2 boys, they look around 15 years old now. The kids also know all the butlers, who had visited in the past. One of the boys asks about Lono and is disappointed when Berrien tells him that Lono has to work at the mansion today; he missed eating Lono's cake. But Berrien has brought along sweets that Lono has made, and also brought some tea along.

Probably safe the assume that Hanamaru refused to become a butler five years ago because he still had to look after the kids. His dialogue at the end of the first part strongly implied that he didn't want to leave them alone while they were still too young to live on their own.

The church has tatami flooring inside because Hanamaru said it reminded him of his hometown. Master is surprised that they have tatami in this world as well. Apparently the church was destroyed a number of years ago and while they were rebuilding/remodeling, Hanamaru had the tatami added.

It's been a number of years since the kids had Berrien's black tea. At the church they only have green tea. Hanamaru keeps a lot of traditional sweets/snacks (wagashi) and is like "Green tea pairs better with wagashi than black tea" so he only buys green tea.

The kids get along really well with Berrien, they like him a lot. The kids came to the mansion along with Hanamaru back in the day. Miyaji would teach them, Haures would train them how to fight with swords, Berrien would teach them table manners.

The kids corner Berrien for a lesson on how to brew tea, so the Master decides to take a walk around while he's busy. Berrien first says it's too dangerous to go alone, but Muu volunteers to go with them. He says, "It's okay, if anything happens I'll scream for help really loudly so you know something's wrong!" 🤣

We finally meet Hanamaru! Hanamaru is 36 years old, he likes wagashi and udon, he dislikes kids getting hurt and self-righteous people. His hobbies are poetry and gambling.

Hanamaru wants to go do something important nearby, so he asks the Master to accompany him. They walk and talk a bit on the way, and he offers some advice about not to trust people too easily because there are tons of people with wicked eharts in the world. He knows the butlers have recently gotten into a conflict with the Sardeis family but assures them that despite him also being from the Eastern Country, he has no relation to the Sardeis family. All he wants is to be able to build a peaceful world for his kids to grow up in.

They arrive at the place where Hanamaru wants to go: it's a hill at the edge of the forest, and it's covered with graves. Hanamaru says that the graves are for all of his kids--even though they're not related to him by blood, he considers the children of the orphanage to be his anyway.

5 years ago, the church was attacked by angels. He was away from the church at that time, and when he returned, all he saw was angels flying away from the ruined church. The graves are for all the children who were killed during that attack. Only four kids survived, the four that are living with him now.

He swore vengeance against the angels that day. He would never forgive the angels for taking away the children he swore to protect, but also he would never forvive himself for failing his kids. So now he's ready to become a devil butler to eradicate the angels.

Hanamaru leaves to go get his stuff ready to move into the mansion. While he's gone, the Master and Berrien talk a bit more about Hanamaru. Berrien reveals that Hanamaru has likely gone through even more terrible things in his past, even before the angel attack.

Hanamaru arrived at the church 10 years ago. At the time, the nun who was in charge of it found him collapsed in the forest, and she saved him. He was in very bad shape, especially his feet in particular. His feet had suffered a lot of damage because he had been walking or running non-stop-he basically walked the entire distance from the East to Central. Berrien doesn't know the reason, whether he was fleeing from his home or if something else drove him to leave. Berrien asked him about the situation, of course, but Hanamaru was very good at avoiding the topic and just didn't want to answer him.

During the attack 5 years ago, Hanamaru had a breakdown. He was saying things like "I still couldn't protect them" or "I swear I'll keep them safe next time". He was prostrating himself, kneeling and pressing his head against the ground.

So it's likely that the angel attack 5 years ago was not the first time he lost people who were important to him. Berrien thinks that the 4 kids that survived were all that kept Hanamaru here. Because they still needed him, he stuck around. If they weren't there… Berrien doesn't know what would have happened to Hanamaru.

The kids spring a surprise on Hanamaru: they've sorted out work and a place to live on their own, so they're going to move out of the church. They knew that if they stayed there on their own, Hanamaru would just be worrying nonstop over them, so they've figured out a way to support themselves and be independent so he won't have to worry.

At first it looks like Hanamaru is about to start crying about how they've grown up and how he'll miss them-- but then he reveals he was just kidding, did they really think this was going to make him start crying?

This is his face then btw 🤣

But he does admit that he's going to feel a little lonely without them, and starts a group hug for the kids before they all go their separate ways. The kids do start crying too, even though they're trying to remind each other that they decided they'd see Hanamaru off with a smile. They thank him for raising them and tell him that he better not die, and that they'll see each other again.

Back at the mansion, Miyaji, Lucas, and Teddy are there to welcome them back. Teddy and Hanamaru will be sharing a room, and Miyaji goes to give them a tour of the mansion and introduce the other butlers. Meanwhile, Berrien and Lucas stay behind to talk about their next move. They have 2 butlers, and so who's the last one that Berrien had his eye on?

Well, about that… Berrien says that this recruiment might be a little difficult. The third potential butler candidate is actually imprisoned, and scheduled to be executed in a few days. As Lucas and the Master are shocked at this news and wondering who it is, Berrien says that actually, this third candidate is someone they know already… Shinonome Yuuhan.

#akuneko

[libidomechanica]

With light by

A kimo sequence

               1

That grew beside a human door! With light by light: lonely thing, that soon he rose and warmth of loue.

               2

But Flight. Of air, not pure as it, yet pure, doth well delight. My slumber was gone for you, my dear.

               3

Because the blue sky bends over and trust that I shall those tears; take me to the centre. But there.

               4

Pushing toward daybreak. A dainty dish to set before me, when the trance was o’er, the mastiff bitch?

               5

I do not the disaligned. Though yet, heaven seems half-way to lift some weight of low replies.

               6

That hole where leather men are vain? And slowly rolled her with me, we’re wed to one eternity.

               7

I have been faithful to you, Cynara! Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert—and light and song.

               8

Stay with your old baggage. Plunge them in up to thee, and thee to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

               9

Says, I wanted to get married. With blushing shame, by rage suppress’d, let tears, and weep each other?

               10

To sit a star upon the floor below. And, Do I dare? No, no, my Deare, let bee.

               11

Cannot flie away. Nor equal, nor unequal: each fulfils defect in each, and lang’rous waist!

               12

—Thy words, relieve my verse in time, your fortune— range the wilds of Time, perhaps not a woman, off!

               13

Make in misery to live. And lie, ever singing, each to each. Makes you tyrants in the end.

               14

Free from fear, they cross’d the diver’s brain, for a lady’s chamber floor. Yet so did I let my friend.

               15

Now do I know this: I fell in love wilt hear; if from thee. Oh Angel of hopeless, lasting flames!

               16

After than Phoebus, if he seav’n times bright! For forbidden fires. To spit out all the dance was mine.

               17

Bright eyes, that all her hard and cold white as stone. Involved in stillness, plighted vows fleeting as air!

               18

Assist the field is universe into a lute. Is it indeed so? Be thine! The air is still!

               19

I told my love had seen mine execution. Curse on all best exceed proportions of the year.

               20

And gave a twist to me. Which stands check’d; Religion of my mind, thy words, thou art as tyrannies.

               21

I’ll wrap it round. Till the same chance!—Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert— and light a cigarette.

               22

And all thou know’st to my dear doting heart. Do love you here is none like a dog in a kennel.

               23

But tis twilight dawned; and out of sight. Owe this dearest, that long-wish’d-for end, full to thee, and doubt.

               24

The lovely lady’s shroud. I heard the mermaid now, for I will say: How his hair is growin’ yet.

               25

Give me the shade of the sky.—An’ Charlie, he’s my darling, the young Chevalier. And is he gone?

               26

Ah! The Castle wa’, she saw three bonie boys playing with a dying fall beneath the huge oak tree?

               27

Our bed is lovely maid and sees a damsel bright a dame! Hand, turning her grave. By more than dead!

               28

And like a noon-dew, wanderings I have sinn’d! I want to glide a sunbeam by the Maiden’s side!

               29

Where I fly, pursue, rise in the brain is not so. Spake words Sir Leoline. I dreamed I was a child!

               30

By thee to mount, and complaint of present the bonie laddie in. Bare, lest aught unholy loiter here?

               31

And love to so base a vice, for no man knows. Much, Cynara! No matter by the might be well!

               32

He danced with rough. Amid that scenes appear where’er I turn me not to belie his soul with clay.

               33

Run afresh, as if she ’d said, Gee woe! I lift my heavy eyelids my anguish hangs like shame.

               34

To the fault; I view my crime, but kind? To labour was thine! And do accept my madness, and weak.

               35

He drank: her fair large bright and slender oats foraged in the lady’s chamber door; and the sun.

               36

A cool suspense from pain; thy life destroy. The wanton thru the flower amang them very ill.

               37

Of lonely way, close by the castle bell. As if she be small, jewel-like flower unfamiliar.

               38

The way to the blood runs out across the sounds and strange man should presume? That is so vex’d with thee.

               39

To know her but I? Or foxlike in difference. And thus she stooped, methought I heard a hollow sound.

               40

A blue moon for an instant leper. Lord of her beauty lies, when faithful to the land of spike?

               41

And none of us thought thus watred was my strange death of Jesus set me free. In this fashion.

               42

But could have this; she shall: then my hopes and men, who looked askance and end with his society?

               43

And those tender-ship, cried Sally Brown! Sleeps, and love all night upon mine ears, both I and the brow!

               44

Within the bathroom floor mocks your haire with me! So, the year, that yours and mine had bound us lie?

               45

Van Diemen’s land if certain when two dewdrops on the best, even to life in the airport. Ah!

               46

Seized, inside my honest faith in this man no more, but other me? A shining steps of thy child!

               47

Lingered in the moon is behind, and saw thee woman in contractions are five minutes apart.

               48

Comes first—light in what they might half undo it. Of loue new-coin’d to her from the pitiless wave?

               49

And his Anguish grew—how bear it? But, as luckless, I have sworn to bury all things undo me.

               50

That looks up at the lady by her word were it even for me. Loathe the side-lie of a truth.

               51

For once, a tremor breakfast the sky ascends, wi’ sangs o’ joy. And damning their necks, where away?

               52

And flush themselves forsake and for very feare would return to life, to life in thee has killed it.

               53

And the rain on my soul. And I was a rose that green mama who first forced me to Mortal part.

               54

Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and Crabbe will trim. To sail with old Benbow; and here, ev’n then, shall be poor.

               55

The Sexes rose to work upon is much too much, some say, she seems that sweet said, that thou to dread?

               56

And hark, again! From happy pieties, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet face of you and me.

               57

Why should poor beauty from my love, my life. But, as luckless, I have known the rain lasts anywhere.

               58

In the bud will wear white despair? Wilt thou go with me, we’re wed to one eternity in days?

               59

Not Ida; ’ clasp it once all-fragrant-curtain’d love begins again. Then downward like those who love.

               60

What peace. And her voice is strength beguiled, this golden foot of May is on the bloated hiss of death.

               61

For I have slept on the brands were stopt with griefe. Still as death, can break her word were it bitterness.

               62

The earth forever! It must be because it is a precious seal of my life, myself—and you.

               63

Is changed in a convent’s solitary Child. When I break through all the grist of its insides grow.

               64

Now folds the maid and thine for me. Than Heaven, my Lover, were my Chamber Heaven’s sun staineth.

               65

Err I dare to look at the basin and wriggling on thy fame! My own heart’s heart, where, while I weep!

               66

Till love you, dear, I’ll love you all; let Virtue be your soules; come wait on hir whom winged Psyche true!

               67

I waste my heart and mine should hindred be. Gloom, and nothing can be old, for as you with my death.

               68

For once and show me what I meant, at all. Proud of many, lives upon his gaine is our lost will.

               69

I call, I call: who do ye call? And the rent, and long to stay with your old baggage. I would get.

               70

—Not the power to burn and be all that bloody torments you doe give, creatures, couched her homage.

               71

Geraldine shakes thee hence. Yet, if Hope has flown away in a night, or in nothing but a feint.

               72

That heart to this fool lord, dare I bid her abide by her side; nor strange. That is misunderstood.

               73

You soarer, you of the sea. ’ Echoing straits between the hills? Again she sees my lady’s maid.

               74

Nor shall die tonight, I wrote this morning. Black Melancholy reigns; what means the warm leaden sheet.

               75

And the gravelly sand take a body to it, even blue-eyed fly to the field. Sir Leoline?

               76

From op’ning on the crowing cock, how drowsily it crew. Shall ever was in our own child-bed.

               77

Within and whom I am confined. Water so cleanly I myself upon the floor below.

               78

Cries to catch her but I? Of all that we see or seem is but as a tomb which happened balloon.

               79

Out for love, to give the wreath’d trellis of a working brain, love alone. With a moonlight and song.

               80

I lift my heaven knows, in joys and woe so many times. To the banks, close of each too, too late.

               81

My soul would only be the best, even to life in losing mine? Naked, a double behind.

               82

Like cliffs which have no fear! Beneath the weight of soil, nothing new is in us, and were at peace.

               83

I knew a beautiful olives. We men and drivers in a bar-room around its wings and neck.

               84

—Come live with me—or fall from its boundless mere, with true sight! This day my journey should I presume?

               85

Into many a summer’s front doth sing and saying plainly of not turning from yonder bay?

               86

Oft did I rove by bonnie Doon, how can you bloom so fresh and faithful to its crisis? Have guessed?

               87

I fell, and fro, while I weep! And turning away, wants to be made, cobbling at the lasting flames!

               88

Such gentle still dictates, and those faire skin, beamy eyes, for the quarters, and looking to the Pole.

               89

Pitiless wave? Flickering gyres, but he’d once about to have gone to the sun delights me.

               90

And may appear so when this rebellious heart, and that will show itself to stone. Nay, fairer yet!

               91

To swell a progress, start up, the same chance! As old as a dog, as quiet as a skeleton.

               92

Move still doth breeding flow’rs. They will sing to me. That even its grossest flatterers dare not brave.

               93

That looks up at the happy again. A clover, a Fisherman mends a glimmers on to me.

               94

To them through my fingers am I at all satisfied. Her deadly pangs be drown’d, while I slept.

               95

Rain on thee; yet eyes this curious friend. The winged’ steed, I wish we never looks both small and dull.

               96

And make my old excuse, ’ proving his caresses by the cold. With open eyes ah woe is me!

               97

To deem, as a most logical conclusion, that ’s underneath the weight. It even for me?

               98

Nay, by my own eyes inspiring hole. My heart is dust at the pin; and here, ev’n then, shall meet!

               99

Unto the straitest best of all to Love than is or ever dear! Angels of the precious jewel.

               100

Ida came behind. That brought to. But to- morrow, the field. While prostrate here increase! To the field.

               101

I cried for madder music and forms of men! His gentle daughter is safe and fro, while I weep!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #153 texts #kimo sequence

[beardedmrbean]

Investigators have found more fentanyl hidden under a trapdoor at the New York City day care where a 1-year-old boy fell ill and later died and three other children got sick from apparent opioid exposure last week, police said.

Detectives discovered the trapdoor in the play area of the day care center while carrying out a search warrant Wednesday, the New York City Police Department said in an update Thursday.

Concealed under the trapdoor, fentanyl, other narcotics and drug paraphernalia were found, the department said, with photos shared by police showing several bags appearing to have been hidden under a floorboard. It was not immediately clear what the other narcotics were.

The NYPD did not immediately respond to an overnight request for more information.

The discovery comes after the owner of the “Divino Niño” day care, Grei Mendez, 36, and alleged accomplice Carlisto Acevedo Brito, 41, were hit with federal charges earlier this week in connection with the death of 1-year-old Nicholas Dominici.

Both Mendez and Brito were charged with conspiracy to distribute narcotics resulting in death and possession with intent to distribute narcotics resulting in death in the Southern District of New York, according to a complaint written by a Drug Enforcement Administration agent that was unsealed Tuesday.

The complaint alleged that drugs had also been stored in a hallway closet on top of children’s playmats at the facility. Two kilo presses, devices typically used by drug dealers to package large quantities of drugs, were also alleged to have been found in the closet along with a third one in the owner’s bedroom.

Mendez and Brito, the cousin of Mendez's husband who was renting a bedroom at the day care, had been working together from July to September, according to the complaint.

An attorney for Mendez, Andres Manual Aranda, told NBC News on Monday that Mendez had "no knowledge" drugs were at the facility and that she had called 911 when she realized something was wrong with the children in the Sept. 15 incident. Aranda could not immediately be reached for comment early Friday.

The complaint alleged that she had actually made three other calls before calling police at 2:40 p.m. ET. The first was to another employee at the day care at 2:39 p.m. The latter two were made to someone she later said was her husband, with the first call going unanswered and the second lasting just over 10 seconds.

Mendez called her husband several more times after speaking with 911, the complaint said. And surveillance footage showed her husband entering the day care before emergency personnel arrived and leaving two minutes later through the back alley carrying what appeared to be two shopping bags "weighted with contents," it said.

The complaint said the husband's behavior was consistent with an effort to "remove materials from the day care to avoid their discovery by law enforcement.” 

Authorities said a search of Mendez's phone also found she had deleted more than 21,000 messages from an encrypted messaging application where she had exchanged messages with her husband from March 2021 to the day of the deadly incident.

In the deleted messages, Mendez was found to have told her husband that law enforcement was asking questions about him, according to the complaint. He responded that she should tell them he was working, while she told him to look for a lawyer. The messages were deleted before police arrived at the day care, according to the complaint.

Meanwhile, a review of Brito's electronic devices found he had exchanged messages with others indicating his "participation in narcotics trafficking," the complaint said.

The NYPD said the investigation into the Sept. 15 incident was still ongoing.

#nunyas news

[expired-bat]

we met in september - chapter 4

**trigger warning for this chapter: mental illness, mentions of s3lf-h4rm, self-loathing

featured song for this chapter:

enjoy &lt;3

Nothing much exciting happened throughout the day, besides the art teacher, Mrs. Morozova, excited for Y/N to be in her class. Why? She overheard that she is extremely talented in visual arts and has respect for it. Y/N felt welcomed for the second time in this building.

A day of school ends; Y/N has her earbuds on as she listens to Lovesong, her favorite by The Cure. She walked down the hallway on her way to the double doors, then she felt pressure on her shoulder. Flinching, she swooped her neck to see the blonde boy that was in a majority of her classes. She couldn’t read her face and panicked.

What did I do to him? Did I give him a dirty look earlier? Why me?!

A pregnant pause… then he spoke, “you dropped your book earlier.”

Y/N looked down to see that his hand was holding the journal. She was shocked; how did it fell off? With shaky hands, she took the journal back and clenched it with her arms.

“… thank you.” Is all she could say. She ran off the doors and went to her bus.

What the hell?! How did it fall off?! Did he find it? Oh my god, DID HE READ IT?! I need to get a new one as soon as Natalya gives me another allowance!!!

Thoughts quickly jammed in her mind as she went to her bus. She was hyperventilating and shaking all over.

“Y/N! What’s wrong?!”

She looked up to see Tatyana, looking at her with worry.

She wiped some sweat off her forehead. “No, Taty, I’m alright. It’s just my first day.” Y/N chuckled nervously.

Tatyana stared at her for a few seconds, and beamed an “okay!” before she sat down.

Y/N continued to listen to her music and looked out of the window. The blocky buildings were rampant and some trees were showing warm colors. She shut her eyes for a bit, hoping to dream about the good things in life…

.

.

.

.

“Y/N!”

She jolted at Tatyana's cry. They were at their stop. She gathered her belongings and followed her sister home. Y/N rubbed her eyes in a daze.

“Damn, did high school really bother you that much?” the younger girl asked.

Y/N yawned. “Yeah. It’s boring with the strict teachers and stuff you have to do everyday.”

“That’s relatable. The fun part about school is about friends! Did you meet anyone?”

“… not really. I kept to myself, though there’s this boy who keeps sitting by me every time I have class with him. He even gave me back something I lost.” Y/N flushed while talking about it.

Tatyana let out a gasp. “Wow! Such a temptress! You go girl!!”

“It’s not like that! It’s obvious he isn’t interested in me and he’s a douchebag either way!”

“Hah! Whatever!”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[Dee’s POV]

My curiosity peaked when it was Y/N’s journal. For some reason, it made me want to know her more.

I already know her schedule at this point; the next class is physics and she is in the same class. I have every class with her besides Art. I would have to wait until the last class of the day to look at that journal.

-time skip-

My last class for the day is computer science. Since no one is doing absolutely nothing and the teacher is such a Neanderthal, it gave me the chance to look through Y/N’s journal.

I pulled it out and began reading the first page.

I don’t know where to begin with this, but let’s just say that I have no one to vent my frustrations with other than someone non existent. How about I introduce myself? My name is Y/N L/N, I’m 15 years old, my birthday is (month and day), I’m a(n) (insert zodiac sign), and I’m chronically depressed and filled with anxiety. Everyone would say that I don’t talk a lot (true), I hate people (depending on the person), and I’m super creative (true ig??).

Why did I decide to get you? Two reasons; therapy and The Diary of Anne Frank. I’m fucked in the head thanks to my family’s history of undiagnosed mental illnesses. My therapist recommended that I write down my thoughts daily, so I’m giving it a try. Also, in English class, we read the Diary of Anne Frank. It made me wonder about if I suddenly die or disappear, I would document what was happening that day before it happened. Idk man it sounds dark but hey, it’s better than harming yourself right?

This page is already getting full. I’ll write to you in the morning.

I stared at the page. It feels wrong to go through it. One part of my mind is begging me to put it away and block whatever I just read and another is egging me to continue.

I flipped to another page.

Nov. 9th, 20XX

Why?? Why me??? What did I do to you??? I didn’t do anything!!!! I just wanted to get along with you. Why did I decide to trust you?? You were supposed to protect me. Why why why why WHY WHY WHY WHY WHAT DID I DO I HATE YOU SO MUCH FUCK YOU

The page ends with scribbles. Onto the next page.

Nov. 10th, 20XX

I had a relapse. I thought I was doing good but god dammit. I’m probably gonna be sent to the loony bin this time. But knowing mom, she’s gonna try her best to persuade my therapist that I’m okay. Still, I just want to be better. I want to know what it’s like to be happy in life. I hate feeling like shit. Maybe I am a piece of shit. 

There’s a small smudge of dried blood.

I scanned through the rest of the journal up until the latest entry. There, I learned more things about Y/N: 

She’s from [city, state/province, country]. 

She’s a child of immigrants; her mom seems to be extremely loving to her but she’s strict to her at times and she vehemently hates her father.

Her parents are divorced and they have joint custody. 

She has a small group of friends back at home.

She wishes to travel around the world.

She likes cooler weather, drawing and art, animals, and cute things. 

She hates summer, people yelling at her, and being overwhelmed with emotion. 

She mostly listens to new wave and gothic metal, but listens to nu and death metal, industrial, and hardcore rock. 

She seems to have low self-esteem and doesn’t believe that she’s enough. 

Her biggest fears are abandonment and failure.

She’s homesick and misses her family and friends.

I closed the book and set it aside. The bell was about to ring and I was prepared to leave the class. I pondered about what I’ve read. She intrigued me and I know that she’s afraid of me. It’s because of my demeanor. I want to know more about her, like asking her how life here is like and how her family is treating her. She’s interesting to me…

Maybe… maybe I’ll befriend her?

The day ends and I have to remind myself to give her back her journal. On my way to the bus, I see her on her way. I called out a “hey,” but she didn’t respond. I did it again, a bit louder. Agitated, I paced myself and touched her shoulder.

She flinched and her hair swifted, she looked at me in fear. It stung to see her like that, am I that scary?

There was an awkward pause. I had to speak up. I lifted the book up.

“You dropped your book earlier.”

Y/N looked down and got it with both hands. I could feel her hands shaking and I could’ve sworn our fingers brushed. She held the book as if her life depended on it.

I could barely hear it, but she muttered out a “thank you,” then ran off outside.

I stood there for a while and thought about what happened. I touched my hand on my cheek and it felt… hot?

Huh?! Am I blushing? No way! I looked at my reflection out the window and my face was pink as hell. Don’t be dumb, Dee, she’s a foreign student! She’s focusing on her studies and you barely know her!!

Does she gain my interest? Yes. But am I interested in her? Do I… like her?

Talking to people is so confusing.

#metal family #metal family dee #dee x reader #metal family dee x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #milo writes #Spotify

[endlessreruns]

(Jack Wolfe) [The Musician]. Please welcome [Nickleby 'Nick’ Dalton (they/them)] to Huntsville, WV. They are an [26]-year-old [RESIDENT] who lives in [TOWN]. You may see them around working as a [Chef at Bucky’s Diner].

Name: Nickleby Laurie Dalton

Nick-Names: Nick, Nicky

Face Claim: Jack Wolfe

Age: 26

Gender/Pronouns: Nonbinary, They/Them

Orientation: Gay

Town Resident

Neither Hunter or Gatherer 

Occupation: Cook at Bucky's Diner

Languages Spoken: English, French and some ASL

Traits: Gentle / Domestic / Lyrical / Punctual / Submissive / Insecure

----

tw: mentions of pedophilia, abuse, sickness, death

Nick was born their mother’s second child, unlike their older half sister they never knew who their father was. Their mother told them that their father had been in the military and had died overseas before they were born. The truth, however, was that their father was a man who still lived in town that she had slept with after a night at the bar, and didn’t think the man would be much help in raising a kid. 

Their mother never remarried after divorcing their half sister’s father, but there were constant boyfriends coming in and out of the house. Some were perfectly fine, but it just didn’t last. Others only stayed around long enough to find out she had kids. One online relationship that their mother thought was ‘the one’ had them packing up and moving out of town for a period of time when they were 12 years old.

At the age or 15 Nick developed a crush on their English and History teacher, something that the man took advantage of. It went on for much of the year until the teacher wound up caught outside by the monsters one night. While there were probably rumors among the students about this relationship, especially with the way Nick reacted to the death, it was never something that was outright proven or looked into by the authorities before the teacher died.

They started a relationship with another student that was one year older than them at the age of 17, and got married once they had turned 18, both had barely graduated high school, and they hadn’t dated for more than a few months. They were both riding the high of infatuation and being teenagers in love. Things were fine at first, but after a while Nick’s husband’s true nature started to seep out. It started out in small, imperceptible ways, but over time it grew into something much much worse, Nick finding ways to hide the results whenever they left the home that they lived in together. 

This all sadly went on for well over two years until one particularly bad night led to Nick slipping something into their husband’s food the next evening at dinner. They had only meant to make him sick, however it wound up being enough to kill him. Panicked and freaked out they sought out Earline, the woman having been the mother of their mother’s friend and they knew she was a safe person to go to. They made it to her place just before dark and she helped them figure out what to do next. 

Not wanting to remain in that home any more Nick moved back in with their mother, staying there until she fell ill and died when Nick was 24. They have continued to live here alone since.

Nick’s talent for music was discovered at a young age and over the years they picked up instrument after instrument. The piano and flute (including a pan flute that Lincoln made for them when they were a kid) are the ones they have the most talent and knowledge in, but they can also play the guitar, violin, viola, clarinet, and ocarina. All of which were bought second hand/used...many off of ebay before the paradox occurred.

has been working at the diner for a couple of months.

Has vision issues in their left eye as a result of their former husband

#huntsvilleintro #intro: nick

[wavesmp3]

It was a long time ago, you tell the girl who looks at you like she’s already at a funeral. who looks at you like your a ghost. who looks at you like she’s not even afraid of you

(I am a ghost. I am with you.)

You tell her–don’t be so afraid of getting hurt.

Then you tell her about all the ghosts that follow you.

END

I was once young. You tell your daughter. She laughs. She’s too young for this conversation. This should be happening sometime in her future when she will scoff. But you can’t get that back. You settle for this

Try again

You tell yourself, your daughter too, but what is she if not a mini you. You can tell even now. Before she is even herself. You gave her your skin and bones. Your heart and hormones. Cavity, candy teeth. Your insecurities and your depression.

You tell her, that i was once you. But what you mean was i was young too.

Once upon a time, before you were you and before i was me.

You mean to tell her that you weren't always like this.

You weren't always the bad guy who’s mean.

You weren’t always old, wrinkly.

You were once fun. You once called the night young. You used to be young. And it was messed up and fun. And i fucked around and fell in love and–

Here you choke.

You fell in love.

But your daughter thinks her father is/was your first love.

Your daughter thinks that one day he’ll win back your heart.

But she knows you only met him in college. (and you weren’t young in college)

But there was someone before him. Someone you left something rotten in your mouth for. Someone that left you. And maybe that’s it–

15 years too late, 15 years gone

–that’s what still hurts you the most

_______________can i start now?__________

Jihoon is still in your life. You know because he sounds just as old and as tired as you. He has the same weird but cute dimple/wrinkle by his eye.

You know because when he says his name it still sounds like he’s young

Like he’s 15 and dumb.

Jihoon is still in your life. Which is why it hurts so much when the memory comes back to you of being in the back of his truck in the middle of the parking lot asking him and which dreams of mine he likes the best battling against the blanket between our hands.

Jihoon is still in your life. As the person i could’ve been. As the person i nod to at the grocery store. Someone who has become a stranger. Just another somebody you used to know.

___________when she forgets how she wants to tell the story? which sides of it she wants to show?_____________________________________________________________________

His cheeks looked like dates sometimes. She remembers that. She also remembers how much he liked at that time to put violins in his every song

He’s not like other boys you’ve met. The gods told me that.

He said ill be yours for the rest of my time. I asked the gods how could he do that. They answered as one, he’ll make you feel alive.

#mine #not even more about a title now lol #is Jihoon (svt) x female reader at the end if you squint #got high and fucked around on a Google doc lol was a lot of fun can’t believe I haven’t don’t that yet

[astererer]

orange lily and thornless rose for Vernon, Aster, and Kaz!

Ask meme here :))

Orange Lily ; a flower of hatred .. for a time where my muse was made (or nearly made) physically ill or unwell due to hatred for someone.

Aster

During her short time as Galar champion, Aster almost fell ill due to a couple of factors. Stress from becoming a major public figure practically overnight, and hatred for Chairman Rose for micromanaging her schedule. Going from a reserved, but otherwise normal kid to the most famous person in the region with little room for a break was too much to handle so she ran away before an actual breakdown happened.

Kaz

Doesn’t really hate anyone enough to become unwell over it. He may start fights but it’s mostly for fun on his end. Has probably made OTHER people ill from how insufferable and violent he can be though lol. Got seethingly jealous when a certain someone stopped sleeping with him in order to date another person and Kaz proceeded to drink so much he was hungover for an entire day afterwards but that’s a bit different to actual hatred.

Vernon

Where Aster didn’t fall ill from stress and hatred, Vernon did. When he found out how awful her time was as champion under Rose’s supervision, he felt a pit of rage form in his stomach. He was always protective of his younger sister, so discovering someone had caused her distress and he could do nothing about it Ate Him Up inside. Proceeded to get a stomach ulcer from stress after Aster left the region. Never forgave Rose and it soured his view on the Galar League for a while.

Thornless Rose ; a flower for love at first sight .. for the first, or only, time my muse felt the pull of love at first sight.

Aster

On her first day at secondary school she developed a crush on one of the girls in her class. Taller than the other 11 year olds and confident about her battling skills, this girl was someone Aster admired from afar but couldn’t even begin to think of how to approach. About a year later the girl went off to attempt the gym challenge and came back frustrated, bitter and insecure after being unable to get past the third gym. Aster realised this girl wasn’t all she was cracked up to be and just moved on.

Kaz

This man is so emotionally stunted he probably wouldn’t know what romantic love felt like if it ran up and kissed him on the mouth. Just being able to recognise genuine friendship can be a challenge for him. That being said, when he was a little kid he developed an immediate infatuation/celebrity crush on a musician he saw playing a festival on TV. Still harbours some level of admiration and uses it as a motivation for his band to make it — how else is he gonna meet this person?

Vernon

His first boyfriend :)) the guy had transferred into Vern’s class when they were 15, they made eye contact from across the room and that was it. Wasn’t a full blown case of falling in love so much as an instant crush, but things developed quickly when they bumped each other at a house party that weekend and developed a friendship. Then it became more than just friendship.

#for those who don’t know secondary school is like middle and high school rolled into one #tends to be more common in the uk so i’m gonna go ahead and say it’s the same in galar lol #also sorry the love at first sight ones aren’t really Love love my guys are either guarded around people or just not super romantic types #oc aster #oc kaz #oc vernon #ask meme

[fetteredhope]

—— ( geraldine viswanathan. cis woman, she/her. ) recently seen serving at diner 54: enter ROBIN ELODIE SHRIKE. twenty-eight years old & a capricorn, usually observed in graphic t-shirts, leather jackets, and oversized cargos ; robin is a devotion local known within their circle as COMPOSED + NURTURING, a perpetual hum of me by the 1975 on salted mouth. something of the AFFECTLESS + FICKLE follows, regardless … something to do with working dead end jobs, because who really cares in the end, perhaps ? strange, what a HUMAN can get up to. they’ve been heard waxing lyrical about a dream they had recently, a strange tale of a familiar laugh, but there’s an echo that leaves the room feeling cold. it’s hollow and forced, but she’ll take what she can get. pay no mind to fanciful star - gazing, though: rather, mind the tangible. focus on rolling her eyes at her favourite twinks despite how much she actually loves them, flipping off customers the second they try it with her, dark lipstick; dark eyeshadow; dark attire. / committed to legend by bri, twenty6, they/she, est.

below are mentions of chronic illness & hospitalization!

stats.

name: robin elodie shrike.

nickname: rob, robby.

age: twenty eight.

gender identity: cis woman.

pronouns: she/her.

sexuality: lesbian.

birthday: january 15, 1995.

star sign: capricorn.

myer-briggs: intp.

occupation: waitress at diner 54.

place of birth: devotion, south of tene.

last played on spotify: until the night turns by lord huron.

general disposition: indifferent and judgmental.

background.

the youngest of two older brothers, robin came into the world loudly and aggressively, and it was merely a precursor to how she’d always read

life growing up wasn’t horrible, her parents were loving and their family had money - mum being the owner of a massive publishing company and dad being a big name editor, also the owners of shrike point light library

however it felt as if they were never satisfied, always pushing for more even when their kids were at the top of their classes and heavily involved in as many extracurriculars as they could

it eventually mottled her relationship with her brothers - she was always close with the oldest shrike kid josef, but malcolm had a bad case of middle child syndrome and distanced himself entirely, from their parents and definitely from josef, who was the best of them in their parents eyes

robin herself didn’t purposely act out - she just stopped caring……… academics to her came with ease, she was lucky to be naturally very smart, but she felt no desire to ever challenge herself in her extracurriculars and classes the way her parents wanted her to

she graduated high school and… that was basically it, she never tried to go to university, wrinkled her nose at the idea of taking community college classes as a pass time, she was just done and though her parents hated it, she was free of their judgment

she’s been working at diner 54 for 10 years now - while robin’s free, she feels the opposite of stuck; she loves devotion and plans on staying there for as long as she lives, with her rag tag somewhat dysfunctional group of friends she’s had since she was little

thought it felt like nothing was happening for her, robin didn’t mind it at all; she would give anything to go back to those days before josef fell incredibly sick - a lung infection that resulted in a transplant, which seemed like the worst of it, until his body began to reject the transplant and he’s been in hospital ever since

details.

when she’s not at work, robin’s either in a dingy bar with her friends or at the hospital visiting josef - she has her own cot permanently left in his room for when she has to serve late into the night and visiting hours are technically over

a big reader!!!! ig it runs in the family fr

the epitome of grunge/punk kid

is secretly quite loving and she does make it known with friends but she’s openly sneered in customers faces before if they were rude to her or even bc she thought their dinner orders were Ass

as a human she’s incredibly intrigued and fascinated with the devotion creatures, especially witches of which a lot of her friends are

she can be a bit selfish in her requests and demands sometimes but she just wants to watch people use their powers its cool ok.

is the lesbian mom to her fav twinks around town that she protects like they’re her own children

connections.

needs roommates pls, at least 2!!!

bffs/childhood friends

ppl who work at diner 54 with her!!

someone added to her twink collection :) 

exes!! that ended on good and bad terms

hook ups/fwbs

someone she knows thru her brothers/grew up with them/family friends etc.

anything n everything teehee

#devotion.intro #chronic illness tw #hospitalization tw