#and not only that but like!! I’m a sophomore in college now!! like what!!! dude!!!

[breakneckhog]

Whenever life gets too crazy and things change too much one of my go to remedies is looking up the blue exorcist tag on tumblr. That shit has had the same couple of memes, and fanart for years, and when something new is in the tag it’s nice to look at and yeah when a new chapter comes out people talk about it. But nothing big really changes in the fandom, a lot of the top posts are shit from like 2019. Like don’t get me wrong I fucking love blue exorcist, I read every new chapter, I’ve been a fan for years and the fact that not much has changed about it on tumblr is kinda comforting in a way. Like no matter how much time passes or how old I get, I still have this fandom, the fact that the manga is still going honestly makes me so happy. It’s nice.

[favefandomimagines]

Love is a Battlefield (j.m)

Request: Idk I don’t have like a request request but anything with jj maybank honestly okay or maybe the way 13 going on 30 randomly popped in my head like maybe Jenna and matty vibes @idontevenknowbsblog

Summary: JJ Maybank had been your best friend since you were 4 years old and then life started to complicate things.

AN: this is a long one lol and maybe not as close to Jenna and Matty but definitely a best friends to lovers, I got carried away lol not edited

Your mom would joke that it was fate for JJ Maybank to end up in your life. It was fate that her and JJ’s mom would be in the same lamaze class. Because of fate and that friendship, it formed the relationship you cherished the most. JJ was a constant. If there was one thing you could rely on, it was JJ always being there.

Even after his mom left, JJ was there. Moreso after Luke began the drinking and the drugs. It was often a point of contention between him and your mother. She felt she owed it to her long time friend to look after her son and Luke put JJ in danger every day.

Kindergarten started with you and JJ, and ended with you, JJ, John B and Pope. The four of you becoming an instant package deal.

The three of them were there when your dad passed away suddenly when you were 10. Though John B and Pope were supportive, JJ never left your house. Sleeping in a sleeping bag outside your bedroom door for weeks.

It was the four of you navigating your adolescence up until the age of 14. The Summer before sophomore year started with four and finished with five.

Kiara became a fast friend when her parents opened The Wreck and you needed a Summer job to keep you busy. The rest was history, Kie’s Kook year being nothing but a snide comment here and there.

JJ joked that you were the glue that held the Pogues together. If they didn’t have you they’d all fall apart. He loved you since you were 14, all throughout high school and he never said a thing. You staying in his life was more important than how you stayed in his life.

Now you were quickly approaching graduation. You hadn’t been too open about your post-grad plans and that worried him.

He was worried you were going to leave him and never come back. Was it overdramatic? Sure, but it was also realistic. You were always too good for him and maybe that’s why he never told you how he felt.

It was the night before the first day of senior year and the Pogues were sitting around the fire at the Chateau.

“What are everyone’s post-grad plans? We haven’t really talked about it.” John B spoke. “Way to kill the mood, dude.” JJ replied. “Come on, we have to talk about it. We can’t stay at the Chateau forever.” John B replied. “Well, I got into USC. Only a 6 hour drive from you guys.” Kie said.

“I’ll be going to community college on the mainland.” Pope replied. “Starting trade school next fall, open up my own garage here.” John B said. “Y/N, what about you?” Kie asked. “Oh, well, if you would’ve asked me two weeks ago I would’ve said nothing at all but, I do have some news.” You answered.

JJ furrowed his eyebrows at your words. News? What have you not told him? You tell him everything.

“I applied to UNC and I got in. Almost a full ride but I’ll work for the rest of my tuition.” You announced. The Pogues cheered and came to their feet to applaud you. You had always talked about attending UNC ever since you found out your dad had attended.

“That’s amazing, Y/N!” John B cheered. “And only 3 hours from you and J.” You commented. JJ being the only one to not congratulate you didn’t go unnoticed by you. While everyone was occupied, you nudged his foot with yours, signalling to go down to the dock.

You both got up from your spots and walked down to the water in silence. “I know what you’re thinking,” You started. “And what am I thinking?”JJ asked. “You think I’m leaving you. That I’m going to move on from you, find something better.” You continued.

JJ’s silence proved that your thoughts were right. “J, I’m not going anywhere yet. It’s only August, we have almost a year left.” You spoke. “Y/N, this is UNC. You’re going to school, get your fancy degree and move on from your entire life. Me included, you won’t want to hang out with some guy who’s doing nothing with his life.” JJ explained.

“You’re taking over the entire yacht club. That’s a big deal! You’re going to be getting a head start with your life while I’ll be in school for 8 years waiting to start mine.” You replied. “Besides, you think 3 hours is going to keep me away?” You added.

JJ shrugged, his gaze fixated on the water in front of him. “You’re my best friend, JJ. I would never leave you behind.” You added. “Do you promise?” He asked. “I promise.” You said, holding out your pinky in front of him.

“A pinky promise? Come on, Y/N, we’re 18.” JJ said. “And when have I ever broken a pinky promise?” You rebutted. JJ smirked slightly before hooking his pinky with your’s.

XX

It was October. The leaves began to change and the air was becoming brisk. Fall had descended upon the Outer Banks and Fall meant homecoming. You thought you had outgrown the excitement for homecoming but it was your last one. And you thought that maybe homecoming was the perfect time to tell JJ how you felt about him.

Somewhere between 15 and 16, the feelings of love you had for JJ had gone from platonic to the complete opposite. That was why you held off on telling JJ about UNC. Thinking that you two could live in your perfect teenage bubble for a little while longer.

You felt stupid for trying to pursue a relationship with JJ a few months before you left for college but your friendship has withstood the test of time, it could withstand 266 miles. Right? You owed it to yourself to try.

“So, are you going to ask JJ to homecoming?” Kie asked. “How did you know?” You asked your friend as the pair of you stood at her locker. “Because I know you, Y/N. You’ve had feelings for you for as long as I’ve known you. You look at him the same way you look at Paul Mescal.” She teased.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to ask him. I’m terrified he’s going to say no and then I ruined everything.” You said. “He’s not going to say no. And even if he does, you guys have been through too much to let something this small ruin your friendship.” Kie replied.

You wanted to believe her and that everything was going to be fine one way or another bit as you stood outside JJ’s house, pacing, you couldn’t help but think of the worst case scenario. Luke was MIA so you didn’t have to worry about him storming outside.

JJ walked by his front door and heard your voice mumbling outside. He looked out the window and saw you pacing on his lawn. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” JJ asked as he opened the screen door.

“J, hey, uh I just wanted to ask you something. Or tell you something.” You stammered. “You okay?” He questioned. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.” You said. “What’s up?” He asked.

“Okay, so um, would you want to go to homecoming with me? Either as friends or, uh, more than friends?” You said, avoiding his gaze at all possible. “What?” He questioned. “Do you want to go to homecoming with me? Not as friends but as a date?” You repeated.

JJ thought he was dreaming. Were you really telling him you wanted to go to homecoming as more than friends? But why now? You were leaving for Chapel Hill in the Fall, how is it fair to either of you to pursue your feelings when you’ll just be leaving?

“Y/N, you’re leaving in August. I don’t think you want to do this.” He said. Your face fell as you processed his words. “I’m sorry, what?” You asked. “You’re leaving. Even if I felt the same way, we couldn’t do long distance.” He lied.

JJ lied through his teeth. He had to because he knew you needed to go to UNC. It was your dream, it’s where you always wanted to go. He couldn’t stand in the way of that. It was going to be harder as friends, he couldn’t imagine what it’d be like as your boyfriend.

Though seeing the look on your face made him wish he could take those words back. “Uh, this was a mistake. I should go.” You said, backing away slowly from his front porch.

You were so embarrassed, how could you have misread everything that poorly. “Y/N, we-“ JJ started. “Don’t. Please don’t make me feel worse than I already do.” You interrupted, before turning around and walking home.

JJ could see not only the unshed tears in your eyes, but the hurt as well. He could’ve been honest, told you the truth. He didn’t know how you’d both do long distance once you were in college. He was scared to lose you but he did anyway by lying.

You got home and walked through the front door and saw your mom standing in the entryway. “How’d it go?” She asked. But she could tell by the look on your face that it did not go well.

All you did in response was finally break down in tears. Your mom gave you a solemn look before she walked over and wrapped you in an embrace. “Oh honey, I’m sorry.” She spoke. “I feel so stupid.” You cried. “You’re not stupid, Y/N, you just loved him.”

XX

It was now December. Homecoming came and went and you didn’t go. Two months had gone by and you hadn’t spoken to JJ. You were angry, embarrassed, confused. Why did you think JJ felt the same way? Why did you ruin your friendship like this?

JJ called you everyday, sent texts, but you didn’t want to see or hear what he had to say. You were angry with him for embarrassing you the way he did. And you were stupid enough to think he actually liked you. He was JJ Maybank for crying out loud, every girl in your grade wanted to be with JJ. What made you different?

That meant that your relationship with the Pogues was suffering. You didn’t want to make them choose sides so you made the decision for them and therefore stopped seeing them as often.

But it was now Winter Break and they were determined to figure out what exactly had gone wrong.

“So what’s going on with you and JJ? You haven’t spoke in months.” John B asked as you sat outside your house. “Nothing. What did he tell you?” You questioned.

“Nothing. Just like you. Seriously, Y/N, what happened?” John B questioned. You were quiet for a moment, fidgeting with your fingers.

“I told him how I felt. I told him that I wanted to go to homecoming with him as more than a friend and he rejected me. He doesn’t feel the same way.” You explained.

John B was silent. More so out of confusion than anything else. How could JJ say he didn’t feel the same way when he 100% did?

“Can we please not talk about it? I’m embarrassed enough as it is.” You added, standing up to walk back inside.

John B was going to figure this out one way or another.

He arrived at home and saw JJ’s bike out front. “J?” He called entering the home. “What’s up?” JJ asked, entering the living room. “What is going on with you and Y/N? And don’t lie and tell me nothing. She told me everything.” John B questioned.

JJ was quiet for a moment, knowing that he was going to have to face his mistake. “You have feelings for her, J. Why did you tell her you didn’t?” John B added.

“Because she’s leaving. She’s going to UNC, going to make all of her dreams come true and I can’t be holding her back. What happens if we got together? One, she stays here for me and then down the line resents the fact she stayed instead of following her dreams. Two, I get my heart broken because I fall even more in love with her and she leaves. It doesn’t end well for either of us either way.” JJ answered.

“JJ, you can’t live your life like that. Have you ever thought about going with her? They have jobs in Chapel Hill.” John B suggested. “And be her loser boyfriend who followed her from home?” JJ scoffed. “Now you’re just being a jerk. And being way too hard on yourself.” His friend said.

“It’s the truth, John B.” JJ replied. “No it’s not. You just won’t let yourself be happy.” John B told him.

JJ was quiet as John B walked off to his room. Maybe he had a point. He was finding excuse after excuse to not let himself be happy. But his entire life was based on waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You were the most important person to him and he couldn’t lose you like he’s lost everyone else. What was he supposed to do? The damage was done, you weren’t talking to him. There was no way he could make things right.

His body moved before his brain could catch up, and he was getting on his bike making a run for your house. John B was right. He shouldn’t be letting these things get in the way of something that would make him happy.

When he arrived, he barely turned the bike off before he was already off. He just stood there for a moment, thinking about what he was going to do next. He didn’t really leave with a plan.

JJ looked down at the flower bed and saw small pebbles and his brain kicked into over drive.

He tossed the first pebble at your window, the sound slightly echoing off the glass. After a few seconds, he tossed another one.

You were sitting on your bed reading a book when you heard taps on your window. You furrowed your eyebrows as you discarded the book and walked to the window.

The sight shocked you. JJ was standing outside tossing rocks at your window. You slid your window opened and looked out. “JJ, what are you doing here?” You asked.

“You weren’t answering my calls or texts.” He says. “I know. That was on purpose.” You sassed back. “I want to say…I lied to you,” He started.

“I lied to you the night you asked me to homecoming. I do feel the same way. I have since we were 14 and you punched Rafe Cameron in the nose for making fun of my backpack. You’re my best friend. You’re perfect and I just got scared. Scared that no matter what, we were just going to be another high school couple and never speak again once you leave. I love you, Y/N and I was stupid to make you think that I don’t.” JJ finished.

“Give me a sec.” You said before closing the window. JJ’s heart sank. Were you going to reject him? He felt like he was going to throw up from anxiety.

JJ heard the front door open and moved to stand in front of your porch. You walked out in your seashell pajamas that you bought with Sarah last year.

"Do you mean all of that?" You asked. "You're not just going to bail when it gets hard?" You added. "No, no I'm not going to bail. You're worth it, Y/N. Like you said you'll only be a few hours away. I could be in Chapel Hill by noon on a Wednesday if you said the word." JJ said.

"Then I guess I need to get a UNC Boyfriend t-shirt. If that's what you want." You said. "I'll wear that t-shirt every single day." JJ said, walking towards you kissing you deeply.

You had imagined your first kiss with JJ many times and the real thing was so much better than you had thought.

[barklioowou]

Business Experience

(First time writing tf!! Hope you all enjoy!)

Caleb was an extremely gifted man physically, hulking with strength since day one of puberty. He used his talents to excel in wrestling and body building through out his highschool years, aiming restlessly for a sports related scholarship to allow him an easy ride through college. Caleb planned to major in business and continue his life of lifting and eating without a care in the world while his body paved his way for him as it always had. If he played his cards right he wouldn’t have to work a day in his life and he reveled in the possibility.

“YO WAITER!! I’ve been waiting for ages! When you gonna bring some bread or someshit dog huhuh” Caleb yelled out towards the poor server stuck with him in their segment. “Right here sir, are you ready to order by chance?” They ask while trying to maintain composure in the presence of Caleb’s brash demeanor. “Yeah dude, chicken tenders and a large Diet Coke, make it snappy” Caleb snapped his fingers for effect and The Server turned and left without a word. “Can’t even order an adults dinner? I’ll help that guy act his age for once” The Server scribbled down something in strange lettering on the back of the order note before turning it into the kitchen.

Caleb tore into the bread as The Server returned to table carrying a full glass of soda. “Apologies for the inconvenience sir, on the house” The Server says calmly while setting down the glass before departing once more. “Who the hell gives a soda on the house? Can’t argue with good service though” Caleb takes a big gulp from the glass and takes notice of the oddly sweet taste.

>>Yo Caleb!! How’s your first year of college treating you? Saw you joined a frat already, I’m not surprised considering how hard you always went at parties lmaooo

It was text from Caleb’s friend Jack, but why was he texting him like they haven’t seen each other? He was with him during their graduation just one week one year ago.

Huh? Caleb shook his head, he graduated highschool a year ago didn’t he? He remembers rushing his frat and cementing himself in the house after only a few months, but wasn’t he out celebrating getting his scholarship tonight? Why would he be celebrating it one year later…

>>Hows your beard coming along too btw, I remember you raving about how you’d grow one by the end of freshman year lololol

Caleb cracks a smug smile to himeself as he sets up his phone and takes a selfie to send to his friend, been so long since they saw each other it only makes sense to show him what he’s missed.

>>You already know I got that shit grown, told you I’d have it done by the end of freshman year 😎

>>Damn dude! You didn’t stop hitting the gym either, you’re totally late on that bet though dog you’re halfway through your sophomore year.

Caleb rubs his eyes in confusion while reading the text. Halfway through sophomore year? It would make sense, He’s been swamped with Economics work while preparing his presentation on the importance of service work in the generation of value.

“Here’s your steak, medium rare, and a refill for your beer, enjoy your meal sir” The Server catches Caleb off guard as they set down the dish and refilling his drink before speeding off. Wasn’t he drinking a soda before though? Caleb quickly discards the thought as he remembers he hasn’t thanked The Server for their work “Thank you so much!” Caleb calls after The Server, barely noticing their pause and smile after hearing his voice.

>>So you’re just gonna send me a year old photo and pretend I won’t notice? Send something up to date and not something I can find on Facebook

Jack was being impossible, Caleb quickly sets up their phone timer and takes another selfie

>>Jesus Christ fine I didn’t realize you kept tabs on me like this, here’s one from right now

>>Happy now?

Caleb sets his phone down and begins ripping through the steak dinner, the beer makes everything go down easy as Caleb enjoys his meal before noticing more texts from Jack.

>>Elated even, I’m surprised you’re not in uniform though I thought you were working almost every night now that you need to pay for classes out of pocket since you started your senior year.

Caleb rolled his eyes reading the text. Yeah he was eating a meal while on break but that doesn’t mean he’d take his uniform off, talk about irresponsible.

>>I think for once you’re mistaken, I’m not so childish I’d change out of it just to eat my meal, I’ll get back to you in a few hours. I gotta help serve these tables that just got sat. Great hearing from you after so long though!

>>Talk to you later dog! Crazy how in just a few weeks we’ll be out of college…

(I’m super rusty on writing in all regards so I know this isn’t the best to ever be put out there but I hope it did something for some of you guys out there, hoping to produce more work soon!)

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

A vanilla extract incident

I am at a party. It's a party for college freshmen, and almost everybody there is like me, a newly minted college freshman. The host has a name like Jeremy or Chad or Andrew, and I have no idea why he invited me.

He's a college sophomore, and I'm pretty sure he took a look at my Facebook profile and decided I was one of the roughly 12% of freshmen he'll get along with, or maybe one of the 12% of freshmen he'd actually be able to tolerate for an evening, or maybe even one of the 12% of freshmen who might make for interesting conversation if he sees fit. Who knows.

We are watching a movie. There is some sort of problem with the DVD player and we keep having to stop the movie and restart it. I think it's a French film. It's one of those pretentious, artsy ones that goes from black and white to color and vice versa whenever the artist feels like it, to show that it is Art and not TV, and the protagonist just called his son "the little bastard" and then went to jail.

"I wonder what the title is in French," I say, to demonstrate that I am a cultured, literate young man who appreciates film.

"Le fils de la chienne," says some dude standing next to me, who looks like a cross between Nietzsche and John C. Reilly.

"God, I love fucking with Americans," he says, and giggles, and I know in my heart that I am being fucked with. I am at a sophomore's party, picking up sociological tidbits like jellybeans out of a bowl and contemplating their implications.

"You know what else is in French?" this dude says, noticing my confusion.

"No, what?"

"Fuckin' vanilla extract." He giggles again, pleased with himself for making a scandalous joke. On the TV, the father is singing a jaunty ditty on his way to prison.

"How can vanilla extract be in French?"

"Uh . . . it's in France," he says.

My mind fills with admiration. This is a party for college freshmen, and this guy is standing next to me, and we are talking about France and vanilla extract.

The DVD player coughs and gives up. We stop the movie, and get up to get more DVDs from the closet. The closet is filled with cans of Coca-Cola and cases of beer. There is a bottle of Jack Daniels in a cup of ice. No one I know drinks.

The movie goes on. I am trying to figure out how to fit a vanilla extract pun into the conversation. I do not succeed. The sophomore cannot tolerate me for another minute and says "fuckin' stalkin' me" or something to that effect and goes back to his group of friends, who are making the most of the anime movie by saying the lines along with the characters in all the right places.

I sit on the floor, perplexed. I am at a sophomore's party and my only conversational gambit has been vanilla extract. I seem to recall a time when I had grown beyond such things. These are new times. There is a new moon. We are post-apocalyptic now. I don't know what this means. I am here, and I am not sure why. I'm not sure why I am here, but I'm still here. Like vanilla extract. Like Earth. Like me.

I try to go back to watching the movie but it's really bad and there's no getting into it now.

[doggernaut]

Role reversal AU?

This AU, unfortunately, is very far down the list of things I'm likely to finish, mainly because it's a much bigger fic than I have time to write at the moment. It was originally a prompt I chose for last year's @omgauplease fest, but between school work and marathon training I just didn't have enough time to devote to it. 

The gist of the prompt was a role reversal fic where Bitty is a cocky, closeted figure skater who's about to spin out of control and Jack, having gone through something similar, is the only one who recognizes what's happening to Bitty.

To make it more of a role reversal, after Jack's overdose he took up baking and started taking hockey a lot less seriously. So while he is still captain of SMH in this AU, and professional hockey is still a goal he's working toward at the beginning of the fic, baking professionally becomes his primary ambition as the fic progresses.

Looking at what I've already written and what I have planned, I really would like to finish this fic someday; I just can't give it the attention it requires at the moment. But here is a fun (I think) interaction involving Ransom and Holster:

The muffins are cooling on a rack by the time Ransom and Holster finally make it down an hour later, dressed in their khaki shorts and polo shirts emblazoned with the name of the golf course they work at. “Dude, Shitty said there are new muffins?” Ransom asks while Holster pulls two Gatorades from the fridge.  Jack grabs two egg and spinach muffins off the cooling rack and hands them over. “Something new.” Holster eyes the muffin skeptically. “Fucking hell, Jack, what’s the deal with these muffins? They look like the Incredible Hulk took a shit.” “That’s spinach.” And Holster’s not exactly wrong about their visual description, but Jack isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him. “What happened to the cinnamon streusel?” Ransom asks. “Those were fucking incredible.” “I’m trying something new. We don’t need to have dessert for breakfast every day, especially with morning practices starting soon. These will give you energy for the day.” “They taste like ass and make me want to die,” Holster says dramatically. That’s actually good feedback. Jack had thought they were a little bland. Next batch, he’ll add some Tabasco. Despite Holster’s less-than-stellar review, Ransom and Holster each take a second muffin. “Hey,” Jack says, taking advantage of the fact that the guys’ mouths are full and they can’t interrupt him, “there’s this guy who keeps rushing me off the ice every morning. Figure skater. You have any idea who he is?” “Like, a student?” Holster asks. “Or just somebody using the rink?” Jack shrugs. “I get the feeling he goes here, but I’ve never asked.” “You could, you know. Ask. Like a normal person. Unless … Jack, do you have a crush?” “No,” Jack says emphatically. Why do people keep thinking that? “I just want to know who he is and why he’s using the rink. I don’t want problems when practices start up.” “Fine, we’ll do some recon.” Holster sighs, as if it’s a huge chore and not one of their favorite pastimes. Somehow, despite only being rising sophomores, Ransom and Holster are Facebook friends with half the college students in the entire state of Massachusetts. Or, at least the athletes. Jack’s positive that somebody in their vast network will know who this guy is. “But you know you could just ask him,” Ransom reminds Jack. “Like a normal person.” 

It’s three days before the guys get back to Jack. Three days in which he does not talk to the guy “like a normal person” because Jack has been getting up even earlier to make sure he’s out of the rink before the guy arrives. He knows this isn’t sustainable; once regular classes and practices start up he’ll no longer have the luxury of a mid-day nap. But it works for now. “Yo, Jack!” Ransom calls as they clatter into the Haus, sweaty and disheveled after work. “We got the deets on your figure skater.” Jack sighs. “He’s not my figure skater.” Ransom waves away Jack’s correction. “Whatever, you know who I mean. Do we have any Gatorade?” he asks, sticking his head in the fridge. “It’s Eric Bittle,” Holster says, as if the name is supposed to be of significance. “And?” “Eric. Bittle,” Holster repeats. He pauses to take a swig of the blue Gatorade Ransom’s just passed off to him. “Figure skater, took third at Junior Nationals a few years ago and surprised everyone when he moved up to the men’s division and took thirteenth last year.” “But he’s better known for his social media presence,” Ransom adds. “He’s all over Twitter and Insta, and he’s got this YouTube vlog where he talks about behind the scenes skating stuff and does routines to popular songs. At Nationals he got a couple of guys to do the Single Ladies dance with him and it went viral. I don’t know how you missed it, it was everywhere for like … a week.” “Was it during the season?” Jack barely pays attention to the latest viral trends as it is. Ransom rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Do you want the deets or not?” “Are there more ‘deets?’” “He got dropped by his coach after that video went viral. She said he could have placed in the top five at Nationals if he took skating as seriously as his YouTube career.” “Ouch.” Ransom nods. “Well, yeah. And then he made a rebuttal video accusing his coach of not preparing him well enough for the competition, and that that was the reason he scored so low. Now he can’t find a coach willing to work with him.” “He said that?” Jacks interrupts. “Not in so many words, but this guy at work who plays for BC dates this girl who skates and she heard through the grapevine—” “Okay, okay.” Jack motions for Ransom to continue.  “So he’s here at Samwell. He was supposed to start here last year—“ “There’s an episode of his vlog where he opens his acceptance letter—”  “—but he deferred for a year to focus on skating.” If Ransom and Holster devoted half as much time to working on plays as they apparently have to watching some random figure skater’s YouTube archives, Jack thinks, SMH might have gone a little further in last year’s post-season.  “Our point is, you really should know who he is because he’s the biggest celebrity to attend Samwell since that girl who won a Tony when she was fourteen a few years back,” Holster says. “Way more famous than you,” Ransom adds unnecessarily. Every year Samwell gets one or two high profile students who are famous for one thing or another. Jack didn’t win a Nobel Peace Prize as a teenager or star in a long-running Disney Channel show. But his dad won a few Stanley Cups as a professional hockey player and his mom was a supermodel before becoming an actress, so … he’s not the average college student, either. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been selected as one of “Samwell’s Most Beautiful” if his parents weren’t who they are. “So he’s not competing anymore?” Jack asks. Ransom shrugs. “The last video he posted was right before he left to come here. He said he’s going to focus on school for a while and coach himself.” “Huh.” None of this is what Jack expected to learn, but he can’t deny he’s intrigued. “Thanks.” Holster downs the last of the Gatorade in one gulp and belches. “This one was a freebie. Next time you require our shit excavation services, we’re gonna need you to pay us in muffins.”

[prisonprocess]

What’s Best About—Prison?

15.

Diego N. says:

I was always the smartest one in class.  The teachers loved it that whenever they saw me I was carrying a book.  When I got home I liked to stay in my room and read or work on my math problems.  My parents thought it was too bad that I wasn’t like my brothers and pumped iron and went out for sports, but they were proud of my grades and happy not to worry about my getting in trouble with weed or girls or whatever.  At school I got teased and hassled a lot, especially in gym class, where they called me Nogo, cuz I never liked to “go and do anything,” but after sophomore year I didn’t have to take that class anymore.

I got a scholarship for college, which made my folks really happy, and again I did really well, except that I suddenly realized I didn’t have any friends.  Finally some guys in the dorm sort of took me under their wing and got me drunk and so forth, and then there were parties I could go to.  But it was always, do I really want to go? Because once I got there, if there was some guy I wanted to meet, I couldn’t think of anything to talk about, because I didn’t do anything except math, and nobody wants to talk about math. So I’d get drunk, and then I’d go home. One night I didn’t go home, because I had an accident on the way and I ended up in jail.  And later they said I’d have to go to prison.

Which I knew was gonna be this horrible place, especially for a little guy like me! When they took me there and I looked through the fences and I saw all these big gnarly convicts, it was like, this is gym class, only a thousand times worse.  At first I just curled up in my cell, the way I curled up at those parties.  Then I got my labor detail, and everything was worse.  Now I’d have to do hard labor, out in the sun, and wear my horrible prison suit where everybody could see it, and the other guys on the gang were big hulks like my brothers—about five times my size and looking at me like, who’s this little gusano here?  The gang boss said, “Diego, eh?  Roun here I’m callin you Dayglo, cuz you so LIGHT, dude.  Cuz you ain’t been out inna SUN, dude.  Not yet!”  Then they all laughed at me.

And pretty soon, they started counting the times I would have mashed my hand with a hammer or squashed my foot with one of those sledges I could barely lift, let alone aim, if some big gnarly prisoner hadn’t been there to rescue my ass.  Every time I looked down at myself I saw that ugly stinking uniform and those hard ugly work boots, and my thin little body all scared and trapped inside them, and I knew I was just one more convict whumped up with all the other convicts.  

Then one day, it came to me, out of the sky:  That was it! I might be small and scared, but I wasn’t alone any more.  I was exactly like all the rest of them!  I was riding out on the same truck; I was sweating my guts on the same detail; I was pissing behind the same bush; I was washing down under the same shower head; I was chewing the same chow; I was getting the same punishments when I screwed up; I was wearing the same convict suit; I was hearing the same laughs from the people who saw me marching around in it.  And when they moved me into C Block, my cellie turned out to be a dude from the same gang!  Which means he’s the same as me too, except that he’s the Anglo, so we call him Blanquito. But he’s exactly the kind of guy I always wanted to get close to at those parties.  And he’s gonna be locked up for a long, long time—just like me!  As far as my thin little body goes—it ain’t thin no more.  Boss teases me about how he's gonna start callin me El Gordo.  “You mean El Guapo,” my cellie says.

About a month ago my brother Jorge came to visit, which almost nobody ever does, which is fine with me.  They’re not my so-called familia any more.  Anyway, he comes in and he sits down on the other side of that thick plastic window in one of those little booths they give you to talk in, that are lined up in the visiting room, and he says, like I did something totally wrong, “Hey Diego--when I came in today I had trouble figuring out which one was you.” And he kept staring at my orange suit, which is what they always do.  Which used to make me so ashamed whenever I got a visit.  But this time he said, “You look like all the rest of them!”  So I told him, “Thanks!”, and he looked confused. But I felt proud.    

Note: All stories by prisonprocess are purely fictional and have no relation to real persons of any kind.

[elliesslutworld]

Friendly Tension

Synopsis-You and ellie had been best friends since freshman year of high school now it is their sophomore year of college. ellie has always had a crush on you and every since you’ve came out of the closet y’all’s tension has grown. what will happens when y’all make an agreement not knowing each other secretly have feelings for one another?

Authors note-This is my first fic so if it isn’t the best writing bare with me it will get better lol hope y’all like it i’m trying to do story lines that haven’t really been written for ellie! also don’t mind my grammar. and please don’t leave any hate i’m trying lmfao.

Warnings-I don’t own any of tlou characters etc I only own my own character hailey nothing else. smut, dom ellie, sub reader, flirting, sexting, tension, sexual games, praising and degrading kink etc if there are any more lmk!

I’m in the car with my best friend Ellie Williams we are on our way back to the University of Wyoming. I’ve known Ellie since freshman year of high school, she and Joel had just moved to Jackson and luckily the house right next to mine. Ever since I met her and introduced her to my friends we had all bonded. The music had pulled me out of my thoughts when I heard ‘diamond eyes’ by deftones come on “Ellie turn it up I love this song!” she chuckled a bit and complied. It was a couple hour drive so I eventually feel asleep to my music.

Ellie’s POV-

“hey Hailey could you skip this song?” after a few seconds of silence i look over and see her sleeping. she is so beautiful. i’ve had a crush on her ever since I met here except i’ve never made a move because were best friends and i thought she was a straight as a fucking ruler until she came out not to long ago. I sighed frustrated with myself for being so blind but all my thoughts go away when i look at her again. i take a quick photo of her knowing all i’m going to do is stare at it later and be a delusional loser lesbian. I take a deep breath as i prepare myself for this year of college. i mean i’ve had feelings for her for years this year won’t be any different.

Hailey’s POV-

it had been a few hours of dina and i unpacking and we were practically finished. i dragged my feet to my bed groaning as i let myself fall onto it. “Dinaaaaaa i’m so bored” i said over dramatically “then why don’t we go over to ellie’s hangout and smoke?” i shot up and shouted at her “perfect just let me freshen up and we can go” dina rolled her eyes “you just want to look good for ellie admit it” you shook your head of disbelief “dina your my best friend so that being said i wouldn’t lie to you.. so no but i am extremely horny so maybe” dina laughed “just fuck her already y’all’s tension is so thick it’s like almost distracting” i walked out of our closet in some simple hoodie and sweats applying some lip gloss telling her i was ready.

we both walked out of our dorms taking the elevator down bickering with each other the entire time. i had knocked on ellie’s door i could hear her slightly grown and then trip over something with a bang saying “shit, ow fuck that hurt” as she opens the door. she instantly tried to play it off saying “hey guys come in” we walked in “did you stub your toe again ellie?” she blushed and shook her head “no your just imagining things” i replied with a sure giggling at her awkwardness. “sooo why are you guys here?” she asked while glancing over to me. she was wearing black sweats and a black tank top witch silver jewelry, was she trying to seduce me? “haileyyyy” she said while waving her hand in-front of my face snapping me back to reality “hmm?” dina laughed slightly saying “she’s in a horny day dream right now don’t mind her, we got bored so we thought, smoke with ellie?” she said shrugging “dude i’m not in a horny sex day dream i was just spaced out” i huffed “are you sure about that?” ellie said as she sat down right beside me pulling my feet into her lap. “yea i’m pretty sure ellie” i said confused where all her confidence came from “if you say so babe” she said while staring at you leaning back. flustered you look away at dina “so are we going to smoke or just sit here?” ellie got up saying i’ll be right back. She came back with a couple pre rolls finch you and her one to share and dina her own. y’all had been smoking for a while now laughing with each other over nothing. “dina how come plants get life from the sun but we get aged-“ your breath hitched as ellie started to rub your thigh up and down caressing your legs getting a little to high up your thigh at times. “i would love to talk about that more but i promised jesse i would see him tonight” me and ellie got up to say goodbye and lock the door behind her. i mentally cursed out dina for leaving me be with ellie while i was high and horny.

Ellie’s POV-

as i closed the door i turned around to see hailey looking back at me with her droopy red eyes, a glint of mischief i rarely see. i grab her hand and lead her back to the couch pulling her close to me hugging her waist. “you wanna smoke some more?” i ask hoping for a yes “obviously” she said chuckling. i spark it up again, take a hit, and hand it back to her. “so what did dina mean by that horny day dream?” she looked at me taking another hit, “i don’t think you really want to know” i smile slightly pulling her body impossibly closer “i really do” i said challenging her, “don’t get all shy on my now” teasing her.

Hailey’s POV-

I suck in my breath not sure how to get out of this situation. i stare back at her, she looks so hot right now she was teasing me earlier and i’m really horny how am i not going to give in. “Truth or dare? i ask hoping to avoid that particular topic. “dare” ellie said not breaking eye contact, “okay i dare you to do a shotgun with me” it’s okay if i give into a little temptation right? ellie smirked as she picked up the joint with her long veiny hands. ellie stares at me “sit on my lap” i only smirk at this and comply to her demand straddling her. ellie takes a hit sits down the joint and takes my neck with one hand resting her other only my waist gripping tight as she blows smoke into my mouth. I close my eyes feeling euphoric as she pushes slightly on my pressure points making feel light headed. i can only focus on the fact of how close our lips are to fully touching it making me whimper slightly. “what baby, what’s wrong?” ellie says smirking knowing what i want. “you know what i want ellie just give it to me already” i whine, “your gonna have to try a little harder than that, beg.” she stated as she slightly pushed my hips down onto her thigh. still in disbelief i smile lightly “i’m not going to beg ellie”

[ginnsbaker]

Ginny baby I’m having a mini-crisis

I think I like my best friend and I don’t know how to go about getting rid of this. I’ve known her for 7 years and throughout that time I’ve had two separate occasions where I developed feelings for her, first time not that serious but I can’t say that about the second time. Admittedly the second time I surely panicked briefly but the feelings faded both times, what always followed after was that I’d feel insane for even believing I could feel that way about her in the first place.

BUT now it’s back and I’m in a sort of denial about it? I talked about it with another author here before but we ultimately chalked it down to it just being attraction. Now I’m scared that’s not the case?

Last night I went clubbing with some close friends but I ran into (let’s call her Wanda I guess?) while waiting in the line to get in. Wanda looked so damn good, I’m already shorter than her normally but she’d was in all black wearing her platform shoes along with a skirt and a blouse. Wanda and I are touchy drunks(with other friends too) but the way that we’d been last night had me feeling something. Whenever Wanda and I would talk, we’d lean our bodies closer together and start talking directly into each others ears, her hands finding mine after the start of every sentence- one would assume we were doing that because we couldn’t hear one another but it wasn’t loud and when we’d talk to the people around us we’d stay firmly in place. Wanda went out with three friends and one of them was this guy who I knew liked her, I thoroughly enjoyed the fact that he saw me holding her and talking to her in a way that looked intimate.

I didn’t really think much of it last night cause I’d been focused on having a great time, but now that it’s day I’ve realized all of that really put a different angle to the perspective I once had about what I was feeling and why. I hate it, i want it to go away because I’ll always prioritize maintaining our friendship above anything else, this is not something I’ll ever admit to anybody I know but I guess I’m saying all this because I wanted to ask if you’ve ever been in a similar situation and how did you cope? How did it play out for you?

Somebody once told me it might only be attraction and a gauge that I could use to see if it was is imagining a future with them and I wish they hadn’t said that. I’d genuinely believed it was just attraction but I’ve been thinking about that question all day today, the answer to that question has my heart racing at the imagination of it all, but I swear I’d been indifferent to it when I’d first been asked.

The less I think about it, the more I ignore it, the less it feels real so thanks for letting me rant to you gonna go back to gaslighting myself out of this(SI SE PUEDE). Needed to get all this off my chest. 😮‍💨

omg sorry I was already asleep when this went in.

*wears calliope's hat* before we proceed i have a couple of questions:

how long have you known you're attracted to your bestfriend? was it even before you were friends?

have you been in relationships with other women?

(disclaimer: im not a therapist of any sort im just experienced when it comes to being gay cause ive been gay since i was 2 and now im almost thirty lol)

I'm assuming she's straight? so here's my #1 piece of advice is: NEVER FALL FOR STRAIGHT GIRLS

fine, there might be few instances where falling for straight girls will eventually shake their sexuality and give us a shot, but dude, that very rarely happens. Fics, movies, tv series love to portray them often but in reality.... NO.

Feelings for bestfriends WILL pass. I assure you that. Cause yea, I've been in your shoes. I met my best friend in college during sophomore year, and we were from different groups of friends and I intentionally got to know her because I had a crush on her (turns out later on, she also has a crush on me, but it's the type of crush where she finds me pretty so it's basically straight people crush). She had a boyfriend when we became close/bestfriends and I was hang up on her for two years before the feelings finally went away.

Now she's married, and she's still my bestfriend and everytime I think about the past where I was very attracted to her, I'd laugh.

I coped by just letting it run its course. And definitely being interested in someone else helps. Go out there, meet new people, get to know new people. You have the luxury of using a dating app without being judged for it (in the 2010s that's not the case).

Again, whenever possible: DO NOT FALL FOR STRAIGHT GIRLS

The less I think about it, the more I ignore it, the less it feels real so thanks for letting me rant to you gonna go back to gaslighting myself out of this(SI SE PUEDE). - Dude, keep thinking about it. exhaust yourself. go through the drama and the wonderful feeling of being attracted to somebody. it's all part of life. accept that you have feelings for her and then decide: 1- if you want to pursue it 2- if you want to let it pass.

I decided not to pursue it because she's really straight despite the fact that she's touchy and back in college, i'm the only one she'd ever sleep in her apartment and we kissed like 1-2 times on the lips (yes straight girls dont mind)

But in the future, lemme repeat: DO NOT FALL FOR STRAIGHT GIRLS

[bisluthq]

eh I think Taylor’s very smart. she didn’t get a college education bc she didn’t need on; she was buying a private plane at the age when she would’ve been a sophomore in college. if she read the books beside Joe’s bed, I think she’d discuss them fine. also imo joe does like some mainstream stuff and then feels horrible about it and laughs at himself. he’s very much a Type though I agree.

Kylie Jenner also bought a plane at around that age - do you think you can discuss how Derrida presents the concept of “strangeness” inevitably leading to violence as he describes in Of Hospitality with *checks notes* Kylie Jenner? Do we think we can discuss it with Kris even? Does that make Kris - literally one of the greatest managers of all time second only to bad ass bitch Andrea fucking cutthroat Swift who somehow also marketed herself as a hunny - stupid? That we can’t discuss that kinda stuff??

I think Joe has read Derrida, I don’t think Taylor has because I don’t think it was on his bed anymore lol by the time they met because I haven’t had Derrida beside my bed since uni. I’ve read him and I used him in both theses but shit dude I don’t read that stuff for fun!!! Of course he likes silly shit!?????

I also know my partner - who quite literally was deciding between MIT and a liberal arts degree because he’s weird and did liberal arts because he didn’t want to wait an extra 6 months and then taught himself to edit and is proficient in AI now and is very well read and reads more than me but like more fun stuff than me like he likes detective stories and horror and fantasy and stuff like that - gets a bit awkward if I do drop a Sartre or Derrida or Fanon or bell hooks quote that’s not extremely famous.

I don’t think being well read makes you smart because I don’t consider myself any smarter than Kylie or Kris or Taylor or Travis or my partner for that matter. I’m not. Clearly. But like I’ve read more Deep Shit lol just by virtue of stints in academia and how my family thinks about stuff and so has Joe. It doesn’t make Joe smarter. Travis is as smart. Travis is a better fit and will make her feel better about her smarts - which are beyond plentiful!??? That’s what I’m saying.

it’s a good match.

[jeanearhart]

Situation-Ship

Short story following the inner dialogue of a young man in his first (and last) gay relationship.

6086 words

JUNE

Love. We love to love. It’s inescapable, the media is polluted with love, our literature, every social event. First ten minutes at a party and your friend is asking, still seeing that girl? Turn on spotify, hit shuffle, you’ll hear a song about finding love followed by a song about losing it, wanting it, hating it.

We all have been through the ringer in love, love troubles are as common as spring allergies. Sneeze, they say bless you, break up they say I’m so sorry.

I’m a good looking guy, I’ve had plenty of girlfriends; theater girls, sporty girls, an emo chick who drew her eyeliner all the way to her hairline and pierced her own ears with a hot sewing needle.

I’ve had one boyfriend.

My one and only, I met him at a house show in Portland.

Ex-boyfriend, as of now.

Newly graduated from high school, I had no clue what my plans were for the next year. I could take a gap or enroll late, sure I’d be doomed to the nearest community college or trade school, I’d lead a mediocre life, marry an orange skinned blonde and have insufferably Kentuckian children. I’d had this delusion as a kid that I’d be famous when I was older, it lasted up until my sophomore year when despite my pretty face not a single casting audition I sent in received a callback. Sure, I was still in high school, my chances at success were higher if I auditioned as an adult with a real education in acting. It was a shame I wouldn’t be caught dead in drama school, surrounded by wannabes in desperate need of a shower, already so drenched in self-entitlement they miss the point of it.

The house was small, three rooms on the first floor, three on the second. The living room had been converted into a 10 by 10 concert hall, the only indicator of a stage being a thick red rope that separated the band from the mosh pit. As I made my way through the sweaty sea of stoned teenagers and drugstore James Hetfields, I asked myself again and again why I had decided to attend the show.

I hadn’t been since last summer when my ex, the emo chick, dragged me to some abandoned warehouse where the ‘Dickswatters’ abused instruments for three hours while a swarm of underaged kids took acid and mindlessly rammed into one another. I was no different than the others, in fact I got so shitfaced that when I stumbled upon said emo chick blowing a guy in the forest out back I said;

“Wow dude, your lay looks just like my girlfriend, that’s some insane shit,” In complete, honest awe and disbelief. It wasn’t until she pulled off and faced my way, still on her knees might I add, that I realized she was the real deal.

We broke up after that, but stayed friends. She was the only person in Louisville I didn’t find insufferable and her life was always interesting enough that I didn’t need to bother to have one of my own. She never saw it as an issue that I had no friends outside of her, if anything I think she liked it, all of my attention and focus was spent on her problems and her priorities. I was the guy best friend girl’s dream about, laid-back, non-judgmental, and completely uninterested in her sexually.

She was out of town the first few weeks of that summer, she had decided to celebrate her freedom from highschool with a trip to Italy. She took a few friends of hers, paying for all of their plane tickets and hotel rooms with her parent’s money. The first time I’d seen her parents' three-story estate I’d understood her completely. Rich and bored, pretty and neglected.

I think I missed her.

I recognized some of the punks at the show from her instagram posts and the last show I’d been to. They seemed nice enough and no doubt would have let me join them if I’d made an effort, however, I was intimidated by their crowns of hair and heavy jackets. I found a corner to press myself against in the kitchen. Unlike other parties the only way to get a drink at a show was to buy it, make friends, or bring it. I had forgotten this fact, expecting the usual array of intoxicants to be sitting out in the kitchen, perspiring in anticipation of my arrival. Painfully sober and visibly out of place, I kept stiff and pretended to scroll through my phone. Without any intoxicants in my system the music was intolerable, the kitchen was stuffy and hot, I doubted the house had a working ac, an accurate assumption given the trashy state of the kitchen I was standing in. This was where I met him, the beginning and the end of everything I ever believed about myself.

He owned the house.

“Hey, polo shirt,” His voice was just deep enough. I've always found high pitched voices grating, but bass tones were worse. They unsettle me, sound way too out of place. I’ve never seen a man I truly believe looked the part of a bass, so anytime I’ve met a man who’s Adam apple drops that low I’ve been petrified, effectively frozen in fear. I must have given him a stupid look, something torn between awe and fear because the man laughed and pointed at the fridge behind me. “I’m trying to get a drink,”

“Oh sorry,” I peeled away from my spot and stood awkwardly to the side as he opened the fridge and got a beer. He offered one to me as well, which I took, despite the fact I’d never really enjoyed the taste. Too bitter.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” He commented, not so much as making eye contact. It wasn’t an obvious thing, first he was looking at the fridge, then his drink, and now the crowd that filled his property. It made sense for him not to be looking at me, he had plenty of other things to look at. “I’m Caesar, the host.” He took a long gulp of his beer and I watched as his Adam's apple bobbed at the action. I still hadn’t moved back to my spot against the fridge, I was suspended in time, lagging. “And you are?”

I barely registered the words. “What?”

“And you are?” He repeated, this time with heat. “I’m asking you your fucking name,”

I tensed at the harsh words, still reeling from being approached at all when I’d been completely prepared to spend the whole night standing in the back of the venue with my arms crossed and my head dully nodding to the music. I was going to take some pictures, bathe in the online validation and praise, you’re so hot, then fall asleep to a cult classic so I was only half-lying when I would later tell smart girls I’d seen it.

“John,” I finally replied.

His laugh had a roughness to it, years of smoking tearing up his throat. “You’re kidding, your parents couldn’t think of anything better?”

“My dad’s a christian, I’m named after John the Baptist,”

“I didn’t ask,”

I opened my mouth to retort, pausing when I noticed the slight tilt to his lips. Oh, he was fucking with me. I was so caught up in my own head I forgot this was simply how these kinda men spoke to each other.

“At least I make good pizza,”

He made a face, took a sip of his beer, his Adam's apple bobbed. “What?”

“Get it, uh,” I shrugged, I still hadn’t drunk any of my own beer. I probably would be throwing away a full bottle at the end of the night. “Little Caesar’s Pizza, and Papa John’s, Papa John’s is better,”

Caesar snorted into his drink, averting his eyes from the crowd to peer at me from the corner of his eye. “Really?”

He pronounced his words so clearly that despite the clamor of yelling and cymbal crashing echoing around us I could understand every word he said perfectly. Either he’d won the genetic lottery, or he spent many years in speech therapy. Given his sharp eyes, height, and broad shoulders, I concluded it was the former.

“C’mon,” He motioned toward the living room with his drink and under the kitchen strobe lights his silver rings shone. A snake, a skull, and a die on one hand. A singular dark band on the other. I followed after him into the other room, let him slide an arm around my waist whilst we listened to the music, and protested only once as he dragged me into the mosh pit.

We saw each other often after that, every day of the next two weeks in fact. Caesar was a hurricane, assertive, intelligent, and impossibly stubborn. He insisted on doing everything himself, cooking, cleaning, fixing, paying. Caesar didn’t owe anyone anything, even the government.

“College is a scam,” He told me one day while we were sitting in his driveway, Caesar’s hands black with grease. He’d just changed the oil in his car, I watched his back muscles flex, sweaty and shiny in the glaring sun. His shoulders were freckled with acne that gathered at his chin, obscured mostly by the scruff he’d allowed to grow. “There are plenty of jobs that don’t require a college education, and anything really important you can just teach yourself, everything you’ll learn at an institution will be capitalist propaganda,”

“How do you make money?” I prodded. I used to admire Caesar’s ability to support himself without answering to anybody, but looking back it was actually quite pathetic. Constantly his wifi or power would be out, turned off due to unpaid fees.

“Renting out the house, fixing shit,” Caesar leaned back and tilted his head toward the sun. “It’s really easy, no one knows how much fixing a car should cost, they pay whatever you tell em’ to,”

“Awesome.”

Pathetic.

One of the best things about going out with Caesar was his cooking. He didn’t believe in following recipes, but knew how to make a damn good dish. I left his house early late one Thursday with a tupperware of fried tortellini smothered in marinara. I took it down to my dad’s apartment, a studio situated unbearably close to the train tracks. He couldn’t hear me knock over the wheels slamming into splintered tracks, long overdue for repair, so I took the extra key from his mailbox and let myself in. I’d be worried about someone robbing my father if there was anything to steal.

I found him lying, passed out on his bed, a single mattress on the floor, surrounded by Dorito crumbs and empty bourbon bottles.

“Dad, I brought food,” I sat at the end of the mattress and tapped his foot. He peeled open a crusty eye, looking over the pregnant bump of his beer belly.

“Ah, John, good boy John, it’s so good to see you,”

“Eat,” I nudged his foot again, prompting the man to sit up. He took the tupperware and peeled it open. "Caesar made it,"

"It looks good, is Caesar Italian?"

"No dad," I picked up his empty bottles of bourbon and took them to the kitchen. Vines of rusted cracks branched out beneath my feet, overhead a broken strobe light flickered. The cheap bulb gave everything in the kitchen a yellowish appearance, as if it were molded.

“Itailians are such wonderful cooks,” I could hear the food in his mouth as he spoke. I opened his pantry and tossed the bottles into his trash can, they sounded like wind chimes as they clinked against each other on the way down. “Where is her family from?”

“His,” I corrected. I closed the pantry door behind me and opened his fridge, it was mostly empty besides a few unlabeled takeout boxes and lines of beer cans. “Do you have any water?” I asked.

“Take from the tap, Louisville water is real clean, don’t gotta pay for overpriced plastic,”

The water from his tap always tasted like iron, and occasionally had a faint brown tint to it. “I’m alright,” I replied, leaving his kitchen empty handed. I came back to him already half-way finished with his pasta, he had smudges of marinara across his bulging cheeks that I assume he’d felt around his lips and attempted to wipe away. I studied the ombre lines of spotted red as I continued talking. “I don’t know where Caesar’s family is from, I haven’t asked,”

“Should soon, he could be illegal, you don’t want to be caught up with someone like that,”

I don’t think I would have cared if he was. “He’s not,”

“We have really good genetics you and I, blue eyes, strong enamel, don’t impregnate someone with bad genes, your kids will miss out,”

“He’s a man dad,”

My father’s face pinched. “A real one? Not one of those weird pussy boys you bring around,”

I wasn’t sure how to reply to that one. I wasn’t even sure who he was talking about.

“Your generation is doomed, boys are girls, girls or boys, back in my day we just called em dykes and moved on with it,” He shoveled more of the food into his mouth, little pieces spewing as he preached. “Nothing wrong with being a bull dyke, nothing wrong with dating one either, your mom looked a little like a bull dyke when I met her, real angry,”

I just nodded dully. He took that as a sign to keep talking.

“This boy have a penis?”

“Yes dad, he has a penis,”

“Do you take it up the ass?”

Years of similarly uncomfortable sexual questions had made me immune to the embarrassment of answering them. “We haven’t had sex,”

“But you want to,”

I considered it. Caesar was tall and broad, he had a nice face, nice hands. I’d never slept with a man before, but as far as relationships go we already did everything else associated. We went out to dinner, saw movies, we held hands, shared a bed, held each other while we slept. “I think I do,”

“I think you should, trying new things is good for you, teaches you things about yourself,” My dad finished the last of his tortellini and set the tupperware on the floor beside his mattress. “I’ve participated in sodomy with a woman, it was okay, no better than the usual penetration,”

“I don’t think I needed to know that,”

He laughed, raspy and wet. “You’re a grown man now, you can take it, you’re what, 19?”

“18,”

“18, I remember being 18, best years of my life,” I sat down on the end of his mattress and listened as my father began to recall the tales of his youth. He spent his later teen years working in a factory, he told me, a factory that belonged to the company he later became a higher up in. He told me that was where he met my mother, she was a receptionist, impossibly pretty with a strong attitude. She took her coffee black and didn’t tolerate any disrespect. He told me to stay away from women like that, that if I’m going to marry a woman, marry a real one.

As I walked back out to my car I stopped at the headlights and lifted my chin up to stare into the full moon. The moon has always looked fake to me, too round and picturesque. The lines of its craters are so vivid that as a child I had once tried to climb a ladder and grab it. At 18, I was still just as much of a child, silently I lifted my arm up into the air and hovered my hand over where I could see the moon. As I closed my hand I imagined it crushing and turning to dust between my fingers.

JULY - AUGUST

Caesar and I started hanging out less, he got a new job at some warehouse that had him on from six in the morning to eight in the afternoon every weekday. I still worked at the same grocery store I’d started working at freshman year. I felt a little emasculated when Caesar would talk about his job, lifting wooden panels, crates, and gas tanks seemed a lot manlier than checking out housewives in an apron. I didn’t know what it was about being with another man that made me so determined to reassure myself I was still one as well, maybe I’d spent too many years picturing gay men as skinny twinks in booty shorts and wearing glittering lip gloss. One day while in the bathroom at work I practiced saying gay slang in the mirror. When I cocked my hip and limped my wrist with the work apron on I did look like a real fag. It was a strange concept to comprehend. Did I want his dick up my ass? I didn’t think so, I’d never been interested in a thing like that before. Plenty of other guys seemed to like it, girls even.

I decided to text my ex about it. She told me to meet her at Barnes and Noble that weekend, I agreed.

The ex’s name was Singe, she stood at an unimpressive five feet four inches that she overcompensated for with obnoxious platforms and tall updos. Her hair was 'singed' at the ends, as she liked to say, fading from black at the roots into a crimson red at her ends. I found her perusing the psychology section, carefully looking over each book with narrowed eyes and a manicured finger.

“We don’t take well to shoplifters,” I said behind her, holding my voice an octave lower. She rolled her eyes and slid the book she’d been holding back into its spot on the shelf before turning to face me.

“Hey John, took you long enough,”

“Traffic,”

“I’m sure,” She motioned with her hand for me to follow, an array of beaded crystal bracelets sliding down her wrist at the action. “So you think you’re gay?” She inquired, non-accusatory. In Singe’s circles everyone was gay, genderqueer, polyamorous, it might as well have been a prerequisite to being punk. I knew she’d be the last person to judge me, but I still hesitated to answer, as if a camera crew were going to walk out from behind the bookshelves and expose me for my perverted attraction.

“I still like women, or at least I think I do, I liked having sex with you,”

“Did you? You never seemed as into it as I was,” She replied.

“I was into it, just, I don’t know,” I tapped my fingers against my pantleg. “Wasn’t as into as you in the ‘frequency’’ sense,”

“You’re the first guy I’ve known who was put off by a girl who wants to bone 24/7,”

“There’s other more interesting things to do,”

“Like what?” She led me into Barnes n’ Nobles adjourning Starbucks, sitting us down at a table by the window so we’d get to enjoy the beautiful view of an outlet mall parking lot.

“Movies,”

“Movies are boring, why would I care about fictional lives when I could be living my own?”

I frowned. “There’s a lot more to them than that,”

“For you, I actually get out of house and live my life,”

She had a point.

“So you’re what, bisexual?” She followed up.

“I guess,”

She tapped her long nails against the tabletop, considering. “Who’s the guy?”

“Caesar,”

“The guy who owns the PotStop?”

I didn’t know it had a name. “Yeah, him,”

“He’s really standoffish,” Singe commented. “I don’t see him actually talk to people much. Do you know who he normally hangs out with? Everyone I know knows him but no one I know hangs out with him. Have you met any of his friends?”

“Not yet, why’s it matter?”

She gave me a look, a deadpan ‘are you serious’? “Number one red flag is no friends, either they’re a narcissist too obsessed with themselves to put time into other people or they’re such a dick no one wants to be around them,”

I opted to ignore the implications that had on myself, seeing as my own personal circle consisted only of Singe, my dad, and now Caesar.

“Have you ever done anal?” I asked her.

“A few times, why?”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s okay, I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite but I enjoyed it,”

“Do you think I’d enjoy it?”

She laughed. “I can’t tell you whether or not you’d enjoy it John, you have to figure that out for yourself,”

“I don’t want to do it if I’m not going to like it,”

“So don’t do it,” Signe clapped her hands together. “Problem solved,”

I didn’t end up doing it, not anal at least. Caesar and I rarely got each other off and when we did it was strictly hand stuff. He thought doing anything else would make it weird, too gay. I should have realized early on that a guy who doesn’t want to be ‘too gay’ is not a guy you should be in a gay relationship with. For the first time in my life I worried that I was unattractive. Even if I wasn’t super interested in having sex with Caesar, it felt weird that he wasn’t at all interested in doing it with me. I wished at times I was more feminine looking, another first, I thought eventually he’d meet a girl he wanted to penetrate and either cheat or leave. I couldn’t stand the thought that Caesar would leave me.

We only dated three months.

I think back on those three months quite often and I find myself standing in front of two Caesars; the man I fell in love with and the man I dated. The man I fell in love with knew me and understood me in ways no one ever had before, and in ways no one ever would again. He saw through every lie I told, every fake smile and charade. This Caesar loved the parts of me only he saw and took no offense to the many idiosyncrasies I have that were exposed during our while short lived, intimate relationship. This Caesar is deep and intelligent, with good intuition and a drive to be better, do better, that I could respect.

This Caesar, funny enough, didn't exist, and would never exist. Even if one day he grew out of all of his immature habits and actually tried to make something of himself, maybe went to therapy and self-reflected on the way he treated me, the man I dated would never be the man I fell in love with.

The man I dated left me stoned and strung out downtown Louisville with no car and no wallet to hook up with a chick because I, just as I had dreaded, was not fulfilling his needs. His very real, manly needs to get off inside of something. I will admit, he was not completely to blame, he asked for my permission to swing and I, ever eager to please, had said 'batter up'! I had hardly expected him to find a girl that same night, nor did I expect him to abandon me for her on the dirty concrete of the city sidewalk. Too many drinks and a 10mg edible in, I could barely walk. Luckily enough, my tall frame and the bulge in my jeans saved me from being kidnapped or date raped. No, the worst outcome of the night was a thirty dollar bullet to my bank account. Initially the uber was only twenty, but I left a ten dollar tip after he'd been so kind as to even walk my crossfaded ass up to my apartment door.

I fell asleep as soon as I hit my bed, the cheap mattress I’d thrifted had never felt firmer, my decade old sheets softer. I almost didn’t want to get out of bed the next morning, if the source of my tribulations hadn’t let himself inside I would’ve stayed buried in those soft sheets all day.

“Rise and shine beautiful, I brought a hangover cure,” Caesar placed a strange drink concoction on my kitchen island, along with a tupperware of breakfast food.

“You make that or her?” I asked him, my voice was raspy from drunk singing and it added an extra edge to the sharp tone of my inquiry.

“I did,” He opened the tupperware and grabbed a fork from my cabinets. “I didn’t spend the night at her place, just hit it and went home, I hope you like meat in your scrambled eggs,”

“Meat?”

“Chicken,”

“Normally people use pork,”

“I’m not a normal person,” Caesar came around to the side of my bed and nudged my shoulder with the tupperware. “Eat,”

I felt sick to my bones. It’s a much different feeling than feeling sick to your stomach, you feel it through your whole body. It’s a cold feeling, on the edge of nausea, it makes you tense and void. Not sad, not angry, not jealous, sick.

I sat up and took the food from Caesar, it smelled delicious. I wasn’t sure if I could stomach it.

“How was it?” I prodded. He shrugged.

“Okay, sex is sex,”

Sex is sex.

The eggs looked like clay, mushy, impenetrable. I grit my teeth.

Sex is sex.

“I’m not hungry,” I gave the tupperware back to Caesar, who leveled me with an odd look. “Too hungover?”

“Yeah, sorry, thank you for the thought,”

“Of course,”

I thought about that for days. Sex is sex. I’d had sex very few times in my life, strangely enough. You’d think, wow John you’ve dated so many girls, and you’re so hot, you’ve probably done it a million times, but I haven’t. The very few times I did have sex it was awkward and weird, I hardly enjoyed it. Hand stuff with Caesar was good, really good, I genuinely enjoyed it and it made me feel connected to him. It was like him and I were in on this secret, we knew each other's bodies in ways others didn't.

Sex is sex. I began to question if he saw our hand stuff the same way. I began to question if he saw any of our relationship the same way. Was I so delusional as to believe this man and I had this insane, unfathomable bond, unlike anything I've ever felt before, when in reality I was nothing more than an experiment? Not even that, if I was an experiment I'd know, he'd be more curious, want to try more things, no Caesar enjoyed my company, he liked my personality.

He liked me.

I'll never know if he loved me. I loved him, I know that much. I was obsessed with him, the way he wore his hair, the rings on his fingers, the shark tooth necklace that hung over face when we roughhoused and the forgotten skateboard in his garage. I loved his tenacity and when he'd act stubborn, scrunching his face to convey his silent protest. I loved his sharp eyes and soft cheeks, I loved his worn out Doc Martens and his wall of stolen street signs. I loved Caesar. I loved him so much that when he looked at me, really looked at me, I felt like I couldn't breathe.

I was sure during the time we were together that he was my endgame. That we had some connection no one else could understand, that my allowance of his misdeeds was a test of my love for him. I realize now that kind of thinking is idiotic. Real life isn’t a romcom, there is no fate, no destiny. Caesar and I weren’t meant to be, we weren’t soulmates, we were two losers without friends who just happened to be at the same place at the same time.

I’ve never been a good sleeper. It doesn’t help that my dad likes to stay up most nights watching conspiracy theory documentaries and listening to ‘underground’ podcasts. I could hear them from my room, the apartment walls thin enough that even the heavy breathing of dad’s neckbearded idols reached my ears as I searched desperately for sleep.

I started calling Caesar anytime I couldn’t sleep, and soon enough every night ended with the two of us deep in conversation over the glitchy speakers of our androids.

“Would you step on a bird to put it out of its misery?” Caesar asked me one night during an exceedingly more abstruse game of 21 questions.

“No,” I replied. “I couldn’t,”

“I could,”

“I’m not surprised,”

He laughed. “The bird is better off dead than suffering,”

“Did you ask me this just to sound edgy,”

“No no,” Caesar sounded earnest. “I wanted to know your thoughts, why wouldn’t you?”

“I’d feel bad,”

“You should feel worse about letting it suffer, if you really felt bad you’d kill it,”

I shifted uncomfortably in my bed. It wasn’t my fault that the bird was suffering, but it would be my fault the bird was dead if I killed it. There was no certainty that the bird would suffer forever unless I killed it. Why was the first option to step on it rather than to rescue it? In all honesty, the apartment might benefit from having something bright and energetic like a bird. I thought to myself that if the next morning I found a bird with a broken wing or legs that couldn’t care for itself, I wouldn’t step on it, I’d take care of it.

“If you had a pet bird what would you name it Caesar?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never wanted a pet bird,”

“But if you did,”

“Bladee,”

“Like the artist?”

“Yes,”

Naturally. “You’re obnoxious,”

“I’d be boring if I wasn’t,” I rotated onto my side so my hand rested in the palm of my hand and I faced the side of my phone. “Would you rather I named it something like Tweety?”

“No,” I said through a yawn. “But maybe something like Carl,”

“Carl?”

“Or Steve, Miles-”

“John,”

“Yes?”

“A name like John,” Caesar reiterated. “What’s with you and lameass names?”

I didn’t respond to that comment, it was true, I had a lame name. It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t pick it.

“Have you ever considered renaming yourself?” Caesar continued to dig. “Like Singe did,”

“I’m not alternative like Singe is,” I flipped back onto my back. “I don’t see the point, John fits me,”

Caesar grunted in agreement, then began on a tangent about the latest homicide he’d heard about in the news. He echoed the same sentiments I’d heard from other proud anti-fascists our age, not spouting a drop of his own thought out opinion. The line of reasoning he followed wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t stupid, just vague and overused, empty showy protest against a system he didn’t understand but pretended to know better than. I suppose his name fits him as well, if taken ironically. He was the personification of misquoted Caesar, a buzzword finding itself quite often in the wrong place; a politician's shitty speech, a school wall, a teenagers social media bio.

SEPTEMBER

I’ve recently started college, my major is still undecided but for my electives I’m taking Introduction to Film Studies and Spanish.

I enjoy Film Studies, it's easy. You don't have to learn how to feel, just the words to describe it.

The scene before you is dark, a single light flickers, the pole it stands upon is rusted. Beneath the actors feet the ground is moist from the morning's rain and one man awkwardly regards his partner's back pressed against the alley's brick wall with hesitation.

He can feel the ghost of wet brick on his back.

In class he'd describe these details as ominous, foreboding, and dreadful.

The man against the wall lifts his head and laughs, his voice is smoother than is normal; he is drunk.

"I don't like when you drink," Now that the man has spoken it becomes aware to the viewer that he's not a man, no not nearly, he's just a boy.

An eighteen year old boy.

"You're seriously no fun," Caesar mocks. "Weren't you just drinking with me? Fucking hypocrite,"

I looked anywhere but at him. The night was alive, the beating blood of Louisville's punk scene pumping around us, but never touching. "I had one shot, you've had six,"

He didn't digest my comment well, looking as though he might puke up five months worth of built up grievances onto my adidas. "So judgy," He settled on.

"I'm calling us an uber,"

"You're not,"

I didn't reply.

"You know what your problem is?" He lifted his head up, hair askew. "You think you're so much better than everyone else, you're so caught up in your own head you've convinced yourself that you're the only person that matters,"

I struggled to push my phone up and out of the pocket of my skinny jeans. I couldn't be sure if my hands were shaking, not when the light barely reached them.

"Do you even feel anything?"

"Of course I feel things," I pressed hard against the outline of my phone. The corner was caught on my pocket seam.

"You never show it," Caesar shook his head, hair beads rattling against one another. They were new, silver to match his rings.

A skull.

A snake.

A die.

All rusted on the inside.

I finally got my phone out of my pocket and it was heavy. A lead weight in my hand. Beneath the street light shone a glare on the screen that made it difficult to find my uber app.

"Do you love me John?"

I ignored him. Requested two stops.

"Do you love anyone?"

"Would you stop."

Caesar laughed. "Predictable,"

I grit my teeth. "What, what's predictable?"

"You," He pushed away from the wall so that he towered over me. "You're just like every other entitled, emotionally constipated, middle class white boy, it upsets you that I actually want us to feel something,"

"Want us," I echoed.

"Us, I want to feel something together, collectively, connected," He took my free hand, interlocking our fingers. "Don't you want that too?"

"Our uber will be here any minute now," I pulled my hand away from his and stepped back. His dark eyes remained trained on mine, locked into my irises.

"I can see why everyone leaves you, John," I stifled. "You never gave them a place to stay to begin with,"

In a movie scene you can see the ground is wet but you can't feel that the air is humid. You can infer from the blue hues and the main character's shivers that it was cold, but you'll not always be right. There was no shiver, just a violent twitch, as though someone hooked up spark plugs around my big toes. Caesar's pretentiousness was painful, and his snobby, accusatory attitude extremely off-putting. I hated dramatic assholes who pretend they can see right through you, that they understand the world in ways you're incapable.

I put him in the uber when it came and ordered a separate one for myself, let the driver know the second stop was unneeded, but could keep whatever pay they gave him for it.

My ride took me to my dad's, where I didn't bother to peel off my wet shoes, instead just stumbled into his bedroom and sat on the edge of that stained, crusted, rickety old mattress. I crumpled like a paper wad, head in my hands and joints stiff. I stayed there until the sun came up and my father's alarm rang.

He slid his glasses onto his face with sweaty, wrinkled hands, almost dropping them as they journeyed from the bedside table to his bed.

"John," He coughed out. "What are you doing here,"

"I'm breaking up with Caesar,"

"Who?"

"Caesar," I repeated. "The real boy,"

"Ah," My father slapped his lips together, kissing away his morning mouth gunk. "Never quite liked the kid anyways, give it just a few years and they'll have him locked up for one thing or another."

"Yeah," I kept my head in my hands, embarrassed that my dad might see the puddles that had begun to form in my palms if I dropped them. "He wasn't really my type anyways."

[mt-musings]

Bluebell

Chapter 37

After being abruptly transferred to the BAU at what she suspects was Gideon's request, Cassie Boann struggles to find her footing. Shy and solitary by nature, the transition is made all the more difficult when Dr. Spencer Reid seems to take an almost immediate dislike to her. Unfortunately for them both, their respective areas of expertise leave them paired off more often than not. But when Cassie's past literally starts hunting her, Spencer is forced to consider that he might, in fact, not hate her at all.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Spencer Reid x OC

Warnings: Canon typical violence, kidnapping, stalking, drug use, blood, injury, death, PTSD, eventual smut, more tags to be added

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

37. Disarm

Gideon stared at the girl across from him in the narrow diner booth, staring out the window. She was thin, her black curls wild, freckles more prominent for how pale she’d become. She wore a black sweater that was at least four sizes too big for her and a pair of ripped jeans, both clearly worse for wear. Her sneakers were dirty and too small, judging by her stride walking in and the left hinge of her glasses had been repaired with scotch tape. There was a fading bruise on her chin, right below the healing split to her lip. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened to your lip?” He asked, trying to catch her eye, to get her to look at him. She’d refused to do so since he’d picked her up.

“Nope,” she replied, popping the P. He sighed. 

“If you’re being mistreated—“

“What does it matter? It’s not like the next placement will be any different.”

“We can find you a better placement. I can call Robert right now and work it all out.”

She didn’t answer, just continued staring blankly out of the window.

“Bebe—“

“Uncle J, just leave it, okay? It doesn’t matter.”

“It absolutely does matter.”

“Just—can we talk about something else? You’re here because of those murders down by Akron, right? The dude with the machete?”

“It’s not an appropriate conversation to be having.”

“Why not? It’s in all the papers.”

“Because you’re ten.”

“So? It’s not like I haven’t seen people hacked up before.”

Gideon sighed. 

“How’s school?”

“Boring. Every time I transfer they’re always reading Catcher in the Rye. If I have to read it one more time I might finish Reagan off myself. I’m starting to think Hickley was on to something.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

They both looked up as the food arrived. Gideon thanked the waitress as Bebe dug in, not bothering to wait for it to cool. She ate too fast, like she was scared it would all disappear. 

He’d have to call Robert. 

“Do you have any new leads? ‘Cause I was thinking maybe you should get the lab to test for bisphenol in the first hundred microns of the bone. I mean, the amount of osteoporosis present in the last one doesn’t fit the profile of the others, unless there was a contributing environmental factor that accelerated bone density loss.”

“We’re still working on it. I’ll see what I can do, I have a contact down at the lab that owes me a favor.”

“Tell them to check for phalates and pesticides too, they can also lead to bone loss.”

“How’d you learn all that?”

“They got computers at the library here, you can find pretty much anything on them. Only decent thing about this place.”

She turned back to her food.

“Got anything planned this weekend?” Gideon asked. 

“Like what?”

“Don’t you have games on the weekend? I thought you played soccer.”

“In Virginia, when I was six. Besides, I’m at the high school. Everyone in my class is almost four years older than me. They’d wipe the floor with me.”

“What about at the Parks and Rec department? It’d be good for you to do something with kids your own age.”

“Why? They’re boring, and I’d rather go to the library. I have to think about college.”

“That’s still a ways off.”

“Not really. Unless WitSec screws up my transcripts again I’ll be applying in three years. Two, if they let me skip Sophomore year like I want to.”

“Three years is still a long time.”

“Not that long. Then, once I finish my I can join the Bureau,” she said, avoiding his gaze. 

“You have to be twenty-three to join the Bureau.”

“Not if they make an exception, which they do for special candidates. And I have an IQ of 174 and have been studying forensic analysis since I was nine, so they’d be stupid not to.”

“And what if we find him before then?”

“Then I’m going to be an archeologist and study genomic trends in the evolution of early hominids, or go excavate old tombs or something. I don’t know."

"I thought you wanted to be a concert pianist, like your dad? You were always so talented."

"Can’t really consider it as long as Shit Head keeps sending me vertebrae, can I? Plus, it's not like I can practice anymore.”

“We’re going to find him.”

She stared at her plate for a long moment, a white knuckled grip on her fork.

“You know, I got in trouble last week? For ‘ignoring’ my history teacher? ‘Cause she kept calling ‘Adrienne’ and I just got used to Madeline. And by the time I get used to Hanna it’ll be Sydney, or Julie, or Claire. This is my fifth placement in less than three years.”

“I know, kiddo. I’m sorry.”

“Why can’t I just come back to Virginia with you?”

Gideon felt his heart break a little at the words, at how small she sounded, at the tears welling up behind her eyes. 

“You know I’m on the road all the time with cases.”

“I can take care of myself. I promise, you won’t even know I’m there—“

“You know that’s not the problem. No judge would sign off on it. You’re still a kid, you need someone looking after you.”

Bebe just stared at him a moment, defeated, before turning back to the remainder of her meal. It was the same argument they’d had a dozen times, the same heart-rending conclusion. But she always asked, even though he knew she knew what the answer would be.

He took her to the bookstore next door while he called Robert from Witsec to see how quickly he could get her moved. She disappeared into the poetry section, shoulders slumped. 

“How fast can you move B39567’s placement?”

“The kid? He sent another one?”

“No. But she’s showing signs of abuse. Won’t say anything but it’s pretty clear.”

“Shit, alright, I’ll see what I can do. It’ll probably take me at least until the morning though. You good with keeping her until then?”

“Of course. Just let me know what you come up with.”

“Will do. I’ll call you when I have something.” 

He hung up. Gideon sighed and turned around, looking for wherever Bebe had wandered off to. He found her at the back of the shop, engrossed in a thick volume. He watched her for a moment, noting the way her brow had softened for the first time since he’d picked her up, how she looked nearly her age, just eleven, despite the fact that she was tearing through Witold Gombrowicz’s Cosmos. That she resembled her father so much in that moment, book in hand, that he could almost hear the old, crackling vinyl copy of Debussy playing in the background, the scent of Panamanian cigars thick in the air. 

Gideon still remembered how Rasmus had doted on that little girl, remembered the look of unadulterated joy on his face when he and Liliya had first introduced her, how happy he’d been to be a father. He’d watched his friend shift, as if his world had a new gravitational pull centered in his daughter, how his life revolved around what was best for her. 

He wondered, if he had lived, what Bebe would have been like. She’d always been clever and curious, but she’d grown morbid and withdrawn since her parents’ deaths, sharp and secretive. 

He turned away, towards the anthropology section that was little more than a shelf and a half. They didn’t have anything on the genomics of early hominids, but they did have a book on the mummies of the New Kingdom. He grabbed it without flipping through it, crossing back to where Bebe still read, cross-legged on the floor. 

“Come on kid, we’ll take it to go. We’re going to go pick up your stuff and get you set up at the hotel while Robert finds you a new placement.”

She stared at him a moment, no relief in her expression, only resignation, before double-checking her page number and getting to her feet. He handed her the other book as he lead her to the counter, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. 

“Thought maybe this way you could get a head start on that archeology career,” he said, raising a brow. 

She huffed a laugh, the corner of her mouth barely twisting up in the hint of a smile. 

---

It should have been a textbook takedown.

Spencer didn’t know when it had all gone so wrong.

Cassie had rounded the corner first, gun drawn and the unsub had leapt out and pistol whipped her. She dropped to the ground, gun clattering out of her hand. He’d kicked it out of reach. 

Spencer had never been a good shot. He’d failed his recertification more than once in his time with the BAU, something he was thoroughly ashamed of. 

He fired twice, trying to focus keeping his gun steady, on aiming and following through. The first shot missed, the second grazed his bicep. He whipped around to face Spencer, gun aiming straight for his chest and he braced himself, hoping the vest under his FBI jacket would catch the worst of it, his mind instinctually calculating the amount of force he was about to be hit with considering the make of the gun and distance between him and the barrel. 

He couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d stared down the barrel of a gun, after being beaten and forced to dig his own grave, panic seizing him. Even if the unsub shot him in the vest—at this distance it still could be enough to kill him. And that was if he aimed for his torso at all. A head or neck shot would leave almost no room for survival, and even a shot to the thigh could sever the femoral artery and leave him with minutes before he bled out. 

A shot rang out, but there was no pain, no force to throw him back. Instead he watched a spray of viscera explode out of the top of his head before he dropped like a stone. Cassie still lay where she’d fallen, gun still pointed at the place the unsub had been only a second before. She lowered her arm, eyes searching his face.

“Are you okay?” She asked, pushing herself into a seated position. There was blood streaking down her face, one eye already purpling and swelling, and she was asking him if he was okay. 

He was still frozen to the spot, eyes wide as he took in the damage. He was still stuck halfway between his panicked memories and the scene in front of him.

Morgan burst into the room from the door at the other end, followed closely by Hotch who took one look between the unsub dead on the ground and Cassie dazed and bloodied and dropped his grip on his gun in favor of his walkie talkie.

“I need medical in here stat, I have an agent injured and a dead suspect,” Hotch said, cataloguing the unsub’s wound. “Who took the shot?”

“I hit him in the arm, Cassie hit him in the head.” He just nodded. 

Morgan crossed to Cassie’s side and crouched in front of her, examining her face. It was bleeding profusely from the laceration under her eye, but that was to be expected of a head wound. Still what concerned him was how unfocused her gaze was.

“Alright sweetness, how many fingers am I holding up,” he asked, holding three up. She looked at them a second before answering dryly.

“Too many.”

Morgan snorted. “Sounds like you might have a concussion.”

“Feels like one,” she groaned, words coming out slightly slurred as she clumsily holstered the gun still in her hand, “What happened to my other gun?”

Spencer crossed wordlessly to where it had ended up on the other side of the room and handed it to her. She hummed something indistinct by way of thanks. She tried to examine it but gave up after only a few seconds and holstered it underneath her other arm, dropping her head back against the wall and letting her eyes slip shut. 

She murmured something indistinct. 

“What was that?”

Spencer slid down the wall to sit next to her, examining her face for himself. The laceration wasn’t as long as he’d first thought, though it was fairly deep. She’d definitely need stitches—he’d have to make sure they had a plastic surgeon do them to make sure there was minimal scarring. He knew how much the bothered her. 

He shrugged off his jacket, flipping it inside out so he could press the soft cotton lining to her cheek to attempt to stop, or at least slow the bleeding. He knew it wasn’t sterile, that he was introducing all sorts of bacteria to the area, but he also knew that injuries to blood-rich areas like the head were more likely to lead to death by exsanguination. He’d judge by the amount of blood running down her neck and pooling in the hollow of her collarbone that she’d lost about 300ml. 

She melted into his side and groaned, making a face as she looked up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Said I fucking hate Ohio.”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head, and even Spencer cracked a smile. 

---

Spencer had insisted on being the one to accompany Cassie to the hospital, not that anyone had particularly fought him on it. He’d insisted on staying by her side throughout everything—the consult, the CT scan, the stitches. 

Cassie had insisted on an MRI as well, though she’d struggled to articulate why. The concussion diagnosis had been fairly glaring and the doctor seemed inclined not to argue with either of them. Spencer knew enough to insist on physical and digital copies of both the tests for Cassie’s perusal later. 

The doctor had found zygomatic bruising on the MRI—no doubt why Cassie had insisted on it—but said it should heal naturally in the next month and a half as long as the inflammation was kept in check. She’d prescribed a strong anti-inflammatory drug as well as a narcotic pain killer for the bone bruising and for the flight home, which she said would make the concussion more painful. 

She’d taken both before they boarded the jet and curled up on the couch, pulling the neck of the oversized Harvard sweatshirt he’d found in her bag up and over her head to block out any light. Spencer wanted nothing more than to hold her, to be close enough to assure himself that she was, in fact, okay. But he couldn’t, because they’d both decided it was better to not tell the team. So he sat at the table with JJ and Morgan and Prentiss playing cards, sneaking glances at Cassie whenever he got the chance. 

Hotch gave them a few days off when they landed—it had been a few cases since they’d had a proper break, not just a handful of paperwork days. Spencer had assured both Hotch and Gideon that he’d make sure Cassie got home safe, something that elicited raised eyebrows but no further prying. 

Morgan had been far less subtle, yelling “See ya, Lover Boy!” from across half the parking lot. Spencer had just ignored him, focusing on making sure they got to the train station in one piece. He didn’t know if it was the concussion or the strength of the painkillers, but she wasn’t exactly steady on her feet, or present. She curled into his side on the train, dropping her head onto his shoulder. 

By the time they made it back to his apartment it was dark. He left their bags by the door to deal with later and led Cassie to his room. He made sure she was perched on the bed before crossing to the bathroom. He returned with a damp washcloth and gently scrubbed the remaining blood from her face and neck, from where it had pooled along her collar. He apologized each time she flinched, doing his best not to aggravate anything further. He pulled out a clean pair of his own pajamas for her to change into, closing the door behind him as he crossed to the kitchen and retrieved an icepack and a pair of water bottles. 

He knocked on the door to his room, waiting a few moments before cracking open the door. Cassie had managed to change, though she’d put his old CalTech shirt on backwards, her bloodied clothes left in a heap. She was curled into a ball at the end of the bed.

Spencer turned down the sheets, setting the water bottles on his bedside table next to the ice pack. He coaxed her up and under the sheets, making sure she was propped up enough to help with the swelling.

He pressed the icepack into her hand, guiding it to her cheek. “Keep this on, it’ll bring the swelling down. Would you mind if I hopped in the shower before joining you?”

She shook her head. He grabbed her clothes and dumped them in his hamper, trying not to be struck with the simple domesticity of the action. It took him precisely seven minutes and forty-eight seconds to wash the remains of her dried blood from his skin and change into pajamas. He tiptoed back to the bed, expecting Cassie to be asleep. He climbed into bed, pressing a featherlight kiss to her forehead. 

She hummed, slowly blinking her eyes open. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“How’s your pain level? The doctor said we should be concerned if it went up more than 2 points on the pain scale.”

“It’s okay. About the same.”

“That’s good. Tomorrow I’ll go out and pick up some omega three and antioxidant supplements, they’re supposed to help accelerate at least the first stages of healing. You should also increase your daily protein intake. I can swing by your place, too, if you give me your keys, and grab you some comfy clothes and anything else you might want for the next week or so—“

“You don’t—I’ll get out of your hair tomorrow.”

“What—no, Cassie. You’re hurt, you need someone to look after you.”

“I’m okay, Spence. I’ll just sleep. You should enjoy your days off.”

“Hypersomnia could be an indication of more severe or worsening symptoms. Besides, I’d enjoy them more with you, knowing you’re okay. Just let me take care of you, alright?”

Cassie just stared back, her lower lip trembling. A tear streaked down her cheek, then another. 

“Oh no, Cass, is it your head?” He asked, panic flooding him. Sudden worsening symptoms could indicate a brain bleed and she’d been hit right by her temple, which gave the highest chance of hemorrhaging. The doctor had said the CT and MRI had been clear, but she could have missed something that got exacerbated by the flight and the pressure inside the cabin. 

She shook her head slightly, wincing at the motion.

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not. Please?”

“I—You’re taking such good care of me and it’s just—I know how to take care of myself and get by because I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, but I don’t know how to let someone take care of me.”

She dropped her gaze, fingers tightening on the icepack as she pulled it from her face. Spencer felt her words like a punch in the gut—He’d practically raised himself, after his dad left. He’d been the only person he could truly count on. He loved his mother fiercely, but her condition had made it impossible for her to ever play a consistent caretaker, and more often than not meant that he took care of her. 

He was sure growing up in foster care wasn’t much more consistent. 

“Hyper-independence is a really common reaction to trauma, especially when experienced in childhood. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I also don’t ever want you to feel like you have to suffer alone. I’m here for you—I want to be here for you, to take care of you. Please, let me.”

“I’m—I’m trying.”

She swiped the tears from her face harshly, forgetting about her bruised cheekbone and fresh stitches. She swore, the curses a jumble of English and Ukrainian, pressing the icepack back to her cheek. 

“This is worse than being stabbed. I need my brain and it’s so stupid right now,” she whined. 

Spencer couldn’t help but huff a quiet laugh at her scrunched up, angry face. She glowered at him for a moment before her face softened.

“I mean, it, I’d rather be stabbed than have garbage brain.”

“Then you better listen to the doctor and rest, so you recover faster.”

“I always listen to you. Mostly.”

“Alright. Rest and let me take care of you.”

She snorted, closing her eyes. “Are you tired?”

“Not yet.”

“Would—would you read to me?”

“Not Child of God,” he said, smile evident in his voice. 

“No—no. You pick, just—just want to listen to you.”

“Alright. Just hang on a second,” he said as he got up. Cassie gripped the blankets tight for a moment, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. Spencer shook his head and laughed as he crossed to the living room. He scanned the shelves, finally settling on an anthology of Pushkin he’d purchased after devouring the one she’d gifted him. Not in Russian, but he supposed it would do, for tonight. 

He walked to the entryway where he’d left their bags and dug out both of their phones and chargers—even with a promised three days off it was best to be prepared. He paused over Cassie’s open bag, looking at the transparent yellow bottles nestled on top of her hastily folded clothes. Diclofenac for reducing the inflammation and hydromorphone for the pain. He knew it was the generic for Dilauded, knew that the doctor had over-prescribed, knew what a bottle like that would run for. 

He picked up the bottles and just weighed them in his hand. Then he shook his head, plugging in both of their phones before returning to the bedroom. He set the pill bottles on the nightstand nearest Cassie and climbed back into bed. She curled up next to him, head on his chest, arm around his waist, eyes still closed. 

He wrapped an arm around her as he started to read, tracing loose patterns across her skin. She was fast asleep barely a half hour later, her hand gently gripping his shoulder, her breath warm against his chest. 

He marked his page before closing the book and setting it aside. He could, of course, finish it in another half hour if he read at his usual pace. Instead he just stared at Cassie asleep on his chest, absently playing with her hair. 

The bruising was worse now than it had been in the hospital. Her right eye was nearly swollen shut and blackened, as was her cheek and temple. Stitched shut the laceration was only two inches long, running from under her eye up to her temple. 

The single blow had been hard enough to bruise bone, to leave her dazed and unsteady and nearly incapacitated, but she’d still made the shot. 

If she hadn’t—

His stomach lurched at the memories of the graveyard, of the sting of ropes against his wrists, of woodsmoke and burning liver. 

He leaned over before he could sink any further into his thoughts, grabbing the bottle of Dilaudid. He shook one into his hand before shoving the bottle back on the far nightstand and dry swallowed it before chasing it with one of the water bottles. 

He knew he shouldn’t, knew he’d been working so hard to stay sober,cbut in that moment all he could think of was the both of them dead on the ground, their brains splattered all over the concrete. 

He’d jump back on the bandwagon tomorrow. It was only one pill, after all and it was less potent than the stuff he’d been using before. It was just a brief stopover to get him through the night.

He kept telling himself that until he drifted off into fuzzy, dulled sleep, arms still holding Cassie close. 

Previous Next

[whoahoney]

glassy eyes, hazy afternoons

Eddie Munson x anxious!stoner!Reader

Part 2

Summary: reader looks for the best place to purchase some grass in her new town of Hawkins, bringing her to meet the infamous Eddie Munson.

Content Warnings: Fem!Reader, reader has an older brother, use of Y/n, minor descriptions of anxiety & depression, mentions/use of recreational drugs, adult language, adult content (minors DNI!), fluff, mutual pining, and Eddie being the sweet boy he is 😩

Author’s Note: I’ve been DYING to get an Eddie Munson story started and I’m SO glad I got this first part done! There should a couple more parts to follow this, so please let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

It feels a little slow in the beginning because of the set up and whatnot, but I really think it’s worth it! The tension is heavy here, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do 🤍 this isn’t beta read, so please excuse any errors!!

Friday morning meant two things for Y/n: the end of her first week at a new school and it was time to try to find some pot in the seemingly quiet town.

Y/n sluggishly made her way across the room, boxes scattered about—half the contents of each box spilled out onto the floor around them. She wandered around, gathered her clothes for the day, and tried to plan how she would find the best person to buy from.

She’d never had to score on her own before, which was pretty nerve wracking. When she lived in her previous town, she always had her brother, Sam, to rely on or one of his trusted friends, and if not there, her own friends always knew where to go.

But her brother and his friends weren’t here anymore, and neither were her own.

After she got her clothes on, Y/n pulled open her desk drawer and grabbed the lone pencil case at the very back.

As she peered inside, she concluded that she could roll one last joint to smoke before she has to talk to a scary drug dealer.

She sighed as she plopped down on the desk chair to empty the contents of the bag onto the desktop.

Her mind strayed to her brother, and wondered if he was having as good of a time as he’d hope to have at college.. 100 miles away. He was sure to make friends quickly, he always had. And in a way, he was the only reason she had acquired friends in the first place.

She recalled how he helped her with social skills her sophomore year, and how he invited her nearly everywhere he went with his friends. That lead to her trying pot for the first time:

“Remember to ask questions about whatever they’re talking about, people love talking about themselves.” He’d said in the car on the way to the party.

Y/n nodded, going over the mental list of social rules and conversation taboos. “How do I know when to ask the question?” She scrunched her brow together, eyeing her brother curiously.

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes on the road for a moment in thought. “I’d wait til they’re done talking, and ask about the most interesting part of what they said. If they don’t stop talking, just nod every once in a while.” Sam nodded, demonstrating.

“I know how to nod, asshole.” Y/n rolled her eyes, hiding a smile. Sam parked the car and turned off the ignition. “Alright, kid. You ready?” He said with a hopeful smile and raised eyebrows.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“And the safe word is?” He asked as she opened the door, just barely. “Dude can we call it anything besides a safe word?” She pleaded like an embarrassed child.

“Okay, okay, what’s the ‘code word’?”

“ ‘Dude, wanna Budweiser?’”

“Excellent. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead.” He looked at her eagerly as they walked instep to the crowded and roaring house.

About twenty minutes into the party, Y/n found Sam in a circle near a corner of the smokey room, and walked faster to join him.

Ready to bail, she nudged her brothers elbow as he took a hit of the fresh blunt. “Uh, uh, no way. You’re not bailing right now. You haven’t even tried any party activities! Like this, I bet this will soothe all your little worries.” He held out the weed and the people in the circle eyed her with anticipation.

“Is this her first time?” Someone whispered reverently as if they were in church. Sam nodded for Y/n, their eyes locked in silent conversation.

After a few moments’ pause of her eyes boring into his, Y/n let out “Why the hell not.” and gathered her bearings before the inevitable coughing ensued. “Atta girl!” Sam praised, and the others clapped.

A blush rose to her cheeks as she put the tip to her lips and sucked lightly. “More more more, C’mon Junior, I know you’ve got it in you!” Sam’s friend, Derek, encouraged quietly.

“BUTNOTTOOMUCH!!” Sam chided urgently.

The silence made Y/n uncomfortable, so she closed her eyes and decided the amount she had taken was probably sufficient and quickly passed it to the person next to her like she’d seen many times before.

“Now hold it for a sec!” Sam instructed. Y/n’s eyes filled with shock and her cheeks puffed out.

‘You have to hold this stuff in??’ She’d thought.

“Someone put that Superfly record on! Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, folks, my sister’s getting stoned for the first time!” Sam declared from the top of the chair he occupied.

The room cheered and raised their cups in their direction, and the skunky aroma of pot permeated the room even more.

The funky sounds of Curtis Mayfield started as Sam addressed his sister again. “Alright let it out and then take a little breath in at the end. SLOWLY.”

Y/n did as told and the girl next to her patted her back “Congrats, sweet girl, you are about to be so toasted.”

Y/n cocked her head slightly like a confused puppy and then the realization spread across her face:

The rising pressure and burning sensation tingling up her chest and throat.

Y/n let out a deathly gasp and cough, hacking severely through the intro to Pusherman.

Sam’s friend offered some water in front of her seat now at Sam’s feet in the chair. He hopped down and patted her back roughly.

“Just wait sis, no need to fear, it’ll stop in a sec just keep breathing.”

She nodded her head, offering a thumbs up. Once she was able to regulate her breathing again, Sam put the water in her hand. As she opened her hot, teary, eyes, the world was blurry. But that didn’t matter because she was THIRSTY.

She quickly gulped the water down as the circle quietly giggled. Y/n set the glass down again on the table and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“So how do you feel?” Sam asked with a proud smirk on his face. Y/n’s eyelids hung lower than her usual anxious state allowed her to, and the whites of her eyes were tinted a precious baby pink. Her cheeks were still tear stained from coughing, but a content smile rested on her lips.

If she heard Sam, Y/n didn’t make it known for the first moment as she observed her surroundings for the first time. She took a deep breath before responding and glanced around at the part of the party that wasn’t currently glued to her.

The funky menagerie of instruments encouraged her shoulders to move on their own as she turned to a dress the group. Y/n let out a breathy laugh and shrugged. “I dunno, man, I feel.. warm and fuzzy all over like a blanket fresh from the dryer.” She said wholeheartedly.

The group laughed endearingly. Before she could be swept away with the song again, Sam boogied his way over to his sister and spun her around wildly like he’d done a million times in their living room.

“Sam, sam, SAM! The room is spinning enough as it is, don’t ruin this for me!” Y/n complained as her brother steadied her by her shoulders.

“So, dude, still want that Budweiser?” He asked smugly. Y/n rolled her eyes and flipped him off, dancing her way to the kitchen, her mouth practically watered for something sugary to fill the new and aching hole in her stomach.

That was also the first time she was able to leave his side at a party and talk to people on her own.

Y/n noticed how she spoke to multiple new people without feeling like her heart was about to burst out of her throat, conversation was easy to make, and people thought she was funny! No one, besides her brother, had ever described her as funny as far as she could recall.

After they’d left the party that night, Sam beamed at her from the drivers seat of his Bronco like a proud parent on the first day of kindergarten.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked, mildly concerned. She stared at the cuffed hems of her black corduroys and her red high top sneakers.

Sam lurched over the console of the vehicle to mess up her hair and pat her shoulder, “What do you mean ‘wHy ArE yOu LoOkInG aT mE LiKe ThAt?’ You TALKED to people! You made FRIENDS! Those people are going to talk to you at school on Monday, I guarantee it.” He boasted.

A smile crept across her lips, though she didn’t want it to. “You really think so?” She asked. Her high had worn off by now, leaving her feeling calm and grounded. Sam beamed at his sister, he’d never seen her look so at ease among others. Y/n couldn’t help but be proud of herself, too—she’d managed to have a great time, and not only did she refrain from embarrassing herself and her brother, but she made him proud.

Sam never felt embarrassed at his sister’s common faux pas, but Y/n spent much of her time alone berating herself after any interaction. Especially if it was one her brother invited her to. It felt good to skip that part after a night out. 

He glanced over at her momentarily before turning back to the road. “Dude, you have no idea how many people came up to me to ask me where I’ve been hiding you. Sara J told me you ‘were a riot’, and that she expects me to bring you to her house party next weekend.”

Y/N shook her head in disbelief, who knew the best way for her to make friends was drugs?

As she twisted the end of the joint to finish it off, she heard her father knock on the door.

“Hey, hun, are you almost ready? I gotta head out.” His voice muffled by the masonite separating them.

“I’m actually going to walk to school today, but I’ll see you tonight.” She said as she tied her laces and cuffed her jeans. She slid the joint behind her ear and fixed her headphones on top to hold it in place.

She looked to her shelf above her radio, skimming her collection of tapes spanning many persuasions, from metal to new wave, alternative to pop and folk to metal, it was all there.

Sam and Y/n went through all of their tapes when it was time for him to leave a month ago, deciding they’ll trade tapes whenever he comes home for breaks.

She chose four tapes to take to school with her: The Smiths, Anthrax, Dio, and Siouxsie & the Banshees.

The Smiths was one of her brother’s but Anthrax, Dio, and Siouxsie were some she recently bought for herself.

“Alright, darlin’. Have a good one, love you.” He said before leaving. Y/n’s father, Johnny, was a very quiet man, much like herself.

He didn’t ever do anything besides go to work and come home, but that’s as only because he was an easy man to please. Johnny enjoyed the simple things in life, and was a very proud father.

Something his children benefitted from was his ability to trust and let them make their own mistakes.

Or he was highly inattentive, one of the two.

Either way, Johnny was a good and honest man. Which is why he took a new job in Hawkins to help Sam pay for his fancy college. When their dad presented them with this opportunity, Y/n had no choice but to be enthusiastic for Sam’s sake. He deserved to go to the college he worked so hard to be accepted into.

But inside, Y/n was screaming and self-destructing. She’d just gotten settled with her new friends, no longer needing to rely on pot or Sam to be comfortably social.

Now she was to go to a new place, without her brother, to finish out the final two years of high school on her own.

Horrifying.

Which brings us back to this morning, Y/n walked steadily on the the road to the school while The Smiths floated through your ears.

“…To die by your side, well the pleasure, the privilege, is mine…”

She quietly sang to herself as she saw the roof of the school peek over the horizon and the road got busier with cars entering the student parking lot between the middle and high schools.

Y/n stood next to the school sign momentarily before slipping the pre-roll into her empty cassette case. Todays objective was to get a name, and then eventually proposition them.

She opened her Walkman to exchange The Smiths for Anthrax and let ‘Antisocial’ blare in her ears before walking into the school.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

‘They’re no different than Sara, Ricky, Jordan, Matthew, Ann, Marty, and Charlie, right?’ She thought, comparing some of the party kids to some of her friends she left behind.

They had all seemed so intimidating at first, she was sure she’d never see the day they looked in her direction, let alone invite her places, but they did.

‘If cool people think you’re cool one place, they will in another’ she remembered Sam say.

Y/n walked to the end of the hall to her locker, taking out most of her textbooks but keeping three for her first classes.

She also grabbed the novel she chose for English to annotate, luckily it was one she’s read before. She sighed and quickly flipped through the pages for the familiar parchment scent.

She was startled out of thought when two boys slammed into the lockers next to her, grappling for a notebook and yelling playful obscenities at one another.

Y/n took a step back to avoid catastrophe but not before one boy could jerk his elbow backwards and hit her directly in the chest, sending her backwards and causing her headphones to be knocked down around her neck.

As she stumbled, expecting to meet the hard linoleum beneath her, a rather tall figure caught her arm before she could fall.

The fighting had ceased when a male teacher, Mr. Barker, intervened, snatching the note book from one of the two boys.

“Brandon, Jeffery, Principal Higgins’ office. Now.” He, well, barked. As the crowd dispersed, y/n remembered the hand on her arm.

“Are you okay? That was some hit you took.” He said releasing her arm. Y/n whipped her head around to meet a pair of shining brown eyes, a mop of black hair, and very impressive cheekbones belonging to a younger teen boy.

“I- uh, yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” She struggled, rubbing her sternum. The Anthrax track had started over, blaring quietly from the ears of her headphones.

“You’re new aren’t you?” He asked, leaning against the lockers next to them. Some other boys convened behind him, not so subtly listening to the conversation.

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s my first week. I didn’t think I’d need spidey senses to survive high school, but- yes. Yes, I’m new.” Y/n settled before she started rambling about Peter Parker. Awesome start. Could’ve been worse.

Thankfully the tall boy chuckled and held out his hand. “I’m Mike Wheeler,” he introduced himself. “and these are my friends Dustin Henderson and Lucas Sinclair.” He nodded behind him as they waved kindly.

She noticed that they all wore the same shirt, sporting a devilish character with some medieval weapons and.. dice? ‘Hellfire Club’ it read.

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n.” She said nervously while she shut her locker and slung her backpack over one shoulder. She hit the pause button on the Walkman, stuffing the device into the bag.

“Is that Anthrax?” Dustin asked. Her head snapped up quickly, “Yeah! You listen to them?”

He smiled and shrugged, “On occasion, but more recently I’ve been getting into Metallica.” He nodded eagerly.

A smile rose to y/n’s face, “I love Metallica.” She nodded.

The bell rang, signaling that the heart warming but awkward encounter had to end. “I’ll see you guys around.” She said shutting the locker door to walk past the group.

“Yeah, I’ll catch you later, y/n.” Mike joked with finger guns. She laughed as she continued to class while the other two boys chastised him for the corny joke.

Perhaps friends wouldn’t be so hard to come by after all.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At the beginning of biology, Y/n got paired with a girl named Chrissy Cunningham, and from the look of her perfectly white Ked’s, matching skirt and cardigan set, and senior charm necklace, she was obviously Miss Perfect.

And rightfully so, Y/n quickly learned, because Chrissy was almost a saint.

“Hi, I’m Chrissy.” She said quietly, putting her books on the shared table in front of her. Her eyes sparkled with genuine kindness and her ponytail was as bouncy as her walk had been when she sauntered over.

“Y/n,” she answered, becoming shy all over again. “I know,” Chrissy giggled quietly. “You’re new! Everyone’s been asking about you.” She beamed. Chrissy’s presence became very comforting to y/n suddenly, though she couldn’t place why.

“So are you any good at bio?” She asked casually, flipping to the page written on the board.

Y/n copied her actions and opened her book too. “I’m good at finding answers in the textbook..” she whispered as the teacher pulled down a chart of the human body.

Chrissy snickered quietly, resting her forehead in her hands to avoid being noticed. “That’s about as much as I can do, too.” She replied. “I’m sure if we collaborate, we’ll make it out of here together.” She answered keeping her eyes to the front. Y/n nodded, silently agreeing.

After the lecture, Y/n and Chrissy spent the rest of the hour completing the questions over the first chapter and getting to know each other.

Y/n learned that Chrissy was indeed the head cheerleader shocker, likes Blondie, Madonna, Pat Benatar, and Duran Duran, plays tennis and golf recreationally with her parents and boyfriend, and enjoys a nice margarita on the weekends.

Chrissy learned that y/n spent a lot of time by herself since the move to Hawkins and her brother’s move to college. She quickly gathered that Y/n and her brother were best friends and thought it was quite endearing. Chrissy listened to her talk about the friends she had, the parties she used to frequent, and the books and music she spends her time with now instead.

“My boyfriend, Jason, his parents go out of town for, like, two weekends out of the month and he throws some of the best parties. You HAVE to come with me sometime!” She patted y/n’s hand urgently.

Y/n hesitated, considering for a moment if she was ready for that atmosphere again but surrounded with unfamiliar faces, and no safety net to fall into if rejected by her peers.

“Okay,” she said carefully while Chrissy’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“but,” y/n continued.

“Ugh, I hate buts!”

“I just wanna make a few more friends here first, I can’t be following you around like a lost puppy the whole time.” She shrugged.

Chrissy pursed her lips, considering what her new friend said, trying to place herself in the shoes of someone with only one friend in a brand new place.

She couldn’t. So she took Y/n’s word for it and nodded understandingly.

“Well even if you won’t come party just yet, I’d love to hang out soon, you’re really easy to talk to.” Chrissy smiled.

Y/n’s heart warmed and she couldn’t help but smile herself. “That’d be really nice.”

The bell rang and the girls gathered their things and walked to the hallway. “Oh!” Chrissy grabbed Y/n by her jacket sleeve and pulled her to the side of the hallway.

“If I don’t see you before the day is over, here’s my phone number! I have my own line, so thankfully you won’t have to talk to my parents.” She giggled as she scribbled on a piece of ripped notebook paper and handed it over.

“Thanks, I’ll call you later?” Y/n asked, Chrissy nodding almost immediately.

As Chrissy started walking away, Y/n realized Chrissy would probably be the person to ask about the commodity she was in search of.

“Chrissy, wait!” She called surprisingly confident compared to her demeanor before class. Chrissy spun on her heel abruptly before reaching her boyfriend and came jogging back to her new friend, much to his confusion.

“What’s up?”

“I, uh, need to ask you about something..” Y/n whispered, losing all the confidence she had just exhibited.

Chrissy was confused by the sudden seriousness, but nodded. “Do you, um, happen to know… anyone I can get some..weed..from?” Y/n tried to calmly say.

Chrissy couldn’t help but laugh a little at y/n’s timidness. “Oh my gosh, y/n, it’s just a little pot.”

Y/n breathed a small sigh of relief that marijuana wasn’t a taboo subject with her new friend. “Find Eddie Munson,” Chrissy whispered, Y/n committing the name to memory. “I hear he’s the safest dealer around here.”

She started walking away before the bell could ring again, “See ya! Call me!” She yelled over the tops of passing heads. Jason craned his neck to see who the heck his girlfriend was having such an important conversation with.

Y/n waved to Chrissy as she met Jason’s line of sight briefly before averting her gaze and turning quickly to her next class.

She caught the door to the English room with her hand and swung it open before the bell rang for the final time.

Y/n breathed deeply, relieved she made a friend, got a name, and got to read more of her book for the whole hour before lunch.

She made herself comfortable in the back corner of the room, next to a quiet red head wearing headphones around her neck.

The girls eyes met y/n’s and offered her a small smile, which y/n returned.

She rustled around in her book bag for her paperback escape and a pencil to write with.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mrs. Wilson began, “please continue to read quietly and annotate your chosen novels, you may listen to your record tapes if you would like, but if I can hear it I’m taking it.” She raised her brows seriously as the class stifled laughter.

The girl next to y/n quickly put her headphones on and hit play, the faint sounds of Kate Bush began quietly emanating from them.

Y/n quite liked Kate Bush, and decided against getting out her own Walkman to listen to the other quiet girls music instead.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The last five minutes of class, everyone was packed up waiting patiently for the bell to ring, except for y/n and the quiet girl in the back, too caught up in their own little worlds to have noticed the time going by.

The trill of the bell was jarring to both of them, so much so, the red head jumped hard enough she knocked her headphones askew.

She struggled to regain control of her breath as the rest of the class rushed through the door to get to the cafeteria.

Y/n didn’t know whether to ask the girl if she was okay or to go on about her business, but during that decision making process, the girl caught y/n staring.

In a panic, Y/n squeaked out, “Kate Bush?”

‘Nice.’ She mentally facepalmed.

The girl scrunched her brow briefly, taken aback, but taking a full breath. “Uh, yeah. You a fan?”

Y/n nodded, “yeah, Hounds of Love is a, uh, great album.” She zipped her bag shut with all of her things tucked inside.

The other girls face softened and nodded in agreement. “It’s all I’ve been listening to lately, honestly.” She confessed with a small smile.

Y/n smiled back, “I do that with about every new tape I get, I completely get it.” She said, her chest tight, not allowing enough airflow for much more conversation.

“I’m Max,” she said as she closed her own bag and fixed it over her shoulder.

“Y/n.” She nodded as they both walked out of the room. “Well, Y/n, I’ll see you around.” Max said, her soft smile fading as she slipped her headphones back on and walked the opposite direction of the cafeteria.

The hallway was mostly free of traffic, making the trip to the cafeteria very short. Y/n stopped in the doorway and searched all the tables.

‘Now, Eddie Munson, where do I find you?’ She thought, skimming the room. Her eyes fell upon a blonde ponytail, blue eyeshadow rimmed eyes raised, meeting her own. “Y/n/n!” Chrissy squealed, rushing over to you.

“Come sit!” She urged. Y/n’s eyes went wide, looking over to the table Chrissy was sat at previously. First of all, it was full, second of all, y/n did not like the way Jason looked at her. It wasn’t aggressive or anything, but definitely unsettling. Or perhaps she was reading too much into her anxiety.

“Actually, I was going to use this time to locate this Eddie Munson, where do I find him?” Y/n asked quietly, nodding to the maze of lunch tables.

“Good thinking!” Chrissy nudged y/n’s shoulder with hers. “He’s gonna be at the table with all the kids wearing the Hellfire shirts.”

Hellfire.

“Thanks so much, Chris, I’ll catch up with you later!” Y/n started into the cafeteria, eyes searching for the kids she met earlier.

It didn’t take long to find the table of white and black shirts, currently occupied by Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and a few other unfamiliar faces.

Before she could make it to the table, Mike spotted her and waved. When he saw she was approaching him with her brow furrowed in determination, he stood in a panic, as did Dustin and Lucas. The boys looked amongst each other in fear and began bickering chaotically.

“She’s coming over here, why is she coming over here?” Dustin whispered urgently across the table to Mike

“I don’t know, ask her when she gets here?” Mike shrugged.

“Why don’t you?” Dustin asked with anxiety piercing his words.

“If you wanna know so badly then why don’t you ask her??” Lucas quipped, narrowing his eyes on Dustin

“Shut up, she can hear you she’s literally right there-“ Mike started until Dustin spoke up when you got close enough to hear.

“Y/n! To what do we owe this pleasant surprise?” Dustin greeted.

“Actually, I’m looking for an Eddie Munson? I was told I’d find him with Hellfire.” She pointed to their shirts.

Their eyes widened. “You’re looking for Eddie?” Mike asked confused. “Yeah, are you guys friends with him?” Y/n asked.

“He’s our dungeon master!” Dustin replied enthusiastically.

Not knowing anything about DnD, Y/n gave him an odd look. “He’s your who?”

“He’s our club president.” Mike said pointedly before Dustin could answer.

“He said he was going to be late to lunch today, but we can tell him you were looking for him, if you want.” Lucas said assuringly.

“Well, he isn’t going to have any idea who I am, so how about-” she paused, taking her backpack off and getting out her notebook and pencil. “you give him this note for me?” She looked up at them for confirmation.

They all nodded as she finished writing in her gel ink pen.

“I heard you’re the guy to buy from. Are you free after school? - y/n l/n”

She folded it twice and handed it to Mike. “Can I trust you, Wheeler?” She asked quietly. “Of course you can trust us!” Dustin said wrapping his arm around Mike. “What are friends for?” He finished.

“I appreciate it. Can you let me know when he says something?” Y/n asks. “You got it!” Dustin assures.

Y/n laughs and shakes her head, “okay, thanks guys, I’ll see ya.” She says as she turns to leave.

She makes her way to the end of the hall, desperate to get out of the building. As soon as she shoves through the doors, the cool air meets her face with a kiss of fresh relief.

It soothes her tight chest, allowing her to take deep unhindered breaths, encouraging her shoulders to loosen up.

She sits on a patch of grass in the shaded spot next to the building and presses her hands to her face. Social interaction goes by so quickly in a panicked blur and fully hits her after it ends, leaving her to rewind and watch everything that was said, every move she made, and how wrong everything she did was.

No one’s laughing at you. No one has been mean. Calm down. It’s fine. We’re fine.

She spent the rest of lunch recharging outside, touching some grass, before she could hear the bell ring faintly, pulling her from her finally relaxed state and back to reality.

She entered the stuffy school building again, this time much calmer than when she left. Y/n made her way to her locker to exchange more books, not noticing the small herd of freshman boys rushing towards her.

“Hey!” Mike said as they approached. Y/n shut her locker, and fixed her bag to its place on her back. “We have word from Eddie.” Dustin said quietly. Y/n’s ears perked at that, leaning in closer to the group.

“What’d he say?” She asked.

“Well, at first, we had to convince him you weren’t a freshman because apparently he doesn’t do business with us.” Dustin scoffed with offense.

“But after that and your note, he told us to tell you to meet him at the clearing in the woods by the football field after school.” Mike added quietly.

“Okay, what?” She said quietly alarmed. Her eyes flashed subtle fright, recognizing this concept from many a horror movie

“Nononono, don’t worry it’s not what it sounds like, that’s where he meets so many other people.” Lucas said.

“Yeah, and we can take you there! Well we can’t be there cause Eddie would probably kick our asses, but we’ll show you.” Dustin assured.

Y/n looked between the boys, not picking up any malicious intent coming from them, only sincerity. “Alright, deal. Thank you guys.” She nodded genuinely.

“It’s not every day a few freshman such as ourselves befriend a lady of your class. Literally, upperclassmen are assholes.” Dustin shrugged.

“We’re happy to help.” Lucas added. The bell trilled signaling the second half of the school day was starting.

“Meet us at the football field after school!” Mike hollered as the three rushed past y/n to their next classes.

‘Sweet kids.’ She thought.

Y/n walked to art with relief, her self assigned tasks for the day almost over. Sam would be proud of all the socializing she’s done on her own today. He’d probably tell her how brave it was of her to put herself out there like she did.

Now all she had to worry about was meeting this Eddie Munson. Which, it sounded like she didn’t need to worry much at all. She feared she would say all the wrong things, and the last thing she wanted to do was offend a drug dealer.

But thankfully, Y/n’s secret weapon was locked and loaded in her handy dandy cassette case just waiting for the end of school to be used. That way, she’ll have a level head when she’s to interact with this mysterious and quite nerve wracking character.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n hated math.

She absolutely loathed the universe in which numbers and letters coexist and have problems with each other.

It was simply a language she didn’t speak. So algebra being the last class of the day made the hour drag on forever like a three hour Joel Olsteen lecture.

Before she resorted to shoving a pencil in her ear, the bell rang for the final time of the day.

Y/n was the first one out the back door, ready to get away from the fuckery that is math.

She fished her Walkman out of her bag, placing her Dio cassette inside and grabbing The Smiths case she stored her joint in.

The girl stalked over to the stands a few yards away from the high school, already seeing her freshman friends waiting for her.

Dustin was the first to spot her, followed by Mike and Lucas.

“There she is!” Dustin greeted warmly. A laugh rose to her chest as the young boy flattered her. “Here I am!” She rang back attempting to match his energy.

“C’mon, We probably shouldn’t keep him waiting.” Mike suggested nervously, starting across the practice field towards the woods.

As the troop trekked across the green, Mike leading with Dustin, Y/n, and Lucas trailing behind, the nervous thrumming of her heart beat wildly in her ears.

The walk was quiet with the exception of the dewy grass swishing beneath their feet. The opening to the woods drew closer, and Y/n’s breathing began to tremble slightly, but she was brave.

“Alright, here you are.” Mike said coming to a stop. Y/n nodded with gratitude, “Thank you guys so much for going to all this trouble.” She looked to each of them.

“Just walk until you see a picnic table in the clearing, that’s where he’ll meet you.” Dustin directed.

Y/n watched the boys walk away before she entered the woods, first at a determined and brisk pace, but slowed as the trees grew thicker and less light was allowed through the branches.

Her breathing quickened again, and her head started to dizzy with unsettling thoughts. She paused in her tracks, practically ripping her headphones away from her neck and slamming them onto her head.

She jammed the play button down, the busy intro of Rainbow In the Dark filled her ears. The guitar cut through the anxiety in her chest and the bass of the drums beat fiercely through her head.

Y/n took more breaths and continued her walk to the picnic table she spotted ahead. By the guitar solo, she had plopped down on the table, resting her feet on the bench below, casting her bag down next to her.

She popped open the cassette tape with trembling hands, and plucked the joint out, smelling it longingly.

With a small smile, she fished her lighter from her back pocket and ignited the small flame against the twisted end of the joint, pulling the heat through the bud and filling her mouth and nose.

She puffed a few times to start it, hoping to take about half before Eddie Munson arrived. Y/n felt the tension release from her shoulders as she exhaled a trail of smoke into the space above her head.

Within a few seconds she was making herself comfortable, taking off her jacket and folding one leg under the other, bouncing her foot and bopping her head to the beat.

It was moments like this that she wanted to live in forever. It felt like time stood still when she was smoking outside and listening to her favorite tapes. These moments felt safe, like the warm blanket she described the first time she smoked with her brother and friends.

She smiled, and felt the surge of serotonin rush through her when her favorite lyrics played. Y/n sat puffing on the joint peacefully until she felt someone tap on her shoulder.

Y/n yelped, ripping the joint from between her lips and hiding it behind her back before turning quickly.

In her hazy state, her eyes met the silver rings adorning the hand that was slowly retracting from her, then traced up to meet the face of the body wearing the familiar Hellfire Club shirt.

Eddie Munson was intimidating, not because he looked dangerous, but because he looked at her intensely. His eyes looked dark, but a sun beam spilled across his iris to show the warm color they held.

He said something, and she watched his lips move intently, his words were muffled by the blaring music over her ears and it was only then she realized she needed to take off her headphones.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she mumbled and took them off swiftly, brushing her hair behind her ears.

Dio still blared audibly between them as she struggled to push the STOP button all the way down. Every time she pressed the button it sprang back up, until she nervously whacked it on the edge of the table, finally getting it to stick and the play button to pop back up.

Y/n dropped the Walkman on the table and finally looked up to fully face Eddie Munson. “I’m y/n.” She said quietly, a tight smile on her lips as she closed her eyes briefly to escape making eye contact.

Eddie chuckled and nodded, “So I’ve heard,” he held out his hand in a friendly manner. Y/n shook it lightly, “Eddie Munson, resident freak of Hawkins, but I’m sure you’ll hear soon enough.” He plopped down at the table and looked up at her as he opened his metal lunchbox.

Y/n gave him a smile, “well, Eddie Munson, historically, freaks are the most interesting and successful people.” She brought the half gone joint to her lips and inhaled deeply.

Eddie’s eyes seemed to sparkle when his met hers again. A tender smile spread across his face and a flustered scoff escaped his lips, “and historically, those people aren’t appreciated or famous until they’re dead.”

Y/n shrugged, “you got me there.” Not knowing what else to say, she offered the weed to him. He looked from her to the joint and hesitantly took it. Eddie held it in his lips and he searched through numerous bags of herb and powder.

He took out three sizes of bags and then handed the joint back to Y/n before exhaling and asking “so, Dio?” He nodded to the Walkman between them.

“Oh! Yeah. They’re one of my favorites lately.” She nodded shyly.

“Dustin told me the new girl was listening to Anthrax earlier, but I thought my ears had deceived me, but now I see I was mistaken,” his eyes locked with hers, a passionate gleam danced in his eye as he spoke softly, “Congratulations, you’re the first girl I’ve met in Hawkins with some taste in music.” Eddie finished with a bow.

Y/n’s shoulders bounced with laughter at his dramatics. “Thank you, wow, no one’s ever bestowed me with such an honor.” She spoke with a bad accent then laughed nervously and picked at the peeling skin on her thumb absentmindedly—her brain channeling all of her nervous energy to her fingers and twitching feet.

She puffed on the roach, the smoke striking intensely at the back of her throat and rolling down through her chest.

Her eyebrows scrunched, signaling her small coughing fit, small thick clouds of smoke puffing out around her. She felt like a floundering fool, hacking into her fist and clumsily stamping out the butt of the finished joint.

Eddie held a secret smile on his lips, his hand pressed firmly against it to conceal his admiration.

Y/n looked so effortlessly beautiful perched on the table the way she was. She looked like she belonged here among the turning autumn leaves and reaching branches of the trees above them. Like it was all for her.

The sun shown through the branches to form a golden halo around the head of wild hair framing her angelic face.

Some strands of hair fell into her face as she let out a few coughs from the abrasive kick of the roach.

The lingering smoke snaked around her like a personal ethereal fog, sun rays highlighting their dance around her face and shoulders. She felt like a dream.

“So, Eddie Munson,” Y/n cleared her throat after gathering her bearings. “How much for a half?” She nodded at the bags in between them.

Eddie propped his head up with his hand, and picked up the bag with half an ounce of bud in it.

He held it out to her to check out. She took the bag from him gently and poked around carefully to inspect the product, leaning down and inhaling the scent deeply as if she were browsing for tulips or roses in a flower shop.

Eddie observed her, he hadn’t seen a Hawkins student, let alone a chick, take buying his weed so seriously. Usually it’s a quick swap and there’s little to no conversation involved. This felt different though, a good different.

“It’s, uh- fuck, $15 for a half.” He spewed out.

Her eyes widened, “you’re shitting me.” Y/n shook her head and laughed as if he were joking. “Consider it a welcome discount. Turns out I’m kind of like the welcome wagon.” He shrugged casually. Though Eddie exuded nonchalance, his heart thrummed against his chest at the pretty girl before him.

Y/n shook her head lightly and narrowed her eyes at the boy in front of her. What was he playing at? No one gives weed away like that.

Eddie eyed her with sarcastic impatience, scooting the bag to her inch by inch with his forefinger. Y/n pursed her lips, looking from the bag to Eddie, brainstorming ways to feel better about practically stealing the weed from him.

“How about,” she started slowly, Eddie scooted closer as she leaned forward invitingly, “I give you $20 and you roll some of this up for me.” She shrugged with an eyebrow quirk.

Eddie’s heart leapt at the offer and it took much restraint for him to refrain from barking out a ‘yes’ immediately.

He feigned deep thought, knitting his brow and leaning his head on his hand for dramatic effect. “That sounds… like an offer I cannot refuse.” He smirked with a flourish of his hand, then dug out a couple packs of rolling papers.

For the next hour, Eddie and Y/n sat (in fairly close proximity to one another) heads bent over the table to focus on breaking up the bud and rolling up an ounce worth of joints.

They each had their notebooks out, green scattered across the expanse of the open pages and the zigzag box inbetween them.

Eddie and Y/n snuck glances at one another, each admiring observing the others hands at work. At one point, Eddie reached between them and hit play on the Walkman, letting the Dio song finish.

“So, uh, Anthrax, Dio, who else do you listen to?” Eddie asked while keeping his hands busy and focus on the papers in front of him

Y/n fiddled with the seemingly microscopic paper in her hands. She typically didn’t have this much difficulty rolling up a joint, but Eddie’s presence may have something to do with the slight tremble in her hands.

With a small sigh she set down the project in front of her to take a break. She folded her hands under her chin and brought her eyes back to Eddie’s.

“At my house, Metallica is almost always on, they’re in my top five for sure, Ozzy is too. But lately Poison by Alice Cooper has been on a loop.” She tapped her fingers on the edge of the wood, trying to get the nervous energy out through her hands so maybe she could return to rolling and keep busy.

“From that new album, Garbage, right?” He asked. Eddie placed the finished joint in the middle of the table next to the others he’d finished. He noticed that Y/n had difficulty with his brand of papers, he mentally scolded himself for not grabbing bigger ones at the gas station instead of the half size ones.

“It’s Trash, actually.”

“The rest of the album?” He asked confused.

“The name of the album, it’s called Trash.” She said softly with a light blush gracing her cheeks.

Eddie returned the soft smile unabashedly. “Yeah, that’s the one.” He eyed her abandoned joint and reached out with his finger to drag it back towards himself to finish for her. Y/n’s heart warmed in her chest, she never really liked rolling anyway.

“I think it’s best I take it upon myself to rescue this little guy, I’m not sure what you’re doing here, y/l/n, but this is tragic.” He eyed the joint and shook his head disapprovingly.

Y/n couldn’t help the smile that rose to her face, so she played it off with an eye roll. “My rolling skills are inconsistent, sue me! And I’m paying you the extra for your expertise, I shouldn’t be rolling anyway.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest matter-of-factly.

Eddie laughed at her quips, each and every one of them. He could sit there forever and roll joints for her. If he could afford it, he would stop dealing to everyone else in all of Hawkins and save every last bit of bud for the girl in front of him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll teach you how to roll properly one of these days.” He said down to the freshly packed roll, waiting to be sealed with a delicate lick to the seam.

He glanced up at her with his deep eyes boring into hers, as he ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of the small paper.

Y/n felt the weight of Eddie’s stare come crashing down onto her chest as soon as his tongue slipped out of his mouth to seal the joint she abandoned, and she couldn’t be more thankful she did.

Her breath hitched, noticeable to Eddie immediately, though she wasn’t aware the boy had any idea of his effect on her. Y/n directed her eyes back to her lap to fidget with her fingers.

Eddie loved the way she got quiet at times, it showed him she was probably as nervous as he was. He knew how intimidating he comes across, especially to new people, but she didn’t seem scared which confused him a little.

His eyes lingered on her face for a moment longer, taking his chance to gaze at her while she kept hers trained on her high tops.

Eddie plucked a joint from the few he’d finished, sliding it between his teeth and digging out his zippo.

When she heard the familiar flick of the lighter, her eyes snapped up to his again. Eddie’s eyes met her once again and a small smirk found it’s way onto his face, exposing his beautiful teeth once again.

As he brought the flame closer to his face, his eyes stayed on hers, and hers on his. Y/n felt nothing short of entranced, the reflection of the light dancing in the dark ambiguous pools of his eyes. What had they seen? What was behind them?

Then her eyes dropped to the plump, soft pink lips that framed the mouth watering joint. Her gaze lingered longer than she wished it would have, momentarily wondering what his lips would feel like where her shoulder meets her neck.

‘Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.’ Rang through her head as her brain short circuited.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he called her as if it were her given name, his voice resembling that of velvet. Eddie propped his elbow up on the table to hand the joint up to Y/n.

The joint was inches from her face, Eddie looked to her expectantly, waiting for her to take a hit. Without much thought she leans down, her eyes fluttering closed, taking a long drag.

Eddie kept his hungry gaze on her, his heart quickened so much so that he feared it would pulse down his arm. His fingers were so close to her lips, too close. Eddie’s mind wandered to what his index finger would look like between her lips instead of the joint.

She leaned back, holding her breath for a moment with her eyes still closed. It was Eddie’s turn to feel entranced by the girl. To avoid blowing smoke in his face, Y/n tilted her head back to exhale through her puckered lips.

Eddie’s eyes traced down the column of her throat to the top expanse of her chest that wasn’t covered by her wide necked tshirt.

Embers sparked low in his stomach, quickly swarming up through his throat. He wanted to know so badly what her skin smelled like, and then mentally scolded himself for being a weirdo.

Y/n’s face shifted back down and her eyes opened to meet Eddie’s. When it struck her what she’d just done she couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. What the fuck was that???

“I’m so sorry, I dunno why I didn’t think to take it from you like a normal person, I must be pretty toasted,” she sputtered out, avoiding eye contact again and shaking her head.

Eddie smirked, you know the one. Mischief and amusement sat on his face and he loved watching her squirm.

“Hey, by all means, you’re paying the extra money, the least I can do is hold your joints for you.” He took a small hit and nodded to the joint in his hand expectantly, as if he were saying do it again.

Heat prickled in Y/n’s face, surely she was red as a cherry tomato by now. She leaned forward slowly, this time keeping her eyes on the joint between them, and then letting them drift to his tattooed forearm.

Y/n felt herself stop moving before her lips met the joint again, her eyes flitted up to meet Eddies but then took notice how he leaned in too, his eyes on her mouth.

He looked.. hungry? Longing? But she couldn’t figure any of that out. All she knew was the man wanted her to smoke, so by golly, she was smoking.

She kept her eyes on Eddie’s as she took her second drag. His eyes found hers again and his mouth went dry. Y/n could’ve swore she heard the softest sound fall from Eddie’s lips.

When she released it from her mouth, she blew the smoke off to the side but began to feel more brave. She sat still, closer to Eddie than she ever thought she would today.

His smile grew on his lips when he noticed she stayed close. Eddie wasn’t used to many people being so close, let alone a girl, a pretty girl.

She couldn’t help but return the look, causing his smile to spread larger. Butterflies erupted in her stomach just at the proximity of their smiles, both never wanting the moment to end.

Eddie’s heart sank as Y/n leaned back slightly, averting his eyes down at the worn table top. Before he could bring the joint to his lips, he felt it slide between his fingers swiftly.

Y/n snatched the joint from Eddie and held it for him the same way he had for her moments before. She returned to her previous closeness, making Eddie’s heart and other things perk.

Eddie let out a small chuckle before taking a pull himself. He tried to keep it slow, prolonging the moment. His hand reached up to gently hold her wrist, though he had no reason other than wanting to feel her touch.

Y/n hummed contently with a smile at the feeling. She wondered what his hand would feel like on her cheek, or in her hair, and other places.

After Eddie parted from the joint and exhaled, whatever trance they’d fallen under had been lifted for whatever reason and the atmosphere filled with uncertainty.

Y/n’s back straightened as she leaned back lazily on her hand to bring the joint back to her lips a final time.

“So, tell me, who is Eddie Munson?” Y/n smirked at him confidently. Eddies eyebrows raised in surprise, no one asks him about him. Casually, sometimes. But not about him.

“I.. don’t know what you’re saying, y/l/n. I thought it was established I’m a dungeon master, metal head, freak, who likes to play the guitar in his free time and Tuesday nights.” He shrugged nonchalantly, bagging up the remaining nugs and the 7 joints he rolled up for her.

Y/n’s jaw dropped when she heard the words play and guitar next to each other. She gave a playful gasp, “Eddie Munson plays the guitar in his free time and Tuesday nights?? Is there a reason it’s Tuesday specifically or?”

Eddie chuckled, “I’m in a band,”

“OH MY GOD, EDDIE MUNSONS IN A BAND?!” She grabbed her face mimicking a crazed fan. Eddie suddenly turned bashful at the strokes to his ego, even if they were jokes.

“So what is the name of Eddie Munson’s band?”

“Corroded Coffin.”

“I mean, if that doesn’t scream ‘metal’, I don’t know what does.” She moved off the top of the table to sit on the bench next to him, her back against the top and hugging one leg to her chest. Eddie sat facing her with one leg slung on either side of the bench. Their knees touched, neither one of them willing to scoot away.

Y/n felt as Eddie’s soft breath fanned across her cheek and neck when she turned to look at him. She was close enough again to smell the spice in his cologne, added with his natural musk and smokey scent. It made her throat tingle.

“That’s sick.” She finished and nodded sincerely. Eddie couldn’t get enough of the praise—of how seen and cool she made him feel just by being him.

“You should come check us out sometime..” He turned to sit like she did and nudged her arm with his. She scoffed and shook her head, her mouth started a response but was cutoff by the beeping of Eddie’s watch.

“Shit, uh, I gotta go,” He scrambled to his feet and packed up his papers and notebooks quickly shoving everything in his bag and lunchbox.

“Oh, no yeah, of course!” She said quietly, bummed their evening was coming to an end.

“If it wasn’t for Hellfire, I’d probably stay out here forever, but we’re starting the new- whatever,” he waved his oncoming words off as if she wouldn’t care.

Her heart rose, the butterflies making their way through her arteries spreading that warm fluttery feeling through her whole chest.

“If it wasn’t for Hellfire, I’d probably stay out here forever”

“No, no worries, really. I hope everything goes great with Hellfire and your new ‘whatever’” She smiled and started packing her things. She wrapped up the baggie Eddie prepared for her and stowed it in the same pocket of her bag that her tapes rested.

Before she could grab it, Eddie picked up her Walkman from the table and held it out to her.

She tried to ignore the dull shock that went through her body when their hands touched as she took it from him to put with the tapes. “Thanks.” She whispered.

He looked at her for a moment longer before saying, “C’mon, let me walk you through the woods.” as he slowly started in the direction of the football field.

Y/n slung her bag over her shoulder, admiring how Eddie looked when he was walking away. She sighed contently and walked towards him without a response.

She watched the dead grass and yellowed leaves pass beneath her feet as they carried her through the dimming woods, not bothering to look up until she almost walked straight into Eddie’s back, spotting his shoes first, right before knocking shoulders with him.

“Fuck, sorry.” She said as she looked up and resumed walking with him. He chuckled as they settled back into comfortable silence. They kept a steady pace, but didn’t rush the way Eddie originally had when his alarm went off.

“So, this ‘whatever’, what is it?” She asked after a minute.

“Oh, so, in DnD, the dungeon master—me, creates a journey, or quest of sorts, to send the other players on, and those adventures are called campaigns,” he looked to her with subtle enthusiasm. His love for the game evident on his face.

She ‘oooh’ed’ and nudged his shoulder to make him blush again. They reached the opening of the woods where her new friends previously dropped her off, and continued to the parking lot where they’d have to part ways.

“So what’s this new campaign about?” She asked, stopping at the edge of the lot, standing at the road she’d take home.

The sun had began to set, lighting the sky aflame in hues of soft pinks, oranges, and buttery yellows. It left everything tainted gold, especially her.

Eddie looked at her, taking her in for the last time that evening. His eyes scanned over her face—admiring every freckle, fine line, pore, and scar. He refrained from tracing her cheekbone, though he hoped he would get the chance to someday.

She looked as though she belonged in one of their campaigns—otherworldly, ethereal, not real.

He wanted to commit her eyes to memory, especially in this moment, the glassy finish from the weed, the enhanced color and reddened whites of her eyes.

“Well, maybe, you should just come to Hellfire sometime and find out for yourself.” He said with his devilish grin.

“Oh, so it’s gonna be like that, huh, Munson?” She asked with a raised eyebrow, stepping closer to him daringly.

He laughed, indulging in her challenging manner. “That’s exactly how it’s gotta be, Princess,” her breath caught in her throat at the pet name—something no one has ever called her before.

“I can’t chance any spoilers reaching the guys, you know?” He said stepping forward til his face was achingly close to hers.

She bit her lip and looked down, confidence waning, until she realized she still needed to pay him. Y/n glanced to his hands—one in his pocket, the other hanging at his side.

She grabbed the money in her back pocket, all $35. “As much as I think that sucks, I’ll respect it.” She said to him with a sigh.

“This is where I leave you, Eddie Munson,” she took his hand and gently pressed the money into his palm. Y/n held it there for a minute, savoring the way his hand felt in hers, eyes never leaving his.

“Until next time.” She slipped her hand away from his. Eddie watched her intently as she walked a few feet before his brain could formulate a response.

“Which will be..?” He leaned forward, awaiting her answer. She turned around but kept her pace with a hazy smirk on her face. “Whenever I need more grass.” She shrugged.

“Which will be..?” He emphasized.

“Soon. And maybe even sooner if you show up to class more.” She said with her dreamy smile and turned back around to walk home.

Eddie watched after her until she wasn’t visible, the world suddenly tinted grey from the descending sun.

“Eddie! Are you coming??” Dustin shouted across the parking lot.

Eddie looked to the open school doors, light spilling out of the spaces between the boys gathered at the entry.

“Yeah, just gimme a sec! Patience is a virtue, you know!” He shouted back.

As he walked back to the building, he counted the money absentmindedly and a smile rose to his cheeks when he halted right in front of the door.

$35

Did she mean to give me all of this? Or is she that generous?

Dustin races to the door, curious about what’s got Eddie so late, and nearly takes him out in his urgency.

“Whoa-shit, Henderson! Watch it, would you?” Eddie said attempting to catching his breath from his near death experience.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Dustin cried, absolutely terrified he’d just ruined his chances of growing closer with Eddie with his eagerness.

Eddie recognized this in him—the want for acceptance. He’d felt honored that Dustin and the others had treated him with such kindness and respect since the semester started. He doesn’t recall many people holding him in such a high regard.

“No worries, dude,” Eddie said nonchalantly like water rolling off a ducks back. He wrapped his arm around the freshman’s shoulders as if he were his protégé.

“We’re all excited for the campaign, I’m the one that needs to get my ass in gear.” He brought Dustin to stop in front of the auditorium door.

“Now.. are you ready-“ Eddie pushed the door open with fervor, commencing his theatrics—ready to get into character. “To explore the Hidden Realm of Göshmar?” He spoke in a gravely, troll-like voice, much to Dustin’s delight.

“You bet your ass I am!”

The two raced down the aisles to the anxiously waiting group backstage, Eddie’s friends had gotten the table ready in his absence and fixed the lighting as he and Dustin entered.

“Alright, my little sheepies, are you ready to be utterly destroyed by the new campaign?” Eddie turned around dramatically when he reached his seat and wagged his tongue wildly like the demon on their shirts.

Everyone cheered and hollered, beating their fists eagerly against the table and stomping at the floor.

While Eddie was able to make the first official meeting of the year fantastical and vivid, there was a certain maiden that lingered in the back of his mind, making herself comfortable and leaving him with so many questions bubbling to the surface when he should be more focused on the dice rolls of the game.

What is she doing now?

Did she make it home okay?

I wonder what her favorite color is..She reminds me of orange.

Where did she come from?

Where did she dream of going? Probably somewhere warm.

He continued to chase the questions away and stick them in the back corner of his mind reserved especially for her, saving them for later.

She sat there, waiting patiently, perched on top of his stacks of questions like she did on the picnic table hours before, smoking a joint. He could picture her perfectly, seeing her lazily swing her high topped feet off the edge, back and forth.

Eddie Munson couldn’t shake this girl from invading almost every thought, but he absolutely did not want her to leave anytime soon.

In fact, he hoped she was smoking three of those prerolls all at once right now and all weekend til the half ounce was gone, so when Monday arrived she’d be slipping a note to him ready to meet up again.

Or, who knows, maybe she’d find him in person next time, perhaps take a seat next to him in a class if they had any together, or maybe at lunch..

One thing was for certain and it was that Eddie Munson had it bad; so bad, in fact, that every time he tried to close his eyes to sleep that night all he could see was her pretty face looking back at his with glassy eyes from their hazy afternoon.

[yamahex]

Explicit

Summary: Some backstory + Urban shows Jack your profile

Pairing: Jack x CAM GIRL Reader

Content Warning: 17+ Sexual themes and Smut

A/N: Welcome everyone to part 1 of Explicit!! So excited to start this series, this part is mainly buildup. DISCLAIMER this whole series will contain 17+ smut and sexual themes

You first started being a cam girl your sophomore year in college after finding yourself in some financial trouble. It wasn’t your dream job but it did rake in good money, which helped you afford schooling and your apartment. The positive attention was a bonus, so much so that you started a OnlyFans to double the income and a PO Box so your customers could send gifts.

The downside to the job was having to hide your identity. It made regular day to day tasks difficult, having to constantly look over your shoulder in fear of someone recognizing you in public somehow. So you took extra steps to make sure you were safe. Like censoring your face in videos and pictures, and making sure the camera never showed your face during live shows.

Dating wasn’t really a option with your career, there was just too many risks. You couldn’t bring people back to your apartment since your bedroom was your iconic set for filming and it was hard to trust that the person wasn’t some creepy fan on the low.

The main reason you kept your identity a secret was your school. Sure you were a adult but the college you attended frowned upon students publicly engaging in sexual activity. And if proof of such activity was found you would be expelled and that was a risk you couldn’t take. Your school was one of the most elite in ATL and not cheap. You put in too much hard work and money to get expelled.

Money and attention aside your lifestyle was lonely, the only person in your life who knew about this was your best friend. They were your rock, the person you vented to, cried to, if you didn’t have them you probably would be lost.

But the loneliness was overlooked when you felt the confidence your viewers gave you. Something about doing your live shows made you ooze confidence.

Present Time

“It’s so good to see you all again.” Your hand ran over your chest covered in your white lacy bra that was gifted from one of your customers. The soft glow from your pink LEDs shined throughout the dark room. Your eyes read the comments from the stream, making you giggle.

“You all seem so eager tonight. Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Dude I’m telling you she’s unlike any girl I’ve ever seen.” Urban followed Jack around their apartment.

“How would you know, she doesn’t even show her face?”

“But her body bro, you can tell she’s fine as fuck.” Jack scoffed and stared at him.

“You’re thirsty as hell.”

“You would be too if you see what I see.”

“I’m not big on porn, you know that.” Urban smacked his lips and pulled out his phone.

“Perfect she’s live right now. Look at this shit bro.” He turned his phone towards Jack as moans rang out from the device.

He rolled his eyes then watched the stream.

His eyes widened at the sight of you.

The camera was right over you, barely cutting off your nose. Your head was thrown back against your pillows in ecstasy as one of your hands roamed your body and the other thrusted a toy in and out of your folds.

Your moans were like music to his ears, absolutely leaving him turned on. Urban snickered.

“Not into porn, my ass.”

Jack looked up from the phone and pushed Urban.

“I can see what you mean tho, something about her is intriguing.”

“See I told you! She’s like a sexual goddess.” Jack looked at him with squinted eyes.

“God you need to get laid.”

Over the next few days Jack became a huge consumer of your content. Hardcore simp Jerking off to you almost every night. You were his addiction.

His body shuttered as he came onto his fist, both of your heavy breathing could be heard from the room. He looked at your chest rising and falling on his phone screen. A smirk was evident on your mouth which was the only part of your face the camera could see.

“Mm I wish I could be next to you right now.”

“Shit me too.” Urban busted into his room making Jack scramble to cover himself

“Look whose thirsty now.”

Eventually he had to get out off of the house, after Urban constantly roasting his ass, so he decided to go to a random coffee shop downtown .

You grabbed your drink off the counter and went to leave the shop when you ran into something hard, making you spill your drink. You looked up and were met with sunglasses and curly brown hair.

“Oh shit my bad.” He took off his glasses and your cheeks flushed.

“I’m sorry I should have looked where I was going.” He snickered.

“Nah I’m the one who made you spill your coffee. Let me buy you another one.”

“No really you don’t have to-“

“I insist.” He walked up to the counter and ordered his drink then looked at you for your order. You told him hesitantly and he smiled. Something about him felt familiar.

He handed you your drink.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, I’m Jack.” It clicked in your head.

“Jack? Like Jack Harlow?” You whispered the last part to not draw attention. He snickered and nodded.

“I’m Y/N, thank you again for the drink. I was really craving that coffee.” He smiled.

“It’s no issue.” Something about you seemed familiar to him now. His eyes lingered on your frame. You had a great body and a beautiful face, he swore he’s seen you before. Part of him needed to explore you.

“Well I should be going-“

“I know this is a little forward but would you like to go out sometime?” Your eyes widened.

“Me??” He laughed.

“Yes you.”

“Sure I would love to.” He pulled out his phone.

“Can I get your number?” You nodded and he handed you his phone. You put your number in then handed it back to him.

“You can just text me whenever.” You mentally kicked yourself for sounding desperate. He nodded and licked his lips.

“Yeah for sure. I’ll see you around.”

To Be Continued…

[short-skirt-longjackett]

High School Sweethearts

(sorry for late updates, not mentally here at all but i really love to write for y’all and i know y’all love Klitz too)

-part 1 out of ???

-part 2, part 3

-Klitz x gn!reader

-warnings: pretty much fluff, afab reader but barely mentioned, sexual comments, little angst at the end

< Y/h/s= your home state (i’ll let y’all decided were you’re from <3 Im so generous I know)

Senior year, the home stretch. Klitz knows high school was torture. Freshmen year was hell, sophomore year was a bit better until he got asked out for a joke which lasted 6 months, junior year was crunching time for college, and now...Yale waits for him.

Klitz just wants the year to go by as fast as it can so he can graduate and leave. He doesn’t want to leave his friends, he wishes he can pack them with him. Klitz has a strict plan for this year, until new faces shows up.

“Well boys, we made it. Senior fucking year!” Eli shouts loudly in the hallway, making a few people stare at them. “All we have to do is pass our classes and we’re out.” Matthew joins in, poking Klitz in the arm with his elbow. Klitz just smiled at the two. All he wanted to was just to do his work, get into Yale, and leave. “I really don’t want to mess around this year, I really want to stay on task guys.” Klitz said, holding onto the straps of his bookbag.

The announcement bell went off, “Would Timothy Klitz please report to the main office. I repeat would a Timothy Klitz please report to the main office.” 

“Oooooo, someone’s in trouble! And on the first day?” Eli joked, receiving a slap on the chest from Klitz, “Shut up dude, probably about schedule change I requested. I’ll meet up with you guys in a bit.” He said before making his way to the main office.

Once Klitz opens the door to the main office, there were a bunch of people in there. He made it to the main desk, “Hi I’m Timothy Klitz and I was called down?” he said to the receptionist. She looked up before looking back down, “Oh, see the person with the black book bag? They’re new and you’ll be showing them around. I also gave them your new schedule.” she said bluntly, not really paying attention.

Great. Now he has to babysit a senior who’s fully capable of walking around and finding classes themselves. He walked over to them and tapped their shoulder, “Hey, you’re the new kid right?” he asked as you turned around to look at him. Wow....you are really pretty...but that’s not that important right now. 

“Oh hi Tim! I’m Y/n, and it’s nice to meet you..” you said, holding your hand out for a shake. ‘Ohmygoshyou’resocute’ was all he could think before finally taking your hand and shaking it. You smiled up at him and he gave a small one back, a little blushed formed on your cheeks. “So..uhm I read over my schedule and yours and we have a few classes together! Seems we have first, third, fourth period lunch, sixth, and eighth period together.” you said, while handing Klitz his schedule.

The two of you walked to your first period, Klitz asking you the basic questions of “where did you move from?” and “how is this town treating you so far?” and you happily answered all of them. Turns out you moved from y/h/s and you moved because your mom and dad got divorced and were living with your mother and her new boyfriend you hated while your dad went on vacation with his side piece.

“Sorry to share that but I had to tell someone-”

“No, no its okay! I don’t mind and I can only imagine how to not share your feelings with someone” he cut you off, reassuring you it’s okay. Though he doesn’t know what it’s like to have divorced parents, he still knows what it’s like to have no friends to talk to.

“Oh hey, those are my friends. I want to introduce you if that’s alright.” he said, and you gave a small nod. As he walked over with you, Matthew and Eli turned to look at you. “Hey guys, this is Y/n and they just moved here.” Klitz said and pointed to you. You gave the two boys a smile, a small “hi”, and a little wave. Klitz couldn’t help but think you’re cute.

Matthew was going to tell you hi but Eli intruded, “Well hello Y/n, I’m Eli. I’m the beauty and the brawn of this group. This is our buddy Matt, he’s a pretty cool guy and I see you met the king of nerds already.” He joked, giving you a smile.

“Nooo, Tim isn’t a nerd. He’s great!” you said and Eli chuckled, “Oh babe, we call our buddy ‘Tim’ Klitz since he prefers that.” he said while looking at the boy with glasses. “Oh! I’m sorry.. Klitz! I didn’t know!” you apologized and he reassured you it was okay and that you didn’t know.

“Well Y/n and I are gonna go to class now, see you guys around.” Klitz said and he places a hand on your bookbag and led you to first period. You noticed he never took his hand off you your bookbag, but you didn’t mind too much.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Klitz made sure to save a seat next to him for you. As you sat down, the first period bell rang and the teacher spoke, “Good morning everyone! I hope your summers were amazing cause now you all are seniors! Now I do know we have a new student, come up to the class and introduce yourself!” she said with excitement.

 You reluctantly got up in front of the class, “Hey guys, I’m Y/n. I just moved from y/h/s. I’m excited to be here and ready to graduate.” you smiled at your peers, getting no reaction. You didn’t really expect a response since it 7 in the morning but kinda stung.

You awkwardly walked back to your seat and smiled at Klitz, “I feel so stupid..” you quietly laughed and Klitz chuckled, “You did great, don’t worry. Everyone here sucks anyways.” he whispered back.

The teacher began to speak again, and you turned your head to look at her,,,But Klitz couldn’t help but to continue to stare at you. He made a note of beautiful your side profile is....and how your chest’s side profile looked....God he felt like creep but he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

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Lunch time came and Klitz couldn’t be happier to see you again. I mean yeah he saw you third but he didn’t second! He also loved the fact you asked him to walk you to second period...even though earlier he said he didn’t want to babysit a senior today. 

He got lunch with you and sat as the designated lunch table. Eli and Matt came over to the table and sat down, “So how are your classes guys?” you asked the two other boys.

“My classes are good, how’s everyone in class treating you?” Matt says to you. “So far so good! I can’t really complain.” you smiled at him, “What about you Eli?”

“My classes pretty cool, saw Y/n in second period, I’ll be making sure they’re not alone.” he said jokingly, laughing a bit which caused you to chuckle. Klitz smiled at your laughing.

The four of you compared schedules, “Hey Y/n we have next period together, we can walk to together.” Matt said, You felt relief, the only period you didn’t have with them was 7th but least you have them in your others.

Klitz wish he could walk you to third period but your classes are on the opposite sides of the building, “You have ceramics second 7th? So you do stuff with clay right?” he asked, looking at your schedule.

“Oh yeah! I took ceramics at my other school, and I really enjoyed it, so I wanted to do it here as well!” you smiled up at Klitz, wow he was really cute...The bell rang and you all packed up to leave. Klitz was about to tell you something before you said a quick goodbye and walked with Matt...Damnit.

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The walk to 4th was kinda awkward since you and Matt haven’t talked much, “So, How’s Westport treating you so far?” he asked, trying to start a conversation. “It’s good so far, only trouble I’ve run into was with my locker today.” you joked as he chuckled, “How’s Klitzy been treating you?” he asked again.

“O-Oh! He’s been super good to me! He’s been helping me out, he’s super smart and..he’s really cute-” Fuck. You just told his long term friend you thought he was cute, and on your first day?! Jeez.

“So you think our Klitz our is cute Y/n?” Matt teased.

“No! I mean yeah he really is but don’t-”

“Don’t worry Y/n I won’t tell him, your secret is safe with me.” he promised as he held open the door for you. “Pinky promise?” you held up your smallest finger, “Yeah, pinky promise.” Matt said as he wrapped his around yours.

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The rest of the day flew by. Your classes with Klitz was your favorite, yeah, you were being a bit biased. As you sat in your 8th period study hall with Klitz the last bell of the day rang, dismissing you all. You stay with Klitz as he met up with Matt and Eli and walked outside of the school. 

“Hey Y/n, want a ride home?” Klitz offered. “No it’s okay! I rode my bike to school.” you said while unlocking the chain to your bike, you packed it in your bag. You got onto your bike and looked back at the three boys, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? Have a nice night!” you said, pushing off on the bike and went on your way home.

After a brief moment of silence of watching you bike away, Eli opened up, “Y/n’s ass looks incredible in those pants...I checked it out earlier but now it’s just better..” Klitz hitting his shoulder. “Don’t say that, that’s rude.” Klitz said sternly, but he did he did have to agree with him...but silently.

“I know I promised I wouldn’t say anything but...Klitz..” Matthew began, the two other boys staring at him. “Y/n said you were cute.” he stated blankly, turning to the tallest boy.

Wow. What?

Klitz couldn’t believe it, someone thought he was cute? Really? Holy shit... ”You’re lying.” He said blankly and quick, this had to be a joke. “I’m not lying or  joking. I asked them what they thought of the school then you while walking into fourth period and they said and I quote, ‘He’s very helpful, smart and really cute’ and I promised I wouldn’t say anything but...I couldn’t wait to tell you.” Matt said smiling at Klitz.

He couldn’t help but smile, someone genuinely thought he was cute? His mouth felt dry but a wide smile was visible. His hands gripped his bookbag straps tightly, “W-Wow...Lets head home guys..” he said chirper, starting to speed walk. The other two boys follow as Eli brings up plans for the weekend.

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It was 8:45 at night and Klitz sat on his bed, he couldn’t stop thinking of what Matt said. Did you really think he was cute?

 Klitz always thought he was ugly since sophomore year and being asked out for a joke. It really took a toll on his self-confidence, after 6 months he found out it was a joke when his “girlfriend” was making fun of him with her friends when he went to sit with her at lunch. The boy closest asked, “So when are you gonna give up the gig and tell him it’s been fake?” That was the hardest day in his life. He confronted her right in the lunchroom in front of everyone, trying to hold back the tears. In an instance he poured his milk on her head, storming away after. Nobody tried to go after him, they all knew she was wrong for that.

He spent all weekend crying to Eli and Matthew... He doesn’t want to think about that anymore.... There was something about you that was so different, you seemed so kind and sweet, he remembered how you looked up at him and smiled. For some reason he wanted to thank your dad and mom for having you...but he knew he couldn’t...that would be weird. Klitz leaned back and smiled

He can’t wait for school tomorrow.

[uchihabbynic]

Naruto Uzumaki x Fem! Reader

Characters: Naruto Uzumaki x Fem! Reader

Additional: Shikamaru Nara, Temari Nara & Hinata Hyuga (Honorable Mentions) ✨ 

Warnings: Modern AU (College), All Characters Are 18+, Smut (Oral - Male Receiving) & Drug Use

Word Count: 4.1k 

Special Note: Never thought I’d see the day where I attempted to write anything, let alone smut so I want to shout out my favorite Tumblr baby @jordyn-degas 💖 Thank you for always encouraging me to push myself to do new things and for being the best Naruto Uzumaki stan & partner in crime! 💫  ILYSM! 🥺❤️ Mood 🎧 : Miguel - Sky Walker 

“Quick to dead the bull like a matador”

“Quick to dead the bull like a matador”

“Bull, bull, bull like a matador”

“Quick to dead the bull like a matador”

WAS all you heard as you entered the basement apartment you shared with your best friend and roommate Shikamaru Nara. The bass was almost deafening to the ears but you didn’t care because whenever a Miguel song was blaring through the speakers of your apartment - you knew a much needed smoke session was around the corner. 

“Shikamaru, the upstairs neighbors are going to KILL us with all the noise.” You said as you walked in, plopping your backpack down next to the kitchen counter.

Shikamaru, already having smoked his first joint of the evening, just shrugged. “They’ll be fine. I mean, I don’t hear them complain when they come down to “borrow” weed from us.”

You couldn't help but to laugh at Nara’s unbotheredness. Shikamaru was your best friend. The most laid back dude around. Someone who naturally made you comfortable. Incredibly funny without trying and your closest confidant - which is why sharing space with him was surprisingly easy. 

“Eh, you got a point.” you responded in agreement. “By the way, what’d you get on Professor Hatake’s final exam?” You asked, making yourself comfortable on the couch - relieved that you were officially done with your Sophomore year of college.

Shikamaru glared at you, before joining you on the couch - simply shocked at your question. “Pfft, do you even have to ask? 98%. I finished the course with an A+.” Shikamaru smirked playfully.

He had a way of being slightly arrogant when it came to his grades but it didn’t bother you much because you, being incredibly smart yourself - was a close rival when it came to academics.

“Dammit. I ended with an A. I’m shocked he didn’t just bump me up though. All the extra work I did for him throughout the semester…I deserve it.” You said, crossing your arms, pushing your plush lips out in the most adorable pouty way.

Shikamaru chuckled, “Yeah, I”m shocked too. The man couldn’t stop making googly eyes at you all semester.”

You rolled your eyes, slightly annoyed. “Not even!” you said, playfully slapping Shikamaru’s arm. He threw his hands up in defense. “Hey! I only speak the truth!”

You both broke out in laughter. It was comforting to know you could have such an innocent yet fun relationship with a man who wasn’t trying to get in your pants.

“Anyway - what time are we sparking up tonight?” You asked, shaking the vacuum sealed baggy that sat on a nearby side table. 

Shikamaru, now preoccupied on his phone, shot you an “I’m sorry” look. “Actually, Y/N… Temari just texted me. She wants me to come over tonight.” Shikamaru said, nudging your shoulder.

You sighed. “First of all. Gross. Second of all - Come onnnnn! It’s the last day of classes. Just smoke with me first.” you whined, grabbing Nara’s shoulder practically begging him to indulge in your favorite pastime together.

“How about this? I’ll roll the fattest blunt and we’ll get completely faded…AFTER I meet Temari.” Shikamaru said as he wiggled himself out of your grip, getting off the couch to grab his jacket - ready to head out for the night.

You groaned. “Shika…”

“Just invite Naruto over. It’s so obvious you have a thing for him anyways. See if he’ll keep you company in the meantime.” Shikamaru said grinning as he grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

Your face immediately scrunched up. “I mean, yeah he’s hot and really really sweet but I swear he and Hinata have a thing going on so I don’t know…” you grabbed your phone staring at Naruto Uzumaki’s contact, unsure if you should actually text him.

“Orrrr, spend the evening alone. The choice is yours, champ.” Shikamaru shot you a playful wink as he walked out, locking the door behind him. You immediately hurled a throw pillow at the door as Shikamaru closed it, unamused with his natural ‘smartassness’.

You started weighing your options of a lonely night in or having a cute boy to keep you company. You picked the latter and decided to muster up the courage to text Naruto. You held your breath awaiting the Uzumaki’s reply and to your surprise, he was more than eager to drop by.

>>>

You had quickly changed into your favorite orange Nike Pro spandex shorts, put your hair in a high ponytail and threw on your favorite anime tee while you waited for Naruto’s arrival. Your nervousness began to kick in as you kept looking at the time on your phone every few minutes. Naruto had promised he’d drop by around 9pm and it was going on 9:30pm.

“Was he standing me up?” You thought.

Suddenly, a loud knock on your door shook you out of your intrusive thoughts. You made sure to let him stand a bit longer than usual at the door before you opened it. You didn’t want to appear too eager, plus…he was late. You couldn’t help but chuckle at Shikamaru’s pettiness rubbing off on you over the years.

You opened the door to be greeted by the tall, muscular blonde you’d adored for so long from afar. Your heart instantly did flip flops when your “E/C” eyes met his gorgeous baby blue ones.

“Y/N! Thanks for inviting me over tonight!” Naruto said, walking past you inside the now dimly lit apartment.

“Sorry I’m late! I picked up some to-go ramen on the way over - hope that’s okay!” He said, shooting you an adorably apologetic look. 

Naruto was able to melt your heart in the simplest of ways and without even trying - so you wouldn’t dare hold his lateness against him.

“Ah, no worries! I love Ramen! Thanks.” you replied sweetly, grabbing the plastic bag from his hand as you lead Naruto into your bedroom. Naruto, followed closely on your heels until he suddenly froze. Awkward. Now unsure of where to sit.

He rubbed the back of his blonde locks nervously. “Uh…where should I sit?” he asked, looking around the dark room - nothing more than the TV and colorful LED lights providing any bit of illumination.

You laughed, pushing the pile of clothes you were due to fold 3 days ago off the bed. “The bed, silly. Just make yourself comfortable! If that’s okay?” you asked, now settling into your side of the bed, grabbing your signature rolling tray.

Naruto nodded his head and settled next to you on your Queen sized bed - way closer than you expected. You instantly felt your heart rate increase at the sudden closeness of the boy you had fallen so hard for. Naruto casually flipped through Crunchyroll trying to find a good show to watch while you started grinding the weed. However, in spirit of the relaxing night that was ahead - instead of tuning into an anime you’d both inevitably zone out during the peak of your high - he settled on your favorite, J-Cole & Miguel Smoke Playlist on the Spotify App, per your request.

“I was just getting ready to roll. Do you smoke…?” you asked Naruto, hesitantly. Not everyone was into the whole “smoking weed” thing. Naruto paused, thinking carefully before responding.

“Honestly? It’s never really been my thing…but it’s the last day of classes so, fuck it right?” Naruto said shooting you his adorably wide signature grin. 

You glanced over and felt yourself immediately getting lost in his eyes. All you could think about was grabbing his cute, whiskered cheeks and kissing him all over. However, the weed wasn’t even in your system, so you weren’t quite that bold. 

You nodded and began expertly packing the blunt wrap with the ganja you’d just grind to perfection. You slowly pinched and rolled along the blunt as you carefully coated the inside of the wrap with your saliva, cautiously sealing the blunt - the taste of tobacco now filling your mouth.

“Damn, you’re really good at that!” Naruto said, looking in your direction, surprised. His blue eyes practically bulged out of his head as he watched you carefully drag your tongue across the tobacco leaf paper, making sure to seal the ends carefully.

“What can I say? I’m pretty good with my mouth.” you immediately shot back, without a second thought - as you playfully slapped Naruto’s arm as the sexual innuendo rolled off your plump lips.

The prettiest shade of pink washed over Naruto’s cheeks at the sexual joke. “That’s what she said!!” The blonde retorted.

You couldn't help but crack up at Naruto’s stupid but playful sense of humor. He really was such a gem and quite frankly, hot as hell. You genuinely wanted to rip his clothes off right then and there, however, you decided you needed to get the status of him and Hinata before you made any moves.

You lit the blunt you had rolled perfectly and took a nice, deep inhale, letting the smoke and earthy aroma of the Mary-Jane fill your lungs - just the way you liked. You immediately passed the blunt to Naruto, who - being a novice smoker, inhaled way too much and was sent into a coughing fit.

Naruto desperately gasped trying to catch his breath in between each cough. “Don’t laugh, but clearly I have no clue what I’m doing!” he said, chuckling lowly as he let the first hit of the blunt settle in. Milky clouds of smoke now filling your bedroom.

You did everything in your power to stifle back a laugh. It was at that moment, you knew that you made the right decision to invite Naruto over. He was such a delight to be around and obviously very easy on the eyes.

>>>

You had hit the peak of your first experience getting high with Naruto and as you expected, the boy couldn’t handle his smoke. You couldn’t help but smile at his adorably contagious yet uncontrollable boisterous laughter.

“Demon Slayer? More like “MID-Slayer!” The blonde cracked up as he pointed at the Demon Slayer tee you’d be sporting all night. You busted out into a fit of laughter alongside him, because quite frankly you were being a good sport and didn’t want to ruin this moment.

“Nah, shut up! It’s a REALLY good show!” you argued back. While you let Naruto have his fun, you grabbed the bag of ramen he had brought over earlier in the night. It was both your favorites - Tonkotsu Pork Ramen. At this point, the munchies were hitting so hard you could hardly stand it.

Naruto’s stomach let out the loudest growl, which caused him to pause out of pure shock at the sound that just left his body and soon erupted again into a fit of laughter.

Boy, was the weed kicking his ass. 

 “I’m starving! I literally want to eat 8 bowls of ramen!” Naruto said as he reached his hands out impatiently for his serving. You handed him his helping and chopsticks to match. Meanwhile, your face was already deep in the bowl of broth slurping obnoxiously loud - something you’d normally be embarrassed to do around a boy you liked however, this was different. Naruto was different.

As you both sat next to each other soaking up the high and inhaling the yummy ramen, you felt at so much peace. You obviously loved having smoke sessions with Shikamaru but this just hit differently.

“Here, let me help you.” The blonde said as he reached out and wiped a stray noodle from the side of your mouth.

The second his hand touched skin, your body felt shockwaves running through it. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears as you desperately tried to control your sudden rapid breathing. Smoking weed occasionally made you horny as hell and with Naruto sitting so close on your bed, any little touch could send you into overdrive. An unexplainable embarrassment washed over you as you grabbed a napkin from your side drawer, finishing the clean up job Naruto had started. 

“Thanks.” you said, giggling a bit from the cute moment you just experienced.

>>>

The high had finally settled in and you were laying next to Naruto on your bed, quietly, just enjoying each other’s company as you let Summer Walker’s “Body” play out loud, filling your ears at the perfect volume. Not too loud. Not too soft.

Your arms and legs were still tingly all over, your heart rate still elevated and your mind, now - completely slowed down. You were swimming in bliss as you let yourself sink deep into the comfortable mattress below you. You looked over at Naruto - who’s gorgeous blue eyes were now lidded and red as he bobbed his head back and forth to the new music selection. You couldn’t believe you were sharing this moment with one of your favorite people. His presence was almost as intoxicating as the Mary-Jane itself.

Shikamaru always told you when you first started smoking, “Control the high, don't let the high control you” but in this moment, with the marijuana coursing heavy through your veins, you lost all sense of control as you asked the gorgeous blonde you laid next to a rather, straight-forward & personal question.

“Naruto…what’s going on with you and Hinata?” you boldly asked. Naruto slowly sat up, trying to get his bearings, careful not to make himself dizzy and looked over at you slightly confused.

The Uzumaki shrugged, “As far as I know - nothing.” he responded nonchalantly. 

You rolled your eyes at this modest response. “Oh come on. Everyone sees you two around campus. She obviously has a thing for you.” You say, now slightly annoyed.

Naruto laughed. “You’re really cute when you’re jealous.” he said, now facing you completely.

You slapped his arm in a playful tone. “I am NOT Jealous of HER.” you replied, almost trying to convince yourself. Naruto scrunched up his face in the most adorable manner and stuck out his tongue at you.

“Mhm…sure. Well, I’ll have you know, she’s just my lab partner and I don’t view her like that. He said, waving his hand, dismissively.  “I…actually really like someone else.” Now facing you staring deep into your lidded “E/C” eyes. 

Your heart skipped a beat and the butterflies in your stomach danced around causing you to almost gag with excitement as you heard these words. You finally got the confidence and reassurance you needed to make your move now hearing that Naruto was 100% single and uninterested in the purple-haired female who always seemed to show up wherever he was. 

“Is that so?” you replied, smirking - trying your best to play it sexy and cool although - you were freaking the fuck out on the inside.

Naruto grinned, “Yup! She’s like, the prettiest girl on campus actually.” He said now slowly turning on his side in your bed, inching dangerously close to your face.

Your breathing hitched at the sudden and unexpected closeness. He was laying it on THICK so you decided to play along. “Oh really? What does this girl look like?” you asked, hoping to get the answer you expected.

“Well…she’s got the most gorgeous big “E/C” eyes… long "H/C” hair…she’s an A student but rolls one hell of a blunt…” Naruto said as he continued inching closer and closer to your face in between every word.

You knew exactly what he was going for but it was clear that he was still too nervous to seal the deal. Your heart exploded hearing the sweet way he described you - so, boldly, you decided to close the gap between you by pressing your soft plump lips onto his pink ones.

You immediately took control and dove into the kiss with everything you had letting go of all fear and inhibition. You let your leg wrap over the side of his body as you grabbed his whiskered cheeks, kissing him more intensely as you felt his tongue swipe across your plush bottom lip, begging for entrance. You let your tongues dance and intertwine as you tasted the faint hint of tobacco on his lips. You felt Naruto’s large hand cling onto your thick thigh, almost out of instinct - slowly rubbing your bare skin sending shivers up your spine, clearly indicating he was settling comfortably in this newfound intimacy.

Naruto’s hand slowly ran up the back of your thigh until he found his way to your ass - giving gentle squeezes to the jiggly mound of flesh peeking out of your spandex shorts. Your tongues still fighting for dominance. Naruto’s sweet lips and gentle touches sent your mind to dangerous places yet - you didn’t care. You wanted him. You had to have him. You let your small hands wander to a place of no return as you slid your hand under his T-shirt tracing his perfectly chiseled abs. Without a single apprehensive bone in your body, you made your way lower and lower on his abs until the tufts of dirty blonde happy trail hair traced your fingertips, alarmingly close to the top of the orange boxers that were peeking out of his pants. Naruto groaned lowly at the foreign feeling of your hand caressing his lower abdomen as you began stealing kisses up and down his collarbone, now sending him into overdrive. 

Naruto felt the fabric in his pants get uncomfortably tight as he let you have your way with him. The blonde sucked in sharply as he felt your hands dive right for his belt buckle, ready to unleash the painful hard on that left him feeling so restricted, he could barely breathe.

Suddenly, Naruto abruptly stopped and grabbed your hand. “We don’t have to…I’m okay just making out, if you are.” The blonde said, shooting you a gentle smile as he stared directly into your red and dilated pupils.

“Shh…I want to.” you said, as you placed your finger over his pink lips - shooting him a reassuring look. Naruto plastered the goofiest grin on his face as he nodded and laid back on your bed, propping himself up and settling nicely into the pillows that surrounded him. You were already committed and too far gone to stop now.

Naruto threw his shirt across the room and inhaled deeply, knowing what was to come as he helped you unbuckle his pants. You were beginning to get FERAL as the outline of his dick bulged so prominently through his orange boxers. The sight of this alone had you incredibly hot and bothered - panties already pooling with your slick fluids.

Naruto shifted his butt upwards as you slid his boxers down his legs, instantly freeing the large cock that had been previously detained. The way it bounced and hit his abdomen had you drooling at the mouth and seeing stars.

You wanted to suck the soul right out of this man - and that’s exactly what you did.

You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for what was to come. You grabbed onto Naruto’s thick cock slowly running your hand up and down the underside of his shaft causing him to jerk at the sudden contact.

You let the precum that began forming at the tip act as a lubricant as you continued slowly jerking the blonde up and down, painfully slow. You leaned down, your face meeting his red and swollen head and began swirling your tongue around the tip, carefully lubricating the top half of his cock perfectly.

“Mmm…Fuck babe. Such a tease…” Naruto groaned lowly. Being the impatient motherfucker he is - thrusted his hips upward to meet your mouth.

“Ah, Ah. Patience.” you said as you dragged your tongue slowly from the base of his dick all the way to the tip. The now excited muscle flexing on its own from the contact.

You noticed Naruto’s breathing increased rapidly when you briefly looked up to see his chest heaving up and down, more obvious than before. You figured the man had had enough teasing and without a second thought - you let your wet plump lips sink all the way down Naruto’s thick shaft causing a loud groan to escape his mouth as he threw his head back in pleasure, cursing under his breath.

You began expertly bobbing your head up and down his cock letting the saliva dripping from either corner of your mouth dribble all the way down to his balls. You continued to take more of Naruto in your throat until you finally found a good rhythm. Within seconds, he was losing his mind, squirming and moaning uncontrollably.

“Fuuuck, I love that pretty little mouth of yours…” He cooed, looking down at you through his lidded, blue orbs - hints of red still peeking through from the blunt you both previously consumed. Courageously enough, he placed his hand on your head, gently pushing you further down his wet, veiny shaft.

You instinctively grabbed his heavy balls in your hand and started gently pulling and squeezing them simultaneously as you let your other hand work beautifully in sync with your mouth, letting Naruto’s massive cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly. You peered up once more to see Naruto’s eyes roll clean to the back of his head as you could tell he was unraveling completely, close to his impending orgasm.

“Oh my god baby…wait wait. Take it easy on me…you’re going to make me cum already.” Naruto scrunched his nose and pulled you off his cock, instantly amused at the smacking sound your lips made as you released them from around him.

You looked up, shooting him an innocent yet sexually fueled pout. “What? Can't handle it, Uzumaki?” you said, now in a taunting tone.

Without letting him answer, you dove in once more, this time giving it your all. Without hesitation, you wrapped both hands around his throbbing cock jerking and twisting - up and down, up and down. You spread the slick saliva all over as your swollen lips latched onto his red and pulsating head once more, sucking harshly - almost torturing the orgasm out of his body.

Naruto started squirming as you mercilessly sucked his cock, ramming it further and further down your throat and you let your hand follow your mouth down to the base, repeating this motion over and over - just watching him crumble beneath you. You had a hunch he was moments away from an explosive orgasm.

“F-fuck, Y/N… I- I’m gonna fucking cum!” Naruto let a strangled moan erupt from his throat as he shot his hot creamy load straight down your throat, causing you to gag. His chest heaving uncontrollably as he worked to carefully bring his breathing back to a normal pace.

You got up from in between the Uzumaki’s thighs and reached for the closest towel you could find so you both could begin cleaning up. A sudden hint of embarrassment washed over you as you had finally come down from your high.

“Well, that was…” You began.

“Fun.” Naruto said grinning, not letting you bother to finish your sentence.

You bashfully hid your face in your hands realizing you had just unleashed the ravaging beast inside of you. Naruto - now getting redressed, noticed your now uncomfortable demeanor and grabbed your hand away from your face.

“Hey, stop it. No need to be shy now.” He said sticking his tongue out. His playful smartass humor caused laughter to erupt once more as you found a nearby pillow,  wacking him on the head with it.

“You’re so annoying, Uzumaki.” you replied playfully, suddenly feeling as comfortable as you once were.

“AKA: you’re TOTALLY in love with me now.” Naruto joked, now settling back into the bed with you, arm draped across your waist. 

You rolled your eyes and started poking his ribcage - now just wanting to be a pest. “Shut up!” you responded, now searching for the remote control to put something on TV.

“Wait, um. Is Shikamaru going to be ok if he comes home and I’m still here?” Naruto wondered, nervous that he was imposing.

You waved your hand dismissively, “Yeah, he’ll be fine. He’ll probably end up spending the night at Temari’s tonight anyways.” Naruto smiled and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

You had turned on an episode of Black Clover as you prepared to binge the show the rest of the night. Naruto shot you a confused glare.

“Black Clover? Maybe you ARE a woman of good taste.” Naruto said, proudly. You giggled. “You know, the main character Asta actually reminds me of you.”

Naruto blushed at your adorable compliment in reference to your current anime obsession.

“Okay, you are DEFINITELY a woman of good taste.” The Uzumaki replied as you stole a quick kiss and settled your head in the crook of his neck. You were on cloud 9 and didn’t want the night to end because Naruto Uzumaki made you feel all the “warm & fuzzies”.

The last day of classes certainly turned out to be an evening you’d never forget - to say the least.

[asterlark]

ok. samwell college of music au. i wrote all four years let's go babey

eric bittle is this lovely southern tenor (sounds kinda like mitch grassi or ben j pierce) who posts covers (& sometimes originals, but always with neutral or no pronouns because he can't post anything that says he or him ☹) on his youtube channel and has major stage fright but is very talented; he also plays ukulele

he got into samwell college of music on a voice scholarship and his dad doesn’t exactly approve but eric was never the 6′2″ masculine football player he wanted anyway so why not go for his dreams

he auditions for the very competitive samwell men’s contemporary chorus (there’s like 20 choirs; chamber choir, jazz choir, a cappella groups (lax bros do a cappella), combined choirs, etc- smcc does contemporary pop/rock music) and while he’s very very nervous and shaky as he auditions, directors hall & murray see a lot of potential in him (with major grumbling from student director jack)

(the rest of this ridiculously long au under the cut)

the group is small, for a chorus, because the point of the group is not a wall of sound but a focus on all of the very talented guys’ voices coming together in these gorgeous harmonies and basically they’re like one of the best choruses on campus and all the male singers want in

so there’s jack zimmermann, who of course eric knows because everyone knows who he is, he’s the son of bob and alicia zimmermann, both incredibly talented and famous musicians, and basically those genes were in his favor because he’s mega fucking talented

(jack was supposed to sign a recording contract to be in a band with his best friend kent parson when he was 17 but something happened between them and the pressure was too much and jack overdosed on something- there’s so many rumors no one knows what’s real- and kent signed solo in LA & went on to win grammys for his albums about a mysterious ex and jack disappeared for a few years to be a counselor at a music camp and reappears at samwell, knocking everyone’s socks off again like he’d never left, except with a renewed vigor and intenseness that freaks everyone out)

jack is a contemporary writing & production major, freaky talented and sings like a modern day frank sinatra, and he plays like 20 instruments and can read music like breathing air and writes songs like if he stopped he’d die; his music is folksy and mournful and he plays all the instruments on his tracks himself- guitar, piano, strings, drums- it sounds like a full band but nope. just jack. he’s intense

“we all get nicknames in this choir,” justin informs eric on his first day, “we’re those kinda guys.” so he’s bitty, which he finds vaguely offensive (bc he’s not that short!) but still cute, & the rest of the group is introduced to him:

“shitty” knight (voice like colyer) is a musical education major and an enigma of a singer with this awesome, earthy, raspy voice that’s really interesting to listen to and a very.... unique style & look; he writes cheesy but shockingly good raps about social justice topics and he will sing-lecture you if you’ve said something offensive (he also plays banjo)

justin “ransom” oluransi is a music business & management major with an angelic voice you can’t help but listen to; he’s sultry and has an incredible range and does runs like nobody’s business (with a voice like daniel caesar or leslie odom jr UGH)

adam “holster” birkholtz is a voice performance major, wants to be on broadway and it’s all he ever goddamn talks about basically, he’s a belter and has a lot of charisma and starpower and he’ll charm the pants off of you within one note; can also play piano and irritates everyone constantly because his regular volume is like a level 11 (voice like the frontman of my brothers and i combined w/ x ambassadors lead singer)

larissa “lardo” duan is at the local art institute because performing arts is not her jam and she’d much rather paint; she’s a barista at annie’s and supervises open mic nights and keeps the annoying choir dudes from driving away all her patrons

“i’m not even in your dumbass choir,” she says when the group gave her her nickname. holster just told her that she was an honorary member and then started sing-shouting a song at her about how good she is

bitty’s first year is hard because he’s talented and he works hard but he shies away when anyone asks him to sing outside the group and like, he can sing to a camera by himself but being on a stage with everyone looking at you and the sole responsibility of the song on your shoulders is terrifying and no thanks

jack does not. understand this. he’s been performing practically since he came out of the womb and he doesn’t really get performance nerves (what he gets is anxiety about how he did after he gets off stage that follows him home and makes it so he can’t sleep) - so he bothers bitty about it constantly like “you just need practice, you just have to sing by yourself a lot and then you’ll get over it” which like.... that’s true but it’s also hella scary and bitty’s like “no thanks!!!!”

but jack’s annoying and intense so he makes bitty do open mic with him every saturday night and it’s going okay and bitty loves his choir and loves his school and these new friends he’s making and he finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them during his second term

then during their spring choral showcase at the end of his freshman year bitty has a solo and he’s worked really hard on it and he’s feeling good- okay he’s completely freaked out but he’s trying to feel good- but when he gets up on stage there’s so many people and the stage lights are so hot on his face and he flips out a little and maybe he passes out from anxiety and stress right on stage and it’s terrible and he’s so embarrassed and ashamed that he ruined their set at the showcase

of course jack blames himself because “we shouldn’t have given you a solo before you were ready, i misjudged it, i’m sorry” - and they all feel kinda bad bc holy fuck they didn’t know his stage fright was that bad like they didn’t know someone could pass out just by being anxious to sing

he practices all the time over the summer and goes to his local open mic at jack’s insistence and it actually helps a lot because instead of a sea of strangers judging him it’s a bunch of people he knows and they’re all smiling at him and when he finishes his song they cheer for him and it boosts his self-confidence a lot

his sophomore year they have three new members- chris ”chowder” chow (voice like ieuan), an excitable music education major with impressive rapping skills, derek "nursey" nurse (frank ocean or leon bridges type), a songwriting major who can also play violin and guitar, and will ”dex” poindexter (like tom west), a production & engineering major who tried out with chowder bc he needed moral support and didn't expect to get in but impressed the directors with his voice

the year’s going pretty good, bitty’s still pretty scared of singing alone but more confident now and the open mic nights with jack haven’t stopped, so he’s getting better. and one night they’re hanging out at annie’s after closing waiting for lardo to be done so they can walk her home, and bitty suggests that jack sing with him one of these nights, and jack says he doesn’t know any of bitty’s songs and bitty says they can write one together half jokingly but then jack is like “yes.” with that Intense Look

SO they get together a couple days later in jack’s room at the house they all live in together (bitty moved in at the beginning of the year after previous smcc member john johnson called him- how’d he get his number?- and told him he could take his room if he wanted), jack with his guitar and bitty with his ukulele, and it’s a little awkward until bitty says jack should play him one of his songs

and, okay, he doesn’t really know what to expect because the only music jack ever released to the public was that one single he did with kent parson when they were 17 so bitty doesn’t even know if he has anything to play him, but he does- he starts playing these soft, sad notes on the guitar and opens his mouth and sings about being lonely and scared and unsure, about false starts and shaky ground and not knowing where you stand with someone, about expectations and lying awake at night and wishing so hard you were someone else, and bitty watches him sing and just kind of... realizes he’s head over heels for this boy and internally Freaks Out a little

he tries to put that aside and they start to write this song, at first it’s weird because jack’s like “all your songs are love songs i can’t really relate to happy love songs” and bitty’s like “listen... i’ve never even had a boyfriend i just write a bunch of sappy love stuff because it’s not about me it’s about whoever’s listening to it, they’re gonna project their own experiences on my music anyway so it doesn’t matter if it’s my real life or not” and jack’s like “alright while fake af that’s smart and i respect you” (what bitty doesn't say is that he writes about what he really wants which is to fall in love & be in a happy relationship)

they say they’re just gonna write this kinda vague sad song but they both secretly write lines about their actual lives so it ends up being really personal and real and raw for the both of them

they sing the song at open mic that saturday and the crowd at annie’s is never that big but they’ve never got a standing ovation here before, and some girl shouts “MAKE AN ALBUM” (it may or may not be lardo) and they both blush furiously and bitty’s like “... that was really nice, jack” and jack’s like “... yeah it was good good job you’re really getting some confidence out there nice work” (bitty: “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT AAAAH”)

around this time jack’s really thinking about what he’s gonna do when he’s done at samwell, talking with his parents and his agent and looking into different record companies and deciding if he wants to sign with anyone or possibly start his own company- the head of a small company called falcon records in rhode island has been talking to him a lot, and jack talks to bitty about how he thinks it’d be nice to start small, and the record exec georgia and the producer marty had both been really nice and welcoming, and bitty’s so happy for him but also just... sad that he won’t be around jack every day after he graduates

THEN at a haus party celebrating their win of a local choral competition, who shows up but none other than pop star kent parson to Ruin The Fun

bitty sees the way jack pales when kent walks in, notices them disappear upstairs together and feels a little sick worrying about jack but chalks it up to the highly alcoholic concoction shitty and lardo had cooked up but nonetheless decides he’s sick of the party and goes up to his room and hears.... a little too much

and YIKES he’s standing right there and kent parson, pop star, two-time grammy winner, is looking a little rumpled and staring right at him and he puts his hat on and clears his throat and snaps at jack- “hey. well. call me if you reconsider. but good luck with rhode island. ...i’m sure that’ll make your parents proud.” and jack’s shaking, and bitty doesn’t know what to do but jack goes back into his room and bitty’s just kind of standing there like What The Fuck

so.... he kind of stews over winter break but tries not to think about it too much and he and jack text a bit and jack tells him to practice and bitty’s like “oh, you” and jack’s like “im serious” and bitty’s like “>:( it’s christmas”

spring semester starts and they're doing well in competitions and they go to semifinals and then finals for a prestigious collegiate choir competition and the pressure is mounting but they all are so optimistic and really feel like they're on the same page and bitty’s confidence is better than ever and then.... they don't win

jack especially takes it very hard, but then he also has signing to worry about, which everyone helps him with and he decides to sign with falcon records and start work on an album after graduation

speaking of graduation, shitty and jack graduate and it's hard for them but harder for bitty who feels like he's losing jack in a way, he knows how intense jack gets when he's making music and it doesn't feel like he'll have any time for bitty anymore so when they say goodbye bitty goes back to the haus and listens to his and jack's song and just cries

but, like in canon, dadbob has words of wisdom to impart and jack has an "oh" moment and races across campus to kiss bitty

they get together and the next few months are spent with jack working nonstop on his album (which tbh, he'd had many of the songs written already so it's mostly recording and producing) and texting bitty constantly and coming to visit him and playing him demos of all the songs

jack also asks bitty if they can record the song they wrote together & have it as a bonus track on his album & bitty says of course, so when jack visits they set up an impromptu studio and record vocals in the guest bedroom and this deeply personal song they wrote before they were ever together means so much more to them now

and bitty is so happy but so scared and sad too because jack is playing him these songs telling him "they're all for you bits, & a lot of them are about you" and he just doesn't know how he's going to keep all this love inside even though it feels like jack's career is at stake

he tries to shove it down and stay strong though, especially since he's now an upperclassman and they're taking on new members- connor "whiskey" whisk (voice like finneas or the male singer in valley), a music business/ management major who seems to hate bitty's guts and tony "tango" tangredi (like chaz cardigan), a jazz composition major who astounds everybody with his endless questions but also his ridiculously impressive composition skills & naturally perfect pitch (he can also play saxophone??)

i want ford in this au so fuck it she is a composition major with dreams to write scores for musicals and she stars training as a barista at annie's (aka training to corral the smcc)

the pressure of it all proves to be a lot and bitty and jack have their hi, honey moment where bitty's like i can't be this deep in the closet!!! and so they tell the smcc and also jack's label that they're together and that eases things a bit

jack's album comes out to much critical acclaim and shouting in the groupchat ("#1 ON ITUNES BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!") and several months later, when smcc has already been eliminated from choral competition in an earlier round, jack is nominated for SEVERAL grammys including best album, song of the year, and best new artist

when the time comes he takes his parents and bitty on the red carpet which, everyone keeps being like "who are you here with jack?" and he's like "my family and my good friend :)" and yes it is awkward

jack wins... all three awards. it's the comeback everyone is stoked to see and when his third win is announced, he and bitty are so elated that they kiss before he goes to accept the award

his speech is basically just "um... wow. thank you. i just kissed my boyfriend on live tv. this is amazing and i'm so humbled. i'd like to thank my boyfriend and georgia and marty and my parents and my friends and my boyfriend"

obviously the press has a FIELD DAY with this but bitty & jack are honestly vibing and so happy that it doesn't matter untiiiillll bitty's mom calls and he has to tell her "mama i'm gay and i'm going on tour with jack this summer okloveyoubye"

the last few months of bitty's junior year pass quickly and he's voted student director which is a huge honor considering how much he struggled with stage fright and confidence & how he'll now be stepping into ransom & holster's shoes

r&h and lardo all graduate (the smcc basically crashes the art school graduation and all scream when lardo gets her diploma lmao), which is a bittersweet occasion and they all do a bit of tearing up

that summer bitty goes on tour across the u.s. & canada with jack and his touring band (snowy is a bassist, tater is a drummer and poots does backing guitar, he also brings nursey to play violin on a few songs) as well as georgia who's there to manage logistics

and tour is so fun & chaotic with many bi and rainbow flags in the audience that end up thrown on stage and draped around jack's neck and they spend so many nights in the bus drinking and laughing and fooling around on the guitars and bitty's uke and exploring new cities bitty has never been to before and it's the freest bitty has felt in a long time

summer ends though, and jack leaves for the uk/europe leg of the tour, and with the new school year brings a few new members- river "bully" bullard (voice like gregory alan isakov), a music therapy major who draws his own cover art for his songs, lukas "louis" landmann (like jr jr), an electronic production and design major with a penchant for EDM, and johnathan "hops" hopper (like keiynan lonsdale), a film scoring major who wants to write music for movies and video games

bitty meets and befriends some of the other student directors- shruti, sd of the women’s contemporary chorus; sharon, sd of the chamber choir; and edgar, sd of jazz ensemble (even chad l., sd of the all-male a cappella group)

senior year passes similarly to the comic; coach visits and sees one of bitty’s competitions, jack comes to madison for christmas, smcc does well in competition and goes to regionals etc

however… bitty keeps putting off and putting off gathering the songs for his senior recital

he has a hard time doing that because he’s so focused on the group and making sure they’re performing well and as they advance in competition, everything else starts to fall away

eventually the rest of the smcc has to lock away his uke and change his youtube password and FORCE him to choose songs for it and start preparing because he cannot graduate without doing this recital and doing well on it

he chooses (of course) a beyonce song, a few of his own songs, an ellie goulding song, and an adele song

with all that his breath hitches and his hands shake before he goes on stage, he does really well and his voice instructor prof atley tears up a little in the audience as does his mom

meanwhile smcc goes to semifinals, then finals, of the national collegiate choral competition they participate in

and i imagine bitty faces somewhat less homophobia in this au because i mean, he’s in the performing arts, but i think it’s still there and he also faces a good amount of classism from richer students and performers who think they’re better because they had the resources and money to be performing professionally from a very young age, and he has been practicing via filming himself on a shitty camcorder and posting it to youtube

but they still get there! and the national finals are fucking HUGE and a big deal and a little overwhelming

bitty’s stage fright is Present because this is the biggest stage and the biggest stakes he's ever had and he has a big solo in one of their songs so if he fucks up, he fucks up a national championship for his whole group and school

luckily though, when he steps on the stage with his best friends and sees his boyfriend and family and smcc alums in the audience and they perform their first song, a high-energy pop medley that always gets the crowd going, everything seems to melt away and it's just him living in this moment and singing his heart out

when it gets to the next song and his solo, he forgets to be nervous and belts it out, getting screams of approval from the audience when he finishes

(dex and nursey do have a duet together that they had to practice for many long nights in the practice rooms alone but that's neither here nor there)

their time on stage seems to last both hours and no time at all and then they're done, the crowd gives them a standing ovation and it's at least 30% r&h & shitty's hooting and hollering and jack's enthusiastic clapping that makes bitty & the others beam with pride

then it's just waiting, giddy and nervous beyond belief in their green room, for the judging to be over

after what feels like forever they're back on stage, arms linked together waiting and hoping for their name to be called and it is, they win and it feels like years have built up to this moment, and bitty tears up because years ago when he was fainting from anxiety at having to perform in front of people he never could've imagined that he'd do this, that he'd be the student director that led them to a championship

they get the trophy and a ridiculous amount of flowers from their loved ones and they all are just in giddy disbelief that this is happening, they're national champs!!! they are the best choir boys in the nation!!

they come home and the rest of the school year passes by so quickly that it's very suddenly graduation and bitty can't believe his college career at samwell is over 😢

(he and ollie and wicky take pictures together, o&w talk about how excited they are to devote full time attention to their band & wedding planning and bitty's just like wait you're gay??)

bitty got plenty of offers from record companies but he likes his freedom of creativity and he has a built in fanbase from doing youtube all these years so he decides to make an album independently (jack helps him produce & master it 🥰)

when bitty's album comes out about a year later, full of bops about being gay and in love and having struggled but come out the other side more confident than ever, it doesn't get any grammy nominations- and he didn't expect or need that.

what it does do is it resonates. it makes the rounds in youtube and queer internet circles; people his age reach out to him saying this is the music they wish they had as a kid and kids reach out to him saying he's a role model and they're so glad to have his music to listen to. his album is written about as an underrated gem that shines with queer brilliance and is sure to start a party when it comes on.

his parents may not fully understand the road he's chosen for himself but they're still so proud and promote the album as hard as any of his loyal fans (especially the one country-inspired song on the album that he wrote and dedicated to them).

and jack, jack who saw this album from its infancy to its release date, who took the film photo that ended up being the album cover, who worked with bitty to make sure his vision was realized exactly how he wanted it to be, is proud beyond words.

jack starts using his semi-abandoned twitter again to tweet "stream [album name]" every day and bitty retweets them sometimes, with just a "this boy. ❤"

and they're happy. they're good. they have come so far and they are reaping the rewards of all the hard work they put in to make the music that they truly love.

the end :)