#dial yells about his ocs

[explosivefins]

Caleb n Thomas. Such guys. Such fellas

they're not gay for each other

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 4

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Word count: 4.9k

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, public sex, blowjobs, dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, mentions of morbid games lmao

You haven’t had a chance to talk to Beomgyu about what happened at the party, mostly because you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to ask him about Haeun because you don’t want to hear that they’re together now. And you don’t want to talk to him about Yeonjun and admit to him that you are not actually together when he clearly has someone else. 

As for Yeonjun, you start becoming closer and closer to him–you’re not actually dating but Beomgyu doesn’t need to know that, and the fact that he thinks you are and it’s pissing him off beyond belief is just the cherry on top. 

But due to all this messiness, things become awkward between you and Beomgyu. There is this unspoken tension that neither of you will acknowledge. Even just him coming home and stepping into the living room where you’re at feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. 

Live with your best friend, they said. It will be fun, they said.

You focus intensely on your phone, determined to ignore Beomgyu until he retreats into his room like the virginal creature he is. But to your dismay, he heads straight to you. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Beomgyu asks, rushing to your side and you look at his concerned face with confusion. “What is it, did Yeonjun hurt you?” 

“Huh?” You hum, completely lost. 

“Your face. You look like someone ran over it.” 

You glare at him, showing him your phone pointedly. “I’m just stuck at this game.” 

He rolls his eyes, shoulders relaxing. “Damn, I thought it was serious.”

No shit. It looked like he was ready to scratch Yeonjun’s face off at the mere idea that he hurt you. Which is kinda sweet, you guess. 

“It is serious. This game is kicking my ass.” You complain, brushing past it once again, choosing to focus on the escape room game you’re playing. “I feel like such an idiot. Why can’t I figure this stupid puzzle out?” 

“Let me see.” He sits beside you, plucking the phone out of your hands. 

“Hey!” You protest loudly but he shushes you. “Let the genius do his thing.” 

You bark out a laugh at that. “Now that’s hilarious.” You mock him, but let him try anyway. If only because he looks the prettiest when he’s concentrating on something. 

What? It’s not like you’re going to get over your undying love for him in a day. 

Beomgyu flounders around just as you had expected, clicking all over the screen to try to unlock some hidden clue to no avail. Soon enough, his frustration reaches your level/ 

“What the fuck do you want me to give you, you stupid man?” Beomgyu yells in frustration, repeatedly tapping on the man who won’t give him the phone number he needs. 

“Is the genius struggling?” You mock and though he doesn’t mean it, he gives you the most heart-breakingly adorable pout you’ve ever seen. It takes the combined strength of every single cell in your body to not swoon on the spot. 

“Shut up. It’s a stupid game.” He mumbles and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Or maybe dialing random numbers on the phone isn’t the best strategy when there are like an infinite number combinations possible?”

“Like I said, stupid game.” He asserts, “It’s impossible to solve.” 

“No, you’re just an idiot. Give me back my phone.” You try to take it from him but he refuses to hand it over, insisting, “I’m going to solve it.”

“Beomgyu, come on!”

“I’ll figure it out!”

“No, you won’t, dumbass!”

“Okay, now you’re really not getting it back.” He says and you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. He sighs and tugs on your arm, pulling you onto his lap, “Come here, let’s work it out together.” 

How can you when his breath hitting the back of your neck lights your nerves on fire and the warmth of his body pressed up against yours fries up your brain? 

Still you valiantly push through, coming up with ideas together to solve the puzzle, equally stupid ideas that don’t work, but you don't even care about the game anymore, just enjoying being in his arms, leaning back against his shoulders, surrounded by his warmth and his scent. 

“Okay, that’s it. I’m cheating.” He announces after a long, frustrating stretch of inadequate gameplay, and you grunt. “Yes, please.”

You watch as he looks up the answer to the puzzle you’re stuck on online, practically melting in his embrace. 

“That’s the answer? What the fuck? It doesn’t even make sense.” He grumbles once he finds the answer, the vibrations of his deep voice like a cat purring against you. 

“I know. This is so annoying.” You mutter, no heat behind your words, as he enters the code given from the walkthrough. “Or maybe we’re both idiots.” 

“Nah, nah, it’s the game that’s stupid. We’re so smart.” He denies dramatically and you giggle.  “The smartest.” 

Once he dials the number given to him by the man, a distorted voice answers, giving you a cryptic message before hanging up. 

"Look into the eyes of the bird. What does that mean?" Beomgyu wonders, and a sudden realization hits you. "Oh, oh, there was an owl statue back there!"

"You're right. Good thinking, babe.” He compliments mindlessly, oblivious to the fact that he so casually sent your heart into overdrive. Yes, he has called you that before, but never in a non-sexual context. This whole thing feels so domestic, so relationship-y, and it’s seriously messing with your tattered heart. 

Beomgyu goes back to the owl and taps on its eyes. They turn white and the statue shakes, causing your anticipation to rise… but then nothing happens. 

"Wait, what?" Beomgyu wonders dumbly, and you frown. "Let's look around again. Maybe that did something."

"Okay." His head moves ever so slightly to the side and he takes a deep breath through his nose, frustrated, but if you didn’t know any better, and if your wishful thinking had its way, you would think he was taking your scent in. 

"Oh, there it is. It opened this thing." He says excitedly, jolting you out of your fantasies. "That’s the code!"

"Come on then, open the suitcase!" You gush, joining the excitement. You just love to see him so giddy.  

"Right." 

You watch his eyebrows furrow as he looks around for the suitcase, and you do your best not to bend forward and kiss his pretty nose. 

Damn it. Get yourself together. 

"It's a camera. Let's try to take pics with it." You tell him once he opens the suitcase. 

"I have a bad feeling about this." Beomgyu says, trying to take a picture of the mother character but it doesn’t work.

"Try the child." You grab onto his arms, feeling nervous yourself. 

You click on the child but instead of taking a picture of her, she takes a picture of you. Then the scene turns dark and she starts screaming.  

"What? What is happening? Pull back." You tell him urgently. 

He moves around frantically, stopping at the scene with the mother and now there is a monster behind her. The monster speaks in the same distorted voice, saying it’s taking the mother and leaving the child to you. 

“What the fuck?” Beomgyu asks, creepy music playing in the background. “Bring her back!”

“Oh, don’t feel bad for the mother. She fed her brother urine and dug up the corpses of her family members for a sacrifice.” 

“She did what?” He gives you a look of disgust.

“But even that’s not surprising. I mean she’s the product of the semen her father ejaculated into a jar and combined with the egg he extracted from her dead mother who he killed because he was obsessed with her.” 

“Why do you play these games?” Beomgyu groans, horrified. 

You shrug. “I am fascinated by the morbid. And if I recall correctly, I didn’t ask you to play.”

“I know. I just missed hanging out with you. Even if it’s playing creepy games or just you ranting about your day.” He says sheepishly, turning his head to face you, and you suddenly realize fully how close you actually are. You gulp. “Yeah. I missed hanging out with you too. I guess we’ve both been… busy.” 

“Yeah with the gigs and the parties and all, I guess I’m not around much.” He trails off, running his fingers up and down your forearm, making you shiver. Then looks up at you with a grin. “Hey, remember back when we were so lame no one ever invited us to parties so we would just spend our weekends at home watching movies and playing video games?”

“Remember? That was only like a couple of months ago. You may have forgotten your roots Mr. I’m-in-an-up-and-coming-band but it will always be the loser lifestyle for me.” 

You're joking but you do miss it. You miss when he was your Beomgyu and not Haeun's. Even if it was just in your head. You miss your best friend and not the asshole he became. 

“Yeah, right. You’re such a loser, you’re dating the lead singer of that band.” He mutters challengingly, staring you down. You’re so close, you only have to lean in a tiny bit to meet his lips, and by the way he’s looking at you, you think he wants it too. 

But then his phone rings and the moment is over. You snap back to your senses and quickly get off him, glancing at his phone. It’s Haeun. Of course. You feel so stupid. You’re not his girlfriend. You’re just his dumb friend who thinks she has a chance with him when he never expressed any interest in her and has in fact been in love with another woman–a woman who is now his girlfriend. 

“Baby–”

“Your girlfriend is calling. Answer her.” You tell him harshly, and he flinches, taken aback. He is silent for a second, searching your face for something, before he sighs. “Fine.” 

“Hey, baby.” He answers, looking at you as he uses the exact same nickname he just called you. You roll your eyes, starting the next phase in the game, trying not to let it show how hurt you are as you pointedly ignore him. “I’m good. Heading for bed.”

He pauses for a second during which you pretend you’re actually playing the game as he listens to what she’s telling him, before he says. “Baby, I can’t come over now. I’m tired… yeah, i’m just not feeling that well–No, no, don’t come over. I’m okay. It’s–” 

He shuts up abruptly and you look up to him to see him staring at his phone in frustration. 

“She’s coming over?” You raise an eyebrow and he sighs. “Wants to make sure I’m not sick.” 

“You’re so lucky.” You gush sarcastically. 

“Don’t start.” He warns.

“No. No. I’m really happy for you. Your love with Haeun is so special. So special in fact that you probably only share it with like five other men.” 

He laughs at that. “Oh yeah, it’s not like you’re dating boyfriend of the year either.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You frown, hands on your hips. 

“It means that you’re not the first groupie he’s had. You’re probably not even the only one. Hey, maybe if you stick around long enough, he’ll even introduce you to the others.”

“Fuck you, Beomgyu.” You hiss, grabbing your things and heading to your room.

You know you shouldn’t have goaded him. Things were going well. You were finally spending some quality time together, just the two of you, just like you did before. But then you had to open your mouth and let your ugly jealousy show. 

Doesn’t matter. It would’ve been ruined anyway when she arrived.  You’re not really in the mood for a live sex show. 

______________________________

But if you thought hiding in your room would shield you from it, then you were dead wrong. You can hear them even from under your pillows. You would put on some noise-canceling headphones but Beomgyu owns those and you really don’t want to go to his room and give your worst nightmares form.   

All you have to distract you now is your phone and your frantic messages to Yeonjun. 

You: Junnie. I’m seriously going to kill myself. 

Yeonjun: Are they that loud? 

You: Her mostly. It’s like she’s intentionally trying to make me vomit. 

Yeonjun: Maybe she is. Maybe she feels threatened by you. 

You: Threatened? That’s crazy. 

Yeonjun: You’re right. It’s not like you hooked up with him before or anything… oh wait. 

You: You’ll be my 13th reason. 

Yeonjun: I’m sorry. If you’re so upset, why don’t we go out? 

You: It’s 2 am…everything is closed.

Yeonjun: So? The streets are open. We can walk around. It’ll be fun.

You: I don’t know. Isn’t that kinda dangerous? 

Yeonjun: That’s the fun of it. But if you’d rather stay home and listen to her fuck the guy you love then be my guest. 

You: I’m getting dressed. 

____________________________

“Do you take these late night walks often?” You ask Yeonjun, hugging your jacket close to your body to fight against the chill in the air. 

“Sometimes. When I have time to.” He shrugs, his breath making visible vapor trails in the air. “There is just something so magical about that period of time between midnight and dawn, when everyone else is asleep and it’s just you and the stars. Feels almost magical, you know?” 

“Yeah. I know. It’s like you could say anything and everything and it would be safe from the light of the morning.” 

You know all this too well because you used to spend that precious time with Beomgyu, cuddled together into the late hours of the night watching movies or talking about nothing even when you knew you had an important lecture in the morning or band practice to go to. 

During those moments you thought that Beomgyu could almost feel how you feel. No two people could share what you shared without being in love, right? 

But it was just the spell of the night talking. There was nothing there. Not from him at least. 

You stop for a second, taking a look at the slumbering city around, looking into windows and wondering about the occupants inside–Are they happy? Are they with their loved one? Do they feel the magic around them? 

Does Beomgyu feel the same way you felt about him with her?

You feel arms wrap around you from behind, and Yeonjun rests his head on your shoulder. “It’s so peaceful, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” You relax against him, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to stay in the moment, willing the night to work its magic. 

“How cute.” You hear a gruff voice cut through your attempted peace, and your eyes snap open to see a man holding a knife out at you and Yeonjun. 

“Whoa, whoa.” Yeonjun pulls you behind him. “No need to get violent.” 

“There will be no need if you quietly pass over your phones and wallets.” The man gestures with his knife. 

“I can give you the wallets but I have very important files on my phone.” Yeonjun attempts to reason with him but the man gets closer with the knife. “Hand everything over.” 

“Okay. Okay.” Yeonjun tries to calm him down, while you do everything in your power not to shit yourself. You’ve never been held up at knifepoint before! This is what you get for listening to Yeonjun. The man has orange hair! No good ideas could come from him.

“That’s the fun of it.” You mutter under your breath as you get your stuff out, repeating Yeonjun’s earlier words. “Yeah, this is so fun.” 

You shoot Yeonjun a glare before reaching out to hand over your precious belongings, but as the man goes to take them, Yeonjun suddenly smacks his arm, causing the knife to drop out of his hand and onto the floor.

Both men lunge towards it, attempting to recover the knife, and for the few seconds they fight, your heart stops probably a couple of times. If the mugger gets the knife, you’re sure he’ll send you and Yeonjun off with a few new holes in your bodies. 

Thankfully though, Yeonjun manages to swipe the knife in the end, and he holds it out threateningly. Well, as threatening as you can be with your arm shaking. 

“Aha!” He screams at the mugger, who in turn raises his hands up in surrender. “Get away from us.” 

“That’s my knife.” The man says dumbly. 

“It’s mine now. That’s how it works, isn’t it?” Yeonjun counters, sounding a little crazed. “Now get the fuck away before I return it to you somewhere you wouldn’t like.” 

“You wouldn’t.” The man doubts Yeonjun. 

“Yeah? I was crazy enough to wrestle it from you. You don’t know what I would do.” 

“Fine. This isn’t worth it.” The man turns and runs away. 

You and Yeonjun stay frozen for a good few minutes.

“Holy shit.” He breaks the silence, “I can’t believe I did that!”

“I know! I almost passed out. You’re fucking crazy.” You smack his shoulder, “You could’ve gotten us killed!”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking. It all just happened so quickly.” He breathes in shock, then looks around. “We should probably clear out of here in case he comes back.” 

“Right.” 

You quickly walk away, hurried steps accompanied by the occasional disbelieving exclamation until you deem you’re far enough away. Finally, you stop, looking around to make sure the coast is clear and to gather your bearings. 

You don’t know what comes over you, maybe it’s the stress of nearly dying, but you suddenly burst out laughing. “Fuck, I still can’t believe you did that! We could have died.” 

“But we didn’t.” He tries to argue, grinning madly, “And now we got this cool trophy.” He brandishes the mugger's knife, happy with his conquest before a frown takes over his face. “Do you think he stabbed anyone with this before?” 

“Probably.” 

He lets go of the knife and it falls to the ground with a clang. “Ew.” 

You both burst out laughing again, letting the high emotions runs themselves dry. But as your crazed laughs die down, Yeonjun pulls you close and kisses you, expressing that passion in a different way. 

"Junnie…"

"Did the near death experience turn you on too or is it just me." He jokes and you blush. "Maybe." 

You feel his hands fiddling with the button on your pants, but you grab them to stop him. "No, let me do it this time."

“What do you mean?” He cocks his head to the side. You know he knows what you mean but that he just wants to hear it from you. But instead of answering his question with your words, you get on your knees in front of him instead.

He cups your cheek gently. "You don't have to do this, doll."

"I want to." You undo his pants, taking his cock out and giving it a kiss. "Teach me?"

“That is so fucking sexy.” He hisses, gathering your hair in his hand. “Start slow. Don't overwhelm yourself. Just get it wet first."

“Okay.” You lick his cock, gathering your spit as you go and using your hand to spread it over his entire length. Bit by bit, his cock becomes more hard and slippery, letting you easily slide your hand over it, your tongue licking him everywhere from his shaft to the small opening on his head. 

“Okay, that’s enough teasing.You can start taking some of it in your mouth now.”  

“But I like teasing you. It’s payback, baby.” You grin, refusing to pull back, and starting to suck gently on his balls instead. You don’t know where all this confidence was coming from. You’ve never done this before. In fact, before Beomgyu, you didn’t have any sexual experience at all to speak of. 

But Yeonjun is not Beomgyu, and he doesn’t take your brattiness. He tugs on your hair pulling your head back until you’re completely off his cock, then he grabs your face with his other hand and pushes his thumb into your mouth, opening it. “Don’t make me punish you, doll. I want your first time to be nice so be good now.” 

He pushes you face towards his cock and this time you open up, obediently taking him in. “That’s it… no, no go slow.” He cautions when you take in more than you could, gagging a little bit. “I’m not going to fuck your throat. Not tonight, at least.”  

You moan around his length, squeezing your thighs together in need. 

“Aw, doll. He hasn’t been taking care of you, has he?” He purrs and you pull back, shaking your head. “Didn’t let him.” 

“Good.” He breathes, pushing your head back on his cock, encouraging you to take more and more of him, but being careful to not push you too far, always pulling you back when you start gagging. 

To be honest, you’re not doing much. You’re just letting him fuck your mouth, going along with the pace he sets. But he won’t let you slack. 

“Suck on it, baby.” He purrs, hand getting tighter in your hair, and you pucker your lips, sucking his cock every time you pull back. “Ah, that’s it. You’re doing so well.” 

You look up at him, seeing how he’s starting to struggle a little bit, the pleasure getting to him so you double your efforts, bobbing your head as far as you can go and sucking harshly as you go up. 

As you do that, you inadvertently pull off him with a pop, but before you can put your mouth on him again, he holds you back. “Spit on it. Get it all wet and sloppy.” 

You bite your lip, doing everything to not put your hand between your legs right now. You gather some spit in your mouth, grabbing his red, hard cock in your hand before spitting on it, immediately using your hand to spread the saliva over his length. 

“Use both hands. Twist them as you go up. Makes it feel like you’re milking my cock.” He groans, throwing his head back, and you stare at him, amazed. You never thought you’d actually have a guy feeling like this before. 

I mean, of course, if it was Beomgyu, he would’ve gathered a crowd around you because of his moans by now, but that’s Beomgyu. He’s a virgin and he thinks everything you do is sexy. But Yeonjun has had a lot of experience. So much so that he probably had more than a couple dozen girls blow him off before. 

Oh. You really shouldn’t have thought about that. Now you’re overthinking it, wondering if he actually likes it or if it’s just alright.  I mean, with Beomgyu he’d be babbling all about how good you’re making him feel and begging you not to stop and–

“Are you okay?” Yeonjun snaps you out of your thoughts. 

“Oh, I’m fine.” You squeak, quickly going back to doing that twisting motion he told you about and attaching your mouth to the tip of his cock, sucking on it as if you wanted to drain him. 

“Ah–it’s just–you were kind of–holy shit, that’s good…” He trails off, losing track of his thoughts. “Squeeze your hands as you do that. You’re not gonna hurt me.” 

You hold onto him tighter, letting your tongue prod at his slit as you suck him off and jerk him with your hands, determined to keep his mind off your little slip. 

“Okay, okay, I’m close. Gonna cum, doll, so unless you want it in your mouth then get off.” He tries to pull you away by your hair but you refuse, sucking on him harshly until you feel a warm fluid filling your mouth. “Oh, shit.”

You whine around his cock as your mouth fills up with his cum. You only pull back when he has no more to give, keeping his seed in your mouth for a second before hesitantly swallowing it down.

“Fuck, swallowing on your first time? What a dirty girl.” He purrs, gently smoothing your hair down from the mess he made of it.

He’s very gentle. He really took it slow with you. You should be happy that your first time was so positive, right?

But as you look up at him catching his breath, the strong taste of him on your tongue brings up an ugly feeling of regret. Oh god, if Beomgyu finds out about this, he’ll be so pissed. 

Why are you even doing this? Just to piss him off? Do you actually like Yeonjun? Do you think you can love him the way you love Beomgyu? And does he like you? I mean, he did tell you that he does, but what does that mean? Given his history and all, how many other girls does he like? How many other girls is he doing this with? 

Suddenly you feel dirty, and the pavement burn isn’t helping you feel less like a slut. 

“You okay?” Yeonjun asks again and you shake your head. 

 “Yeah! It just… tastes weird.” You deflect, and Yeonjun laughs, putting his cock back in his pants and helping you up. “I warned you.” 

“I was curious.” You shrug, throat closing up. “But now I really need water.” 

“I’ll get you some water. But first–” He pushes you against a wall, “Let me repay the favor.” 

He tries to lean down to kiss you, but you put a hand up to stop him. “That’s okay. Technically this was me repaying the favor.” 

“Well then owe me one more.” He suggests, trying again but you turn your head to the side. At that, he finally steps back, sighing. “What’s going on?”

"Are you… are you messing around with other women?" You ask uncertainly. Beomgyu really messed with your head. 

"Did you want us to be exclusive?" He asks, and you step away from the wall. "Oh."

Right. Of course. He’s the lead singer of the band. Of course he’ll have a dozen other women after him.  

"I just figured with you and Beomgyu–"

You’re stupid to think he’ll sit around and wait for you. "No, I get it." 

"I swear I am not as much of a manwhore as you probably now think I am." He insists, “It’s just… we’re not dating, right?”

“Right.” You confirm. 

“But if you want to. We can try.” 

You give him a smile with some effort. “We’ll see.” You look up into the sky. "The sun is coming up. Let's go home."

______________________________

By the time you reach home, all the stars have disappeared, drowned out by the oppressive sunlight, and you hope to god Beomgyu is fast asleep. 

"Want me to come inside?" Yeonjun suggests but you shake your head. “No. I’ll just go to sleep. You should too.” 

“Right.” He sighs and moves to leave but then stops abruptly in his tracks. "You didn't say you wanted–"

"Just let me think, Yeonjun." You interrupt, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek when he still looks unsure. “Good night.” 

You don’t let him say more, stepping inside and shutting the door behind you quietly. You look around to make sure the coast is clear before treading lightly to your room. 

"Welcome home.” Beomgyu’s voice stops you in your tracks, and you wince as you turn towards him, seeing him standing in the door of the kitchen holding some coffee. “I suppose you were with Yeonjun again."

“It's not what you think." You don’t know why you’re lying. You don’t know why you even feel guilty about this. Haeun must be sleeping in his bed right this moment. 

"So you didn't go out and hook up with him?" He asks and you stay quiet, making him scoff. “Of course.” 

You let out a heavy breath. "Beomgyu, I can't deal with this right now. I’m tired.”

“Do you like him?” He ignores what you said, tone serious, and you have to stop and think about it for a while.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?” You say at last, feeling lost. You don’t mean to goad him. You just don’t understand his behavior and it’s time he made some sense of it. 

“I just don’t want you to fuck up my band.” He says simply and you stare at him, even more lost. “What?” 

“If you date him and then you break up, it’ll make everything awkward between me and him. This sort of thing has broken up bands before and I just didn’t want that to happen. I don’t want to lose what could be my future because you wanted some dick.” 

You let out an incredulous laugh, tears stinging your eyes. Is that all he cares about? So it’s not about Yeonjun or even about you. It’s because he’s worried about his precious band.  

“Well, that’s not up to you. Is it?” You ask bitterly, but that just riles him up more and he gets all up in your face. “Like hell, it is. This is my future.” 

“Well, this is my future too. Yeonjun could be the one for me.”

He staggers back. “What?” He breathes, stunned. 

“I don’t know!” You exclaim, feeling completely overwhelmed by everything that has happened today and just needing to retreat back to your room and curl up into a ball until you’re able to push the bad feelings away. 

“I need to rest.” You turn around, running to your room and leaving a shell-shocked Beomgyu rooted to the floor. 

______________________

A/N: feedback keeps me going so drop a message about what you think of the new chapter to motivate me to get the next chapter out faster 😂

and once again

Taglist: @tinkw1nks @lol6sposts @zuzuhasablog @beomsl @seolis-world @stantxtorurmissingout @wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno @leviathanlee26 @yomomas-stuff @kurisaiyunobara @girlwholovekpop @zuzuhasablog @viaaasdiary @ho3forkpop @skzvcr

[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER TEN — THE NEW FACE OF FAILURE

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summary: a surprise visitor shows up at nancy wheeler's house during your sleepover. eddie has a run-in with steve harrington and gets some hard-to-choke down news from a teacher. things with your newly released convict father seem to be going... eerily well. content warnings: does excessive yappin count. cussin! shitty dads! allusion to past physical abuse! drugs and smoking! heavy pettin! lovesick and scared about it edlacy! word count: 11.6k

Dear reader, 

For the first time in forever, I have nothing smart to say. I mean, really. For the first time in forever, when things have reached a previously unprecedented crescendo of shit-hitting-fannery, when my life has truly shown every possible sign of being headed toward complete ruin, when it’s not just opposite day but bizarro world incarnate, I feel…

Good. 

Because I’m looking at him. 

And he’s looking back at me.

And Nancy Wheeler is yelling for him to get in the goddamned window. 

Eddie Munson has no business standing outside the Wheeler’s garage with a fistful of pebbles, cautiously flicking them at a second story window, yet he is. The soft pelting noise had made your neck jerk up from where it craned over Nancy’s nails, painting them a springy green and go, “Do you hear that or is it my paranoia talking?”

See, when you woke up that morning, you knew you had two phone calls to make. Instead of using the traceable line of your house phone, you’d snatched a handful of quarters and booked it to the payphone at the edge of the lot. You’d almost stopped at the Munson trailer, tossing your own rocks at Eddie’s window, but thought better of it– there was always a chance that the newly exonerated (sort of) Ray Doevski would be peering through the blinds, taking a Rear Window affect to his newly instated house arrest. 

Yeah. House arrest, and you were sure that the same crack had run concurrently through the minds of you and both your parents– we’d hardly call this a house. But Ray was ordered to stay put, and even had this nutty gadget tagged to his ankle, this new fangled monitor that they were just rolling out. 

“Always on the cutting edge, aren’t you, Daddy?” 

With shaking fingers, you thunked in Eddie’s number, which he’d scrawled inside the cover of a Flannery O’Connor short story collection you’d been carting around a couple of months ago. It was one of those days that came up every now and again, where you couldn’t quite keep the lid on feeling blue. The weight of everything came down on you in an avalanche, leaving you unable to throw your pithy remarks into conversation with him or with Ronnie like you usually would’ve. Pretty much silent, pretty much staring a hole through the middle distance. He grabbed the book from you in the library during free period, your free period which he wasn’t even in, and whispered, “Just in case that curse gets lifted and you get your voice back. I’m sure you’ve got, like, a laundry list of barbs you’ve been dying to unload on me all day.” 

You remembered the way his eyes softened as he slid the book back to you, pressing his ringed hand against the cover for a couple seconds longer than he needed to. 

“Or just… for anything, y’know. We can just talk. About nothing. If it helps.”

At the time, you fought the instinct to put your hand over his.

“Won’t Wayne care that I’m calling?” you’d crackled, voice weary from underuse. 

Eddie shrugged. “Not if you pretend you’re Gareth.”

And that was exactly what you were hoping you wouldn’t have to do, shivering in your thin sweater as the dial tone to the Munson’s droned out. What if Wayne answered? What if you couldn’t rightfully approximate the voice of a balls-half-dropped freshman? What if he knew it was you, what would he do? 

Well, you needn’t have worried, because you apparently had a future in impressions. You squeaked out something about being the aforementioned Emerson looking for Eddie (at this ungodly hour of the morning?), something about Hellfire. 

“Gareth the Great! What’s the problem, the Arcane Brotherhood finally scoop your ass? Need me to come bust you from their tower? I told you, goin’ all Fear and Loathing in Luskan is gonna cost y–”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie, it’s me,” you chattered, but even through the worry, a tiny smile pulled at your lips. 

 “Uh. Disregard everything I just said.” His voice had an early-morning static to it that you wanted to stay tuned into. “Hi!”

“Hi.”

“Hi… are you… shivering right now? Need me to come warm you up, because I’d be more than happy to cr–”

“Eddie, I’m at the payphone–”

“--what the hell are you doin’ out there?”

“--will you shut up so I can tell you? I don’t have a lot of time, so I need to cut right to the chase.”

“Sorry,” and this breathy little laugh runs through his voice that nearly knocks you clean out. God. What you wouldn’t give to hear that breathed into your ear instead of through some handset flaking rust. “Please, cut away.”

But, uh, yeah. That other thing. 

“My father got out of prison some-fucking-how–”

“Wait, what? Like he esc–,” you listen as Eddie drops his voice to a hiss, “Like he escaped?!”

“Oh my god, let me finish! –but, psh, no. Ray Doevski is a man of manicured hand, alright, he’s not tunneling out of anywhere. It’s all apparently legally above board, but… he’s– he’s at home. He’s in the trailer… He’s there right now.”

The fear in your chest was beginning to make your breathing feel white hot, hard to get out. Walls closing in. Your dad is at home. He is in your trailer. He is there right now. Five minutes alone in your room, a flick of his eyes over your belongings, he’ll know everything– everything that you’ve done–

You didn’t even notice that your breaths were turning into low, panicked gasps until Eddie’s voice broke through the receiver again. 

“Lace, stay put. I’m comin’ out there.”

“Eddie, no!” you barked down the phone, and a couple of birds scattered from the powerline overhead. Despite the fact that you were pretty sure collapsing into Eddie’s arms would have put a temporary stopper on the panic, you weren’t awarded such luxuries in this life. Figures. “I’ve got to get back to have some phony-ass breakfast with them in, like, now and you cannot be seen near me. Not here, okay?”

What Eddie crackled back with was like a shot of adrenaline to the heart chamber. It wasn’t a plea, or a demand. He simply said, brimming with a bright resolve, “Say the word and I’m there. Right next to you. Hear me?”

You had never heard anyone sound so sure about you before. 

Well, Eddie’s valiance was rivaled only by Nancy Wheeler, who you phoned up next. Karen Wheeler answered in a chirpy voice that even sounded blonde, her voice pitching higher when you announced who was calling. 

“Oh, Lacy! Of course. I’ll grab her for you, sweetie.” A little too goddamn knowing-sounding for your liking. 

But Nancy was all firm edges, picking up on the tremble in your voice just like Eddie had. “Well, you’re coming over. Obviously. Pack a bag– we need to put in serious work for that Streak article you’re finishing, right? Might even be an all-nighter. I’ll order pizza.”

With your dad shackled to the trailer and your mom reluctant to leave his side, there wasn’t a whole lot they could do to prevent you from swanning off to the Wheeler residence. Had to stay true to your commitments, after all, something your dad constantly impressed upon you. But when you reminded him of this as you hitched your overnight bag over your shoulder, heading out to Nancy’s waiting car, he met you with a serene smile. 

“Of course, honey. Do what you need to do.” No argument. No pushback. Not even a snide remark. That chilled you to the bone. 

You attempted to distract yourself from… well, the whole meal of it, by allowing the Precious Moments-themed decor of the Wheeler household to wash over you. The house is warm and chintzy inside, with shoes piled up by the door and laundry overflowing in baskets. Nancy’s bedroom is just as achingly normal in tones of pink and cream, a sanctuary and a strangle between girlhood and growing up. She’d shyly batted a couple of stuffed animals away from the bed that had seen the throes of her and Steve Harrington. Her Tom Cruise poster hangs opposite a pinboard of college brochures. Barbara Holland’s memorial card on her mirror. 

Guilt and innocence and upward mobility. 

As you looked around, you thought about the photo strips from the mall of you and Tina and Cass and Carol, how they were stuffed away in a box somewhere. You made a mental note to tug Nancy into the next photobooth you both came across. And Ronnie, for that matter. 

Nancy was kind about everything, of course, like she always is; she didn’t push for information about your dad’s surprise return, but you gave it pretty willingly as you cracked into her Cosmo and nail polish collection. Everything but the you and Eddie of it all… that juicy morsel you were saving until the witching hour struck, the customary time for girls to tell secrets at sleepovers. 

But somebody always has to try and get the jump on you. 

Which is how you and Nancy end up hanging out of her window, a beaming Eddie staring up at you from the pavement. 

“What the hell is he doing down there?” Nancy hisses, her eyes panicked and flaring. 

“I’m not entirely sure,” but even through the initial flash of panic, your voice has taken on this dreamy quality that makes Nancy roll her eyes–and rightfully so! “Munson, what say you? What the hell are you doing down there?”

“I–”

Nancy doesn’t even let him finish, just lets out an exasperated sigh and tells him, “Just– come up here, alright? I do not want to answer for what’s gonna happen if my dad catches you in the driveway!” 

Without a second thought, Eddie makes to hoist himself into Nancy’s dinky bedroom window. He falls over the little seat in a jangle of silver and leather and hair and gleaming teeth– “Ow! Jesus!” “Eddie, shut. Up!” Nancy winces, you wince, but as Eddie rolls onto his back and clears the hair out of his eyes, you realize that fluttering in your stomach is not a fight or flight response. 

He smiles up at you, all teeth and mischief. “Hi. Whatcha doin’?”

Oh, no.

You nudge him in the ribs with your foot, way too light for him to yelp like that. Nancy looks like she’s going to kick the shit out of him for real–and you too, maybe.

“You’re telling me you didn’t know about this?” she demands, turning on you. You notice that she’s still holding her fingers aloft, which you appreciate! No one seems to care about manicures as much as you do. It’s nice to finally be seen, for Chrissake. 

“Like I’d bring the heat around your place, Nancy! Come on, currently in a precarious situation much?” 

Hilarious to describe Eddie Munson as heat when he is, at best, a bull in Wheeler’s overstuffed china shop. Adorably so, you have to concede, watching him pick up a little porcelain figurine from her dresser. 

Nancy’s not buying it.

“I plead the eternal fifth!” you exclaim, eyes wide and willing the laugh to stay out of your voice as Eddie peers around Nancy’s stuff. “He operates on his own logic.”

Nancy eyes you warily before her gaze darts to Eddie. “Can you not touch anything? ”

“You have a cat just like this!” Eddie barks.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” the both of you chorus.

Delicately, Eddie replaces the little ceramic cat with a severely offended look. “Sheesh, ladies, I thought we were friends.” He drops the pretense pretty fast, jerking his chin in your direction with a smile that has I ain’t goin’ nowhere written all over it. “I need a word with the duchess here.”  

“So leave a message!” 

“He can’t–” “--you think we got answering machines in Forest Hills?” “--my dad–” “--life might be different for all you up here on Maple–” “--will have him taken out by sniper rifle.” “--you know this woman used a payphone for the first time in her life today?” 

A squinting Nancy lets this settle in the air for a second, like a stink bomb that’s just been deployed. I mean, you don’t know if she can see it exactly, but the charge between you and Eddie isn’t exactly subtle. Changed, maybe, from will-they-won’t-they to they-did-and-it’s-hazardous. Realization soon dawns on her. 

“Oh, you–ohhh,” Nancy nods, and chirps another, “Oh!” 

Then, a thunderous hammering that just about brings down Nancy’s bedroom door. The three of you lurch and freeze. Your hand instinctively goes to grab Eddie’s arm, fingers finding the soft leather. Your lashes flutter.

“Nan-cyyyyy!” 

That high-pitched, middle-schooled, reedy little tone? “Oh, shit. It’s just Mike.” 

“Mom said you were getting pizza so you have to get a pie for me and the guys! Wait,” some juvenile sounding muttering, “Two pies!” 

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Nancy snarls, in the way only an older sister can, “I… am going to go out there and run interference and you– five minutes, okay?! I’m–” She goes so far as to set a timer on her watch. “I mean it.”

Both you and Eddie make noises in the affirmative, him sidling closer and closer to you as Nancy moves out of the room. But she pivots, nailing you both with pointed index fingers. “And don’t– don’t you even think about it. You two are not subtle, I will know!” 

“Wheeler, I resent that perverted implication!” Eddie hisses, but his fingers are already walking themselves over the curve of your ass. You’d say something if you weren’t desperately trying to keep yourself under control. 

“Mike, quit yelling the house down like an asshole!” “Who is that? Have you and Lacy got a guy in there? Gross, are you sharing a boyfriend or something?” “Shut up, don’t be disgusting, I’ll kill you, get downstairs!” 

Soon as Nancy’s door clicks behind her, you wrestle an easily malleable Eddie down to sit on the bed and climb right into his lap, thighs planting either side of him. Your body is completely abuzz now that you’re alone with him again, physical form melding instantly to the heat of his body. Eddie’s gaze darkens just a touch, like he’s dimmed the switch inside his head from mischievous to slightly dastardly. “Oh, shut up!” you say, and catch your mouth on his.

“I didn’t say shit!” Eddie breathes in return, falling right into your rhythm. 

“You heard the chief,” you struggle through desperate lip smacking; that lived in taste of him, cigarettes and sweet soda, makes your head feel all baubly on the stem of your neck, “Five minutes,” Eddie’s hands web into your hair, your knees sag into the comforter, “Explain yourself.”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Eddie’s mouth clicks sweetly against yours, words a bullshit mumble against your tongue. A heady mix of relief and desire flood you as you brace your hands around his shoulders. 

“Don’t lie,” you say, tinge of a whimper creeping in as Eddie’s grip starts to harden, indenting the flesh of your thigh. “I’ll kill you.” 

Looking at his grin is one thing, but feeling it against your neck as his mouth embarks on its own journey is something completely different. “Prom–”

“Eddie, how did you even know I was here?” A light, mindless slap comes down on his shoulder. Your breathing is becoming troublingly labored, head becoming troublingly spinny as Eddie’s teeth graze your collarbone.

“Rudimentary guesswork!” he gasps, coming up for air that’s soon stolen by the ready plushness of your mouth. “Okay. Okay. Fine, I saw Wheeler pick you up in her goddamn station wagon and–” Eddie’s voice cracks a touch as your hips press harder into him, “--put two and two together?”

“And you came here because…? Expound, already!” Your furious, air-starved hiss is a stark contrast to the way your lips keep chasing his.

“I wanted to c– I needed to come–” he swallows your stupid blooming smirk with another kiss, “Shut up. I wanted to make sure you were okay. And I couldn’t sleep. Could you sleep? I couldn’t sleep, just kept thinkin’... Kept… hnm, thinkin’ about you… About you like this… ‘n last night…”

As he babbles, your heart jackrabbits. Christ, you want him so bad. You’d listen to him like this for hours–talking like this alone, open and wanting, is enough to get you off. Eddie’s easing your skirt up your ass, rucking that fabric up slow like he did last night–but you want more than last night, if that’s possible, you want all of him, and for longer and for good–

You want him so badly that you forget where you are. Eyes snap open to catch direct iris-on-iris contact with Nancy’s Tom Cruise poster, hung strategically in view from her bed. 

Nancy’s bed. Nancy’s room. Nancy’s fucking Tom Cruise poster.

“Shit,” you say in a strangle, right against his cheek. “Shit, what are we doing?” You rear right back, getting a good look at Eddie’s ruffled demeanor, his blush-high complexion. That intoxicated look he’s wearing just from feeling you up.

Someone looking at you the way Eddie is right now feels completely, totally brand new. Ardent and urgent, untouched by influence. 

You’re almost positive that your gulp is audible.

With a couple of rapid blinks, Eddie seems to come back down to earth. 

“No. No, you’re right, um– listen, at the risk of completely humiliating myself–”

“More than you did crawling in that window? This is crazed.”

Eddie pauses a beat, a genuine look of offense constricting his features. His hands have moved from your ass to your waist, and don’t shift. 

“Hold on–Doevski, are you marking my dismount?”

You assholes just can’t help yourselves, can you? Mouth twitching at the corners, you harden up your gaze.

“I’m just saying, if you weren’t wearing ten tonnes of regalia, you might be able to make a more subtle entrance–”

“--who died and made you a hellenodikas?”

“Oh! Pulling out the Ancient Greek mythology on me now, huh?”

“I would never… pull out on you,” Eddie says and manages to hold his stone faced expression for a grand total of half a second before both your faces split in two. See, you hate him for this; that he can keep perfectly in time with you, and has since the jump. 

You’re the first to move. You edge yourself off Eddie’s lap, his hands mournfully side along your legs as you move.

“C’mon. Montague moment’s over. Kick rocks.”

He gives you one good, solid nod and mockingly straightens himself out before attempting to worm his way back out the window. Crouching half in-half out, he pauses. Some remnant of a smile he smiled at you about a million years ago flickers across his face.

“You know, Lace,” Eddie says, “you keep throwin’ me out of windows like this, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you don’t like me.”

The door of the record store. The hot blast of stoned realization. Your fingers around his wrist. 

Knees working faster than your brain, you bend to Eddie and meet his mouth again. The kiss is soft and gentle, devolving into several little pecks around his smiling cheeks, his eyes, his forehead. To tide you over. To be continued.

“Eh, I don’t like you,” you mumble, tips of your noses brushing. “That much.”

“Yeah? Well, you got a funny way of showing it.”

You watch Eddie’s dismount (an easy six) and nervous jog all the way ‘til he’s disappeared through the shrubbery of the Wheeler’s. Soon as he’s out of sight, you’re almost positive that you catch a flash of burgundy paintwork zipping past the driveway, but it’s too fast to tell. Weird. 

Nancy near slices your fingers clean off as she noiselessly returns to the room, slamming the window shut. For as enraged as she’s trying to look, this girl with her half-painted nails also bears the familiar expression of someone baying for gossip. 

“Spill everything. Right now.” 

—

Eddie is a living, breathing, stink bomb of a cliche. He’s walking on air, he’s signed a lease on cloud nine, he’s all Gene Kelly’d out and still tap dancing down the locker lined steel trap of Hawkins High. Push back his curling bangs and he’s sure that PROPERTY OF LACY DOEVSKI is etched on his forehead, by the delicate hand that wields your fountain pen. 

Dude’s a goner. Lights out, KO’d, hit the bricks gone. And he only has himself to blame. 

If it were anyone else, he’s pretty sure it’d be different. Easier to stamp out the flame of hotheaded lust beneath his sneakers like a bag of dogshit on fire if it was some other right-side-of-town type girl. If it was just about being his diametric opposite. But it’s not. It’s you, sharp and silly and sexy, a total turn on even when you’re doing your best O’Donnell impression to sic him into studying. The you that he’s been slyly slipping into the NPCs of Hellfire, in ways that make Ronnie’s eyes roll (but she still tries to flirt with them, and that weirdly makes him a little… jealous? That dwarf is slick when she wants to be). The you that sometimes make a cameo appearance at his lunch table when you’re not holed up in the newspaper room, sat with poise and pith that the rest of the gaggle of nerds just don’t know what to do with. 

Eddie can’t count the amount of times he’s wanted to crawl across that table and kiss you. And he’s been close to doing it. Couple times. Remnants of sloppy joes on his hands and knees.

But now he can kiss you, at least in private anyway, because there’s still a roadblock or two you have to navigate. And so what! What’s a little challenge when you’re this blissfully, head fuckerly, heartburningly in l—

“Watch where you’re going, asshole.” 

This particular dagger comes straight out of the maw of Hawkins High’s crown jackass, Steve Harrington, whose shoulder Eddie’s just accidentally checked. Now, Eddie’s never cared much for Harrington, but never thought much about him either—the feeling, outside of scoring a baggie or two, is apparently mutual. But the glower Steve is sporting says anything but nonchalance. 

“Jeez, Harrington,” the grin Eddie’s sporting makes a full meal out of a plate of shit, “If you like me so much, you can just say so. No need for the whole pullin’ pigtails routine.”

Steve stares at him for a good, hard second or two— so rigidly, in fact, that it nearly makes Eddie’s face falter. Who pissed in this guy’s Cheerios? Because, even if he double counts on his fingers, Eddie’s sure it wasn’t him. 

“I,” Steve starts, pretty dumbly, “I’m havin’ a party on Friday. You should come.”

Eddie knows an order when he hears one, but it’s usually couched in something like, You got any good stuff, man? Y’know, phrased in the strained way popular kids do when they pretend not to hate his guts for half a second. 

He knocks a mocking two fingered salute off his forehead and Steve’s grimace deepens. “Be there with bells on, sire.”

Up the hallway, one of the classroom doors creaks open. 

“I don’t have all afternoon, Mr Munson.” 

Steve looks past him to the imposing, near-six foot figure of Ms O’Donnell, impatiently tapping her shoes against the linoleum. Eddie’s smirk flattens into a tight line.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m in high demand! As you can see.”

Steve doesn’t dignify that with a response and takes off toward the exit. 

“Quit gazing after the quarterback and get in here,” O’Donnell demands. And who is Eddie to deny her, Amazonian Baba Yaga that she is? 

“Ms O’Deeeee, you call yourself a Hawkins Tiger?” he says, turning on heel, “You oughta know that Harrington is one of our finest ball players. Loves to play with balls, that one.”

“You can attest to that first hand, can you?” O’Donnell snarks, settling down behind her desk and gesturing Eddie to get comfortable at the top of the class. 

Oh, Iris. She’s right on his level, when she’s not tearing him a new asshole, scholastically speaking. 

Her name may not be Iris either, but tomato potato. Eddie slumps down into the desk like a graceless, clinking cat.

“I know you didn’t bring me here to talk about my extracurriculars. That would be a breach of propriety on your part.”

“Sure as hell I did not.” O’Donnell removes her eyeglasses and pinches the bridge of her nose, as she often does not even thirty seconds into an interaction with Eddie. “I’m missing my granddaughter’s recital for this, I want you to know that.” 

He’s pulled out the there’s no way you’re old enough to be a grandmother line half a dozen too many times for it to fly again. Not that it ever did— look at this woman, with her tented fingers! She has a clear sight line right through his bullshit. 

“I appreciate that you value my education more than some pipsqueak with a cello.” 

“The problem is that you don’t,” O’Donnell sighs. There’s a note of defeat in her voice. “Eddie, we need to talk.” 

In all the years O’Donnell has been on his case (four consecutive), she’s never addressed him by his first name. Eddie shifts in his seat a little, good mood not quite punctured yet. But askew, slightly. 

“They finally found out about our clandestine little tryst, huh? Well, you can tell Higgins and the school board that I’m—“

“Shut up.”

He does. Right up.

“You understand why I push you so hard, don’t you?” O’Donnell asks him, and instead of some smartass response, Eddie clams. Ask him honestly and he’d say she’s a past-prime faculty lifer in desperate need of a power trip. That’s the narrative he’d always gone with anyway, the reason she’d always single him out and make an example of him and insist on the repeat exams he’d rarely end up passing anyways. Like, just flunk him, okay? Get the humiliation over with. 

“It’s because I know your situation,” she tells him, “And I know you’re better than it. By a goddamn country mile.” 

That knocks him. He blinks. Huh?

“You’re bright, you know. If you only allowed yourself to be,” O’Donnell nods, leafing through a manila folder in front of her, “If you could only find some way to focus, you’d be a halfway to decent student. Might even make it to college.”

“Don’t be too generous,” Eddie scoffs, arms folding over his chest. He can feel the defense rising. 

O’Donnell stares at him over the rim of her glasses. “Oh, I’m not. Because the reality is, you’re too far gone. I’ve done all I can to try and drag you out of the sandpit of shit you’ve managed to fall into, but our time is coming to a swift and brutal end.” 

A beat.

“Christ, who died and made you my guidance counselor—“

“You’re not graduating, Eddie.”

A cold sear runs down Eddie’s spine. “Um.”

Alright. Alright, look. It’s not like he hadn’t expected this, in some way or another, but again, if he is really honest… Eddie had expected some eleventh hour miracle that ended up with him with that diploma in his hand. Walking the stage in that godawful green gown, scooting down the line to take his place beside Ronnie and… and you. 

First Munson to ever do it, at least in the proud township Hawkins. Something solid to his name, finally. A GED that wasn’t necessarily a ticket to college, but proof that he could break the family curse of not following through. He didn’t need to be valedictorian or anything, he just needed… 

“But—but,” begins the scramble, “I’ve been doing… better, right? Like, I’ve gotten my grades up… not massively but a little!”

And he had. Fact is, these last handful of months, he hadnt just been dicking around with you and Ronnie after school— you’d actually gone out of your way to slice off some of those legendary brain smarts and slide them his way, bumping him up a letter grade in at least three subjects. 

You’d said something similar to O’Donnell.

You’ve got something, y’know, beyond all the hair and regalia. This system is rigged to fail anyone who surrenders to being, like, a bad test taker— so you just have to game the system and make it work for Eddie Munson. Right?

Then you’d poked him in the cheek with your number two pencil and he’d forgotten everything he’d ever learned, brain lingering on that little touch for days. 

That was before. Before your bedroom. Before Wheeler’s bedroom. Shit, before Granny Ecker’s closet. 

“Now, Eddie. Jesus. You’d need a miracle to get you anywhere close where you need to be to get out of here. Look, I am telling you this because I—“

“Why? Why do you even care? You’re the one that’s been failing me half the time.”

“Yes, because you’ve been failing, smartass! Think I’ve got a choice in the matter?” O’Donnell and her high Midwestern fury shuts him up again. “I’m telling you this because… well, it’s time to weigh up your options.” 

“Which are none.”

“Which could be none. The question on almost the entire faculty’s mind is, why haven’t you dropped out by now? And I’ve got a pretty good stab, I think.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

“Because, contrary to popular belief, you’re not your father.” 

Eddie has to look away. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I knew Al Munson. My first year here, I taught him. And I was green then, sure, in the goddamn dark ages but even then I knew he was just looking for any easy way out.” 

“And I’m not, huh?”

“No. Because you would’ve dropped out by now.” O’Donnell closes the folder like she’s seen enough. “Eddie, you have something to prove. And it’s worth proving.” 

Far be it from Eddie to believe that any teacher in this school actually gives a shit about him, but the glance he steals to O’Donnell makes a damn strong argument otherwise. 

“So w… what do I do?”

“God knows half the staff doesn’t want you around for another year. Sorry, but it’s true,” O’Donnell rolls her eyes and Eddie feels the sting of his last name, the skid mark of his father’s legacy following him wherever he goes, “I’ll work on it. Starting with Higgins, which should earn me canonization of some kind.”

“Castle in the sky and all that shit.”

Eddie doesn’t exactly nod; defiance is as strong as his white blood cells. He kind of wants O’Donnell to prove that she’s serious about helping him. About caring at all. 

She goes on, tone strict and pushing. 

“But you– keep your nose to the grindstone. Just because you’re not gonna pull through this year completely doesn’t mean that the improvement in the last couple of months meant nothing. I have noticed, by the way. And, uh, keep up the peer tutoring.” 

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Peer tutoring,” there’s amusement dancing in O’Donnell’s words that makes them a little uneven, “Lacy Doevski’s been so kind as to take you under her wing, hasn’t she?”

A shock of heat takes seat on his cheeks. Right. He’d forgotten about that scam you ran like a ride on lawnmower through Kaminsky’s class. 

“Y—yeah, somethin’ like that.”

“Well, keep that something going. It’s good. For the both of you,” O’Donnell clips with a knowing look. “I knew her father too.” 

She dismisses him with a wave and Eddie, feeling like she’d just made him tie up a pair of leaden boots, follows the tug of his deflated heart like a compass. A tread through the eerily empty after-hours halls brings back a memory here and there. Getting caught smoking under the stairwell on the first day of freshman year; a girl named Phoebe lending him a pencil in Biology, which he ended up using to pretend-stab Tommy Hagan who made fun of her stammer (Tommy cried like a bitch, as if Eddie would ever actually do that); fighting against his better judgment and jimmying the lock of a classroom open so he could help Gareth make a new character sheet for Hellfire and getting detention when they were found out, while the freshman hid under the desk so he wouldn’t be caught too. Plenty of little battles lost. But this is the big one–the one that tells him he’s doomed to repeat this adolescent torture for at least another year. 

However, as soon as he shoulders the swinging door open and sees you, bathed in a pool of lamplight with reams of typewriter paper surrounding you, and you pull your fountain pen from your mouth with a tired smile, stitched together just for him… 

KO. The big gold belt. Eddie Munson, heavyweight champion of the world.  

“Hey, Hildy,” he says, sliding down the short handrail into the typing pool, just because he knows it’ll make you roll your eyes and laugh. And it totally does, a croaky little giggle rasping out of your lips. “What’s the scoop?”

“Don’t you dare come any closer.” Your voice, your outstretched hand, makes Eddie freeze in a rigged marionette’s pose. It’s like your words have actual alchemic pull, how powerless he is to obey you and shit. “Let me just…”

“Seriously?” Eddie lets his arms drop, playing with a ball of elastic bands from the desk he sits on as you painstakingly reorganize your papers. “Y’know, I really should have an early preview of this, given I’m the star of the goddamn article and all. What if I object? What if you paint me in, like, an unflattering light? I could sue. Character defamation.”

“You’re taking care of that defamation all on your own, darling,” you yawn, the punch of your words not quite hitting like they usually would as you stagger across the newsroom to him. You’re exhausted–Eddie can see it. The deep shadows under your pretty eyes, new ink stains appearing on your fingers every day. You’re jerky and shaky, overcaffeinated to the point that the drug ain’t even working anymore. You’re working yourself to the bone. It’s been like this for ages; every spare moment that Eddie doesn’t see you, you’re playing catch up for college applications. “But no. Not ‘til it’s cooked and printed. My portfolio needs this article for a lead-in and it has to be bulletproof. Watertight. Unassailable. Other words for–”

“--perfect?” Eddie steps in, tossing the elastics over his shoulder and tugging you closer so that you’re just about sitting in his lap. “In that case, you chose a real winner of a subject.”

“Eddie.”

“No, seriously! Trailer park nobody with a fantasy game club. Wah-wah. I don’t envy the amount of fluffing you probably have to do to make it remotely appealing to… whoever’s in charge of reading that shit.” 

“Admissions board,” you supply. You’re close enough that Eddie can taste your perfume and honestly, he’s doing a great job of not just licking it clean off your neck. “And I know this is one of your self-pity rally cries, and I won’t entertain it. Besides, it’s not just about you. It’s about Hellfire. The whole… well, I’m not saying any more. You’re just gonna have to read it and find out.” 

“But I want my ego massaged,” Eddie pitifully whines, right out his nose. He clutches onto you harder, the pressure of your body against his alleviating the pressure of his total failure. His breath snags as you, so tired that you’re nearly trembling, kiss him softly. 

“Mm, let’s compromise. I can massage something else,” you hum against his chasing lips, but something saintly touches him before you get the chance to move your inky hand. He uh-uhs you. 

“Much as I appreciate the offer and will immediately curse myself for turning you down the second I get back to the trailer… you’re worn out, Lace. Seriously.” Eddie flicks a lock of your hair out of your face. Were you always like this, even when you were queen bitch? Did anyone ever think to check in on you before? “You been sleepin’? At all?”

“I have a countdown to my future and a convict father taking up residence on my couch. Of course I’m not sleeping. I’m optimizing,” you snit in the sleepiest voice he’s ever heard, your head is lolling against his shoulder. The pout you’re wearing makes Eddie want to bundle you right back to Forest Hills, tuck you up in his grody sheets and not let the rest of the world in ‘til you’ve got your strength back. Just you, him, some records. He’d read to you from The Silmarillion, because that was a surefire way to send you unconscious in seconds. 

“I just need to get this article done and then I’m… I’m good. It’s out of my hands,” you croak.

“Then it’s… NYU’s problem, right?” says Eddie.

“Columbia,” you murmur, “with Emerson as a safety.” 

“Lofty safety.”

“I’m a lofty girl. But you know what? I’m gonna get in.”

A pang in the key of dread hits Eddie in the throat. “I believe that.”

“But you know why?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Because of a silly little story I wrote about you.” You curl Eddie’s hair around your finger and he wonders if you can feel the physical sensation of him melting. Dripping all over you like a pathetic soft serve. “It’s so beyond comprehension but… You’re gonna make my dreams come true, Eddie Munson. I can feel it.”

About time I returned the favor, huh? is what he wants to say, but it’s not the time and it’s not the place and he thinks you might be drifting off in his arms. So he just breathes you in, and takes the win.

—

One thing Ray Doevski was always known to do was move. Not so much in a without exercise, the body devours itself kind of fashion, but in a without constantly one-upping oneself, the self devours itself kind of fashion. With Ray, moving was always some new business venture, some new property acquisition. Some other new reason for a cocktail party, so your mom would have an excuse to pretty herself up and you’d make your on-cue cameo, sweeping through the room and waving at all the important people your father had charmed and collected like stamps. And like stamps, the people he tended to collect all got more valuable with age. Ray liked old money, even if your family was on the newer end of the see-saw.

You saw all that for what it was now. Running the big scamola, charming these people out of pocket with that ugly Hawkins High class ring on his finger. Gold, garish, glaring, a glimmering green stone set right in the center. You hated that thing. 

So, to see someone so diligently dedicated to movement and momentum sit docile on the sofa is pretty fucking disturbing. With that ankle monitor permanently welded to his leg, Ray can’t do so much as stand outside for a smoke without the heat coming down on him. Such are the conditions of his parole. It’s a humiliating fate, watching someone so previously well-kempt rot before you. 

And more disturbing still, your father seems… not unhappy about his situation. As far as a man on house arrest goes, he’s not angry. He’s not irritable, he doesn’t even seem that frustrated. It’s strange. He’d even asked you to borrow a couple of your books to keep him occupied. That threw you. He’d never taken an interest in your voracious love for literature before… but boredom does absolute downright Invasion of the Body Snatchers type shit to a man.

He smiles at you from the corner of the sofa as you come in from an evening shift at the bookstore, your worn copy of Answered Prayers by Truman Capote in hand. It sends a cold dart through your tummy. 

“You!” comes a snarl and your elbow is being snatched before you can even regain your bearings. 

“What the f–”

Your mother slams her bedroom door so hard it seems to shake the trailer. It occurs to you that you haven’t stood inside her bedroom in weeks–months, maybe–or even seen inside of it save for the odd glance. Even then, it was always the sad staging of dresses and hose strewn across the bed, glasses with scarlet staining sitting on the nightstand and the smell of cigarette smoke and perfume growing old and flat and stale. But she’d straightened the place up– now the bedsheets sat tight around the corners of the mattress, and Gloriana’s jewelry was tidied away somewhere. No used wine glasses to behold. Like housekeeping had breezed through. 

She told you she worked as a maid once, ‘For about a minute. Before your father rescued me.’

“What’s your problem?” you snipe, rubbing your pinched elbow through your sweater sleeve. 

Your mother exhales a furious stream of smoke through her grit teeth, Dunhill poised, lit and ready. “You have to do something with him!” 

“Me?!” you hiss back. Alarm sets off a roil in your stomach. You’d made incredibly delicate work of avoiding your father since he landed on the other side of the trailer’s formica table, notching it all down to I’m eighteen, I’m about to graduate, I’ve got work to do! All of which is definitely true, but you’d padded it out a little. 

Padded it out with the time you spent with your lips on Eddie Munson’s lips, sure, but…

“Yes, you!” Gloriana spits, “Don’t think I’ve noticed how you’ve been skirting around him since he came back. Shouldn’t you be over the moon with yourself?”

“I am. I am over the moon.” Greatest lie you’d ever told. “He’s back! Hurray! We’re all happy families again. Do we get the house back? Do I get my car?”

Your mother’s lip lifts into a little smirk. “Oh, Lacy. Has someone gone and turned your head about Daddy? Knocked him off his pedestal?”

See, your mother’s always had this thing– this seething jealousy about the way you looked up to your father. Not necessarily because you never looked up to her the same way (you’d written plenty in your journal about the vapidity of being a ‘society wife’, as she definitely was– a kind of cornfed Midwestern Slim Keith, an ex-pageant girl from the unremarkable middle point of Hawkins who benefitted entirely from her once-poor husband’s grafting), but because you were there at all. Yearning for his approval and robbing his attention. 

Not like you ever got much of either. 

“You want I should call the cops and tell them he’s been running phone scams from the trailer?” 

Your mom lets out a little huff that could be mistaken for a laugh. “He just sits there, all day long. And when he’s not sitting, he’s curtain twitching.”

Just like you’d thought. Rear Window. Danger zone. 

“This place could use a neighborhood watch,” comes the pith through your nerves, “Has he seen anything good, at least?”

Gloriana rolls her eyes at you, hooded with the pretense of as if I’d tell you. “That’s the other thing. He doesn’t talk. But he does ask questions.” 

“Like?” you ask, after a rough swallow that alerts you to how dry your throat has suddenly gotten.

Finely penciled eyebrows quirk. It reminds you of how much your mother can resemble Ava Gardner, when she puts some chutzpah into it. “Better get out there if you want to keep him from his suspicions, is all I’m saying.” 

As if she knows more than she’s letting slip. 

“Shouldn’t you be over the moon? Aren’t you happy that he’s out?” You turn the mirror on her. Gloriana’s eyelids flicker, as if she’s exhausted by the mere question. 

“Of course I am. Don’t be ridiculous,” she sighs. “But some things… were easier. Before. You and I didn’t need to pretend–”

That we liked each other. 

“Yeah.” You snip right into her sentence because although you’re well aware of the scope of your mother’s feelings toward you, it still stings to hear it said out. She’s still your mom, after all. Or, she should be. 

Standing in this room is making you nauseous. 

“I’ll keep him occupied for a while.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

Moments later, you’re tossing a pack of cards on the little formica breakfast table. It used to be a universal language in your household, when your father was still feigning interest in you. He taught you to play cards, and taught you how to cheat at them. You only retained one of those things. Little miracles.

“Want to deal?”

Ray slowly closes the cover on Answered Prayers and rises to the table. 

“Why don’t you give it a try?” he says, a smile playing around his mouth. You resist the pull to roll your eyes, as if he’s bestowing such an honor on you—and wonder when exactly you did stop worshiping him.

Sometime between the last time you’d seen the back of his hand and the guilty verdict, you’re guessing. 

You lay out his hand, and yours. He archly remarks, “Gin?”

“I’ve gotten better.”

“You’ve gotten a lot of things, haven’t you?” Ray says, focusing on his cards. “Lot of things have changed.”

“What does that mean?”

“Look, I admit, I came on a little… strong that first night I came home.” Strong was one word for it; you’d call it more of a three-hour cross examination delivered while you were trapped inside an iron maiden. You’d shed as little light on the whole Munson situation as you could. He gave me a ride once or twice. We go to school together, what do you expect? “But can you blame me? With you and your mother living in… this place? I had to know. To be sure that you were safe.”

You want to think, he doesn’t give a shit about safety. He gives a shit about treason. About me fraternizing with his enemy’s offspring, or whatever. But the way he says it gives you pause. 

“It’s not so bad,” you shrug, swapping out a card. “It’s cozy.”

We’re not cozy people.

Ray takes a dig into the stock pile himself, regarding you with a curious look. “See what I mean? You seem… more willing to accept your circumstances. It’s interesting.”

The line between Ray Doevski praising and insulting you is like fishing line; depends on what he’s baiting you with. Accepting one’s circumstances was usually Doevskian for accepting failure.

“What, did you expect me to be kicking up tantrums about not having a clawfoot bathtub anymore? Because I’m not,” you smirk, “I’ve even adjusted to the notion of not always having hot water.”

Your mind flashes back to the small, square shower in the Munson trailer and you make a mental note to ask Eddie how his water heated to boiling within seconds. 

“That, I could personally never get used to.”

“Plumbing wasn’t so great in IDOC, I take it?”

“No. But that didn’t register so high on my scale of problems inside.”

“Was it scary?”

“Yes.”

“And were you… in danger?”

A long beat settles between you. Ray shifts in the vinyl-backed seat, a tiny squeak the only sound between him and his apparent discomfort. Chills, again. You get a chill. 

“... yes,” he says, and meets your eyes. They’ve sunk a fraction more than the last time you’d looked into them. Some of the gray shocks in his hair have turned white. Scary, to witness real evidence of your parents growing old. And frightened. “Lacy, I’d done badly by a lot of people. Some of them were even inside with me, and they wanted retribution, and that was fair. I could live with that,” depending on what end of a shiv he was on, you guessed, “But I also did badly by you. Very badly.”

Ah, acknowledgement that their father has lied about their criminal enterprises for the better part of her life–just what every little girl wants. It wasn’t as if you had still staunchly believed the not guilty campaign that your parents had spearheaded throughout Ray’s trial, even in the face of stony evidence. He was guilty; you had to figure out if you cared about the crimes, or the fact that he’d led you to believe he was so much better than he was. 

But this is the first time he’s really copped to it. 

You’re not quite sure what his admission is supposed to do, so you stare at your spades.  

“It makes sense that you don’t trust me anymore,” Ray goes on, “But I love you, and I always will. All I’ve ever wanted is to provide the best for you, the very best I could. Better than that, even– because that’s what you deserve. The whole world, Lacy.” 

Stomach churning, you wish he’d stop calling you that. Your nickname sounds wrong in his mouth. A world apart from the girl he thinks you are. 

“I just feel like you could’ve done that without skimming money off children’s charities,” you hear yourself saying before you register that your mouth is drawling off the words, “And laundering money through those rentals. And… what was it, drug trafficking? I lost count.”

Knowingly, you brace for explosion. Ray flipping the table, scattering his hand and laying an open palm across your face, the dull thunk of his Hawkins High class ring making contact with your cheekbone. That’d be something. Something solid. Something you could point to, that said I know who he is, I tried to stand up to him, I’m not him, please don’t think that I am.

But he doesn’t, so the line of your shoulders tense for no reason. He digs a cigarette out of the soft pack laying on the table and flicks it towards you with a fingertip. His right hand, ring finger bare. He’s not wearing it. 

He is wearing a sad grin of humility, shrugging like, well, kid, you got me there. Dead to rights.

He looks like somebody else. 

“So, how’s your life been, Lacy Doevski?” A charm dances around his tone, the way a flame dances around the edge of a photograph that doesn’t want to burn. 

And despite your best fucking instincts, despite the way that nickname falls out of his mouth like upchuck, despite the fact that you should hate him, there’s a change in the lighting around him that you just cannot help but want to engage with. 

“You really wanna know?”

“I really wanna know. Tell me everything. The road to Columbia, how’s that going? The newspaper. This job at the bookstore in town. Your friend, uh, Nancy, right? She seems like a nice kid. I know Ted Wheeler, a little bit. Went to school with him and her mom, Karen. And everybody knew Karen, but, uh, don’t mention that to Nancy!” He steals another card from the stock pile, but doesn’t discard one from his hand. You decide not to mention it. “I want to know everything, Lacy. I’ve been way too distracted with things that don’t matter as much as you. Call this… makin’ up for lost time.” 

Your shoulders shrug into themselves, like when you were a little kid and he’d let you sit on the big leather chair in his office after you’d sat outside the door for a solid hour, begging to come in. The corners of your lips pick up.

“Just about to finish my applications. I’m submitting this writing portfolio–”

“--I thought we talked about business school?”

You seize. You had. An effort in setting you up for a future of undebatable prestige started to sound more like sending you off to the meet market, the more your father talked about it. Business school is where you’ll meet young men of excellent character, Lorelei. Excellent family stock. It won’t hurt if they see that you’re smart, too. 

… why the everloving fu-huuuck would you go to business school when you spend every spare second of the day giving yourself carpal tunnel and preaching about that Woolfe chick, Lace? Nope, you need someplace with climbing ivy and people whose dissenting opinions on cliterature you can cat fight with. Eddie Munson, leaning over the counter at the Bookstore and shedding light on your secret desire to bury yourself in novels and pretention with his ever-burning flare of perception. 

Cliterature? you’d asked, brow an arch. 

Classic literature. As written by the fairer sex. Bronte and broads.

Well, Jesus Christ. Who died and let you lead the third wave of feminism, Munson?

“Um…” You hadn’t prepared a good defense for this. You felt a stab of nausea.

“It’s okay!” your dad chuckles, tapping you on the wrist in reassurance, “You changed your mind. That’s fine. But it’s still Columbia, right?”

“God, of course. Couldn’t imagine anywhere else.” 

“Good.” The smile reaches his eyes. “Sorry, your portfolio.”

“Right, uh– I’m just about polishing it off and I’ve got a great lead in, my last article for the Streak…” you trail off. A warning signal travels down your brain stem. Don’t tell him. Don’t tell him about Hellfire. You’ve got to keep him as far away as–

“About what?” Ray asks brightly. Picks up a card. Discards another. You see a twitch in his mouth. 

“An after school club,” you blurt. “My, um. My friend Ronnie’s in it. We were… lab partners. Junior year. Dissected frogs together.”

“Yeah, that really bonds people for life, huh?” Ray says. Not a trace of irony. “Well, I look forward to reading it. If you want me to. I know writers can be very precious about their work.” 

And their subjects.

“Uh, well. We’ll see. I might not want to jinx it after I send off my applications.” 

“Superstitious,” he smiles, “Just like your old man.”

“And I have a boyfriend.” The blurting just doesn’t let up from you, eh? Like you have to cover all your bases while Ray is swept up in this gregarious mood. “And he goes to… Ithaca. I think.”

Your father makes a face that stands up to some interpretation of, la-di-da, lookit you! and Christ, you’re nearly sure he’s bought it. College guy… he’d kind of fallen by the wayside since you took that trip to Saturday morning detention. He’d better fucking pick up if you call now, if he hadn’t gone back to Vermont or wherever. 

“Well, look, I’m glad you’ve kept that momentum even given… everything. And I’m glad you seem to be surrounding yourself with good, level-headed people.” People he would have called nobodies eight months ago. People you would have called nobodies eight months ago. “Like Nancy. And this Ronnie. And that you’ve stayed out of trouble, as much as you can.”

You swear you see his eyes flick to the window beside you. In the direction of the trailer across the way, where a warm yellow light glows from the bedroom. There’s a shake in your breath, but Ray isn’t quite done. 

“I’m incredibly proud of the woman you’re becoming, Lacy. And look at that–” His hand slaps down on the table, revealing his melds. “--gin! I thought you said you got better at this, kid!”

“You took me by surprise, Daddy. What can I say.”

—

“Quit that. That’s explosive cargo you’re flickin’.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Tap, tap, tap. One of the hinges of this rusty, crusty, dusty old domed metal lunchbox is loose, and you can’t stop toying with it. “This is what you’ve been carrying your motherlode around in?” 

“What about your mother’s load?” Eddie says, scraping the lunchbox a couple of inches away from you on the bench. Still, you reach for it, and he smacks your hand away. “Respect the receptacle, please. It’s a thing of legend.”

“Seems like a dangerously obvious hiding place for a bunch of illegal substances,” you say, brow creased. Had Eddie put any thought into his operation thus far? Because this seems extremely haphazard. He’s always swinging that goddamn thing around school, and one look inside the false bottom could put him away for a long time, if the Reagan administration had anything to do with it. 

“Exactly! Making it the last place anyone would think to look!” Eddie beams, flicking the lid open. “Class A drugs? Why, no, officer, these are my party pretzels. From home.” A deeply tragic baggie of crushed pretzel pieces lands between the two of you. Your frown deepens a degree or two. Eddie shrugs, shaking his curls out a little and starts picking through the detritus in the lunch box. Other than a couple of dime bags, a box of Camels, a lighter and some loose Twizzlers, his load’s light.

“How exactly does one get into the business of selling hydroponics et cetera out of a lunchbox, Eddie?” 

“Why, you lookin’ to diversify your criminal skillset?” That sly poke. You roll your eyes, jiggling your mary jane’d foot and pick up a bag of Mary Jane herself.

“I’m just curious about the trajectory! The more I learn about you, the more it occurs to me that you’re possibly the uncoolest drug dealer in history. You know, stereotypically speaking.” 

“The answer I think you’re looking for is that I’m a big, big boy,” Eddie rasps, taking an exaggerated chomp out of one of the liquorice ropes, “and I contain multitudes. Shit happens. Sometimes it leads to you selling pot. Et cetera.”

“What kind of shit?”

He considers you for a second, but you’re bright-eyed and curious about him. He jumps back from you when you’re like this sometimes, like he just touched a hot stove. You’d give him shit for it, but you did the same thing. The Twizzler waves in your face. “If I didn’t have such a brain-damage inducing crush on you, I’d think you were a narc.”

 “Eddie.” Though your heart does jump like a needle on a scratched record when he says crush. Particularly when he says crush like that. But he could elaborate on that for you later. 

“Fine, fine, fine– I’m not gonna get into the finer points of it now, but… basically, some shit went down with my dad that meant I had to move in with Wayne and working at the plant isn’t actually the cash cow that you’d think it is, and neither is me picking up barback shifts at the Hideout so… I hit up my dad’s friend Rick who said he’d help me out if I ever needed it and here we are. Lunchbox and all. Half ounces for halfwits at horrible parties.” Eddie toughens into this tense line as he speaks, like he’s halfway embarrassed about having to do this. “Means to an end, y’know?” 

You nod, though you want to prod further so bad. “Do what they expect of you until you don’t have to anymore.”

Exactly, Eddie mouths with narrowed eyes, another bite into the Twizzler. “You know what tune I’m singin’.”

Better than the both of you realize, it seems.

“This whole,” you gesture around the circular clearing, the place everyone knows you come to meet Munson to score product, “place does kind of look like the kind of hotspot where one might catch Goody Proctor dancing with the Devil.” 

It’s your first time out here–you’d elegantly skirted the responsibility of ever having to pick up for your group of friends but it’s… delightfully creepy. Whispers cragging through the tree branches. Eddie’s presence knocking you off guard at every turn–well, not you. Not anymore. 

“Rumors are kind of starting to add up. Satanic worship, human sacrifice… girls panties going missing. That’s all I’m saying.” 

A maddened grin peeling over his features, Eddie scooches closer to where you sit, perched on top of the rotting picnic table. “Why do you think I lured you out here, Lace?” His fingertips race up your calf and you spill a giggle, squirming away. “The Dark Lord requires another infernal bride!” He leaps up, ticklish touch attacking your sides ‘til you’re shrieking, not working quite as hard as you could to beat him away. 

“Ed–Eddie, st-aaahap!”

“It’s all cool! It’s no big deal! Just take your clothes off and sign my yearbook! Then, hey presto, the big guy’ll give you whatever you want.”

Eddie’s hands slow to a still on your hips, your uncrossed legs caging his sides. His lids fall, mouth prepping a pout for yours, but you press your thumb into his lips. 

“Whatever I want?” you whisper, eyes narrowing. 

A smirk flickers across Eddie’s mouth, a puff of breath pressing his mouth into your thumb until the tip is wedged between the edge of his teeth. Your breathing stills for a second and you resist pushing it further into his mouth. 

“Shit,” he murmurs, moving your hand across his cheek so he can kiss you full on the mouth. His tongue is needy and searching, making you curve into him just a touch. You can feel the prickle of his stubble coming up. Eddie with a five o’clock shadow… “I’d give you whatever you want, Lace. John Hancock in the Book of the Beast or no.” 

The wettened peaks of his lips go straight for your jugular. You two have shared enough mouth-to-mouth episodes for him to know that feeling his tongue against your pulse is liable to make you do nutty things. 

“Tell me what you want, dahling one,” Eddie’s mouth crawls up your jaw in an approximation of Bela Lugosi, up to your ear, where he knows you’re ticklish too. You feel him smile at your breathy laugh. “Anything you desire, anything beneath the blazing sun and under the heaving mud, anything under the banner of… the Hawkins township, because I don’t have a lot of gas money right now…”

“I want you,” you struggle through a sigh–his stupid mouthy beautiful mouth, “to get rid of that goddamn lunchbox. At least, for illegal purposes. Keep it for pretzels.”

Eddie honks out a nasally groan far too close to your ear and you jerk back. “No! You’re supposed to be all, ‘I absolutely indubitably want you, Eddie,’ and then we’re supposed to, ee-ee,” he thrusts his clothed hips into yours animatedly, “on this very table top. Until you realize it’s covered in woodlice.”

“Well, I can’t fuck you if you’re in prison. I’m telling you, that old tin thing falls apart in the hallway and you’re being tried as a full adult!” Wait, did he say woodlice? 

“You worry too much. S’gonna make you warty. Plus,” he says, unlatching himself from you and tossing his effects back in the tin box, “this is a family heirloom. Al Munson made good on his last straight job at the plant for a grand total of six hours, and all he got was this lousy lunchbox.”

Speaking of Al… 

“Y’know, I was thinking… If it wasn’t for your dad…” Your hands knit in your lap as you pretend to look around for woodlice.  

“‘If it wasn’t for Al’ what?” Eddie’s tone is flat, “Grand theft auto would decrease tenfold from here to Bloomington? Less diner waitresses would have complexes about men who abuse the free refill system? Starcourt Mall wouldn’t have burned down?”

Your eyebrows knit. Okay, pause. “What has he got to do with Starcourt Mall?”

“I’m not a hundred percent, but I have a theory,” Eddie says, arms bound across his chest. “It involves horseshit bombs and the Russian mafia.”

“And you told me my Larry Kline theory was crazy!”

“Well, funny you mention because my idea actually runs kind of concurrent to that–” 

“No, let’s put a pin in that for a second,” you cut him off, “It’s… my dad. I think he might actually be somewhat rehabilitated. Knocked down a peg, maybe? He actually displayed a hint of diffidence, Eddie. I think I … kind of have Al to thank for that.”

Sure, there was an air of initial disconcert to you and your dad’s little game of gin rummy, but the more you ruminated on it, the more it felt… threatless. Your mom had even joined you for a grim dinner of mac and cheese, where the three of you had nearly fondly reminisced on the pasta alla vodka from a restaurant they always went to on New Years Eve in Indianapolis. Maybe that’s what it took; a stint in prison to crack his ego like the Liberty Bell, and now Ray Doevski had to bear the humility like everyone else. Maybe he’d make good on his promise, making up for lost time.

But the disbelief, and, in fact, concern that Eddie is eyeballing your way says something different. 

“Don’t thank Al for anything.”

“I’m just saying. Dad and I actually talked last night, for the first time in… ever, really, and it didn’t feel like he was sizing me up. It was.. He was… nice.”

“Lacy.” Eddie’s shoulder’s sag. He hops up on the table next to you, bringing you knee to knee. The tear in his jeans rubs against the webbed nylon of your tights. When he looks at you, it’s with rounded eyes that could very well have been checking you for brain damage. “I don’t mean to blow out your candle or anything, but coming from someone as well versed in the tales of a crooked father who never really changes as I… I don’t buy this Ray of sunshine bit.”

Your hackles start to raise. Hey. Just because Al Munson was a famed and patterned piece of shit didn’t necessarily mean–

Eddie clocks you immediately, your crunched brow and pursed mouth. His hands go up, requesting pause. “Look. This is your first time at the convict parent rodeo, so I know how it is. Whirlwind. They always roar in in some Cadillac full of promises, right, swearing to make everything they fucked up right by you. But it never sticks, Lace. They’re hardwired to not follow through, okay? At least not on anything that doesn’t serve their own vain little agenda. With Al, it’s always some big dick scheme, something that’s gonna set us, and by us I mean him, up for life. No matter how good it feels to have them back, it– it always feels better when they’re gone.”

His searching eyes dart to his hands, as if he’d said a touch too much. On the one hand, a couple of painful pop rocks explode in your chest. You always feel this way whenever he mentions Al– Eddie’s let you in on glimpses here and there, revealing that he hasn’t quite shucked off the essence of being a hurt kid. It presents you with the super challenging desire to soothe the memory, but you dance around it at a distance. The dad stuff, it’s still sticky for the both of you. But now that Ray is back, and Al is back, you kind of have to talk about it. It figures pretty keenly into… whatever the fuck you two think you’re doing.

Then, on the other hand, a quick flash of resentment burns in you. Yeah, your dad is hardwired–why can’t mine be different? 

“Better?” you ask. 

“Maybe–not better,” Eddie rectifies, his rings knocking against his palm. “But easier. It’s always easier when he’s gone, even if I want him to be there. At least I know what to expect when he doesn’t call or write or whatever, which is nothing.”

“So I should do the same? Expect nothing?” You can’t hide the bite in your voice, and you can’t meet his eyes when he looks at you. 

“Lacy,” he says, searching hard for you in there, “You know what kind of guy your dad is. All the pomp and circumstance in the world won’t change what you’ve already seen. What you’ve already been through. This nice guy shit is a tactic– you…”

A heavy-ringed hand pulls your face to his, forcing you to look him in his earnest, gleaming eyes. 

“You deserve more than that.” 

Confusion with a sadness chaser churns in you. The metallic chill of Eddie’s rings against your cheek. A cooling comfort. Not a harsh sting. Not an open palm. A cradle. 

“I know you don’t believe me, for whatever reason, but you do deserve more than that.”

I still want you to be wrong, a voice hisses in the back of your head. Fucking Medusa rising.

“Yeah,” you nod in his hands, surrendering because it’s the right thing to say. “Yeah, of course I do. I’ll be careful. It’s fine.”

“And speaking of careful,” Eddie’s timbre hits a more suggestive spot, his hand falling from your jaw to your shoulder, “Harrington’s having a party on Friday, s’why I need fresh supplies.”

“Oh, really?” you mumble, mood not immediately perking up.

“Yes, really,” Eddie mocks, grip slipping to your waist. “I was thinking… y’know. Harrington’s house is big. Lotta rooms. Lotta beds…”

“Lot of intimacy at big parties,” you paraphrase Gatsby. “But the last time I was at Harrington’s… Is that such a good idea? Risking a repeat of teenage gladiator?”

“You were hardly gladiating, you were performing The Crab Monologues. Now, Carol, she wa–”

A scowl starts growing on your face. “Not helping your case.”

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry,” Eddie grins that bitten, private grin he deploys when he’s just about to lay one on you. “Will you show if I promise to protect you from wild redheaded assailants?”

“I’ll consider it. But that better include that little neighbor girl of yours, too,” you warn, suddenly reminded of the viscous stink-eye that Billy Hargrove’s stepsister had been throwing your way the last couple of times that you passed her in the trailer park. “Orphan Annie has it out for me for some reason.”

“You’re so cute when you’re paranoid.” 

“You have a woodlouse in your bangs.”“Wuagh! Where! Kill it!”

author's notes: christ it is GOOD TO BE BACK!!! if this feels like a part one to something, that is because it very much is, my friends. this was on its way to becoming a 20k+ chapter, which would freak me out actually so i decided to have some boundaries for once and split it in two. get you warmed up for what's to come. it's drama. btw. anyway on with the show - ohhh, you guys i have been listening to so much early-mid 00s emo in order to write this story. i realized that that's my secret weapon, because it's just as melodramatic as these two fucking dumbshits are. points to anyone who knows what the title of the chapter is a reference to (bonus points if they can find it a second time in a past chapter of this story) - flannery o'connor is of course a standard doevski pick for an author, but also a nod to maya hawke playing her in the biopic, which looks exquisite btw - back at it with the extremely rudimentary dnd references! i thought fear and loathing in luskan was fun - eddie WOULD know a ton about ancient greek mythology, specifically the goings on at the olympics, but not because he has any real vested interest in it but moreso because when he researches for a campaign he goes absolutely hard, like me with my 26 tabs open googling 'nail polish shades popular 80s teen girl bonne bell' - kick rocks! montague moment's over! but real quick-- what's munson? it is not hand, nor foot nor arm nor face, nor any other part... belonging to a man :) - yet another hellfire & ice fancast moment, i must present my personal pick for o'donnell-- it's gotta be allison janney, baby. less in the 10 things i hate about you guidance counselor vein, rather in the stepmom from juno vein. - 'hey hildy, what's the scoop?' had to get a his girl friday reference in somewhere, didn't i - answered prayers by truman capote is not only the cuntiest book ever written (capote essentially sold the secrets of his wealthy socialite friends in order to write it) but is also the latest ryan murphy adaptation - we stan jordan baker from the great gatsby in this house alright! that's all for this one! hope you enjoyed it, i know it's heavy on set up but next chapter will see us right back at casa de harrington for another blowout party, so... brace yourselves. please comment and reblog to support the work, thank you hellcats i love you forever

[owlwithanapple]

Fate Chapter 03. — New

Roronoa Zoro X OC X Trafalgar Law

The story tells about the encounter between Yuki and the Straw Hat Pirates from different worlds and different eras.

In the evening, you get together with everyone for dinner and talk about a grand carnival that will be held on a certain island. When Luffy heard about the carnival, he took the opportunity to clamor to go there and have fun. Sanji and Chopper happened to have to fill up supplies, so the next destination was there.

Robin knew the destination, she took the opportunity to suggest buying you some daily necessities and clothes. Nami felt a little guilty that she felt sorry for giving you old clothes, but you really didn't mind.

After dinner you helped to sort out the dishes and take them to the kitchen for cleaning. You came to this world, they treated you well but you didn't give them anything in return. Thinking about it was better to start with basic chores first, which was better than idleness.

Washing so many dishes reminds you in the past there were just a few dishes in your own home, but now there are so many as if they were enough for a family. It’s the life you’ve been looking forward to spending with your lively family and friends.

Your family originally had you with your parents, but you were alone in the empty home. You are a little envious everyone always has their parents to accompany and play with them, but you are always alone.

Even if your parents leave Japan to work abroad, they will come home to celebrate your birthday. You are very happy from the bottom of your heart. Since then, you have been looking forward to their return home and reunion every day, but the reality is often cruel.

In the end, there was nothing to wait for. The door to the house was opened by no one but yourself.Recently learned how to cook curry rice and feel very proud of yourself and want to share with them.

Gradually, you discovered that they have not come back in recent years, the phone calls are no longer dialed immediately. The only way to confirm that both parents are still alive is to remit the amount to your account every month. The once-a-year birthday wish suddenly collapsed. .

As time goes by, you gradually no longer have any illusions and expectations. Go to school then come home on time to do your homework, work part-time during holidays, and watch anime or sleep in your free time.

Perhaps these reasons have caused you to become more withdrawn and unwilling to socialize. It may be that you are afraid that the loneliness of separation will be unbearable. Life must go through many setbacks, and you should probably learn to accept or reject them.

In order to numb your emotions, wake up every day and tell yourself must face everything with strength. In fact no one to rely on. Even wanted to seek comfort for a small matter, you see nothing but just an empty space when got home. You could only curl up on the sofa and cry silently.

It's hard to get used to being with the Straw Hat Pirates now. It's so lively and you feel out of place. You have been accustomed to loneliness and suddenly come to a strange but lively world. You are afraid of making the same mistakes again. The moment of happiness will gone again.

"Hey!"

You were jolted out of your thoughts by a shout "Hwah!"

"Why are you looking so sad~" Luffy tilted his head.

"Really?" Luffy saw through it immediately but you still kept smiling.

Luffy just stared at you with a pouted "Hmmmmm..."

"Luffy?" Luffy kept staring at you, and felt a pressure in your heart.

He put his hand on the straw hat smiled brightly, "You are no longer alone!"

You learned from Nami that Luffy is a relatively casual and simple person. He often yells and makes a fuss in a silly manner but is a very reliable person. Although his behavior is very strange, he can inexplicably sense the vulnerability deep in your heart.

"I know." You were so moved by what he said, you almost couldn't hold back your tears.

Luffy seems like a sunny boy who can warm people's hearts. You have to cheer up, you are no longer the lonely person you were before, now you have the Straw Hat Pirates with you.

Luffy left happily after chatting with you. After that you organize all the washed dishes put them in the cupboard one by one. Some large plates are stored in high cabinets. You pull up a chair and stand up, holding several plates placing them carefully.

"Need a help?" Zoro's voice came from behind you.

Thinking that there were still a few plates that you could put away, so you politely refused him, "There's just a little more. It's almost done."

Zoro hadn't left yet just stood at the table with his arms crossed. He actually just heard the conversation between you and Luffy outside the door. He had a vague feeling that Luffy noticed something was wrong with you, and he walked in out of curiosity.

He was purely wishful thinking, and his body followed you unconsciously. He has a premonition that you may appear and disappear at any time, as you said, you may suddenly return to your own world.

He wants to hold on to you and not let go. Once he lets go, you will really disappear from his world. This also means from now on, the two of you will really be friends who can never meet again in different worlds.

He knows very well that he cannot control your appearance, because it is an unknown ability that brings you. He knows that since that ability can bring you, it can take you away at any time.

"I'm done!" You get off the chair.

Your voice brought him back to the present "Oh, good."

"Zoro, are you okay?" You stood in front of him to make sure he was okay.

He took a step back and looked away, "I'm fine."

"Liar. You don't look okay at all." His expression clearly showed that he was uneasy.

He was very annoyed when you poked a sore spot "Tch."

"Zoro...do you have something to say to me?" You don't know if it's your imagination, but you want to know what Zoro is thinking now.

He couldn't help but think about it, but after thinking about it he felt strange. Should he ask or not? He still compromised. He clenched the scabbard in his hand to calm himself, "I want to ask... if have the opportunity to return to your World, will you go back?"

His question poked deep into your heart. You had indeed thought about this question. If you could really make your own choice, what would you choose, whether you would go back or stay.

"You don't need to answer, I'm just asking casually." Zoro noticed that your expression had changed, he think about it and quickly change the subject with you.

Zoro looked a little flustered. You knew in your heart that he wanted to end the topic, but the question he asked was indeed a question that you had to think about and choose. "You are right to ask, it is the question I should be thinking about."

"Oh..." Zoro was a little at a loss because you didn't change the topic.

Zoro gives you the impression he is someone who knows right from wrong. Coupled with his super combat power and keen insight, he is like the strongest support for the entire team.

You believe that he has seen through your inner doubts before asking you this question. You don't hate the fact that he is straightforward and cares about other people's feelings. Getting along with him makes you feel much more at ease.

"If I could choose whether to go back or not...Zoro, as long as you ask me to stay, I will definitely stay." You haven't figured out how to answer yet, so you tell him in a naughty tone.

Zoro's current expression is one of surprise with eyes wide open "Huh!?"

"Hahaha, I'm kidding. I just haven't figured out the answer yet. I'll tell you as soon as I think about it." Zoro's reaction is really cute. You smile and answer your current thoughts.

He didn't know why felt an impulse surge in his heart for a moment, and he told himself to calm down in annoyance. Zoro, who was now in a good mood, just smiled softly and touched your forehead with his finger, "Idiot."

"Hehehe." You continued without saying anything and just laughed in front of him.

"Yuki-chwan~ Do you need my help?~" Sanji wanted to sneak in to take a look at you, but Zoro was there. He immediately rushed over stand between you and Zoro. "Hey! Marimo! You want to do something to Yuki-chwan again? !"

"Huh? What are you talking about again..." Zoro was indeed a little impatient.

You gently moved your fingers on Sanji's shoulders, "I've done the dishes."

Sanji turned around and saw your face so close. His eyes turned into loving hearts and his hands were waving in the air, "Thank you~ Yuki-chwan~ You must have been working very hard today~"

You shook your head, "No. I just want to thank you for hosting me."

Sanji raised your hand and put it under his lips. "No, it's actually just my wishful thinking that I want to be nice to you."

You are not good at dealing with Sanji's personality. You know that he treats you out of kindness. Although you are very happy but is difficult to adapt and strange suddenly have such special treatment.

You want to stop but you don't know how to say it. It would be rude. While you were troubled, Zoro went to the cupboard to get a tall pot and covered Sanji's head to plunge him into darkness.

Zoro pushed Sanji away then grabbed your hand with a wicked smile "Let's go."

"Hahaha..." You were frightened by his actions but amused.

You both fled the kitchen together leaving poor Sanji with a tall pot on his head and yelling "Damn Marimooooooo!"

You escaped to the front of the boat and made sure Sanji didn't catch you. Then you breathed a sigh of relief and found a place to sit down. Thanks to Zoro for saving, otherwise you really don’t know how to refuse.

You two looked at each other, and couldn't help but burst into laughter holding stomachs. Although sorry for Sanji, the scene of the head being covered just now was really hilarious.

After you finished laughing, you sat there stared at the night sky in a daze. It's incredible to be able to look at the sky in the middle of the sea. It's like the sky and the sea are so close but so far away visually.

The vast sky and sea may seem calm and beautiful, they can never erase your feeling of loneliness and helplessness. Frankly speaking, you are actually very scared when you enter another strange world.

Fear is normal. Coming to a strange world, woke up in a sea, suddenly sank into the sea, with a talking reindeer, a singing skeleton and all kinds of weirdos.

The emotions you were holding back surged up in your heart in an instant. You hugged your legs rested your forehead on your knees. You wanted to cry but hold back the tears because Zoro was sitting next to you and didn't want to affect him by your emotion.

Zoro touches you "Are you sleepy?"

You just shake your head.

He is annoyed by the way you are silent now and doesn't understand what he should do. He is not good at comforting and expressing his thoughts. He is more like the type who silently protects people from behind, but now he can only give it a try.

"Erm...the night is particularly beautiful today?" Zoro muttered but so embarrassed by what he said.

You raised your head and looked at him with dumbfounded eyes. Although there were tears in your eyes, what he said caught your attention. You tilted your head and wondered why he suddenly said such embarrassing words.

Zoro was startled and there were tears in your eyes. He was wondering if he had said the wrong thing, but he just said it casually. He scratched his head and couldn't understand.

You wiped your tears "What are you doing?"

"It's nothing. Don't pay attention to me." He relieved his embarrassment and looked at the sky.

You can probably guess from Zoro's reaction that he is not very good at expressing himself. He looks cool and strong, but he is very gentle and considerate, he doesn't show it. You know that he cares about what's going on, and you are really happy.

You smiled slightly, "I'm just a little scared, being in a strange world. Being alone in a world I'm not familiar with..."

Zoro interrupted before you could finish your sentence. "You are no longer alone."

His words moved you to tears. You tried to wipe away your tears but were stopped by Zoro's hand. Instead, he was wiping away your tears. You said nothing and just watched him comfort you with this small gesture.

"Thank you." You simply said.

He took back his hand and faced you, "You might as well tell me..."

You hesitated for a moment. Since everyone is Nakama, it doesn't matter if you tell him. If he wants to listen, let him listen. If he doesn't want to, just go away.

You clasped your hands and pondered for a moment before you started to say, "I miss my parents. I don't know if they miss me."

"Huh?" he asked.

"My parents and I are separated in two places. I am alone in Japan, and they work abroad, so I cannot see them often. I can only contact them by making phone calls."

"But... gradually I can't contact them anymore. I only know that my parents will remit money to me every month. Now I am in this world, I feel very warm. Everybody here who have filled my loneliness."

You looked down at your legs with tears in your eyes and your vision began to blur.

"So whether your parents are still alive, you only know through that thing called remittance..." Zoro doesn't understand what remittance means, but he probably understands you.

You nodded slightly, "Yes. Obviously we are a family but I feel very lonely. So I am very curious whether they will miss me and whether they will be sad when their daughter disappears suddenly."

"I don't know your parents' thoughts or reasons for alienating you. Now we have filled your loneliness, you can enjoy this world start from today on." Zoro crossed his hands and looked at you smile slightly.

You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes "Zoro...you are so gentle."

"Ha!" He was a little embarrassed but not disgusted with you leaned on his shoulder.

"Huh..." A slight snoring sound was heard.

Zoro glanced at you "No way! Did you really fall asleep?!"

He poked your cheek saw that you were not awake. He scratched his head and was worried. He really couldn't do anything to you, he would wait until you were completely asleep before taking you back to the room. He was just chatting with you, but you fell asleep comfortably, leaving him alone in embarrassment.

His clothes expose his chest muscles, he can vaguely feel the warmth of your breath transmitted to him. He pinched his own wrist to suppress the turmoil in his heart. You are just a girl but you can make him feel itchy.

The one-line collar top reveals your fragrant shoulders and collarbones, your hair has a light floral fragrance, and your body moves with the rhythm of your breathing. You looked so innocent sleeping on the shoulder of a beast like him.

"Unsuspecting idiot." He lifted your hair.

Suddenly you rub his shoulder and say, "Zo...ro..."

"Damn...!" He covered his face.

He picked you up while you were sleeping, your face resting on his chest, and he felt the warmth of your breath getting closer and closer. He pushed open your door with his shoulder, walked in, gently and carefully placed you on the bed.

"Cute sleeping face." He poked your cheek several times.

When he stood up to leave the room, he heard "Zo...ro..." It was you moaning.

He sighed loudly and walked to your bedside pull up a chair and sit down. Your unsuspecting and innocent appearance aroused a burning desire in his heart. He clenched his fists told himself to calm down.

But he finally couldn't bear the feeling of saying his name from your mouth. He slowly stood up held your hand. His slowly came closer to your lips. He realize that your face was close and really beautiful at first glance.

When he couldn't resist the urge in his heart and wanted to kiss you secretly, you suddenly turned over and slept on the other side. He was fortunate realize that he almost made a mistake to you and immediately fell into embarrassment.

"What the hell am I doing..." He stood up and stood by the door, holding the doorknob.

After he calms down, leaves your room and goes outside to relax. He went to the kitchen get a bottle of wine and find Franky who was guarding at night. He sat down and started drinking heavily. He almost kissed you by mistake just now, but luckily he controlled it.

"Can't you sleep?" Franky adjusted his robot hand.

He put down the wine"Well, drink some wine so that can sleep better."

"What's wrong with you? Your ears are a little red. Do you have a fever?" Franky pointed to his ears.

"A little drunk." He said Franky casually.

Franky became suspicious and found it hard to believe, "You drunk?"

Zoro realized that he seemed have said the wrong thing, he chose to avoid the question and continued drinking his wine. Franky vaguely noticed something was wrong with Zoro, but he ignored it and continued to do his own thing.

As time passed little by little, it was already morning time. You was tired from getting used to the new environment and cleaning yesterday so slept for a long time, longer than usual.

Someone was running in the corridor, and the sound was getting closer to your room. Luffy opened your door and shouted, "Get up! Breakfast!"

You don't feel very angry when you wake up just your face looks bad every time you wake up. You lifted the quilt and sat up from the bed, glaring at Luffy who was standing there with a silly smile. Your eyes were sharp, but Luffy felt a fierce aura coming towards from you.

"Bye!" Then he ran away without closing the door.

You looked around realized there was your soft bed in your room, but why was the wooden chair next to your bed? It was obviously placed next to the wardrobe. Maybe you pulled it over yesterday and forgot about it.

You get out of bed leave the room and look up to see a clear sky with the sun shining brightly. The sun is not that close to you at home, but now you feel that the sun here is really bright.

Because the sun was very dazzling, you covered your eyes with hands and went to look for other companions. You see Ussop, Chopper and Luffy hanging out together. Robin sat alone and read a book silently.

You walked up to Robin, she patted the empty space with her hand to signal you sit down. You sat down and opened your mouth to yawn. You admired Luffy for being so energetic and lively so early.

"Oh, didn't you get enough sleep?" Robin closed the book.

"I'm not used to waking up early~" You yawned and fell asleep on her shoulder.

Robin looked at your behavior this morning and snickered, "Hehehe, so cute."

She continues to read her book quietly without disturbing you. Nami greeted everyone before walking towards where you and Robin were. Nami sat next to you and leaned back in the chair, chatting quietly with Robin.

"Such a soft face!" Nami poked your cheek gently.

Robin laughed "Hehehe."

"The hair is so messy. This little girl must not have combed her hair when she woke up." Nami ran her fingers through your hair.

Robin waved "Nami..."

Nami understood Robin's idea and nodded.

The two of them secretly used a comb and hair tie to create a new hairstyle for you while you were still asleep. Brook and Sanji came around to join in the fun.

You vaguely felt many eyes staring at you, making you uncomfortable. You opened your eyes slightly saw Chopper sitting on your lap. You were surprised why Sanji had love eyes and Brook covered his mouth with hands.

You felt a cool breeze blowing on your neck. You didn't remember that you had your hair tied up when you went out. Robin and Nami were sitting next to you and kept smiling. Did they do something to your hair?

Chopper took out a mirror for you to look at, and you saw a double braid look. You were not good at braiding hairstyles, so you simply tied a ponytail every day. Now you liked the new look very much.

"Nami! Robin! Thank you!" You smiled.

Robin smiled slightly and said, "As long as you like it."

Nami likes "Let's us braid your hair from now on~"

"It suits you very well~Yuki-chwan~" Sanji praised you with loving eyes.

You looked in the mirror and stroked your braided hair. The two of them were really good at creating such complicated styles. You saw Zoro coming over with a yawn, and you handed the mirror back to Chopper.

Zoro yawned "Hwahh~ Why are you gathering here?"

"What do you think of Yuki's hairstyle?" Ussop pointed at you.

He glanced at you and held out his hand with a chuckle, "Yeah, it fits."

"Hehehe" you smiled and let him stroke your hair.

"Hey~ I saw the island!" Franky informed the two of you who were chatting.

Luffy immediately jumped up "Yahoooooo~Island~"

You looked the direction of an island pointed by Franky. Ussop handed you a telescope to let you see more clearly. Through the telescope, you saw many ships docked at the island's pier.

There are a lot of colorful decorations on the pier, which is a custom of the island's carnival. You put away telescope and prepare for the fun time to come with anticipation and excitement.

Zoro stood behind saw you and Chopper looking very expectant and excited. He was secretly happy. To be honest, he was really looking forward to arriving at the island as soon as possible. Maybe it was your reason that infected him.

To Be Continued—

*If you have any ideas leave them in the comment section, and I will try to add in the story.*

[lvverleavr]

Mutually Exclusive | Entry Two

Entry Two: All The Young Dudes

༘ Jake x f oc (Annalise)

༘4k words

༘warnings: language, discussions of strained parental relationships, smut(oral f receiving)

A/N: I had to rewrite and repost this part just to encapsulate the pieces I really wanted so hopefully you all love it as much as I do! I'm thinking of starting a tag list if the demands calls for it. Read part one Here!

Entry Two:

May 30, 2017. The date that started a whirlwind of the next six months. Saying six months was being generous but if I’m being entirely honest the whole second half of that year became a big blur to me as the year went on. I never understood how such a beautiful exciting summer could turn colder faster than the days the leaves began to fall. I dropped out not long after the run in with Juliet and you graduated on the 30th. It seemed like our lives were just set to begin. I’m not sure why but when I always thought of my future it was always “our” future. Like our past was ours so why can’t the future be the same way. I had Josh and Sam and even Danny but it wasn’t the same if I didn’t think of you there with me.

 I took Juliet on three dates over your last semester, just three before she told me I was too “emotionally detached” to date seriously. I had to hold back any form of laughter when she said that because two of those three “dates” we went on were just hooking up in the back of my truck after a shitty movie. I don’t think she understood what a serious relationship really entailed and if we’re being honest neither did I. The difference between us was at least I didn’t pretend to know. You always said you wanted the summer to last, something to remember and look back on like our last grip at being completely free before the adult word hit us in the gut. 

The day you called me to come pick you up was a Thursday, I remember it to be a Thursday because I listened to the highlights of last night's baseball game on the whole ride to your house. Your driveway was gravel and the lawn was overgrown, I used to mow it back when we were in high school and your dad would pay me $5 each time. Your mother told me to stop once he died, she told me they didn’t have money to just give away like that. I would’ve done it for free, I grew to enjoy doing it. It’s how I got to know you so well. I’d mow the lawn with my dad’s old mower, you’d come out and offer me a glass of water but always would end up just sitting on the steps and watching the patterns of the cut grass as I pushed the blade across the lawn.

I stopped just at the doors of the barn, the lock had been rusted shut from being locked all these years. You’d think your mother would have you open it, sell all the old tools of your fathers but I don’t think even she was that cruel to put such a task on you. 

The front door swung open, her voice yelling echoing off the trees surrounding the house as you ran from the steps and into my truck, “Just go please go.” You say quickly, pulling the seat belt over you as I back out of the driveway, watching you roll down the window and giving her a big wave before clicking off the radio.“Hey I was listening to that-” I frown, turning it back on as you buckled yourself into the passenger seat. “We have more important things to talk about,” You reply, pressing the dial to turn the radio off once again. “My grandfather.”

“The dead one or the mean one?” I ask. 

“My mothers father, the mean one.” You clarify, “Get this. He’s taking a two month trip to Europe with his fourth wife.” The smile growing on your face seemed contradictory to the words coming from your mouth. 

I giggled slightly, “Good for him?” My tone pitching up at the end, trying to piece together the point of the news. 

“No fuck him I don’t care about him. What I do care about is him asking my mother to watch the house for the next two months,” You shoved my arm, kicking your feet slightly against the floor mat. “He wants my mother– the woman who hasn’t left the house since Bush was president to drive two hours out of town to stay at his three acre mansion.” I made my way onto the highway, still struggling to understand what seemed like a growing inconvenient story and how it left you nearly shaking with excitement. “Someone has to watch the house, Jacob. My mother can’t do it but we both know she won’t tell my grandfather that so who does that leave!” 

You shove me again, I chuckle out a small ‘ow’ as I rub my arm, “Stop! you get violent when you’re excited,” centering my car in the lane before glancing at you again. 

“Who does that leave to watch the house!” You repeat again, playfully slapping my leg closest to you, interrupting before I could even open my mouth. “Us!” You squeal, “Us, two months in his stupidly huge house with a liquor cabinet that hasn’t been touched since the 70’s and three acres to do whatever our hearts desire.” 

“So you want me to pack up and spend two months at your bitter old grandfather's mansion so you can have a party and not have an excuse to be home instead?” I ask, you nodding excitedly in agreement. 

“Exactly.”

He left for his trip on August 15th and we got there on the 16th, the first night was oddly eerie. The air was cool once the stars came out but every creak and croak echoed down the halls. I left my things in one of the downstairs guest rooms while you unpacked across the hall. We were a half hour out of the nearest town and the air conditioner made a low hum that you would mistake for a voice if you weren’t paying attention. “You all set in here?” I ask as I open your bedroom door, your attention on the paintings that lined the walls 

“That's my mother.” You reply quietly, disregarding the question. “When she was young, see? She did ballet…” You came to your feet, your hand reaching out and gently brushing the painting with the tips of your fingers. “She was beautiful… My grandmother used to tell me about it, she was supposed to go to Juilliard–but she found out she was pregnant three weeks before she left.” 

The painting was beautiful, the subject was a young girl– she looked just like you there was no mistaking it, but her face was curved to a frown. “With you?” I ask, looking at you beside me. 

You nod, your eyes only moving to the painting beside it, another one of who I assumed to be your mother, though you never told me who it really was. “I think it's why she never liked me.” You continue, resting your head on my shoulder as we look over the paintings. “She loves me… I think she loves me but I think part of her resents me. Like me, being born is what made her the woman she is now. Now I’m stuck paying her back for it until one of us dies.” 

I let out a soft sigh, shaking my head slightly. “She can’t blame you for something you had no control over. You’re not the one at fault for what she became.” 

“Tell her that,” You chuckle lightly, standing back up straight as you shake out your shoulders. “Alright that’s enough. This is supposed to be fun right?” 

I nod, offering you back a smile as you turn to me, gently shaking my shoulders and walking out of the room. 

•

 August seemed to pull out from under us and before I knew it, it was mid September. As the days slipped out from under me I felt myself grasping for any piece of you I could, things that seemed to pass by my mind like nothing suddenly made my head spin. It could’ve been the lack of contact with much of anyone else but something just felt like a knot tying itself over and over in my stomach. I had come to find comfort in the creaking of the old house and the pictures that hung above my bed didn’t scare me anymore. It was almost midnight when I heard your voice from the hallway, you never stayed up late so hearing you awake past ten pm felt concerning. “An?” I call out, hearing no response. I waited a few seconds, flicking on the lamp beside my bed but still being met with nothing. “Anna? If you’re fucking with me its not funny.” 

Against my better judgment I left my bedroom, wandering down the hallway to see the front door cracked open. For a moment it felt like some horror movie, the feeling fleeing the second my eyes registered you sitting on the front steps, the faint smell of your cigarette wafting towards the doorway. “An?” I ask again, this time catching your attention. 

You turned, quickly wiping your eyes with your sleeve as you offered me a smile, “Hey- I thought you were sleeping,” The porch light illuminated your face as you looked at me, your eyes were slightly red and your hand shook as you held the cigarette between your fingers. 

“I heard something– were you talking to someone?” 

You shook your head, taking a short drag of your cigarette before pushing the smoke out between your lips, “Just my mom… I think she just wanted someone to yell at.” Gently patting the wood beside you with a gentle smile. 

“I don’t understand why you answer her calls this late at night…” I sighed softly as I sat beside you, feeling your head gently rest on my shoulder. “She always calls when she’s been drinking just to yell at you for stuff that doesn’t even have to do with you.” 

“Like when she called me during prom to yell at me because my brother decided to go to San Diego with his girlfriend instead of coming home for summer” You giggle, handing me the cigarette as I reach for it. “She pulls the, you promised your father you’d always be here after he died, card.” 

I shake my head, turning my head to the side as I blow the smoke out carefully, “She pulls that card to make you feel guilty… It’s gonna stop working one day.” 

You nod in agreement, taking the cigarette back and pressing it firmly into the ashtray beside you, “Thank you for coming here with me.” Tilting your head up to look at me, your cheeks hinting just a brief shade of pink as you notice me already looking at you, “I don’t think I could stay here this long with anyone else.” 

I can’t help but smile, giving you a gentle nod, “It’s been really fun… I couldn’t think of a better way to end the summer.” My eyes trailed to your lips, involuntarily at first but after the first few moments it became entirely voluntary. I felt my heart pick up, a softness grow in your gaze that I never experienced before. You smiled, your eyes flicking across my face every shift of our gazes seemed to drop to a slow motion. I felt your body shift closer, my fingers grazing yours and I felt cemented in place, completely unable to move as you closed the gap. The warmth of your lips finally pressed to mine and I felt as though I could melt right there, tension that could be cut with a knife suddenly melted to a puddle at our feet. My hand reached up, gently cupping your cheek as I kissed you back— feeling your lips curve into a smile against mine. Your fingers gently interlaced with the ones that rested in my lap, thumb running over the bumps of my knuckles as I caved to the urge to kiss you deeper. 

My cheeks were red hot when we finally pulled away, your eyes fluttering back open as you gently wiped your thumb under my bottom lip, “It’s late…” You whispered softly, your fingers grazing along my cheek and down to my jaw before dropping back to your lap. 

All I could muster up was a soft nod, swiping my tongue along my bottom lip as I loosened the grip I had on your other hand, “Are you coming to bed too?” I ask, following your lead and bringing myself back up to my feet. 

“Why?” You smile, nudging me playfully, “You worried about me?” I could tell you were trying to cut the tension, a moment that lapsed the dynamic we had for so long– it changed just in that moment. 

“Just don’t wanna hear you talking to yourself out here in the middle of the night,” I smile, pushing the door open as I let you step inside. “I’ll see you in the morning…” You turned to face me as you stepped in, our gazes following one another until it would’ve been too obvious if you kept it. 

“Goodnight…” 

I left the door open a crack, a decision I didn’t notice I had made but it just felt right, like some metaphor in reflection of the moment I just walked away from. I could feel you still on my lips, my tongue swiping along them instinctively as I thought about it. I watched the fan whirl above me, so lost in my own thoughts, I barely heard the creak of the door opening. 

“Jake…” I leant up, feeling the bed press down with the weight of your knee, your body moving to lay in the space left empty beside me. 

“Are you okay?” My heart started to pound, your eyes were on mine as you settled on your side, my eyes falling to your lips near immediately, “Did something happen-” I barely let out the last word before your lips pressed to mine once more. I kissed you back without hesitation, feeling your hand press against my chest. 

I let out a small breath against your lips, my hand gently holding the side of your neck as I pulled away. Your lips parted as you looked up at me, my eyes scanned over your face as I looked for some reasoning, part of me wanting you to lean back in– every part of me craving you as your hand slid up to my cheek, cupping it softly. “Please-” Was all I could remember you saying, your lips connecting softly to my jaw, like something neither of us could explain had a hold over us in that moment. Nothing mattered other than how quickly we could intertwine ourselves in one another right in that very instant. My hand gently slid down your side, fingers nudging the hem of your shirt up as my finger tips grazed your bare side. You let out a whine, barely audible but your hips stirred slightly at the feeling of my touch against your skin. I pulled away just for a moment, slipping your shirt over your head and dropping it on the floor beside us as your lips connected with my neck. My lips parted, feeling your hand take mine, guiding it down to gently cup your breast. 

“Shit-” You mumbled softly, my thumb gently swiping over your nipple. Your hand dropped from mine, pushing my shirt up until I could pull myself away long enough for you to tug it over my head. The corners of your eyes softened as we made eye contact, giving me the opportunity to carefully lay you on the bed beside me. No second thoughts clouded my brain as my lips lined your jaw, mapping a trail down your neck and slowing as they fell down between your breasts. Your fingertips gently grazed my bare shoulder, nails just barely scratching my skin as I finally reached the hem of your shorts. My kisses grew needier as your hips gently stirred under my touch, feeling my hands guide them off.

“Fuck-” I couldnt help but mumble out, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating you underneath me. My eyes trailed back up to yours, your hand gently cupping my jaw as your thumb rubbed my cheek. 

“Please… Please I-I’ve always-” You whispered, a shake in your voice. “I need to know what you feel like against me…” 

I nearly moaned at the words alone, the pure need dripping off both of us. My eyes never lingered from yours as I dipped my head down, soft kisses pressing against your thighs as your hips stirred, jolting as my touch finally connected to your core. My fingers gently pressing into the soft skin of your thighs as my tongue swirled against you, it was near addicting. Your noises circling my head left me wanting to stay right there forever. My nose gently nudged at your clit, my hands slid to hold your hips as your fingers twisted and tugged at the roots of my hair. I could feel your movements growing more sporadic the more I delved into you, feeling you gently roll your hips against my face as you whined softly, “I’m so- I’m so please,” You begged, a low groan escaping my lips as my tongue pressed flat against you. 

Your hips slowed as your fingers flexed and released from my hair, moving to gently graze the back of my neck as you panted softly. I gently pulled away, feeling you move to caress my cheek softly, your smile guiding me back up to your lips. 

“Wipe your face don’t be gross,” You chuckled breathlessly, I blushed and nodded. Swiping the back of my hand across my lips before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

•

That was all that night was, you kissed me back and in the morning I woke up to my shirt that was on the floor missing and the trail of your clothes still scattered around. I rubbed my eyes, stretching out as I slid my pants back on. The hallway was cold, glancing both ways down it to see the front door propped open again. Shit I mumbled to myself, my initial thought being that your mother was at it once more. As I padded softly down the hallway, rubbing my bare arms I was met with the sound of music from the kitchen instead. I glanced over, seeing you stood at the kitchen sink, realizing where my missing shirt had gone. 

Neither of us brought the night before for that entire day, if anything I would take it how it was, relish in the feeling it gave me but allow it be exactly that, a feeling, just one night. 

“What if we’re getting cabin fever and we don’t even know it?” You ask me, laid out on the cool kitchen tile as I washed the last few dishes that lingered in the sink. “Like how Jack pushed it off until he just picked up that ax and went crazy.” 

I let out a small chuckle, shaking my head as I turned off the water, “Do you have random visions of killing me?” Looking down at you, your head just inches from my left foot. 

“Who knows,” You shrug, stretching out your arms in front of you, fingers sprawling out from one another before letting it shoot out to the side to grab my ankle, “REDRUM!” You yell, your voice gritting as you squeeze my leg, causing me to jump back.

“Shit Ann, don't– that scares the shit out of me!” I couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle as I jumped from your grip. “I think the house is getting to you,” 

“Not my fault it makes me feel like I’m stuck in 1895,” You huff as you bring yourself to sit up, “Like Dracula is gonna walk in on me showering one of these nights or something, ask me why I’m in his house.” Your eyes followed along the shelves and cabinets that were laid against the hallway wall just adjacent to the kitchen doorway. pointing your empty wine glass up at me as your other hand wipes the tear from your eye. 

“Same kind?” I ask, you nodding as I grab my glass and taking down the last gulp before filling both back up. 

“This fucking house creeps me out.” You mumble, running your fingers through your hair as your eyes land on the large record player in the corner of the room. “So he does enjoy some things.” You giggle, crouching down and pulling it from a shelf, it was in a large case with an old cord trailing out of the back of it. “Bring those into the living room–” You say with a small oof the weight of the player hitting your stomach as you stand back up. 

I couldn't help but smile as I watched you lug it into the other room, you were too enthralled by the collection of vinyl in the hallway to see my gaze lingering on you, the sight of you made my stomach twist. 

“I’m, um- just gonna run upstairs for a second to grab something I’ll be right back,” I say softly, passing you your glass as you drag your finger along the line of tattered spines on the shelf. I didn't need anything, nothing at all. If anything I needed a second to breathe, as days passed these moments beside you overwhelmed me and the alcohol already flushing my cheeks didn't help.

I shook off the feeling, making my way down the stairs and rounding towards the living room. The music drifted down the hall, it was loud and the song changed. I couldn't help but smile, your voice just barely over the first words of the song as I passed the doorway into the living room. I stood there for a few moments, smiling as you gently spun in the middle of the room, your hair fell over your face as your head hung down– the chorus echoing off the same old walls.

Hey Dudes!

You called, finally lifting your head to see me. A toothy grin taking over your face and your wine glass near empty now in the other, 

Where are ya?”

I called back, stepping forward as you reached your hand out. I took it in mine and carefully spun you, laughing as we danced. 

I never danced. We never danced but that night we did. We spun and we skipped and you ran back over to pull the needle to restart the song. I loved every second of it, the tenth time for the last verse on our fifth glass of wine. 

All the young dudes

You sung out, giggling as you looked over 

“I wanna hear ya!” You smiled, jumping back over as my eyes glued to yours. I couldn't take my eyes off you, my chest was on fire as you looked at me. You wrapped an arm around my shoulder, your voice slowly fading as my arm slid around your waist. 

Both our smiles were wearying slightly, and the music seemed to do the same thing. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears when you kissed me, the song dwindling down as I kissed you back. The euphoria of the moment only lasted just that, a moment, before the guilt set in. Watching as you stood there so peacefully, completely unaware of the news I had been holding onto for nearly two weeks now. I had meeting after meeting for the last three months with every and any label that would us. I grasped at any straw, any city, state even one even being up in toronto. I never really figured out what I was going to do when one of them called me back. 

“An?” I say softly, watching as you nod, taking the last sip from your glass, a small smile on your lips. “I’m moving to Tennessee.”

[seenoversundown]

Sparrow Of The Dawn : Chapter Five

Sam x Willa (Fem OC)

Warnings: Swearing, One mention of the word 'Daddy', mentions of boners? Mild accidental groping, light talk of spit kink if you squint, a lot of movie references, Jumpscare Warning: Jeremy Allen White, mentions of very minor injury, Girls Night (gender neutral term), guys being dudes, mentions of avoiding a car accident, fluff, and per usual Sam just being his usual self.

Word Count: 8k.

Author’s Note: Taco Bell IS on the boycott list and just included for entertainment purposes. Also, if you need help with figuring out which companies are on the boycott list you can download the “No Thanks” app to keep track!

Summary: Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

That's Not My Name - The Ting Tings “Are you callin' me darlin', are you callin' me bird?”

‘If it weren’t for bad luck, we wouldn’t have any luck at all’ is a phrase my grandfather repeated growing up. I feel that a little more deeply these days, especially when it comes to my truck. As I sit here, willing her to turn over every time I twist the key, I lose a bit more hope. I have got to get her looked at. I pull my phone from my back pocket and text the group chat, praying that someone is awake this early. 

Me: Is anyone awake that loves me enough to drive me into work. Edith wont start again ☹️

Tweedle Dee 🦐: It’s your lucky day.

It only takes about ten minutes before Josh pulls up in his white Jeep truck, and I’ve never been more thankful that we all live so close. 

“You look awfully dapper for 7:30 in the morning,” I remark, eyebrow cocked. 

“And you are just a pair of cargo shorts away from being Steve Irwin, but you don’t hear me questioning you.” He retorts. Touche. “I thought I was dropping you off at the newspaper office?”

“You are, but we’re going to Wolfe’s Neck to take some nature photos for the assignment we’re working on. I’m meeting her at the office first.” Josh and I haven’t spoken much in the last few days; he’s always busy lately, working at the bar or devoid of his phone for hours, so I fill him in on the project.

“An incredible idea, Sammy. All hers, I assume?” He chides.

“Not.. all hers. I helped.” I speak a bit more defensively than I mean to. 

“Convincing.”

“I did! We’re even using a couple of my film cameras because I’m so nice.” I further defend my stance.

He pulls up to the curb, effectively cutting our conversation short, thankfully, and I exit his car.

“Sam!” He yells jovially, and I turn around, his window fully unrolled. “Have a good day, Sammy Boy! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He twists the dial on his stereo volume. The soundtrack of my suffering plays to the tune of ‘Barbie Girl’ by Aqua. I wave him ‘goodbye’ with a simple middle finger as he drives off. As I make my way back to the front door, there she is. 

Birdie. 

She greets me with, “I bet he’s a nightmare in the morning.”

“You have no idea.” I reach for the door, opening it for us both and letting her walk in first because I am a gentleman; however, I am still a pain in the ass. “Is it not too early in the morning for my voice today?” 

“It's always far too early to hear your voice, Samuel.” She presses the button on the elevator and twists her shoulders toward me. 

“How are we supposed to work together if you refuse to talk to me, huh?”

“It’s not like taking pictures requires conversation.” The sound of the elevator dinging catches our attention, and we both enter. Birdie reaches to press the correct floor button.

“How about,” I start, facing her and smirking with a cocked eyebrow, “we stop for coffee and breakfast, my treat? Since now, I don’t have to break the news to you that you have to drive.”

“You.. have my attention.” The elevator arrives, and we exit right, down the hallway, through the glass door, and past the reception desk. Sharon greets us warmly with a wave; she’s no Daisy, but she is lovely. Once we reach the cubicles, we separate, unloading our belongings on our own desks. Birdie looks good today. Her earth-toned Patagonia pullover fits snuggly, along with the black leggings on her legs. The tail ends of her brown bob poking out the bottom of her tan Carhartt beanie. 

“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.”

“Oh, uh yeah. I couldn’t exactly wear my Steve Maddens in the forest.” She stares down at the white socks and brown hiking boots I know are on her feet. “Where are we going, by the way? You never told me, just said, ‘I have a place.’”

“Wolfe’s Neck State Park, you been before?” 

“Surprisingly, no. It’s on my list though.”

“It doesn’t open until 9, so we have a little bit of time to kill before we have to leave; it’s only a half-hour drive. Maybe forty-five or fifty with breakfast.”

“Did you wanna hit up Dunkies for breakfast?” she asks.

“Please, god no. They can never get my food right. I swear they have a secret vendetta against vegetarians.” 

“I didn’t know you were a vegetarian. Is it an animals with faces thing?”

“Nah, Daniel, bet me fifty bucks I couldn’t do it. I never turn down a bet.” I sit down on my desk and cross my arms. Looking at her over the divider.

“How’d that turn out for you?”

“A new diet and fifty bucks richer,” I snicker. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The trail I lead her down is not a very long one. I can hear her small feet padding behind me, breaking branches and rustling leaves in quick steps. She takes two to match my every one. I figured one of the shorter trails would work better for getting in and out with enough time to head back and finish our project. 

“Ooooh, it's giving Twilight,” she beams, eyes huge with excitement.

I turn to follow her gaze toward the large, moss-covered rock wall. A few fallen, slimmer trees lay around the bottom. She runs over toward it.

“This is the skin of a killer, Bella.” Reenacting a scene from the movie. A movie I’ve definitely never seen. “I don’t care. You won’t hurt me.” she quotes dramatically, switching from Edward to Bella. She matches Bella’s awkward movements perfectly. It’s hard not to laugh, her head bobbing, arms flailing, jumping back and forth between spots for each character. I haven’t seen this side of her yet, A fun side. Who knew Birdie had it in her? 

“You know I’ve never seen Twilight before.” I lie as I slip one strap off my shoulder and pull my bag around to the front of my body. Unzipping the compartment that has her camera in it, I pull it out and give it a wiggle. She walks over to meet me. 

“Never had a girlfriend in high school who forced you to watch it?” she smiles, jokingly as she takes the camera from my hand and slips the strap around her neck, checking over her settings.

“Nope.” popping the ‘p’, “Never really dated til I got to college.” I take out my own camera.

“Aw got no game huh?” She makes a mocking frown at me as we walk down the trail. 

“Got no game, huh?” I mimic her. Way to go, Sammy. Wicked come back. That’ll teach her. 

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We take our time, snapping photos as we go until we reach the water. It's beautiful here. Large formed rocks surround the lake that makes up an amazing scenic view. The sunshine only adds to the effect. It's breathtaking every time. I can’t believe she’s never been here before. We slowly walk up to the edge of the water. She finds little crevices that the water runs through. In her continued child-like wonder she can’t help but kneel down to run her fingers through it, picking up small rocks to inspect before dropping them back into the tiny flowing river. The sun’s rays bounce off the water, the reflection a bit blinding, but I’ll take it on a day like today. It sparkles off the waves created by the small gusts of wind, which keeps me comfortable, but I notice the little shivers that run through her shoulders. Despite the minimal clouds in the sky, the sun isn’t strong enough to truly warm you from within this time of year. 

I watch as Birdie steps onto one of the taller rock formations. She brings the camera to her eye, the clicking sound pleasantly mixed with the sound of all the petite rivers running nearby. She drops her camera and tilts her face toward the sun, eyes closed, taking in the warmth from the sunshine above. She looks as peaceful as it feels out here. I snap a photo of her. She brings her arms out as if she's standing at the head of the Titanic; I snap another one. That is what Maine is about, the simplistic beauty of being with nature. Any time of year, any weather. Just enjoying the feeling of connecting to nature. Water, trees, rocks, sunshine. All of it. Always. 

I’m so lost in thoughts of her and home I don’t notice her suddenly standing in front of me. 

“Earth to Samuel.” She sing-songs, fingers waving in front of my face.

I shake my head, willing my brain to focus on the task at hand. “Yeah, what.”

“Can I put this in your bag?” She’s holding a rock. A damp, white-ish looking rock clutched between her delicate fingers. 

“Uh, sure?” I’m very confused. I open a compartment, and as she places the rock inside, she shivers again. I guess it is chilly despite the day’s sunshine. It's still March after all, though I’m not a great gauge for temperature because I run warm.

“Are you cold, Birdie?” I question.

She scrunches her nose in response. I fight with the thought of how cute that is. “I’ll be fine,” she dismisses. “I’m always cold.”

“Here, take my scarf. I’m hot anyway.” Pulling my scarf from around my neck.

She immediately gives me a side-eye. 

“It’s.. not gonna bite, Birdie?” I tease her with a little wave of the scarf.

“Not my name,” she scrunches her nose again, apprehensively reaching out to grab it. “Biting I'm not worried about. It being magically cursed into strangling me when I least suspect it, on the other hand.” She tosses her hands back and forth like an invisible set of scales. Her hands work intently as she folds the scarf in half and places it around her neck, taking the ends through the loop and pulling it tight. 

“What am I? Harry Potter?” I scoff. 

She lets out a cackle. “Not even remotely. More like Lucius Malfoy.” She raises an eyebrow at me. 

“Wow, straight to Lucius. Not even Draco, huh? Yeah, I guess I am Daddy.” I stop in my tracks as I watch her pluck another rock from the tiny river leading out toward the water.

“Ew. God, no.” Her infectious laugh hits me right in the gut.

“See, Lucius was evil.” She stands, and her eyes give me a once over before placing the rock in my hand, presumably to be put in my bag with the other one. “Draco had a good heart even if he was a little chicken. Plus,” raising her pointer finger, “he was hot. And you are neither of those things.” She turns back to the small river of flowing water.

My mind flashes back to the other night at the bar, where she’s sitting with her friend. “No, you’re right, Wilson. Sam IS cute.” Replaying in my head. 

“Oh, really?” my mischievous side coming out to play. I step toward her. 

“Mhmm.” 

“OH, REALLY??” I repeat louder, taking another step. She stands to face me.

“YES,” she says pointedly. 

I smile wide, now looking down at her. 

“That’s not what your friend said the other night.” I bite my lip, tilting my head to the side and running my hand along my jawline. I watch as her eyes follow my movement, a fire lighting behind them. I know I’ve gotten under her skin by calling her out. 

She raises both of her eyebrows, this time taking a step toward me to fully bridge the gap between us. Nearly chest to chest, nose to nose, she says, “Wow, I’m actually shocked you were able to pull your head out of your ass long enough to hear someone speak besides yourself.”

I chuckle, running my tongue along my teeth. “I don’t hear you denying it. Go on, you can say it. You think I’m hot.”

“And why would I need to deny such a clearly false statement, Samuel?” Confusion etched across her face. “You know, when you come up for air, usually you can hear better. You should try it sometime.”

“So, that’s not what I heard, huh? ‘You’re right, he IS really cute.’ ? Your friend never said that?”

“No, you didn’t. Because no, they didn’t.” She huffs. I pick up on the use of ‘they.’  

“Right, right.” I nod my head. “So, do they frequently lie to embarrass you?” a silent acknowledgment between us. 

She pulls out her phone, tapping away. 

“Whaaaat are ya doing?” I question her clear deflection. 

“Just looking to see if there is a quick care clinic open on our way home because, obviously, you need to have your ears checked out,” She pockets her phone. “Can we continue, please?” A swift eye roll follows as she turns to walk back toward the little river.

“Wait, wait, wait,” a breathy chuckle falling from my lips. “If it's not you who thinks I’m cute. Then it must be your friend, right?” She opens her mouth to try to cut me off before I even get started, but, “So, can I have their number then?” slips out before she can manage. I relish in the fact that I know I’m bothering her. 

“No, no. Absolutely not.”

“Wow, for being Birdie, you’re not much of a wing-woman, are you?”

“First off, they would hate you. Second off, what makes you think I’d ever be your wing-woman. And THIRD-OFF, that’s not my name.”

I feel a bit of satisfaction and a warm swell of my belly when her nose scrunches in distaste. 

I wander off back toward the trail we came down, keeping my gaze pointed toward the opening in the trees. Trying to focus in between the little gaps for anything interesting or photo-worthy. The leaves are not quite growing yet, and the ground still wet with leftover melted snow. I can hear the squish of the damp soil with every step I take. The lead into spring is probably my favorite time of year. Most people enjoy the summer because the weather is nice and warm and the surrounding cities are alive with tourists and events. But those moments of fresh life leading into spring show you that despite the dark coldness of the winter, you can still grow and bloom into beautiful potential. The hope of it all, to come out the other end of the darkness to greet the sunshine, is why it's such a valued season to me. 

Just then, Birdie comes padding over to me with two more rocks in her hands.

“Sam, I found more.” She calls on her way over. I, once again, pull my bag to the front, and she opens a pocket, attempting to deposit the rocks herself.

“No, not there, I have a lens in there.” I zip it back up and choose a different one. “Try this one.” As she’s trying to fit the larger of the two in there, something clicks inside my brain.

“You’re one of those girls, aren’t you?” 

“One of what?” Her brows are knit in frustration when she realizes the rock is too big. She picks another, thankfully empty, pocket.

“One of those girls that sits around with her crystals and her tarot and her moon water.” I chide.

Her hands stop what they are doing and she slowly looks up at me, eyes narrowing. “How do you know about moon water?”

“It’s a long story.” I shake my head and sidestep the comment so I don’t have to talk about ‘she who shall not be named’. “You know my brother is into all that shit. He’s got crystals all over the place.” 

“The brother that owns the bar or the one with the mustache?”

“Uhh.. both of my brothers have a mustache.” 

“You sure about that.” She smirks. Oh, they’re both gunna just looove that. “Actually, why don’t you give him my number since we seem to actually have things in common.”

“No.” immediately denying her. “If you refuse to be my wing-woman. I refuse to be your wingman. No way.”

“Fine then, at least make yourself useful and find some space to fit this in your bag.” Flashing the rock, she couldn’t fit before. 

“Seriously, how many more of these do you need, Birdie? My bag is getting heavy.” 

“How about you hold this one.” She pulls a small crystal from her bra, and drops it into my open hand. “It’s good for grounding. Maybe it’ll help center you. Woo sah, Sam. Woo Sah.” 

Very funny.

I offer to drive the way home and now I’m curled uncomfortably in the driver's seat of Birdie’s car. Partly to get warm again and partly because of the intense growling of my stomach. 

“We should stop for lunch before we head into the office,” I suggest.  

“Where?” She pulls out her phone, searching for options.

“Is there a Taco Bell nearby?” 

“You can eat at Taco Bell? I wouldn’t think a Mexican food place would be vegetarian friendly.”

“Taco Bell is hardly Mexican, but you can sub almost anything out for beans. Plus, I’m craving a crunchwrap.” 

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We pull up to the drive-through speaker, and I place my order. “I’ll have a cravings box with a black bean crunchwrap supreme, a spicy potato taco, and cheesy fiesta potatoes, and a Large Dr. Pepper, please.” Her eyes are boring holes into the side of my skull as I pull out my card to pay. I scrunch my face in question. 

“Nothing.” is all she says.

She leans over the center console to place her order, elbows perched and ass off the seat. I know she’s trying to be able to project her voice from across the car, but she is so close. I shrink back into my seat to try and give her space, but I can't escape her sweet floral perfume. Oh, she smells so good. I close my eyes, reveling in the mixture of orange blossoms and vanilla as it clouds my brain.

“I’ll have two soft taco supremes and a medium Baja Blast, please.” She plops her ass back in her seat, “Ready?” 

I open my eyes again. “Yep.”

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I hand the cashier my card and receive the receipt and we pull up to the second window. She is staring at me again with the most unpleasant face. 

“Okay, what gives. Why are you looking at me like that?”

The worker opens the window and hands us our order. Birdie's own customer service voice shining through her ‘thank you so much!’ Unwrapping our straws and sticking them in our respective drinks while I slowly pull away from the building. I reach for my Dr. Pepper and take a large, satisfying gulp. 

“How can you possibly drink that?” 

“A Dr. Pepper?”

“Yes! It's like.. Against the law in at least 22 states to not order Baja Blast when you go to Taco Bell.” she quips.

“Oh, you’re not gunna like this.” I pause.

She stares intently.

I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly, “I.. don’t.. Like Baja Blast.” 

She stares some more. This time, the brown of her eyes barely peeking through the thin space between her eyelids. 

“Dr. Pepper just hits better.” I shrug.

“We- Are not friends.” Turning back to the food in her lap.

“Consider it one of my 19 crimes,” mumbling around a bite of my lunch. 

“Every sip is a little act of warfare, Sam.” She argues a bit further down the road. “I cannot believe you would commit such.. Such TREASON in my own car.” Her hands wave theatrically in front of her.

“Oh, you’re a Queen now, are you?”

“It is my car, so if I say I’m the Queen of my car, then I’m the Queen of my car. And I rule that drinking Dr. Pepper is an act of treason.” She crosses her arms, chin raised high, a playful smirk sitting on her plush, chapstick-covered lips.  

I laugh, a good, full-bellied laugh. She’s fun when she wants to be. When she’s not being so combative.

“I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” I respond and enthusiastically take a bite of my spicy potato taco. She rolls her eyes at me.

“How much food did you order?”

“What? I’m a growing boy!” I argue.

As soon as I take another bite, chipotle sauce comes out the bottom and lands right in my lap. “Oh shit!” I once again say around my food. She starts to rummage through the bag for some napkins. When she finds one, I reach my hand out to take it, but she bypasses me completely, leaning right over the center console with her head nearly in my lap, hands working to try and get the sauce out before it stains.

That’s how I ended up praying to the Gods above that I don’t accidentally pop a boner while she cleans up my crotch. What have I done to deserve this?

“It’s fine. It’s not on the seat. It’s just on your pants. Hold on.” I squirm under the pressure of her fingers as she tugs to flatten out the fabric of my khakis to make sure she gets it all. 

“It's fine, Birdie. Birdie!” raising my voice to catch her attention, to no avail. “I can take care of it when we get back. Or we can stop off at my apartment, and I can change.” I plead, desperately wishing for this to be over. 

“I almost got it. Stop moving!” I glance down as she slaps my thigh. Holy shit. She licks the napkin then and I swear I see Jesus in the middle of the freeway. I press the brakes to slow down to avoid a collision. Trying my best to focus on the road ahead, but instead, now all I can think about is her spit on my dick. Oh God. My eyes go wide as soon as the thought crosses my mind, and my dick definitely twitches. 

Oh, don’t go there. Not now. Think Sam, Think. Grandma Althea. Her house is old and smells like moth balls. Her hands are always dry from all the fabric she touches because she’s always sewing something. She coughs really loud and wet because of the cigarettes she smokes. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief when Birdie sits up. She clears her throat, “I uh think it should be all set.”

We drive the rest of the way back to the office in silence. I really hope she didn’t notice. But then again, I do have terrible luck.

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When I walk into the dark room, Birdie is already in there; the red lights casting a glow on her that reminds me of the first time she walked into my brother’s bar. Though now she’s rifling through the lower shelves.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?”  

“I uhh, I haven’t developed film since college. Tryna find some instructions.” Her ass in the air as she continues her search. 

“I don’t have nine film cameras for nothing, Birdie. I know how to develop film I can help.”

She stands and faces me, the uncomfortable expression on her face taking on a completely different view under the light. I wish I knew her well enough to know why she’s so uncomfortable. 

I get us set up with our film canisters and developing mixture while she grabs the rolls of film from my bag. We each carefully cut the film off the cassette. I try to focus on what I’m doing instead of how our fingers gently brush each other while loading the film onto the reel. I pour the developing mixture into each canister while she watches on. 

“We have to shake them every, like thirty seconds for a few minutes, and then we can do the stop bath,” I instruct her, and she nods.

Her small, delicate hands hold the rather large container as she shakes it back and forth. “Like this?” She questions, her brow furrowed. And.. I am only a man. Staring too closely at the motion of her hands, I freeze. For christ’s sake Sam. Be normal for 5 seconds. As I clear my throat to answer, I drop my canister. In her attempt to help me we end up crashing our heads together.

“OW.” “Oh Fuck.” We mumble at the same time. I feel around for the edge of the counter and end up knocking the other film canisters into the sink. 

“For fuck’s sake,” I whine. I reach to grab those, and Birdie bends down to grab the one I dropped. And, it is so dark in here she ends up ramming her head right into my junk.

“Fuck!” I yell. At the rate we’re both complaining, I’m sure they think we’re trying to fuck. If only I were that lucky. Instead, I now need to ice my goods.

I hold my breath, willing the pain to stop.

“Sorry.” her apology is small. 

A strained “It’s fine” tumbles from my lips.

We continue awkwardly fumbling around each other, trying to make sure the rest of the containers stay properly agitated, and instead, she gets properly agitated. If this was a cartoon, I’m positive that steam would be coming out of her ears.

“It’s too small in here; you are far too large, and it's too dark.” She huffs. 

“I don't know what to tell you, Birdie. It’s a darkroom, and I cannot get any smaller.”

“That’s not my fucking name.” Angrily, setting down the container with a loud thud. 

We add the stop bath and then the fixer, making sure to keep a good distance from each other, and then finally rinse and soak the film. 

When we hang the film up to dry, I realize I have about a foot on her.

“Need me to get you a stool, shortie? Or should you just hop on, and I could lift you up.” A cocky smirk spreads across my lips. 

“Nah, you’re the man you could do the heavy lifting,” she makes air quotes around ‘heavy lifting’. 

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 Once they’re fully dry, I gather the film strips and bring them to the lightbox. Scooting our stools close and setting each strip up one by one to see the negatives of our photos. Shooting nature is one of my favorite things but Birdie really does have an incredible eye for it. Of course, I’d never tell her that because she would hold it over my head. Our styles are very different, which is clear to see lined up next to each other, but they still look amazing together. 

“These.. Are really great, Birdie.” I smile down at her and bump her with my shoulder gently. Her face softens a bit and I can’t help but think how beautiful she looks. I am a man- I’m not blind.

“The hard part is choosing the best ones. It feels like choosing my favorite children.” Her infectious laugh plays through my ears, and I smile back.

We take some time discussing which ones have the best lighting or the best proportions. Which ones we think will make great features and finally settle on eight ‘prized children’ to print. The other eight photos selected for our presentation will be digitally edited and printed outside of the darkroom, making at least half of this project easy. At least the editing and printing we can do from the comfort of our homes in our PJs. Which is exactly what I will be doing after I see Daniel for dinner. 

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We settle back in the dark room using the projectors to print our respective photos. I don’t know what’s in the air today because I keep messing up. Either exposing for too long or too short and I keep running back and forth between the developing tray and my projector to try to correct it. On one of my passes, I run smack into Birdie. In my effort to stop the collision, I put my one unoccupied hand out to cushion the momentum and ended up grabbing her boob instead. For fucks sake. How does this shit keep happening?

I pause, slowly backing away. She just heavily sighs.

“Well.” She brushes her hands off and adjusts her beanie. “That’s the most action I’ve had in a minute.”

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Is that why you’re such a tight ass?”

“No, I have,” she emphasizes, “such a tight ass because I do squats.” And now I’m thinking about her in tight gym pants doing squats.

“Well, if you ever need help loosening up a bit, you know who to call.” 

“Jeremy Allen White?” 

“Who?” I match her confused expression.

“Oh, you know, he was in Shameless. The bear?” her brow further knits each second that passes. “He just had that big ad campaign for Calvin Klein?” Calvin Klein? As in.. models. Cool. First Edward, then Draco, now.. models.

“Yes, because I definitely seem like the kind of guy who keeps up with Calvin Klein campaigns.” Really trying to drive the point home with a snarky tone. 

“Oh..” I try to read the expression on her face before she continues, “I just thought because of you.. You know, actually know how to dress yourself.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t. Your competition is the genre of men who pick up a shirt off the floor and go, ‘yeah, this smells clean’.” She stands on her tiptoes as she hangs her last photo and then promptly exits the darkroom. 

A few minutes later, she returns through the circular door. It always reminds me of something a magician would have on stage. A weird sort of contraption to ensure the light stays out and doesn’t ruin the developing process for those inside.

“Sam.” her voice is quiet again, just above a whisper. I look up at her and can barely make out her petite frame in the dark. She’s just standing, a strip of film pinched between her fingers, head hung low. 

She continues just as quietly, “Did you.. Um. When did you take these?” The realization hits me. I forgot about the pictures of her. 

“Oh. Uhh. You were just.. Ya know in your element. And I sorta thought. Well, this is a big part of what Maine is like. Ya know. Outside, nature. You just seemed.. Happy. Thought it should be captured..” I trail off. Oh God, she’s gonna think it's weird. It's not weird, though, right? No, Sam, it's fine. 

The length of silence kills me. The longer she doesn’t talk the more I start to internally freak out. As if being a naturally warm-blooded person wasn’t bad enough, I feel myself start to sweat. I wipe my forehead of the perspiration gathering there and grab at my wrists for a hair tie, of which is conveniently missing at this moment. Please say something… please.

“This.. um.” she pauses, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. “They’re lovely, Sammy. Thank you.”

Sammy.

“Yeah.. yeah. You’re welcome.” I shift my focus back to my photo.

“So, uh.. Anyways,” she says, calling my attention back to her. “Since we’re printing the photos here and we’re editing the digital ones at home, you can just email me the finished ones when you’re done, and we can talk about the bullet points we’ll go over for the presentation.” She turns on the projector light until she gets the desired contrast, and then turns it off and carries her photo to the developer bin. I grab my own photo and walk over to meet her, dropping it in the solution to join hers. She idly uses the tongs to move her photo around the bin to help the developing process. Just like shaking a Polaroid picture, it doesn’t really work; it only passes the time. 

“That sounds good, Birdie.” I reach to grab the other set of tongs and end up blindly bumping her arm in the process, knocking hers to the ground. She bends down to retrieve them, and I set my sights on a different pair of tongs to my left. Two things happen at once. First, I bend slightly to reach the other pair. Second, she headbutts my ass. That’s two parts of me she has head-butted today.

“We’ve touched more today than I ever thought we would in this lifetime.” She groans.

“Think about us touching often, huh?” because I can’t help but try to get under her skin every chance I get. 

“Why are you like this?” she complains. She tosses the tongs back on the counter and goes to fish the photo out with her fingers. I lunge to stop her, but I’m too slow.

Now, it’s definitely not life-threatening to handle photo-developing chemicals without gloves. But they are, at the end of the day, chemicals and can sting like a bitch if you have opened wounds. Given how clumsy she is, I anticipate –

“Ouch, FUCK!” she yells, cradling her hand. I grab her by the wrist and shimmy us over to the sink, where I turn the water on cold. When the temperature is cool enough, I pull her finger under the running water.

“That was stupid of you.” I gently scold her. There’s no weight behind my words, just concern. 

“How stupid, Sam? I didn’t realize I had a cut. Is it bad? Do I need to see a doctor?” She rattles off. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” I leave one hand on her wrist, keeping it in place under the faucet, the other one I place on her cheek. Settling in the crook of her neck beneath her ear. The palm of my hand burns against her cool skin; she really is always cold. Despite the darkness of the room I still pull her gaze to meet mine. “Calm down, okay? You’re fine, I promise. A little stupid, maybe. But you’re fine.” I rub my thumb along her cheekbone, hoping to soothe her worries. I can barely make out her eyelids as they flutter closed for a moment and then open again. 

“You promise?” I can feel the anxiety radiating off her.

“I’d pinky promise if you wanted me to.” I joke, and she lets out a small giggle. Pride settles in my chest, knowing a crisis is averted.

“God, that was stupid.” she laughs again and rests her forehead against my chest.

“Lil bit.” I shake my head and slide my hand down to rub her back. Part of me doesn’t want to move from this spot, knowing she's comforted, but I ruin the moment anyway. I pull back from her, hand resting on her shoulder now. 

“Lesson learned, huh?”

She zips the top portion of her Patagonia pullover a little higher when we make it outside. I pull out my phone to see who is available to be my chauffeur home.

“Did you need a ride home, Sam?” She asks, pulling her collar up to her ears. The ends of her hair start to stick out. 

“I was just going to see which brother was a spare and could swing by.” I drop my eyes back to my phone. 

“I can give you a ride home if you want? I know you’re not too far out of my way, I can just.. Drop you off?” placing her foot on the next step down and pointing toward the parking lot. 

“You don’t have to do that. None of them do anything productive anyway.” I laugh. 

“Do you have more than just the two?” I bite my lip and smile when her brow furrows in confusion. 

“No, but you know Daniel? The bouncer? We went to grade school together so he’s been my best friend since we were like six. He's basically a brother at this point. Ya know, brotha from anotha motha.” Her gentle laugh bringing forth another swirl in my belly. 

“Oh, I was about to say. I’m not sure the world could realistically handle any more of you Kiszkas.” She says when we finally reach the sidewalk. 

“Yeah, they broke the mold with me. Realized I was peak Kiszka genes and said, ‘all done’.”

“Seriously though, I can give you a ride. It’s no big deal.”

I fall in step with her, “Why not? None of my degenerate brothers are answering me anyway.”

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The drive back to my apartment is quiet. Almost too quiet for us. The awkwardness of the day still lingering in the air. I clear my throat to cut the silence, but I can’t think of anything to say to fill it. I just fidget with my fingers instead.

“How are you getting to Boston tomorrow?”

“Uhm, well, the plan was to ride the train in like I did last time, but Edith almost made me miss it.”

“Edith. Right. Your truck.” 

“She’s having trouble turning over.” I run a hand through my hair.

“Well, I don’t want to have to worry about you missing your train and messing up this presentation for us by not being there, so i'll pick you up at like 6 a.m. if that’s fine with you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I told you I live close to my brothers. I'm sure one of them can take me.” 

“It’s really fine. I have to make the drive anyway and I really want this presentation to go off without a hitch. It would make me feel better if I knew for sure you’d be there.”

I don’t read into that sentiment. She just wants the project to be successful, and I know that. So I agree, much to my dismay. I hate feeling like a burden to people, and with Edith giving me trouble, I feel pretty much like a burden to everyone who has to deal with me. 

When we reach my apartment, she pulls over to the sidewalk out front. 

“Why don’t you put your number in my phone, and I’ll text you when I leave my apartment. I’m only like ten minutes away.” She pulls her phone out from the center console near her gear shift, and I put my contact info in. Entering my phone number and email under Sammy Kiszka with the camera emoji.

“I put my email in there so you can flag it, but shoot me a text with yours when you get home so I know where to send the digitals.” I place her phone back in her palm. “Thanks again for.. carting me around.” I let out an awkward laugh and scratch the back of my neck. 

“No problem, see you in the morning,” she gives me a tight-lipped smile. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” I grab my camera bag and hop out of her car. Shutting the door with a small wave through the window. 

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When I hear the signature knock, I know Daniel’s arrived. Two quick knocks, a pause, a single knock, another pause, and ending with two quick knocks. I don’t know when he developed that habit, but he only uses it on my door. Penelope lets out a loud boof of a bark and runs ahead of me, her shaggy hair swaying with her little jumps. Well, little for Pen. When I open the door, she’s already sniffing and pawing at his legs. 

“I brought beer.” He says as he holds up the 12-pack of coronas, careful not to trip around her. “Hope you got limes.”

“It’s me. Of course, I do.” Gesturing to myself and stepping aside to let him in, “Plus, I have an extra large meat-lovers pizza on the way.” I resist the urge to make a joke about ‘meat-lovers and guys night.’ “So.. tell me what’s wrong.” I continue, following him into my kitchen. He's stacking the beers one by one inside the fridge to keep cold, Penelope impatiently waiting for her attention from her favorite uncle. Her words not mine. I can tell by the expression on his face he’s struggling with whatever is on his mind. He closes the refrigerator door and shrugs off his coat, setting it on a nearby chair. 

“Hello, Penny girl. I wouldn’t forget about you, I promise.” She laps at his fingers as he playfully pets her face. Still reaching for her head as he stands, he takes a deep breath. “I, uhh, went on a date last night..”

“Still living up to your name, I see. How was it? Awful? Terrible? Did she have a big head or lipstick on her teeth?”

“Very funny.” He snarks back. “It was terrible, thank you very much.”

Eventually, I get the full story out of him. His date, named Allie, a very adorable waitress he met through a friend of a friend, was completely horrible (pleasant), didn’t let him pay (she wanted to split the bill because her drink was expensive and she felt bad), and.. the kicker? She opened the door for him (she got to the door first). We’re each two slices and a few beers deep, and I can’t figure out where the awful comes in. 

“She sounded completely fine, Daniel. I don’t get it?” I lean back against the couch, Penny quietly snoring by my feet. 

“She ordered a salad, Sam.” he looks at me expectantly as if that answers everything. “A SALAD!”

“Oh no. A salad. How completely terrible of her.” I roll my eyes. 

“I.. want a girl who isn’t afraid of eating a burger.” he shrugs, drawing a sip of his corona and lime. 

“Do you want me to be honest with you?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes in frustration.

“Always.”

“Bro.. you have got to get over Melody.”

He stands, effectively scaring Pen awake, and I watch him pace back and forth in front of my TV. She pads over to him, nails clicking against the hardwood until she can get her paws on him. 

“This has nothing to do with her.” He stops and reaches down to run his fingers through her fur for some comfort through this uncomfortable topic. 

 The subject of Melody has always been a touchy one.  He dated her in high school, and we were all pretty good friends for most of our childhood. I really liked her for him, actually. Until she broke his heart when we all graduated and ran off to college, leaving him in the dust and I was the one who was left to clean up the mess. The mess being Daniel because he was.. A full blown mess. He would never admit that, though. But what can you expect when you get your heart broken for the first time? I kind of get it. He has always been and always will be my brother, and I’ll always be there for him. No matter what. Which naturally means I’ll always harbor a severe distaste for her, even if I know I don’t have to worry about seeing her ever again.

“This has everything to do with her. You haven’t been able to make it past the first day with a girl since you broke up. It’s been what? six years?” I shoot him a pointed glare. He stops pacing and crosses his arms, waiting for whatever else I have to say.

“Have you considered that trying to get to know someone while eating food is actually incredibly awkward? Or is this really just about the monstrous salad?”

“She also wanted to go for a walk after dinner.” He defends. The sigh I let out.. My God. “Why would I wanna go for a walk when I stand all day at work?” 

He cannot be serious right now. The weakest arguments known to man.

“You’re an active guy, Daniel. Why wouldn’t you want to go for a walk? Doesn’t Linda always go on about your golf arms or whatever?” 

“No, that’s completely different, and you know Linda is the love of my life.” he smiles wide, his tongue poking out just beyond his teeth. 

“Right. So what other red flags did she have?” I dig a little more. 

“Okay, well, she tried to kiss me?”

“GASP.” I feign shock. “She wanted to kiss you? How very dare she. Daniel, that’s absolutely insane. It’s not like you guys went out on a date or anything.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” he plops himself back down on the couch beside me, his shadow following him until she perches her head on his knee. I swear, when he’s here, it's like I don’t exist. “Tell me about poking girl. How’s that going?” He lays his head back and pulls his trucker hat down over his eyes. 

“Good. Project is good. I still can’t ever tell if she likes me or not. We bicker and banter all day long. It’s entertaining as hell for me. Then, there are some moments where she acts like a sweet, normal girl. But most of the time, it's just bickering.” I take a swig of my beer. “I gave her a nickname to get under her skin, and she makes this face every time I say it. It's very.. Samantha from Bewitched.” I swallow my laugh down with another sip. 

“Whaddya call her?” he asks with a smirk, eyes poking out from underneath the brim.

“Birdie.”

“Birdie? Why on earth does that get under her skin?”

“Dunno.” I shrug. “But it does. And I take sick enjoyment out of irritating the fuck out of her.” I set my empty beer back down on my coffee table. 

A maniacal laugh escapes him. Clutching stomach, he bends forward. I start to wonder if he got high before he came over because what the hell is so funny?

“Oh god.” He wipes a tear from his eye and rights himself on the couch. “So you think she’s cute, huh?” 

“I mean.. I.. have eyes, yeah?” I answer with confusion heavily present in my tone. “But we don’t get along. As in cannot go five minutes without bickering, don’t get along.”

“You always did like em’ psychotic, Sam. None of us are stupid.” he chuckles.. to himself because I am not laughing. 

“No, I don’t!”

“Right, and Chelsea was what? Totally normal? You didn’t listen to a single one of us on that one, and we all told you.”  I forgot about her. The girl I dated right before ‘she who shall not be named.’ We saw each other for only a few months but what a whirlwind it was. We went to a concert an hour away, and she ran off with one of the roadies. A fricken roadie? Left me there to get home by myself, considering, yep, she drove. But again, she was hot, so what was I to do?

“Hey now! She wasn’t.. that bad.” I say innocently.

“Right, that’s what you always say. Sam – I never take advice from anyone – Kiszka.” 

“Yeah, alright, keep laughing. As if I’d take advice from ‘One Date Daniel’.” I elbow him in my defense. “Besides, I’m not sure I have much to worry about. Once the project is over, I won’t have to see her again unless we actually do well.”

I get up and head to the kitchen to retrieve another beer from the fridge, and my own dog doesn’t even glance up at me. She just rests peacefully by Daniel’s side. I open the drawer to the left and pick up the bottle opener, and pop the top. I take a long drink before I reenter the living room.

“I uhh, actually the receptionist at the Boston Globe is really cute. Her name is Daisy. We hit it off a bit when I was there last.” I point to the flowers laid on the shelf. “I stopped by the farmer’s market after work and picked up some daisies. Thought I might ask her out tomorrow.”

“Daisies for Daisy. Real creative, Sam.”

“Hey!”

“How’s Birdie gonna feel about that?” he inquires. I pick up the flowers from where they rest and give them a light sniff. 

“Oh, she’ll hate it. She already chirped me about hitting on Daisy last time we were there. Said something about ‘it's easier watching teenagers flirt.’ or whatever.” I set them back down and take up my spot on the couch. 

“Yeah, you never did have any game.” He tips his corona back, finishing the remaining liquid and setting it on the coffee table.

“You say that like your game is any better.” I shove his shoulder.

“I may be ‘One Date Daniel,’ but at least I get dates.” he chides, linking his fingers together with a crack of his knuckles in front of him and placing them behind his head.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Four

Chapter Six

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Other fics / one shots are here

Taglist bestiees! (I missed you all week and i'm so glad that we're back together again 🫶🏻 I hope you enjoy the chapter!!)

@gvfsstardust , @myleftsock , @mindastreamofcolours , @dont-go-home-without-me , @literal-dead-leaf , @lizzys-sunflower , @mackalah , @klarxtr , @ourlovesdesire , @threadofstars , @edgingthedarkness , @writingcold , @takenbythemadness , @i-love-gvf , @ladywhimsymoon , @earthgrlsreasy , @peaceloveunitygvf , @violet-hayes , @musicspeaks , @anythingforjtk

[garbinge]

Break-In

Bishop Losa x OC Manny Reyes

Day 27 these April Prompts: “This used to belong to my mom”

Summary: After a break-in at her apartment, the middle Reyes calls her brothers just to be sent to voicemail, leaving her to rely on her least favorite Mayan, Bishop Losa. 

A/N: My girl Manny <3 This is the start of a larger story for my girl that will probably take place over the course of one shots that can be read individually but flow a lot better if read all together. You can read my other Manny fic for some background or just more Manny content <3 

Family Night

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angst. Mentions of guns, violence, break ins. 

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc​ @justreblogginfics​ @narcolini​ @danzer8705

Manny sat completely still in the closet of her bedroom, her hand over her mouth to muffle any uncontrollable sounds of her breathing as a couple tears fell from her eyes. There was still shuffling and scuffling happening beyond the closet doors, each sound causing her to shake. Normally, Manny would have been quick to fight off intruders in her home. She wasn’t one to falter or scared of a fight, but things changed when she heard the gunshot. 

She wasn’t sure what they shot, who they shot. But it spooked her. Her phone was on her nightstand, just feet from her, almost taunting her. Since she couldn’t call for help, she sat hidden in the closet, waiting for the intruders to leave. 

It was silent for about 5 minutes but she let 5 more go by before emerging from the closet. She moved to grab the weapon from her drawer, realizing immediately she hadn’t grabbed the gun she had strictly for this reason. With one more deep breath, her shaking stopped, her crying stopped, and she was stealth, slow, and calculated in her moves as she cleared her apartment. 

After realizing she was alone, she rushed back into her room and grabbed her phone. First she called Angel, strictly because he was the first one in her phone, she hung up after the 4th ring, not letting the voicemail get a chance to speak. Her next dial was EZ, this time she let the rings bring her to the voicemail in hopes that he’d answer but there was no luck. She wasn’t going to leave a message, she wasn’t naive. She tried both of them one more time before giving up and moving onto someone else. Coco. 

“What’s up?” His voice was so relaxed it made Manny mad. 

“Are you with my brothers?” Manny’s voice was on edge. 

“Nah, they’re up north on a run.” Coco inhaled a cigarette as he spoke. 

“Fuck!” Manny yelled out. 

She couldn’t see him but Coco was pushing off the wall he was leaning on as the worry filled his body. 

“What the fuck is it?” He asked holding the phone tighter to his ear like that was going to get him answers sooner. 

“Some motherfuckers just broke into my apartment and trashed it,” she was looking around now, seeing that everything had been torn apart, her couch cushions were tossed on the other side of her room, drawers were open, it was a wreck. “I don’t know who but I heard a gunshot.” She immediately moved to the front window of her apartment and looked outside. Her mind was going back and forth, she was hoping there wasn’t any of her neighbors bleeding out but another part of her needed to know what the fuck they shot at. 

“Fuck! You good?” Coco asked as he tried to think through what to do. 

“I’m fine, I just– I don’t really keep company that would do this, you know? It’s gotta be a club hit. Or-or something Angel and EZ got into I don’t know.” Manny rambled. “Can you just– can you come here? Not really feelin’ like being alone.” 

“I’m over the border, Manny.” Coco said with sympathy behind his statement. “Let me call one of the guys that’s at the clubhouse.” 

Manny wasn’t in the space to argue or make calls so she just agreed. With her brothers not answering, she had to trust Coco and his decisions. 

____

There was a knock at the door, and Manny heard it creep open. With her gun loaded and next to her, she creeped up and pointed it at the person who entered. 

“They shot your door open.” Bishop said as he ran his hand threw his beard before turning towards Manny. He stepped back and put his hand up when he saw Manny was extending out a gun right at him. “It’s just me, Manny.” 

Those words didn’t really offer a lot of comfort to the girl. Bishop wasn’t exactly Manny’s favorite Mayan, let alone favorite person. Bishop and Manny had a very complicated history. Manny blamed a lot of the shit that went on with Angel and EZ on Bishop. Now, she wasn’t naive, she knew that Angel and EZ were in charge of their own decisions, but she also knew that as club president, they’d follow Bishop blindly into anything. And they did. Manny remembers when Angel joined the club, that was the start of Bishop and Manny’s tense relationship. Fighting in the front yard of the Reyes house when Bishop and a few other club members pulled up and pulled Angel away. She remembers when Bishop ordered EZ to go on a run and he ended up coming back with a gunshot wound. The names he called them, the way he acted around her, all extra salt to the wound. Every one of those instances and more were running through her brain mixed with the adrenaline from the break in, shooting Bishop seemed like a decent option. But Manny wasn’t psychotic. 

She lowered the gun, a little relieved to know that the victim of the gunshot was her front door and not one of her neighbors. 

“Coco called me. Filled me in.” Bishop's hands were still raised in innocence as he slowly walked towards the girl. 

“Yea? He tell you my brothers didn’t answer cause they’re out on a run.” Another reason added to why Manny very much didn’t like Bishop. 

There was more truth behind that, though. Manny’s last conversation with her brothers wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. But she wasn’t going to let Bishop know that if it meant she could blame him for something else. 

Bishop ignored the comment and Manny put the gun on the coffee table, probably one of the only pieces of furniture still upright in the apartment. 

“You clock anything? Tattoos? They say anything?” Bishop was trying to figure out who did this so he could figure out what the fuck he was going to do. 

“While I was hiding in my closet, scared for my life?” The sarcasm dripped off her voice. “No. Sorry.”

“Alright.” Bishop nodded and looked around trying to figure out what to do. 

“There were probably like 5 of them. They were calculated but they didn’t hit the bedroom, just here. With everything tossed around they were probably looking for something.” 

“You hidin’ anything?” Bishop asked and it caused a little more tension to grow between them. 

She was. Her brothers gave her something a week ago. It was a flashdrive. She didn’t ask what was on it and in hindsight she wished she did. But she also knew that whatever it was, the club wouldn’t have known about it especially if Bishop was asking this. Despite her being mad at her brothers, she wasn’t going to rat them out. 

“Yea, a million bucks under my mattress.” Her face turned in a smile that was fully mocking him now. 

“I’m here to help.” Bishop was now trying to work with the girl. 

“You’re doin’ an amazing job, prez.” Manny wasn’t letting down. 

Bishop stood there, if this was one of the guys they’d be put in their place way before this, but this was a line he hadn’t towed often, and tried to avoid in most cases. 

“I’m gonna take a shower, wash this fuckin’ disaster of a night off. If you leave, do some boyscout shit on the front door lock and send someone else to stand post please and thank you.” Manny didn’t want to deal with any of this, her anger over the whole situation, her brothers, and now Bishop being here put her over the edge. 

________

As Manny came out from the bedroom, her hair being dried by a towel in her hand, she didn’t expect to see her apartment pretty much put back together let alone Bishop horizontal on the couch playing with his pocket knife. Open and close as he stared at the ceiling. The sound of her footsteps alerting him to sit up. 

“I, uh, tried my best to clean up. I’m the only one still in Santo Padre, everyone else is either on the run up north or on the other side.” Bishop knew Manny was privy to certain things, whereabouts being one of them. “I’ll stay outside though, just was waiting to give you the heads up.” He stood up and was making his way to the door. 

“You didn’t fix the lock.” Manny said her eyes following him to the door. Bishop was about to explain how it was impossible to fix but that it didn’t matter because he’d stand watch and have one of the guys fix it tomorrow but Manny cut him off. “You can stay on the couch.” Bishop’s head turned up at that until she finished her sentence. “I’d rather them shoot you first to warn me.” 

He chuckled at that. “Fair enough. You think I could use your bathroom?” 

“Through the room on the right.” Manny said, pointing as she made her way to the kitchen. 

Looking at the couch, Manny realized she should get Bishop some blankets and a pillow. She might not have liked Bishop but she was grateful he was watching out for her tonight so she’d be a decent host at the minimum. She poured two glasses of water, placing one on the coffee table, next to the gun she had placed their originally, and then she took the second glass into her room to grab spare bedding. 

She was shocked to see Bishop staring at her stamp collection. She cleared her throat which made him place the stamp book back on her dresser before turning to face her. Manny’s hand was extended out handing him the glass of water. 

“Sorry, I–uh,” Bishop grabbed the glass of water and took a few steps away from the dresser. “I used to collect stamps with my kid. The album caught my eye.” 

“I wasn’t coming to spy on you. Was grabbing you a blanket.” Manny turned to her closet. 

Bishop stood awkwardly in the middle of Manny’s room, looking around at the pictures in the room, the things on her nightstand, the stuffed animals on the bed. 

“Used to belong to my mom.” Manny said as she turned around and handed Bishop the blanket. 

“Huh?” Bishop asked with a frown as he had the water in one hand and the folded blanket in the other. 

“This,” Manny moved over to her dresser and picked up the stamp album, “used to belong to my mom. We collected them when I was a kid. Before she died.” She placed it in a new spot on the dresser standing up so it was more on display now. 

Bishop nodded. “Me and my kid used to go to different flea markets, vintage stores, pawn shops, whatever the fuck, and pick them up. Before he died.” His last three words were spoken directly at her since they were repeating what she said. 

Manny’s head snapped to Bishop’s. “I–” She started to say that she didn’t know, like that would excuse all of her behavior to the man but she stopped and just offered condolences. “I’m sorry about your kid. That’s rough.” 

“So’s losing your mom, I know that was some gruesome shit, then with EZ going away,” Bishop tried to sympathize with her. 

“Yea. It’s been rough. Doesn’t seem to let up.” What would have normally come out as sarcasm came out in a soft voice. 

The two of them moved back into the living room, the front door was wide open, Bishop dropped the blanket and glass quickly and drew his gun, his other hand instinctively moving behind him to shove Manny behind him. Her hand reached forward, grabbing her gun from the coffee table and situated behind him, watching his six like she had learned how to do from her brothers. She still hated that her younger brother had taught her how to defend herself but in this moment she was grateful. 

“Stay here.” Bishop said as he cleared the apartment, Manny staying on alert at the front door as she closed it with the back of her foot. 

Bishop reappeared now, gun back in his waistband. 

“Must’ve been the breeze.” He pointed to the door before bending down and picking up the tossed blanket and glass and dropped them in a more proper place . “If you got some rope I’ll boy scout this shit closed.” A smile filled his face which caused Manny to push off the door and laugh. 

“Didn’t realize you were so funny, Obispo.” She used his full name, something she never did as she went into her junk drawer in the kitchen and pulled out some string and tossed it to him. 

She moved to the recliner she had bought strictly for her father for when he came to visit, bringing her legs up to her chest as she watched Bishop fidget with her door. After he tightened the last knot, his eye fell to a picture that was hanging on the wall. Manny clocked it immediately, she also saw how quick he was to look away. Like he had intruded on something personal. 

“Ellie. My ex.” 

“Oh, I didn’t realize you uh” Bishop shook his head, embarrassed to have overstepped. 

“Like girls?” Manny laughed as she saw Bishop squirm. “I’m shocked, the guys love to clown me on it. Especially Gilly.” She drank the rest of her water. “But, I don’t…you know…” Her head shook from side to side expecting Bishop to understand what she was insinuating and Bishop’s forehead wrinkled in a frown. 

“I don’t just like girls.” She said expecting Bishop to understand but his face was still twisted in confusion. “I’m bisexual, Bishop.” Manny said it as straightforward as she could. His face let the confusion fall but he stood there awkwardly. “Jesus Christ, it was easier coming out to Felipe.” Manny laughed. “Take a fuckin’ breath, prez. You don’t gotta say anything.” 

“No, sorry, just realized I don’t know much about you.” He sat down on the couch.

“I could say the same.” Manny looked directly into his eyes. 

“Guess we don’t know much about each other.” Bishop leaned back against the couch. 

“Guess we don’t.” Manny didn’t take her eyes off him. 

Bishop stared right back at her. “Maybe we should learn more.” 

“Yea, maybe we should.”

[understandableparadox]

Vichtr Unikke

Supposed to be goldblood, is blackblood instead because mutation. Has difficulty controlling psionics. He/they, trans man. Likes robotics. Matesprits with Luciol Lanten

Rudy Webster

Rudy is a 21 y/o guy(?) who lives in the small town of Junebug. he lives with his 2 moms and service dog and is dating his childhood best friend. he works at the local library and is all around seen as a nice, albeit introverted, boy. but... his true passion lies on the Internet, where he boasts a kinda-small but kinda-big youtube subscriber count. his main claim 2 fame are his MLP:FIM reviews, which are as opinionated as you'd expect but a bit more positive than most bronies at the time. the other half of his content consists of delving into lost media. (which happens to be his second important special interest. the first is mlp g4) Other interests include internet archival, html coding, piracy, and DOOM. 

online/in videos rudy presents himself as sarcastic, quick to yell at inconsistencies, and Very emotional at times. in reality he definitely is all of those things but dialed down a ton. he's sensitive to rejection and very hard on himself because of that. he hates when people complain about the things he likes and takes lots of shit that doesnt have anything to do with him personally (thats the anxiety talking) he's been hit with the ol' depression + GAD + autism combo so his life can be a living hell sometimes, but his girlfriend and dog help calm him down when he's stressed. there's  also some toxic masculinity + gender crisis going on in that brain of his but  he'd rather die than admit any of that. even though he has all these negative traits, he's helpful in his community (online and irl) and affectionate towards the closer people in his life. most people just dont see that side of him.

[catmilf4life]

⋆♱Drunk apologies. ✮

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

matt sturniolo x fem!reader (oc, name claim)

nameclaim: Riley

no smut, arguing, yelling and cursing, drug mentioned and alcohol

!not proof read!

synopsis: Matt and you got into heated argument you storm out of his house and get drunk…

“Matt for the past month the only thing you did was sleep work on your youtube channel, and again! I tried so so much, so much to be the great girlfriend that supported your decisions! But this is too much on me! when was the last time we went somewhere just the two of us? Without you worrying about work? I don’t really remember!”

I felt your eyes get teary, I didn’t want to yell at him. But I was so fed up with him and his needs. When will be my time to take care of MY needs?!

“i don’t know.” matt muttered. His eyes were fixated on the wooden floor in his living room.

“that’s what i thought, maybe just stop being selfish and think about people who are around you who care for you.” You answered trying to prove your point.

“Me? Selfish?! How could you even say that! all i do is work for you for us. So we can go anywhere so I can buy you the jewels and clothes you wanted! How could i be selfish?! Stop talking for a second! Literally i don’t want to hear your stupid voice. I got a lot on my plate without your stupid complaints!”

Matt was now standing right infront of me looking down at me. He was raging mad. My vision got blurry from the tears in my eyes. I sniffled as i tried to look for a clue in his face.

“fine. you can go and do your work, you won’t hear from me.” After that I took your hoodie and left his house.

I started walking towards my apartment. Matt was the one who drove me here and since he doesn’t want to hear from me , I need to walk back.

I have been walking for the past 15minutes. When i hear my phone ding. I pick it out of my pocket with hopes that it’s matt.

It wasn’t. It was my friend she sent me a text inviting me to party five blocks away from here.

I thought about it for a second. Should i go? Matt would be mad. I shrugged and answered with a simple see you there.

After some time i arrived. It was a big mansion i never seen something bigger, it was beautiful. I could hear music blasting through the windows. I came close to the front porch as a smell of alcohol hit my nostrils. I slowly opens the door seeing many people dancing singing smoking weed and drinking alcohol.

I walk around trying to see my friend.

“Riley!” my friend yelled from behind me. I turned around seeing her. “hii!” i said trying to cover up the tears stains under my eyes. she was too drunk to realise perfect.

I have been at the party for some time. It’s around 2am am taking a shot. It was one of many. I wanted to drink away the thoughts of my argument with matt.

I was stumbling down their front porch. My vision was blurry, and i felt dizzy, oh so i was drunk, drunk?!

I started walking down random street hoping i would get home.

after sometime i started recognising the street i was walking on. It was matts. Matts street.

I don’t really know how i got here and why did i get here. I came to an _ and i wasn’t sure if i was supposed to go to the left or right.

my vision started to get foggy once again, as i felt tears drop from my eyes.

I pick out my phone and dial his number, hoping he would answer.

After some rings i started to give up my hopes. As i was about to hang up i see his name pop up. He answered. I immediately put the phone right next to my ear.

“hi,” i sniffled into the microphone. “Riley where are you.” matt asked me. “do i go left or right? am on your street silly.” i mumbled some of the words partly because i was drunk and partly because i was crying my heart out. I missed matt more than anything.

“stay where you are don’t move, i’ll be right there i promise.” he said reassuringly. “okay.” i whispered lowly as i sat on the sidewalk waiting for him.

It was cold and my body started to shiver. I waited for a few minutes just crying and mumbling some stuff under my nose.

“there you are.” I hear similar voice come from one of sides. i stand up and ran to him slowly.

I embrace him o a hug immediately covering his shirt with my tears.

“am sorry, so so sorry i shouldn’t have said that you were selfish, i just missed you.” I slurred.

“that’s fine darling, and i should have said that your complaints were stupid. They never were and never will be am sorry, if anything like this ever happens i wanna know how you feel okay?” he smiled down at me.

“okay.”

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

sorry short stuff And not the besstt

but it was really fun to write it. Anyways i didn’t have a proper introduction!

Hi! Am lily or catmilf

am new to tumblr! and i write small imagines and stuff like that. Am not really big fan of smut so you won’t be really seeing that here but if a request catches my eye am open to anything!

also i really hate writing stuff with y/n so i use name claim it will be probs a random name. (maybe new oc?)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

[randomperson99sworld]

Ruffled Feathers 🪶

~ Part 47 ~

Summary: Julia Morgan, Bobby's niece, has always been a royal thorn in Dean Winchesters ass since the day they met 1 year ago at Bobby's memorial. She wants to be a hunter, he thinks she's a dumb kid playing dress up. Will she always be seen as an unwanted load in Dean's eyes or will he see something more?

Pairing: Dean x OC

Warnings: Age gap, language, sexual themes (used lightly), physical abuse (Not by Dean).

Word Count: 633

A/N: Oh boy, will Dean get to Julia in time?? 🫣 Stated as always, this story is cross posted on Wattpad. Happy reading! ♥️

Dean paced back and forth outside the bunker, the vision still fresh in his mind, playing on repeat like a bad horror flick he couldn't turn off.  Sam was out for the day and left the bunker locked. His heart was racing as he dialed Sam's number, waiting impatiently for his brother to answer.

"Dean?" Sam's voice came through the phone, immediately picking up on the tension.

"Sam, I had a vision," Dean said, his voice tight. "It was about Julia. I think... I think it's the demon that tried to kill her in the crash."

Sam was silent for a beat. "A vision? You think it's the Mark?"

Dean swallowed hard, staring down at the dirt beneath his boots. "Maybe. It felt different, though. Like it wasn't just in my head this time. Like it was real. I saw her, Sam. She got stabbed. There was so much blood. I can't shake it."

"Dean, we've been looking for that demon since the crash," Sam reminded him. "There's been no sign of him."

"I know," Dean snapped, frustration boiling over. "But we missed something, I'm telling you. This wasn't just a random nightmare. This was a warning."

Sam sighed. "Okay. We'll keep digging. See if we can track him down."

Dean checked the time. Julia would be getting off work soon. He didn't want to freak her out while she was still at the clinic, so he decided to wait. "I'm gonna head over to the clinic. I'll call her when she's about to leave."

"Be careful, Dean," Sam warned.

"Yeah, you too," Dean muttered, before hanging up and jumping into the Impala. He sped toward the vet clinic, his grip on the steering wheel tight as he tried to push the panic out of his mind. The image of Julia lying there, bleeding, kept flashing before his eyes. He couldn't lose her. Not now.

As the clock neared the time Julia usually got off, Dean pulled over to the side of the road and dialed her number. His heart was pounding as the phone rang, waiting for her to answer.

"Hey, Dean," Julia said, her voice light. "What's up? I'm just closing up now, about to head out to my car."

Dean's throat tightened. "Julia, listen to me. You need to be careful. I... I think the demon that caused the crash is still after you."

"What?" she asked, her voice immediately tensing with concern. "Dean, are you serious?"

"Dead serious. Just... stay on the phone with me, okay? Until you're in your car."

"Okay," she said, her footsteps echoing through the line as she made her way outside. "I'm heading to the car now."

Dean's stomach twisted as he listened to the silence on her end, his heart pounding louder with every second. He was just about to tell her to hurry when he heard it—the sound of a struggle, a sudden gasp from Julia.

"Julia?!" Dean shouted, his grip tightening on the phone. "Julia, what's happening?"

Then came the low, menacing voice. "Well, looks like we have some unfinished business."

Dean's blood turned to ice. It was the demon.

"Julia, run!" Dean yelled into the phone, his voice desperate. "Get the hell out of there!"

But all he heard was a scuffle, the sound of Julia's phone clattering to the ground before everything went silent.

"JULIA!" Dean roared, throwing the Impala into gear and speeding down the road toward the clinic. His pulse pounded in his ears, his mind spinning with fear and fury. The vision was playing out in real time, and if he didn't get there fast enough... No. He wasn't going to let this happen.

He slammed his foot down on the gas, the Impala roaring as he raced toward her, praying he wasn't too late.

[explosivefins]

not a word (NOT DSAF!!! AN OC!)

[yelena-bellova]

UNLUCKY: A STRANGER THINGS STORY (OC) - CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Chapter Seventeen: …To Worse

Series Masterlist l OC Profile

Plot: Things between El, Christine and Hopper finally come to a head when El ventures out on her own.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: language, fighting, PTSD

—————

“Eleven!”

I flew into the house, spinning so fast I could barely register the room I was scouring. “Eleven!”

I had fought for her freedom. I’d argued with Hopper constantly trying to get her just a bit of it. And now my worst fear had come true and she’d decided to take it for herself.

“Eleven!” I ran into our bedroom hoping she’d be there waiting. No luck.

I threw open the bathroom door. I looked in Hopper’s bed. I searched every inch of our tiny home hopelessly. She was still out there.

Waiting around seemed like the wrong thing to do, but so did leaving and to go look for her. Too scared to think or move or breathe, I grabbed the phone and dialed Hopper’s number at the station.

It was on the third ring that he burst through the front door, appearing in a worse mood than he’d been in the morning. He knew.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” I hung up the phone, “I think she was at the school.”

He shrugged his jacket off, “Mike?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, realizing how out of breath I was. “They didn’t see her.”

“Other people did,” he ground out, “Got a call about it.”

This was it. This was how it all fell apart. I could feel it.

“What do we do? Do we go look for her?” I asked.

“We wait here until she comes back,” he answered, running his hands over his face.

The sun had almost set as we went out to the front porch and took up our posts. Hopper stood in silence, smoking, while I huddled on a rocking chair. The temperature was dropping quickly but it was the fear making me cold. What if El had been taken? What if Brenner had left plants in Hawkins, just in case they ever found her?

“I told you.”

Hopper looked over, “Excuse me?”

“I told you something like this would happen,” I expounded.

“So I’m to blame for her stupid decision?”

“I didn’t say that,” I bit back, “But maybe if you’d have listened to me, we could have avoided this.”

Hopper slowly turned to me, I didn’t dare look at him.

“I’m gonna give you a pass ‘cause I know you’re scared,” he said, his voice was unsettlingly low, “But I am not the one who screwed up here.”

Saving my strength for whatever confrontation was coming with El was more necessary than arguing with Hopper. But Heaven knew I wanted to.

The sun had disappeared l and we were sitting in the dark when I finally heard branches cracking under footsteps. El’s shadow came through the tree line, stopping when she saw us. Specifically Hopper.

She walked through the door silently, I followed and Hopper brought up the rear, slamming it shut.

“‘Friends don’t lie.’ Isn’t that your bullshit saying?” He said as El stormed into our room, “Hey, hey! Hey! Don’t walk away from me!”

He slammed our bedroom door open and hung in the frame. “Where’d you go on your little field trip, huh? Where? Because your sister,” Hopper pointed behind him, “Said you were at the school.”

El looked to me, wondering how I could possibly know. I stayed quiet and sent no thoughts.

“He didn’t see me,” El answered.

“Yeah, well, that mother and her daughter did and they called the cops,” Hopper replied as he moved into the room, “Now, did anyone else see you? Anyone at all? Come on, I need you to think!”

“Nobody saw me,” El spoke more firmly.

Hopper’s tone dropped a bit of its aggression, “You put us in danger. You realize that, right?”

“You promised,” El pointed a finger, tearfully and raging all at one, “I go! And I never leave! Nothing ever happens!”

“Yeah! Nothing ever happens and you stay safe!”

El and I flinched as Hopper smacked our dresser. “You lie,” she yelled at him.

“I don’t lie,” he yelled back, “I protect and I feed and I teach! And all I ask of you is that you follow three simple rules. Three rules. And you know what? You can’t even do that!”

I stayed frozen in place as Hopper marched out of the room. This was the fight I’d been dreading and it was triggering silent alarms in my body.

“You’re grounded,” Hopper announced, “You know what that means? It means no Eggos,” he promptly went to the fridge, grabbed the package and threw it in the sink. “And no TV for a week.”

I wanted to stop him, to tell him he was being too harsh, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything.

As Hopper went to move the TV out of the living room, it stuck to the floor. El was keeping it there with her powers.

“Alright, knock it off,” Hopper said, “Let go.”

El shook her head, blood dripping from her nose.

“El…” I managed to get out. She was going to make this worse.

Hopper shook the TV again, trying to move it to no avail. “Okay,” he stood back up, “Two weeks.”

She still wouldn’t move.

“Let go!” Hopper yelled, this was the one area he couldn’t be beaten. “A month!”

“No!” El refused.

“Well, congratulations. You just graduated from no TV for a month,” Hopper moved behind the box and yanked out one of its cords, “To no TV at all.”

“NO!” El cried, running and trying to fix the antenna to make it light up again.

“You have got to understand that there are consequences to your actions,” Hopper said from across the room.

El spun around, “You are like Papa!”

“Eleven!” I snapped, we were crossing too many lines.

“Really?” Hopper was exhaustedly leaned against the wall, “I’m like that psychotic son of a bitch? Wow! All right,” he faced El, “You wanna go back in the lab?”

My blood went cold.

“One phone call. I can make that happen.”

“Hopper,” I bit out.

“I hate you,” El remarked.

“Yeah, well, I’m not so crazy about you, either. You know why? ‘Cause you’re a brat. You know what that word means?” Hopper grabbed our dictionary and angrily flipped through it, “How about that be your word for the day, huh? Brat. Why don’t we look other up? B-R-A-T. Brat.”

He threw the dictionary in El’s direction, she caught it mid-air and launched it back at Hopper, barely missing me.

“Hey,” Hopper exclaimed, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Eleven,” I called from my spot between them.

El was unreachable, sliding the couch telekinetically across the floor to hit Hopper in the legs.

“Hey!”

El stormed off to our room, knocking over a bookcase on her way. Hopper chased after her but she’d locked him out.

Hopper tried with the knob, “Open this door!”

My chest had started rising and falling rapidly. There was something about their fighting that was too much for me to handle. I needed out. I needed out now.

As Hopper continued to berate El, I ran out the front door and slammed it shut. I fell to the ground and realized I was crying. Their voices could still be heard and the panic continued to build. It was all too much.

Suddenly a piercing scream from El cut through the cabin, sending me straight back into my mind. Flashbacks of the same sounds on the day I’d escaped the lab filled my ears. My chest clenched up, the oxygen coming too fast and not at all.

The windows of the cabin shattered, pulling a gust of wind through them. I curled into a ball to avoid the falling glass. El was using her powers.

I laid on the wooden deck, my ears covered and my ragged breaths coming unevenly. The cabin had gone silent, but the noise continued ringing in my head.

It was a few minutes later that I heard the front door open. Hopper’s boots weighed on the deck. He said nothing. When he did inhale to speak, I threw a hand out and moved one of our chairs in between us. Blocking me off from him.

“I’m not sending you-“

“Don’t,” I sat up, my face tear stained but my eyes wide with rage, “Don’t.”

Whether I was right or not didn’t matter. Hopper didn’t like being told what to do and I could see the frustration in his eyes. He walked back inside, leaving me to calm down.

When I did come back to myself, I rose on shaky legs and went inside. Hopper was sat on his bed, head in hands. I had no empathy for him tonight. Not after what he’d said. I also knew El wasn’t letting me into our room.

I brushed off the glass shards from the couch, pulled a blanket off the back of it and laid my head on our only throw pillow. I didn’t need pajamas or dinner or to brush my teeth. I didn’t need to speak to Hopper. I didn’t even need to feel good about the state of our home.

I just needed to sleep.

——————

None of it was any better in daylight.

I woke up to Hopper nailing boards up where the windows had been. Glass littered the floor and the furniture was still knocked over.

With nothing to say to him, I silently went to the kitchen and started making breakfast. El wasn’t likely to want anything other than Eggos but I poured an extra bowl of cereal anyway.

Both Hopper and I turned when the bedroom door squeaked open, promptly squeaking back shut. For once, I wasn’t going to be the clean up crew for Hopper’s mess. He could fix this one himself.

“Hey, kid,” he called to El, “Listen, um…about last night, I, uh…”

He was so close. So close. If he could just push through the pride, we could-

“I want this place cleaned up by the time I get back and then maybe I’ll consider fixing the TV. You hear me?”

Disappointed, but not surprised, I went back to fixing breakfast.

Hopper came into the kitchen, hesitating in the same way. “I called the school, told ‘em you were sick.”

I silently poured the milk.

“Keep an eye on her today,” he pointed around us, “Don’t help her clean this up unless, y’know, it’s something she can’t do.”

I carried the two bowls over to the table.

Hopper was less than pleased with my silent treatment. The quickest way to frustrate him was to go quiet. He grabbed his hat and headed out the door, leaving me and El to ourselves.

She came out a minute after he’d left, but didn’t join me at the table. She took her cereal to her room, shutting the door behind her.

I dug my palms into my eyes, it was going to be a long day…

The morning went on silently, El cleaning up the mess and me doing my homework and other chores. Come lunchtime, when there was nothing left for me to do in the house, I decided to run the list of errands on the fridge.

I paused in the doorway of our bedroom, looking through the slit at El sitting on her bed. She looked miserable.

“I’m gonna run to the store,” I said, pushing against the doorframe, “I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour or so.”

El wouldn’t even look up at me.

“Look, what Hopper said last night was…” I paused, still in shock from it all, “Absolutely wrong, but what you did was-“

“You get to go,” El snapped suddenly, “You get to see Mike. You go to school. You go everywhere!”

I bit back tears, “I know. I know. And I’m sorry-“

“Go,” she yelled, just as close to crying as me, “Go!”

The time I’d been dreading had finally come. El’s resentment of my freedom had become stronger than her love.

I couldn’t hurt her any more, so I obeyed her wishes. Without a word, I turned on my heel and walked out the front door.

——————

Errands took longer than usual because I let them. When I should have been going from store to store, I was sat outside the library, taking some time to myself.

The night wasn’t promising for any of us to make up. If it was going to be another evening of screaming and arguing, I wanted to take what little peace I could get.

It had been one year, one good year. I’d gotten a home, friends, an education. I’d even gotten El back from the dead. However rocky it had been, I counted myself lucky every day that I got to wake up with this life. My life. It felt now like it was all slipping through my fingers. I wondered if this was the end of it.

Eventually, I got up and completed all my tasks, moving through them robotically and heading back home.

There were still a few hours till Hopper got back so I had time to clean up whatever El hadn’t, demands be darned. I hit the secret knock against the door and waited for El to let me in.

There was no answer.

I did it once more, louder, in case she had locked herself in our room.

Nothing.

Growing concerned, I telekinetically opened the locks myself. “El?”

More silence.

“El, it’s me,” I announced, “I’m back.” Angry or not, she always acknowledged when I came home. Always.

Upon setting the grocery bag down on the table, I was able to get a good look at the house. The old mess had now been replaced with manila folders and papers all across the living room. There was a box on the couch labeled ‘Hawkins Lab.’

“El?” My voice grew panicked, “El!”

I crossed the floor to our room and threw the door open. She wasn’t there.

“El!” I scrambled through the cabin, “El! El!”

There was nowhere to search, it was too small a home. I ran outside and into the forest, yelling her name relentlessly, waiting for her to call back and say she’d just been outside. Breaking a rule, yes, but she was still here.

“El!” I cried once more, a flock of birds startling and flying off. I watched them fly north, as far away from the cabin as they could get.

She was gone again.

I bolted back inside to the phone and hurriedly dialed the number to the station.

“Hawkins Police De-“

“Flo,” I rushed out, “Is Hopper there? I need to talk to him right away.”

“You and everybody else, honey,” she replied, “He’s out on a call right now.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Joyce Byers was the one calling,” Flo sighed, “So that would be my best guess.”

The Byers. Will. In all the chaos of El leaving, I’d forgotten to tell Hopper about Will’s episode.

“Okay. Okay, thank you, Flo.”

I caught my breath as I hung up. Hopper was at the Byers’ house. He was checking on Will. He’d be home soon and we could make a plan to find Eleven. Until then, I’d stay planted in case she returned.

But he wasn’t home soon.

Hours went by, and he didn’t come back.

I waited on the couch, watching the door as if both of them were about to walk through. Bang out the knock and wait for me to let them in.

They never did. El had run away, Hopper was just gone and I was on my own.

Unable to hold it in any longer, panic came exploding out of me, throwing the room into absolute chaos.

—————

Unlucky Taglist: @lanadelray1989

[atonalginger]

15 lines of dialogue

15 Lines of Dialogue Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

I was tagged by @therealgchu, thank you for the tag!

I have chosen Bella Cherise this time around.

“Got to take risks in this line of work,”

You’re insane, he’s dangerous! Caution screamed. We’re dangerous too, practical reasoned, or did you forget who you are?

God, I hope he bites my ass

“Cute?” Bella scoffed, readying for a fight, “I’m a fucking bombshell.”

“You think my game is good enough to get this captain to risk his stable salary to help the Fleet steal from a galbank exec? You’re damn right I’m flattered.”

Bella came out of the bathroom, pulling the belt of the robe she’d slipped into before doing her makeup and installing her wig, exposing her bare midriff and cleavage, “you said I’d need to work the floor for gossip on Dumbrosky? Easier to get people to open up when they’re distracted, don’t you think, tovarich?”

“and yes. Last time I was in Dodgewood was when I went to pay my…when I shoved my waste-of-oxygen failure of a father into the pig pen. He was working for the wealthiest family in southern Akila, the Whitmoores, handling some under the table business. If I’m spotted around the settlement their people will be on me immediately.”

“while street rats like you were focused on your next ‘big’ score and knocking zoners skulls around I was working hard to secure my place on the Boardwalk working with the actual big players of Neon. While you were shaking down broke bastards for loan sharks and dealers I was tasked with taking down real marks worth killing. Benjamin Bayu only works with people worth talking to, which is why he has me on speed dial and doesn’t know who you are.”

«This job couldn’t wait for me to wake you up and then soothe your concerns over my ability to handle myself in this fucking city. I survived this city and all its dangers long before I met you.»

Don’t you ‘sugar’ me, Caution scrunched up her nose. Shut up, he wasn’t talking to your stuck-up ass, Practical snipped. Enough! Bella thought,

“Didn’t think you the hopeless romantic type, Del,”

“And you took her walking outside,” Bella yelled, “just parading us around so Naeva’s people could paint the bullseye on nice and big!”

“You think because you got her to eat her food a few times and got her to bed on time that you can curb a full blown meltdown? Because I can say with absolute certainty you can’t.” Bella shook her head and walked for the door, “you aren’t going to be able to ‘oh mi Conejita’ her into calm.”

“No, no, no,” Bella stepped back and rubbed her hand up her thigh and right side where Estelle’s shots hit, blood coating her palm. She held out her hand and waved it in Naeva’s face, “don’t you see you stupid bitch, I bleed crimson, same as you.”

“You should see the other lady,”

[visionarystoryteller]

New Start// Love For Noella Levesque

*part of the ‘Love For Noella Levesque OC World’*

Noella sat on one of the equipment boxes, watching her father from a far, talking to her step grandfather, Vince. To say Vince made things worse from time to time was an understatement. Noella had been nothing but nice to the man, hoping to get into working production for the show with her father, but every goal he set for her got her pushed back further, always taunting her with ‘you do want to work production here right? Then do as I say’. That had been the saying for the last few years. And now she had an out. An out with a horrible fate of her already crumbling family relationship, but an out.

Noella had been in contact with one of her fathers old colleagues, and one her first crushes, Chris Jericho, for a few months now, him talking up an opportunity to be a production specialist within a different wrestling company, WWE’s rival, AEW- All Elite Wrestling. Chris and Noella had been in talks about the difference of things and how they needed someone with a brain and he knew how much she loved the behind the scenes of the shows. So here Noella sat another message from Chris, with the addition of his boss, Tony, asking if she’d thought further on the offer.

“Noella” her father’s voice punched through her. Noella locked her phone and looked up at her father and saw his disappointed look. Noella knew exactly what was coming.

“He already hired someone new for production. You weren’t ready for this Noella” Her father stated. Noella sucked her teeth and nodded at him, cleanching her phone a little to tight.

“M’kay” was all she could say. Paul gave her a look.

“Just work harder right? That’s what’s best for business” Noella swallowed out, getting off the equipment box. She was tired of this.

“I’m gonna go get some food, see ya later” Noella turned away from her father and walked down the hall. Paul was stunned. Usually Noella had some emotion to being told she didn’t get the job again…but she had nothing. Noella was simply tired of trying but being no good. To say Noella was his most difficult child to read was an understatement, she was independent. He swallowed his breath and made his way to his office. He knew two things though, Noella was ready and Vince was a hardass.

Walking down the hall, Noella pulled her phone in front of her and quickly dialed Tony’s number along with Chris’s, a conference call more or less. Noella made her way through catering, grabbing a pudding and water before sitting in the corner away from all the noise. The phone picked up and Chris yelled through at her.

“WELL WELL WELL MY FAVORITE LEVESQUE!” Chris yelled. Noella giggled and cleared her throat.

“So anyway can we meet in Jacksonville?” Noella gets straight to the point.

“Does this mean?!” Chris starts getting excited.

“I’m done. I’m coming in tomorrow. I’m better than this and it’s time I show myself that” Noella says.

“Well that’s great! We can talk more when you get here okay Noella. Drive safe” Tony says.

“Will do. I’ll talk to y’all soon.” She says.

“See you soon Levesque!” Chris yells hanging up. Noella hangs up the phone and takes a deep breath, looking around catering at all the wrestlers. Some had become some of her closest friends over the years of being her dad’s assistant. She’d miss some of them that was for sure, but she was tired of the games. She knew she could do this.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Later that night, Noella picked her things up early and headed to her dad’s office. Knocking a few times and walking in, she found her stepmom and step grandfather in the room as well. She mentally rolled her eyes. Every fiber of her being was buzzing to get the hell out of there, but she needed this.

“Noella, honey I was just about to have someone come find you” her stepmother had gave a smile. Noella tried to return it and nodded.

“Everything okay?” Noella asked.

“Yea I talked to Vince here and we think we found you something that you might like to do within the company” Stephanie smiles.

“With all do respect, I actually came here to offer my resignation. I will be done as of today. I just want to pursue something different. Maybe travel…might go see some old friends from college…I just want to find something that’s me” Noella spoke strongly. Paul looked at his daughter. something felt different.

“Are you sure kiddo?” Paul asks.

“Yea, might go and see Brie and Nicki while I’m at it, got some podcast they’ve been dying to get me on…I just need to be…” Noella says. Stephanie smiles at her and pats her shoulder.

“You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll find it” Stephanie says. Vince was quiet but accepted her request without having to do a 90 day release clause. She was no athlete.

“I’m sure I will to. I’ll check in when I can. I’m meeting a friend down in Florida tomorrow, so driving out.” Noella says. Paul gets up and hugs her.

“Let me know when you’re safe” Paul says. Noella nods. Everything was about to change.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

“I’m here to see Tony Kahn, my names Noella Levesque “ she smiles. The security guard looks at his iPad notes and nods.

“Alright ma’am, meet him in catering, just follow the signs posted on the walls” the guard says. She nods and they let her through the detectors and begins her decent to catering.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Noella was almost brought to tears when she was told that she had exactly what they were looking for. Tony brought up feeling like she was over qualified to do something as small as pro wrestling TV production. Chris was ecstatic for Noella. Having spent a good amount of time with her backstage, her following him around because she had about the biggest crush on him, and he loved watching her grow up. She had turned into a beautiful young lady that knew exactly what she wanted out of life, at least for the most part.

Noella ended up staying for the show that night to get a feel for where she was going to be at when she started next week. Tony had stayed with Noella for a little while before he went to production and Chris took over walking her around, meeting people and getting to see some older wrestlers she grew up with backstage.

Down the hall a little, Austin or Adam Cole and Maxwell, MJF, we’re walking when Austin spotted Noella. Austin nearly started stuttering, earning a look from Max.

“What dude?” Max asks looking at him.

“NOELLA ANN!” Austin yells down the hall. Chris and Noella look up and down the hall seeing Austin and Chris smiles.

“Go see him, think he may have missed his little sister” Chris bumps her shoulder. She laughs and nods. Austin was a one of Noellas bestfriends. He had worked closely with her dad and she was always there so naturally the two formed a friendship. She even formed a really good relationship with Britt, Austin’s longtime girlfriend. She starts walking to Austin and he smiles big at her. Max looked on with curious eyes until he finally realized who she was. She was a complete wrestling princess without wrestling and boy did Max think she was more beautiful in person. Austin pulled Noella into the tightest hug he could muscle, basically lifting her off her feet, paralyzed.

“A..us…t.i…n c…ant…br…” Noellla chokes out. Max hit Austin up side his head.

“She can’t breathe dude” Max says. Austin quickly lets up on his pressure and puts Noella down on her feet.

“Shit sorry Noe” Austin says sympathetically. Noella coughs for a second but waves of Austin.

“Christ Jenkins…tryna kill me, I know dad worked your nerves but damn” Noella fake pouts. Max has his eyes glued to Noella. He couldn’t seem to look away. This was Noella Levesque. He had seen her once with her dad when he had met with Triple H back in a time Max didn’t know if he’d stay with AEW…and she was even more beautiful now.

“Sorry Noe. I just can’t believe your here, wait why are you here?” He rapidly speaks. Max chuckles a little and Noella looks over at him. She had been so caught up that she forgot she saw Austin with another person. She smiles at Max trying to think of why he looked familiar but then remembered. Maxwell Jacob Friedman. She’d sorta met him once when he met with her dad about a year ago. He was cocky but she could also see right through that persona. She watched a few of his matches with her father, he was a great wrestler, but she also knew he was more creatively free here in AEW, then WWE. She knew they would creatively restrict him, so she was glad to hear that he had stayed with AEW. From then on, she tried to keep up a little on his career, no doubt forming a crush she didn’t realize she had grown up until this moment when she was looking at him. She could feel her cheeks warm and that was embarrassing to say the least. Austin looked at the two almost smiling like a Cheshire Cat at the two.

“Maxwell, this is Noella Levesque, Legend daughter of Triple H-“ Austin starts.

“And absolute beauty queen” Maxwell finishes out loud. Austin raises his brow at him almost comically.

“Maxwell Jacob Fridndman, I’m glad you stayed in AEW, creative in WWE wouldve made you dull, you have to good of a craft to waste. And thank you but I assure you I’m not beauty queen, can’t even say princess” Noella says looking at Max.

“Mhm you two cute” Austin says quietly, it going unnoticed by both Max and Noella.

“Well sweetheart, then you can be my queen” Max winks. Austin groans.

“Oh c’mon” he says, again the pair ignoring Austin.

“Smooth Maxwell, how many times has that worked for you?” Noella giggles. Max smirks, a little stunned himself.

“Well as full of it as I sound, I don’t usually say much to them when they’re around and about” Max says truthfully.

“Interesting”

“Also true though” Austin pipes in louder this time and Noella looks at him with a little surprise.

“See and this dumbass can’t lie for shit” Max laughs.

“Trust me, I know, he tried to all the time” Noella laughs. Austin rolls his eyes.

“So what’s up with you?” Austin says.

“Left WWE. Vince stiffed me again with the dream position I wanted and there was no way I was letting that shit happen again. I had been in kahoots with Jericho for a few months already and a few weeks back he had Tony get ahold of me and he offered me my dream job here. So after a little convincing from Jericho about some things and Vince’s last stupid move with me, I decided might as well see if I can at do the interview…anyway long story short, I’m now working production here, and I’ll be able to run things” Noella smiles brightly at the pair. Max nearly swoons at her bright smile. Fuck was Max hooked.

“Shit that awesome!” Austin hugs her again, but not as tight as last time.

“Does your dad know?” Austin asks once he puts Noella down. Noellas face goes sour and Maxwell scrunches his brows and looks at Austin for a moment before moving in next to Noella and putting his arm around her and pulling her in.

“Even I know Noella wouldn’t be here if he knew” Max comments. Noella shrugs agreeing with Max.

“Max is right. I just said some bullshit like I wanted to find what was right for me.” Noella says, putting her head as close to being on top of maxs shoulder as she could. Max decided to move to the wall and slouch a little and pull her to lay her head on his now more level with her shoulder. Noella just reacted like it was natural and normal thing for her to do. Austin watches the pair…it was crazy how comfortable the pair were with each other. Max didn’t really enjoy people and Noella just a quiet person, already sick of being in some spotlight related to her family.

“Sorry…I’m just excited to see you again, so my footsteps in my mouth” Austin apologizes. Noella waves him off lifting her head from Maxs shoulder.

“Ya ya make it up to me with food” Noella says. Austin laughs and max chuckles.

“You got it dude” Austin says.

[theallenshorefangirl]

Nicknames the ISM characters call Zoe/Sorrow

Desmond:just Zoe and Sorrow

Virginia/Watcher:Zo and Nyx(Since she's based after, like I said, the god of Sleep,Goddess of Night, and God of Astrology and Watcher has only seen her first phase)

Allen:Z or sis and sleepy head and Moon(Phase one),Angry Moon(Second phase), and Dark age eclipse (third phase and secret eclipse phase, and he kinda ran out of nicknames there)

Max:Ares(for her short temper) and Hypnos (he only saw her 2 phases)

Lucas:Zo or when using walkie-talkie, it's Radio Star, and then it's Astrology's eclipse (The Flash has only seen her third phase and not the secret one)

Not sure about others but

Nicknames Zoe/Sorrow gives the others

Desmond:Des,Doc,sometimes Dad and Shadowform is Savior,Angel and Dove

Virginia:Big Sis,Vir and shadow form:Mourning star

Allen:Al,Big bro,Somnia and Shadow form is:Shadey,Sad boy,Star sprinkle,Sad puddle

Max:Asshole,Jerk (due to she doesn't like his tone and he made her cry for yelling at her for one small cup she broke and it was because of her tics) Shadowform:Bullhead and Jackass (she hates his bull form due to its loud)

Lucas:cooler dad,Lu,RadioShack(she thought it was funny) and Commander Cole Shadowform:Camouflage radio,Towerflower and Tower sniper)

Agent Rainbow:trippyman,Devil man,Liquid danger,The rainbow man person!? And BOY MY PARANOIA IS BAD TONIGHT

Tonia:Ton Ton,Toni,pretty kitty and snowball

For other oc nicknames that belong to(sorry for the tag) @voidwritesstuff @gizm0-gadgetz and @charles-himmel

Jerico:J,Jeri(will say full name sometimes),and Shadowform is:Fireball and Sunball (she doesn't know what nickname to give em)

Nova:only Nov or Nova or N (Zoe is afraid of giving her nicknames because she fears she might get punched) Shadowform:Jailbird and Star Painter

Henry:(unknown for human interaction) maybe Hen or H Shadowform:Midas,Golden book,Gold star,and Golden Tarrot

And Adding to Sorrows boss fight there is a secret interaction if you find a know for her rooms control you can get a cool 2 version secret phase of Sorrow's 3rd form!

Lunar Eclipse Sorrow:She gains more pale colors,and the bossfight is just a slowly nodding off to sleep Sorrow that falls asleep in a coffin shaped bed with the last boss fight line from her that says

Lunar Eclipse Sorrow:Huh....I feel sleepy, and it's very peacefully quiet. I can finally take my nap......

Desmond:Deep breaths,and clear the mind,you deserve a rest,you overworked yourself kid,rest well.

Solar Eclipse Sorrow:you thought the 3rd phase was bad,the secret one is worse.

*As the room switches to the sun and Desmond quickly switched the moon over the sun dial,the room went VentaBlack*

Solar Eclipse Sorrow:*her form is like her normal 3rd phase form. Only the fin crown has sharp spikes every few points and her colors are now Black,orange and purple with hints of yellow markings on the mask,it's fang like teeth were shaper and the ink arms toss Desmond into the inactivated door* Death is your fate and I will seal it,Fate isn't on your side only the weight of what you caused,Pain and sadness

[sidecharactersdomatter]

Thoughts I had during TGCF S1 Ep 1

Note: I have just seen all 12 episodes of Season 1, and I’m watching the entire donghua in English. Now here we go!

-Is that a Jiao? (The red palanquin the servants are carrying the woman in)

-Welp, it sure got gorey fast, and the Jiao has been dropped.

-That Origami Crane has seen better days, and it doesn’t even have eyes!

-Don’t go out there… don’t go out there… don’t go out there… don’t go out there… *Bride gets snatched* Okay, maybe you should’ve gone out there.

-An intense first start to a really interesting Donghua!

-Now I know not to skip the opening song this rewatch~!

-It’s an actual live Crane!

-It’s Laputa from Castle In the Sky (So need to actually finish that movie)

-It’s that town background from Genshin Impact (I literally know nothing about that game, and I’m not interested in playing it)

-It’s that bright light column from Legend of Korra (I haven’t seen the full series and I also don’t plan to watch it, Die Hard Last Airbender fan here)

-That was good animation, and the person running towards that light beam inspired a scene I’m writing my TGCF OCs Hong Hai and Qing Tao are running towards it to see who just ascended.

-Right after XL ascends, Hong Hai and Qing Tao then go, “Huh, Who is that?”  Then everybody yells at them, “PRINCE XIE LIAN!”

KOI FISH!

-Why didn’t they have the “Most likely to be cast out of Heaven reward” in my High School Yearbook, heck I could’ve gotten nominated that easy…

-I wasn’t kidding when I said Xie Lian’s English voice was like butter melting on warm fluffy flapjacks!

-Ling Wen is a savage!!!  She might the Chinese Equivalent of Athena or Themis.

-He has a fanclub?!?!?!  (I might be one of the members)

-The Official’s Okay!!! And a badass!

-So much property damage…

-Yeah it kind of is, (Hehehehehe Last airbender quote)

-They are using Yuan as currency right?

-Not like the Matrix movie right?

-That’s Lucien Dodge

-Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!

-Really?  He got banished over a tea break?!

-Woah they’re all just harsh on his return to heaven

-Those translucent viewing cloths…

-Is ‘mana’ how they say ‘qi’ in the Dub?

-Magic Sleeves of Holding!  count: 1

-Aw he thanked her!

-He said his famous line people “And may all taboos be shattered…”

-It’s the Jasmine Dragon Tea shop from The Last Airbender

-And ‘Hear no Evil’ to complete the iconic Monkey Trio!

-Awww it didn’t land on his finger like in Book 1 (Oh yeah, I’m reading the first two books I purchased JSYK)

-She has him on Speed Dial (DCAU Justice League reference)

-I love how they both looked really pissed off at him, yeah XL it’s totally the latter option.

-And then she hangs up on him

-Green tea!  (I hope it’s Jasmine)

-Hahahahaha he spat out his tea! XD

-Fu Yao, *Is sarcastic and rolls his eyes* Basically me: He’s just like me fr!

-Oh and they’re staring daggers at each other!

-FIGHT!  FIGHT!  FIGHT!

-Xie Lian’s such a peacemaker!

-The fact they responded in sync

-That explains the intense cold opening

-That mission briefing took the whole afternoon?

-See what did I say?  Ghostbusters!

-Those people in the wedding procession do not look professional at all

-Hey I’m half Asian with freckles, and I think I look awesome so I’m taking full offense at your insult!

-I think it’s an unwritten rule that Alejandro Saab is typecast as a self serving asshole I’ve seen it in Nomad of Nowhere

-Wow brutal Fu Yao

-Well I honestly hope he dies

-He ripped her skirt, freaking bastard!

-How is he doing that without mana????

-Yeah beat his ass!

-Thanks Nan Feng!

-Yeah you better run

-No!  Not the Tea shop!

-Aand he got slapped W H E E Z E!

-An abacus!

-The tea shop got fixed!

-Well Fu Yao ain’t wrong

-Hehehehehehe Dick joke XD

-Fu Yao’s giggle!

-“Go sweep the floors!” “What was that?” OOOOOHHHH!

-Don’t give him Cinderella’s chores Nan Feng!

-OOOHHHHH!

-FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

-That poor poor altar!

-Not only is it dirty but you’d be disrespecting the god it was offered to SMH

-Wow diplomacy really does solve everything

-He’s got her on Speed Dial too

-The fact that they stared at him together! XD

-Sees Bride!XL: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA I’m Sorry XD!

-Honestly, Fu Yao, VALID.

-She fixed her skirt.

-Yeah right a few alterations, she totally fixed his make up calling it.

-Oh so now you’re smart enough to know Proverbs SMH again

-U said it Fu Yao,

-*Sees Bridesmaids NF and FY like* W H E E E Z E XD XD XD XD

-Is he smiling?  I can’t really tell in the animation.

-I can see why this episode literally came out on Halloween

-The Jiao got dropped again!

-So basically ancient Chinese zombies

-So that’s how he was able to last longer than the previous bride

-That Owl again

-There’s that butterfly

-Well there’s his groom (Not the Ghost groom obviously that’s for sure)

-Oooooohhhh! Backstory!

-Pass me the Aux cord!  You better not be playing mainstream garbage! *Turns on One Flower and One Sword and vibes like there’s no tomorrow*!

-My favorite song out of the Season 1 soundtrack!

-He’s out of the Jiao and in strong arms!

-Yep that’s totally gonna be important later

-Oh that’s how he was able to confront that bald jerk at the tea shop!

-That battle animation is so freaking fluid!  *Chef’s Kiss*

-There go the wolves

-That looks really bad, and it explains his bad reputation in heaven

-Aiaigasa!  AIAIGASA people!!!! *Fangirls like there’s no tomorrow!*

-It’s the same umbrella!

-I knew that kid was gonna be important, called it~

-I now pronounce you both husband and husband!  You may now kiss the gro- I mean, bride!  

-Don’t mind me, just gonna go jam to the rest of the ending!