#kind of in his wanting to repent for what happened in the First Age but also remembering what power feels like

[wannaeatramyeon]

We got baby/childhood panel of Daniel, Jake, Zack, Johan, and recently Gun.

I can't stop think on how cute and chubby baby Gun is lol

Lookism 520 spoiler!

Lol. This feels very duality of man. Baby Gun coming out with UI made me lol.

Ok, gather round for Ramyeon's retelling of chapter 520.

So PTJ, with his fondness for SAD backstories cooked up one for Gun. And while it's not terrible and I didn't get food poisoning, it's tasting a bit bland because everyone is getting a SAD backstory and it's getting old y'know?

Onto the chapter-

Everyone is in love with Daddy Yamazaki, and for some reason that is bad and all the ladies chop their pinkies off to idk repent for their sins or something but even though the relationship appears to be consensual because he's had sex consensually with them all, it's still the women's fault.

In the end, the great big kind man that Daddy Yamazaki is lets them all carry his kids. Thank the heavens.

Daddy Yamazaki has Smaller Bro Yamazaki who also has a son btw (Haruto) - this is sort of important but it's hard to really feel much for them cos the son character (Haruto) has just been introduced in this chapter and will be likely killed off soon.

Anyway, I digress.

All the babies born are unimpressive so far. And you may think wtf how are babies unimpressive. Babies are just babies. Well, that's because Gun comes whooshing out the (Korean) womb with UI. Bro has built in UI from the start, kinda an impossible standard to reach so fine I get why the other babies are unimpressive.

Although if all the babies are unimpressive apart from Gun, the common denominator here is Daddy Yamazaki so maybe everyone should point the finger at him instead. Hmmm.

The chapter fast forwards to show Gun is a prodigy, he masters his training. He's only five and a kid, so he plays around with his friend but gets slapped by his mother for being a kid because it's not becoming of a future gang leader.

So even though he's FIVE, he still gets told to 'act accordingly' lol.

I think there's another timeskip, or PTJ really has lost the plot and forgotten what five year olds look like (tbh he has forgotten what 'elementary school' aged kids look like too) and Gun, genius that he is and following his mother's words takes down all the gangs in ONE DAY. WHEW.

But, PTJ is trying to desperately show it's nurture not nature. Gun wanted normal things but has been moulded to become a monster.

Gun's mother praises him for his violence and his deeds, and Gun wonders 'Huh, if mother dearest loves when I fight, and I must fight to be loved, what happens if I'm violent towards her?'. He punches her and gets praised for it.

Please see above point.

And another fast forward in time (presumably) to Gun trying to squish butterflies like the maniac he is.

Anyway, remember Smaller Bro Yamazaki's kid, Haruto, that was mentioned? Well he's the only one throughout that looked at Gun as if he was normal and told Gun he was free to do as he wants. He doesn't have to fight. Or have to be a leader if he doesn't wanna.

And sweet lil Gun doesn't really wanna, so he makes up his mind and tells Smaller Bro Yamazaki.

Smaller Bro Yamazaki loses his shit and is all who the fuck told you this nonsense. Gun snitches on Haruto, and this snitch doesn't get stitches and instead Haruto does when Smaller Bro Yamazaki tells Gun to kill Haruto. His own father tells Gun to kill HIS kid!

Dun dun dun CLIFFHANGER!

Overall very sad, very unfortunate. But please see my first point about PTJ's cooking.

I'm assuming in the coming chapters Haruto gets killed off. I would be super surprised if he doesn't because Gun, despite me being delusional and thinking he's just a sweet lil blorbo, is something of a murderous psychopath. It's more fitting of his character if he just kills off Haruto even if he has a moment of hesitation or any regrets.

Hope that helps!

[dreamyourselfxbackagain]

Look who just woke up- is that CHARLIE VICKERS? No, I must have been mistaken, that’s SAURON from LORD OF THE RINGS. I heard they are APPEARS 31 and stuck here just like everyone else. Even in the 20’s, he still give off a the road to hell is paved with good intentions, always wanting more, confidence that could kill, five steps ahead, the nightmare you tell your children about impression. But here, they are working as A POLITICIAN. They’re known to be quite CHARISMATIC & PATIENT, but have a tendency to be MANIPULATIVE & CRUEL on their bad days.

Gender/Pronouns : Male / he/him

How long have they been in Sydney : In his memories, 3 years. In reality, 2 months

Which suburb do they live in? Darling Point

Personality description : 

Strangers - he is a little cautious with strangers. He knows given his job people dislike him sometimes, but he won't try and be rude straight away. Often he will try and charm. He will definitely manipulate

Casual friends - He is still cautious, though a lot more relaxed. If he needs to manipulate them then he will, but for the most part he is at least pretending to just be a normal person

Loved ones - he has very few of those. Though he does try to be honest, more often it comes over as he can give them power, not always something they want.

Enemies - adding this one, because a lot of people aren't going to like him. He doesn't really care too much about that, if people need a villain he is happy to be it. If only because he knows now, no one really is going to listen to him.

Memories of their real life : 

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and once upon a time a Maia named Mairon did have good intentions. Created by Eru, he was good and uncorrupted. However he wanted order and perfection, and soon realised the quickest way to archive this was by working with Morgoth. To begin with, keeping this a secret so he could gain information but before the end of The Years of the Lamps, his true intentions were revealed. Mairon was no more, instead he became Sauron.

Throughout the First Age Morgoth unleashed terror onto Middle Earth, with Sauron doing his bidding. During one battle, he picked up an insignia off a dead man. However after a defeat, he all but vanished. Morgoth was defeated, and Adar claimed he had killed Sauron due to his cruelty to the orcs.

Perhaps the story would have ended there. Sauron had indeed survived, but now lived under a fake name Halbrand, claiming to be a man running from orc attacks. He wanted to repent for what he had done, but also knew very few would believe him. It may have worked, if Galadriel had not ended up on the same raft.

They ended up on Númenor, where she learnt the insignia he carried belonged to the King of the South. He told her the truth, that he had found it on a dead man, however she didn't believe him. Meanwhile he became a blacksmith, his intent was to remain in Númenor, a peaceful life. But Adar was in the Southlands, and the thirst for revenge soon became overpowering. However when they did return, Galadriel prevent him from getting his revenge, believing Adar could tell her where Sauron was.

Míriel informed the people there that he was their long lost King, and suddenly a feeling he hadn't had in a long time came back. Power. If they were willing to give it to him so easily, perhaps it would be enough. But then Orodruin erupted and he was gravely injured. Whilst he wanted to stay and fight for the Southlands, Galadriel realised he would die from his wounds, and they left.

In Ost-in-Edhil he said something, phrases she had heard Adar use about Sauron, and she finally realised Halbrand was Sauron. After a confrontation he left, returning to the Southlands.

What was their fake life like:

Born into a normal family, it didn't even occur to Sauron to want for power. He was planning to spend his time as anyone in the 1900's would. Except a war broke out.

Like many his age, he ended up serving and it gave him a hatred for how the world was if this was what could happen. There was also horrors he saw out there. In his eyes, the world needed to change and likely the current one would need to burn for that to happen.

On returning, he opted to go into politics, starting at the bottom and slowly working his way up. He wanted to make the world better.

But then his memories came back, and suddenly he had centuries of memories. Had he been wrong before? With getting his memories back at the same time Mairon's thoughts were strong again, as were the ones of wanting redemption. Yet hadn't his point been proven here as well? The world cannot change unless it is broker first.

Optional, please pick at least three and interpret them however you wish ::

Location they work in: Parliament House

Theme Song: Gonna Know My Name - Diamond Dust

Quote: You don't know what I did, you don't know how I survived

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 8

Prompt: Breeding Pairing: Hongjoong x fem!reader WC: 900 Summary: PWOP. It is what it says on the label This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Hongjoong or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. TW/CW Under the cut!

TW/CW: Unprotected, pregnancy talk, called “honey” and “little cumslut”, Hongjoong is needy, so is reader.

 Once he started he couldn’t stop, It took one time cumming as deeply as possible in your hole to convince him this was always the way to do it. It became an obsession, a project. Sex turning from one and done into a multi stage marathon. No longer was he worried about cumming early, in fact that way he could just fill you more. Pushing his own seed deeper into your womb as he fucks you again. He’d all but stopped masturbating, even during long tours, saving up his release for when you met again.

 Chest pressed into the mattress, hips held high about for him to pound into he jolts and jitters as his own seed spills around him and onto your legs. The first round of the night, a big one. They’ll only get smaller, more painful even as he continues. Because he will continue.  “I think it’s gonna take this time,” starry eyed you mutter. The possibility of it actually happening was nearly zero thanks to your implant. Still you say it with conviction because it pleases him.  “Everyone will know you’re mine then. No more hiding. I’ll dress you in the finest clothes and show off my work to the world.” Another spurt of cum forces it way into you as he thinks about your stomach, swollen with child. His child. Tits fat with milk. Taking you to art galleries and displaying you alongside his other accomplishments. He pulls the two of you to the side, leaving his cock soaking in the mixture of fluids, rehardening slowly before ever going fully soft.  His arm snakes over you, cupping your breast, rocking ever so slightly to bury himself again without disturbing you. His thumb absentmindedly plays with your hardened nipple, dragging it down and letting it spring back to place.  “Sleepy.” Your scoot back to his chest, nose pressing into your hair. “I like.”  “I know you do, honey. I know you like feeling full. I promise I’ll keep you nice and full.” His lips press against your hair, inhaling the scent of skin and shampoo. “Gonna fuck you all night if I have to.”  You moan, his base needy nature on full display. When he holds you like this it’s impossible to feel unloved, unwanted, alone. When he’s rutting into you, promising the moon, you feel safe. It’s easy to fall in and out of blissful sleep, eyelids heavy with pleasure. The persistent targeted drag against your gspot serves to keep you vaguely present as fireworks spark and fizzle.

 Hongjoong can feel your body slacken and tense in his arms as you drift between conscious states. “I should let you go to sleep,” he almost sounds repentant. Truly he feels a little guilty, knowing how hard he’d pounded into you previously. A good climax was better than any melatonin or cbd gummy to get you into a hazy dreamlike headspace.  “Don’t let me, wanna cum again,” you whine. You’re always whinier when you are tired, after your first round. Hongjoong knows this. He knows round two is not the time for hair pulling, snarling, fuck-you-dumb, crass kind of sex. Even though you both like it. Round two is for exactly this; hazy, needy, sloppy, whiny sex.  “Oh Honey,” he coos, “need more before bed? My little cumslut needs more?”  You toss your top leg forward onto the mattress, opening yourself up for easier access which he eagerly takes. Abandoning your breast in favor of carefully rubbing circles around your clit, Hongjoong groans. He can feel your walls tightening with your stomach, anticipating the next wave. “More, more,” you beg and plead, “want more.”  “Even when you’re all fucked out your walls are milking me dry,” Hongjoong sounds deliriously happy. Your cunt is sloppy with release, slick slap of his balls against your skin is proof enough of his handiwork. “Wet little pussy, working me so well. So good for me.” He tugs at you, rolling with you on top of him, using the full force of his thighs to fuck up into you, deeper and deeper. “I’ll give you as much as you can take.”  Through the haze of your orgasm you can feel the twitch of his dick, lodged as deep as he can go. Spurts of release force remnants of round one from you, a white ring forming at the base of his cock.  “Thank you,” you babble. Body shaking, possessed by pleasure. His pleasure. He enjoys every second of it, holding you tight as though he could absorb it. You can barely breathe, eyes rolling back. Your walls squeezing another dry, painful orgasm from him. The pain completes him, penance for using you, for wanting to own you like he does. You aren’t his but maybe just maybe if his cock is the only thing your cunt craves, you could be his.  Exhausted, both of you flinch and jitter, muscles activating randomly as your overstimulated nerves cool down. His member stays lodged inside, a poor stopper for your leaking hole. Another sign your night is not yet over.  “Is this all me,” Hongjoong asks, running a finger along the tight muscle of your pussy. “Going to have me dripping in your panties for weeks.” He can already feel the faint twitches of his rehardening. Lacing his fingers between yours you pull him close despite the slick and sweat.  “Again, just in case,” you giggle. “Just to be sure.”  “Of course honey, to be sure.”

Hated that I kind of had to be short and sweet with this but if all my kinktober fics are 2k+ words...well. TBH this particular kink is one of my favorites to write so trust it will be in others as well.

[boogiewrites]

Repentance

Eddie Munson x f!reader (no use of y/n) - best friends to enemies to lovers

She was a hot, cheerleading, mean popular girl. He was a rebellious, guitar-shredding "freak" boy. Could I make it any more obvious?

Reader gave up her former life to become popular but it turns out it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. By her senior year, she’s grown weary of being someone she’s not and stands up for herself one too many times before the cutthroat members of Hawkins royalty decide to ruin her reputation. With no one left who knows the real her, she’s left to reach out to her former best friend, Eddie Munson. We follow her and Eddie through key moments in their best friends to enemies to lovers' journey ending with a reconciliation that shows her what kind of love she's been missing out on.

Contains: Sex: P in V, fingering, oral sex (m receiving). Use of "good girl".

CW Continued: Insinuation of sexual assault. Mentions of abuse by grabbing/shoving and leaving bruises. Emotional manipulation. Bullying. Mention of a gay slur painted on Eddie’s locker. Telling of bad memories related to sex. Canon insults and arguments. Drinking, smoking, partying. Hurt/Comfort. Confessions. Everyone is of age by the time anything sexual happens. Mentions of underage Eddie being attracted to the underage reader but nothing sexual happens. Use of the word slut as an insult.

“One day I’m gonna be the prettiest, most popular girl in school, you’ll see!” you shouted proudly, full of optimism at the age of 12 to your best friend.

“Uh-huh, sure.” he nodded, rolling his eyes with a crooked smile.

“I am!”

“People like us don’t get popular.” he sighed, the defeat of 2 more years of life experience, a teenager in middle school who was getting even more life lessons than those he’d already learned the hard way at a young age.

“Well…” you pouted your lips and sunk back in thought. “Can I still be the prettiest?” you perked up with newfound hope.

“Sure.” he chuckled to himself. “You can be the prettiest.”

Now, 6 years later you’d achieved that bold goal. But you hadn’t… couldn’t have known what it was going to cost you. The biggest hurt and the first was losing your best friend. The very same boy that had told you you could do it (at least half of it anyway) In hindsight, you wish you’d listened.

The summer you were 13, one to live in infamy where puberty hit you like an 18-wheeler and suddenly you’d gone from awkward kid to a woman. You weren’t even the first to notice. It was the male attention that told you you were no longer decent in your second-hand children's clothes. You laughed awkwardly at first when the grown men said sly things about you growing up. But then boys your age started saying things. And that didn’t feel as nerve-wracking or gross. You’d never had attention like this before from guys. Suddenly they said soft, sweet words to you in private, promising you things if you cooperated. You saw your chance to become that idealized version of yourself. And you grabbed it by the horns.

“I said I’m going to Skull Rock with Jason.” you repeated, your then still, soon to be no longer best friend gawked with a slack face at your words repeated a second time.

“I heard you the first time.” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? You’re just…sitting there glaring at me.”

“Oh, there’s PLENTY I want to say. But I don’t know if I should.” he sat back and crossed his arms, looking away and shaking his head.

“I’d rather you talk than stare at me with your mouth open like a frog.” you grumped, crossing your arms to mimic the defensiveness you felt. You knew he’d have something to say about it. He always did. He’d been bitching about how much time you were spending with the “wrong” people all summer. He was feeling left behind and hurt. Abandonment issues are a-plenty being triggered. Confusing growing feelings for you he tried to ignore as you flaunted your new body and attitude. He was only a 15-year-old boy with uncontrollable hormones, after all, things were bound to get ugly one way or another.

“Fine.” he slapped his hands to his thighs and shot up to his feet, hormone-fueled anger making his face red. “It’s a bad idea. It’s stupid.” he chopped his hands together to drive his point home. He moved across the room to talk directly to your shocked face. “I’m only saying this because I care about you… but this isn’t going to end well.” he put his hands on your shoulders. “You’re going to get used and then thrown away and you’re gonna come crying back to me to pick up the pieces and I’ll be here to tell you I fucking told you so. These are not good people. They’re selfish and greedy and overall just assholes! I’d say I don’t get why you want to hang out with them, but I do, unfortunately. The shiny promise of power and popularity is being dangled right in front of you and you want it so bad you’re willing to do anything for it. I know you. I know why you’re doing it. And I know that it’s going to end badly. You’re going to get your heart broken, or worse because these guys they…” he took a deep breath and rubbed his face. “They do things to girls. They think you owe them something. Do you get what I’m saying? And you’re a new shiny toy and then when something else comes along, shiny and new just like you are now, they’re gonna throw you away and forget you ever existed.” he stopped with a heaving chest, hands to his sides exasperated. His curls bounce as his chest rose and fell, starting to grow past his ears now, part of his effort to cultivate a hard persona to ward himself against the people he was trying to warn you about.

“They have been nothing but nice to me! They compliment me all the time, they give me things! They listen to me when I talk. I don’t get why you’re being so negative.” you pushed back with a snaking neck.

“You’re so naive.” he groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

“I am not!” you shouted back with balled fists.

“You’re young, sweetheart. You haven’t been around these guys like I have. I’m in high school, I see the shit they do. They’re terrible. I don’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be scared to go into high school.”

“You’re jealous aren’t you?” you hissed smugly and his face grew red again.

“Jealous?” his armor of crossed arms appeared again, back straighten in full defense mode.

“Yeah! Are you mad because you want to go to Skull Rock with me?”

“I have BEEN to Skull Rock with you before! God! I’m not jealous!” His voice cracked and broke from puberty and the strain of stress. “I’m telling you this because I’m your friend and I care about you okay? People, who only tell you what you want to hear? Those are the liars and they only want something from you. People who are willing to tell you what you don’t want to hear? Those are your real friends. Not those people.” He pointed with a shakey arm to back up his words.

“So now anyone nice is a liar? All the compliments they’ve said are lies? That sounds like you’re being a jerk!”

“You’re twisting my words! Ugh!”

“That’s what you said!” You squeak back with a stomped foot.

“Shut up and listen to what I’m saying and take it in for a goddamn minute instead of trying to fight me for no reason!” He shouted.

“I’m not! You’re being mean for no reason!”

“I’m NOT being mean I’m being a good friend and you aren’t listening to me because you don’t want your bubble burst about these assholes. But that’s what they are!”

“So what if they are? Maybe they’re nice to me because I’m nice.”

“They’re being nice because you got tits!” He finally screamed. “They want to fuck you! That’s WHY they’re nice. They don’t give a shit about you!”

You stood gawking and red-faced. Hurt, flustered, and defensive at his bold claims.

“They do care.” Your bottom lip blubbered as he rubbed his face hard letting out a feral groan.

“They don’t, hun. That’s what I’m saying.” He exhaled noisily.

“But…“ you gulped. “They asked me to hang out with their friends. They want me to be a part of their group. I could be popular Eddie!”

“I don’t know why you’d want to. Those people are evil.”

“They’re not evil. You’re so dramatic. I think you’re jealous I’m getting in with the popular kids and you’re still a loser.” It came out before you had the chance to stop it. You even clamped your hands over your mouth as if you might be able to take it back.

Eddie stood shocked. Still. His brows creased and lids fluttered under his frizzy bangs.

“There it is.” He nodded and sucked his teeth. “You’re already one of them.” He turned and plopped down on the couch. “The truth always comes out somehow.” He flopped his arms, now exhausted.

“I didn’t mean-“

“No, you did.” He nodded fast and glared your way. “I see where you stand now. Go get chewed up and spit out by them. Don’t come running crying to me and my loser ass when it happens.”

“Eddie I-“

“Get out.” He pointed at the door with a stone face. “You’ve already made your choice. It’s them.”

He’d always been wise beyond his years when it came to understanding people. You should’ve listened.

You were well into your quest of being the queen bee now. You were composed, and a stone-cold bitch. And as much as Eddie hated to admit it, you were also drop-dead gorgeous. At almost 15 you looked confident and much older in the way you dressed and carried yourself. It was all intentional. You looked like you walked off a sitcom set of any popular show, always trendy and groomed to an impossibly high standard. You looked like a movie star he thought as he watched you get out of the car dropping you off. Eddie was sitting on his porch, it was a hot summer night and he couldn’t sleep. He plucked away at the guitar in his lap as he watched you wave and stand poised until the car was well out of sight. Then it was eerie as if you morphed into someone else. You dug through your purse and groaned. Your attention snapped to him as his lighter lit up the darkness around him.

“Eddie?” You asked, still graceful across gravel even in heels.

“Who’s askin’?” That was his smart-ass reply.

“It is you!” He visually recoiled at the perky response. You giggled and shuffled across the grass around his wooden patio. You stood smiling, looking him over.

“It’s me.” He waved a hand to break your stare.

“Could I bum one of those?”

“You smoke?”

“Only when I’m alone. Have to handle the stress somehow!” You laughed but seemed too sad for him to share in.

“You shouldn’t, it’s a bad habit.” He muttered with the cigarette between his lips.

“But you're doing it ya goob.” You laughed and slapped his arm. He was so confused. You hadn’t spoken to him in what felt like decades. You’d ignored him, insulted him, and stood back as others ostracized him. You were enemies. Right?

“I know.” He handed you the cylinder. You took it from him and perched it between your painted lips then pat your body as if you might find a lighter.

“You mind?” You scoot closer. He sighed and handed you his lighter, a lackluster extended palm so you’d have to work for it but to his surprise you leaned forward, putting the tip of yours to his and sucking in. He wondered where the hell you learned that. He’s hit with an unwanted sadness that he no longer knew everything about you. “Thanks, babe.” You grinned and stood with a popped-out hip.

“Babe?” He snorted in amusement.

“I call people babe when they’re babes.” You say as if it’s the most casual observation.

“You’re calling me a babe?”

“I call them like I see them, Eddie.” You winked and giggled, fearlessly waking up the steps to sit next to him. Your bare thigh against his cut-off shorts.

“Are you okay? Ohhh you’re drunk aren’t you?” A standard assumption.

“I am not drunk actually!” You laughed. “I was earlier but then I got some stuff from Chris.”

“Stuff?”

“Pills.” You nodded enthusiastically. “And let me tell you. This is some gooood shit. You should sell it, you'd make a killing.”

“You take pills now?”

“I do a lot of things now that I didn’t before Eddie.” You smirk and give him the up and down and he quickly turned his head away to hide his blush.

“What kind of pills were they?”

“I don’t even know. I just wanted to not be so fuckin’ sad on my birthday.” The words don’t only hurt Eddie to hear. He didn’t know why you were being so honest.

“You take random pills? That’s not safe.”

“He got them from his friend. They’re like psych drugs. Some letters or something. She got them when she was in the looney bin. But she’s so fucking cool. Oh my god, you’d love her!” You put your hand on his arm like you were old friends again.

“I like my women to not give random drugs to people.”

“Bit hypocritical for a dealer to say.” You smirked.

“I know what I give my customers and I explain- hey I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

“So touchy.” You tease and wiggle your shoulders.

“A lot like you tonight. Which is why I knew you had to be on drugs.”

You snorted out a laugh. “You always were funny.” You said with a hum. “I miss being around funny people.” You sigh. “I mean that girl was funny tonight. And so cool. She was in a band. And she was so hot oh my god I wanted to die. I was so jealous. I could never be that sexy and cool.”

You never showed weakness. You’re admitting to insecurity openly to him now? Must’ve been a truth serum they gave you.

“What band?”

“She’s not from around here.”

“Oh.” He looked away as you boldly took in his face. “I mean you used to be cool.”

“Wasn’t sexy though.” You laughed.

“Well no, you were a kid.” He laughed

“What about now?” You ask with a raise of your chin. He hesitated. “Am I sexy now?” Eddie’s mouth stuttered.

“You uh- you’re… ya know…”

“You’re sexy you know.” You added quietly, leaning into him.

“You’re full of shit” he blurted out and you threw your head back in a laugh.

“So humble.” You reached over to push his curls back, your smile looking so genuine it made his chest hurt. “I always thought you were pretty.” You shrugged.

“Why are you saying this?” He blurted out.

“Because I won’t when I’m sober,” you answered quickly and so nonchalantly. “I’m hoping I won’t remember this so I won’t be embarrassed. Because you’re cool and hot now and I can’t be your friend and it fucking sucks. Also can’t be more than your friend.” You quietly added the last part.

“Would you want to be?”

“Would you?” You shot back.

“Before you walked out I thought maybe-“ he started but then shook his head in resignation.

“I thought maybe too.” You nodded. “I miss how nice you were to me.”

“I miss how nice you were to me.”

“I do too.” You paused. “This sucks.” you groaned.

“What does?“

“Everything.” You sigh and hang your head, arms flapping in a small expression of the big feeling of despair.

“I thought this was what you wanted?” he couldn’t help but sound judgemental, still defensive, unsure of the validity of the truths you were telling him.

“So did I.” you groan and throw your head back, posture slumped, like you didn’t care what you looked like. You weren’t performing for once. He was getting a glimpse at the real you. And you hadn’t changed all that much. It was heartbreaking and comforting at the same time. “But I can’t tell you you were right. Because of course, I can’t. But you already know you are so-!” You hopped off the porch in exclamation and landed on your feet somehow, he had flinched and reached out to catch you, hands at your waist as you stumbled only slightly, moving in his direction from the suggestion of his grip. There was a moment, you were in the shadow, backlit by the street lamps dotted across the trailer park. Your hands to his wrists, bent forward in front of him where you connected. And dammit he was still hopeful enough to forget you were high as a kite and might mean it. Your face was softer than it had been, fuller and older. So was the body he felt under his hands. He tried to jerk them away, his eyes rapidly blinking to pull him away from the far too-intimate stare. But your hands kept him on you, he gave you the biggest cow-eyed look full of questions as you didn’t let his hands off you. He called your name in question, you still looking over his face, trying to remember what he looked like up close because you didn’t know if you’d ever get this close again. “Things could’ve been so different.” he barely heard your whisper as your face finally fell, reality creeping back in. You let his wrists go and stepped backward, less confident this time. Your hands gathered in front of you to pick at your nails, looking at the ground with the shining promise of tears in them.

“What could’ve been?” he asked, eyes borderline frantic. You took another step backward.

“Doesn’t matter.” you shook your head and looked away, wiping your cheek.

“Sure it does.” he tried to pull you back in. Maybe he could get the closure he needed while you were high. It wasn’t the most moral thing he’d ever done but he wasn’t hurting anyone.

“Not anymore it doesn’t.” you run your hands through your hair and let out a raspberry of a sigh. “Ugh.” you looked up at the sky for a moment. “Fuck.” you covered your face in your hands and turned away from him, walking back toward your trailer.

“Hey! Are you gonna be okay?” he stood, ready to chase after you. You raised a hand and waved it.

“Don’t worry about me.” you shouted, feet moving faster but your tone made him do the opposite. “I can take care of myself.” you lied before disappearing into your home.

Eddie was left with the uncomfortable burden of knowing how you might feel. Which wasn’t even clear. The fact that there was any feeling there was enough for him to let it stew in his head. Maybe you were just wasted and blabbing. He shouldn’t put so much weight on something a girl high on pills said. But that didn’t stop it from eating away at him.

A few terrible interactions went down between you as you navigated high school and the cut throat social jungle it was. You’d done what you sought out to do. You’d made your way in. You’d lost yourself in the process making you do awful things to good people to keep your place among the royals of Hawkins high.

Then came a test of loyalty. After defending Eddie during a round of shit talking everyone became suspicious of whose side you were really on. Had you truly left your old life behind? So they had you do something that broke your heart. You wrote a note to Eddie and slipped it in his locker. You’d been told what to say and what to do. The way you did it with laughter and smiles churned your insides. He showed up to the diner as instructed under the guise of a romantic reconciliation. You walked in with another guy. Even if it wasn’t you that delivered the belittling words you still blew your bubble gum and smirked. You put on your show. You enabled it. That was just as bad in his eyes.

“You really thought someone like her would want to be with a freak like you?” They laughed.

Eddie was calm. He’d been suspicious all along. But he played along for that one tiny sliver of hope you weren't completely lost to him. That the night over the summer hadn’t been a lie.

He hid, sitting in the back of his van smoking a cigarette in a different parking lot to contemplate and decompress alone. He could see the back of the diner from there. He watched you walk out the front laughing alone and finishing a conversation. As you rounded the side and got out of sight your entire being shifted. You slouched, hands through your hair before digging a cigarette out of your purse and failing to light it with how much you were shaking. He watched as you started to cry. That was the turning point for you. Part of you died that you could never recover that day.

But he did nothing. He wasn’t even mad. Just disappointed knowing you had made your choice clear. And it wasn’t him.

The next time Eddie saw you cry he was more directly involved. He’d inadvertently started a rather nasty rumor about you. He'd made an off-color remark about your being a revolving door for the basketball team and through the rumor mill it ran. You leaned into it, you couldn’t let anyone see you upset, you had to be untouchable. You slang insults back all day and laughed them off but when you were alone the tears came. You left your house to cry by the trailer park dumpster. Not a usual place for such an activity but you didn’t want your mother asking questions. So at night, you skipped out to smoke and let it out against a graffitied cement block wall.

Eddie found you. On accident. Again. You stood up as he tossed his bag into the dumpster and wiped your face. He’d heard you, the street lamp showing enough to see your splotched face and swollen eyes.

“What?” You barked at him with a creased brow.

“I didn’t say anything.” He answered monotone.

“Odd that now you have nothing to say when you’ve been telling people I let the entire basketball team fuck me.” You spat out with nothing but venom.

“I didn’t say that.” Another one-note response.

“I supposed everyone else is lying about hearing it from you then?”

“Sweetheart I don’t talk to enough people to spread a fucking rumor and I sure as shit don’t care about you enough to try.” He saw the hurt then. It was personal. There was a thing of guilt with his words. But he was so overcome with defensiveness at the sight of you that now it was a hard habit to break. ”Maybe if you didn’t hang out with such shitty people and do shitty things to innocent people, rumors wouldn't spread about you. Seems like you deserve it to me.” He gave a half-formed shrugged and left you there. He didn’t hear you go back inside to cry the hardest you had in years.

Time passed and you didn’t speak at all. Not when he sold at parties, not when you crossed paths inside or outside of school. It was as if you were strangers for years. The distance between you felt unpassable. Too much damage left you both vulnerable to quickly assume the worst from the other. So misunderstandings happened.

It was the week of the school dance and you were on the planning committee. You’d gotten out of class to help decorate and had been painting banners all day. You were proud of your work but covered in stains from the paint. So when Eddie backtracked after he passed you in the hallway and then reached out to grab your arm roughly, you were startled. Not something that anyone else could’ve made you do.

“You? Are you fucking serious?” His voice was deeper now than the last time you’d heard it. His face was longer, more angular with light stubble on his cheeks. His hair was the longest it had ever been. The fleeting thought of how it suited him and how he more closely resembled a man than a boy now was plucked away when he shoved your shoulder for your lack of response.

“Sorry- I mean- what do you want?” You changed your real tone to the mask of cold bitch you wore.

“You’re the one that painted my fucking locker?”

“Your-? I was making banners.”

“Uh huh sure.” He rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “Funny I don’t see any banners but I do see fag spray painted on my locker.” He saw the flinch. He would swear it later but his red angry vision made him doubt it. “In that shade of paint all over your fucking hands. You’d think you weren't that stupid.”

“I wouldn’t-“ your voice was quiet, too quiet for you. Your eyes shifted to see who was watching, leaning in a little closer to his face as if it might show him you were serious.

“Ha! You wouldn’t?” He laughed in your face, intruding on your personal space and looking you over with disdain.

“I didn’t.” You state with more backbone. “I made banners for the dance. I didn’t paint your locker. But I think asshole would’ve been more appropriate.” You sneered and stomped away, being sure to clip his shoulder with yours as you passed.

You walked by his locker, it was already painted over sloppily by the maintenance man. You could see the outline vaguely. You didn’t know who did it. Still don’t. But it hurt you to know he thought you’d be capable of it.

Then it was Eddie’s turn to be misunderstood. Something he found himself on the wrong side of more often than not. He’d had to watch you do your routine in your cheer uniform during the pep rally that morning. It infuriated him how attractive he thought you were. You had your makeup and hair fully done. Anytime you were in public he saw you look immaculate. But the bow and glitter were really doing it for him for some reason. He was pondering how cheer uniforms were even allowed with the flashes of cheek and their tailor-made fits to make you look as flawless as possible. You land with a smile into a split, chest heaving before the team collectively broke into giggles at the cheers and praise from the crowd. You were happy in that moment. He knew your real smile. The one that crooked to the right and showed a chip in your tooth you’d gotten from a rock when running after a raccoon. He saw a flash of that awkward kid and caught himself in a painful loop of nostalgia that morning. So the fact that he was staring at you bent over the table across from him wasn’t totally his fault. You’d made him think about you all morning already.

“God, she’s hot.” He blinked out of his trance at his friend's words.

“She’s such a bitch though.” Eddie grinned to himself, looking down as the guys talked about you, finally diverting his attention.

“It’s like the hottest ones are bitches. It’s like a rule of the universe or something.”

“I kinda like it when they’re mean.” A laugh moved through the small group of teen boys.

“Not the kind of mean cheerleaders are. Degrading but outside the bedroom is not the same.”

“I’d like to be mean to her.”

“That’s better. Now you’re talking.”

“Teach her a lesson. Make her shut the hell up. Man, that sounds like heaven.”

“Or hell.”

“Either way.” Eddie finally chimed in, a deep breath as he stood and lifted his lunch tray. “Doesn’t really matter because, at the end of the day, none of us has a snowball's chance in hell with any of them.” He nodded as if he was proud of the fact.

“Don’t be such a bummer dude.”

“Keeping it honest as always.”

“I’ve got to keep you guys with your feet on the ground. That’s my job. To be a fuckin buzzkill. Shit job but-“ he shrugged and turned, a smirk on his face and eyes on his friends as he stepped out. “Someone’s gotta-“

The clatter of silverware and a gross smush of food into tight polyester and your chest kept him from finishing his sentence.

“Shit.” He whispered, face winced as he was confronted with you, barely a foot away and looking as angry as he’d ever seen you.

“Seriously?” You shouted, gaining the attention of the room that hadn’t already been grabbed by the sound of the tray hitting the floor.

“Fuck.” He muttered, hands now empty and uncomfortably close to looking like he was trying to grab your boobs. “I know this won’t mean shit coming from me but I didn’t mean to “

“You didn’t mean to ruin my fucking uniform hours before the game?” You hissed. “Now I have to leave school and pay for a fucking dry cleaner and beg them to do it fast.” You sloughed off the mush of lunch food to fall into the floor between your feet.

“I didn’t.” He shrugged, shrinking under your glare.

“You just happened to stand and shove into me as I passed?” You sassed with an incredulous look on your face.

“You think the world revolves around you anyway so is that really that far-fetched?” 13-year-old you would’ve found that joke hilarious. But 17-year-old you did not. You shoved him with both hands causing him to stumble back into the table.

“Fucking asshole.” You hissed as you stomped off to leave him with the mess.

“I really didn’t mean to.” He said in his defense, blowing his cool uncaring persona. Oh well. He’d tried.

After you got over your seething anger over the major inconvenience he’d caused, you realized maybe he didn’t mean it. He’d seemed as shocked as you had. He’d lacked his trademark cocky smugness. You recalled the times you’d wished you could’ve told him it wasn’t you and have him believe you. So it made your next interaction a lot more honest. The most honest you’d had with him in 4 years.

You’d begun your senior year. That had caused a pause for some self-reflection on your behalf. It was much needed and well overdue. You saw how much you hated the fake friends you had. You constantly had to run every thought and action through a filter before saying or doing anything. You could have no opinions of your own. You couldn’t deviate from the herd lest they pick you off. You had one more year. You could do that. You could have that popular girl high school experience then go to college and figure out who you were now. Because you felt entirely lost.

Which led you to an old hobby. You tried to do things that used to make you happy before you had to become someone you weren’t. So you did something you never do- and went out alone. A midnight showing in the middle of the week of an old horror movie. You figured you’d be safe there. You could be alone and laugh and turn your brain off for a little bit.

You’d be wrong.

There was one other person in the theatre. Eddie Munson.

You rounded the corner into the theatre, diet soda in hand. You’d naturally paused to see if anyone else was there or what seating options there were. But your eyes landed on the near-black set of Eddie’s with his frame of long wavy hair. You stared a little too long before looking down and away, your hands up and awkward as you decided what to do. You couldn’t leave. You didn’t want to either. You could sit alone away from him but that felt just as weird since you were the only two in the theatre and you knew each other. Sorta. Should you sit with him? Was that too much? You quickly realize you’ve been standing in place far too long and make a split-second decision.

“Do you wanna uh-sit together?” Your voice lacked its trademark bite. Soft and unsure. He leaned forward, looking behind you, confirming you were alone.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” He huffed out a laugh. A defense mechanism that had hardly any thought behind it anymore. He saw you frown. You never frowned. Or showed any emotion besides happiness or smugness.

“Okay. Sorry, I asked.” You held up your hands in surrender and walked a few rows down and sat near the middle.

You’d said sorry. That was different. His curiosity was piqued. If he was a cat he’d be dead. He waited, running through possible scenarios and traps with how this could play out. The previews started and you were still alone. He took a chance and like you, made a split-second decision.

He plopped down next to you without a word. You understood his hesitancy. You didn’t even blame him for snapping at you. But a pleasant warmth spread in your body as he sat arm to arm, kicking his feet up on the seat in front of him. He shook a box of candy at you. You shook your head to decline. Another shake, insistent you partake.

“I don’t want any, thanks.” You whispered as if there were other people around.

“C’mon they’re your favorite.” Eddie was skilled at watching out of his peripheral. He saw your lashes bat, a look of confusion then concentration. You hadn’t expected him to remember.

“I know.” You said softly. “But I’ll pass.”

“I mean… 12 year old you would kick your ass for saying that.”

You laughed. An honest to god laugh and he turned his whole head to see it happen in slow motion in the harsh lighting of the projector. You sighed and shook your head.

“12-year-old me didn’t have to worry about getting fat.” You almost snorted out, eyes on the screen.

“You’re not fat and who cares if you were? One piece of candy isn’t going to kill you.” He took your hand and opened it up, placing the candy into it. It was a risk, he knew that. But this felt different somehow.

“Thanks.” was the last word spoken until the lights came up.

“Since when do you come to these things?” He asked as he held the door open for you as you left the theatre.

“Since I’ve been doing some soul searching.” An honest answer he was again, surprised by.

“Didn't know you had one of those.”

“Me either.” you said with a tired laugh. “That’s why I’m here. Trying to find it again.”

“Finding your soul means watching old scary movies?” He asked as you walked to the parking lot together.

“Trying to figure out what I like now. So I guess it does.” You nodded. You looked tired. Not a superficial kind. “You still like the same stuff?”

“Mostly, some new things added in.” He gave away, playing his cards close. He still wasn’t sure why you were being so… human.

“Thanks for sitting with me.” You gave him a soft smile as you stood at your car.

“You’re welcome.” He didn’t want to give away the hope it made him feel. He didn’t want to feel that about you. He’d done it before and had it squashed. “I’ll see you around.” He took a step away, purposely wobbling as he did so. “I’ll be sure to be a prick again next time.”

“I’ll be the same old bitch again I’m sure.” You gave him a tired smile.

And you were. So tired.

The next time you interacted with Eddie followed the same new, path you two were making together. It was civil.

As much of in your defense as it could be, you were drunk. You had also just been harassed into trying to get Eddie to sell you weed when he’d refused the guys you were with. It was a house party like any other, everyone out to forget the horrors of existence and make questionable decisions that made them feel alive for the night. Both of you were not an exception to the rule. You looked down onto the pool patio, Eddie alone on a lounge chair with his infamous lunch box, parked and taking orders.

“C’mon! He won’t sell to us, the little prick.”

“What makes you think he’ll sell to me? Why not send someone else?” you motion to the other various girlfriends in the room.

“He’s got a soft spot for you. We have to take advantage of that. You’re our inside girl when it comes to that freak, you know that.”

“The names he’s called me lead me to think otherwise.” you grumped and crossed your arms. Your boyfriend stepped towards you and put his hands on your shoulders, looking you in the eye, bending over to get to your level. “I don’t know why I have to. This seems impossible.”

“Because you’re hot, babe.” he stated with no sweetness behind it. It was merely a fact to be used in his favor. “And he’s a freak but he’s still a red-blooded American male just like us. Push those pretty tits together and bat your lashes and get your way like you do.” he gave you a supportive slap to the shoulder more suited for a teammate than a girlfriend. You breathed in deep from your nostrils and out, your tits seemed to serve only their purpose rose and fell as you pushed down your anger.

“What if he’s not into girls? You guys say it enough, what makes you think you’re wrong?” you try to sidestep the situation entirely.

“Well, that can’t be true because he fingered Melissa.” he throws a thumb so casually her way.

“Oh my God! I told you not to tell anyone that!” she shouted and hid her face in the nearest pillow.

“It had to be said in this instance.” he excused himself.

“We don’t look anything alike… what if I’m not his type?” you tried.

“Babe, you’re everyone's type. That’s why you’re with me. I gotta have what everyone else wants.” he smirked.

“And when he doesn’t sell to me after I jiggle my bits at him? What then?” you put your hands on your hips as your boyfriend leaned against a wall and crossed his arms.

“Why don’t you go fucking try instead of standing here complaining?” his best friend interjects.

“I didn't ask you.” You sneered.

“Someone should.” he puffed up. “Look, we need the drugs to have a good time. And if we don’t have a good time, no one does. Which means you aren’t going to have a good time. You understand?” The weighted statement made your stomach hurt.

“We should just leave. Try someone else.” you sigh and rub the bridge of your nose.

“You need to suck it up buttercup. Go charm him, hell, I don’t give a shit if you have to blow him to get it. Just get it.” Your lids rapidly blink, surprised outwardly for a moment before remembering you were dealing with some of the most selfish people you’d ever met.

“You’re telling me to blow other guys for drugs. And in front of him?” you motion to your boyfriend who rolls his eyes.

“This is more important than you giving that freak the ride of his life.” he laughs and shakes his head.

“So if I go fuck him…” you begin with the hot anger started to show. You’re grabbed by the shoulders and turned around.

“Do what you have to do.” his best friend says before shoving you out of the bedroom door.

“But-” you turn as fast as you can to be met with a slammed door in your face. Something is mumbled and then the group laughs.

Hurt and alone you white knuckle grip the stair railing to keep your balance and stomp down the stairs in heels that weren’t meant to move fast or angrily in.

Eddie watched you from behind the bright cherry of a cigarette as you came down the stairs, clearly upset. You appeared and disappeared through the large windows of the house. The quiet, cold outside was opposed in cool toned light to the hot inside with dancing bodies. The lighting warm and golden, your skin on show with your little black dress giving enough away to make anyone attracted to women look. He observed as you strong-shouldered your way between people a little too roughly, going to the kitchen and dunking a plastic cup into the certainly tainted punch bowl. Not even he dared touch that stuff with his vast drug experience. You shot it back like it was some chaser and slammed it to the countertop. You gave your cheeks a slap which made him laugh before turning into a subtle smirk watching you push your chest together in the low-cut dress. He knew they’d send you after he told them to fuck off after their vague threats and refusal to pay his prices.

You gathered yourself up, resigned to your fate as you made your way to the glass patio doors. You let the warmth of the alcohol wash over you, embraced the fuzz and buzz of it. With a full cup in your hand, you saunter out all hips and bouncing chest after sliding the door shut behind you.

“Hey.” it was a little drawn out, not exactly slurred yet. But you’d been drinking since age 13 so you weren’t a lightweight by any means.

“Hey.” he gave right back, looking down and eyes swinging up to see you swaying toward him. It wasn’t a sight he hated to see, but the reasoning behind it kept him from enjoying it as much as he could. You sat across from him on another lounge chair. Your posture was obvious to push your boobs together, shining smooth legs stretched out and settled next to his.

“So you know why I’m here.” you began with a splay of your drink-filled hand. He looked up to give you his full attention then. Surprise at your honesty clear on his face.

“I could assume, yeah.” he nodded slowly, looking you over which you seemed to invite.

“I figure…” you began, leaning in and taking a drink, and lowering your voice. “With you, an honest approach will work best. Because I was ordered to come down here and seduce you into giving me drugs.” You watched him lean back and laugh, before resting his elbows on his knees.

“Honesty is the best policy. You’ve not always been so open to that.” He winked his eye, brows raised to remind you of his words of warning years ago.

“You’re not wrong.” You shrugged. “It would be in both our best interests to use it moving forward with this… working relationship.”

“We could have had it all along, you know.” He offered with a nod of his chin. “But you wanted to play dirty.”

“I know.” You rolled your eyes. “But I’m 18, not 13 Ed. I like to think I know a little more about how these things work now.”

“You do.” A more subtle nod as you leaned in close to speak to one another.

“You wanna hear my plan?” You ask with a perk up of your posture and a tilt of your head.

“Shoot.”

“I’m gonna touch you. Heads up.” You say quietly with a suppressed giggle as your hand lands on his knee. You watch his chin push back into his neck as his eyes get a little wider. “I’ll pay you want you want. I’m not gonna be an asshole like they are about it. But we don’t have to tell them that part.”

“I’m listening.”

“When I said I was ordered down here to seduce you I wasn’t joking.” You say with pursed lips. “They’re going to be watching me out here with you. So I’m gonna play along with their plan so they won’t be shitty to me later, okay?”

“You’re going to fake seduce me… so they aren’t mean to you?” He wore confusion on his face.

“If they knew I was talking to you like a person I’ll never hear the end of it. This isn’t just about the drugs now, it’s about making me do something I don’t wanna do.” Your face wasn’t as bright as it was, dimming as you explained.

“Fucking assholes.”

“Yeah, they are. Well established.” You rushed out. “So I’m gonna flirt and you’re gonna not puke on me because I’m doing it.” that got a smile out of him.

“Not gonna puke.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide his laugh. “You know that’s the funniest thing you’ve said to me in years.”

“Why? I figured you were repulsed by me. Hated everything I stood for.”

“Sure but… not you specifically. Not anymore anyway. Whatever’s gotten into you recently shows there’s humanity in there somewhere.”

“I’m trying.” You sigh and stop before your shoulders slump.

“More so it was the idea that you… arguably the hottest girl in Hawkins thinks touching me would make me puke.” He let himself laugh.

“Well, it’s more of a philosophical ralphing, not a literal one.” You flashed him a genuine smile. There was no argument. You were the hottest. At least in his opinion.

“I’m glad you’re still funny.”

“I’m glad you remember I ever was.” You press your lips together into something apologetic. “I don’t get to be much anymore. Just mean.” You looked away, your face turning down as your eyes glazed for a moment. He hadn’t realized the amount of hurt that was inside you. You were so good at not showing it.

“Let’s make your night a little easier then, huh?” He leaned down to open his lunchbox. “I’ll play along and you can go up there to those goons and get wasted out of your gourd and not be bothered by them.”

“Be bothered by them less.” You perked back up and tapped the bulb of his nose which made him wrinkle back with a disgusted look on his face before letting out a deep chuckle.

“I said I’d play along. Don’t get cocky.” He smirked and lowered your hand.

“Okay, playing by your rules Mr. Munson.” You agreed with a smile and put your hands up in surrender.

“Don’t go saying that I might think you’re being nice to me.”

“Shut up.” You giggle and put your hand back on his knee.

“That's better. That feels more natural.” He nodded and pulled out a baggy.

“You aren’t gonna weasel a kiss or a hand job for it?” You snorted out a laugh.

“Don’t think your boyfriend would like that very much.” He grinned and put in the mix of uppers and downers requested previously.

“I was given orders to do whatever it took. Even fuck you.” You delivered the words as if they weren’t terribly depressing. He didn’t hide his distaste for the statement.

“Are you serious?” He closed his box and tucked it away, a heavy bag in his hand.

“Does it matter?” You shrug as you tuck his hair behind his ear, being sure to keep up the flirting for the audience above.

“Fuck yes it matters are they… are you safe? What are they making you do if they’re telling you to…” he audibly gulped. “Do that for drugs from me.” He’d taken your hand into his and leaned in close to your face, your hands hanging between you.

“I’m a big girl, Ed.” You give him a smile that was warmer than warranted. “I can handle them just fine.”

“That’s fucked up. Even for them.” He shook his head.

“All part of the game.” You almost sing it, reaching out to take the bag.

“Money first. Can’t risk this all being a very elaborate ploy.”

“It’s in my cleavage if you want it.” You chuckle.

“I’m not gonna reach in your cleavage and get it.” He couldn’t help but let a small grin slip as he glanced down at your chest.

“We have to make them believe I came down here and laid it on thick.” You reminded him. “We can sneak off around the house where they can’t see if you want. To be realistic we’d only have to be there for what? 2, 3 minutes tops?” You let your laugh grow and flip your hair back.

“Very funny.” He raised his brows and rolled his eyes. “I don’t want them to think I’m the kind of man that accepts sex for drugs.”

“High moral standing.” You pucker your lips and nod. “I can respect that.” You paused and chew your cheek trying to think of how to sell this. “I’ll say I exploited your soft spot for me then. No prostitution involved.”

“I’m good with that. I’d rather be soft than the alternative.”

“Your money, sir.” You hand him the folded bills.

“I gotta count it before you leave.” He said already thumbing through it.

“I added in my money plus theirs.”

“Better make sure you get your fair share then.” He offered you the bag willingly again. You plucked it up with a smile. No more honesty, back to the pretty mask you wore in preparation to deal with your overlords again.

“I aim to not know my own name by the end of the night.” You say with a smirk and stand, shoving the bag between your boobs. “Pleasure doing business with you Munson.” You nodded and pulled your dress down where it’s ridden up.

“Pleasures all mine.” He gave you a broad grin. You swish away, Eddie settling back into the quiet before breaking it. “Hey.” He calls out to you and you turn to look over your shoulder. “Be careful, alright?”

“You be careful.” You shot back with a grin. “People are gonna think we don’t hate each other.” His smile was enough of a response for you. “Don’t worry about me, Eddie. Worry about yourself.” You left him with.

He tried to follow your advice. Knowing his interloping could put you both in a compromising situation. But you’d done as you said and were blasted out of your mind. Eddie was skulking about, the party starting to die down with no new people showing up anymore so that was his cue to head home. He was near the entrance when he heard your voice.

“I said I don’t WANT to!” you were like a baby foal in your heels, ankles, and knees wobbly from the level of non-sobriety you’d reached.

“C’mon…” a guy's voice said with authority it shouldn’t have for your response. The hair on Eddie’s neck prickled up at the sound.

“Im sleepy. I wanna go HOME.” you bellow out and leaned forward, catching yourself on his arm.

“How about we find a room and I’ll put you to bed.”

“This isn’t my house STUPID.” you say loudly. Eddie had stopped, out of sight in the foyer as you argued by the stairs. He knew it wasn’t your boyfriend that was talking to you.

“I know that, you don’t have to be a bitch. I didn’t mean you were gonna sleep. I mean you might but I’m not.”

“GeddOFF!” you shoved him back and hard. Eddie heard a thud against the wall and stiffened.

“Don’t fuggin’ push me. Shit, you’re strong.” the guy mumbled. Okay, maybe you could take care of yourself Eddie thought, weighing his options.

“I could kick your dumb ass.” you proudly proclaimed and your tone said you believed it.

“You could try but we both know who would win that fight. I win every fight. All of ‘em.”

“Because you cheat.” you snapped back.

“I win. That’s all that matters.”

“No it isn’t!” you shouted, clearly upset at this declaration he made. “You gotta play by some rules. You have to have SOME. You can break some but you gotta have something.” you jumbled and Eddie sighed. He never liked dealing with blackout drunk people.

“I don’t. I get my way. I always do.” Eddie didn’t see, he only heard the small sound you made as the guy grabbed your shoulders. “He’s passed out. He’s such a fuckin’ lightweight. And a fuckin pussy for letting you run around like this. Looking good enough to eat. He’s left room for a real alpha male to come in and take you down.”

“When I see one I’ll let you know.” You barked back and Eddie covered his mouth to hide his smile, still hovering by the door, indecisive.

“Shut the fuck up. You sleep with everyone. Everyone knows it. Anyone with the right combination of name brands can get with you.”

“Shut up.” you grumble, sounding smaller.

“I don’t know why you won’t let ME bone you though. You act like you’ve got some loyalty all of a sudden when I come into the picture.”

“I do! I don’t cheat on him!” you loudly declared and Eddie felt his heart hurt for you. You really didn’t. That crack in your voice was real. But he knew your boyfriend cheated on you. Hell, even you probably knew.

“Sure, sweet cheeks.” the guy let out a deep, disgusting laugh. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

“How do you sleep at night? Trying to fuck your best friend's girlfriend anytime he leaves me alone!” Eddie winced, knowing who was the predator now and deducting this was not the first time this had happened. He never thought it would happen but, he felt sorry for you.

“I told you I’m taking what should be mine anyway. He’s a fuckin cuck, I know he doesn’t teach you a lesson like he should.” then your laughter bubbled up from deep inside as you cackled into his face.

“Like you could do SHIT!” you almost spit in his face. “We’re both drunk, you idiot. You had whiskey! Ever heard of whiskey dick? Or coke dick? You had both! You couldn’t get it up if you tried!” your confidence was admirable, he had to give you that.

“Listen here you little slut. You’re gonna fuck me. It’s gonna happen. Maybe not tonight. But I’ll get you. When you least expect it.” he hissed and Eddie felt his blood boil.

“If you do I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him everything. I’ll tell him what a lying, cheating, manipulating piece of shit you are. I know you steal from him. That you sabotaged his car before his trip to visit his college because you don’t wanna be alone because you’re too stupid to get into the same school as him. I’ll tell him everything. I’ll ruin your entire EXISTENCE you little shit.” Another loud thud made Eddie move to action. But he found you, holding him by the jaw and holding him against a wall. “He might not care about me. But he cares about that. And he’ll dump you like the trash you are.”

“Are you threatening me?” he laughed, grabbing you by the wrist but somehow you didn’t flinch. Eddie admired the shit out of you at the moment.

“It’s a fucking promise. Now let GO of me. I’m leaving!” he scuttled back into the entryway and out the door, avoiding being seen. He left feeling optimistic about you in a lot of unexpected ways. He knew you had to be strong to an extent to be a cheerleader, but damn. He knew you had to be tough to have survived in the group you had for years. But he’d entirely underestimated you. He thought you were a groveling shadow of a girl, a yes man who did whatever they wanted. Maybe it started that way. But clearly, you’d had enough.

Turns out you weren’t the only one that had had enough of your strength in the face of their bullshit. He knew you’d gotten too confident, too self-assured, and aware to be of use anymore. So he looked for a way to take you down. And he found it.

Which is where you are now. In a moment no one wants to happen to them. This was called a worst-case scenario.

Everyone gawked and whispered as you walked into school that next week. Which was way different than the usual mix of fear, lust, or jealousy. Now they looked at you with a new pairing of pity and superiority. Practiced, you didn’t flinch, merely side-eyeing them as you entered the school.

But the papers were everywhere.

Taped haphazardly onto lockers and walls, strewn around the hallways. One floated to your feet as the doors shut behind you. Familiar insults of whore and slut scrawled over photocopies of polaroids of you naked that you’d taken for your boyfriend. It was as if time froze. Your heart stopped and somehow the world around you kept moving. All your expectations for the rest of your senior year were just turned into dust. Questions swirled in your mind as you stared blankly at the page like it might answer any of them.

But just as serial killers like to do, the culprit hovered and watched, letterman jacket tight around his muscular arms as he leaned against the block wall at the edge of the entry leading to the main hall. His gaze was enough to shoot cold daggers into your gut. His smirk gave him away. He was smug, proud of his work. Your boyfriend's best friend. You didn’t like the guy for many reasons, but you’d never let yourself act on it. At least not that you recalled. You’d been so drunk you’d threatened him and forgotten about it. But his psychopathic ass did not.

Sober, acting how you wanted was never an option. You’d learned that when your boobs came in. Your body and actions and we’re no longer yours. You did what everyone else told you to or they’d ostracize you. By being poor you were already an outsider to them. You didn’t dare give them a reason to push you out. But here you were, laughter growing among the herd, wolf whistles and wagging tongues pointed your way as you stood with dead eyes. You brought the copied paper to your chest as if it might shield you somehow. You felt like a freak show act with a spotlight directly on you.

The one person who understood this feeling was looking at the same paper in his hand. You saw him in the crowd, a bit off center and observing before seeing the photos. His heart dropped to his stomach, his brow furrowed and apologetic before his eyes even met yours. You stared at him. He didn’t even blink. Your mouth opened as if it might call out his name, beg for mercy or cry. A tear finally broke and fell over the slope of your cheek. You didn’t even register you were crying, you remained stone except for that very telling tear. It stood out like a single gem in the sand to him. Every part of him should be smug. He should be indignant and cross his arms and tell you he told you so. Because he had. So many times. And you wouldn’t listen. The one guy that should be looking at you the way everyone else was…wasn’t. He was the only kind soul in the room. Somehow that hurt worse. You didn’t deserve to have Eddie’s sympathy, his empathy. Because he’d warned you the summer you turned 13 that these people would hurt you. He’d begged you not to leave him and go with them instead. But his truths weren’t pretty. And their lies were far too shiny and appealing to your little magpie mind.

You had very few options. But there were options. Your mind worked a mile a minute, looking at the albeit flattering for a center spread but not for the faux conservative Hawkins photos. You couldn’t deny it. Your face was there. There were too many copies to make it disappear. He’d made sure of it. You turned your eyes to the attacker and he didn’t back down. You didn’t expect him to. He was probably hard watching all this play out. You were ruined. There was no coming back from everyone seeing you naked. And with no context. You couldn’t tell everyone they were private photos just for your boyfriend who you’d been in a long-term relationship with and were just trying to keep happy and his attention on you. You were in a way, just trying to be a good girlfriend. But you knew they wouldn’t hear it. They’d heard the rumors. They’d assume you were passing these out like trading cards. The falsity of it did upset you, but you knew no one would believe you. All you had was yourself now. So how do you save yourself when all your usual tools are taken away?

“You did this.” you stated as fact and not a question as you walked up to him, inches apart, giving him no room.

“Prove it.” he gave a cocky nod of his head. That was full admission to you.

“These were taken for him. For ONLY him. He kept them in his dresser to hide them. No one else has access to his shit like you do. And he wouldn’t do this because it hurts his reputation too.”

“Aw. Now she cares about his reputation.” he dramatically pouted.

“I’m stating facts, asshole.” you bit. “But what I want to know is why? This is a lot of fucking effort. It’s pretty pathetic if you ask me.” you waved the paper as if it didn’t hurt you to see it.

“You know why.” Another admission of guilt.

“If I did I wouldn’t be asking, dumbass.”

“I wouldn’t be calling me that. You don’t have the cards in your hand anymore sweetie. He’s gonna dump your ass and I’ll never have to deal with your big mouth again.”

“Good.” you say despite yourself. Never give them what they want in situations like this. That was your rule. “Now I won’t have to deal with either of you limp dicks anymore.” You shoved the paper to his chest as hard as you could. You heard a crack and he let out a noise of pain. You turned and walked out of the school. You sure as hell weren’t going to be around to witness this fresh shit show firsthand. No fucking way. You got out of there as soon as you had what answers you knew you could get.

Eddie didn’t blame you. Like everyone else, he’d heard the whole conversation. The guy had practically written a confession with witnesses. But just like you, he knew it wouldn’t matter. They saw you, the golden girl they envied getting what she deserved. The queen was dethroned and the peasants and her court descended into chaos. He was glad you left. It was the smartest thing you could’ve done.

Now you were left with 100 jolts worth of energy and nowhere for it to go. You paced, but that achieved nothing, the small space of your trailer not giving you any room to get speed or force going to physically get out the endless well of emotion brewing inside you. So you got out, went to the shed, and took out your bike. You hadn’t used it since you’d gotten your license. But driving would be dangerous since you were distracted and a car wreck on top of everything else wasn’t what you needed. So you left and rode until your muscles gave out.

There was a meeting with your mother at the school. You told the truth for once. You told them everything. You had nothing to lose. You were only met with disappointed faces and no sympathy. Because of course, it wasn’t that the boy that leaked them was in the wrong, it was you for taking them. You muttered about sexism but no one gave a shit. All copies had been destroyed that they could find. The amount left stashed away for guys to jerk off to or girls to envy were immeasurable. There were no repercussions for you since you technically did nothing wrong in the eyes of the school, only morally. They couldn’t punish you for being a slut.

It was a weird, rough week. The worst in a long, long time. You simply avoided and ignored. You almost broke quite a few pinkies grabbing guy's hands who thought they could speak to you a certain way or try to touch you. Word traveled fast that if you had been a slut, you no longer were. Except for the whispers, no one else did much. A girl who had a reputation herself tried to empathize. Which you appreciated but being seen with a verified slut wasn’t the image you were looking to build. You’d like to have no image. Just be invisible until graduation. You hid away during lunch, you arrived right before the bell and left right after. You’d quit the cheerleading team which hurt the worst honestly. You loved it. But the joy was no longer there. The girls were told to hate you, so they did. There was no point in trying.

You wish you could say you rose above and didn’t let it hurt you but that’d be a lie. By Friday you were exhausted in ways you didn’t know were possible. You needed a break, some kind of relief. So you went to the one person who had told you not to come to him when your world was ripped away from you. You didn’t care to grovel or apologize or beg. You were prepared to agree with everything he said because he was right. He had been and probably still was smarter than you. You should probably tell him that too, come to think.

Eddie’s phone rang suspiciously soon after he’d come home from Hellfire. Only having had time to kick his shoes off and throw his jacket off he looked at the phone as if had tattled on him somehow.

“Y’ello?” he says with smacked lips.

“Hey.” you paused, licking your lips, looking at his trailer from your window, the cord twirling around your finger.

“Hey.” He sounded just as surprised as you thought he might.

“It’s-”

“I know who it is.” he interrupted you, but it made your shoulders fall a bit, losing the tension for the lack of bite or blame in his voice.

“I wanted to call before I came over. To make sure it was okay.” his face frowned, you sounded like shit.

“Yeah. I just got in, come over whenever.” he said casually, not giving away the cautious questioning he had of the situation.

“Oh, good. Great. Thanks. I’ll be over in just a minute.”

It was a literal minute later you were standing in his living room, looking as soft as ever. You’d kept up appearances for school, still looking immaculate except for the addition of a hoodie this week. Which he found suspicious but he didn’t want to pry. He had his leather jacket and battle vest to make him look bigger and more intimidating. It functioned as a security blanket of sorts for him. Even though yours was still fitted he considered maybe you were trying the same thing out. Or maybe you simply didn’t want people to see any more of your body than they already had. He couldn’t blame you either way.

He’s let you in without a word, going into the kitchen in sweats and a T-shirt, and mismatched socks. He was making himself a bowl of cereal to knock back the hunger of not having eaten since lunch. You watched silently, knowing you were intruding.

“Want some?” He offered, shaking the brightly colored box.

“No thanks.” You said quietly with a shake of your head. He finished his chore and stood with his bowl in hand, hip to the kitchen island counter. He took a few bites, looking you over.

“You look like shit.” He said in a monotone voice and it was exactly what you needed. He watched you break into a laugh, bending slightly, stomach moving with it before you cover your bare face with both hands. You let out a loud groan that grew naturally from the laughter.

“Fuck I know.” You continued laughing, the absurdity of it all hitting you. You knew he’d see right through you. He didn’t necessarily mean you were ugly. He meant you looked how you felt. He was confirming that he knew you weren’t doing well in his subtle weird way that made tears want to prickle in your eyes from how you’d missed it. You’d missed honesty and feeling seen.

He watched you go through the stages of grief in that slightly unhinged laugh. But he loved it. You ran your hand through your hair to pull it away for a moment as you fan your face. Your fingers separated the hair and it fell into a non-styled flop. He’d never seen you willingly mess up the effort you put into your hair with any more than a fluff of your bangs. It was comforting somehow. It made you real again.

“I feel it. I look it. Everything is as it appears.” You held your arms out to present yourself.

“You survived.” He offered optimistically.

“So far.” You held up a finger as of you were directing him which made him smile.

“What can I do ya for?” light-heartedly asking that you tell him why you’re at his house at almost 11 on a Friday night.

“Right.” You nodded, weight shifting from your heels to the balls of your feet to give away your nervousness. He hasn’t seen you move and fidget so much since you were a kid. “As you can imagine… I have not been able to relax this week. Or sleep much. Or well. At all. So I wanted to see if I could buy some weed so I could unclench my asshole for the first time all week. Oh and breathe and sleep and generally not hate existing.” He snorted out a laugh at your crudeness.

“I can do that.” He nodded before shoveling the cereal into his mouth. Forgoing the spoon once the bits were gone and slurping back the milk. He wiped his mouth with his forearm before leaning forward to give you a friendly slap to the arm. “Come on back I got some options.” He was warm and welcoming with his voice which is why the sound of your physical pain when his hand made contact with your body stood out all the more. He froze for a moment, staring at the spot he’d hit before he flicked his eyes to yours. He saw the wince that was still on your face. When you looked away from him he knew his suspicions about the hoodie had been correct. “What’d he do to you?” Burst forth without much thought behind it from his mouth with the protectiveness of a knight.

You shook your head and let out a sound to belittle the situation.

“It was your boyfriend wasn’t it?”

“Yeah but-“ you began to explain before Eddie invaded your personal space and grabbed your hand to yank up the sleeve and see bruises on your arm. He said nothing. Which was scarier somehow. He walked past you and started shoving his feet into his shoes. “What are you doing?” Your voice going high-pitched from stress.

“I’m going to go kill your boyfriend.” And to your surprise he meant it. His voice wasn’t dramatic or loud. It was full of years of built-up hate that was about to be played out with terrifying calmness.

“No. No no no no.” You walked to get his shoulders and block the door. “You’re not killing anyone.”

“He laid his hands on you.” It was all he needed to say.

“I know but it was sorta an accident.” You elaborated.

“An accident?” He stepped back, his face incredulous. “Bullshit.”

“I fell.” Your face winced and you waited.

“That’s the best you could come up with? You fell? The oldest cover-up in the book?” You could feel the heat of anger coming off him now. It made you tense and reactive as he stood towering over you.

“He didn’t mean to. Not like this. It was an accident.”

“Do you hear yourself?” His voice rose and he hasn’t meant for it too. He was seeing red and you were giving him flashbacks to scenes that had played out with women before.

“I know but it won’t happen again!” You’d hit the checklist of every cliche and excuse he’d ever heard from another woman who had been hit by her significant other. He was fully triggered.

“Do you hear yourself?” His anger turned to you and it frightened you. ”He didn’t mean it.” He mimicked. “Was it your fault too? Was he drinking? Did you trip down the stairs? I expected better from you. You sound like your mother.” He spat out as you gasped in shock and slapped him across the face without hesitation. He was right. But that didn’t mean he got to say it. It was as if it flipped a switch and his eyes went soft immediately.

“You don’t get to talk about my mom like that. You want me to bring yours into this?” There was the woman he’d seen stand up for herself last week. That’s who he’d wanted to find again. He needed to know you weren’t another victim. He worried for you so much growing up with the only example of relationships being the shitty ones your mother kept getting into.

“Shit.” He said stepping back and holding his hands up. “I-fuck I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah you fucking should be!” You shouted and stood with balled fists. He walked away and sat on the couch in defeat. He took off his shoes and tossed them back by the door.

“I’m sorry.” He said again after a long heavy silence.

“What the fuck was that?” You asked in a stained squeak. “With this fucking week I’ve had and I come to you expecting me to be the one apologizing for being a dick and then you go and talk over me and then-“ you stopped and took a deep breath to steady yourself.

“When I thought about him hurting you…” he said so carefully, softly now. “It reminded me of all the times I’ve heard good women make excuses for shitty men.” he shrugged, hands flopping with lackluster enthusiasm. “Not that it matters now but I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t ever let that happen to you.” He didn’t look at you, he stared a hole into the coffee table, his hands clasped together, elbows on his knees sitting forward on the couch. “And I failed. I heard that asshole coming onto you and you threw him against the wall I thought oh, maybe she’s got it covered. She’s not the victim here. But tonight I saw just how hard I failed you and… I’m sorry.” He spoke with a slow pace to think of his words before he said them. “I never wanted this for you.”

“Me either.” You barely got out, hit with heavy feelings from his words. God you didn’t know what to do with honesty anymore did you? Any excuse you’d heard from a guy in years was bullshit. But that was real. It was more than real it was vulnerable and raw. He gave you a part of himself and apologized. Actually apologized. Your brain slowly inputs the information you had just heard, running on a delay. “I threw a guy into a wall?” You asked in the silence and he looked up at you.

“You were totally faded. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. I figured you might from the words you had with him before you left school… that day.”

“I threw HIM into a wall?” You asked with high brows.

“He was… coming onto you. And not… nicely.”

“That’s being polite.”

“It wasn’t the first time was it?”

“Nope.” You popped your p.

“And you told him you’d tell your boyfriend everything about him. Lying, stealing, and trying to sleep with you. You said you’d ruin his life.”

“Shit, I wish I remembered. That sounds amazing. I bet that felt good as hell to get off my chest.” Your body language was slack again, no longer responding to a threat. “I guess that answers my question as to why he did it.” You hummed, chewing your lip before going and sitting next to Eddie on the couch. “I threatened him so he had to take me out before I took him out.” You nodded and Eddie watched the realization move across your face. “Those are the rules.” You shrugged.

“Doesn’t make it suck any less.”

“I’m supposed to say that.” You hit his knee with the back of your hand. “Not you.” You shared a light in your eyes that pushed passed the sadness for a moment.

“Sorry.” He gave you a small unintentional smile as you looked at one another in resigned misery.

“I’d like to explain what happened if you can you handle that?” Your motion to your bruised arm.

“Yeah. I was caught off guard before. I’m okay now.”

“Good.” you nodded and rubbed your knees, straightening your back before you began your upsetting tale. “I went for a bike ride after I got home that day. I had to get out and wear myself out so I’d stop feeling like I was going to explode. And of course, once he got to school he left to find me and he did. He pulled up on the side of the road and we… talked. If that’s what you wanna call it.” you shrugged and sighed. “This-“ you held up your forearm. “was from him grabbing me so I didn’t ride away at one point. So that was intentional. But the rest wasn’t.”

“The rest?”

“Yeah.” You grimaced, reluctant to share. “If I tell you, you can’t kill anyone.”

“I’m already pissed about the arm, just not at you.” He made sure you understood.

“Well, it gets worse.” You smile but it’s obviously fake as you hold up your hands and wiggle your fingers. “But I don’t want us to fight so I need to know I won’t get the brunt of your misplaced anger.”

“No, you won’t.” he groaned.” I’m sorry about before, really. This week has been very weirdly hard for me too. I’m not making this about me I swear I’m just saying.”

“It’s so nice to talk to someone who just says what they’re thinking.” You look at him with an odd smile.

“Most people hate it. Think it’s annoying.”

“Those people haven’t had the distinct displeasure of dealing with psychopaths.” You shook your head to clear it. “Anyway. Arm yeah. Bad. But I told him everything about his so-called best friend and to no one’s surprise but mine he didn’t believe a goddamn word I said.” You threw your hands up in defeat to sell your point.

“Oh, fuck.” he whispered.

“Yep. Instead, he got mad at ME.”

“I won’t kill him because you said not to but I hope someone else does it for me.”

“I’m not opposed to the idea.” You rolled your eyes, recalling the indignant way your boyfriend had been so wrong about everything. “I told him everything and repeated it and gave examples and he denied denied denied and ended up shoving me. Which again, his bad. That’s on him. But I was straddling my bike and he made me lose my balance and fall. I was over on Route 930 with the embankment on the side. And I fell down that son of a bitch.”

“Holy shit are you okay? I mean dumb question but nothing’s broken right?” He rushed out and touched your back and you winced again.

“Again.” You lean forward to meet his eyes. “I’ll show you but don’t get mad.”

“Sweetheart I’m gonna get mad at YOU. I swear.”

“If you swear.” You unzipped the hoodie to reveal the tank top you had on underneath as you slid it off your shoulders. “It’s on my legs and hips too but I’m not gonna take my pants off to show you. Sorry.” You smirk in the face of Eddie’s pitying gaze. “Turns out there’s cement down that thing. Who knew?” You laugh in an attempt to belittle the damage. He sees the bruises starting to age, the road rash on your back with a smattering of scratches and cuts.

“Did you go to the hospital?” He asked quietly, the concern he gave so freely made your chest hurt in a new way.

“No. Me and my first aid kit had a long night together. Wore me out.” another joke that finally made him frown, telling you you didn’t have to do that. “I couldn’t get the ones on my back in some places super well. But the shower and stuff cleaned them up.” You turned your head to see your shoulder.

“Christ.” He whispered, fingers governing over the irritated marks. “I’ve got a first aid kit. You need those cleaned.” It wasn’t a suggestion as he stood and was already walking to the bathroom. You were sitting on the couch watching him walk away with purpose before he realized you weren't behind him. “C’mon you don’t want those to get infected.” He motioned for you with his hand as you followed him into the bathroom without complaint.

You stood in front of the water speckled mirror, hands on the counter and eyes on him. He was so quiet and concentrated as you felt him lightly touch the wounds. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, the kit open and surprisingly full of stuff. You supposed it shouldn’t be a surprise, Eddie always tended to get too excitable and hurt himself. You guess that was still true about him.

It was quiet except for the hisses from you and the apologies from him for the pain. You were used to seeing him loud and boisterous, a young bull bucking back at society at large with his bold opinions and taste. You realized that both of you had changed. Maybe not so much outwardly. You’d both been on opposite ends of the high school spectrum but in private he was now capable of calculated movements and attention. The Eddie you knew before you derailed your friendship couldn’t do that. He was clumsy and oafish, limbs too long too quickly, and hormones raging that kept him from saying and doing what he meant. But he was 20 now, it was hard to believe. When you were younger you’d always wondered what he’d look like when he got older. You never saw his parents that you recall. You only remembered one day this rough and tumble skinny boy showed up at your neighbor Mr. Munson’s. And you’d been inseparable for years after that. But now he was grown. You both were. Childhood was nothing but a memory now. You pushed away the past to focus on the present as another sting crawled across your shoulder.

“I know. Sorry.” he whispered, tongue peeping out in concentration.

“I’m sorry too.” you let out an exhale, he felt your body bend under his hands as you hung your head.

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” it sounded harsh and his brow looked the same, but you didn’t feel any anger in him now. “You’re the one that’s gotten the short end of the stick here.”

“I don't mean for this.” you shook your head and raised it again, looking at him in the mirror. “I do a little, coming over here, messing up your night. It’s late, you’ve had a long day, the last thing you wanted to do was fight with me and play doctor.”

“Not the sort of playing doctor I’m used to.” he grinned, meeting your eyes in the reflection for a moment to make sure it made your face look less sad.

“I bet.” you chuckled and unlocked your elbows. “I mean for everything. All of it.”

“We don’t have to do this right now.” he stopped, a hand to your arm to look at you and not your reflection. “You’ve had one of the worst weeks of your life, you don’t have to add this to it.”

“Add it? So you did mean it when you said not to come crawling back to you crying.” you looked away, and he saw your eyes darken with hurt. “I thought…nevermind.” you whispered.

“Not like that.” he shook his head and pulled you to stand straight up by the shoulder. “It’s going to bring up a lot of stuff. A lot of emotions and you’ve had your fair share of them in the past few days. You’ve gotta be exhausted. I can patch you up and you can leave and knock out and sleep. You don’t have to fix all the world’s problems tonight.” he offered with a warm voice that drew an exasperated sigh from your tired body.

“I don’t deserve any of this.” you frowned and put your hands back on the sink counter, you couldn’t face him with his big kind eyes.

“No, you don’t. I mean you’ve been awful. I won’t lie to you. But I don’t think you deserve this.”

“No I deserve all this bullshit.” you let out a quiet but unhinged laugh that caught him off guard. “I meant this.” Your finger poked the counter as you met him again in the mirror, it felt easier that way. “You.” you looked away then as his face filled with pity for you. “You being nice to me after the shit I did.”

“I did shit to you too if you recall.”

“Not like I did you,” you whisper and he hears a sniffle he chooses to ignore, going back to working on your road rash. “I’m sorry. For all of it.”

“Thanks,” he answered quietly. “I’m sorry for the things I did too.”

“I started it.” you shook your head. “I should’ve believed you. You were the only one will the balls to tell me the truth.” you paused and winced at the burn of alcohol. “Still are. Now you’re all I’ve got.” the tears welled up in your eyes and he kept pausing his work, not knowing if he should comfort you or not. He was almost done. “Not that I’ve had anyone since you.” you barked out a mix of laugh and a sob. “This whole time I’ve acted like I’ve had everything and I’ve been the one with nothing. Alone in a room full of people. No love, no trust, no…” you broke into a sob.

“I’m almost done. Hold on.” he hurried his work, swabbing over the last bits of inflamed skin. The cotton was on the counter in a matter of 20 seconds, and in less than 2 he’d wrapped his arms around you. You refused at first, pushing him away weakly despite the tears running down your cheeks. You hadn’t cried in front of anyone since you were a child. You felt like a child. “Stop it. Stop being so mean to yourself.” he whispered as he forced you to his chest where a whine escaped you. He shushed you, a hand to the back of your head and one around your waist to avoid the newly cleaned scrapes on your back. “Let it out. I know this is a long time comin’.” He understood you. And you didn’t deserve the kindness. The acceptance of you at rock bottom, sobbing into an old friend's chest who should’ve told you to fuck off when you asked to come over.

But he hadn’t.

And here you were in his arms. You don’t know how long you cried, long enough to not know anything except the thrum of Eddie’s heart against his chest as you clung to it. The smell of laundry detergent and smoke in his shirt that was now soaked. The strength in those skinny arms that held you tight to him despite your fighting against it. You eventually tired yourself out again, your body no longer willing to give any more tears to the cause. You felt exhausted, nothing new, but also weirdly… peaceful. It was a foreign feeling that made you uncomfortable, you knew peace wasn’t to be trusted. It only meant you’d forgotten to be paranoid about something. You had sniffled and hiccuped enough for him to trust that you were through the worst of it.

“Oh God.” you groaned as you pulled away, snot and slick covering your face and his shirt. He only laughed at your embarrassment, but not in a condescending way. He reached for the box of tissues on the shelf and sat them in front of you where you quickly plucked a handful to clean your face. “I look like one of your D and D slime monsters” you let yourself chuckle as you swiped your face.

“A little.” he grinned as you blindly kicked at him with your foot, making him laugh. “You look like a woman who’s been through some shit and needed to have a good cry about it. And you are so… you’re good.” he said supportively.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you asked outright. His honesty must’ve been rubbing off on you because you didn’t weigh the statement before it left your mouth.

“Because I care about you. That’s what people do when they care. They take care of each other.”

“But I’m a total piece of shit.” you groan, your face now slime free.

“This would be a lot different if you hadn’t shown me that there was still that girl I knew in there recently. You were burnt out of your life, suppressing your true self that long, that hard will kill you eventually.”

“I don’t have to worry about that anymore.” you said with a varied expression of raising and lowering brows on your face as you realized the implication of your statement.

“What about… your boyfriend?” he asked with a tilt of his head. You let out a loud laugh that caught him by surprise.

“No, no I dumped his ass before he did it to me.” you bent over laughing. “I knew it was coming. So I pulled that trigger first before he could be truthful about saying he left me.”

“Thatta a girl.” he smiled.

“I am completely removed from the royal court.” you sighed. “No cheer, no boyfriend, nothing. I cut it out all.”

“But you loved cheerleading.” your face shot to his, your face drawn into concentration at his observation.

“How did you know?” you shook your head.

“You’ll think I’m some creep but I mean…I kinda am so whatever I guess.” he shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “You have this smile that you make when you’re happy. And I mean actually happy, not faking it. You did it back in the day and you still do it now. It shows that chip in your tooth you got from chasing the animals around the woods. The only time I saw it was when you were cheering.” He saw tears well into your eyes again, and your bottom lip blubbed out. “Oh shit, I told you I’m a creep, I’m sorry I-” You almost knocked him on his ass when you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him close. He felt a kiss on his cheek that made them blush rouge at the contact.

“You still remember that.” you choked out, happy tears for what might’ve been the first time in your life leaving your eyes with far less violence than the ones prior.

“Of course I do. I remember all that dumb shit you used to do.” you both laughed at that as his hands finally rest on your lower back to hold you.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you.” you whispered, pressing your head to his. “I know you know you were right but… fuck man, I’m just so fucking sorry.” you didn’t know how else to put it. You pulled back, bodies still close as you put his face into your hands. “You’re the best guy I’ve ever known.” you said so willingly it was his turn to feel the prickle of tears in his eyes.

“Oh c’mon…” he muttered and looked away.

“I mean it.” You said giving his head a small shake. “No one has remembered a single thing about me in years. No one thought about me when I wasn’t around. Or cared about me unless it served their purpose. But you’ve been here. Despite me being the fucking worst and you’re being so fucking kind to me now I don’t know how to process it because I’ve not had anything…nice in my life in so long.” you stepped back, realizing you might be acting a bit erratic. “I don’t know how to handle feeling…good. Happy.” you shook your head. “It makes me do things like grab you and scare you.” you blushed and looked away, leaving the warmth of him behind.

“Surprised. Not scared.” he clarified with a pointed finger and a blushing smile. “You’ve been with the wrong people. You know that. You’ve known it for a long time haven’t you?”

“So long it’s like I don’t remember being anyone else.”

“You… deserve people to be nice to you. You know that right? This version of you. That is honest and very human, deserves good things.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.”

“I’ll help.” he stepped forward and grabbed your hands. “We were best friends once. Me and this version of you. We were so close we were almost telepathic. We can do that again.”

“You’d still want me after all this?”

“Of course I do. Because it’s YOU. It’s not the queen bee, it’s not some jock’s girlfriend, it’s you. The real you. I’ve always wanted the real you around. It was that fake version that I hated. Not this messy… emotional… funny, smart complicated version of you. I’ve always liked her.”

“What if I don’t remember how to be her?”

“You already are you just don’t know it yet. Queen bitch wouldn’t be in my bathroom crying and apologizing to me. Or cracking jokes because she feels bad. Or giving ME compliments.”

“Fair point.” you finally cracked a wide smile. “I’m not used to gentle and kind. And that’s what you’re being. I can learn to be that again. I think. Especially if you’re around.” he had a crooked smile on his face at your attempts to be sincere.

“What I said back then…” he stepped in again, a hand to your cheek that was so warm it made you aware of how much your heart had already thawed in a few short days of not having to pretend to be someone else. “I didn’t mean it. Not really. Telling you to go. I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want to lose you and I knew I was and I was scared.”

“I was too.” you admitted with a wince. “I thought you meant it.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was too young to know how to handle my emotions. Hell, I’m not great at it now.” he laughed, his thumb soft against your splotched cheek.

“Makes two of us.” you let out a noisy sigh, leaning into his hand. The physical comfort felt good. “It’s been so long since someone just…” you laughed but the shine of tears made another appearance. You put your hand over his. “Nicely touched me.” you whispered, a frown appearing, but bravely looking him in the eyes to see his understanding and upset for the fact.

“I can imagine.” he mirrored his hand with his other, and you clasped onto it too.

“In a way that I needed.” your voice was barely a whisper, letting him know admitting it was difficult. The awareness of the desperation you felt now that you were safe about the lack of human comfort you’d had in your formative years hit you. “Thank you.” you shut your eyes and took a deep breath.

“You don't have to thank me, sweetheart.” he leaned in and kissed your forehead and the saddest smile he’d ever seen was on your face as he pulled away.

“Could I…” you began with a cracked voice and tried again. “Could I stay? Tonight?” you sounded so small.

“You want to?” his head tilted like a confused puppy, not understanding the question fully.

“I don’t want to be alone. Not after this.” you give a faint smile and lean into his touch, your hands stroking his own, still on your face. “I’m not ready to give this up yet.” speaking with your eyes shut made it easier. “It’s too nice and I need it too much right now.” you winced before opening your eyes. “God, being honest is so fucking weird.” your eyes went wide as you snarled your lip in realization.

“It suits you.” there was an endearing charm to his smile that you’d forgotten about. The double dimples appear and pull memories into the forefront of your mind. “I don’t mind if you stay. That’s fine,” he added quickly with a nod. “Honestly keeping an eye on your would help ease my stress a bit.” he gave your cheeks a small pat, signaling he was letting go before he did. “And speaking of…” he stood up straight and stretched. “You came here for something didn’t you?”

“I got more than I came for.” you laughed and wiped your face.

“So let’s go back to that plan. I’ll smoke you up, my treat- stop it’s my own stash don't worry about it.” he held up a hand before you could say otherwise. “We’ll dig out an old movie you used to like and we can just be two old friends catching up. Leave all this heavy bullshit behind for the night. Sound like a plan?”

“You always had the best ideas.” you approved with a smile.

You did just that. After a few beers, a lot of weed, and hours later you were both happy and fuzzy as you giggled and stumbled your way to his bedroom.

“It’s so nice to just… enjoy being high.” you muttered as you sloppily removed your hoodie.

“You smoke all the time.” he pointed out laughing, pulling back his covers as you’d already decided to head to bed.

“Yeah, but I can’t relax around them you know? I gotta be on guard.” you put your fists up like you were gonna fight and it sent you both into a round of laughter. “But I don’t gotta do that with you Eddie. I can just say shit. Do shit. And not wonder if I’m gonna get shit for it.”

“I like it when you say and do shit.” he nodded with a dopey smile. “Without thinking.”

“Not using your brain is A+ highly recommend it.”

“HIGH-ly” he said as you both started laughing again. You noticed him pause and stare, going quiet before you stopped and looked back.

“What?” you asked, swaying slightly.

“Noth-you uh- I…” he stuttered and shook his head looking away. You looked down to see in your lack of thinking you’d started taking your jeans off.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” You jerked them back over your hips. “My brain said get ready for bed and I went on autopilot. I didn’t mean to make it weird man.”

“No, no.” he flapped his hands and stepped across the room a few steps. “We’re going to bed. It makes perfect sense. I was…” he stopped and grunted. “In the interest of being honest. I didn't expect to see you in your panties and it threw me the fuck off.” you started giggling and he was relieved.

“I can sleep in your sweats or something, dude. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. This is your place. You’re the one doing me a favor here.”

“No, we’re sleeping. It’s fine. I was…as you can tell from my behavior tonight I don’t act appropriately when I’m caught off guard. So…yeah.” he rubbed his face with both hands.

“You sure?” you asked before unsnapping a button.

“Yes. positive. I want you to be totally comfortable. If we’re gonna be friends we gotta get used to this shit again. It’s just…different now.” You both blushed as you tried to be as casual as possible about taking off your jeans.

“It is different.” you admitted as you slid into his bed and covered your lower half with blankets without trying to look rushed about it.

“We were like… kids back then. We’re… not now.”

“Also I had those awful pajama sets I wore.” you added with a laugh.

“True.” he grinned, skinning his shirt off and it was your turn to bite your lip and act like you weren’t bothered. He didn’t look like the guys you had hung around with.

“I dig the tattoos by the way.” you broke the silence as he stripped down his boxers.

“Fuck off.” he says playfully and it makes you both smile.

“I mean it!” you slap the bed with your hands.

“You’ve gone after the squeakiest of clean looking boys for years, you expect me to believe you like tattoos?”

“Yes.” you gave an almost headbang of a nod. “I didn’t date them because I wanted to or liked how they looked. It was just something I had to do.”

“You say the most devastating things so casually it blows my mind.” he let out a nervous chuckle, shaking his head as he switched off the overhead light and got into bed next to you.

“Honesty can be pretty devastating.” you nod with puckered lips looking nonplussed about the statement. “I’ve still liked a lot of the same stuff I used to, I just couldn’t say I did. Dating isn’t about love or attraction, it’s about power moves.”

“You sound like a scorned woman from one of my books.” he chuckled.

“I kinda am.” you laughed. “What’s that make you?”

“The court jester.” he said proudly.

“You’re more of a bard with the guitar and shit.” you motioned to the guitar hanging across the room.

“You remember what bards are?”

“Yes!” you rolled your eyes. “Like you said I’m still the same girl I just couldn’t act like I was. I remember the nerdy shit and I’ve partaken in the occasional book or movie when I was able to.”

“Secretly a nerd.” he tsked. “All this time.”

“Shut up.” you shove his shoulder.

“It’s nice you have you back.”

“It’s…nice to be back? I mean getting here was the drizzling shits but being here now with you and just talking and fucking around is very nice.” he laughed at your crude words again.

“You want the hall light on or need a night light?“ he asked looking around to see if he even had what he was offering.

“No, I like it dark.” You said with a content smile before shimmying down into the soft worn sheets.

“Nice. Me too.” He muttered turning off his lamp and swooshing the covers over himself dramatically causing the air to whoosh in your face and make you giggle. It was almost awkward, being back in his room together. But you felt contentment you hadn’t in years. The weed was certainly helping your likeliness of being happy right now.

“This is nice but also so weird. Right?”

“I was thinking the same thing.” He whispered with a laugh. “Having you back is like we time jumped or something.”

“I feel like I missed out on a lot of stuff.” You admitted.

“Like what? You’ve been super busy.”

“Busy with stuff I didn’t wanna do.” You groaned.

“Was there anything good that happened?” The length of pause you took to think answered his question. Then you let out a giggle that made his chest warm to hear.

“Lots of funny things happened. But I couldn’t laugh at the time. OH MY GOD!” You shouted turning to face him and sitting up on your elbow. He quickly did the same in anticipation. “You get to hear all the dirt on them now! I get to give you all the gossip.”

“Holy shit yes!” He shouted. “I want to know what those idiots are really like. Tell me everything.”

“They are just as incompetent as you claim they are. They couldn’t survive on their own. All their mothers treat them like they can’t wipe their own ass it’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so pathetic.”

“It’s still hilarious to me.”

“They’re dumb as shit. They get passing grades because they want them to play sports and their parents give donations to the school. It’s all fake.”

“Those mother fuckers. Giving me shit for being held back and they're the dumb ones.”

“You are so much smarter than they could even dream of being, Eddie.” You reached out to touch his arm. “You’re better in every way I can pretty much guarantee you that. I never minded your cockiness when it came to them because I knew you were right. I admired the balls it took to deal with them every day like you did and not crack.”

“Keep the compliments coming hun I’m loving this.” He laughed and hid his face for a moment.

“It’s true! You’re better than them. Not that you didn’t already know. But you are.”

“That’s a broad claim.”

“I would know. I mean… I know them far more intimately than I’d like to. You are by far funnier, smarter, more charming, hell, you’re cuter than any of them. And you have more personality than all of them put together. It’s like talking to a wet paper bag with them sometimes.” Eddie hid his face again as he laughed, his hand hitting the bed.

“I’m gonna get you high every night if you keep sweet talking me like this.” He let out a deeper chuckle, tucking his hair back and looking at you excited in the passive panels of moonlight that came through the curtains.

“I’ll gladly do this every night. This is so much fun. And it helps me so much. To be reassured that there are guys out there that aren’t cardboard cutouts of each other sharing one brain cell that gets passed around. Fuck it’s nice.”

“And I thought you were mean to me, damn.” He joked.

“I hate them. I don’t hate you. So of course I’m gonna give you all the insider details so you can make them cry with your rants.”

“Yes give me the real shit.” He wiggles closer and so did you. “I want to hit them where it hurts. Deep insecurities. Family secrets. I want it all.”

“Your wish is my command.” You cheesed and continued with an inner brightness that he was soaking up like a sponge. “Dylan? His sister is his mom. She had him so young they made up a whole lie to cover it up.”

“Holy shit.”

“Brandon still wets the bed and goes to therapy.” You tapped your finger on the bed. “Chrissy and Sarah both have eating disorders. But he’ll who doesn’t these days? I mean I had one for a while. But I don’t have to worry about that anymore!” You chirped at the good news. “Sully and Karen have been fucking in secret for god knows how long but her parents are super racist and won’t let them be together. Tina had an abortion. And my peach of an ex wiped his boogers on EVERYTHING. Any surface out of sight in his room? Disgusting.” You fake gagged.

“This is… I wanted it all but maybe some moderation this is a lot and I’m high as shit.” He let out a belly laugh in disbelief.

“Sorry I’ve never gotten to tell anyone the stuff I got on everyone to keep them in line.”

“How about we focus on that piece of shit ex of yours? I want to make him cry himself to sleep. What have you got?” He said with a cocky grin.

“He’s deeply insecure about his moles. He’s terrified he’s going to go bald like his dad. He refused to ever get fully naked. Not that I’m complaining about that.” You snorted out a laugh and leaned into Eddie. “I don’t think being naked would’ve helped that poor kid out anyway.”

“So he was bad in bed?”

“Such a bold question to a lady, Munson.” You gasped and clutched your chest as he guffawed at the insinuation that you acted like a lady at all.

“You brought it up. I wanna know so I can make my insults cut deep.”

“He can’t do anything deep if you know what I’m sayin’.” You wiggled one finger.

“I knew he wasn’t packing shit down there.”

“He’s… average I guess? “

“You guess?” He asked with humor but he was curious.

“Contrary to popular belief I’ve not slept with very many people.” You admitted a bit quieter. “I’ve seen plenty of dicks with the skinny dipping and their weirdly homoerotic tendency to whip it out to fuck with each other but up close? Not many. They didn’t deviate from each other much. Neither did the sex to be perfectly honest. You’ve probably slept with more people than me truthfully.”

“No fucking way.” He shook his head.

“Am I insulted or are you flattered?” You teased.

“I’m extremely flattered.” He let out a giggle.

“I know you and Melissa had a fling or something so I figured if you bagged her you were doing well for yourself.”

“You know about that?” His voice cracked and it sent you into a cackle.

“We all do you goober!”

“She was so embarrassed by me I figured she didn’t tell another soul.”

“Only takes one other person for the word to spread.”

“I didn’t fuck her, for the record. I don’t know what you heard.”

“Nah you just fingered her. Or that’s what she said.” You shrugged.

“You are so casual about this.” He said a bit taken aback.

“Well, sex has never really been a topic that’s scared me. Probably because it never meant much ya know?”

“I don’t actually.” He quieted and tilted his head.

“Alright if we’re gonna be friends I suppose I should just be honest.” You shrug. “Sex is a weapon. Was… a weapon. I used it to get what I want. It was transactional. I let them paw and hump for 4 minutes and my job’s done. Letting them think they did something for their fragile egos and I’m out of there. So talking about it is like talking about… sports. They did this, he did that and it was over and that was the game.”

“Again…” he began slowly. “Devastating words and you say it like it isn’t.”

“How is that devastating?” Your wrinkled nose was adorable to him but he felt bad for you. “You didn’t fool around with Melissa to get something on her to use against her? Like a security measure so she didn’t do something bad to you?” He let out the strangest laugh. It made you lean forward and study his face.

“No.” He shook his head. “I kinda weirdly liked her.” He saw that it didn’t register on your face. You blinked and your confusion didn’t move. “You probably know but I’ve… fingered a handful of cheerleaders.”

“Fingered a handful.” You giggled. “Phrasing.” You joked.

“Okay yeah, I should’ve seen that coming. But there’s the whole, bad boy schtick and forbidden fruit stereotype and I did know none of their boyfriends were doing it for them so they cozied up to me in private to get a taste of what it was like to be with the guy from the wrong side of the tracks. Be a little rebellious to secretly stick it to daddy or their shitty boyfriends.”

“This does not surprise me but I did not know it was so many.”

“But some acted like they liked me to get me to do it. Which is why I did it in the first place. After it happened twice I was like okay I see what’s happening here. And it was more… transactional. A hand job or a blow job is still nice whether you like the person or not and well… it made me feel good to make them feel good. They couldn’t take that away from me. So there were feelings to some degree involved. I talked to them, listened, and asked what they liked. Even if there wasn’t romance there I still treated them like they were people.” You didn’t respond for a bit, he saw your face shifting in thought.

“I’ve…” you frowned finally at your realization. “I’ve never done that.” You confessed.

“Liked someone?”

“I mean I’ve had a crush but anyone I’ve slept with? No.” The silence sat between you as he tried to not wrap you up and apologize for the life you’d had. Or the life you’d not had. “Come to think… if that’s what you do when you like someone I don’t think any of them liked me either.”

“Sweetheart I-“

“I knew they didn’t.” you dismiss with a wave before he felt too sorry for you “I knew they didn’t care about me. Because you see sex in movies and it’s when people care about each other. They kiss and touch and say nice things. It’s not a teeth-hitting kiss, a grope, and then in and out. I know that sex can be like that. Or that’s what I’ve heard. But I wasn’t sold on the idea. I mean no one’s even made me cum before so why would I expect something as extra as an emotional connection? That seemed like too much to expect.”

“These guys are worse than I even imagined.” He groaned and you felt his head bang into the mattress. “Did they even try to get you off?”

“At some point, they'd try to finger me but they didn’t know what they were doing and I didn’t care enough to explain so I’d pull that, oh I want you so bad I don’t wanna wait.” You faked a lusty voice that made his neck feel hot. “And got it over with.”

“But you’ve… had an orgasm before right?”

“Oh, tons!” You laughed. “But all by myself.”

“Well… at least there’s that?”

“I love sex if we’re talking about that.” You laughed. “Or I love orgasms so if sex involved those then yeah I’d probably be as big of a slut as people say I am.” That one did make him laugh.

“I’ve always liked to think of sex as a way to show someone you care about them.”

“That’s sweet.” You didn’t mean to sound so dismissive. It was a sweet idea.

“Or it’s about connecting with someone else physically and emotionally at the same time instead of having them be two separate things.”

“So you do like sex?” He honked out a laugh that made you feel shy about your question.

“Yes. BIG fan.” He nodded.

“So you’ve had that… sweet sort of sex before?” You spoke quietly again as if you were younger and asking him something risky about being older.

“Yeah.”

“What….” You stopped and sighed, not knowing if you should ask. It must’ve been obvious.

“Go ahead.” He rubbed your arm to calm you down.

“What was it like?”

“You want a play-by-play or what are you asking exactly?” He genuinely asked and it made you second guess your intention.

“I’m afraid my real question is too sad.” You admitted.

“With what you’ve told me so far it probably is. BUT I’m here to help! I meant that. I know now you’ve been through some… quite frankly fucked up shit. I want you to know what life can be life-should be like. So don’t feel like you can’t ask me something.”

“You’re too sweet.”

“Dentists hate me.” He joked to lighten the mood and it worked.

“I guess… I’ve not had that before. That connection.” He has to lean in to hear your shy words of admission. “What’s it like to have someone care about you like that?” He doesn’t patronize you, he holds back his cooing and babying.

“I mean… you do now.” He offered. “I care about you. I like you. I feel like we’ve connected a lot the past few weeks, especially tonight.”

“I never thought of that. Yeah.” He saw something like a spark of hope in your face. “I care about you too. I Like you. All that stuff you said.” You bashfully smiled. “I’m new to this.” You mumbled and rolled to your back and let out a frustrated sigh. “What’s it like to have sex where you want the other person? “ your raspy questions asked to the darkness and not his face, he frowned at your loss. “And they want you. And you care about each other and treat them special and take the time to make each other feel good? I swear it’s like I can’t fathom it realistically. It’s so removed from my experience that I just…” you rest your hands on your stomach, the covers to your waist as you turned your head toward him.

It was like he had dug down into your inner layers to find you just as worried and scared as everyone else. It was raw and vulnerable and he loved you for it. He loved that you were able to access it and verbalize it for him. He loves that you trusted him with your most shameful questions. He had so many things he wanted to say. To promise. To do.

“I’m realizing now just how deprived of basic human decency I’ve been.” It was deadpan delivery but brutally honest.

“Yeah, you have been.”

“It’s better to know than not know.” You rubbed your forehead.

“Most people are awful. So as far as that goes you’ve mastered dealing with most people.”

“God, you’re so smart.” You say with wide eyes and no hint of it being a joke. “ I tell you something that makes me feel bad and you know how to make it sound not awful.”

“I don’t know about that.” He flushed deeply and looked away with a fidgeting nose.

“And you’re cute when you get embarrassed by compliments.” You layered on the praise again to your gift of a friend next to you.

Another stutter where he shoved your side softly in retaliation.

“This is about you. Not me.” He deflected.

“We’re gonna be here a long time if we’re trying to fix my problems.” You grinned.

“Lucky for you I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be.” You kept surprising him, reaching out to touch his face with the back of your hand. He had his girl back, and he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself but he’d missed you.

“No one’s ever told me that before.”

“They should.” He insisted so harshly with quiet words that it made you smile, parting the sadness and making room for something better.

“Eddie?” He felt something in his chest as his name passed your lips into the darkness to caress his ears.

“Yeah?”

“I wanna know what it’s like.” He knew what you meant. But he didn’t want to believe it. He’d always seen through the words you chose and felt your meaning under them.

“What what’s like hun?” He took your hand into his own, scooting closer to look down at you.

“You’ve made me realize a lot tonight. I’ve missed out on the real things. And I want to know what it’s like to feel good. To be happy.” You sighed out a whisper. “And I know we care about each other. I didn’t remember what caring about someone else felt like and it’s so much. It feels nice. And I have such a… fucked up, as you said, view of sex. And if simply remembering what it’s like to feel cared for without sex is this good then I know I don’t even have anything to compare to how good real sex could be. Which is a little scary.” he could see the wetness of your mouth shining in the cool light as it opened but no sound came out as you tried to find your words. “And if I feel so safe with you… and we care about each other… which is the vital component that’s missing in my life so I thought maybe…” he still had to let go of your hand. It gave away that he knew what you were suggesting. “You’re going to make me say it aren’t you?” You smiled and it broke the worry across your face.

“I thought talking about sex wasn’t hard for you?” He grinned but it was kind, leaning down to kiss your knuckles as you let out an audible sound of emotion from the simple act. Neither of you was sure if it was pain, arousal, or confusion.

“If it’s not with you it is.” As smooth of an answer as you could’ve given. “If I don’t care about it.” You emphasized. “Then It’s easy to talk about.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea sweetheart.” He tried to hide the hesitancy on his face. “You’ve been through a lot in a very short amount of time. I don’t know if adding this to it right now would be… helpful.” He didn’t shy away from you, he rubbed his hand over yours, still clasped in his other. He was being attentive and supportive and you felt a new inner turmoil at not getting what you wanted from someone. You weren’t sure how to feel about it. Because you were sure about your suggestion.

“Okay.” You have a single nod and he heard an audible swallow from you. “Honesty time again.” You huffed out and squeezed his hand. “Do you want to have sex with me at all? In any capacity? I should’ve asked that first.” He laughed and you hadn’t expected it.

“Oh, you’re serious. Shit, sorry. The idea that I wouldn’t want to is so out there I thought you were just making a weird joke.”

“I mean I might not be your type. Or you could not be attracted to me.” You suggested.

“Babe.” He leaned in over you and smirked. “You know you’re hot. I don’t have to tell you that.”

“That’s just an opinion though. And you’re different from everyone else and if everyone else thinks that then you might not.”

“I do.” He nodded and laughed. “You don’t have to worry about that. Trust me.”

“Then next question. Or not a question but a… counterargument.” You said with brighter eyes. “I think the distraction would be nice. I think we would have fun and both enjoy it and honestly, an orgasm would be great right now. It’d mellow me the hell out. And getting off and going to sleep sounds like a perfect way to end the night.”

“I disagree with none of that. But I don’t want you to regret it later. Emotions are high, I don’t want you to act too quickly. And when you have sex with someone you care about… other things happen that you've not had to worry about before.”

“Like what?”

“Taking feelings into account. If you aren’t dating then there are questions as to what you are if you’re sleeping together. Or what you’re not. And someone could get feelings and someone wouldn’t reciprocate them. Feelings are messy. And as much as it feels like I’ve known you forever, because, in a way I have, this is still new. And I don’t even know how I feel so I can’t expect you to know how you feel about any of it yet.”

“It is so fucking nice to have someone just tell me what they’re thinking and not have to constantly second guess their motives or thoughts.” You give his hand another squeeze. “So I’ll do the same to you. I’m not as confused as you think I am. I was tired of the life I had for a long time. Letting it go is a relief. And I don’t have any interest in going back to my old Life no matter how this whole scandal plays out. And I can't promise you anything when it comes to what I will or won’t feel in the future so I won’t. But if I did get feelings for you, you don’t have to worry about me not telling you. Or be ashamed of you like those other girls were. I’d be lucky to have you. I’ve always cared about you and I only care more after today. And right now you’re my best friend. I know that. I don’t expect that to change. And I know feelings are messy, that’s why I’ve avoided them for so long. And if you don’t have those feelings for me then that’s fine too. At least we’d know. And if you did then we could date. And if I didn’t get romantic feelings for you then I’d still be willing to be around because it’s more than that with you. It’s always friends first.”

“Your ability to look inside my head and address my worries is uncanny. And impressive.”

“I had to learn to read people and think of every angle. It’s helpful.” You take the compliment casually. “My brain works fast. And it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever thought about us like that.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” He grinned

“I cover all angles. Like I said. And with our history, I’d considered what it would be like to be with you before. In case I needed to or wanted to. Or for nefarious reasons beyond my control that we won’t get into right now to bum us out.” You chuckle.

“It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it either.” He admitted.

“Really?”

“I hate to admit it but when I’d have to see you in your cheer uniform-“

“Oh god really? That did it for you?” You teased.

“It’s very little clothing in my defense.” He held up a hand in surrender. “And you do your dances and the splits and your flips and it’s like a peep show out there.”

“You’re not wrong.” You said supportively. “I felt the same seeing you play. That was… awakening. Even though the idea was planted years ago, to be honest.”

“When did I play years ago that did it for you?”

“It wasn’t that, I just had a big fat crush on you when I was younger.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He let out a teasing groan.

“I did!” you giggled. “You were older and nice and paid attention to me. That’s all it took.” You laughed and hid your face. “Then you started growing out your hair and playing electric guitar and you were so cool.”

“You’re pulling my leg now.”

“I swear. I didn’t say anything because I figured you thought I was just some annoying kid. You didn��t see me that way.”

“I didn’t…” he shook his head and hesitated.

“It was that summer wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Something changed that summer between us. And not just because I was hanging with those other guys.”

“Yeah you suddenly weren’t that scrawny kid anymore and you looked like you were my age and it messed with my head. Because your personality was good, you just weren’t old enough and then I turn 15 and my brain is horny nonsense and you’re all… hips and tits and also into the same shit I am. It was confusing.”

“That makes sense.”

“So I was a little jealous. But I wasn’t going to do anything about it and I was mad at myself over it so it was easier to push you away than deal with it.”

“Easier to hate each other than admit it was the opposite.”

“I knew you’d get it.”

“You don’t have to be jealous anymore.” You smiled with a 1000-watt power behind it. “I’ve ditched those other guys for you. You’ve got me here in your bed. Alone. Asking you to have sex with me. It doesn’t get better for 15-year-old you than that.”

“He’d be ecstatic. He’d have come in his jeans already.” You shared a laugh.

“Hopefully you don’t have that in common with him.”

“You’re serious about this aren’t you?” he shifted and jutted his chin forward, studying you as you nodded. “And you’re sure?”

“I am.”

“And this isn’t going to ruin things between us? End this before it even starts? You’re not gonna freak out and leave me hanging again?”

“Promise. I’m all yours. I don’t wanna leave. This is where I’m supposed to be. Always has been.” he saw the brief sadness in your eyes for the life that could’ve been. But the way you gave him an apologetic smile, it filled his chest with a warm and fuzzy feeling of hope.

“Already knew you were gorgeous. Didn’t know you could be so sweet too.” His voice phased into something different. Deeper, full of intention. “And also smart and funny and lots of other good things.” He blurted out as he scoot his body next to yours. Your hand now freed and sliding under him. “I don’t want you to think that I just think you’re pretty. You are you’re… I can’t believe I get to touch you to be embarrassingly honest but I know that’s something guys have told you so many times it probably means nothing now. But it means something to me. And I don’t want you to think this is just about me getting to be physical with you. Or claim some ownership over you or the shit that guys have done before. I want you to know you’re more than pretty. You aren’t one note. You’re complicated and interesting. I can’t have sex with your personality though.” He chuckled. “I just… I’m rambling now but I want you to know I think you’re gorgeous but that’s not all I think about you. So when I say something about how you look when we get into this that’s not all I see in you.”

“You’re going to make it hard for me to not fall in love with you saying things like that, Munson.” You touched his face softly, trying out something new as you traced his jaw and landed on his full lips.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish in his shock at your words and the tender way you touched him, fingertip tracing his mouth. You didn’t want to purposely fluster him but he wanted you honest. He just hasn’t expected you to be SO honest. At a loss for words he stalled, not knowing how to move forward from here, more words jumbled in his head wondering if they should be said before he continued. You took his attention and focused him with a soft touch and words, giving him the answer to his current dilemma.

“You can kiss me now Eddie. If you want.” You filled the silence and gave him something to focus on. A small nod before his bambi eyes shifted and he turned his total attention to you. You leaned your body towards him as his hand hovered over you trying to figure out where to land. It was awkward but not the sort you were used to. You were used to guys being try-hards. They laid on their so-called moves and it was embarrassing to watch. That was bad awkward. But this… this was good. You saw him think and worry- which was something you’d not seen a guy do up close very many times- about where to touch you because, to him, it mattered. Something as simple as the placement of his hand was so important to him that he took the time to look you over and make a proper decision. You watched his eyes dart about, minuscule twitches of his face as he thought. A jaw clenched, a swallow. When he decided on your cheek you were taken out of your head for a moment by the warmth and sincerity of his eyes meeting yours. He nudged himself against you, settling so he could properly kiss you. He hadn’t even touched his lips to yours and yet he had already outdone any guy you’d been with before. An odd feeling moved in your stomach as he took his time to capture your attention, to stroke your hair back, to look over your face as if it was the first time he’d seen it. Then slowly, painfully so he gently put his lips to yours. Small, soft, simple. A press.

After such a lingering build it felt like so little to be given. When your eyes bat open he was barely pulled away smiling at the confused look on your face.

“I wanna go slow with this okay? And you can tell me no or to stop at any time and I will.” The confusion stayed on your face. You’d never had anyone give you the option before. “Don’t oversell it either. I want you to make noise only if you want to, not to make me feel better. I don’t need the ego boost like those other guys.” He chuckled, flipping his hair to one side and a smell of piney shampoo waft over you. “I want you to tell me when you want things. If you want things.” He corrected. “This is new for you so I’m not going to judge you or make fun or something okay?” Now he was growing confused that you still wore your creased brow. “You can tell me if somethings wrong you know.” He insisted with a nod, his hand went back to stroking your cheek, trying to offer comfort in a small way.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just never had anyone say things like that before.” You shrugged subtly and shook your head the same.

“I was afraid of that.” He confessed with pursed lips. “We’ll take it slow. Like I said. Talk to me, and let me know that you’re feeling good. If I’m too fast, too hard, tell me. This isn’t about me. This is about you. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings if you tell me I’m doing something wrong. I don’t know your body, I’m not going to get everything right the first time by chance.” He gave a throaty laugh that eased your newly found nerves about sex. You were starting to wonder if you’d ever had it at all.

“I might…” you winced your lip and swallowed audibly. “I might need some help with the talking. I’m used to dirty talking but not actually… telling of things.”

“Then I’ll ask you now and then if you’re good. That work?” A quick enthusiastic nod made his eyes crinkle with happiness at the sight as he kissed your cheek. “Focus on me and what feels good. Don’t think too much. You don’t have to be worried about anything anymore alright? This isn’t a power move or whatever you called it.” He grinned when you giggled at his choice of words. “This is just two people who care about each other, making each other feel good. That’s all. So relax and enjoy it.”

“I’m gonna try.” You answer sheepishly. “I’m not used to being inexperienced.” You admit. “Makes me nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about. You’re not performing. You’re just laying there looking pretty.” He added supportively. “And you’re killing it by the way.” He brushed his nose to yours and you felt a jerk in your stomach as a new sort of giggle bubbled out of you. Were you blushing? Your face was warm. Wait- We’re you just…giggling? That was an involuntary sound you just made. Your face grew warmer, embarrassed a guy had made you feel something. You judged yourself from the inside. But watching him beam down at you with nothing but adoration on his face reminded you that this was the whole point. You were allowed to feel now. So you let yourself gulp and sigh, shifting your legs together and snuggling down into the sheets.

“I’m ready.” You whispered. It wasn’t entirely convincing but your bitten lip and nod as you bravely met his eyes told him you were ready to try.

He hovered again, and this time with more confidence he planted his lips to yours. That queasy feeling in your stomach returned as you focused like he told you to. His lips were warm and plump. Fuller than the other guys you’d kissed. A press separated with a sweet quiet sound of disapproval from your lips as if they wanted to be together. One gentle round of parting and pressing turns to another. Then another. He was slow and thorough. Unrushed as he let it build between you. You’d never noticed if someone was a good kisser or not. You’d never kissed anyone long enough on the mouth to know for certain. By now it would be to your neck or chest or over already. He kissed you breathless, having to break with ghosted mouths just to get air. Then he brought you together again- your lips circles and now tongues a perfect ven diagram as the heat bloomed across your skin.

He felt your body tense, worried for a moment before he felt you push back against him with subtle eagerness. He took it as a signal of permission as he angled his head and opened his mouth to tangle his tongue with yours. A sound you’d never heard before crawled secretly out of your throat, a hand raised to hold his bicep as the flood of warmth began to wash over your body. Your breathing quickened. You didn’t know a kiss could make you breathless. You had lost track of how long he’d indulged your oral fixation by indulging his own. A kiss had never drawn anything from you. Not a moan or a sigh. Certainly never compelled your body to act on its own, your hands now touching his skin chilled from the air of the room. You felt his hair tickle your face and fingertips. You felt torn. There was a feeling of deep satisfaction to be had in the simple act. Alongside it grew something impatient and greedy. Want.

You wanted more.

You’d never wanted a man to touch you more. A burn between your thighs had started. You didn’t know how to ask. The thought of letting out what would surely be a pathetic rasp of ‘more” seemed embarrassing. So you did what you knew better than talking and showed him. On another press and suck of lips and tongue you purposely move your arms up to encase him and pull him closer. Not purposely you whine pitifully into the embrace as he reads your signal loud and clear- his arm moving down your body to hold your waist and pull your body closer.

Then your spark turned into a flame.

Desperation was thick like the saliva shared between nearly panting tongues. You ventured boldly into the mass of curls that were oh so much softer than they looked. You did as he had to you and held the side of his face as he lay over you. Your hands had their own plans, finding their way to his back to feel the slender frame almost on top of you now. With the grasping of his naked torso and the way more hungry sounds left you, he ventured forward boldly to put his hand under the covers and touch the bare skin of your hip. A moan he ate up with his own left as soon as the sear of his palms touched you. A little faster than he would liked to he grabbed the meat of your ass, clad in soft cotton and pulled you in a way that made your knee raise to try to wrap around him. You weren’t feeling as timid as he expected by the way you returned the favor to grab his ass back. Your hand clapped for a moment, causing him to break the kiss to find you yanking the covers that had been pinned between you and keeping you apart.

“Fuck these blankets.” You muttered as he couldn’t help but let out a laugh at your annoyed face. The sound distracts you as he helped finish the task and kissed your cheek.

“You’re so cute when you get all worked up like that.” He whispered into your ear and your body responded with goosebumps exploding over your skin. He hoisted you by the hip to bring it over his. “This what you wanted?” He made a checkpoint as your chest rising and falling so fast was a good tell he was doing his job.

“Mmm hmm.” So small with your nod and bitten, swollen lips. “I wanted more of you touching me.” It came out much less dizzied than you felt. You were proud of the ability to speak for yourself amid a make-out that was changing your point of view on sex entirely.

He managed to look smug without seeming condescending. Another first for you.

“Telling me what you want…” a more sinister grin spread as he kissed your jaw, pressing your head to the side. “That was perfect, baby.” A kiss on the shell of your ear as his deepened voice cooed into it made you shudder. You knew he had to feel it. Hear it when you opened your mouth with a tiny gasp at the words of praise. “That’s my good girl.” He pat your ass and nuzzled into your hair. Two words you weren’t sure had ever been said to you sent your heart fluttering in your chest. Your face looked disgusted by it, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

You’d never been good. Certainly not a good girl and definitely not someone’s- his good girl. It made 13-year-old you pining for your cool neighbor squeal in delight. A whimper left your throat as you exhaled shakily, taken aback by how hard soft words could hit. “You liked that didn’t you?” You didn’t have to see the smirk to know it was there. Your nose wrinkled and lips scrunched together in a playfully angry face- unable to be angry and truly, not wanting to be.

“Yes.” Was gritted out before a breathy laugh left you, a push of a kiss landed on your cheek, his arms squeezed you tight against him.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It turns me on to know what turns you on.” Another sentence to make you question how he wields the power to make your eyes roll back on command like that. Maybe he did know magic like the rumors said. You certainly felt bewitched.

“It’s hard to admit when something -someone… you affects me.” You swallowed. “And you are…. very much affecting me, Munson.” A smile you didn’t plan spread like wildfire across your face as the charm oozed from his pores with two darling dimples making an appearance.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been so… affected too sweetheart.” He admitted with a shake of his head, his hair bigger and messier from your hands playing in it. You loved the way it looked on him. “You’ve got me so fuckin hard.” It was more of a statement, an observation meant to be flattering on his behalf. So when you snarled, a sharp inhale and a moan before crashing yourself against him again he was surprised for a second before it was quickly lost among the ever-consuming thoughts of you.

Something more desperate grew within you, tongues talked outside of mouths and lapped at swollen lips. You pulled his hair back to see a handsome jawline that you attacked with your mouth. Your hand traveled, feeling his taught stomach and chest, feeling the groan vibrate through it when your kisses made their way to his throat. You nipped his collarbones, feeling feral and acting on instinct for the first time. You wanted to sink your teeth into him but refrain. Instead, you let your mouth share one of the thoughts pinging around your skull as your hands felt him up.

“You’re so- ugh- sexy Eddie.” You murmured, voice distorted as your tongue covered a spot you’d bitten. Then he moaned. A beautiful sound. You’d never heard a guy openly let a moan out that wavered and whined. There was no brute grunt and groan to it. It was like a song. Light and airy and honest into the dark of the room as his head knocked to the side and you played with him. “You sound so pretty.” You smiled against his neck.

“P-pretty?”

“Your moans.” You whispered into his ear and he shuddered, a whine when your nails grasped into his back. “I want more.” You asked nicely, a hand he didn’t expect, landing on his cock. He jumped and to your surprise grabbed you by the wrist. You shot back to see his face, worried you’d done something wrong.

“This is about you.” He shook his head. “Not me.” He huffed out a laugh as he cleared his head with squinted eyes.

“And I want you.” You answered back quickly and certainly. It felt so good to hear it. Especially in a voice so needy.

“You’ll get me if you want me.” He nodded, a promise as he moved you back by your hip to put you back into your back. “But I’ve gotta make you cum first.”

“But- “ your eyes darted between his gorgeous face and his hand resting on your lower stomach. “I thought I might do that when we had sex?”

“You will.” Something so cocky bubbled up in his demeanor that you glared a little. But only because you liked it. You’d never seen him like that. He was so self-assured it felt like a challenge. But it was a promise instead. You weren’t used to guys keeping their promises. But the understated way he held himself in confidence in the confines of the bubble between you told you he’d be the one to keep them to you. “I want to focus on you first. You’re so used to doing things to the other person I want you to know what it’s like.” His hand ran up your front slowly as he spoke. “I want to make you feel good, baby.” He whispered, again over you with you trembling beneath him. “Can I do that?” You gave another enthusiastic nod that made him smile every time he saw it. “Can you use your words for me?”

“You can. Yes. I… you’re right.” You settle back and chew your lip as he slows down, a kiss to your temple.

“Can I touch you?” There was something sickeningly sweet about the question and you couldn’t put your finger on it at the moment but it made you smile.

“Of course.” You nod, bumping your nose into his. “I want you to touch me.” You clarified as you knew he wanted. You’d never wanted to do things to make the other person like you. Make them approve of you.

“Using your words again. Good girl.” Oh right. That might be why you wanted to do what he said.

Your lashes fluttered and you let your eyes close at the end of a heavy exhale at the words showing him you were ready to focus. Since you’d gone for his neck he figured you might like that yourself. He found his theory correct when you let your head fall to the side and gave him your throat willingly. He started sweet to build you back up again, more than happy to take his time and make this last as long as possible. He kept his hands tight to your body never venturing above your ribs as he nursed at the curve of your neck. Your hand held to the back of his head to keep him close. Once he was satisfied that you had relaxed again, head swimmy and distracted, his kisses traveled to your collarbones first, still gentle but firm. After a trek from shoulder to shoulder his lips found yours again. Brought out of a lovely daze you kiss him back. You hum and smile into his kisses, biting his bottom lip or sucking it noisily until you giggle. You felt like you’d smoked again. A bit high on intimacy. The comfortable headspace was broken when a large hand finally intruded onto the space of your chest. His kisses were almost enough to distract you from it. Almost. With the way your body was responding in ways you hadn’t experienced before any touch to an area as sensitive as your nipples was sure to be noticed. With each step forward he worried it would be met with hesitancy. He was too caught up in your past to consider you’d left it and were very focused on the present. You were yet to confirm those thoughts as his gentle grope drew a small muffled noise, caught between your kneading lips. Your enthusiasm drove him forward, thumb brushing over your already hard nipple, a shift of your hips and an accompanying grunt show your approval. When he felt your nose twitch against his, still occupied in a heated makeout, he pinched and rolled the hard bud as it begged for more attention from his hands. The next level of moan began as a wobbly sound left your mouth as it parted against his.

“Good?” a rhetorical question really but he wouldn’t break his promise of checking in on you frequently.

“Can’t you tell?” you breathed a soft laugh against him before pushing him away to sit up and strip your tank top off and fall back into the bed leaving him in awe at the sight of you laid out beneath him.

“You’ve always been impatient.” a smile slowly grew on his face as he realized he needed to do something besides stare.

“Some things never change.” you give a breath laugh, settled back onto a pillow, and rub his bicep before taking his hand and putting it back onto your chest.

“Please tell me these… two beautiful girls have gotten enough attention over the years. I don’t think I could handle it if they were neglected all this time.” his eyelids seemed heavier now, half open as he kissed the weight of your chest, his nimble fingers already tweaking your sensitive nipple again.

“Not as much as they deserve.” you smirk, running your hand over his hair as he cuddled up to your face first.

“They deserve monuments built to them, sweetheart.” he placed a kiss to the center. “You’ve had them sucked on before right?” his face was toward your body, nose nuzzling and throat humming at the impossible softness as the tip of his nose grazed toward your other nipple but his eyes found yours as he asked.

“Not as much as I’d like.”

“You like it?” a hopeful smile appeared before being broken by his tongue lapping out over the popping centerpiece.

“Sometimes it’s like my nipples have a direct line to my clit. I can feel it down there when they’re touched up here.” your fingertips ghosted over his manipulating hand and down your body. He groaned at the effect the combination of words and action had on him. He didn’t make you wait, mouth greedy with his hesitancy being forgotten the more of you he got to see and explore. The hungry sounds and the tense hands holding you down fogged up your brain deliciously, letting you bask in the enjoyment. You let yourself be pleasured, head back, eyes closed, mouth slack as he pressed his hard hips to your side, mouth open as it panted for the opportunity to taste your skin, seeking out the other side. “That feels so good, Eddie.” you sighed and he grunted at the sound of his name in praise. “You can suck harder.” Immediately he followed your instruction drawing a moan from you, your legs shifting feeling him hard against you. “Yeah, like that.” you whined, looking down at him to find him already watching you. He gave a small bite and you yipped before dissolving into a squealed giggle and wrinkling your nose playfully. “You can be a little rough, I like it.” you whisper as you watch his eyes roll back into his head, his nose mashed into you. He gave your nipple not inside his mouth a twist and you moaned, legs parting involuntarily and circling to find some friction. After he had you whimpering, a mouth-watering sound, every breath a whine as you pouted and begged with your eyes first. “I want you to touch me. I can’t take much more of this teasing or I’m gonna do it myself.” it was meant to be a little funny, as unserious was a very comfortable place for you to land in with him. You frowned at the disappearance of his hand before you felt it travel farther south, cupping you over your panties. “Yes.” you nod and chew your bottom lip as he pops off your nipple with swollen lips.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” he asks quietly, his voice thick and deep. The pet name made you audibly sigh.

“I know ‘you’ isn’t an answer you’ll accept but fuck, Eddie.” you groan as a broad grin grows across his face, lighting him up from the inside out. “I’ve never been this turned on before.” you laugh and hide your face. He moves them gently, kissing your cheek and then your lips as you give him unintentionally sad eyes. They weren’t there to manipulate someone for the first time, you didn’t know what you were doing, acting purely on instinct.

“How about I start with showing you what someone using their hands on you should feel like.” he brushed his nose to yours and you welled up inside with emotion. You wanted to scream, the lack of control over how he was making you feel was almost overwhelming. Every inch of your skin wanted his touching it. Your clit could be felt when you rubbed your thighs together, a hot slick you didn’t know you could create already seeping through your panties. It was even better than he’d made it sound.

“Please.” a quick nod as you licked your lips in anticipation.

“You’re asking so nicely.” a deep condescending chuckle left him, he couldn’t help it. He had you in his bed wiggling and writhing, begging with wet eyes. He had earned being a little cocky about it. He was about to earn being downright smug. Eddie knew he was good with his hands. It was what he was known for. Guitar or pussy, he was your man if you wanted the job done right.

“I’m trying. I feel a little out of it.” you laughed into his kiss.

“Just wait.” he bit your bottom lip and your hips shimmied with excitement as you slid your panties off and they were tossed to the darkness of his room with your tank top. He laughed at your excitability, eyes bright even in the dark. The light from outside was enough to see the shapes and shadows, with slats of brightness scattered about. To settle you he ran his strong hands up and down your inner thighs to spread them until they knocked open without resistance. His kisses kept traveling a well-loved path from your lips to your neck and back again as he worked you dizzy with his fingers. He moved as if he’d been there before, slipping between your lips and with a few teasing passes finding the beacon that made you gasp on contact. “Tell me what you do when you touch yourself?” a question that made you shudder as circles around your clit made your face wince and shift.

“Think of you?” you giggled, nuzzling into him when he bit your earlobe at your response. “I uhm-” you began trying to concentrate while he touched you, showing him you would answer him seriously. “I tend to favor the left side. Up and down?” your voice inflected as if you didn’t know. “It’s hard to concentrate when you’re touching me like this.” you admit softly as he works away at the muscles in your neck with his mouth. “The…arch is really sensitive, like the peak… the - shit, yeah there.” your voice goes hoarse. “I switch up what I do, but when I’m close I like to keep doing the same thing so I don’t lose it.” you managed to get out with breaks of moans and gasps.

“And you said you wouldn’t be able to tell me anything. I’ve got you singing like a little bird.” he hummed into your ear, a kiss following.

“I want more of it, you found a way to get me to talk.” you giggled, wrapping your arm tighter around him, your hand stroking up and down his bare arm to feel the flex of his muscles as he rubbed expertly. You let your body do what it wanted with no judgment. Your feet began to push into the bed, your hips angling, starting to jerk as your breathing became increasingly ragged. He earns the occasional mindless praise of “Fuck yeah. Yes. Like that.” as your voice inflected upward, your back arching.

“You’re so wet I could slip my fingers right inside you. You want me to fuck you with my fingers?” he cooed in your ear, his hips shifting against you, holding back on rubbing himself against you for friction.

“No.” you shook your head, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m close. I don’t want you to stop.” you begged.

“Fuck I can’t wait to watch you cum.” he confessed, watching your lips tremble as every breath elicited a sound. “You’re so fucking pretty.” he whispered watching your body writhe, covers no longer hindering his view as a sheen of sweat started to form. He watched your hand reaching for your chest to twist a nipple as your eyes lolled back into your head and another throaty moan escaped. “Want me to suck on your tits again baby?”

“Fuck-PLEASE-yes!” you cried, a sincere chest stuttering whine as your hips moved in circles against his hand. He latched on, no further instruction needed as your head raised and you looked down to see how on earth he was making you feel so good with a single finger. It wasn’t fair. The sight of his full lips and nearly black brown eyes predatory on your slack-jawed face made it hard to keep your eyes open. Every swirl of his finger got you closer, your eyes inching back a little more. “That’s so fucking good. Don’t stop Eddie please it’s SO good.” your voice took a downturn, deepening as your stomach began to tense. Your hand was taught in his hair, holding him to you as he grunted and snort as you nearly suffocated him but he was in no headspace to complain. “I’m gonna cum.” you squeaked out. “Holy shit.” you gasped, the disbelief clear in your voice. “Oh my god you’re gonna make me cum.” a crazed laugh escaped you for a moment full of elation and surprise. “Ugh.” you called out as the peak was inevitable now. “Eddie. Shit.” you gasped and groaned, your body moving in a new way as you jerked and snaked, you tensed all over, you were loud with no intention to be to show off. Your inhales were sharp and sang. Nonsensical babble that made Eddie smile with satisfaction that only making you cum calling his name could give him. He was the only guy to ever do it, and he didn’t intend on it being the last of the night. “Oh my GOD.” you shouted as he didn’t stop even after you finished, with a shaky hand you gripped his taught wrist and whined cueing him to stop. You collapsed back and caught your breath, feeling his mouth dot kisses over your chest before finding your hot cheeks. He brushed your hair back, allowing you to cool off as your hair had started to stick you in places. “Fuck you, Eddie Munson.” you growled but it was with a beaming smile. His loud laugh was cut off by your mouth crashing into his. He’d awakened something, a need you’d never felt before. You wanted-no-needed, craved more of him even after you came. He leaned into it, a hand on your ass as you threw your knee over his hips, yours still rolling. “I’ve never needed someone so badly before.” you panted out as your tongues lapped at one another. It was messy and from the outside would’ve been a little gross to you but in the moment you wanted nothing more than every part of him as inside you as possible.

“You’re so sexy. Shit. So goddamn good. I wanna make you cum again, baby. Can I?”

“If you don’t fuck me I will kill you.” he laughed again, face finding the curve of your neck as his hand grabbed a handful of ass with a slap and shake.

“How do you want it? I don’t wanna hurt your back, hun.”

“Hurt it, I don’t care.” you bellowed.

“You want on top? Or from behind?” he gave you options as he sucked your neck and felt you up, hand rubbing over your downy soft center. “No, I wanna see your face. Gotta see you cum.” he muttered. “Want to watch you baby.” another mumbled free-flowing thought tumbled out of his mouth as you grabbed at his hard cock through his boxer and his head bonked into your shoulder.

“I don’t care how.” you insisted.

“I know.” he popped his head up, turning away and removing his boxers in an instant, his hard cock bounced and made your mouth water as he sat up against the wall where his headboard would be. “Sit in my lap. Ride me.” he slapped his thighs as you eagerly wiggled your hips, already to all fours awaiting his input. “I can still fuck you like this. Not having you do all the work.” he grinned and splayed out. Neither of you noticed the way you licked your lips at the sight of the other, you were too busy drinking it all in. He reached to his bedside table, fumbling with a condom as he ripped it with his teeth. He got to see your body in motion, the way it moved as he stroked his cock, watching you prowl his way and straddle his legs.

“Just a taste.” you grabbed him by the base before he could slip the condom on wanting to feel the velvet smoothness of him in your mouth. He didn’t need to get harder to fuck but you needed to show off a little too. You knew your head game was good and thought it only fair if you also made him swear and sing like he had you. You sucked and stroked, popping off and jerking him onto an outstretched tongue with a smile.

“Goddamn…” he groaned pushing your hair back to watch you lavish him. You were wet and messy, downright sloppy as you spit on him and hollow your cheeks to gag as he hit your throat. A quick tongue bath for his balls made his legs spread and his head thump against the wall. “Fuck yes baby that’s it.” he grabbed your hair to hold you for a moment, relishing in the feeling of you sucking him into his mouth, trying to stuff both balls into your mouth at once. “Dirty girl.” he bit his lip and grinned, “But so fuckin’ good.” he gritted his teeth as he pulled you away and sank you onto his cock, having a little rough fun before returning his attention to you fully. You were a bit rabid and he fucking ate it up. He hadn’t known what to expect but a feral blow job hadn’t been it. With a little attention, you’d turned into a lusty, greedy hellcat who was showing him a few firsts too. No one had practically eaten his balls like that before for willingly gagged themselves. Your face shined in the low light covered in spit and pre cum. He pulled you to his mouth, albeit gently by the hair, and ran his tongue across your panting lips to taste himself.

“You’re so fucking hot.” you moaned, taking the condom from his hand and slipping it on him as you kissed him hard. You were tired of waiting. You were known to be impatient during sex but impatient to finish. Not impatient to get more. You giggled at the thought that you might be a slut after all. But only for one man, it seemed. You weren’t bothered by it. Maybe you should be. But you weren’t. It only filled you with warmth like you hoped he would.

“Yeah?” he huffed with a rapidly rising and falling chest, looking up at you, his hand at worship on your waist as he watched you descend upon him with blown-out eyes.

“You are. I mean it. Always have been.” you cooed as you ran him through the slick nest between your thighs. “You’re handsome but this cock…shit baby…” you hummed and smiled, notching the head of him inside you. “This cock is exquisite.” you chose your words carefully. You wanted him to know how impressed you were. How he was different from any other guy. You muffled a moan by biting your lip as he slid in quicker than you anticipated with how wet and needy your pussy was. You’d never been so wet, so painfully open and hungry before. “Fuuuuuck.” you let out a high-pitched laugh as you raised yourself a bit to ease taking the rest of him in. “You are somethin’ else, Munson.” A deep rumble of praise from your chest as you grabbed the sides of his face, holding yourself up still, not able to take him in. “You’re gonna make me slow down with this big cock.” you giggled as you kissed him softly but with intent.

“I can open you up baby, don’t worry, stay juuuuust like that.” he shifted his hips making your lashes flutter before you realize he was planting his feet to fuck up into you. He pushes until he feels resistance, feels your greedy pussy tighten at the discomfort. “You can take it. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” he held your hips and slowly worked himself in and out of you, venturing further each time. He reached down to rub your clit, watching your face give over with shut eyes and a dopey smile. With your swollen, sensitive clit now included he felt the suction again, your hips moving of their accord as you mixed in pleasure with the almost pain, your need taking over the distraction of how deep he was. No one, nothing had been this deep inside you before. “Sat down in my lap like a good girl.” his face was mischievous, looking up at you as you finally rest your ass against him.

“Something about you makes me wanna be a good girl.” you whisper sweetly, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing you together. With a wiggle of your knees, you adjust your stance and move up and down, the position was new, you’d never had someone sit up and hold you before. His hands roamed your body to map it out, favoring your ass and tits. He sloppily kissed your chest, face buried as you figured out what felt good for you. That also made it a lot different. You would’ve bounced and squeezed around his dick and got him off in a flash normally but you were supposed to focus on yourself. To your surprise, sinking on him and grinding your hips was by far the winner.

“You good baby?” he asked, tucking your hair behind your ear, seeing your face shift from elated to concentrated.

“Yeah.” your eyes shot open, not realizing you’d been scowling as you focused. “M’figuring this out.” you admitted and looked down, seeing his hands on your hips, helping you rock back and forth. “What feels good for me.”

“Thatta girl.” he nodded and took his hands into yours, you watched your fingers lace into his. Devoid of his usual rings that were in a dish on his dresser. You remember a time when he didn’t have those rings, now they were a trademark. And you got to see the scandalous naked fingers of Eddie now. He kissed your hands and you whined at the soft intimacy of the moment. “Use me for leverage, honey. You're not gonna hurt me.” laying your hands on his shoulders. He grabbed the heft of your ass to help raise you as you gasped out at the angle he hit as he shimmied down, giving you more room to lean over him. You ground against him, rubbing your clit against his body, he met you with a thrust as you found your pace. He listened and learned, and matched your speed even when you paused or faltered.

“Never done it like this before,” you whispered, your head hanging, hands now on the wall behind him, your chest hanging in his face. Before he could ask, you answered. “Slow. Close. Not the..ugh, fuck…the pounding. I don’t have to touch my clit for this to feel good.”

“Take all the time you want gorgeous. No way I’m getting soft looking at you.” you simper, eyes still closed and he melted at the sight. A heavy sigh as you rocked back and forth on him. “You feel amazing by the way.” he gazed up and shook his head, you felt his hair tickle against your arms. “You like dirty talk sweetheart?” as he always had he asked permission before trying something new. You nodded, biting your lip.

“I think I do, yeah. I wanna hear you.” you ask with heavy breaths, taking your time and letting your next orgasm build, floating in the heavy weight of him on your insides, the fullness, the loving nips and sucks he intermittently planted on your tits.

“Your pussy is so wet you’re not gonna know what’s your cum and what’s mine when I’m through with you. Such a sweet little thing aren’t you? Rubbing that pretty pink pussy against me and making yourself feel good. Just like I told you. Cause you’re my good girl aren’t you?” you couldn’t have hidden how his words turned you into a needy, pathetic puddle even if you’d tried. Your hips sped up, your voice higher pitched, softer than the first time he made you cum. He couldn’t help but be selfish and play in the fantasy of you belonging to each other. Like he’d thought it might’ve been all those years ago.

“I”m your good girl, Eddie.” you nodded, leaning back and moaning deep when he sat fully inside you, your hands to your chest, playing with yourself, moving halfway between a bounce and a grind. “Wanna..” you whimpered, letting the feeling build. “Wanna be good.” you nodded helplessly, lost in the feeling of pleasure and praise, the thought of belonging to someone who cared for you made your chest flutter.

“C’mere baby.” he pulled you forward, latching onto a nipple as he helped you move with his hands that encased so much of your body. “You are good. So good.” he muttered into the soft of you. He hoped you could feel how much he meant the words in a non-sexual way. Your body shook at the jolt that shot to your clit from his gifted mouth. You needed him closer, impossibly closer as you wrapped your arms around his head and pressed your face into the fluff of his hair. You breathed him in, he felt your lips to his forehead, kissing intermittently, nails to his scalp as your grip tightened the closer you got. He was encased in you, you smelled sweeter when your perfume mixed with your sweat. He’d smelled you pass him in the hallways for years but nothing compared to tasting the sweat on your skin, his senses full of you. You clung to him like he was important to you, like you needed him and he was foolish enough for you to let himself believe you did. The small kisses, and the whispers of his name as he hit the learned spots that made you beg filled his stomach and chest with a mix of arousal and emotion.

He’d thought maybe he would get emotional if you slept together. There was too much history there to be detached. Too many could have been’s to not fantasize about it working out. The way you moved in sync, breaths, and moans in steady intervals, the tones mixing as you draw yourself closer, using his body. The silence around you only made the noise seem that much more important, bubbled between you in the encroaching darkness of a familiar and safe space. Your brow was creased hard, concentrated, and hidden as you took in the lingering smell of his shampoo. You were startled when you felt his arms wrap around your middle tightly. You pulled back to look down at him. “Hold on for me. I wanna see your face.” you nod without question as he slid farther down the bed, pillows still behind him but more horizontal than you were before. Your hands splayed on his chest, waiting for instruction. Your eyes bat, a whimper escaping from the cool air now able to move between your bodies. “Sorry baby, couldn’t handle not getting to see that pretty face.” His voice was soft and gritty, a hand finding your cheek to focus you as you felt him thrust with force, pushing a yelp out of you. He got to witness the glory of your eyes lolling back, swollen lips parted and trembling at what he was making you feel.

“You wanna watch me?” you offer, instinctive in your picking up on what he could be asking with hints. You arch your back, prepared to bounce and ride, something you knew you were good at. But he shook his head, dark hair a halo against pale sheets and a paler face. “No. I want to see you.” he corrects, hand gently suggesting you move your face with it as he brought your lips back together. “Couldn’t stand not kissing you.” he muttered between kisses, your bodies lazily grinding, him now able to easily pump his length in and out of you. You met with small moans, a huff of hair escaping like little bellows as he filled you up, your clit throbbing and aching as it drug against his dark hair and lean middle. He let his hands wander ever so delicately to your back. He wanted to squeeze you against him but didn’t want to hurt you. You’d never felt hands so cautious on you before. He touched you like you were delicate. He fucked you like you might break. His unfairly beautiful eyes looked at you like you were something to cherish and protect and a whimper easily misunderstood to be pure pleasure slid out of your mouth and into his. That feeling in your chest grew again, not the same as the orgasm tumbling about in your belly. This was different, new. His kisses were a delicious distraction your brow knitted as something resembling pain fluttered around in your ribs. Your hand trembled to his chest, feeling his heart thudding against your palm and wondering if he felt it too. One hand kept to your hips, steady, making sure you weren’t getting too tired. The other went from your cheek to take the one shaking on his chest into his own. A choked sob escaped, kissed away as he snaked his arm around your lower back now, still holding your hand. He felt perfect, solid, and smooth as you met in the middle with the slap of skin echoing into the room. But it was almost secondary to the way your eyes locked. You took the hand you’d had supporting you on the bed to take his jaw into your grasp now. He didn’t look surprised, no, he was thankful in an odd way. Relief as you put your forehead to his and called his name in a voice so sweet he would bet no one else had ever heard it before. He wanted to be the only one to draw it from you. Outside a war could’ve raged away, nothing in comparison to the silent conversation between your hearts as only a little bone and flesh separated them. You cried out, him steadfast and shushing, a pliant kiss for every whimper.

“Eddie.” you nuzzled your nose to his, something you’d never done to another person. He made you want to be so soft.

“You close? You’re getting tight on me. It feel good? Am I making you feel good?” he asked desperately seeking your approval.

“So good. Too good.” you whispered and kissed him again. “No one else could do this, Eddie.” you confessed, your eyes so docile as they shined with tears he had to assume were good as you weren’t voicing any other opinion. “No one could make me feel this way. Just you.” you pouted, mouth open against his as you started to fade, the sinfully good feeling growing and working its way up your spine into your brain to make way for your heart to speak as it turned off your filter. Your hand wasn’t light on his jaw, you squeezed his hand in yours on his chest. “I missed you.” you felt the sting of tears, of sweet emotional release in your eyes. He felt your lip tremble against him before falling open and moaning, spine shifting as your body revved up. “I missed you so much.” a tear fell as he latched his hands to your cheeks to steady you, picking up his pace and watching the intoxicating mix of ecstasy and remorse as you spoke without worry.

“Fuck I missed you too. You have no idea, sweetheart. I missed you so goddamn much.” he crashed his mouth to yours, he couldn’t do anything else in that moment.

“You feel so good. You’re so good to me, baby.” you cry out to him, messy and pitiful as you slide against him, letting his hips put in the work as you present yourself to him. He joyously accepts. “I should’ve never left you.” you confess, shaking your head as he kept your cheeks firm, feeling tears tracing the lines of his hands.

“Shh, baby look at me. Focus on me. You’re fine. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” he swore, kissing the bulb of your nose.

“Yeah?” you choked out, hope in your watery eyes again.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters. Focus on me baby, focus on that perfect pussy, let me make you feel good. Please. That’s all I wanna do. I wanna make you cum so bad it hurts. It aches baby. Cum for me? Yeah? Please?” a man had never begged in such a way. In a raw, vulnerable way that made you want to give him anything he wanted. You wanted to give him everything to make up for the things you’d done.

“Anything, Eddie.” you promised, letting your eyes close to focus. Your breath was light as you exhaled over his face to concentrate. “Anything you want.” you swore to him, caught in the riptide of emotion you were warned about. You didn’t know sex could do this. That intimacy and connection could wrench hidden feelings to the surface. That safety and trust would make you want to need another person. As the tension built, bringing you to the peak you realized your independence wasn’t something to be so proud of. That needing someone. That was what made life worth living.

There were no words shared for a long while after that. You came with a scream, years of pent-up emotion escaping through cries to Eddie’s chest as your body bowed against his. Your body perfect against his made it easy for him to let go as he pounded into you relentlessly as you came. You tremored in his arms, pushing your hair back and kissing your sweaty forehead as you both gasped to catch your breath. You shook and grumbled into his chest, body on fire with pleasure and your mind heavy with regret. You lay on him for who knows how long. He grabbed the covers to throw over you both, rough fingertips but delicate touch up and down the unmarked parts of your back. It soothed you like a baby. You were almost ashamed at how content you felt. But nothing about this felt wrong. It felt so impossibly right. He eventually broke the silence, by of course checking in on you.

“How are you feeling?” a whisper into your hair as he kissed your head.

“A lot.” for a beat neither knew what to say before you let out a quiet laugh. “I’m okay.” you nodded and snuggled into his chest.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” his voice cracked and it made you smile to know he was also as unsure as you were about how to move forward.

“We should.” you grunt and move to roll next to him. Your body for the first time all week was lax and comfortable. “Can I?” you nod your head to suggest you cuddle up next to him.

“Please.” he insisted, holding up his arm as you slid beneath it. Your hand rested on his chest, his fingers in your hair as you sat in the aftermath.

“I uh-” a nervous huff tickled across his skin. “Fuck it.” you sighed. “I meant it. All of it. I’m sorry for what I did to us. Because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So many times I almost told you you were right and I didn’t want to do it anymore. But I was too stubborn. Too proud. In too deep.” your head nuzzled into his pec. “You feel like coming home. This feels like I’ve been traveling for years and I’m finally back in my own bed where I belong.” you were unknowingly making his eyes water now.

“Because this is where you belong.” he met you with the same sentiment. You craned your neck to look at his face. “Everything I did against you was because I was hurt. I didn’t mean any of it. Not really.” he looked away and chewed his lip. “I kept hoping you would come back, you know? I knew you weren’t happy. But I couldn’t tell you that and risk you pushing even farther away.”

“You’re right. As always.” you reassured him.

“I’m not happy about how it happened. But I’m happy something happened to break you out. It wasn’t gonna be pretty no matter what it was.”

“True. I’m glad it happened too. I was so tired.”

“I know, baby.” he stretched to kiss you. “How about you rest now, huh?”

“You have any plans this weekend?”

“Spending it with you I hope.” he felt you smile, resting your chin on his chest.

“Lots of naps. Lots of… stories and sharing and apologizing.”

“Lots of catching up to do.” he nodded. You leaned up to kiss him again with more intent.

“Thank you.” you whispered against his lips. “For everything.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world to talk about it, sweetheart.” he wrapped his arms around you, turning toward you and pulling you to his chest. “Thank me by going to sleep with me.” he smooched your cheek playfully, noisily. You didn’t say another word. You simply did as he asked. He had a track record of always being right after all.

In the morning, or afternoon really by the time you awoke and giggled and kissed your way out of bed. You put on the same clothes as the day before, looking fairly normal and not your usual walk of shame aesthetic. It was nice to be comfortable for once. Eddie opened the door in a flannel with clashing print pajama pants. When you looked out into the living room you met the eyes of Wayne. You’d spoken more with him than Eddie in the last few years. That wasn’t saying much. He glanced between you and Eddie with clear confusion. You would’ve been confused too.

“Should I be worried?” he finally asked, not knowing how to breach the subject of you having slept over. He didn’t know if it was platonic like it had been for years before or if was less than innocent. He only knew you hadn’t talked to his boy in years and now you were sleeping over again.

“She had a week from hell.” Eddie explained as you sheepishly nodded and gave him an apologetic smile.

“I didn’t wanna be alone last night.” you admitted as Edie’s head twist your way, the softest smile on his face for you openness. “I was really upset.” you toed the linoleum floor. “Eddie offered to let me stay. Hope that’s okay.”

“You’re always welcome here, darlin’. Nothing’s changed as far as I’m concerned.” he nodded with a warm smile.

“I think I’ll be around a lot more now.” you nodded still looking a bit sad, dark circles under your eyes.

“Everything okay?” he took it as you trying to say you’d need more support, that things were bad.

“Not right now, no.” you wrinkle your nose and shove your hands in your hoodie pockets. “But I think… for the first time in a long time...” you smile and watch Eddie making you both bowls of cereal, focused on his task. “They will be.”

ngl, I live for validation, feedback, and interaction. Comments and reblogs make my day. <3 Feel free to send asks or requests. I'm just a silly little animal with a hyper fixation!

My Eddie Munson Masterlist!

I tagged people who were on my former fic Seeing Stars and people who showed interest in this work through likes/comments. If you don't want to be tagged in future Eddie works, just let me know!

@kik51199 @banannie255 @paracetamollvrr @honeyshifts @simonsblueee @suspirian @likeficsinthewnd @hollyismentallyillhelpp @ouuwitchywoman @michaelfuckinglangdon  @hannahdinse8 @thikkiesixx @lonesome-dovee @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @eriseffigyy @kriffingstars  @laurathefahrradsatteltel @munsinss @secularlunarsorceressss @angelofthorrr @eddiemunsonsbedroom @justiceiswater @divadinag @boomhauer @br0ck-eddiee  @fridamosss @nitafromtheshadowss @sammararaven  @bambipowerblueadditionueaddtion @trixyvixx @bimbobaggins69 @sillypurplemurplee @sunnyhoney420 @sugar-bears-smile @hellfires-harlot @eddiemunson95 @atatiannah444 @big-ope-vibes @irrelevantwriter @angelbabytouch-blog @

[linda-ravstar]

A complicated conversation between Miquella and Sir Ansbach (post DLC, AU timeline, only dialogue)

This is a scene placed in an vague AU in which Miquella ascended as god, but a lot of things happened differently from the game. It's not a "post heart stolen" AU. Just a different world. Ansbach is part of the divine council. This work addresses one of my interpretations regarding past events; this is not a lore post. Just a creative experiment. Will probably have a continuation.

TW: Implied past sexual assault.

“Speak up, Sir. I assure you, I don’t bite if you don’t want me to.”

“It is said that Lord Mohg is not permitted to be part of the council… or even be here when you are.”

“That is correct.”

“May I ask… if you are the one who decreed it so?”

“I am.”

“… Can I ask why, my lord?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Ansbach. There is nothing but bad blood between us. And I think you don’t know how literal that is, heh.”

“I was under the impression that his restoration was your doing. Am I wrong?”

“You are not.”

“I thought… Forgive me, my lord. But I thought you did that because you repented of your actions.”

“You are wrong this time. I do not repent of them. It would be very foolish, right? After all, it is thanks to them that we are all here, in this time, in this new era. I don’t praise them or take joy on them, but I do not regret them.”

“I see. So you think the use you did of my lord was necessary still. I work for this council, but not for you, my lord. And I am not comfortable keeping my station here if my lord is forbidden to do the same. I thought your age didn’t censure or reject anyone. But you reject the one you wronged, the one who you should… who you could atone for and make amends to.”

“Is there a question there?”

“I can’t seem to conceive a reason. You said it yourself back then: you bear the guilt of your sin and you intend to heal it. You accepted my wrath and my grief, and you fixed this evil your hands created. You used him, my lord. You robbed him of his personhood and agency. You left him to be killed and wretched his soul from his lifeless body. And even after you restored him, you deny him a place at this court. Why do you hate him so much…?”

“… I do not. But this conversation is over. I don’t have to explain myself to you. I did all of those things. And this is my kindness, I let you have your memory and image of him intact. I let you hate me and despise me, I don’t care at all. … But know this: you don’t know even half of the truth. Pray that you never do.”

“What truth? He did what you ask him to. He only did what you wished for.”

“… That is a lie. And I don’t have anything else to say.”

“What did he do that grates you so much, even after your victory? He allowed your ascension. His blood and soul bought this world.”

“…”

“You don’t have anything to say? Nothing at all?”

“… His blood and soul…”

“My lord?”

“… It was my blood. My soul. My flesh. My…. Have I not given up enough, Ansbach?”

“What?”

“Nothing is ever enough. Ha. It wasn’t for your lord, either. Never. Enough. Even… Even Trina said… Heh. Heh. She offered to dull my senses after the first time, but I refused. What would it matter? I was already in the Lands of Shadows. It had no importance. Let it be so. Let him do what he wants. That body would be discarded anyway, and the shadow one would be mutilated, would be bled dry, would be torn apart, would be shredded beyond recognition. I wasn’t graceful or holy or clean anymore. What was the harm? I should have known anyway, right? I should have known that my hubris would have a price. That every crime and every sin would be paid tenfold.”

“My apologies, Kindly Miquella, but I don’t understand.”

“You will never understand. And don’t call me that. You are dismissed.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

“And Ansbach?”

“My lord?”

“If you ever talk to me or to anyone else about this ever again… I... won’t harm you. I vowed to show kindness and compassion. To be merciful. Do you remember my mercy, Pureblood Knight?”

“I do.”

“I do, my lord.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Get out.”

[howhow326]

I read a youtube comment about this whole Oceangate scandal that really shook me to my core: from memory "I pray that they are found alive, and if not I pray that God takes them to Heaven. I hope that Jesus can give them grace to repent their sins in their final moments." Sorry if my peeps with religious trauma randomly read this while searching about people dying in a metal coffin

And these two sentences are really sticking with me because, no, this is not a random tragedy. This is the consequences of a billionaire's hubris coming back to kill him. I don't want him to die, but if he survives then he definitely won't change. He'll just use this whole situation as proof that he didn't need all those "innovation stopping" safety regulations in the first place. (For people who don't know, he purposefully ignored basically all safety regulations so he could make as much money as possible)

I feel extremely bad for the 19 year old among the passengers, now doubt that his father convinced him that it was perfectly safe. But he's the same age as me, and he wasted $250,000 on this death trap! That kind of money could have been used for so much good, could have been used to help fund climate change prevention, could have been used to feed and cloth every homeless person in a city, could have been used to help Saint Jude's children hospital so less baby's die of cancer! And instead it was used to just kill himself.

I am so sorry for him, and for the pilot and reasearcher on board (not Oceangate CEO and the billionaire father of the 19 year old that convinced him to join his little trip to the haunted monument of mankinds sins). If he's not alive, then I hope it was a quick and painless death by implosion (which is apparently what most likely happened and why we can't find the wreckage?), I hope that the Lord was able to bring him to paradise. But most of all, I hope this is a message to all (rich) people to not recklessly spend their money on nonsense that's going to kill them.

[fipindustries]

todos los demonios estan aqui

you've probably heard me mention multiple times that one of my favourite novels of all times is"la battala del calentamiento", an argentinian novel about a man who suffers from gigantism going on a trip to the argentinian south and encountering a strange little village there with strange people living in it and becoming the step dad of a girl with magical powers.

well, the writer of that book is called Marcelo Figueras, and it just so happened that a couple years ago he published a new book called "todos los demonios estan aqui". so, obviously, i had to read it.

it was fine i guess.

the book reads like a suspense horror movie, i could see A24 adapting this one day, with strong influences from stephen king. a psychiatrist is hired to work at a strange mental hospital, tucked away in an old mansion in a distant island in the middle of the Delta (an important argentinian river). soon he comes to find out that place is a lot stranger and much more sinister than he thought at first.

the twist at the end is that actually the institution, as well as all its franchises, are actually franchises of hell. the "patients" in those hospitals are all damned souls trapped in their bodies on earth, unable to access heaven. the goal of these hospitals is to treat those people and give them a second chance to repent and redeem themselves. our main character accidentally lets a patient escape and it turns out that patient was john gacy, the clown serial killer.

highjinks ensue.

its a pretty decent mystery book, the clues are doled out slowly and the reveal is satisfactory. although i feel the premise was never properly explored. as soon as the big twist is revealed we jump into the third act and we never really a breather to explore in more detail the implications of this (there is a throwaway line that hitler and stalin are also patients of this hospital in other countries) the only two "infamous people from history" we get to see are john gacy and ottis toole.

as a story its pretty decent but there are a couple of aspects that hold it back to me. first, as i said, most of the book is spent unraveling the mystery and once the premise is finally revealed in full we barely have any time to really explore it or let it sink before we rush to a typical horror movie third act serial killer type fare.

second, the main character is very unlikeable. he is a middle aged man who is EXTREMELY divorced, the most divorced man in the conurbano. with all the typical flaws associated. hates his ex, has only eyes for his son, is constantly oogling other women, he is a bit of an alcoholic, has a bit of a temper, is kind of a lonely loser, etc.

third, this book has what is probably the most out of place, shoehorned, tacked on sex scene i ever came across in a story. is completly ridiculous and the only explination i can find is that the writer got a sudden and uncontainable attack of hornyness as he was writing the book and he just had to type that scene with one hand while the other was occupied.

finally the happy ending kind of strains belief. the guy fucks up, he fucks up massively. he lets a serial killer escape from the hospital because he thought he was "harmless", the guy went on to kill two people, torture his ex and molest his son. a lot of energy and personel from the hospital had to be used to recapture the guy. the fact that he was not fired for this and gets to have a happy relationship with his son by the end of it all is absolutely ridiculous. it would have taken me out of the novel if it wasnt for the fact that it ends there.

honestly this book is more interesting for its premise and the fuel it gave me to extrapolate interesting stories in this world than for the book itself. like damn, who else is in these hospitals? how do they get them from the moment they die into these places? how do they make sure nobody recognizes them? i want to see how they handle guys like hitler, or charles manson or margaret tatcher.

in the epilogue we see the guy taking on a new patient, Mister J, who turns out to be his abusive father who was a colaborator with the military dictatorship of the 70's. i don want to see just a page dedicated to that, we could have had a whole novel based on that alone!

so yeah, competently written but with a few stumbles here and there that end up making the whole experience a lot more frustrating than it needed to be

7/10

[charmcoindied]

finished 3.0 didn't like it much but i have a headache so i don't know if i can elaborate on it that deeply. read a review that reads it as a sort of fuck you to fans who desperately wanted to relive evangelion in movie format and as a sort of condemnation of clinging to the past and while i can kind of see that i feel like it doesn't necessarily work for me? the meta commentary angle i'm sure is more impactful to someone who's been a fan of the series since its inception but seeing as i was -7 in 1995 it misses the mark a little for me.

it does incorporate some of the elements of the series that i feel were missing from the first 2 rebuild movies but i think the choice to do a 14 year timeskip was weird because absolutely nothing of substance is done with it since none of the pilots age. i could see an argument for it creating a feeling of loss for shinji but it feels a little superfluous when shinji literally Ended The World. though maybe the timeskip is just supposed to represent a change in circumstances for shinji idk. you see misato and her new organization dedicated to destroying nerv (i already forgot the name xd) completely inverting everything her character stood for in the first place, but you don't get to spend any time with it to make it feel more meaningful. you see asuka and are under the impression that she's been through something, but what? it's not important. rei becomes the doll she struggled against in the series, only taking orders and doing what she's told. the narrative never really wants to explore these characters especially outside of what they mean to shinji and what he's done.

i think this movie is fine for shinji's character--his desire for acceptance by his father and to repent for his sins will just cause him to repeat the same mistakes over and over regardless of time space etc. kaworu identifies shinji as "another child burdened by fate" which is very apt. even the title sets him up for failure - you cannot redo, you cannot escape your mistakes, you can only learn to live with them. however you get absolutely none of the introspection that shinji goes through in the series and it ends up kind of just making him look stupid? which is something the first two rebuilds kind of painstakingly try to avoid in the name of appeasing fans that lambast shinji as whiny and pathetic. he doesn't know who he is or his place in the world, he just knows he's done wrong and tries to fix it. it's just a boring interpretation of who he is and what motivates him.

in general it was nice getting to see more of kaworu i guess. before i watched the series i really thought he would have a bigger role than just being in an episode or two at the end. it's really the only time shinji gets to have something "good" happen to him and especially having to see it violently ripped away like it is makes the whole thing feel more impactful i think

tl;dr 3.0 is like if end of evangelion was kind of bad

[voiddemon]

first of all, hello void how are you?

I wanted to ask what kind of relationship Skirby and DMK have (By the way , I love your drawings, they are great!)

yello. I'm doing ok but not as bad as I thought I would be (medical event this morning). Thank u for liking my drawings i do work hard on them sometimes

Before KATAM their relationship wasn't nonexistent, they were a little close. However once KATAM down their relationship shattered along with DMK, and Skirby became a different person than he was before.

Overall in the modern day their relationship is at a negative stalemate, with neither of them willing to budge on the core issues they have with each other. They're both to blame for their relationship going awry but both believe it is mostly the fault of the other. Functionally they only see each other when somethings wrong with the dimensional mirror, or when Shadow Dedede gets them together, but they don't interact beyond what is absolutely necessary.

Shadow Kirby takes a lot of blame from others for everything that happened to the mirror world, and internally he begins blaming Dark Meta Knight for a lot of his troubles. He believes DMK is truly responsible for almost everything he's going through, and he's not here to defend himself so it's very easy to do.

When DMK comes back Shadow Kirby is very hostile and uninterested in fixing things because of all of the above and a few more things involving Shadow Dedede (SDDD welcomes back DMK easily, which Shadow Kirby is enraged by, straining SDDD and Skirby's relationship).

Shadow Kirby believes Dark Meta Knight has not learned from dying and is still an incredibly malicious and rude person who isn't trying to repent for what he's caused. Which is mostly true. Dark Meta Knight has a whole lot of other things going on after being revived which ultimately turns into him not apologizing to anyone for what he's done.

While Dark Meta Knight was a little evil for a bit he defends himself when Shadow Kirby blames him, which sours their relationships greatly. At first DMK assumed Skirby will warm back up to him quickly, as he would have in the past, but he quickly realizes this is not the case. He ultimately decides he doesn't want to put in the effort to repair things until Shadow Kirby gets over his anger.

He believes Shadow Kirby to be even more immature and petty than he was before, which is pretty true. However Dark Meta Knight believes Skirby should suck up his feelings for the sake of everyone else, and only feels a little bit of guilt for the pain hes caused him. He does still care for Shadow Kirby though, deep inside, and wants the best for him. However what DMK thinks is best is very different from what Skirby thinks is best.

When you add on MY non-canon stuff. you know who, it's WORSE. Just everything above + "I'm doing whats best for you and the mirror world" and "stop trying to kill the only friend I have around my age hypocritical old man" makes their relationship nothing short of volatile. It gets better tho

[alex-the-bringer-of-chaos]

Regarding the song on it's own: Filho da puta do Lucão (sem ofensa pro icone que é a mãe dele). Música boa do caralho e ainda me ferrou de um jeito. First of all, all the music he has released up to now are bops, check him out!!! This one got me on the feels so bad, it's so beautiful, and how it works for any kind of relationship. just ugh

Under the cut, you'll find my shipper ass, coping with the personal way this song makes me feel about some relationships in my life in the best way possible: not thinking about it, but seeing how it applies to a different case.

This is Merthur from Merlin's pov, maily during s5, reflecting on his decisions that were influenced by others (maily Kilgharrah) and the overwhelming weight and pressure put on him by everyone at such a young age, leading him to where he is with Arthur and as a person, and what will happen in the future.

Now, onto me translating this song cause it's a melancholic bop, and I want y'all to see what I see. I'm not even gonna explain why, y'all will get it:

Examples around me tell me I shouldn't complain, it's the truth An easier path always seduces It's not up to me to attribute the weight of the cross An indecipherable riddle from the beginning An empty gap destroys the perfect life A subject that has always baffled me A situation I never knew how to handle Block by block, the wall of not understanding was built Opposite sides of the same coin Because love never stopped being, I know Looking for ways to repair Two positive poles repel each other My great wound How can I see you so close And be the furthest point of my life? I'm looking for a way to repair But passivity cooled me A teacher who didn't know how to teach I learned through pain Struggling and struggling to get to the surface (Trying to get rid of the dark guest) I carry everything you always told me (But I still can't deal with the emptiness) And time scares me so much But I always stood my ground It will hurt so much when the day comes Repentance for something that wasn't even in my hands Two positive poles repel each other My great wound How can I see you so close And be the furthest point of my life? I keep with me this image that no longer exists I wouldn't know what I'll find In another world I know everything was different But I'll have to carry the weight of this one

If this wasn't enough to make you get the vision and/or want to listen to it in it's og beauty of Lucas' voice, the instrumentals and portuguese, Idk what will. Check it out and suffer with me.

[babybeards]

there's a parable in here somewhere.

I don't think I'm a writer by any means, more of a visual artist who sometimes uses writing toward through difficult emotions. With that being said, I went to church today. The message was about how to tell if you're a fake christian. I didn't expect much as I feel like I have heard numerous versions of this message through the years, but I am at church so my ears are open and my heart is curious. So we are in Acts and we talk about this guy named Simon (not the disciple), He lived in a society which mixed religions together and cool things happened still and everyone seemed hunky dory. Kind of seems like todays society, kind of feeling like a Simon here. He was a magical dude, quite literally and did a bunch of cool tricks which made everyone think he was something special, Holy you might say. Well Phillip rolls into town and starts spitting out truth, touching people and giving them the Holy Spirit. Here's where I think something happens to Simon. I think he sees this stuff that is happening and wants what Phillip has. That feels fair right, Phillip has something cool and is telling everyone amazing truth. So Simon he goes through the steps it seems he was supposed to go through, possibly he was told this is what he needed to do or maybe he just saw it happening around him and hopped on board. Either way, he tells himself he is good, after all everyone else thinks he's good and he did the steps right? My attention is caught. I have heard a lot of step driven messages on how to be a christian. While long ago I put away the idea that saying a simple prayer is enough to be a Christian, I still have clung to some idea that there must be something that can give a person final assurance on their salvation. I am thinking of Simon, how he was a good guy, did the steps to be apart of Phillips club and now he feels he should share the same power as Phillip. He should be good to give others the Holy Spirit too, right? Well Simon asks to be given the power and offers to pay for it, but is shut down. Basically Phillip tells him his heart is not right with the Lord and he's still in bondage. How disappointing this must have been to Simon. He felt like he was good, but when it came down to it he wasn't at all.

So, I grew up in church. I have always been a 'good person' to a certain degree. I followed the steps, every single different version I was presented with. I received godliness awards, recognition. I've listened to the messages, and yet have always lived in the reality that I will never be truly worthy of Heaven. I have always longed for a relationship with Christ. I have read my Bible, listened to YouTube sermons, sung hymns, fell down when I was pushed at the pulpit, but I have never felt saved. I have always felt so far away. Like a fraud. I have heard the messages on being changed, on being a new creation, but how does that work for me? I obviously am/was a sinner who needs saving, but how can my life change be radical if I was 'saved' in the first grade. I wasn't hitting the streets before that. I have always felt that I have simply gotten more sinful as I have aged rather than the other way around. My remorse was always heavy and my sacrifice so little. My mind was the battleground which always tempted me with something new rather than my actions. How do I turn away from the intrusive thoughts? So I can feel for and like Simon. So here I am again. I am ridding my life of the things I feel convicted about. Is this repentance? Will this transform my sinful mind? I wish for steps, the ease of checking boxes.

I finally put plants in my front flower planter today. I had to till the hard stoney dirt until it was pliable. It felt like a reminder of the parable of the sowers. My hard heart being slowly molded. The work is being put in. I got these plants over a year ago, knowing they would eventually end up in this planter, they are an invasive species so I was told to keep them in pots until they were put where they would finally go. So, they were extremely root bound and had to be cut out of their pots to go in the ground. They were waiting to grow more, held back by their container. now that they are in the ground they look messy and disjointed, there is an uncertainty in there future but are being given everything they need to survive. This feels like an analogy for my life. Now that I have the freedom to grow there is an uncertainty on whether I will make it. Only God knows. My hands got dirty and it took work, but hopefully the work will bring forth success.

[lesfeldickbiblestudy]

  Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 3 * PART 4 * BOOK 67 BUT NOW!  (Christ is Risen!) – Part 4 I Corinthians 15:20 Okay, we’re going to jump right back in where we left off.  And remember, we’ve been talking about the harvest in Israel.  First, they were to go in and take a sampling of the newly ripening grain, called the first fruit.  That was fulfilled with Christ at His resurrection and those that came out of the graves and went into Jerusalem and evidently went on up into glory. Next, Israel was to come in and harvest the main part of the field.  After they had harvested the main part, they left the four corners and gleanings. You remember in the Book of Ruth how she went in and gleaned in the field of Boaz.  Well, that was the system of harvest - the main field and then leaving the corners and the gleanings. Now, as we’ve been showing in the last couple of programs, I feel the main harvest is the Body of Christ, the Grace Age believers who have come into God’s program of salvation following the Apostle Paul. Now, I’m again going to review the big picture.  Everything from especially the call of Abraham all the way through to the very end, if you drop Paul’s epistles out, just take Paul’s church letters out of the picture for the time being, and you will have God dealing with Israel in view of the King and the Kingdom.   By the way, it won’t be long and we’ll be finishing Hebrews in the daily program.  That’s especially for you here in the audience.  We’ll be finishing Hebrews, and for goodness sakes be sure you catch my introduction to James and Peter and John.  We used four programs, I think, just for introduction.  What I’m showing is just that.  That all the way through Scripture everything is God dealing with Israel in view of the King and the Kingdom. Now, they rejected it at His first coming.  Peter and the Eleven pick it up in the early Book of Acts, and it’s still the same premise that if they would repent of their sin of crucifying their Messiah, God would send Jesus Christ.  Well, for what purpose?  To bring in the Kingdom.  But, Peter says, the Tribulation has to come first.  See, they’re not going to drop anything out of prophecy.  Then when the King and the Kingdom would come, that would take us to eternity. But, God opened that timeline and let Israel go into the dispersion and saved the Apostle Paul in Acts chapter 9. Then we have other references that show that He’s going to call out a group of Gentiles for His name’s sake and prepare them to be God’s people for eternity without Israel.  Israel is gone on into dispersion, and the Gospel of Grace is now gone to the whole human race, calling out this main harvest, which I feel is the Body of Christ. All right, now since the Body of Christ is an interlude, if you want to call it that, completely isolated from the Old Testament programs, you can’t push it back up in there.  It won’t fit.  You can’t take the Body of Christ and bring it on up with Israel in the Tribulation, like a lot of people are trying to do.  It won’t fit.  We are a people of grace!  In the Tribulation, it’s going to be Israel under the Law.  They’re going to have a Temple and all the rest of it, so the Church just will not fit in that timeline for Israel.  So, what has to happen?  God has to take it out of the way.  And then He will finish the prophecies made to Israel. All right, the taking out of the Body of Christ then, we pick up in this same chapter of I Corinthians chapter 15 and drop down to verse 51.  Now again, I can’t emphasize it enough.  Nowhere in Scripture, outside of Paul’s epistles, will you find any kind of a reference to the Rapture.  Now, I know some people like to try John’s Gospel chapter 14 verses 1 through 4 where it says, “Let not your heart be troubled, ye believe in God, believe also in me.  In my Father’s house are many mansions, I would have showed you…” and so on and so forth.  “And if I go, I will come again unto you that where I am there ye may be also.

”  That was Jesus talking to Israel.  He was talking to the Twelve.  That has nothing to do with, as I see it, the Body of Christ. So, the only place you can find any reference to this glorious work of God saving non-Jews particularly, by faith and faith alone in that finished work of the cross, and we’re brought into the Body of Christ following in the steps of the Apostle Paul.  You won’t find it anywhere else.  Nowhere!  There’s not even a hint of it in the Old Testament.  Jesus never alluded to it, as we were just talking at break time.  Well, isn’t the church what He was talking about when He said, “Upon this rock I will build my church.”  No.  The word ecclesia is always translated either church or assembly, and it’s not always the same group.  So, when Jesus was speaking, “…I will build my church,” He was not talking about the Body of Christ.  He was talking about Israel.  Israel is God’s called out ecclesia.  So, I’ll repeat it again.  You cannot find anything concerning the Body of Christ; you cannot find anything concerning what we call the Rapture, anyplace but Paul.  And that’s why most people miss it. You know, some of my listening audience has taken my little illustration of the blender and they have come up with a new English word - blenderize.  All the time now we’re getting letters where they say, all I hear is what’s blenderized.  Well, you know what I’m talking about.  They take the Scriptures and they mix it all up and parcel it out.  And I don’t.  You’re going to get it bit by bit, and it’s all going to keep separated in its own place.  All right, here we have the Rapture.  It is totally insulated from anything else in Scripture. I Corinthians 15:51a “Behold, I show you a (What?) mystery;…” Now, that’s a Pauline term.  He uses it throughout his letters, speaking of things that had been kept secret from all the rest of the writers of Scripture.  Isaiah knew nothing of it.  David knew nothing of it.  Peter certainly knew nothing of it.  This was a Pauline revelation.  And all of his doctrines, he refers to them the same way.  As a mystery – let me show you what I’m talking about. Back up to Romans chapter 16, so that you know what I’m talking about - verse 25.  You know, I’ve asked my seminars around the country, “Have you ever heard this preached on a Sunday morning?”  Never.  “Have you ever seen it in a Sunday School class quarterly?”  Never.  Why?  Because they don’t want it.  They don’t want truth.  It flies in the face of everything that they think they’ve believed over in the four Gospels, which were under Law.   But it’s what the Book says!  That’s my favorite cliché.  This is what the Book says. Romans 16:25a “Now to him that is of power to establish you according to my gospel,…”  And who’s writing?  Paul.  To whom?  Gentiles.  All right, so what’s Paul’s Gospel?  Believing in your heart for your salvation “That Christ died for you, He was buried, and He arose from the dead the third day.” Romans 16:25 “Now to him that is of power to establish you according to my gospel, and the preaching of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery, which was kept (What?) secret (How long?) since the ages began.”  Those secrets were revealed by this apostle.  Now, is that so hard to comprehend?  All of these Pauline truths, and especially the ones he refers to as “mystery,” were kept secret in the mind of God from the time of Adam all the way until He revealed it to this Apostle, probably in those three years out in the desert. Secret.  And don’t lose that!  Nobody else knew what he was talking about.  In fact, let me take you back to Peter.  I use it all the time.  Most of you should know it from memory by now.  II Peter chapter 3, and drop down to verses 15 and 16.   Now this is Peter, the beloved apostle, but at the end of his life, not up there at the beginning.  He doesn’t say something like this in Acts chapter 2, 3 and 4.  But at the end of his life, probably around 68 AD, the Temple will be gone in a couple more years.

  Probably at the same time, that Paul is about to be martyred down there at Rome.  I think Peter was in Babylon.  But, look what he writes. II Peter 3:15a “And account (understand) that the longsuffering of our Lord is salvation; even as our beloved brother Paul according to the wisdom given unto him…” (From where?  From Heaven!  From the ascended Lord.  Not from Jerusalem.  Not from the Twelve.  But from the ascended Lord.  Now remember, we’re at the end of all the writings of Scripture. II Peter 3:15b-16a “…has written unto you; (probably a reference to the Book of Hebrews) 16. As also in all his epistles, (all of them – Romans through Philemon plus the Book of Hebrews.  All from the pen of the Apostle Paul) speaking in them of these things; (Salvation.  How to become a believer and fit for eternity.) in which (Paul’s epistles) are some things hard to be understood,…”  That’s Peter!  Peter can’t comprehend some of these things that Paul writes.  That’s what it says!  And I don’t know what he’s referring to.  I’ve got an idea, but yours is just as good as mine. But Peter says Paul’s got things that I can’t understand. So, he can’t even comment on them. II Peter 3:16b “…which they that are unlearned (In other words, multitudes of theologians and preachers fall into this category.  They’re--) unlearned and unstable (Consequently, what do they do?  They--) twist (what Paul writes) as they do also the other scriptures,...” Now, you know what I like about that statement?  That term “other Scriptures” What does that tell you?  Every word that Paul writes is Scripture!  Don’t ever let anybody tell you that the Apostle Paul doesn’t belong in this Bible.  Oh, they’ll try.  I hear it all the time.  “Paul doesn’t even belong in here. We don’t have a thing to do with him.”  But Peter confirms it, that everything that Paul writes is Scripture.  It’s the Word of God.  It’s just as much Spirit-inspired as any of the other writers. Okay, so now then, we come back to I Corinthians chapter 15.  Paul is revealing something that you will never find in any of the other writers of Scripture.  Nowhere, because everything else is referring to His Second Coming when He will come to the planet.  And as I’ve been pointing out wherever I go, look at the two scenarios and it becomes as plain as the noonday sun.  At the Second Coming, it’s nothing but death and destruction.  I can read to you from Jeremiah 25 and it’s enough to keep you awake all night.  What does it say?  From one end of this planet to the other there’s going to be nothing left.  The carcasses of human beings are going to be laying so thick on the ground that they won’t be able to do even a burial.  That’s what’s coming.  That’s the Second Coming. Paul never speaks of things like that associated with the Rapture.  Paul never says there’s going to be great earthquakes and volcanoes and atomic energy and all that, and then the trumpet will sound.  No.  Paul says that even right now this afternoon it could happen.  We could hear the trumpet call, and we could be out of here.  It’s imminent.  It can be at any time.  There is nothing catastrophic associated with the Rapture.  And yet the Second Coming is nothing but catastrophic.  All right, so he says: I Corinthians 15:51a “Behold, I show you a mystery; We shall not all sleep (will not all die),…” Well, now stop and think a minute.  Isn’t that logical?  It has to be that way, because otherwise God would have to put every believer to death so that they could be resurrected.  Right? But He’s not going to.  He’s not going to kill all of us believers so that He can resurrect us.  So, this is for those that are living when we get to the end of the Church Age and the Body of Christ is complete.  I always, you’ve heard me do this more than once, liken it to the baby in the womb.  That mother is putting cells into that baby by the jillions over a nine-month period of time. When the last cell is in place, under a normal birth, and everything is perfect;

the eyeballs are finished, the fingernails are there, the hair is there, everything is finished, then what?  Delivery!  The body is complete and it’s delivered.  All right, the Body of Christ is going to be the same way. When the last believer, out of all these millions that have been coming into their own particular place in the Body, when the last one is brought in - (snap) delivery!  We’re out of here.  It’s the only way it will work, because we’re not going to be left for the death and destruction that is coming.   All right, we’ve got to move on.  So, we’re going to be changed.  We’re not all going to die. I Corinthians 15:51b-52a “…We shall not all die, but we shall all be changed, 52. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye,…” Now, the Greek word here is the shortest period of time.  A nanosecond.  Or a quark?  What’s another one?  Instant!  And never forget what Jesus told us.  “With God nothing is impossible!”  We can’t think of something that God couldn’t do.  So, when he says that in a split second we’re all going to be changed from this body to an eternal body.  Hey, believe it!  God can do it!  I’ve got no problems with it. I Corinthians 15:52a “In a moment, in the twinkling (or the blink) of an eye, at the last trump:…” Now, that’s singular.  I always point that out, because so many anti-rapturists try to put us at the Tribulation’s seven trumpets.  No.  This is singular.  This isn’t the seventh of seven trumpets. This isn’t an angel’s trumpet.  This is God’s trumpet, and it’s singular. I Corinthians 15:52b “for the trumpet (singular) shall sound, and the dead (The believing dead now.  We’re not talking about those that are without faith.  They’re going to wait a thousand years, remember.  We’ll pick them up in our next taping.) and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we (Now that’s an interesting pronoun.  When Paul writes and says--) we shall be changed.”  The indication is what?  He expected it in his lifetime.  And that would be in perfect accord, again, with the Old Testament timeline. There was nothing in all of prophecy to indicate a 2,000 year Church Age.  So, Paul could readily feel that by the time his 25 years of ministry had been accomplished, the then known world had now heard the Gospel of Salvation.   Now, you’ve got to put all of this in historical perspective.  At the time that our Scripture was being written, the only world that was known was that area around the Mediterranean and maybe out into the Orient.  That’s all.  They didn’t know anything about the Western Hemisphere.  They didn’t know anything about the South Sea Islands and Australia and so forth.  So, they had pretty much covered the then known world.  So he was, I think, perfectly right in thinking all this could happen in his lifetime.  So he uses the first person.  “And we shall be changed.” All right, now verse 53, it has to be. I Corinthians 15:53 For this corruptible (This body of flesh can’t go into eternity.  That would never work, would it?  So, it’s got to be changed.) this corruptible (prone to die) must put on incorruption, and this mortal (which is prone to die) must put on immortality.”  Now that’s logical, isn’t it? All right, now let’s go on over to the companion passage in I Thessalonians.  You know, I was so thrilled, and I don’t name names on this program, I’d like to and I would have no compunction, but I just don’t like to do it. But in one of the magazines that I get, have for years and years, since Iris and I were first married, there was an article by one of our most famous Greek scholars in America today.  And, oh, my goodness, it just thrilled me to tears.  I could have almost sworn he plagiarized my material.  But he didn’t.  He’s too much of a scholar to even know who I am.  I read part of a diary.  Just exactly the same language that I use, teaching the imminency of the Rapture and using the same Greek connotations that I’ve used over the years, and it just gives me all the more confirmation that I don’t have to back down to anybody.   This IS what the Book says.

I Thessalonians 4:13 “But (Paul writes) I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, (Well, ignorant of what?  The mystery!  He could have just as well have had it in here that he would not have you to be ignorant of the mystery that he wrote about in I Corinthians.) concerning them who are asleep, (Same people that he talks about in I Corinthians, or who have died.) that you sorrow not, even as others who have no hope.” Now, what’s he talking about?  Well, the Thessalonians had already seen some of their loved ones and family members who were believers die.  They were beginning to think that they were in the Tribulation, and so they’d missed it.  And their loved ones were on in glory.  Paul is writing to comfort them.  He says, no, you don’t have to sorrow because you have hope. Now verse 14, now here again, line this up with people who try to put everybody into one resurrection.  This verse disqualifies a certain number.  Look at it carefully.  Here are the qualifications for being caught up in the Rapture of the Body of Christ. I Thessalonians 4:14a “For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again,…”  Now think.  That’s what I try to get people to do.  Think!  Did the Old Testament believers believe that?  No.  They hadn’t heard of a death, burial, and resurrection.  Did the Jewish believers in Christ’s earthly ministry believe that?  No.  Jesus didn’t preach death, burial, and resurrection.  It hadn’t happened yet.  So, all the way through Scripture you can find that there are believers, they’re going to be in eternity with us, but they’re not members of the Body of Christ, because only those who have believed for salvation that Jesus died and rose from the dead, which is Paul’s Gospel that he preached, will be in this great out-calling, what we call the Rapture. I Thessalonians 4:14 “For if we believe (verse 14 again) that Jesus died and rose again, even so them who are dead in Christ (They were believers of this same Gospel.) will God bring with him.”  In other words, when he leaves Heaven to come to the air, He will bring the soul and the spirit of our departed loved ones, and they’re going to be reunited with that resurrected body.  All right, verse 15: I Thessalonians 4:15 “For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain (See again, Paul is including himself.) until the coming of the Lord (for the Body) shall not precede (or go ahead of) them who have died.” Why?  Because there has to be that split second to resurrect the bodies of the believers who have died to be reunited with the soul and spirit.  Because Thessalonians tells us we’re going to go into eternity once again, like Adam was created in the beginning, with a perfect body, soul, and spirit. All right, so the soul and spirit, which is in the presence of the Lord, will be brought and reunited with their resurrected body.  I don’t care if there’s only one-half of an atom, that’s all God needs for resurrection.  But there has to be that much, because you can’t have resurrection of something that has not lived and died. I Thessalonians 4:16 “For the Lord himself (Jesus the Christ) shall descend from Heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God:  (Not an angel’s trumpet, God’s trumpet.) and the dead in Christ shall rise first;” And immediately they’re reunited with their soul and spirit, and they are complete now and ready for eternity. Then in verse 17, the next split second.  I Thessalonians 4:17-18 “Then we who are alive and remain (We’re still living as believers.) shall be caught up together with them (Our loved ones and all the members of the Body of Christ going back to Paul’s ministry) in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.  18. Wherefore comfort one another with these words.”  All right, now with the few seconds we’ve got left, drop down into chapter 5 and what do you see?  The left-behinds!  The pronouns all change from we and us to they and them.  Verse 3

I Thessalonians 5:3-4a “For when they (See, that’s not including us.) shall say, Peace and safety; (When the anti-Christ makes all of his promises.) then sudden destruction cometh upon them, (The Tribulation will set in.) as travail upon a woman with child; and they shall not escape. 4. But (he says) ye, brethren, are not in (that kind of) darkness,” So, here we have the main harvest of the resurrection.  Now in our next taping, we’ll pick up the rest of them - the Old Testament, the Tribulation, and so forth.

[pridepages]

Culture Clash: This Way Out

I just finished This Way Out by Tufayel Ahmed. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

As the saying goes: coming out is a lifelong journey.

Such is one of the lessons of Tufayel Ahmed’s thought-provoking debut This Way Out. The novel follows narrator Amar Iqbal during a pivotal moment in his life. He’s the son of Bengali Muslim immigrants, born in London but raised in a traditional conservative household. As one of the younger children, he sits in a distinct--inferior--place in the hierarchy. As a man raised in a conservative religiously influenced society, he knows he is in danger. 

Because he also knows that he is gay.

Worse: he’s gay and the love of his life is a white man.

All his life, Amar has struggled with his identity, hiding it from the people he loved the most. But now, he’s getting married. And the news is bursting out of him. Burned out on anxiety, he just sends it to the family group chat: ‘I’m gay and I’m getting married.’

What could possibly go wrong?

There’s a lot to love about this novel for a number of reasons. First, I find it refreshing to read a coming-of-age novel about someone who’s closer to 30 than 20. As someone who falls in the former bracket, I promise that growing, changing, and finding yourself doesn’t stop after you reach age of majority. It’s easy to write about experiences a person has for the first time. But it’s richer, and frankly more interesting, to write about someone who is undergoing a transformation later in life. Someone who has looked around them and said: I’ve been here, I’ve done that, and now I want better.

Second, reading this novel was a humbling experience. White privilege flashes so blindingly bright that it can take reading a story outside it to realize just how much it controls the narrative. I didn’t realize how used to thinking about queer religious narratives as ‘us-vs.-them’ I was until I read this book. What I mean is that the dominant narrative is usually Christian bible thumping, and it usually involves the queer person rejecting the zealots out of hand for backward and bigoted thinking. But here, a pivotal moment is when Amar’s prospective mother-in-law makes a public speech at an engagement party condemning Amar’s religious family for rejecting him. She makes comments to the effect of: ‘their loss is our gain.’ But Amar doesn’t appreciate the gesture. He finds it an insensitive public display of White Savior-ism. “My family aren’t villains in a story,” Amar tells his fiance. “I’m not some anecdote your mother gets to share because she feels like it. This is my life.” White gays are so used to the idea that the mother-in-law’s sentiments are the “right” ones that--absent Amar’s perspective and narration--we might not see anything wrong with what she did.

In that sense, this novel does wonders for showing that culture clash is not just something that happens outside a queer and/or BIPOC individual. It’s not just a struggle to relate to other people--be they family, friends, or other community members. Culture clash is something that can eat you up inside because we are each a mosaic of assembled labels and identities, some of which are difficult to reconcile. For example, Amar struggles constantly with the fact that he is both gay and muslim. “I’ve asked myself a million times why a god that punishes homosexuality would make me gay.” Amar admits. “Was I born bad? What life could I really have if, at the end of it, no good deed would ever be enough to repent the sin of my existence?” It’s a question most queer people of faith have had to grapple with: how can I be both things at the same time? People hate ambiguity, so we need a way to put the question to rest. Some people simply throw out the competing identity that doesn’t serve them. But others find a way to bring together labels that once felt like repelling magnets. Just like Amar, who found his way to a new kind of religious community: “All my life it has felt like there is one absolute. But perhaps there isn’t? People interpret through the prism of their beliefs, in a subjective way.”

Navigating the inner conflict of queerness is hard enough as a member of the dominant culture. So how can we support our rainbow siblings who have the added layer of complexity as minorities in other identities?

We can follow the model of Amar’s fiance Joshua. It’s clear to the reader that Joshua didn’t have a simple time coming out. As his parents wronged Amar, they also wronged their own son. It’s subtle, but the reader can pick it up in the ways that Joshua’s parents try to impose heteronormative traditions and models upon the young couple and their wedding planning. Still, Joshua’s arc is one of intellectual and emotional growth. Over the course of the plot, the couple takes time apart. During that time, Joshua has to come to grips with the facts that he could not understand Amar’s experiences and that he needed to do better as an ally going forward. Better than their actual wedding vows are the promises that Joshua makes to Amar during their private reconciliation: “I’ll do everything I can to make you happy, and feel seen, and never left out.”

Internal culture clash is something pretty much all queer people have felt. We all have to deal with it in our own ways. So instead of casting judgment, let’s learn how to listen better. And learn to step up by first asking the most important question: “What do you need right now?”

We can’t make the world care about us. But we can all learn how to take better care of each other.

[from-the-clouds]

Kiss Me More (Part IIII) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | 

Summary: Reader ponders the decision they made after meeting Zemo in Riga. Series now complete!

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: Kissing, marijuana & alcohol abuse, heavy angst & depression, small reference to suicide, implied casual sex, yearning

A/N (also check out A/N at end when finished reading): This is it, everyone! I was going to end this completely differently originally, but after some thinking --  and some light peer pressure from ya’ll, I did something a little different. I did fight with this part the most out of all of them, so I hope it’s still good. Please enjoy. And thank you for all the love on this series, it’s been so fun to write! Also I was listening to this song while writing this.

---

The incessant buzz of her alarm clock jolted her out of her dreamless sleep. Fumbling in the dark, she slapped the top of it, hitting the snooze button and looking at the interface with bleary eyes. 

4:00 A.M. It stared, indifferent, back at her tired face. 

She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and lamenting, bargaining, half expecting the clock to turn back time when she opened her eyes again. Unfortunately, it did not. With a huff, she threw back the covers and stretched, disturbing the orange cat that slept in the empty spot next to her where her husband used to lay. 

Snorting, the cat lifted its head to look at her as she climbed out of bed before curling back up in a ball where her feet had been. 

“Don’t mind me, just getting ready for work so I can feed us,” she said, grumpily, then in a moment of repentance, affectionately scratching her behind the ears. 

She had always been a night owl, so she didn’t think it would be possible to ever get used to waking this early. No human was meant to function at this time. It was the one part of the job she hated most. The rest of it was manageable, though it was still work. 

Setting about her morning routine, she showered, made coffee, and donned her uniform. Eating a day-old bagel and nursing her coffee on her tiny balcony, she looked out over the darkened horizon. It was far too early to even enjoy a sunrise. 

There was a saying, time heals all wounds. After her husband died, she’d heard it a lot. It was a saying she had come to find true. But it’d been well over a year since she’d left Helmut, alone in that swanky hotel room, and it still hurt like it was yesterday. 

“I understand,” he’d murmured, and she felt the ghost of his kiss on her forehead, arms around her waist, even now. She shivered, not from the chill of the morning air.

She’d left her old life behind, all of it. Sam and Bucky, too, about a month after their time in Riga. She couldn’t look them in the eyes after what she’d done.

But, she was proud of what they’d accomplished. They’d defeated the Flag Smashers. Bucky seemed happier, more at peace. Sam had accepted his role as the new Captain America. John Walker seemed to have faded into irrelevancy. All the loose ends had been tied up in a pretty little bow.

Except for hers.

Which is why she moved, sold all the stuff in her tiny NYC apartment, and packed her car full with what she couldn’t bear to part with, some photos and momentos from a different lifetime. Her car didn’t stop until she hit the Atlantic Ocean, on an island just south of Charleston. All but undiscovered by tourists, the residents in the sleepy beach town kept to themselves, and she could go about her life in peace, undisturbed. 

She couldn’t just run away from her problems, that was why she’d left Zemo. It seemed counterintuitive, but in her mind, it made sense. The problems would catch up to her, like they always had. The dissatisfaction she had with her life, with herself, was always going to return. And she knew she had to be alone to deal to face it head on. Like a wounded animal, crawling into the woods, there were only two ways things could end here; either she’d heal and come out stronger, or eventually she’d die. And so far, the healing part wasn’t going great. 

Each day was a matter of convincing herself that she’d made the right choice. Especially now, as her eyes burned, fighting to stay open against the inviting embrace of sleep. 

Despite it being dark outside, the bakery was bustling already when she walked in the service entrance. It smelled amazing, as always. Sweet and warm, a cacophony of aromas, baking bread, fresh coffee, sugar.

She set about the usual preparations to open up, packaging orders for the regulars, sweeping the floor, wiping down countertops. Once the place was open, she didn’t have to work the register, as she prepared batches of dough in the back for proofing, to be baked the next day. 

Before, she’d been a terrible cook, but she’d grown comfortable in the kitchen after learning to bake. There was something satisfying about working with her hands, at this point she’d memorized all the recipes and the work became second nature to her. Now, she always had fresh bread and pastries in her kitchen, although they were the slightly disformed, ones the shop owners deemed too ugly for the glass display cases. Daylight was cherished, even if she barely saw it inside the shop. Because while she was awake, busy with work, her thoughts remained pleasant.

At night it was the hardest. Things got quiet, lonely. When she got home, she poured herself a drink. Cheap whiskey, the kind that came in a plastic bottle and burned on it’s way down. She had never been much of a drinker before, she was now. Her thoughts were more manageable after a drink. Especially because she was usually thinking of Helmut. 

It was often that she wondered what he may be doing, and those thoughts usually ended with the image of him lying in the sun, poolside, on some island in the Pacific Ocean, drinking expensive champagne with a supermodel. It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought to her, and yet she was plagued by some variation of it every night. 

Sometimes, she’d humor herself, and imagine what they might be doing had she decided to stay with him. Unfortunately, thinking of that was more upsetting. She wanted it, selfishly, though she wasn’t willing to admit it.

When she was younger, it had been so easy to block out the pain, to just press forward, no matter what. Much to her dismay, it didn’t get easier as she got older. Years of watching those she loved in pain, years of being in pain had taken a toll on her resilience. She wasn’t the strong woman she once was, she was weak.

That night, one drink had turned into two, into three. Wallowing in her own self-pity had become second-nature, she felt like Hamlet, lamenting her circumstances, a constant turmoil monologuing in her brain. But this night felt particularly worse, for some reason. 

For the record, she had been doing better. But she was all-too-familiar with how grief worked, pulling her back down the dark side of the mountain, where she was forced to fight her demons over and over again. At some point, they were going to win.

It was a funny thing. Despite the loss of her husband, who she had loved dearly, his death had been easier to accept. Final. She couldn’t bring him back. Helmut on the other hand, was still out there, an open wound that could never fully heal.

Before she knew it, she was four drinks in, at her bedside table, fumbling through the bottom drawer, until she found what she was looking for.

Back on her couch, she stared at the card in her hand, the hastily written phone number on it, an international line. Helmut had given it to her, the day she left, stuck it in her purse while she wasn’t looking. She didn’t discover it until she had returned home.

It had been months since she last did this, pulled the card out of its hidden place in her drawer, placed it on the coffee table in front of her next to her phone, and considered dialing it. It had been a frequent occurrence when she first moved here, when she couldn’t find a job and spent most of her mornings either hungover, or stumbling home from rendezvous with men whose names she wouldn’t remember, and she wouldn’t care to, because there was only one man she really wanted. She could only hope he’d be as close as one call away. But she never called. 

I mean really, he’d probably moved on by this point. If she was going to call, she should have done it months ago, when there was more of a chance that he’d give a fuck. 

She considered this a setback. But she’d made her way halfway through the cheap bottle of whiskey, it was the drunkest she’d been in ages and she was curious. She didn’t know whose number it was, who’d be on the other end of the line, and never knew why Helmut would want her to have it to begin with.  

At this point, she wasn’t capable of good decision making. In general, it hadn’t always been her strong suit. So why did doing the right thing matter now? It didn’t, she decided. 

Taking a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, she ensured she wouldn’t remember what happened next, at least not clearly. 

The phone rang twice before someone picked up. “Hello?” she didn’t recognize the sound of the man on the other end of the line immediately, so she didn’t answer. All she had wanted to do was maybe hear Helmut’s voice, he didn’t even need to know it was her that was calling. 

“Hello?” the man repeated, and she realized it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. The grandfatherly, comforting tone wasn’t her former lover, but someone close to him. And she supposed that wasn’t terrible.

“Is this Oeznik?” she asked. 

“It is,” he said after some hesitation. “May I ask who’s speaking?”

Truthfully, she was shocked she’d allowed herself to go this far. This was a bad idea. If she stopped now she could get off without doing any real damage. But just as she was about to hang up, she heard her name, muffled, on the other end of the line. 

“H-How do you know it’s me?” She raised the phone back to her ear. 

“I thought you sounded familiar,” Oeznik chuckled, low and soft. “Helmut told me you might call.”

“He did?” she squeaked. “Yes, although it was awhile ago. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I uh….I….well….” she managed. “I guess I just….I guess I wanted to see how he was doing.”  Her words flowed together like the liquor she was drinking, she knew she sounded drunk.

“Good, since we last spoke,” he said. “I don’t hear from him much these days...maybe every couple months. As you might imagine, he’s trying to keep a low profile for the time being.”

She nodded. Perhaps Zemo was as lonely as she was, hidden away in some cabin in the middle of nowhere. Though she had to imagine it looked much nicer than her current place, and maybe he had better company than a portly orange cat that begrudgingly liked him. “I understand.”

“How have you been?” he asked.

It sounded stupid, but she realized it was the first time someone had asked her that. Sincerely. Checked up on her. Even if she was the one who had dialed the number in the first place.

“I’m good,” her voice cracked. “Just keeping busy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Helmut always had such nice things to say about you.”

“Really?” she couldn’t stop herself. 

“Of course, would you like me to let him know you called?” 

“No, no...I wouldn’t want to bother him,” she choked on her words, something catching in her throat.

“Are you sure you’re alright, dear?”

“I’m okay, I just….” she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes, lowering her voice, since she didn’t think her normal register would come out as anything other than a whine. “I think I made a horrible mistake.”

“What’s the matter? What did you do?”

She shook her head, shaking the tears loose and now they were lining her lashes, threatening to spill over. However, she managed to make the next words she spoke come out clearly. “Nothing, I just...it’s really stupid, I really shouldn’t have called.”

He sighed on the other end of the line, and she felt like, despite her attempt at staying calm, he could still see that she wasn’t somehow. “It seemed Helmut was awfully sweet on you,” Oeznik’s words next came hesitantly, calculated. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he told me if you ever called, to help you with whatever you might need, no matter the ask.”

Oh God, what had she done? A sob left her, one she couldn’t control, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle any more. Her tears were flowing freely now, tracking down her cheeks and along her chin. She wiped at them clumsily, clearing her throat. 

“That’s very kind of him, but you can’t help me. I’m so sorry to bother you, please just forget I even called,” she forced a smile on her face so that hopefully he could hear it. “Goodbye.”

She hung up, horrified, and within seconds had deleted the call log from her phone. She’d been thoughtful enough not to memorize the number, and the lighter she used whenever she smoked sat in front of her. Without a second though, she burned the card, watching the paper blacken and disintegrate, until it was all but a pile of soot on her Wal-Mart coffee table. It was a fair punishment, and ensured she’d never get the chance to embarrass herself like that again. 

And then she cried, sobbed into a pillow next to her, until her tears ran dry and she wore herself out, falling asleep on the couch alone. When she’d wake the next morning, the only evidence of her actions would be a throbbing headache and a dead phone. 

She wouldn’t remember the call.

----

Life went on, as it always did. It had been about a month, and since that night she grew more indifferent, remembered how to ignore heartbreak. For now, she was stuck in her purgatory, waking up before the sun and falling asleep before it set, smoking joints, drinking cheap liquor, and going on the occasional date with people who she didn’t really like, tourists who would leave after a week and wanted temporary company. 

Despite everything, she partly believed things were getting better. Maybe they weren’t, but the possibility that someday they would seemed feasible. And that was enough, for now. 

On her days off, she’d walk to the beach and lay on a blanket, reading a book until the sun dipped below the horizon and lit up the sky in hues of pinks and purples. She found a record player at an antique store and began collecting vinyls, listening to obscure artists whose albums she found in the $1 bin. It wasn’t so bad. Life wasn’t so bad. 

She took a shower after work. Tomorrow was her off day, and she wasn’t sure what she had planned besides maybe watching a movie and getting stoned. Maybe she’d try going to the beach. The weather was getting warmer, and she could even go swimming if the water wasn’t too cold. 

Exhausted from her day of work, she laid down in her bed, still in her robe, her hair wrapped in a towel around her head. The sun was setting outside, the windchimes she’d hung outside slowly clanging together, birds singing in the warm spring air. Her cat hopped on the bed, offered an affectionate trill and curled up at her side, purring, in a rare display of affection. A cool breeze drifted through the open window. And for the first time in over a year, she felt content. Closing her eyes, she savored the moment, committed it to memory, so she could recall it the next time she was drunk-crying in front of her TV. 

She fell asleep slowly, so slowly that when she woke, startled by something in her kitchen clattering to the floor, it felt like she hadn’t even been sleeping at all. The clock next to her red 11:31 p.m. and it was pitch dark outside, the cool breeze from before had grown stronger and her bedroom curtains were billowing, wind whistling loudly through the apartment. Her cat had left her side, and she frowned, shivering in the sudden cold.

Pulling the towel off her head, she made her way over to the window with the intention to close it, sleepily, lazily, until she heard something else. A creak in the floorboard. A heavy footstep in her kitchen. That wasn’t just her cat. 

Some kind of muscle memory was ignited then, an ancient instinct that called to her from a different lifetime. Darting across the room, the gun she kept was in her hand, stealthily pulled from its hiding spot beneath her mattress. Truth be told, she never thought she would’ve needed it. Anyone looking for her would be smart enough to kill her in her sleep, not be so foolish as to wake her first with their heavy footsteps. 

A dark silhouette stalked through her kitchen, moving slowly. It was a man, she assumed, based on his broader figure, and lack of coordination. In her experience, women were often stealthier without trying. He took another step, the floor creaking below him, shuffling on bargain linoleum. 

Staying low, she crept forward, ducking stealthily behind furniture, avoiding the spots on the floor she knew made noise. It didn’t appear the intruder had a weapon, in fact, it seemed he was bumbling about, searching for something. A burglar, and a bad one at that. An island full of vacation homes owned by rich doctors and they thought they’d find valuables in her shitty apartment?

It wasn’t until she was standing directly behind him, gun aimed at his head, that she finally spoke up. 

“I believe you’ve come to the wrong place,” she said flatly. “Whatever you’re looking for, it’d be in your best interest to leave empty-handed.”

Her eyes were still adjusting to the dark, but the intruder froze, arms slowly raising in defeat, empty-handed, as he turned around to face her. In the dingy room, she couldn’t make out any of his features, could only see that he was clad in all black.

“Unfortunately, liebling, that wasn’t my intention.” 

She would’ve recognized that voice anywhere, though the endearment he’d used was enough to clue her in. Hitting the lightswitch with her free hand, she was face to face with the man she’d spent the past year trying to purge from her memory, Helmut Zemo. 

Her gut twisted, her mind raced, but the only thing currently bubbling up, over the surface of every other emotion was the pure, seething rage left behind in the wake of fearing for her life.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she stepped towards him, gun still raised, fuming. 

“Hey, hey!” he staggered backwards, hands raised, eyes averted. 

“I thought you were a fucking robber!” she hissed. “I thought you were here to kill me!”

“Lower your voice,” he scolded. “You’re going to wake your neighbors.”

Taking a deep breath, she realized she still had her gun trained on him and she lowered it, clicking the safety and discarding the weapon on the countertop. “What the fuck?” she asked. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know you had such a mouth on you,” he smirked, but she wasn’t finished, and she glowered at him. 

“You broke into my apartment!” she growled.

“I had to be sure I was in the right place.”

“Yeah? You couldn’t have knocked first?”

He nodded, eyes trailing down to her hands, which were trembling, she hadn’t even realized. He seemed to understand what he’d done then, and she flexed her fingers, eyes locking with his. “I suppose...you may be right,” he said, surrendering.

She felt the rage subsiding as she took in his appearance. He looked not so different from the last time she’d seen him, except a fair amount of stubble covered his jawline in a short beard. He was still devastatingly handsome. Zemo’s dark eyes, filled with longing, drank her in, tilting his head as his gaze shifted to her lips. It was like she could read his mind, she knew what he wanted, what he was thinking. And her body was going to betray her if he kept it up.

Despite everything, she was still upset. Upset and embarrassed, as the light was doing an unflattering expose of her tiny, cluttered apartment, full of mismatched furniture and water-damaged wallpaper that her landlord refused to replace. It probably gave the prison cells that Helmut had spent years in a run for their money, and was in stark contrast to every other aspect of his life.

“What’s this?” he asked, gesturing to the empty liquor bottles on her countertop, stowed in her trash can. “Have you been drinking?”

“Not tonight,” she quipped, on guard. Had to be. As much as some old instinct told her to throw herself into his arms, press her lips to the underside of his jaw, and let him envelope her in the comfort of his embrace, she knew she couldn’t.

“Hmm,” he brushed past her, frowning, looking disappointed, as he made his way to her living room. 

“How did you find me?” she asked, eyeing him wearily.

“I’m a wanted man, I trace every call that comes into my estate,” he said over his shoulder. 

Helmut was taking inventory of the cramped space, staring at the photos she’d hung in a collage on the wall behind her couch, with a few watercolors painted by her late husband. One in particular, that he was focused on now, was from her wedding. Of all the memories she chose to hang, this one was her fondest, her former partner was all dark curly hair falling into deep blue eyes, and she was the portrait of a blushing bride, wearing a dopey love-drunk smile, gazing at him, ignoring the camera. 

“You looked so beautiful on your wedding day,” he said, turning over his shoulder to look at her. He was so out of place here, standing in her living room, for a moment she thought he might be a hallucination, some physical manifestation of the heartbreak she’d experienced. “Although that doesn’t surprise me.”

She flushed, suddenly self-conscious in her thin black robe and still-damp hair. It occurred to her that she wasn’t looking her best, which made this whole situation that much more disconcerting. However, the compliment disarmed her slightly, and the anger she felt began to dissipate, slowly. She was going to offer him something to drink until her cat, who had been absent through the chaos, suddenly jumped up on the back of the couch and promptly hissed at him in an attempt to defend her territory.

“Pumpkin, be nice,” she said, although it was mostly to placate Helmut. Pumpkin never listened to her. 

Helmut let her sniff his hand, and she was stunned when the cat rubbed her face against it. Of course, Pumpkin would like him of all people. That made sense. Then again, she supposed it made them not so different. He turned away to look at the rest of the room. “I see you haven’t kicked that bad habit you told me about,” he gestured at the ashtray full of roaches on the coffee table. 

“Did you just come to my place to insult me?” she asked, putting her hands on her lips and feigning confidence. She could’ve rolled over and cried and told him how much she missed him, how many nights she’d spent crying over him, and while all of it was true, she felt indignation was the better option for her self-preservation.

“That’s a good question,” Helmut turned to face her now, hands in the pockets of the leather jacket he was wearing. Completely inappropriate for the weather here, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. “Why do you think I’m here?” he asked.

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I don’t know, but you shouldn’t be.”

He snorted, his frustration evident, and she saw a glimpse of the man that so many feared, the side that had earned him his dangerous reputation, that had him locked away in a high-security prison for nearly a decade. “I didn’t come all this way for nothing, draga, we’re going to have it out.”

“Fine,” she said, lacing as much venom as she could into her words to prepare herself. “Then get on with it.”

He stared her down, and the expression her wore startled her, something sparkled in his eyes, mischief, relief maybe? It was insulting. Like he didn’t take her seriously. But there was something else there, too, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was wiped from his visage before it registered.

The tension in the room dissipated slightly when Zemo sat on the arm of the worn couch she’d bought from a yard sale, and she winced. “I spoke to Oeznik the other day,” he said flatly, snorting, eyes focused on a stain on one of the rugs she owned. “He told me he had the pleasure of speaking to a friend of mine about a month ago.”

Frowning, she tilted her head, her eyes meeting Helmut’s. Something in her brain sparked a memory she’d once dismissed as a dream after a particularly bad night of drinking.

“He was concerned, you see, because this friend didn’t seem to be in the best state of mind,” Helmut rose from the arm of the couch, stalking forward slowly, and she couldn’t move backwards, not even if she wanted to, as he could pin her easily against the front door. His voice grew louder, faster as he went on. “He said she was crying, slurring her words, he told me he thought maybe she might be-” Helmut cut himself off abruptly and closed his eyes, clenching one of his fists, a look of distress on his face as he took in a terse breath. “I won’t finish that thought, but you’re a smart girl, you can imagine what I’m getting at.”

Swallowing hard, the phone call came back to her in pieces, the tears, sobbing on the phone to a man she hardly knew. It was the night she finally admitted to herself she’d made a mistake, even though she’d already known it, deep down when she left him in the hotel room. 

“Please forgive me for breaking in tonight,” Helmut said. “But I couldn’t bear the thought of you not answering the door, I needed to see with my own eyes that you were okay.”

Exhaling through her nose, she looked at the floor. “It’s not like that. I had too much to drink.” she said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. “It was just a bad night.”

“Then tell me, what was the horrible mistake you made?” he asked, stepping closer. He was close to her, now. So close. And his proximity made everything more difficult.

God, if only she could remember exactly what she’d said, the only thing that came to her were the emotions, desperation, sadness, grief. It was all too much, and he was threatening to bring them all back to destroy her again. 

“I shouldn’t have called,” she said, shaking her head. “And I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? What do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” He asked, tilting his head, his eyebrows pulling together. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? How hard it was to sit on a plane when all I wanted to do was be here? With you?” His hand rose to cup her cheek, stopping just short of her face when she flinched away from his touch.

“Please stop,” she managed, the burn of tears behind her eyes almost menacing. The last thing she needed was to cry in front of him. “You’re undoing everything.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked. 

“You’re….you’re here,” she murmured weakly, wetness seeping, glossing over her pupils. “I only have so much capacity for pain right now, if you touch me now, you’ll ruin everything.”

No one ever had this kind of hold on her, she’d never bent her rules to appease anyone else, and she’d gone toe to toe with super soldiers. He was just a man, and yet, he terrified her. 

“You really want me to leave?”

She couldn’t answer, but one tear escaped, sliding down her cheekbone, and she sniffled. 

“I’m not the one who did this to you,” his thumb, swiped along her face gently, wiping it away. He’d touched her, just barely, and she was reeling. 

“I know,” she stuttered, gasping. “I know it was me, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You are so stubborn.” His expression softened as he looked upon her, his thumb tracing underneath her jaw, tilting her head upwards to look at him. Malleable, she obliged. “I’ve thought about you everyday since the night we spent together. You’ve plagued me. That can’t be a coincidence. Are you really happier this way? You must be honest with me.”

She shook her head, blinking out fresh tears. “No, I’m not. I just thought...by the time I realized I made the wrong choice, you’d have moved on. People like us don’t get to be happy.”

“Says who?”

How could she refuse him anymore? This would continue to go on until she gave in. And from the beginning, she wanted to give in. There was no use in fighting the inevitable. The small point of contact -- his hand on her chin -- radiated impressive warmth, and she could feel every part of herself being attracted to him, quelling some ache deep within her. 

Reaching up, she clutched at Helmut’s palm, which didn’t last long, because he pulled her into his arms, nestling her head underneath his chin. She melted into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his solid frame. 

“Come home with me,” he coaxed softly. 

“I will,” she murmured, surrendering to the comfort of his presence. “But you have to let me bring Pumpkin.”

He chuckled, warm and amiable, the vibration of his chest echoing in her own. “Of course, you’ll bring Pumpkin,” he murmured into her hair. Oh, how she had missed hearing him laugh. They could’ve stayed that way for hours, and she would’ve been content, but he pulled away, hands on either side of her face as he studied her.

Unable to hold back any longer, she leaned in to kiss him. It was chaste at first, all the memories of her last night with him came flooding back quickly when he parted his lips to deepen the kiss, but she didn’t want that quite yet, just needed a moment to process this. The simple comfort of being held by him, kissed by him, was more than enough for now. He’d been waiting for this, she could assume in the way that he responded, pulling her impossibly close so she was engulfed in him.

Her stomach flipped, a warmth blossoming in her chest as he pulled away, their foreheads touching. “Oh, I missed you,” she sighed, shivering as his beard tickled her neck, his mouth on her sensitive skin.

“And I, you,” he murmured. His eyes studied her, carefully, up close, and for the first time since meeting him, she really let him see her, teary-eyed and vulnerable.

She would never let him go again. 

---

A/N: So here we are! I know it’s been a ride, but I’m really excited for these two. However, I don’t feel like I’m done writing for Zemo yet. If ya’ll have any headcanons, thoughts, questions, requests, etc, feel free to drop them in my ask box or shoot me a DM. I’d love to talk more about him. I also would be down to write more oneshots based around this series, because I am sort of like….okay, they obviously have a connection, but they don’t know that much about each other, and I may or may not have a light future already mapped out for them. I might do an epilogue at some point even. But if you have anything you’d like to add, let me know!

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[hozierandco]

Henry Cavill x Reader / Lessons / SMUT

A/N: Henry has to learn how to play golf for a film but his teacher may teach him a bit more than golf. In which Henry is a clumsy cinnamon roll. Inuendos intended, sorry not sorry. SMUT: oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, teasing, cursing, cumshot. Read at your own risk.

For the sake of a film in which he would play an aristocrat, Henry had to know how to play golf. He had agreed to it though he never had one single piece of knowledge on the matter.

Him who had done life-endangering stunts was not going to abandon for golf. He had three weeks before the beginning of the set and had decided to spend his holidays at a golf resort off in Scotland where he was determined to master the skills to that sport.

Y/N had been working at the Baurheid Club for the past five summers. The rest of the year, she lived in Glasgow but since her uncle was the club's manager and since she knew all about golf, she kept on working there.

The season was about to start and she was in charge of giving private classes for top-notch clients. Her rock solid privacy was celebrated by all and she was the perfect fit to deal with bankers and members of the idle class. An actor was about to complete the list.

"Y/N, here's the list of your clients for the next week"

Three names as each client required all attention. Quality over quantity was the motto of the club on that regard. The second one rang a bell to Y/N: Henry Cavill.

"Why does that name sound familiar? We've already have him, perhaps?" Y/N asked to Olivia who was welcoming the clients in the resort and who happened to be a close friend to Y/N.

"He's an actor, you fool" she replied in a moment of rest from the wave of clients "A handsome one too, lucky you!"

Instead of rejoicing along with Olivia, Y/N just hoped he was not the megalomaniac kind and that he wouldn't be a nightmare to work with. She went on with her day, many things had to be fixed before her first classes the next day.

Henry arrived by the entrance desk where Olivia acknowledged him and welcomed her just like any other client, in spite of her shouting internally. He had packed the bare minimum so his installment was brief.

The next day, it was almost noon when he woke up so he took himself out to the cafeteria.

Y/N had finished her first class of the day with a young member of the Dutch royal family and was gaining back the main accomodatio, up to the staff's lunch room. She had not changed clothes as she was not to meet any client.

Or so she thought.

"Oh, come on now!" Y/N heard someone grunting in her back as she was about to open the door to the place where she had left her food. She turned around only to see a frustrated Henry Cavill.

"May I help you, sir?" Y/N asked.

"Yes, please!" Henry jumped on the occasion "I'm looking for the lunch room but I always end up in this corridor... It's a bloody labyrinth there", he added holding back a nervous laugh.

Henry came back from his frustration as his misery was coming to an end with Y/N's arrival and that's on his way back that he noticed just how splendid Y/N was.

"Please, let me be your guide"

"Thank you very much. By the way, I'm Henry"

"And I'm Y/N", she responded making the connection with the photograph of Henry Olivia had shown her on her phone.

Along their journey to the lunch room, the two of them made some small talk while Y/N had to keep her composure. Olivia was right, he was bloody handsome. Even more so that on any photograph. And besides, he was visibly not a douche but an angel, making her feel at ease early on in their conversation.

As they arrived by the cafeteria filled with expensive furniture, the actor accompanied his "thank yous" with an offer: "I'm all alone at the resort, I could use some company for the lunch"

It was tempting if it wasn't for the fact that Y/N and the whole staff wasn't allowed to eat with the clients.

"Oh I see..." Henry said as Y/N explained the situation "But what if it's the client's decision. Isn't the customer always right?" he completed, glad he had found this trick to make her stay.

"Well, I suppose that it's the rule, yeah..." Y/N had been upset to decline the offer but she figured that indeed, she could stay a little while. Besides, the cafeteria was big enough for her not to be seen by anyone.

"It's a yes, then?"

"Yes, it is"

"So, what do you do here anyway?" Henry asked her as he came back from the buffet.

"I'm a golf instructor"

"Well, in that case, I'll probably see you on the green"

"About that, I should probably tell you that I'm the one who's gonna take care of your lessons for as long as you stay"

"I cannot wait. Though I should apologise in advance"

Y/N quizzed him by fixing his eyes. Shit, those eyes... Don't stare, don't stare, Y/N thought.

"I'm probably the worst golf player in Britain"

***

"You want to hold it like that" Y/N informed the way to seize the putter as she placed herself behind the impressive stature she had in front of her.

She could not believe that she was giving in the cliché of being glued to get someone to play golf.

Henry had not exaggerated, he indeed was pretty bad. In fact, he lacked of coordination and Y/N had to constantly remind him of how he was supposed to swing his body.

"May I?"

"Yes!" Henry was relieved to hear that he would get more help from her as she suggested than she could grab his arms to show the move.

She took his arms by the elbows. Henry being in a polo, she could feel all of his muscles under her touch.

"There, that's right! You've got the move. Now try to hit the ball"

And Henry executed himself but failed to even graze it. He snickered and then gave in a frank laughter that Y/N echoed.

"Right, you're gonna need to spend more time with me, Mr. Cavill"

"It's all I'm dreaming of. Dinner with me tonight in the garden?"

The class ended and for Y/N, it meant the beginning of her third and last class of the day.

As it was only 4 pm, Henry joined the games room where he had a view on the green where Y/N was helping an old lady to practice.

Of course, Y/N was too busy to notice him but it didn't stop him to smile like a child at her.

He was admiring her grace and her air of benevolence when a man came to him "She's a beauty, isn't she?"

Henry nodded at the stranger who in turns carried on "It must run in the family"

As Henry took his eyes oof of Y/N to see whom he was talking to, the stranger introduced himself "I'm Max, the club's manager. Y/N's uncle"

"Oh! How do you do? I'm Henry"

Max nodded, knowing very well who his select guest was.

"Is she a great teacher to you?"

"For sure. It's just that I'm a terrible pupil"

Max laughed along with Henry "Ah, son, she'll make a great player out of you"

The dinner happened. Henry had changed into another polo paired with camel chinos.

Y/N too had changed into a strapless floral dress with brown sandals. She greeted Henry as she sat down in the grass on which Henry had displayed a basket of fruits.

They started drinking and talking as the moon rose in the sky.

"I've talked with your uncle this afternoon"

"Oh have you? He's quite something, isn't he?"

"That he is. According to him, you're the greatest teacher out there"

"And you doubt it?"

"I'll try to be as good as a lamb for you"

After dinner, Y/N suggested that they take a walk around the resort. Any way to make the night last longer was worth seizing.

Everything was calm. No one around. Under their feet, the grass was slightly wet as dew had started forming and tinting their shoes.

Y/N took off her shoes, soon followed by Henry who had not done something as spontaneous as throwing a picnic in a very long time.

With their shoes in their hands, they carried on walking on the grass as crickets were going for a symphony and more and more windows got dark afar.

"It's been ages since I hadn't spent a lovely night like that" Henry sighed with pleasure "but that being said, I should hit my bed if I want to be at the top of my performance for my strict instructor"

The two of them had gotten very close to one another "If I stay now, I'm staying the whole night" Henry commented as Y/N's lips were dangerously close to his.

"I would let you" Y/N replied.

***

Henry and Y/N had met regularly apart from the times set for the classes over the last two weeks and if Henry had barely gotten better, the two of them had grown fond of the other. They had kissed on the fourth night, but both of them were not craving for more. Henry did not wish to rush things, nor did Y/N though the tension became unbearable.

"Do you think your uncle would kick you out if you spent the night at my room tonight?" Henry ventured as the class was over, wishing that he could kiss her right there, on the green.

"I wouldn't mind being kicked out if it meant spending the night with you" Y/N answered as she put back the clubs in the trolley.

After they finished eating at their favourite spot, Henry seized Y/N's hand and together they traveld to his room.

As Henry opened the door, he preceded Y/N,cupping her face with his hands to make her follow him in the suite.

He shut the door behind her and took her in his arms, only letting go on her after having carefully laid her on the bed.

"It is my turn to teach you a lesson, baby", he purred in her ear as he had let his lips wander from her legs to her face.

He placed his body over Y/N's but suddenly he got repentant and cursed "Fuck, I came here with nothing..."

Of course, Henry had no plans of making love to his instructor when he had booked holidays at the resort and found himself caught off guard, without protection for the night.

"In my purse" Y/N told him where to look.

"You might just be the most prepared teacher ever"

"Just grab it" Y/N begged him as he was going for encores, giving another sequel of kisses to her skin.

Henry ripped the scabbard and took his apparel out of his trousers, dressing it for the occasion.

Gracious God! There was lot to look at...

Fully erect, Henry came back in bed where Y/N was trying her best not to stare at the length.

"You sure about this?" Henry inquired as he aligned himself.

"Never been more sure in my whole life"

Henry then slid his member, inch by inch to be sure that Y/N was coping with what she was given.

He was just half through when it began to hurt.

"It's alright, doll!" Henry consoled her "I'm sorry, I'll go slow, I promise"

Henry found his way out as he had an idea to ease the process. Y/N still under him, he got down on her and made a feast of the flesh flashing before his eyes.

There was no doubt: he was much better at this than with golf.

As Y/N looked down at the face that had found shelter between her legs, she noticed just how dedicate he was. He was giving it all the attention required.

His eyes were glistening by the feeble light above their head.

Henry's cock was beating a rhythm of its own, pleased at it was that Henry was able to make Y/N moan with just his tongue and fingers.

The resort was known for "its quiet nights" and "tranquil setting" but tonight, Henry was eager to go off the rails.

It did have the expected effect on Y/N since her lair had gotten damp. Henry let her come back from the mountain she had climbed before he dived inside.

This time around, the whole length got in no sooner said than done.

"You're just so gorgeous!" Henry articulated with difficulty as he was carrying his moves, putting more energy by every second that went by.

Y/N's fingers borrowed the path drawn by his torso which was dripping with sweat "You're one very good student. And a very hot one too"

Henry's heart was pounding in his chest as he lifted Y/N's legs to put them by each side of his spine. That way, he reached a new spot with the tip of his penis which made Y/N pant with his name on her lips.

"Henry!" she cried her lungs out through the dark of the night. The tranquil nights long gone.

"Come for me, doll!"

She didn't have to hear twice as she was unleashing her falls.

But Henry was insatiable. Though teased twice by the sight of Y/N coming for him, his cock was still showing no sign of weakness.

He was willing to let go of her lover to give her some rest while he would take care of himself but Y/N stopped him as he was about to take off the condom.

"I wouldn't mind a third lesson" she told him "Let's change the angle. Show me how your swing's going. As for your stamina, Mr. Cavill, it got much better"

Y/N got on all fours, spreading her legs for Henry to come up behind her. As he entered the well, Y/N stretched herself so that she in turn allowed more of Hnery to get in and out.

Henry was admiring the view as he held Y/N by her hips, pounding her.

In and out, fast at first, the sounds of his cock hitting the bottom of her cunt.

Then Henry who got tired of the the action - and who was not going to hold it back for very much longer as Y/N's moans were rushing his climax - got slow, savouring every second he had ahead of him before he would come too.

Sensing that Y/N was close to get her third orgasm as she got tight around his cock, he decided for her to come to do so as well, and hoped that it would arrive soon.

She did come, shouting and laughing as she came back.

"I don't want you to come in that. I want to see you coming for me, Henry"

Henry then quickly removed the piece of latex which was soiled with pre-cum. The sole fact of taking it off almost made him come.

Henry kneeled on the bed by the level of Y/N who was laying down and emptied himself on her stomach.

"I cannot wait for our next class" Henry said in a sigh as he rested his limbs by Y/N.

[be-gay-do-heists]

hello yall :) the holy month of elul started last night, which is typically a time for contemplation, so since it is impossible for me to stop thinking about leverage, i decided to write an essay. hope anyone interested in reading it enjoys, and that it makes at least a little sense!! spoilers for leverage redemption

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Leverage, Judaism, and “Doing the Work”: An Essay for Elul

When it comes to Elul and the approaching High Holidays, Leverage might seem like an odd topic to meditate on.

The TNT crime drama that ran from 2008-2012, and which released a new season this summer following its renewal, centers on a group of found-family thieves who help the victims of corporations and oligarchs (sometimes based on real-world examples), using wacky heists and cons to bring down the rich and powerful. In one episode, the team’s clients want to reclaim their father’s prized Glimt piece that had been stolen in the Shoah and never returned, but aside from this and the throwaway lines and jokes standard for most mainstream television, there’s not a ton textually Jewish about Leverage. However, despite this, I have found that the show has strong resonance among Jewish fans, and lots of potential for analysis along Jewish themes. This tends to focus on one character in particular: the group’s brilliant, pop culture-savvy, and personable hacker, Alec Hardison, played by the phenomenally talented Aldis Hodge.

I can’t remember when or where I first encountered a reading of Hardison as Jewish, but not only is this a somewhat popular interpretation, it doesn’t feel like that much of a leap. In the show itself, Hardison has a couple of the aforementioned throwaway lines that potentially point to him being Jewish, even if they’re only in service of that moment’s grift. It’s hard to point to what exactly makes reading Hardison as Jewish feel so natural. My first guess is the easy way Hardison fits into the traditional paradigms of Jewish masculinity explored by scholars such as Daniel Boyarin (2). Most of the time, the hacker is not portrayed as athletic or physical; he is usually the foil to the team’s more physically-adept characters like fighter Eliot, or thief Parker. Indeed, Hardison’s strength is mental, expressed not only through his computer wizardry but his passions for science, technology, music, popular media, as well as his studious research into whatever scenario the group might come up against. In spite of his self-identification as a “geek,” Hardison is nevertheless confident, emotionally sensitive, and secure in his masculinity. I would argue he is representative of the traditional Jewish masculine ideal, originating in the rabbinic period and solidified in medieval Europe, of the dedicated and thoughtful scholar (3). Another reason for popular readings of Hardison as Jewish may be the desire for more representation of Jews of color. Although mainstream American Jewish institutions are beginning to recognize the incredible diversity of Jews in the United States (4), and popular figures such as Tiffany Haddish are amplifying the experiences of non-white Jews, it is still difficult to find Jews of color represented in popular media. For those eager to see this kind of representation, then, interpreting Hardison, a black man who places himself tangential to Jewishness, in this way is a tempting avenue.

Regardless, all of the above remains fan interpretation, and there was little in the text of the show that seriously tied Judaism into Hardison’s identity. At least, until we got this beautiful speech from Hardison in the very first episode of the renewed show, directed at the character of Harry Wilson, a former corporate lawyer looking to atone for the injustice he was partner to throughout his career:

“In the Jewish faith, repentance, redemption, is a process. You can’t make restitution and then promise to change. You have to change first. Do the work, Harry. Then and only then can you begin to ask for forgiveness. [...] So this… this isn’t the win. It’s the start, Harry.”

I was floored to hear this speech, and thrilled that it explained the reboot’s title, Leverage: Redemption. Although not mentioned by its Hebrew name, teshuvah forms the whole basis for the new season. Teshuvah is the concept of repentance or atonement for the sins one has committed. Stemming from the root shuv/shuva, it carries the literal sense of “return.” In a spiritual context, this usually means a return to G-d, of finding one’s way back to holiness and by extension good favor in the eyes of the Divine. But equally important is restoring one’s relationships with fellow humans by repairing any hurt one has caused over the past year. This is of special significance in the holy month of Elul, leading into Rosh haShanah, the Yamim Noraim, and Yom Kippur, but one can undertake a journey of redemption at any point in time. That teshuvah is a journey is a vital message for Harry to hear; one job, one reparative act isn’t enough to overturn years of being on the wrong side of justice, to his chagrin. As the season progresses, we get to watch his path of teshuvah unfold, with all its frustrations and consequences. Harry grows into his role as a fixer, not only someone who can find jobs and marks for the team, but fixes what he has broken or harmed.

So why was Hardison the one to make this speech?

I do maintain that it does provide a stronger textual basis for reading Hardison as Jewish by implication (though the brief on-screen explanation for why he knows about teshuvah, that his foster-parent Nana raised a multi-faith household, is important in its own merit, and meshes well with his character traits of empathy and understanding for diverse experiences). However, beyond this, Hardison isn’t exactly an archetypical model for teshuvah. In the original series, he was the youngest character of the main ensemble, a hacking prodigy in the start of his adult career, with few mistakes or slights against others under his belt. In one flashback we see that his possibly first crime was stealing from the Bank of Iceland to pay off his Nana’s medical bills, and that his other early hacking exploits were in the service of fulfilling personal desires, with only those who could afford to pay the bill as targets. Indeed, in the middle of his speech, Hardison points to Eliot, the character with the most violent and gritty past who views his work with the Leverage team as atonement, for a prime example of ongoing teshuvah. So while no one is perfect and everyone has a reason for doing teshuvah, this question of why Hardison is the one to give this series-defining speech inspired me to look at his character choices and behavior, and see how they resonate with a different but interrelated Jewish principle, that of tikkun olam. 

Tikkun olam is literally translated as “repairing the world,” and can take many different forms, such as protecting the rights of vulnerable people in society, or giving tzedakah (5). In modern times, tikkun olam is often the rallying cry for Jewish social activists, particularly among environmentalists for whom literally restoring the health of the natural world is the key goal. Teshuvah and tikkun olam are intertwined (the former is the latter performed at an interpersonal level) and both hold a sense of fixing or repairing, but tikkun olam really revolves around a person feeling called to address an injustice that they may have not had a personal hand in creating. Hardison’s sense of a universal scale of justice which he has the power to help right on a global level and his newfound drive to do humanitarian work, picked up sometime after the end of the original series, make tikkun olam a central value for his character. This is why we get this nice bit of dialogue from Eliot to Hardison in the second episode of the reboot, when the latter’s outside efforts to organize international aid start distracting him from his work with the team: “Is [humanitarian work] a side gig? In our line of work, you’re one of the best. But in that line of work… you’re the only one, man.” The character who most exemplifies teshuvah reminds Hardison of his amazing ability to effect change for the better on a huge stage, to do some effective tikkun olam. It’s this acknowledgement of where Hardison can do the most good that prompts the character’s absence for the remainder of the episodes released thus far, turning his side gig into his main gig.

With this in mind, it will be interesting to see where Hardison’s arc for this season goes. Separated from the rest of the team, the hacker still has remarkable power to change the world, because it is, after all, the “age of the geek.” However, he is still one person. For all that both teshuvah and tikkun olam are individual responsibilities and require individual decision-making and effort, the latter especially relies on collective work to actually make things happen. Hardison leaving is better than trying to do humanitarian work and Leverage at the same time, but there’s only so long he can be the “only one” in the field before burning out. I’m reminded of one of the most famous (for good reason) maxims in Judaism:

It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to neglect it. (6)

Elul is traditionally a time for introspection and heeding the calls to repentance. After a year where it’s never been easier to feel powerless and drained by everything going on around us, I think it’s worth taking the time to examine what kind of work we are capable of in our own lives. Maybe it’s fixing the very recent and tangible hurts we’ve left behind, like Harry. Maybe it’s the little changes for the better that we make every day, motivated by our sense of responsibility, like Eliot. And maybe it’s the grueling challenge of major social change, like Hardison. And if any of this work gets too much, who can we fall back on for support and healing? Determining what needs repair, working on our own scale and where our efforts are most helpful, and thereby contributing to justice in realistic ways means that we can start the new year fresh, having contemplated in holiday fashion how we can be better agents in the world.

Shana tovah u’metukah and ketivah tovah to all (7), and may the work we do in the coming year be for good!

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(1) Disclaimer: everybody’s fandom experiences are different, and this is just what I’ve picked up on in my short time watching and enjoying this show with others.

(2) See, for example, the introduction and first chapter of Boyarin’s book Unheroic Conduct: The Rise of Heterosexuality and the Invention of the Jewish Man (I especially recommend at least this portion if you are interested in queer theory and Judaic studies). There he explores the development of Jewish masculinity in direct opposition to Christian masculine standards.

(3) I might even go so far as to place Hardison well within the Jewish masculine ideal of Edelkayt, gentle and studious nobility (although I would hesitate to call him timid, another trait associated with Edelkayt). Boyarin explains that this scholarly, non-athletic model of man did not carry negative associations in the historical Jewish mindset, but was rather the height of attractiveness (Boyarin, 2, 51).

(4) Jews of color make up 20% of American Jews, according to statistics from Be’chol Lashon, and this number is projected to increase as American demographics continue to change: https://globaljews.org/about/mission/. 

(5) Tzedakah is commonly known as righteous charity. According to traditional authority Maimonides, it should be given anonymously and without embarrassment to the person in need, generous, and designed to help the recipient become self-sufficient.

(6) Rabbi Tarfon, Pirkei Avot, 2:16

(7) “A good and sweet year” and “a good inscription [in the Book of Life]”