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waywardrose · 1 year

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THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 18

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

4.7k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, angst with a happy ending, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Trigger warning for Jason Carver.

“Do you know a Chrissy Cunningham?” your father asked, filling his mug at the kitchen counter.

You paused in the doorway with a frown. The kitchen TV was off. Mom buttered toast instead of making pancakes or waffles for breakfast.

“Yeah…?” You glanced at the calendar to confirm it was Sunday. “We have Western Lit together.”

Mom set a plate of crispy bacon at the center of the table before fetching a section of the newspaper. She brought it to you, a furrow of worry between her brows. You took the section to read:

CHEERLEADER MURDERED IN COLD BLOOD A Hawkins High cheerleader was heinously murdered on Friday night by parties unknown. Christina “Chrissy” Elizabeth Cunningham, 17, class of 1986, suffered from fatal internal bleeding and multiple bone fractures in a trailer in the Forest Hills neighborhood of Hawkins, according to reports. There were no witnesses to the crime. However, the trailer owner has been cleared of any wrongdoing. “There is an evil here,” said Laura Cunningham, the victim’s mother. “It’s been growing and infiltrating this good Christian town.” The cheerleader had been beloved by teacher and student alike. Her father, Phillip Cunningham, said, “There was no reason for anyone to hurt our little girl. Chrissy was a sweet girl with a bright future.” Neighbors in Forest Hills are horrified. A resident who wished to remain anonymous said, “It’s that heavy metal garbage. It opens the gates for Satan. [It’s] real scary [stuff]. Kids these days blast it all hours of the day and night. That’s got to have consequences.” Responding officers have yet to locate the perpetrators. “Deputies are working with state law enforcement to collect evidence and statements concerning this case,” the Roane County Sheriff’s Department said. Cunningham was well known in her community and had a kind word for everyone. She volunteered at First Church of Hawkins and the Roane County Animal CARE Humane Society. As head of the Hawkins High Cheer Squad, she always participated in school fundraisers. Hawkins High principal, Paul Higgins, called Cunningham an “exemplary student and person,” and said her murder was a tragedy. “I think I speak for my staff and our pupils when I say Chrissy will be deeply mourned. Our hearts are with her family.” Hawkins High will hold a memorial assembly when classes resume March 31st. Forest Hills’ sign has been piled with flowers and other mementos since the murder. A Hawkins High student said Cunningham was “a tender-hearted girl and the most supportive friend anyone could ask for.” If you have any information which can help the case, please contact the Roane County Sheriff’s Department.

Your mouth went gummy as you finished reading. Now that Chrissy’s murder was in the paper and on the news, everyone would be scrutinizing the residents of the trailer park. The mention of heavy metal wouldn’t work in Eddie’s favor, either.

You’d called the Munson’s trailer earlier, but the call wouldn’t go through.

Mom stepped aside as you shuffled to the kitchen table. You flopped into the first chair you came to and skimmed the article. Chrissy Cunningham, a shoo-in for prom queen, died at Eddie’s place while Wayne was at work. It had been just the two of them.

What had she been doing there? Buying drugs? The cheerleader who volunteered at church buying drugs?

You looked at the grainy version of Chrissy’s senior-year portrait and questioned if anyone had known her at all.

Still, her buying drugs sounded wrong in your head.

Had Jason put her up to that? Was she the go-between? Jason barely tolerated Eddie, but the basketball team was sure to have partied hard after the game. Maybe he’d sent her to buy some pot or whatever.

That made no sense, though. You saw the same footage again on the news before Saturday Night Live. There’d only been Wayne’s truck in front of the Munson’s. Also, Chrissy didn’t have a car. She might have a license, though. If she’d borrowed a car, it would’ve still been there. Unless there had been a third party…

Then Eddie could’ve come home from Hellfire, found Chrissy’s body, and ran.

But why would someone want to kill Chrissy? And frame Eddie for it?

“—okay?”

“What?” you asked, shaking your head and looking from the newspaper. “Sorry.”

“You okay, sweetie?” asked Mom.

“Um… Yeah, just…”

You didn’t know how to end that sentence.

“We don’t have to do anything today.” She sat next to you and placed a gentle hand on your forearm. “Take the day, if you want.”

“No, it’s… I’m okay. It’s a shock, is all.”

Your father sat, mug in hand, and remained quiet. For once, he looked sympathetic.

Mom studied your face for a second before nodding.

“Okay, but there’s no pressure.”

You attempted a grin, but failed.

“Thanks.”

She gave your arm an affectionate squeeze before returning to the toaster. Your father remained quiet and snuck a piece of bacon. You stared at the article, still wondering why Chrissy had been at Eddie’s.

A terrible thought arose that had you heading for the powder room.

What if she’d been there because she and Eddie were involved? What if you were the side piece?

You shut the door, flipped the light-switch, and sat on the closed toilet lid. Your breath wouldn’t deepen. It stayed right under your throat. You stared at the blurring ceiling and willed your chest to loosen.

They could make sense as a couple in The Breakfast Club kind of way. Maybe that was why Eddie antagonized the jocks: because one of them had claimed his girl. Maybe during his drug runs he stopped by Chrissy’s…

Then you remembered New Year’s when he said he’d give you everything, that he was trying to give you everything. He’d said he wanted to be good enough for you. His expression had been sincere — too sincere for a lie. He might be a good DM and storyteller, but he wasn’t a liar. Not like that.

You breathed deep and exhaled. There was no place for doubt at a time like this. Eddie was innocent — and he’d never given you a reason to distrust him.

A soft knock at the door interrupted your meltdown.

“Breakfast is ready,” said Mom through the door.

After breakfast, you changed clothes and hauled the galvanized planters Mom had purchased yesterday to flank the front door. You felt a little smug about how good they looked despite the overcast sky. Once you filled the planter with gravel and soil and the bushy lavender, they would look even better.

As you carted the supplies you needed, you thought of The Veil of Undeath spell from last night. It called for dead pieces of a living thing. You couldn’t make sense of what had dead pieces yet remained alive. Not even the incantation clarified.

Dead from the living Dust from the dead I consume like the worm I keep the grave by my heart As I exhale this last breath, I accept the embrace from Death

Naturally, the instructions weren’t much help, either.

The practitioner is to gather graveyard dirt and two dead portions of a living thing. One part to accompany graveyard dirt, the other to ingest. Place graveyard dirt and one dead portion in receptacle to keep on person. Keep living thing alive to maintain charm. Daily consumption is unnecessary.

You understood the spell was centuries old. Also, the book had been written almost a hundred years ago. Some spells you’d read were so heavily coded, you needed a reference book to understand them.

It was times like these you wanted to translate everything in modern language. That was what your personal journal was for. Of course, the danger of translating and making it public was: 1. getting it wrong, 2. harm coming to those who used your spells, and 3. exposing yourself as a witch.

None of that solved your current predicament. You needed to figure out the spell before tonight.

Just then, a shiny black Jeep pulled onto the driveway. You straightened and dusted your work gloves on your legs. The Jeep looked familiar. Your suspicions were confirmed when none other than Jason Carver climbed out of the vehicle.

You stepped onto the front path as he crossed the grass. He was picture perfect in crisp khakis, a spotless polo shirt, and a letterman jacket.

“Good morning,” he said, amicable yet serious.

“Morning.”

You glanced at the Jeep to see multiple silhouettes. Something about him and his buddies waiting in the car had you on high-alert.

Trying kindness first, you said, “I’m sorry about Chrissy. I just read about it in the paper.”

He nodded with a reserved ‘thank you.’

“Is there—”

“You’re Eddie’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” he asked.

“I occasionally talk to him in class.”

His eyes narrowed as his head tilted. Condescension suffused his appearance, raising your hackles.

“Yeah,” he said. “I heard it’s more than that.”

You snorted. “Or you’ve imagined it is?”

He moved closer as if to intimidate the answer he wanted from you.

“Like I fantasize about that freak and you.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped to the side, wanting to head for the back of the house where Mom worked. He caught your arm whip-fast, grip bruising, and yanked you near. A sneer marred his all-American face.

“I bet you two have done some nasty shit.” He gave you an oily look. “Yeah, you’re a little freak too, aren’t you?”

You closed the distance, because you weren’t terrified prey. Especially not for Jason Carver. Maybe he had intimidated Chrissy like this, but you weren’t Chrissy.

You glared into his eyes, finding his pupils wide.

“Tell me all about this nasty shit you’ve imagined, Captain of the Tigers. I’d like to hear you say it.”

“I’m not here to play into your crazy bullshit.”

“Then why are you here?”

His face darkened.

“Where’s Eddie?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you said.

He shook your arm to jostle and throw you off balance.

“I mean it, where’s Eddie?”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

“Is he in there? Huh!?” Jason nodded at the house. “Did you kill her with him?!”

“No, and he didn’t kill Chrissy!” You twisted your arm in his hold. “He was at school playing D&D!”

He shoved you away. Your heel knocked into the lowest porch step, and you almost fell. You steadied yourself with a hand on the railing.

He leaned in to hiss, “Not all night, you goddamn freak.”

He marched away, hands balled into fists and shoulders hunched.

“Better a freak than an asshole!”

When he reached the Jeep, he yanked open the driver’s side door. He scowled at you, which you returned. You kept scowling until he reversed onto the road and drove away.

Once his vehicle was out of sight, you sagged onto the porch and threw your gloves to the stairs. Your neck and shoulders were stiff from how tense you’d been. You stretched out the tightness and massaged with shaking hands. You could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. It rushed from deep in your gut and spread to your fingertips. Your heart was the hammer and the anvil, an engine in overdrive.

With a curse, you tried to think of where Eddie would hide. You had to warn him Jason and his cronies were after him. However, you didn’t know this town well enough. There were people and areas you’d never heard of. He might not even be in town anymore, which gave you a speck of hope.

Mom called your name from the open garage. You perked and replied. She came around the side of the house, then paused.

“You okay?” she asked. “I thought I heard a car pull up.”

“Oh, uh…” You thought quick. “Someone used the driveway to turn around.”

She hummed. “Perks of suburbia, I suppose.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, anyway, do you know where the garden shears are? I need to trim a few dead branches from the rosemaries.”

You frowned at her wording.

“What was that?”

“Garden shears?”

More to yourself than her, you said, “To trim the dead branches from the rosemaries.”

“Yes…?”

That was what the spell meant. You wanted to bonk yourself on the head. Plants can have dead pieces and still live. You could also consume those dead pieces without making yourself sick — as long as the plant was edible, of course.

You smiled at her, and said, “No, I haven’t seen them.”

She gave you a funny look, but accepted your response. As she disappeared into the garage, you wrangled your gloves on, stood, and returned to planting the lavender. You could eat lavender and roses and rosemary. It felt like fate to have bought them.

Before you planted both lavenders, you inspected them to find nothing wilted nor branches broken. Taking a cutting didn’t fulfill the spell’s requirement of ‘dead portion.’ Yes, it would die after you cut it, but it would be alive when you took it. That was very Grim Reaper, yet it wasn’t what the spell was about.

You neatened the porch, gathered your remaining supplies, and went to the pots of roses. There you found multiple dead leaves. You plucked a few and pocketed them before planting the roses in the ground.

Now all you needed was graveyard dirt. Unless there was a convenient cemetery down the block — which there wasn’t — you’d have to drive all the way to Roane Hill Cemetery. However, you had no excuse to be out. If you said your car needed gas, that would mean actually stopping for gas, which never took long. You could say you wanted to buy snacks at the grocery store, but again, that would mean actually shopping.

On top of that, it was Sunday. Everything closed early on Sundays around here.

You had to think of some excuse to leave the house that wouldn’t interest your parents nor rouse suspicions. And you had only a few hours to do it.

With hose in hand, Mom offered to water the new plants if you’d finish the last of the clean-up. You agreed, throwing out the empty nursery pots and washing the gardening tools. The clouds broke as you loaded the cleaned tools in the caddy.

You stood at the top of the driveway and breathed deep the scent of wet earth. Water droplets glinted like prisms on leaves and hung like crystal baubles. Sunlight danced between leaves. At one time, you would’ve sensed the flourishing life of each thing around you. Now all you had were ordinary perceptions—

“Strange day, huh?” Mom said, dragging the hose into the garage.

“Yeah.”

You trotted over to help her coil the hose and stow it with the other gardening supplies.

She said, “Doesn’t feel like a Sunday.”

“More like a Saturday.”

She hummed in agreement before perking.

“How about I make a cozy soup for dinner? That’s a good Sunday meal. There’s still some cheese bread from the bakery we could have with it…”

“Sounds good,” you said as you hit the garage-door control by the stairs.

You turned to go inside, but Mom stopped you with a hand on your upper arm.

“Sweetie, you know if anything’s bothering you, you can talk to me.”

You nodded.

“I know, but I’m okay.”

“Alright.” She patted your arm. “Good work today.”

“You too.”

She gave you a genuine and kind smile. You had the sudden urge to explain everything from the beginning, but she wouldn’t understand. You also had a deep dread she would see you differently if she knew it all. It was better for her not to know, maybe safer. In many ways, your perceived mundanity protected you both.

Up in your room, you pulled the dead rose leaves from your pocket and placed them on your desk. By a school library book. You barked a laugh. The public library was a perfect excuse to leave. You didn’t know if they were open, but there was a book return slot in the vestibule. It wasn’t as though your parents would recall if you had a library book due. There’d be no evidence, either, and the drive to the library was equidistant to the cemetery.

You went to the closet to search the storage box that held your spell supplies. There you found an unused sandwich bag that would work for the small amount of dirt you’d need. You folded that into your purse, grabbed the library book, and headed downstairs.

Mom was in the kitchen, browning chicken thighs in a dutch oven. You popped your head in the doorway to tell her you’d forgotten to return a library book. She glanced at you before asking if you needed money for the fee.

Of course, you didn’t. You told her it was due tomorrow, so it was no big deal.

She waved you off with a mellow grin and said dinner was chicken and wild rice soup.

You paused in the garage to consider taking a garden trowel. It would help if the ground was hard packed. With a shrug, you grabbed one you’d cleaned earlier and tossed everything on the passenger seat.

The drive to the cemetery was quicker than you expected, with hardly anyone on the road. You couldn’t tell if it was because it was a Sunday or because everyone was freaked out over Chrissy’s death. Or possibly both.

It turned out to be a backhanded blessing when you pulled into the deserted cemetery. You cruised to the back, seeing no one and passing no cars. In this section, the graves were abandoned, yet the grass remained tidy. Something told you the dead wouldn’t mind you removing a tablespoon or two of dirt.

Trowel and sandwich bag in hand, you headed for an old oak that shaded a few rows of headstones. Roots undulated through the earth like waves; the headstones were ships riding the swells. You knelt in front of a headstone and placed a hand on the ground. In hushed tones, you introduced yourself and explained your situation. You told them what you needed. Finally, you asked for their permission.

Then you waited.

A soft breeze rustled the oak’s leaves. Goosebumps trailed along your arms until they met at your nape, making you shiver. That was as good a sign as any, you supposed.

You thanked the dead and scooped dirt into the bag. After sealing the bag and smoothing the earth, you returned to your car.

Back home, you stowed the trowel, greeted Mom from the hallway, and hurried to your room. At your desk, you read The Veil of Undeath spell again. The spell’s annotation said it was for concealing oneself from an enemy. You assumed it hid you from curses — or what some referred to as the evil eye. While you didn’t know if you were being cursed on a nightly basis, you didn’t want to experience that level of pain until it killed you.

You laid out the dead rose leaves and the sandwich bag of graveyard dirt in front of the book. The only thing missing was a receptacle to keep on your body. You hummed in thought. A locket could work if you had one big enough, or a vial if you had one small enough.

You brought out the jewelry box you’d stowed next to your underwear. It held small trinkets along with old jewelry. Inside you found a silver locket from your late grandmother, but its openwork front wouldn’t secure the dirt. Beside it lay a plastic baby-bottle charm from a necklace you’d worn in middle school. It had a tarnished bell that now clacked instead of tinkled.

Placing the charm to the side, since it was useable, you continued searching. At the bottom of the jewelry box lay a small medicine bag an old friend had given you after a trip to North Carolina. She swore it was native made. The necklace part was long enough to hide under a shirt. Its leather was soft enough to tuck inside a bra cup, too.

Even though the medicine bag’s stitching was tight, you didn’t want dirt leaking out. You decided to cut a corner off the sandwich bag, putting the dirt and rose leaf inside, and burning the plastic closed. You could use a smaller portion and use the silver locket, but you would have to fold or tear the leaf.

No, you decided, better to use the medicine bag.

You fetched a candle and incense stick of frankincense. Once you set your desk as an altar, you inhaled the incense smoke and exhaled your fears in the candle flame’s heat. Your inherent magic might’ve been drained, but the energy remained in the tools of ritual. You had to trust them.

You held the medicine bag open over the incense smoke to cleanse it. Then the leaves. To finish, you swept smoke into the sandwich bag.

“Dead from the living,” you murmured, touching the leaves. “Dust from the dead.” You placed your hand on the mound of dirt in the sandwich bag.

“I consume like the worm.”

You brought a leaf to your mouth and put the brittle thing on your tongue. It tasted old and brown and dry. It fragmented against the roof of your mouth. The midrib crackled between your teeth. You gathered saliva and forced it down, swallowing with a shake of your head.

You said, “I keep the grave by my heart,” and held the medicine bag to your chest.

With a deep breath, you shook the dirt into one corner of the sandwich bag and snipped the corner off. You slipped the second leaf into the dirt before pleating the plastic closed. You kissed the pleat to candle flame and pinched it secure. The plastic cooled within seconds.

You then eased the packet into the medicine bag and looped the bag around your neck.

“As I exhale this last breath, I accept the embrace from death.”

You inhaled a stuttering breath, then blew out the candle.

The taste of the dry leaf vanished — as did the temperature of the room. Not that it went cold, but the temperature no longer affected you. When you went downstairs for dinner, the scent of the food didn’t induce hunger. And while the soup had a pleasing texture, it tasted lifeless on your tongue.

You’d forced yourself into bed during the small hours of the night and closed your eyes. When you opened them, it was morning. You weren’t rested, yet you weren’t groggy. Regardless, you lazed in bed to stare at the dim ceiling.

It had been a peaceful night with no pain. That didn’t mean you were safe without the spell. As they said, the absence of evidence wasn’t the evidence of absence. Something could still be coming after you.

As you sat up, you wondered if Eddie was safe and if he’d gotten any sleep. Perhaps you should try Wayne again. Eddie could be home. Or maybe Wayne knew where he was.

You went to the phone and dialed the Munson’s number. The line clicked a few times instead of ringing, which sounded as though it was being monitored. You hung up, letting your hand linger on the phone. If the Munson trailer was being monitored, the people doing it didn’t mean you or Eddie any good.

Pressing your other hand over the medicine bag, you prayed for the spell to keep them — whoever they were — from tracking you. Because it was obvious now Eddie was the prime suspect, and if you were going to find him, you needed anonymity. You didn’t want a visit from the police or the FBI or some shady government organization.

After going through your morning routine, you went downstairs. It was quiet with your parents at work. They’d left the morning newspaper folded on the kitchen island. On any other day, you’d throw it out, but the yellow sticky note attached to the front page caught your attention.

The newspaper headline read, ANOTHER FOREST HILLS MURDER. Mom wrote on the sticky note, Don’t leave the house.

You peeled the note from the newspaper to scan the article. It wasn’t just the location of this murder that copied Chrissy’s. This victim was a Hawkins High student who died from fatal internal bleeding and multiple bone fractures. You hoped it wasn’t Eddie. With the numbing effect of The Veil of Undeath, you weren’t sure you’d be able to feel if he died.

The article only identified the victim as an eighteen-year-old male. That detail had you relaxing, because Eddie wasn’t eighteen. That also meant the victim was in your class.

You frowned as you thought someone was targeting high-school seniors. That connection made no sense, though, unless Chrissy and this victim knew their murderer. Which didn’t narrow the pool of suspects, honestly. Everyone knew everyone else.

The article didn’t mention if the victim was a resident of Forest Hills, either. You had to assume he’d snuck into the neighborhood. To do what, though? Was he some dipshit looking to catch Chrissy’s killer? Did he want a souvenir?

With midday television news hours away, you returned to your room. Before leaving the kitchen, you threw away the newspaper, poured yourself a glass of juice, and grabbed a granola bar from the pantry. You weren’t hungry or thirsty, but you needed fuel.

In your room, you turned on lights and brought out all your spell books. There had to be at least one tracking spell. You spread the books across your bed, then drew one onto your lap. It didn’t have an index, and its chapter titles weren’t overly descriptive, but that was typical.

You tore open the granola bar’s wrapper, took a flavorless bite, and began skimming the book.

An hour later, your phone rang. You dropped the book you’d been reading as the phone rang again. Maybe it was Eddie. You scrambled off the bed, heart in your throat. Paper and pens and books clattered to the floor in your wake.

You picked up the phone in the middle of the third ring.

“Hello?”

“He didn’t do it,” said a young male in lieu of a greeting.

It only took a second to understand he referred to Eddie.

“I know he didn’t,” you said. Eddie was alive. “He’s not like that.”

“He told me to tell you she was a customer — and she was attacked.”

You nodded and steadied yourself with a hand on the desk. You’d known deep down he wouldn’t have hurt Chrissy, but it was nice to have the confirmation.

“I believe you.” The tight coil in your chest loosened. “Is he okay?”

“As okay as you can get while being on the lam.”

A small laugh bubbled out unbidden, and you closed your eyes.

“Where is he?”

“He swore me to secrecy.”

You snorted, because, yeah, that sounded like Eddie. “Oh, like he’s the brains of the operation over there.” Eddie was smart, but he wasn’t using every resource at his disposal, i.e. you. Instead, he relied on his little sheepies. “You’re one of the freshmen, right?”

The other end of the line went silent, which was answer enough. Your gut said this particular sheepy was Dustin Henderson, the clever smart-ass.

“Is he the leader there, Freshman?”

“No, but—”

“Look, I have access to things! Resources. I can protect him.” You waved a hand in the air. “I have a car! I can get him out of town!”

“Do you happen to have a gun?”

In the background, multiple voices shouted, “No!”

Dustin cleared his throat. “Never mind. You can’t get involved. He’d kill me.”

You didn’t want to threaten a freshman with a horrible, slow death if he didn’t tell you where Eddie was hiding. That would be wrong on so many levels. Dustin might be a pain in the ass, according to Eddie, but he was a good kid.

You took a deep breath you knew Dustin heard.

“Tell me, or I’ll track him down myself.”

“He’s on the move.”

Whether that was true or not remained to be seen.

“Makes no difference to me,” you said, hiding your uncertainty about your abilities. “I’ll find him.”

“Please, don’t. He doesn’t want you hurt or in trouble.”

Your eyes flooded as you shook your head. If Eddie thought you’d sacrifice him for your own comfort, he had another thing coming.

“I’ll see you around, Freshman. Be careful, okay?”

You hung up before Dustin could say more.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #waywardrose writes #em tagd

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waywardrose-archive · 1 year

Text

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY | 15

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, angst with a happy ending, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?

Weird weird?

He shrugged. He liked weird.

In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: More angst, but it’ll be worth it, I promise.

During the last Study Hall of the semester, Sheryl had revealed the secret New Year’s Eve party happening at this abandoned burger joint, Benny’s, on the outskirts of town. Everyone was going to be there. She’d been invited by Chance Lang, #23 on the basketball team. His parents were away on some couples-only cruise.

If everyone was going to be there, you’d joked, it wasn’t much of a secret. She, Heather, and Christy laughed. You’d smiled with a shrug. Heather had then teased Sheryl about her crush on Chance, saying the party was Sheryl’s opportunity to ride her way to prom queen. Sheryl had fluttered her hands as she stated the whole senior class knew who was going to be prom queen — and it wouldn’t be her.

You’d looked between the three of them and asked who they meant. Heather leaned in, Christy and Sheryl copying her. You leaned in as well. Sotto voce, Heather said Chrissy Cunningham was a sure bet for prom queen. After all, Chrissy Cunningham was the queen of Hawkins High.

Chrissy Cunningham sat diagonally from you in Western Lit. She was one of the least exasperating cheerleaders you’d ever encountered. At first, you’d avoided anyone who’d be featured in the athletics section of a yearbook. However, she was kind and humble. She’d even complimented your nail polish one time, which you thanked her for and told her the color.

She now sat on the second-hand sofa with her All-American boyfriend, Jason Carver. Chrissy sipped from a red cup that was most likely filled with Diet Coke. She didn’t seem the beer-chugging type. In contrast, Jason held a Pabst can high as he pontificated. The jocks lounging around them cheered when he said something particularly rousing.

Jason was a preacher without a pulpit, desperate for each hosanna to feed his bloated ego.

Keeping your annoyance to yourself, you filled your cup from the bucket of jungle juice at the old pick-up counter. Nearby, a game of beer-pong went into overtime. Heather and Christy were in the group of spectators. You joined them, bumping your elbow with Christy’s.

She brightened as she greeted you, her eyes glittering under the multiple strands of Christmas lights.

Heather curved around her to say, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said, though the shouting spectators drowned you out. Christy got your attention and moved closer to speak in your ear. You smelled the whiskey-and-Coke on her.

“Look who’s talking to Chance Lang.”

You followed her gaze across the main room. Sheryl and Chance were talking. Beside them, a few guys played Horse at the indoor basketball hoop. Sheryl nodded at something Chance said. He pantomimed some sportsball maneuver that had her laughing and touching his forearm. Chance grinned, pleased with himself, and cocked a hip.

You shared a look with Christy before giggling with her.

The crowd roared as the beer-pong game ended. A fellow spectator knocked into Heather, who knocked into Christy, who then knocked into you. The three of you staggered together and laughed.

“God, I need another drink,” said Heather, with a nod towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you said before leading the way around the crowd.

Christy latched onto your sleeve like a duckling.

In the kitchen, a couple made out by the defunct walk-in while a few people blew rails on the metal counters. Bottles of beer and wine coolers sprouted from the melting ripples of ice filling the industrial-sized sinks. Heather pulled a beer from the ice, placed the underside of the cap on the counter, and knocked the cap off. The beer foamed and dripped onto the already-sticky tiled floor.

You tapped your cup against her bottle as a toast and chugged your drink. No amount of fruit punch could disguise the burn of alcohol. You shook your head, nose scrunching, as you swallowed the last of the jungle juice. That must’ve been two or three shots at once.

You groaned, “Fuck.”

Christy shimmied behind you to fix herself another whiskey-and-Coke as Heather offered you a wildberry wine cooler. It wasn’t good to mix different drinks, but who the hell knew what was in that batch of jungle juice.

You tossed your cup into the rolling trashcan in the corner, making a clean shot. A random guy encouraged you to join the next round of beer-pong. You brushed off the encouragement with a laugh, because you weren’t pouring beer on top of jungle juice. Despite the adage of ‘liquor before beer, you’re in the clear,’ you’d never been that lucky.

Wine coolers, though? Those were fine.

You turned to the counter to try Heather’s technique for uncapping a bottle. After a few thumps, the cap remained firmly attached. Heather snickered when you made a face at her and asked for help. She angled the bottle and showed you how to hit it with the heel of your hand.

As you nodded, the backdoor opened. A gust of cold along with a familiar, deep voice had a shudder going down your spine.

“Close the goddamn door!” screeched a nose duster.

You squared your shoulders and struck the cap. It popped off and sailed to the floor. Heather and Christy cheered as your wine cooler fizzled. You faked a laugh before the three of you toasted and drank.

Eddie said he could attend — and sell — if Corroded Coffin didn’t have plans. You guessed they didn’t. He most likely hadn’t expected you to show. True, a party hosted by jocks with shitty music taste wasn’t really your scene. However, you didn’t want to stay at home to have a glass of champagne with your parents, then find the right moment to leave before your father began reviewing his upcoming plans for the year — or coax you into praising your Christmas gifts again.

This year they’d given you cash, a few movies on your list, a new stereo for your car, and your own phone line.

Mom planned to call the phone company on Friday to schedule a tech visit. You’d wanted to tell her there was no point. The person you’d been tying up the main phone line with wouldn’t be calling until April. Or maybe ever.

“Oh!” said Christy as the backdoor clunked shut. “I think Munson’s dealing out there. You want to split the cost of a few joints?”

You pulled a five-dollar bill from your pocket and gave it to her.

“Sure, you two go ahead. I gotta pee.”

Which wasn’t completely untrue, but you weren’t ready to see him yet.

“Sweet!” Christy said and boogied to the backdoor.

Heather paused to ask, “You’ll be okay?”

You nodded and pasted on a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine! I’ll meet you out front.”

She clinked her bottle with yours, her expression reassuring.

“If you’re not out there in ten, I’m coming to get you.”

With a smile, you said, “Hey, it all depends on the line.”

She smirked as you backed away.

On the way to the bathroom, you gave a thumbs-up to Sheryl, who’d joined Chance at the basketball hoop. She gave you an excited smile that was all teeth and twinkling eyes.

The line for the bathroom was short. While no one had puked over the toilet, the bathroom stank of old urine and boy-funk. As you washed your hands, you checked your hair and makeup in the graffitied mirror. You looked as good as you had when you’d left the house. You dried your hands on the sides of your jeans, collected your half-full wine cooler, and left the bathroom.

The main room was growing stuffy, smelling of beer and weed and those solid air fresheners. Smoke hung in the air and enhanced the cones of light from random lamps. You wove through the throngs of people until reaching the fogged front door.

Outside was brisk and sobering. A couple argued under the lone sodium light illuminating the parking lot. You breathed deep the crisp air to brace yourself for facing Eddie. You’d have to see him eventually, since you two shared a class. Better to get it over with now when you had the barrier of people and alcohol.

You rounded the concrete planter bed at the side of the building. Eddie leaned on a support post for the backdoor roof, back to the parking lot. Which was a relief. The tail of his flannel shirt hung beneath his jacket and vest to hide his ass. His black jeans were faded to the point of being gray. He conversed with Heather and Christy, though it was impossible to tell if they’d finished the deal or not.

Loose rocks crunched under your boots. You cringed at the noise and sidestepped to solid blacktop. Perhaps you could get away with not facing Eddie at all. However, Christy peeked around Eddie’s side, noticed you with a squeal, and skipped to you.

Eddie swung around the post to watch.

So much for not facing him.

You smiled at Christy’s excitement as she told you Eddie had given them a discount.

“How generous,” you said with a glance at him.

Heather sauntered around Eddie, the flawlessly rolled joints in her hand. He snuck a quick look at her back, i.e., he checked out her ass. You wanted to reprimand him with a look, but stopped yourself. Your relationship was paused, which meant he could check out anyone’s ass he wanted.

You could too, though you weren’t inclined.

Heather suggested the three of you claim one of the picnic tables on the other side of the building. Christy complained it was too cold for that.

“If we go back inside, some mooch will want in on these,” Heather said, holding the joints between her fingers.

“Ladies, if I may be so bold,” Eddie said as he approached. “You could avail yourselves of my van.”

With a glare, Heather said, “We’re not fucking you, Munson.”

“Let’s just go to my car,” you said at the same time he said, “It wasn’t a metaphor.”

“What?” Christy asked.

Eddie took his keys from his front pocket. A front pocket with a shiny wallet chain swagged under it. Your mouth went dry.

He offered his keys and said, “I’m not done here, so go smoke and bring them back when you’re done.”

Christy asked, “You trust us?”

He met your eyes briefly.

“Of course.”

You turned to the side and took a drink from your wine cooler.

“Fine,” Heather said and snatched the keys from his hand. “Thanks.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” said Christy.

“I’m parked farther up on Randolph.”

You nodded, murmuring a ‘thanks.’

The three of you turned from Eddie. You took two steps before he called your name. You sighed. Heather frowned when you stopped.

“I got a class with him. It’s probably something dumb,” you said to explain. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Christy pulled Heather away, heading across the parking lot.

You faced him — as you dreaded you’d have to — and crossed your arms.

“What?”

“Can I talk to you after the party?” he asked.

“I have to be home by one.”

“I’ll make it quick.”

“I thought you wanted space?”

“I do, but... Throw me a bone here. I want to explain.”

“Okay, fine, bone thrown.”

The corner of his mouth quirked.

“That rhymes.”

“Yeah, I’m the poet laureate of Hawkins, Indiana.” You spun on the ball of your foot. “See you later.”

You caught up with Heather and Christy already walking on the side of the road. Despite the long line of parked cars, it was easy to spot Eddie’s van. Heather unlocked the back doors and threw them open.

“God, it already smells like weed in here,” she said, though she shuffled in while balancing her beer in one hand.

Christy followed her with a giggle. “And we’re gonna make it worse!”

You’d never gotten a good look at the cavernous back of his van. Band equipment had scuffed the carpet. He’d bound cheap, stained blankets to the interior walls with bungee cords. A legless bench-seat sat propped against the driver’s side wall.

“I hope one of you has a lighter,” you said as you cracked a window.

Christy said, “Got us covered, babe.”

You closed the doors after you. Fortunately, a street-light was close enough to shine through the windshield. After you settled next to Heather on the bench-seat, she distributed joints and lit hers. You took the lighter last and twisted the joint as you put flame to rolling paper.

Your muscles loosened with each drag. Heather griped about her younger brother and his crusty socks. With only older sisters, Christy didn’t understand what Heather’s brother did to his socks. She asked if he just didn’t clean his feet. You laughed as Heather explained. Christy’s look of absolute disgust made you laugh harder.

“And your mom washes his gross stuff with everyone else’s!?”

“Well—” Heather coughed through an exhale. “Yeah? It all gets washed in hot water, so...” She shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Ew!”

A moment later, Christy mentioned she’d begun working on a college application essay. Your parents had begun bugging you about writing one, but you didn’t know where you wanted to go. Heather said she was applying to Notre Dame and Indiana University. Maybe Purdue. She said she had the GPA for any of them.

You hadn’t dwelled on college since meeting Eddie. You made decent grades. You could write an essay. The registration deadline for the SAT was in February. If you showed interest, Mom would be thrilled to pay any fee or purchase any study guide.

You could work on an essay too, just in case. There was an expanding-your-horizons angle you could use. You’d moved to a small town, joined the community, learned new things, met different types of people. Yeah, all that had fueled your curiosity to discover more. And whichever colleges you applied to could support you in that, like, pursuit.

That was some decent, ass-kissing bullshit.

You smiled to yourself while Heather and Christy chatted.

But what would you major in? How could you hide your magic from a roommate? If you went, would you ever see Eddie again?

All those questions were hassles you didn’t need. No, you didn’t need to think about that now. You didn’t need to worry. What mattered was enjoying the last night of 1985 and relaxing with people who were becoming more than acquaintances.

You exhaled smoke towards the back window and stretched your legs.

With a side-glance at Heather, you thought it was cool — okay, well, maybe not cool, but it was fine — that Eddie checked out her ass. She was hot. She had a cute ass. More people should appreciate it. When she went to college in a bigger city, people would.

Maybe if you went to college in a bigger city, people would appreciate you. In New York, you’d done pretty well at clubs. You’d heard plenty of pick-up lines. From ‘nice boots, wanna fuck?’ to ‘you’re the girl of my nightmares.’

You finished your joint, nearly burning your fingertips, and threw the tiny roach in your empty wine-cooler bottle.

Yeah, you thought and closed your eyes, you deserved to be appreciated. Not set aside by some dumb, muppet-haired guitarist... who was talented and funny and smart and usually really sweet. A small voice pointed out he’d let you use his van. He’d given you jewelry, which you wore nonstop under your clothes.

Those weren’t the actions of someone setting you aside, were they?

Heather nudged your arm. You hummed and turned your head to her, opening your eyes.

“You ready to head back?” she asked. “It’s a little after eleven.”

“Yup.”

You rolled onto your knees and crawled to the back doors. Someone wolf-whistled. You laughed as you shook your ass in reply.

The air outside tasted fresh and cool, like sparkling frost. You breathed through your mouth to chill your baked throat. The tranquil woods on either side of the road were full of mystery. If you crested the hill to your right, you expected to see a wizard’s castle or an ancient fortress. There was something akin to magic here. It fluttered over your skin, familiar yet arcane.

A slight breeze drifted from the woods, chilling your face, nipping under your jacket. And with it came a sonorous voice, deep with thunder, calling your name. It took the mellow of your high. Your skin crawled as your heart beat rabbit-fast.

Not again.

You hadn’t heard that voice in weeks. At least, you thought you’d heard it a moment ago. It shouldn’t be able to find you, though. Maybe you were really, really high. Also, the magic you’d manifested was different, weaker, so mundane. You didn’t feel really, really high. You had nothing it would want now. It had stolen everything.

Hands shook your shoulders. You flinched from the touch.

“Whoa, hey, oh my god,” said a feminine voice.

It was Christy. You blinked at her and put a hand over one of hers. Christy was safe. It was okay. You were awake. He didn’t have you.

You were just really, really high.

“Sorry,” you said.

“Where’d you go?”

“I...” You swallowed drily. “No-nowhere. Sorry. I just got in my head a little, I think.”

The van’s doors clunked shut. You flinched again, then internally berated yourself. It was only Heather, who was safe too.

Christy released your shoulders, a crease of concern between her brows.

“You know what?” Shaking your head to clear it, you said, “I’m gonna go home. Sleep this off.”

Heather asked, “You sure? I can drive you.”

“No, no, I’m cool to drive.” You nodded to the van. “We’ll leave the keys on the front floor for Eddie to find.”

“It’s okay. We’ll give them to him,” said Christy.

You almost laughed at your absentmindedness. They were returning to the party — where Eddie was.

“Of course, yeah, sure.”

You ambled down Randolph with them, grateful for the company. They asked where you’d parked your car. You replied on Cornwallis, where the woods bordered a sedate neighborhood. Christy commented her sister had gone to a party at King Steve’s — who lived on Cornwallis — before everything went down with that missing kid and the girl who died from some freaky chemical leak.

Your eyes widened at the gossip.

Heather waved that away with an insouciant hand, though, to joke at how close Christy had come to being family with Hawkins royalty. Christy cringed, asking not to be reminded, as she bumped into you. She giggled and looped her arm around yours.

Having noticed your previous expression, Heather told you King Steve was a douche-y jock and former king of the school. You were familiar with the type. Heather continued, saying he’d graduated last year, but still lived with his parents. He’d explained it as wanting to take a year off.

She gave you a loaded, if blurry, look.

You bobbed your head despite not being entirely sure what the look meant.

This was small-town life. There was loads of gossip and labels for everyone. As you looked at the barren trees lining the road, you figured you had a label as well. Probably something dumb, like ‘goth chick’ or ‘weird girl’ — or whatever.

The party was still going hard when the three of you stopped at the restaurant’s turnoff. Van Halen wailed through the half-opened front door. Some dude puked onto the wilted grass by the road. Eddie stood at the building’s backdoor, talking to a guy you recognized from Trig class.

Damn, Hawkins High was a small place.

Heather checked in with you to make sure you were good to drive. Even though you nodded with an assurance you were fine, Christy tried to lure you inside with the promise of snacks. There were chips and pretzels and someone had made a platter of Rice Krispy Treats, but who knew what had happened to those since you’d been gone.

Like, that dude could be spewing chunks of tainted snacks. That was a thing that happened, you were sure. Your reason had nothing to do with the guy selling drugs.

You glanced at said guy. He hadn’t noticed you.

You shook your head, declining Christy’s invitation. She hugged you, regardless. You wished her and Heather a happy new year. They returned the well wishes before you continued down Randolph.

You wrapped your jacket tight around your middle. Maybe you should’ve told Eddie you were back, but you didn’t want to stick around. Not after hearing your attacker. Or hallucinating you had. Your mind was fuzzy, mouth cottony. You hoped your less-than-sober state deterred them — if you’d heard them at all.

And anyway, it wasn’t like Eddie had specified how much later after the party when he’d asked to talk to you. ‘After the party’ could be the same day or a week from then.

Yes, you were being an asshole.

No, you didn’t care. He’d started it.

The road darkened as the distance between streetlights lengthened. You were alone on an ill-lit stretch of road. You placed a hand over the charms Eddie had given you. This wasn’t the same as that night, you reminded yourself. You weren’t the same. Darkness wasn’t the enemy, either — and neither was the woods. It was peaceful.

A male voice interrupted that peace by calling your name. It was Eddie.

Of course.

You turned to see him jogging to you. His hair bounced with each step. His lunchbox swung from his hand. You opened your mouth to ask how he’d worked out you’d left the party. Then it dawned:

Heather had returned his keys.

When you weren’t there with her, he’d put two and two together.

“Leaving without me?” he asked as he stopped a few feet away.

“I was going to do that anyway.”

“Ouch.”

You shrugged since it was true.

He scuffed the heel of his sneaker on the blacktop. You raised your eyebrows at him, though you doubted he could see it. He remained quiet. You could just discern when he bit his lip. Light glinted off the lunchbox. It became obvious he wasn’t going to speak first.

Like ripping off a bandage, you prompted, “You wanted to explain?”

He drew nearer with a deep breath. Your first instinct was to back away, but you held your ground.

“I know I hurt you, but that wasn’t my intention. I thought you’d get it.”

“So, this is on me?”

“No, of course not... You left, though. Before I could explain.”

“So, it’s still on me.”

“No, dammit. Everything came out wrong.”

“Then make it come out right.”

“I’m trying, alright?”

You wanted to tell him to try harder, but that was something your father would say. You weren’t your father. You’d never be like your father.

With a sigh, you put your hands on your hips.

“Just...” You shrugged. “Say what you need to say, and we’ll decipher it.”

“I didn’t— I don’t want to push you away.”

“Then why do you need space?”

“Because I need to focus on making this band the best it can be.”

“And I can’t be there for that?”

“You are there!” He moved closer. “You’re in my head. All the time. You inspire me and distract me. And I don’t know how to balance it out. Distance is the only solution I got until I’m better.”

You dropped your hands to your sides.

“I don’t understand. I mean, I do. Kinda. But I thought we were getting to something good.”

You thought you two were something good.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “We are. We will.”

You shook your head. The sting of a week’s silence had turned into an ache.

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

He put his free hand on top of his head.

“I’m gonna be honest with you here. I think about you every day.”

Your eyes grew hot before tears blurred your vision.

His hand fell from his head as he said, “I’ve picked up the phone to call you so many times, but...”

You blinked the tears away as your chin jutted.

“But you don’t call.”

“Neither do you.”

“You pushed me away! I’m not crawling back to beg for your fucking scraps!”

“My fucking scraps? I’d give you fucking everything. I’m trying to give you fucking everything!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about being good enough, goddammit!”

“What?”

“You’ve thrown my life... out of whack. The band is unhappy. I haven’t been able to concentrate for shit this past week. I don’t have a new module for Hellfire lined up.” He took a step closer, lunchbox rattling in his hand. “I didn’t ask for this, but I can’t...” He shook his head. “I can’t, ‘cause all I want to do is write songs about you. Talk through ideas with you. Show you some stupid thing I found or read some stupid article to you.”

“Then call me. I don’t have to come over.”

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth. With him this close, it was easy to see when his lip came back wet and full.

“I can’t. I don’t have that kind of willpower.”

“Then why are you telling me this? Just let me go.”

“It’s the difference between torture and agony.”

“Wha—? I don’t—”

“Torture ends, agony doesn’t.”

“And this is fucking torture, Eddie!”

“Yes, and it’ll end, I promise!”

“I’m so sick of this shit!” You threw your arms out. “I didn’t ask for this, either!” You poked his chest with a finger. “I just wanted you.”

He grabbed your hand in both of his as his lunchbox clattered to the ground. You tensed, unsure what to expect. His calluses rasped over your skin. He uncurled your fingers to press your palm to his warm chest.

Softly, he said, “It’s not forever.”

“I’m not putting my life on hold.”

“Good.”

“I’m writing a college application essay and taking the SAT.”

He nodded.

“You’ll do great.”

Before your brain caught up, your mouth said, “My parents got me my own phone line for Christmas.”

“Can I have the number?”

“Only if you promise to call.”

“I promise,” he said as he walked you backwards.

Your rear met the cold steel of a parked car. You leaned against its solid support. The only thing separating your front from his was your arm sandwiched between your chests.

“We shouldn’t do this.”

“Probably not.”

He drew your hand up his chest, under the collar of his flannel, to the side of his neck. His skin was silky and hot. He was giving you the choice: pull him in or restrain him.

He whispered, “Let me touch you.”

“We are touching.”

“Then let me kiss you.”

You glanced at his lips.

“How can we do that if you want space?”

“Forget space for the night.”

“What about tomorrow, huh?”

“It’s not tomorrow.”

You focused on the ringer t-shirt under his flannel. It would be so easy to run your fingers under the collar and tug him against you. And you wanted to. You could see yourself doing it — again and again. You could also see him pushing you away, going silent, then calling when he can’t stand jerking off alone anymore.

“You can’t yank me around like this,” you said.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You give me this wonderful Christmas present, then say you don’t want to see me until April. It’s barely been a week, and you want to talk to me. You let me and my friends use your van, then you say I’ve messed up your life. Now you want to kiss me?” You shook your head. “You are yanking me around.”

“I know this is a shit situation, okay? But you gotta see it from my point of view. If the band doesn’t win this battle, we’re toast. We won’t have a clean demo or the money to get out of here...” His eyes turned glassy in the half-light. “I can’t do it, baby, I can’t.”

Your chest tightened in sympathy, but you had to advocate for yourself.

“Well, I can’t have my heart broken every time you need some stress relief.”

“You think it’s a relief to know it’ll hurt you?”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s the only way to get the hell out of here with you.”

This circular argument was exhausting. You weren’t the type to make a musician choose between the band and the partner. That wasn’t fair. Eddie had to decide on his own. If you’d moved on, well, that was a risk.

You trailed your hand down his chest, then away.

“You know what? How about you figure out what you want and then come find me?”

You slid from between him and the car, banging your hip on the side-mirror. That must’ve looked super graceful. You rubbed at the sore spot as you trudged to your car.

Eddie called after you, but you couldn’t turn around. It would be too much.

He seized your upper arm to pull you back. In a move you’d only seen in an action movie, you spun around and propelled him to the next parked car. His hold disappeared as his backside plowed into the rear side panel, wallet chain clanking.

He looked as surprised as you felt. You’d done nothing like that before. Hell, you didn’t know you could do something like that.

Then you remembered he dared to keep you from leaving. Like you were some uncooperative puppy. You weren’t his to control.

You fisted his shirt and shoved.

“I’m sorry,” he said, raising his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“You can’t just grab me.”

You pressed your knuckles to his sternum. Your pulse thudded in your ears.

He nodded.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, Eddie, don’t grab me like that.”

You loosened your hold, but didn’t release his shirt.

“What was the plan, huh?” you asked. “Keep me here to listen to more of your shitty excuses?”

“I know what I want, alright?” He looked deep into your eyes. “I want you.”

“But not enough.”

“No, enough to work for it.”

He lay his hand on top of yours. You were shaking — and so was he. His other hand went to your hip and guided you between his spread knees. You wrapped an arm behind his back to rest against him. Though it hadn’t been long since you’d hugged him, it felt like ages. He smelled like you remembered: apple shampoo and cigarettes with the underlying scent of cheap aftershave.

Tension uncoiled from your chest as he wrapped his arms around you and settled his cheek on your head.

Into his shirt, you said, “I’m still mad at you.”

“Understandable.”

“You know, I’d never curse you or the band.”

“I know. It was a stupid thing to say.”

You looked at his face in the dim. The streetlight painted him in shades of orange. He looked back, eyes dark and sincere.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asked.

“Kiss me where?”

A corner of his mouth quirked.

“Anywhere you’d like.”

You should say no, should push away — or at least argue. Then you realized the argument had no end. It would continue until April. Maybe beyond. You didn’t want his absence for four months. You didn’t want to be without his touch, his thoughts, his laughter for that time. A week had created an ache. Four months would see you crumble to dust. You didn’t want that for him, either.

Yes, it was a weakness to give in, but you were weak.

You whispered, “How about we start with lips?”

“We can do that.”

You braced a hand on the cold trunk and hooked fingers under his collar to draw him in. He widened his stance to bring you near and tilted your face to his. As he moved in, you kept your eyes open to the last second.

His plump lips meeting yours knocked the air from your lungs. You angled for more, to kiss harder. A groan from deep in his chest egged you on. He pulled you in tight by the waist. Your breasts pressed against his front.

His tongue teased the seam of your lips. You grasped his ass to pull him impossibly closer. His lips parted with a gasp. His back arched, thighs spreading. You felt wicked as you sucked at his bottom lip. He tasted of beer and salt. You followed that predictable combination with your tongue.

He rolled his hips and cradled your jaw as his tongue slid over yours. A hint of stubble prickled at your skin. Whether from his absence or your high, everything was better than you’d hoped. His scent reminded you of basking naked in bed with him. It made you want to rub yourself all over him like a cat.

Distantly, you wondered why you’d avoided him earlier.

He broke the kiss, panting against your lips.

“Can I finger you? You know I’ll make it good, sweetheart. Let me touch you, yeah?”

The thought of those talented, dexterous hands between your legs once more had your cunt pulsing. You wet your bottom lip, tasting his spit. He looked at you like he knew how your body had reacted.

You nodded.

Perhaps it was a mistake, but you’d deal with the fallout later.

He closed his eyes and breathed out a ‘thank you.’ His hand went from your jaw to your chest as he nuzzled your neck. He cupped one of your breasts, squeezing and fondling. Your breath caught, nipples hardening. His familiar touch burned through your top and bra.

He whispered your name between kisses to your skin. You sagged against him, letting your head crane back. In reply, his hand snuck lower to unbutton your jeans. The heavy bulge of his erection dragged across your belly as he made room to unzip them. Memory flashed like lightning: you palming him through his boxers on Halloween, stroking his covered cock, the rocking of his hips.

You wanted that as well and trailed a hand up his inseam. He paused, legs tensing. You leaned back to meet his gaze. Shadows hid much of his expression, but you knew he was uncertain.

An internal petty streak liked his uncertainty, because he deserved it. He’d made you question your relationship. He’d been contradictory and confusing.

You wedged a hand between his legs. Through his jeans, you pressed the heel of your palm into the warm base of his cock while you cupped his sac with your fingers. He let out a little sound as you massaged the firm ovoids of his balls.

“No one’s ever heard you make that sound, have they?” you asked lowly.

He shook his head, and you mirrored him.

“Anyone touch you like this?”

“No.”

“That’s right. No one’s taken their time with you, right?”

He gasped, “No,” with big, bambi eyes and parted lips.

And you wanted to savor him. You wanted him in your bed again, wild hair fanning across your pillow. You wanted to touch and be touched.

“No,” you said in agreement. “Just me.”

His thighs parted a little more as his breathing quickened. He rocked into your palm. The faltering hand at your stomach moved away to make room.

“Don’t stop,” he said.

You hummed and watched yourself caress the length of his denim-covered erection.

“Why start?” you asked.

“What?”

“After we get each other off, it all goes back to silence.” You dragged your nails up his cock, which throbbed. “Fuck, what are we doing?”

He put cool hands on either side of your face to force you to meet his eyes.

“We’re doing what’s necessary.”

He kissed you. He devoured you. The universe revolved around his plush lips against yours. Instead of a bright center, it was dark. He slanted his head, lips smearing across yours — an asteroid made of diamond. His tongue invaded your mouth, like he was desperate for your particular flavor — a black hole to draw you in.

You held onto his hips and rested your front on his. He spun you to lean on the car instead — twin stars orbiting each other. One hand went to the fly of your jeans to unzip them. His fingers splayed at the waistband of your underwear, pinkie sneaking underneath.

That touch, though gentle, seared your belly. You angled your hips.

“Your skin’s so soft,” he said against your lips.

It was your turn to say, “Don’t stop.”

Eddie hid his face in your neck and inhaled deep. He hummed as you clutched his shoulders. His hand snaked under your underwear until two nimble fingers slid between your wet folds.

You gasped, eyes going wide. That single touch made you quiver.

“This’s what I need,” he said as he found your clit.

You breathed a laugh. “Yeah? Creamed your jeans over this?”

“You got no idea.”

“Show me then.”

In silent acceptance of the challenge, he circled your clit how he knew you liked. It was the right pressure, fast and firm enough.

“So wet.” He dragged his teeth over your neck. “Wanna bend you over this car.”

You squirmed on his fingers.

“Maybe later.”

“Yeah, later,” he said before sliding a finger inside you.

His palm cupped your mound, finger massaging your slick cunt. He stroked your walls and teased your g-spot. You maneuvered him by the hair to kiss him. His mouth was lush and demanding and perfect. With one taste, you couldn’t get enough.

He rocked his hand, keeping the pressure on your mound and inching his finger in and out. You groaned into the kiss as you writhed. It wasn’t enough — and he had to know it.

“C’mon, gimme what I need.”

“Yes, milady.”

He eased his finger out and returned to circling your clit. You nodded while biting your lip and stilling your hips. He began slow, using two fingers to keep the stimulation going. Your legs wobbled. You jerked against him. An arm slithered between your back and the car.

“I got you.”

You clung to him and swayed with the motion of his fingers. You continued moving until he was working your clit too fast. Letting your forehead rest on his shoulder, band pins cool on your skin, you panted as pleasure grew. It licked like fire up your spine.

There was only heat and escalating tension. He held you tight through it. Grateful, you wanted to kiss him again, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t break the spell, lose the thread. But you thought of his talented, ripe mouth — fuck, his tongue — thought of him bending you over and eating you out. He could do it right here, in the open, with the chilly air flitting over your exposed ass. Your cries would echo through the woods.

“Oh, shit...”

“That’s it, baby.” He kissed your temple. “Come all over my hand.”

You groaned as thoughts fractured like glass. You were going to come just like he wanted you to. It was right there. You teetered on that event horizon. The licking fire became stronger, hotter, until it blazed — a supernova. You muffled your moans in the soft denim of his vest as you came. Your cunt throbbed — a pulsar. It kept going and going as you burned and clawed and strained in Eddie’s arms.

His fingers came to a standstill, pressing on your clit. You shivered as your cunt pulsed one last time.

You grabbed his nape and pulled him in for a kiss. He kissed you deep and hard, nipping at your lips, tongue invading and teasing. His soaked fingers spread a honey-like trail over your skin as he gripped your hip.

“Take me home,” he said. “Sneak me inside. I’ll fuck you all night. Do anything you want.”

You blinked away the daze of orgasm as you caught your breath. Home meant getting his perfect cock in you. His hands would hold your hips, fingers digging hard enough to leave bruises. You could ride him on the window seat as the sun rose. Your parents would be sleeping off hangovers until at least noon—

A pop of a firework interrupted. Cheers and whoops rang from the old restaurant.

It was tomorrow — and now 1986.

“Can’t. We can’t,” you said.

He opened his mouth to protest, but you placed fingers on his kiss-swollen lips.

“Really. We can’t.”

You traced the edge of his lips as he stared at you with dark, gleaming eyes.

“This sucks.”

To assuage his suffering, and yours, you kissed him once more. His grip on your hip tightened. He sucked on your bottom lip and rolled his hips against yours. It nearly had you forgetting yourself, your surroundings, your self-respect.

You pulled his hair to break the kiss. He groaned. His erection pulsed where it pressed into the side of your belly. You shushed him, running fingers over his hair.

You asked, “Want me to drive you to your van?”

“Nah, I need to cool off.”

You hummed. “Not possible.”

He snorted. “It’s going to be a long four months.”

With a nod, you smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone.

“Happy New Year, honey.”

You released him and stepped back. His hands left warm stripes on your hip and back. You fastened your jeans, the wetness in your underwear uncomfortable.

You finally looked at him. His bottom lip quivered, as though he was just hanging onto his composure. You wanted to offer comfort, to give in, to take him home, to forget the past week. Instead, you took another step back.

Your throat was taut as you said, “See you in O’Donnell’s.”

He nodded and looked at his feet.

Your heart wrenched, making it hard to breathe. Your eyes flooded, making it hard to see. You didn’t know what else to say, so you remained quiet. You weren’t sure you could speak, anyway.

When he didn’t raise his head, you tiptoed around him. You made it a yard or two when he said your name. You turned to find him watching.

“Happy New Year.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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gold-steins · 2 years

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i haven't posted (or really been properly active, i've been lurking for about half a year) in four years and i might end up deleting this because its so random and this isn't the account to do it but its the only one i have. fanfic writers — specifically eddie munson girlies who write x reader fics/blurbs — i so desperately need you to write more alt!reader fics. i need more of the [loser] nonpopular, punk/goth/etc girls Please. even the tomboys! i am drowning in prep/cheerleader fics/blurbs and im sure other alt girlies feel the same. thats not to say your works aren't good because they are. if i possessed even a drop of talent, and if i wrote stories/fanfics, i'd do it myself lol. so Please for the alt girlies give us a crumb. ((also would be lovely if they were poc inclusive))

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x alt!reader #eddie munson x poc reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x latina reader #stranger things

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ohsimspo · 1 year

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Pride month is coming and I thought it might be fun creating a challenge dedicated to it. The idea is to create couples in CAS! But it doesn't have to just be a challenge; it can be used for ideas in general. Just have fun with it. (And although it says w/w and m/m, I'm not excluding non beanies or other folks in the LGBTQIA+. Like I said, just have fun with it.)

prince / princess x loyal knight

goth x pastel

cottagecore x dark academia

fae x vampire

bimbo x librarian

human x werewolf

pirate x selkie / merfolk

ghost x groundskeeper

chauffeur x celebrity

bookstore owner x artist

florist x tattoo artist

demon x angel

jester x knight

lifeguard x merfolk

elf x traveller

huldra x baker's daughter

hunter x vampire

werewolf x vampire

dragon x royalty

living statue x gardener

werewolf x hunter

knight x stablehand

alien x conspiracy theorist

archeologist x immortal

real estate agent x unsellable house's ghost

your choice

half spider / drider x naga

siren x diver

detective x thief

hero x villain

and because I went way overboard, your bonus challenges/inspiration can be found below the read more.

blue x red

photographer x model's assistant

mortician x zombie

guard x the guarded

sun x moon

scientist x failed lab experiment

court jester x prince / princess

journalist x antihero

cheerleader x sports player

tired college student x barista

fashion designer x model

punk x gamer

author x video game designer

social butterfly x loner

doorman of hotel x receptionist

workaholic x late night janitor

henchman x sidekick

singer x songwriter

tourist x summer not-so-fling

beekeeper x farmer’s market stall worker

sidekick x villain

zookeeper x animal communicator

if anyone has an ideas they'd like to add, feel free to message me. i'll add more to this post or make a separate one.

#cas #cas challenge #sims challenge #sims cas challenge

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animealways · 2 years

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oh the irony

oc x oc/yulivia lilienne boonchuy get a chance with her crush

Lily was sitting under the bleachers completely ignorant to the hot blonde cheerleader walking towords her.

''hey umm can i sit here?'' ''uh yeah sure.''

lily put down her videogame, kinda confused as to why emma the principal daughter decided to sit here. she almost wanted to check her good eye (she is blind in her right eye due to a childhood incident and cover it up with a black binder eye patch)

''sorry to bother you, i know this is sort of your spot.'' lily raised a eyebrow at that as her heart was beating so hard she could practicly feel it jump out of her chest. ''i mean, i see you around during games and sometimes even practices.''

''so uhh why did you come here..?'' lily slightly tilted her head while asking the question. she tried hard to keep her cool while talking to her crush. ''hehe fair question, i just wanted to get away from the noise i guess.'' that only confused lily more.

''uhh not to be rude but isn't that what you sign up for, i mean with the games and cheering you guys have to do?''

''okaay well, y-yeah thats a fair point, you are signing for noise i guess. when i wanted to sign up i thought more of it as a sport. kinda stupid i didn't think about everything els, i guess. i just wanted to do the tricks and stuff.'' emma looked around abit. ''its very peacefull here, you can still see the game but with more space.''

...

''uhh yeah its nice. thats why i sit here alot. hehehe...'' son of a slug was that ackward. lily cursed mentally at herself for that. ''uhh sorry, my name is emma and you?''

''im lily.'' she gave small smile that hopefully looked genuine. ''well nice to finally know your name.''

''oh?'' ''yeah i noticed you're under the bleachers pretty often, others have too. its always like 'who is that?' pretty mysterious. i actually think some of the girls on the team are scared of you.''

what els is new. lily thought to herself with the punk/goth/emo esthetic she had, it wouldn't be the first time someone judge her based on clothes alone.

''but that only made me want to sit here more, i guess im curious. uh sorry, i'm probably weirding you out. you sit here all the time and now this random cheerleader comes here in your sp-''

''no! its... its fine, you can come sit here whenever you want.'' lily cut her off in fear that emma walks away and that she might never get a good reason to talk to her again. ''i-i mean its not like i own the bleachers. would me kinda rude if a told you off just for wanting to sit here,''

''i suppose you're right but i assume you sit here alone for a reason.'' well she isn't wrong, lily told herself. there was silcent before lily decided to ask her a probably ackward question. ''so uh are you alright. i kinda saw the captain screaming at you...''

''ah you noticed, huh. yeah, i also came here to get away from her. alot of the girls on the team are nice though. they aren't like the cheerleaders in the movies and stuff but our captain is a very different story. i needed to get away from her and this seemed like a nice place. i also was curious to know who you are, so i killed 2 birds with 1 stone i guess.''

lily looked at the ground before asking emma another question. ''sooo did i live up to you're expections or..?''

''uh yeah you did and more actually.'' ''i did?'' lily asked confused again.

''well yeah~, i expected you to tell me to 'fuck off' actually.'' lily eyebrows got closer to each other. do i really look like that type of person? she mutter under her breath, soft enough for emma not to hear. ''like this random cheerleader with her pompomps and her bright ass uniform comes over to the cool kid sitting under the bleachers and just..''

what did she just call me? she thinks i'm cool? lily eyes widen at the words. ''i don't think most people would consider the girl that wears all black clothes, black eyeshadow, black eyeliner and leather jackets almost every single day 'the cool kid'.'' most people label her as creepy or something along those lines.

''yeah well, i think you're cool. its pretty obivious you no one is going to change you anytime soon.'' she shrugged and lily hold herself back from making the biggest grin ever. ''as a cheerleader you kinda just grouped together and seen as the same.''

''i don't think you're the same as the other cheerleaders, after all the fact you're sitting here talking to me kinda proves it.''

''okay, touche most cheerleaders wouldn't go and talk to the mystery kid under the bleachers. i guess that does make me different.'' emma smiled.

''well you have been asking me alot of question, wich makes sense i am the 1 that came over here. but i always wondered why do you sit under the bleachers? you don't seem like the type to care for sport games or my cheer practices or am i wrong?'' lily started to pick at the gras infront of her, a habit she had whenever she didn't want to answer something.

''o-oh i like doing... stuff underneath here...'' oh real smooth, lily thought to herself.

''its fine, you don't have to tell. if you didn't i would have never talked to you. you seem cool, way nicer then my captain for sure.'' emma pointed to the usual traning spot for the cheerleaders.

''i mean you could try for captain if she that bad.''

emma eyes widen at your words. ''i can't just become the cheer captain. its put to a vote? i think? honestly i'm not even sure. she's just always been the captain.''

lily leaned forword abit liking the conversation is going. ''well maybe its time to change it up abit and for someone els to step up.''

emma smiled at what lily was implying. ''maybe i will, don't know how but it be pretty cool. i would definitley stop with the 'punny' cheers and focus more skill, dear god i don't know where she gets those from.''

lily giggled at the comment and emma couldn't help but notice how different lily looked as she giggled. she looks pretty cute wich says alot about someone that is competely coverd in black and wearing silver chains, earings and rings. ''yeahhh, it be nice to not hear something about claws everytime another school with a cat like mascot came over.''

''ugh i know, i try so hard not to cringe when i hear them. the pompomps are a perk though, swinging these around is more fun then most people think. i should leave though, i took enough of your time.''

''its fine, you can stay.'' lily waved her hand around trying to seem casual. ''you sure?''

''yeah i like talking to you. unless the others are looking for then you can go...''

''oh them? i'm pretty sure they saw me walk over here and thought i was crazy but that doesn't matter. they're missing out anyway. you're really friendly up close and cute at that.'' oh frog she called me cute lily bite her lip not letting her emotions get he better of her. ''oh you're just flattering me now.''

''no i mean it, beside people should compliment each other more.'' lily rubbed her trying to work up her confidents. ''well you're really beautifull, like the most out of the team.''

''oh i don't know about that. we have alot of pretty girls on the team.'' yeah but you're my favourite lily thought to herself. ''yeah but i like you better then the others. you work harder then them.''

''how do you know?'' ''i watch your guys practise, remember.''

''oh right i forgot that for a sec. you still haven't told me why though.'' should i tel her? she decided she might as well. ''well~ my mom makes comics as a living the art, storyline, pretty much everything. i uh like to help her out here and there. so i d-draw people to help her out with designs and poses and stuff...'' lily avoided emma eyes with the increase ackwardness she is feeling.

''really? thats... really cool. can i see some of it?'' lily eyes widen at the last scentence, ah crud. ''i uh well it isn't anything impressive, just some sketches and drawings and stuff...''

''oh come on, i bet it looks great. i promise i'm not gonna judge you. they are of me or well... i'm assuming i'm in there somewhere.'' uh alot actually. lily grabbed her backbag and found the notebook. as emma grabbed it and open it, she found a very detailed drawing of herself.

''yeah, just some sketche-'' emma looked up from the book straight into lily eyes. ''are you kidding me this is amazing! i can see being a artist runs in the family.'' lily smiled at the compliment.

'' i wouldn't called it art.'' emma raised a eyebrow at her. ''then what would you called?''

''oh you know drawings, sketches. that sort of thing.'' lily was fiddling with her hands not sure how to act around emma anymore.

''you really made me look beautifull.''

''well its easy to draw someone pretty, if their already drop dead gorgeous.'' lily casually said without a second thought. ''i don't know about 'drop dead gorgeous' but thank you.'' oh shit i said that out loud!? lily froze for a second before swallowing.

as lily was about to open her mouth she could hear someone shout. ''emma! there you a-are... what are you doing with them?'' lily looked at emma and then amelia. ''oh we're just talking, anyway whats up?'' emma looked up to her friend. ''well your dad is here to pick us up.''

''oh okay looks like i gotta go.'' she got up on her feet. ''but before i go.'' emma bended down and kissed lily on the cheek ... ''hehe, sorry if i surprised you but i wanted to thank you before leaving.''

she smiled and waved while lily just stared wide eyed at her but as soon emma started walking lily grabbed her hand. emma turned around looking at lily. ''i uhh are you free monday? we can hang out since i don't have any plans that day.''

''yeah i'm free then. oh! i almost forgot, do you have a pen?'' lily without saying a word dropped emma hand and grabbed a pen out of her bag so she could give it to emma. she scribbled on lily hand. ''and~ here, now you have my number.''

she handed the pen back to lily and walked away with amelia. lily looked back at her hand and smiled. she look up to see the 2 girls walk away and lily stood there smiling like a idiot. she immediately save the number in her phone.

~hour later~

''its dinner time!'' anne shouted for the kids to come down. lily quickly saved the game and got to the kitchen to wash her hand. sasha noticed the weird colouring on her daughter's hand.

''what that?'' she pointed to words lily hand. ''hmm? oh this! i-i...'' lily try to search for the right words. ''i think i made a friend today!'' she smiled brightly at her mom. ''oh really? well tell me.'' sasha smiled as lily went on a rant about her new 'friend'. she was glad her daughter made a friend considering she knows how hard its was to make friends for lily.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i can't believe i wrote a entire fic about 2 girls sitting under the bleachers and talk but here we are. i'm planing on making a small series on this probably will take forever lol

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phoenixborn · 2 years

Note

Some ships to drop

Hysteria x Cindy

Cindy x Seviathan

Cindy x Frederick 👀

Cindy x Velvette (I remember we talked about it once

Cindy x Leviathan

Cindy x Cupid

Cindy x Pitch

Annnnd

Hysteria x Cindy x Seviathan (in which Hysteria and Seviathan constantly fight over the brain cell)

Ship bingo

Hysteria x Cindy

Look it's a bingo!!! Pastel goth & goth punk solidarity! Well, they have a lot in common despite the incredibly different power scale they operate on. Cindy is definitely...not right in the head either but at least she can recognize and enforce the importance of consent & look after Hysteria. It's a really adorable friends with benefits situation between two young women who enjoy their sexuality and don't know nor care when to shut up.

Cindy x Seviathan

You know how long I wanted to do a love story involving reincarnation and not in the traditional way?? They are adorable, can see them as the jock-cheerleader trope a tiny bit as she is bloody athletic. Her traumas, personality feel like they balance his chaotic dumbass out a little while also enabling him. A fun dynamic between literal cosmic horrors and I'm here for it

Cindy x Frederick

I think we both know what she will do if she breaks up with Seviathan, plus burning down most of his belongings- Getting with his dad is definitely not sane or safe but at least consensual and something she would definitely do. She's aware Frederick is married buuut...yeah. It definitely would be a one time thing, I don't think she would be interested after she got what she wanted: revenge and tentacle dicks.

Cindy x Velvette

I mean...it would be fun buuut Cindy is not Rozy. I feel like Velvet could potentially bring up even accidentally too much of her traumas and Cindy won't hang out with a rapist pimp without ending his life. She also chooses to not drink or do drugs in order to protect her voice; the customizing employees would freak her the fuck out. Also if she's stabbed for the fun of it, she will stab back.

Cindy x Leviathan

Cindy carries a surprising amount of envy. She has suffered so much and she doesn't feel she 'got her reward for it' . Many would say cosmic level power IS a reward but sometimes it feels more of a burden. To know, to hear, to experience so much as a bystander. I think Leviathan could very much play with her anger laced envy, for a while. Until Cindy learns he has been holding her distant relative captive. Until he learns that she's a fucking Véghváry.

Cindy x Cupid

Cindy doesn't understand why the sweet angel of love doesn't hate her. It is extremely wholesome, touching that Cupid is trying to show her how love should work, you know without the murder part. I feel like it probably will be platonic, they are adorable, Cindy needs some kindness in her life...and idk if Cupid needs her chaos in hers though😂

Cindy x Pitch.

Based mainly on @spxcemuses Pitch, but if you want to throw yours I'm ( ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ)( ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ)( ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ)( ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ)( ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ) Okay. Hooooly fuck. The first ever ship I've written on Tumblr and I'm not over it the slightest. The enemies to lovers, the struggle whenever exploit her fears to tear down the strongest opposing force; the pain whenever to rip the fearlings out of him for him to be free at last. Technically, he is too a cosmic horror & with my original lore about the creator of fearlings Serin'th adds an extra layer of spice. They...gone through so much, there are many layers, threads, jokes tying them together and honestly it's in my top 10 ships ever written.

Hysteria x Cindy x Seviathan

Fun, chaotic and after a while Cindy would probably lose her patience.😂 I do like the concept and the shenanigans it would cause, the pranks, the 'alliances'; I think they would have a great time. But...she needs something more serious in the long term. Someone who is strong enough emotionally for her because she is not.

#🔥 answered🔥 | now you see the world through my eyes

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insomniac-jay · 3 years

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My BNHA Ships

Tododeku: Yes I am basic. No I don’t care that I am. These two are just polar opposites of each other and I am a slut for opposites attract. But also because Izuku helped Todoroki grow as a person. He told them that their flames are not End*avor’s, but their’s. I can definitely see Shoto being Izuku’s biggest cheerleader as they get older.

Kiribaku: While I am very critical of Bakugo and his relationships with the “Bakusquad”, I do think that this is the only healthy Bakugo ship. But just because it is healthy does not mean that Bakugo gets to call Eijiro out of his name several times. I would like to see these two as a couple but Bakugo has a lot of issues to work on before he can be in a relationship.

Ochamina: What can I say? I love myself a pair of space themed heroes. Their theme is literally Space Girl and I think that Mina and Ochako are very compatible for each other. They balance out each other well.

Tsuchako: These two also have great chemistry with each other! Tsuyu’s blunt personality would be great for Ochako’s shy personality. Not to mention that they’re literally partners in every arc that features them.

Ochaminatsuyu: Yes. Just yes.

Iidayama: Why aren’t they more popular? Iida’s confident nature could help Aoyama with his low self esteem and insecurity in his Quirk. In turn, Aoyama could help Iida become the hero Iida wants to be. It’s basically a win win.

Momojirou: Much like Tsuchako, these are great for each other. Momo the intelligent yet nervous rich girl and Jirou the sassy yet socially inept punk. I would like these two to have an arc together where they go around and fight crime. Momo radiates a lot of sheltered gifted kid who was homeschooled energy to me so I think Jirou could definitely help her break some of her habits.

Serokami: I love these two because they’re practically made for each other. Not to mention that we need more gay rep that is just this emoji:

Shoutoko: From what little screentime they have (Hori give my boys screentime or else I will shoot/j), Shoji really does care for Tokoyami seeing as he stayed behind while Dark Shadow was going wild because he refused to leave them behind. They also have similarities due to the discrimination they face due to their appearances. These would work well not just as work partners but romantic ones as well.

Ojitooru: Listen, I get soft thinking about them okay? Ojiro’s calm and collected nature would definitely be entranced by Tooru’s bubbly and upbeat nature. Not to mention that they could bond over the treatment they got for their ‘boring’ Quirks.

Koda x Ibara: This was because of some art I found and the more I thought about it the more I realized that these two are not only good for each other personality wise but Quirk wise too. Nature lovers with powerful yet underutilized Quirks? Sign me up.

Monoshin: You can see a recurring theme of opposites attract but bond over past trauma.

Tetsukendo: Just a few of the cishet ships I’ll die for in the series because it’s girlboss x malewife. They are a cishet ships specifically made for the gays.

Kuroiro x Kinoko: The goth kid x the weird girl. Another cishet ships made for the gays.

Miritama: Self explanatory. Look at their backstories and every scene they’re in together.

Nejiyuyu: Another self explanatory one. Look at Yuyu’s bio and look at one of the things Nejire likes.

#bnha #i don't know why i made this i'm severely bored

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icegoddessrukia · 3 years

Note

If you had to do an X-Men Evolution x Glee crossover, how would you assign which characters in Glee correspond to which characters in X-Men Evolution?

That's a really clever idea!! Somehow I'm noticing some parallels between these two series despite how radically different their genres are.

Let's see:

Professor X - Mr. Schuester. This one is easy, Schue's the paternal figure and the good guy to Sue's "Magneto." He's the leader and he encourages them to recruit new members, tries to help them develop their skills. He relates to them because he used to be one of them.

Logan - Santana (??) - It was really difficult choosing someone that matches her personality but Logan has the sarcasm down and the anger

Scott Summers - Finn: He's a much friendlier/goofier version of Scott. They both are the "big brother" figure and they like being the leader. They both have difficulties in their love lives.

Jean Grey - Quinn: They're both defrosting ice queens, Miss Popular, and cheerleaders

Rogue - Kinda tempted to say Tina because of their goth aesthetic and their shyness but she's angstier than Tina.

Kitty - Brittany: There really isn't anyone who is eccentric enough to be Britt but Kitty is really cute and ditzy

Kurt (Nightcrawler) - Mike and possibly Kurt Hummel (?): Nightcrawler is so sweet and soft-spoken

Pietro and Remy- Sebastian: I can't explain it, they just have similar snarky, smug energy

Spike - Puckerman: They're punks and they just want to have fun without thinking of the consequences.

Rachel, Kurt, Artie, and Mercedes don't quite fit anywhere, or at least I can't really think of who is similar to them on the surface but if anyone can think of characters who they remind them of that would be interesting.

#X-Men: Evolution #Glee #this was interesting to think about #crossover

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alix-anonymous · 5 years

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MY RAGING HYPOCRISY. ALSO, LIGHTSABERS.

OCTOBER 2, 9:47 PM

Today, I met a boy.

Well… I thought I met a boy. Actually, I met a girl. That’s right: I got all prematurely gender-assigny… and I was WRONG.

In my defense, I was in the middle of a fairly epic anxiety episode, and she— whom I thought was a he— has these unsettlingly gorgeous blue eyes. NO ONE could be expected to maintain objectivity well under the gaze of those eyes. They were, like, lightsaber blue. My Gottes have turn to Jell-O just replaying the scene in my head.

Oh, and did I mention the lip ring? HOT.

NOW PLAYING: “There She Goes” by the La’s

Okay. Given the fact that even I am capable of making premature assumptions about someone’s gender, I will attempt to explain this with less than my usual dose of Gender Fluid Rage™️. (which, by the way, is the name of my new punk band.) The point here is that somebody’s gender expression—in this case, Lip Ring Girl’s goth-boy vibe— doesn’t necessarily indicate their gender identity. There are dudes who like to cross-dress (expression), and vice versa. So, even if you had X-ray vision and could see through my jeans, what you’d see there—or not see—and it can be way more complicated than just male or female. Some people, like me, slide on a continuum between the two. Others, as I’ve learned via my pathological blog-reading obsession, feel like neither, or like a third, unnamed gender.

I can’t blame you for trying to categorize me. It’s a human ink synced I can’t blame you for trying to categorize me. It’s a human instinct. It’s why scientists are, to this day, completely flabbergasted by the duck-billed platypus: is furry like a mammal, but lays eggs like a bird. It defies conventional classification.

I AM THE PLATYPUS. (Coo coo ka-choo.)

We’re all taught from a young age that there are only two choices: pink or blue, Bratz or Power Rangers, cheerleading or football. We see gender in two dimensions because that’s what society has taught us from birth. But, are you ready for a shocking revelation?

SOCIETY NEEDS TO CHANGE.

#genderfluid #crushinghard #lightsaberblue

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dearlazerbunny · 6 years

Text

By Any Other Name; Ch. 2

Pairings: Kylo x Reader

Genre/Ratings: Highschool AU; M (eventually)

Words: 1,500

Summary: Your new lab partner proves to be nothing short of an asshole- or is he? The more of Kylo that’s revealed, the more you can’t help but think you might be falling for him just a little…

Click HERE for Chapter 3.

The next day slogged by as slowly as you’d expected, based on how little sleep you’d gotten after catching up on homework the night before. By the time the bell rang for lunch you were beyond done- you just wanted some greasy fries to stuff in your face and maybe throw a few at Poe across the table if he was being a particular little shit, as he was wont to do. Luckily, it’s pizza day, and you happily grab your mound of potatoes and make your way to your usual seat with your friends.

“And the prep queen returns! What’s good, band nerd?” Poe’s voice booms over the chatter in the lunch room and you roll your eyes.

“Nice to see you too, Poe. Finn,” you nod at the boy sitting on the other side of Poe, their thighs touching underneath the table in a subtly adorable way. “And I told you, I’m not a prep queen. You want prep queen, go hit on Armitage. I’m sure he and his uniform would be happy to oblige.”

“Y/N, you’re literally wearing a sweater vest,” Finn chimes in after swallowing a bite of his sandwich. “A sweater vest and matching skirt.”

“There is nothing wrong with a good sweater vest! Tell them, Rey,” you counter as Rey slides into her seat.

“What am I defending?”

“Miss prep queen’s choice in fashion tastes,” Poe teases, stealing a fry off of your tray. You bat his hand away.

“Just because I like a matching sweater set does not make me preppy! I just like- coordination!”

Rey snorts. “Hon, I love you, but you dress like your mother. You’re the only person I know who doesn’t own a pair of jeans.”

“I do too have a pair of jeans.”

“Do you wear them?’

“I mean- not exactly-”

“Point to Poe,” Rey finishes, unloading her tray. “Sorry babe.”

“Ugh. Fine. You all are just jealous that if I happen to run into the guy of my dreams I’ll be wearing something nice when I do it!”

“I wonder what Y/N would wear outside of her parent’s house,” Poe muses, like a thought bubble is going to pop up above his head. “I’m betting on punk goth.”

“Sweatpants,” Rey adds. “All the sweatpants.” You give them a horrified look. “The day I get caught in black or in sweatpants I’m either at a funeral or it’s my funeral.”

“See, there’s my point!”

The four of you continue to bicker like old married couples for the rest of lunch, right up until the bell rings. You sigh and gather your things, not prepared for chemistry next block. “I’m gonna go throw my stuff away, I’ll see you guys next period.” They wave as they walk off, and you head in the direction of the tray return-

-only to collide with a brick wall halfway there. Well, metaphorically speaking. Said wall was actually a kid, except he was build like a tank. He had to be over six foot- at least three or four heads taller than you. He was also dressed in all black, with shaggy black hair and some band tee that you’d never heard of. His tray also landed all over your chest as you ran into him, smearing god knows what all down the front of your shirt.

“Hey, watch it! Jesus!” You peel his tray off of your chest only to find ketchup stains all over your sweater. “This is never going to come out!”

“Cool it, princess, it doesn’t look like it ruined much.”

“I-” you pause, taking the time to move your eyes all the way up to the guy’s- admittedly kinda handsome- face. “Excuse me?”

He raises a condescending eyebrow before nodding at your ruined top. “I wouldn’t be too upset about it.”

“Well excuse you. Try not to be so rude next time you barrel into someone.”

“You ran into me, kid. I was just standing here minding my own business.”

Asshole! “Whatever,” you mutter, unable to come up with a decent response under the glare of his surprisingly piercing brown eyes. You skirt around him and practically throw your tray onto the table, marching away as quickly as you could. When you looked back, he was still standing there, smirking, watching you go. Fucking fantastic, you weren’t even going to have time to change before chem.

Today just gets better and better.

“What happened to you?” Rey hisses in your direction as you slide onto your stool next to her just after the bell rings. She eyes your ruined outfit and raises her eyebrows in a ‘what gives?’ sort of expression.

“Some asshole ran into me in the cafeteria,” you mutter back, still peeved about the whole thing.

“Class, please meet with your partners today and we’ll get started.” Mr. Tarkin stands at the front of the room, imposing as ever.

“Fabulous. I’m going to meet the new kid covered in ketchup!” You huff and start pulling together your notebook and pencils. “Today is not my day.”

“Speaking of which-” Rey subtly nods to the back of the room. “That Kylo guy is in the back of the room. The one in all black.”

You take one look at him and freeze. Wonder if she’s possibly pointing out the wrong person. Briefly consider renouncing your religion. And finally, take a deep breath, and march to the back of the room, where none other than Cafeteria Asshole is sitting, twirling a pencil between his fingers.

“Must be my lucky day,” you say bitterly, dropping your notebook in front of him with a thud. “Looks like I’m your lab partner. I’m Y/N..”

Asshole rolls his eyes. “Great. What’d I have to do in a past life to get stuck with prim and proper over here?”

You have to gape a little at his attitude. “Look, dude, you don’t even know me. You don’t know anything about me!”

“Let me take a guess.” He raises his fingers to count on, and you can see a few of them colored in with what looked like black sharpie. “Straight A student. Never misses a day. Probably captain of the cheerleading squad. Dating the star football player. Perfect little angel to her parents. Etcetera etcetera. Tell me what I missed.”

You sputter for a few seconds before finally spitting out, “I’m not a fucking cheerleader. Not that you care, but I’m in the band.”

“Oh, god, even worse.”

“What-? Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but can you please be civil for two seconds so we can actually get some work done?”

He sits back in his chair, hands behind his head, like he’s freaking lounging by the pool. “Work sounds more like your thing. I don’t really do the whole school thing.”

That does it. You stand up on the edge of your stool so you’re face to face with him across the table at his level, and point your finger as menacingly as you can manage at him. “Look. I don’t care what your problem is. I don’t care about your attitude issue. But while you’re partnered with me? You will pull some of your fucking ginormous ass weight. Do I make myself clear?”

He actually has the decency to look a little shocked at you before nodding hesitantly.

“Good.” You thunk yourself back down. “Now. Page 114.”

“I don’t have my textbooks yet.”

You sigh. “You can look off of mine. Just- be careful with it.”

He rolls his eyes so hard you can see the whites and you honestly consider popping him in the nose, just to shut him up, but you doubt that would win you any points with your new lab mate.

“Ugh, crap.” The bell rings, and you shove your work away from you. “Class is over and we’re not even done with the first section.”

“So what?”

“Did you not hear Mr. Tarkin? It’s due next class!”

He sits there sullenly, like he expects you to have all the answers. “Well, we’ll just have to get together after school and do it.”

“Fine. Your place.”

“Why does it have to be my place?”

“Do you want to get this done or not?”

“Fine, fine. I have band practice right after school, but you can come over after that. 6:30 sharp.” You roughy scribble down your address and shove it at him. “Don’t be late, asshole.”

“It’s Kylo.”

“Say again?”

You can practically hear him grinding his teeth from across the table. “My name is Kylo.”

“Fine. Kylo. Don’t be late.”

A/N: Because you cannot tell me Kylo has never colored his nails in with sharpie, my poor sweet goth boy

#star wars #Star Wars fanfic #fanfic #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #star wars angst #star wars fluff #reader insert

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pianowired · 7 years

Note

hey it me can i have a goth vs cheerleader shalaska ya plz cus it my birthday 😁😁😁😁😁

i would write a 10k goth x cheerleader fic for u even if it wasn’t ur birthday kacie

1. sharon meets alaska in their junior year when she transfers to the school and alaska’s assigned to show her around the school because she’s an “upstanding student” and an “example” or whatever and sharon’s been tagged as “trouble”2. at her old school she liked to make out with girls just for the shock value of it, which she got into trouble for a lot bc it was iowa. when she transfers to the new school, there are tons of rumors about her beating people up and committing arson and selling drugs and what have you (some of them are true, some not)3. alaska’s initially annoyed with her, because she’s this goth punk who smells like cigarette smoke and cheap beer, and she’s fifteen minutes late, and she’s super snarky and hostile. sharon warms up to her eventually tho and even starts bringing her coffee and asking for help with assignments and stuff4. sharon makes alaska playlists when they start dating, and alaska’s parents are all confused as to why their sweet little girl is suddenly blasting a lot of guns n roses and misfits and the sex pistols up in her room5. sharon has several leather jackets (because she’s sharon) and alaska likes wearing them over her shoulders or like normal, because they smell like sharon and they’re nice and heavy against her back6. alaska’s family is like,, Rich,,,, and they have this giant house and alaska has a nice car of her own and sharon always feels weird about it at first bc her family isn’t that well-off, especially not compared to alaska7. it doesn’t matter to alaska tho, and she’s actually kinda uncomfortable with her parents’ money despite being grateful for it ofc. but she likes to donate her weekly allowances to local charities for minorities, especially lgbt youth once she comes out8. speaking of coming out, alaska’s been out publicly since her sophomore year (even though she’s known she was gay since she was seven) and has had a few girlfriends since then. she’s confident in her identity as a femme lesbian and she’s popular because of cheerleading so she doesn’t really get shit for it9. it’s actually sharon who has no idea that she’s gay for a kong while lmao. she has the punky attitude of “boys are idiots and i don’t need a relationship to be happy” lmao. she has a poster of topless courtney love on her wall because she “thinks it’s badass” until she discovers that she’s gay in eighth grade and comes out immediately and admits that she thinks the courtney poster is hot lmao10. anyway once they start dating they’re like this super cute couple and everyone’s surprised that sharon can be soft and alaska can be hard, but it’s sweet and i love them and i love this au and i love you happy birthdayyyyy

#asks #kacie #goth sharon #cheerleader alaska #send me an au/ship and i'll give you 5 headcanons!!

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Open Up When (Shalaska) Chapter 1 - Kayden

an: im back back back again nearly a month later with the first chapter WHOOPS tbh chapter length might drop bc like???? i wanna please the people ANYWAY here yall go

The letter felt heavy between the blonde’s fingers. Even though she had only opened the envelope a few seconds beforehand, it seemed as if she had been curled up in that position for years. Just reading Sharon’s handwriting. By reading Sharon’s handwriting, Alaska meant that she had only read the “Dear Alaska”. Her eyes traced over each stroke of the letters. She could imagine Sharon hunched over a desk, chewing her pen before falling back in her desk chair and groaning loudly. That was what Sharon would do. There she was, scratching her way back into Alaska’s thoughts. The girl let out a sigh. It was too late now to back out. She traced one slim finger down the edge of the paper and began reading.

“Dear Alaska,

You’ve opened this because you’re sad and I’m not there. Obviously.”

“Ah fuck.” She muttered. She’d forgotten what was on the front of the envelope. The part that would reveal what the letter would contain. The most important past of the damn thing. She was so interested in the contents that she immediately turned it over and used one acrylic nail to rip it open. Man, she really was a psycho ex girlfriend. Whatever, it was open now.

“I’m so sorry I can’t be there to comfort you baby. I really am. You know it makes me sad when you’re sad. I hope I can return to you soon with all of your favourite foods and make you feel better again.”

The words felt bitter on the blonde’s tongue. Alaska wanted her favourite foods. She wanted to cuddle up on the couch and watch shitty daytime television. She wanted- No, she needed Sharon to comfort her. She could’ve if she wasn’t the one destroying Alaska’s heart and mind. Alaska shook off the thought and continued reading.

“Since I can’t let you cry into my shoulder and pull my hair into styles I can’t pronounce the names of, I decided to list some of my favourite memories and I’m praying to some non-existent god that they cheer you up. I swear I’ll be there for you soon”

Alaska let out a small chuckle. Well, at least it seemed like one. She enjoyed Sharon’s twisted sense of humour. She missed it. Her fingers wiped away a tear that was threatening to escape. The blonde was going to try not to cry millions of tears by the end of the letter.

“Firstly, remember the first time I said I loved you back? The time we nearly got kicked out of a department store? I still can’t believe you did it. You broke down my walls.”

Of course Alaska remembered. It was the first time that Sharon actually said those words to her. She leaned back against the end of her bed as she recalled that eventful day.

May 12th, 12.04pm

Alaska pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail as she glanced through what to wear on her date with Sharon. Even though they had been going out for four and a half months already, they hadn’t done two things. One, they hadn’t come out as dating. It was obvious as to why. If Alaska, co-head cheerleader and part of the popular group, came out as gay, she would be horrendously bullied. If she was exposed as being gay AND dating the punk rule breaker Sharon? Her name would be plastered over every bathroom stall. Sharon was used to it but she couldn’t bear to see Alaska’s reputation destroyed. The other thing was that they both hadn’t said ‘I love you" yet. The blonde had, multiple times. Whether it was a playful side comment while they were laughing over cups of tea or the more serious times, those words always seemed to be uttered by Alaska. Was she slightly disappointed? Yes. However she was fully aware that Sharon wasn’t as trusting in relationships and that it was hard for her to open up. She needed to respect that.

The blonde pulled out a pleated skirt. It was a pastel pink and came to a little bit above the knee on the cheerleaders long lanky legs. It was perfect for any date. That reminded her, where was Sharon even taking her? She pulled out her phone and began typing out a quick message.

To: Noodles❤️:

can i at least have a hint as to where you’re taking me ??? >:(

From: Noodles❤️:

No, you may not.

A frown crossed the girl’s face. She had never liked surprises. Her mother had thrown her a surprise party for her 12th birthday and she had a horrible panic attack. The girl let out a small prayer that history wouldn’t repeat itself. She couldn’t let Sharon know about her anxiety. Sharon already opened up to Alaska about her past and how it fucked her up. Alaska needed to be the strong one in the relationship.

She slid her skirt up her thighs and adjusted it, turning to look in the mirror. The skirt was cute, but not with her oversized top that she wore to sleep. She took another look in her closet. After a few seconds of searching, She found a basic black singlet top that she could wear her favourite sweater on top of. She changed her clothing, tossing her pyjama shirt in the laundry basket and struck a pose in the mirror. Man, this outfit was adorable. She blew herself a kiss and pulled her hair out of the ponytail it was in. Light blonde locks fell over her back. Using her slim fingers, she shook it a little to let the hair fall more naturally before moving over to her drawers to find a hair brush. Something was off however. She was scrambling to find the brush in silence. After putting on some love song playlist, she continued to look.

When her quest for the hairbrush was over, she let the bristle slip through her sun kissed locks, letting it untangle every knot. After allowing her brush to do its main purpose, she began to use it as a microphone, badly screaming the lyrics to some bad quality 90’s ballad. She twirled around her room, the edges of her skirt lifting upwards to expose more of her lightly tanned thighs. Her lips parted to reveal a toothy smile as she sat down in front of her vanity, still singing the song, this time quieter and with more of a melody than her earlier screaming. She pulled open a drawer to reveal palettes upon palettes of makeup. After going through all her drawers and picking out the makeup she would wear, she decided to send Sharon another text.

To: Noodles❤️:

just starting my makeup now xx how are you going ??

No response just yet. She expected that from Sharon. With her it was respond anywhere from three seconds to three weeks later. She placed her phone down and began to apply her foundation. It was a small while later that her phone vibrated, when she had just begun to apply eyeshadow. The blonde jumped, nearly ruining the entire look.

From: Noodles❤️:

Haven’t left bed yet. x

The blonde let out an eye roll and a small chuckle. She was still so confused as to how her girlfriend always looked stunning whenever she saw her even when she was wearing the same clothes that she had for the past week and her hair was a complete mess. Alaska finished up her eyeliner, the small flicks at the end not being completely straight, but then again, neither was she. After finishing up her full look with a touch of mascara, she headed downstairs to put on some sneakers and to deal with her mother.

As she tied her laces, her mother came into the room. Alaska’s mom wasn’t much shorter than her, and had aged well. Her hair was dry from re-bleaching it all these years. She wore clothing that was vaguely bohemian but still had a very strong ‘mom’ feel to it. She took a step closer to her daughter and began to speak.

“When am I going to meet this boyfriend of yours? He seems like such a sweetheart, taking you on all these dates and things. Much more romantic than your father. Will I be meeting him soon? How about I walk you out and come meet him?” She smiled. The younger blonde put her hands up.

“That won’t be necessary, okay? You’ll meet them eventually.” She put her bag over one shoulder and headed out, giving a small wave to her mother before slamming the door.

To: Noodles❤️:

hey im at the end of the drive waiting

To: Noodles❤️:

just had more questions from my mother

To: Noodles❤️:

she wants to meet u badly yikes

Alaska sighed into the cool air, letting the wind realign where her hair sat on her shoulders. She lightly rubbed one arm and leaned out in time to see Sharon’s car turn the corner. The entire car looked like it was going to fall apart any minute. The pain was chipping and dents decorated every side. On the contrary, Sharon was looking like a million dollars. Perhaps it was the bias that Alaska had due to her being absolutely head over heels in love with the goth. She grinned and waved as the girl pulled up on the curb and rolled down her window.

“Babe, if I knew you were going to dress up this well, I would’ve planned something fancier.” Sharon chuckled.

Alaska rolled her eyes and got into the car, closing the door behind her. “This is really nothing, I swear. Where are you taking me anyways?” The blonde fastened her seatbelt and leaned over to plant a quick kiss on her girlfriend’s cheek. Sharon awkwardly smiled. “C'mon, it won’t be that bad, will it?” Alaska pouted slightly and placed one hand onto the shorter girl’s thigh. “Will it?”

Sharon nervously laughed. She had been shocked by how gorgeous Alaska had looked and suddenly felt guilty about not taking her girlfriend on the trip she deserved. Her eyes became fixated on Alaska’s facial features. She became so focused on all the tiny details that made the blonde look like a goddess that she didn’t realise that she had been asked a question.

“Hm? I’m sorry I just-” Sharon shook her head and rubbed her eyes slightly, “got a little distracted. What was it you were saying?” She attempted to laugh and shrug it off that she just got lost in Alaska’s beauty but she could tell by the blonde’s sudden outburst of giggling that it hadn’t worked.

tags- open up when, kayden, shalaska, sharon needles, alaska,

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll find out the answers soon” She managed to get out through laughter.

The first half of the car ride was smooth, filled with small talk and large periods where Alaska would just admire her girlfriend. Around the middle of the car ride is when the anxiety started. What if the reason Sharon hadn’t said she loved Alaska yet was because she didn’t? What if she was going to leave Alaska in the middle of the woods? What if Sharon was only dating her to get rid of her? The blonde could feel her breathing get quicker and she fiddled with the folds in her skirt. What was it that her councillor told her to do? Alaska racked her mind for the answer.

It came to her after about a minute of quietly panicking. Best scenario, Worst scenario, Most likely scenario. Best scenario? Sharon took her down to the dock and married her right then and there. They’d both escape to New York and raise two cats. Alaska grinned at the idea of it. Worst? Sharon ditched her in a forest and tied her up to a tree and let her be eaten by woodland creatures. Why wouldn’t have Sharon done it earlier in the relationship though? Realising that it was unrealistic, Alaska could feel her heartbeat settle as well as her breathing. What would most likely happen? They’d go on a date like they had done for the past couple months. Now calmer, Alaska began to drift off in her car seat.

May 12th, 1:47pm

As they pulled into the parking lot, Alaska woke up, batting her eyelashes and stretching as much as possible given the confined space she was in. Her eyes still plagued with sleep, she looked out the window to see where her date would take place. The image that laid in front of her was… Kmart. She turned quickly around and gave Sharon a questioning look, not sure if this was the final destination or not.

“Sorry it’s not quite what you expected” Sharon rubbed the back of her neck and averted eye contact, assuming she had let down her date.

Alaska ran a hand over Sharon’s thigh, her fingers meeting skin where the rips in her jeans were. “It’s absolutely perfect”

They walked across the parking lot, fingers interlocked. As they reached the door, Sharon pulled her hand away. Alaska frowned slightly but knew it was for protection. If someone they knew was there, it would be easier for Sharon to duck away if Alaska wasn’t touching her. Or if homophobes approached they could claim to be just friends. Overall, safety was more important right now.

They made their way into the store. It was much smaller than Alaska remembered but the last time she had gone she was much younger. She wanted to see how it had changed so she grasped onto Sharon’s hand (after checking for any people who would possibly see) and began searching.

Alaska ran down through the aisles, dragging her girlfriend behind her. Even though Sharon was about to completely fall over onto her face, she was happy. Alaska turned slightly to check on her girlfriend every now and then to make sure she was keeping up. They had made it to around halfway when Alaska came to a quick halt, causing the slightly shorter girl to completely fall over due to not gaining balance back quickly enough. Sharon laughed whilst the cheerleader desperately tried to check if she was injured.

“Angel, I’m fine” she reassured the vaguely panicked girl.

“Are you sure? I’m used to falls like that because of cheerleading but you won’t be so you might be really badly injured and I know first aid!” She rambled before realising that people were looking over very concerned. “She’s fine! She’s ok! I’m just overreacting!” She nervously giggled and tried to use her hair to hide her now blushing face. Sharon chuckled as she looked at the woman who had come over, worried about them. She looked to be in her 50’s and wore clothing that made her seem like she was much older. The woman smiled at the blonde and turned her head to look at the girl on the ground. Her brow furrowed and the corners of her lips turned downwards.

“You there, in the black. You look like a faggot dressing like that!” She pointed at Sharon. Alaska balled her fist and prepared for a fight but relaxed when she made eye contact with Sharon and realised she had it under control.

Sharon finally got off the ground after the slur was shouted and stood there calmly, giving a small nod to her girlfriend when she realised that she was about to throw some hands.

“You know what?” She began, taking a small step towards the woman and saw Alaska step behind her out of her peripheral view.

“I dress like this because I am a faggot. I’m a major flaming homosexual. I love holding hands with girls, I love taking girls on dates and I absolutely love eating girls out. Especially good girls. You think they’re all nice and pretty and will never stray away from faith and you’re wrong. They quiver under my fingertips. I pleasure girls way better than your husband has ever pleasured you. You hear that? I’m a goddess in the sheets. A fucking goddess. Don’t try and tell me I’m going to hell. I know I am. However, telling by your age, you’re going to get there before me. So be a darling and save me a seat, won’t you?”

Alaska wanted to go over and kiss her right then and there but didn’t. She didn’t know why she decided against it, but she did. After the woman had stormed off, she ran into Sharon’s arms, draping her own arms around her girlfriend’s neck. “That was… fucking amazing” She leaned closer in, resting her head on Sharon’s collarbone.

“Yeah it was,” Sharon paused “But we should leave before we get thrown out, don’t want to damage my little angels reputation.”

Alaska pulled away from the hug, rolling her eyes.

“You know I’d ruin it for you.”

May 12th, 2:28pm

After purchasing drinks, the girls decided to wander around the parking lot for a little while. The day had quietened slightly and the two girls walked side by side. Alaska appreciated the fact that most of the bustling people had stopped. Now only two noises lingered in Alaska’s mind; Sharon’s footsteps and the breaths that escaped both of them. She turned her head to smile at her girlfriend and discovered that Sharon had been looking at her the whole time they had been walking.

“What’cha thinking about?” Alaska let the words bounce off her tongue and escape through cherry coated lips.

“How much I love yo- Oh fuck.” Sharon began to splutter and panic, “I didn’t mean it, I mean I do but” She was shut up by the feeling of a finger pressing against her lips.

“It’s ok, I understand.” Alaska pulled her slim hand back towards her. The shorter girl shook her head.

“You really don’t understand. You don’t understand at all. Whenever I look at you the entire world and all the stars realign. Whenever you smile all colour comes back to my world. Whenever we kiss I can taste happiness and I haven’t tasted that since… forever ago. Everyday I wake up wondering how you’ve stayed with a freak like me. When you said yes to me asking you out, I went home and woke up the next day wanting to get out of bed. You’ve made me want to live again. So you really don’t understand how much I love you. I really do love you. I used to be so afraid of saying that. I thought you would hate me or that I’d end up being wrong about it. I know now that I’m desperately head over heels for you. You make me so fucking happy. God, if there even is one, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

That’s when Alaska realised. She, head cheerleader and one of the popular girls, had fallen completely for Sharon. The same Sharon who skipped class to smoke and played the bass guitar and flipped off teachers and had absolutely gorgeous hair and eyes and- Oh fuck. She really did love Sharon didn’t she?

The blonde grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and raced back to Sharon’s run down piece of metal she called a car. They both jumped in, this time to the back seat. No longer caring who saw them, the girls both became entangled. If a passerby were to look in, they wouldn’t be able to tell where Alaska stopped and Sharon began. When their lips weren’t touching, they were intensely staring at each other.

That’s when it all faded back to black

Present Day

Alaska moved one her hands from the paper to her face. Hot and wet. She wiped some of her tears away. Reading the entire letter would take forever if she continued to have full blown flashbacks like this. She needed to figure out why Sharon had left her and she needed to know soon. But I mean, it wouldn’t be THAT harmful to finish that letter first before moving onto the letters that she knew would make her upset at everything. Alaska stood up and looked out the window. It was dark. Really dark. She knew she couldn’t continue reading right now, she needed rest.

Alaska changed into a new shirt for the first time in a week, glad that she had finally cleaned up the closet. She lay down and decided to check her phone to see if anyone had messaged her. Turns out there were three messages.

From: Willam the Pig:

cant wait to see ur ass tomorrow u missed so much holy fuck

From: Courtney ��:

Looking forward to finally catching up tomorrow!!! I’ve missed you so much!!! : )

From: Russian Doll:

If ur not coming tomorrow im gonna eat ur son and also u

The blonde let out a huge sigh, realising she had to go back tomorrow and see everyone. All the teachers already hated her for talking during class but she’d have to do a whole lot more talking tomorrow to find out everything that happened. Knowing her school, the drama would be intense. Last time she was away for a week she came back to Alyssa starting drama with everyone and she meant everyone.

Most importantly, Sharon would be there. Does she remember the letters? Does she care? Should she get her clothes back tomorrow? Would she show up to cheerleading practice? What about science class?

Alaska would have to think it all over in the morning.

#please remember your tags!#kayden #shalaska #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #rpdr fanfiction #submission #open up when #lesbian au

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