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bonny-kookoo · 8 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐎𝐟𝐟-𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 | Dogworthy

"Oh you'd be surprised by what this tiny package has to offer."

Tags/Warnings: Police Officer!Jungkook, Dog Hybrid!Reader, Partners to lovers?, Alternate law-system/made up laws, crime, futuristic, sci-fi, body-modifications?, Fluff, romance, Adult themes (sex, alcohol, mentions of drugs but no consumption), Comedy?, Angst, gender prejudice but it's resolved, past injury, MC tackles a guy?, wholesome police action, Seokjin being a menace

Length: 4k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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Jungkook and you have been partnered for almost four years now.

When he was training, he always wondered what his future hybrid partner would be like. Would they be older than him? Younger? He's seen a lot of officers with their hybrids- he will probably get a male partner, as it's the norm most of the time, female hybrids too fearful and nurturing most of the time. What he didn't think would happen was to be partnered with you- because, if he just had to look at you, he'd never think you'd work in the police force in the way that you do.

Basic tracking? Maybe. But actual criminal pursuits and field work? No way.

It's not until you both started training that he saw beyond your mere physical appearance. From seeing you in action in defense and attacks, to learning how to command you properly- and now, living with you, since he has to be ready as quickly as he can if a job comes in. You could loose valuable time if you had to go back to the station and get your partner and then respond to the call, after all. So Jungkook and you live in the same apartment- with you having your own room, while he takes care of you as a part of his main job.

Your diet, exercise, healthcare- all of that is a part of his job as a hybrid canine handler.

And it's a good job- it offers him a way to feel needed and valued, gives him a purpose even when he's off-duty. Although he has to admit, that sometimes, he does feel a little bad- because vacations he takes are off-limits for you, due to insurance reasons. Jungkook would have to file in for actual ownership over you, and that's out of the question after merely a four year span. You have to be with him for at least five.

And he knows handlers who haven't filed in for ownership after more than ten years even.

Turning off the stove as he prepares your breakfast, he hears the familiar sound of your room opening, before your naked feet tap into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. You typically wake up as soon as he does- you've told him that it's a simple instinct thing, that you've begun to adjust to his rhythm at this point in time, and it makes everything a whole lot easier. Because you can be a little grumpy whenever you have to get up early- so whenever you wake up yourself, it take a big weight off his shoulders.

When you walk in later, your food is already cooled off enough for you to sleepily dive in- a sight Jungkook has gotten used to by now, as he sips on his own coffee, watching you. "We're on call for today." He tells you, though he will probably have to tell you again later when you're actually awake. "Means you don't have to rush." he offers, and you nod, humming a reply as you eat your breakfast, tail floppy and hanging down, no tension in your body yet.

If anyone saw you right now, they'd never guess what your job is- or what you've been through already.

Like the first time you bit him, faint scar still decorating the back of his hand- which was entirely deserved, now that he looks back at it.

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Jungkook feels a bit.. odd, looking at his coworkers play around with their hybrid partners.

All of them are male,, roughhousing playfully, no need to hold back as they throw toys back and forth, chasing birds and just.. having fun. Meanwhile you're busy napping in a sunny spot, unbothered by the loud sounds of everyone enjoying the sunny weather.

"Having a hybrid can be exhausting, huh?" A friend of his and fellow handler, Seokjin says as he sits down next to the younger police officer who just shrugs. "Is she adapting well?" He wonders, and again, Jungkook shrugs, watching everyone playfight with a sense of longing. You've finished your basic training with Jungkook a few weeks ago- so it's not even been half a year yet that you both have worked together.

"Maybe." He just answers.

"You don't sound too enthusiastic about that." Jin jokes. "What's wrong?" He worries, always a bit protective over his younger friend.

"I don't know. I think because- you know, she's female, I feel like I can't really warm up to her." He admits. "It's weird."

"Did you even try and connect with her?" Seokjin offers. "She's pretty sweet if you ask me. I trained with her a bit when she joined here."

"Then change with me?" He asks. "I take Yoongi, and you take her." He offers, making Seokjin sigh- before he shakes his head, patting the younger one's back.

"Oh boy, you need to learn a thing or two first." He laughs a little, before he leaves him alone. And for a good moment Jungkook doesn't understand- until he looks over to where you're sitting, glaring, but not in an angry way.

You're clearly hurt.

Later that day, when he opens the car door to let you out, he wants to offer you a pat on the head like he always does after a finished day at work-

but this time, you bite, teeth leaving a clear imprint in his palm, causing him to retract it in shock. "I'm sleeping in the car." You huff, arms crossed before you move to crawl into the furthest corner of the car, refusing to come out.

"You can't sleep in the car-"

"I can, and I will!" You bark back, as he signs, runs a hand over his face, and closes the door to walk around to the other side- but the moment he opens the door there, you've crawled into the opposite corner, and it's not a game you're playing, very obviously. "Leave me!" You growl. "I'll tell them you don't wanna be my partner tomorrow so you can get a new hybrid." You huff annoyed.

"I didn't mean it like that-" he wants to defend himself, but in all honesty, he did mean it like that. He doesn't know what to do- he feels this odd sense of awkwardness with you, and he blames it on your gender by default, not really looking past that for any other cause.

It was the easiest thing to do- and back then, Jungkook used to be lazy like that.

He slams the door shut in frustration, and even walks inside his apartment to get ready for bed. So be it! If you want to go be petty in the car, you can be his guest!

But the minute it starts raining, he feels horrible.

He shouldn't be so mean to you just because you might not be what he was expecting to get. You can't do anything about that- it's not your fault you've been paired up with him.

So he opens the car door and sits inside the back with you- rain pattering on the roof of the car, as he awkwardly plays with his hands. "I wanna sleep." You tell him. He nods. It's late.

"The come inside." He sighs, looking at you. "I'm sorry I said what I said. I.. that was uncalled for, and you have every reason to be upset." He agrees. "But.. please be upset inside. Where I know you're safe and warm and all that." He awkwardly requests.

"I'll still let them know you don't wanna be my partner." You mumble, wanting to get out- but he reaches out to you instead before you can open your door, not caring about being bitten again.

"Dont." He requests. "I want to make this work. I just.. don't know how." He explains himself. "I'm worried I might be too rough with you or I might upset you more than once or twice." He tells you. "I'm worried."

"...you were still mean." You huff. "Just because I'm a female dog hybrid doesn't mean I don't want to play tug.. Just because I'm a female doesn't mean I can't play-wrestle with you like the others sometimes do in the yard. You could've just asked." You express, and he nods, realizing that now as well.

"Will you let me be your partner still?" He asks, and you nod after a moment.

"We can try."

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He's putting down his empty cup of coffee now, before me walks into the bathroom to fetch a hairbrush and hairtie.

As he starts to run the bristles through your hair, your tail wags sleepily- you enjoy things like these a lot, no matter in what context. Jungkook has grown on you over the years, and he'd even go as far as to already say that he'll take you with him into retirement- you just fit so well together at this point.

As he gathers your hair in his tattooed hand, he's gentle with it- knows that it gives you a headache if he pulls the hairtie too hard against your skull, and he doesn't want that to happen. It took trial and error to figure out things like this, and as he makes sure that the ponytail stays low on your head, he can't help but remember the moment he first got a taste of the dangers of his and most of all your job.

It was terrifying.

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It's your third major job.

Your first two went down effortlessly- you got this, after an entire year of working together. You're a good team, and he prides himself in knowing that he, in his opinion, has the best hybrid in the entire policeforce right now.

So he doesn't think when he opens the metal enforced car door of the back where you're sitting, pacing, waiting for something to do- eyes wide open and tail wagging, ready to receive instructions as he looks at you.

He steps aside, points to two people running.

"Get 'em!" He calls out, and it's your signal to do what you do best, boot pressing against the edge of the car as you practically fly out.

It's always surprising so everyone who sees you working for the first time just how fast and most of all efficient you chase after suspects or criminals. You make up for your lack in height by instead using shortcuts and taking on obstacles, and with your heightened senses, no one can escape you for long.

Jungkook runs after you, a little slower, gun drawn as he calls out numerous times for them to stop running- but they don't.

They never do.

And all goes well- one of the suspects tripping so another officer can cuff him down, when Jungkook hears a sound he never wanted to hear in his life.

Your voice, crying out, yelp echoing in the alleyway out of his sight.

Adrenaline is pumping in his veins as he rounds the corner and aims his gun at the man still holding the metal pipe. "Put the pipe down!" Jungkook calls out, voice angry and dripping as much authority as he can put in it. "Put it down!" He commands again, and at this point in time, the man understands that there is nowhere to run with multiple officers arriving behind Jungkook as well.

And when he tries to run you're there, doing your job despite clearly being hurt- tacking him down, so that responding officers can cuff him and take him to a car where his friend is already sitting inside.

Jungkook will never forget the sight of you there.

Scratches on your cheekbone, and later on at home, purple bruises where the metal pipe had connected with your leg- bruising it badly, but not enough to break.

You got away easy.

What he'll never forget is the blame he placed on himself though, because it was your little ponytail high on your head that he made rather sloppily that morning which gave the man a good piece to tug on- forcing you down so he'd been able to get you off of him and into a vulnerable position.

Ever since then, Jungkook either puts your hair in a low bun, or a low ponytail tucked once into your hairtie to keep it out of the way.

Because he never wants to feel that guilt again.

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You're slowly waking up as he finishes up your hair, patting your head a little before he walks past you to bring your brush back into the bathroom.

Jungkook is an odd person to you.

He used to by almost childish- and not in the funny way. He'd also been extremely competitive to the point where it didn't feel at all as if you were partners- but as if he had to find reason after reason as to why you didn't need a hybrid for this or for that.

Tracking? Nowadays, most people have trackable body-mods like he himself has, so why need a hybrid? And wouldn't it be easier to just use a regular dog?

Intimidation was useless according to Jungkook, because no one would ever be intimidated by a hybrid like you. A male dog hybrid, maybe- but not you. That one, you remember, hurt a lot- because it tugged on every little insecurity you had.

Chasing could just be done by the cops themselves- Jungkook even trained to be able to outrun you, just to prove a point. Funnily enough, when it comes to actual field work however, he missed the key difference- because it's not just speed. It's about calculating where a suspect might go, and how you can be there faster to catch up.

Clearing rooms was done in the past by officers anyways- so why use a hybrid now? One could just use a scanner outside to search for any signs of live in a building.

It was weird to you. If he hated hybrid work so much, then why sign up for it? Why train for it?

And then it hit you. He didn't hate hybrid work. He just didn't want you.

You're not sure when that changed- maybe he just accepted the fact that you're his partner now, or maybe he simply grew up. But these days, things are easy. Trust is easy.

And that's one of the most important parts of your job.

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You're on a regular patrol, walking around just so you can get some stretches into your legs from being in the car for so long, when Jungkook spots a woman, child in her arm, running through a field. It's clear that she's searching for something, and it must be important.

"Hey!" Jungkook calls out, walking closer with you walking behind. You're intimidating to some people due to people being aware that police hybrids are trained to be highly responsive to things like noise and faint signs of aggression- so you keep your distance, especially from children. "Everything alright?" Jungkook wonders, walking almost lazily to ensure the woman doesn't feel threatened.

"Ah- yes, I just lost my keys." She sighs, carefully rocking her child. "I don't know where- we were just playing around and they must've fallen out of my dress pocket when I didn't notice." She expresses in frustration, making Jungkook nod.

"Well, how about we help?" He offers, looking over his shoulder at you, who's tail instantly starts to wag at the prospect of a job. "Can she get closer so she can pick up the scent?" He asks, and the woman nods, holding out her hand for you to smell, her wrist providing optimal scent for you.

And then, Jungkook nods, and tells you to search.

Jungkook watches as you roam around, uncaring of the taller patches of grass or bugs you scare up into flying away in the field. "She's walking exactly where I walked.." The woman says, and even the toddler in her arm is now quiet, watching with big brown eyes as you search around, causing Jungkook to chuckle.

"Hybrids are really good at tracking." He explains. "They can somewhat see scents they concentrate on- it's pretty interesting." He shrugs, when you suddenly call his name, making him look at you. "Bring it here!" He calls to you, and you nod with excitement, running towards him to drop the keychain into his hand, the woman sighing in relief.

"That's my keys! Oh god, I would've been here hours!" She says happily, though her toddler tries reaching out for you now, clearly interested in your big ears in top of your head. "No no no, she might not like that honey." She scolds gently, but Jungkook smiles.

"If you're nice and don't tug, it's okay." He explains, as the mother let's her toddler down onto her feet, as you sit down into the grass, letting the child closer, her tiny hands feeling your ears.

"Ah this is so adorable.. is it okay if I take a picture of them together?" The mother asks, and he nods, happy that he's getting these moments.

Jungkook and you are set to soon move from active duty to community police- something Jungkook signed you both up for when the most recent team resigned after seven years. A new, fresh set of officers was needed- and considering that you've never had any mishaps in your entire time of service, the department though that you two and two other teams would be perfect to raise the people's trust in the police again, just like the teams before you already started to do.

So moments like these, captured and shared, are important. Because it's word of mouth, it's people telling people that there's nothing to be afraid of.

Making your way back home, Jungkook stops at a fast food place- walks in with you, causing a lot of people to stare, since it's not something many officers tend to do due to the uniforms you both wear being not really subtle.

But the tenseness of the room quickly melts away as you jump excitedly next to Jungkook when he orders you your favorite food- and a small cup of icecream to go along with it. Your tail wags wildly, and Jungkook can't help but laugh as you carefully walk up to the counter to get your icecream first before anything else-

a thank you falling from your mouth, as you begin to dive into your treat.

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Jungkook laughs when you lay your head over Taehyung's lap- the young man having just finished his training, now set to start his additional training time to receive a hybrid of his own.

He's scratching your ears, playing around, clearly unaware of the fact that you're not a pet at all. "She's so cute!" He laughs when you slip a little, Jungkook helping you dust off your vest for you.

"Oh she's even cuter when she tackles murder suspects!" Jimin laughs as he walks in, giving you a small bottle of water, Taehyung tensing up. "And she's got a great grip once she gets her teeth on you. Jungkook would know." He chuckles. "Do you still have that scar?" He wonders, and Jungkook chuckles, nodding before he pushes up one of his sleeves-

clear bitemark faint but still visible, Tattoos having lost the ink in those spots, especially the two most prominent points from your canine teeth.

"Wait- how'd that happen?" Taehyung asks, watching how Jungkook pets your head, having noticed you shrinking in on yourself as you remember the day.

"It was my fault." Jungkook shrugs. "I forgot my training, and this was a consequence." He offers, pulling you to sit on his lap now, everyone on break sitting on the concrete part of the large yards where hybrids train and play.

"How come?" Taehyung asks, as you lean your back into Jungkook's front, looking around.

"It was right after a job." Jungkook says. "She was still high on adrenaline because she had to both chase someone and hold them down while they were armed and shooting." He remembers the day. "When I brought her back into the car, I reached out to pat her head, just like I always do- but because she was still in her work-mindset, she bit out of instinct." He shrugs.

"Oh." Taehyung nods, understanding. "I guess.. she can be underestimated?" He wonders, and Jimin laughs.

"Oh definitely!" He says, pushing Jungkook's shoulder a little, causing you to growl out of instinct. "Sorry munchkin. But, you should've seen them train! Jungkookies face every time she'd tackle down the instructor was hilarious to watch!"

"Wait, instructor Welsh?" Taehyung asks, making everyone nod in amusement. "But that guy is a beast.!" He wonders, looking at you with wide eyes-

though you just nod proudly and wag your tail.

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"Seokjin, I'm about to commit a first-degree murder right now, I swear." Jungkook groans, head on the table while the squeaking echoes through the breakroom, Jin however laughing loudly, windshield wiper laugh almost as high pitched as the new toy he brought for you.

"Oh come on- you can't tell me that isn't cute!" He argues, watching how you put the toy back on the table, pushing his shoulder to get him to throw it again-

and he groans again as if in pain, throwing it anyways, because Seokjin is fucking right.

You are too cute.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic

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dcmeme · 7 months

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Daily Occurrences Gotham Citizens go through part 1

(WITNESSING VIOLENCE AMONGST HEROES)

Citizen 2: …Is the little Robin chocking Red Robin with his own cape up there?

Citizen 1: *not looking up from his phone* Just wait for Nightwing to break them up.

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(HERO INSURANCE COVERAGE)

Citizen 3: What the hell do you mean my insurance doesn’t cover damages by the red hood- I got the full “hero collateral damage” package… What the f*ck do you mean Anti-heroes don’t count- THE WORD HERO IS RIGHT THERE!!!

____

(DATING CRIMINALS)

Citizen 2: Could you come pick me up?

Citizen 4: Is everything ok?

Citizen 2: Date got arrested.

Citizen 4: It happens to the best of us. Be there soon.

____

(DISCOVERING A NEW WAYNE)

Citizen 3: Who the f*ck is Jason Todd and why is he fighting Bruce Wayne on Twitter.

Citizen 1: Witness protection program guy, adopted son of his, tends to drop off the radar a lot.

Citizen 2: His feed is fire tho.

Citizen 1: Oh absolutely. Dude hit thousands of follows in a week after getting posted on that weird ‘hot guys reading’ Instagram.

Citizen 4: Didn’t he also go viral over a Colleen Hoover argument?

____

(ALMOST GETTING MUGGED)

Thief: Give me your purse or I’ll-

Citizen 3: *keeps walking*

Thief: Hey! I’m talking to you-

Citizen 3: I work for Ace Chemicals.

Thief:… do you need money? A warm meal?

Citizen 3: A sleep-aid would be nice.

Thief: Fair enough.

____

(LOSING JOBS)

Citizen 1: I’m off to the bank!

Citizen 4: Be sure to grab your bullet proof vest on the way out!

Citizen 3: I’m going to work.

Citizen 3: *answers phone, rolls eyes* Nevermind. Blew up again.

____

(SEES OLD FRIENDS- MEETS NEW FELONS)

Citizen 2: So, jerry, I heard you’re a business man now. Where at?

Jerry: I mean I wouldn’t say I’m a business man, I do wear a nice suit and walk around a type of office tho!

Citizen 2:… oh, Jerry-

Jerry: Black Mask has the BEST health insurance policy.

Citizen 3: At least he’s not working for the clown. Then again, I hear his dental insurance is fantastic.

Citizen 2: *head in hands* Jerry..

____

#batfamily #batman #batfam #dc comics #dc universe #dc robin #tim drake #damian wayne #richard grayson #bruce wayne #citizens of gotham #gotham #the batman #dcu

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creatingnikki · 1 year

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things to remember in 2023

goodbye emo era, goodbye empath era, goodbye all you eras that have been putting others + emotions at the center of everything. hello self-serving era. self-serving, not selfish. see, more accurate vocabulary can make all the difference.

choose people who choose you. bare minimum is not impressive. it’s only an indicator that hmmm maybe I can explore what something with this person could lead to. it’s the basic eligibility criteria for opening up your time/schedule to someone, not heart. only time.

new people don’t need to know life stories and trauma from before 2018. if you want to talk about it just write about it, write it into your book.

do not listen to your parents. I mean this in the most respectful possible way. you are an adult now, you make your own decisions. because 20 years from now if you are sad and miserable and hating your life and you tell them hey it’s because you made me la la la chances are they are going to turn around and be like nobody forced you, you were an adult, you made your own decisions. so just make your own decisions. and they would be right. like just dodge the emotional manipulation and the drama and the guilt and lack of validation from them for a bit and go ahead and do things you want to in your life. and you already have daddy issues, right? pacify them in bed or something idk. just make your own bloody decisions independent of what your family/others expect of you.

explore more Hindi music.

channelize certain things you’ve seen in most men around you. channelize compartmentalization. channelize binary problem solving. channelize cutting your losses and exiting at the right time from romantic situations that do not have any future no matter how much you feel for them in the present.

do not force yourself to write fiction. maybe you don’t want to create stories. maybe you just want to write down what you already know. maybe you just want to write creative non-fiction. why is that a bad thing? don’t you think it’s time to let go of the ideas you have hyper-romanticized and see things for what they really are and then work with them?

dating apps are not where you will find love. hook-ups, maybe. but drama-free hook-ups? yeah, not quite sure about that either. let’s just go back to how we were before? let’s just focus on our life and believe that love will happen if and when it’s supposed to?

self-dates must make a return. you found that amazing second-hand bookseller next to your home and your favourite cafe from Bangalore is now in Mumbai and so many new art galleries are opening up around and when was the last time you went to Marine Drive and maybe it’s time to sneak into your college to go have your favourite food again from the canteen and maybe after work you can stay around and explore the popular bars and maybe you can find a post office next to your new apartment so you can start sending letters and packages to your best friend again. I know, I know 2022 was a year of such dramatic highs that gave you such adrenaline rush that coming back to things that were more grounded and brought you joy seems difficult but baby please. you cannot run towards psychosis so soon, okay? come back.

on that note, let’s find a yoga class around your apartment and also a gurudwara.

sign up for experiences and invest for the long term but do not invest in material things like furniture. at this point you are the typical mid-20s person who is free to up and leave whenever and wherever and you haven’t found a place you want to call home yet anyway. so keep your money liquid, don’t lock it up in stupid things, but invest for the long-term in equity assets to create wealth. also, go meet your accountant please. and get life insurance.

do not let family stuff get to you emotionally. deal with it in a logistic, functional, and objective way. as much as possible.

you really don’t have to respond to people within 24 hours, 48 hours, or even a week. I mean other than very few selected people (family, best friend, and your partner), nobody is owed your immediate attention. and even these inner circle people are owed your immediate attention only in a way where you keep them in the loop to let them know you are alive and doing okay.

you are a warm person and it’s easy for people to like you wherever you go. but you have such limited time, energy, and brain cells. you cannot scale yourself like a company. which means if you more people want to get to know you, talk to you, etc., you can’t supply them with that because you are not a scalable product. okay? okay.

earning more money will help only in a limited manner if you do not budget and control your spending. it’s not the person who earns more that is rich but the person who saves and invests and doesn’t take debt for consumption purposes. you can no longer be the ironic financial writer like in the confessions of a shopaholic. you are no longer a kid, you are an adult who has to take care of yourself and soon your dependents and so you cannot keep ranting on about capitalism while falling constant prey to it. instead you have to benefit from it.

figure out what is your choice of poison. for when you wanna just vibe, for when you want to get drunk drunk, for when you wanna be bhand. figure it out.

think of studying Korean as doing an undergrad degree. so you know you have to stick with this for the next three years. this way you don’t see it as a short-term fancy but as a longer term commitment and reach level 6 of fluency in the language. this way, by the time you are in your late 20s, you will actually be able to read Korean books in Hangul and not the English translation. that’s your goal, isn’t it? and writing poetry in Korean too.

your high school friend answered the question no doctor was. when you drink alcohol, make sure there is a 3-hour gap between that and your medication. but also keep the drinking in check. I mean honestly, iced coffee and fresh fruit juices for the win.

you go through people like you go through books. but people are not books. time to pick up actual books again and press pause on people.

do not commit anything to anybody because you have no sense of stability or certainty in your life right now. that doesn’t make you flighty. that doesn’t make you irresponsible. in fact, it makes you responsible because you aren’t making promises you aren’t sure you are capable of keeping even if you want to keep them. actions > intentions.

time to have a skincare routine. your sister has written you a whole blog on it - just follow that.

also oh my god. being twenty five/twenty six does not make you old. you don’t have to look at the younger people you interact with and feel uncool or outdated because then that’s how you’ll always feel. like when you were younger, you would look at the older people and think they are so cool, graceful, smart, and badass. divine, even. then that’s what you are becoming now. not knowing what certain emojis and slang means really has no bearing on how relevant you are.

this isn’t an exhaustive list, so come back. don’t just write this and forget all about it. come back, review, revise, add. but most importantly, remember. remember this is for you. so that you minimise pain and failure and shitty feelings and maximise peace and success and joy. and you do like optimum utilisation of resources, don’t you? so do that. apply yourself for yourself. that’s where the returns are the highest.

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gingerofsuburbia · 5 months

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BDS Consumer Boycott Targets

Everything here is copied over from the BDS website.

Hewlett Packard Inc (HP Inc)

HP Inc (US) provides services to the offices of genocide leaders, Israeli PM Netanyahu and Financial Minister Smotrich. HPE, which shares the same brand, provides technology for Israel’s Population and Immigration Authority, a pillar of its apartheid regime.

Chevron (including Caltex and Texaco)

US fossil fuel multinational Chevron is the main corporation extracting gas claimed by apartheid Israel in the East Mediterranean. Chevron generates billions in revenues, strengthening Israel’s war chest and apartheid system, exacerbating the climate crisis and Gaza siege, and is complicit in depriving the Palestinian people of their right to sovereignty over their natural resources. Chevron has thousands of retail gas stations around the world under the Chevron, Caltex, and Texaco brand names.

Siemens

Siemens (Germany) is the main contractor for the Euro-Asia Interconnector, an Israel-EU submarine electricity cable that is planned to connect Israel’s illegal settlements in the occupied Palestinian territory to Europe. Siemens-branded electrical appliances are sold globally.

PUMA

Since 2018, we have called for a boycott of PUMA (Germany) due to its sponsorship of the Israel Football Association (IFA), which governs teams in Israel’s illegal settlements on occupied Palestinian land. In a major BDS win in December 2023, PUMA leaked news to the media that it will not be renewing its IFA contract when it expires in December 2024. Until then, it is still complicit, so we continue to #BoycottPUMA until it finally ends its complicity in apartheid.

Carrefour

Carrefour (France) is a genocide enabler. Carrefour-Israel has supported Israeli soldiers partaking in the unfolding genocide of Palestinians in Gaza with gifts of personal packages. In 2022, it entered a partnership with the Israeli company Electra Consumer Products and its subsidiary Yenot Bitan, both of which are involved in grave violations against the Palestinian people.

AXA

Insurance giant AXA (France) invests in Israeli banks financing war crimes and the theft of Palestinian land and natural resources. When Russia invaded Ukraine, AXA took targeted measures against it. Yet, Axa has taken no action against Israel, a 75-year-old regime of settler-colonialism and apartheid, despite its ongoing genocidal war on Gaza.

SodaStream

SodaStream is an Israeli company that is actively complicit in Israel's policy of displacing the indigenous Bedouin-Palestinian citizens of present-day Israel in the Naqab (Negev) and has a long history of racial discrimination against Palestinian workers.

Ahava

Ahava cosmetics is an Israeli company that has its production site, visitor center, and main store in an illegal Israeli settlement in the occupied Palestinian territory.

RE/MAX

RE/MAX (US) markets and sells property in illegal Israeli settlements built on stolen Palestinian land, thus enabling Israel’s colonization of the occupied West Bank.

Israeli produce in your supermarkets

Boycott produce from Israel in your supermarket and demand their removal from shelves. Beyond being part of a trade that fuels Israel’s apartheid economy, Israeli fruits, vegetables, and wines misleadingly labeled as “Product of Israel” often include products of illegal settlements on stolen Palestinian land. Israeli companies do not distinguish between the two, and neither should consumers.

Non-BDS Grassroots Boycotts:

McDonald’s (US), Burger King (US), Papa John’s (US), Pizza Hut (US), WIX (Israel), etc. are now being targeted in some countries by grassroots organic boycott campaigns, not initiated by the BDS movement. BDS supports these boycott campaigns because these companies, or their branches or franchisees in Israel, have openly supported apartheid Israel and/or provided generous in-kind donations to the Israeli military amid the current genocide. If these grassroots campaigns are not already organically active in your area, we suggest focusing your energies on our strategic campaigns above.

Recently, McDonald’s franchisee in Malaysia has filed a SLAPP lawsuit against solidarity activists, claiming defamation. Instead of holding the Israel franchisee to account for supporting genocide, we are now witnessing corporate bullying against activists. For both these reasons, we are calling to escalate the boycott of McDonald’s until the parent company takes action and ends the complicity of the brand.

Remember, all Israeli banks and virtually all Israeli companies are complicit to some degree in Israel’s system of occupation and apartheid, and hundreds of international corporations and banks are also deeply complicit. We focus our boycotts on a small number of companies and products for maximum impact.

#palestine #gaza strip #bds #global strike week #free palestine

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jennamacaroni · 3 months

Note

Deborah is always giving things to people, and people think because she is very rich and very capable, she doesn't need anyone to give things to her. But Ava gives her something. [you take over from here]

its been two and half years that i've been ruminating on this prompt and never have been able to figure out what this gift could be. this morning i finally found my answer. thank you for sending this prompt which i'm sure at this point you've long forgotten about <3 love u

The package arrives by courier the same evening that Deborah learns ‘My Bad’ is going to network television. After an obscene bidding war, the purchase price from NBC Universal’s deal will be more revenue for Deborah than all 2,500 Palmetto residency shows combined. It also happens that NBC has the Super Bowl next February, and network executives pitched the big game to Deborah’s team as the perfect lead-in to maximize viewership.

That’s how big Deborah Vance is in popular culture these days. Big enough to follow up the most-watched television program of the year.

It’s kind of stunning, Deborah thinks, as Marcus offers her the iPad with the contract pulled up, ready for her signature. Maybe in her wildest dreams she imagined this level of fame and brand recognition, but it was never all that realistic. Especially not at her age. It was impressive enough to sustain her Vegas residency as long as she did in a culture where even the most prolific actors are put out to pasture after age forty. But here she is, about to sign the biggest deal of her career, north of seventy years old.

Josefina interrupts them before she has the chance to sign, knocking softly on the doorframe to Deborah’s office, holding a small package wrapped in a recycled paper grocery bag. “Sorry to interrupt, Deborah, but this was just delivered.”

Deborah waves her off. “Leave it in the kitchen, I’ll get to it later.”

Josefina turns to follow Deborah’s instructions, but something changes her mind. She hovers instead in the entry to the office, a strange look on her face.

“What is it?” Deborah asks, studying Josefina’s frown, mind going back to Ava hovering in a similar doorway holding the envelope from Kathy back after Frank died. She shakes the memory away and stands, holding out her hand and beckoning Josefina forward and to get on with it. She thought this was finally over, that after nearly hitting her with the Rolls Kathy would have gotten the goddamn message.

Josefina enters but stops short of handing it over. She looks Deborah clear in the eye and says, “It’s from Ava.”

Ah.

Deborah isn’t sure if anyone on her staff is still in contact with her ex-writing partner, but it’s been six months since Deborah fired her on that Hollywood rooftop.

First came the denial: Ava teary eyed on a night that she should have been celebrating, not believing Deborah’s words. I can do three months severance and extend your health insurance for six. Then came the anger, weeks of indignant and resentful texts and voice messages, Ava at her worst poking at every tender part of Deborah she knew, which is just about all of them. Deborah never once wrote back. Then bargaining for her job back, even when Deborah knew she was doing just fine writing for television back in LA, that she was even becoming pretty successful. Then came the weeks where Deborah heard nothing at all, Ava’s messages stopping completely, no updates on any of her social media that Deborah most definitely didn’t keep checking, just to make sure. Ava’s name in the credits became the only way Deborah knew she was still out there, still okay, still working.

Deborah clears her throat, swallowing down the acute tightening, ignoring the quickening of her heart rate.

“I’ll take it,” she says, curtly, “give me a minute.”

“I already opened the champagne Jimmy sent,” Josefina explains, handing Deborah the box across the desk. This was a night for celebration, but Deborah suddenly feels like anything but.

“I said, give me a minute,” she snaps, more forceful this time. Her tone clearly hits the mark because Josefina and Marcus share a knowing look before seeing themselves out. The contract, Jimmy, the champagne, it can all wait.

She sits back in the opulent wing-backed chair and lets out a long exhale, holding the small wrapped package and measuring its weight. There’s not much to it really, just wrinkled paper, crooked lines of clear packing tape, and Ava’s chicken scratch with her name and address.

She unwraps it carefully, like she’s afraid of what might be inside. There’s a plain white envelope with Deborah’s name written small in the center and a box for a pair of noise canceling headphones. She slips her finger under the seam of the envelope, tearing it open. A piece of note paper is tri-folded inside, Ava Daniels in neat block printing stamped along the top of the personalized stationery. Deborah chuckles, thinking Ava has come so far from writing solely on post-its. The note is simple, Ava’s messy handwriting in black ink in the center of the page:

For your collection. - Ava

Deborah opens the box but there are no headphones inside, only a bunch of balled up paper surrounding an oblong taped up ball of bubble wrap. Contained within are two ceramic figures, an unlikely pair: it’s quintessential Deborah in her favorite updo wig, a pants suit dusted in golden glitter, complete with golden high heels and microphone in hand. The other is a slightly shorter and paler figure with short auburn hair, striped t-shirt, high waisted jeans, and thick black Doc Marten boots. The tiny Ava is holding a small black notebook. They’re both laughing, and if placed side by side, the salt and pepper shakers turn slightly into one another, like they’re leaning in and sharing a raucous joke.

Deborah tears up, staring down at them centered on the desktop, Ava the pepper to her salt. The other half of her pair. She misses her desperately then, and if she’s serious with herself, has been for the past half of a year, never letting herself truly sit in those feelings until now.

She picks up her phone, squints at the screen through tears, and pulls up Ava’s contact. Before she knows what she’s doing, Deborah hits the call button.

The phone rings twice, then is sent to voicemail.

The recorded message says, “It’s Ava, drop it like it’s hot.”

Deborah clears her throat. She has no idea what she even wants to say. I miss you. I’m living my dream, I’m famous as hell, about to be more rich than ever, but I’m not happy. Not without you. Please come back. None of it is worth it without you.

But that would be selfish. Ava is doing fine, thriving even, without Deborah. She needs to let her be. Instead, she says, “Hey, it’s um, it’s me. I got your package.” She sniffles, swallowing tears. “They’re perfect. Thank you.”

She hangs up.

After her hands stop shaking and she’s gathered herself, Deborah carries the shakers to the wall of china cabinets where her collection is fully lit and on display. She makes room right in the center one at eye-level and sets them together, close enough to touch, their heads leaning into one another.

A few moments later Deborah signs the contract and the house celebrates, Jimmy toasting Deborah and her accomplishments over the phone to a bottle of Dom Perignon, a vintage for 1976, the very year Deborah filmed the late night pilot and ended up starting her stand up career.

If anyone notices the new addition to the salt and pepper shaker collection, no one mentions it.

#hacks #hacks hbo #filling some prompts to get back into it #so if you remember sending one i never answered you might get lucky :)#ava x deborah

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 9 months

Note

Request thing: Steve Roger + "you're so cute" "what did you just say?" "I said you look like a boot"

(Omif there are others feel free to ignore mines cause I am just being greedy now)

There aren't others. Pretty sure there's only 4 of you out there reading me anymore :D

word count: 1951

@bolontiku @rampant-salamander @castiels-sunflowers @feelmyroarrrr __________

Steve Rogers irritated the shit out of you. From the moment Nick Fury thought you should babysit him, he’d just been annoying in all his ‘Gee Golly Ma’am’ goodness and earnest honesty and, well, and he just annoyed you. Sure, he was handsome, and his physique left not a single area needing improvement. And yes, his dry sense of humour and quick way with words made most people just fall into the Captain America fan club without questioning the price of admission. But you couldn’t. You’d been stung before. There was no way someone who looked like the whole package wasn’t hiding something.

You were parked at your desk, cursing a major snarl in traffic that had caused you to skip picking up a coffee. There was a cute barista at the coffee shop by your apartment and you’d been working your way up to asking his name, but missing a single day had made your courage evaporate. You dug through your drawer, but had apparently run out of pods for the office keurig. Digging into your purse, you pulled out a few bills and made your way to the coffee shop on the main floor.

Smothering a yawn, you made your order and tried to pay. The young woman behind the counter shook her head and tilted it to where the drinks were coming up. “He paid for you, ma’am.” You followed her gaze over and cringed. Of course, it was goddamn Steve.

“Thanks,” you grumbled as you approached him. He smiled.

“My pleasure, Agent,” he nodded. After a brief pause, he continued, “You’re a tough nut to crack, you know. I’m never quite sure what you think of all this.” He gestured around vaguely.

“I’m really into coffee. So this is okay,” you replied, deliberately being difficult. He frowned, and then sighed.

“I kind of meant what you think about this.” Again, the gesture was vague, but he included himself, and pointed obviously above you both, where the offices were.

“Does it matter? It pays well, I have great health insurance and a not-shitty 401K. It’s not exactly what I went to university for, but every day is different, and I’ve met some pretty interesting people,” you shrugged.

“Interesting way to look at it.” There was a soft, humble chuckle that escaped him and just made you even more irritated. You closed your eyes to avoid rolling them. Your name was called, and you opened your eyes, took your coffee and smiled blandly at him.

“Thanks for the joe, Steve,” you nodded again, and made your way back to your office.

__________

“I don’t want to go,” you protested to your handler. He sighed and glared at you.

“Look, your specialized knowledge of the era and the subject means that -”

“No, I get it. Really, I do. But what you’re asking me to do is straight-up psychological manipulation, which is not what I’m here for. I’m here because I have extensive specialized knowledge about the era and -”

“Your PhD is on the impact of the loss of Sgt. Barnes on the Howling Commandos and Steve. You have immense knowledge about Barnes, and about his friendship with Steve. If anyone is going to be able to work with Captain Rogers on the deprogramming of Barnes, it’s you. Whether or not you want to go, you are going.” Nick Fury had entered the room and interrupted you.

“But -” you started. Fury silenced you with a glare. You sighed and pursed your lips.

“You’re the only agent I’ve ever had complain about being assigned to work with Rogers,” he started. “Care to explain?”

“It has nothing to do with him, sir,” you lied. Fury raised his eyebrow, clearly not believing you.

“Figure it out. You two are wheels-up in an hour.”

__________

You leaned back in the quinjet hold and closed your eyes, trying to imagine Steve Rogers was not sitting across from you, staring daggers at you.

“I have to ask, Agent. What did I do that was so offensive? Was it the coffee? I know a lot of dames, er, women, don’t like it when men do that anymore,” he broke the silence.

“Not at all, I very much appreciated the coffee,” you replied, keeping your tone light. You were very well aware that your issue was with you, and not actually with him. You’d been mulling it over since he’d bought the damn coffee. All you could come up with was that you were behaving like a child with a crush. You couldn’t accept that you liked him, so you chose to dislike him instead.

“Did I say or do something at some other time?”

“Not at all,” you shook your head.

“Captain Rogers, we’re about to land,” the pilot interrupted. “Based on scans you have approximately three minutes once off the jet to find cover. There’s frequent patrols of the area by Hydra agents, and no real way to keep this bird off the radar.”

“We’ll finish this chat later,” Steve promised.

Once off the jet, you followed him into the forest to find cover. Just as the pilot had warned, it was not long after you deplaned that a patrol came by, and Steve tackled you into the underbrush. You pushed at him feebly, opening your mouth to protest, and he slapped his hand across your mouth, nodding to the west, where the crunch of leaves betrayed the patrol’s presence. Your eyes widened and you quit moving. When you were clear of danger, he rolled off you.

“Some warning would have been nice,” you whispered as you picked pine needles and moss out of your hair.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great plan,” he hissed back. “Hey goons, we’re over here!”

“I’m sure your super-soldiery brain could have figured out a way to give me a heads up before you tackled me,” you snapped back.

“Ingrate,” he muttered, loudly enough that you could hear him.

“Jackass,” you retorted. His eyebrow raised.

“Watch your language,” he warned.

“Because it might offend the hydra goon squad?” You asked.

“You know, dames didn’t used to talk like that.” His tone was tight. You rolled your eyes.

“I’d like to remind you, I’m an agent first, an expert in history second and a dame third, you fucking cro-magnon,” you spat. “Also, this isn’t my first rodeo, Cap. I’ve been on surveillance missions before. I also saw the patrol.”

Steve glared at you and shook his head. “Instead of arguing about the finer points of your genetic composition, do you think you can drop your hate for the rest of the mission? If Bucky’s here, I’d like to find him. And Fury assured me, you’re the agent for the job if we do.”

“Is that an order, Cap?” You asked. He looked away, and drew in a deep, steadying breath.

“Yes, agent, I believe it is,” he snapped.

__________

You’d been unsuccessful. You’d managed to infiltrate the base, but the cells were all empty. The base had just recently been cleared out, and there was enough equipment left behind that you felt confident it was where Sgt. Barnes had been held, at some point. On your way to the extraction point, you saw muzzle-flash and moved faster than you thought possible to knock Steve out of the way. A blinding pain struck you in the midsection and Steve turned around to watch you fall to the ground, a silent scream on your lips. The look of combined annoyance and fear on his face was the last thing you remembered seeing before blackness took you.

When you came to, it was so bright you blinked and lifted your hand to cover your eyes, pressing them shut again. There was an overpowering smell of antiseptic and an IV tethered to your right hand. A monitor beeped systematically and you realized it was a heart monitor when it matched pace with the thumping in your head. You were parched, and when you tried to push yourself to sit, a gentle hand landed on your chest, pressing you back into the mattress.

“Stay put. There’s a remote here, I’ll lift your head,” a gentle male voice rumbled. Your head slowly lifted and you tried opening your eyes again, just a little. Through your lashes, you saw Steve pouring you a glass of water. He held it out to you. “Just sips.”

It was cool against your lips, and you sucked in a couple of little chips of ice to suck on.

“Thanks,” you breathed. “What happened?”

“We didn’t find Bucky,” he started. “We were headed to the quinjet and you decided to play hero and jumped in front of a bullet.”

“You’re welcome,” you coughed. He raised the bed a little higher. Your eyes finally adapted to the bright light of the infirmary and you looked at him. He was still in his uniform, was wearing a fair amount of your blood and looked angry.

“What kind of idiotic idea was that, anyhow?” He demanded. Your ears rang at the heightened volume of his voice. You flinched in pain.

“I saw the muzzle flash and just moved,” you replied.

“A bullet wound to the shoulder would barely slow me down,” he snapped. “Instead you took one to the lung and required a few hours of surgery.”

“Sorry that I was such a huge inconvenience to you,” you managed. “Maybe you should make it clear to Fury that you don’t want to partner with me again.”

“Maybe if you didn’t have such a huge goddamn chip on your shoulder, we would have worked better together,” he retorted. You gestured to yourself, in your blue hospital gown, and IV tubing.

“I’m pretty sure the wound is right here,” you gestured to the dressing on your side, “if you’re like to really get a few good kicks in while I’m down.”

He stood up and flipped his chair over before walking to the far wall and slamming his fist against it. “What the hell did I do? Why do you hate me?” You flinched away from his angry tone.

“I don’t, I don’t hate you, Cap, I just -”

“Bullshit,” he interrupted.

“Now who has a foul mouth?” You snapped. “I don’t hate you, Cap. I don’t. I just don’t know how to act around you and it makes me guarded and defensive, I guess.” You took another small sip of water.

“Because I’m somehow your enemy?” He asked. You could feel your cheeks heating in embarrassment and glanced up at the IV bag. It was pain medication. Go for it, you thought, at least you had plausible deniability due to the intoxicating effects of the medication.

“It’s just that you’re so cute, and you’re kind, and you’re so genuine, and you smell good and -”

“What did you just say?” He interrupted, pulling the chair back to the beside and sitting in it. He took your hand between his and looked at you intently. You’d said too much and felt the panic of admitting all of that hit you as he stared at you.

“Uh, I said you look like a boot and I’m pretty sure you’re out of your mind, and you smell like swine and -”

“That’s not what you said,” he laughed and squeezed your hand.

“I’m pretty sure I did,” you averted your gaze from his. He cupped your cheek in one of his hands and turned you back to face him. “I like you too.”

“Oh.”

“Get some rest. I’m going to get a shower so I stop smelling like swine, and I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” you nodded. He tucked your hand under the cover, smoothed your hair away and dropped a kiss on your forehead.

#steve rogers x reader

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mysticmunson · 2 years

Text

from the script, part 2; eddie munson

sooo my dumbass has to repost this bc i forgot to put any tags

prompt: the preachers daughter decides to help eddie munson study shakespeare to take a glance into the life of a normal teenager. but when they become best friends, things become a tad more complicated

part one

word count: 7.5k

warning: like 30 seconds of smut, angst, mentions of trauma, gross men (let me know if i missed anything)

an at the end :)

The walk home from Eddie’s felt fast as you recounted the past few hours, engrossed in the idea of his affection. You wished you would’ve kissed him, but you felt completely obedient to his every move, he was making the rules whether he knew it or not.

“Hi sweetheart!” Your mom called from the kitchen as you walked in your front door, toeing off your shoes and placing them on the rack. You set your backpack down, approaching the voices in the distance.

Your mom was slicing some fruit as your dad sat at the table, fiddling with a newspaper. Smiling, you walked past them for the fridge, grabbing a water bottle, and stealing a raspberry from the bowl.

“How was your day at school, kiddo?” Your father asked, tilting the news away from his face to meet your gaze. Keeping your answer short, you said it was good. You could tell by his face he had something to say, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Good, good. What are you doing tomorrow?” He questioned, your mom smiling at you as you took a sip of water.

“I don’t think anything, just studying, and preparing for Sunday.” You responded, looking forward to your one day off from school and church. The only downside was not having an excuse to see Eddie, but you could live for the weekends.

Your father cleared his throat, “Well, Gregory Marsh had asked my approval to take you out tomorrow, and I agreed.”

You felt your voice plummet to the depths of your gut, trying to mask your true emotions that were bound to show on you shortly.

“Great, I’ll get a head start on my homework then.” You ran upstairs to your room, hearing your mom make a comment about how you must be nervous for your first real date.

Shutting your door gently, you looked at the pale pink rug on your floor, curling your toes into the plush material. You took a deep breath, steadying your racing chest as you sunk to the floor. Comfort was found in the cool material, laying on your back in hopes you would sink into it.

But you didn’t. You remained on the floor of your bedroom you’ve had since you were a baby, pale pink walls with cherubs on your dresser. The feeling of being alone weighed on your chest, locking down as tears pricked your eyes. All you could hope for is that the day would go by quickly.

—

“Wow, you look great.” Gregory commented as you walked away from your front door and towards his car, a 1979 Thunderbird. He opened the door as you thanked him, smoothing out your blue dress on his leather seats.

“I was thinking we could go get some coffee?” He proposed, eyebrows lifting while he buckled up. Agreeing, he began to drive away, putting on a local radio station that cycled through different genres of music.

Gregory asked you about school, church, and other common courtesy questions that you reciprocated. He told a story of his coworker who accidentally came into the insurance office without pants on, laughing the whole way through.

While the story was amusing, you weren’t interested, finding your mind trailing to other topics. Even mundane issues like if you remembered to put your dirty clothes in the washer or if you turned off the oven after making muffins for your siblings. You only snapped back to reality when you parked and the radio shut off midway through Manic Monday.

The quaint coffee shop had a case full of pastries, small treats, and some pre packaged goodies under fluorescent lights. As Gregory ordered a black coffee with a donut, you asked for hot tea and a croissant, tempted by all the treats. Once you had them, you sat at a table by the window, placing a napkin in your lap.

“So what do you think about senior year? Almost done, hm?” He spoke, taking a sip from his mug that seeped with steam. He placed it back on the circular table, decorated with shards of glass in cement, almost like a stained window on the walls of a place of worship.

“It’s good, a lot of work, but I’m glad I’m getting A’s.” You replied, toying with the flakes that broke loose with every bite on your plate. The warm bread melted on your tongue that you almost moaned, it had been crafted by someone with talent or pulled from a freezer and reheated. You didn’t care which at this point as you took another bite.

“Well, can’t say I’m surprised, you’ve always been so smart.” He acknowledged, feeling your own cheeks warm with flattery.

“Thanks. How are you enjoying being a real adult?” You asked, taking a small sip of your hot tea. It was a bit strong so you grabbed some honey and creamer, stirring it in with a small spoon.

“Better than high school.” He chuckled, “I enjoy what I do, just ready for the next step I suppose.”

The daunting next step loomed over your head as the words left his mouth, but the dark cloud had been there for a long time. He was established and now seeking a wife. He didn’t have to vocalize it, you knew, but you could only sulk for so long when you saw a whiff of familiar brown hair.

Why Eddie was at this exact coffee shop at this time was unknown, but you chose to focus on the guy in front of you who was recalling another mundane story. Trying with every fiber of your being to be intrigued, questioning why you couldn’t feel strongly towards him. He was what every parent would want for their daughter, but you wondered if all these girls really wanted them.

After you were sure Eddie was no longer in your presence, you had doubts that the hair belonged to him, it was like he was never there at all. Swallowing the warm drink, you excused yourself to the restroom, hoping to splash some cool water on your face to make you snap back to reality.

As you passed the bathrooms in the hidden corner, an arm grabbed to pull you in, recognizing the feeling of the rings immediately. Turning your head around, you saw his boyish smile as you stood stunned, heart racing quickly from the sudden change in direction. Every possible sense picked up on him; The way your back was held to his chest, watching his hands fall to your hips, smelling like cigarettes and cologne so intoxicating your head could spin, but what lacked was taste.

“Sorry, saw you across the street on your date with your ‘husband’, I couldn't help but think about you yesterday.” He rumbled against the shell of your ear, “Thought about my face between your thighs, when you made all those pretty noises for me.”

The lights flickered briefly as he spoke, his fingers trailing up your skirt to find your panties that were not yet soaked, but he felt as you relaxed into him.

“Eddie,” You whispered, eyes closing, “Will you kiss me, please?”

A chuckle rang through your ear as two fingers danced across your bundle of nerves, a gasp climbing from your lungs. Lifting one leg with his spare hand to gain more access, he felt how wet you were becoming.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart, kind of impolite to kiss someone else on a date. Call me a prude, but I think he may want to do that without tasting me.” His breath was ragged as he felt you wiggle against him, head thrown back like no words he just said actually resonated.

“Fuck, you’re so cute,” He began, nibbling on your ear lobe as his fingers worked you closer, “Look at you, spreading your legs for a man while on a date with someone else. A damn adulteress for a preacher's daughter.”

While the words were meant to spur you further, you ceased all movement. The simple word that left his lips last brought back the feeling of sitting in church, cross legged in mary jane shoes. Listening to the 1,000th sermon from your father about nuclear family dynamics, a man and wife.

As a child, you were taught that cheating was on the same playing field as murder, no matter the circumstance. When the phrase left Eddies mouth, you felt like you had murdered someone cold blooded, despite not even being Gregory’s beau.

“Stop.” You weakly called, his arms immediately leaving your body. He looked at you with care, beginning to ask if you were alright as you looked at him with an aghast expression. The images of being in church, hearing of these vile women who went against what was taught flooded your senses that Eddie had occupied moments ago.

“I…” Voice falling short, you walked hastily to your table, grabbing your purse. Coming up with an excuse of feeling sick, Gregory offered to drive you home, but you insisted you needed fresh air. Your feet took off, coming to a run once out of eyesight of the cafe and into the forest. Within the maze of trees, you found a small pond with tadpoles swimming in earthmade wells.

Crouching down to the ground, your finger lightly skimmed the cool liquid, watching the small creatures move to the edge. You pulled away your hand, trying to focus on anything, but the growing knot in your belly.

You looked around to see a fallen tree by the outskirts of the water, sitting on it and allowing yourself to cry freely. So much time was spent containing your emotions that you rarely cried, but they invaded your eyes, leaving a trail of black mascara.

You heard your name being called as Eddie came into view, disheveled hair and huffing chest. You turn towards him, backing up slightly before looking out across the water.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you or do something you didn’t want-” He anxiously rambled, walking closer and taking a seat beside you. Your throat contracted as you opened your mouth, deciding shaking your head would have to work for the moment. His hand went to hold yours that rested on your knee, his thumb stroking it in comfort.

He waited patiently as you recollected as much as possible, “Eddie, please kiss me.”

“I don’t think I should.” Giving a poker face, he visibly swallowed hard.

“Why not?” You whispered, all the fears of what his response could possibly be intruding into your brain. You started to wait for his response, but couldn’t stop yourself, “Eddie I don’t like Gregory the way I like you.”

The admission made his face go slightly pale, thumb seizing the calming rub on your knuckles while your chest tightened. You couldn’t get a read on his exact emotion, silently praying he would finally speak.

“I’m not what you need, you need someone like Greg.” He stated, his hand going to his own lap as he stood, beginning to pace.

His admission made your skin crawl. What was so different from what you had already done to each other to his lips against yours. You thought of how sex was such an enigma your whole life, only knowing things like condoms existed through health class. But a kiss was a display of affection or love to you. Wedding after wedding that your father hosted all sealed with a romantic kiss that you assumed made them weak to the knees.

Everything you and Eddie had endured together was unknown, it was thrilling to feel his hands touch your body, finding areas of pleasure you didn’t know existed. Purity resonated within you in these moments, you didn’t feel dirty or used, you felt respected. Where was the line drawn in intimacy that made it become the daunting, deflowering that was prompted for your wedding night.

Lips against lips was a declaration of devotion, one that you craved from the man before you. The demure emotions that you displayed held a case of unsteady ones, determined to plow through at any moment. You stood up sharply, dusting the dirt off your bottom as you let out a sarcastic laugh. He turned around with a confounded look, leaves rustling against his shoes.

“My whole entire life, I’ve been told what to do by everyone. Don’t be like them, Eddie, please.” You spoke, nerves igniting within you that you didn’t realize were there.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry,” He apologized, rubbing the back of his neck, “I just want the best for you, he can take care of you and all the shit that you want.”

He didn’t get it.

While the town of Hawkins resented him for his clothes, attitude, and music, they only accepted one version of you. You had no choice, but to conform to what was expected of you, it was conditioned by judgment from others since birth. Feelings always felt so black and white to you until you met Eddie, he was an unknown color that didn’t have a name yet, but it was your favorite now.

Ears burning with anger, you pressed your lips together to contain yourself.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” He tentatively asked, throwing his thumb over his shoulder to the left. Shaking your head, you turned to walk in the opposing direction until you no longer felt his gaze.

Wishing this was like a romantic movie where he would run up, suddenly understanding every ounce of trauma you ever endured, kissing you passionately while the skies opened up. But this didn’t happen. There were no footsteps behind you, just the noise of a bird singing above you.

—---

When Eddie walked into English class on Monday to see your seat empty, he assumed with the rest of the class that you were in the bathroom or running errands for a teacher. It was only when the bell rang for the next period did he realize you had been gone the whole time. The last you had spoken to him was Saturday, having to see your tears and leaving you distraught.

All throughout Sunday, Eddie was trying to formulate his emotions into a sensible response to you. That even though his desires burned on the deepest of levels, that it could never be enough for what you deserved. He couldn’t hold you back from everything you were capable of, as badly as he wanted to be all you needed and more.

Through his time of thought, he knew he needed to open himself up just as you had done amongst the tadpoles. To open his heart for the first time in a long time and let someone know how much he cared, despite how much he doubted himself.

When he asked a church friend where you were, she was astonished by his curiosity, saying you hadn’t been at the service the day before either. That you were staying at your friend Danielle’s due to her having a personal emergency on Saturday afternoon. With that explanation alone, his stomach sank with worry.

On Saturday afternoon, you devised a plan on a whim, calling your friend Danielle to cover for you and say you were at her house if asked. She wasn’t as straight edge as your fellow friends, only agreeing if you called her every so often to confirm your safety.

Running inside your home, you wrote a quick note explaining your friend had an unknown predicament and that you had to go immediately. You threw some clothes into a duffle bag with some other necessities, grabbing a walkman with some mixtapes and flying off on your bike. You sped down roads for hours, not knowing your end destination, just that you needed to get out.

You found yourself at a location outside your hometown, calling your parents on a payphone as they ridicule you for having to miss church tomorrow for the first time since 4th grade when you had the flu. You played the act of distress, having them eventually buy the bit before you could hang up.

Legs worn out, you knew it was time to find somewhere to stay, but your stomach growled. Grabbing as much ice cream as possible and some soda from a five and dime, you wandered to a motel, buying a night. As you sat alone in the dimly lit bedroom, you felt numb to the influx of emotions felt mere hours ago, a shallow shell.

Taking a quick shower, you cleaned yourself with your hands, allowing a thought of Eddie’s own fondling you once more. Feeling yourself still pent up from the lack of release at the coffee shop, you felt too mentally drained to continue. Pulling on some pajamas, you finally ate the frozen treat that had begun melting and drinking a Coke.

The TV buzzed with static as you clicked the buttons, settling on Growing Pains, focusing your attention to the charming Kirk Cameron. You stifled a laugh or two, but spent the night within your own head. It began to rain outside, distracting you from the heartthrob on the tv, back to reality.

Rain trickled down the window, making the streetlight and parking lot appear as an oil painting. Rain was similar to sadness where it made even mundane objects or things feel poetic or remarkable. Flailing on the stiff sheets, you let out a screech into the pillow beneath you, a laugh track taunting you from the device in the corner.

You weren’t sure when you exactly woke up, but it had to have been midday. It didn’t matter as the whole day was spent either crying, screaming into a section of the bed, or biking to a convenient store to buy cheap ramen and Skittles. You kept yourself busy by organizing the candy into color groups, starting with your least favorite flavor, grape, and finishing with the supreme, strawberry.

It was only when you turned the television on again when you recalled it was a Sunday, finally checking the time after your small excursions. It was already dinner time, yet the growing frustration of the situation filled you up.

You realized how pathetic you felt asking for permission to go away even at 18 years old, only justifying it, mentally, by living under their roof and still being in high school. But not everything was as definitive.

Everyday was a deed made for those around you. Wearing clothes that were approved by your parents, studying relentlessly to appease the idea that you would actually go to school and not just play housewife like the congregation expected you to, and even meeting Eddie began as a favor for a teacher.

You had tried to forget him, but the heart has more strength than the brain, finding yourself drifting off to the idea of him beside you. His arm slung around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your head, hair tickling your nose as he shifted in his sleep. He ambushed every waking moment and it was ruining you, knowing the feelings aren't reciprocated.

So the following day when Eddie was leaving school in a panic at your sudden disappearance, you found yourself at a small bar, eating fries while watching a random hockey game. Did people actually come to bars to watch hockey? It was fairly empty so probably not.

“Hey kiddo, you okay?” A woman asked, making your gaze go from the ice to her. You looked a bit thrown off until you realized leftover reminisce of your mascara still coated your undereyes.

“Men are the worst.” Is all you could muster as she guffawed, signaling a bartender to grab two beers on tap. He set the cool mugs down before she slid one in front of you, nodding in approval as you thanked her. Never having a sip of alcohol, you coughed after one sip, but went back for more.

“I hear ya. Names Patsy.” She quipped, sticking out a hand that you reciprocated, sliding over the bowl of fries with the free hand. She cocked an eyebrow as she took one, smiling kindly under red lipstick.

Patsy was unlike any woman you had met in Hawkins. She was covered in tattoos, worse fake eyelashes that reached her eyebrows, a small piercing in the hairs and gorgeous brown hair held back by a bandana headband.

You began friendly banter, eventually spilling more secrets as the night went on, she talked of her two ex husbands and her work. She pointed at a shiny black motorcycle outside that was hers as you sat in awe of a girl riding a bike like that. The sky was completely dark as you reached the result of what brought you here, airing out your dirty laundry to a woman who you knew nothing but everything about.

“Damn, kid, that’s a tough break,” She sighed, drinking another beer and licking the foam from her top lip, “My family was like that, I was a preacher's daughter too.” Her revelation made you feel light, that someone could break through the confines to find true originality.

“I’ll let you know something though, don’t let these guys make you feel bad, okay? My dad made me feel like shit for every mistake I made, but you gotta find your own way. Doesn’t mean you have to lose your faith, lose yourself, or run away. You just gotta find what's good for you, not anyone else.” Patsy proclaimed as you nodded along, feeling seen for the first time in yourself as a regular woman, not in accordance with your relation to someone.

“You think this kid, Eddie, is what’s good for you?” She questioned, popping a fresh fry in her mouth that she had ordered as you followed suit.

“I think so.” You muttered, staring at your black, hightop Converses that rocked against the beam of the stool.

“Then go for it, babe. And if that doesn’t work out, you got the rest of your life to figure that shit out. The love of your life is probably not named Gregory who worked in insurance. Just like mine wasn’t named David who was a used car salesman, never date one of those.” You laughed at her advice, but took it to heart, taking another swig of your second beer.

The small bar and its dance floor began to fill, loud music playing that flushed out your once intimate conversation. She excused herself as you bid farewell, finding yourself drinking a third beer. You had walked around in the small place, watching women and men dance with one another, surprised to see this place so active for a Monday night.

The casual jeans and tight, revealing shirt you wore made you feel more comfortable amongst the crowd, letting the alcohol flow through your tired body. The thoughts of worry, shame, and guilt dissipated with every sip.

“Hey! I’m Matt.” A gruff voice came from behind you, his hand reaching the small of your back. Too drunk to care much, you introduced yourself, leaning further into his touch. He offered to buy you a drink and you agreed, watching from the floor as he ordered a pretty glass.

Matt was probably six foot, wearing business casual clothes that made him look like a true adult, dress shoes that had to have been shined recently, and a shiny watch that reflected on against the dim lights. Your drunken haze made you confident you could marry this man right now, especially after downing the clear, brown liquid, choking at the stinging sensation.

“You ever had whisky before?” He yelled over the music, amused at your intense reaction as he moved to the beat.

“I drank for the first time tonight so no!” You grinned, arms raising to dance and embrace the sweat and intoxication flowing through the room. His hands pulled you closer to him as you swayed to a Prince song, finding more drinks reaching your grasp as every song continued.

He moved his head to try and catch your lips, but you’d shy away with a shriek. Alcohol had apparently made you a bit aloof and carefree, “I don’t kiss on the first date.” Your words were sewn together as he smirked, your ass pressing against his front while your arms lifted to behind his head.

You occasionally thought of engaging in this activity with the metalhead, but shook it off, he didn’t care. You could make yourself busy, tonight didn’t have to end until you think it should.

Concurrently with your adventure, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking of you, driving all over to find any clue of where you had run off to. He drove past the obvious spots like your house, the library, the woods near the cafe again, but to no avail. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew you were safe, feeling guilty for not conveying his true affections.

He had found your friend Danielle through a call to Gareth, who confirmed that she was the same girl he kissed in third grade under the slide. There were only so many Danielles that he took a shot in the dark and rode to her place of work, a pet store near the city's center. He wished he had the mental capacity to look at the kittens meowing his direction, but his gaze was set on the girl before him.

He didn’t allow her time to introduce herself as he asked where you were, hands resting on the blue crate as she sorted through dog toys, labeling them.

“I don’t think I should tell you, she told me not to-” Danielle asserted, clear with the intent to stay locked down. That was one thing about girls who had strict parents had in common, they could be sneaky as hell and keep a secret like a safe.

“Listen, I just want to make sure she’s safe, she never misses church or school.” Eddie sighed, making Danielle freeze for a brief moment before continuing with her stickers.

“She’s fine.” Her response was not as solid, lip between her teeth as she peeled a decal from the fuzzy material of the toy. He kept his gaze unwavering towards her until she looked at him. Danielle knew you were a tad unstable at the moment, she secretly wished she would tell Eddie, but she also knew it wasn’t her information to unveil.

“Eddie, right?” He nods, “I get you want to make sure she’s safe, I’ve been telling her to call me every few hours to make sure she is. I don’t even know exactly where she is.”

Thanking her briefly, he stomped out in a hurry as the sun dimmed. He clenched his steering wheel and let the metal music blast from his speaker, screaming for a moment till riding out of the parking lot. He realized he should probably check the outskirts of town, going in the direction of your house.

He listened to three whole mixtapes before driving past a grungy bar, not paying much attention until he saw your bike. He knew it was yours due to the peeling barcode left on from when you bought it, he made fun of you for never remembering to pull it off. You now insisted it was part of the ‘essence’ of the bike, that you had to leave it on. He swung into a u-turn, trying to glance in to no avail. The lights were dim and smoke coated the insides.

He got out, shrugging off his leather jacket to leave him in an Iron Maiden tee with a small hole at the lower right side, a result of messing with a loose string too much.

“Hey! Your name Eddie?”

His head whipped to see the same brunette woman you spoke to hours ago, perched on a black motorcycle, wearing sunglasses, and smoking a cigarette. He walked up to her, breathing deep with uncertain emotions.

“Yeah, who are you?” His voice was harsh as she turned stern, stomping out the bud, standing up to be about his own height.

“Patsy. Had a chat with a girl here tonight, talked about an edgy boy who seemed too similar to you to be a coincidence.” She breathed, cracking the strain in her back as she leaned downward. He couldn’t tell if he felt comforted that he found you here, about 20 miles from city lines, about 30 miles from your home.

“Shit, yeah, I’m the asshole. But I’m just trying to find her.” He exclaimed, running a hand through his hair as he stood up straighter to take another look into the windows.

“Well, I’m just out here to make sure she got out of her safe.” This made the boy tense his eyebrows together, cocking his head as she lit another cigarette from her breast pocket. He took note of her cool jean jacket with various metal band patches, much like his own in the van.

“I’m not here to be the Pope or anything, but I understand her struggles, felt like I could give her a bit of advice. But some of these dudes, ain’t no good.” She took a huff of her cigarette, blowing smoke into the black sky, “I left, but turned around. Wanted to wait till she left or someone came for her.”

This was the first time she moved her sunglasses from her eyes, getting a good look up and down at Eddie. He stood tapping his foot nervously, hands on hips. His rough exterior made his jittery movements seem adverse, but she nodded and straddled her bike.

“Make sure the kids' home safe, got it?” She commanded as he nodded, watching as the motorcycle purred underneath her.

“Thank you for looking out for her.” Eddie called as she gave a wink, putting her black frames in front of her eyes and driving off into the darkness of the unfamiliar town. He stood in place until he heard echoes of Madonna from the inside, Papa Don’t Preach sending him to the front doors. His height did little to assist the mission of finding you, sandwiched between varying bodies.

You started to lose track of drinks, body moving absentmindedly to the rhythm cascading the whole atmosphere. Matt stayed glued to your side, feeding you fruity drinks and trying to get any words out above the music.

The man around you wasn’t just hoping you’d have a fun time drinking as he felt you up, cooing incoherent words in your ear which you always giggled at, mostly due to the tickle of his facial hair against your neck.

“Let’s get out of here.”

The words caught the brown haired boy’s ear as he looked to see Matt leading you out. Stumbling over heels and downing a shot, falling into his chest. Eddie got up and marched right up to you grabbing your hands then hung around Matt’s neck loosely.

“Eddie!” You sang with a grin, giving you a soft smile, mostly due to the relief of finding you safe. The other man gave him a dirty look, but he just shrugged, wrapping you closer to him in fear you’d fall.

“C’mon sexy, I thought we were heading to my place, so you’ll finally kiss me.” Matt placed a hand on your shoulder that was almost immediately met with a cryless wail, shoving your face further into Eddie’s warm and familiar chest. Too drunk to remember this was the same boy who left you heartbroken two days ago, just the positives stayed at the moment.

Matt mumbled an insult as he stormed out, knocking over a glass on the way out. Eddie ignored his temper tantrum, attempting to walk out by guiding your feet, but realizing it would save significant energy to just lift you. Your legs promptly wrapped around his waist, making incoherent noises.

“Fuck, how much did you drink?” He groaned, not expecting an actual answer, but was given one anyway after he sat you down, running to throw your bike in the back.

“I think 13, I should probably have another one cause that numbers uneven and some come with a little umbrella.” You hiccuped as he buckled you in, rubbing hands over his face at the severe amount you had, knowing you hadn’t touched a drop previously.

“Where did you sleep last night?” Dodging the aforementioned answer, she giggled, pointing to the right to a straight road lined with lit up restaurants and stores.

“I got a motel and watched TV and had ice cream. My bags there with my money, Kirk Cameron was there too.” You babbled, pulling the hotel keys from your pants pocket. He snatched it to your protests, looking at the name of the place and driving towards it. He realized the side of this town you found yourself at wasn’t exactly safe, grateful that he had just found you drunk and not harmed.

As you pulled into the same parking lot that was covered in rain the night before, he went to your side to open the squeaking door. He held your face in his large hands, looking you over as your expression was blank.

He gently coaxed you from his van, wobbly getting out and accidentally stepping on his boots that he loved. He was preoccupied grabbing his own overnight bag he had stored with extra clothes in case he ended up driving somewhere, he just thought it would be more drug related and not following you to a random bar related. He hadn’t even realized you had stepped on him until he heard you weeping, covering your mouth.

“M’so sorry Eddie.” You started heaving as he panicked, deciding to just carry you, again, into the small bedroom. A mantra of apologies flooded the room, “I didn't mean to step on your boot, m’so sorry!” He tried shushing you, hugging you close to his chest, stroking your hair.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, I’ve got ya.” His murmurs helped soothe you, breathing regulating to a normal tempo before he slightly pulled away, guiding you to the bathroom to change. As much as you probably needed a shower, it would’ve resulted in an injury at your state.

He grabbed your shirt and shorts set on your bed, a random pair of underwear from your bag, and placed it in your hands. He found some wipes to clean your face, waiting as you opened the door to the tee on backwards.

He smiled as you walked straight into his chest, looking up at him with big eyes, blinking, like a thought had never been behind them. He gently held your face steady so he could wipe off the mascara and lipstick.

“T’feels good.” You smile, eyes shutting as he tossed the dirty cloth in the bin. He found a way to get you to your bed, tucking you in as you yawned. He yawned right after making you erupt in girlish laughter.

“Alright, giggles, sleep.” He said, taking the pillows from the left side of the bed to make a space for him on the floor. He went to the bathroom to put on some flannel pajama pants, shrugging off a shirt, he was hot enough with the trousers. It was only when he had finally laid down that the whining began.

“Eddieee.” You whispered, peaking your eyes from the mattress, seeing your hair fall as he looked up at you.

“What.” Sighing as he stretched his back, trying to get comfortable on the very firm carpet.

“C’mereee” Words slurring against the foam mattress, inching further off the edge.

“No, sleep.” He mustered up as much sternness as he could at being this tired, it was also arduous to be angry at you.

The room went quiet as he shut his eyes, surprised that his attempt had succeeded quickly. This lasted a few seconds before he felt your finger start to trace his nose, scrunching it to derail your route. But you persevered in his hair, racking your fingers through it.

“I like your hair.”

“Go. To. Sleep.” He persisted, gritting out each word with eyes shut, turning to his side.

The room went quiet once more except for the slight buzz of the street lamps outside, but that too was joined by another noise.

“Eddie, please, I’m cold!” You plead, shuffling against the white sheets, restless.

He tried his best to ignore your words, still not very coherent, but you clearly needed him with you to shut your eyes for a minute.

“Can I sleep down there with you?” You reasoned, rubbing your hands over your tired eyes.

“Sleep.” Flatly saying it, but your begging continued softly, hearing a few sniffles followed by his name.

“Christ. Fine! Fine!” He broke, a joyful squeal coming from the mattress above him before he stood.

“Alright, little lady, no funny business.” His eyes squinted at you as he set the pillows on the opposing side, walking around to his side. He laid down beside you while you instantly latched onto him.

“I promise.” You mumbled against his chest, shoving your pointed pinkie finger in his face.

“Don’t take out my eye!” He dodged the attack, met with your simper.

“What if I wanted your eye? What if I was dying and needed it?” You berated, still slightly ineligible due to the drinks and being against him.

“Could I give you, like, a camel’s eye or something? Cause I kinda like my eye.” This was met with your gasp, setting your chin on his clothed peck to see him.

“I don’t want a camel’s eye!” The actual sad look on your face made Eddie’s heart leap, the silly situation warranting it making it easier to swallow than the last time he saw it.

“Go to sleep, giggles.” He chuckled, instinctively wrapping you closer as you melted into his grasp, hands respectively at your mid back.

“You can put your hands anywhere.” You hummed with shut eyes, cheek squished against him as he rolled his own eyes. His hands stayed still as he waited for you to drift asleep in his arms, finding his own rest shortly after.

——

Waking up to the sound of someone throwing up reminded Eddie way too much of his party days. He groaned, rubbing his face to gain consciousness until he realized he was in a motel. The memories of the night before locked in as he stumbled to the bathroom.

He grabbed your hair in a ponytail as you threw up, crying a bit from the intensity. No one forgets their first hangover. He rubbed your back, sitting on the edge of the tub right next to the toilet you were hunched over.

“You’re okay, just let it out.” He murmured tiredly, wincing at the clear pain you were in. He waited until you had stopped vomiting for a few minutes to help you sit against the wall, shoulders relaxing as you breathed deep.

“Drinking’s not very fun.” You grumbled, rubbing your own forehead as he chuckled, standing up to walk to the first aid kit at the top of the cabinet. Finding some ibuprofen, he got a cup and filled it with water, sitting next to you.

“Ah.” He vocalized, signaling you to open your mouth as he cupped two pills in his hand, helping you lean back to let them fall in. He cautioned you to drink slowly to avoid throwing up again.

It was quiet as you came down from your nausea, he opened his arms to let you rest on his shoulder which you obliged, head pounding less and less as the medicine kicked in.

“I’m sorry for thinking I knew what was best for you,” Eddie breathed, “I don’t know what’s best for you, hell, I barely know how to keep myself alive.” You softly smiled, slowly nodding, relieved that if anything, he just began to understand your situation more.

“Thanks Ed’s. Thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry.” Slightly embarrassed at how much you drank last night and throwing up in front of him, but he looked at you with kind eyes when you peered up.

“Don’t be sorry, you had every right to go away. I just wanted to make sure you were safe, was scared something bad would happen.” Nothing bad did happen, but Eddie couldn’t ignore the slight ache he had when he saw you with someone else.

When you were able to stand, you opted for a shower, grabbing your bag and shuffling in. Any quick movement left you a bit dizzy, steadying yourself against the countertop, hearing Eddie ask that you just leave it unlocked in case you fell.

“What if I fall on purpose?” The suggestive words left your mouth before thinking twice.

“I’ll leave you there if you do that.” He joked, tidying up the space.

Finding your toothbrush, you cleaned thoroughly until your gums were about to bleed, finally getting in the shower. As you stood under the warm water, the feeling of sickness was overcome by the intensity you felt through your chest these past few days. You knew you had to go home, but how lovely would it be to be a stranger.

Going to a bar, meeting fellow strangers that had no idea if you were lying or telling the truth. Being a stranger made you whoever you wanted to be for a few moments, oftentimes finding your true feelings as you release. An audience’s response that only matters for the time, leaving to never see them again. You hoped you’d find Patsy again though.

As much as your heart ached for the boy on the other side of the walls, you tried to imagine how the night would have gone if he hadn’t come. Had he not given a shit and just played guitar in his bedroom, shrugging off the news about your absence in English class.

The night behind you was hazy, but you remembered Patsy, the greasy fries, the sweet drinks, and Matt. You only remembered Matt due to his bad breath that was masked by the vodka in his system and your own, how he kept trying to kiss you. You knew he hadn’t kissed you cause you distinctly remember him dragging it out, making it a big deal that you wouldn’t kiss a random man.

The water became slightly cool as you finished, wrapping up in a towel with gold embroidery scattered across it. You went to open the door to grab your bag, but it was placed right by your feet, yelling a thank you in response.

“This room is, maybe, the size of a closet, you don’t have to scream.” He replied just as loudly as you stripped with the door shut. You found a cream sweater and blue jeans, putting those on as they stuck to your wet skin.

You entered the main room to Eddie watching MTV in his clothes from the day before, the band tee showing glimpses of his tattoos. “Man, this channel sucks during the day.”

You laughed, placing the strap to your bag over your shoulder, sitting on the bed next to the phone. Your blood ran cold when you went to reach for it, dialing your home number to your worried mother.

“Honey! Why didn’t you call yesterday? Is Dani okay? Are you okay?” She rushed, hearing the rustle of papers from the other side, slightly relieved that worry triumphed over anger.

“I’m good mom, so’s Dani,” You shared, twirling the cord as Eddie laid back to set his head in your lap. Your hand went to scratch his head until he started fake moaning sexually. Your hand clamped over his, but he continued excessively, the skin not doing much to muffle his loud voice.

“I’ll head home soon, love you!” You peeped, slamming it off before standing up, Eddie’s head falling against the covers as he laughed.

You shoved your face in your hands before smacking his chest, a loud noise of skin against skin emitting sounding oddly erotic. “Well that didn’t help!”

Grabbing your bag, you covered your ears, mimicking the same thing he did to you just a few days ago in his trailer. “La la, can’t hear you!”

A serious face came to him as he stood on the bed, holding his arm as if he had a sword, swishing it, “You must listen to Eddie the Banished, Miss Rocky.”

“What? Did you hear something?” You played along, hands still covering your ears as you looked around, but Eddie was in your personal space quickly, trying to pry your hands away.

“Miss Rocky can’t hear you, sorry!” You shrieked as you shook loose of his grasp, your back hitting the wall with a thud. You stood bashfully as he sauntered over to you with a playful glare, arms planting besides your head.

Lips met lips as he kissed you gently, hands dropping from their intimidating stance to your cheek and hip. He helped guide your hesitant movements, pulling away to look at you,

"Do you hear me now?"

an; hi everyone, thank you for all the love with this series and my other works. it's been so therapeutic to write some personal emotions into this, and i'm glad everyone seems to be enjoying it as well :)

feedback is always appreciated!

also for some reason it’s not letting me tag new people so i apologize if it didn’t go through :(

taglist: @masterofmunson @downbythebay4 @wicked-wordy-witchy-witch @femalefilmaker @wiltedwonderland @yourthebrokengirl @jessyballet @iheartyouyou @gloryekaterina @missscarlettangel @variety-fangirl @wigglywoos59 @imsuchafriggensimp @thegirlblogstuff @lovelyladymayyy @strawwberrry @ktjmac @dovesnrosesnreblogs @fknemily @spn-obession @diaryofthedoll

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