#taylor swift reference

[fazbearoromeo]

Now the sky is opalite

[purpleart1st]

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

[etherealily]

𝕊𝕀ℕ // ​🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​

My other Nate fics. If you have the time.

No one seemed to like the cliffhanger, so here's a draft that I converted into a bonus chapter.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. NSFW. Drugs. Contains brief explicit content. MDNI for this part alone. Closest thing to sm*t I've ever written (and will write).

Part 1 : Whiplash Part 2 : 9 Lives Part 3 : Blessed Part 4 : Shards Part 5 : Eighteen

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

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Nate had never been more pissed in his life. Ever. You'd blatantly disobeyed him. Well, not technically. No technically, you hadn't been told anything, but he'd have figured you weren't so dense as to go and visit Shane motherfucking Crestin in the motherfucking ER !

Honestly. It's like you had one braincell and all it told you was to piss him off.

And fuck him. He definitely saw that in your eyes the last time.

Or was that the molly?

Probably the molly.

But whatever. The fact was, you wanted to fuck him, and he wanted to fuck you, and he had no idea why you wanted him out of your life if that was the case. Wasn't that fate? Two people want something so bad, they should end up doing it, no? Not going and visiting the reason they couldn't do it in the ER.

Yeah, he decided.

Yes. They. Should.

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He'd figured you would avoid him like the plague, anyway. So he didn't care if it reached you or not that he was helping McKay host a party. So imagine his surprise when, after about two months of no contact, you showed up at his party.

"Whoa."

You frowned. "Excuse me?'

"What happened to 'get the fuck out of my life, Nate?' What, were you just full of it?"

"Dude. If me being here bothers you that much, I'll just fucking leav-"

"Jeez, don't be a baby, short stuff.", he cooed, patting your head before slinging an arm around you. "C'mon, let's do shots."

"Hey, whoa, whoa, none of this friendliness."

He rolled his eyes, removing his hand from you. "Fine. C'mon. I missed you."

And the problem was, he did. He actually fucking missed you. Which was the weirdest thing to happen to him since... well, birth. It wasn't anything in particular, it wasn't even the fact that you were easy on the eyes.

He, like a fucking simp, just liked you being around him.

With as much trepidation as a sycophant scorned by his master, he gently, reverently, offered you a shot. "For old times' sake?"

You rolled your eyes, taking it from him. "For old times' sake? Like, the time you got me drunk at school?'

He smiled, his hand slowly back around your shoulder as he tugged you closer, kissing your temple. "We could always go back, y'know?", he murmured next to your ear. "Get high on the bleachers again."

"No."

"C'mon, we haven't hung out in two months. Ditch these fakes. I'm the fun one, anyway."

Jesus.

He took a long drag of his vape, the smoke bombarding your face. He proferred it to you and frowned when you declined. "Why not?"

"I don't vape."

"Are you one of those bitches that says 'smoke a real cigarette'?"

"No, I don't smoke at all."

He rolled his eyes. "We're going to the bleachers."

It was weird, to say the least, the air between you two back at the bleachers. You sat, looking up at the sky, the grass, anywhere but his eyes, and he sat with his head on your lap.

Silence covered the two of you until he sighed. "Can we just pick up where we left off?"

"And where was that?"

"With me almost eating you out."

You scoffed. You wouldn't have done that if you thought he was being serious. You wouldn't have done that if you were entirely sober. But you didn't and you weren't, so you scoffed. "Right. Yeah. Sure."

"I'm not joking. You're making this harder than it needs to be. There isn't any ulterior motive, this is just... boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy-"

"Debatable.", you muttered, but he ignored it.

"-Boy wants to fuck girl, girl wants to fuck boy, boy fucks girl. Why are you adding shit? Do you want drama? Is that what this is? Because we could do drama. I could do drama like you've never fucking seen before!"

In Nate speak, that meant he had a big dick and he wanted you to know.

"Look. It's just too complicated. You've- there's too much-"

"Forget it all. 'Kay? Just you and me.", he replied immediately, sitting up.

"Because you quote-unquote 'love' me."

"Exactly that." His lips found yours, and surprisingly, this time, you actually had a spine and pulled away.

"What the FUCK?"

Huffing, he rolled his eyes and stroked your cheek as he shifted and knelt down. "Can we skip the part where you scream 'what the fuck, what the fuck' and push me away and get to the part where you admit you want me? I've had a long day."

Seeing him down there did nothing to make you feel safer.

"Nate-"

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, please, just, for the love of god-", he muttered, as if you were being an inconvenience at the moment and not him, the asshat on his knees. "Would you just relax?"

"Look, Y/N. I love you.", he said, and his hands slowly slid up to the hem of your shirt, his thumb rubbing the skin right under it. "Let me show you."

"You don't love me. Stop saying that."

"Fine, then. I want you. And stop telling me you don't want me, like it's a mortal sin or something.", he warned, gripping the backs of your thighs.

Sadly, you couldn't entirely blame this on the molly this time.

It definitely contributed to the decision, but mostly to the fact that it made every single touch of his explode with a robust... flavour that you couldn't replicate even if you tried.

He smiled up at you so softly you'd think he was on his knees to propose. But no. Instead of opening up a little box, he opened the fly to your pants.

"Can you look at me, please?"

You sighed, looking down. "What?"

"You really don't look like you're against this. I'd even go so far as to say you want me, but you're too much of a pussy to admit it."

You did want him. BUT. You were against this. Because it was wrong. But you were letting him kiss up your thighs, bite at your lower abdomen.

Meaning it was the world according to Nate and it both infuriated you and turned you on.

FUCK.

Hums came from both your mouth and his, and before you knew it, your fingers felt nothing but the locks of his hair, pulling so hard there was no way he wasn't in pain. And he must have been, because gently, so seamlessly, he trailed his hand up to yours, removing it from his hair and interlocking it with his own.

But he didn't pause. His tongue continued doing... well, whatever the hell it was doing that made you want to stab the Earth for being able to produce Nate Jacobs as well as praise it for... well, being able to produce Nate Jacobs.

"You're a virgin?", he asked, breathless, raising a brow in incredulity.

You'd be lying if you said your brain even registered his question - registered anything but his tongue and lips.

"Are you a virgin?"

"Why? Don't tell me this is still a test to see if I'm easy or not-"

"It's not.", he assured, reaching up slowly, and then kissing your cheek of all fucking places. One of his hands trailed back down and into you while the other one immediately closed your mouth, though you had no idea why. It was a fucking desolate high school football field. No one was going to hear anyway.

He grinned, pressing his forehead against yours as he added another finger, curling them as he worked into you. "Shh, shh, shh.", he murmured, after probably feeling the results of you trying not to lose your shit beneath his palm.

"See? We go great together."

You screamed. But it didn't quite carry.

He frowned in confusion for a moment when you made a muffled noise and then muttered an 'ah' as he gently removed his palm from your mouth.

"That's not..."

"Hm? That's not what?"

You could have killed yourself right there, because he smirked is what he did. He smirked when you couldn't finish (and barely even start) your sentences.

"That's not even remotely..."

You were stalling. That was clear. Why? You didn't know. There was no logical reason. He was already fucking inside you, there was no point in backing out of this now.

But there was reason to hesitate.

He sighed, licking his lips and shaking his head in disappointment, brushing hair from your face. "Hey."

"What?"

"If you don't fuck me right now, I will lose my shit. I will cut myself. I will play Russian Roulette again. That work for you?"

Oh, this sick, sick, sick, SICK motherfucker.

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Why you did it? Question for the ages.

You should've said no. You should've gone home. You didn't go home, though, not even after the fact. You probably should have.

Instead, you found yourself back at Fezco's store. Not voluntarily, either, it just seemed your car was as drained as you were, and you forgot to fill it back up.

"Rue?", you called out into what you imagined to be an abyss. Her voice appeared like light at the end of a tunnel. "Hey."

"You high?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I need someone to pick me up."

"Maddy's not free?"

"I didn't check."

"Well.", she groaned, shifting around, clearly in some sort of drug-induced discomfort, "You should. I don't wanna kill you, y'know, you mean so fucking much to me."

The sarcasm in her voice was mildly hurtful, but hey. At least she cared enough not to kill you.

More than Nate had ever cared.

"Okay."

So, of course, you called Cassie. Because no fucking way were you calling Maddy to come pick you up from the store owned by the local dealer, which was suspiciously close to the party thrown by her ex.

The car ride with her was smooth and lovely and peaceful. Because she was smooth and lovely and peaceful.

"You think your car will be safe, out there, all night?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I told Fez. He knows what to do."

"Y/N, I... I've noticed you've been off, like, the last term or so."

You did not need her therapy session right now.

"Nah, I'm fine."

"You're not.", she chuckled, nervously, shaking her head as she slowed down at the red light. "You seem on edge. I think it's cause of him."

"Him?" WHAT? How the fuck did this ditz know?

"Yeah. Like, I don't know, maybe you're in love with him, and you think it's, like... forbidden, because he's a bad influence or something, but you just kinda look... strung out. Like there's a huge secret you're keeping."

She was supposed to be clueless about what was going on around her. Isn't that the thing they say about hot blondes?

"Love? In love? With who?"

"Fezco, of course. I get it, he's a dealer, but he's also hot, and I guess, let's face it, he's quite nice for a criminal."

Oh, thank god. The dumb blonde theory stands.

"I'm not in love with Fez."

"Then why are you so... off?"

"I...", you sighed, deciding to stick to the truth as much as safely possible. "I got in with some bad people during spring break."

The look of concern on her face made you want to apologize and buy her whatever she wanted, or maybe even confess to every fucking sinful thought you'd ever had.

"What? Oh, my god, what? Like, hard drugs and shit?"

"More like guns and shit."

"Y/N, WHAT?!"

"Yeah, it was fucked up, but I'm out of it now, though, so you don't have to worry, okay, Cass? I'm peachy. I'm great, honest! Hey, it's turning amber."

She frowned, turning back to the road in front of her. "You sure?"

You'd never been more grateful for Nate throwing the lamp to your right rather than your left.

You'd never been more grateful for Nate giving you a hickey on your right rather than your left.

You nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, though."

"So. Did you... you went to his party, right? Did you see him? Did you guys talk?"

It took you a moment to figure out that she was talking about her ex.

"McKay? Yeah. Yeah."

"How is he? Did he mention me?"

"He's, um... he's doing fine, I guess. He looks like he misses you, but you know him. He probably won't tell me."

"I just... maybe we... I just want to, um... fix things."

"You should."

"You think?"

You nodded. What the fuck else could you do to distract her from the fact that if she took one look down, she'd see Nate blowing up your phone? "Yeah, you guys were great together."

You instantly cringed. Because that was what Nate had said about you and him. "See? We go great together."'

"I don't know if I want him back, or what. What do you think?"

That I just fucked Nate Jacobs. And that the molly was only half of it. That I'm going to kill myself.

"I think... I think you broke up for a reason, Cass."

She nodded, and the rest of the car ride went in pleasant silence.

Then she dropped you home.

And Rue was waiting for you.

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"You're pissing me off. What is this, blackmail?'

"Yeah. It is. I saw you two in the bleachers, and if you tell people I'm not sober, I'll let it slip that you let Nate Jacobs inside you."

Keep your calm. If you show even a tiny sign of accepting that she was right, you're dead meat. "It was a psych project. He had just finished a practice, so we sat there and finished some work."

"With tequila?"

Silence. Okay. She was not talking about tonight. She was talking about the gun-night. This was salvageable.

"Funnily enough, Y/N, according to what Lexi told me, there's been no 'psych assignment-slash-project.'"

"Rue-"

"So you've not only been lying to all of us, you've been betraying Maddy. And you've done Jules so wrong.'

"Look, you don't even know-"

"Then tell me."

So you did. You told her about the Instagram story, you told her about the Russian roulette, hell, you even told her about the dinner and the scar. What you didn't tell her about was the sex. The mind-blowing guilt-inducing sex.

"But I saw you kiss him on the bleachers."

"I was drunk, Rue. I'd have let the fucking janitor kiss me."

"Look, Y/N, those are my terms."

"You're asking me to lie to everyone about your health, your wellbeing! We're all looking out for you, Rue! Y'can't just blackmail me into not doing right by you."

"As nice as that is, the fact still stands that you fucked Nate."

FUCK!

"Rue, please-"

"He doesn't even fucking want you. He wants to get back at Maddy, and you're too fucked out to see it!"

"Rue, you're crossing the li-"

"I bet that fucking him was the only thing you've been doing this whole time. What, did you fuck him when Maddy was with him?"

Rue laughed after you slapped her and that definitely told you she was so high she couldn't even feel it. "C'mon. Grow up.", she scoffed, tucking hair behind your ear. "Girl code's not important anymore, is it? We're all eighteen - adults - now."

WHY must everyone always do that with your hair? So fucking condescendingly, too?!

"Rue, I didn't fuck Nate Jacobs."

"Then why is he blowing up your phone? Yeah, you think I didn't notice the name on your screen?"

"He blows up my phone because he's a psycho- I told you about the Russian Roulette thing and the gun and the slit wris-"

"Yeah, but you said you asked him to leave you alone and he did. Why would he break no contact? What could've happened?"

"Rue, I am not going to help you fake sobriety in front of your family- I- Rue, what is that?"

She frowned, looking down and following your line of sight. Her bag. The front zip. A needle. She looked back up, deadpan. "Fent."

"RUE! YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME T-"

"Look, Y/N, I like you, I do. There's no reason for you to worry, okay? If you could be quiet, your life will go on as it always does. No reputation loss, no guilt, no embarrassment."

"This will kill you! I can't do that to you, Rue, please!"

"But you can do Nate Jacobs?"

You were genuinely about to strangle this fucking trapper cunt.

"Think about it."

What, had she gotten lessons in blackmail from him?

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That night, you were too fucking exhausted to even question why Nate was knocking at your window. You just opened it for him. You just let him kiss you. You just let him tuck your hair behind your fucking ear.

"I have a question."

"What?"

"Did you visit Shane in the hospital?"

Okay. No way he could have found out about that. You didn't tell a single fucking soul.

"Huh?"

"I beat him up for you. 'Cause he was saying you fucked when you didn't.", he said, his voice oddly calm for a man betrayed.

"I didn't ask you to!"`

"Please.", he scoffed, clapping sarcastically. "Biggest cop-out of the century."

"I didn't!"

"He was calling you a slut, basically. As if you'd just give it up to anyone." What, like he knew you that well?

"Hundreds of people say hundreds of shit about me every fucking day! What am I, supposed to set you on them?"

"You could."

You scoffed.

"I'm being serious. You could say "'sic 'em' " and I'd beat them to a bloody pulp.", he informed, brushing hair over your ear again. "Say it. Tell me someone to beat up. I'll do it. No matter who it is."

"Nate. I didn't ask you to do any of this. I asked you to leave me alone, and you did the opposite!"

"You're acting like I showed up, fucked you, and then just left!"

He clenched his jaw, his grip on the piece of hair he just pushed behind your ear, now shifting to the rest of your hair. "No, cunt. I said 'I love you'. Or did you conveniently forget that?"

Oh. Right. THAT.

"What? You're suddenly acting like a pussy, baby, what's up with that? Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't remember. Don't be a pussy. C'mon, tell me. Oh, yeah, wait a minute, you can't."

"You didn't mean that. You wanted to get what you wanted, so you-"

"You think I say shit like 'I love you' lightly? You think I throw that word around?" Yes, he did, but you didn't need to know that. He decided to deploy the trauma card.

"You've seen what my parents are like. You think I'd abuse the words 'I love you'?"

"I guess not-"

"Yeah. EXACTLY."

Ooh, you were putty in his hands and he almost got a semi because of it.

"Look, okay, fine, Nate, that- that was out of pocket, but you can't expect me to-"

"But I do. I have never lied to you. Have I? I've blackmailed you and threatened you and, fuck, yeah, I've stuck a goddamn gun down your throat, but when have I ever lied?"

"So you're saying you 'love' me and I have to just accept it."

"I'm saying I love you, and you have to just believe it.'

And god help you, you somehow did.

"Rue's blackmailing me."

He mock-gasped. "You're cheating on me, then."

You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips. Him being so calm in the face of danger should make him look foolish in your eyes, not admirable.

And the molly excuse was being held up by string the breadth of dental floss, honestly.

"Does she use firearms as well? Did you think about me the whole time?" He was clearly trying to make you laugh, and it was working.

He kissed your forehead. "What did she blackmail you for?"

"For or about?"

"Both."

"For : keeping her relapse a secret from everyone. About : the gun-night at the bleachers."

"Okay, so the choice is clear."

"What?"

Nate Jacobs had scared you when he'd said he loved you and when he'd said he'd kill himself for you, but he'd never scared you as much as he did with what he said next.

"We just sit back and watch that bitch OD."

[tinysuitcasedemon]

Taylor Swift the Eras Tour reference in tvl was NOT on my 2026 bingo card

[bylerblogger]

I'm sorry, but the old bowl cut can't come to the phone right now.

Why?

Oh!...

Cause it's dead. ❤️

[sandrasoapbox]

Mr. Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

[michealqueerlerthethird]

Hellcali but the Wheelers moved to California or the Byers moved to Hawkins and Mike is totally whipped for his new next door neighbor whose window points directly into his.

One day Mike sees this total hottie of a guy moping around his room, the rhythms of The Cure slipping in the cracks of Mike’s window. Mike, without really thinking, grabs his notebook and an a marker and writes out “Are you okay?” in big block letters and presses the paper flush against the window.

Mike busies himself with homework, occasionally looking across at the boy in his room next door to see if he responded. Right before he goes to bed, Mike walks over to the window to shut the curtains and sees that his neighbor had responded.

“Not really.”

Mike scrambles for his notebook, scribbling out a reply.

“That sucks. :( Wanna talk about it?”

The boy smiles, seeing Mike in the window waving sheepishly and grabs another piece of paper.

“Yeah, sure. :)”

[wilde-poe]

Fearless (Reese Wilkerson x Fem!OC)

Chapter 5: Conversations

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Go to the Masterlist for more !

Read it on AO3.

Based on season 3 episode 20, Jury Duty

❛ I’ll sing for you If you want me to I’ll give to you ❜ - Luna, The Smashing Pumpkins

Dewey and I had been waiting in the sewers for over an hour, like rats!

All five of us were supposed to go to the sewers like we used to when Francis was here. It was a sacred tradition. This time, we were finally going to take Dewey, but I guess not; since neither Reese nor Malcolm nor Stevie showed up.

"Ugh, come on Dewey. We've been waiting for over an hour; they're not coming." I rolled my eyes and pulled him out into the daylight and back home. I felt bad, he seemed really excited.

We decided to wait for them in their room, preparing a confrontation. Thirty minutes later and the both of them ran in, Dewey had his arms crossed, he was more irritated than me.

Malcolm looked excited. "Oh my god, you won't believe what just happened!"

"Where were you? We were supposed to go exploring in the sewer." Dewey yelled.

I got up from the bed in support of him, hands on my hips. "We waited there for two hours!"

"No, you're not listening. This is incredible." Reese said, mostly talking to Dewey.

"But you promised. You said that when spring break started, you would take me, but only Tess did. I did all of your chores, I did all of your homework, I took your antibiotics for you, I put-" he began listing everything he had done for them and I nodded along until Malcolm interrupted.

"Dewey, just shut up! We're trying to tell you guys something important." They sat on either side of him, and I sat on Reese's bed.

"We just saw Stevie's mom... naked!"

"And why are you telling this to Dewey?" I asked. They were so gross.

"You don't understand, she's a total babe," Reese said.

"It was amazing! We were over at Stevie's getting stuff for the sewer, when all of a sudden, we hear something behind us. We turn around, and there she is, in the hallway—naked!" Malcolm explained, and my face contorted in disgust. I knew Stevie's mom was a very fit and attractive woman, but they just turned everything into some convoluted pervy mess!

"Buck naked! Except for a shower cap. It was crazy. First she was screaming, then Stevie was screaming, then I was screaming—yeah, why'd I do that?" Reese recalled.

"And then she tore the curtain off the wall to cover her up," Malcolm continued.

"But you could still see right through the curtain! I'm so glad they just remodeled."

Neither Dewey or I wanted to hear about this, we shared a knowing look.

"That is not a good reason; Mom walks around here naked all the time! She was naked this morning, she was naked—"

"Dewey, if you just combine those two things in my head, I will kill you." Reese closed his eyes, probably picturing some pervy stuff for a moment. "No, we're good," then continued the story.

When we were done having lunch, we headed back to the park where the sewers were, it was filled with teenagers at that time of day. Dewey kept rambling in excitement the whole way there, the same way he had been when we first went earlier today. I could hear Reese still talking about the Stevie's mom incident, even while Stevie was there. He hadn't shut up about it all day. Bleurgh!

"Did you get the snake?" I heard Malcolm ask Reese, "Tess, come check this out." I walked over to them.

"They'll be able to hear him screaming in Russia." Both the brothers smirked at the animal.

I shook my head at their plan to prank Dewey, it was evil, but necessary for his growth. "You guys are ruthless," I commented and Reese shrugged.

"Dude, you didn't continue the story." Some kid that was tagging along asked and Reese repeated the story for the umpteenth time.

We continued moving into the sewer, Stevie followed too.

It was dark and murky inside, as expected. I was wearing a long sleeved shirt and holding a flashlight, but I wished I had gotten a hat or an umbrella with me. Just an extra layer of protection, because I swore I could feel something dripping on me.

I wished Francis was still here to take us. With him, we never felt uncertain because he always knew his way around and would even help us gear up. He was our beacon of light, in more ways than one.

Now, it really just felt like we were about to get lost in a dark sewer, no fun involved.

"Okay, here's our mark. When we came in here with Francis, this was the farthest we'd ever gotten," Malcolm spoke.

"This is it? This is as far as you went? Who would brag about this? Huh, Mr. Alligator?" Dewey said.

"So, Stevie, did your mom go to college?" Reese said, still going on about it. Ugh, just when we thought he was finally done.

"What?"

"Did she get a degree or something? I bet she was in a sorority."

I let out an exasperated sigh and walked up to Malcolm. I barely remembered this place. It was always so dark in here and Francis would always be pulling a crazy stunt to distract us that I never recalled where exactly we went.

"Wait a minute, unless we thought some girl named Molly Hatchet ruled, this isn't our mark." He turned to face the rest of them.

"This has to be it, we went right, straight, left, right, left, straight, and right again." Reese spoke up.

"No! We went right, left, right, then straight, left, and straight." Malcolm tried, Francis used to always tell me to never trust his directions. 

"You both have it wrong! We went right, then another right, straight, and then left, right and straight!" They looked at me in confusion. It was the best I could remember, and there was no way they were right, but I was most probably wrong too.

"No, we went... right...left...straight..." Stevie began speaking, taking heavy breaths in between.

"Aw man! We're lost!" Malcolm interrupted.

Yup, that's what I thought.

"What, no!" Dewey exclaimed.

"Oh, man. What are we gonna do?" Reese feigned terror but then turned to Malcolm and I, "Nice! We'll get him crying, then pants him." I couldn't believe he still thought this was part of the prank.

"No, you idiot, we're really lost!" I spoke up.

"What?! What are we gonna do?!" Reese's shrill voice raised.

"I knew it! I knew you were going to find some way to ruin this for me. Even when you're trying to be nice you make me miserable. And now, I get to die in this sewer! A perfect end to a crappy life!" Dewey vented. Damn, I didn't know it was that serious for him. Now I felt kind of bad for going along with their plan of pranking him.

"Shut up, Dewey... Alright, let's just focus on any way out of here. Stevie's mom must be worried about him," Reese declared and I resist the urge to smack the back of his head.

"Shut up... about my mom!" I never heard Stevie's voice go up this high.

"Why? I simply made a comment."

"You're... a perv!"

I gave Stevie and encouraging nod at that. Right on.

"I can't help but have a healthy interest in the opposite sex." Reese shrugged.

"Well... they don't return... the favor."

"What does that mean?"

"Girls... hate you!"

"That's not true," he looked to me and nudged my arm, "Tess, back me up on this." I stayed silent though, an indication I agreed with Stevie. It was true for the most part.

"Yes it is true. Come on, Reese, you're a joke," Malcolm joined.

"Yeah, even I know it." Dewey said too and walked away along with Malcolm. Reese and I were left behind. He shot me a hurt look.

"You could've said something," He said in that tone that told me he was minutes away from throwing a tantrum. I could tell they got to him. I shook my head and lightly shoved him as to tell him to walk ahead of me. We kept moving in awkward silence.

"This all... looks... the same"

"Yes, this is the same. It's always been exactly the same, ever since the day I was born." Usually, I didn't have as much a problem with Dewey as the rest of the boys did, but his high-pitched voice was starting to really annoy me. That along with my tired eyes focusing in the dark sewer, and the occasional flashlight flashing right into them—it was all beginning to trigger a terrible migraine. "I start to trust them, they make me regret it. I get my hopes up, they destroy them," he continued, "I ge-"

"Shut up, we get it!" Thank you, Malcolm.

"Every girlfriend you've ever had left you crying like a baby!" Reese's sharp voice came out of nowhere, shooting into my right ear, I gave him a death glare he didn't see—and did not want to see. I could tell he had spent the last couple silent moments conjuring up a reply to Malcolm and Stevie's  earlier diss.

"What?" Malcolm retorted.

"Oh, who's mister bigshot now? I'm the joke with the girls, huh? But what's worse: being a joke, or being a crybaby?!"

Malcolm scoffed, "I wasn't crying that hard."

"You wet... your pants," Stevie added.

I tightened my grip on my flashlight. Their grating voices echoed off the walls.

"Oh, like you've ever even been with a girl."

"I... have a... note... from my doctor."

"I could get a doctor if I wanted to," Reese joined in.

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Malcolm yelled and I bit my lip at the echo. I should have taken a painkiller before coming here.

"That's right. Turn on each other. Well, you know what? No girls like any of you. And I don't blame them, you're pathetic." Dewey spoke exactly what was on my mind. It was silent for a few seconds, but that didn't last for long.

"You know who's a joke? Girls!" I frowned at Malcolm's comment. I was a girl, right here!

"Yeah, why do we even like them? They make our lives miserable—you can never understand what they want. They're always saying, 'stop staring at me' and they don't laugh at farts!" I was partly offended by what Reese was saying, I didn't even know if either of them considered me an actual girl at this point.

"And they only wanna talk about clothes!"

"They cry... all... the time."

I looked between the three of them in frustration, hoping they'd realize that a girl was currently among them, to no avail.

Dewey didn’t move along when they did, he looked really upset—my heart ached at his sad face. It was a common sight. He had gotten bigger, but he still had those puppy dog eyes when he was sad. They all did, it was how you could easily tell that they were brothers.

"Come on, Dewey." I put my hand on his shoulder so he could walk with me, I continued overhearing their conversation against my will.

"I'm trying to be the best me I can be. But, I don't know what to say to girls, so I just say something mean." The conversation had turned into a full on group therapy session, Dewey and I were ahead of them now. I was just focused on getting out, but their discussion was beginning to sound more interesting than to aimlessly searching for an exit. I heard Reese continue, "I guess I'm afraid of getting hurt, so I hurt them first."

"I think my problem is: I just get so frustrated over things I can't control. I have to understand that they're people with their own needs." Malcolm added. Yeah, no shit. I scoffed where they couldn't see me.

"I play... mind games. It's all... I have."

"Why isn't there ever a flash flood when you need one." I almost laughed at Dewey's comment.

"You know, I really want a girlfriend. I want someone to hang out with, that's what I really want," Reese confessed. Then maybe try putting in more effort into making friends, I thought

Malcolm agreed. "Yeah, someone you can talk to."

"Someone... to hug."

"Someone to show my poetry to," Reese said and my eyebrows furrowed. He was probably still hung up on that one time I showed him a song I wrote and he challenged me on who could write a better one.

"You... write... poetry?"

"I dabble." If I could have rolled my eyes back any further, they would have fell into my skull. Hell, with that headache developing, now even rolling my eyes was beginning to hurt—something that was as natural as breathing to me.

"What do you guys think about Brenda Pallwick?" Malcolm brought a girl from school up out of the blue.

"She's really nice, I think she'd be good for you." Reese had a strangely supportive tone.

"You'd make... a cute couple."

This was getting more and more frustrating. My headache was growing worse. I was pretty sure we were only getting more lost, and they were having what sounded like an AA meeting rather than focusing on what was important. Honestly, I had problems of my own. I could've gone on and on about how I had never had a boyfriend, how I had issues with confiding in anyone, how the boys andgirls at school were all idiots, and how I had to hang out with losers like them! Why did I always have to stay quiet? Irritation grew in my chest like a rat clawing its way out. Before Malcolm could reply to their encouragements, I spun towards them.

"You know what, I've had it! You guys keep going on and on about your problems, when I have to deal with you every day. Do you really want to know why girls don't like you?" I pointed to Reese first, "it's because you're an insufferable perv who thinks making girls miserable will get them to notice you. Which—news flash—not only hurts the girls who talk to you, but literally makes them scared of you! Yeah, they flock away!" I pointed to Malcolm next, "and you, if you could stop being so goddamn overbearing and self-absorbed, then maybe—just maybe—you'd have a girlfriend for longer than a week. But, no! You'd rather she hears about your stupid problems, kind of like what you're doing right now! And you," my finger shook momentarily as I pointed to Stevie. "If you would just get off your high horse and allow a girl to talk to you, maybe then one would. But you just blab on about how you're so above getting a girlfriend, and then you complain and complain. Goddamit, pick a side!" I took a deep breath. "And if you all haven't noticed, I am a girl! Yeah, a real girl! I've been listening to your stupid assumptions this entire time—I do every single day. If I wasn't such a decent person, I'd just about tell every girl at school what a bunch of losers you guys really are! Then they'd stay away for good, so be grateful!" I gulped, wetting my now dried lips, and I turned away from them. Dewey gave me a proud smile. They just stood there, processing everything I had just said.

"Anyway... I... um... you guys want to hear something I wrote?" Reese asked nervously. The two boys nodded, trying to divert the topic. As soon as he reached into his backpack, he erupted in screams and ran away. When the other's saw the wriggling snake, they did the same too. Oh, right.

I gently grabbed the poor animal they had just thrown on the ground and sighed, looking over to where they ran. Dewey closely inspected it, so I handed it to him, and he had no problem holding it calmly. "Let's go." I carried Reese's abandoned bag from the wet sewage floor and pulled my flashlight out to point in their direction. The closer I got to the sound of their screams, the more I could see light. So that was all it took for them to quickly find their way out.

They ran straight out of the sewers, Dewey and I followed soon after.

Outside, Reese was still jumping around in terror. I grabbed a hold of his arm to steady him and he gave me a petrified look. I heard a group of girls laughing at him. My head was still throbbing from the whole ordeal, now at its peak because of the sudden bright light, their obnoxious giggles were not making this any easier for me. "Hey!" I commanded and squeezed his arm tighter. Reese stopped when he realized we were outside, finally steadying himself.

The girls continued laughing, "What happened? Did you read them your poetry?" They let out a flurry of nasally giggles. So they could hear our voices from the echo of the sewers. I groaned.

"It's not funny!" I yelled at them. It was in a very hostile tone that I usually reserved for when I was scolding boys.

The exhaustion from the entire day had finally boiled down to a point, I guessed, especially with their conversation about how annoying girls could be. I had to admit that it got to me a little. I snarled at them, effectively shutting them up, but not without them starting to mutter insults about me to each other.

I yanked Reese by the same arm that I had been holding onto as he stared at them in humiliation. "Come on."

☆

As we walked back to our neighborhood, we parted ways with Stevie. And when we were home, Reese had to give Dewey and I instructions as to where and who to give the snake back to; since he was suddenly too afraid to get within five feet of the animal.

Dewey and I got back home after returning the snake, he went into his house but this time, I didn't follow, instead walking into mine. The sun had already set, and I could see that my Dad was home judging by his car parked in the driveway.

I was right, my Dad was doing something in the kitchen as I entered and greeted him.

He stood up straight from whatever he was leaning over to fix, "Hi, Tess. How was your day?"

I made a beeline to the medicine cabinet to grab a painkiller for my headache.

"It was good. You know, just hanging out with the guys. I do have a terrible headache though." I touched my forehead as I said that, and he nodded understandably. He had been a lot more diligent, asking me about what I was up to lately, after the ordeal with Reese and I's police chase... He wasn't happy about that, even threatened to call my mother about it.

"What do you usually do with them anyway?" He made a questioning face as I went over to pour myself some water. I thought about his question for a moment. What did I do with them? At least, what could I tell him—that he wasn't already aware of—that wouldn't make him lock me up in my room forever?

I shrugged, "I don't know, we just hung out like always—we went to the park with Stevie today." I left out the part about the sewers.

"Hm. Stevie's the kid in the...uh—wheelchair, right?" I nodded. "Well, it's nice to hear you're making friends other than those boys."

I couldn't help but scoff at that. "What's that supposed to mean?" I said in a lighthearted tone.

"Oh, it's just that it's always been just them. It's good to broaden your horizons a little, you know... Speaking of, you got any new girl friends now?" He's never asked me this many questions before.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Uh, well I wouldn't call them friends friends. They're just my new high school friends, but yeah." I smiled awkwardly.

"That's good.... Those boys sure are growing up fast. You too." He confused me with his vagueness again, but I assumed he was referencing Reese's driving incident.

I quickly gulped the pill and water.

"Oh, yeah. I mean, Francis got married. Did you know that? And Reese is kind of taller than me now, it's taking me a while to get used to it." I tried to steer the conversation into a more casual path.

"Francis got married?" He rubbed his beard. "Woah... But, yeah. That boy, Reese, he's quite a handful—especially now." He let out a breathy laugh and I did the same.

"He sure is."

After a few moments of silence, I took that as my cue to place my cup aside and walk to my room like I had been anticipating all day. I plopped on my bed as soon as I saw it.

After a few minutes of just laying there, I gave into the urge to go grab my wooden guitar. I knew it would help me relax, and it was sure to help fade my headache.

I began strumming an indiscernible melody. It wasn't anything specific, but it just sounded nice, and playing the guitar had always been therapeutic to me.

The sound of rustling outside went unnoticed to me until I heard a few clear raps on my window.

I looked over, and it was Reese.

I rolled my chair over to the window and leaned over to open it for him to get in.

"What's up?" I casually rested my arms on my guitar, which was still on my lap.

He shrugged. "There's nothing to do at home."

"Haven't you had enough to do today?"

Another shrug, as he climbed in and sat on my messy bed with a sigh.

"Whatcha playing?" He looked at my guitar.

"Oh, not anything you'd like."

He made an awkward face and gave in to gravity's pull, lying down on my bed, his legs still dangling off the edge.

I turned back to my guitar, strumming it again—I continued to do so for a few minutes. It was like Reese wasn't even there. A comfortable silence between us.

"You know, everything today had me thinking a lot," he said softly.

"Yeah? About what? Stevie's mom?"

He chuckled at that.

"No. I mean, that too, but it had me thinking about some personal things..." I waited for him to continue, "like, you were right in the sewers today. I do scare people off—I just can't be vulnerable, I'm too scared."

"You are right now."

"Huh?"

"You're being vulnerable right now. That's what it means. Talking about your feelings is part of it. You just find it hard to be like that with more people."

He stopped looking at the ceiling to look at me, eyebrows furrowed.

"I guess you're right. I just need to find someone that makes me feel comfortable enough to do that." He began motioning with his hands, "it just seems like every girl already has this notion of me, and that stops them from actually getting to know me."

"Yeah, I see that... You just have to wait until you find someone that can look past that." He nodded. It made me begin to think about how I felt about my own love life, "but, you know, that's not gonna come easy. Finding that person could take forever." It was how I felt about finding the perfect guy, he seemed so out of reach.

"Ugh. Why can't it just be easier? Why can’t she just find me?! I'm tired of this waiting game."

I laughed at him. "Chillax, you're only fifteen."

"I know. But, I just want her to show up at my door already," his hands went up to his face.

"Hey, how come we never talk about this stuff?" He asked, peeking at me through his fingers.

"What stuff?"

"You know," He motioned to the air.

I did have somewhat of an idea as to what he was insinuating though. "I don't know, it just never comes up when we're alone. Plus, we only recently started worrying about dating and all that."

"I guess that's true."

My mind wandered. He was rarely ever like this. He didn't talk to me about his feelings, but he did, once in a blue moon. I wondered if he talked to anyone else this way. No, I was pretty sure it was just me. It was pretty crazy how he could turn from the crude bully he usually was, into this when we were all alone. 

I remembered a lyric I had thought of a few weeks ago.

"You wanna hear something?" I asked, and he sat up.

"Yeah." His head quirked up at me.

"Okay." I turned so I was completely facing him, fingers on the first chord I was going to play. I began strumming a simple tune, he looked at me intently. Close observation like that should have made me nervously fumble at the strings, but I grew more confident. I bobbed my head softly to the sound. I usually never sang in front of other people. But with Reese, he had seen me do much more embarrassing things—singing my songs in front of him was nothing.

"He sees everything in black and white Never let's nobody see him cry But I know all his favorite songs... And I could tell you, his favorite color's blue He loves to argue, oh and it kills me..."

It was a simple melody. I didn't remember what exactly occured to me when I wrote it, it was a few months ago, after a discussion we'd had about fitting in at school. I just knew I wanted to write something about him. It could form into a song one day.

He smiled and cocked his head at me.

"It's just a little unfinished scrap."

"Is it about me?"He looked down at his lap, toying with a stray piece of thread from my blanket.

"Yeah, who else?"

"You know my favorite color? I mean—I know yours is green, but I didn't know you knew mine."He scratched his head awkwardly. 

I scoffed, "Come on, it's basic info. I know exactly what shirt you're gonna wear in the morning, what snack you're gonna make, what overused joke you're gonna tell at a certain time—of course I'd know your favorite color."

"Hm… what exactly does the song mean, though?"

I let out a nervous laugh at his question, I was not exactly sure how to answer that.

"Uh, I guess it means— It's about how you're always so closed off to everyone else, and they don't know that you can actually be pretty cool." Yeah, that summed it up nicely.. without being too sappy.

"So, you write songs about me? What else you got?" He smirked.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," I made a face at him, "I write songs about everyone. For example… here's one about Malcolm," I lied, and his eyebrows raised.

I began improvising a louder, repetitive melody. I quickly realized I had to think of some lyrics on the spot, and I continued strumming until something came to me.

"Malcolm... is an obnoxious know it all I think he's more of an imbecile."

I needed some time to think before singing the next part, spurred by Reese’s amusement.

"He has a really high IQ And won't shut up unless that's clear to you."

I dragged out the last note and strummed faster now, crescendoing into the end of the annoying song. It was obviously low effort and I was more talking in a singsong voice rather than actually singing, but it made Reese laugh.

"Yeah, I like that one," He pointed, still grinning.

"Of course you do."

We continued joking about Malcolm, and we shared more about our complications with making friends and dating. I set my guitar aside in its corner and went to lie down next to Reese as we talked. When he did allow someone to have a proper conversation with him, it could be really pleasant.

"You know, whatever guy that ends up with you is really lucky. I—You're... special. And you deserve someone as cool as you." He turned his head to look at me, but I was already facing him.

His green eyes, the ones I knew so well, were still so bright even in the dimness of my night light. My heart skipped when his pupils dilated just a bit, just enough that I felt as if I was imagining it.

My blue eyes studied him. Day by day, his features were getting more defined. He had an uncharacteristically serene expression on. He was smiling, but not quite. He was relaxed. It was a good look on him.

I finally parted my lips so I could reply, "You deserve someone like that too. You can be a pain sometimes, but if they get to actually know you—they'd forget about that." I tried to focus on my speech and not the way his eyes moved across my face. He was so close, I could see every color in his irises. They were so pretty. What was he doing with eyes like those? I gulped. A strange sensation made its way into my heart and fluttered down to my stomach.

I wondered if his heartbeat was racing as much as mine, and I worried that he could feel mine. I chalked it up to the sensitive topic we were discussing.

"Yeah, you're right... How are you always right?"

That made me smile and I lightly shrugged.

He paused for a moment. An even stranger look overtook his features, then he spoke, "You're my best friend, you know. I've never told you that." His pupils dilated again—So, I wasn't imagining it—and my heart dilated along with them. No one had ever called me their best friend before. It was such a simple label. And if he hadn't said it right now, I wouldn't have realized that no one ever had.

His fingers brushed mine in their resting position. I wanted to keep them there, but he awkwardly shifted after that. I was too focused on his eyes, I swore they had never looked so sparkling. No one's had.

I didn’t even realize that my headache had completely gone away.

"You're my best friend, too."

I wasn't finished gazing into his eyes when he abruptly got up.

"If I stay longer, I'll fall asleep here," he said, yawning. He looked over from out the window and into his room, raising his head to see Malcolm and Dewey who were fast asleep—even though it was relatively early.

"Yeah, I'll go to sleep soon too." I was sitting up now.

He gave me one last look. "I'll see you tomorrow morning?"

"Of course."

"Okay... goodnight." He muttered before clumsily getting out through the window, his shoe almost getting caught in the window frame.

"Goodnight."

That same night, when I was tucked in bed, I tossed and turned. Because whenever I closed my eyes, I saw his.

Notes:

The lyrics of the song she wrote about him are from Taylor Swift’s unreleased song ‘I’d Lie’ with a few tweaks. Please give it a listen on youtube if you haven’t already, it’s a hidden gem. Obviously this work is very much inspired by her music and characters. Please let me know if you like where everything is going.