#all things are possible i suppose.............

[foxyatlas]

I think this is such a huge part of the conversation about purity culture that is often completely overlooked. And it just-- infuriates me? Like, it all goes back to "Evangelical Christianity is massively fucked up and bad for everyone".

Like, you have a religion that VERY INTENSELY promotes heterosexual marriages, with no sex outside of those marriages. And to the men you say "your desires are unnatural and fucked up, your lust is evil, you need to hold yourself back otherwise you'll be a monster". And to the women you say "you shouldn't have any desire, but you are a symbol of lust and a temptation for every man around you. You should do everything possible to protect your 'virture'."

No wonder women and men in these spaces have such a hard time interacting in any sort of platonic ways; they've been trained to see each other as spiritually and morally dangerous!

And then, okay, a heterosexual couple gets together and decides to get married (after a few months, usually). The expectation is that they DO have sex on their wedding night. After the man has spent years shaming himself over every sexual desire or any expressions of lust, he is supposed to be sexual and lustful towards his wife. And after the woman has spent her entire life suppressing her own sexual desires (bc women shouldn't feel sexual desires) and being "good" by being non-sexual, she is supposed to have sex with her husband.

It's a recipe for absolute disaster. You get two people in a room who have been trained from birth to see sex and desire as evil, and you tell them, "go desire each other and have sex and it'll be beautiful". How?? How in the world would it be beautiful?? How are either of these people set up to be emotionally and sexually vulnerable with each other??

At the end of the day, it's not about sex at all. It's about control through shame. Tell people "the things you want are evil" and watch them self-monitor religiously for their entire lives, so focused on not being bad that they don't ask questions.

I cannot express how jarring it was after being raised by a "Porn Addiction Coach" to get into a relationship with a woman and come face to face with the fact that she did actually want me to sexually desire her.

Like, in Evangelical Purity Culture, male desire was basically poison. It was a threat. It was this constant temptation that would destroy everything. And even after leaving, in the sort of queer, feminist spaces i spend most of my time in that wasn't something that pretty much anyone was spending time actively dissuading me from feeling.

But my desire is good. It's not something that I'm being accepted in spite of. It's a positive thing. It's a bonus. Not even just vanilla stuff, all the stuff I'd convinced myself were these weird terrible desires that were shameful to have.

It honestly took me over a decade to fully accept that. To stop dissociating during sex and confront that I was, in fact, being a massive perv and that was fantastic and preferable and that I could accept that into my self-image without shame or self hatred.

But it's important to do. It's important to leave relationships that don't welcome that part of you. To know that your sexuality is valuable and valid and worth owning and celebrating. Because the alternative is just...not being. Either existing as yourself and repressing the part of your identity that is sexual or allowing that sexuality to exist but turning off your self while it does.

[fanzou]

Hi!! could you write about sanji dating someone whose old partner only cared about their own happiness (sexually and non sexually) and she starts believing thats how a relationship is supposed to work. sanji shows her it’s not supposed to be like that

Spoil Me!

✗ Pairing: Sanji Vinsmoke x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: Sanji shows you how to be selfish for a change.

✗ Total WC: 4.4K

✗ CW: Angst, Reader being in a manipulative relationship before Sanji, SMUT, Sanji calls reader lots of pet names, Reader cries in good and bad ways (let me know if I missed any), fluff, Nami smacks your butt (my personal favorite part)

✗ A/N: I always see this prompt with other writers and got super anxious just cuz it could get angsty, but I feel that I did somewhat of a good job with this. I’m happy with it! So… enjoy, and thank you so much for this request!

It’s been 2 months since you and Sanji had established yourselves romantically.

Ever the romantic, Sanji had always done things different with you. Everything was equal, everything was amazing. Everything felt right in his mind. You’d help him with the dishes, you’d help do his laundry, hell—sometimes he’d let you help prepare his favorite dishes with him to serve to the crew. Of course, there had been a select few things that were off limits, like paying for the bill, which he always had you covered, it was but a friendly gesture. You’d return the favor the next time you guys went out, even if he almost fought the waiter about it. (You couldn’t help yourself!)

When it was absolutely pouring and Sanji saw you hadn’t brought a coat in preparation, there was no hesitation in giving his up for you, but you insisted that you and him could both get underneath the coat like an umbrella, and he swore he fell in love with you all over again right then.

Even though he always liked the idea of being the one to take care of his partner, this was something different, something new. He’d grown to appreciate it—the equal friendship you’d shared. And when he realized his new and profound love for you, he felt unstoppable. Suddenly he wanted everything to do with you, and less to do with anything else. It was like he was attached to your hip. Wherever you went he wasn’t so far behind.

So it was a surprise to no one when you both finally decided to get together. He was ecstatic, the smile on his face couldn’t be wiped away for days.

And then it came crashing down.

exhibit A.

You’ve done this 3 nights in a row.

“My heart, you don’t have to worry about the dishes tonight, okay? I’ve already washed and dried them all, just get some rest.” You kiss his cheek and walk away, presumably to your room.

When the door closes, he finally settles back into reality, what he experienced could only be described as shock. He thought it was just a coincidence the first two nights. Maybe you just wanted to go to sleep a little earlier, but Sanji can’t help but feel a pang in his heart. Though it might seem like a boring little chore to an outsider, there was something that filled his heart about being able to do the dishes with you. It was so much more intimate. There was something about being side by side with you, talking and chatting about how your day went, asking you about the crew, if you did anything special that day. It was the little things for him, and he couldn’t relish in his favorite part of the day because of whatever reason you wanted to finish the dishes as early as possible.

You laughed into his shoulder while he told you something funny he encountered that day, “Sanji, that’s crazy!” Your laugh was so bright. Oh, how he loved to hear your sweet laugh, and this was one of those moments he could relish in it with no disruption.

Another time, you’d tease and get some soap on his cheek and he’d rebuttal by getting you a little wet. He giggled at your gasp and put down the wet dishes for a second and put his wet hands around your hip. You didn’t mind, never. You grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss while his hands soaked your shirt and pants. It was absolute heaven to him, and he didn’t want it any other way.

Surely he hadn’t done something wrong, that had to be impossible. Given your body language, and the way you leaned into him, everything was fine on his part.

He turns around and twists the door knob to the kitchen to follow you to your room, and makes a quick turn to your door.

He opens it and there you are, already dressed in your night gown, ready to sleep. You look exhausted, he looks at you in what you can almost make out to be a pitiful expression. “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” He walks towards you carefully and lifts your hand into his, and contrary to your tired expression, he can tell you try your utmost to keep an enthusiastic attitude, “Of course! There’s nothing to worry about. You should go to bed Sanj’.” You squeeze his hand, “I don’t want you to be tired.”

A silence falls, until you continue, “Something bothering you? Do you want me to come to bed with you? So you can sleep?”

Even though you meant well, and to anyone else it would seem thoughtful— the words you had uttered were far from reassuring to him.

exhibit B.

It was a special day, a very special one. Something that you almost didn’t want to celebrate, for whatever reason, but with the way it made Sanji so happy to be able to participate in, you couldn’t help but let him have it.

“Happy Birthday!” The crew says in unison. They just got done singing the most off beat and terrible rendition of what they thought was the happy birthday song, and you loved it. the three layer cake was decorated in the most gorgeous pink you had ever seen. Complimented by pink pearls on the sides with what you can only assume to be the most attentive detail, prepared by your one and only. It was thoughtful, almost so thoughtful that there was a guilt forming in your stomach. Nami picks some frosting off the top and swipes it onto your nose, to which you cutely stare at the middle of your face. She licks the residue off her fingers and in satisfaction, she yells to the cook, “Wow Sanji, this is amazing!” His smile softens when he hears her words. “I’m almost jealous. Where was all this for my birthday?”

“Now hurry up and cut the birthday girl a slice before I eat this entire thing!” Luffy exclaims, and everyone is quick to start arguing with him. “Don’t you dare, you idiot!” Nami yells.

You can only laugh, “My slice? That belongs to Sanji!”

The commotion comes to a silence and everyone looks at you, most of them with confused expressions or blank one’s. Sanji doesn’t understand what you meant, and neither did the others so you continue, “It’s important that he gets the first slice, I almost feel bad that I made you prepare such an amazing cake, I couldn’t possibly be the first one to eat it.”

There was an awkward silence, but he decided to break it. “Darling�� it’s your cake. I made it especially for you.” You thought about it for a moment, long and hard, before a memory came back to you:

Y’know I bought this cake for you, so it’s only fair that I get the first piece. A bit selfish of you to try to hog it all up, sweetheart. A woman should always serve her man first, ever heard of that? The voice rings through your ears and you shudder.

You scratch your neck and look off to the side, “I was always taught that it was bad manners for me to take the first slice, please Sanji, would you do me the honors?” You look a little nervous to even be saying that. The swordsman answers before he or anyone else can, “Bad manners? Never heard that one before.” He says before taking a sip of his drink. It would be completely unlike Sanji to ever participate in such a tradition, it would be no exaggeration to say that it made him mildly uncomfortable. But because of the way you look at him with pleading eyes, albeit hesitantly—he cuts himself the first piece, and then the rest for everyone else.

“Alright!” Luffy licks his lips. “Let me know if anyone doesn’t finish theirs!”

“I hope you enjoy it, my love.” You say to him with your hand cupping his face. His eyes widen for a split second.

He doesn’t miss the sad look in your eyes.

exhibit C.

This was something you couldn’t do very often with being on the waters almost all of the time, and when you were on ground there was always a quick and rising conflict that had to be dealt with, so it was difficult for you and your lover to get some alone time.

And the restaurant was absolutely fabulous, violin music playing in the back, the red and orange lights that illuminated the environment were calm and not overbearing, they were dimmed just right to fit the seductive atmosphere that you and Sanji both basked in. The food was amazing as well, something he couldn’t say about many restaurants. He wasn’t crazy about this island, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t some great food here.

“You look beautiful, dear. This dress is absolutely perfect on you.” Sanji says simply, but it dusts a blush on your face, one that he wishes he could see, but the ambient light does good to mask it, much to his disappointment. He liked leaving you flustered. “You look handsome, but you know that.”

“I like to hear it from you. ‘Makes me feel like I’m the luckiest man alive.” He purrs. You don’t miss the way his feet glide against yours, and the hungry look he gives you.

Like he almost wants to take you then and there. And suddenly the mood changes—from romantic to sexual. There’s a certain glimmer in his eyes that you want to get familiar with, but this is a restaurant, and he had enough food. “I think we should get out of here, my love.” Not taking his gaze from yours, “I’m hungry for something else.”

“I paid the bill already, baby, so we can bounce whenever you want.” You say with an eagerness in your tone, trying to match his energy.

Sanji looks nothing like he did a second ago, he’s confused and almost surprised, sad and angry all at the same time. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. He didn’t want you to pay, that’s far from what he wanted you to do. He wanted to pay the bill, and then take you to the nearest hotel and make you feel special. “What do you mean you paid?” His tone is stern now.

“Sanj’, I was taught that it was bad manners to have a man— y’know… pay… ‘cause they do all the work. Y’know? And…” you continue, but Sanji cancels your voice out for a second. You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, you don’t want to look at him anymore, in fear of what he would say to you. You thought you had done the right thing but it probably wasn’t enough to keep him satisfied.

It’s all the same.

Honestly, he didn’t care about whatever bullshit manners anyone’s ever taught you. It’s something that he didn’t approve of. Sanji digs his hand in his hair, he’s frustrated. He loves you, he really does. But this is suuuuch a turn off. As a friend he could take you paying the bill after his countless times doing so, despite his absolute reluctance in letting you do it. It was much more different now that you were finally together. He didn’t want to be upset with you, perhaps you misunderstood, that was all. Your anxiety grew as Sanji stayed quiet, you could tell he was frustrated and you didn’t understand why. No worries, it’s nothing you hadn’t seen before.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll make you feel good tonight if you’ll let me?” You say with hopeful eyes, and his gaze finally meets yours, but you quickly realize that it’s not enough to satisfy his needs, he just looks at you with a pitiful expression like he had the other few instances you suggested something like this. “My love… if you’ll let me be honest. I don’t really care about whatever dumb manners you had to learn growing up or whoever ingrained those dumbass ideologies into your pretty little head.” He takes your hands, “You’re with me, and I want to be able to make you feel like the most special girl alive.”

You were nervous, and you felt like your nails digging into your palm were bound to break through skin soon, you chewed anxiously on your bottom lip with your brows furrowed. Should you tell him? The last couple weeks of establishing your relationship was nothing short of a fantasy, but you didn't let yourself enjoy it like you wanted to in fear of coming off as selfish.

Would you be able to get the bill this time, babe? I'm a little short.

Ahh, short again. Well I did buy you that one thing... So you can maybe think of this as your payback!

I do enough for our relationship. You can pay this time, don't be greedy.

"Sanji..." you trail off, looking down at your lap once again, "The last guy I was with, he insisted that I did every thing, but the more I'm with you the more that I realize that it was probably very unnatural, to do everything for him. And I'm sorry, but I'm just now learning that." a tear trickles down your cheek. "I'm learning to unlearn this stuff, and I need your help."

He's no longer frustrated, but he can hear his heart break in his chest.

"I'll be here with you, my love. Every step of the way."

the breakthrough

It’s pushing 90 degrees today on the Sunny, and it goes without saying; everyone and everything is hot, scorching even. On days like this, or, who was he kidding? Any day, Sanji will whip up something to help the ladies feel better about any nasty weather they’re in, and while you three bask in the sunlight in your guys’ bikini’s. He loved the sight. And he most certainly hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all day.

You sported a 2-piece, the bottom half barely covered by some unbuttoned jean shorts and because of how hot it was out, there was a thin layer of sweat that coated your form which helped accentuate every curve of your body. He watched from a distance for most of the day, almost avoiding you in fear of pouncing on you in front of everyone. You were so sexy, and he almost felt perverted like this.

He had brought over some drinks for you and Nami and Robin to help somewhat alleviate the heat you had all felt, and you three thanked him kindly, but you noticed that same glint in his eyes, the same from the night at the restaurant. A super-duper mischievous one, and you promised you’d familiarize yourself with it. You wanted so desparately get up and take him to your bedroom and let him have his fun-- but you stopped yourself, like Sanji wanted; you to enjoy your time with the girls and not to worry about anything he was making in the kitchen, what he had to clean up, that fun stuff.

“He’s practically devouring you with those eyes he’s giving you.” Robin speaks, and it leaves you a little embarrassed, laying your head down onto the beach towel, he hasn’t been so discreet about the way he was ogling you.

“Yeah well, ‘second I’m done with this drink we’ll see where it takes us.” The girls giggle, and you clink your glasses together in a silent cheers. In truth, you were nervous, but you did well to mask it. “He’s one lucky guy!” Nami says, playfully smacking your butt.

-

Finally, he has you all to himself.

You guys are making out in his bed, and he’s so hard he could die. You’re palming him through his shorts and he moans into your mouth. “Fuck, baby.” At this point your jean shorts were easily discarded onto the floor while he slowly but surely makes his way to untying your bikini. He wants it all off. And he’s not shy about it. “Finally.” He makes work of untying your top piece, and you get lost in pleasure. Your tits are even prettier than he thought, and he licks your bud before starting to suck on it. You already feel your heat pooling through your lower piece. “Th-at feels so… so good Sanji. Yes…” You’ve never felt so sensitive, but with the way Sanji was attacking your breasts all while caressing your hips, coupled with the heat, it felt like so much at one time.

Before you get lost in the absolute euphoria that is Sanji, you become aware of one fact,

This simply just isn’t about you. Those words ring like a bell in your head in the midst of the pleasure, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you let Sanji do all the work? It was so selfish of you to let yourself think that you could relish in this. After all, it’s all about him. Only, about him.

Women aren't even meant to cum, so don't get ahead of yourself sweetheart.

Trying to push away the thought, you softly cup your hand around his cheek and bring him to your lips to assert yourself.

“This is about you.” You quickly straddle his hips and grind on top of him and he groans at that, craving the new friction you gave him. you looked sexy like this, but he wanted this to go his way this time.

In an act of complete rebuttal, Sanji flips you around and you yelp, he lets out a breathless laugh “Yeah, right.” You’re on your back now, and he spreads your legs. He keeps his eyes on your cunt, looking down at it deliciously, and finally he starts stroking it through the only fabric left on your body, up and down with his thumb. You can’t help but let out a moan, this was new, you were used to being demanded--but not in this way. “San…ji… this isn’t fair to you, ba—”

The audible groan that comes out of him was loud and proud. “So tired of hearing that come from your mouth.” He gently moved your underwear to the side and started rubbing your bare clit. “You know what I think is bad manners?” He looks at you, “When I can’t make you feel like the princess you are.” You can’t help but moan, it was obvious you weren’t used to this kind of treatment.

When he presses your thighs against your torso, you're almost shocked, you assume that he’d start to pull his pants down and have his way, but instead, his head comes down to meet your cunt face to face, he pressed kisses on your inner thighs and the sight is so very romantic, you feel so selfish, so very selfish.

It feels amazing.

When his tongue takes its first long swipe across your cunt, it felt dirty, and sooo good. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in and not long after he started his attack on your clit, lapping and sucking on it like a madman. “Sanji… yes.” You moan his name over and over coupled with some curses, and his hands grip tighter onto your thighs. His squelching and sucking, the sounds are so lewd, and you can feel his drool mixed with your juices trickle all the way down to the mattress. The image would forever be ingrained into your head, it was too perfect.

Sanji starts prodding into your cunt with one finger, and then inserts another, scissoring and fucking them into you while you shake under his wrath. “That feels so good, more, pleaseeee.” He meets your gaze and you want to melt at how he looks at you; like you were his lifeline. You feel a knot form in your stomach, something almost unfamiliar to you. You couldn't remember the last time you had an orgasm unless it was from your own fingers.

“Wanna see that pretty face when you cum on mine.” And the fact that he would be the reason behind it made him only hungrier. "I can't... Baby... It’s so much. I think I might… ohhhhh…." Your mix of Sanji's and Fuck's and Yes' only grew breathier and more demanding. "Cum on my face, please, yes." He begs you and his tongue goes faster over your clit.

When you finally bust, you can only mutter a "Mmmmmmmyesssss" with a heaving chest that followed suit, hips grinding into his tongue so you could ride out your orgasm. Your face was in absolute bliss, eyes squinted, brows furrowed, and mouth a little opened from how good it felt. It's almost too much for you, he gives your cunt a few more licks before getting up and massaging your thighs with his thumbs.

"Did that feel good, princess? I'm sorry if it was a little rough." He comes down to your lips and gives you quick kiss.

"Please fuck me Sanji. I need you inside of me, please."

Who was he to deny his princess?

He kisses your lips again while making quick work of the tied knot on his shorts, he didn't even realize how hard he was until he took his shorts off, cock still in his briefs.

Sanji takes off your stretched out underwear and throws it on the floor once and for all, and his own meet yours soon after.

His cock was very long—8 inches, if you had to guess. Curved upright, and it was beautiful, but you'd be lying if you had said that you weren't a little afraid of taking it. Luckily he catches your gaze and he smiles, "You nervous, princess?"

"Just a little bit..."

"Don't be, I'll take it slow." Had you not spilled to him that night about your failure of a previous relationship, he would've taken you for a virgin the way you trembled looking at his dick. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain and frustration you had endured in your previous relationship, telling him about how he never let you cum and only sought to chase his own pleasure. He was willing to change that, and right now—he’d be damned if he said the way you look at it didn't turn him all the way on. "Watch it go in. Trust me my love, it's not that bad."

You listen and nod, and you watch with him. He lets it slide across your pulsing heat a couple times before he lets his head slowly slide in, he's biting his lip and lets his own line of curses come out of his mouth. When he's about half way in, another breath you didn't know you were holding lets itself out, and another inch, and another, until he's all the way inside, and saying you felt stuffed was really an understatement.

He takes the back of your knees in your hands and spreads them a little further, he starts moving slowly and you both let your sighs of pleasure out.

He starts to pick up his pace when you ask him to, not too quick but steady enough for you to feel every detail of his cock graze your insides. Because of the heat, it's not long until you're both covered in sweat.

He can't help himself, he comes down to kiss you again and talk you through the moment.

"I'm so lucky to have you."

"You're the prettiest woman I've ever met."

"You look so perfect right now."

The praises were too much and you felt insanely spoiled, something you've never felt before. The slapping of skin, the closeness you felt to him, his cock steadily coming out of you, only for it to stuff you full over and over again. The way he kept his eyes on yours, it was so much. And before you knew it, tears ran down your cheeks, ones of pleasure and joy--you couldn't tell which was which.

"I love you so much, S-Sanji."

He kisses your tears away, "I love you more, princess. You're doing amazing." Kisses your lips, but not for too long as he doesn’t want to mask your beautiful sounds.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum, baby. Are you gonna cum soon? I wanna see it again.”

Now, Sanji’s thrust are sloppier but a little more harder, you can tell he’s probably going to approach an orgasm soon along with you.

“Y-Yes. Ohhhhhh fuuuucckkk~”

“You take me so well, princess. You were made for me.” The clapping between your bodies gets louder, and you try your hardest to bury yourself into the pillow from how good it felt. “Look at me.”

You obeyed, like you always do, even though he looks disheveled; mouth covered in juices and spit, there’s beads of sweat running down his face, he really loves this moment with you.

“Tell me you love me” he says.

“I love you.” His thrusts are inconsistent now, but he’s still hitting the same spongy spot inside of you.

“Again.”

“I love you, Sanji. Ohhh, shit.”

“Again.”

“I love you so much! So, so much! I’m gonna cum again! Mhhh!”

And just like you spoke, you came all over him, it hit his chest, his balls, thighs, and all over the mattress, and he fucks some of it back into you while he follows you in reaching his own orgasm.

Before he can, he pulls out of you and releases the hot white liquid onto your stomach, stroking his dick til there was nothing left in him to give.

Completely disregarding the fact that he just came all over your stomach, he collapses onto you and joins you in almost synchronized breaths. “That was… amazing…” you managed to say. “Thank you so much.”

Sanji rolls over and pulls you onto his chest, “You deserve everything and more, that was only a fragment of how much I appreciate you, sweet thing.”

To his surprise, you get up from your position and look at him. You scan his body and come to one conclusion, “I should probably clean you up a bit.”

He wants to roll his eyes, but instead he takes your arm and yanks you down with him in the same position you were before. “If I’m gonna be dirty, I’ll be dirty with to you. But if you wanna take a bath with me, that’s a different story” once again, that mischievous undertone in his voice is something you can’t miss.

You’ve still got a long way to go, but he’ll be there with you through every step.

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Mrs. Barnes

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary || You and Bucky enjoy a lunch break together.

Word Count || 1103

Contents & Warnings || Fluff — a little mention of smut and angst, no other warnings.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

TFATWS!Bucky Masterlist

You were running a little late to meet up with Bucky for a quick lunch break. He was supposed to work some intel with Sam all day for an upcoming mission, but he managed to get a quick break away from work which he wanted to spend with you. He had called you up an hour ago, his deep voice warming your heart even through the phone, to see when you were having your lunch break at work so that you and him could eat together at your favorite cafe—that cozy little place with the exposed brick walls and the smell of freshly ground coffee beans.

You were only a few minutes late, but you knew Bucky had limited time so you were stressing a little bit, wanting to spend as much time with him as you could. Your heart was already beating faster at the thought of seeing him.

As you walked into the cafe, the bell above the door announcing your arrival, you saw him sitting at your favorite table in the corner—the one by the window where the afternoon sun created a perfect golden halo around him. His nose was deep in a book—his original copy of The Hobbit, the worn cover showing years of love and countless re-reads.

"Hi, babe. I hope you haven't been waiting too long. I tried to get here as soon as possible," you said, slightly out of breath from your quick walk.

As you sat down in your chair, shrugging off your jacket and letting it drape over the back, Bucky put his book down and reached for your hand. His metal hand glinted in the sunlight as he brought your hand to his lips, giving it a lingering kiss at the back, his stubble tickling your skin. His gentleman gestures made your heart flutter, sending waves of warmth through your entire body. Even after all these years together, he never stopped making you feel special and loved, treating you like you were the most precious thing in his world.

"I've waited decades for you, my dear love. I can wait a few more minutes," he said while giving you that boyish grin that made your heart almost jump out of your chest, his blue eyes twinkling with affection.

"I was only five minutes late you over dramatic ass," you teased, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze to let him know you were joking, which he knew from the way your eyes crinkled at the corners.

"But I'm your ass, right?" he teased back, wiggling his eyebrows in that ridiculous way that only he could make endearing, making you giggle.

"Yes you are, Bucky. My one and only."

Although you and he were teasing each other in this moment, his remark was his truth. He had told you time and time again, usually in quiet moments late at night when his guard was down, that he would go through all those painful and lonely years all over again if it meant he would always find his way home to you.

"Alright, what should we get then," you asked, glancing down at the slightly worn menu. "The club sandwich sounds delicious. Don't you think, babe?" Bucky was only staring at you, not even paying attention to the items on the menu as he was busy admiring your beauty, his eyes soft and full of love.

"Hmm, you look so good today, Mrs. Barnes." Ever since your wedding a month ago, a small intimate ceremony in Brooklyn where you both had shed happy tears, Bucky haven't stopped calling you that. He was so proud and grateful that you wanted to take his last name. He never pressured you to take it, but you wanted nothing more than to be Mrs. Barnes. It gave you butterflies every time he called you that, making your heart soar.

Looking down at yourself, you were wearing the most basic clothes you owned, opting for a little more comfort than glamorous while at work. Your hair and makeup were done as simple as possible, just enough to look presentable.

"I know what you're gonna say, doll. That you don't look anything special right now, but this is the most beautiful to me. Your natural beauty is breathtaking. You look gorgeous when you get all dolled up as well, but you like this, is my favorite, Mrs. Barnes." His voice was soft but sincere, filled with genuine adoration.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks at his words, a smile coming across your lips, your heart swelling with love for this man.

"Hmm, thank you, Mr. Barnes. You don't look so bad yourself," you uttered, nibbling your bottom lip.

He was wearing a black t-shirt that clung to his torso like a second skin, his defined muscles etched in the material. His biceps appearing to almost burst through the shirt, the metal arm gleaming subtly under the fabric. You had been eyeing him ever since you sat down, practically drooling at how the shirt stretched across his broad chest. You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your desire.

"OK, but seriously, what are we ordering to eat. We don't have much time together and I'm starving," you said, getting back on track with the lunch and looking down at the menu once more, trying to focus on the words instead of your gorgeous husband.

"I want to eat you, doll," he said with desire in his tone, his voice dropping an octave lower, sending shivers down your spine.

"Well, if you manage to make it home tonight, I might give you a taste, pretty boy," you teased, winking at him, enjoying the way his pupils dilated at your words.

"Such a tease, baby."

"Always."

— — — —

After lunch, you walked out hand in hand to his sleek black motorcycle that was parked outside. You stood on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck while his strong hands found your waist, holding you firmly to him, the cool metal of his hand a pleasant contrast to the warmth of his other. He gave you a passionate, slow kiss, not wanting to leave you just yet, his lips moving against yours with practiced tenderness.

"I'm gonna miss you, Bucky."

"Me too, doll. I promise I will try to make it home as soon as I can. You owe me a taste, remember," he said, giving you a wink before finding your lips again for a final kiss, this one deeper and more promising.

"I love you, Mr. Barnes," you mumbled against his lips, breathing in his familiar scent.

"And I love you, Mrs. Barnes."

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people! I would really appreciate it 🖤

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[missdynamighttt]

This is not a request or anything like that, I just wanted to know which MHA guys would be willing to have a threesome, as canon and as less OOC as possible in your opinion!

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ FINALLY FINALLY OH MY GOD IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS, THANK YOU SO MUCH NONNIE. THE REQUESTS I GET ARE NICE BUT THEY ARE KINDA OOC AND PURE ON HARDCORE PORN IM NOT SURE IM USED TO YET.

NO TO THREESOME:

katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, tenya iida

honestly? i get these requests but i dont believe they'd be into that or want to do it. its a nice thought but its more that they just want you all to themselves.

they dont believe in sharing. plus, with the lack of intimacy they grew up with, it took AWHILE before yall have mindblowing sex. they won't let another person see how beautiful you look, when its supposed to be all for him.

its more of an ego thing for katsuki. even if you wanted to, his pride couldn't take it. besides, he can take care of you all by himself. he doesn't need another dick, or even a dildo to have you screaming and crying out in pleasure. and if it was a girl, he'd probably just ignore her anyway.

"sure as hell ain't sharin' you, sugar, thats for sure. tch, c'mere, gimme a kiss. i'll show you why my dick's all you need. gonna fuck these stupid ideas outta that pretty little head of yours."

meanwhile, shoto and iida is just reluctant. like i mentioned, it took you awhile in the relationship before hes fucking you so good. it also just feels weird when another person sees him like that, when its only all for you to see.

"my love... as... exciting, as the idea is, i don't think i like it. is that okay? i'm sorry. i'll make it up to you. now spread these legs for me, c'mon. i'll eat you out real good, i promise."

WILLING TO TRY:

sero hanta, kirishima eijirou, midoriya izuku

they wouldn't say outright no but not outright yes either. they're reluctant because another person would see you all vulnerable like that but the idea of bringing you more pleasure gets his dick really hard.

"it.. depends who its with, mi amor. i dont like it but i don't hate it. let's make a list, yeah? narrow it down and shit and we'll see." (y'all end up picking denki.)

"that's.. not what i was expecting. don't get me wrong, i don't hate it. its hot but its a little weird, y'know what i mean? okay, good. who to ask? bakugo would kill me... mina? she would too. but i'll ask." (she said hell yeah)

"oh! um... sure, why not? i'm not sure who we could ask, though.. maybe kacchan? oh! or, uraraka-san maybe. i'll call him and you call her." (both of them said yes but y'all decided on katsuki. you got drunk on both of their dicks real good.)

YES TO THREESOME:

denki kaminari

i think y'all know why he says yes. this man is kinky as shit, no denying that. he's a pervert but he's not a maniac like mineta. the image of you all fucked out taking on 2 cocks or kissing another woman while you're bouncing on his cock and he's eating her out.. its hot.

the challenging thing here was finding someone who was willing to have a threesome with him though. the person who ended up saying yes was sero. i imagine using both of their quirks to real good use, like bondage or shocking your needy clit.

"fuck, fuck, fuck. yeah? you like getting fucked by that, don't cha? c'mon baby, fuck his cock like you mean it, c'mon."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[arcticdementor]

Per your first sentence, I have an analogy I've been working on.

Consider a school teacher. Suppose she's teaching, say, math. Or American history. Or whatever. And the kids keep failing tests, because they keep giving similar wrong answers. Like, say, when asked to do 2x2, they give "22." Or put down as the year of Columbus's first voyage as "1942." Or whatever. There are a few possibilities as to the issue.

First, maybe the teacher isn't teaching it well. Perhaps she needs to change how she's presenting the information; find a method that communicates it to the children in a way and at a level they can comprehend. Maybe she's using too many big words, and the kid's aren't smart enough to grasp what she's saying. Or she's giving it too quickly, and hasn't repeated it enough, particularly for those kids in the back of the classroom who might not have heard it the first few times.

Second, maybe the lessons are fine, but the kids are paying more attention to something else. After all, even if you try to "make learning fun," class is still going to be a bit more boring than the alternatives, and the kids would likely rather watch TikTok videos on their smartphones instead. Maybe the kids in the back of the class have their phones carefully placed and hidden to do just that. And maybe that's where they're getting their wrong answers. Perhaps some YouTuber has started a troll campaign to convince young people that 2x2=22. Or maybe a popular rap song that drops bars about how "Columbus sailed the ocean blue/in nineteen hundred and forty-two," and it's an earworm getting stuck in the kids' heads.

The problem then is to figure out how to keep the kids off their phones in class; and if the problem is watching these videos out of class, then get the PTA on board and contact their parents to try to get enough of them to control their children's time online better.

Third, if it's not how the teacher is teaching, or bad information environment, then the only thing left is the children themselves. Maybe a whole lot of them have undiagnosed dyscalculia. Maybe they're answering "1942" instead of "1492" because dyslexia is causing them to swap the digits. Maybe a bunch of them belong in a Special Needs classroom.

Or maybe they're a bunch of troublemaking little shits who've coordinated this to mess with their teacher. They're trying to drive her to her wits' end, or maybe even sabotaging their own grades to mess with class outcome metrics to make her look bad and sabotage her continued employment. In which case the answer is to discipline them — particularly the masterminds instigating and coordinating it — until they stop.

What you don't do, in any case, is change the curriculum. You don't start accepting "2x2=22" as a "correct" answer no matter how many students put it down on their math quiz.

Do I really need to explain further how to apply this analogy to the political discussion?

You don’t get it, idiot. This AOC clap back is going to make racists develop a sense of empathy.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales 5

Summary: A celebration of Amarantha's victories in Illyria reveals just how bad the Empire has become.

Content Warnings: Blood and Descriptions of Injuries; Crucifixions and Mentions of Torture; Slavery

Pt 1, 2, 3, 4

--------

Sleep is elusive. I find myself staring at the ceiling, watching the cream colored walls change colors as the sun slowly begins to rise. 

I have to be the worst mate in history. Well, my Father murdered his mate, so maybe a close second. Even if Rhysand did reach into my head and use me to brand them, I’d still held that iron, hadn’t fought it like I should have. Now, I can’t even say I made it right by getting them the hell out of here! I’m now actively giving them ways to stay, not just in the Empire, or in the arena, but in the middle of a game with my Father they can’t possibly hope to win. I should have pressed the issue harder. I should have ignored their call and waited til morning when Anise had found passage out of here and hauled them onto the ship. I most definitely should not be calling for a tailor as soon as the sun is up to make sure they’re fitted for clothes for this stupid parade. 

I’m tempted to think Rhysand has found a way to make me do this for him, but I know he can’t reach me this far. The tether in my chest that links me to them feels strained from being so far away. It’s as if it’s a living thing beneath my skin that knows there’s too much distance between us. 

Anise worms her way back into my room as I dismiss the tailor and tell her to send the healer my way for a report on the injuries the Illyrians finally let her treat once I’d left their room last night. 

“I found what you were looking for,” she says as she shuts the door. I expected her to find an excuse not to do what I’d asked, especially after she’d given me the royal inquisition about what I’d been doing once I came back through the secret entrance last night. But her emerald gaze sweeps conspiratorially over my empty room, even as she hands me something that smells like a contraceptive tea.

I try to pass it off on my bedside table. “You know I don’t need this.”

“Drink,” she sits herself on the edge of my bed with a sigh. “Can’t have a boat disappearing into the Wastes while you grow with child.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Anise!”

She shrugs, “I suppose your Father would kill it anyway.”

“Get to the point, Anise.”

“Drink the tea first.”

To appease her, I pinch the bridge of my nose to avoid the awful smell and force the amber colored liquid down my throat. 

“There’s a merchant ship that takes the long way around the Wastes to reach the Human Lands. Passage can be acquired for a hefty fee.”

“Not a problem,” my stomach rises in my throat and I have to take a moment to let it settle before finishing the tea. 

“There is a matter of it only being available for another three days before it’s gone for six months.”

That complicates things. How am I supposed to convince them in the next three days that they need to be on that ship?

“Thank you for looking,” I pass the, now empty, cup back to her. “I will need you on standby. Hopefully, I can find a way to convince them to get on board before it’s too late.”

Anise chews on her wooden thumbnail. “There’s a rumor, around the house, that they’re insurrectionists, is that true?”

I push the curtain blocking the bathroom aside. I might as well change and prepare for the parade now. If I give myself enough time, maybe I can slip back into the secret passage and strategize with my stubborn set of mates on how we handle today. I don’t like going into this blind, and I certainly don’t like having to be responsible for their well-being knowing that they’re just winging it. 

How have they managed to get this far?

“More or less,” I say as I slip my sleep clothes off my shoulders. I frown at my reflection in the mirror. Too thin. Too pale. I need to get back into training; I need to get some color back into my face. All my clothes hang a little too much off my shoulders. Mother would have never let me hear the end of it if she knew how long I’d wasted away in this house over her. She hated mourners. Hated having an excuse not to be on top of training, in every area of life. 

“And what-” Anise comes to stand in the doorway, frowning at the outfit I’ve chosen for the day. She snatches it out of my hands before I can put it on and comes back with something cobalt instead. “-do they have on you?”

“I don’t follow?”

“What are they using against you to get you to do this for them?” She fusses over the loose fabric, lining the seams up along my shoulders, tucking in loose bits of cloth here and there, slipping other strands through a golden belt around my waist. 

“You think they have some kind of leverage on me?”

“I think this is unlike you. I think you’ve been a shell of a person locked in a dark house for months and months and suddenly now you care about parties and parades and those gods-awful Games. It is strange. I think I should send for a Healer to look at your head.”

I let her fidget and fuss so she has something to take the edge off her anxiety. “I went to plenty of parties and parades… before…” I can’t bring myself to say it out loud. 

“You went for her, because she forced you too, this is different. You keep insisting there is nothing sexual happening, yet you drink the tea and sneak into their rooms and won’t tell me what’s going on.”

I turn away from the mirror to look at her, reaching for her gnarled hands. “They’re good males, I just want to help them, is all. Father doesn’t exactly smile on simple favors.”

She huffs, “Your heart has always been bigger than your head.”

“I feel… kind of like I’ve been asleep for a long time and when I woke up I didn’t recognize who I was in the mirror. I’m just trying to find myself again.” It’s the closest to the truth as I can get. “I’m sorry that I’ve worried you.”

She frees herself from my grip to touch my cheek gently. “Just promise me that you will be careful. If anything were to happen to you…”

“I promise.”

She nods then takes my shoulders and spins me back to face the mirror. “Good, then let’s fix this awful hair of yours!”

Better to have her focusing on making me presentable than all the possible dangers we have to face just by leaving the room. I feel terrible, leaving her in the dark about it all, but I can’t tell her the truth, not yet. It is too soon; it leaves too much to chance. I still have hope that I can find a way by the end of the day to convince them to get on that boat and then she will never have to think about it again. The worst will be behind us.

--

I may have underestimated just how bad this was going to be.

For one thing, I didn’t anticipate Amarantha showing up at the front gates before I had a chance to slip into the Illyrians’ room. Let alone bring a whole entourage of slaves and guards, all painted in her colors and dressed for the parade. The sight of her in my sanctum makes me want to start hurling things at her head, but I manage to keep a poker face as she dismounts from her chariot, pulled by a white horse with a speckle of gray across its glossy coat. One of Father’s prized war horses; a gift from a battle years ago. 

“General, you honor me with this surprise visit,” the words taste like bile. Why is she here in my place of refuge? She’s never bothered to venture this far away from the Capitol before. 

She glances around warily, like something might pop out of the sprawling gardens and bite her. “I came to check on your progress.”

“How kind of you.” I intentionally don’t draw attention to the path that leads to the guest house. “Would you like some refreshments? You must be tired from your journey.” The last thing I need is her poking around. 

“No. We need to be on our way. I assumed you’d need help leading your new pets out.”

“Not at all. I have everything under control.” Bitch.

She grins but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Good, then let’s get moving, shall we? Don’t want to keep your Father waiting.”

This is all happening a lot faster than I anticipated, but I will have to make the most of it. Her being here means they were right last night, I really had thrown Father off his game. Now he’s trying to compensate by sending her to feel out how I’ve managed this far. I keep my shoulders back as I tell one of the guards to bring the males out. I must remain in control. 

I must keep my well-trained mask of courtly manners in place.

That’s a lot harder when the second curveball of the day comes hurling my way: I’d sent my tailor with an order to find my mates suitable pants, boots, and tunics. We weren’t going to have the time for anything fancy. With a few more hours I might have been able to find armor suitable for a Gladiator to wear out in public. A moot point one way or the other, because they wouldn’t have worn it. Not one of them is wearing the outfit I selected. In fact, I’d barely call the swatch of fabric adorning their bronze skin clothing. It’s closer to a toga, one half of the beige fabric pinned over their left shoulders, draping down in gentle waves down their waists, where it eventually falls to their upper thighs, one side slit nearly all the way open. It leaves half their tattooed chests bare, the swirls of tattoos on stark display. There’s so much open across Rhysand’s ensemble that I can very clearly see the curvature of his ass if he’s standing in any direction that’s not looking at me directly. 

It is an effort to keep my jaw off the floor. What the fuck are they doing?

I don’t know if the guards attached leashes to the gorsian collars around their throats or if they did that themselves; at this point, it wouldn’t surprise me.

“I’ve underestimated you, Highness,” Amarantha says.

The words might as well have been spoken by a fly, they don’t even register. I can’t stop staring at them, at the miles of bare skin and muscle on display. Ember did a good job putting them back together last night, the bruises fading, the smaller cuts and scrapes nothing more than a swatch of fresh skin. Rhysand’s arm is still bandaged, as are Azriel’s wings, but they do not drape on the floor today. They all stand ready, heads high. The posture feels like a challenge; they should be defeated, they lost the battle, they’re chained here to me, but they don’t look it. They command the space around them.

I feel a flash of pride when I look at them. Even with all my training, I’d never be able to be this confident. Despite all their losses, they haven’t given up.

“I might have to challenge your claim on them,” Amarantha says, her gaze lingering too long on Rhysand for my liking.

Something ugly and possessive rears its head inside me and all I see is red. My hands ball into fists at my sides as my powers flare in my palms. Keep it together! Keep it together!

“And miss the parade in your honor?” I say as sweetly as I can. “My Father would be so disappointed.”

She sneers at me, perfectly white teeth flashing, “Wouldn’t be much of a challenge for me, would it, Highness?”

I’ve never shown anyone the full extent of what I’m capable of; it would be too dangerous to unleash that much power on the world. It won’t do me any good now to try and boast about what I keep hidden beneath my skin. “You’ve done enough fighting, save the challenges for your Attor.”

She huffs as she climbs back into her golden chariot. 

It’s not really a victory, but it is the best I can hope for. Time will be the only thing keeping her in check today. If it wasn’t for the parade, she might be tempted to keep pushing the issue, and as much as I’d love an opportunity to shove a blast of obsidian power through her chest, I have bigger issues to deal with. I can’t let her get in the way of the plan. 

My mates watch the exchange closely. Azriel hovers a little closer than someone supposed to be shackled to me should. His shadows are missing. Hidden somewhere, maybe behind his wings to avoid detection, or the sunlight, but the intensity in his gaze reminds me that there isn’t anything happening he isn’t aware of. 

Rhysand gives me the subtlest of nods as the stable boy brings my own horse out. Anise must have sent them for me; she’s undoubtedly watching from the window. I have never been more keenly aware of how many sets of eyes are watching my every move, which is saying something, considering I’ve never left this house without a squadron of guards or some form of chaperone. Every breath I take feels like it’s being monitored, which is unfortunate, because the next issue of the day becomes the moment I realize the guards left with the wagon yesterday and I don’t have any other horses. How am I supposed to get them all the way across the Capitol?

I’m out of my element. It’s one thing to freeze in front of some guards who don’t know me well enough to see the panic in my eyes, it’s entirely another to in front of Amarantha, who can smell fear like a fucking bloodhound. She won’t stop grinning at me either, like she’s a cat watching a mouse creep slowly up to a baited trap. We’ve just started this, I can’t already fail!

The invisible force that is Rhysand slips right into my mind again as panic freezes me in place. My body moves for me, tethering the leashes in my hand to the saddle of my horse. 

Amarantha’s grin falters.

I am not making my mates walk behind me the entire time! This, somehow, feels worse than the brand!

 But I can’t fight his grip on me. My shields were low enough, I’d forgotten to enforce them, he’d slipped right in and taken control just like he had yesterday. I can’t do this!

“You can,” that silky smooth voice is like a caress against the inside of my skull as he moves me into the saddle of my horse. 

I can feel Cassian’s glare between my shoulderblades, as if he’s imagining exactly where he’d drive his sword. The tether that links us feels even more frayed than it had yesterday, as if someone is taking a knife and swaying it away fiber by fiber. Worse, that someone is me. 

Rhysand brushes a mental hand down my spine and my whole body trembles as if it had been physical. “It’s all right. You’re just doing what we asked you too.”

Amarantha starts moving, the grin now a full scowl. This is not at all how she thought this morning would go. I’m grateful she’s so distracted by the failure that she isn’t paying attention to the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. This is beyond cruel and unfair!

“We’ve endured a lot worse than this,” he explains as he uses me to get my horse moving. 

The collars around their throat rattle as they get yanked along behind me and I think I might never get that godsdamned sound out of my head as long as I live.

“When we lost that battle in Illyria, they kept all of my soldiers chained together, naked and bleeding in the snow. They made them watch as they burned our cities to the ground, with their families locked inside the Temple.”

Revulsion rolls its way through my stomach, as I flick my gaze to Amarantha; she’s always been a monster, she’s never bothered to hide it, but I’d never known the gory details. Father praised her for doing whatever was necessary to win, I knew that involved a lot of shed blood, but I’d never seen the true cost of her victories.

Maybe I’d never wanted to see. It had been easier to just keep my head down and accept that this was how the world I lived in worked. I’d been too terrified of what might happen if I challenged it; hell, I’d been too terrified of what would happen to even look at it. It had always been easier to turn and hide from it, withdrawing into myself where the monsters couldn’t reach me. How many people have I hurt by turning a blind eye?

“Amarantha made Cassian pick which of his men would live. Five out of every group of ten to be taken as slaves. The other five to be crucified. She did it in waves, five for every city we stopped at for supplies. Five to be a warning to the other Courts. Until we came to the Arena; then the question became which of us would fight and die. He chose us, so that, at least, the rest of his men may find a chance to escape.”

Rhysand won’t loosen his grip on me enough to let me turn in the saddle to look at them. He probably thinks I’ll lose my nerve if I do. My chest aches for them and what they’ve had to endure on the way here.

“If you hadn’t stepped in yesterday, Hybern would have killed Cassian and Azriel.”

“But not you?” His hold on me is not so strong that I can’t, at the very least, talk back to him. The connection soon becomes soothing, instead of like fighting against adamant. As time goes on, I can begin to feel the distinction in the tethers that link our souls. While they are still thin, and tangled in the heart of it, there is a glittering, starlight lined piece that leads me to him, and the connection feels like it builds on top of itself little by little as we go. Maybe the bond is not, totally, unsalvageable.

“I caught a glimpse in Hybern’s head. He was too far away for a good look, but I saw enough. At least for a little while, he wants me alive. I don’t know why. I assume to make a bigger display of my failure than Amarantha has already made, but I can’t be sure. I think that he might have let me live yesterday and killed them as punishment for speaking out. Judging by the way Amarantha’s acting today, I think that she expected to get me as a prize afterwards.”

My teeth clench involuntarily at the thought.

“I know that what I’ve asked of you is uncomfortable. It will be a hard role to play, but it is not without advantages.” Despite Cassian’s misgivings during their argument last night, him and Azriel had seemed to be in agreement that they needed me for this. If I cannot spare them entirely from pain, at least I can keep them out of Amarantha’s claws. A tiny victory, but still a victory. 

The road ahead of us is long, physically speaking the trek into the city is several miles, and figuratively because there’s a lot of hoops to jump through and masks to wear and angles to work. This will not be an overnight endeavor. That ship with their freedom quickly feels like its slipping out of my reach. 

“But are there not advantages to leaving while you have the chance?” There is nothing but a long, winding road lined with hills of rolling wheat between us and the outskirts of the city, I might as well make my attempt now.

“Not if it means abandoning my people.”

Stubborn male. 

“This will be your Empire one day, do you not feel responsible for the people within it?”

As the sun continues to climb, so does the temperature. Sweat begins to bead its way across my hairline.

“It will not be my Empire,” I counter; especially considering what I had bargained to ensure their freedom. “My Father doesn’t think I know it, but he added a clause to his will that states, in the event of his death, my husband will take the throne.”

Through the mental connection, I feel him stiffen behind me.

And maybe because I’m desperate for any possible chance to push them towards that ship, I add, “And make no mistake, my Father has already chosen which male to pawn me off to.”

Anger flashes its way across the bond. A sign, I should think, that he at least knows there’s something there. 

“He would leave you no choice?”

The question is laughable. For all the terrible things my Father has done, he truly thinks he’d still care about my consent in any aspect of my life? “He pretended for a while that I did, but his displeasure was always made clear. Not that it matters, now. I’ve already agreed to marry whoever he wishes.”

A growl works its way down the bond between us. “Why?”

“Did you think he would spare your lives for free?” A low blow and I know it, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how Cassian had called me a spoiled little princess who’d never felt the effects of this Empire. My suffering has been nothing compared to theirs. No life time could ever compensate for that kind of torture. There is no contest here. But I am not immune to my Father’s whims either and I need them to understand that this is not the better option. They need to be on that ship. And if they feel the bond at all, if there is any push to be near me, I need to use it to get them to see how dangerous it is to be around me. I can shield them a little bit. I can stand between Amarantha. I can stay my Father’s hand on occasion. But it will not last. Nothing lasts long against them. 

Rhysand is silent for a long time. Long enough that I feel his grip on me slip away, allowing me to turn my head and watch the three of them. They’re keeping pace easy enough, even with the bandage around Cassian’s thigh and the added weight of the bandages around Azriel’s wings. But it’s their eyes that catch my attention: Glazed over like they’re not seeing me at all. I’ve seen that look before, when the twins reach into someone’s head. The collar must limit his ability to reach out to more than one person at the time. He’s withdrawn to speak with them instead.

I keep my shields down, waiting for him to come back, praying to the Mother that it worked, that they’re at least, reconsidering this foolhardy notion of theirs. 

Amarantha’s men must have cleared the streets on their way down here, usually, the twisting pathways of hard packed earth are crowded with carts and beasts of burden as they tend to the budding wheat stalks, but there are none. It is a strange silence, there are usually workers singing in between the rows as they weed and water and remove pests from the grounds. No birds sing. It’s as if the whole area knows a red-headed predator walks among them.

I find myself studying her, careful not to let the rage I feel at the thought of what she’d done to my mate’s rises back to the surface. Silence has always been dangerous for me, it gives me too long to think. And right now, all I can think about is how easy it would be to blast her in the back of the head with the dark ether that prowls beneath my skin. One of her slaves carries her helmet, the dark horse hair plume billowing in the warm summer breeze. None of her guards rides close enough to block the blow. Sure they’ll be an issue afterwards, but they won’t be able to save her.  She’d be nothing more than a blood stain in the rode.

And then what? What would it help? It can’t erase what she’s already done to them. Even if I could take out the guards and we all made a break for that ship, Father would never let it go. He’d blame them, probably lie to the people and say I’d been kidnapped or brainwashed into doing it, and then he and everyone in the Empire would hunt us down until we were dragged back or killed. They’d never have any rest. No, I need to get them to get that ship and I need to find a way to make sure that no one comes looking. 

My head hurts. This is a lot more complicated than I thought it would be. There’s a lot more pieces to play than just moving them onto a ship. I resist the urge to rub my temples. How could someone’s life become so incredibly complex in less than 24 hours? 

Rhysand finally returns, his arrival a brush of night kissed shadow that contrasts the summer heat. “Why did you agree to help us?” His voice sounds farther away, it must be a tremendous effort to keep this up for so long around that collar.

“Because I didn’t want to be like him.” That is as close to the truth as I will allow myself to admit to anyone. 

His mental hand brushes down my spine, caressing, soothing. I close my eyes for the briefest of moments to savor it. I should not let myself indulge it. I should push it away before he has time to understand why it means so much, but I can’t. I really am a broken, selfish thing, but I can’t push him away like I should.

“Has he given you a time frame for the marriage?”

“No, but I’m sure he will soon.”

As we crest a hill, the walled edges of the capitol finally come into view, Father’s crimson banner billowing from the parapets. As we draw closer, I can start to see another banner hanging from the great, stone walls: Amarantha’s familial crest, emblazoned on a black banner, the great beast in the center, edged in crimson. The shape of the crest always bothered me. The edges were never smooth and even, like someone had put too much ink on the pen, letting it bleed. Maybe that was the point. Amarantha’s whole family line had clawed its way to power by shedding someone else’s blood. 

It’s jarring to see her banner hang next to my Father’s. No one has that kind of power in the Empire. Not even my Mother had the sway to earn a banner in her name, no matter the exploits she’d brought within the Capitol’s walls.

My stomach twists. 

“Then we may need to rush our plans a little.”

I pretend to fiddle with something in the saddle so I can look back at him. Sweat drips down his forehead, trailing lines down his exposed chest. There is nothing short of sheer determination etched into every line of his face.

Beside him, Azriel keeps pace, shadows peeking out from behind his wings in agitated waves. A look that would be intimidating on its own, but only worsened by the promise of violence in his eyes.

So much for making the ship.

“Don’t be rash and do something stupid,” I retort, as the sound of trumpets draws my attention off of them. There’s a cluster of horses and people waiting up ahead. As we draw nearer, I can start to make out the familiar faces of Father’s Praetorian Guards. Then Brannagh and Dagdan, atop their auburn steeds, bought at a hefty price from the Autumn Court. And finally, in his own golden chariot, pulled by a prized war horse, a golden laurel wreath atop his salt and pepper hair, stands my Father.

I swallow the lump in my throat. 

“I mean it, Rhysand,” I snarl when he doesn’t answer me. “If you do something stupid now he’ll kill all of you. No pleading on my part will save you.” 

I’m suddenly not sitting on the horse anymore, the world around me spinning and twisting and the trumpets and horns starting to play along the roadside sound like execution bells. My stomach rises in my throat; heart echoing to an octave that sounds like beating drums. I can’t see them, I can’t see the parade of people assembling all I can see is my Mother in those awful, dull gray robes, stripped of all the finery she always adorned herself, walking right to the executioner's block in chains.

“Breathe.” I must have been holding my breath because the memory comes to a grinding halt before I can rewatch her head roll off her shoulders and Rhysand is back in my head, gently shaking the memory from my grip. 

“It’s over. You’re all right. Take another deep breath for me.”

My horse won’t stop moving and I swear my Father doesn’t blink the entire time he watches us approach. That slate gray gaze, so similar to my own, is empty and cold and it pierces through me like an ice pick. 

“We’re not doing anything today, remember? Just observing. We need to see what we’re up against.”

I have to fight every instinct not to turn and look at him. I need to keep my head up, I need to not look like I’m going to throw up all over the floor. I cannot ruin this. 

Father’s mood shifts when he turns his attention to Amarantha, and smiles. “General,” he calls out, the horde of people surrounding him parting so he can move to greet her. “I see you had no issues on your way here.”

“Dick,” Rhysand hisses as I sit there getting ignored. 

“Please, just stick to observing. I can’t…” I shake off the memory as best I can, embarrassed that I showed him in the first place. “I can’t lose anyone else.”

The bond flickers with understanding, a moment of shared grief passing between us. I don’t know what else he has lost, but the emotion that flits between us is enough to show me it’s not mere pity. “Don’t worry, there’s not going to be room to do anything in this crowd,” he assures. 

And he’s right, starting at the open gates is a whole crowd of people, all waving flags and streamers and cheering. The whole city is packed against the main road, held back by a thin barrier or red tinted magic. Every house in the Capitol has to be empty. Someone has thrown roses down onto the road, the perfume so strong I can smell it from here.

Behind us, more beings begin to arrive. I note some of Amarantha’s commanding officers and a few Senators. A couple of the Lords who have bent the knee and submitted to Father’s reign follow. 

Amarantha stands a little straighter as they approach, preening under all the attention. 

A steward with a very long scroll shuffles around in the chaos, trying to organize everybody into rows, his shrill voice echoing above the crowd with a little help from some lesser magic. Drummond has been in the service of the Empire since my great-grandfather was Emperor, he’s gotten pretty good at getting people to listen to him. 

We’re quickly organized into sections, with Father and Amarantha in the front and everyone following in line behind them by rank and station. There is a large gap in between where Father and Amarantha ride and where I sit with my mates, just ahead of the other nobility. My birthright keeps me close to the front, but the gap between me and them is noticeable. I am not a part of their inner circle, I’ve only ended up ahead of they’re favored elites because I have the face of the Illyrian rebellion chained to my horse. It is not as if I want to be close to them, in fact, the distance helps me breathe a little easier, but the space between my Father and I has never felt so visible. We are two ships on opposite sides of an ocean. Mother used to whisper, when she thought I couldn’t hear, that the Goddess had cursed him by giving him me. Not only was I not the son he’d prayed for, I was not even a daughter he could benefit from having. He’d tried to hide that from his closest confidants, it’s why he allowed the River House. It kept me close enough to not become a problem, and far enough away to hide his shame. It used to bother me, now I can’t help but wonder if perhaps there was a reason I’d never belonged here. Maybe the distance had given me the eyes I’d needed to see my mates for what they were. If I had been born different, if I had become someone like Brannagh or Amarantha, would I have ended up here?

My musings are interrupted by Dummond as he side-steps Cassian, giving the General a far wider berth than necessary as he looks back and forth between his scroll and us. “Hmmm, should be a enough room I suppose?” He mutters, pen furiously scratching in the margins of what looks to be a very well filled out list. 

Cassian’s wings suddenly unfurl behind him, as if he’s stretching his arms, the great, leathery membrane catching the early afternoon sun, as the spiked tip catches Dummond in the back of the head hard enough to make him drop the scroll.

The aging elf gives a yelp of surprise as he skitters after it like it’s made of gold. “Gods-damned Illyrian brute!” 

“Cass,” Rhysand warns as the guards shift in our direction.

“What? My wings were cramping,” Cassian counters, looking smug, even as he snaps his wings shut behind his large body. I could watch him do that all day. If I’d had the supplies, I’d attempt to paint the way the sunlight reflects the hints of red and blue, highlighting all the scars that map their way across his wings. How many battles do you have to fight to have scars like that?

Dummond scurries past us to intercept a caravan of wagons, keeping his precious scroll clutched tight to his chest this time. He’s always been a little skittish--who isn’t around my Father?--but today looks like it’s worn down his nerves. I can practically hear his knees shaking as he directs the wagons down the little path that converges on the mainroad. The closer it gets, the louder the sound of rattling chains becomes.

Grief consumes me, so hot and heavy the three of them might as well have screamed themselves hoarse down the bond simultaneously. It is an effort not to grasp at my chest, as if they’re pain is a physical wound I can hold in my hands. I don’t need to see what comes our way to know what it is, but their arrival plays out in slow motion ahead of us. The wagons are all built to be moveable cages, walls of gorsian stone bars holding in too many bodies to count. There’s a padlocked door at the back of each and when a guard swings it open, a jumble of winged bodies tumble outward. Chains clank and rattle and male after winged male gets shoved into even lines ahead of us. They’re all a mess of blood soaked bandages and dirt; the number of wings more twisted than Azriel’s had been is too high to number. Once a wagon is empty it is directed out of the way and another takes its place, just as full as the last. There has to be at least a hundred Illyrians, all shackled and beaten ahead of us.

Dummond stays a healthy distance from them, counting down the numbers on his list to ensure they’re all in place. Not that it would be necessary, none of them fight it. Most stand with their heads to their bare chests--gods above half of them are still naked! 

Rhysand has withdrawn himself from my head again, but I can still feel his pain down the bond just as well. These are his people, and he can’t save them from this.

Cassian’s pain soon turns sharp as a blade, rage pulsing down the bond. 

I wish I had the words to comfort them; the power to make this all stop, but I am as helpless as I always have been. No words will soothe this offense.

How could Father do this? 

Dummond carries on as if he is organizing cattle. The guards use the butts of their spears to keep any male that moves too far from the group back in line. Their force is excessive. The blow knocks the already beaten males into each other, causing a domino effect that brings a third of the Illyrians down into the dirt. I can’t make out the words, but I can hear the whimpers of pain; hear the coughing and wheezing that comes from untreated injuries and illnesses that only come when too many people are crammed together for too long.

There isn’t enough time to process the full scope of what’s happening before a set of trumpets starts blowing from the city’s outer walls. Shit it’s starting!

It’s like a bad dream as the procession begins to move, Father and Amarantha first. There are mages positioned down the fairway, their hands outstretched towards the sky as they weave colorful ribbons of magic like streamers above our heads. The bands move in time to the music, flashing in Amarantha’s colors first, then Father’s. Small children throw more roses into the street as the Emperor and esteemed General make their way into the city.

“All hail the Emperor!” Roars the crowd. “All hail Amarantha the Conqueror!” 

Conqueror. The Illyrian captives are forced to follow after them, shuffling on bare feet and boots that are falling apart across cobblestones that have to be burning as the sun continues to rise across the cloudless sky.

There are small children in attendance, sitting on their parents shoulders, waving miniature versions of Amarantha’s crest. This feels like the most heinous part of the whole ordeal; are we to encourage this brutality in our children? They let their toddlers throw roses and dance along to the music, enthralled by the light show that flashes overhead as the procession moves through the city. 

Dummond makes sure to leave plenty of room between the last row of Ilyrians and us, as if they’re scared to let them get too close to Rhysand. As if, the mere proximity of him might incite an uproar all over again. 

At this point I’d welcome it. I’d happily watch the whole procession go up in flames.

Power rumbles through my veins and I’m forced to tear my gaze away from the crowd to keep anything from escaping out of my skin.

“Steady,” Rhysand warns as we inch closer to the front gates. The crowd continues to cheer and celebrate ahead of us as the procession follows the path to the Imperial Palace several miles into the city. It will be a long road ahead of us, yet it feels like it’s been happening for ages.

“I’m sorry.” Sorry is not strong enough an emotion. No sorry’s will ever be enough.

“Do you see why we need your help?” He counters as a wisp of Azriel’s shadow crawls up my shoulder and dives beneath my hair. The little ether of power slithers like a snake up around my ear, hidden under my hair, observing with a gentle hiss. I wonder if he’s using it to see what’s coming ahead of us.

The road up ahead makes me wish he wasn’t here to see any of it at all. Being on the horse gives me a vantage point, lets me see around the corner we take to get to the heart of the capitol. The crowd has thickened even further here, bodies pushing up against the magic barriers, chanting and shouting to be heard. Except, the closer we get, the clearer the jumbled words become. As Amarantha’s chariot passes through, the noise soon turns from cheers and celebration to boos and curses. It’s the first hint that something is about to go terribly wrong and I feel my powers once again flair in defence.

The shift in the crowd is not the worst of it, even when they start hurling rotting vegetables and rocks at their captive entertainment. Blood splatters as someone gets hit in the head, nearly knocking down a whole row of males in the chaos.

I don’t even have time to flinch before Rhysand is once again holding me in place in the saddle. This time I’m not sure if it’s my nerves or his. The bond bleeds like an open wound between us, agony dripping into my consciousness.

More of Azriel’s shadows cluster beneath my hair, sitting like a snake, coiled and hissing as we go deeper into the city. This crowd will easily become a mob given the slightest provocation.

“Traitors!” The crowd shouts. “Send the Illyrian dogs back where they belong!”

The guards keeping the Illyrians in line don’t do anything to quell the crowd, letting rotting tomatoes and hearts of moldy lettuce get hurled like projectiles at a group of wounded males too beaten to fight back.

My stomach sits like a rock in my throat.

The deeper we get into the city, the worse it gets, and not just because there are more people here, but because, as we draw up to the center of town, there are crosses along the walkway, all holding a male with wings nailed to the cross beams. 

The males in the front of the line freeze at the sight. One of them wails and falls to his knees, only to be forceable hauled up by the Praetorian. 

“Crucify the lot of them!” The crowd roars.

“Send the bastards back to the arena!”

A rock comes hurtling towards my head so fast I don’t even have time to shield, my only saving grace Azriel’s shadow that goes flying out in front of me to catch it and let it fall to the ground beside me. Rhysand won’t turn to let me thank him; won’t let me do anything but keep my eyes straight ahead of me. Not even when I hear the sound of something hitting one of them.

I’d cry if I had the ability, but he seems to have locked that away from me too. I feel like a statue as we continue forward, slowly crawling towards the Imperial Palace, unable to move or react. Even as we pass closer to the bodies, blood still dripping from open gashes across their tattooed chests. Some of the males are, mercifully, already dead, but the street is long and the number of them soon becomes hard to track when you can just make out the ones still gasping for air. This is by far the worst thing I’ve ever seen the Empire do.

I tear my gaze away from the carnage to find my Father, waving cheerfully to the crowd ahead of us, as if this is some sort of game. How could one man be so cruel? 

“Remember how I said you could ask me about that boat today?” Rhysand says, but his voice is strained. I can feel his pain as if it is my own and I don’t know how he, or any of them, is even upright. It’s debilitating. I feel it crawl into every crevice of my being. My muscles fight the hold he has on me to try and curl up into a ball to avoid it. 

“Still think it’s a good idea?”

Like he can feel my gaze, the Emperor turns to catch my eye, one brow furrowed as if in question. For the first time in my life, I don’t shy away from the appraisal. Pain has walked alongside me my whole life, it has been a companion I have learned to hold hands with. But this? Having to live with the knowledge that these are wounds inflicted on my mates because no one has stood up to the Empire?

I’ve accepted a lot of shitty things in my life. I looked the other way when I couldn’t. But no more.

This ends. 

And it ends with me.

“No. I don’t.” I snarl.

I can feel Rhysand’s grin through the bond. “Then welcome to the Rebellion, Princess.”

--------

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Thank you all for your patience I know this chapter took me a little longer than usual to write! <3 As always, if you want to be added to the tag list let me know =)

[maryallenc]

now that c3 is ending, im looking back and figuring out laudna's arc as a whole. and if i'm remembering it correctly, marisha mentioned that she wanted to create a character that has gotten over and made peace with her trauma, and yet the narrative and the foundations say otherwise, and laudna pretty much became the complete opposite: a character whose most of her actions are so informed by it.

she kinda really regressed from that intention, hasn't she?

not saying it's not a valid type of character development. or that there was supposed to be only ever one specific trauma she can or cannot be over or not.

but it's fascinating in a way to remember that she started off serenely telling her death to orym, and stating that she could smile so happily because "the worst thing that could happen has already happened"...

...to lashing out at orym because of him picking up a sword that had killed her previously.

side tangent, but laudna and orym's dynamic are lowkey one of the more fascinating dynamics out of bell's hells. they may not be the closest, but i definitely find them more interesting than even laudna's closer relationships.

anyway, laudna's story was then concluded with essek's help. and delilah's locked inside laudna for good, and can't even communicate or talk to laudna. officially exiled to the back of laudna's mind, shackled within the valleys of her chest above her heart.

delilah is still in there.

and it feels like a mirror to how laudna started. everything's all fine and dandy, actually! she'll never have problems again.

and so there's that contradiction again. delilah has no power over laudna anymore. and yet, laudna... still kinda defines herself with delilah, from her clothes to the fact that she still can get power from delilah. just like how laudna started the campaign defining herself as the obviously dead woman.

and it makes me question if she has actually ever even changed, or was just broken down to her bare essence for everyone to figure out how she actually works, and rebuild again with some minor upgrades, with no substantial improvement. it feels like she's still stuck, even with the new experiences and connections.

the raven queen said it's possible for her to be alive again. and yet, laudna seemed like she might not even want it.

maybe because she actually has to change. move past the stage of death she has now defined herself in. to actually grow as a person. change, not only with the people she surrounds herself with, but with laudna herself.

would she, though?

[covenofagatha]

g!p Agatha that cockwarms reader while cuddling on the couch watching TV then gets desperate, gets a pillow under reader's ass to elevate her hips and breed her good to make sure it sticks

Ohhhh

Yes. Just yes. I decided to write a short little thing about this because fuck what a delicious image and I need a break from studying

Touchdowns and teasing

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: g!p Agatha, breeding kink, cockwarming, sex, mommy kink, american football

The moment you slide down onto Agatha's cock and feel her stretch you out, you know that you're not going to last long.

The two of you are watching a football game, her favorite team against yours, and it's tied going into the fourth quarter. The two of you had been talking smack all day and making bets, and it came to a culmination during a commercial break just a few minutes ago when Agatha suggested that you cockwarm her during the last part and then whoever's team won would get to be on top.

She groans beneath you as your walls squeeze her length and you think she might not make it the quarter either.

You shift, trying to adjust and find a spot that doesn't make you want to cum right away, and Agatha whimpers.

"You're not supposed to move," she says through gritted teeth, arms wrapping around your waist tightly, laying a palm on the bulge she's making in your stomach. She presses slightly and you take a sharp breath.

It's so hard to stay still because she's filling you so deliciously, but also because you can feel her pulsing inside you and you want her to move more than anything else.

Her team scores and she jumps with excitement, and it involuntarily thrusts her cock deeper inside you and you moan and clench down around her even more.

"Fuck," Agatha curses, immediately freezing, and her cock twitches. Eventually, she relaxes and you try to focus on the TV, but all you can think about is how good she feels inside you.

But you're not the only one affected — Agatha's breathing has quickened and her nails are digging into your hips, her cock throbbing inside your wet cunt every so often.

Your team throws an interception and you swear, accidentally lurching forward to throw your arms up incredulously at the screen. Agatha lets out a strangled gasp, hands roughly tightening their hold on you, and her cock seems to swell.

"I can't believe he didn't catch that!" you exclaim, almost forgetting the state that you're in and Agatha breathlessly chuckles.

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and presses a kiss to your head. "Not looking too good for you," she hums smugly and you roll your eyes.

Agatha and you are both very competitive, and even worse losers.

So if you're not going to win this bet, you're going to at least win something.

You clench your walls tightly around her, eliciting an explicit groan from her, and she bucks up into you uncontrollably.

"Honey," she warns, voice thick and dangerous, and you know she'd wipe the smirk off your face if she could see it.

Slowly starting to rock back and forth ever so slightly, you take immense pleasure in the sounds that start to fall out of her mouth. And then you turn it up a notch. "Mommy, please, I need you," you whine and Agatha jerks up again.

"Stop," she hisses, her cock throbbing again, and you know you've almost got her.

You rise slowly and she lets you — dragging your pussy lips against her cock and she groans when she sees herself glistening with your wetness. "Mommy — fuck, I need you, I need you to breed me," you rasp, making your voice sound as desperate as possible because you know that's the surest way to get her to break.

Agatha growls in your ear and you know that you won.

She pushes you forward, her cock slipping out of you, before she grabs your waist and flips you over onto your back and you get your first look at her since you started the challenge.

Her face is pink, vein prominent in her forehead, and her cock is so messy. You swallow hard in anticipation and she studies you while you watch her cock bob up and down, leaking everywhere.

And then she grabs the couch pillow from behind her and shoves it under your hips and shoves your legs even wider than they were before leaning over and sheathing her cock back inside you.

Both of you groan and she sets a quick pace.

"Gonna breed you, baby, mommy's gonna breed you," she grunts and all you can do is moan, your eyes rolling back in your head, as she fills you perfectly, the elevated angle of your hips allowing her to get even deeper inside you.

You babble something incoherently and your head falls back against the couch, pleasure making your mind spin, and Agatha’s rhythm begins faltering quickly as your walls convulse around her. 

Agatha’s thrusts become short and fast snaps of her hips, driving her cock as far as it reaches into you. “Gonna breed you so good,” she prattles, voice tight and hot, and she leans down to lick a stripe up your neck. You turn your head so she can get better access and she nips at your throat. “Mommy’s gonna fill you up, gonna make sure it sticks.” 

You gasp and roll your hips up to meet her cock and you’re not sure she’s ever been this deep inside you. Her hands grab onto your wrists and pin them up above your head against the couch and she’s right on top of you so you can watch her face contort with how good it feels, just like you’re sure yours is. 

Pleasure is fraying your veins and there are no thoughts left in your head. “Please, mommy, need you to cum inside me,” you beg and she lets out an unrestrained moan, furiously nodding her head. 

“Fuck, your cunt feels so good around me,” she croaks and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as she watches you. She’s throbbing and pulsing and you know she’s not going to last much longer. 

Neither are you. “Mommy, I’m so close,” you cry. Agatha is panting above you, a glazed over look in her eyes, and you can’t help but clench at the sight. 

Her breath is pained and sharp and her hips stutter. “Yeah, yes, fuck, mommy’s gonna cum, mama’s gonna cum inside you,” she groans and you swear loudly before pleasure completely overtakes you. 

It’s not even five seconds later that she has her orgasm, stiffening on top of you with a high-pitched keen, before shallowly rutting into you while you feel her cum get pumped into your cunt and paint your walls warm and white. It almost makes you cum again and you continue to ride it out. 

Agatha collapses on top of you, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your lips and face while you feel her cock begin to soften inside you. She loves to do this after sex — just keep her cum inside you for as long as she can before she pulls out. 

Cockwarming after she fucks you often goes a lot better than doing it before. 

“Oh, would you look at that?” Agatha muses, glancing up at the TV. You crane your head to look and see that her team is now up by ten points with three minutes left to go. She gives you a soft, little thrust, her cock twitching and slowly beginning to harden again. 

“Mommy,” you gasp, still sensitive. You can feel her cum starting to leak out of you around her cock. 

She smirks and kisses you again, snaking a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, making your hips jump. “Shh, baby. Remember, we had a bet. I’m just going to stay right here until the game is over. And then you’re going to take everything I give you, isn’t that right?” 

All you can do is nod and clench around her. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights

[inknopewetrust]

The highest form of flattery is that in which someone spills their entire thought process into a reblog on tumblr and I. Fucking. Love. It.

I wrote this… oh my nearly three years ago and my Eddie fics are still my crowning achievement. Like you, I also have a very deep appreciation for the authors who take what little they gave us of him and evolve him beyond the screen. Who is Eddie? What can Eddie be in the minds of us feeble fans? He’s ours now, I suppose.

I almost don’t want to answer your hypotheticals pondering what becomes of them. I feel, even though they’re kind of mine(?) (fanfiction ownership claims aside) I don’t necessarily want to write them beyond the space because maybe my idea of what’s next is so unorganic that it messes everything up.

But maybe…

I can see them visiting each other as much as possible, making up for all that lost time. I imagine Eddie is utterly devoted and is a total “my wife” kind of guy. He wants to change everything he saw between his own childhood and the adulthood he imagined, so he tries his damndest to be authentic and real and vulnerable and loving to someone he knows not only deserves every bit of him, but who will do the same back. I can imagine holiday cards being send with cheesy catch-phrases and a J.C. Penny’s style photo shoot. And I think maybe he snuck in a line about having sex against a sink in the bathroom into one of his songs and the memory is woven into him forever.

Also, your “hello Shakespeare sit the fuck down” is maybe the best thing I’ve heard in a long time.

Thank you bunches—you don’t know how much a writer like me loves to read these kinds of reblogs.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭

Summary: Eddie Munson made it big. Now, when he returns to Hawkins for a hometown concert with his band, he is reminded of the girl he's been in love with for the past 6 years when Steve Harrington calls. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader WC: 13.6k Warnings: 18+; Minors DNI; smut; piv; language; rough sex; bathroom sex (unprotected–wrap it before you tap it babes); some dirty talk; this is a whole ass fic. This is porn WITH plot besties. Quick Links: Masterlist

“You’re a pervert, Eddie Munson,” You laughed, he smiled.

“Well, can you blame a guy? Look at you.” The way his eyes trailed. He was hunting and you were perfect prey.

“I can’t really… but you can.” Your bottom lip passed through your teeth quickly—barely grazing it as the top of your shoe ran along the inside of his leg. He was fucked.

There were more than five drunks inside of The Hideout.  

The last few years had brought out a different side of Hawkins, hell, Indiana to this little bar in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. It wasn't often that there were empty seats, that the bar wasn't overwhelmed with patrons, or that everyone inside hadn’t flocked to the dive for a taste of metal.  

Corroded Coffin had made it—in a… regional success type of way.  

Every year, the band returned to Hawkins after moving to the city to get more gigs. It acted as a reunion of sorts––bridging their past and present into a three-hour concert inside of a small bar where they had originated outside of Gareth’s garage. And much to their surprise when they had returned for the first time a few years before, the entire town had wanted in. For the first time they had felt accepted—but only because they had garnered some fame, not because they were cool, good people.  

And Eddie always felt that superficial fanaticism seep through the walls that separated the band from the crowd because the only people he believed truly cared for him and his music rarely came. Steve, Nancy, Robin, the gaggle of kids (they will always be kids to him) from Hellfire, and you. Separate ways had led to a hundred different paths and rarely, if ever, did he see one of them lead back to Hawkins.  

He had been completely and utterly enamored with you the moment he saw you stab a horrid, rabid bat straight through the eye. Eddie always wished it had been a more romantic story, but he had to admit it, you had never impressed him so much.  

And then you graduated. Went off to college and kept in scattered contact with everyone.  

But you never left his mind. As much as he wanted to move on from what he called a “silly crush” in retrospect, Eddie thought about you more often than he should have.  

And no girl could compare. He always pondered the ‘what if’ and he’d be lying if the songs that dealt with unrequited romance didn’t have anything to do with you. He was stuck. So incredibly stuck and didn’t know what to do. Eddie believed he would never get the chance to see you again.  

Until he got a call from Steve Harrington three days before he traveled back to Hawkins. 

It was out of the blue. Eddie wasn’t even sure how Steve had his number because he was always on the move—half the time he and his bandmates slept in their bus because it was one destination after the other. Nevertheless, Steve had managed to reach him and the conversation had been replaying in his mind non-stop.  

“Hey Eddie!”  

Jeff was standing at the pay phone outside of the Dayton club they had been playing in. Corroded Coffin had begun to make their way to Hawkins slowly over the past month and they were almost there. The set was half completed, and they were in the middle of their break when the pay phone rang as if they were in the middle of a horror film. They were all drenched in sweat and their limbs were killing them, the crowd was absolutely blustering. Their gigs had become what they had always dreamed—a metal rave of sorts.  

Eddie had been sitting on an overturned bucket smoking a cigarette when Jeff called out to him, hand over the transmitter as if his yell was going to change the mind of the caller.  

“What?” Eddie replied, letting out a puff of smoke that blurred Jeff for a second.  

“You gotta call! You’re gonna wanna take this one.”  

He made it sound as though the President was calling… not that Eddie would ever answer that call. So, Eddie got up off his bucket and let the cigarette dangle from his mouth as he shooed Jeff away from the phone. Holding the phone in one hand and lifting his other to lean against the glass, Eddie sighed and answered.  

“Yeah, this is Eddie.”  

“Ah! Guys I got him!” Was what he heard in return. There was a scramble on the other line and Eddie furrowed his brows, confused at the excitement. No one was ever calling him unless it was Wayne, a groupie he had made an empty promise to, or someone looking to book them.  

“Hello?” He asked more impatiently. 

“Yeah, yeah, hold on man!” He knew exactly who it was. It had been 6 years, not a lifetime.  

“Steve?”  

“Woah oh! Mega Rock Star remembers me? Woulda thought you’d forgotten about us in Hawkins.” He imagined Steve was a little drunk, smiling widely into the phone as the sounds of shuffling made its way through the receiver.  

“I don’t know if I’d classify us as ‘Mega Rock Stars’ but I’ll take it from you, Harrington.” Eddie grabbed the cigarette from his mouth.  

“So why you callin’ me?”  

“I heard your band is coming to Hawkins on Tuesday and we were wondering if we needed tickets or something to get in.” Steve sounded more distant, as if he was trying to get others on the call or at least let them have a chance to listen too.  

“We?”  

“Hi Eddie!” Robin’s voice was distinct, deep, and excitable through the static.  

“Eddie! You really made it!” That was Nancy. She was always a little more reserved than Robin, more than Steve, but still kind to him.  

Eddie moved the phone away from his mouth and chuckled. He couldn’t believe it, truly. He hadn’t expected to hear from anyone who he considered to be friends, who went through so much alongside of him, and helped him in a time of need but there, on the phone, were three people who had.  

“So you all wanna come? Is that what I’m getting from this?” He asked and all of them replied at once. Each along the lines of “yes” but scattered types of replies.  

“And if we could, I think a few others want to stop in too.”  

He hoped Steve knew what that made Eddie believe.  

“These others… they’re not just bottom feeders looking for a good time?” Eddie proposed instead. He felt a shot of nervousness surge inside of him. God, he felt like a teenager.  

“No, no…” Robin laughed into the phone, “they’re friends, Eddie. You’ll be glad to see them. Some are even traveling home for this so you better put on a good show.”  

Eddie knew Dustin and Lucas had gone out of state for college. He had sent them two records as presents and received a group call the next day in thanks. Eddie knew that’s who it had to be but Robin still said some. He was still holding out a little hope.  

“Hey Eddie! Come on! Time to go!” Jeff called out from beyond the pay phone. He was the last to walk back into the venue as the door opened to loud amps shaking the building.  

“Listen, guys,” Eddie said quickly, trying to use his final seconds wisely, “I’ll um, I’ll call the place after we leave tomorrow and get you on a list.”  

Eddie watched Jeff disappear through the door and knew his time was almost up.  

“I gotta go but just go to the bar and they’ll bring you in. I’ll put you at a table so you don’t get ambushed by anyone.” Considerate.  

“And drinks are on the house too.”  

“Fuck yeah!” Robin screeched and disconnected her line.  

“Sounds great, Eddie. We’ll see you on Tuesday.” Nancy said and disconnected herself too. Steve remained on the line.  

“Awesome, man,” Steve replied, surely nodding his head in approval. Eddie felt something lingering there but didn’t push. However, he did need the names.  

Eddie looked around him, trying to find someone who could help his pen-less situation but couldn’t find anyone. He patted down his jacket, the pockets of his jeans but nothing. And perhaps he waited too long, but Gareth came back out, looking at him exasperatedly.  

Eddie waved him over quickly. The dude always had a pen. He put the cigarette back in his mouth.  

“I’ll need the names, Steve,” Eddie said over the phone and shoved it between his ear and shoulder. Gareth ran over.  

“I need a pen. You got one?”  

Gareth summoned a pen from his pocket as though it were the one ring.  

“Names, Steve,” Eddie repeated, slightly muffled by the cigarette he tried not to lose.  

“All right, all right,” Steve fumbled. In his childhood home in Hawkins, Steve, Nancy, and Robin all stood around the phone counting the people in the party.  

“Me, Robin, Nancy, Henderson, Sinclair, Jonathan…” Steve trailed off and Eddie felt his heart sink.  

“That all?”  

“Um,” Steve was listening to the two women rattle off names, “Max, and Vicky… oh and Y/n.”  

“Y/n?”  

Eddie felt Steve was dangling a prize at the end of a fishing hook.  

“Yeah. She’s coming in from Indianapolis.”  

Indianapolis.  

“She work there?” Eddie couldn’t help but ask. Gareth gave him a look.  

“Yeah teaches now… English or… History or something.”  

“Oh,” Eddie answered and finished writing the names on the inside of his forearm. Gareth watched him write your name last, so clear, and careful. He knew now why Eddie was acting the way he was. “I didn’t know she moved.”  

“Yeah… somethin’ about wanting to be closer to the city or whatever… a part of me thinks she was trying to find you.” Steve laughed. Eddie didn’t.  

“What?” Eddie’s response had come out as a whisper of words and Steve hadn’t heard it.  

“So we’ll see you Tuesday, yeah? Go play your heart out, dude.”  

Then Steve hung up. 

And it was the phone call he had been waiting for hear after all these years.  

He played that Dayton show with so much excitement he made a girl faint in the front row… and it was all because of a stupid little phone call from a state away. 

The station wagon was packed full of a palpable energy no one could explain.  

It was strange; venturing off to a new adventure that wasn’t filled with danger together, but it was new, and above all else, nice. The memories that Nancy’s station wagon had held were far more interesting upon reflection than they had been at the time. And you listened to each story from the middle section, squashed beside the window between Steve, Dustin and Jonathan as Max and Lucas took the back and Vicky, Robin, and Nancy sat in the front.  

You couldn’t stop tapping your fingers against your knee.  

Robin was droning on about a Halloween party a few years back that you hadn’t gone to when you accidentally tapped Steve’s leg instead of your own. You shot a sorry look at him in a rapid response.  

“Sorry about that.”  

“It’s fine,” he reassured you, watching you look out the side window in return. You had been wearing a sparkly black dress––one Robin had swooned over in the kitchen with Vicky. 

From all the years he had known you, you were never a 'sparkly little black dress’ kind of girl to Steve. Except tonight you were. And he smiled at it. He turned his head forward and caught Robin and Nance’s eyes in the mirror because they were all on the same page.  

Eddie Munson had been infatuated with you for as long as they could remember and you, as personable and charismatic as you were, couldn’t pluck up the courage to accept the same about yourself.  

“Nervous or something?” Steve knocked your shoulder. You didn’t tear yours eyes away from the window.  

“No, I’m fine.”  

“You’re a little jittery.”  

“I pregamed.”  

“Where?”  

“With Robin.”  

“At my house?” Steve looked knowingly. You hadn’t touched a drop at his place.  

“Sure.”  

“Are you listening to me? What’s wrong?”  

You turned and looked at him, eyes a little spaced out from the present inside of the vehicle and saw not only Steve looking at you, but Dustin and Jonathan too. You knew the others were listening.  

“Nothing’s wrong.”  

Everything was wrong. Your stomach was in tumbles. You hadn’t seen Eddie in the flesh for 6 goddamn years and the last time you saw him all you wanted to do was jump his bones. So, how, in good conscious, could you look at the man again and think you wouldn’t feel the same.  

Surely he was still the same Eddie you had liked before… just a little older and a bit more sure of himself. The self-certainty was what you were afraid of, however. You didn’t know if you could get yours back.  

“If you’re going to lie to me I’d rather it be about something stupid.”  

“I’m not lying about anything,” you defended, eyes going stern, “I’m fine.”  

“She’s nervous about seeing Eddie.” Max spoke up from the back as she leaned her elbows in the small gap between Dustin and Jonathan. You narrowed your eyes directly at her, willing your mouth to open but no sound came out.  

“It’s okay, Y/n,” she reaffirmed your unvocalized feelings without hesitation, “things just got in the way last time.”  

“Yeah and I’m sure if he’s still the same old Eddie we know he’ll be head over heels for you,” Lucas supported her belief and you felt your head go hot. You couldn’t believe they were airing your dirty laundry in the car like this. 6 years passed and they still read you like their favorite children’s book.  

“How could he not? She’s still a fucking smoke show,” Robin laughed, to which Vicky agreed. Nancy tried to hold in her giggle but the eldest Wheeler smiled so widely you could see the lines from her eyes from your position in the car.  

“Listen,” Steve piped up again, “they come to Hawkins once a year… you don’t live here anymore, neither does he, and maybe, just maybe, there is a reason for everything to come home.  

“You sound like a horoscope, Steve.”  

“I was a matchmaker in my other life. I thought you knew that?” He narrowed his eyes teasingly, trying to make you feel less anxious about seeing him again.  

“If he is anything like he sounded on the phone, Eddie still holds a candle for you.”  

Steve hadn’t told you he talked to Eddie. This outing had been planned for weeks without so much of a word that anyone had still talked to him consistently—besides Dustin. Dustin certainly pestered Eddie over the phone about his Sophomore college problems. Eddie never knew how to properly reply to his concerns in turn.  

“You talked to him?” Dustin furrowed his brows at Steve as Robin turned around in her seat to listen, “when?”  

“A few days ago,” Steve was sheepish. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know he had extended his arm asking for a favor.  

“About what?” Dustin lamented.  

“Just about the concert, man,” Steve sighed, pointedly not looking at you.  

“And did he say anything of importance?” Robin pushed Steve as her hand knocked against his knee in a slap. He shifted uncomfortably. She had been on the call for 20 seconds, maximum, and didn’t hear what had been said once she hung up.  

“Well,” he started, “we talked for a bit and Nance and Robin were on the line too—“  

“For a second!” Robin interjected.  

“—and then he asked for the names.”  

“That’s all?”  

“That can’t be it,” Robin made a face, “you were still on the phone when we left the room.”  

“He asked about you, okay?” He gestured to you, closing his eyes in defeat. You stopped tapping your fingers and looked at him with serious eyes.  

“It isn’t!?” He folded his arms across his chest the best he could, “you listened to ABBA and Journey and all of a sudden in college you got real into metal and we all thought it was strange!”  

“I was expanding my interests!“  

“To get him!”  

“People experiment in college, Steve. In more ways than one.”  

“You’re telling me that you moved, changed interests, and then faltered back to the plan you had since you were five in the span of a few years? You went out there hoping to run into him because you didn’t know how else to approach him.”  

“You’re just being mean now,” you scoffed, turning your head back to the window. Robin and Steve glanced at one another before Dustin nudged him to do something.  

“Y/n,” he sighed, “we can argue about the past all we want but we are ten minutes from seeing him again and I don’t want to watch two of my friends, our friends, dance around their feelings again. For all of our sakes, just say something to him.”  

“Steve, just let it go,” you mumbled quietly and began chipping away at the nail polish you had applied hours before.  

They all felt a little defeated in that car.  

“Fine, fine,” he said and threw his hands up in exasperation as the others watched in a necessary pity. It wasn’t easy being open. It wasn’t easy being willing to show a vulnerable side of yourself that you’d been holding onto for years.  

“But if you do end up needing to pound one out together, there’s a great bathroom at The Hideout.”  

“Steve!” 

The Hideout and surrounding businesses were packed. Never, in all your years living in Hawkins, had seen it so busy and the thought that Eddie and his bandmates had brought this many people to a little bar made you happy.  

He had made it like he always wanted to.  

Steve had taken the lead once you had arrived and the bouncer at the door led the group of you to two booths just off the left side of the stage they had assembled for the band. It was already claustrophobic inside but the idea that you all had somewhere to go was comforting—quelled your nerves in the slightest.  

Jonathan and Steve had taken the liberty to gather drink orders and the group was split into two. The ‘kids’ in the booth closer to the front and the ‘adults’ in the one behind. It was easier to designate it that way even if everyone was an adult now. You sat squashed between Nancy and Robin, Vicky letting her eyes wander the room beside Robin.  

“You all right?” Nancy asked, her big eyes sincere, “Steve was kinda being a dick in the car.”  

“It’s fine, Nance. Really,” you played with the hem of your dress under the table. Suddenly, you threw up your hands and let your head fall into them on the table.  

“I don’t know why I’m so fucking nervous,” you exclaimed muffled in your hands, “it’s like my confidence jumped out of a goddamn plane.”  

“Being nervous isn’t a bad thing, babes,” Robin told you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. She looked at Nancy for support but she was lost on what to do. You had it down bad. “We all get nervous around people we like.”  

“That’s the problem, Robin,” you said, pulling your head out of your hands and looking her dead in the eye. “I think I’ve been in love with him since I was in high school.”  

Well, shit.  

“I’m sure he’s got roadies and girls willing to do anything for him and I’m nothing like them… I literally have a stack of papers to grade tomorrow even though I know I’m going to be hungover. He’s a-a rock star or at least on his way to becoming one.”  

“Bon Jovi’s wife was his high school sweetheart,” Nancy mentioned and Robin nodded her head. Sure, but that was a single case. A single case.  

“It’s just not the same as it was.”  

“Jesus, Y/n… could you be any more of a downer?” Steve returned with Jonathan in tow carrying a mix of beverages for everyone. “You need to get drunk because I cannot stand another second of you moping around like the world is ending. We’ve been there, we’ve made it out, and we’re going to have a good night and enjoy watching Eddie rock his fucking ass off like we knew he always would.”  

Steve sat beside Vicky and passed you your vodka cran.  

“And if you don’t want to get drunk, at least get some liquid courage to look the guy in the eye.”  

He lifted his glass once everyone had received theirs.  

“Henderson!”  

Dustin looked over the wall of the booth, making eye contact with you as if he was expecting something else but saw Steve’s raised glass and the others stood obnoxiously on their seats.  

“To old friends and finding the courage to get what we want.”  

“Cheers!”  

You downed the glass in one take. 

You stopped at 2.  

The drinks were strong and you still wanted to know what was going on by the end of the night and the moment the house lights went a little dim, the want to drink disappeared.  

When he walked onto that stage your heart nearly imploded in your chest.  

Everyone at the two tables squealed and cheered, their smiles contagious as they watched the crowd react to the band they had become. It was chaotic and full, filled with loud singers and louder instruments but everyone was having a good time. Drinks were flowing, the air was cloudy from smoke, and no one cared what anyone else was doing.  

You had never seen him so in his element. So confident in his abilities that you wonder where your own had went over the last few days. He played like his life depended on it, fully immersed in the music surrounding him.  

When he picked up that guitar and ripped the first chords, it was as though God had reached a hand into his soul and told him, play.  

It was intoxicating. Just the images seared into your mind as his fingers played deftly on the board and the way his smile could light up the room. He knew exactly where you all were and every now and again, he’d look over, intentionally, and you swore that every time he looked, there was more than just simple joy swimming in your direction.  

Slowly, you calmed. The anxiety began to wash a way as time went on and after an entire two hours of non-stop metal, there was a break. 30 minutes and the scene around you was still electric.  

Nancy finished her beer, snacking on some mixed bar nuts as she watched the water from the melted ice drip down your cup. No one checked back in on you, but they felt a shift in your air. It wasn’t tense or anxious, you had finally settled into the woman they knew—maybe with a little fear still lingering.  

“You wanna go with me to the bar? I want another,” she pointed to her beer as she leaned into you. You didn’t see why not, missing the glance she shared with Robin and Robin then shared with Steve.  

The trip to the bar was like walking through a maze. There were people everywhere and when there wasn’t a person, there was a table or a chair. You swore halfway there a piece of a girls hair touched your mouth because the pungent smell of hairspray was worse being consumed. And in all honesty, the bar wasn’t any better. It didn’t help that there were tall men trying to flag over the three bartenders or that some girl had half of her chest out to get free drinks.  

But who were you to judge? Everyone was just having a good time.  

“What do you want?” Nancy asked you as she grazed the taps just behind a few bodies blocking the physical bar top.  

“I-I don’t know, Nance, ah, um, I’ll just take whatever you’re having,” you replied, not really paying attention because of the people bumping into you from behind.  

Nancy, in her abundance of smartass behaviors, pushed her way to the front and after a second, a little gap opened up. She took the stool she could see and you stood next to her, your hands gripping the bar tightly.  

“You better now?” She asked with an eyebrow raised.  

“Jesus Christ…” you muttered, rolling your eyes.  

“You’ve seen him, you’ve sat there for two hours and everything’s fine. Just like we said.”  

“That doesn’t change how I feel on the inside.”  

“Well…” Nancy’s back perked up. You saw her eyes gleam, the smile on her face breaking across every feature, “Better boost your confidence, girlie. He’s coming this way.”  

Before you could question anything, you felt a hand on your lower back. You felt almost weightless. Like the room had paused and you’d remember that feeling of his hand on your back.  

“My eyes aren’t deceiving me, are they?” His voice was a little worn. The kind anyone would get if they spent too many nights singing along to songs or screaming into a crowd. “Nancy Wheeler and Y/n L/n here in the flesh.” He still hadn’t removed his hand.  

Nancy smiled wide, happy to see him again after so long. She hopped off of her chair, brushing beside you best she could to give him a hug. He removed his hand from you and hugged her tightly, giving her a friendly kiss on the cheek.  

You could see some of the other women in the bar. Their eyes lingering on him. They knew who he was; waiting for their turn to pounce.  

You felt the ugly bug of jealousy begin to grow.  

“Look at you!” Nancy leaned back, taking Eddie’s look in with all her excitement. “You did it!”  

“Not quite yet but I’ll take it,” he laughed, removing himself from her and she quickly realized she made a mistake getting up. Her seat was gone. Eddie looked at you.  

God. He had a smile plastered on his face. His cheeks were red, his hair sticking a bit onto his head from sweat, and he was wearing a worn Ozzy shirt under a new, perfectly tailored leather jacket. You wouldn’t have known that he was putting on a brave face. That his heart was hammering against his chest seeing you there.  

“It’s good to see you,” he started, his eyes wandering no differently than they had in any of your earlier encounters. He was quite shameless when it came to checking people out. “I wasn’t sure if Steve was telling the truth that you’d actually be here.”  

You tried to play it cool too, “and miss Gareth on the drums?” You smiled, unable to not match his own, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”  

And as if it were second nature, Eddie pulled you in for a hug too. Different than Nancy, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and you around his torso. Your hands splayed across his back, feeling the distinct texture of leather underneath your finger tips.  

Instead of kissing your cheek, he kissed the side of your head. Right where your forehead ended and hair began. You didn’t see him close his eyes to savor it. He felt you squeeze the back of his jacket.  

Nancy felt like a third wheel. But a giddy one. 

“How long has it been?” He asked you specifically, barely pulling away. He still had his arms wrapped around you and you him. “Six years?”  

“Sounds about right,” you replied, gazing into his brown eyes that could swallow you whole. The creases along the edges—smile lines, per se—were more prominent but he was one who couldn’t help but smile when he was happy. He was amazed by so much.  

You felt his fingers graze the spot where your neck peaked out from the dress.  

“That’s a little too long.”  

“Yeah, well…” you couldn’t help but glance down at his lips, “we’ve all got different things goin’ on now.”  

He repeated what you had done with your own eyes. It made some of the fears begin to wash away.  

Nancy looked sheepishly at the ground, biting back a smile. She took a second to look around the room and saw Robin standing above everyone else from the booth’s seat. That sneaky shit. Robin began waving frantically, calling Nancy back to the table in a haste.  

“Oh!” Nancy said rather loudly, pulling you away from the bubble you hadn’t realized you were sucked into. You let go of Eddie, pulling away and leaning back into your spot at the bar.  

“I forgot to ask the others what they wanted!” She said almost as though she was reading a script unnaturally. You frowned knowing they all brushed you two off.  

“I don’t—“ you began but she was gone before you could get a sound out. She was playing matchmaker too. You sighed, shaking your head before turning back to Eddie. He was already looking.  

“So, are you getting something or looking for the rest of them?” You asked, “they’re all at the first two booths over there.” A finger pointing in the direction of the booths led you to see a pop of hair disappearing from above everyone else.  

“I was gettin’ a beer,” he responded with a nod but a man clapped him on the back before he could continue.  

“Great show, man!”  

And then another, “Fuckin’ rocks, dude!”  

Followed by others beginning to realize that the man standing beside you was one of the members of the band they had come to see.  

“Can you sign this?”  

“We saw you in Chicago last year. It was great!”  

“I managed to drag my girl to one of your shows and she’s loves you now! I don’t know how I can compete!”  

Eventually it had become one after another and you wondered if he got this reception everywhere. You turned back to the bar and waved over one of the bartenders, a female, and was happy she could get you something. She put down a napkin in front of you. 

“What can I get you?”  

“Two Blue Moons, tap please,” you ordered and she nodded, eyeing Eddie behind you as he graciously thanked each person and tried to break free of their incessant badgering. He only had 30 minutes.  

“You know him?” she asked, pulling a cup from the wooden slats and grabbing the hose. Her head tipped in his direction.  

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “old friends.”  

“You’re lucky,” she laughs and hands one of the beers over, “everyone wants to be friends with him.”  

You turned over your shoulder and saw a gaggle of girls hovering. Their faces were bright and flustered. One put her hand on Eddie’s arm, which he took back quickly. He wedged it between you and the patron sitting next to you, leaning onto the bar so they didn’t touch him.  

But his arm was touching you. He was barely leaning into you, but you noticed. Your body was on fire any time he was close.  

His fingers gripped the bar tightly as if he was trying to disappear through it. The rings on his hand were less familiar but you recognized the pig that glinted in the light.  

“So they do,” you looked back at her and she smiled, “how much?” For the beers. She shook her head.  

“On the house,” she pointed at Eddie.  

“Thanks,” was all you could say in reply.  

Both glasses in your hand, you turned back around and nudged his arm that was leaning on the bar. His head immediately turned to you—hair still frizzy and wildly falling around his face as you held one out to him. The girls behind him miffed from the lack of attention.  

“Here,” you motioned for him to take it with his free hand but he shook his head, face going a little sour. You furrowed your brows thinking it had something to do with the beer except he tipped his chin to the bar.  

“Put them on the bar,” he said sternly, feeling the grabby hands of those girls on the arm that was free. The space was so confined he knew it wouldn’t end well with a beer in his hand.  

“Eddie!” One of them called and you could see it in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want to pay any attention to them.  

Eddie was learning the boundaries of fans and signing things. Saying hello, taking a picture were fine but the moment they invaded his space, the moment they put people he cared for in any kind of danger, he drew the line. Something inside of him told him it was building to that.  

“Eddie! Can you take a picture with us?” They had their camera ready, a guy, maybe one of their boyfriends, was holding the camera for them.  

He looked at you apologetically. Who were you to prevent him from making a fan(s) happy?  

“It’s fine, go on,” you told him with a nod, hoping your eyes conveyed that.  

They wrapped their arms around him. They held on tightly while he barely touched them. When the flash went off and nearly blinded you from the back, more people noticed he was standing there and you felt the situation was just getting worse. You wanted to stay here with him but not at the expense of your comfort. If you went back to the booth now, no one would notice.  

Scattered thank you’s from the girls were audible over the light tunes from the stereo that broke through the talking amongst the room. Some guys followed their picture by shaking his hand.  

“Hey, listen man,” Eddie started when another came up to him, “I only have so much time so if you don’t mind…” He felt he got lucky when the man understood.  

But good barely lasts long.  

Eddie turned around, looking you dead in the eye and you could see the drain it had on him. People were badgering when it came to seeing someone remotely well known. They were a new band, growing every year. It would only get worse the more popular they became.  

He made his way back over to the bar a couple steps away. His one arm resumed its place beside you and the other reached around you from the other side. For a moment, he had caged you into the bar and the courage and confidence you had always had didn’t waver. Your heart was beating so fast.  

He pulled back just a little, returning his arm in front of him and you realized he grabbed his beer.  

But he smirked. He was teasing you.  

“Blue Moon, huh?” He asked, savoring the taste of it on his tongue, licking the top of his lip as he observed the cup.  

“Well if I knew it was on the house…” you told him as a joke. He smiled and it met his eyes, those lines defined on his face.  

“You can blame Steve for not telling you. I told him it was free.”  

You hummed, looking behind him as that same group of girls remained.  

“You have some… fans…” you weren’t sure you could call them that. Eddie dipped his head, you heard the defeated sigh and he shuffled his feet, tapping on the bar with his one hand. The unintentional shuffle brought him an inch closer. You could feel the edge of his jacket—the zipper dangling freely—meet your arm.  

“They’re groupies. Well, groupies without the love of music.”  

“Yeah I can tell,” you met one of their eyes briefly before looking away. You couldn’t meet his eyes after the stare that girl was giving you. It made your skin crawl. “Do they always do this?”  

“Some are less aggressive,” he took another drink of his beer. You had forgotten about your own. “But they’re all on the same spectrum I suppose.”  

One of them moved and you didn’t know if you could take being berated for nothing by a girl who just wanted to get in his pants. She hadn’t loved him for years, you did. You grasped the part of his jacket that had been closest to you. Instinctively, he leaned in closer, nearly cocooning you into the small space.  

“How much time do you have?” He glanced at the watch that was on the wrist of the hand with the beer.  

“10 minutes or so. Why?” He searched your face, never missing your lips as he shot his eyes around.  

“Because that girl, the one with the blonde hair and yellow headband is coming over here and gave me the goddamn death glare when I looked at her.”  

Eddie’s hair fell from his shoulder and hung beside him. You could feel the edges of it meet the side of your face.  

“You have a dressing room or something…? I don’t know what kind of things bars have,” you were holding onto him so tightly.  

“Yeah they gave us a room…” he put his beer on the bar and stood up straight. He held out his hand to you.  

Six years. Six years you had waited for him to hold out his hand to you in more than a friendly way. There was something about the air, the tension you felt when he looked at you that told you this was the moment you had been waiting for.  

“Come on,” he tipped his head toward the back of the venue. You grabbed his hand without a second thought.  

You made it halfway. His hand had covered yours, holding on tightly and occasionally swiping his thumb across your fingers in comfort. You could see some of the people looking. You pretended they weren’t whispering about you. All you were thinking about was the perfect way his hand encapsulated yours when you were jerked to the side and his grasp broke.  

“Wh—“ he didn’t take two steps to know you were gone and at once turned around to see that girl with the yellow headband was closer to him than you were. You were apologizing to a table of fans as one of their cups had tipped over, the liquid dripping onto the floor onto your shoes.  

“What the fuck?” He barely whispered as he watched the scene before him. Eddie walked back to you, trying to avoid the girl when she cut in front of his path.  

She gave a big, cheesy smile, “you gotta minute?” Her gum popped in her mouth.  

“Wh—no, no, I don’t have a minute…” he brushed her aside and went to you, assuring the table they hadn’t done anything wrong.  

“I’m sorry, God,” you were apologetic for something you didn’t have control over, “I didn’t mean to do that. Let me get you—“  

“It’s on the house, guys, just tell them I said so,” Eddie grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the table before they could wrap their heads around what happened.  

The girl was still standing there as you passed again and she tried to grab your arm. However, Eddie was more than prepared to defend you—the only person he’d be willing to make a scene for. He pulled you close, turning to point a finger accusingly at the blonde-haired woman with a sneer.  

“Don’t fucking touch her! If I see you near her again I will throw you out myself, got it?”  

The girl was speechless and so were you, for far different reasons nonetheless.  

“Got it!?” He yelled at her and the people chatting in the area around you quieted. You put one of your hands on his stomach as the other one was clutched in his own. Your palm spread; it was telling her he was already taken.  

“Come on, let’s go,” you urged him. And because he knew it was the right thing to do, he led you behind a brown wooden door and the bright, fluorescent lights of the hallway to the dressing rooms was never so greatly welcomed. 

Eddie didn’t know how one moment years in the making could change the course of his personal life.  

From the time he left Hawkins with Corroded Coffin to make it big, his mind was jumbled; lost in differing aspects from friends he had been leaving behind and a system of systemic poverty that had failed him. Somewhere inside of The Hideout Eddie felt his luck shifting. Maybe it was your hand in his being strung along the bright hallway, or maybe it was the fact he had grown into his confidence and could stick up for himself and you without fear of retaliation because he was no longer at the bottom of the food chain.  

It was a redemption of sorts.  

“Eddie, Eddie,” he heard his name being called but blood was pounding in his ears. He couldn’t believe the audacity of people when they didn’t have a relation or acquaintanceship with someone. You see people on TV or hear them on the radio and suddenly, it’s as if they’re not truly a person anymore. It was the downside, the absolute bottom of the barrel feeling, when it came to pursuing his dreams.  

“Hey, hey, Eddie, wait a second,” your voice was firmer, a light pull back on the grip he had on your hand, and he stopped. He had always been good at keeping others’ comfort at the top of his list and he wasn’t going to stop just because he was a bit angry.  

“Just wait,” you breathed, finally catching up to him and staying so close.  

“It’s fine, okay?” You were concerned. He could see it in your face. This isn’t how he planned to see you again. In fact, he had been so nervous he smoked two blunts instead of one before the show. He was surprised that it didn’t mellow him out more.  

“I’m fine, you’re fine. Just let it go.”  

“She had no right to touch you like that,” if your voice had been firm, his was unmoving. It was steadfast in leveled anger that boundaries were breeched and it could have gone a lot worse than it had.  

“She didn’t hurt me if that’s what you want to hear.”  

Eddie didn’t know what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear that you were fine; he wanted to hear that you were happy; he wanted to hear that what he did was fucking hot and maybe, just maybe you would give him a chance if he took it. Eddie Munson wanted to hear the reason why you hadn’t reached out to him for six goddamn years while life continued to turn.  

He had so many question and he had been overthinking them for days.  

He ran a hand through his frizzy waves and held them intertwined above his head.  

“Steve told me you moved to Indy to find me.”  

If you were a ghost, now was the time to disappear.  

“Is that true?”  

You put your hands on your hips and looked anywhere but him.  

“Y/n, if it’s not true just say so and you can go back to them but if it’s not, tell me. Please.” You never thought Eddie would be one to beg. But here he was, standing in front of you, begging, for you to tell him.  

The dance between you two had been a long and winding road. Stolen glances, touches that lasted too long, and the palpable tension your friends felt was enough to shoot off fireworks between you. It was electric, sizzling, majestic. There wasn’t a day that you didn’t think about what he was doing, who he might be with—and it was no surprise that Eddie often wondered the same of you.  

“Is that why you asked about me on the phone? Because you thought I had followed you out there?”  

“No,” he shook his head, dropping his hands.  

“I asked because I wanted to know if you had a reason for never contacting me. I thought we were friends, at least friends who would keep in touch.”  

“I never knew what to say,” you admitted as your head dropped to glance at the floor. Beer was still shining up at you on your glossy shoes. “I feel like there was almost too much that no words would come out.”  

Eddie nodded—knowing well you had not answered his question. “Did you think I wouldn’t remember you or somethin’? I can tell you that would never happen.” He laughed at the thought.  

“That wasn’t it… I don’t really know how to explain it,” you knew exactly how to explain it.  

‘Eddie, I’ve been in love with you for years and I was afraid you had moved on to other women because they were your style.’  

‘Eddie, I would do anything for you but I’m scared of my feelings not being validated.’  

“Well, you’re here now,” he proposed with a rather hopeful look on his face, “you still smoke or is that too metal for you now?” 

“How could I? My dealer ran off to be a superstar.”  

“Well,  I’m here now and got a bag of weed in my case. What do you say to that?”  

“I say it’s not going to smoke itself.”  

The dressing room was small. Littered with equipment and travel bags. A dirty mirror hung on the furthest wall from the door and each member of the band was crammed inside. Eddie opened the door with a push as an unknown stickiness had caught the seal. Each guy looked up at the intruder.  

“Hey, we were looking for you,” Jeff said and reached for water on the table. “We go back on in five.”  

Eddie nodded mindlessly as he opened the door further to let you slip under his arm and into the room. The two that you had gone to high school with smiled widely––having known that Eddie was absolutely soaring on the inside. The band had found two other members you didn’t know after they had escaped the grasp of Hawkins’ hell and they sat chatting on a sofa.  

“You’re shitting me right now!” Gareth said, getting up from his stool and grabbing his glass that sat on the table beside Jeff. “I thought you said she wasn’t coming!”  

He had talked about you. Recently. 

“I said I wasn’t sure!” Eddie corrected him and led you to the corner where he stored his things. You hopped onto the vanity and felt like a spotlight was on you from the bulb of lights. “Besides, it’s none of your business anyway,” Eddie occupied himself searching through one of his cases for the weed.  

“We go on in five minutes, man. Did you not hear Jeff?”  

“I heard you, I heard you,” Eddie mumbled and grasped a tin with certain fingers. It was an old snuff can that had become so worn down that the branding was gone. Eddie opened the lid and pulled out one of the rolled joints he had stored inside. He lifted it to his lips before turning back to Gareth.  

He took a second, glancing over at you as you picked at your nail polish and walked over to Jeff and Gareth instead. The other two outside of the circle knew not to get in between the lifelong friends. You couldn’t hear their mumbles but Eddie was rather animated in his movements.  

“Listen, I just need like… a half hour. Give me a half hour and I’ll owe you big time. Just give me this.”  

The two wanted to argue. They wanted to be a band that didn’t have members who caused issues but they saw the look in Eddie’s eyes. They knew how much he liked you and with how much he talked about you, they couldn’t not give him the chance. The band came to Hawkins once every year and who knows if Eddie would get the chance again.  

Jeff checked his watch. They had to go.  

“Half hour. If you’re not out there I will come and get you, I don’t care what situation you’re in.”  

Eddie patted them both on the back.  

“Shane, Mickey,” Jeff called over to the other two, “let’s go. Eddie needs a minute.”  

And Eddie watched them leave the room with the blunt still hanging out of his mouth. When he turned back to you, the air changed too.  

You sat, cross legged and leaning on top of the vanity like a muse. Sparkly dress with shiny lips and glinting eyes, it was intoxicating. He grabbed the stool Jeff was sitting on and placed it in front of you—just close enough where his knees tapped your leg as he spread out; unashamed that he was man-spreading right where you slotted between him. He drew a lighter from his jacket and lit the blunt. With a puff he passed it to you.  

“They willingly accepted your disappearance?” You questioned, blowing smoke off to the side in the most glamorous way he had ever seen.  

“Only for a bargain. You know them… always looking for a steal…” he watched your lips purse around the stick—plump and inviting. “Besides, they had a good enough conscious to let this one slide.”  

“Why? Because it’s just silly ol’ me?” You fluttered your eyelashes, smiling at him with perfect poise before passing back the blunt. His fingers grazed yours.  

“It’s never just ‘silly ol’ you’” he repeated, “you fuckin’… light up the room when you walk in. So, no.”  

You tried to hide your smile, but it was hard when he was so blatant.  

“You know I was nervous about tonight,” you admitted sheepishly, “felt like you had forgotten about us now that you made a name for yourself.”  

“I told you that would never happen.”  

“Yeah, but the mind has a funny way of playing tricks on us like that.”  

“There could be a million people in a room, and I’d still find you right away, Y/n,” Eddie’s eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Kindness and sincerity aside, the man was not quiet about his wants or needs. You just hadn’t allowed yourself to accept them because you were scared about letting someone in. Someone that you liked a lot and someone you knew could make you happy.  

Happiness made people vulnerable. Vulnerable people got hurt.  

“So you did ask about me? Wanted to know what I was up to?” You inquired.  

“Did you move to the city for me?” He asked instead.  

“It was part of it, yeah.” It was the answer he wanted.  

“Why didn’t you call?”  

You laughed, taking the blunt back, and taking a minute to think of a comprehensive answer. “I didn’t call because I was scared of being one of them,” you pointed to the door and he understood that you were referencing those girls.  

“They hounded you like you were Bruce Springsteen…how was I supposed to compete with that or be something different?”  

If he hadn’t known for certain that you held a candle for him as he did you, he did now. He was relieved in a sense.  

“I think it’s funny,” he watched as you unfolded your legs, the dress hiking up in the slightest as you moved forward on the vanity. He also felt the choice to man-spread before you were beginning to be a mistake if anything went wrong. He wouldn’t be able to hide anything. “That you’d think you would be like them… you’re nothing like them.”  

“And what am I like?”  

Your confidence had returned. A flirtatious smile played at your lips when you swung your leg just enough to let the outline of your shoe rub against his pants. The blunt was still burning between your fingertips.  

Eddie knew it was now or never. So he let loose too.  

“What are you like?” He looked inquisitively at you. A finger tapping on his chin as if he was deep in thought for a moment. “I think the obvious is smart and pretty… but not school girl kind of pretty.”  

“No?”  

“No…” he shook his head, “the pretty that doesn’t think she is. The kind that is too kind to accept a compliment but should know she’s more than that.”  

“More than pretty?” Your face was hot. You could feel the fire burning within you. Eddie Munson calling you pretty as he spread before you and shared a blunt while the beginnings of his bands second set began to shake the room.  

“Beautiful.”  

“Beautiful?”  

“Gorgeous.”  

“Gorgeous?”  

You repeated the words slowly. He couldn’t help the smile on his own face. His cheeks were red, the hands folded in his lap were sweaty but he would never admit that.  

“The mostest.” You laughed at his grammar. It was technically true, it just sounded awkward. 

“Fucking beautiful.”  

You didn’t repeat that.  

“You, Y/n, are the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life and I’ve thought that for six years.”  

“Six?”  

“Since you jumped into the water at Lover’s Lake to save Steve.”  

God, it felt like yesterday.  

“And do you know what?” He questioned, not expecting you to respond, “I have thought about you ever single day since.”  

“Every day?”  

“Each one. And when I was on stage, I looked. Hoping maybe you’d show up one day. I thought about you when I was alone… when I had company…”  

“You’re a pervert, Eddie Munson,” You laughed, he smiled.  

“Well, can you blame a guy? Look at you.” The way his eyes trailed. He was hunting and you were perfect prey.  

“I can’t really… but you can.” Your bottom lip passed through your teeth quickly—barely grazing it as the top of your shoe ran along the inside of his leg. He was fucked.  

“I can. I do.”  

“Why has it taken this long to admit it?”  

“Time wasn’t always on our side…” he sucked in a breath when you put the blunt out right on the counter top. It made a sickening sizzle, burning black onto its white finish. He would probably be charged for that but in the moment he didn’t care.  

“But we’re here now…” you proposed. You moved forward again, barely touching him until you got to your feet and stood in front of him. “Time can stand still for a little while…”  

You were waiting on him to make the move.  

He stood from the stool, pushing it backwards with his foot. He was close again, just as he had been at the bar but this time there wasn’t anything stopping him. No one in his way and for the remaining minutes he had been granted, he had only you.  

Eddie’s hands cupped your face.  

“You’d never be one of them, baby,” you just about fell over, “you’ve always been my number one girl.”  

“And does that come with a prize?”  

“Only the best.”  

His eyes never left your lips as he caressed your face gently, savoring the moment before both of your bodies gave into what they had been craving for half a decade. Eddie’s breath was hot, already staggered as he breathed in one last time before pulled your face to his and planting his lips to yours. You imagined it was what heaven had felt like if something like that existed. He tasted like beer and weed; lips a little chapped from days on the road but a pillow compared to others. He cradled your face with care—almost afraid that if he had gone in too hard the first time it would all be a dream and disappear.  

When he felt your hands creep onto his forearms, he knew he wasn’t dreaming. It was real. You were here, kissing him back in a dingy dressing room at The Hideout on a Tuesday evening. The walls rattled with a metal sound.  

Eddie moved his hands from your face to cradle the back of your head as he pushed himself further into you. Another hand wrapping around your waist tightly. You could feel him clutching onto the fabric of your dress, his fingers digging into the skin of your hip. With nothing to grab onto now, you enveloped his shoulders with your arms and tangled your hands into his hair.  

There was nothing holding him back, nor you, in that room. His hands wandered and groped, he sounded small grunts when you rubbed up against him just right or tugged on his hair just enough. You felt him hard against you, telling you without words that what he had said was the truth.  

You wanted this. You wanted it badly.  

The vanity behind you was digging into your lower back, pressing, and pressing with every movement and the world came back to you with the realization someone could walk in, and you weren’t about to stop if Eddie wasn’t.  

“Eddie,” you broke the kiss, murmuring his name as his lips found the sides of your mouth, your chin, following a path down your neck. “Eddie,” you said again with a pant, “someone could walk in.”  

He let go with an audible 'pop' and nudged his nose to your chin before looking at you. He was so close, breathing heavily as his tongue swept over his lips.  

"Yeah…" He huffed, the way his arms caged you in against the counter, "so what?"  

“I’d rather not give them a show if you know what I mean?”  

Eddie acknowledged that with a nod of his head, glancing in the mirror as he peeked around the room for a door that had a lock. The bathroom. The bathroom had a lock. He had found the solution, placing a delicate kiss on your lips—miles different than the one he had started with.  

“Bathroom good?”  

You brushed a piece of his hair back and he just about melted. “Bathroom’s perfect.”  

You weren’t even sure if he had locked the door before he had his hands and lips on you again. You hit the back of the stall hard but it didn’t matter because Eddie Munson was prepared to give you the time of your life in a dirty, more than likely unsanitary, bar bathroom years in the making. He was taking no prisoners in the way he felt you up—hands acting as a way to stake his claim from everything from your breasts to ass and you swallowed what you could take. Each moan he gave, every sound that levied on a whimper from you. It felt natural having him close. Having him give himself to you in the same passion that you were to him.  

When he went back to assaulting your neck—sucking at the skin to where your nails were making crescents on his shoulders through his jacket—you stuttered a breath.  

“I-I met a few girls who said they met you,” you admitted as he bothered not to stop, “they claimed you’re a real… freak when it comes to this kind of thing.”  

He thought you sounded adorable in the most sexy way. Nervous with a tinge of shakiness in your voice. Eddie didn’t care anymore what people thought of him. What girls said or what they tried to claim about him. All he wanted was to know what you thought, what you claimed of him. He had been waiting for that for six years.  

“They said you used handcuffs,” that made him stop.  

"Is there truth to it?" You couldn't take your eyes off his lips and you could sense he was jittery. Like he had 12 cups of coffee. His finger tapped against the side of the stall impatiently. “It’s a little different from the Eddie I know… one who liked D&D and honeycomb cereal.”  

“I still like that cereal,” he laughed. Eddie shifted his head to the side of your face, letting his mouth kiss your ear lobe tenderly. He still loved D&D too.  

"What kind of freak do you want me to be?"  

You tipped your head to the side slightly, running your hands over his chest and feeling the fabric of his rough t-shirt ride upwards.  

"I want," Your hands ran higher and met their position at the base of his neck. Finger nails disappearing beneath his wild hair and running along his nape, "one that will fuck me in this bathroom until I can barely walk… can you do that for me?"  

Eddie was nearly speechless. Nearly.  

“I could fuck you four ways funny and sweetheart,” he ran his tongue over his lips again, pulling back and looking down at yours, “you wouldn’t be walkin’ after the first one.”  

He was so close, his breath hot and brushing against your face. All the water seemingly drained from him as the need for what you were offering, sweet and plump, had become the perfect meal. Eddie’s right hand slid down the stall door to where it could barely graze your dress at the hip.  

You had already told him what you wanted. But he needed permission. He drew himself closer, pressing into you and you felt how hard he was in his pants.  

“You gonna make me wait forever, sweetheart? You gonna tell me what to do?”  

“I told you what I wanted,” your voice was breathy, deep. He could barely stand it. He could cum right there from just knowing he was finally getting the chance to fuck you.  

“You told me what you wanted,” he clarified, grasping your side tightly and taking the second you gasped to stick his head between his other arm and neck. His hot, panting breath on your neck now was all you could think about. 

“You didn’t say I could.”  

“Fuck me, Eddie,” you tilted your head to the side, letting his lips lightly kiss the skin there. You clutched one lapel of his jacket and reached up to intertwine your fingers in his hair with the other, giving him enough order to suck as he had been doing before. “Fuck me the way you played out there tonight. Like it’s your last goddamn night on earth.”  

He still had that wild hair. However, it was no longer in spite or rebellion against the system but a piece of his image. Only a man so engrossed in the sound and space of what it meant to be a metal, hard rock band could pull off the attitude and aura he exuded.  

He lifted up the skirt of your dress to your waist and let his torso hold it in place as he put both hands to your hips and pulled your panties down. Your breathing was staggered, half excited and half anxious to get him inside of you. He gently tapped your knee to lift.  

When he got them off he shoved them in the back pocket of his pants.  

“I’m keepin’ those.” 

The dress had fallen back down but as he rose to his feet, his fingers painted a path to its edge, driving it upwards and this time, there was nothing restricting his path to you.  

“Baby, you been hidin’ this perfect fucking pussy all these years?”  

Fuck. You felt a fire ignite within you. You knew Eddie Munson had a flare for theatrics; that he was eccentric, and maybe a little insane, but the second his hands touched your body—you felt the satanic panic infiltrate your soul.  

“Eddie,” you whined as one of his hands grew closer to your center and the other kept guiding your dress up. “Stop with your goddamn teasing and fuck me.”  

He would never deny a command from a lady like you.  

Eddie let his fingers descend, pressing his lips to your neck then chin as your breathing hitched right at the precipice. His entire hand cupped you with pressure that made your toes curl.  

“Sh-shit…” you gasped. His smile on your neck was rewarding.  

“Shit is right, Y/n,” Eddie’s fingers spread a bit, two fingers threatening to enter while the others pulled apart your folds. His thumb worked to find your clit without guidance of his eyes. All he needed from you was to tell him when and it took him little time.  

You jolted into him, lolling your head into his chest, and breathing deeply and his lips lost their traction on your neck. He could feel your trembling fingers holding onto him. If he had been 16, he would have came in his pants at the sheer desperation you were giving. The music of heavy metal mixing with the sounds of your pleasure were dizzying. Eddie guided two of his fingers into you.  

“Jesus Christ…” you blurted out as your head pulled back from him and went back against the stall. He was watching you with such precision that you felt hot under his gaze. His fingers were moving swiftly, feeling every part of you as he watched your chest heave and face go slack.  

“You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart. God damn.” He pushed his fingers further into you, curling them the best he could to get you there. He wanted to fuck you but couldn’t tear his eyes away from your wanton face. Eddie’s free hand gripped the base of your neck. His thumb running along the length and applying pressure. “So wet for me, huh?”  

Your eyes were clouded with delirium. He had taken you there with a simple touch. You didn’t know how you would last if he truly took the time to worship you. Eddie could send you to an early grave and you’d say ‘thank you for a fantastic time.’ 

“Always for you,” you whimpered carelessly, “I’ll always be for you.”  

“You really—“ he grunted when your hand tangled in his shirt and nicked the necklace he was wearing. It pulled on his neck. “You really want me to fuck you here?” He flicked your bud making you cry out. “Bend you over like the dirty fucking girl you are?”  

You pulled his shirt, the necklace too, and let his body lay against yours. The only feeling of his hand continuing to pleasure you and his hard dick in his pants reminding you that you wanted something more. His forehead met yours and it was soft in the hardness of lust. 

“Bend me over that sink,” you told him, no longer fuzzy with ecstasy, “I’ve thought about you on lonely nights starring at me through a mirror as you fucked me.”  

He swallowed the lump in his throat that formed with your admission.  

“Show me that I’m not one of those girls, Eddie.”  

He didn’t need to romance you to show you that.  

Eddie removed his fingers with no warning and guided you to the sink with a quickness you had only seen in movies. He was strategic and defined, letting your hands grasp the edges of the porcelain sink that stood alone in the flickering bathroom light. You watched him through the mirror concentrate on undoing his belt, zipping down his pants and pulling himself out of his black jeans. For a second, you wished you had turned around. Wanting to see him hard and leaking for you but you also knew there was no way this was a one and done deal. ��

Eddie would wine and dine you; he would take you to a physical bed and make love to you before he’d leave this planet.  

And he still had on his leather jacket.  

“You sure you’re ready for this, baby?” He asked, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “We only got so much time so I’m not going slow.”  

“Yeah, I’m sure,” your fingers had gone taut against the sink; gripping tightly and trying to support yourself as your excitement made you shake. No man had ever had the same effect on you.  

“You tell me to stop and I will, got it?”  

And there were few men confident enough in their abilities to extend kindness in the heat of the moment.  

“Yeah, I got it,” you barely got that out because he grabbed his cock with one of his hands, leaning over you to hold your hand down on the sink—his larger hand covering yours almost completely. He ran the head over your folds and you felt your legs shake.  

“All right then, let me fuck you like I’ve been waiting my whole life to.”  

And he was right, he didn’t stop. Eddie pounded hard and fast into you as if it was exactly that. He hit every part of you, stretching and filling you with a sweet sensation of adrenaline laced possessiveness that had grown throughout the evening. Every time he glanced at the table, the moment he saw you at the bar, the way you held onto his hand as he carried you away from the crowds just to have a second to unwind everything he had felt for you. As he gripped your hip and remained holding your hand against the sink, you could barely say a word for what he was completing in you.  

It was like a puzzle piece finding its home.  

“Motherfucker…” Eddie husked as he picked up the pace, watching himself disappear within your glistening cunt every time he thrusted back and forth. He wasn’t even letting you do much work at this point. He had taken every ounce of himself and poured it into what he had been waiting to do. Eddie Munson was beating to the course of his own drum, not the ones that rattled the walls and swelled through the air ducts to sound off the tile in the bathroom.  

You kept your eyes on him through the mirror even if the pleasure threatened to close them. He was in a zone; concentrated and using his body the best way he knew how.  

“Fuck–” He let go of your hand and slotted it in between you down your front. He brought his middle finger back down to your clit and your breath hitched, stuck inside of your throat. Your fingers were unstable. The grip on the sink wavering with every pounding step he made and the sounds of your wet slick combining with his force was an epiphany.  

You looked again in the mirror. Eddie’s forehead was resting on the skin of your shoulder as he continued to thrust.  

“Eddie,” you breathed out, “look at me.”  

Your words were jumbled. You didn’t know if it came out that way or if you just heard the voice in your head say it correctly, but he didn’t respond.  

“Eddie,” you tried again, “look at me.”  

Look at you–he did. He had. For four goddamn years because that's all he could do was look. Staring like a loser school boy who was infatuated with his unattainable teacher but in reality, the two of you were neither. Just a freak and a prep. The popular girl who was loud and funny but could never spare a glance to him until you had. Until circumstances beyond his imagination had brought him a group of friends that supported him, saved him, from the secrets Hawkins hides. 

His brown eyes blown wide and full, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead as your glinted on your collarbones and the part of your chest he could see.  

“You’re so fucking perfect, Y/n...” He mumbled and laid a kiss on your shoulder. His eyes met yours in the mirror and he was close. The fantasy of the moment he had been waiting for beginning to catch up with him, the ideas you had planted in your mind for days reeling in reality. But you didn’t come here to get fucked and finish by looking at him in the mirror.  

“Turn me over,” you panted quickly, “I’m close.”  

He did as he was told. His cock slipping out for a second as he gripped both sides of your hips and turned you around. In any other situation, he may have been embarrassed about how much he was worked up, but this wasn’t a regular occurrence. This was an endgame for him. Some final quest that would lead his life beyond it with pride and a feeling of content. This was his one shot as much as it was yours. He guided himself back in, feeling you clench around him and lifted one of your legs to wrap around him. Eddie held it with his hand to help ease the strain.  

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” you managed to get out with labored words. Your shaking hand cupping his face as he brought it close to you. Intimacy was no longer divided between a mirror. This was as close to making magic as it could get in a place like this.  

“It won’t be,” he reassured you with a kiss, “I’m not letting you go again, baby.”  

The goddamn pet names. You’d never tire of it.  

He felt you clench around him again, your face fighting the resolution with everything you had left because you didn’t want it to end.  

“Come on, baby,” he murmured against your lips, “come for me, sweetheart, come for me.”  

Eddie put his hand on your neck again, relishing the way your eyes fluttered closed as his lips egged you on with kisses and his hand with a bit of pressure. He would have time to show you what else he could do; to find new things together but right then, all he wanted to see was you fall apart by his own doing.  

A few more thrusts and he had sent you there.  

He had sent you to euphoria–the dazzling electric dance of fire that had been sitting, waiting to be awakened. Your eyes were shut tightly, hands gripping his jacket, and your mouth was agape, a strangled sound of pleasure finding its way out as he followed through with his actions as your orgasm had reached its top. Eddie wished he had a camera because there was no one else who could beat the way your orgasm made him feel.  

He was so lost in the moment staring at you that he had reached his own in a subsequent fashion. You heard him moan, something so many men had been conscious not to do because it was vulnerable, but you grasped him harder as he stilled. You were both breathing so heavily that you couldn’t hear anything else.  

All either of you did was stare at each other––knowing that what had occurred changed the course of not only the evening, but your lives as they were.  

“Holy shit,” Eddie whispered, feeling himself soften inside of you as your fingertips lightly ran through his hair.  

The music from his band was still thundering.  

“Yeah...” you repeated, “holy shit.”  

And he smiled, so you did too.  

“They’ll come looking for me any second,” he said knowingly. Jeff and Gareth let him have his time, but he still needed to play. He didn’t want to leave.  

You brushed his bangs away from his face gently. “Well, a band always needs their star...”  

You thought he was a star. A star.  

“Well, a man needs his muse too.”  

“His muse will be out there... cheering him on from a booth with both of their friends.”  

Eddie bit his lip, not wanting to go but knowing that he had to. He nodded, almost warning you that he was going to pull out and it still hadn’t hit either of you that a condom had gone forgotten. He tried to ignore the small wince you let out when he eventually did, stuffing himself back into his pants as you pulled your dress down and turned to face the mirror again.  

“Sorry,” he said both in response to the soreness he’s sure you felt, but also for the marks he had left on the skin exposed due to the design of your dress. You examined them in the mirror.  

“Here,” Eddie pulled off his jacket and was thankful he did so because he was sweltering in it, “take it and when the shows over, you come back, and I’ll take you for a drink.”  

A date of sorts.  

“You sure?” You caught his eyes in the mirror as he opened the jacket, placing it on your shoulders and holding his hands there.  

“There’s no one else I’d rather see wearing it out there.”  

“I don’t know if I could pull it off as well as you,” you laughed, your head shaking at the idea of you–someone who had never worn a leather jacket–wearing his. “I don’t know if I’m the type.”  

“Of course, you are,” Eddie moved to the side of the sink, letting your hands turn on the faucet and let the water run, “you’re a rock star’s girl so I need you to show it off. Besides...” he trailed off, hearing the door to the dressing room open beyond the bathrooms, “you could wear nothing and be the best dressed person in there.”  

A knock sounded at the door, followed by a wiggle of the handle but thankfully, Eddie did lock the door.  

“Eddie?” it was Jeff, “Time’s up, man. I know you wanna, well, you know...” he sounded embarrassed, “but they know you’re missing.”  

“Be out in a second!” Eddie shouted through the door and the handle went still again.  

“You should go,” you pumped soap into your hand once the water was warm, “you have fans waiting.”  

“Promise me you’ll wear it?” His eyes were hopeful. He had finally snagged the girl of his dreams. He didn’t need to define it to know you were committed too. “Please?”  

“I’m wearing it already, aren’t I?” You smiled at him, nodding your head to the door. “Go.”  

He started off toward the door and just when he was about to unlock it, he turned around, meeting your eyes in the mirror and coming straight back to you. His hands grabbed your face and pulled you to him, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. It had been the lingering feelings of love unspoken that had told him to do it. He pulled away first.  

“I’ll be looking for you out there.”  

“I’ll be watching.”  

The bar was as you had left it.  

Eddie made it to the stage by the time you had cleaned yourself up and became satisfied that your look was a bit different to the one you had begun the night with. The music was still loud, the people were still excited, and the two booths remained filled with your friends. You stopped at the bar on your way back for a glass of water and the same woman as before served you.  

There were still a hundred bodies lingering around the space, but a single open gap led you to her. She smiled at you.  

“You left your beer on the bar,” she said as her eyes narrowed, looking at the jacket you wore. You played with the cuffs as the people around you listened to the music. “Want another?”  

“No,” you shook your head, “just water please.”  

She nodded her head and grabbed a glass before filling it with ice.  

“Just friends, huh?”  

You shrugged, a small smile playing on your face.  

“Maybe a bit more than that.”  

The bartender gave you a wink as you left the bar to make your way through the maze of guests. You didn’t mind the water falling onto your hand as the people danced and forced your cup to move, thoughts filled with Eddie and the future of the evening ahead.  

“Hey!” You barely heard their calls, “Y/N! Over here!”  

Dustin’s screeching was the loudest, but you saw Robin standing with Nancy on the booth and their grins were huge. You reached your table and sat beside Steve. Robin and Nancy sat back down but no one said anything. You wouldn’t meet their eyes as you sipped your water. Steve nudged your shoulder twice before you mustered the strength to look at each one of them.  

“That jacket’s new,” Steve commented, and Robin could barely contain her excitement. She hid her mouth behind her hands.  

“It is,” you replied with a curt nod.  

“So are those hickeys,” Jonathan stated, looking around the venue after he said it and his cheeks went red. Nancy slapped his arm.  

“Got anything to say?” Steve inquired.  

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ dramatically, “not really.”  

Steve hummed, grinning like the rest of the fools at the table. You looked over at the stage and saw Eddie playing once more, catching him once looking over at the table and he beamed.  

“You know, Steve,” you called out to him but didn’t look at him, “the thing you said in the car, about the bathrooms... you were right.”  

The table erupted in delighted cheers. Steve patted your knee proudly.  

Six years felt like forever, but you knew, looking onto that stage at The Hideout as the man you had been pining over played his heart out, that it was nothing compared to the potential of the future. The clock reset. You were only counting the time starting now... well, the time that started 30 odd minutes ago.  

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ 3 idiots in love .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Ace Trappola x Deuce Spade x gn! reader

𓏵 1032 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 3rd Person POV, they/them pronouns used (once), fluff, polyfidelity!

first time writing 3 ppl together, hope I did well (-ω-；) feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

You were the ADeuce duo’s partner-in-crime; whenever they acted recklessly and caused trouble, you were always at the scene—whether reluctantly or not. It was practically a law of nature at this point. If Ace and Deuce were up to something dumb, you were either stopping them, helping them, or, more often than not, getting dragged into the chaos.

Which was exactly why you were currently seated in the Heartslabyul lounge, staring at them with mild suspicion as they fidgeted across from you.

Ace had his usual cocky smirk, but there was a nervous edge to it, like he was overcompensating. Deuce, on the other hand, looked like he was preparing for an intense training session with Vargas, sitting stiffly with his hands clenched into fists on his lap.

“Alright,” you said, folding your arms. “What did you two do this time?”

Ace scoffed, placing a hand on his chest as if you had deeply offended him. “Wow. Wow. Do you really think we’d drag you here just because we caused trouble?”

“Yes,” you and Deuce said at the same time.

Ace rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he cleared his throat and exchanged a quick glance with Deuce—one that, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed by you.

You squinted at them. “Okay, seriously. What’s going on?”

Deuce straightened his back even more (which you didn’t think was physically possible), sucking in a deep breath like he was about to say something important. But just as he opened his mouth—

“Wait, wait, I’m supposed to go first!” Ace cut in, shooting him a glare.

“What?! No, we agreed that I would start!” Deuce shot back, looking scandalized.

Ace groaned. “Bro, rock-paper-scissors isn’t a legal contract!”

“It is when we both agreed to follow the outcome!”

You blinked. “What...?”

Ace turned back to you, suddenly looking just as tense as Deuce. “Okay, listen. Forget that. What I was trying to say is—”

“—That we both like you,” Deuce interrupted, crossing his arms with a determined nod.

Ace gasped dramatically. “Dude! You just ruined my build-up!”

“Why were you building it up?! We agreed to confess together!”

“Yeah, but in order!”

You stared at them, mouth slightly open, trying to process the absolute nonsense happening in front of you. “...What.”

Ace huffed, leaning back against the couch. “Okay, okay, let me explain before you think we’re total weirdos—”

“Too late,” you mumbled.

“—We both like you,” Ace continued, ignoring you. “Like, a lot. But since we both do, we figured it would be dumb to make you choose between us, and we didn’t wanna get into some tragic ‘best friends turned love rivals’ situation.”

Deuce nodded, looking serious. “So we came up with a plan to confess at the same time. That way, you don’t feel pressured, and we can just… you know, figure it out together if you like us back.”

You blinked again. “That’s... actually really sweet.”

Ace grinned. “Of course it is! It was my idea.”

Deuce glared. “We came up with it together.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ace waved him off before looking at you again, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. “But seriously. We like you. A lot. And if you’d rather just be friends, that’s totally cool. But if you do like us back, we’d be down to, y’know... try this whole thing together. The three of us.”

Deuce nodded, his face tinged pink. “You don’t have to answer right away, either! We just… wanted to be honest.”

You looked between them, your two idiot best friends who had somehow come up with the most convoluted yet oddly heartfelt confession plan ever. And despite their bickering, despite the messiness of it all—there was nothing but sincerity in their faces.

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. “You two are unbelievable.”

Ace smirked. “Yeah, but that’s why you like us, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was impossible to ignore. "I mean… yeah," you admitted, crossing your arms. "You two are ridiculous, but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like you, too."

Ace’s smirk faltered for half a second before it returned, bigger and cockier than before. "Hah! Knew it. I told you, Deuce, they were totally into us."

Deuce’s face went completely red. "Wait—really? You’re not just messing with us?"

You raised a brow. "Why would I joke about this?"

"I don’t know, maybe because Ace does it all the time?"

Ace gasped, clutching his chest. "Wow. You wound me."

Deuce ignored him, turning his full attention back to you. His hands clenched at his sides, like he was still trying to process everything. "So… you actually like us. Like, both of us?"

You let out a laugh. "Yes, Deuce. I like both of you."

Deuce blinked, his face still burning, but there was something soft in his expression—something like relief. Ace, meanwhile, had leaned back, hands behind his head, but the tips of his ears were definitely pink.

"Okay, cool, cool. So, uh, what now?" Ace asked, clearly trying to play it cool but failing miserably.

You tilted your head, amused. "Shouldn’t you two have planned that part out, too?"

Deuce groaned. "I told you we should’ve thought ahead!"

"Yeah, well, I was too busy making sure we didn’t sound like total losers, which, by the way, you nearly ruined by blurting it out early," Ace shot back.

"You were taking too long!"

You laughed, cutting off their bickering before it escalated. "How about this? Let’s just… keep things the way they are for now. We don’t have to rush into anything. We can just figure it out together."

Ace and Deuce both paused, looking at you.

"...That’s actually a really good idea," Deuce admitted.

Ace smirked. "See? This is why we like you. You’re way smarter than us."

"Not a high bar to clear," you teased.

"Hey!"

Deuce chuckled, and for a moment, all three of you just sat there, basking in the ridiculousness of what had just happened. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t some grand, romantic moment. But it was yours—messy, chaotic, and kind of dumb, just like the three of you.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ficsbylexi]

Turbulence of the Heart — One Shot

Leah Williamson x OFC

Shot warnings: cardiopulmonary resuscitation, use of AED, vomiting, mention and mild description of a panic attack, mention of broken bones, mention of physical child abuse and past trauma, cursing, Beth and Jen being little shits

Author’s note(s): yes, a self insert, I told you all I needed this💀. I don’t remember where the fuck are the toilets in STN airport but let’s pretend they’re directly in front of Pret. Why are these very well-payed women flying Ryanair? Because I said so. Can you guess who do I work for? Btw whatever is written in italics is in another language. Also if any of you works as cabin crew, let’s pretend Crew Control are nice, okay? I wanna be delulu for a bit.

Word count: 10.392

Summary: A coffee thrown on a flight attendant leads Leah to spend an entire flight blushing and being teased by her friends with a surprisingly good ending. Set in summer 2024.

Pret was the closest thing to quietness that Leah could find at the always bustling Stansted Airport. There were a couple families, some teenagers on a school trip and the occasional business traveler typing away on a laptop. Leah Williamson, however, stood out in the crowd, tall and striking, but entirely distracted. Her morning just hadn’t gone as planned. She was supposed to wake up early to finish packing for her trip with the girls, have breakfast and be able to take the train to Stansted with plenty of time.

Well she overslept her alarm, so she had to rush through everything and now was waiting to pay for an airport-priced-sandwich and a smoothie. Beth, Viv and Jen were already at the gate but texted her saying that boarding hadn’t even started.

“Next, please”.

She was checking her phone when she stepped forward, too stressed about possibly missing her flight even if Beth had already told her to relax and get breakfast. But the app wasn’t working now and her boarding pass wasn’t loading.

That was when disaster struck.

In her peripheral vision, Leah vaguely noticed someone in front of her—a small woman dressed navy-blue pants and a perfectly ironed white shirt, complete with a signature yellow scarf tucked smartly around her neck. The woman turned around at the same moment Leah took a step forward and shook her phone in frustration.

CRASH.

The iced coffee slipped out of the woman’s grasp, tumbling in slow motion before colliding with her uniform. The cup’s contents—an unholy amount of caramel-drizzled iced coffee—splattered all over the pristine uniform, leaving sticky stains streaked across the yellow and navy fabric.

“Oh my God!” Leah exclaimed, immediately realizing what she’d done. “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going!” Her hands flailed awkwardly as she searched for napkins, her panicked expression only amplifying the mess of the situation. The people around stopped in their tracks to stare at the tall panicking girl and the flight attendant.

The flight attendant —Gaia, according to the nametag on the blazer that was folded on top of her suitcase— stood frozen for a second, staring down at her now ruined uniform. Her jaw tightened as she slowly looked up at Leah with a piercing glare that made the footballer feel about three inches tall.

“I— I can buy you another one!” Leah stammered. “Or, or pay for dry cleaning? Anything! I’m so sorry—”

Gaia cut her off with a sharp wave of her hand, her lips pressed into a thin line. Without a word, Gaia stormed off, coffee still dripping from her blouse.

The waitress, wide-eyed from the scene, observed the blonde in front of her. Leah, still in full panic mode, stood frozen for a second before glancing helplessly at the waitress. “I’ll… I’ll clean it up,” she muttered, grabbing napkins and dropping to her knees to wipe up the puddle.

In the cramped bathroom, Gaia shoved open the door, muttering furiously under her breath. Her coworker, Francesca, was already inside, fixing her hair in the mirror. Francesca raised an eyebrow at the state of her friend.

“What the hell happened to you?” Francesca asked in Italian, her voice a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“That stupid tall blonde girl spilled my coffee on me!” Gaia hissed, gesturing angrily to her ruined blouse. She yanked open her suitcase to grab her backup uniform, still ranting. “I mean, who just… walks around like that, not paying attention to anything and waving their arms around like they are the only person at the fucking airport?”

Francesca chuckled, leaning against the counter as she watched Gaia aggressively change. “Sounds like your lucky day,” she teased. “Maybe she was distracted because she found you cute.”

Gaia rolled her eyes dramatically. “Francesca, please”. She stuffed her shirt and pants in a plastic bag and into her suitcase and started dressing, still muttering in Italian. “Thank god I have the skirt with me as well. Can you imagine if I had to work today in coffee stained pants? They get sticky and smelly. I definitely wouldn’t be able to handle that for twelve hours”.

Before Francesca could respond, the sound of a toilet flushing interrupted their conversation. One of the stalls opened, and out stepped tall blonde girl, casually making her way to the sink to wash her hands. They barely looked at her, Francesca too busy putting lipstick on and Gaia fitting her shirt under her tights so it doesn’t move.

“Stupid tall blonde girl, huh?” Alessia said in perfect Italian, her tone amused as she dried her hands. She turned toward Gaia and Francesca, who stopped in their tracks and stared at her unamused, her blue eyes twinkling. “That would be my friend, Leah.”

“You can tell your friend Leah that she should be more careful”.

“Well,” Alessia continued, her cheeks a bit red since the girls clearly didn’t care about her listening into their conversation or that the girl they were criticizing was her friend, leaning as casually as possible against the counter, “I’m sure she didn’t mean to spill coffee on you. Leah’s a bit clumsy when she’s distracted and her morning was a bit hectic. I’ll make sure she apologizes properly.”

Francesca snorts while Gaia raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure, whatever”.

Back at the table, Leah was practically vibrating with nerves when Alessia returned. “Less I fucked up, I threw a coffee on a flight attendant, her coffee. And she looked scary. Did you see her in the toilet? Is she planning to kill me?”

Alessia grinned, her amusement barely contained. “Well, she did call you a stupid tall blonde girl in Italian. Her colleague was there so I heard the whole story while she got changed. She does look intimidating, even in just a shirt and tights”.

Leah groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I’m never coming back here again.”

“To the airport? I mean I guess we could just not fly Ryanair. But relax”, Alessia said, patting Leah’s shoulder. “She’s mostly just pissed because her uniform got ruined. Buy her another coffee and something to eat, and she might forgive you. From what I heard it sounds like she’s got a long day today”.

Leah nodded, springing into action. She bought an extra-large iced coffee to replace the one she spilled, along with a pastry. For good measure, she also bought another coffee and snack for Gaia’s coworker. Balancing the coffees carefully on one hand and the paper bag with pastries on the other, Leah made her way to the entrance, where Gaia and Francesca had just returned from the restroom. Leah winced seeing Gaia in a skirt now and a slightly wrinkled shirt.

“Hi,” Leah said, her voice soft and a little awkward. Gaia looked at her, her expression still icy. “I—uh—got these for you. To make up for the coffee… incident.” She showed the coffees and the bag, which Francesca took without second thought, stepping back nervously.

Gaia eyed the offerings, then looked up at Leah, her gaze softening slightly. “Fine,” she said coolly, though there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’re forgiven… for now.”

Leah let out a relieved laugh, scratching the back of her neck. “Thanks. I really am sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean to”.

As Leah returned to her seat with Alessia, Francesca leaned over to Gaia, whispering in Italian, “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

Gaia rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her face said it all. “Well she is pretty”.

The boarding gate was buzzing with excitement as Leah and Alessia joined their friends Beth, Viv, and Jen. Leah was still flustered after the coffee debacle, and Alessia, ever the instigator, couldn’t resist recounting the entire story to the newly arrived group.

“…and then,” Alessia said between laughs, “Leah panicked, bought another coffee and a pastry for the poor girl, and apologized like five different times. Honestly, you should’ve seen her face—pure guilt.”

Beth burst out laughing, practically doubling over. “Leah Williamson, national hero and captain of England, brought down by a flight attendant. I love it.”

“Yeah, I mean, you should probably avoid any sudden movements on the plane,” Jen teased, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Who knows what kind of revenge she might be plotting.”

“Shut up,” Leah muttered, her face a deep shade of crimson. “I’ve already humiliated myself enough for one day. Also there is no way she just happens to be on our flight”.

“Less did say she had a Ryanair uniform”.

“Beth, ninety percent of the flights from Stansted are Ryanair flights, just look at the screens”.

Leah tried her best to stay calm, but her stomach dropped the moment she saw Gaia and Francesca appear in view. The flight crew—two pilots and four flight attendants—walked briskly toward the gate, their uniforms crisp and their demeanor professional. Gaia, with her serious appearance and sharp posture, led the way.

Alessia immediately nudged Beth, who was already snickering. “There she is,” Alessia whispered conspiratorially, nodding toward Gaia. Leah groaned audibly, but there was no escaping the teasing now, she spoke too soon. Of course the flight attendant that she ruined the uniform of had to be on her flight.

“That’s her?” Jen asked, leaning in with interest. “She looks so composed. Are you sure she wasn’t plotting your demise in that bathroom? Maybe she will do the same to you and claim it was turbulence”.

“Jen!” Leah hissed, mortified. “Can we please move on?”

“Oh no, no, no,” Beth said, smirking. “We’re milking this for all it’s worth.”

By the time they were boarding the plane, Leah had resigned herself to her fate. Alessia, Jen and her were in the first row, with Alessia in 1A, Leah in 1B and Jen in 1C, while Beth and Viv had the seats directly behind them.

Leah thought maybe she could pretend to be interested in whatever was outside and look out of the window if she asked Alessia to swap seats or focus on her phone and text her mother.

Fuck.

Standing at the front of the cabin, Gaia greeted each passenger with a polite smile as they entered the plane. Her professionalism never faltered, not even when her eyes landed on Leah and her group. Leah froze, her cheeks heating up, but Gaia’s smile remained perfectly neutral.

“Welcome aboard,” Gaia said, her tone steady, as Leah awkwardly shuffled past her into her seat.

Once everyone was seated and the doors were closed, the captain’s voice came over the intercom: “Cabin crew, arm slides and crosscheck.” The command was brisk and efficient, and the flight attendants moved with practiced precision. She confirmed with the crew at the back over the interphone and then turned around, facing the passengers.

“Once again dear passengers you are all very welcome on board this Ryanair flight to Tenerife,” Gaia’s voice came over the intercom, calm and composed. “Today in the flight deck you have captain Stefan assisted by senior first officer Lukasz, I will be your Cabin Supervisor and along with my lovely colleagues, Francesca at the back, Alina in the middle and Amanda with me at the front will be taking very good care of you. Our flight time today will be approximately four hours. Please pay attention to the safety demonstration while we point out some of the safety features on this Boeing 737-8200 series aircraft as it is a legal requirement”.

Leah slouched lower in her seat, mortification setting in all over again. “She’s the Cabin Supervisor?” Leah whispered to Alessia, her voice a mix of disbelief and dread. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How would I know? They didn’t mention anything when she was complaining about you in the toilet”. Alessia replied, barely able to contain her laughter. “But this is just too good.”

“She probably hates me,” Leah muttered, running a hand over her face.

“She probably does,” Jen teased, leaning over with a grin. “I mean, you did ruin her uniform. Are you sure you didn’t accidentally spill that coffee on purpose? You know, to get her attention?”

“Shh,” Leah hissed, glancing toward the front of the plane. But Gaia was focused, making sure the safety demonstration was carried out as it should. Leah admired her professionalism—though it only made her feel guiltier about the earlier incident.

As the plane took off, the teasing subsided, Beth almost falling asleep while cuddling her girlfriend. But Leah couldn’t stop herself from sneaking glances at Gaia, who was seating right in front of her, nodding from time to time to what the younger girl seating next to her was talking animatedly about. Despite her embarrassment, she couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly confident and poised Gaia seemed, how she managed the cabin with precision and grace when securing everything for takeoff.

About fifteen minutes of peace passed by until Francesca came from the rear galley, pushing a trolley with sandwiches, croissants and lasagnas. She stopped at the front galley where Gaia was making herself another coffee and began whispering animatedly, recounting the previous events to Amanda. Francesca’s mischievous grin was impossible to miss, and though her voice was low, Leah could catch bits and pieces of what she was saying. “She was drenched in coffee, fuming, cursing… the tall blonde one… mortified… I bet she’s regretting everything…”

Alessia caught the gist as well, and her face turned bright red with laughter. She leaned toward Leah, whispering, “They’re definitely talking about you. I think Francesca finds this hilarious.”

Leah sank further into her seat, her hands covering her face while an embarrassed blush creeped up from her neck. “Why is this happening to me?”

Jen glanced at them with a smirk. “I mean, you did literally drench their Cabin Supervisor in coffee. Did you expect them to just forget about it?”

Beth and Viv leaned forward to join the conversation. “What’s going on up there?” Beth asked, grinning.

“Oh, nothing,” Alessia said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. “Just Leah being the topic of conversation for the flight attendants.”

Leah groaned, her head falling back against the seat. “This is my nightmare.”

Francesca and Amanda passed through the cabin aisle with the fresh food service and when Amanda came back, Gaia had already set up the drinks and snacks trolley. After the drinks and snacks service concluded, with Gaia having walked the cabin aisle about seven hundred times, Jen said, Gaia and Amanda moved to the front galley to stow the trolley in place and the restock some items. However, Gaia’s focus was briefly interrupted when Amanda approached her with a pained expression.

“Gaia, my shoes are brand new, and they’re absolutely killing me, do you mind if I go to the back already? I’ll do a quick rubbish on my way”. Amanda said softly, wincing as she leaned against the counter.

Gaia’s expression softened immediately. “Don’t you worry, love. Go take a seat at the back for a bit, and I’ll come down in a minute to check on you. Do you have plasters?”

“No, I finished them yesterday, I did four sectors”.

“I’ll bring you some in a minute”.

Amanda gave her a grateful smile and slipped away toward the rear of the aircraft, a small, white, plastic bag on her hands. Gaia’s shift in demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by Leah, who had been stealing glances toward the galley again since they came back. It was striking how Gaia could switch so effortlessly between firm authority and genuine kindness.

Gaia started writing notes and numbers and checking on her work phone when she was interrupted by a very tall, angry male passenger that stormed to the front of the cabin. Leah’s attention was immediately drawn to the man, whose deep voice carried across the rows.

“Excuse me!” he barked, glaring at Gaia. “Why on earth is there no ice onboard? This is unacceptable!”

Gaia turned to face him with calm professionalism. “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have any more ice on this flight. If there’s anything else I can assist you with—”

“I don’t care about your excuses,” the man interrupted, his voice growing louder. By this point at least five rows of passengers were looking at them, some whispering. “This is ridiculous! But why would I be surprised? You’re cheap and disgusting, and your colleagues at the back are dismissive and rude!”.

Leah and Jen immediately stiffened in their seats. Leah’s hand gripped the armrest, ready to stand if things escalated further. Jen leaned slightly forward, clearly considering the same.

Before either of them could move, Gaia’s entire demeanor changed. She stood straighter, her presence somehow larger, and fixed the man with a piercing stare. Her voice, though still calm, carried an edge of authority that sent a chill through the front rows.

“Sir,” she said, her tone sharp but controlled, “you will lower your voice immediately. We do not carry ice on this flight because the previous crew had to use all of it, and no amount of shouting will change that. You are disturbing the other passengers and interfering with the crew’s duties. If you continue, I will have no choice but to involve the captain and, if necessary, have the police waiting for you upon arrival. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior, did I make myself clear?”

The man blinked, clearly taken aback. He opened his mouth as if to argue, but Gaia raised her head ever so slightly, her lips pursing and her eyes widening just enough to send a clear message: Don’t even think about it.

Without another word, the man turned on his heel and stomped back to his seat, muttering under his breath. The tension in the cabin eased instantly, and Leah let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

The girls in the front rows were stunned. Alessia whispered, “She’s terrifying in the best way,” and Jen nodded in agreement.

“Just reminded me of Katie when she gets angry at the ref but without the swearing”. Says Beth with a chuckle.

Leah, however, couldn’t take her eyes off Gaia as the Cabin Supervisor returned to her tasks, her composure unshaken. She couldn’t decide if she was more mortified, impressed, or… something else entirely. For the first time all flight, she wished she had another excuse to talk to Gaia—but she doubted she’d be brave enough to try.

As the aircraft began its descent toward Tenerife after three hours and a half, the atmosphere onboard was calm. Leah had finally started to relax a little, distracted by the gorgeous view of the ocean below as the plane lowered altitude. Alessia was reading a book, Viv was organizing the tour they would take the next day and Beth was chatting quietly with Jen. At the front, Gaia was busy closing the bar for the turnaround, efficiently securing all the items for landing. She moved with practiced ease, her focus unshakable even after a long flight.

But then, out of nowhere, the tall, angry passenger from earlier stood up from his seat three rows behind Leah and Alessia. He looked pale, and his movements were unsteady.

“Ma’am, I don’t feel so good,” he mumbled, swaying slightly.

Before Gaia could react, the man collapsed, his body crumpling to the floor with a heavy thud. The cabin erupted into gasps, and a murmur of concern rippled through the passengers. Leah’s stomach dropped as she froze in her seat at the sight.

Gaia was there in an instant. She pressed the call bell above Leah’s seat three times in rapid succession, a signal to alert the other three crew members that weren’t present. Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees beside the man. Leah could see Gaia’s professionalism kick in as she checked for signs of breathing. Her expression, while calm, was intense, and Leah could feel the tension radiating off her.

“Sir? Can you hear me?” Gaia said firmly, pinching his earlobe. “Fuck, not now”. She mumbled while lowering her body until her ear was next to his face and counting to ten quietly. “Oh god”. she muttered to herself before tilting his head back, opening his airway, and immediately starting chest compressions.

That was other three crew members arrived. “Jesus Christ”. Was all Francesca said before running back to the rear galley.

“Male, around fifty, travels by himself. Came to the front saying he didn’t feel good and collapsed on the floor. Not breathing.” Said Gaia, without stopping.

Alina picked up the interphone, her hands shaking but her voice firm: “Attention, please, attention everyone, we are having a medical emergency. If there is a medically qualified person onboard, please come to the front. I repeat we have an emergency, we need a doctor”. Immediately after, she called the captain. “Guys, this is an emergency briefing, are you ready to receive it?”

Amanda approached Jen, Leah and Alessia. “Could you please move back a couple of rows? Just to give us a bit more space to work,” She asked, gently but firmly.

The girls complied without hesitation, grabbing their belongings, Alessia and Jen sliding into empty seats two rows back, Leah sat on the empty seat next to Beth. Leah couldn’t stop glancing over the seatback, her heart pounding as she watched Gaia work. Alessia, equally tense, clutched Jen’s arm tightly, Beth hid her face in Viv’s neck while her girlfriend rubbed her back with her eyes closed. Meanwhile, no passenger stood up for the medical emergency, after talking to the captain, Alina repeated the announcement in english and broken Spanish, but still, nobody stood up. They were alone in this.

Francesca came back running, and started setting up the AED right next to Gaia and preparing the man. She had to cut through his clothes, shave and dry his sweaty chest. The coordination between her and Gaia was impressive, keeping in mind Gaia’s sole focus seemed to be on giving chest compressions. “Ready, clear!”. Francesca placed the pads on the man’s chest and took Gaia’s hands from the man, her breathing was ragged. “Do you want to switch?” Gaia shook her head no, she was biting her tongue to maintain her focus. The device analyzed the rhythm and recommended a shock. Everyone stepped back even further as Francesca pressed the button, delivering the first shock. The man’s body jolted slightly. Gaia immediately resumed CPR, with Francesca and Alina counting the compressions for her.

“Thirty”. Francesca gave her the mask to give the rescue breaths. Alina was close to tears, biting the inside of her cheeks. Amanda stood in the middle of the aisle to try and give more privacy to the man, her body trembling, she was already crying.

“Come on, come on,” Leah whispered, her fingers digging into the armrest.

The cabin was in absolute silence, at least the first ten rows could hear everything. People were stretching their necks to catch a glimpse of what was happening, all eyes were on Gaia and her team.

The AED analyzed again and recommended a second shock. Francesca administered it, and this time, the man’s chest rose shakily as he gasped for air. Gaia quickly rolled him into the recovery position. “We’ve got him,” she said, her voice steady despite the situation. She glanced at Francesca. “Stay here and monitor his breathing. Amanda, Alina, check the cabin is secure for landing and stay at the back, I think it’s almost time.”

Even after the chaos, Gaia remained composed. She stood, brushing off her uniform, breathing deeply before calling the captain again: “Guys, it’s Gaia, he’s stable. Do I have time to check the cabin for landing?”

After hanging, she took her seat and signaled Francesca to do the same. Leah couldn’t take her eyes off her. The confidence, the competence, the control, the fact that after all of that she wanted to make sure everyone else was secure—it was impossible not to be impressed.

“Cabin crew, sit for landing”.

The landing was smooth, with the man stabilized and conscious, though still weak, as the ambulance crew waited on the ramp. As soon as Gaia opened the aircraft door and extended the stairs, she helped the paramedics board, efficiently briefing them on what had happened. Francesca led one of them to where the man had been sitting to get his belongings.

The passenger was taken from the aircraft, and the cabin fell into an almost eerie silence as everyone processed what had just happened. Despite the stress of the situation, Gaia returned to the front of the aircraft to begin the disembarkation process, her voice clear and calm over the intercom as she gave the final instructions.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Tenerife. You may now disembark the aircraft using both the front and the rear steps. For passengers traveling with children, please hold their hand as you walk down the stairs and until you are in the terminal building. On behalf of the captain, first officer and specially your onboard crew, we thank you for flying with Ryanair today and hope to see you again soon”.

Leah, Alessia, and the others waited until the very end to disembark, hanging back as the other passengers filtered off the plane. Leah was still shaken, though not from fear. She couldn’t stop thinking about Gaia—how she had taken charge, saved the man’s life, and then carried on as though it were just another day at work.

As they reached the front of the plane, Francesca the captain and Gaia stood near the door, his hand on her shoulder. Her polite yet tense smile firmly in place as she thanked each passenger for flying with them. When Leah approached, Gaia’s gaze flickered to her for the briefest moment.

“Have a nice holiday,” Gaia said evenly, her tone professional and distant.

Leah opened her mouth to say something—anything—but no words came out. She hesitated, her cheeks flushing, before giving Gaia a small nod and stepping off the plane. Alessia, walking just behind her, raised an eyebrow as they stepped onto the ramp.

“You didn’t say anything?” Alessia asked incredulously, nudging Leah in the side. “After all that?”

“I couldn’t,” Leah muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, great job saving that guy’s life. Also, sorry about the coffee?’”

Alessia snorted. “Maybe start with ‘thank you.’”

Leah sighed, already regretting her silence. But as they walked toward the terminal, one thought kept running through her mind: That can’t the last time I see her.

The group of footballers didn’t hear it, but the moment Francesca placed the yellow strap across the open door and turned around to talk to Gaia, she was already taking out the trash trolley, opening it and emptying the contents of her stomach in it. Her body shaking as she vomited and coughed, the tips of her fingers turning white with how strongly she was holding onto the trolley. Stefan held her ponytail while rubbing her back. Francesca couldn’t hold it any longer either, and sat down to cry on the jumpseat.

“I’m gonna call Dublin” Lukasz told the captain, stepping out of the aircraft.

At the back, Alina was crying as well, on the phone with her fiancé, while Amanda had hidden inside the toilet during the disembarking process, she had had a panic attack.

Amanda was the youngest in age and in the company, barely four months flying, this was her first medical emergency, while Alina had already been cabin crew for about two years. She had tried to calm Amanda during landing, as she was hyperventilating, holding her hand and telling her about how she met Dimitrij three years before, at twenty-three, and had been engaged for over a year, how she never cared about the decade between both of them and how they had been looking for houses closer to London with big gardens for their dogs. Amanda had just turned nineteen the week before, she had been planning her holidays in Ibiza with her friends from her hometown that morning and texting that guy from Tinder. Sitting in that tiny toilet, all she could think about was that man laying lifeless on the floor and her supervisor performing CPR on him like a robot. She got into the toilet the moment the aircraft left the active runway.

Having been deemed “clearly not fit to fly” by Crew Control, the six of them got their suitcases and left the airport on a taxi to a fancy hotel close to the beach. Their flight back scheduled for late in the evening the next day.

Twenty minutes later they were checking into the hotel. Amanda was still shaking, Alina was taking care of both of their their trolleys, while Francesca kept her arm around the younger girl and Gaia handled everyone’s passports for the check-ins.

The hotel bar was warm and lively, buzzing with the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses. Leah sat at a table with Alessia, Jen, Beth, and Viv, trying her best not to fidget. Alessia had spotted the flight crew as soon as they got out of the van, and Leah’s heart had almost stopped when she realized they were staying in the same hotel.

“This has to be a sign,” Jen had teased, her mischievous grin making Leah groan.

Another thirty minutes passed when the crew came back from their rooms, no longer in uniform, and sat at a nearby table where they ordered drinks and some tapas to share.

Now, sitting across from the crew’s table, Leah couldn’t help but steal glances at Gaia. The cabin supervisor was talking with her colleagues, laughing softly from time to time, her head tilted slightly as she sipped from a glass of red wine. She looked stunning—unfairly so. Her short black dress hugged her figure perfectly, her legs elongated by the same pair of high heels she wore on the flight. Her dark hair, which had been neatly pinned up since that morning, now cascaded down her back in soft waves until her hips.

“Fuck, she looks stunning,” Leah muttered, more to herself than anyone else. But Alessia, ever the meddler, heard her loud and clear and elbowed her in the side.

“Then do something about it,” Alessia hissed, smirking.

Before Leah could protest, the captain at the crew’s table stood up and announced, “Alright, I’ll pay for this and then I’m off to bed. Enjoy yourselves.” He waved off their thanks with a smile and headed toward the elevators after stopping at the bar, leaving the cabin crew and first officer to their own devices.

Not long after, Gaia stood up and made her way to the bar, her empty glass in hand. Leah froze, her eyes following her every step.

“This is your chance,” Jen whispered, nudging Leah. “Go.”

Leah hesitated, her palms suddenly clammy. “What do I even say?”

“Literally anything,” Beth said with a chuckle. “Just don’t spill another drink on her.”

Alessia snorted, and Leah shot her a glare before finally summoning the courage to stand. She made her way to the bar, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it.

Gaia was leaning against the counter, waiting for the bartender to return with her drink. She noticed Leah approaching in the mirror behind the bar and raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile.

“Well, well,” Gaia said as Leah reached her side. “If it isn’t my favorite clumsy blonde.”

Leah winced, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, uh… about that. I’m really sorry. Again.”

Gaia chuckled, turning to face her fully. “Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with worse. But I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Following me, are you?”

Leah’s cheeks turned pink. “What? No! I mean—definitely not. We’re just, uh, here on holiday.”

“Mm-hmm,” Gaia said, her tone teasing. “Convenient.”

Leah scratched her head, unsure how to respond. She was never this flustered, not even during the most nerve-wracking matches. But there was something about Gaia that completely threw her off balance.

Gaia tilted her head, studying Leah for a moment. “So, are you always this shy, or is it just around me?”

Leah blinked. “I’m not shy.”

Gaia smirked. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The bartender returned with Gaia’s drink—a fresh glass of wine—and Gaia turned to pay. Leah, desperate to regain some semblance of composure, cleared her throat.

“Can I… can I buy you a drink? To, you know, make up for the coffee incident?”

Gaia glanced at her over her shoulder, her smirk softening into something more genuine. “That’s sweet of you, but I think you’ve already done enough.”

Leah frowned. “Oh. Right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m kidding,” Gaia interrupted, laughing lightly. “Sure, you can buy me a drink. But only if you join me.”

Leah’s heart leapt into her throat. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Gaia picked up her wine and nodded toward a quieter corner of the bar. “Come on, then. Let’s see if you’re as interesting off the pitch as you are on it.”

Leah payed and blinked surprised as she turned towards Gaia. “Wait, you know who I am?”

Gaia arched an eyebrow as she led the way to a small table. “Of course I do. I’m Italian—we love football. But I’ll admit, I didn’t recognize you at first. You looked so… panicked on the plane.”

Leah groaned, burying her face in her hands as they sat down. “Great. That’s the impression I made.”

Gaia laughed again, the sound light and melodic. “Relax. You’re doing better now.”

Leah looked up, meeting Gaia’s gaze. For the first time all evening, she felt herself start to relax. Maybe Jen was right—maybe this was a sign.

“How old are you?” Leah asks.

“Twenty-six”

“I’m twenty-seven”

“So,” Gaia says, swirling her drink in the glass. “You’re a footballer.”

Leah chuckles, nodding. “Yeah. You’re a flight attendant.”

Gaia raises an eyebrow. “Wow. Look at us, uncovering life’s biggest mysteries.”

Leah laughs, shaking her head. “Alright. But how long have you been doing it?”

“Flying? About six years now,” Gaia says, leaning on the bar. “It was supposed to be temporary after I dropped out of uni, but…” She shrugs. “I fell in love with it. The travel, the people, the chaos.”

Leah tilts her head. “Even the difficult passengers?”

Gaia smirks. “Especially the difficult passengers. There’s something very satisfying about shutting down a grown man throwing a tantrum over ice.”

Leah grins, remembering how effortlessly Gaia had handled the situation earlier on the plane. “Yeah, that was—honestly? A little terrifying.”

Gaia laughs, eyes gleaming. “Good. It’s a survival skill.”

Leah watches her for a moment, fascinated. “And what about you?” she asks. “What’s your survival story?”

Gaia’s expression falters just slightly before she covers it with a smirk. “That’s a deep question for someone you just met.”

Leah shrugs, offering a small smile. “I like deep questions.”

Gaia considers her for a second, then exhales, tapping her nails against the glass. “Let’s make it fair then,” she decides. “Have you ever heard of the 36 questions to fall in love?”

Leah raises an eyebrow. “I think so. It’s supposed to be, what—scientific? Like, guaranteed to make people fall for each other?”

Gaia scoffs. “I don’t believe in that part. But I always thought it would be fun to try with a stranger.”

Leah’s heart does a little unexpected flip. She smirks to cover it. “So you’re saying I’m your stranger for the night?”

Gaia holds her gaze, lips curving into something dangerously close to a challenge. “Do you want to be?”

Leah swallows. She doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” she says, her voice lower than she expected. “I do.”

Gaia nods, pleased, finishes her wine and stands up. “Alright then, footballer,” she says. “Let’s see if this works.” Gaia chuckled, setting her glass down and offering her hand to the blonde. “It’s still early enough for dinner—by southern European standards, at least. What do you say we go up to my room, order some room service, and keep talking? I don’t want to unveil my deepest darkest secrets in public”.

Leah felt her heart skip a beat. “Yeah,” she blurted out grabbing her hand, a little too quickly. She immediately winced at her own eagerness, mentally slapping herself. Smooth, Williamson. Real smooth.

But Gaia didn’t seem to mind. She just smiled and turned, motioning for Leah to follow. They walked to the elevators together, the air between them charged with an unspoken energy that Leah couldn’t quite put into words.

Gaia’s room was significantly larger than Leah’s. The king-size bed dominated the space, flanked by modern furniture and a small seating area. There was even a balcony with a view of the ocean, the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore audible in the quiet room.

Leah couldn’t help but notice how immaculate everything was, from the neatly folded throw blanket on the couch to the pristine arrangement of toiletries on the bathroom counter. It was clear that the airline took good care of their crew.

“Wow,” Leah said, taking it all in. “This is… a lot nicer than my room.”

Gaia smirked, tossing her bag onto a chair and leaving her shoes in a corner, Leah did her same with hers. “Perks of being a Cabin Supervisor. The company knows how to keep us happy.”

Leah sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a little out of place in such a luxurious space. Gaia, however, moved around with ease, pulling up the room service menu and sitting next to Leah on the bed.

“What do you feel like eating?” Gaia asked, handing her the menu.

Leah scanned the options, her stomach growling softly. “Burgers?” she suggested. “And maybe soft drinks? I, uh… don’t want to risk saying anything stupid if we drink more.”

Gaia laughed, a genuine, melodic sound that made Leah’s chest feel warm. “Good call. Burgers it is.”

They placed their order, and as they waited for the food to arrive, they continued talking, their conversation flowing as easily as it had downstairs. Leah felt like she was being pulled closer and closer to Gaia, like there was some invisible force drawing them together. They sat shoulder to shoulder on the bed, their legs brushing occasionally, and every touch sent a jolt of electricity through Leah.

After a while, Gaia leaned back on her elbows and tilted her head, studying Leah with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Alright,” she began, “let’s start the game”.

“Sure”.

Gaia’s smile widened, and she grabbed her phone, pulling up the list of questions. “Okay, question one: If you could have dinner with anyone in the world, living or dead, who would it be?”

Leah thought for a moment, tapping her fingers on the bedspread. “Probably my granddad. He passed away when I was young, and I’d love to have a proper conversation with him.”

Gaia’s expression softened. “That’s sweet. I’d pick my great-grandmother. She was apparently a real firecracker”.

They went back and forth, answering each question with increasing honesty and vulnerability. As the questions got deeper, so did their answers. Leah found herself opening up in a way she hadn’t expected, sharing stories about her childhood, her struggles with her injury, and her dreams for the future. Gaia, in turn, revealed bits and pieces of her own life—her love for travel, her complicated relationship with her family, and her secret dream of one day settling down in a quiet little town in southern Italy.

By the time the food arrived, they were on question fifteen: “What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?”

Gaia thought for a moment, then answered: “Probably moving here. I had almost no savings, no plan B, my english was shit, I had no support from my family because they were pissed I dropped out of law school… It was hard but I was so happy once I started working. It helped me toughen up”.

“That’s impressive”. Said Leah with wide eyes. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must’ve been”.

“Yeah but that was ages ago. What about you?”

Leah paused, staring down at her burger. “Honestly? It used to be winning the Euros with England. But now… I think it’s surviving the setbacks. The injuries, the doubts. Just making it through, you know?”

Gaia reached out and lightly touched Leah’s arm, her gaze warm and understanding. “That’s a pretty incredible accomplishment.”

Leah looked up at her, their eyes meeting. For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in the quiet intimacy of the room.

Gaia broke the silence first, her voice soft. “Ready for the next question?”

Leah nodded, her heart racing. “Always.”

They kept going and the atmosphere in the room shifted as Leah glanced down at the phone and asked question eighteen: “What is your most terrible memory?”

Gaia’s playful demeanor softened, her face falling just slightly. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking to the ceiling as if trying to decide how much to share. Finally, she let out a long breath and said quietly, “It used to be my mum beating me up the day of my first communion.”

Leah’s breath caught in her throat, her heart twisting at the pain in Gaia’s voice.

“I was only nine,” Gaia continued, her voice steady but her gaze distant. “She used to do it a lot, but that was the first time I realized… no one in my family thought it was a bad thing. I remember standing there in my long puffy white dress, the one my grandmother made, and thinking… ‘This isn’t normal, is it?’ But no one said anything. It was normal to them”.

Leah’s chest ached, and she opened her mouth to say something—anything—but Gaia wasn’t done.

She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “But after today…” Her voice wavered slightly, and she swallowed hard before continuing. “I think today might’ve replaced it. It was the first time I’ve done CPR on an actual human. I felt his ribs breaking under my hands.” She shuddered, closing her eyes briefly. “I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was over, like I was on auto-pilot, I knew what I had to do and I did it but... Once everyone was out…” She let out a shaky breath. “I vomited. It was awful, for all of us. Amanda had a panic attack. We were all crying. Crew Control said it was better for us to stay for the night and calm down than to risk having an episode and making a scene on the way back, even if we didn’t operate the flight”.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled only with the distant sound of the ocean outside the balcony. Leah sat frozen, unsure of how to respond. Words didn’t feel like enough, but she couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.

Slowly, she set the phone down on the bedside table, moved the food around as to not spill anything and shifted closer to Gaia. “Come here,” she murmured, motioning for her to move closer.

Gaia hesitated for only a moment before leaning into Leah’s open arms. Leah pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her and holding her tightly. Gaia rested her head on Leah’s shoulder, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything.

Leah could feel the tension in Gaia’s body slowly begin to ease, her breathing evening out as she relaxed into the embrace. “You’re incredible, you know that?” Leah said softly, her voice steady but full of conviction.

Gaia let out a quiet laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. “I don’t feel incredible.”

“Well, you are,” Leah replied firmly. “You saved a man’s life today. That’s… not something most people can say. And what you went through as a kid…” She paused, her voice catching. “You didn’t deserve that. None of it.”

Gaia didn’t respond, but Leah could feel her hand clutching gently at the fabric of her shirt, as though anchoring herself to the moment.

After a few minutes, Gaia’s voice broke the silence, quiet but steady. “We still have more questions to get through, you know.”

Leah smiled, pressing her cheek against the top of Gaia’s head. “Do you want to keep going?”

Gaia nodded and sat up slightly, though she didn’t move far from Leah’s side. She reached for a plate with chips, setting it in between them and then took the phone, scrolling to the next question. “Alright… question nineteen: If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you’re living now? Why?”

Leah thought for a moment, her arms still loosely around Gaia. “Yeah, I think I’d change some things. I’d spend more time with the people I love, stop worrying so much about things that don’t really matter. Maybe take a few more risks.” She glanced down at Gaia, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Like answering the 36 Questions with a beautiful stranger.”

Gaia’s laughter was soft but genuine, and for the first time that evening, Leah felt like she’d managed to lighten the weight in the room.

“I think I’d save as much money as possible and then get unpaid leave for like the last three months and spend them in Bali. Die next to the beach in a cute bikini and a nice drink in my hand”.

They kept going, teasing and joking, having finished their dinner by the time they got to the twenty-fourth question. “How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?” Leah’s voice lowers as she reads the question.

The air between them shifts. Leah watches as Gaia’s little playful smirk fades, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. She doesn’t speak right away, and Leah, who has already learned that Gaia is rarely at a loss for words, immediately knows—this isn’t an easy one for her. Gaia exhales through her nose, staring at the question as if she could change it just by looking at it hard enough. “Well,” she says, her voice noticeably quieter, “that’s a loaded one, isn’t it?”

Leah stays silent, waiting. “You don’t have to answer”.

“I proposed the game, it’s okay”.

“But if you don’t want to…”

“I trust you”.

Leah’s breath catches for what seems to be the hundredth time today. She bites the inside of her cheeks while nodding.

Gaia presses her lips together, then tilts her head slightly, as if deciding how much to say. “I used to think,” she starts, voice measured, “that having a bad relationship with your parents was just… normal. Like, I knew not everyone’s mother hit them when they were angry but I did think everyone had to earn affection. That love was given out in tiny doses, only if you behaved exactly right.” She swallows. “It wasn’t until I was older that I realized that wasn’t how it was supposed to be.”

Leah feels a dull ache in her chest. She shifts slightly on the bed, their knees almost touching. “Gaia…”

Gaia shakes her head, waving a hand as if to dismiss any sympathy. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not, but—I got out. I left home the second I could, and I never looked back.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “And the best part? No one even cared. No one came after me. That just proved it, you know?”

Leah clenches her jaw, resisting the urge to reach for her hand. “I’m sorry.”

Gaia shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter. “I don’t really have a mother anymore. Not in the way that counts.” Silence lingers between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Then Gaia shakes her head and forces a smirk, attempting to defuse the weight of her own words. “Alright, your turn. How’s your relationship with your mum?”

Leah takes a deep breath, glancing down at her hands. “It’s… good,” she says, almost feeling guilty about it. “She’s always been supportive, always pushed me to be better. I think she worries about me being alone, though.” She lets out a small chuckle. “You know, football takes over everything. Sometimes I forget to call as much as I should.”

Gaia hums, studying her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “She sounds like a good one.”

“She is.” Leah hesitates, then looks at her carefully. “If it means anything… I think it’s really fucking impressive that you got out. That you didn’t let it turn you into someone like her.”

Gaia meets her gaze, something flickering behind her dark eyes. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, then exhales softly, offering a small, genuine smile. “Thanks,” she murmurs.

Leah watches her, feeling a warmth settle in her chest. Slowly, cautiously, she lifts a hand and brushes Gaia’s fingers with her own. She half expects Gaia to pull away, but instead, she turns her hand over and links their fingers together, giving Leah’s a small squeeze.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. They don’t need to.

Then Gaia clears her throat and smirks. “Alright, footballer. Next question.”

And just like that, they move forward. But Leah knows—this moment will stay with her.

They continued the game, by the time they reached the final question, they were lying side by side on the bed, looking at the ceiling, still holding hands as they talked, thumbs brushing the other’s skin.

And when Gaia finally asked the last question—“Share a personal problem and ask for advice on how I might handle it”—Leah didn’t hesitate.

“I’ve been scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “About my future, about… everything. My injury, my career, what comes next. I’m scared I won’t be the same player I was before.”

Gaia looked at her, her dark eyes filled with empathy and understanding. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” she said gently. “But you’re more than just a footballer, Leah. You’re strong, and kind, and resilient. Whatever happens, you’ll find your way.”

Leah felt a lump rise in her throat, but for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t fear or anxiety—it was gratitude. Gratitude for the woman beside her, who had somehow managed to make her feel seen and understood in a way she hadn’t expected.

They turned their heads at the same time. Their hearts beating strongly. Noses almost touching. The thought of getting closer crosses Leah’s mind. Gaia’s eyes glance at the blonde’s lips time and time again, wondering what it would feel to close the space between them and kiss the pretty girl in front of her.

They stayed like that for a while, the questions forgotten as they simply enjoyed each other’s presence, the quiet intimacy of the moment stretching long into the night.

Leah shifted slightly on the bed, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. It was late—later than she’d realized—and she sighed softly, knowing she probably shouldn’t overstay her welcome. She sat up, careful not to disturb Gaia. “I should probably go,” she said, her voice quiet but reluctant.

Gaia bit her lip, her eyes fixed on Leah’s face, their hands still linked. There was a playful glint in her gaze, but something else lingered beneath it—something softer, almost vulnerable. “Do you really want to?”

Leah froze, her heart skipping a beat. She opened her mouth to respond but faltered, her hesitation clear. Gaia’s question hung in the air, and Leah found herself unable to look away from those dark, captivating eyes.

Before Leah could overthink it, Gaia leaned in, closing the small gap between them. The kiss was soft, unhurried, and yet it sent a spark of electricity through Leah’s entire body. Gaia’s hand cupped Leah’s cheek, anchoring her in the moment, and Leah found herself leaning into the kiss, her fingers brushing against Gaia’s waist.

When they finally pulled apart, their faces still close, Leah let out a breathless laugh. “Fuck I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you in that dress”.

Gaia smiled, her thumb grazing Leah’s cheek before she whispered, “Do it again, then”.

The next morning, sunlight spilled through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Leah stirred, her body instinctively curling closer to the warmth beside her. It took her a moment to realize where she was, and when she did, she couldn’t help but smile.

Gaia was still asleep, her face relaxed and peaceful, her arm draped over Leah’s waist. They were tangled together under the sheets, their bare skin warm against each other. Leah felt a surge of contentment wash over her as she replayed the events of the night before.

After a few minutes, Gaia’s eyes fluttered open, and she smiled sleepily at Leah. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Leah replied, her voice soft while caressing Gaia’s cheek. The italian got closer, her face now hidden between Leah’s neck and shoulder, placing a small kiss there.

They stayed like that for a little while, neither of them in any rush to leave the comfort of the bed. Eventually, though, the sound of bustling activity outside the room reminded them that the world hadn’t stopped just because they’d found each other.

“We should probably get some breakfast,” Gaia said, stretching lazily before sitting up, the soft sheet falling from her body.

Leah nodded, though she couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment as the moment ended. “Yeah, before Alessia comes knocking on my door looking for me.”

Gaia laughed as she got in the shower, and within twenty minutes, they were making their way downstairs to the hotel restaurant.

As soon as they entered the breakfast area, Leah froze. Across the room, her friends—Alessia, Beth, Viv, and Jen—had pushed their table together with the crew’s, leaving two empty spots in the middle. They were all eating breakfast together, and the moment they spotted Leah and Gaia, every single one of them turned to look.

Alessia was the first to react, her eyes widening in delight before she let out an exaggerated gasp. “Leah! Gaia! What a coincidence!”

Gaia raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as she glanced at Leah. “Your friends seem… excited.”

“Kill me now,” Leah muttered under her breath, her cheeks already flushing. They went to fill their plates with food from the breakfast buffet before taking their —apparently designated— seats.

The teasing began before they even reached the table. Beth was grinning ear to ear, Viv was trying (and failing) to keep a straight face, and Jen looked far too pleased with herself. Meanwhile, Francesca and Alina were whispering amongst themselves, barely concealing their laughter. Amanda was quiet but had a shy smile on her face. Without makeup and wearing normal clothes, she looked her age more than ever.

“I hope you both slept well,” Francesca said sweetly, though the glint in her eye betrayed her teasing intent.

Gaia took it in stride, her confidence unwavering. “We did, thank you. And you?”

Francesca waved a hand dismissively, clearly unprepared for Gaia’s composure. “Oh, just fine. Nothing interesting to report.”

“Gaia!” Alessia suddenly exclaimed, leaning across the table. “You should’ve seen Leah last night—she was so worried about you after that coffee incident! She wouldn’t shut up about it for hours.”

“Alessia,” Leah hissed, glaring at her best friend.

“What?” Alessia said innocently, her grin widening. “I’m just saying, it’s cute.”

Gaia chuckled, her eyes flicking to Leah. “Is that so?”

Leah groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Can we please change the subject?”

“Absolutely not,” Jen said with a wicked grin.

The teasing had definitely not stopped as they ate. In fact, it intensified after Jen checked TikTok for a moment, only to find someone had recorded the whole incident from the day before. Beth took her phone and started reading aloud the comments: how hot they all are, how professional they remained and a couple of them remarking that flight attendants are actually trained for everything.

Leah couldn’t help but squirm in her seat as Beth read out the comments. Her face was beet red, and she felt all eyes on her, the teasing relentless. She tried to ignore it, but the more they read, the more embarrassed she became.

Amanda wasn’t really paying attention, Francesca flipped her long braids with an exaggeratedly smug expression on her face. Alina asked to be sent the video so she could show it to her husband.

“Actually I want it too, I’ll need it to write the report”. The groans from the other cabin crew didn’t wait. “Don’t be like that, we have to write it anyway. I might also send it to the instructor, it will be good for whomever is doing the anual examination soon”.

“You’re going viral Gaia!” Exclaimed Beth. “The super-hot superhero”.

“I swear, if I hear ‘hot flight attendants’ one more time, I’m going to die,” Leah muttered under her breath, covering her face with her hands.

Jen just smirked at her. “Come on, Leah, you’ve got a real-life hero sitting next to you. You can’t deny that’s pretty cool.”

Leah shot her a glare but couldn’t argue. Jen wasn’t wrong.

Not long after, Captain Stefan stood up from the end of the table and walked over, his usual serious demeanor replaced with a hint of concern. “Gaia, can I have a word? About yesterday’s incident,” he asked, his tone gentle but firm.

Gaia gave a small nod, looking visibly drained for a moment from everything that had happened before regaining her composure. They walked off toward the hotel’s pool area for some privacy, and the girls continued to talk amongst themselves, but curiosity got the better of them. As soon as the rest of the crew left the breakfast area, Beth stood up and left with Jen to spy on what was being said between the captain and the cabin supervisor, watching as the two of them engaged in a serious conversation a few meters away from the main area. Alessia, Viv and Leah followed shortly after.

Stefan and Gaia were deep in conversation, not noticing the little crowd just a few meters from them pretending to sunbathe on the sunbeds .

Leah’s attention was caught by the occasional words drifting over.

“…aircraft was Echo India Delta Yankee Papa…” Stefan’s voice was low and professional.

“…incident occurred about thirty minutes to landing, so 18:45 Zulu…” Gaia replied, her voice sounding tired but still sharp.

Beth leaned over to Jen and whispered, “That sounds like another language. I don’t even understand half of it.”

“Yeah, it’s like they’re talking in codes or something,” Jen chuckled.

But Leah wasn’t listening to them. Her eyes were still on Gaia. She couldn’t stop looking at her, drawn to her strength, her grace, and the vulnerability that was barely masked behind her stoic demeanor.

Suddenly, Gaia’s facade cracked. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as the weight of everything she had gone through the day before came crashing down.

Leah’s heart lurched at the sight. She felt a strong urge to go to her, to comfort her, but she didn’t know if it was the right time. She stayed frozen, unsure of what to do.

“It was so fucking scary, Stefan…” Gaia sobbed, her voice shaky with emotion.

Stefan responded by pulling her into a tight, reassuring hug. It was clear that they had known each other for years, a bond forged by countless flights and shared experiences.

Leah kept watching, her heart aching. She wanted to help, but she didn’t want to intrude. Just as she was about to turn away, Stefan caught her eye and gave her a gentle nod, silently encouraging her to approach.

The soft smile on his face made Leah feel a little more at ease.

“Do you want me to call crew control and get you another night here? You look like you could use it,” Stefan offered kindly.

Gaia looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed, but there was a glimmer of hope in her gaze. “You can do that?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Stefan chuckled softly. “I’m the base captain. I can do whatever I want. Just let me make the call for you.”

With that, Stefan walked off to make the call, Gaia alone. Leah hesitated for a moment, unsure whether or not to approach, but her heart told her to go.

She sat down beside Gaia, who was still wiping at her eyes, clearly embarrassed by the breakdown. Leah gently pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her, not giving her a chance to protest.

Gaia bit her lip, clearly uncomfortable but also grateful for Leah’s presence. “Sorry about that,” she murmured, her voice still shaky. “I didn’t want to break down in front of everyone. I’ve always thought that crying in public is embarrassing”.

Leah smiled softly, her fingers gently brushing through Gaia’s hair. “You’re allowed to. You’ve been through a lot. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Gaia nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude, but it was clear she was still processing everything. Leah held her close, and for the first time, she felt like everything else faded into the background.

They stayed like that for a while, letting the sun warm them, enjoying the quiet companionship in the midst of everything that had happened.

As the minutes passed, Leah pulled Gaia by her legs, urging her to cuddle on her lap, feeling her tension slowly ease away. The weight of everything, from the medical emergency to the emotional toll it had taken on Gaia, seemed to melt away in the comfort of their shared space.

They didn’t say much, but there was something about the stillness between them that spoke volumes. It was as if, for a moment, the rest of the world had stopped, and all that mattered was that they were together.

[saksukei]

captain price has a crush

we are so back, enjoy <33 masterlist | simon version

john is normally serious when it comes to working at base and training before he is assigned a mission. he minds his business, aside from some occasional quips but really, that's it.

newer recruits are normally terrified of him and it’s not because he does anything, it's just the way price carries himself plus his reputation precedes him. it's common knowledge that you don't wanna get on his bad side.

and yet, he’s thrown off his game when he's introduced to you.

you’re this new recruit who is basically assigned to price for training before you get put into a task force. john thinks this is pretty simple, until he gets to know you.

for starters, although your skills are unpolished, you’re sharp and a quick learner. the first couple of days make him realize, you’re way too smart for your own good. you have skills that even you don't know how to utilize. and there’s one thing price is sure of, he's going to train you to the best of his abilities.

he notices you’re hard on yourself for no reason. while price understands that the job has a lot on the line, being so hard on yourself doesn't solve anything. after he praises you for progressing much faster than your counterparts or saying, “you’re doing pretty good, kid” and you responding “i haven’t done anything that good, yet,” price swears that he’ll make you appreciate yourself. he even tells you that setting the bar so high for your performance will only let you down more.

and oh god, you challenge him. any time price passes a sarcastic jab on you, “having trouble running there, are we private?” or “aren’t you supposed to be young?” you reply back to him with the same intensity, “aren’t you supposed to be dead?” (the first time he heard that he choked). he finds the back forth entertaining.

and slowly, he starts sharing random tidbits of information with you. his whole idea of being very reserved about himself has gone out the window. sometimes even he can't believe that he's talking?? he’ll tell you his favorite teas to drink or some memory about his previous missions and then he sits in dead silence like “why would I even say this??”

he’s also shocked at your attention to detail, especially when you remember minor things he mentions to himself to remember. like why are you impressing him!!! he feels so jshxishsje????

so at first, he takes this like “oh, it’s just a mentor mentee type of thing,” or “i feel protective because this kid is fresh blood and this work is unforgiving” until life decides to punch him in the gut.

it all starts when he notices you aren’t there. you’ve been sent to another base for a possible recruitment and he keeps looking at your desk like an idiot, thinking you’ll magically show up. simon stares at price weirdly, seeing him be so unfocused is so rare until simon realizes that the captain has got a new favorite.

and then, price’s task force gets some new gear and all he can think about is the stuff you’d like, your favorite gun, the optics you use,, until he’s suddenly signing out this one gun he swears you’ll use. gaz asks him who he’s doing it for and John just responds, “oh the new private,” and gaz is like i beg your pardon??? until simon gives him a knowing stare with a head tilt.

when you finally come back, price almost feels giddy. he keeps on staring at the door of his office, waiting for the minute you’ll burst into his office and give him a salute.

he’s confused why he feels this way and of course, he can’t like you. that would be unbecoming of a captain for him and you’ve got a whole career ahead of you, for someone who’s as bright as they are.

yet here you are, in front of him, grinning like a little kid, thanking him for the gun he’s just gifted you, rambling about how you might get recruited by some other task force,

and price thinks, “fuck it.”

he’s not letting you go.

[hyperfocusfox]

So many of these comments on this post did not pass the vibe check so I wanted to add:

I am 30 and trans. (Genderfluid leans masc heavily)

I only have vague memories of the first 27 years of my life because I was so absolutely fucking horribly miserable every day of my life that my brain literally forgot it. Everything was a misery I was simply surviving.

A huge amount of being that miserable was not knowing I was trans. No joke.

And the MAIN REASON I didn't know I was trans was because my parents made it very clear from when I was a young child that they hated trans people and considered them gross and wrong and a sin against god. Very much not a 'letting your child express themself and listening respectfully' sort of environment. So I never allowed myself to even consider it as a possibility until I was outside of my parents influence. Because it wouldn't have been safe. My brain wouldn't even let me think about it.

Well all things considered how can I be so sure it was the lack of trans support making me miserable and not something else? Glad you asked. Here are some fun facts about me as a kid/teen.

I remember when I was really little and my parents stopped letting me run around without a shit on outside. And I was so confused and upset. Because my brother and my dad got to play outside without a shirt. Why not me? I didn't understand and was annoyed.

I always tried to act like one of the guys at school: climbing trees and roughhousing with people much more than anyone else. Tbh I was a bit too violent because I clearly didn't fit in and was overcompensating.

I used to be fascinated by the one or two trans kids at my school. I would watch them anytime they were around me and emotionally I ached. And I could never figure out why. And then I would have to pretend I hated them because my parents taught me I had to.

I used to watch YouTube videos of people who had top surgery and their experience with it. I would watch late at night when no one was awake and be captivated for hours. And then I would look up pictures of what people looked like after top surgery. And at that time it was much harder to find resources or images for. So I would look for hours. And then I would feel so upset afterwards and not know why. And I would pretend I didn't watch/see any of it because I felt so hurt and confused by my fascination with a topic that was supposed to be taboo.

Sometimes I would be spending time with adults and someone would share news that someone we knew had breast cancer or endometriosis. And I would feel JEALOUS. I would feel a deep jealousy. I would consider them lucky, while other people would mourn and cry over the need for necessary surgery such as mastectomies or hysterectomies. I would wish that were me. And then I would feel like a horrible awful shit person for thinking that. Because what the fuck right?

Do you want to know what it took to make me realize I was trans?

I had just disconnected from my parents and an abusive ex. It was the first time in my life I ever felt safe. The first time I was ever in a position to not be judged in 27 years of living.

And my trans friend was talking to their drunk coworker about them being nonbinary. And the drunk guy turned to me unceremoniously and said 'are you nonbinary too? Is that you as well?'

And I was literally stunned because no one had literally EVERY IN MY LIFE asked me about my gender before. And I gave the most awkward delayed stuttering reply of 'n-no. I'm a female.' It was not fucking convincing AT ALL to anyone present. Except for maybe the drunk guy who forgot he even asked the question by the time I replied. And I literally couldn't stop thinking about it. I thought about that until I literally realized I was trans.

That's it. That's all it took. Was me being in a nonjudgmental environment and for one single person to ask me my gender.

Having any freedom to explore my gender as a kid in a safe way with any amount of support from my family would have been fucking LIFE CHANGING. All the nonsurgical care approaches mentioned above would have been LIFE CHANGING for me as a child.

I still would have fumbled around for a bit trying to figure out what exactly was the right label. (Which I did as an adult anyways while feeling incredibly self conscious lol) But I would have come to the exact same conclusion years sooner with just any amount of support. And honestly it would have been less likely I made any permanent changes I regretted.

Being a full adult who had already gone through a puberty that didn't work for me made everything so much harder. All my decisions felt more pressured and more hectic because I was so desperate to lessen my dysphoria. My body was so mentally distressing to me that even while being very careful to make my decisions with the help of my therapist and my doctor it was still hard to tell what I was doing because it was what I wanted and what I was doing to just try anything to try to fix the dysphoria. (It worked out I'm good and happy with everything I decided to do.)

If I was transitioning as a kid I could have just paused puberty with blockers and then taken the time I needed to figure things out in a social setting without as much stress and crushing dysphoria from my physical body and being worried I needed to do everything right away or it was too late.

Gender affirming care is life changing care for trans people, especially kids. At all levels. The social support, the puberty blockers, the hormones, and even the surgeries. It saves lives. It keeps kids alive. We can skip whole arcs of trauma for these kids by just listening to them and respecting them and letting them figure it out. Please please please protect trans kids and their healthcare.

is it okay for a minor to go through and consent to life changing surgeries?

especially when they cannot drive, vote, get a tattoo, you think a minor has the ability to think through such a decision?

[salty-autistic-writer]

Happy birthday Kath! @weewoowings ❤️

Buck is in love with his boyfriend.

You can't not notice that. Especially not if you’re a member of the 118.

* “That’s it,” Chimney says dryly. “From now on there’s a limit of how often you can mention Tommy in a single shift.”

“Hey!” Buck says, blushing. “It’s not like I’m talking about my boyfriend all the time.”

“Yes, you do,” everyone says at the same time.

“And you have no filter when it comes to him,” Chimney mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. “The things I heard! The pictures you put in my head! The audacity…”

“Hey, it’s not my fault Tommy is so hot, cool and interesting,” Buck says, shrugging. “I finally have a boyfriend who can lift me, carry me and throw me on the bed, how am I supposed to not talk about him?”

Everybody groans.

“Is there anything Tommy can’t do?” Ravi asks innocently, ignoring Hen’s and Chimney’s glare.

Buck takes a deep breath. And goes on.

* “You are doing it again, aren’t you?” Eddie asks, raising a knowing brow.

“Hm?” Buck takes another picture of the helicopter that’s flying past above them, squinting, trying to zoom in as close as possible.

“You're going to send this to Tommy in a second, asking him is that you, babe? ,” Eddie says dryly.

“Of course, I'm going to ask him. I have a badass boyfriend flying cool helicopters after all,” Buck says cheerfully, typing: Is this you, babe? and sending the picture to Tommy. It’s not as blurry as the last ten ones.

One day, Tommy is going to answer yes. And Buck is not going to be able to contain himself.

He gasps when his phone vibrates a few moments later. Tommy sent him a picture of a happy labrador, together with a text: No, that’s not me :(, but look, I met your twin today! ;) 

Buck giggles and sends Tommy five kissy emojis.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Eddie mutters, looking over Buck’s shoulder and seeing Tommy sending ten hearts back. “Why do you two have to be so disgustingly cute?”

“Hey, be happy it’s not his dick this time!” Buck says and smirks, putting his phone away and patting Eddie’s back.

“How could I ever forget about that,” Eddie mutters and sighs heavily. “It’s still burned into my mind. And I still don’t understand how he could send it to me. Just because Eddie starts with E like Evan?! Maybe you should get him to wear reading glasses after all. Please do. The potential of this happening again is too much.”

* “Firefighter Buckley.” “Firefighter pilot Kinard.”

Buck is clearly trying hard to maintain a professional distance while buzzing with excitement about finally meeting his boyfriend during a call.

They do manage to focus on the job. At least until there’s no danger left and all civilians are taken care of. After that, no one can miss the longing glances they throw at each other. It’s just a matter of time really.

“So. See you later,” Tommy says, half-smiling and wringing his hands.

“Yeah,” Buck nods, his eyes wide and shiny. “Later.”

They should be ready to leave. Tommy should go back to the chopper. Buck should return to the truck.

But they are still hesitating. And to the surprise of absolutely no one, they move at the same time, bodies all but colliding, lips pressing together, hands reaching for hips and hums escaping as they kiss passionately.

“Get a room, you two!” Chimney calls and cackles.

Hen snorts and rolls her eyes. She’s not surprised at all when Eddie tells her, “Tommy is just as obsessed with Buck by the way. He literally can’t stop talking about him when we meet up. They behave like teenagers with a crush, but imagine teenagers stuck in bodies built like brick walls.” *

The face of the grumpy deliveryman is hidden behind the biggest and most colourful flower bouquet Hen has ever seen in her life. She knows before she hears the words. “Those are for … Evan?”

“Buck!” Hen calls, lips twitching. “You got a delivery from your man!”

“What?” Buck approaches curiously, wiping his hands with a towel, a splotch of oil smeared on his cheek. He freezes and gasps, his eyes widening. “No.”

“Yes,” Hen says, smiling.

Buck blushes. Like strawberries and cream. It’s cute. He carefully takes the bouquet, taking a sniff, shaking his head. “No one ever got me flowers,” he says, voice shaking. “It’s not even a special day.”

Every day is special when you’re in love , Hen thinks to herself, still smiling.

Chimney whistles and takes a picture with his phone. “Aw. This is like straight out of some cheesy romance movie. I have to show Maddie.”

“Is there even a vase big enough for this monster?” Eddie asks teasingly. “You probably have to put them into the sink to water them.”

“Guess everything is big when it comes to Tommy,” Ravi murmurs, ducking to avoid another glare from Chimney and Hen. *

“Is that Tommy’s hoodie?” Hen asks when Buck appears at the station one morning, still yawning and his eyes clouded with leftover sleepiness.

The auburn is not Buck’s colour. And it’s worn out, carrying the signs of a beloved comfort item.

Buck chuckles. “Oh. Oops. Yeah. Uh, I spent the night at his house and … Well. This somehow happened,” he says, fidgeting with the hem of the hoodie, his face flushing lightly.

Hen smiles. She feels the sudden need to tell Buck something. “Buck. I hope that no matter how much we tease or joke, you do know that we are very happy for you two.”

“Yeah. I know,” Buck says, nodding. “You know, I think that this relationship … It’s going to work out this time. It’s different. I … I can’t really describe what it is. But I can feel it. You know what I mean?”

“Yes,” Hen says gently. “I know. Happiness looks good on you, Buck.”

Buck smiles, but his eyes fill with anxious seriousness. “I just hope I can trust it this time, you know? I want to. I hope I can trust myself to not mess this up.”

“Just listen to your heart, Buck. And remember that no one is perfect. Tommy and you are adults with adult issues. Each relationship has rocky roads. And there will be clouds. But as long as you’re being honest to each other, they will pass.”

Buck nods, expression thoughtful. “Thanks, Hen. Oh, uh, by the way, Tommy always says that he’s grateful he got to know you at the exactly right time of his life because he needed a verbal kick in the ass. So thanks for that too.”

“That time wasn’t easy for all of us,” Hen says, remembering. “But we managed to grow together. That’s the important thing. Now let’s get some coffee before all hell breaks loose.” *

“Hey, Tommy,” the whole 118 says when Tommy comes by the station in a free moment, hugging Buck and commenting on how delicious the lasagna smells.

“Sit and have some,” Bobby tells him, nodding at a free chair.

“Thanks,” Tommy says quietly, a whole spectrum of emotions hidden in a single word. His eyes meet with Hen’s and she smiles at him, nodding barely noticeable. Telling him that he can have this. That he is part of this family.

Tommy sits, his shoulder nudging Buck’s.

The 118 eats, talks and laughs.

And it feels like it’s meant to be this way. Like an invisible string connects the past with the present, leading to the future.

(AO3 Link)

[pinkolve]

A Spencer Reid Fanfiction

-An Unexpected Reunion-

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Summary: You haven't seen your ex-boyfriend Spencer in three years, after splitting up because of his job. What happens when you finally see the same ex-boyfriend in the bullpen of your own new job?

Genre: Fluff, angst if you squint

CW: Implied plus size!reader, fem!reader, small self-deprecating comment from reader about her body, use of y/n, first person point of view....I think that's it!

Word Count: Like 750, it's very short

A/N: Hello again! I tried my best with this one but it was a little rushed, so some things may not add up completely. But, I hope you enjoy it anyways!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Hey…” I whispered, my breath still uneven. 

“Hi.” Spencer replied, his breath also heavy. We stared at each other for a few moments, I don’t know how much time actually passed by. His eyes were enchanting, I hadn’t seen them in so long. Before I had time to even take a breath, he lunged towards me and connected our lips. I forgot just how soft his lips were, and how perfectly they fit against my own…

***

“So this ex-boyfriend of yours…” Penny started, swallowing a large bite of her sandwich. “You haven’t talked to him in three years?” 

“Yup.” I respond, taking a bite from my own sandwich. We had been on a lunch break for fifteen minutes now, mainly gossiping instead of eating. Unfortunately, we had gotten to my side of the gossip. 

“Why? Why would you two even break up? You obviously still love each other!” Penny almost spit bread from her mouth as she yelled. 

“Well, I still love him. For all we know, he has a much hotter and skinnier girlfriend now.” I chuckle self-deprecatingly. I sit up from my own desk chair and walk over to throw my wrapper in the garbage. 

“Don’t you dare say that!” Penny chokes a little. She coughs and finally swallows. “You are so sexy! I can’t believe you don’t see it!” 

“Sorry, Pen.” I smile. She shakes her head at me before turning around to her desk. She looks down and gasps loudly. 

“Oh my god!” 

“What?” I asked nervously. I immediately ran to her side to see what she was looking at. 

“This case file! I was supposed to get it to Hotch like…” She checked the time on one of her monitors. “Twenty minutes ago?!” She grabbed the paper with one hand, shoving it into mine. “Please run this up to him! I have mayo all over my hands!” I shake my head in overstimulation. 

“Okay, okay! I’m going!” I dash out the door without even bothering to close it behind me. I run as fast as I can in four inch wedges, to the elevator. 

“Hotch!” I yell as I finally enter the bullpen. He looks up from his watch and spots me. I climb up the stairs to his office and hand him the file, heaving as I do so. “Sorry.” I take a deep breath. “Penny was…Eating and forgot so…Brought it here for ya.” 

“Thank you, y/n.” He smiles and pats me on the back gently. “You alright?” 

“Yes, yeah. It was just…Extremely hard to run here in heels.” I chuckle and he lets out a breathy laugh. 

“Well, thank you again.” He turns to the bullpen and calls his team into the conference room. I notice a few people stand and as I finally turn around I lock eyes with a man. One who looks…Oddly familiar. His eyes are the same puppy dog brown that I remember, and they practically sparkle. I can’t tear myself away, I haven’t been able to see these gorgeous eyes in years.

“Y/n?” I turn at the sound of my name, looking back at Hotch. “Are you okay?” I shake my head. 

“Yes! Yeah, I’m sorry!” I look back at those enchanting puppy dog eyes one more time before speeding out the door. I run right past the elevator, going down the stairs as fast as I physically can. If he was going to go after me, I wanted to get away as fast as possible. I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to say to him, especially if he did in fact have a new girlfriend. 

I swerved around a corner and ran into Penny and mine’s office, slamming the door shut behind me. 

“What the-!” Penny spins in her chair. The minute she sees the horrified look on my face she runs to my side. “What the hell happened?!” 

“I just saw…” I heave out a wheezy breath. “My ex-boyfriend.” Penny’s face lights up. 

“Your ex-boyfriend works here?!” 

“Apparently!” 

“Who the hell is he?!” 

“His name’s Spencer.” I take another long breath. “Spencer Reid.” Penny’s face goes white. 

“Your ex-boyfriend is Spencer Reid?!” She looks like she’s ready to pass out. Not even a second later, an eager knock lands on the door I’m leaning against. I jump away from it, my eyes wide. Penny looks at me for a moment before reaching for the door handle. 

“No, Pen! It might be him!” 

“Exactly!” She pulls the door open quickly, revealing his face to me once again. 

“Hey…” I whispered, my breath still uneven.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[pedriache]

Say it first 𖦹 Luke Hughes !

summary. three years in which you’d been dating luke. three beautiful years in which he always made sure he got in the first ‘i love you’.

wc. 600+

disclaimers. luke just being such a sweetheart and fluff.

notes. in honor of me slowly trying to get vera back into hockey and her finding a love for luke <3 not sure how i feel about this but!

The soft hum leaving your lips was the only thing that etched into the silence of your apartment. Luke was supposed to be here a few minutes ago, but he’d texted to tell you he was stopping by the store on his way over. So, to kill time, you started on dinner without him.

Usually, you would cook together, but your stomach was growling. You wanted it to be ready as quickly as possible. Pasta night was your favorite night and your mouth salivated at the thought of the Chicken Alfredo.

Easily taking out a pant and the ingredients from the fridge, you made quick work with it. You’d been so immersed in your cooking, you hadn’t noticed Luke’s lingering presence by the kitchen entrance.

Luke’s smile was soft, his head tipped against the doorframe as he watched you move about. He watched your face scrunch as you poured a little too many noodles into the boiling water. Cute.

“Baby, I’ve been telling you repeatedly you should use a measuring cup for that.”

A silent scream left your lips as you jumped back, holding up the wooden spatula like a weapon. Swiveling on your heels you glared at the curly haired brunette.

“Dammit! Luke, you scared me! Try announcing yourself next time!” You scold, but glare dropped the second he pushed off the wall and made his way to you.

Knowing what was coming, you set the spatula aside and faced him with a loose smile. “Hey.” He murmured, clearly exhausted, arms wrapping around your waist with a comforting squeeze. Your arms slid up to wrap comfortably around his shoulders. “I missed you today.” His hot breath against your shoulder had a smile instantly rising to your face.

“You literally saw me like—nine hours ago. If even that.”

The heavy breath that escaped his lips along with the slight chuckle had your body relaxing in ways only Luke could make happen. “Nine hours too long.” He grumbled, pulling back to peck your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. His eyes met yours, the sides crinkled due to his smile. “I love you, y’know that?”

And you did.

Luke said those three words like it was as easy as breathing.

He’d been the first to say it in the relationship and after that.. well, he just never stopped.

He’d said it on accident, the first time. His eyes had widened in panic as you both lounged on one of the benches on his families boat, you laid between his legs. Your head had whipped around, meeting his wide eyes. Yours practically bulged from your head. Both of you had panicked, until Luke was met with a kindly harsh slap to the back of his head by Jack—which had quickly made him come to his senses.

You’d smiled then, lifting up to place a small kiss to his nose before you’d said it back.

The memory caused a smile to form on your lips, “I love you too, Lukey.” He grimaced at that, arms tightening around your waist as he groaned, head falling limp into the crook of your neck.

“The noodles are going to burn! Let me go.” You laugh, wriggling out of his grasp to grab the spatula. Jack mumbled a string of protests but left you be, instead moving to grab the spices and sauces.

Every now and then, when he’d pass by you doing something, his head would dip to place a kiss against your shoulder or cheek. You’d turn, giving him silent permission for his lips to meet yours in a quick peck.

You weren’t certain how you’d gotten so lucky to have Luke as a boyfriend, but you wouldn’t question it. Because you were on cloud nine every time he was near.

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @sakashq @joaoflms @be11ingham @spidybaby @piastri-fvx