#i want to write them but i don’t know if i can

[parkerslatte]

One Year

Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: usual squid game stuff. blood and gore. injury. mentions of suicide. mentions of addiction. drugs. soft thanos. slight canon divergence.

Summary: After an argument about money and debts, Y/N left Thanos. A year later she meets him again in the games yet he does his best to ignore her. During the game of Mingle, Y/N gets thrown out of her room and Thanos comes to her rescue.

Squid Game Masterlist

“Are you being serious?” Y/N asked, sitting down on the chair in disbelief. 

Su-bong paced in front of her exasperated. “It was meant to make us more money! You can’t blame me for trying.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I told you when you first told me about it that it was a stupid idea. Not only did you ignore me, but you invested more than you said you were going to. And not just your own money, you took some of mine too!”

Su-bong rolled his eyes and Y/N chuckled. How he could be annoyed with her was beyond her. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t.”

“I can do something,” Su-bong said, a hint of desperation in his tone that he was clearly trying to hide. “I can start writing songs again. I can–”

“Don’t lie to me or yourself,” Y/N snapped. “You have been saying that for the past year.”

Su-bong scoffed. “You try to do something like that again when you are turned into a laughing stock!”

“And who’s fault was that?” Y/N said. “I was the one who advised you to not take those pills before the performance and you did it anyway. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Aren’t you meant to be my girlfriend? Isn’t it your job to support me?” Su-bong questioned. 

“I do support you, but I know when to draw the line,” Y/N replied. “I don’t support you basically gambling your entire life savings and mine all on what was clearly a scam from the start. I don’t support you going out every night getting high using pills you bought with my money. And as far as I know, you are supposed to support me too.”

“I do support you,” Su-bong defended, clearly offended. 

“Give me one example where you supported me over the past year,” Y/N said. Su-bong remained silent, giving Y/N the answer she needed. “The fact that you can’t even name one explains it all,” Y/N said. “You weren’t there for me when I was fired from my job. When my father was sick. When I broke my leg and could barely get around.”

“I can support you,” Su-bong said, grasping Y/N’s hands. “I can get us money. I can get it back–”

“No,” Y/N said and pulled her hands from his. Despite how she felt in the situation, she couldn’t help but miss the warmth of them. But she knew that what she was about to do was the right decision for her. “I can’t do this anymore. Not only did you continuously lie to me, but you stole money from me dragging me down with you.”

“Y/N, please,” Su-bong begged. “Don’t do this.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. There was a time when they had had this conversation before. Then she had stayed and Y/N was coming to realise that it was a stupid decision. Despite it all, she did still love him. But she couldn’t forgive him–not this time. “Are you begging me only because you have nowhere else to go or because you still love me?”

There was a brief moment of hesitation. It was at most a few seconds but those few seconds were arguably the most important. “Of course I love you!”

Slowly, Y/N nodded. “I see.”

“Y/N, please,” Su-bong begged. “I’ll get a job. Fuck, I’ll get two jobs. I can fix this.”

“You are over one billion won in debt!” Y/N exclaimed. “Do you really think a few shitty jobs are going to fix that anytime soon? At least my job pays a decent wage but it is still nowhere near to pay off my own debts which you forced me into. No, I’m done this time,” Y/N said, keeping a steady tone despite the way she wanted to cry out and forgive him instantly. “Please leave. I’ll have your things sent to you.”

“You can’t kick me out!” Su-bong exclaimed. 

“You don’t rent this apartment, I do,” Y/N said, avoiding his gaze. “Please leave Su-bong. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

He scoffed. “I can’t believe I ever loved you.”

Y/N’s gaze remained fixated on the table before her until his footsteps grew distant and the front door was opened and slammed shut, plummeting the apartment into silence. The moment she knew she was actually alone, Y/N allowed the tears to flow. She knew that this decision was for the best, after all their relationship over the past year had been far from a whirlwind romance. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time they had even slept in the same bed. 

But somehow she already had the urge to run out and tell him to come back and that they could work everything out together. Y/N’s hands gripped the arms of the chair, grounding herself. She couldn’t do that. Leaving him was for the best– even if she didn’t believe it just yet. 

***

The platform began to move, the number of players in the room was considerably less compared to the first round. She was standing on her own as she looked at the puddles of blood on the floor. There had yet to be someone Y/N had become allies with, the group she was with for the pentathlon were already a small alliance of four and she only joined them because they needed a fifth person. Everyone else already seemed to have their own group apart from her. 

It wasn’t that Y/N hadn’t tried. The moment she had seen her ex-boyfriend run up to that voting button and confidently chose to continue the game, she had tried her best to speak with him. Despite the fact that she was the one who broke up with him, it was nice and comforting to see a familiar face, even if that familiar face was high out of his mind every single time she tried to speak with him. 

Four different times Y/N had tried to speak to Su-bong and each time he wouldn’t give her the time of day. It irritated her more than she cared to admit though deep down she couldn’t blame him. After all she was the one who had kicked him out. 

She glanced at him from across the platform and noticed him already staring at her. Upon noticing this, he quickly looked away from her. If she made it through this round, she would make him speak to her whether he wanted to or not. 

“Two players,” the voice called out. 

There was no hesitation as Y/N grabbed the person closest to her and began to drag them to the yellow room right before her eyes. The round was carnage as people pushed and shoved and fought each other to get to a room in time. There were 126 players left, only 100 would be able to make it through the round. 

Just as the person she dragged opened the door, Y/N spared a glace in the direction Su-bong ran and found him and Player 124 dragging people out of the way of the door before running into it themselves. Y/N turned back to her room and slammed the door behind her just as Su-bong looked in her direction before he slammed his door closed. 

Once the door was closed, Y/N allowed herself to breathe and finally relax for a moment. She looked at the person she had dragged. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you when I dragged you, did I?”

Before the woman could even muster a response, the door was forcibly pushed open and a firm grip squeezed Y/N’s arm, pulling her out of the room as an older man forced his way inside. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Y/N yelled, kicking and hitting the man as he tried to push her out of the room. 

“I’m not dying today!” the man hissed. 

Y/N pulled her arm from the man’s grasp and before he knew it, a fist was flying at her face, her vision blurring immediately. A force pushed Y/N outside of the room and she fell to the floor. 

“Fuck you!” Y/N yelled at the man inside. 

Y/N glanced around at the clock and panic instantly rose within her. There were ten seconds left on the countdown and all hope left her body. There was no possible way she was going to find a partner and a room in time. Y/N slowly stood to her feet, already accepting her fate.

There were a few people still on the platform either hurt from someone or accepting their fate. Others were still trying to force their way inside rooms and fight for them. Slowly, Y/N closed her eyes. At least in her final moments she wouldn’t have to see the carnage surrounding her. 

Before Y/N knew it, she was quite literally swept off her feet. Her eyes opened and immediately recognised the mop of purple hair and she let out a small noise of surprise. Without a moment of hesitation, Su-bong ran into a blue room and slammed the door behind him just as the door locked, breathing heavily. 

As the gunshots sounded out, his grip tightened on her as he slumped down to the floor, Y/N still in his arms. 

“Su-bong?” Y/N muttered, still in disbelief that he had saved her. She stood from his hold and shakily got to her feet. 

“Why were you just standing there?” Su-bong asked, raising his voice. “Do you want to die?”

“I was thrown out of the room,” Y/N said. “There wasn’t enough time to find someone else and find a room.”

Su-bong stood to his feet, his eyes wide. “Why wouldn’t you at least try?”

“Why would you care?” Y/N said. “Evidently from the way you have refused to even speak to me here, you wouldn’t care whether I lived or died.”

“Of course I care!” he exclaimed.

“Then why haven’t you spoken to me since we’ve been here?” Y/N questioned. “I have tried so many times to speak with you, thankful to see a familiar face, and you have shut me down every single time! Is it about the drugs you’ve been taking? I know that I don’t like it when you take them but honestly right now I don’t care. All I have wanted to do is speak with you.”

Su-bong scoffed. “Now you want to speak to me? What about the past year? You never wanted to speak to me when I reached out.”

“The circumstances were different and you know it,” Y/N snapped. 

“How?” He asked. “I’m just doing exactly what you’ve been doing to me.”

Y/N sighed, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. “For once, imagine being in my place. Imagine supporting your partner for a year after their career took a plummet, you start paying for everything. Food, clothes, sometimes even their drugs when they begged you.”

At that statement, Su-bong glanced down at the necklace hanging from his neck. 

“Then you find out that they had an amazing idea to invest in crypto that turned out to be a scam,” Y/N continued. “Not only did they stupidly invest their entire life savings, but then you find out that they have been taking small amounts of money from your account too. Now leaving themselves in debt as well as you. In between all of this, imagine them going out early in the morning and either returning high out of their mind where you need to stay up and take care of them all night or they don’t return at all and you spend the whole night worried about where they are and if they are even alive.”

Y/N took a step closer to Su-bong. “Imagine if our positions were switched. You wouldn’t want to speak to me again either. But you have no idea how hard it was for me, because despite it all– somehow I still loved you. You fucked me over and I still loved you.” A shaky breath left Y/N. “So, I’m sorry if I didn’t want to talk to you. I’m sorry if I ignored you for a year. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help you, but I needed to put myself first for once.”

The silence in the room was deafening. The gunshots had ceased and the guards were clearing up the bodies. The numbers who hadn’t made it sounded through the speaker but Y/N didn’t listen as she only stared at Su-bong who hadn’t met her eyes the whole time she spoke. 

Slowly she took another step towards him and brought her hand up and placed it under his chin and forced him to meet her eyes. “You always did have trouble making eye contact when we were having a serious conversation.” His pupils were blown wide from the pill Y/N had watched him take before the game. “Why did you save me?”

Su-bond blinked once, then twice as if he was confused by the question. “What?”

“I watched you run into a room with your friend, pulling people out of the way for it. You were safe. Why did you risk your life to save me?” Y/N asked. 

“You were watching me? Señorita, I’m touched,” Su-bong said, his tone flirtatious. Y/N knew this behaviour all too well, sometimes she used to fall for it. 

Y/N frowned. “Be serious for a minute. I don’t want you to be ‘Thanos’. I want you to be Su-bong. My Su-bong.”

Surprise seemed to fill his eyes and he seemed to unconsciously lean into her touch as his eyes flicked to the side. “I watched you run into a room, I thought you were safe so I entered a room. When I looked out and saw you were standing outside, I ran out without thinking.”

“Did you know that there was a room available?” Y/N questioned. 

If possible, the room became quieter. “Why did you do it?”

“I couldn’t leave you out there,” he admitted. “I couldn’t leave you to die.”

“But you could have died in the process?” Y/N questioned. “How stupid could you be?”

Su-bong’s eyes met Y/N’s once more. His pupils were still dilated but Y/N could see his true emotions shining through clear as day. Vulnerability. 

“Do you know where I was when that man in a suit offered me that card?” Su-bong said, his voice strangely quiet. “I was on a bridge ready to jump and take my life. So I don’t care if I die in these games. But if you died, I couldn’t handle that. When I ran out, I thought that we would either both live or we would both die.”

Su-bong’s hands slowly moved until they held onto Y/N’s waist. The feeling of it so familiar but so foreign. “I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care about you, that if you died, I wouldn’t feel anything. I tried to convince myself that I was angry at you for turning your back on me. But when I saw you standing outside that room prepared to die, I realised that none of that was true. I still love you, baby. Even though I’m pissed that you joined these games.”

“It’s not like I had any choice,” Y/N shrugged as she cupped his face gently, her eyes stinging. 

Su-bong glanced down guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Y/N said, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “Someone who wasn’t sorry wouldn’t risk their life to save their ex-girlfriend who kicked them out with nowhere to go”

A huff of a laugh left Su-bong as he dipped his head down resting his forehead against Y/N’s. “Looking back, I can’t blame you.”

Y/N’s eyes closed as she savoured the feeling of his closeness. If she imagined hard enough, she could pretend that they weren’t trapped in a series of deathly games. They would be in her apartment, her doing her own work while Su-bong worked on a new song, happily sitting side by side. Just how it was for four years before his career blew up and things spiralled from there. 

“Vote to leave,” Y/N whispered. “We can get out of here and we can work things out. I know that you said that you…don’t care if you die in these games, but I don’t want to watch that. If we vote to leave, we can pay off our debts together and work things out between us– properly this time.”

Suddenly a warm pressure captured Y/N’s lips. The feeling was one she had missed. Her body fell into his as she wrapped her arms around Su-bong’s neck as she deepened the kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist before he turned their bodies until her back was pressed against the wall. 

Y/N pulled away and allowed herself to look into Su-bong’s eyes for a brief moment before she leaned in once more. The kiss held a hint of desperation behind it, as if one of the guards would enter the room and gun them down that very second. Su-bong’s hands slid from her waist to her hips, giving them an experimental squeeze. 

A content sigh left Y/N as she threaded her fingers in his hair and Su-bong smiled into the kiss. He pulled away, breath mixing with hers. “Jump, señorita,” he muttered.

“I always hated you calling me that,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

“You loved it,” Su-bong replied as he picked her up and her legs immediately wrapped around him as he deepened the kiss. 

It wasn’t until now when Y/N realised how much she had missed him and how perfectly they fit together. It had been a year since he had last touched her this way and it was as if no time had passed. 

“I missed this,” he muttered, lips attaching to her jaw before peppering soft kisses down the side of her neck. 

“Me too,” Y/N sighed, tilting her head back as she savoured the feeling of his lips on her skin. She could only wish that they were in her apartment, gradually making their way towards the bed. 

Instead Y/N was brought back to her harsh reality. 

“Attention players, the game is now over.”

The door clicked and unlocked and Su-bong reluctantly detached his lips from Y/N’s neck.  They stared at one another breathlessly. Y/N’s legs were still wrapped around his hips and her fingers were tangled in his hair– only messing the strands up even more. 

Slowly, Su-bong set her back on her feet, hands slipping up her body to her waist. The footsteps of the other players broke the two from the daze they were in as Su-bong slowly stepped back, allowing Y/N space to step away from the wall. 

“We can get out of here together,” Y/N whispered as she slipped her hand in Su-bong’s. “Please vote to leave.”

The door was opened and a guard stood in the threshold, gun clutched in their hands unafraid to use it. Y/N and Su-bong slowly stepped out of the room and joined all of the other players as they exited the game. Neither of them spoke though their hands remained clutching one another tightly. 

“Thanos!” Player 124 said as he nudged Su-bong’s shoulder. “What was that for? If it weren’t for those pricks outside the room, I’d be dead.”

“You’re alive aren’t you?” Su-bong said the tone of his voice shifting to something more distant. A tone he never spoke to Y/N in. A tone that she knew was purely for other people.

Player 124 glanced at Y/N and his eyes trailed down to where her hand was linked with Su-bong’s before his eyes fixated on the red patch stuck to her jacket. A quiet huff of acknowledgement slipped past his lips. “I hope this bitch won’t make you change your mind about playing one more game.”

Su-bong’s head whipped around fast to face Player 124. “Don’t fucking call her that, man.”

Player 124 laughed. “Whatever you say. But remember. One more game.” He slipped back into the crowd of people– significantly smaller than when they had first entered. 

“You need to make better friends,” Y/N commented watching Player 124 leave with distaste. 

“And you need to make friends,” Su-bong defended as he pulled Y/N along with the rest of the crowd. “I’ve seen you sadly standing around on your own since we’ve been here.”

“Sorry for not wanting to get attached to anyone in a place where I could die,” Y/N replied. 

Su-bong huffed a laugh and squeezed her hand. “You have me now.”

“Only until the vote?” Y/N asked, her heart dropping slightly.

There was a brief moment of hesitation as he glanced down at the blue patch on his jacket. After a while he slowly nodded and Y/N let out a soft sigh of relief. 

“Only if you promise to not kick me out again,” Su-bong muttered as he threw his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, keeping her pressed to his side. 

“I promise,” Y/N replied as he pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Only if you promise to work things out between us.” Y/N glanced at his necklace. “That includes your addiction. I know it will be hard, but I will be with you every step of the way.”

Su-bong looked at the cross necklace hanging from his neck and let out a long sigh. “Okay, señorita. You have a deal.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Y/N muttered.

“I know that you love it,” Su-bong said. “You always did. Especially when I–”

“Let’s leave that talk for when we are out of this hellhole,” Y/N said, lightly shoving him away from her. 

A quiet laugh left Su-bong as Y/N looked up at him, a small spark in his eye shone brightly. It was the first time she had seen it in years. Y/N’s lips twitched up as she savoured his touch, hope filling her heart for the first time she had woken up in this god-forsaken place. Y/N linked their fingers together once more as they walked through the colourful staircase for what would hopefully be the final time. 

[zombaebitez]

ik u j posted it but alr havin withdrawals can we get more relationship hcs w abby??

Abby Relationship Hcs

abby anderson x fem reader

synopsis: modern day abby relationship headcanons, just rambles oopsie.

zom’s note: withdrawals is so silly, i love it. hope my writing is up to par, enjoy! 🌸

word count: abt 1.1k

warnings: use of petnames (love, princess, etc). nsfw content (own section after sfw! don’t like it? just don’t read that section), mentions strapping (r!receiving), teasing, manhandling, foreplay.

SFW HCS <3

ꕥ Abby always has a hand or arm around you, says it’s for safety, to keep you near her; but you know deep down she’s just a touchy girl, and you can’t complain, you love it.

⤍ “Love walk on this side,” and before you can even move she’s alreading pulling you to where she wants you to go, wrapping a strong arm around your waist.

ꕥ On the subject of touch, this girl will literally carry you around (on her back, bridal style, etc) when you ask her to (or when you don’t), in the house, in public, she doesn’t care one bit. You are her pretty princess, and she loves being at your beck and call.

ꕥ She takes pride in her physique, she has a set workout routine, and is constantly in a protein kick. She loves bringing you to the gym with her, just so she can catch you stealing glances at her while you’re doing your own thing.

ꕥ Her casual wear? She is a chronic cargos, sweats, or jeans wearer, though she will switch it up with shorts sometimes. She’ll wear some sort of tank, compression/fitted top (to show off muscle), hoodies, or basic tee, with a sports bra underneath, maybe a beanie or snapback depending on how hot it is. Very minimal jewelry and accessories, and has an obsession with muted colors, and black.

ꕥ Speaking of jewelry, she’ll always wear your initial or name on her somewhere, and vice versa. Her favorite would be a simple gold necklace/chain which has your initial that you got her, it also has a matching gold link bracelet that she sometimes wears too.

ꕥ She loves when you offer to braid her hair for the day, now she just volunteers you to do it with a random excuse, “I dunno princess, you just do it better!” She’ll have the brush, and hair ties ready once you finish your morning routine.

ꕥ Morning Routines? She usually wakes up when you do, or some time before. But once you wake up, she immediately follows you to watch you get ready for the day. It’s endearing, kind of like a giant puppy.

ꕥ She enjoys pet names surprisingly, and will call you all sorts of names (princess, love, sweetheart, etc). She never got to show her lovey dovey side before you, so she just can’t help it.

ꕥ Hates when you get upset, “Princess, cmon talk to me… what happened?” Always running a soothing hand down your back, she just wants to be there for you.

ꕥ She’s not as stoic as people may think when it comes to you, she’s just a girl who loves her princess to death; therefore, she has to show it… like all the time, sue her (you’re just as bad).

ꕥ A random girl hits on her? She gives the girl a judgy once over… maybe twice? hell THREE times, and says something like “I have a girlfriend, you’re gonna get us both in trouble…”, “Uhm I’m taken.”, “My girlfriend won’t like this.” Before she starts aimlessly looking around for where the hell you went to, because the interaction is now a little awkward.

ꕥ She has natural sass, it’s not even on purpose, she is just a little snippy. Don’t even dare say something that will earn you a side eye, because she’ll hand them out to you too, again she can’t help it.

⤍ “Babe, you know you could totally pull off being a hey mamas”, now you were clearly joking, giving her a ridiculous ass grin as she looked up from her phone to hit you with a judgmental stare. “Excuse me?” you couldn’t help but laugh your ass off, as she just sat there confused, “Princess don’t start with me”, she mumbled with a slight eye roll, reaching over to gently slap your thigh.

ꕥ Oh god and the coin collection, she indeed has one of those collection binders, and keeps it organized/labeled. She gets so excited whenever you gift her a new one, and always shows you when she finished a sheet in the binder.

ꕥ She most definitely loves to shop with you, and go on errands. Something about being all domestic and on top of business, watching you mark off things you two need for the house, watching you get all happy when you finally get to go shopping, and being productive makes her feel good. (She wants to put a ring on that finger real bad, real bad).

⤍ Makes you carry her wallet, and phone when y’all are out because she feels they are safer with you, (her wallet fell out her pocket once and she freaked the hell out). She keeps her keys on a carabiner with a bunch of random charms or a lanyard so she can’t misplace them.

NSFW HCS !!

ꕥ Abby prefers to top, and dom. But she’ll let you occasionally top if you really asked nicely or she’s having a hard day. There’s just something about getting you all fucked out that she can’t help, she needs to have you under her.

ꕥ She’s a total strap lover, she’ll fuck you in any postion she can. Loves how she can just grab onto you and make you forget how to form a thought with deep or shallow thrusts. Don’t even try to wiggle or push her away, she’ll just get a little frustrated with you, and pin you exactly how she wants you like it isn’t any effort for her (it’s not).

ꕥ She likes to tease you with just the tip. Watching you think you’re about to get what you want, what you need; seeing that frustrated pout go slack, with a quiet moan. Just for you to whine, when she pulls back just as fast as she came. It’s really not fair.

ꕥ Yes, she likes to manhandle you, she doesn’t have all those muscles for nothing. She’ll use them to her advantage every time, and her stamina goes in-fucking-sane. She’ll fuck you till you can’t even moan anymore, all dazed out and whiny for her, just trembling because of how overwhelmed she can make you feel.

ꕥ Sometimes she forgets her own strength, digging her fingers into the plush of your thighs or ass, biting and sucking a little too hard on certain parts of your body, slapping your ass a little too hard. You’ll wake up with a bunch of bruises and marks the next day, whining about how sore you feel, but she lowkey gets off on that shit.

ꕥ Whenever she does let you top her, she is usually guiding you how she wants you. Just because she’s on the bottom doesn’t mean shit, she still makes the rules, and you just want to take care of her like she does for you.

ꕥ Foreplay god! She loves being a tease to you, getting you all frustrated, gets off to the fact she can get you needy from mere touches and words. Plus what's the use in rushing, she’s gonna take her sweet time with you.

[gmabasic]

i kind of hate this type of post because it implies that you can’t find genuine meaning or emotion while being high. any of u who have smoked a little weed know you can feel extreme happiness, awful fear, or complete sadness. being high doesn’t always dull your emotions out. it can often heighten them. and that’s just weed like being high isn’t just i’m being silly this has no meaning. it just sometimes makes u think or connect things you wouldn’t normally.

when i was a freshman in college i remember saying while high “this whole thing feels like a cruise ship” and yeah i was high but what i was saying was that living in the dorms felt temporary but like i was experiencing a transient state of life that was going to take me somewhere else. that’s poetic and has meaning.

i know these posts are like mass created by no name accounts but like i just hate anti intellectualism so much. it can be both things. and if it’s a poem ur english teacher is teaching u i promise they’re not making up the symbolism bullshit!!

think about who is creating these posts!! why don’t they want you to think writing can have deeper meaning??? why don’t they want you developing research skills or the ability to read between the lines in your text???

[kashverse]

love your writing style kash!! thank you for the beautiful fica that are so soft and heartwarming to read 😞🫰

could i request for a scenario where mamakuna is sick (like a flu/fever) and how babykuna and dadkuna work together to help her feel betterrrrr 😇 -v

the flu had been going around, and you knew it was only a matter of time before it got you. but knowing it was one thing—experiencing it was another. it hit you like a truck. fever, chills, congestion—the works. so when you called sukuna at his office, your voice hoarse and pitiful, he dropped everything, canceled an entire board meeting (screw the shareholders), and stormed out. by the time he gets home, he's expecting pure chaos. maybe the maids scrambling, maybe you barely conscious—something. instead, he walks into your shared bedroom and stops dead in his tracks.

there, at the edge of the bed, is babykuna, her tiny legs swinging, her face set in deep concentration as she places all her plushies around you in a perfect protective circle. labubu is at your pillow. sonny angel squad is stationed near your hands. he even spots one of his socks stuffed into the arrangement like some sort of talisman.

"…what are you doing?" sukuna asks, raising a brow. babykuna, without looking up, adjusts a bunny plush near your shoulder. “making mama better.” sukuna sighs, making his way to the bed, crouching beside you.

"baby, i have an entire medical team on speed dial. your mama doesn’t need—"

"papa, hush," she interrupts, waving a hand at him dismissively. “you don’t get it. they give comfort. the magic of the plushies is real.” sukuna opens his mouth, then closes it. you, meanwhile, weakly lift your hand. “it’s okay, love. i believe in the plushie magic too.” babykuna nods sagely, satisfied.

but sukuna is still sukuna, so even though he knows the maids could easily take care of you both, he wants to do it. so he sighs, rolls up his sleeves, and trudges to the kitchen. if you’re sick, then fine, he’ll do this properly. twenty minutes later, he returns with a bowl of steaming hot chicken soup, the way you like it. perfectly seasoned, just the right amount of garlic, and not a vegetable in sight (because he knows you’d push them aside). but before he can even set it down—

"mama should eat bread and jam," babykuna suddenly announces, pointing a spoon at you. sukuna’s eye twitches.

"she needs soup."

"she needs bread and jam."

"she needs something warm."

"bread is warm if you toast it."*

sukuna rubs his temples. "she doesn’t need bread and jam, brat—"

"what about appy juice?" babykuna interjects, swinging her legs, completely unfazed. "appy juice is good."

"baby, soup is literally proven to—"

"orange juice?"

"oh my god."

you, snuggled in your fortress of plushies, weakly smile, watching the two most important people in your life bicker over what’s best for you. sukuna sighs in defeat, scooping a spoonful of soup. "open up, baby," he murmurs, bringing it to your lips. before you can take a sip, babykuna gasps. 

“wait! the plushies have to approve first!”

sukuna, face blank, stares at his child. 

"…you’re kidding."

but babykuna is dead serious. she picks up labubu, holds it over the soup, then dramatically nods. “labubu says okay.” sukuna exhales slowly.

"great. tell labubu to shut up next time."

babykuna gasps in pure, unfiltered betrayal. “you take that back.” 

you, sick as you are, wheeze at the scene, your fever momentarily forgotten.

[pencil-n-pen]

here after reading your Spencer Reid fic. I was wondering if you could write Spencer x autistic!reader where r gets overstimulated and basically having a meltdown and Spencer like helps her ig? Idk if that makes since, but thank you!!

BUZZ

masterlist

anon you have no idea how excited i was to see this ask. i even showed my bestie. thank you sm for the ask !!

summary: police precincts are overwhelming. Spencer knows just how to help :)

cw: detailed depictions of a sensory overload, hurt/comfort

this is pretty short, sorry !!

i am autistic and will be drawing on my own autistic experiences and what helps me during meltdowns :)

۫ ꣑ৎ

The lights are buzzing.

It’s hard to ignore. The policeman/detective/whoever he is who’s filling the team in on the case smacks his lips in between sentences. This is equally hard to ignore.

The tag on your neck has moved up from a small itch to what feels like a small stab everytime you move your head.

The muscles in your neck jump and twitch in the urge to shake— to firmly overcompensate for the feeling, to establish equilibrium.

But you know where that goes. One shake becomes two, and then everyone’s looking at the FBI agent having “some sort of fit”. You squeeze your hand until your nails dig scarlet crescents into your palms and focus on the pain instead.

But it doesn’t work. The lights are still buzzing, and the guy has stopped talking but now everyone else is talking and it’s louder and all the conversations sound like the same volume, all digging sharp claws into your brain, right under your scalp.

Your entire body itches— absolutely writhes with the feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong, too much.

Your hands twitch and jerk at your sides. You’re to focused on stopping the rest of your body to stop them and it hits you all at once that you have to get out.

But you don’t know where you are in this precinct and you don’t know where to go to find quiet and not the bathrooms because what if someone flushes the toilet and did you bring your earbuds you can’t remember it’s loud and you have to get away—

A tall figure steps in front of you, effectively cutting off your field of vision save for a specific pattern of dark maroon gingham. It’s a button down, and a black tie, and a grey suit jacket.

Your skin itches marginally less now that you can’t see anything, and then large, careful hands slot in place over your ears, applying pressure just shy of hurting.

With the sound gone, or at least muffled, your lungs don’t feel quite as constricted, and your body feels less like an open, raw nerve.

You suck in a careful breath, and then another, and then another until you think you can probably pass for normal now.

You tap Spencer’s arm once, and slowly, as to not shock your rattled brain, takes his hands away from your ears.

“I have your earbuds. Do you want to go to their secondary briefing room? It’s nice. I scoped it out.”

He leans down when he says it, eyes searching your face but not making eye contact. He’s mentally cataloging your expressions to see if you’re still upset. You’re familiar with this process by now.

“Yeah,” You force the words out of your mouth like pulling teeth and he frowns a little. He always knows when you overcompensate.

He takes your right hand in his, squeezing intermittently to keep your focus on him and leads you through the precinct, expression and body language stating very clearly:

Stay away.

You stare at your shoes the entire time he leads you to the briefing room, skin prickling at the idea of how many people saw your not-well-concealed freakout.

You should’ve found this room faster, so you could’ve been alone and no one would have seen—

“Stop beating yourself up.”

You snap your head up to glare at him. “Stop profiling me.”

He’s standing next to you, still not trying to make eye contact, though your hand remains firmly in his.

He shakes his head, then reaches into his pocket and produces a pair of earbuds.

Emphasis on a pair, not your pair.

You stare at where they lie innocently in the palm of his hands. “Those aren’t mine. Mine have a chip right there from when I dropped them getting out of the car.”

“I saw a pair when I was out the other day so I got them. So you’d have a backup. They’re the exact same make and model.”

You blink, unable to tear your eyes away from them.

He bought them. For you. Because sometimes you forget your earbuds and can’t get to them in time. Because he knows you prefer earbuds bc they’re more casual and subtle than noise cancelling headphones. He bought them.

He pushes them towards you again, and you give in, because who can say no to that? It’s easy from then to plug them into your phone and start up the playlist of music you have saved for these specific situations.

He steers you to one of the tables in the back, turning the lights off as he goes, and tucks you both, side by side, into the two chairs in the furthest, quietest corner.

His hand never leaves yours.

ʚɞ

[b3ach-bunn7]

ho is u shakespeare? that shinsou fic was the SHIT

i BEG BEG BEG FOR shinsou nsfw, you write him so good PLEASE

like headcanons, oneshots, full fics ANYTHING PLEASE I LOVE YOU MWUAH MWUAH MWAUH

NONSENSE PT 3

You can’t stop thinking of Shinsou after your first date.

NSFW, Phone sex, guys this is pure FILFFFTH tw..

—————————————————————————

You end up calling Shinsou only an hour later. It’s actually him who calls you first, but you won’t deny the fact that you pick up almost instantly.  

“Hey.” 

His voice sounds a little breathless, and considering the fact he just got home, you assume he’s only just walked through the door, but it immediately makes you smile. You hear some rustling on the other end, a door open and close, and you assume he’s in his bedroom. You’ve set yourself up on your own bed, a Kraft Mac and cheese in your favourite mug and a movie on your laptop.

“So. It’s been a while. How have you been?” You ask and his laugh crackles in the mic.

His laugh that reminds you of his smile, which reminds you of his lips and the way they’d kissed you only minutes before. Your hands drift to where he had grabbed your face and you sit up, trying to calm yourself down.

If you’re being entirely honest with yourself, you feel horny.

You have a rule for yourself. Despite your joke earlier, you have a deal with yourself to never fuck on the first date. You never really know someone properly after one, and especially with university guys, you’d rather get to know them better first. It’s also another little test, to see if they have that perfect mix of disappointment and respect at your denial.

Shinsou hadn’t even suggested at anything crazy, but that kiss had left your stomach coiling with need, and you found that you haven’t stopped thinking about him since. About getting him in your room and your bed. Your roommate wasn’t even home. It would’ve been perfect. 

But you have principles, and even cute guys like Shinsou can’t change them.

“I’m good. I’m home, now. Dropped Eri home. She said she misses you.”

You smile, tucking yourself further under your blankets. “I miss her. And so does Elizabeth.”

You can almost hear Shinsou shaking his head. “Where did she even get a name like that?”

“God knows. Thanks for winning her for me though.”

Shinsou sighs, and you hear noise on the other line. “Well. It was nothing difficult, you know.”

You hum. “It was a great date, though. Plus one and all.”

“Really?”

“Really. I have a rule for myself, and you almost made me break it.”

Fuck. You were not supposed to say that.

“Rule?”

“Anyway! I’m watching a movie. What are you doing?”

“No, no.” Shinsou interrupts. “What rule?”

“No rules. What rules? It’s nothing.” You stammer. 

Shinsou laughs. “Come on, don’t get all shy on me now. What rule?”

You huff. It’ll be fine. It’s not like he’s going to be weirded out or anything. You’re sure that kiss meant just as much as it did to him with how far his tongue was in your mouth.

“I. Well. I sorta have this rule, that I won’t ever sleep with guy on the first date, but I almost broke it. For you.” You laugh nervously.

You hands cover your face. He’s on speaker now, and the phone is out of sight to your side like it’ll make you feel any less ashamed of the words that just came out of your mouth.

“Come over then. Fuck your rules.”

His voice has dropped, gravelly and mixed with someone else you can’t quite place, and you think you could die listening to it.

Your face flushes at his words. “Shinsou! I-I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

You feel another pang of need. But you won’t. You tell him so and he groans, and you imagine him making that noise in a different setting and you screw your eyes shut.

“I’m always one for a loophole, sweetheart. I have an idea. If you’re interested.”

You wonder if he can feel your arousal from the other line, the way you almost throw your laptop and snacks off your bed. You have some idea what he could want, and you’re already preparing yourself to say yes, untangling your legs from beneath your covers to sit up in your bed.

“I’m interested.”

He hums. There’s a beat of silence, like he’s considering his next words.

“Touch yourself.” His voice is softer now, but it’s laced with something dangerous. “For me.”

“For you?” You still try and find a way to tease him back, but you’re laying back as you speak, already preparing yourself to obey.

“Well, it can be for you too, sweetheart.” He laughs. “Well?”

“Okay.”

You delve into the very back of your bedside table, the dildo you’d bought on an especially lonely night in your hand. Your hoodie, no, Shinsou’s hoodie, is off in a second, and you’re just wearing an old T-shirt and underwear. Shinsou hears the commotion, and he suddenly speaks up.

“No rushing, okay? You’re gonna do what I tell you. All the stuff I would’ve done if I’d have come over tonight.”

Your head falls back against the pillow, and heat pools between your legs. You think you whimper slightly, and you drop the toy on the sheets next to you.

“Okay. Fine.”

“Good girl.”

Oh fuck. You make a noise at the praise, and you can hear the smirk on his voice when he speaks once more. “I’ll remember that for later.”

You sigh. “So? What would you have done if you were coming over tonight?” 

Shinsou thinks for a moment. “Would’ve walked you to mine. Let you in and very respectfully shown you to my couch.”

His words are tame enough, but the anticipation and the thought behind them has you wondering how long it would take for you to get to his place. One of your hands trail mindlessly up and down your stomach as you turn up the volume of your phone to the max.

“I’d have gotten you a drink. Sat you down on the couch just far enough that you’d want to move closer. Would you have moved closer?”

“Yes. I would’ve.”

He hums and you hear a zipper, a rustle of fabric. “That’s good. I’d have moved closer, too. Brushed a hair out of your face. Any excuse to touch you, that gorgeous face.”

He’s not even here, and you’re this worked up. He’s barely even said anything, nothing that suggestive, but you think you’re the wettest you’ve ever been in your entire life. 

“I think- I’d have leaned in. Tried to kiss you.” You whisper.

“Yeah? Well, I would've kissed you back.” He sounds equal parts cocky and flattered, and it makes you want him that much more. You don’t love the noise that you make at that, but you do love the chuckle he makes in response.

“I wanted to kiss you all night. I think if we were anywhere else I’d have you bent over the closest surface. I don’t think I’d have been able to stop if I had gotten just one taste.”

Your hands itch towards your toy, and he tuts, ever perceptive. “Not yet.”

“Fuck, Shinsou.”

“Come on. Don’t you want to be good for me?”

You can hear the stupid smirk on his face, and the strangled noise you make is so out of character of you it makes you mad, along with the satisfied sound that he makes, but you’re frankly too turned on to really care right now.

“That’s what I thought. You’d have been good for me at mine too, right? Let me take that shirt off?”

“Yes. Yes.” And in turn you fumble behind you and unclip your bra, and your chest is heaving, aching, begging to be touched.

“Would you let me play with those gorgeous tits?”

“You didn’t even see them.” You try go for teasing but you sound so breathless it’s more degrading to you than anything else.

“Oh, I can imagine. Touch them. Pretend it’s me.”

Finally. Your hands immediately come up, rough and impatient-

“Slowly. Softly, at first. I’d take my time with you.” You groan but you comply, hands almost feather light as you ghost over your nipples.

“How’s that feel?”

“Good. S’good.” You whine. “It’s not enough.”

“Would you get frustrated? Show me how rough you want it?”

You nod even though he can’t see you. “Yes.”

And you don’t wait for the command before you’re pinching roughly, a groan leaving your lips as your hips lift off the bed and the stimulation goes straight to the heat building between your legs.

“That’s it. So good for me.” He coaxes you and another moan leaves your throat. “And what if I slipped those jeans off? Let my hands slide up those beautiful legs?”

“I-I’d let you. Please.”

“Would you be wet?”

“Yes, fuck I’m so wet. Need you, Shinsou.”

“Hitoshi. Call me Hitoshi.”

You do and he curses, and there’s more movement on his end. You wonder what he looks like right now, and you have half a mind to send him your address right now.

“That’s good. I’d give you what you need. You’d need it so badly, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” And you love that his words sound that bit strained, that he’s not as unaffected as you think he’s trying to seem.

“Please, please, Hitoshi.” You whine, and you’re not exactly sure what it is you’re begging for but you know he can give it to you.

“Tell me how wet you are. Just- One finger only.” 

You could put all five in and he’d have no way of knowing. But there’s something so domineering about his voice, and you find yourself obeying instantly. You push past your underwear, shoving them to the side to slip your pointer finger between your folds. And you’re soaked, considering how little has actually happened.

“God, I’m so wet.” You sigh, finger trailing from your slit all the way up to your clit. “So messy.”

And Shinsou groans, a curse slipping past his lips, and the way he sounds just as worked up as you are makes you keen.

“Please. I need to touch myself, Hitoshi.”

“One finger. Put it in and tell me how it feels.” His voice drips with authority and something so commanding you don’t hesitate to listen.

And it barely feels like anything, slipping inside you with no issue, no hesitation and you whine. “Not enough.”

And you remember his hands, remember staring at them while he was manoeuvring the claw machine and you shake your head. “Can I use two? Want it to feel like you, like yours.” You mumble.

“Jesus fuck.” He grunts, and you hear the sound of skin of flesh and you feel a small sense of triumph.

“You were looking at my hands, baby? Go on, fuck yourself with those fingers just like I would. Fuck, would’ve made you cum on my lap before you even thought about getting to touch me. Bet you look so good when you cum. Wish I was there to see it.”

His words are a rambled mess and it only spurs you on. Your fingers thrust in as much of a steady rhythm as you can manage, and you use your thumb to rub messily at your clit, hips bucking off the bed. You don’t think you’ve cum from just your hands in forever, but the voice groaning in your ears sounds so needy, full of so much want and it’s all for you. Your peak gets closer and you moan, and he just keeps talking you through it.

“I want to hear it, okay? You’re gonna come all over those fingers for me and I want to hear it. Tell me when you’re close.” He says.

“So close, Hitoshi, fuck.” You cry.

“Come for me.”

And you do, clenching hard around your fingers, thighs twitching as you rub yourself through it, your moans hot and heavy as they slip out your mouth. You are very glad your roommate is not home, because you can be as loud as you want, as loud as Shinsou wants.

“Shit. You sound so good when you come, fuck-“ He lets out something that sounds feral, and in the haze of your orgasm you’re not afraid to ask.

“Did you-“

“No. I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He lets out a deep breath, steeling himself, and as if you didn’t just orgasm, there’s already arousal crawling against your skin once more.

“I bet you’d be so good after you’d just come. So soft and pliant, let me take you to my room. Is that right?”

“Yes. Yes, I’d let you. Want you to fuck me, Hitoshi.” Your first orgasm only makes your want grow, anticipating what’s next.

“Aw, you should’ve come back to mine.” He teases, voice soft with something dangerous hidden beneath it. “Hope you have something you can use. I can promise it won’t be as good as the real thing, though.” 

He sounds almost jealous under all the self-assuredness, and your hands immediately fumble for your toy.

“Yeah. I have it.” 

“Good.” You’re already spreading your legs. “But not yet.”

You whine. “But-“

“You really think I’m doing anything before I taste that sweet cunt of yours?”

You stutter, pushing yourself up the sheets. “You- You’d do that?”

Shinsou pauses for a moment. “Nobody ever eaten you out before, baby?”

You shudder at his words. “No- Well yes, but they never really wanted to.”

And when he groans, it’s frustrated this time. “Nobody’s ever made you come on their tongue? Felt those soft thighs clench around their head because of how good they’re making you feel?”

He sounds so matter of fact, like it’s the worst thing in the world, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so wanted in your life.

“Hitoshi- I- I don’t-“

“I’ll give it to you, baby. You deserve it, you deserve to come on my tongue. Go on, touch yourself again.” His encouragement has you immediately complying, and he doesn’t stop.

“Think about it. About me. I’d spread you out on my sheets, make you see stars by the time I’m done with you. Gotta make sure you can take me.”

And the promise of that, of him pushes you closer to the edge. You moan his name over and over like a prayer as he talks you through it, the praise making you melt against your sheets. You’re hot and sweaty and he hums.

“Last one. You’re doing so well. Grab your toy.”

You do, the soft silicone cold in your hand. “It’s not very big.” You laugh slightly, and you can hear his smile.

“I guess we’ll just have to use our imaginations then.”

And you can’t help but grin, because even in a moment like this he’s joking to ease your nerves.

“Go on. Fuck yourself.”

His words are so bold, so vulgar but you don’t care, because you slide the toy inside you and you feel full instantly, the stretch just there but beautifully painful. You groan, relief and arousal all mixed in one. You twitch, still sensitive after your orgasm. 

“Feels so good.” You whimper. Your thrusts are slow and long, just like you imagine he’d do it.

“It’ll feel even better when I’m inside you.” And it’s now you can hear the slick sound of flesh on flesh moving in tandem with you, and you wonder how soaked you must sound for him to be able to keep in time with you.

You know it’s nothing like what he’d actuallly feel like, but you’re so pent up. You’ve been aching for this for god knows how long now that it feels almost perfect, and you buck you hips up for a better angle, to reach deeper. The sound of his shaky breaths in your ear only spur you on. You sound filthy. Whimpers and whines and broken moans falling from you lips as you get faster.

“I can hear you, you know. How wet you are.” He sounds as close as he has all night, voice strained as he practically growls down your ears.

“M’close, Hitoshi. Wanna come with you, please.”

“Fuck, yes, yes. Come for me then, baby, fuck-“

And it’s a messy mix of moans and unintelligible noises as you both climax, and you twitch and squirm and you wonder what he looks like in the throes of his pleasure. If he looks as desperate and finished as you do. Your chest heaves as you come down from your high, and he curses once more, guttural and spent. You both pant, catching your breath once more.

“Fucking hell. That- Did you-“

“I did.” You say.

And the shyness comes in as your high starts to fade. You feel dirty but in a good way. You think that’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done, but you’re glad it was with Shinsou of all people.

“So,” and you’re smiling before he can even finish his sentence. “Can I take you out on Friday?”

You hum. “Sounds like you’re just trying to get into my pants, Hitoshi.”

And he laughs, loud and boyish and you grin. 

“Well. I am. The rule doesn’t count after two dates right?”

“Correct.”

“Perfect. But.” And he sounds almost shy when he speaks again, like he wasn’t just speaking the most raunchy words you’d ever heard in your life moments ago.

“I like you. A lot. Really like you.”

“Good. I really like you a lot, too.” 

And you’re body aches and your face hurts from smiling too much, but you don’t care. You would amend your first date rule after tonight, but you don’t think you’ll be going on anymore first dates after this.

—————————————————————————

guys this is pure SMUTTTTT LIKE omg don’t tell me Shinsou isn’t a freaky boy we all know he is… I acc couldn’t stop thinking of him after I wrote pt2 and when I got thsi ask I knew what had to be done..

I love u all and I hope u love this as much as I did! I literlaly wrote this during my lecture at uni in public so.. do with that information what u will

LOVE U GUYS

[maidenvault]

Wow this is getting a lot of notes. And thinking about a lot of the comments/tags, I would add that I think this is one way it gets messy that fandom is a space for both media analysis and transformative works even though those two things don’t always co-exist comfortably or necessarily serve each other.

The overwhelming trend of fanfic as an art form is taking stories from any genre and basically flattening them into familiar conventions of romance with a pairing you like at the center, because you usually don’t get the explicit sex or total focus on romance in canon and it’s fun and interesting. Obviously that doesn’t describe all fanfic, or even all fics centered on ships, but it’s been a big part of fanfic culture for the many decades it’s been around. And obviously approaching the source material that way, or even just half-consciously always wearing your slash goggles, is not necessarily congruent with doing sound analysis of its themes and characterization.

At some point fandom got a higher opinion of itself as being important because fanfic serves an under-served audience, because you can find basically any kind of representation you want in fanfiction by just filtering by a tag. But then when people’s problematic biases show and fandom so often isn’t this super progressive space it pretends to be, fans have the excuse that this isn’t serious, it’s just porn, I write what is hot to me and I’m not gonna write a ship I don’t feel drawn to that way, what do you want?

And generally, in theory, that’s totally fair. If you’re truly just here to have fun with your kinky readerfic and don’t care whether your way of writing a character is supported by any evidence in canon, whatever. But it’s also often a conversation stopper, and fandom (at least on places like tumblr) is also a space for discussing the meaning of things in the source material. I don’t know if I have a main point here or an answer. But it’s a dissonance I wish fan communities were more aware of.

With David Lynch having just passed, this feels like a good time to share this classic piece on Mulholland Drive for anyone who hasn’t read this analysis. Lynch was famously reluctant to explain the meaning of his more surreal films, which obviously lend themselves to wildly different interpretations, which makes this movie a great example for Film Crit Hulk to explain in this what is actually needed to build a strong argument for your take on a subjective work of art.

Not “Only my reading of canon is correct” or “Interpretations are subjective and all valid” but a secret third thing, “More than one interpretation can be valid but there’s a reason your English teacher had you cite quotes and examples in your papers, you have to have a strong argument that your interpretation is actually supported by the text or it is just wrong and I’m fine with telling you it’s wrong, actually.”

[gothamrain]

I MARRIED MY STALKER —more on page 4

Tim Drake x reader || part 1 || 1760 words

a/n: okay so some context, this is supposed to be an isekai’d reader. only been in this universe for a month but knows dc lore. also i wrote 90% of this literally 2 years ago lol i stay silly

It was a strange situation. Laughable, in a twisted kinda way. You knew you had a stalker. You hear him follow you home every night after work. Or, well, morning technically. You get off that late.

You've never been one to write something off as paranoia. Especially now that you lived in Gotham. Especially especially since you lived in the Narrows. Like you're not stupid.

Whenever you would turn around, checking your surroundings, you wouldn’t find him. The footsteps weren't on the ground, you've elicited. He was up in the rooftops, doing parkour. Great.

You really hoped it wasn't a supervillain. Imagine that, you're given the miraculous opportunity to carve out a new life for yourself in a big city and you almost immediately get killed horrifically by a guy in a halloween costume before you even get a chance. Actually, with the way your luck goes, that checks out.

It was becoming increasingly clear the predator didn't just know your work schedule, either. When you'd go out for groceries, or to a diner, he’d often find you then too, following you around town. It was like he was studying your behavior patterns, which actually is pretty typical of a true old fashioned stalker, now that you think of it.

Even so. He never got any closer than he always did. Never actually attacking you. And eventually, you got used to his presence, thinking nothing of it when you heard the occasional scuff of boots against the concrete and metal of the city.

But the strangest thing happened as you shambled home from your second job tonight, eager to get on with your evening.

You see him.

Or, at least, you see his shadow. His form silhouetted against the wall, standing bold as he eclipsed the red glow coming from some sort of neon sign.

He doesn't move, as you stare at the shadow on the wall. Which strikes you as odd, if not terrifying, because you had gotten the vibe that this man knew what he was doing. It was like he wanted you to know he was there.

And you recognize the silhouette. That's Red fucking Robin.

You take a deep breath. You are relieved, truthfully. Even if it was clear he thought of you as some sort of target.. Or maybe he was protecting you from the real stalker, and the supervillain theory was truer than you'd hoped…

“I don't believe I have any information you would want,” you call out, trying to figure just what the hell he thinks he’s doing.

“That’s not necessarily true,” his voice is different than you expected.

“So like. You gonna beat the shit out of me or can we go up to my apartment and have this discussion over a pot of coffee?”

“I— I would never hurt you,” his calm and deep voice cracked for a second, like he couldn't believe what you just implied. You know as if he hadn't been stalking you almost the entire time you'd been in this goddamn city.

“So my place it is, then,” you confirmed.

“You’d invite a dangerous vigilante into your home?”

“Are you saying you don’t have the ability to ‘let yourself in’ at any time you please?”

“Well, no,”

“Then I don't see how me voluntarily letting you in is any less dangerous.”

And that's how you wound up in this situation, nervously pouring a mug of coffee for one of Gotham's infamous vigilantes.

You were glad that he for some reason took this softer route. As you recall, whenever a Bat wants to have a talk with someone they usually just appear in the shadows of their home or office, scaring the bejeebus out of them.

You couldn't completely tell, because of the mask, but you got the feeling he wasn't looking around. He'd already studied your apartment, most likely. His eyes were trained solely on you.

"Room for cream and sugar?" you ask. You know the answer. You're a barista in the daytime, and you've served a certain Wayne Ent. CEO more than a few times already. Which, now that he could be your stalker, makes sense. He was scoping you out. Great.

"No thanks. I prefer it black."

"Dark like you, right?"

He cracked the smallest of smiles as he took the mug from your hands, like he was holding back from outright grinning. Strange. That was a really lame and overdone joke. Maybe he doesn't get out much.

"I like it black too," you ran a hand through your hair,

"I know you’ve been following me around," he looked a little guilty at your accusation, "but I don’t know why. I haven’t done anything suspect—“

“I’m protecting you,” Tim butt in.

“I’m in danger?”

He shifted uncomfortably.

"…I can’t say that you aren’t.”

“Goddamnit," you set the mugs down on the table a little too aggressively, "So what am I looking at here? Joker? Poison Ivy? Condiment Man?”

Tim looked sheepish as you poured the coffee into the mugs. As much as he could with that mask, anyway. He grabbed a mug and took a long sip, swallowing loudly. Ah, it was a little too hot, but he was trying too much to act cool to let on to the fact he just burned himself. He let out a breath to cool off his tongue, but played it off as a sigh.

“I can’t tell you.”

You sighed deeply, yeah, that’s what you thought he’d say.

Well. As much as you didn’t like the sudden interruption of your new life, you had been wondering when you were going to be pulled into something like this. You knew it was inevitable, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.. Right? People don’t get sent to other dimensions for no reason, right? And besides, now that you’ve settled in, you’ve started to get bored.

"So what’s our game plan?” you asked as you took a sip. Ah, a little too hot.

“Game plan?”

“You know. The part where you’ve got an overly complicated plan to catch this criminal and you need my help as bait,”

He smiled at you, incredulous, “You’d want to be bait?”

“Not. Necessarily. No,” you took another sip to cover up your eagerness, “I just want to help,”

“Helping is my job, Sweetheart,” he took a long sip to look roguish, “you’re a civilian,”

“Yeah but,” you tried not to sound put down by his reluctance to let you into his world, “You— I… I’m interested in not being a civilian, if you know what I mean…”

Tim stared at you, trying to compute what you were asking of him. Feeling silly, you put up your dukes and mimed punching someone to make your point. It was really cute, actually. He grinned at you.

He did not expect.. this. He thought you’d be scared. He thought he could metaphorically take you to a scary movie just so you’d cuddle into him out of fright. He did not think your brain would’ve picked the ‘fight’ option out of ‘fight or flight’. Maybe he underestimated you. Miscalculated his moves. Albeit, this might be way more interesting…

“Train me,” you tried not to sound too desperate.

You held your breath, waiting for his answer.

Tim focused on the coffee, letting what you just said linger in the air. This was a dirt cheap brand of grounds, burnt and acidic. He’d have to get you some real coffee soon.

“Okay.”

You released the air in your lungs with one big huff. Hopefully your breath didn’t smell too bad, as you basically washed his face in it. Even a strand of his bangs fluttered. Real smooth, dumbass. But you quickly forgot that insecurity as your brain caught up with what he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,”

“No interview or anything? Not that I can’t be trusted, but how would you know I can be trusted?” hey stupid, stop trying to talk him out of this.

“Well I already uh,” he coughed awkwardly, “I already know a lot about you,”

“Ah, yeah, you were stalking me, weren’t you?”

You had no idea what the fuck kinda info he could have considering you don’t really have a background to check in this universe, but okay.

Tim scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah.. Sorry about that. It was all for your safety, I promise,”

You giggled, “Thank you, Mr. Robin, I do feel safe now, knowing it was you,”

“Oh uh,” you could see a blush start peeking out from under his mask, “My pleasure— I mean uh, it’s my duty to you. —As you are a citizen of Gotham, I mean.”

“So when do we star—“

You were cut off by his communicator beeping. He put a hand up to some earpiece he had.

“On it. Be right there,” Tim told someone over the line.

He looked back at you guiltily. You waved your hand in a “it’s fine” gesture.

“Go be a hero Mr. Robin,” you stood to start taking the mugs to the sink.

He held up a finger to ask you for a second as he basically dumped the entire mug into his mouth and gulped it all down. He parted from the mug with a gasp of satisfaction, and you snickered as you finally took it from him.

He stood and brushed himself off while you busied yourself at the sink. You didn’t really worry about whether he was about to disappear into the night like he was never there in the first place. He’d be back. Watching you in the shadows like he had been every night you’d been here...

Did he know you weren’t ‘native’, so to speak? Maybe whatever trouble you’re in now is apart of how you got here in the first place. You’ll have to ask him later…

A hand found its place on your shoulder, and you turned around to him fumbling with his communicator with the other hand. You felt a buzz in your pocket.

“Here’s my number, I’ll text you later, okay?”

You noticed how he didn’t even go through the formality of asking you for your number. Guess we’re a little past pretending this is a normal interaction between two people who want to get to know each other better. You smiled at him as he started making his way to your door.

“Bye Mr. Robin,”

Chuckling at the nickname, he turned back one last time as he held the door, “Bye Y/n,” he grinned at you before making his disappearance back into the shadows of the night.

[ace-scientist]

Correct, it’s useful to be cautious about participating, but some entries in this thread have made some incorrect assumptions about how the research works.

The important thing is that if you see a study that you’d like to participate in — and it’s really important that we continue to understand the experiences of queer people — the consent form will tell you exactly what data is being collected, and you can ask questions about anything you’re concerned about. Anyone researching LGBT+ people knows there are a lot of reasons participants are concerned about privacy, even with a less hostile federal government, and keeping your data safe is a key part of designing this research. Any legit study will make this information clear to you and address any concerns you have.

Here’s what this looked like when I was doing my dissertation research about how people learn to use singular they:

Before starting to recruit people, I had to get approval from my university about what data I was collecting, what I’d tell people, and how I’d keep it private (not connecting any study to real names).

If you signed up online via a site like Prolific, I never saw your name or contact info.

If you came into the lab, you signed up using your university account, but the name you signed on the consent form and the payment didn’t have to be your legal name. There is no way to link your survey responses (including info about sexuality and gender) to your name.

I regularly answered questions from participants about how the contact info we collected so the university could do its taxes and we could prove we weren’t embezzling grant money was not able to be connected to their study data.

If the university IRB (who decides what privacy standards we need to uphold) or the NSF (who gave me grant money to pay participants) asked us for the names and contact info of which participants said they were queer, we would tell them that we didn’t know, because it is standard to not be able connect that information.

To be honest, if the federal government wants to find lists of queer people, they’re much more likely to do so via who has changed their IDs (data they already have), who has gotten gender affirming medical treatment (there have been lawsuits to hospitals about this), or who is posting about it on publicly available social media. Linking demographic data to contact information in federally-funded studies is hard, changing the policies to make people collect that data in a way that’s easy to link is harder (because it’s also up to individual university IRB offices), and pretending to be a fake study to collect data is even harder. It’s not remotely the most effective way of trying to collect a list of targets, so I don’t think is the area you should be most concerned about your privacy.

Finally, the reason I’m writing this is not to convince people to participate in studies they’re not comfortable with, but to combat the assumption that academic and medical researchers are inherently suspicious and dangerous. There’s a lot of anti intellectualism going around on the internet these days, and it ignores that fact that so many of these researchers (often queer themselves!!) are doing important work to understand queer experiences and make the world better for queer people.

[revelboo]

Oh my gosh, The “Everything is Alright” drama just slowly ripling outward is so so juicy. Devouring this! Ur writing is so good. Every fic being gently connected is so fun. TY for the food!

I’m glad you enjoy my nonsense!

The pointy cryptid arrived!

Everything Is Alright Pt 121

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Watching Soundwave inspect your soft hands, turning them over in his and rumbling unhappily at the sight of your bleeding knuckles where you’d lashed out at Starscream, Megatron lays back on the berth. Unable to watch those two fussing over you, unable to deal with the problem of your lifespan along with your sparkling. And someone has to be full size and ready to defend their family. That thought catching him off guard. Is that what they are now? Fragged over by the universe into the most dysfunctional family ever. “Someone needs to teach you how to throw a punch,” he mutters. “You’re awful at it.”

• Almost laughing despite yourself, you hate that you want to relent. To bury your face against Starscream and soak in the warmth and familiarity of him. But know it’s a trap. “I can’t do this again. I won’t.” Glancing at Megatron, you tug your hand from Soundwave. Why can’t this be simple? Because you’re greedy and want more than you should. Because something is wrong with you and you can’t decide. “No more lying. No more plots.” No more not taking your voice into account. “Please.”

• Grimacing, Starscream’s aware of Megatron sprawled on his back, head turned to watch them. Watching him. And you’re asking him to stop trying to seize control, to ignore all the wrongs, the mistakes. The pain. Hand cupping your cheek, he ignores Megatron and Soundwave. Aware suddenly that you’ve given him the ultimate immunity against Megatron by fully bonding the warlord. You’d protected him for life from Megatron’s rage. “I only look to the future.” Sees you frown and nudges you with his head. “Our future. Together.” Knows he’s neglected you, focused on protecting you without stopping to even ask if you wanted to be protected, but he couldn’t risk losing you. Still can’t.

• Still upset, but your mind is calming as his servos curl around your upper arm, finding skin to strengthen the connection. Megatron had told him to bond to you again, but he can’t. Not when you’re still off kilter and unsure of everything. Hurting. Doesn’t want to take this time, wants you to reach out to him. “I don’t know if I can trust you. Any of you,” you mumble and his spark constricts. Because he’s had as much a part to play in this as the other two. He’d tried to manipulate you and Megatron, had done it to protect you, but had never thought about what you’d actually wanted. Though, apparently you had wanted Megatron. More than him. He’s trying so hard to not think about the fact that you held back with him, but submitted completely to Megatron. Wanting to believe that it hadn’t been you, that you’d unconsciously been offered a chance to survive and has seized it without being aware what you were doing. But it still hurts.

• “Trust is earned,” Megatron growls, servos pressing against his own chassis over his spark. Can barely sense that weak spark nestled inside him, that impossible life a way forward. How long has it been since there’s been a new generation? Well before the war began. Wants to hang on to that anger at what you’d done to him, about the inevitable complications and questions it’s going to cause, because at some point the spark will need to be transferred to a protoform. And that’s going to be noticed. And a sparkling will be even more helpless than you are. Staring at you rubbing your eyes, his spark constricts. Because you’re a problem. Vulnerable, helpless, and his life is dependent on yours. On no one figuring out that he’s fully bonded to you and deciding to take him out by killing one ridiculously fragile human. “I don’t see that we have much choice but to work together. Because anyone gunning for me will target our helpless little mate.”

• Mate not pet. You feel Starscream stiffen against you and you don’t know if it’s that he doesn’t want to get along with Megatron or even try or if he’s just now realizing that you’re going to be a target. It’s definitely not something you’d considered. But it really shouldn’t surprise you, because of course things can get worse.

Previous

[wendichester]

Hello! If requests are still open by the time you get to this, could you do something where it’s like season 15 episode 13 and Huntercorp! Sam and Dean are in San and Dean og universe and Sam or Dean’s (your choice) love, the reader, gets home and their alternate is all over them bc the reader from their world died before they got out of there, if that makes sense? Please and thank you!!

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. here,

summary. different realities mix and dean has a hard time seeing you again.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 560

notes. i haven't reached season 15 yet but i did read a bit about the episode to write this and hopefully it makes sense??? thanks for requesting, regardless 🩷

You step through the door of the bunker, brushing off the late-night chill. The hunt had gone long, but you made it back in one piece. Just another day in the life, right?

“Hey, I’m home!” you call out, your voice echoing off the stone walls.

What you’re not expecting is to be tackled into a hug so tight it nearly knocks the breath out of you.

“Whoa! Dean?”

But it’s not your Dean—at least, not entirely. His flannel feels the same, his scent a mix of leather and whiskey that you’d know anywhere. But there’s something different in his touch, in the way he buries his face in your hair like he’s trying to memorize you.

“Dean, are you okay?” you ask, your voice softening as you pull back to look at him.

And then you see it. The glassiness in his eyes, the emotion he’s not even trying to hide. His jaw is tight, like he’s barely holding it together.

“You’re here,” he whispers, his voice thick with something raw and unnameable. “You’re really here.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?”

But before he can answer, a second voice cuts in.

“Dean, let her breathe.”

You glance up and freeze. Standing in the doorway is your Dean, the one you know—the one who isn’t looking at you with desperation but with something closer to dread.

“What the hell is going on?” you ask, your gaze darting between the two of them.

HunterCorp Dean steps back reluctantly, his hands lingering at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do without you in his arms.

“She doesn’t know, does she?” he asks, his voice quiet but pointed, directed at your Dean.

“She doesn’t need to know,” your Dean snaps, stepping closer to you as if shielding you from his alternate self.

HunterCorp Dean laughs bitterly. “That’s rich, coming from you. You think she wouldn’t want to know what she meant to me? What she meant to him?”

You take a step back, your mind spinning. “Okay, someone needs to start making sense right now.”

HunterCorp Dean looks at you, and it feels like he’s looking straight into your soul. “In my world... you didn’t make it out. You died before we could get out of that place. And every day since, I’ve wondered if I could’ve saved you.”

His words hit you like a truck, and your chest tightens. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, his voice cracking. “Just... let me look at you. Just for a little while.”

Your Dean stiffens, his hand brushing yours like a silent claim. “That’s enough. She’s not your her.”

“I know,” HunterCorp Dean replies, his voice hollow. “But for a second, it felt like she was.”

The air feels heavy, loaded with everything unsaid. You reach for your Dean’s hand, squeezing it tightly. He squeezes back, grounding you.

HunterCorp Dean takes one last, long look at you before nodding and turning away. “Take care of her,” he says over his shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your Dean doesn’t respond, but his grip on your hand says everything.

And as the door closes behind his alternate self, you feel the weight of what could have been—and the fragility of what is—settle in your chest.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie

[wrystia]

cut that!! spencer agnew x fem!reader (fluff/est. relationship) wc: 932

   "welcome back, we are playing the classic clue game. but the catch is that one of us is the killer and must try to throw the others off from figuring out who it is, what they used, and what room they did it in..." you start off the video, fixing your bowtie and straightening your glasses, "i'm your host professor plum and welcome to my classroom."

  "that was so corny holy shit," angela immediately exclaims, laughing as she lowers her head off to the side, making sure she doesn't hit the table. 

 it was either the way her laugh echoes through the room or the absolute exhaustion that you were feeling from the busy week but you broke out in laughter as well. you look to your coworkers who are also holding back laughter and running their hands down their faces. “i’m never introducing a video ever again,” you shake your head against the games table, laugh subsiding.

  “i don’t know i thought it was pretty good.”

  “you’d think anything was good spencer, you literally tried to get me to say ‘and what room they did it in.. and by ‘it’, i mean… murder’. like that isn’t even cornier,” you look over at him, knee pressing against his under the table.

  he smiles widely at the comment, looking back at you with a similar getup to yours. however, his suit is less fashionable than yours (and considerably more green). his glasses even crooked in a way that makes you want to correct them like you would do any other way. fingers grappling at the temples and fixing them just before pulling him in a kiss. however, you restrain yourself, simply shaking your head.

  “that’s actually true, i saw them writing it with the pencil in the editor’s room,” shayne brings his fingers together, dressed like wadsworth, his usual smirk lining his lips. 

  you shake your head lightly, trying to take in the absolutely insanity that the room has become. none of you were running on enough sleep, filming nearly everyday that week and then finishing off today with a long shoot. you try to keep your composure, but the lack of sleep was getting to your head. “thank you for the info, wadsworth… but how about we start with our first guess, mrs. white. use your bob and roll that dice,” you set them in front of angela.

  the following rounds went rather easily, gathering information from the different sources. your paper was mostly filled out with information that would either screw you over or could win the game. looking up from your paper, you scan each of their faces, watching as shayne rolls again. “okay, so i’m in the kitchen. i’d like to make my guess. it was professor plum in the living room with the rope,” he looks over at you, grabbing the small envelope.

  making eye contact with shayne, you feel your lips curling into a smile of success. pursing your lips you hide it and wait for him to look at the cards. as he pulls them out he keeps his eye contact with you, only looking down when the cards are all out. much to your knowledge, he was completely wrong on the murderer part. “i called it initially! i got completely thrown off,” he stuffs them back into the envelope, tossing it back towards the game board.

  “well it seems we have had our first false accusation and our first power outage?” you joke, watching as one of the crew members turns off the lights.

  as shayne situates a knife under his armpit, you can see fake blood on the handle and the blade. looking back towards spencer, you give him a soft smile, grabbing his hand under the table. “if you were the murderer you wouldn’t kill me, right?” you whisper, leaning back into your seat, raising your eyebrows.

  “no promises babe, but i would kill you last, if that’s any consolation,” he whispers back, knowing all of this will be cut for time.

  his eyes roll within the darkness, something you can only tell by the whites of his eyes. however, his thumb also rubs along the back of your palm, a soothing motion that comes to a slow start as someone counts down to continuing. pulling your hand back to the table, you sit up. the light flickers on and there sits shayne slumped in his seat. the knife sticks out, as well as his tongue. 

  angela immediately starts to giggle as she notices his tongue sticking out. it absolutely breaks the immersion but you can’t help but join in in her laughter. shayne lifts his head up from his seat, furrowing his eyebrows. “really? i die and you all start laughing, feels especially cold because i know who killed me.”

  “hey, you tried to make accusations and the killer got scared, honestly i think that’s your own fault.”

  “wow, victim blaming babe, that’s real mature of you,” spencer casuals calls you out, accidentally using one of the many pet names you share. looking at him with wide eyes, you immediately look back at the camera, hand doing a striking motion at your neck.

  “cut that!! you’re ridiculous,” you shake your head, bringing your hands up to rest your face in.

  the crew and ‘talent’ already knew about your relationship, and you’ve done this plenty of times. but there’s still something so special about being able to be playful and still keep it between you. so, while you’d love to tell the world, you’ve said ‘cut that’ more times than you can count. 

[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.  

[andy-15-07]

hi! do you write for joe quinn or fred hechinger? joe and fred are such cute actors, and i would love more y/n x gladiator cast interactions!!

ty!!! 😊

Emperor of My Heart

PAIRING: Joseph Quinn x reader

WORD COUNT: 693 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, casting golden hues over the living room where Joseph and Y/N were curled up on the couch. A half-empty cup of tea sat on the coffee table, forgotten in the midst of their comfortable silence. Y/N’s fingers absentmindedly played with the sleeve of Joseph’s sweater, and he hummed softly, eyes closed, seemingly content in the warmth of their little bubble.

Then his phone rang.

Joseph groaned, reluctant to break the peace. “Should I?”

Y/N grinned. “If it’s your agent, you probably should.”

He sighed dramatically, reaching for the phone. His agent’s name flashed across the screen, and suddenly, the air in the room shifted. Y/N sat up straighter, her eyes filled with anticipation as Joseph answered.

“Hello?”

There was a pause, and then—“Wait, wait, say that again?” Joseph sat up, his free hand gripping Y/N’s knee as if grounding himself. Y/N held her breath.

A beat of silence. Then Joseph shot up from the couch, running a hand through his curls as he let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re joking.” Another pause. “No, no, I—I don’t even know what to say—thank you. Thank you so much.”

Y/N’s heart pounded as she grabbed his wrist, eyes wide. Joseph pulled the phone away for a second, grinning like a madman. “I got it. I got the role.”

Y/N let out an excited squeal, launching herself at him. He caught her, laughing as he spun her around. “You’re looking at Emperor Geta.”

They both collapsed back onto the couch, breathless with excitement. Y/N cupped his face, grinning. “You’re gonna be a bloody emperor, Joe.”

Joseph let out a breath, shaking his head as if still processing. “I can’t believe it.”

Y/N pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I can.”

A few weeks later, Y/N found herself on the massive Gladiator 2 set, watching Joseph transform into Emperor Geta. The golden laurel crown sat perfectly atop his curls, and the regal robes draped over his frame made him look every bit the Roman ruler. He stood in the middle of the set, deep in conversation with the director, but his eyes flickered toward Y/N every now and then, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re staring,” a voice teased beside her. One of the costume assistants grinned. “Not that I blame you.”

Y/N laughed, crossing her arms. “It’s surreal. He’s been running lines in his pajamas for weeks, and now he’s actually here.”

Joseph finally broke away from the conversation and strode toward her, a cocky smirk on his face. “Well? Do I look the part?”

Y/N tilted her head, pretending to scrutinize him. “Hmm. I don’t know… You look a bit too soft to be an emperor.”

Joseph gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “How dare you?”

Y/N giggled, tugging on the sleeve of his costume. “You look perfect.”

He leaned in, dropping his voice. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

A crew member called for him, and he groaned, stealing a quick kiss before jogging back to set. Y/N watched him go, heart swelling with pride. Joseph Quinn: her emperor.

The long days on set blended together, but Y/N never tired of watching Joseph slip into his role. She marveled at his dedication, the way he carried himself with a newfound regality. One afternoon, between takes, he plopped down beside her in full costume, exhausted but beaming.

“This is insane,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Every time I step onto that set, I feel like I’m stepping into another world.”

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. “That’s because you are.”

He exhaled, tilting his head against hers. “I wish you could be in a scene with me.”

She chuckled. “Me? In ancient Rome? I think I’d stick out.”

Joseph smirked. “You’d make a great empress.”

Y/N laughed. “I’ll leave the ruling to you, Emperor Geta.”

A runner called Joseph for his next scene, and he sighed, pressing a quick kiss to Y/N’s temple before standing. “Watch me?”

“Always,” she said, smiling as he walked away.

And as she watched him disappear into the grandeur of the set, Y/N knew—this was just the beginning of something incredible.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Flashbacks

In fiction, a flashback is a scene that takes place before a story begins.

Flashbacks interrupt the chronological order of the main narrative to take a reader back in time to the past events in a character’s life.

A writer uses this literary device to help readers better understand present-day elements in the story or learn more about a character.

Whether it’s a vivid memory or a dream sequence, a flashback scene (sometimes called an analepsis) is a window to an earlier occurrence that provides critical information to the story.

In the opposite narrative direction, a flash-forward (sometimes called a prolepsis) is a sneak preview or foreshadowing of future events.

Books make time travel effortless. Here are a few writing tips for moving elegantly between different time periods in your narrative:

Use verb tense shifts to move between the flashback and main narrative. Whenever your narrative or characters recall a memory from a time before the story began, you have two choices. If the memory is short, you can describe it briefly. If it’s longer, you may want to pull the reader back into a full scene describing a past event. It important to mark the beginning and end of a flashback to make your time jumps clear to the reader. If you’re already using past tense to tell your story, once inside the flashback, use a few lines of past perfect tense to introduce the change—e.g. “he had gone to the marina.” Past perfect tense uses the verb “to have” with the past participle of another verb (in this case “gone”). After a few lines of this, transition into simple past tense—e.g. “he climbed onto the boat.” Generally speaking, using past perfect for a long section of text is jarring for most readers. It’s enough to use it only at the start of the flashback before switching to simple past tense. At the end of the flashback, return briefly to past perfect tense and then transition back into the tense you started out with to signal a return to real time.

Keep them relevant. Flashbacks help fill in the characters’ motives and history, but if they are too long or tedious, the reader will get bored. If you use flashbacks, always be aware that time is still moving in the front story, and make sure that your reader can hear the clock in that front story ticking. It can be tempting to unload every last one of your character’s memories but tell the reader what they really need to know, and no more than that. Keep the language in these passages clear, always keeping the readers’ understanding in mind.

Sometimes the whole book is the flashback. Occasionally, the first scene or first chapter of a book will feature the main character (or a supporting character) beginning to tell a story to someone else. Framing the events of the storyline this way, with a dual point-of-view into a character’s life over the passage of time, can bring more nuance to the storytelling. Before using this technique, ask yourself whether the character’s arc is dramatic enough to make for interesting retrospection.

Tell the present story first. Sometimes it may not be clear where a flashback belongs until you’ve completed your first draft and have a complete view of the storyline. Don’t feel any pressure to weave in flashbacks as you write: simply tell your story in a linear fashion first, then shed more light on a character's motives that may need more clarity, or set up later events in the revision process.

Ways to Use Flashbacks in Your Writing

Flashbacks can either be quick dips into the past or a larger narrative thread within a story. Taking readers out of the present time to learn about an earlier event can help a writer tell a story in a non-linear style. Approaching short story or novel writing in this way can make the narrative more interesting. Flashbacks have several other important functions in literature.

Flashbacks aid character development. Diving into a character’s past, even momentarily, is a way for writers to convey background information that supports the main storyline. Writing flashbacks can provide insight into the main character’s motivations for the decisions they make and actions they take. For example, if a character's backstory includes something critical that happened in high school that can explain an event in the present, a writer can create a scenario that triggers a character to recall and reflect upon the memory.

Flashbacks incorporate different time periods. Everyone has layers of moments in their lives that influence who they are in the present. Following the chronological sequence of a storyline can leave a plot feeling flat. Flashbacks break up the chronological flow of a story, making it more interesting and realistic.

Flashbacks make readers more connected to the characters. Effective flashbacks provide a deeper insight into who a person is. Maybe a villain thinks back to the parents who abandoned him—a past event that has directly impacted his bad behavior. Though readers might not excuse the character’s actions based on his past experiences, the flashback helps them feel empathy and make sense of the antagonist’s behavior.

Flashbacks can explain the current conflict. Flashing back can help a reader better understand why and how the protagonist got into the situation that’s driving the plot and the reasons behind the main conflict. If there’s a long history of bad blood between the protagonist and antagonist, a writer can use flashbacks to show readers this history.

Examples of Flashbacks in Literature

A sight, a sound, a smell, a time, a place—writers use different stimuli to trigger a flashback. Once they take the reader back in time, they use flashbacks to enlighten them. Here are three flashback examples that demonstrate different ways this device can be used in literature:

Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad: In Joseph Conrad’s novel, a flashback makes up most of the narrative, creating a story within a story. Sitting on board a small ship on London’s Thames river, the crew of the Nellie waits for the tide to shift. As the sun sinks below the horizon, the sight triggers a memory for a crewmember named Marlow who begins to recall his time as a riverboat captain in the Congo.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald: “In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my head ever since.” So begins Fitzgerald’s novel The Great Gatsby. He uses a flashback in the first scene of the first chapter to kick off his story.

Reasons to Incorporate Flashbacks into Your Story

While flashbacks are not a requirement of writing fiction, they can create layers of complexity and intrigue.

Flashbacks can be a powerful way to make a promise to a reader. It’s common to open a chapter with a cataclysmic event, then move abruptly into the past (“Three Weeks Earlier”) where (usually with a dose of dramatic irony) your protagonist finds himself in an entirely normal situation. This forges a contract with the reader that you’ll explain how the hero went from one situation to its opposite.

Revealing a character's backstory this way can help to make sense of their present-day actions. You can use flashbacks to fill in a backstory about a character’s past or situation, and the flashback sequence creates new micro-promises in itself.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[sayyestoheav3nn]

Nights Like This: Part Five

Roman x black!oc 

Warnings: fluff, smut, angst

Word count: 4.6k

a/n: omg i can’t believe it’s been this long since i’ve last updated this, definitely a goal to get back on my writing grind. smut is something i’m not very good at writing, so unfortunately it set me way off schedule 😭 thanks for your patience, if you would like to be tagged click here. 💕

Zoe nervously fiddled with her dress while she waited in the hallway for Roman. 

Since their last interaction, she had spent over two weeks away visiting family. And within that time, they spent almost every night on the phone. 

As they got to know each other better, she could feel herself growing more comfortable with him and matching his flirtatious manner. She lost count at how many times he made her flustered with just his voice. 

She stared at the screen in front of her, the entirety of his promo was captivating. As Roman closed the show and exited the ring, her eyes traveled to his black T-shirt accentuating his athletic physique. The way his sleeves wrapped around his thick biceps, made her wonder what it’d be like to hold onto them while she rode him. 

Just as her imagination was starting to run wild, she forced herself to snap out of it when she saw him making his way out of the gorilla. 

Roman immediately spotted her and started walking in her direction, she smiled and met him halfway.

“Hey beautiful,” Roman hugged her, a small grin formed on his face when she wrapped her arms around his waist. 

“Hi Roman,” This was the closest she’d ever been near him physically, Zoe melted in his embrace, the smell of his cologne was subtle but rich. His big arms felt like a warm safety net. 

She slowly pulled away, slightly embarrassed after realizing she definitely held onto him longer than she should've.

“You wanted to talk?” She muttered.

“Yeah… I wanted to ask when you were flying out?”

“I leave tonight, why?” Zoe noticed a slight look of disappointment in his beautiful face.

“I was hoping you could stay in town a bit… I wanna show you around.”

The fact that he was willing to use the little free time that he had on her, made her smile. “I can move my flight, I’ll just call the hotel to extend my stay.”

Roman smiled while stepping closer to her, Zoe could feel her breath hitch in her throat. “Stay with me, I don’t bite.”

“I don’t know…. I don’t want to intrude…”

Roman slowly lifted her chin, his eyes meeting hers, “Zoe, I like you. I want to spend time with you… you could never intrude.”

She chuckled, “I like you too… I’ll go with you,” she muttered. 

He smiled and kissed her forehead “It’s done, then. Let’s go.”

…………..

There was no denying the chemistry between them, Roman had one hand on the steering while the other lightly squeezed her thigh. It was embarrassing how something so fucking simple, turned her on. It took every fiber of her being to not ask this man to pull over and fuck her.

“We’re close.”

Zoe stared out the window, taking in the beautiful view that surrounded her. There was a mix of vibrant palm trees and greenery surrounding the view of the beautiful ocean. 

It was breathtaking to say the least. She hadn’t even noticed they were now in a secluded gated community. 

Her eyes widened once Roman pulled in his driveway. His house was stunning, she’d never seen anything like it.

“Wow, Roman… it’s beautiful.”

He smiled while putting his arm across her shoulder, “C’mon let’s go inside.” Roman set their bags aside, as he guided her in his living room. 

“Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”

“Of course. Second door on the right.”

“Thanks,” as Zoe stepped in the bathroom, she fixed her dress and touched up her makeup. After a few minutes, she made her way back to his living room. The sexual tension between them was the strongest it’s ever been.

Roman leaned back in the sofa, his eyes burning into hers.

“Come here,” he patted his thigh, motioning her over.

Zoe could see the lust in his eyes, causing her heart to skip a beat. She nervously walked over towards him, preceding to slowly seat herself on his thick thighs. 

The feeling of her straddling him with her legs spread, made Roman’s dick hard.

Zoe was regretting her choice of not wearing a longer dress, because as she situated herself on top of him she could feel it slowly start to rise up. As she went to try and pull it down, Roman gently stopped her hand.

“Nah baby, leave it,” he whispered.

Baby. Something about the way his deep voice said it, sent a shiver down her spine. 

There was no denying how much power Roman had over her, Zoe couldn’t remember the last time a man had actually given her butterflies. Yet, one word or look from Roman made her knees weak.

Her nervousness slowly dissipated when she looked down at him, those big beautiful eyes felt so soft and inviting. He was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever laid her eyes on, and for some embarrassing reason, a wave of impulsivity convinced her to voice it.

“I’m sure you hear this a lot, but you’re….you’re like really fucking handsome.” 

Roman smiled while sliding some of her curls behind her ear, a faint chuckle escaping him, “Coming from the most beautiful girl, I appreciate it.”

The effect this man had on her was driving her insane. Zoe couldn’t hold back anymore, without thinking twice she smashed her lips into his. 

Roman cupped her cheek with one hand, while using his other to pull her closer to him. 

His lips pressed against hers felt fucking intoxicating, she felt glued to him in ways she couldn’t even begin to describe. As their kiss intensified, Roman slightly adjusted his hips, watching her reaction when his hard dick pressed against her. 

“See what you do to me, baby?” 

“Shit,” she moaned, Zoe could feel herself getting more soaked. And as much as feeling his bulge turned her on, she couldn’t ignore the fact that the size of it intimidated the fuck out of her.

It’s something she couldn’t dwell on too long because seconds later, Roman lifted her dress higher, proceeding to palm and squeeze her ass. The light moans she made when he started kissing and sucking on her neck, started to send him over the edge. 

“If only you knew how bad I want to fuck you right now,” he whispered, while nibbling on her ear.

Zoe’s hand traveled down Roman’s body, her fingers teased the fabric of his sweatpants right above his hard dick, causing him to groan. “So fuck me then.”

“You have no idea what you're asking for baby,” he smirked. Roman picked her up and started heading towards the stairs.

“Roman I can walk, it’s okay” Zoe giggled. 

He lifted her even higher, “Nah baby, I got you.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist while he carried her upstairs towards his room. Roman opened the door and gently laid her on his king sized bed, quickly taking off his shirt before climbing on top of her.

He resumed their kiss, this time sliding his tongue in her mouth, which she gladly accepted.

His fingers fiddled with the hemline of her dress, he carefully lifted it over her head. Roman pulled back for a moment taking in her body, his tongue glided across his bottom lip, “God, you’re so fucking beautiful, Zo.”

She smiled at him while wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. His warm body pressed against hers, made her never want to let go. 

Roman kissed her jaw and neck, slowing making his way down to her cleavage. His tongue sucked and nibbled at her in areas he noticed made her moan the most. 

He slid one hand behind her back, unclasping her bra. He proceeded to skillfully kiss and tease her hardened nipples, while his hand slowly made its way to the warm spot between her legs.

“Fuck,” her mouth fell open as Roman’s fingers grazed the fabric of her underwear. He let out a low groan when he felt her essence drenching the material, “You’re already so wet for me, baby.” 

Zoe lifted her hips as Roman tugged the waistband of her underwear down, leaving her fully naked.

The sight of her wet slick folds had him wanting to fuck her then and there. “You gon’ let me taste you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, but I want you to do something for me,” she muttered.

“Anything, baby,” his voice has a hint of desperation.

Roman sat up looking at her slightly confused as she stood up from the bed, his eyes followed her every movement.

Zoe smiled and gently pushed his chest, “Lay down for me, daddy.” 

Fuck. That word leaving her sexy mouth, made his dick harder than it’s ever been. He quickly scooted up the bed, laying on his backside. 

A smirk formed on Roman’s face once he realized exactly what she was doing. 

Zoe climbed on top of him, giving him a slow sensual kiss before seating her wet pussy on his lips.

Roman wasted absolutely no time, quickly wrapping his arms tightly around her thighs as he began to feast on her.

“Holy shit,” Zoe felt like she ascended to heaven, the exact moment Roman’s tongue made contact with her clit. She could hear him moaning under her as he explored every pleasurable nerve that was down there.

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” he groaned. 

Had she been able to formulate words, just maybe he would have received a response. But the way Roman was devouring her, had her screaming and gripping his headboard. 

“Shit Roman, you’re so…. so fucking good,” Zoe’s eyes rolled back as she bit her bottom lip.

Roman ate her out like he was fucking starving, she’d never in her life experienced anything like it. Zoe started grinding her pussy against his face, both of her hands held his the headboard, as she clung for stability.

“Just like that beautiful, ride daddy’s face.”

His words of encouragement had her grinding against him even faster, “Roman, f—fuck i’m gonna come!” She screamed.

Roman slapped her ass while pulling her even closer to him. “I know baby, come in my mouth. Let daddy taste every drop”

She was close, so fucking close. Zoe was seeing stars while his mouth worshipped her dripping cunt. The nasty things he was saying while she rode his beautiful face, was all she needed for her orgasm to take over. 

Roman kept his tight hold on while she rode it out, he continued working his tongue on her till her body was squirming over him.

“Shit,” Zoe laid back panting, it was very rare for a man to make her come from oral sex, let alone that fucking fast. 

“You did so good for me, baby,” Roman pulled her in for a sloppy kiss, the taste of herself on his tongue made her wet all over again. 

He stood up and walked towards his nightstand, sliding open his drawer to dig for a condom. It was so hard not to stare at his toned body, her pussy fluttered seeing how low his sweatpants were hanging, her eyes gravitated to his happy trail and v-line.

Roman’s brows furrowed in confusion when he realized his drawer didn’t have any more condoms.

“Shit. Let me check my bathroom real quick.”

“Okay,” she nodded

While he stepped into his bathroom, Zoe observed his room. It was extremely spacious,  practically the size of her whole damn apartment. The lighting was perfect, slightly dim but not too dark, she could see he had a balcony with ocean view. 

But what really caught her eyes was his huge mirror with gold borders. Zoe chuckled to herself when she realized why he set it directly across his bed. What a fucking slut.

Roman came back empty handed, disappointment evident on his face, “Fuck. I ran out.”

Zoe was honestly just as sexually frustrated as he was.

“The nearest gas station is twenty minutes, i’ll be b—”

“You clean?” She interrupted.

He paused and chuckled, “Of course i’m clean. Always.”

“Me too… I also have an IUD,” the mischievous smile she had as she bit her bottom lip, made Roman’s dick twitch. 

Roman took off his sweatpants and briefs in one swift movement. His huge veiny dick sprung free, causing Zoe’s eyes to widen. In no world had she ever seen, let alone fucked someone with a dick of his size. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Roman climbed back on top of Zoe, his lips immediately finding hers. She carefully freed his hair from his bun, smiling when his long strands fell freely.

He slid his hand down to her pussy, his thumb slowly teased and played with her clit. He watched as she threw her head back, moaning in pleasure.

“Fuck, Roman…please,” Zoe’s back arched as his fingers went to work. 

He sped up his pace, feeling her wetness starting to soak the sheets, “Please what, baby?”

“P—Please….please fuck me.”

Roman spread her legs apart, lining his hard dick with her wet opening. “You sure?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He kissed her as he slowly pressed his thick mushroom tip inside her tight, wet hole, “Tell me if it’s too much, baby.”

“It’s fine….k-keep going,” she moaned.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” Roman grunted as he went deeper inside of her. Her pussy felt just as heavenly as he imagined.

He watched her carefully as he fully seated himself inside her, “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.”

Zoe silently gave him the approval to start moving. Roman started off with slow strokes, his eyes shut at how good her pussy felt. 

He groaned as he picked up the pace, her pussy was like a suction for his dick. 

“You feel s—so fucking good daddy,” Zoe dug her nails into Roman’s back, his face was buried deep into her neck whispering the nastiest things.

“Whose pussy is this baby?” Roman lifted her legs over his shoulders, to get a deeper reach while he fucked her.

“F—Fuck, yours baby…all yours,” 

His thrusts were becoming more needy, her pussy was like a magnet. It took a lot out of him to pace himself.

“Shit, Roman… i’m gonna—”

“I know baby,” a small smirk formed on his face when Zoe reached for his hand and placed it on her throat.

He wrapped his hand around her neck, and started pounding into her even harder, he could feel her on edge. “Come for me.”

“Oh fuck!” Zoe felt as if she was on another planet as her orgasm took over, her body squirmed as Roman continued to fuck her.

“Just like that, such a fucking good girl,” he moaned.

Roman knew he didn’t have much time before he was next, he quickly turned her over on her stomach facing his mirror.

“Look at the mirror and watch how good daddy fucks you,” they both moaned in unison as he slid his big dick back into her drenched pussy. Roman grabbed her by her waist and proceeded to thrust into her.

“Oh fuck,” Zoe threw her ass back trying to match him rhythm.

“God look at you, you’re so fucking beautiful baby,” Roman pressed her back to deepen her arch, his thrusts becoming more rough and persistent. “Been jerking off to the thought of this pussy for a while now.” 

That sentence shouldn’t have turned her on as much as it fucking did, she closed her eyes as his dick and words took her to new levels. Roman quickly noticed and smacked her ass, “Nah baby, keep your eyes on daddy,” 

He continued to trust into her, “I want you to see how good your taking my dick.”

She watched in awe at how this man was fucking her, never in her life has any man tore her pussy up the way Roman was. She wasn’t sure how much more pleasure her body could take.

“You feel so fucking good inside of me, daddy,” Zoe could see him on the verge of coming too, this only fueled her to keep throwing her ass back at him meeting his thrust. 

Roman’s eyes shut as he threw his head back. “Fuck, i’m gonna come soon, baby. Want me to pull out?”

“F—Fuck no.”

“Good,” Roman smiled and flipped her on her back again, he kissed her while thrusting inside her a few more times, his head buried in her neck as he proceeded to completely empty his load inside her. She held him and kissed his neck, as his body jerked over her.

Roman wrapped her in his arms as they laid in silence for a few minutes, still trying to catch their breath. 

She spent the whole night in his arms, her back pressed against his chest as they stayed up talking about damn near everything under the sun.

Zoe smiled as she felt Roman’s dick getting hard again. She slowly pressed her ass up against him, evoking small grunt out of him. She turned around to face him, “I want you to show me.”

His brows furrowed, “Show you what?”

She bit her bottom lip while eyeing his very prominent bulge, “I want you to show me how you jerked off to me, daddy.”

Fuck. 

…………………

Zoe stirred awake at the sound of her alarm blaring, her eyelids felt tired and heavy. The warmth of the sunlight, made it difficult for her to get out of bed. She grabbed her phone to look at the time, quickly realizing she had slept through her first two alarms.

Unfortunately, her days off flew by faster then she anticipated. Time wasn’t exactly on her side considering this was her last free day before going back to work. 

Zoe jumped out of bed and headed straight to the shower. The sound of the hot water cascading over her, temporarily drowned out some of her thoughts, providing her with short lived comfort. 

To say she felt like an emotional fucking wreck would be an understatement. The past few nights consisted of hours and hours of crying, with little to no sleep. 

She hated how much Roman’s absence was affecting her. Waking up with his side of the bed empty, and going to sleep alone was something she was naive to believe she’d never experience unless it was work related. 

As she stared at her reflection in the semi foggy mirror, she noticed how her exhaustion consumed her face. Her eyes were puffy and red, a darker shade appearing under them from the lack of sleep.

However, the physical exhaustion was nothing compared to how fucked up she felt mentally and emotionally. 

What started out as an amazing birthday, transpired into one of the worst nights of her life. The mental image of Roman’s face buried between Serena’s legs, felt like a sharp knife in her back. 

It was impossible for Zoe to fully wrap her head around the details of what happened. It’s already one thing for Roman to do what he did, but for her best fucking friend to do it, was another. Her blood boiled anytime she remembered the venomous words Serena spewed at her. 

As Zoe was deep in her thoughts applying her skincare products, her phone started buzzing with what sounded like multiple text messages. 

She dried her hands and reached for it, a flash of guilt taking over her as she saw who it was.

Naomi.

Zoe took a deep breath and unlocked her phone, re-reading some of the messages Naomi had left her days prior. Messages she was far too heartbroken to respond to at the moment. 

Naomi: Hey Zo bug, I thought you were coming back a week ago? Is something wrong?

Naomi: It’s not like you to not text back, you’re starting to worry me Zo.

Zoe: I’m sorry that it’s taken me days to text you back, I’ve wanted to… I really have. I just feel really hurt and lost right now. The last thing I want is to drag you in between this shit.

Naomi: Wait what? Is everything okay?

Zoe: Roman didn’t tell you?

Naomi: No. That man hasn’t responded to me or Jim’s messages, his ass stays holed up in his bus, does his promos and leaves. Tell me what?

Zoe: Honestly… it’s a lot to say over the phone. Are you booked for Smackdown tomorrow?

Naomi: No not this one, but the next.

Whatever you’re going through seems pretty important Zo, is it okay if I come see you as soon as you get home?

Zoe: I would really appreciate that 🥺 I should be home by Saturday morning, I’ll text you and let you know if anything changes.

Naomi: Okay, I’ll be there. ❤️ 

She was confused to say the least. It’s not like Roman to keep the twins out of the loop, finding out Jimmy was clueless as to what was going on was definitely a little shocking. 

Zoe got dressed along with finishing the last steps of her skincare routine. She headed downstairs, making her way straight to the kitchen.

With her goal of spending the entire day finishing up two gear orders, she knew she was going to need caffeine in her system to help her pull through. If she successfully managed to pull this off, it would leave her with a lighter schedule for the next few months.

As the coffee machine began to brew, she walked into her workplace to get started. Zoe scanned the room trying her best not to let her eyes water. 

This room was full of countless memories of him.

No matter how exhausted or tired Roman was, he’d stay by her side for hours while she worked. They’d talk about any and everything, which made time go by so much faster. 

This exact room is where his big arms wrapped around her as he whispered “I love you” in her ear, for the first time.

Zoe could feel so much anger growing inside of her, because nothing was making any fucking sense. She wiped away her tears, pushing back her emotions to start the task at hand. But in the back of her mind, she questioned if everything Roman ever said to her was just a lie. 

Hours passed and the sun was now starting to set. She felt a wave of relief as she neatly placed the finished gear into separate boxes.

Zoe went back upstairs and started to pack a light suitcase for the weekend. She reached to grab her favorite oversized hoodie, but quickly stopped herself when she realized who’s hoodie it was.

His scent that used to be so comforting to her, now was just a hurtful memory. This house was filled with nothing but painful reminders of what was, everywhere she looked brought tears to her eyes.

Being here was only making shit ten times harder for her. Zoe pulled out her laptop and started searching for apartments in the area, she cut on the tv for background noise. And as if things couldn’t possibly get any fucking worse, the first commercial she saw was Roman being advertised for tomorrow's show. 

Zoe rolled her eyes and got up from bed, walking towards his home bar. She pulled out a bottle of wine and the biggest wine glass she could find.

Because one thing she knew for certain, was that tomorrow she had a long ass day ahead of her.

……………….

The first thing Zoe spotted as her Uber pulled into the arena, was Roman’s tour bus, she took a deep breath as she stepped out of the car. She knew if she wanted this night to go by quickly, she would have to keep herself occupied.

As Zoe walked in, she was greeted by Bianca, Jade, and Michin. Other than Naomi who wasn’t here, there weren’t many girls on the Smackdown roster who she considered friends.

Many of them, made their dislike for her very fucking clear the day Roman made their relationship public. Zoe remembered how they spent months looking at her sideways, while giggling and making snarky ass comments, thinking she couldn't hear.

She completely understood Roman’s fuck buddies not liking her, but half of the bitches that snickered shit about her, weren’t ever on his roster. It definitely bothered her in the beginning, but over time she grew thicker skin. Zoe never told Roman, she knew he’d dead the shit then and there, but she didn’t need them to think she was weak.

She said bye to the girls, and walked through the endless corridors determined to go straight into the wardrobe department. Finding this room was like a damn maze, thankfully they had signs guiding her on which way to go.

Zoe let out a small sigh of relief once she found the room, and just as she twisted the door knob a familiar voice called out to her.

Daniel. He was the first friend she made when WWE hired her. They got along well and spent a lot of time on the road together. In her eyes their friendship was extremely platonic, but as time passed she began to notice how he would subtly flirt with her. Zoe was aware he was a good looking man, but for some reason she never really thought of him in that way. 

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings and blatantly turn him down, so she slowly distanced herself, still wanting to salvage their friendship. But a few months later she met Roman, and once they began to date, she had a talk with Daniel setting multiple boundaries between them.

But the peace was short lived, it was no secret Daniel and Roman despised each other. In one of the events Zoe wasn’t booked for, they both had an altercation which ended in Roman being physically restrained by security and his cousins. Weeks after, Daniel was transferred to Raw and she hadn’t seen him since.

“Hey Zoe,” he grinned and went for a side hug.

“Hey. You’re back on Smackdown?”

“I’ll be here for a few months, but they’re sending me back to Raw during the draft.”

There was a weird gap of silence between them, which she attempted to fill. “So, how do you like it there?”

“Damn, we really doing awkward small talk now?” he chuckled.

“You look good though....” Daniel’s eyes traveled down her body, making her nervous. She’d normally be debating on how to draw a boundary, but her circumstances were different right now. Why should she show an ounce of respect for a man, who didn’t do the same for her?

“The fuck you doing back here?” Roman’s deep voice penetrated the quiet hallway, causing the people around them to stare.

“Roman, what are you doing—”

Roman walked past Zoe, creating a barrier between her and Daniel. “I’m not going to fucking ask you again.”

“You think I’m scared of you big dog? I’m a grown ass man, I ain’t gotta explain shit to you!” Daniel yelled.

Roman stepped even closer to him, his huge frame practically swallowed Daniel’s. Zoe had never seen Roman this angry before, let alone in a professional setting. She noticed his jaw and fist were both clenched tightly. 

“I already told your bitch ass to stay the fuck away from her once, I’ll be damned if I have to say that shit again.”

Zoe lightly tugged Roman’s arm back, “Roman, please… not here.”

“You heard her, bitch!” 

And that was it. In a matter of seconds, as Zoe tried to process what was happening, Roman pulled away from her and lunged at Daniel. 

She was right, this was going to be a long ass night.