#i live for when they riff off each other like this

[sophsun1]

#literally the basis of every conversation they have

Psych – 3.11: Lassie Did A Bad, Bad Thing

#psych #psychedit #cinematv #filmtvcentral #userthing #smallscreensource #dailyflicks #chewieblog #userstream #crimeshowsource #usersitcom #userkitkat #userrlaura #userrobin #usermandie #tvarchive #i live for when they riff off each other like this #gifs don't do it justice tbh #5k

[r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e]

idk i’ve been thinking for the last day about modern day corroded coffin, semi-successful in the local music scene, did a self-funded tour through six states last fall where they all lived in the van together and didn’t shower for four weeks, has a standing gig at the dive bar next to the highway and the strip club, they’re established, they have a small but dedicated local following, they —

“can’t play a WEDDING, are you fucking with me?” eddie says, when gareth shows him the text from his cousin who’s getting married in two weeks and who, as of last night, has no wedding band because they accidentally double booked themselves and gareth’s cousin had sent the deposit in late.

“i’ve explained to him so many times,” gareth says, furiously texting his cousin back, “we’re not that kind of band—”

except gareth’s cousin, instead of responding directly to gareth’s text outlining the musical thesis of corroded coffin or watching the youtube link gareth sends to the show last month where eddie got a black eye in the pit from someone in an inflatable garfield costume, just sends back —

“holy shit,” eddie croaks, looking at the string of zeros on the end of the number gareth’s cousin offers me to pay them in exchange for saving his ass and his wedding and his marriage, since his fiancé was demanding a live band. “that’s—”

“three months of rent for each of us,” gareth says, awed. “that’s buy actual fresh vegetables money. that’s go to the dentist money—”

“yeah, okay, give him my number,” eddie says.

so they spend the next two weeks practicing every white people wedding song they can think of. there’s no way they’ll be able to do, like, get low, tragically, but they can pull off the classics, especially after they bring chrissy onboard for vocals and keyboard. there are places where eddie draws the line — no fucking journey or especially insipid top 40 — but they can do some whitney. abba. fucking — mr. brightside. a lot of it is pretty simple, when you get down to it, “and people will be wasted anyway,” jeff reminds them. there’s an open bar at the six figure venue gareth’s cousin booked. hopefully everyone will be too hyped just hearing the opening baseline to i want you back to notice if they fumble anything hard.

rehearsal montage, chrissy takes the boys to the mall to buy suits montage (except for gareth who, like most transmasc dudes, already has a custom fitted and tailored suit ready to go in his closet; instead he makes catty remarks about brian’s tie choices.) chrissy makes eddie put his hair up and eddie makes jeff shave the experimental mustache he’s been growing and eventually the day of the wedding arrives and they load up the van and drive 45 minutes to the six figure waterfront reception venue.

they riff for about ten minutes while the whole wedding party makes their grand entrance into the massive tent set up on the lawn, ending with gareth’s cousin and his new wife dancing in, the whole crowd screaming and clapping. it’s cute, eddie thinks, vamping as long as he can while gareth’s cousin’s best man takes the mic and introduces the new couple and directs everyone to their seats for dinner.

and meanwhile: best man is frankly one of the hottest dudes eddie’s ever seen. he’s got longish brown hair that he keeps pushing out of his eyes, full lips, an insane shoulder to waist ratio, big hands. eddie sneak looks at him while they play a bunch of low key jazzy standards for people to eat their expensive dinner to. he’s sitting with his arm around the shoulders of a girl with shaggy auburn hair, and they keep leaning in to whisper to each other and giggle, so. oh well. but it doesn’t hurt to look, eddie thinks, watching the guy take his suit jacket off and roll up his sleeves and make a toast to gareth’s cousin and his new wife’s long and joyful marriage.

once most people have had their plates cleared away jeff turns to eddie and the rest of the band and nods, once, and while chrissy plays the opening synth chords to i wanna dance with somebody, jeff turns his front man showmanship deal all the way up.

it’s good. people are fucking hyped, so they throw themselves into it, feeding off the crowd’s energy, and almost no one is more hyped than mr. best man. he’s jumping up and down, his arms around gareth’s cousin and his wife. he knows every word to dancing in the dark (hot). when they transition into robyn’s dancing on my own he turns to the girl with auburn hair and points at her and screams. cute, eddie thinks, watching best man pick her up and spin her around while she downs her wine and shouts along. okay, really fucking hot, eddie thinks, when he finally pulls his loosened tie all the way off and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and eddie can see a hint of chest hair peeking out.

they slow it down for the first dance. it’s the leon bridges one everyone always does, but it’s perfect in jeff’s range, and there is not a single dry motherfucking eye in the audience. they do a couple more slow ones, throughout the night. best man dances with his girlfriend and then gareth’s grandmother and then with every child under the age of 10, letting them stand on his shoes while he twirls them around. how is this guy fucking real, eddie thinks, which of course is when best man notices eddie looking right at him and their eyes meet. best man looks a little flustered, at first, and then grins at eddie, right at him, before spinning the flower girl around in dizzying circles.

jesus christ, eddie thinks.

they’re closing out the night on the only other request gareth's cousin gave them: the one from the end of dirty dancing. jeff thanks the crowd, offers his congratulations to gareth’s cousin, and then goes right into it. except as jeff sings the first line everyone absolutely loses their shit, turning to best man and jumping around him and one of the bridesmaids. what the fucking hell, eddie thinks, keeping one ear on jeff and chrissy’s duet and one ear on the crowd piling around best man “—you guys HAVE to, dude, you’ve GOT to—“ but whatever it is he has to do is not immediately apparent to eddie. best man dances in a circle with the rest of the wedding party and auburn hair and the bride and groom, shout-singing along, and then during the build up to the second prechorus gareth’s cousin’s wife and her bridesmaids start pushing everyone to the sides of the dance floor, so there’s a long space in the middle, so the bridesmaid with curly dark hair is at one end and best man is at the other end and oh my god is he actually going to —

the bridesmaid runs and then launches herself at best man, who lifts her perfectly, right on cue at the peak of the second chorus, his hands steady on her hips while she floats her arms out in front of her just like jennifer grey. they hold it for a few moments while everyone loses their fucking minds and takes a thousand pictures. eddie actually takes his hand off his guitar for a minute. he thinks his mouth is open. he can see the muscles in best man’s arms flexing under his white button up shirt as he carefully lowers the bridesmaid back to the ground, laughing, his eyes scrunched up in joy.

eddie is maybe a little bit in love.

they close it out. the whole crowd whistles and stomps and applauds for them, which feels pretty good, eddie’s not gonna lie. as they start packing it up and high fiving each other and a couple people come over to ask if they have a card, if they’re still booking for next year or the year after (what?) gareth’s cousin comes over and hugs every single one of them, almost in tears, and then adds another 2k to the check he writes for them. eddie pulls out his cigarettes right then and there.

“steve, come meet the band,” he yells, when steve and auburn hair walk past. “gareth saved my whole ass, oh my god —“

“you guys were fucking incredible,” steve says, grinning, shaking gareth’s hand. “best wedding band i’ve heard in years —“

“they’re not even a wedding band!” gareth’s cousin shouts. “they’re like metal — moshing — thrash, i don’t know, LOUD—“

“whoa,” steve says. he pushes his hair out of his eyes and then turns that blinding smile right on eddie. eddie feels struck by it, wants to stagger back like he’s taken an actual blow. “cool, so you guys — play locally, or —?”

“oh my god,” his girlfriend says, rolling her eyes; steve elbows her in the side.

“i like your guitar,” steve says, gesturing at the warlock eddie’s still holding in his non-cigarettes hand.

“oh, uh, thanks,” eddie says.

“it’s a cool shape,” steve says, stepping closer, flicking his eyes down and then back up to meet eddie’s. there’s sweat gathered along his hairline, dampening the ends of his hair. behind him, his girlfriend coughs something loudly that sounds vaguely like slut.

eddie feels his eyebrows go way up.

“uh, thanks, shapes are. you know. shapes are great,” eddie says, nonsensical. he sees gareth shoot him an incredulous look out of the corner of his eye.

“can i bum one?” steve says, looking down to the cigarettes in eddie’s hand.

“totally,” eddie says. “let me just—“ he holds the warlock aloft and gestures to the open guitar case.

“sure,” steve says. he waits around while eddie hustles through getting his shit sorted out and then turns away politely while eddie has a silent desperate telepathic conversation with the rest of the boys, who roll their eyes and make their way over to the still open, still free bar.

where auburn hair is standing and talking to chrissy, putting a hand on chrissy’s arm while she laughs at something chrissy says.

hm, eddie thinks.

“so,” eddie says, walking out from under the tent with steve, down towards the water, awash in the moonlight. he holds out his cigarettes. “you like springsteen?”

#here have some dumb shit #steddie #stranger things #yes the joe keery dirty dancing lift video is playing in my head 24/7 #mine

[dreadful-windandrain]

listened to the real will wood album three times yesterday. here are my thoughts:

am i being detaIIIIIIIIINED? am i under arrest?? (yes!)

"this is a song written by a dead guy" the implications..........

unsyncopate cotard's solution right this fucking second

the transition into dr sunshine lives is SO GOOD

was it when i left the cave and swore i'd. NEVER GO BACK!!!!!!!

how did he make white knuckle jerk hornier. what's with the moans. and why do i like it better than the original.

HEART BLUER THAN MY b-b-b-b-bbbbbaaaaa~a~LLLLLS!

the weird voices he uses in thermodynamic lawyer sure were a choice

fucking ADORE front street live. even better than the original and my favorite off of this album. literally just. the tempo changes. "if you're not on your worst behavior... get the fuck out!" "is this shit enough proof for you?" "give us all that fucking osmosis! oh, yeah!!" "sing it with me you fuckers!". he made a villian song sound even more evil. wtf and well done

i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you i tru

the long ass intro for hand me my [x], i'm [y]! is fabulous. the anticipation!!!

the tempo is also faster here than the original which is awesome but overstimulating as hell when the second half of the bridge hits

take it away, creeps

here's a song *first chord of 2012*

by retracing myyyyyyyyyyyyyyy ste-epppppppppp pssssssssss

the guitar riff that starts mr capgras makes my brain perk up like a bluetooth speaker being connected

FUCKING HURT EACH OTHER! COME ON!!!!

yet another banger intro! the latter half of this album does not miss!

can we drop this shit? i wanna see you at each other's throats, man, make some fucking noise. one two three oh YEAAAAAAAH

the transition here also. magical.

i definitely didn't almost cry at the end of fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva when the tempo slowed down and everyone was vocalizing

-ish is so fucking underrated oh my GOD you people don't talk about it enough

the people who sang "myself again" after "and i'm gonna be"...... read the room

the new harmonies on where do you get off, front street, and mr capgras give me life

overall i love it but i do believe that ww didn't sing the song with five names to spite me personally. he did sing it on in case i die but still. you don't know how much tax fraud i would commit to hear it live with a full band

#will wood #will wood and the tapeworms #wwattw #the real will wood #wii woo #wee woo #ren's rambles

[callmerainman]

Accidentally In Love | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

PART 1 | PART 2

plot. You and Adam became friends with benefits. The lines of your situationship are blurred. Even more so when you and the First Man get closer and closer. What will it take you to understand that you and Adam are falling in love?

word count. 3.8k

tags. enemies to lovers, sinner!Adam, friends with benefits, sexual content, p in v sex, Adam Has a Heart, falling in love, Reader has wings, Reader is Lucifer's Royal Guard.

TW! this chapter contains an explicit sexual scene, MINORS DNI

taglist. @kaces-mind @call-me-nyxx @serendipitous-fernweh @plutodestr0yedme @luvvnightingalee

a/n. here it is, final chapter! Thank you for reading this silly little fic, I'll for sure write more about Adam soon! Hope you enjoyed it <3

"and now I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like I love you"

—

It’s karaoke night for you and Adam. Yeah, karaoke night. At first it started off as a joke. One time, after an usual afternoon of strenuous intercourse, you and Adam found yourselves singing “Out on the Tiles” by Led Zeppelin. You had decided to put on some music in shuffle to try to muffle up your obscene sounds that both of you understood you couldn’t contain. Next thing you knew you and Adam were performing an improvised gig on the already ruined bed of your room.

“I’m so glad I’m living and gonna tell the world I am” you sang out of your lungs, holding an imaginary mic.

You pointed towards Adam, prompting him to finish the lyrics. Smiling, Adam clenched his hand in a fist to pretend to be on the mic too. He leaned backwards, throwing his head back.

“I got me a fine woman and she says that I’m her man” he sang back, enthusiastically.

This singing shenanigans would happen so often that you decided to set your own karaoke night on Fridays. You and Adam stole a karaoke machine from a bar and installed it in his room. And now he’s holding you by the shoulders, vigorously shaking you in a playful manner as you can’t stop laughing.

“Feels like you’re dying, you’re dying” he sings with all the air he could gather.

You bend in half, this time a real mic in your hand “Youuuuuuu, your sex is on fire”.

Adam mimics a guitar riff with an high pitched voice as you sing along to Kings of Leon.

“Consuuuuuumed, with what’s to transpire!” Adam goes, crouching onwards himself.

Something definitely changed between you and Adam. You still don’t know what it is but it’s pacifying you.

—

The other patrons at the Hotel noticed, even though a bit later. Your relationship was so obviously sexual that none of them really stopped to think if there was more. Until signs started to show.

One time, all of you were watching a movie downstairs. You had forced Adam to participate even if he didn’t want to and was suggesting to have another karaoke night instead. But in the end, you both plopped down on the couch next to each other with everyone and got comfortable in front of a romantic comedy Charlie put on. At first, you and Adam tried to keep your facade of annoyance. You and him were so dense, you didn’t think the others knew that you two were fucking, so you had to pretend to still hate each other. But, as the movie progressed, you and Adam lost your purpose of showing a fake resentment. You glanced down and noticed the tip of your fingers resting really close to Adam’s. His fingers, weirdly enough, were moving in a jerking motion, stroking the fabric of the couch back and forth, as if he was nervous. You moved your fingers closer. With unusual uncertainty from his part, Adam slid his fingers even closer to yours, making them touch. And you and Adam held hands. You decided not to mention it, staring at the TV with your face on fire and his cheeks colored in a red hue. Your hands stayed intertwined the whole movie, and when it ended you separated quickly, again naively thinking that nobody noticed. But, during the movie, Angel had definitely noticed. The spider demon let out one of the loudest gasps in his life as he covered his mouth with four hands. When you and Adam went upstairs later, everyone was still hanging out in the common room. And Angel raised his shoulders and arms.

“Are y’all blind or did you see what I saw?” he asked, almost irritated.

“What?” Cherri asked while mindlessly scrolling on her phone.

“Like, (Y/N) and Adam holding hands?!” he exclaimed, his arms dramatically falling flat on his sides.

“They’ve been fucking like two horny rabbits for months and this is where you draw the line?” Husk questions, raising a red eyebrow.

“Fucking is one thing, holding hands while watching a romantic movie is another!” Angel protest.

Cherri chuckles “It’s obvious by the amount of sex they have that there’s more”.

“Obvious?” Angel questions “Uhhh, hello?? Hate sex is a thing!”.

And that wasn’t the one and only time. Seems so obvious to everyone now, except to you two. It’s in the way you and Adam snuggle during movies, or when you’re cooking and he hugs you from behind, resting his chin in the space between your horns. It’s in the fact that you don’t call each other names anymore unless you’re having sex. Or when you fly around the city together pulling pranks on people, and sing your hearts out during karaoke. Now it’s not only in the way you two wildly wrestle under the sheets. It’s in the goofy way you try to sweep it under the carpet.

“Uh, we’re going upstairs uh to…FIGHT! Definitely not to have sex! Because we hate SEX!” Adam stopped “No wait, I love sex, I mean-“

“We’d HATE to have sex with each other!” you say, trying to back him up.

“Exactly, not with such a stupid cunt!”

“Hey, too much” you whisper, elbowing his side.

“Oh shit I’m so sorry babe”

And everybody looked at you the most unconvinced, inexpressive poker face. But Charlie, underneath, felt that it was heartwarming. Even if Adam whispered in your ear a “can’t wait to fuck your brains out” when displaying apparent affection, she knew that something was going on and it was nothing but beautiful. This is the purpose of the Hazbin Hotel, after all.

—

Honestly you have no idea what you and Adam are right now. First, you were just a Royal Guard who had to surveil the First Man on Earth, the Exterminator. Then you became his friend with benefits. Now sex is still here, but maybe you’re more friends than anything? Or more. Nothing was defined. You never set boundaries. You had your fair chances of getting intimate with other people, but it felt so wrong so you never went for sex. Adam felt the same. When Cherri brought everyone to the club to have a night out, he had his opportunities to have sex with other girls. But he just didn’t feel like it was right. Especially not if you were in the club with him.

“You can do what you like, you know?” you suggested him in his ear one of those times, in a space between the bar counter and the dance floor. But Adam just shook his head.

“Nah, don’t really feel like it. I mean, yeah that bitch with the black top was all over me but she’s not my type”

He tried to play it cool, not looking at you in the eyes. But in reality, Adam was just checking around to see if your friends were looking. And when he made sure that they were out of sight, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you deeply. It was unexpected coming from him, sure, but you let yourself melt in his kisses as music bumped in your ears. Something was happening.

—

“Here you are” you say.

Your hair is flowing, moved by the slow but firm flapping of your wings. You’re suspended meters and meters high, just in front of the Hazbin Hotel sign. Adam is sitting on the “Z”, holding his golden guitar in his hands. He looks kinda annoyed.

“I was just practicing guitar” he says.

“And I’m still a Royal Guard on duty”

“If your duty is going at it with the one guy you were supposed to surveil, then you’re already doing a great job”

You roll your eyes and scoff “Funny, very funny Adam”.

“Alright, you can hear me play something” he gives in.

“As long as it’s not Wonderwall”

“The fuck no, I fuckin’ hate the Oasis!”

So, with another flap of your wings, you gracefully land next to him. You expect Adam to go wild with one of his exaggerated, over-the-top and ego-boosting guitar solos. But instead, Adam quietly starts a finger picking, quite tune. It’s not a specific rock song, just a chill, peaceful chord progression. Adam starts humming a tune, eyes closed. You press your elbows against your knees and rest your cheek in the open palm of your hand, looking at the view. Pentagram City is a mess, for sure. But with Adam’s unusually calm vocalizing, and his presence, it feels like home. You peek a look at Adam. He’s still keeping his eyes closed, it’s the first time you see him so calm, and not his loud, immature self. He’s beautiful. You realize that your face is hot. And you can’t see it but your pupils are dangerously dilated. You press your lips together, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. Oh you know what’s happening. Maybe you should make it stop. You try to take a deep breath. You’re so in love with Adam.

Adam is lost in his own thoughts and music. He was so comfortable in your presence as he strummed that he almost forgot you were there. He opens his eyes, he just wants to take a quick look at you before closing them again. He realizes that he’s done for the moment he sees how you’re looking at him. With shining eyes, dilated pupils, a fond smile on your face. He doesn’t really realize what it means for you, neither do you. But now his heart is beating at unprecedented speed. Shit, shit, shit. It’s not the first time it happens with you. One time, he felt this way when he woke up before you and saw you sleeping naked next to him, cuddled in his arms. The other was when you held hands for the first time during movie time with the other guests. But this time he’s feeling it on a whole other level. You’re so beautiful. And you’re standing by him listening to his tunes despite the man he is. The one who did so much harm but it’s trying to get better. Adam doesn’t know if he actually has gained any redeeming qualities, but one thing he’s sure about is that at least with you he is a better man. He thinks back on when you two used to argue non stop, resenting each other’s presence. It looks like a far, distant reality that never happened, if anything it’s at least a joke. Adam is so in love with you.

—

Sex still represents the majority of your relationship with Adam. Unlike your feelings, it never changed. Always so loud, fun, satisfying for sure, and unhinged. You and Adam could unleash your personalities at best under the sheets, and that was the best part of it. But this time, something is out of place. Not in a bad way, at all.

Adam is on top of you, placed between your spread legs. His wings are wide open, covering your naked bodies and encapsulating them in a small space reserved to only you two. His thrust are firm, but also slow and sensual, which wasn’t really his style. He’s holding your face with both hands, as he’s mesmerized by your deep moans of pleasure. You cling onto him with nails and legs, holding him as if he was about so slip away. You open your eyes, and catch him staring. He would usually say something sarcastic, like asking the fuck are you looking at. But instead, he looks lost in a profound state of blissful hypnosis, his pupils dilated and mouth slightly parted. Then, Adam plunges forward, still sliding in and out of you with slick sounds. Your breathing becomes even more irregular, hips jerking under his body as waves of pleasure hit you. You tug at Adam’s hair in the spot between his horns. With one hand, Adam firmly holds your hip, while the other has its fingers entangled in your hair, lightly pulling them.

“A-Adam…please I’m so close” you stutter. You would never beg usually, but this time it’s hard not to do so.

What surprises you is the way Adam responds. He would have usually bragged about you begging for him to make you reach your climax, reminding you how much of a whore you are for him. And you would have protested by flipping the roles and making him a mess under your body. But Adam just sinks his face in your neck, whispering.

“I know baby, I know. I got you” he says, interrupted by a moan “Fuck you’re doing so good I swear”.

His movements in you become more erratic, sloppier, and his breath hotter against your ear. The fingers plunged in your hair start stroking your scalp, you try to suffocate your moans of pleasure in his shoulder. You come first around his shaft, whispering quietly his name until you come down from your high. Adam climaxes second, emitting a low, strangled moan in your neck as his wings twitch. You take some time to realize how good it was, your chests rising and lowering with every breath, holding each other. It’s when your mind clears that you realize how atypical of a sexual encounter that was for you and Adam. It was…sweet? Really intimate and not in the physical meaning of the word? Adam never praised you in bed, and you never spoke to him so gently asking to make you finish. And the way he looked at you was absurd, to say at best. With a cherry colored hue on his cheeks, and a light in his eyes you rarely saw in him.

“Ah shit that was great” Adam chuckles, collapsing next to you.

The pride in his face says it all, maybe you were wrong before. You mentally shrug.

“Yeah” you roll on your side, facing him “but I’m so hungry right now”.

Adam sighs, looking up at the ceiling “When I was in Heaven, there was this place that delivered the best fucking ice cream your taste buds could ever graze. A mountain of it. Great for after sex I swear. I miss it”.

Adam takes the opportunity to talk about Heaven more. He’s clearly being nostalgic. He misses it. And while you like hearing him waffling about all the crazy concert he performed, the best restaurants, theme parks and clubs in Heaven, you can’t help but frown. A small smile still lingers on your face, but you ask yourself if Adam really belongs in here. A part of you says of course yes, the other is unsure.

“You know” you say, scooting closer to him “I’ve never really asked myself about how life in Heaven would be. But it really sounds like a beautiful place”.

Adam nods, twisting on his side to face you “Oh fuck yeah it was, I wish I could…”

He interrupts himself as he meets your face, pressed against the pillow. A small, comprehensive smile is gently placed on it, and your eyes are stuck in his own with a visible shine.

Oh no don’t look at me like that.

Adam’s grin disappears, he looks away and tries to play it cool as always, glancing around the room. He clears his throat.

“Yeah I mean, Heaven was great but under a certain perspective…” he trails off.

You wait for him to finish, and he can’t escape your eyes. He finally reciprocates again, getting lost into them.

“Hell is not half-bad, for some reasons” he says.

Adam doesn’t realize it, but now he’s smiling too. His eyebrows are arched upwards in adoration as he ponders on every inch of you. Your now relaxed expression, your glimmering eyes, your naked body covered in white sheets, your head slightly plunged in the pillow. Suddenly, Adam’s smile fades. His eyes go wide, and his heart skips a beat. A wave of realization hits him.

“Holy shit (Y/N) I’m so in love with you”.

Both of you jump in surprise, moving away from each other as the mattress bounces under your bodies. You clench the sheets, and you feel your heart pounding. Where did that come from?!

“What?!” you exclaim.

“WHAT?!” Adam yelps back, incredulous of his own words.

He didn’t mean to say it out loud, he didn’t even mean to say it in his mind actually. You can feel his own panic on your skin, as every inch of your body figuratively catches fire. You don’t know what to say. Adam sits up, covering his face with a hand in embarrassment.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry I ruined everything!” he exclaims, voice panicky.

“Ruined what?”

Oh no. It takes you a second to realize what you said. Adam’s hand files down from his face and looks at you. And you see something you thought you would never witness on Adam’s face. Pain. Adam is hurt. His mouth is slightly open, his breath suspended, his eyebrows knitted. You used to call him many names when you two argued. An asshole, a dirtbag, a dickhead, an irresponsible, immature jerk. But Adam never batted an eye. It’s the first time you see an unmistakable, terrible flash of pain in his face. You feel horrible. You sit up, your mouth open and about to say something. It’s hard to gather the right words after saying something so wrong. You extend a hand towards him, but Adam leans back, away from your touch.

“Adam fuck that’s not what I…” you say, voice shaky.

Adam shuffles away from you again, his face full of regret, embarrassment and clearly pain. He shakes his head, proceeding to get out of bed. He starts looking frantically for his clothes, putting them on as quick as he can. No words come out your mouth, your mind too confused and full of things to process. In just a matter of seconds, Adam is already dressed.

“I-I’m sorry, I gotta go” he stutters, looking at you for a split second.

“Adam, wait! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sa-!”

You don’t have time to finish what you have to say. Adam had already opened the window of your room, and in the blink of an eye he flew away. Shit, shit, shit! Why did you even say that? That came out so wrong. But you couldn’t help it, you were so taken aback by his sudden confession. You mentally punch yourself in the face. Physically, you limit yourself to drag a hand down your face and groan loudly in your palm. You try to give yourself some time to think, you don’t want to hurt Adam even more. You spend some minutes with your face smothered in your pillow, suffocating sounds of pure frustration. After you gathered your thoughts together, you finally get up from the bed. You put your clothes back on, and head towards the still open window. With a strong flap of your wings, you sprint upwards. As you thought, Adam is sitting on the Hotel sign. He looks pissed. His lips are tightly pressed together and his eyebrows are knitted at the corners. He notices you but doesn’t look up.

“Adam, c’mon…” you say, as kindly as you can.

You keep floating in front of him, the wind generated by your wings making Adam’s hair slightly flow. He doesn’t look at you, he’s just staring at his own knees. For a solid minute you two don’t say anything. Silence has never been a thing between you and Adam, but you respect his wish. Suddenly, Adam breaks it.

“It’s not like you have to pity me” he mumbles.

“I’m not pitying you”

“Um yeah? I just ran off like a pissy school girl and here you are looking at me like a lost child”

“Adam-“

“You know how much time has passed since I last said those words?”

You don’t say anything. Adam finally looks up at you, his eyes a mess of emotions.

“Centuries” he says, spiteful of himself.

Your eyebrows arch upwards in surprise, your forehead corrugated. Your stomach burns, as you can finally feel every emotion Adam tried to hide under sarcasm for so long.

“Centuries?” you ask.

“Yeah, and I know I’ve been literally fucking around for a lot of time so it’s actually my fault, but I can’t say that I don’t mean it once I say it”

“Adam, my question was genuine”.

His mind stops in his tracks. You look weirdly calm. A bit unsure, of course, this is your first very serious conversation. But you’re still collected and he envies you.

“I really wanted to ask you what did you think you ruined. Because I’ll admit it, and I don’t wanna hurt you even more, but I don’t know what goes on in your head. We have all this sex, but also some care, but we also bicker. It’s confusing. I don’t even know if monogamy is your thing. But you showed me care. Sometimes, you still are a bit of a jerk let’s be honest. But I felt care too”.

Your stomach is twirling around, but you can’t stop your flow of consciousness. You wanna know what Adam means, what the First Man wants from a sinner he swore to hate not so long ago. Adam strokes his hair with a hand. His blush intensifies.

“I myself don’t really know what we are. If you know please fuckin’ tell me. What I know is that I feel something, love if that’s what we wanna call it. I mean, look at you! You sing along to rock songs with me, you know how to fight and look so badass while doing it, and you’re hot as fuck too! But if you don’t feel the sa-“

In a sudden movement, you zip towards Adam and grab him by his robe to push him on your lips. He lets out a muffled sound of surprise, but quickly closes his eyes to reciprocate the kiss. It’s calm, sweet, your lips and tongue are moving in tandem in such a tender yet passionate manner. It’s full of care, whatever it is. When you pull away, you look at each other in slight embarrassment. But you push it back immediately.

“I would have never thought I’d say it to you, but I do love you, Adam. Even if you’re still not perfect at all, you’re still a dickhead let’s admit it, I feel something for you. And I don’t expect you to suddenly become a better person just for the sake of being with me, but right now I’m sure I love you like this”.

You had blurted it all out in a single breath, still close to Adam’s face after your kiss. And finally, he smiles. Not with his usual teasing, shit eating grin. He smiles genuinely.

“I still don’t know if I’ll be a redeemable man, or if I want to become one. But at least with you I feel a bit of a better man”.

You smile back at Adam. He looks like a whole other person compared to how he was when you met. He still is his old self. But you came to love him. You and Adam lean forward, capturing yourselves in another deep, thoughtful kiss. Your wings meet, grazing each other as they close around you two. After a while of getting lost in your affection, you separate and playfully smirk.

“C’mon you whiny baby, why don’t we go downstairs to join everyone for movie night?” you suggest.

Adam groans and rolls his eyes “Us being a thing doesn’t mean that I have to participate in every fuckin’ activity of this Hotel”

“Uhh, yeah it does? I’m still in charge of forcing you to join. Now get your lazy ass off of there and let’s go”

“Okay, finee but can we have sex again after?”

“Of course we can”

“Hell yeah”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #adam #adam x reader #sinner adam #writers on tumblr #hazbin hotel adam fanfiction #hazbin hotel adam #adam x you #adam fanfiction #enemies to lovers #adam hazbin hotel #adam hazbin x reader #reader insert #x reader #vivziepop #hazbin hotel x you #adam x y/n

[iwishf1wasreal]

F1 Driver NSFW Profile: ✴ Carlos Sainz ✴ smut ✴ 18+ readers only

I. Flirt. 

He thinks of himself as a very classy guy. He has no desire to be the loudest in the crowd or draw too much attention to himself. He feels the same about flirting. He’d rather live up to his nickname, Smooth Operator, and subtly yet suavely get your attention. He's also decidedly somewhat against PDA with a few minor exceptions depending on the occasion. But when you’re alone, he’s all over you. He’s also very romantic, a man who doesn’t just buy you roses or light a few candles because he thinks that’s what he should do. He genuinely enjoys it and can riff off of the classic romantic gestures to make them perfectly tailored to you. But mostly because he’s private and quite protective, PDA is at a very discrete minimum. 

II. Propositioning.

Again, he’ll lead with romance. A deep kiss that takes your breath away. Tender and lingering touches once you’re behind closed doors. He’ll lead you to the base of the bed, kissing your neck and hands running over the skin, bunching up the bottom of your top. Carlos is also pretty controlled. He tends to have a pretty good cap on whatever emotions are just bubbling underneath, so he’s not exactly ripping you out of the party to take out in the back alley. It’s much less saucy and provocative. But once you know him, know his mannerisms and expressions, he can still light a fire in the pit of your belly by simply making eye contact with you over the ring of his glass. The mask he wears is neutral, perfectly acceptable for the public occasion but you know what he’s thinking. You can practically see it spelled out on his forehead. You’ll do your best to convince him to head home early.   

III. Libido.

He could go all day but finds that a waste of an entire day. He’s young and athletic, so he benefits from his strength and stamina. He definitely would not consider himself a sexual person though you would be first to argue that he certainly fucks like one. Sexuality would be so private for him, and he would need to feel comfortable as well, so one-night stands had been mostly infrequent before you. 

IV. Turn-Ons: tame & nasty.

Tame: Red dresses. High heels. Red fingernail polish. Dangly earrings. Low-cut tops. When you touch his bicep when you laugh. Watching you dance. When his cooking makes you moan. Reaching out for him in the middle of the night. Watching you lean over to take a golf shot and you purposefully wiggle your bum because you know he’s watching. Short golf skirts and those little white socks with sneakers. Nails scratching against his scalp. Drinking beer. Hide behind him. Letting him feed you. Watching each other from across the room.

Nasty: When you open your mouth and stick out your tongue at him to show him you’ve swallowed all he gave you. You sprawled on the bed with your hair fanned out behind you, covered in a mist of sweat with a tied, satisfied smile. When he starts taking you harder from behind so you have to reach back and hold on to him. Desperate gasps of his name. Eye contact. When he hits just the right spot and you let out some sort of exclamation. 

V. Self-stimulation.

Generally when he’s away, it's with his imagination. Maybe a sex video off the internet if he’s looking for the release to relieve stress more than sexual frustration. Would never and does not ask about nudes but happily accepts them if you’re willing to share. Facetime sex is also an option but he has to be wined and dined, so to speak. He doesn’t want you to just answer completely bare or in the shower. He wants you to make some sort of effort, maybe a lovely dress or one of his shirts and colour coordinated panties. Something that shows him you’ve been looking forward to the call as much as he has. 

VI. Foreplay.

If you wanted, he’d happily go down on you and expect nothing in return. Sometimes, you’ll even offer or reach to thank him–still dazed from your orgasm and he’ll stop you. “If only we had all day, cariño.” he’ll smile softly before he kisses you deeply and gets out of bed. He’s easily convinced for another full round in the shower but he’ll start to get antsy if you keep him beyond that. Doing something whilst you’re winding down in the evening isn’t sworn off by any means and wine can make his hands wander. But he needs to at least feel like he’s done more with his day than just you. 

VII. Rhythm.

Because he is so genuinely romantic, he prefers a tender and savouring rhythm. Relatively quiet during sex, not because he’s not feeling it or is embarrassed. He’s just always so much in his head and sex can be quite emotional for him. You can get him out of it with enough coaxing and making him feel so good he loses his inhibitions. Otherwise, he’s a lot of shallow breathing and gentle groans. 

VIII. How He Likes It.

He’s a missionary guy with some variation: legs folded to your chest, held down so you're folded in half or propped up against his shoulders. Maybe with you sideways beneath him while he’s still poised on top of you. Mostly he’s focused on keeping your eye contact  or watching you react to what he’s giving you. Though, he feels best in doggy but sometimes fully can’t concentrate on thrusting when you start circling your hips and throwing it back.  

IX. Location, location, location.

Obviously, being so private, it’s in the comfort and safety of whatever bedroom you find yourselves staying in that week. Craziest place you’ve done it is a golf course. One of the very few times you’ve let him drag you to the course and he pretends like you aren’t half asleep ranting about groundwater pollution and the loss of habitat on the way there. But he likes seeing you in the little outfit and the way you cling to him since you’re so out of your element. It’s also one of the rare times he’s gone without his usual golf entourage which makes it feel like you simply must take advantage. He’s not really much for you topping so you considered it another reason for the special occasion when you come across hole number 11 that’s shaded in shrubs and trees. The golf cart squeaked the whole time and Carlos almost ruined his own orgasm thinking someone else’s cart was starting to crest over the hill but you did it. Slightly awkward and dazed after, you still got it done. It seemed to spark a frenzy in him though, he was behind you coaching you through every swing. When, normally, he likes to throw you into the deep end and gleefully watch you struggle. It’s one memory he and his imagination rely on heavily when he’s away. 

X. Kinky.

Not particularly kinky, more about each individual experience than wanting to recreate or dedicate certain experiences every time. Solidifies the belief that “vanilla” doesn’t have to mean boring. He’s just a partner who values a connection that feels the same and based in emotions. Sex is an expression of love for him.

XI. Bedroom aids/Toys.

He’s down to use a vibrator during sex if that’s something you’re into. He’s not really that kind of devious where he’ll suggest it or just pull it out in the moment and evaluate your reaction. He’s rational enough not to see it as a competitor and he knows you rely on it when he’s gone. So he does his best to work in tandem though when things get to the nitty gritty, sometimes he can struggle to multitask so either you need to take over and put the vibrator to the spot that feels right or he’ll toss it across the bed and focus on one thing at a time.

XII. Cum.

Again, he can last a while especially if he uses the intense mind-over-matter mentality he’s perfected from racing. He’d prefer to use condoms simply because the clean-up can be easier…But isn’t opposed to going raw.

XIII. Pleasure reciprocation.

You give head fairly equally and he will try anything you ask him to. Degradation was particularly hard from him. He’d start out good, calling you names and taunting you with his dick but after a certain point he couldn’t hold up the act any more. “I can’t do it, amor. It feels wrong, I can’t do it. “ He panted heavily in your ear after his thrusts came to a halt.  But ultimately, he’s good with head. Understands the need for varaction and strong suction. Also, once he observed just how, uh, /helpful/ his nose could be…he really stepped up his game in a whole new way. 

IVX. Bonus.

Though he’s not particularly loud in the bedroom, he does indulge in dirty talk but in his native Spanish. If you’re not a fluent speaker, he tries to use it as motivation to get you to learn. 

When you ask what he’d just purred so sultrily in your ear, he tuts disapprovingly. “Tienes que seguir estudiando, mi amor.” 

He’ll stay in Spanish the entire time, sometimes even let his native tongue bleed into whatever you’re doing after. Even acts like Spanish just feels so much better on his tongue, he can’t help that he stays in it. 

One time when you’re on your knees for him, he’s particularly talkative. A soft husky tone, just between the two of you despite his empty Milano flat. He’s got one hand in your hair, keeping it out of your face as you go down on him.

“Dios–Fuck, Oh my–” It was the first time he slips between the two languages but it’s only momentary. Once his eyes came fluttering open and you pulled off him for a moment to breathe, hands taking over for a moment. “Cariño, por favor.” He sounded desperate, his free hand clutching the arm of the chair he’s seated on, hand desperately grasping at the fabric. Trying to find some semblance of reality to hold on to. 

So rarely do you have him in the palm of your hand. You were smirking to yourself, looking at him with big innocent eyes and his body started to trash. He said something else in Spanish, he had said it enough times that you knew it meant he was close. In this moment, it wasn’t lost on you that his repetition of perverted lessons in Spanish might actually be paying off. 

You put your mouth back over him, starting slowly again–a contrast to the firm, strong pace of your hand. Focusing on the head, you let your tongue rub against it and his hips bucked involuntarily. He says more in Spanish but you can’t really hear him. You’ve taken him back down your throat. No warning just as far as you can fit him. He’s practically howling now, Spanish words blending together you’re not sure if he’s coherent. 

He didn’t last much longer, whiny and whimpering when you kept sucking after he finished. When Carlos finally breaks free, he lets out a long string of curse words–jumbled between English and Spanish.

“You okay, baby?” You ask in an innocent tone, gentle hands still fondling him. He hisses as your hand caresses his tip again. He almost looks like he might cry. 

“¡Ay, carino, por favor!” He hissed, snatching your hand off his dick and reaching for his shorts from around his ankle. “Suficiente. Estoy suficiente, por favor.” You couldn’t help but giggle. Carlos, always so composed and control, fucked out and overstimulated, practically ready to jump out of his skin if you even flinched to reach out for him again. “I need time to recover.” He huffed, looking at you with stern brown eyes. 

“Si, señor.” you saluted him playfully and he sighed, side eyeing you like he was debating something. Before you can ask, Carlos peeled himself out of the chair and extended his hand to help you up. Once face to face, you kissed him. Letting him taste himself on your tongue before you both went your separate ways for the day. 

“I think you could use some one on one tutoring,” he tutted, looking you up and down.

“Por que?” you asked back with mock insult. 

Carlos didn’t answer. Just rolled his eyes and bent to swing you over his shoulder, dragging you up to your bedroom. 

#i had to abandon the formattign to get it to post everyone boo tumblr #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1blr #carlos sainz imagine

[earlgreytea68]

The Fall Out Boy Year in Review

Because did anything else happen in 2023?????

This was a band that started this year with a bunch of people with all these theories that they were going to announce their retirement and they ended the year rejuvenated, reenergized, ready to go.

Let me count the ways Fall Out Boy was amazing this year:

At the very beginning of the year, they gave a performance, and Pete and Patrick did a pre-show interview, and Pete leaned his hand on Patrick’s shoulder and they grinned and grinned at each other and it was amazing and it was like, “Is this how the year is going to go????” AND LO, THAT’S HOW THE YEAR WENT.

The show at the Metro, when they threw Calm Before the Storm into the setlist and it felt so extraordinary and the crowd just shouted every word at them and then they played their first “Saturday” of the year and Patrick said how it always means a lot to them but it means more at home, YOU SEE, THE WHOLE YEAR WAS LIKE THIS.

They went to a gay bar and Pete and Patrick approvingly joked about sucking dick, so YEAH, THEN THAT HAPPENED.

Pete said that at least once a week he was told by people that their faces would melt off if they played this song live, so he wanted to see faces melting off, and then Patrick barreled into Headfirst Slide and the crowd was so loud at him that he let them take the “get unique” line, grinning the whole time, EVERYTHING WAS LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME.

I’m five points in and just getting to the fact that they released a new album and it was incredible from start to finish, every single song was amazing and extraordinary and so very them and so very what it’s like to be alive in 2023. THE ALBUM WAS GREAT AND WOULD HAVE BEEN ENOUGH ON ITS OWN BUT THEN SO MUCH MORE STUFF HAPPENED.

Then they ran around promoting this album and Patrick said that Pete is his reason for getting out of bed in the morning and that’s one of, like, sixteen different proclamations of adoration about Pete that he made in a span of a week BECAUSE THE WHOLE YEAR WAS JUST LIKE THIS.

Then they went on tour and somehow got it into their heads to play a new song every night, just, like, why not, right, just pulling all the most meaningful songs of their career out of their back pockets as if they had never given the impression that they would never, ever play that song, BUCKLE UP, THE WHOLE RIDE WAS JUST BEGINNING.

Pete gave a speech about how he doesn’t lay under a blanket thinking about being dead anymore, oh my god, these boys who figured out finally how much they’re loved, HOW THIS ALL HAPPENED IS AMAZING.

We got to watch Pete grow and develop all of his little concert speeches and then Pete was like, “Oh, also, I’ve decided to add in this feature called Riff with Patrick,” and all this segment was was them grinning at each other, because WHY NOT JUST ADD THIS TO EVERYTHING ELSE THAT HAPPENED THIS YEAR.

They released an updated version of “We Didn’t Start the Fire” and it’s fantastic and was a big hit for them and anyone who likes to think Fall Out Boy doesn’t know how to write lyrics because it’s not chronological needs to just think for two seconds about it, THE SONG IS GREAT AND THE YEAR ALREADY HAD SO MUCH AND THEN ANOTHER SONG!!!

Patrick. Played. “Spotlight.” Like. Unthinkable. Absolutely unthinkable. He played “Spotlight” and the crowd sang with him and he looked out and laughed and said, “That’s a lot of lights,” AND THEN THE YEAR COULD HAVE ENDED BUT IT DID NOT.

PATRICK PLAYED THE DRUMS, sorry, I will never be over that, ever, ever, ever, ever.

At some point in there Pete gave an interview with a rabbit puppet on his hand? And Patrick petted the puppet very carefully???? WHY WAS THIS YEAR LIKE THIS??????

Patrick sang “I’ve Got a Dark Alley” so gentle, so beautiful, so gorgeous, that it was like kintsugi being done right in front of our eyes, it still makes me cry to think of his version of that song, ALL THE GENTLENESS AND HOPE IN THIS EMO BAND THIS YEAR.

Patrick heard Pete struggling and turned to him to play “Bob Dylan” directly at him until he found his place, BECAUSE THAT WAS JUST HOW THIS YEAR WENT.

Meanwhile Patrick went stumbling over unfamiliar lyrics and Pete careened across the stage to get to him to rescue him, BECAUSE, AGAIN, THIS IS THEM IN 2023.

I went to a concert personally and they played me “Sweet Caroline” and “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” so THAT ALSO HAPPENED THIS YEAR AND IT WAS AMAZING AND PERFECT.

Patrick suggested they play “Pavlove.” ??? Hang on, read that again. Patrick. Suggested. They. Play. “Pavlove.” And then they. Played it. Like, yup, ALSO THAT HAPPENED.

Patrick said, quick and sincere in an unplanned aside, that he’s pretty sure this is the best tour they’ve ever done, EVERYONE WAS SO IN LOVE ALL YEAR.

Patrick suddenly decided to grow his hair long?????? Still don’t even know what that was all about, he was just like, 2023, FOLKS!!!

They played a Halloween show in the most Them costumes ever chosen BECAUSE WHY NOT?????

Then to close the year out Patrick dragged out “Yule Shoot Your Eye Out” ????? Like, again, WHY NOT???????

AND THEN “PAVLOVE” SHOWED UP ON STREAMING SERVICES, BECAUSE WHY NOT??????

#fall out boy #fob #sorry there are no links #i was being very lazy

[oodlesofweird]

Shuro thoughts (1201 words)

If i had to assign a term to Shuro that describes his character, it’d probably be ‘a lack of connection with others’, many of shuro’s relationships in dungeon meshi follow a similar pattern, in that they're all very neutral. He feels like he’ll constantly be in his dad’s shadow no matter what he does, leading to him not trying much, along with some resentment towards him. There’s also his relationship with Maizuru,who was one of the more positive figures in his life who he ends up blocking out as he grows older. Even his relationship with Hien is kinda. Nonexistent. They used to be quite close when they were kids, but their friendship eventually deteriorated when they grew older. 

It makes sense since the difference in status is more prevalent, but this made me think about how he reflects Laois. Even though they both have similar upbringings, with fathers who are in a leadership role which they would benefit from. Laios is still ostracized from the rest of his village, and pretty early on ends up leaving to become a soldier, where he ends up even more ostracized. It’s only when he leaves the army and goes to the island, that he becomes an adventurer and meets his party, where he finds companions who he’s on mostly friendly terms with. Despite everything he’s able to create his own life outside of his family. 

Meanwhile Shuro has presumably lived with his family up until he gets sent off on his adventure. He’s constantly in his fathers shadow, and everyone that he’s surrounded with is in some way related to his father. The retainers are all employed under his father and are more or less lended to him. Even when he leaves for the island, he’s still connected to him by the quest that he’s sent on, and his retainers that follow him. He doesn’t come to the island for himself, it’s for a competition arranged by his dad.

Another way that they’re foils is through their siblings. Laios’s relationship to Falin is incredibly important to the story. They both clearly love each other and left home to find their own path side by side. But Shuro and his siblings have a large distance between them. It’s never stated why, but I don’t think it’s made better by the whole, competition for inheritance thing. I think it’s also interesting how Laios’s adventure brings him closer to Falin. While Shuro’s takes him away from his brothers, furthering the gap between them.

Even in laios’s party, where he’s able to make connections with people not from his home, he still can’t really connect with others. Namari and Chilchuck both drink after work, Falin and Marcille are besties and all get along pretty well. They’re all comfortable enough with each other to speak their mind and jokingly riff on each other, all except for Shuro, whose relationship with them is much more like co workers. 

It’s the same in his old party. Hien and Benichidori are able to form a friendship with each other, and Tade forms a friendship with Izutsumi. But Shuro is distant from them all, to the point where him going “you guys did a good job, I’m sorry I dragged you guys down here” is enough to bring Maizuru to tears and confuse the hell out of them all. While Laios’s party criticizes him pretty openly, Shuro’s party instead just goes with what he does.

One similarity between him and Laios that I didn't really notice until now is that they both lack real friends, just for different reasons. Laios can’t find real friends because he can't read social cues or socialize well with other people, but he still tries to reach out to people even if things end up sour. Meanwhile Shuro doesn't have friends because he doesn't try to connect with other people, he's passive and only makes connections if they come to him first, ending in friendships that he’s not even happy with.

I also think it's interesting how he has a special relationship with both Touden siblings, just that one is out of love and one is out of hate 💀 Both of these relationships lead to him breaking out of his passive personality and making his own decisions instead of just moving through the motions. By falling in love with Falin, he makes the decision of finally leaving the party in order to form his own rescue team. Due to his hatred of Laios, he ends up getting into a fist fight and finally showing his true emotions and feelings. Both Touden siblings influence Shuro to make active decisions throughout the story (Proposing to Falin, leaving the party, deciding to turn marcille in, fighting Laios, etc). Even though these are bad decisions, (proposing to someone without any kind of romantic relationship first, fist fighting someone while half your party is dead), they are still him finding a voice. Both Laios and Falin make Shuro break away from what's expected and make his own path, even if it's very brief, and even if those decisions were very stupid.

Even though Shuro’s whole reason for coming to this island is the quest he’s sent on by his father, we don't really get much of that in the main manga, instead more focus is put on his relationship with Laios and Falin, (something something even narratively he finds his own path by having an arc based on his relationships instead of his quest). If he had an arc in the manga, I presume it would be around him finally understanding Laios? And eventually repairing the relationship between them and forming a real relationship (Though honestly i'm not sure about this). But nonetheless i think Shuro’s relationship with Laios does improve, even though he says he hates Laios, he also admits that he's envious of him. 

The two of them have personalities that fundamentally clash with each other while reflecting the other. Shuros passiveness and Laios' lack of observation skills basically guarantee their relationship would go south, but they do manage to pick up the pieces, after beating the shit out of each other. 

Laios and Shuro have a genuine talk where Shuro admits his envy, and even offers Laios a way to escape to the east, despite not being asked to. And in the final chapters, Shuro ends up hugging Laios with a genuine smile, despite not being comfortable with physical contact. Even though the two had a rough fight, their relationship manages to recover and become somewhat positive. 

By the end of the story, even though it's implied that Falin rejected Shuro (good for her), he's still on good terms with the Toudens. He finally makes his own decisions and speaks, and even though things got kinda ugly, he's still able to have a positive relationship with Laios and Falin, not as besties or as a married couple, but just as fellow people. He finally finds his voice and speaks up, end creates connections by the end of it. 

If anyone would like to add more to this or has points they wanna bring up please do ^^, these are just my disorganized thoughts that i finally wrote down.

#dungeon meshi #toshiro nakamoto #shuro #shuro does a lot of unlikeable things (atleast compared to other main characters) but i think that hes also got alot of depth #with his whole family and relationship situation #this is a very amatuer analysis and im not really experienced with this kind of writing? #so if this is worded weirdly then sorry ^^' #also it would be cool to see what other people think #and if i accidentally misinterperated his character 😭 #WAIT I FORGOT THE READ MORE

[morganbritton132]

IDK if it’s actually a trend or just one couple’s hilarious communication style but I keep seeing reels/shorts of this one couple having “arguments” by pressing their faces/cheeks/noses against each other (like kissing but not) and whisper-shouting at each other and neither can keep a straight face and it always resolves hilariously.

Sort of piggy-backing off of your previous posts about Eddie and Steve being mid-tiff and ridiculous, I just imagine Steve coming in after the other teachers leave, sitting on Eddie’s lap and literally getting in Eddie’s face with his face like “hey, asshole, what gives?” Bonus point if Eddie had been live.

I am picturing this whole event happening a little after Eddie started using Tiktok.

So, Eddie (and Steve by extension) is nowhere near as popular on the app as he’s going to get. He has his following of metalheads and D&D nerds, but he hasn’t even explicitly said that he’s married yet.

After he said his hellos and goodbyes to Steve and the other teachers, he went down to the studio, picked up his guitar, and started a live-stream because sometimes it’s better to work out your creative process with an audience. He’s not great with the camera set up yet so the way it’s angled, you get the guitar, his hands, and his torn jeans, but it’s cut off at his mouth.

He’s in the middle of working the kinks out of an angsty guitar riff when the door to the studio opens and closes, and you can hear footsteps. A hand reaches into frame, pulls the guitar out of Eddie’s hands and replaces it with the hand’s owner.

Steve climbs into Eddie’s lap and straddles him, but all you see on camera is Steve’s nice jeans and his Christmas themed grippy socks. You also get to watch Eddie’s hands rest on Steve’s hips for just a second before sliding into his back pockets. Eddie’s voice sounds real fucking casual when he hums, “What do I owe this pleasure?”

Steve sounds anything but casual when he replies with, “What gives, asshole? You embarrassed me.”

“I embarrassed you?” Eddie said in a voice that sounds like he is about to go on a monologue across cafeteria tables. He ignores Steve’s pouty little ‘don’t’ start’ to instead slide a hand up to the back of Steve’s neck and pull him in closer. “Did the freak embarrass you, Ste-“

“Don’t call me that,” Steve huffs, a laugh in his voice. “What are you, my father? Call my what you always call me.”

“And what is that?”

“I’m not embarrassed of you,” Steve says instead of answering. “I never have been.”

“You won’t see a movie with me.”

“I want to see the movie!” Steve exclaims, shifting so their foreheads are pressed together. He looks Eddie in the eyes even though it makes him feel cross-eyed when he does that. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to go. I just – I don’t want to do the carpet.”

You can tell from the sound of Eddie’s voice that he’s pouting when he says, “I wanna show you off.”

“Next time,” Steve promises like he promised the last time and the time before that. He kisses Eddie on the tip of the nose and then pulls back, “You’re fogging up my glasses.”

Steve says that he’s hungry and wants to go get dinner, so Eddie reluctantly lets him out of his lap after one last squeeze of his ass. Steve pulls Eddie to his feet and they leave his live-stream audience with an image of the studio’s ugly orange couch as they go upstairs.

‘Eddie Munson gay’ trends on Twitter for the next week which is amazing to Eddie because, “Seriously, guys? It’s insane how many times I’ve had to publicly come out as queer when everybody in my high school seemed to know instantly.” 

#Not sure if this really answers the prompt but here we are #Eddie is an opportunist. he will touch Steve’s ass if he has the chance too #a couple months after this he introduces Steve to his Tiktok audience #in the meantime people are speculating which celebrity Eddie’s dating by looking at people’s asses #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

[daisynik7]

Give You Blue

Chapter 4: Alone Together

Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)

Rating: Explicit (for mature content)

cw: switching POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Eren is in 3rd), angst, language, a bit of fluff

Word Count: ~5.7k

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Summary: You and Annie attend a dinner at the Mu Phi sorority house on campus. Reiner, on his way out of Delta Delta, ambushes you on the walk back to your dorm for a less than pleasant conversation. Later that week, RA Eren hosts a game-night for his fellow residents. But, with it being on a Friday right after midterms, he's disappointed when it flops. Fortunately, someone comes to his rescue. Author’s Notes: Hope you enjoy this one! Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated. Please let me know what you think, I thrive off of reading your comments! If you want to be tagged in any future chapters, please let me know! Divider created by @/mikeykuns.

“Eren, are you paying attention?” 

Armin waves his hands in front of his friend’s face, snapping Eren out of whatever reverie he’s stuck in. He shakes his head slightly, grinning. “Sorry, Armin. Sort of zoned out for a minute there.” They sit next to each other on Eren’s bed, watching a movie on his laptop. It’s Saturday night, and Eren actually agreed to be social today. 

Armin taps on the space bar, pausing the film. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Are you sure you’re getting enough sleep?”

The real answer is no, but with Armin, he’ll only worry if he knows the truth. “Plenty. All eight hours,” Eren lies. In reality, he’s getting four hours tops. He stays up late studying, then spends the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, anxious about the future. 

Oblivious, Armin responds happily. “Good! Living by yourself is already paying off. Sometimes I wish I could have my own space. The frat house can get pretty noisy, especially with Connie as a roommate.” He chuckles, reaching towards the bag of chips between them.

“Connie’s a blast to be around, though. I’m sure you’re having fun.”

“Yeah, I am. You should really come by the house.”

“Maybe. When I have time.” In all honestly, he has no intention of stepping foot in that frat house. Not because he has a disdain for Greek life; but because it’ll only show him what he’s missing out on. He already feels that way whenever he catches up with Mikasa and Armin, both thoroughly enjoying their college experience still. 

Mikasa returns from the bathroom, hopping on the bed to squeeze next to Eren. “What did I miss?”

“We ended up pausing the movie anyways, so not much.” Armin passes the snacks to Mikasa, who throws a handful into her mouth. 

They continue the movie, Eren’s mind drifting into space again. He’s already thinking about the upcoming chemistry midterm next week, how he hasn’t fully memorized the amino acids and their structures yet. And how he has to schedule a date to meet with Hange Zoë, a senior doing research in the lab, to see if he can shadow her for a month. On top of that, he’s planning on hosting a small event at the dorms, something to help his residents let off some steam after exams. It’s all too much. He wants to sleep and pretend that none of these obligations exist. 

The credits roll on his computer screen. He blinks, fully unaware of what transpired during the movie. His friends hang around for a few more minutes before leaving to head to a party somewhere else on campus. Once again, he’s alone. 

He is not motivated to study tonight, already burnt out from the last couple of days. Instead, he practices his electric guitar, working on a particular riff of this song he likes, replaying it over and over through his headphones. He loses himself in the music for a while, the closest thing to an escape that he can reproduce inside his own bedroom. Fingers sore from picking and strumming, he decides to call it a night. Face washed and teeth brushed, he snuggles under the covers, glancing at his phone. 11:00 PM. Wild night, he thinks to himself, laughing. 

Suddenly, his brother’s name flashes across the screen. “Zeke?”

“Eren, hey. You’re not sleeping already, are you?”

“Nah. But I’m in bed.”

“On a Saturday night?”

“Yep.”

Zeke chuckles heartily. “Oh boy. I can already hear it in your voice. Welcome to the club, little brother. Your descent into med school hell is starting.”

“Yay, can’t wait,” Eren responds sarcastically. “Anyways, what’s up?”

“I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. Clearly not well.”

“I’ve been better.” He keeps his answer vague on purpose. With Zeke, he doesn’t go into too much detail with the emotions he’s experiencing. As much as he respects his older brother, the two of them don’t always see eye-to-eye. While Eren usually acts out of emotion, sometimes to a fault, Zeke is detached, unable to empathize with what his younger brother is struggling with.  

“Is dad still giving you a hard time? I heard he wasn’t happy with your last quiz grade.” 

Eren ignores the urge to ask how he knows about that, already aware that they talk about him behind his back. “I told him it was weighted, so technically I passed.” 

“Well, you know how the old man is. Technicalities don’t really matter to him.”

He rolls his eyes, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, almost regretting picking up this call. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying you should study harder.”

He’s fighting to keep his cool, his body tense with anger. Before he loses it, he mutters through gritted teeth, “Okay, thanks. I actually gotta go now, bye.”

“Eren, I’m just trying to help – ”

He doesn’t wait for Zeke to finish his sentence, already tapping on the red button to end the call. Now, with his mood ruined, he’s not sure if he can fall asleep. He wishes it was still daylight, specifically the golden hour when the sun sets. It would be the perfect time to head to his favorite spot: the beach that overlooks the shimmering expanse of blue ocean water separating Paradis and Marley. He discovered this area recently, on one of his drives that he takes to temporarily escape. It brings him peace, even if the moment is fleeting. 

Instead, he scrolls through his contacts, tapping on his mom’s name, holding the phone back up to his ear. When her familiar voice greets him on the other line, the tears start flowing and he spends the next half hour confiding in her. 

~~~

You and Reiner cuddle in bed, his nose nuzzled to the back of your neck, spooning you. Bertolt is home for the weekend, leaving the room to yourselves. 

“Coco, are you still awake?”

You hum, snuggling closer to him, on the verge of sleep. He swallows hard behind you, as if he’s nervous. “I think I want to live in the fraternity house next semester.”

This gets your attention. Surprised, you turn around to face him. “What?”

“It’ll help me bond with my brothers better.”

“But we were supposed to live together.” The two of your agreed quite early in the semester that you would live together in one of the on-campus apartments. This news comes to you as a shock, since he’s never mentioned wanting to live on Greek Row, until now. 

“I just want to try it out for a year, baby. When we’re juniors, we can find our own place off campus, so we can do whatever we want.” He pulls you closer, kissing your forehead. “Everything is going to work out, okay? You can wait a year, right?”

Of course you can wait; that’s what he asks you of, so you’ll do it. But you don’t want to. You had all these exciting ideas laid out in your head: cooking meals together, relaxing on the couch in each other’s arms, being alone without worrying about parents or roommates barging in on the two of you. Being together all the time. 

“Coco, say something.”

It’s easy to get upset. Make a fuss and yell at him for being selfish. Simultaneously, you feel guilty for thinking this way, like you’re the bad girlfriend for disagreeing with it. For wanting him all to yourself.

“Okay,” you finally respond. “I’ll ask Annie if she wants to live together again, I guess.” It’s a compromise for the sake of making him happy. Because more than anything, you want him to be happy. 

He smiles, kissing you on the lips. “You’re the best, you know that? I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You wake up, back in your own bed, Annie’s soft snores filling the quiet of the room. A quick glance at your phone shows you it’s only 4 AM in the morning. It’s been a few days since you dreamt about Reiner, a new record since the break-up. Still, whenever you do, it hurts as much as it did the first night. 

He never warned you about wanting to move into the fraternity house. It came out of nowhere, a total and complete blindside, much like when he broke up with you. He’s been this way for a while, making rash decisions and springing it on you without a mention of it beforehand. You always end up going along with it, forcing yourself to accept it without disagreement. You never could stand up for yourself, thinking it was less hassle to bend for him than to argue about it. When you’re with someone for so long, the easy road seems the obvious choice, compared to one that has bumps and cracks along the way. But just because it’s easy, doesn’t mean it’s better; it doesn’t always lead you to the right destination. And maybe that’s why you are where you are now: lost. 

It’s been almost two weeks since you saw him on that rainy day. Two weeks since he sent you that text message, which remains unanswered. There’s been moments where you stared at the screen, fingers ghosting the keyboard, wanting to send him a reply. Somehow, you’ve resisted those temptations. In the end, it’ll only lead to more heartache. The memories haven’t kept you up at night as much as it did before. Thankfully, your sleep schedule is back to normal, except for nights like this. You’re doing better each day. Annie’s two words to you are on constant loop in your head: Baby steps. Any progress, no matter how little or big, is still progress. As long as you don’t go backwards into a downward spiral.

Later in the week, Annie extends an invitation to eat dinner at one of the sorority houses on campus, Mu Phi. Hitch, a close friend, is a sister who currently lives there. As you approach Greek Row with your roommate, you look at the Delta Delta house right next door, wondering if Reiner is there, working as their hasher tonight. Possibly flirting with Christa or other sisters that surely find him attractive. You let the insecurities fade as soon as you knock on the door to Mu Phi, soon greeted by Hitch and two other friendly sisters. They lead you into the dining room, chatting about various topics, subtlety sneaking in how great sorority life is, asking if you’ve ever been interested. After all, they are constantly in recruitment mode, which doesn’t bother you. It feels nice to be desired. 

During the meal, the conversations continue. Annie, being the secret gossip she is, mentions the neighbors. You briefly described to her your run-in with Reiner and Christa, so naturally, she’s been curious since. “What’s it like living next to them?”

Hitch replies, “It’s fine. Did you know that Mikasa’s a Delta Delta?”

“Really? She rushed? I guess they can’t be all bad,” Annie muses.

Hitch eyes her with an amused smirk on her face. “Why would you say that? Who’s in there that you don’t like?”

Before Annie can respond, you interrupt, not wanting to spread any unwarranted gossip. “She’s joking. By the way, who’s Mikasa?”

“She’s this girl that attends Annie’s kickboxing class.”

Annie adds, “She’s also our RA’s sister.”

“Eren?”

She nods, confirming. His appearance around the dorms has lessened, possibly because of the upcoming midterms. He is a pre-med major after all, so you’re certain he’s too busy studying to be out and about. You wished you could have seen his face when he received the bag full of Pocky you bought for him, as thanks for sharing his umbrella on that rainy day. “I didn’t know he has a sister.”

“She’s adopted, from what I heard,” Hitch comments. “But they’re super close. Her, Eren, and Armin.”

At that third name, you glance at Annie, a slight blush creeping on her cheeks. She had a class with Armin last semester, and they were paired up for a big project. From then on, your roommate has been smitten with him, but she’ll never admit it out loud. You also recognize the name as one of Reiner’s pledge brothers from the same fraternity, though you’ve never met him personally. Knowing he’s close to Eren already gives you the impression that he’s a nice guy. 

The dinner ends with a tour of the house, not including the exclusive sleeping porch on the top floor, where all the sisters are forced to slumber beside each other. Right outside the entrance, you, Hitch, and Annie talk for a little while longer until your roommate announces, “My shift at the library is starting, so I have to leave now. Thanks for dinner Hitch!”

The three of you say your goodbyes, Hitch waving farewell from the door, you and Annie parting ways in opposite directions. It’s a clear sky tonight, the moon glowing brightly in the vast darkness, littered with barely visible stars. You take your time walking, enjoying the pleasantly cool air, admiring the other houses along Greek Row. From behind, a familiar voice calls out to you. “Coco.”

Before you face him, you curse under your breath, aware of exactly who it is. You find Reiner several feet away from you, presumably from the Delta Delta house. His fraternity is in the opposite direction, so he must have spotted you from afar, maybe heard you talking outside. You stand in place, waiting for him to catch up to you, ambushed. 

“Hey,” he says, with a sheepish grin.

You nod stiffly, unsure what to do next. It’s too late to make a run for it. Impossible to turn back the clock and sprint your way across campus. You should have known better, especially when you already assumed he’d be working there tonight. It doesn’t matter now; you’re trapped. 

“Are you heading back to your dorm?” he asks, hands in his pockets. 

You nod once more, voice stuck in your throat, unable to speak. 

“I’ll walk with you.” It’s not a question or a suggestion. It’s final. He’s determined to do it. 

Reluctant, you let him, pivoting on your heel towards the direction of your dorm, remaining silent. He stays beside you, hands in his pocket, glancing at you hesitantly. “What were you doing at Mu Phi?”

So he did notice you first. Eyes focused on the ground, you answer, “Hitch invited us for dinner.”

“Christa also invited you, remember? To the Delta Delta house.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” You don’t mean to sound venomous; well, maybe you do. Why bother bringing that up?

“I’m just reminding you. She’s really nice, you know.”

You snap, annoyed and frustrated. “Yes, Reiner, I’m sure she is very nice. That’s why I think she’d understand why I refuse to go to that house for dinner.”

“Because of me?” 

“Of course it’s because of you!”

He sighs, scratching his arm excessively. Something he does when he’s anxious. “I don’t understand why you’ve been ignoring me. I thought we agreed to be friends. You won’t even respond to my texts. How am I supposed to know that you’re okay?”

“Okay? You want to know if I’m okay? Reiner, I haven’t been okay since the day you broke up with me.” 

“That’s why I’m trying to talk to you.”

You scoff, blood boiling. “You’re the last person I want to talk to. You’re the reason I’m not okay. You broke my heart.” It’s a cheap shot to blame him, but that’s what you do. Fire everything in your arsenal to defend yourself, to hurt him.

His expression turns sullen at your harsh words. “I couldn’t be your boyfriend anymore. It’s fucked up, I know. But I did what I thought was right. I didn’t want to string you along.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way? Why didn’t you talk to me about it? We tell each other everything. Why keep this away from me?” 

He chews on his lip, nervous. “I was scared, okay? Really scared to lose you. I thought if I started talking about it, you’d break up with me and hate me forever. I wasn’t ready for that.”  

You process this, not sure how you truly feel about it. On the one hand, you understand the fear of losing the most important person in your life. That’s what you two are to each other. Well, were. On the other hand, it isn’t fair that he makes decisions when he’s ready. What about you?

You arrive outside your dorm building, standing feet away from each other, your arms crossed over your chest, protecting your heart. When you don’t respond, he continues. “I care about you, Coco. You’re my best friend. You’re the most important person in my life.”

 “You say that now, but eventually, somebody else will come along. Then what?”

Quietly, he replies, “I don’t know.”

You have to stand up for yourself. Hit him with the bitter truth even if it makes him uncomfortable. You’ve gone far too long agreeing to what he wants, following his plan, sacrificing your sanity to protect him. You don’t owe him anything. He decided to dump you when he was ready. That gives you free reign to do the same. “I don’t want to be a placeholder for whenever the next person comes along. Do you understand how painful that is? To know I’m temporary? I can’t be the most important person in your life. Not like this. That’s why we can’t be friends.” 

He stares at you, dumbfounded that you won’t concede to him. Disappointed that he can’t get what he wants this time, after so many years of doing so. This is what it’s like to have control, to stick up for yourself. Maybe there is some good to come out of this breakup. 

After a while, Reiner speaks, voice trembling, eyes glistening. “You can’t do this to me, Coco. I still…I still love – ”

“Don’t say it. Do not fucking say it.” You cover your ears, as if that will prevent your brain from finishing the rest of that sentence in your head. 

“I mean it, though. No matter what happens between us. I want you in my life.”

“Why is everything about what you want? Have you ever considered what I want?” You begin to pace back and forth on the pavement, arms jittery, increasingly erratic. 

A little louder now, a tinge of arrogance in his tone, he says, “We’ve known each other our whole lives. Pretty sure I have a good idea about what you want.”

“Well, you don’t. It’s different now. You don’t know me just as much as I don’t know you.”

“How can you say this right now? You’re just going to throw us away?!”

“You did it first!” you yell at him, tears streaming down your cheeks.

He steps towards you, hands in a desperate prayer, begging. “I don’t want to lose you. Please, Coco. I need you. I need you.” It’s the magic words that he so expertly chants to you. The ones that tug at your heartstrings, make you weak in the knees. And for a second, you consider taking everything back. Reach out and hold him, forget about the pain you’ve suffered these past two months and agree to be friends. Because you’d do anything to see him happy again. For this to be a long nightmare and to wake up together, perfectly back to normal.

But you don’t. And only because the entrance to your building suddenly swings open, revealing Eren at the door, inspecting the scene with a concerned expression on his face. “Is everything okay out here?”

Reiner glares at him for the interruption. “Who are you?”

Eren steps towards you, glancing at you and Reiner. “I’m Eren, the RA for this building. Heard some yelling and thought I should check it out.” 

“Reiner is leaving now,” you murmur, avoiding Eren’s gaze, embarrassed. “I’m sorry for the commotion.” You turn to head inside, not bothering to wave goodbye to your ex, who stands there, watching you. Eren follows, sneaking glances at Reiner before swiping his ID at the door to let you both in.

“Coco,” he calls out. “Please.”

You ignore him, wiping your tears with the back of your shaky hands, listening to the door shut behind you. 

“Are you okay?” Eren asks, voice calm.

You face him, forcing a weak smile, eyes still wet. “Perfectly fine.” You turn to hurry into your room, overwhelmed and wanting to hide in the safety of your bed forever. 

Before you can, he grabs you gently by the hand, thumb brushing your knuckles. “If you ever need to talk or anything, my door is always open for you.”

You mutter a timid, “Thank you,” then rush down the hall and into your room, heart pounding against your chest. His comforting words replay in your head, trying to replace all that was said between you and Reiner.  

~~~

At the end of the week, Eren hosts a game night in the common room of the dorm building. He’s excited to bond with his residents with pizza from his favorite local Italian joint and some good old-fashioned Mario Kart. He lays the food out on the table and sets up his Nintendo console to the TV, the familiar opening sequence playing on the screen. Then, he patiently waits for his first guest. Fifteen minutes pass and still no one shows up. Where is everybody? 

At the thirty-minute mark, he lays down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The pizzas are surely lukewarm now, and the same tune playing on the TV is starting to grate on his ears. He texts Mikasa and Armin, complaining about the complete lack of attendees. Immediately, he gets a call from his sister. When he picks up, she states, “Eren, nobody is there because it’s the Friday night after midterms.”

“So?”

“People are getting ready to party. That’s what I’m doing, that’s what Armin is doing. That’s what everyone is doing.” 

Someone in the background yells, “Tell him to come out with us!” It’s Sasha’s voice. 

He groans, realizing his mistake. “I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not. Just come out with us. You deserve a break.”

He considers it for a few seconds, before he replies, “Thanks, but I’m gonna head to bed.”

Sasha boos him. “C’mon, Eren! Join us! It’ll be fun!”

“I’m tired, Sash. Next time.”

Believing she can’t be heard, she whispers to Mikasa, “He always says that.” Well, she’s not wrong. 

Eren bids farewell to his friends, wishing them fun tonight. He lays on the couch for a while longer, trying to not to be too devastated at this failure of an event. Finally standing up, he heads to the table to begin packing.

“Am I too late?”

He turns around, surprised by her voice. The resident from down the hall, Room 104. The girl he’s seen cry at least three times now, the most recent being earlier in the week, outside the dorms. A small confrontation with the guy who Eren assumes is her ex, the cause behind all the tears. He was hoping to run into her soon, to check if she’s doing alright. He’s delighted to find her standing in the doorway, a small smile on her face. 

“Hey,” he greets, waving at her. She steps towards him, inspecting the plethora of food on the table. He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “You’re the first person to show up, so we have plenty of food.”

She gives him a sympathetic look, opening the pizza box to grab a slice. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

He grins. “Hey, you’re here, aren’t you? That’s all that matters to me.”

As she settles in on the couch with her food, she explains, “I would have come earlier, but I was helping Annie get ready for a party.”

Eren takes the seat beside her, dropping a piece of pepperoni into his mouth. “I guess everyone really is going out tonight,” he muses, recalling what Mikasa told him earlier. 

“Well, not everyone,” she reminds him, smiling. His chest swells with warmth seeing this side of her. Eyes free of tears, cheeks rounded with happiness, relaxed in his presence. He secretly resents Reiner, or whatever that guy’s name is, for putting her through all the misery she’s had to suffer. 

They eat their pizza, chatting about arbitrary topics like favorite toppings, best local restaurants around the town, even a silly bet about who will beat who in a race. The upbeat melody of the Mario Kart intro still playing in the background is no longer annoying now that Eren has company. 

One box only halfway finished, they wipe their hands clean of pizza grease to start the game, picking their favorite characters. Eren always opts for Yoshi, because of course he’s got to get the green dinosaur. She selects Toad, going on about how adorable she finds him, doing a decent impersonation of his high-pitched, bouncy voice, causing Eren to bust out laughing. They race, moving their bodies along with their controllers, bumping elbows and shoulders with bright smiles on their faces. She nudges him in the ribs when he tosses a red shell at her, knocking her off the course to take first place. He taps her knee with his when he slips on a banana peel she strategically lays out for him. It’s competitive, but not serious, both of them gloating and teasing one another at their victories. After going through most of the courses, they play battle mode, teaming up together to destroy CPUs on the most difficult levels. 

After exhausting most of the game to their heart’s contents, Eren checks his phone, shocked that it’s already past 11 o’clock. He glances at her, checking if she’s ready to leave once they shut down the game. She remains beside him, her attention focused on the piano in the corner of the room. Pointing at it, she asks, “We have a piano in here?”, clearly never noticing it before.

He chuckles. “Yeah we do. Do you play?”

She shakes her head, standing up to approach it, sitting on one side of the bench. He follows her, taking his place next to her. It’s only now that he realizes how close they’ve been all night. His heart starts to beat faster for some reason. 

Finger at a key, she presses on it, filling the room with a very out-of-tune C-note. “Do you play?” she asks.

“Not much, just the basics really. I’m better at guitar.”

“Acoustic?”

“Electric,” he answers, resting his hand on the piano, hovering his fingers over a chord.

“Electric guitar is so cool. I’d love to hear you play sometime.” It’s an innocent suggestion. But for whatever reason, Eren is shy about the idea of her being inside his room, watching him play his guitar. And for a split second, he imagines what other activities they can do with each other, in the privacy of his bedroom. He catches himself, mentally waving away the potentially inappropriate thoughts. 

Desperate to change the subject, he suggests, “Want me to teach you something?”

She nods, eager to learn. He starts his thumb on a C-note. “This is a C-major scale. It starts here,” he presses down, wincing at how out of tune it is. “And then you follow through with the rest of your fingers. That’s a very basic scale, without complicating it too much.”

She does it easily, smiling at the keys in front of her. “Now can you teach me Moonlight Sonata?” she jokes. 

He laughs. “How about Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star instead?”

“Fine,” she says, fake pouting. She’s really cute.

By midnight, she’s perfected the lullaby, enough for the two of them to sing along to it. Even with the notes out of tune, it’s still pleasant to listen to. He then shows her how to play the easiest version of Heart & Soul, a fun duet they manage to practice together within the hour. She’s a quick learner, which he appreciates. After their performance, she looks at him, smiling. “You’re a really good teacher.” 

He brushes his fingers along the keys. “That was my dream job growing up. I always wanted to be a teacher.”

“A music teacher?”

“No, an elementary school science teacher,” he admits. “Thought it’d be so cool to blow their minds with little experiments or facts about the living things.” He stares distantly, a longing grin on his face, fantasizing an imaginary world where he’s pursuing a career he enjoys. 

“So, what made you want to become a doctor instead?” 

At this point, he’s speaking candidly, no longer worried about hiding the truth. He’s comfortable with her. “My dad. He’s a doctor, and it’s pretty much expected of me.”

“Are you enjoying it so far?”

“No, but at the end of the day, I’ll be helping people. And that’s what matters right?” 

There’s a small pause in the conversation as she pushes on one of the keys, the note ringing out in the temporary quiet. “Teachers help people too. More than what society gives them credit for. And besides, no one wants to go to a doctor who isn’t happy being a doctor, right?”

He faces her, processing her statement. “I guess I never thought about that.”

She continues, drumming her fingers lightly on the piano. “You shouldn’t force yourself to do something you don’t want to. If there’s anything I’ve learned these past few months, it’s that forcing yourself to be happy doesn’t actually make you happy. It’s silly to say that out loud, like it’s so obvious. But I’ve made a lot of excuses, pretending I was fine with decisions made on my behalf without my feelings being considered. It was always easier to go along with it, avoid confrontation or an argument. But at what cost? Sacrificing my own happiness? It isn’t worth it, especially when it’s your life that you’re living, nobody else’s.”

This is about her ex. There’s a strong urge to ask her about it, offer a lending ear to listen to what else is on her mind. But he doesn’t question it further. The words she speaks to him resonate. Although they’re both going through different struggles in their lives, she understands him better than he expects her to. Maybe more than anyone in his circle of friends right now. 

“I have a friend who’s an education major. Erwin Smith. His dad is also a teacher. I can give you his contact info if you want to talk to him?” she offers.

“I don’t know,” he responds hesitantly. He’s never considered changing his major. He can already picture the faces his father makes, disdainful and disappointment at his son “downgrading” his career. 

“It doesn’t hurt to have it, right? Just in case?” 

He thinks about it carefully before he eventually relents, whipping his phone out to type out the information she recites to him. She’s right; it doesn’t hurt to have it. It doesn’t mean anything. 

Phone still in his hand, he abruptly blurts out, “We should exchange numbers.” Almost instantly, he regrets it, aware at how inappropriate that would be. But when she grins at him, nodding, he’s immediately relieved. 

“I’m assuming this will be your personal number and not your RA emergency line?” she smirks.

Laughing, he confirms, “Yes, my personal number. I, um, enjoyed hanging out with you tonight. We should definitely do this again.” He passes her his phone as she does the same. 

“You’re teaching me Moonlight Sonata next, remember?” she jokes, tapping her number into his screen.

“Yeah, of course.”

She slips her phone back into her pocket. “Also, if you ever need someone to talk to or listen to you, I’m just down the hall.”

“Hey, that’s supposed to be my line,” he teases, nudging her elbow with his. 

“Well, you’ve helped me out way more than you know, so I want to do the same for you. Rely on me, okay? We’re friends now.”

Outside the room, students begin to stumble through the hall, back from their night of partying. Eren checks his phone, surprised to read 1:35 AM on the screen. “It’s already past 1. I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

“Don’t be. I wanted to be here with you. Thank you for hosting this.”

“Thank you for being the only person to show up.” 

They gaze at each other, smiling. He wants to stay like this a little while longer, but he knows it has to end. At least, for tonight. They’re friends now, and he’ll be able to enjoy that warm, vibrant smile more often, he hopes. 

“Anyways, we should probably sleep soon,” she suggests, glancing at the pizza boxes on the table. “I’ll help you clean up.”

“Thanks. Maybe we can hand some of these out. I bet someone out there has the munchies right now.”

She giggles. “Great idea, Mr. RA.”

They tidy up, clearing the room of trash and putting away the video game console back in Eren’s knapsack. She carries it with her while Eren balances the pizzas in his hands, offering a box to the passing residents that are not-so-discreetly drunk. By the time they make it to his room, he’s only got one left, deeming the event an overall success. Especially now that he’s made a friend from it. 

She sets the bag down on the floor, watching him unlock the door. “I guess this is goodnight,” she says, giving him a small wave as she begins to step backwards down the hall, facing him.

“Yeah. I guess it is. Sweet dreams, okay?”

“Sweet dreams, Eren,” she repeats, turning on her heel to walk to her room. 

~~~

You lay in bed, listening to Annie’s drunken snores beside you, mind focused on your new friend Eren. Snuggling closer to your pillow, you smile to yourself, happy for the first time in what feels like forever. It’s the most fun you’ve had this semester, and most importantly, it’s the longest you’ve gone without sulking about Reiner. 

It’s in this moment that you realize the baby steps you’ve taken so far don’t seem so small anymore. Things are finally starting to look up. 

Taglist:

@batafuraikisu @bloompompom @monirei @filunara @katestrophes @ichinosejager13 @hoperenae @zellskz @e-ayyy @liliorsstuff-blog @maliakealoha @holdmeclosebutdontloveme @chrollohearttags @sailorputa @squickkk @dnyllmh @hellomeow12 @s-cream-ing @potofstewie @conniesbbymama @erzascarlett28 @lem-hhn @roronoazorosbxtchh @ichigostrawberry15 @rhaelrence @lilshades @bigmoodyjoody @icansmellsouls @aangsupremacy @ashsauroras @bakuhoes-bxtch @mrs-wolfwood @si-kamo @jmtherula @imaddicted-b @monkemanjeager @neesiewrote @large-juice @chiinni @belovedackerman

#eren jaeger #reiner braun #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren x reader #eren x f!reader #reiner x you #reiner x y/n #reiner x reader #reiner x f!reader #aot fanfiction #aot fanfic #aot x reader #give you blue #eren fluff #attack on titan fluff #give you blue series #eren smut #reiner smut #attack on titan smut

[byersbootyshorts]

Guitar Lessons

Summary: Eddie has a thing for playing his guitar at some unholy hour of the night. You're there to punish him for it.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: sub!Eddie, dom!reader, some heavy ass smut, mommy kink, wrist restraints

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This is the first time I've ever written a one shot let alone a smutty one. Please be nice and enjoy.

You wake up with a start. What the hell is that racket? It takes you a few moments to come to your senses before you realised what had woken you from your peaceful slumber. It was the sound of an electric guitar blasting through the windows of your dingy old trailer.

God, one thing you hated about living in a trailer park was the unrelenting lack of silence. If it wasn’t the wheels of Max’s skateboard on the pavement or a random baby’s cry echoing through the park it was Eddie Munson’s BC Rich Warlock blaring whatever song he felt like playing at two in the morning.

You were surprised when you first moved to the park that none of the other residents did anything about his late-night jam sessions but you weren’t going to let that stop you from trying.

And so, every night you heard that guitar blast through your window you got up, threw on the first hoodie you put your hands on and walked over to the trailer two down from your own.

It started out as a simple telling off. Pounding the door, telling him to shut up because its literally 2am and slamming the door in his face again.

But one day he decided to say something back.

‘Hey, you just moved in, didn’t you?’ he blurted out before you could slam the door on him for the third time that week.

You paused, releasing the tension in your arm that was about to whip the door shut.

‘Uh, yeah. I moved in two trailers down last month,’ you replied, your annoyance reflecting in your voice.

‘You wanna come in?’

And that was where it started. It turned out Eddie wasn’t the asshole he made himself out to be. You’d never admit it but you couldn’t wait for those nights when you’d be awoken by a riff from another Black Sabbath song. Those few hours in the dead of night spent in Eddie’s trailer were some of the best. Underneath his rock star ego was an intriguing guy you couldn’t help but like.

As those nights of talking went on and the two of you got more comfortable around each other it soon became clear it wasn’t just talking you wanted to be doing. What started out as nights of deep conversation turned into nights of, well, deep something else.

Tonight is no different. You scramble to pull on the Hellfire Club shirt you ‘borrowed’ from Eddie as you hear the familiar thrum from down the park. You exit your room, almost running to the door when you hear your mother’s voice coming from her bedroom.

 ‘Make sure he knows if he plays that goddamn guitar this late again it’ll be me coming over there to give him a piece of my mind!’ she shouts angrily.

‘Oh, don’t worry mom. He’s in for it,’ you reply, stumbling out the door.

You’re barely half way to his trailer when the riff stops and the flimsy door flies open. He’s been watching for you.

Before a you even share a word, you’re pushing him back into the dimly lit living room, lips on his. After a few minutes of silent making out you reluctantly pull away.

‘How many times do I have to tell you to shut the hell up,’ you say between kisses.

‘As many as it takes for you to do that thing you did a couple nights ago,’ he said breathily.

Your mind drifts back to that night and a smirk forms on your face. Compared to what you have planned for tonight choking him like you had a few nights prior was child’s play.

Eventually the two of you managed to make your way to his bedroom. You can already feel how hard he is under his tight black jeans. You pull him off you and throw him onto his bed. The way he stares up at you with those dark chocolate eyes almost makes you melt.

‘You know, my mom said if you pull that shit one more time, she’s gonna come over here and speak to you herself,’ you began to move closer to the bed. ‘I said I’d teach you a lesson.’

You’re on top of him now, lips only an inch from his.

’You’d rather have me punish you than her, wouldn’t you?’ you whisper, grabbing his dick, making him squirm.

‘Yes, yes mommy,’ he gulps.

‘I’ll only do it if you ask me to,’ you tease, getting off him slowly, as if to leave. ‘If you beg me to.’

Without hesitation he grabs your waist and sets you back on top of him.

‘Please, please, I want you to, please.’

‘You want me to what?’

‘Punish me. Please mommy, I want you to punish me. I’ve been a bad boy.’

It almost makes you laugh how desperate he is. Lying there practically writhing when you haven’t even taken any clothes of yet.

On that note you point at his chest and order him to take off his shirt while you undo his belt painfully slowly, making sure to rub against his bulging jeans as much as possible.

When, at last, you pull his pants off, and remove your own clothes, you look up to find him with his eyes closed, gripping his sheets.

‘You can’t be like that already,’ you taunt. ‘We’re just getting started.’

He just nods, raggedly breathing like he’s just run a marathon.

‘Excuse me, look at me when I speak to you,’ you raise your voice.

His eyes whip open to reveal a look of pure desperation.

‘Good boy,’ you hum, stroking his hair. That only drives him more crazy.

‘Now I feel you need to learn a lesson or two,’ you say, beginning to leave a trail of hickeys down his collar bone and chest as he shifts uncomfortably beneath you. ‘Lesson number one, you need to learn to be patient. I mean look at you already.’ You pull his hair to lift his head so he look at the state he’s already in.

‘This isn’t going to be much fun for me if you’re done before we even get started now, is it?’

He shakes his head violently.

‘Then let’s see how long you can last for me.’

You slowly ease your way onto his dick, stifling a moan as you take it all in. He isn’t so subtle. He throws his head back, grabbing your thighs and releases a breathy moan.

‘Ah, ah, ah,’ you tease removing his hands from your thighs. ‘Don’t make me tie you up. I can’t punish you if you’re all over me like that.’

Without thinking he whines, ‘Please, fuck, please tie me up.’ He glances over to his bedside table where a long piece of rope lies waiting. You begin to laugh.

‘You little slut,’ you say, reaching over to grab the rope. ‘You wanted this all along.’

You tightly tie his hands to his bedpost, all the while still sitting on his dick. You have to admit, you’re surprised he hasn’t came already. So, you decide to up the action.

Without warning you begin to grind up and down on his dick, immediately receiving the reaction you’d hope for.

‘Mmh, oh fuck,’ Eddie moans, a little louder than you’d expected.

You smirk. It’s time for his second lesson.

‘Lesson number two. You need to learn to shut the hell up. First your loud ass guitar and now this. How about giving the people in this trailer park a bit of peace and quiet,’ you bend down, put your finger on his lip and whisper, ‘shhh.’

You remove your finger and replace it with your lips, kissing his lips, neck and chest while continuing to grind at a faster pace. Every so often his hips jut upwards but that only makes you grind faster.

‘Don’t do that. You wanna be a good boy, don’t you?’

He can only reply with a choked whimper.

‘Then start acting like one.’

After a while of grinding and hair pulling and choking, you too begin to feel yourself become weak with pleasure.

‘Okay, let’s make a deal, shall we?’ you begin, looking down into his tear-filled eyes. ‘If you can hold off and wait to cum at the same time as me, I’ll let you scream as loud as you want.’

The look in his eyes tells you all you need to know.

You use him like a doll until you feel you can go no longer. You look down at him gazing back up at you, his bangs stuck to the sweat on his forehead.

‘You’re so pretty,’ you say without thinking.

And that just about sends him over the edge. His hips jut upwards again, almost splitting you in half as he cries, ‘Oh god, please. I’ve been so good. I’ve been so quiet. I did everything you asked mommy. Please, fuck, please,’ he pleads

You love it when he begs like that. Looking so pathetic but so beautiful at the same time. It’s almost too much for you too.

‘Okay, okay. You have been a good boy. Thank you for that.’ You stare into his deep brown eyes for a moment before ordering, ‘Go on then.’

He doesn’t have to be told twice. Within seconds he’s cumming, and so are you. He screams your name louder than you’ve ever heard him scream it before. And you’re whispering his, trying to keep your composure.

When at last you both come down from your euphoria you begrudgingly lift yourself off him and untie his restraints. You lie on the bed as he practically shakes beside you, breathing in time with you.

‘Well, did you learn your lessons then,’ you ask after a moment of recovery.

Still out of breath, he replies, ‘If it means we get to do that again, then fuck no.’

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #sub!eddie munson #smut oneshot #dom!reader #lord have mercy #stranger things #st season 4 #eddie munson smut

[eddiesghxst]

ALL I WANTED

part one | part two | part three

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader

summary: your band, Daughters of Vampira, and Corroded Coffin hate each other and are struggling to keep a clean image in the media; so, in an attempt to solve the issue, your managers try to come up with a solution.

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, smoking, cheating (reader is cheated on by her fiancé), themes of misogyny/sexism, and eddie being a dick <3

word count: 12.9k

| Daughters of Vampira setlist | Corroded Coffin setlist |

-story masterlist- | -main masterlist-

You were a musician. A rockstar. On your way to being one of the greats. Your band, Daughters of Vampira, was a small, feminist rock band out of Hawkins, Indiana. You created this band with your friends, Robin, Nancy, and Max, an outlet the four of you used to sing and write your little hearts out. You hit it big when you all moved to Los Angeles, playing at some lame bar when a producer walked up to you after the show, saying she wanted to see more, handing you a business card. 

Then boom. 

Everything was up from there. You got signed onto a record deal– played shows, signed autographs, walked carpets, and did interviews. Your wallet was a bottomless pit. En route to being wed, you got engaged to your production assistant turned bassist, and all was well— until about five minutes ago.

You came home from a day at the studio with your band, crafting a new song, playing with guitar riffs, and imagining lyrics. This track was going to be big; a song about your love for your fiance, a tale of how magnetic and beautiful every second was and will be.

You unlocked the door to your shared apartment, kicking off your sneakers, when you noticed a pair of red heels, which is weird because you hate heels. Maybe they were your friend Angie’s shoes; she knows where you hide your spare key and sometimes sneaks in when you’re not home. Furrowing a brow, you cautiously set your bag and keys down, looking around you for any more clues— her bag or her keys, anything. Your socked feet softly pad across your cold, wooden floors as you walk into the apartment's threshold, glancing into the kitchen. Nothing. You turned to the living room, unknowingly holding your breath—still nothing. Suspicion itches in your mind as you take in the space around you. You turn the corner to your bedroom and see the door left ajar. 

You almost think nothing of it; you wouldn’t be mad at Angie taking a nap in your room; she’s your childhood best friend, but then you hear it— the two voices. The first voice is your fiance, Scott, and the second is an unknown woman.

They’re laughing. They’re whispering about something you can’t hear either because they’re either speaking too quietly or your sudden rage is filling out the space in your ears; you’re not sure which it is. You quickly glance back towards the door, eyeing the heels for the second time— your heart drops.

It was Angie. Those were her heels; you helped her pick them out, for fucks sake. You storm up to the door and swing it open without a second thought, and your eyes widen at the sight before you. You had so badly wished your mind was playing some sick trick on you, and you were just hearing things. You were wrong.

Your fiance and childhood best friend, Angie, are sprawled out in your white-sheeted bed, heads laid on your pillows tousled, under your roof— and both incredibly naked. 

Despite the anger, your eyes quickly fill with tears, salty pools of resentment and betrayal threatening to spill over. Scott sees you in the doorway and scrambles out of bed, hastily grabbing a pair of boxers to pull over his bare hips. You can hear him sputtering out excuses, apologies, and reasons through the fog— so many words that sound like nothing but white noise to you. 

He stumbles his way over to you, hands reaching out to grasp you and raising in surrender when you yank away from him. You can hardly think; a cloudy moment where you feel as if the floor has been wiped from below you and you’re free-falling in some shitty excuse of a dream. 

“Sweetheart, please just listen–” He didn’t get to finish his sentence; the palm of your hand cracked down against his cheek to stop whatever bullshit excuse was coming. Angie shrieked, jumping out of bed, still with no clothes on, as she hurried to his side, an obvious two-against-one— that’s clarified when she shoots you a pointed look, fire building up in her eyes— and you can’t believe the audacity. 

Scott looks back at you, cheek red with the sting of your rage as he points a finger at you, “Don’t you dare fucking touch her,” he scolds as if you were a child, warning you to leave the cookie jar alone. You scoff, your mouth falling agape as you laugh humorlessly. “Me? Touch her?” You point to the naked girl. Your neck heats in fury as you shake your head, “That is rich, Scott.” 

You step back, eyeing both of them and ignoring the lump in your throat as you speak, “So, how long has this been going on?” They stare at you like they’re fucking clueless, and it ticks you off to no end, “In my own fucking bed? With my best friend?” Your tears are hot as they begin streaming down your cheeks, and the harsh swipe of your wrist to wipe them away stings, but you refuse to let them see you cry. Your mind is cluttered with questions, but they come out like bullets, firing round after round. 

Angie takes to answering you, saying your name to halt your questions, “We– we’re in love, and… and he doesn’t..” She looks to Scott for guidance, her eyes pleading for him to help her. Your fingers shake in anger.

“I want to call the wedding off,” Scott says, looking you in the eyes while he and your best friend link fingers. They look fucking stupid, standing there naked and feigning unity– you almost want to laugh. You scoff again, folding your arms over your chest like that would hide your pain from them, despite the evident ghost of tears still clinging to your skin. 

You glance around the room, around at the life you had planned for yourself, for him. Pictures of your engagement day, the closet you two shared, the fucking bed you shared, the life the two of you shared. More tears fall, and you don’t bother brushing them away this time. You nod, defeated.  “Yeah, that’s– yeah, we can… we can do that.” You wipe at your tears, fingers shaking with agony as you swallow the words. 

Your ex-fiance reaches out for your arm, and you back away, like he’s contagious– like his touch carries the heat of the sun. “Don’t touch me,” you snarled, watery gaze boring into his brown eyes. 

“The wedding’s off, so… Take your shit and,” you look at your childhood best friend— your ex-childhood best friend, and your heart aches. This fucking hurts. Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you dismissively wave your hand towards the clothes strewn across the floor, “And take her shit and get the fuck out.” You turn to leave but stop when Scott speaks, “I can’t just do that; I–” He stutters at the stab of your glare, “I need to call a truck so I can carry everything.” 

You laugh, tilting your head, “Nah, don’t worry, I can help you with that.”

You pace to your apartment window, swinging it open and ignoring the confused voices behind you when you start picking up various items. Scott’s eyes widen as he watches you storm over to the window, a heap of his things in your arms. He scrambles to you, yelling as you toss his stuff out the window. He’s looking out the window, watching them fall, “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” You shriek after every item you throw: his computer, acoustic guitar, books on Logistics, and How To Save Money Like A Businessman. 

You flutter about the room, shaking Angie off when she tries to grab you, ignoring her when she falls to the floor in a heap of naked limbs. You pick up a pricey statue that was Scott’s, ignoring his protests, courteously tossing it out the window to join his items. 

You storm out of the room, glancing around for any of Scott’s stuff. Yes, this was your apartment, but you were working on sharing it— sharing it with him. Your fiance. Ex-fiance. You skirt out to the living room, the two lovebirds hot on your tail and begging you to stop. You walk over to the balcony doors, pushing them open and ignoring the sound of the doors cracking against the wall, some picture frames falling to the floor. 

Pictures of you and him. 

You pick them up and toss them over the balcony, looking around for any other fallen pieces. You thoroughly sweep your apartment— as thoroughly as you can through your tears of rage, gathering jackets, shirts, and shoes and carelessly tossing them over the balcony. You ignore them as they hastily put on their clothes, brushing past them to pace to the door.

Your gaze is hot and heavy on Angie’s heels. Those shiny, blood-red, smooth pumps. They oozed sex appeal and smirked at you, asking, daring, challenging you. Angie scrambles to you, yelling for you to put them down, yelling that they were Jimmy Choos, that they were expensive— like you would care. 

You shrug her off as you walk back to the balcony, hanging them over the ledge and turning to gaze at her as she watches with tears brimming. Pathetic. You look into her eyes and drop them— one by one, “Fetch,” you whisper hoarsely.

Angie begins to cry, turning and running to Scott, who points an accusatory finger at you, “You’re a fucking crazy bitch. You couldn’t just end things like a civilized human fucking being?” He exclaims, “You are fucking insane!” He grits out, holding Angie by the waist. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and you better have my shit,” he says scathingly.

When they both have an appropriate amount of clothes on— Angie settling for one of his oversized shirts and panties, him with sweats— Scott hastily searches for his keys. You watch them both, numb and unmoving, and it feels like your body is vibrating in a storm of emotions. Scott finds his keys and wallet, yanking Angie by the hand and hauling her out the door, but not before he shoots you a glare— a look that tells you it’s over. Completely done with no room for redemption— you don’t care either way.

The door slams shut, and silence fills the space. You stand there for what seems like eons, basking in the fizzling heat of your emotions before shuffling towards your bag near the door and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. You search for your lighter, growing irritated when it seems to be missing. You toss your bag to the floor with a curse and walk to the gas stove, turning the knob until a rim of flames arises. You slip the cigarette between your snot-slick lips, ducking your head towards the stove top and watching the cancerous stick catch fire. 

You stand upright, inhaling and puffing out the smoke. You grab your flip phone, shuffling towards the balcony for fresh air while you make a call, but to your dismay, a crowd is gathered below your building, watching and taking pictures. At closer glance, you realize these people are none other than paparazzi— the very bane of your existence. They’re already recording; you can hear them chattering about what they suspect is happening, making up stories for the cameras and soon-to-come tabloids. 

Then, to make matters worse, Scott and Angie skirt out from the building entrance and start picking some items up, the paparazzi asking various intruding questions. Scott has enough grace and respect for you to deny a comment, opting for catching a taxi with Angie instead. With a roll of your eyes, you walk back into your apartment and busy yourself doing a shitty job clearing the mess you’d made. However, like clockwork, your phone rings.

You know it’s Miss Sinclair; well, Erica, as she always corrects you. Your music manager, a firecracker, that one, but overall a good friend on your side. 

You answer, taking a drag from the cigarette as you step onto your terrace again, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “What?” You ask snappily into the phone, glancing down at the crowd of people taking pictures of you. Assholes.

”What? What do you mean, what?” Erica hisses through the speaker. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Tiger?” A nickname she has for you that originated from God knows where. “Yeah, like… what’s up?” You play dumb, smiling sarcastically and waving innocently to the cameras below you.

“Why the hell do I have people blowing my line asking me why you’re tossing shit onto the streets of Los Angeles like it’s a goddamn Goodwill?” She impatiently asks.

You shrug, even though she can’t see you, “Dunno. See you tomorrow at the studio.” You pull the phone away from your ear, hearing her shriek and yell at you, commanding you not to hang up. You slap the flip phone closed, ending the call; her words cut off. You take another drag of the cigarette before flicking the bud off the balcony at the intruders, watching them back away to glare at you, yelling a few curses. You flip them two middle fingers in response before turning to walk back into your apartment, closing the doors behind you. 

You’re going to write a song. A kickass song.

“And then I threw all his shit out the fucking window,” you chuckle, retelling the story to your drinking companion, Robin Buckley, the drummer of your band. She smirks and downs another shot of vodka, “Yeah.. you uh,” she grimaces and smacks her lips at the bitter drink, “you created quite the stir earlier today,” She points at you and winks, picking up her forgotten glass of whiskey beside her and holding it out to you, in cheers. 

You sigh and smile, and inevitably you clink your whiskey-filled glass against hers as she says, “To shitty men and new beginnings— preferably with women,” she winks again, laughing along with you as you lighten up from her joke. You down the rest of your drink and put your glass down, sucking your teeth before rolling your lips inward as you stare thoughtlessly, the whiskey leaving burning kisses in your throat. 

The loud, underground celebrity-only bar drowns out behind you. What were you going to do? You had so much planned with Scott, an entire fucking wedding, a home, maybe even kids. And as if that’s not enough, you wrote an entire song about him. You were almost finished with it, so close to recording it and putting it out, maybe with tour dates to match. 

Now it's gone. Dead and buried. 

A whole song, written in 4 weeks, about your love, the love of your life, your supposed forever person, and he threw it all away. You knew love wasn’t easy. It never was, especially not after your rise to fame. It was hard to find time for date nights, for sex, for just seeing each other and talking. But you would’ve never imagined this to be how it ended.

You can’t help but feel as though this might have been your fault. Some small, pessimistic, mean part of you nagging that you could’ve prevented this if you had just changed. You tried to make time for Scott, you really did, but you got caught up in the music— the music for him. You worked tirelessly at it. For Scott to hear this song and immediately know it’s about him. You wanted it to be a wedding gift, maybe, to play it at your wedding for everyone to hear your love. You had never been so soft in a song, so open and disgustingly lovesick, and you wasted it all on him. Maybe it was your fault; perhaps it was for the better—

“Hey, you okay?” Robin cuts through your thoughts, “You went a little quiet there,” she smiles softly, playfully nudging her shoulder against yours. “Yeah,” you nod, “I-I’m good. Great.” You nod along with your words, trying fiercely to believe them.

You were not good, nor were you great. You were, to put it nicely, fucking wrecked. You were humiliated. How could anyone be okay after something like this? It was bad enough he cheated in the first place but with your best friend? You lost two of your closest people within the blink of an eye. It hurts more that they got each other while you got nothing but ghosts and memories. Scott was there for everything, your first real concert, the after-parties, the carpets. He was there for all of it. And he won’t be there anymore, and that hurts.

You shrug, laughing nervously and rubbing the bridge of your nose in distress, “I just can’t help but think that— that maybe this–” You motion your hands uselessly. Robin quickly interrupts you before you can finish your thought, “No. Do not go there. Are you insane? This,” she motions lazily over your figure, copying you, “was not your fault.” She shakes her head, sincerity laced within her voice and gaze. “Believe me when I say that— I would tell you if you were a crazy bitch, trust.” She smiles and nudges you again with her shoulder, pulling a laugh from you. 

You sigh, rotating your neck to stretch it out, rolling your shoulders, “So, like, what’s up with you?” You ask to lighten the mood, leaning on the bar counter with your elbows. It works because she laughs and nods, looking down at the glasses of whiskey as the bartender wordlessly fills them back up. She traces her finger around the rim of it, still nodding, “I-I’ve been good, you know,” she glances at you and shyly looks away when you begin to smirk, “Just sorta.. Hangin’ out, I guess. Shootin’ the shit,” she shrugs, and you laugh. “Yeah, so when did you guys hook up?” You say over your glass rim innocently, laughing even harder when the girl turns red in the face and sputters over her drink. 

“We did not hook up!” She exclaims, wiping the drink from her lips. “Me and Nance,” she shakes her head, “we just… We, like, hung out, you know?” She shrugged. You mockingly raise an eyebrow as she keeps talking, “And like smoked a bit and maybe drank and then like, there was a movie involved, and then she kissed me and—” You interrupt her rambling with a wave of your hand, “Alright, no more details. You totally hooked up,” you laugh, and she blushes harder, laughing and shaking her head, “Definitely did not.” she scoffs.

“You definitely did.” You challenge.

“Did not.” She shoots back.

“Did.”

She groans and shakes you, “If I pay for your tab, will you shut up?” she offers. You pretend to think dramatically for a moment before giving in and nodding, laughing when she slams a one hundred dollar bill on the counter and gets up, picking her leather jacket from behind her chair. “God, you are so annoying,” she complains, shucking her coat over her Daughters of Vampira band t-shirt. 

You get up, shrugging your leather jacket on and snickering, “Nah, you love me,” you teasingly say, shoving at her shoulder. She smirks and shakes her head, heading for the exit, “Yeah, you wish,” She pushes the door open and steps outside into the chilly Los Angeles night, immediately shoving her hands into her pockets. 

You opt for taking the damaged, smashed pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and pulling a matching lighter out. The lighter has a siren with long, blonde locks and a green, shimmery mermaid tail. You pull out a cigarette and stick it between your lips, igniting the flame and holding it up to the end of the cigarette. You bask in the warmth emanating from the flame, a soft heat kissing your nose. You pull the lighter away and puff, blowing the tobacco back out.

“Man, all I wanted was a peaceful drink, and I got verbally berated instead,” Robin jokes.  You laugh, blowing smoke in her face before stopping, looking ahead. You freeze, and not because of the air; the cogs in your brain start moving, fired up with the fuel of alcohol and the lightheaded buzz of nicotine. You still your movements, looking at your friend, “What did you say?” you ask slowly, pulling your gaze from the busy car-filled street. 

Her face heats up, eyes widening and hands flying from her pockets to raise in defense, “No, I mean, like— I was kidding. I wasn’t being serious—” you interrupt her by waving your hand hastily that was holding a cigarette, before looking at it and tossing it carelessly to the side. You aimlessly shake your hands at her, “No, what did you just say?” You stare into her eyes, watching as she tries to connect the dots. 

She raises her eyebrows in confusion, shrugging before saying slowly, “All I wanted—” You stop her, snapping and pointing, walking away and walking back, obviously pacing. “Yes! Yes— that. It’s perfect.” You stop pacing for a second, standing with your hands on your hips. Robin laughs nervously, fiddling with her zipper jacket, “Uh, what is happening right now? Am I in trouble?” she jokes anxiously, but you ignore her. 

You were thinking. Thinking hard. 

All I wanted. All you wanted? All I wanted. 

You repeat it to her, mumbling the words, gaze still focused on the ground, “All I wanted.” You say, pulling your eyes back up to hers. “Uh.. yeah– All I wanted…was a drink,” she parrots back, nodding dumbly, placating you like a small child doing a math equation. 

You smile mischievously, “Robin, you’re a fucking genius!” You all but shriek, earning some glances from the sidewalk. You pay no attention to them, but Robin does, grabbing your shoulder and pushing you into a walk, looking around her to not draw attention to the both of you, but it’s difficult when you’re wildly smiling and humming out a guitar tempo. 

“Dude, what are you talking about?” She stresses, “Please tell me what’s happening; I have no idea what is socially acceptable to say right now,” she explains nervously, hand moving to grasp at your elbow, keeping you in motion. “Robin, we have to go to the studio right now,” you beg, looking her in her eyes, your gaze shining in inspiration. “What? No, what? Why?” She steps in front of you and halts your walking, “What is happening?” she pleads, leaning forward and pressing her palms together in a praying motion— silently asking you to please elaborate. You move past her, still walking, still thinking. 

Robin jogs to catch up to you, “Tell me what you’re thinking, please,” she begs. You look at her and smirk, “I have an idea for a song,” you conclude. Upon hearing this, Robin smiles like the fucking Cheshire cat.

“Hit me, Tiger.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh when his friend tells him what happened. He pauses for a moment, staring at Scott and waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he never does, and Eddie nearly dies of laughter, the rest of the band along with him.

“Holy shit,” Eddie gasps between laughter. Gareth snorts, raising his eyebrow in shock as he speaks, “She threw your shit out the window?” 

Scott rolls his eyes, flipping the brown-haired boy off, sipping his beer, and leaning back into the red leather couch. Eddie shakes his head as he swivels around in his chair to mess with the studio soundboard, “That’s what you get when you fuck crazy bitches, man,” Eddie laughs, glancing up to watch Jeff mess around with chords in the sound booth. He listens as he speaks, “I mean, sure, she was hot,” He shrugs, reaching over for his box of cigarettes, “Insane tits or whatever, but at what cost?” He snorts. 

Scott shrugs, downing the rest of his beer and tossing the bottle into the small trash bin near the soundboard. 

“I mean, the sex was definitely good, but she just— I dunno, man,” he shakes his head and dismissively waves his hand, “She’s too much of a firecracker. Angie is way more docile,” he concludes. He snickers as he thinks it over, “Easier to deal with,” he smirks, reaching down to the floor to pick up another beer. Gareth snickers and Eddie grimaces with a shake of his head; he then smirks as he slides a cigarette between his lips, “Nah, the firecrackers are the fun ones, man.” he speaks around the paper as he lights the cancerous stick, sucking and blowing out the smoke. “So, what now?” Gareth asks, taking a swig of his drink as he looks at Scott. 

Scott shrugs, opening the glass bottle of beer and sipping it, “Yeah, y’know… no wedding, I’m with Angie, whatever,” he says, and Eddie chuckles, glancing over his shoulder for a moment, “Yeah, I get it,” he nods, taking another drag off his cigarette, lost in his thoughts. You’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good… A lightbulb goes off in his head. 

“Wait, guys,” he swivels around in his chair to face Gareth and Scott. The two boys look up at him as Eddie speaks, “We’ve all had crazy girlfriends, right?” His gaze bounces between the boys as he puffs on the cigarette before standing up and pushing the bud of it into Gareth’s bottle, much to his dismay. He ignores Gareth’s complaints, ignoring the boys laughing at him, pacing the room, mind swirling to the sound of Jeff’s guitar. 

Through the fog of chords and lyrics, Eddie continues speaking, “All of our ex-girlfriends— and ex-fiances,” he blindly points to Scott as he paces, ignoring when Scott scoffs, “are crazy bitches,” he points out, looking back at the group. “I mean, I can’t remember the last time I had a normal fucking girlfriend,” he snickers. The boys look at Eddie as if they’re concerned, confusion written across their faces that Eddie could care less to ease, “This is fucking inspiration, boys! Let’s write this shit down,” He leans on the soundboard, “Let’s expose this chick,” He snickers.

He walks into the sound booth and grabs his guitar from the stand, pulling the strap over his neck as he nods toward Jeff, “Keep playing that,” he orders. Despite his masked confusion, Jeff continues to play the riff he’d been tweaking. Eddie steps up to the mic in the middle of the sound booth, reaching for the headphones to slip them over his head, leaving one ear uncovered. He gestures to Gareth through the glass, motioning for him to tag along.

Gareth puts his beer down and walks in, glancing at Eddie in confusion, “You gonna tell us what we’re playing or?” He sits behind his drums as Eddie tweaks the strings on his guitar. “Just follow along, man.” Eddie distractedly mumbles. Gareth and Jeff glance at one another— Eddie often has moments like this, and they have yet to get used to it. Gareth shrugs, picking up his deeply mangled drumsticks and tapping a beat to Jeff’s strings.

Eddie mumbles to himself, fingers ghosting chords over the frets as he nods his head to the beat. He picks up with Gareth and Jeff’s sound, shredding along to create a fuller sound, the images of the music he’d composed in his mind coming to life just below his fingertips. Scott watches from outside the sound booth, standing up to lean over the soundboard. He watches, intrigued, as they play together, wordlessly tweaking until they all compliment each other. Scott reaches over with a smirk and hits the record button just in time for Eddie to chime in on the mic, finally spitting out the lyrics they’d all be waiting to hear.

And it’s fucking good. 

“Alllriiight!”

It’s raunchy, unhinged, and all things dirty. On top of that, it’s a massive fuck you to Scott’s ex, and Scott can’t keep the grin off his face as he adds the bass to the track, snickering at the words Eddie sings. They work on the song all day, throwing in new verses and tweaks until they feel satisfied for the time being. They sit outside the sound booth and nurse a round of beers as they play the song, listening to what they have so far, grinning and nodding along to the beat, laughing at the absurdity of the lyrics.

“Hey, you’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good, I’m on top of it.”

“It’s good… as much as I hate to say it, it’s good.” Scott laughs, rolling his eyes when the boys cheer. Sitting on the swivel chair in front of the soundboard, Eddie reaches out and nudges Scott's foot with his own, “You might get a few slashed tires when she hears this, you know.” He snickers over the rim of his beer bottle.

Scott laughs and shrugs, “Can’t be any worse than what she’s already done.” He jokes. The boys all laugh, watching Jeff as he raises his beer in the gesture of a toast, “To crazy bitches.” The boys all raise their beers in unity, parroting back, “To crazy bitches!” They clink their drinks and laugh, taking sips.

“You’re crazy, but I like the way you fuck me.”

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream,”

Your voice filters through the speakers, thick studio headphones skewed on your head as you fiddle with the soundboard knobs and buttons. You sigh and push the headphones to rest around your neck, rubbing your hands tiredly over your face. You take a glance at the clock— 4:34 AM. Goddamn. You had truly been here all night. After your night out with Robin, drinking your feelings away, and your quick epiphany moment, you guys caught a taxi straight here and got to business. That was at 10:46 PM. 

Poor Robin, you put the girl through the wringer. Making her drum out new beats, forcing her to pluck out a bass riff to the best of her abilities. The rest of your band was, without a doubt, asleep, and you didn’t want to bother them with your antics. And, of course, you all were close, but it was just different with you and Robin. You guys could be together for hours and never tire of one another. You just clicked. 

Maybe it was also the fact that you didn’t want to face whatever awkward encounter was bound to happen between Robin and Nancy, opting to wait until the morning to see them face one another. Robin was fully asleep underneath the sound booth, using both of your jackets as a pillow. Her fingers are wrapped around the beer she’d been drinking; hand cuddled up to her face. You pull out your cigarettes from your pocket, pulling one stick out and sliding it between your lips. You light it up and puff on the cigarette, glancing at Robin beneath the table before reaching down and carefully snagging her beer. You take a quick swig, quietly listening to the song. 

“All I wanted was you,

All I wanted was you.”

The guitar that comes in right after is powerful. It’s beautiful; it showcases your anger, your betrayal, your heart that still aches. This was supposed to be a love song for Scott, but after tweaking a few lyrics, it quickly became a song laced with hatred and resentment— a piece of heartbreak and anguish you’re still clearly sorting through. But that’s all that love is, right? Just two people fighting and slashing at each other until one inevitably gives in and waves a white flag? 

You down the rest of your stolen beer, still taking drags of the cigarette and blowing it back out. It wasn’t unusual for you to be the only one here at ungodly hours of the night, but it was one of the first times you were here with your friend and bandmate. Knowing she was here for you after such a chaotic, hectic day, supporting you even at unreasonable hours, was nice.

You replay the lyrics repeatedly, playing with the weak bass Robin was barely able to play. You should go home; you know you should, given how late it is and the dryness that begins to seep through your eyes, but you hate the feeling that runs through your bones when you think about what used to be your and Scott’s home. You don’t want to go home. Home is where everything ended. Home is no longer home— not after what happened. Home is where you’ll go to relieve the day over and over again until you get tired enough to pass out. 

And then it hits you; lyrics, more heartache hits you. The song was initially titled The Only Exception, but the words changed after playing around for several hours. You stuff the cigarette bud in the beer bottle, letting it fizzle out as you get up from your swivel chair to try and find a notebook— a notepad, napkins, or something, but you only find a pen. Frustrated with your lack of writing materials, you look at your surroundings hungrily before your eyes land on Robin’s bare arm. 

You pace back to the soundboard and reach underneath to yank on Robin’s arm, waking her up for a split second. You ignore Robin’s grumbly and slurred “What the fuck?” and proceed with your task as she inevitably falls back asleep. You yank the pen cap off with your teeth and begin jotting down lyrics on Robin’s pale, freckled, tattooed arm. 

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch. 

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott and your favorite thing to do was watch old 1950s classic films. You guys watched them so much, watched so many of them, over and over again, that you could quote them to one another. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you write these lyrics down, some falling on Robin’s arm and smudging the ink. You curse and press your palm to the running ink to dry whatever can be salvaged from your sloppy work. You drop her arm to the ground and hear her briefly groan as you pace back into the sound booth, picking up your black guitar from the stand and pulling the strap over your upper body. 

You move your headphones around your neck to sit over your ears, waiting for your next move. You start strumming out a guitar riff, basking in the glory of the echoing sounds and its full, tough ring. You push your lips to the microphone and begin mumbling, playing with more lyrics in your head before you sing.

“I could follow you to the beginning,

Just to relive the start.

And maybe then, we’d remember to slow down.

At all of our favorite parts.”

The tears are freefalling now; the dark eyeliner you’d spent the past hours smudging leaves roads of sorrow against your skin. You and Scott were together for seven magical months. Yeah, it was quick— pathetic in a different light, but you’d been mindlessly in love. And fuck, would it have been a mistake if you did end up marrying him. He was a production assistant and a bassist with no new lines of work coming, opting to freeload off his friend’s band, Corroded Coffin, playing with them at shows whenever they needed him. 

And it’s working for him so far— until it doesn’t. As much as you hate to admit, Scott is talented. He’s good with his instrument and has a good ear for sound, but despite his talent, he has no real drive— no actual want to succeed and be at the top of the music pyramid with you. As you continue to play with the guitar, you stop for a second to wipe your eyes, thoroughly smudging your makeup now and probably making you look insane. 

Scott had good moments, though. When it was good, it was good— spontaneous nights out, making out in alleyways like lovesick teenagers, and every second feeling like a movie until the credits rolled— but when it was bad, it was really fucking bad. Fights, stupid arguments, bickering, breaking expensive items, and threatening to leave each other until he makes it up to you with mediocre sex and breakfast in bed the next day. You loved him, you did, and you believe he loved you too, but you just can’t pinpoint where it all went wrong. 

You stop strumming the guitar and huff waterily, setting the guitar back on the stand and ripping your headphones off your head before tossing them to the ground. You sit on a metal, foldable chair beside you and lean forward to push your head into your hands. 

You really blew the fuck up on him. Did you overreact? Did you honestly act like a crazy bitch? Fuck, maybe you should apologize. 

You can hear Robin in the back of your head, nagging and begging you to stop thinking self-destructive thoughts like this, telling you you’re insane for even thinking of apologizing, but you just can’t help it. You venture down the deep, dark, but welcoming rabbit hole of psycho-analyzing every romantic relationship you’ve ever had. None of your relationships have lasted— the ones in high school, obviously, but you’ve been out of that shit hole for years now, yet you’re still playing the never-ending game of kiss and tell.

Life in Hawkins was a weird, dull one. All the boys you brought home never shared the same interests as you and certainly did not like that you had a mind of your own. They didn’t like the clothes you wore, or the makeup you did, or the music you listened to. They thought you and the rest of the band were stupid and wasting your lives trying to be something big with the weird sound you carried. Nothing about you or the people you hung out with fit the cookie-cutter shape of Hawkins, and you learned that the hard way. 

You were more of a dirty secret for boys in your school. Nobody wanted to express their love or attraction to you openly, but they sure as hell did so behind closed doors. Your first boyfriend, Brady, was a star on the wrestling team; he didn’t mind showing you off much because nobody had the guts to talk shit about him— too scared to get sucker punched. Brady lasted a few months before you eventually cut ties with each other. 

There were a few others after Brady, all meeting the same dead end you’re so familiar with. Although there was one guy— Eddie Munson— people believed you would be perfect for each other. You liked the same music, dressed relatively the same, and had shitty high school bands nobody wanted to listen to. Logistically, it was a perfect match; the only problem was Eddie Munson is an asshole. 

Scum of the earth, piece of shit, grade-A asshole.

Scott was friends with him, and on occasion, you would sometimes cross paths at parties or hangouts with mutual friends; and every single run-in you’ve had with the man left you with a splitting migraine and an itching impulse to smash his head through a window. He’s awful; he doesn’t respect you or any woman for that matter, he acts like he’s a living god, and he and his shitty band won (stole) that fucking music contest in Hawkins back in ‘87, and you’ll never forget it. That’s how you met him, and your guys’ race to the top hasn’t let up since.

And now that you think of it, it’s not surprising that Eddie and Scott get along so well— they’re both sexist assholes. 

You’re milling in your thoughts for what seems like hours, tears dried and itching against your skin. You’re not sure how long you sit in the sound booth, but before you know it, Robin’s hoarse voice is cracking through the speakers of the sound booth, “As much as I think you’re a musical genius and love the way you work in mysterious ways, it’s extremely late, and we both need to catch some sleep before tomorrow.”

Your face twists in confusion, “Tomorrow? What’s special about tomorrow?” You ask, your voice cracking. Robin shifts on her feet, brows furrowing at your confusion, “We’re meeting with the record label. Remember we’re playing them our new album?”

Fuck. You completely forgot about that, and all of those songs, except for maybe three, are based around your stupid ex-fiance that just dumped you for your best friend. You sigh, dropping your head in your hands and running your palms over your face. You let out a long groan into your hands, not even hearing Robin opening the door to the sound booth and walking up to you. Her chilled fingers wrap around your wrists to pull your hands away from your face. Her blue eyes are tired and full of love and warmth as she squats before you to gaze at you, “Talk to me.”

Tears brim your eyes at her soft voice, and you wince— you really wish you could stop fucking crying. You rub at your teary eyes and shake your head, “It’s just—” you sigh and blearily blink down at Robin, “they’re all about him, Rob.” You frown.

Robin patiently waits for you to find the words, comfortingly squeezing your tear-dampened fingers. “Every song on the album is about him and I… I really don’t wanna spend an entire tour singing about him.” You softly speak, avoiding her gaze.

The brown-haired girl shuffles closer to you, ducking into your gaze and shrugging, “That’s okay,” she shakes her head, “We can scrap it. I mean, the label might be a little pissed, but just… play them what we did tonight, and I guarantee you they’ll extend our time.”

You furrow your brows and shake your head, “What? No. Robin, the song’s not finished—” “We don’t get another chance with this, Tiger. We either play them what we did tonight or give them the album.”

And you know Robin is right; she does not want to give you an ultimatum, but it’s the inevitable truth. You can either play the song and hope it’s the best thing the label has ever heard, or you suck it up and play them the album full of bittersweet words that leave a sticky residue clogging your throat.

You look at Robin, her patient and tired gaze locked on your face. You chew on the inside of your cheek, thinking it over for a moment— and it could work. The new song you’d just recorded is insane— nothing you’ve ever done before and, without a doubt, has a groundbreaking sound. It could work.

Max and Nancy are going to kill you tomorrow.

You nod your head, “Okay,” you breathe. Robin’s lips slowly stretch into a smile, “I’m gonna play it for them.” You nod. Robin shoots up to her feet with a cheer.

“Perfect! Now wipe those tears, and let's get the fuck out of here.”

You and Robin look like hell. You’re sporting heavy undereye bags with dark circles, while Robin opted to cover her evident lack of sleep with a pair of dark shades. Nancy and Max look concerned when they see you both sitting in the lobby of your label’s building. Nancy, of course, chastised you for your lateness while Max just snickered in the corner. Max suddenly makes a face as she speaks, “Why do you guys look like you’ve been hit by a bus?”

Robin tiredly groans, shifting in her seat with a yawn, “Stayed at the studio late.” She mumbles. Nancy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Why? I thought we had everything ready for today.” She points out, obviously concerned. Nothing would ever get done if you didn’t have Nancy in the band. Now that you look at her, she has a manila folder in her hands, most likely stuffed with questions, comments, concerns, budgets, and more. She was more like Erica’s assistant than your bass player. But fuck, could her skilled fingers pluck out a riff.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, glancing over at Robin, who seems to be now passed out behind her glasses, offering you no help. You scoff. Of course. You mentally punch Robin in the face. You fidget with the rings on your fingers as you begin to explain. “So, basically,” you start, “I came home yesterday and found Scott and Angie fucking in my bed, so I threw their shit out the window and then called Robin,” you barely pay attention to Nancy and Max’s widening eyes as you spew out the events of yesterday. You knew they already knew, probably from Erica or the fucking tabloids. Hell, the whole fucking world knew, but they acted like this was their first time hearing about it. 

You ramble on about the events, telling them about you finding inspiration and dragging Robin to the studio, drunk, only to decide to scrap the album you’d all been working on for the past few months. 

That last bit of information didn’t go so well, however. 

“You what?”

You wince at Max’s sneering tone, glancing at Nancy to try and get a read on her expressionless face. “Please tell me you’re joking,” Max says, voice teetering on the precipice of panic. You wish Robin would wake the fuck up. “I… I know I’m really taking a leap of faith here, but I need you guys to trust me on this,” you plead, gaze hopefully bouncing between the two women, “Please.”

Max folds her arms across her chest, tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek before she shakes her head, “I swear if this fucks us over, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” She breaks, and you’re just thankful she agrees to follow your and Robin’s plan. She turns around and walks over to plop into the seat on the other side of the lobby, glancing at you before speaking, “Sorry about Scott, by the way…” she mumbles. “Maybe it’s a good thing; I never liked all those love songs anyways…” She smiles apologetically, and you huff out a chuckle.

Nancy nudges her foot against your leather boot, “You were out of his league anyway. He was dumber than a rock.” She adds to Max’s apology. You snicker and thank them for their condolences. Nancy sits on the chair next to Max and sighs heavily, “Did you tell Erica about the change?” she asks, already flipping through her folder. You pretended you didn’t hear the question, which was not a good idea. 

The two girls begin to panic at your eerie silence. Nancy’s face falls, and Robin fucking snores, “You did tell Erica, right?” She presses. Your silence says enough.

Max groans, leaning forward to sink her head into the palm of her hands, “We’re so fucked.”

And when the time comes, you’re not exactly sure what the label is thinking. All the board members wear the same unwavering expression as they listen to All I Wanted. You glance at Nancy and Max, who are both visibly shaken with nerves; Max’s leg bouncing at an ungodly rate beneath the table, and Nancy’s poor fingers picked to shreds. Robin, who’s now awake, is busying herself with doodling random sketches on the napkin in front of her, and you’re— well, you’re hardly breathing. 

Erica looks thoroughly pissed; you don’t doubt she’d thought about strangling you the second you announced you were scraping the album. You could tell she was itching to make some phone calls as her stone-hard gaze stayed on you throughout the whole listening session. You pretended you didn’t notice her.

When the demo ends, a thick silence settles over the room, and you lean forward, pressing pause on the track to prevent the CD from repeating. You awkwardly scratch the side of your neck, “I-It’s not done; I’m still working on it, but um—” You glance at the table of faces and gulp. You haven’t been this nervous in longer than you can remember. “I know it can be something. Something big.”

James, the CEO of the record label, clears his throat and leans forward, pressing his elbows onto the thick wooden table. A burning cigarette hangs between his fingers as he points to the middle of the table where the CD player sits, “This is about Scott, yes?”

All eyes are on you, and you have no choice but to nod yes. James takes a drag of his cigarette, eyebrows furrowing as he silently thinks. You glance at your friends, a wave of nerves washing through your body at the anticipation. “What happened yesterday can never happen again. You almost ruined your image. Almost.” He finally speaks, his stern gaze locked in on you. You almost want to shrink in your seat, feeling like a child being scolded in the principal's office as he continues to speak. “You're a good talent, but if you don't know how to act like a grown woman, you won’t have a place here.” 

You scoff and open your mouth, a smart response on the tip of your tongue, until Robin harshly kicks the heel of her leather boot into your ankle. You hiss in pain, sucking on your teeth to poorly conceal it. You relent and nod your head, “I understand.”

James nods and flicks the ashes of his cigarette into the ashtray beside him, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh, “Now,” his lips split into a smug grin, a grin that tells you that you won, “Get this track finished by the end of the week. I want it on air by Monday morning.”

Monday morning, Eddie is hauling ass down I-405, without a doubt breaking many traffic laws he could care less about, given he’s late to his studio session with the band. When is he not late? He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lips and the smell of last night's alcohol on his clothes. As he meticulously swerves and weaves in and out of LA traffic, he jams his finger to turn his radio on, flipping through static, noise, ads, shitty pop music, and landing on a seemingly decent Rock station. 

He takes his cigarette out of his mouth and puffs the rest before tossing it out of the open window. His hair tousles from the wind, and he bats the curly strands away whenever they fly into his view. His ringed fingers grip the steering wheel, swerving out of the way of a truck before honking and throwing up a middle finger. What he misses during that exchange is the introduction of the song.

“Next up is a new hit single named All I Wanted by Daughters of Vampira! Daughters of Vampira will be going on tour soon; stay tuned for details!”

Then, the music starts when he finally starts to slow down after narrowly missing the truck.

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there,

I’ll beg you nice from my knees.

And when the world treats you way too fairly,

Well, it’s a shame, I’m a dream.”

Your voice filters through his car stereo, unbeknownst to Eddie, and he glances down at his music console. He slowly turns the volume dial up, intrigued by the sound and wanting to know where it’s leading. When the ferocious guitar shred comes in, his face twists in approval, turning the volume even louder as he bobs his head to the tune. Whoever’s band this was, is fucking good. It’s not every day you hear a good Rock song sung by a woman, he thinks.

“All I wanted was you, oh,

All I wanted was you, oh!”

Eddie’s not sure why it takes him so long to realize the voice playing through his speakers is none other than the lead singer of that stupid fucking feminazi band Daughters of Vampira. He nearly chokes when he realizes it’s your voice, turning the volume up to max and listening to the words.

It’s… sad. The lyrics are like the gut-wrenching heartbreak you see in movies, aching and drenched with the grief of a love that was supposed to be great. And your voice is so fucking raw, so angry, and filled with pain that it brings Eddie to a stand-still, the skin on his arms raising in tiny bumps at the sheer emotion. Eddie almost forgets he’s in his car until he hears the car behind him honking, the man behind the wheel yelling at him to go now that the traffic light has turned green. He doesn’t move an inch, afraid he’ll miss a beat of this slice of heartache.

The song ends, and Eddie turns off his radio, choosing to spend the rest of his ride in silence as the gnawing feeling of guilt settles in his gut. By the sound of it, Scott really did a fucking number on you— tore your heart out, chewed it up, spit it out, and stepped on it like a spider on a sidewalk— and Eddie knows what that feels like; he’s had his heart broken before so he knows what it feels like to be so angry at the love you had for a person. It’s a shitty feeling.

So, Eddie’s not sure why he decides to be an asshole and tell the boys about your new song, but he does. The second he enters the studio, he tells Gareth to turn on the radio.

“...Why?” Gareth questions with a tone of suspicion. Eddie brushes his question off and walks to lean over the desk, turning the radio on and beginning to switch through the stations. “Uh, Eddie… we’ve got some work to do, man, we don’t have time for—” “Shh, just give me a second,” Eddie snaps. 

“It’s gotta be playing somewhere.” Eddie mumbles, eyebrows furrowed, ringed finger going overtime on the dial, abruptly stopping when he finally hears it. “This is it! This is it; just listen.” Eddie turns the volume up and stands up to his full height, hands on his hips, and chews on his lip as they silently listen to the song.

Jeff is the first to speak through the sound of drums and intense chords, “Why are we listening to this?” Eddie waves him off, telling him just to wait— just wait until the verse.

“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times,

And fall asleep on the couch. 

Wake up early to black-and-white reruns,

That escape from my mouth.”

Scott’s eyes widen, striding over to Eddie’s side and gazing at the boombox in shock, “No fuckin’ way.” He breathes. Eddie looks at Scott as he reaches over to increase the volume. Gareth twirls his drumstick between his knuckles and deeply sighs as he leans back in his chair and kicks his feet up onto the soundboard, “Dude, no offense, but why are we listening to this shit?” He asks. Scott turns to the boys and points back to the radio, “That’s my fucking bitch ex singing about me.”

Jeff and Gareth’s eyes widen, both boys leaning forward in their seats to listen to the lyrics. Scott curses and reaches over to shut the radio off, letting a thick silence fall over the room. Jeff is the first to break and nervously laugh, and Eddie grins, Gareth falling into a fit of laughter behind Jeff’s. “Why the fuck are you guys laughing?” Scott sneers.

Eddie chuckles, reaching out to rest his hands on Scott’s shoulders and turn him to face each other, “You don’t get it, man,” Eddie begins. Scott’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and Eddie smiles mischievously, “This is the perfect time to drop Crazy Bitch.”

You nearly blow a gasket when you first hear Corroded Coffin’s new song. Nancy did quite a good job of bringing you down to somewhat of a levelheaded state and getting you to understand that killing Scott or slashing his tires wouldn’t be the wisest of decisions to make. You still aren’t convinced.

You try your best to ignore the song, switching the radio to a different station whenever it plays, but it seems like that fucking track follows you wherever you go. A week after the song's release, you’re walking down the street with Robin, browsing the stores that catch your eye and chatting about whatever comes to mind.

You hardly notice the crowd gathered outside the store you are in until Robin points it out, nudging your side and nodding towards the window, “Looks like we’ve got company today.” she mumbles. You curse, shelving the shirt you’d been looking at as you grumble to Robin, “Seriously, how the fuck did they find us?”

You suppose the rest of your day out won’t last much longer, so you and Robin decide to make your way home, stepping out into the crowd and shoving through a sea of flashing bulbs. 

Over time, you’ve mustered up the strength to ignore the questions paparazzi throw at you; questions about who you’re dating, your sexuality, your political beliefs— questions of generally no substance or anything to do with your music. You’ve become numb to the reality of your life being plastered on tabloids and riddled with lies; it doesn’t really hurt you anymore. 

However, you’re still a human being, and you have moments where you crack, and today seems to be one of those moments when a man yells out, “You were seen dumping your ex-fiance Scott's items into the street! So is the song true? Did you and Eddie Munson have an affair? Is that why you and Scott broke up?” 

Robin tenses, glancing at you and silently pleading for you to just keep walking. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

You glare but smile at the man, flashing your white, shark-like teeth, “If you wanna know so bad, why don’t you ask Scott and Angie yourself?” You sneer. 

A few of the men snicker, one whistling and commenting about you being feisty, but you ignore it and continue as you and Robin finally reach your car, “And for the record, I wouldn’t touch that asshole with a ten-inch pole. His dick is small.” You grin sarcastically, opening your car door and getting in without another word. You hear the crowd erupt in more questions outside your car, some scribbling stuff down on their notepads and some laughing.

You groan in annoyance, buckling yourself in and starting the car as Robin settles in the passenger seat. You don’t miss the chance to flip the mob of men off when you drive off, leaving them behind with screeching tires. It’s silent until Robin chuckles, and you glance at her, “What’s so funny?”

Robin shrugs and shakes her head, “Nothing,” she says, “Just that Erica’s gonna murder you.” You roll your eyes and slide a pair of shades on. “When is she not wanting to murder me?” 

The media erupted after your comment about womanizer and rockstar Eddie Munson. Many fans came to your aid, voicing the truth of the breakup and defending you and your band. In contrast, many other fans— Corroded Coffin’s cult of assholes— came to Eddie’s defense, stating that he was only doing charity work to get your name in the papers. That you were fucking your way to the top of the music industry and much, much more deeply misogynistic statements. 

You didn’t care for any of it. You, your friends, your family, and your band knew what actually happened. The best part is that Scott knew the truth, and he was a shit fucking liar. He couldn’t cover up what happened if his life depended on it. It made you think of how he could lie about the affair for as long as he did. You don’t dwell on that thought for too long, growing tired of digging deeper into the pit of despair Scott had so happily tossed you into.

At the end of the day, your image is in shambles, and if your image is fucked, then so is the bands. Daughters of Vampira wasn’t booking anything; shows, meet-and-greets, autograph signings— nothing. Even though All I Wanted was an enormous hit and ended up in the charts, people couldn’t get over the fact that you, the lead singer, tend to be explosive. You would’ve felt bad about this if Eddie’s image hadn’t suffered the same fate. 

Eddie and his band immediately stopped booking shows after their song Crazy Bitch. Of course, it was a big success, but only because the drama fueled it. Young women stopped throwing themselves at the band and instead opted for screaming, “Woman haters!” and “Sexist pigs!” at them whenever they were out. It had been fucking rough, and it only got worse after Eddie commented to the paparazzi while he was out on a coffee run in the streets of Los Angeles.

“How the fuck do they always find me?” Eddie grumbles to himself, putting on a fake smile for the group.

Eddie was rocking a pair of shades, thinking of ways to quickly escape the mob, when a young boy approached him from the crowd. He had a Corroded Coffin shirt on with a photograph of Eddie clenched to his chest as he kindly asked for an autograph. 

“Sure, kid,” Eddie crouches down to the boy’s height and gently takes the photograph and Sharpie, "who am I signing it for?” He smiles softly at the boy, “For Thomas, sir!” The boy politely says, his eyes shining in excitement. “Thomas, sick name, man.” Eddie compliments, yanking the cap off with his teeth. He signs his name with a Let’s fuckin’ ROCK! in the corner, putting the lid back and handing the photo back to the boy. 

He smiles when the boy squeals in excitement and offers him a fist bump before standing up to his full height. “Thank you, Mr. Munson!” Eddie snickers and nods, “‘Course, but hey, don’t call me Munson; call me Ed,” He smirks, and the kid laughs. “Mr. Muns– Ed, I have a question for you,” the kid shyly asks. 

Eddie’s heart implodes at the cuteness of this little shithead and chuckles as he responds, “Shoot, kid, I’m all ears,” Eddie ignores the flashes from the cameras, taking photos of this pure and innocent moment. He ignores the coos from the women, from the kid’s parents, all of it, just zoned in on this small child meeting his hero. Him.

“Ed, is it true that you hate girls?”

And just like that, the moment is over.

Eddie turns red in the face and forces a harsh but nervous laugh. The crowd closes in upon hearing the exchange and begins asking a multitude of questions. The parents snag their son away and start expressing profuse apologies that Eddie waves off. “Nah, nah, the kid’s fine. But uh, to answer your question, no, that isn’t true, Tommy boy,” he says, looking at the child standing beside his mother’s legs. He takes out a pack of smokes and opens it, sliding a cigarette between his lips as he adds, “I am a really big fan of girls,” he flashes a dazzling smile around the stick and does finger guns at the small kid before he turns and begins to walk away. 

He’s forgotten all about his coffee, and now all he wants is to get the fuck outta there. 

He lights the cigarette up and ignores the crowd of paparazzi following him, cameras still in motion. He rolls his eyes, body buzzing in annoyance from the kid's question and the crowd. He continues walking the street as more questions and fans approach him. As Eddie signs a woman’s photograph, a cigarette hanging from his lips, an interviewer comments with a camera already zoned in and recording Eddie’s face. No doubt this will be on MTV tonight. No doubt he won’t hear the end of it from Dustin and Steve.

“Eddie, did you hear what the frontwoman of Daughters of Vampira has said about you? Can we get a response?” He shoves the mic into Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s lips break into a grin, but he doesn’t look up from the autograph he’s signing. “Yeah… yeah, I heard, and y’know what? She can come find out herself if it’s small or not,” He looks up and smirks right at the camera, “Have a nice day.” He smiles tightly at the interviewer and hastily flags down a taxi, hopping in and yelling at the driver to step on it. He watches as the crowd grows smaller and smaller with distance, his heart thundering in his chest. He takes deep breaths to slow his pulse down, to stop thinking of you. 

It never seems to slow as his mind can’t move on from you or that damn song.

Both the managers of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira are pushed to the limit with you and Eddie. Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington are co-managers of Corroded Coffin, mainly because Steve has the money and Dustin has the brains to man the operation. All Steve really does is cut the checks and warn the team when to cut back on the extracurriculars. 

Erica, Steve, and Dustin are all from Hawkins and are quite familiar with each other due to living in a small town where everyone knows everybody. They, along with all members of Corroded Coffin and Daughters of Vampira, all sort of grew up with one another in the 80s and have always been on this whimsical journey together. As the years went by, you all drifted, more so because of the competition, but aside from the band, the managers stayed relatively civil with one another. Erica, Steve, and Dustin stayed in touch because sometimes they couldn’t handle the two bands, which is why Erica summoned the two boys to a bar in downtown LA.

Erica Sinclair is seemingly always tested by you and has no idea where to go or what her next move should be. She has times when she feels like a single mother dealing with an angsty teen, and when those moments teeter on disastrous, she makes calls— the call.

“I mean, I have just had it up to here,” Erica moves her hand up in the air to emphasize her annoyance, “with these girls, I mean, my god!” She shakes her head as she sips her red wine, the two boys nodding from across from her. “Trust me,” Steve scoffs, “we get it.” 

Dustin nods, taking a sip of his Shirley Temple and smacking his lips before adding, “We’re in the same boat too— with Eddie,” Dustin starts, drinking his Shirley Temple out of a bendy straw. 

“Yeah, he’s always been a pain in the ass, ever since high school,” Steve continues, sharing a look with Dustin, who tiredly nods, “But it has never been this bad. Normally we can get a hold on him running his mouth, but it’s just been…” Steve falters and trails off, struggling to grasp the words to explain Eddie’s childlike behavior. Erica nods, “I know what you mean,” She makes a face and holds her wine glass out to cheer with them. Dustin clinks his Shirley Temple, and Steve clinks his beer, them all taking a sip.

“Both band’s images are terrible. It won’t be long till we’re losing more money,” Steve grumbles, taking another swig of his beer. “I think we should just lock them all in a room together till they get along,” Erica jokes, earning a chortle from Steve and a cackle from Dustin. They all sigh in unison, a comfortable silence falling over them. 

Suddenly, Dustin sits up straight, aggressively snapping his fingers before pointing to Erica.

Steve jumps and makes a face at Dustin, grumbling about how annoying Dustin’s theatrics are. Erica rolls her eyes, already used to the boy’s antics. “Well? Are you gonna tell us about your nerdy little lightbulb moment or keep making a scene?” She sneers over her wine glass rim, taking a sip. Dustin looks back from Steve’s annoyed face to Erica’s tired one, basking in the dramatics.

“Why don’t we do just that?” He finally says.

Steve and Erica share a look. Typically, Dustin has these moments, and Steve and Erica have to entertain them, but Erica thinks Henderson might be onto something. Steve scoffs and leans back in his chair, “I doubt they’d last a week locked in a house before one kills the other.” Steve mumbles, clearly missing Dustin’s case in point.

Erica, however, knows just where Dustin’s mind has gone— to the motherland of brilliant-fucking-idea. Erica puts her glass down and leans her elbows on the table, resting her chin on the backs of her folded hands. “When you say just that, you mean…?” She looks at the boy quizzically, praying he means what she thinks he means. Steve puts his hand on the back of Dustin’s chair and leans forward, “I’m not really picking up on this guys,” He uses his other hand to lazily gesture. Dustin ignores Steve and nods slowly, “Oh hell yeah, I mean that.” He says, smirking mischievously. Erica and Dustin share a grin, a playful gleam in their eyes. Steve groans on the side in annoyance.

“Let’s book a fuckin’ tour bus, boys,” Erica concludes, and Dustin erupts in cheers, the two of them clinking their drinks. Steve finally understands, and his eyes widen, “Oh! Holy shit, that’s fucking genius.”

Erica laughs and finishes off the last of her wine. “Tiger is gonna kill me.” She smirks and shakes her head, sighing. Dustin and Steve share a look and chuckle a little bit, “Her reaction won’t be as bad as Munson’s. He’s gonna fuckin’ lose it.” Dustin says, slurping on his straw.

A few weeks pass before Erica, Steve, and Dustin manage to rally both bands in a conference room. The tension in the room is almost unbearable. For the most part, the band members seem more interested in knowing why they’ve been summoned together— the real tension is at the end of the table, where you and Eddie sit across from each other. Eddie wears a snickering grin to go along with his darkened shades, and you— well, if looks could kill, everybody in this room would be six feet under and crossing into the afterlife. 

You’re pissed. Annoyed that you’re being forced to breathe the same air as that fuckface Eddie Munson, and Eddie could not be more pleased with himself. Eddie gazes at each of the girls across from him; Max, who’s glaring at your managers and bouncing her knee in evident impatience, Nancy, who couldn’t look more uninterested if she tried; and Robin, who seems more intrigued with the wood paneling of the wall to look at anything else. He makes the mistake of looking at you, earning him a nicely silver-wrapped middle finger which he winks at.

“If you two are done acting like children down there, we’d like to get this meeting started,” Erica announces from her seat at the head of the table. All eyes turn to her, and she sarcastically smiles, opening her mouth to begin speaking until you cut her off, “Whatever fucking bullshit you three have planned, I won’t be a part of it. Not with this asshole.” You gesture to the curly-haired boy across from you.

Gareth and Jeff snicker, and you glare at them, ignoring Robin’s elbow jabbing into your side. “It’s funny that you think you have a choice, Tiger,” Erica says, tilting her head with a grin. You begin to bounce your leg impatiently, jaw clenching as the ticking time bomb in your mind begins to speed up. 

Dustin clears his throat and stands up, gathering everyone's attention as he clasps his hands. “Let’s cut straight to the chase,” he begins, “Your music careers are fucked.”

Jeff breathily laughs to the side, and Erica glares at him, quickly diminishing his obvious amusement. “Somehow, the seven of you have managed to obliterate your band's image in less than a month,” Dustin points out, picking up a stack of magazines before him and walking calmly about the room. He tosses a magazine out into the middle of the table, “Misogynists,” another magazine, “Anti-feminist,” another magazine, “Chauvinists,” another magazine— the final one, “Woman-haters.”

You all look at the magazines silently until you mumble, “Sounds about right,” causing Eddie to scoff and roll his eyes beneath his shades. “What? You’re mad the media is finally realizing how full of shit you all are?” You prod with a tilt of your head. “At least nobody’s saying I should be sent to a fucking ward.”

Your eyes narrow, and you begin to form a response, but Erica rises from her seat loudly, startling the room as her loud voice booms through the space, “The media is tearing both of you to shreds,” she leans forward to press her palms against the cool wooden table, heated gaze darting between you and Eddie.

“Both of your bands aren’t booking gigs, and you're losing money faster than you earn it,” she points out, watching as you all cower from the truth. She waves a manicured finger between both sides of the table, “This stupid little fucking back and forth you’ve created either ends here or on the road.”

Robin’s face twists in confusion, a raspy voice speaking up for the first time, “On the road?”

Steve turns to her and grins, “Yes. On the road. Together.”

Gareth leans forward in his chair, confused as he speaks, “What, like a retreat type deal?” He questions. Dustin slaps a paper down in front of him, “No. Tour. Nine months, ninety-two shows.”

Gareth doesn’t get much time to take in the information on the paper before Eddie snatches it out of his hands, shades pushed up into his hair as he leans in to gape at it. A list of tour dates, an ongoing and never-ending fucking list.

“You’re not serious.” He says. Steve chuckles at the end of the table, nodding his head, “As serious as a heart attack.”

You’re next to snatch the paper away for a gander, ignoring the rest of the room as everyone erupts in a fit of protest. You stand with your back to the table as you gaze through each date, your neck heating up with anger as your fingers crease the paper. You turn around, face twisted in rage, wrinkling the paper in your shaking fist as you storm up to where Erica stands, waiting for you to say your piece with an unwavering impression.

You hold the crinkled paper up as you stand before her, “You’ve lost your fucking mind if you think I’m doing shows with these pieces of shits.” You sneer, tossing the paper onto the table. Erica raises an eyebrow, looking at you as if you’ve gone off the deep end. The room enters a thick silence at your outburst, all eyes on the standoff between you and Erica. “Call the tour off, or I’m out.”

“What?” Robin leans forward to gaze at you, eyes widened in shock at your words, “You’re not leaving the band, Y/N, you— you can’t.”

You ignore Robin and step closer to Erica, eyes burning into her gaze as you speak, and Erica has never seen you this angry in all her years of knowing you. “Call it off.”

Erica will let you believe you have the upper hand for your peace of mind, but when it comes down to reality, you both know you don’t stand a chance against her force of nature. Erica is calm and uncannily patient as she speaks to you, “You’re at a dead-end street, Tiger,” she starts, “You either make a way, or you go back to Hawkins with your tail between your legs like everyone expected.” 

Erica sits back in her chair, not even bothering to look at you as she busies herself with the paperwork before her when she adds, “You make the call.”

You glare down at her, throat closing in anger and betrayal. You don’t say another word as you storm out, leaving the room with a booming echo of the heavy glass door slamming shut. Erica sighs, settling back in her chair and gazing at the rest of the band members, who are all silently fuming in anger. “Now, does anyone else have something to say or something of substance to add, or are we done here?” Eddie rises from his seat with clear annoyance, “This is bullshit,” the force of his movement sends his chair back to the wall as he walks out of the room, just as angrily as you had previously done.

The remaining band members sit in silence, avoiding each other's gaze, and Steve breathily laughs, “Well, Dustin, you were wrong,” he teases, smirking when Dustin and Erica turn to him. “Eddie took that pretty well.”

The band members glance at the managers, and Dustin sighs as he leans back in his chair, twisting his mouth in thought and tapping his pen against the table.

“This is gonna be more work than I thought.”

————

a/n: AHHH, YOU'VE MADE IT TO THE END!!! WE HOPE YOU LIKED THIS AND LOVE THEM SO FAR; more to come sooonnnn <3

————

teeny taglist: @tommyvelvet @oeuryale

#WOOOOO #ENJOYYY #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader #drabble #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things au

[anxiousnerdwritings]

okay but Bruce’s sibling seeing the Jason is falling apart during the Titans show and being able to intervene before the Joker kills Jason Todd in the very last minute when (s)he realized that Bruce wasn’t doing shit to protect his kid and just not letting him go back? when Bruce asks about Jason returning to the manor after being released from the hospital, the sibling!Reader is like “nah, he’s staying with me” and Bruce tries to argue but the baddie is already walking out the door. for a moment Jason can only stare in awe before he shrugs and skips after his new mama. and Jason still becomes Red Hood but a more tamer version under the Reader’s influence. poor Dick wants to rip his hair out when he discovers that she probably would’ve adopted him too if he had asked.

I could totally see Bruce’s sibling!Reader having taken on more of a motherly/fatherly role to Dick and Jason than Bruce would when he took them in. If the Reader wasn’t there when Bruce first brought home Dick then they sure as hell rushed their ass to get there as quick as possible to help Bruce raise him. Then they ended up staying around for Jason too (and eventually the other kids to come). So they’ve been more of a prominent parent in their life than Bruce really was.

When the Reader first ever found out about either Dick or Jason taking part in fighting crime they were completely against it and it caused quite a riff between the two siblings. The Reader literally didn’t talk to Bruce for six months, not a single peep, even though they lived in the manor together and saw each other every day. It took the boys going to the Reader and telling them that they wanted to do this and that it was their choice to become Bruce’s sidekick. The whole thing still infuriates the Reader but they do ever so slowly start talking to Bruce again. The boys both know that the Reader wouldn’t ever come to accept them having any part in becoming a vigilante but at least this kinda smoothed things over between them and Bruce.

But the Reader would finally be forced to put their foot down now that Jason was in the hospital and he was going downhill. The Reader was always much more conscious and hyper aware of Dick and Jason’s mental and emotional health while living with them and Bruce than their brother really was. They knew being a vigilante would be taxing for them in more ways then one and then having Bruce be tough on them too had it’s affect as well. The Reader was always there for the boys though no matter what but they especially made it their purpose to be an anchor for both Dick and Jason. To always be their consistent form of love and warmth after everything. Whether it was a bad day at school or a rough patrol, the Reader was always their for them no matter how late or early the boys were in need of some reassurance and comforting.

So of course the Reader picked up on Jason spiraling and they weren’t going to allow him to be put in yet another environment that would only make him worse. They would take him with them and Bruce wouldn’t be able to stop them. They’re priority was making sure that Jason was safe and taken care of more than anything else but there could be a compromise made for Jason to continue crime fighting if that’s what Jason wanted. And he’s got no hangups about being taken in by the Reader whatsoever, honestly he’s ecstatic for it.

Meanwhile, Dick is beating himself up for never even thinking of the Reader adopting him themself. He is over filled with envy that Jason gets to be taken in by the Reader. Dick may even hit the Reader up and ask if it’s too late to be adopted by them now. But Dick would visit the Reader’s place a whole lot more now that they’ve taken in Jason, for a few reasons. He definitely wants to remind them that Dick is still around and that he still needs them too, he doesn’t want the focus to be completely taken off of him. He obviously doesn’t want to be forgotten by them now that they have their hands full with Jason. But he would also try to be more of a stable figure in Jason’s life too, sure a part of the reason is to look good in the eyes of the Reader but also to keep an eye on Jason too. No doubt that the Reader themself would ask Dick to keep an eye out for Jason too while out on patrol every now and again, just for added measure that he would be okay when he goes back to crime fighting.

The Reader would totally put Bruce in his place and it wouldn’t matter whether the Reader was his oldest or youngest sibling, Bruce will hang his head low in shame and take the scolding sent his way. He knows the Reader is right and that Jason may just need a change in environment and someone else around to get better but still it makes him feel like shit that he failed Jason as much as he did. He’ll try to make up for it though, both with Jason and his sibling. Bruce would want to eventually get back into his sibling’s good graces after all.

#anxious answers #yandere jason todd #yandere dick grayson #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dc #yandere titans #yandere concept #yandere dc concept #yandere titans concept

[nerdraging4point0]

The Scorpion and the Scales //Chapter One// Poly-AU

Tropes and Tags: MF, MFM, MFMM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed musicians, polyverse, friends to lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only MDNI, PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), threesomes, light BDSM, voyeurism, exhibitionism, partner sharing, jealousy, angst.

Active taglist: @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @circle-with-me @synthetic-wasp-570 @itsjustemily @thesazzb @vinyardmauro @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @dominuslunae @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @letmeadoreyoux @starsomens @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @thatchickwiththecamera @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written @somewhere-diamond @somebodyels3 @sacredthefran

My ears are still ringing from the concert, a lingering reminder of the band's raucous performance that seemed to rattle the very walls. But as I stand outside the venue waiting, the cool Colorado night wraps around me, calming my ringing ears. I take a deep breath, letting the crisp mountain air soothe my senses. Looking up at the starry sky, I can't help but smile, the adrenaline from the show still coursing through my veins. My body may be tired, but my spirit feels alive. This is exactly where I want to be.

I scroll through the photos and videos on my phone, reliving each moment - the crush of the crowd, the first electrifying guitar riff, the encore chant that shook the rafters. I smile as I post clips to Snapchat, the glowing screen casting a soft light on my face. These are memories frozen in time now.

I glance down at my outfit, suddenly self-conscious - dark shorts with fishnets, my favorite Adidas shoes, a cropped long sleeve tee to show off my wrist tattoo. My dark curls bouncing around my shoulders, framing the natural makeup look I had spent so long perfecting. My heart pounds at the thought of meeting the band looking like this.

I can hardly contain my excitement. Getting a photo with the band tonight will be the perfect addition to my prized collection of memories! My scrapbook is absolutely full of photos with bands and celebrities - it's my most prized possession. But the photos themselves are nothing compared to the actual experiences behind them. I smile to myself remembering all the crazy adventures over the years - the VIP access, celebrity run-ins, wild nights out in Vegas and LA. I live for these thrilling moments and have to document every single one. This show tonight will give me yet another trophy photo for my scrapbook of fame.

I can feel the crowd stirring, a buzz of anticipation in the air. Around me, fans jostle for position near the stage door while security guards confer, ready to guide the band through. I'm so tempted to rush the door with some of the other die-hard fans, but I know that's crazy - I'd probably just get trampled. So, I stay put, heart racing, barely able to contain my excitement. 

The crowd roars as Folio and Jolly emerge from backstage, basking in the post-show glow. Folio's got on his favorite tour tee, that vintage New York cap perched just so atop his mop of curls. And Jolly - man, that dude looks like a rockstar with his hoodie and beanie combo, those long brown locks flowing free. They pause to snap a few pics with fans, gracious as ever, before huddling up to recap the epic show.

When I see Noah, my heart stops. His towering, muscular frame moves with a feline grace and his soft brown locks fall perfectly over his chiseled features. This triple-threat talent radiated magnetism, his lethal attractiveness gripping me in its thrall. I was helpless, I was his, utterly and completely.

I see Jolly and Folio sitting off to the side of the fans. They aren't too far away, but I feel the nerves build in my chest, and I gather my courage to call them over.

"Jolly!" I shout, my voice cracking with excitement. He turns, and I start flapping my arms like a madwoman, desperate to catch his eye. This is it. My chance to meet one of my idols in the flesh. I scurry over, my legs jittery and unsteady beneath me. "Can I get a picture with you guys?" I blurt out in a rush, the words tumbling over themselves. I'm practically vibrating now, bouncing on the balls of my feet. Just breathe, I tell myself. Play it cool. But my fangirl glee cannot be contained.

He saunters over, hands in his pockets, with Folio trotting behind him. I fumble a bit with my phone, trying to find a good angle for a selfie.

"Mind if I help?" he asks, reaching out his hand. I hand him the thin device with a shaky hand. Extending his arm, phone in hand, facing the three of us so we were all framed up perfectly. I flash my best smile, leaning on the fence post for support. He snaps a few shots to make sure they came out clear, then hands my phone back.

"Thank you so much!" I squeal excitedly.

"Not a problem at all," he replies with a gentle smile, his accent coming through each word.

Folio turns to me, but he doesn't sound too thrilled - more like he's feigning the enthusiasm. "So, did you have fun?"

"Fun? Are you kidding me? That was amazing!" I gush. "Has anyone actually ever said no?" I quip playfully.

Folio chuckles and Jolly just laughs, making me feel good - at least they get my sense of humor! "I suppose it depends on who you ask," Folio says, chuckling again.

Nick shows up out of nowhere, trying to join our conversation. But his voice is drowned out by the shrieks from Noah's fans at the door. I sneak a peek and see Noah's tall figure in the center of the chaos - signing autographs, snapping selfies. I whip back around to Nick.

"What did you say?" he asks again.

I have to yell over the noise. "We were wondering if anyone's ever told you they didn't like your show!"

He lets out the most dramatic sigh. "No one's ever asked if I enjoy doing the show." I roll my eyes hard.

I roll my eyes as he pouts dramatically. "You're literally the star of the show," I point out, barely holding back my sarcasm.

He shrugs, unaffected. "Still, no one's cared to ask little ol' me about my feelings." He places a hand on his chest, channeling a wounded Victorian damsel.

I have to resist the urge to mimic gagging. "Alright, Your Highness," I say, my voice dripping with fake enthusiasm. "Do you enjoy being on the show or not?"

He taps his chin, pondering with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Hmm...maybe I don't. Have you considered that?"

"Wow, so brooding and mysterious," I deadpan.

I whip out my phone with a grin, waving it teasingly in front of Nick. "Mind snapping a quick pic for me?" I ask. He's happy to play along. I shuffle as close to him as I can with that barricade wedged between us, and he snaps off a couple shots before handing my phone back.

"Looks like you just need one with Noah now," Nick says, glancing over his shoulder. Noah's still surrounded by screaming fans begging for his attention. I give Nick an appreciative look - he's so chill and down-to-earth.

I sigh, my voice trailing off. "He seems a bit busy." I glance around at the mob of people crowded around Noah. I'm not sure I'll get that photo with him after all.

"Just hang out, we'll make sure he stops by," Jolly says, flashing me a reassuring smile. That makes me feel a little better.

"You local?" Nick asks me, clearly trying to keep the conversation flowing to avoid an awkward silence. I nod, "Yeah, born and raised here."

I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hold onto the warmth from the crowd. The breeze starts cutting through my shirt.

Nick, Jolly, Folio and I are still chatting away while everyone else heads home. Folio's glued to his phone, only half listening. Then security starts shooing people away, saying Noah only has time for a couple more photos. The last of the fans rush to the front for their chance.

When Noah finally makes his escape to the tour bus, Nick isn't having it. He waves Noah over, pleading, "One more, bro. I promise." Noah chuckles and ambles over, his long legs crossing the parking lot in just a few strides. Up close, he's even taller than I thought!

"Hello." His smile makes my heart flutter.

"Hi," I squeak out, unable to summon any other words. Just getting that single syllable out feels like a triumph.

"This is..." Nick hesitates, looking adorably flustered. "You know, with everything we've talked about, I never even asked your name."

"Eve," I manage, though my voice comes out high-pitched and timid. I cringe internally. I should know my own name, at least! But something about him makes me tongue-tied in a way I've never experienced before. Eve. It's not a complicated name. But looking into his eyes, I can barely remember such a simple word.

"Nick mentions something about a picture?" his voice is so low, I almost forget it's me he's talking to. We move against the barricade standing close to one another as Nick takes my phone from my hand to take the picture for us.

When the camera flashes, I blink hard, almost hoping the picture will turn out blurry. Just so we can try again.

"What cha think?" Nick asks, turning my phone screen to show me the photo. I mean, it's cute and all, but mostly I'm hyperaware of how close Noah still is to me.

"Hmm, could be better," Noah's voice is suddenly right by my ear, making chills run down my spine as he hovers behind me.

"Here," he says, stepping back and reaching for my hand. "Step over."

The moment our hands touch, my heart flutters as if a flock of butterflies has just been released inside my chest. I can't take my eyes off him, his warm smile making my knees weak. As I climb over the barricade, my movements awkward and clumsy in my nervous excitement, security rushes over. Noah holds both my hands in his, turning to look over his shoulder at the security guards rushing our way.

"It's cool, I got this," he says, his voice gentle and soothing.

My attention snaps back to him, those kind eyes telling me everything will be okay. I trust him completely. Once on the other side, I straighten my shirt, run my fingers through my hair, hoping I look presentable for this boy who has stolen my heart. Being near him is intoxicating, sparking a giddiness I've never known before. I want this moment to last forever.

His eyes lock onto mine, sending a jolt of excitement through my body. "Nick," he says, gaze never leaving mine. He reaches out his hand to his friend, "Phone."

Nick places it in his open palm, as Noah passes him the energy drink he'd been holding.

As Noah reaches out to me, my heart flutters. His arm finds its way around my waist, pulling me close. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks and chills tingle down my spine at his touch. But I face the camera with him, tossing my dark curls over my shoulder and flashing a peace sign. Noah's smile lights up his whole face. I can't help but mirror it with my own grin. We take a few silly selfies together, giggling and making faces. With his arm wrapped around me, I never want this moment to end. Being this close to Noah makes my pulse race and my stomach fill with butterflies. I am absolutely smitten.

I am so excited that Noah has taken such a nice photo for me. "That should do it!" He jokes as he hands my phone back. "Much better than the others."

Suddenly Nick suggests, "Group photo!" Before I can even reach for my phone, Noah snatches it back and turns to the security guards by the door.

Jolly, Folio, Nick and I all gather together. Nick wraps his arm around my waist and I put mine around his shoulders. Then Noah comes over to fill the space on my other side, putting his arm around me too. I reach around and put my hand on his lower back, laughing.

The security guard takes our photo. I smile big - this will be the main one for my book! A memory I'll never forget. Two quick flashes and we're done.

When Noah helps me over the barricade, I feel a spark as our hands touch. His strong grip lifts me effortlessly over the metal rail, setting me gently on the ground. I turn back, not wanting our moment to end, and see him give me a little wave goodbye before he disappears into the tour bus. My heart flutters as I watch him go.

When I finally get to my car, I slide into the driver's seat with a sigh of relief. As the heater starts blasting warmth into the cold cabin, I pick up my phone and scroll through my photos until I find that selfie of Noah and me. I know I don't look my absolute best in that pic, but none of that matters - it's a photo of the two of us together and that's what's important. I set it as my new screensaver and just gaze at it for a moment, my heart fluttering. Then I open my playlist, queue up some music, and pull out of the parking lot to head home. All I can think about on the drive is how dreamy Noah looks in that photo, and how lucky I was to have met someone so wonderful. I can't wait to get home, crawl under the covers and relive every magical moment we shared today before drifting off to sleep with a smile on my face.

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #bad omens smut #noah sebastian smut #Chris Motionless fic #Chris Motionless smut #ricky olson smut #ricky olson fic #miw band #miw #chris motionless #chrismotionlessfanfic #motionless in white fanfiction #motionless in white smut #polyverse #polyamory #polybandom #poly!badomens #poly!miw #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noahsebastian fanfic #ricky motionless in white #motionless in white band #motionless in white

[ladykailitha]

The Magic of Christmas Part 5/8

The paladin theory is something that a good friend of mine came up with, that if a person was playing them unironically they tended to be self-righteous assholes who actually believed they were holier than thou. Now if you were doing it for fun or to riff on how paladins were self-righteous jerks, then it didn't apply.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

***

September was the hardest on Steve. All the kids were away at school, busy being students and living their lives. If it hadn’t been for Eddie, he wasn’t sure what he would have done.

“Who are you going to work on next?” Steve asked around his slice of pizza.

Eddie wiped his hands on his jeans. “The ranger sounded more fun, so Lucas is next.”

“You got a thing against paladins?” Steve asked, throwing him a couple of napkins.

“Every person that I have ever known that played one unironically have been assholes so...”

Steve started laughing and Eddie cocked his head to the side.

“What’s so funny?”

He wiped away a stray tear. “Mike is exactly like that.”

Eddie blinked. “Wait, really?”

Steve nodded, his eyes continuing to water as he fought back bales of laughter.

Eddie started laughing, too. Soon they were falling over each other just laughing their asses off when the girls found them like that ten minutes later.

“We are gone for less than an hour,” Chrissy huffed, “and we come back to find you giggling like children. Did Eddie break out the weed or something?”

The two men shook their heads.

“I was telling about Mike,” Steve insisted, “and he was telling me his theory that people that play paladins are assholes.”

Robin blinked for a moment and then started laughing too. Which set Steve and Eddie off again.

Chrissy just shook her head and put away the dessert Robin and she got, bringing out the beer to the sofa.

By the time she had finished all three of them had calmed down enough to explain.

“I’m going to have to tell the guys about this on Sunday,” Eddie said, holding his ribs.

“What happens on Sunday?” Robin asked, flopping on the sofa next to him.

Chrissy sat down on Eddie’s other side. “D&D with the Hellfire Club. Eddie DMs, while Jeff, Gareth, Brian and I play. It’s fun. Gareth has been fiercely battling Eddie over that nugget for years.”

Eddie grinned, all teeth. “He’s only bitter because he plays a paladin.”

That got them all laughing hysterically.

“That’s hilarious,” Robin said after they managed to calm down.

“So what’s on the docket tonight for my reeducation or whatever it is we call these things,” Steve asked.

“A double feature,” Eddie said excitedly. “Muppet fantasy. It’s fantastic.”

Steve turned to Robin, “I didn’t know Tammy Thompson made movies.”

Robin gasped. “You take that back!”

Chrissy and Eddie just looked at each in confusion.

“She sang like a Muppet!” Steve insisted.

“She did not!” Robin hissed. “She absolutely did not!”

Steve leaned over to get in her face. “Like a Muppet giving birth!”

“You’re horrible!” Robin groused.

Steve turned to the other two with a smile. “Tammy was Robin’s first baby gay crush in high school. She thought she could sing but she was the only one who thought so. Well, not counting the music teacher and her mother.”

Then he proceeded to sing horribly and high pitched so that everyone was laughing. Yes, even Robin.

“All right she was that bad,” Robin finally conceded.

Steve waved his hand at her. “Thank you!”

“I didn’t know you two met in high school,” Chrissy said. “That’s cute.”

Steve and Robin looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

“Everyone knew who Steve was,” Robin said, “captain of two of the three sports he played in. Rich, good looking, popular with the ladies. It was annoying.”

“I was also a bit of a mean girl,” Steve said with a half shrug. “We didn’t meet until after I graduated when my dad forced me to take the most humiliating job at the mall.”

Robin shuddered. “It was horrible. It was a nautical themed ice cream shop in the food court and we had wear these tiny sailor outfits.”

“Like the shorts on the boys’ costume was shorter than the girls’,” Steve said. “We measured.”

“At least the girls’ costume had shorts instead of skirt,” Chrissy said.

“Thank you!” Steve said throwing his arms in the air. “Tell that to this one!” He pointed at Robin.

“I would have gotten more dates if it had been a skirt is all I’m saying,” she replied haughtily.

“You were getting dates while I was getting made fun of,” Steve groused. “It was the stupid hat. It wouldn’t sit right for a start. My hair is too thick. I even tried not styling it. Nope still refused to stay on straight. Plus, I was famous for my hair in high school, so I thought it was hiding my best feature.”

Robin giggled. “I had a whiteboard and everything. ‘YOU SUCK’ on one side and ‘YOU RULE’ on the other. He never did get a single mark in that one.”

Eddie licked his lips slowly. “There–there wouldn’t be pictures of this is... outfit, would there?”

Robin threw her head back and laughed. “There’s a commercial.”

“No!” Chrissy gasped. “This I have to see!”

Robin grabbed the remote and found the YouTube channel for their smart TV. She logged into Eddie’s account with a grin.

When Steve realized what she was going to do, he made a dive for the remote. But Eddie tackled him to the floor.

“Quick!” Chrissy said. “What’s the name of the shop?”

Robin cackled. “Scoops Ahoy!”

Chrissy typed it in on her phone and grabbed the video that clearly had teenaged versions of their friends.

Steve immediately stopped struggling when the opening jingle started, allowing Eddie to get up and watch this absolute disaster of less than a minute’s worth of hell.

“Those are some criminally short shorts, Stevie,” Eddie murmured. He leaned forward and started cackling. “Does the register really say boobies?”

Chrissy leaned forward. “Oh my god! How did you get away with that?”

“Apparently film executives pop out of Hell as fully formed adults who wouldn’t know a joke if it bit them on the ass,” Steve said on the floor. He leaned his head back far enough to see the screen. He sighed. His hair looked like shit.

Eddie poked Steve in the ribs. “You looked cute.”

He held out his hand to Steve, who took it to get up. He plopped on the floor and leaned back against the sofa. “Yeah, you think so now, but I have no doubt you would have teased me for it back then.”

Robin looked at the remote in her hand and then back at Steve. “Sorry. I thought it would be funny. But you didn’t have a good time and that wasn’t fair to you.”

Steve shrugged.

Eddie put his arm around his shoulders. “I might have teased you, but only in the most unhinged flirting kind of way imaginable.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “He would have been insufferable about it, too. He would have made me come with every time even though I’m lactose intolerant so that he could make goo-goo eyes at the pretty boy.”

Steve looked up at him. “You think I was pretty?”

“Sweetheart, not was, is.”

Robin smiled at them and then shared a glance with Chrissy. Absolute idiots, the pair of them.

She pressed the remote and got them back their double feature. They started with Dark Crystal and throughout the whole movie, Steve didn’t budge from Eddie’s side as they sat together on the floor, Eddie’s arm still slung over Steve’s shoulders.

It was only when it was over and they took a brief break before starting Labyrinth that Eddie let go at all.

Steve moved to the large sofa, but when Eddie came back, instead of sitting on the floor like he had been before, he squished himself between Chrissy and Steve, forcing Steve to plaster himself against Eddie’s side.

Robin shook her head. It was going to be an eternity before they got to Christmas.

*

“You going to admit you like him now?” Robin asked a couple of days later as they sat on their sofa eating mac and cheese.

Steve sighed. “I can really see myself with him for the long term.”

“So why don’t you make a move then?” she asked, poking him with her toes.

Steve picked at his food with his fork, stabbing the noodles without any real effort to get them to stay. “I don’t know. We’ve talked about it before. You think he’s head over heels and I think he’s just being polite because I’m paying his bills right now.”

“Oh.”

Steve looked up at her and echoed. “Yeah, oh.”

“Shit, Steve,” Robin muttered. “I could ask Chrissy. I bet he tells her everything.”

“Would you tell her if she asked for Eddie if I liked him like that?” he asked, going back and picking at his food.

She deflated. “No. I would tell her he has to talk to you.”

“And I’m not ready for that,” he murmured finally setting his food aside. “There’s too much time between now and Christmas, I don’t want to make things awkward if he doesn’t like me like that.”

Robin winced. Especially for New Year’s eve.

“Yeah, okay,” she conceded. “Just make sure you tell him as soon as you can. You don’t want to wait too long and find out he’s moved on with someone else because he thought you weren’t interested.”

Steve nodded. “I know. I’ve just got to keep up the flirting and teasing so he knows I’m interested and hopefully he’ll make the first move.”

“I really hope this doesn’t blow up in your face.”

“You and me both, Robs. You and me both.”

***

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @carlprocastinator1000 @mogami13 @samsoble

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #christmas #artist eddie #businessman steve #autistic steve harrington

[bp-zb1fics]

hi! I love your stories! <3 do you think you could do a suggestive taerae fic?

Thinking about

pairing: taerae x reader

pronouns: none used

genre: fluff, suggestive themes

tw/tags: not much plot or dialogue sorry, music metaphors, introspection, very sentimental, kisses, making out, non-explicit descriptions, taerae slight demisexual implications (this in no way reflects on the real person, fiction is fiction)

wc: 871

summary: in this game called love, taerae trusts you with his heart

a/n last req done before i focus on checklist reqs! thanks so much anon, i really hope you like it! i got a little poetic with this one and played around with italics so its very soft hours but not much happens, idk if that works or not so feel free to lmk!

Check my pinned for more fics~

“What are you thinking about, Taerae-ah?”

You’re sitting on the couch, his guitar on his lap, your hands in his as he traced over dip, curve and line. Pressing your palms together, skin against skin, stretching his fingers out to see if his hand is larger than yours.

“Hmmm, how your hands look next to mine.”

Being with you is never boring, in Taerae’s opinion. Because even when it seems boring to other people, there’s always something new and interesting for you or him or for both of you. He can spend afternoons with you and his guitar, strumming and singing for you until you join him. And maybe you’re not the best singer but he’ll still listen to your voice like it’s a dream he doesn’t want to wake from. (Sometimes love isn’t just blind but deaf too)

And the best part wasn’t you getting the harmony right or him hitting those impressive vocal riffs, no, it was the silly little songs you made up together, nonsensical lyrics and ridiculous ad libs that you end up laughing over. Because that’s what Taerae thinks about sometimes, when he’s about to go to bed, when he’s too tired to think of anything else. He’ll think about the way you laugh, the sheer joy of that tiny moment. There are some moments that he wished he could save in a time loop and live in.

“I love your songs.”

You tell him the day he gathered enough courage to play you something from the little notebook he keeps, lyrics and chords in his handwriting. He treasures that memory just like he treasures those days when you have enough time to sit down and talk for hours. Long conversations that stretch time so thin that it feels just like seconds ticking away.

“Play something for me, please?”

Play with my heart, Taerae thinks, because I’ve given it to you to take joy in, to keep you company on lonely days, to make you smile and laugh and remember only the innocence of life. I’ve given you my hand to hold in the playground that we call love and I trust you not to let go, not to abandon me, just as I make a promise to never leave you, to play the game of hearts until ours stop beating.

You two have a million playlists together. Each of them are a carefully curated, specifically arranged set of songs that Taerae and you create for every occasion. Birthdays, anniversaries, long drives, short drives, walks by the river, all saved to preserve the moments you spend loving each other.

There are also playlists for moments like this. Soft, sultry, dreamlike beats in the background as he lifts his guitar off his lap, places it carefully to the side and pulls you closer. His hands leave yours only to glide up your neck and cup your cheeks. 

Gentle kisses. His lips fit over yours like a missing puzzle piece. Pulling away only for a force stronger than gravity pulling them back in. Your hands holding the back of his neck. It’s a haze as he presses your back into the couch, his legs bracketing yours in between them. He only pulls away once your lips are swollen, when the need for oxygen overpowers his need to kiss you until you both feel like you're floating. Your eyes meet his and you laugh breathlessly as he smiles at you, so, so enamoured.

If he could write a song about you, it would be about love.

You tug him back down, one hand sliding into his hair, fingers in between strands. He shivers, bending down to press his lips below your ear, mapping out a path down your neck as you get a little more restless. Taerae is almost too warm and so are you. He stops at the base between you neck and shoulder, the press of his mouth a little firmer, teeth scraping over skin, tongue following as if to soothe. Your fingers are laced in his hair, your back arching just a little at the sensation. Then he pulls back, pressing kisses along your collarbones. Your hips jump just a little, brushing against him and he exhales slowly.

Taerae wasn’t really interested in girls. Or boys. Just you.

He’s interested in the way you shakily undo another button of his shirt between kisses, the way you tremble a little when his hands slide under the hem of yours, skin against skin, fingers stroking the sides of your waist. Nothing becomes more interesting than the sounds he can pull from you, the kind of music that sends jolts of heat down his spine. His favourite song is the way you call his name, sweet and wholly addictive.

In the afterglow, he can only look at you. He can only watch the way you watch him, with so much unbridled affection that his heart is bursting, spilling out the seams to show you how he feels about you. To keep showing you everyday until your heart decides to give out. And he hopes that when that day comes, that the way he chose to love you was enough. Because you were more than enough for him.

__________________________________________

“What are you thinking about, Taerae-ah?”

“I don’t know…” 

“...You mostly.”

#boys planet #boys planet 999 #boys planet fics #boys planet mnet #boys planet drabbles #boys planet x reader #zb1 scenarios #zb1 fics #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone #kpop fics #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kim taerae #boys planet taerae #zb1 taerae #plot what plot #kim taerae x reader #kim taerae drabble #kim taerae fic #fic request #gender neutral reader #bp zb1fics

[thasorns]

I cannot shake my thoughts about this and I’ll know I’ll keep this drama close to my heart. The fact that Myung ha’s ‘sunbae’ opened the riff to the world with the question “would you change it for me?” Also the fact that Myung ha’s alternate universe/game world started with the sound of an ocean tells already a lot about it but we won’t know until Episode 8 why. Throughout the series we watched Myung ha doing everything in his power to make Yeo woon happy while he himself couldn’t rely, couldn’t trust, couldn’t open himself up to him. We know the phrase of his ex gf “you don’t know how to love anyone.” left a deep scar in his soul which he carried with to the alternate universe/game. I try to think the system errors which occurred during the game was a way to change Myung ha’s mindset to not make the same mistakes and/or go on with his habitual habits he did in his life before he drowned himself. Also the different tasks was it actually for Myung ha to realize that he’s the one who makes Yeo-woon happy (which he didn’t). He retreated himself from Yeo woon because he couldn’t choose between the most important persons in his life as we saw his grandma died in real life which makes me think if he also knew that because in one sequence in the game/au it asked him if he wants to bring back some memories of Myung ha’s life. Also the last I love you from Yeo woon was the cherry on top to let the system completely crash where he distanced himself from Yeo woon. “I want to spend my remaining time making Yeo woon happy as best as I can. But it seems the more I try, the more unhappy I make Yeo-woon.” Which Myung ha remembers what Yeo-woon said: “whenever I see you, I both feel good and want to cry. I feel so much about every little thing. But I’m not happy at all right now.” Which again I try to think it is about why Myung ha doesn’t rely more on him? Why he doesn’t open himself up to him? A relationship is based off of trust, give and take… etc. but Myung ha goes into this relationship with deep rooted traumas which causes lack of self love. If one loves not itself enough how can they expect to love someone else which what explains Myung ha’s last phrase in the same scene so much. “Why did I think I could make you happy?” It’s as if he doesn’t think that a loner like him could be the one to give him love and happiness. What follows after is that he choses Yeo woon’s happiness even if he’s not his happiness… which again brings me to the beginning where Myung ha thinks “but I prefer lonely supporting characters to happy protagonists.” In this case he’s the lonely supporting character to our happy protagonist Yeo-woon. “But being fated to live that kind of life… is just so unfair.” He knew/knows how cruel life can be so he chose his happiness over everything and got vanished from the game. He realized by now that Yeo-woon is/was more important than he wanted to admit. Yeo-woon is/was a glimpse of happiness in Myung ha’s life. What brings us to the tragic backstory of his life and how he lived. All the obstacles he endured and went through led to his drowning (at this point we saw Yeo-woon’s obstacles in the alternate universe/game at least in my opinion). This is the turning point for Myung ha. “I was hoping if you saw yourself from someone else’s perspective, you would learnt to love yourself. I thought if you learned to love someone, you would be a little happier.” I want to make a reference here to the title itself “Love for Love’s sake” because all the sacrifices he did and cared more for others than himself… but he found happiness. In Yeo-woon. And he chose his own happiness for once. It’s the way he chooses all these things for himself, to open himself up for him, to rely and be cared for. “It would be nice to have someone. Someone who cares by my side. Someone who gives me chances when I fail and feel hopeless. It would be nice to have someone who always gives me love.” Which they found both in each other.

#caddi watches #love for love's sake #I didn’t proofread it and it’s already 3 in the morning and I wrote this while I had cix’ ”I’m here for you” didn’t help either #also the one scene in the hospital where he met his sunbae the background genius. I try to think that this scene could’ve been #a turning point but when the sunbae asked to be with the loved one longer he chose the painless way #he still didn’t got it in my opinion… that’s why the remaining days deducted so fast it’s what I want to think #he was still bitter and rather pessimistic about love ‘people don’t stay together forever’ (I didn’t looked it up this time) #anyway this already got super long so I don’t wanna ramble extra in the tags #if you read this congratulations for reading a novel if not also okay because I wrote it down for me :) #which barely do btw I don’t write my thoughts and opinions anymore #and yes I chose the word ‘which’ a lot #zey rants #zey rambles