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nicxl333 · 8 months

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JADE ABACUS— JING YUAN X READER

what happens when you use the jade abacus for the wrong purpose? (contains spoilers from the 1.3 update)

tags: 18+ content, nsfw, reader is not the trailblazer, masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (reader receiving), reader is described to have a vagina (afab), fluff, praise kink, breeding, unprotected sex

first hsr oneshot hope it’s good! (also it’s late so i haven’t proof read this very well)

word count: 2.3k

“the same is true of this jade abacus- it is a record of the luofu cloud knights’ promise to the crew of the astral express. it is also a beacon- grip it tightly, and it will send a message to the jade abacus here in my hand. no matter how astronomically distant you are, the luofu cloud knights will always come to the aid of the crew, whatever your need may be.”

after saying your goodbyes to everyone on the xianzhou, you, welt, dan heng, march 7th and stelle/caelus made your way back onto the astral express, ready to warp to penacony the next day. after conversing with himeko and bickering with pom pom you said your goodnights and turned in for the evening.

truth be told you were slightly disheartened that you’d be leaving the xianzhou, having made so many new friends.

some, more friendly than others.

while there were many very good looking individuals residing on the luofu, one particular individual caught your eye; the high and mighty general himself.

it was something about him that drew you to him, like a moth to a single flame. maybe his smug confidence, his ability to control a crowd, or his handsome looks with his piercing eyes that could make your cunt gush within seconds. who knows, it was probably all those factors combined. either way, the attraction was there and steadily growing.

as you undressed to don yourself in your nightwear, you emptied your pockets to place your clothing in the laundry. your contents contained some trinkets here and there, and the jade abacus, which you were entrusted to hold for some unknown reason. you placed the jade abacus on your bed, meaning to look at it in greater detail once you were fully clothed.

once finished you lay in your bed, picking up your phone from the side table to scroll through any missed messages. puzzling enough, the most recent message at the top was from none other than general jing yuan.

wondering what he could possibly need (considering he rarely texted) you opened the message.

“good evening y/n, i hope this message finds you well. i realised i didn’t have the chance to bid you in particular a proper farewell, my deepest apologies. in good reparational faith i would like to make it up to you with a meal the next time you’re on the ship, on me.”

fuck knows how, but knowing that he specifically had you on his mind made you honoured, and strangely enough, horny. your mind flooded with thoughts that were downright filthy of what he could do to you should you have the chance to be alone.

he would probably take his time with you, pulling orgasm after orgasm just from his fingers alone, before he would even grace you with his cock. it only took a few different conjured up scenarios for you to have your hands snaking down to pull off your shorts, your fingers immediately stuffing your cunt full, stifling a moan at the ecstasy.

overtaken by the urge to cum you plunged your fingers in and out, scissoring and curling your fingers up against that spongey spot that made you see stars. your eyes rolled back, your back arched and your voice stayed stuck in your throat, chained by your slipping rationality which warred with your spiralling composure. you could feel the heat inside your core as your fingers continued their attack, creating a resounding ‘shwick! shwick!’ which bounced off the walls. your eyes were scrunched, your mind revelling in the scene of jing yuan pounding into your sopping cunt.

you were far gone, way too far gone to notice the quiet pads of feet along your carpet, moving towards the armchair in the corner of your room which faced your bed, and your quickly dishevelling figure. the figure sat on the armchair, sinking into the soft material as he witnessed your sinful performance.

you, none the wiser, continued to guide yourself towards your high, your moans becoming more and more harder to stifle as you completely succumbed to the lust, delirious with pleasure.

“f-fuck! jing yuan, please!” whispered pleas tumbled out of your mouth, wafting in the air till they reached his ears. he parted his legs slightly to ease his oncoming erection, letting his hand prop up his head, as his elbow rested on the arm of the armchair.

you neared your peak, your fingers burning in pain as you furiously pumped to reach your end. your free hand left your mouth and gripped your tit, playing with the peaked nipple to ease the overwhelming feeling you were experiencing.

with a final call of his name, (which was slightly louder than you would’ve liked) your body jolted and shook as you reached an earth shattering orgasm. you convulsed as you came which was probably the hardest you ever had cum before, letting the aftershocks subside.

you suddenly became aware of something poking at your back. you retracted your fingers from your cunt and retrieved the item, seeing the jade abacus in your hand, having accidentally moved underneath your body during your…activities. you then recalled the words jing yuan told your group about gripping the abacus tightly, hoping and praying your recent actions had not triggered a call- still unbeknownst to the figure who had already been summoned, to your dismay.

“that was quite the show, y/n-”

you stiffened at the deep, powerful voice of jing yuan, perched in your armchair, staring at you with something distinguishable as lust.

“-however, i do recall warning that the abacus shouldn’t be used for inappropriate circumstances, no matter how amusing that circumstance may be.”

you were stunned into silence, riddled with shame and hushed with guilt. there was simply no rational explanation for this as you were half naked in front of him. and you had no knowledge of exactly what point he entered your room, therefore meaning you had no idea just how long he’d been watching, although evident that he had been in the room long enough to make himself comfortable on that damned armchair.

“cat got your tongue? seems like i’ll have to administer your punishment first.”

by this point he had risen, beginning to take off his boots and the numerous straps and harnesses that made up his uniform. he then took off his tight shirt, leaving him in his red pants, while crossing the short distance to your bed, raising your hand which was wet with arousal, lifting it to his mouth and giving your index and ring finger a long lick.

“i… uh-”

“hush. naughty minxes like you do not deserve to speak. lay back and spread your legs. i will not ask twice.”

although confused and befuddled you followed his command, not expecting events to turn out like this, not that you were complaining. he lowered his face so he was level with your dripping cunt, observing it as your cum dripped out.

you lifted your head slightly to see why he stalled, feeling a tad bit self conscious. all thoughts flew out of your head however once you felt him lick a long stripe from your cunt to your clit. you instantly mewled at the sensation, hands finding purchase in jing yuan’s hair, gripping lightly, to which he grunted at.

he rose to look at you, amber eyes boring into your own. “if you’re too loud, i’ll stop. we wouldn’t want to wake up your fellow crew now, would you?”

you shook your head vigorously, wanting anything but him to stop in this moment, knowing that this could potentially lead to you getting the fuck of your life. fat chance in hell you would cockblock yourself.

he hummed at your silence, lowering himself back down and resuming again. his tongue swirled around your clit, paying close attention to the bud. he then moved down to your pulsing hole, plunging his tongue in and out and slurping at the soaked flesh. one hand left his head and rose to your mouth to stifle any noises from leaving it. as if it weren’t enough, jing yuan let his mouth leave your cunt, his fingers immediately integrating into the mix, while his mouth moved back up to your clit, this time sucking on it. your eyes rolled back, hips grinding against his tongue to gain more of the sensation.

his fingers were thick and long, reaching further into your core than your own smaller fingers could ever hope to reach. as his assault on your slobbering cunt continued you started clenching down harder on him, signalling that you were about to cum again for the second time that night. your hips ground in circles, the heat inside you blazing hotter with each push of his fingers, the coil tightening until it could resist no longer, and snapped.

your body convulsed once more, even more so once you registered that jing yuan wasn’t letting up on his ministrations, and pulling you into a state of overstimulation.

“shit! jing yuan- oh my god!”

he groaned at the sound of your moans calling for him, using the bed sheets below him to grind against for some semblance of relief for his now raging hard-on.

once he had enough he rose once more, raising his soaked hand to your mouth.

“suck.”

you obliged, wrapping your tongue around his digits, sucking slowly while looking directly into his eyes, unaware of just how much you were affecting him.

“god you’re so sinful.” he groaned, moving his hands to his pants to unbutton them, hastily slipping them off, along with his boxers, leaving him bare, sporting a very large prominent erection. the mushroom tip was flushed with an angry pink, pre cum dripping at the tip. his length had two large main veins running down it before branching off into little tributary like veins.

you but your lip at the sheer size, hoping you could take him all. even with all the prep you had it still looked like a tight fit. he was insanely girthy with an impressive length to match.

this led to a quiet chuckle from jing yuan.

“don’t look so apprehensive, i’ll go slow.”

smug bastard.

he lifted your legs, bringing them down, down, down towards your shoulders. a mating press. your breath hitched at the realisation, knowing that he was about to fuck up your insides.

“take a deep breath, kitten.”

you took a slow inhale, feeling the tip breach your opening, pushing past and spreading your walls to all opposite ends. the stinging sensation was immediate, his dick stuffing you to the brim, more than his fingers managed to. you instantly gripped his shoulders, lifting your head to bite into his left, thus stifling a pain wrenching moan. many sensations flowed through your body, specifically pain at having never taken a size quite like jing yuan’s before. tears pricked the corners of your eyes before trailing down and staining your cheeks.

he hushed you, wiping the tears away before stroking the hair away from your face, looking at you with adoration and care, forgetting all about the ‘punishment’ he was supposed to give in that moment.

“are you okay? do you need me to pull out?”

you shook your head, lacing your fingers in his hair, and smiling softly.

“no, just give me a moment.”

he nodded, massaging your hips to help you get used to the feeling.

“you feel so good, you’re doing so well for me my treasure. i’ll take care of you soon.”

after a few minutes of adjustment, the pain faded and replaced itself with yearning and pleasure. you started grinding your hips against his, making him see the picture. he pulled out slowly till around halfway, then gently pushed back in.

you let out a small gasp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and whining, edging him to go faster.

he obliged, picking up the pace gradually until the room was filled with soft sounds of repeated ‘paps’. your lips connected with his, tongues dancing in a sloppy rhythm, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth, doing little to muffle the moans and groans entangling in your mouths.

even at such a close proximity you felt incredibly needy, needing him closer and closer to you.

noticing you lose yourself, jing yuan laced his hand in yours, against the bedsheets.

“i’m right here, my love.”

truth be told even jing yuan was struggling to keep himself composed too. your fiery nature around protecting the ones you cared for gave him a sense of familiarity with his duties as general, forever protecting the people of the xianzhou luofu. not only that though, your sense of humour and your witty remarks really captivated him during the times you had together. in his hundreds of years of living, no one caught his attention quite like you did. especially with the way you got along so nicely with yanqing. considering the fact he was practically considered as his son, seeing the two of you bond warmed his heart in ways indecipherable. so, realising that you would be leaving to travel onwards really left a gape in his life that you had just started to piece together.

he gripped your hand tighter, moving with more vigour and urgency, wanting to hold you in his arms forever.

“j-jing yuan-”

“my love?”

“i’m gonna cum-!”

“so do it, cover me with your essence, i’ve got you, always.”

his words carried you to the end and you came all over him, legs tightening against his sides, trapping him inside your cunt. his hips instantly stuttered, losing rhythm and his groans became impossibly deeper, until he eventually spilled his cum all into you, complete with each other.

all was silent for a moment, as both parties recovered from the overwhelming orgasms. jing yuan pulled out and rolled off of you, pulling you into his chest and closing his eyes.

“y/n. stay with me. just for tonight.”

#jing yuan #jing yuan x gender neutral reader #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader smut #honkai star rail #hsr jing yuan #hsr x reader #hsr smut #jing yuan star rail #jing yuan smut #jing yuan scenarios #honkai x reader #honkai star rail smut #nicxl333 #nicxl333writes #general jing yuan

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358jours · 1 year

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Dan Heng x GN!Reader⎢Under your charm

Word Count⎢2163

Genre/Tags⎢SFW, fluff, Dan heng has anxiety, first meetings, pining, written and posted before game launch⎢Crossposted on AO3

Though reserved, Dan Heng is completely in tune with his body, his emotions, and most importantly– his intuition. His instincts are what made him run from Xianzhou, what made him run from the IPC, what got him boarding the Astral Express. It kept him away from the wrong people, it’s what made him join the ones worthy of trust and he’s now in an environment that doesn’t force him to face his past. His intuition is the reason he is still alive this far, so he never doubts any of it.

Or had, until this very moment where he’s not so sure of himself anymore.

You seem like a loving soul, so caring in every way you exist. Your soothing aura only makes the beating of his heart more erratic. That’s what he blames this odd feeling on, your kindness.

Dan Heng has laid his eyes on plenty of beautiful partners in his life, he knows what lust entails. The way he’s drawn to you? it’s something deeper than simple attraction, something instinctual. Something that has never happened before. Something he’s scared of.

He wishes he wasn’t on babysitting March Seventh duty so often so he could approach you and yet — even in his free time, his apprehension keeps him a distance away from you. That’s the best he can do, look at what you do, listen in on any conversation you’re having, gaze at your form, avert his eyes when your face turns in his direction. It’s a bit like dancing: one step forward, two steps back, except the steps are very very small.

He thinks he’s slick about it but his self-doubt makes him second guess himself. He hopes nobody has noticed, and especially not you. (Though he secretly wishes you did, so you would take the leap he’s so scared of, so you would approach him. Until then he’ll keep away, waiting.)

Dan Heng stares at the charm in his hand, lost as to what to do. It’s not from a passenger, as it’s been lost in the private lobby of the Astral express. But the place is completely empty now, except for himself. It’s obvious it’s a cherished item, as seen by how used it looks. It has a bit of a weight, despite being made of fabric. He’s dubious on who would own such a keychain however. It doesn’t seem like something March would own, neither Welt, nor Himeko…

His mind halts when he realizes it’s probably yours.

What should he do? Leave it here? He’s not too sure about which places are considered ‘yours’, where would only you find it. March is a troublesome girl, if she found out anything the whole Astral Express would know of it by the end of the day. Himeko is a perceptive woman, if she had any idea of his inner turmoil about you, she would probably chastise him about it. Welt is a bit more respectful, giving it to him would have lesser consequences unless you asked who found it back…

“Dan Heng, you’re here!” The boy closes his fist at the sound of March Seventh’s voice. Defeated by the circumstances, he pockets the charm. The girl grabs his arm, full of energy as always. “Come on, Himeko called for us in the control room.”

He’ll deal with the keychain later, if he doesn’t forget about it.

He forgets about it. Well, not completely at least. His subconscious reminds him of it when he can’t sleep at night, when all his worries come for his throat. Otherwise, it doesn’t cross his mind unless you’re in the same room as him, which isn’t too often. Whenever that happens, you’re usually busy with someone else, occupied with your phone or the time simply isn’t right (read: he didn’t have the courage to approach.). He carries the charm with him most of the time, unless he’s out of the Express.

He blames it on being occupied, on not being sure it’s yours. Of course, fate has other plans.

Dan Heng follows March Seventh into the private lobby of the Astral Express. He’s a bit tired, his step quieter than the pitter patter of his companion. “We’re back! Everything went well we got– what’s wrong?”

Three ‘welcome back’ rings out in response. Welt and Himeko are, as usual, sipping tea as they sit facing each other. What caught their attention is you– who’s under a table searching for something. You shift around to look at them. “Ah, the strap of my phone charm broke earlier and I don’t know where the keychain ended up. I’m hoping it’s somewhere here, but I can’t find it.”

“Oh no! I’ll help you find it!” March jumps out to join you.

“Really? You don’t have to, but thank you. We will definitely get it back if there’s two of us. You’re kinder than the elders.”

Himeko snorts at the jab. “Think about our poor old backs. Besides, we have to finish our tea while it’s still warm.” Welt smiles as you laugh.

Dan Heng averts his eyes. Of course it’s yours, of course. He should’ve known better, that right at the perfect opportunity to give it back to you, he doesn’t have it on himself. March will definitely talk about the mission in high detail, there’s no need for him here. He sighs quietly, opting to go back to his bedroom.

The next time he’s out of the Express, he’s accompanied by you and March. It’s a simple errand run, nothing as strenuous as some other missions. He’s not really needed but Welt insisted, “You’re more perceptive than March, it’s simply so she doesn’t get in trouble.”

Said girl has her arm linked with yours as she blabbers endlessly. You don’t mind, commenting here and then to show you’re listening. Dan Heng keeps to himself trailing behind you both, simply making sure you’re going the right way.

Despite the anxiety of running into someone from his past, he’s content being present. He could count the times you were out of the Express on a single hand, and never with him. It’s nice to see you out, how you react outside, how you interact with March, what shops and items catch your attention. You’re relaxed in the way you walk, and— Dan looks up to the sky. He’s only a man after all.

“We better find you a new charm before we get back!” March exclaimed. The boy curses under his breath, ‘not this damn charm again…’ He left it in his bedroom this time.

“But why? There’s no need if it doesn’t mean anything special.” Your face expresses your confusion.

The girl shakes your form with all her strength, faking anger. “Aw come on, don’t you buy things just because you like them? Take it as a gift from me, that’s special enough. Besides, you seemed really bummed out about losing your old one.”

You only chuckle awkwardly but Dan is sensitive to your unease. You’re kind, and you enjoy caring for others but it seems you dislike when someone helps you in return. He sighs when he feels his heart warming up. “March, you need to stop making people uncomfortable. That charm held a lot of dear memories, replacing it with a new one just like that won’t cut it.”

You both turn around, surprise on your faces (he wonders, did you forget about his presence?). The girl’s gaping mouth turned into a pout. She protested, but all went from one ear to the other when he saw your smile. You nod in gratefulness, your eyes softening. His lips curl up ever so slightly.

March’s voice shakes him awake, he’s forced to look away. “Hey come on, are you listening to me!? You’ve been so quiet this far, somehow quieter than usual!”

“You’re so loud, it’s hard not to. Besides, you talk enough for the both of us.”

As she lets out an astronomically comical gasp, your laugh rings out.

He makes his way out of the lobby, toward his bedroom. The Express won’t arrive at its next destination anytime soon. It means he gets some time for himself, to think, and to decompress.

He reminisces about his past, what he has accomplished since he got on the express, where he would go if he had to leave again. He ponders about his companion… It’s been a while since he last saw you. The weight of your charm is almost none in his pocket, but it’s still there. It’s probably better to give up at this point.

He should think about something else.

His steps are quiet as he walks through the train. The cabins to his right look all the same: classic green seats, light brown and black walls, dark gray floor, completely empty. One, two, three, four, five, six cabins per wagon. He opens the door connecting to the next car, and goes in. One, two, three, four, and— he stops.

This cabin door is open. He didn’t expect for you to be there. Seems like thinking about the wolf got him seeing the real one. You’re reading a book, sitting sideways with your back against the window. Your current outfit is more casual (and probably comfortable) than what he usually sees you in, but it fits you just as good.

You turn the page, look up, then back to your page and— you do a double take when you notice him at the door. You’re a bit surprised, but your smile tells him it’s not the bad kind. “Dan Heng, hello! Please don’t simply stand there, come sit down. How are you, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Hello. I’m fine, what about you?” His steps are just the slightest bit uncertain, smaller than his usual walk. He comes to sit down on the opposite couch.

“Really? You seem a bit tired though, are you sure you’re getting enough rest?” There’s something in your smirk, as if you know what he does not. Your eyes have a glint of mischief in them, and he wonders if you see right through him.

He avoids your stare, opting to close his eyes for a moment. “Nothing a couple nights cannot fix.”

“Hm.” You look at him a bit longer, your expression relaxing. Your head turns sideways, akin to a dog. A moment passes, until you shift back to continue your book. “If you have trouble sleeping, I have medicine and concoctions from Xianzhou that are rather effective. Don’t be a stranger, I’ll give you some whenever you ask.”

Dan Heng doesn’t answer. All people aboard the Astral Express are kind, but your kindness is not something he’s used to. Your care seems so familiar, something he hasn’t felt in a long time. He stopped getting too close to those generous-types, sheltering himself was a matter of survival. But you’re a part of this crew for a reason, he reasons.

And suddenly, he’s not too sure of himself. He’s lost on what to talk about. He really would like to rest, get back to his room, but he doesn’t get up. His instincts scream at him to stay with you longer, and leaving now would be pretty awkward. The air is slightly stuffy between you two, or perhaps it’s just him given how deep in your book you are.

His hand goes into his pocket, grasping at the cause of all of this. The weight of the charm is almost none in his hand, but the weight of what it implies sparks up his anxiety. “Excuse me,” You look up at him curiously. He slowly extends his hand toward you. “Is this… yours?”

“My charm! You found it back!” The happiness on your face is something he doesn’t get to see often. Your grin, the light in your eyes, the way your attention is on him, it’s all a bit much. Your hands touch his to grasp the keychain. There’s sparkles on your face as you inspect it. “Thank you so much. You’re really a reliable person, Dan Heng.”

“It’s nothing.” His hand scratches at the back of his neck, ears blushing at the compliment. All the pressure on his shoulders evaporates, perhaps it was all him from the very start. You’re easier to approach than what his apprehensions told him, always returning each gesture no matter how small. Your consideration of others is a virtue he has always liked about you. He was wrong to count himself out because of his past, you’re ignorant of who he used to be.

He exhales, his first attempt at a conversation starter. “That keychain seems to mean a lot to you.”

“You noticed? This lil’ guy’s got quite the story.” You look at him kindly.

And as you start explaining why that charm is so special to you, as he listens to it all, Dan Heng realizes it was wrong of him to dub you as a stranger. You were more than that since the very start.

#Dan heng x reader #star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #danheng x reader #x reader #hsr #nekonohanashi

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dreamauri · 9 months

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‧˚⊹ 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴, 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 ଓ :: 𝗠𝗩𝟭 ‧₊˚⤾

╭╯ pairing . . . max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ) ┊ summary . . . he's always believed you were an angel, he hasn't let go since ) ┊ genre . . . fluff, smut) ╰╮ warning . . . seven year age gap, non descriptive hand job, non descriptive sex )

( masterlist ) ( requests ) ( taglist )

2007

"Please." Max begged as he looked down at his kart, panic settling in his throat as the machine failed to start. Jos had abandoned the race once he figured out the kart wasn't going to move an inch, and Max held onto the tight string of hope that maybe it could still race.

"Please please please." He begged, trying again and again. "Tu es Bien?" Looking up he's met with your eyes. You could see he was hyperventilating, panic in his eyes, his hands shaking.

"C'est bien. C'est bien." You crouched down, putting your hand on his shoulder. Comforting him slowly. "Aller." You gestured for him to get off, and he did. And although he didn't understand you, he was ready to trust you.

Pulling your tool set out of your pocket, you began your work, Max fidgeting with his hands as he watched quietly. "Common tu t'appelle?" "Huh?" He barley understood the basics, let alone with your accent. "She asked what your name is." Charles popped out of no where, explaining.

"Max." "Ahh, le grand Max Verstappen." He felt himself blush understanding the title. You knew who he was? "Quel âge a tu?" "She's asking how old you are." Max glared at Charles huffing, feeling like he ruined the moment. "Ten." He answered.

"Dix? J'ai dix-sept." And although you were a whole 7 years older than him, he felt attracted to you. Fixing a few wires, you quickly finished up patting the seat for Max. He immediately got in, starting the kart successfully.

"Congratulations." You patted his head, pocketing your tools.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2015

"C'est superbe." You put your hand out for him to shake. Without hesitation, Max shook your hand you could see his eyes wrinkle with a hidden smile beneath his helmet as he greeted you at parc freme.

Although he hadn't beaten you to P1, he felt pretty good losing to you. "Ton premier podium, n'est-ce pas sympa?" [your first podium, isnt that nice?] He couldn't understand you, but your voice and accent got him higher than any drug, made him blush more than any compliment.

He had ran after you as soon as you popped the champagne, making sure to empty all the contents of the expensive bottle on you as you tried to escape him, laughs falling from your mouth like waterfalls, music to his ears.

He set his mind to it, to get a podium with you every race to hear this laugh, and to learn French in attempt to rizz you up. Maybe he can ask you out?

"Y/N." He caught up to you after getting off the podium. "I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner if you're free?" "Ah! C'est une super idée, je connais un super restaurant ici à Monte Carlo." [yes! that's a great idea, i know a great restaurant here in monte carlo] You nodded eagerly handing your trophy to Charles ( who was making grabby hands for it ) and the champagne to Lorenzo.

"Est-ce que ça va si ma famille m'accompagne aussi?" [is it okay if my family tags along] "Quoi? Non! Tu as dit qu'il n'y aurait que nous!" [what? no! you said it would just be us!] "She's asking if it's okay for us to tag along." Lorenzo translates for Max, making the two teens glare at each other. "It's fine I guess. What ever you want." Max shrugged with a small smile.

"C'est une affaire." [its a deal] You shook his hand nodding.

Oh wow your hands were soft. Max felt embarrassed by his own rough and rigidi ones. "Je viendrai vous chercher dans quelques instants." [i'll pick you up in a few] You ruffled his hair before pulling your cousins away.

'Note to self,' max thought, 'Learn French.'

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2016

"Le grand Max." You joked as you watched max receive the P1 trophy. He was overjoyed as he held it, gently pulling you in a hug which you returned laughing, patting his back.

"Merci, Y/N." "P1 vous convient." [P1 suit you] You teased booping his nose before receiving your P2 trophy, raising it for your Ferrari team to see. Max could only smile, admiring your happy glow as you lifted you champagne bottle up.

He's been staring to long, watching you pop the bottle, too distracted to begin his escape from you. He was soaked from head to toe before you were done with him, a chocking and laughing mess. "Allez." You gestured for him to lean backwards on your outstretched arm, raising the bottle up.

"I can't— I—" He cut himself off, letting you dip him down and pour the expensive alcohol down his throat, emptying it in his mouth. He held onto your race suit, doing his best to gulp down the liquid. "Voilà!" [there you go] You cheered once he got back up on his feet, all dizzy and disoriented.

"Y a-t-il quelque chose entre toi et Max?" [is there something between you and max] Charles asked once you handed him your new trophy. 'Me and Max?' You though for the first time. An idea that made your heart flutter. You've never thought about Max that way before, and you're sure he wouldn't think of you that way either.

He was only 18, and you were 25. Plus you two were drivers that competed against each other. It's not like you two could be in a relationship. What would people think?

But now that the idea was given to you, you couldn't get it out of your head. Even with Max sitting beside you on a random rock, watching the sunset in a random location drinking beer. "Hey why do they call it— MHPH~" He was surly taken aback, never in his 18 years of life would he expect this.

You turned your face into his, crashing your lips into his. It was a passionate kiss. Max could feel fireworks erupt in his heart as you moved your soft lips against his. He held onto your shoulder, panting as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Y/N." He begged between kisses.

Snapping out of it, you pulled away with wide eyes as you watched Max catch his breath. "Y/N." He tried to lean in and catch you again only for you to lean back, gulping. "We— we cant. You're— you're just a kid." You tried to reason.

Was max dreaming? He's hearing you speak English? He must be dead.

"I like you, Y/N. I do." "What what the people think? The media? We— we can't— mhh~" You moaned into his lips, gently gripping his hair as he leaned into your body, lips meeting yours once again. "We don't have to tell them. We—we can keep this between us." He promised, holding your hand.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2017

Making eye contact with Max, you stubbly nod to a random corner gesturing for him to take a time out. You could see his face blush as he struggled to make up an excuse to get away.

You trapped him in a corner once you got the chance, leaning down and connecting your lips with him into a soft and hungry kiss. This has been going on for months now, sneaking away only for you to trap Max between your arms as you made out.

You could feel his hand fist your shirt as you trailed your kisses down his neck, careful not to leave any marks. You could feel him stutter and stumble on his breath as one of your hands traced and danced slowly to where he needed you most.

"Y/N." You could hear him gasp as you helped him get rid of the tension on his pants. "Bon garçon." [good boy] You whispered in his ear once he finished as he struggled to catch his breath, falling on his bum on the floor like putty.

You leaned down, wiping the lipstick off his skin and zipping up his pants, leaving one last kiss in the corner of his mouth before disappearing same way you came.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2018

"Voyonsssss." [lets seee] You giggled as you adjusted the Santa hat on your head, beginning to pull the wrapper of your gift apart to reach your secret Santa present. "J'espère que c'est soit de kimi parce que je sais que ce serait marrant de sa part, soit de seb. Je parie que seb fait les meilleurs cadeaux." [i hopping it's either from kimi because i know it would be fun from him, or or seb. I bet seb makes the best gifts.]

You chuckled, opening the gift to see a small pink hot wheels Porsche glued to the lid of a box. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?" [what's this] you chuckled confused as you pulled the little box open, pulling the paper out. "Manuel du conducteur?" [drivers manual] You read through the text confused, chuckling nervously.

"Je— Oh non." [I- oh no] You dropped the items covering your face, tears welling up in your eyes. "Pardon, pardon." [sorry sorry] you apologized quickly picking back up the box, pulling out the porsche car keys. "Oh mon dieu." [oh my god]. Looking at the driver's manual you could only squeal as more happy tears ran down your eyes.

"Someone got me a porsche?! Whos in their right mind!?" You wiped your tears pulling out the written card. "So you can go watch all the sunsets you want in style. Who's crazy enough to do this." "Is it your dream car?" "It is, oh my god." You fussed kissing the keys. "It's that idiot Max, I bet. He is so dead."

"Do you like it?" Max asked as he passed by, taking a sip from his Redbull can to try and hide his smile. "C'mere." "Oh shit." He ran away from you quickly as you started to chase him.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2019

"You're an asshole." You gently smacked his bicep as you undid his shirt. Max visibly gulped, feeling your finger trace down his bare chest. "Do you want to stop? We can stop whenever you want." You assured, looking into his eyes.

Max was quick to shake his head. He wanted his first and only times to be with you. Although to the reasoning as to why he was having his first time in the passenger seat of your 911 targa was a mystery to him. He felt his breath hitch as you trailed kisses down his body, feeling on fire despite the January weather of Belgium.

He couldn't stop his hands from roaming your body once it was your turn to undress, his eyes looking at you with hunger and admiration, memorizing every inch. "I need you." He cursed, hooking his finger and pulling down your underwear slowly.

"Si impatient." [so impatient] You scolded him as you leaned your hands on his chest, sinking all the way down. You've never heard Max moan so loud and so much before. He was a practically in wonderland the whole time, gripping your hips with numerous sounds, whimpers, sinful noises falling from his mouth.

It turned you on knowing you had this effect on him, feeling him buck his hips up every few thrusts, curl his toes, beg for you. "My love— my love, I'm so close." He begged you as he leaned his head on your shoulder, hugging your waist as he practically slammed up into you chasing his orgasm.

"You fit me so perfectly, Y/N. You feel— fuck s—so good." He was a babbling mess to say the least. You could only giggle and encourage him in his ear as he neared you your own high.

"Good boy." You praised in his ear quietly as you stroked his hair, feeling his chest heave against yours. "Such a good boy." You hummed stroking his cheek gently as he brought his knees up, hugging you tighter, nuzzling in your neck. "W—wanna stay like this for a while longer." You could only giggle as you relaxed in his arms, playing with the hair on the nape of neck.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2023

Max immediately recognized you once he felt your hands cover his ears. He turned to face you, a wide smile covering his face as you prevented the loud noise from his car from bothering him any further. "What are you doing here?"

You'd gotten a message from Max about feeling negative. You didn't even hesitate to fly down to Abu Dhabi for the season finally.

Max turned his body to you, pulling you in a gentle hug. "What are you scared about? You're Max Verstappen." You kissed his cheek. gently. You could see Max's blue eyes searching for the blob of blond hair he's come to love.

"Mika's with Sergio." He couldn't hear you, but he could read your lips. "She wearing-" He made a movement gesturing to noise cancelling headphones and you nodded. "You didn't have to fly down, love." He sighed pressing his forehead to yours. "Eh. Ima pretend I didn't hear that." You chuckled pressing a soft peck to his lips.

"Oh come on." Charles put his hands between you pushing you apart. "Char what the—" you playfully kicked his shin before greeting him with a hug. "That's what you get for not coming to see me first." He squeezed you. "Still can't believe you betrayed the Leclerces for him." He pointed accusingly at Max with a frown.

"Mate, you were my best man!" Max defended throwing his hands up. "Doesn't mean i like this." Charles joked pointed between both of you. "You were the first one other than us to hold mika!" "And I don't like the reason behind Mika."

"Boo!" You looked down seeing said child grab Charles calf. Seconds later she sneezed ending up with her falling on her bum. Panic was induced as she began crying with Max quickly falling into action and lifting the 2 year-old up.

"Papa!" Dayum she forgot she was crying real quick. "it's time for me to run away." You whispered taking a few steps back, only for Charles to hold you from your collar and pull you back. "Wait what are you doing here?" "To make fun of you." You told Charles sarcastically, standing beside Max who was showering his daughter with affection and kisses.

"My turn." Charles demanded finally hugging Mika. "You forgot something, again." you told Max as you lifted his left hand up, slipping the golden band on his ring finger. Max could only laugh as he watched you nod in satisfaction, kissing your hand. "I told you I left it behind so I don't lose it. You know I have the outline tattooed." He pulled you in whispering in your ear, making you giggle.

"How about this to make it up for me, after this you win, we can—" You cupped you hand over his ear as you whispered to him. Max made a few faces from impressed to surprised, to smug. Sergio couldn't even imagine as he watched Max pull away and wink at you, already regretting to come greet you when you're within 6 feet of your husband.

"I'll see you after the race, amour." You kissed his cheek, hand lingering on his chest before you took Mika away. "Ah! Salut, Sergio. Comment allez-vous." [hey, sergio. how are you] "Not good after what I just saw." "You have two kids, man up." You joked before taking your daughter away to watch the race. "See you darling." You waved at Max before disappearing.

( taglist ↳ - @lorarri - @benedikwonn - @mycenterfold - @ironmaiden1313 - @hockeyboysarehot - @tsnataly - @iloveyou3000morgan - @lpab - @jetless - @inas-thing - @iamahallucinationnn - @folklorelvrr - @fdl305 - @lizzieolseniskinda - @chelseyyouraverageluigi - @michellekstyles - @ironmaiden1313 - @azxulaa - @mistrose23 - @lazybot - @livster - @jasminesacademia

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mi-dori · 2 months

Text

Omg I'm the father

Prompt: Kafka found out that she's pregnant and she's sure as heck who's the father.

Warnings: Pregnant Kafka, G!P Reader, reader being apart of the express crew, reader x Himeko, Kafka being reader's ex, Slight smut.

A/n: at this point, I'm just randomly creating story titles 😭

"So you're positive? You're really pregnant? How? Who's the father?" Silver wolf had her mouth opened, many questions spilling from them as Kafka held up the positive pregnancy test, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Yes I'm sure Silver wolf. I know who's the father," remembering the last time you and her met, she definitely knows whose child she's carrying and couldn't help but be thrilled. Now she has something to remind her of you forever.

"Y/n? Or Blade? I'm not sure Blade will be a good father." Kafka chuckled at Silverwolf's comment.

"It's not Blade. It's y/n."

"Wa-y/n?! Out of all persons?! She belongs to the Astral Express! They'll definitely kill you! Especially her new girlfriend."

"They can't kill me. If they could, they would've done so a long long time besides, I'm sure y/n will be thrilled to hear the news. It's no doubt that this is her child. We had sex for one last time three weeks ago."

"Ew ew ew I didn't need to know that!"

A laugh escaped Kafka's throat before it subsided with a sigh. "Oh y/n~ if only we were still together..."

"Ahh~ f-fuck I'm gonna cum!"

The bed creaked and banged against the wall as you absolutely railed the day lights out of Himeko. She screamed as she squirted for the nth time, as you came as well. How long has it been now? Four hours? You lost time as soon as you started having sex with your now girlfriend Himeko.

Before this, you were working at Herta's space station, and whilst doing that, you were dating the famous Kafka. After she made her arrival at the space station and almost destroyed the whole of it, you realised that she was bad. And you didn't like bad. You knew she was dangerous and you couldn't keep stringing on like that. She however, had one last wish before she promised to be out of your life; she wanted sex from you and that's what you gave. Who in their right mind would deny sex? Especially from Kafka. Her head game was top tier so you couldn't give up such an amazing offer. Then after you met Himeko and started dating her, you joined the express.

Himeko laid on the bed, sweat pooling down her forehead as she struggled to catch her breath. "Nghh~ that was amazinggg," she moaned out as cum gushed out of her gaping hole. You smiled to yourself and kissed her head before a knock was heard.

"Are you guys in here?" Welt's voice resounded from the other side. He sounded... troubled. You instantly frowned and hurriedly put on your clothes, meeting him outside.

"Welt? Is everything okay?"

"Someone wants to talk to you." Without another word being muttered, he led you to the lounge where you saw a hologram version of Kafka, a smile etched it's way onto her face.

"My~ you certainly have gotten more gorgeous than the last time I saw you." She smiled.

"What do you want? Why are you even contacting me?" Confusion and fear made it's way onto your body and a hand suddenly gripped yours. Himeko stood by your side, fully clothed.

"Cut to the chase Stellaron Hunter."

"I'm pregnant."

Silence. Dead silence. Everyone looked stared at Kafka with unreadable expressions until Dan Heng cleared his throat. "Why are you telling us this?" Welt asked.

"It's not you I'm telling, it's you," she pointed at you. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the positive pregnancy test and showed it to you. Immediately Himeko let go of your hand in shock.

"What? H-how? No no no no this isn't mine....Kafka what?"

"It's all lining up together n/n. The last time we had sex wad three weeks ago," she chuckled remembering Silver wolf's reaction to her telling her this, "it takes up to two-three weeks for a person to get pregnant."

"But we've had sex many times and you weren't pregnant..." you trailed off until your eyes widen. "You planned this?!"

She let out a devious chuckle as she walked closer to you. "Maybe I forgot to use the pills that day~ I mean... I wasn't expecting you to break up with me, and I knew you had no intentions of getting back together with me so I had to act quick. You're really good at using your stick so it was the last time I was gonna feel it. Wouldn't you say so, Himeko?" She looked at Himeko with a teasing smile.

"Well, I expect you to come see me so we can discuss this further."

"I'm not gonna be part of that child's life." Her eyes widened but Himeko said something that made them all shocked.

"Yes you are. You knocked her up, now I don't care if she's your ex, that baby is innocent and its sure not coming into this world with an unstable relationship with it's father," she glared at you before walking away to her room.

Kafka chuckled, "she's got a point. You can't escape from me now. No matter how hard you try, we have a product of our destined relationship that you threw away but no worries, we'll be back together in no time." And with that, the Hologram disappeared leaving you a shocked mess.

March walked up to you, "well um- I- oh god I have no words," she was too stunned to speak. Welt put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"We'll take you to Kafka whenever you're ready." You nodded and went to find Himeko, preparing for another issue to come.

"You lied to her didn't you?" Silverwolf asked Kafka who was sitting on a chair.

"Hmm, of course I did. I had already predicted that she was going to break up with me due to Elio. He informed me before hand so I planned not to use the pills and ask her for sex knowing that I will get pregnant. She has no choice but to see me and even if she doesn't want to come back to me, I have something to remind me of her. After all," Kafka rubbed her tummy with a smile that sent shivers down Silverwolf's spine.

"She's mine."

A/n: what do you think is going to happen?

#honkai star rail kafka #hsr kafka #kafka x reader #kafka #hsr kafka x reader #honkai star rail kafka x reader #kafka hsr #kafka honkai star rail

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lostarchivesoforpheus · 1 year

Note

Hello!!:)) can I ask for some Danheng hcs?:))

Dan Heng Relationship Headcanons

dan heng x gn!reader

summary: a collection of my personal hcs for what dan heng would be like if you were in a relationship with him :]

warnings: possibly ooc(?), physical touch, mentions of kissing, mentions of food/drinks

probably hasn't been in a relationship before and will somewhat rely on you to help him through the early stages of it all

gets flustered easily but knows how to hide it in public

kind of awkward when you guys first start your relationship but eventually gets used to having you around :]

most definitely invites u to read with him in the archives

likes drinking coffee with you and listening to you chat

simp likes doing stuff for you and helping you out with anything you need <3

simp buys/gives you stuff that reminds him of you and also always keeps little trinkets you've given him in his pocket at all times

takes you on those cheesy dates from the romance novels because he has very little knowledge on how relationships work but it's ok because he's trying his best <3

likes laying his head in your lap while you run your fingers through his hair after a long day

very clingy when he's tired. will literally just hug you from behind and bury his face into your neck at random when he's exhausted. has fallen asleep like that before

likes when you hug him. or kiss him. or give him any sort of affection. somewhat awkward when reciprocating your kindness but he's doing his best :] really really appreciates you showing him any kind of affection. honestly he appreciates you even staying around him <3

loves cuddling with you. any position. will be big spoon or little spoon, whichever you want :) just likes to hold onto you when you guys are going to bed hehe

tries to get into anything your interested in. oh, you like this videogame? he learns how to play it with you. oh, you like this book? he read the whole thing in one night. loves doing anything with you and loves hearing you talk about your interests <3

brings you your favourite snacks and drinks if you're tired/sick/just not feeling good in general. likes taking care of you <3333

bonus: march teases him whenever she happens to pass by him assembling the little snack tray he's preparing for you hehehehe

a/n: DAN HENG MY BELOVED AAAAAAA <33333 he is perfect he is amazing he is everything TY FOR SENDING THIS REQUEST I LOVED WRITING THIS <33 hopefully writers block will finally go away now weeee

thanks for stopping by!

want to submit a request? see my requesting rules here!

taglist:

want to be tagged? let me know :]

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schrodingers-deadbitch · 11 months

Text

Danyal's heart thundered violently in his chest. His heaving opening his stitches just a bit. But that didn't matter at the moment since he had just accomplished what he had came here to do. His brother would start trying to find him sooner rather than later, which he greatly appreciated, but he didn't want to be found quite yet. He still had stuff he needed to work out before meeting Damien again.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He was expecting it to be one of his sisters or maybe Sam or Tucker but when he saw the caller ID he froze for a bit. He still wasn't used to Dan calling his phone, or being out of his thermos in general. But with how the last couple months had been playing out, he couldn't afford to get used to anything. Not yet. Or maybe never. He sighed and answered the phone.

“Hey Dan what's up?”

“Get your ass home now. It's been over an hour and Jazz is starting to throw a hissy fit.”

Danny rolled his eyes. Sure he understood his sister's worry, he was a very injured sixteen year old boy running around the most crime ridden city in America. Hell even the entire world! But he was Danny Phantom, King of the infinite realms, Ancient of Space, the balance between life and death and so much more! He could take care of himself.

“And yet you end up on a dissection table, chest cavity open, guts literally spilling out on the floor. May I continue, your majesty?”

Wait shit did he say that out loud.

“Yup. You were also on speaker phone so I would hurry up if I were you.”

Danyal squeaked at the implications while Dan laughed at his future misery.

“DANYAL!!!”

He quickly ended the call and flew home as fast as he could. He was definitely going to hear a few words from Jazz. A few million it seemed.

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #demon twin au #dcxdp #dc x dp #danny phantom

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radiance1 · 5 months

Text

I want to make another post about ??? au but I genuinely don't know what.

Probably something about Danny being interrogated by the Justice League and the Young Justice team simultaneously because he really did just appear out of nowhere to fight and managed to fend off an unknown by himself.

And also because he seems to have some kind of history with said unknown.

Danny, simply explains that Dark Danny (Dan for short) is an alternative version of himself from the future that he previously fought against and managed to capture and contain in the past due to being underestimated. Unfortunately, Dan continued to exist despite his own future being erased thanks to a certain medallion, and then he broke out of his containment, was nearly defeated and fled.

So that is why he is here, to find, recapture, and contain his alternative self.

They ask him how he'll find Dan.

Danny says that unfortunately, he'll mostly have to be reacting rather than hunting, and shows the device (that looks like a pocket watch) that'll let him be able to find and track Dan's signature when he isn't hiding himself.

And he says that that is all he will be doing, he won't mess around in their business so long as it doesn't include his dark alternative and will stay out of their way if they want him too.

What does the Justice League and Young Justice say in response?

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #I really need a name for this au.

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iguessthisisanewobsession · 1 year

Text

It takes a mob part 2

part one is here.

part 3 is here.

Bill was honestly considering the store up as hostage as he glared at the isle.

30 dollars for the cheapest can of formula?? 20 for diapers??

Jesus this had to be considered gouging at this point.

Bill felt another headache begin to throb as he tried his best to decipher the difference between brands.

‘Not a day of health class Bill,’ he grimaced as he gently shook one oof the cans. ‘Yet here you are.’

Bill never saw himself for fatherhood, he may have pondered it once or twice in his years but only in that sort of abstract way that one ponders throwing your favorite cup. It would be stupid to do, but for a moment or two tempting.

Then he got tangled up into the goon lifestyle and any notion of that pondering went out the building.

There were enough kids in Gotham without father figures, no use accidentally making another one if he slipped up.

‘And look all that thinking led yah Billy,’ his old man droned on in his head, ‘all the work, non’ of the fun. that don’t make a happy man son.’

Bill was half tempted to open that old burner phone; it sat in his breast pocket.

Even if all that would answer would be the machine.

But no, Bill had this.

‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ he pondered as he put the tin in the cart, ‘watching three kids.’

they weren’t his after all.

He found his cohorts in the next isle shaking various items at the kid.

“What in the name of Crime Alley are you two idiots doing?”

“Oh, hey Bill!”

Ken didn’t even turn to face him, what kind of etiquette were they training these guys with?

“Again, what the fuck are you doin’? I asked you two to pick out a couple outfits for the tyke.”

“annnd we did!” Marv chuckled handing over a bundle of cloth, “We just thought that the kid deserve somethin’ cute for being so good to us is all.”

“Actually Bill, mind throwing in your two cents? which one do you think Dan would prefer the rabbit or the frog?’

Bill pinched his brow,

“I don’t know man, what difference does it make?”

“What difference?! Man, this is his first toy we’re talking about!” Ken exclaimed,

“This is a big deal! If he’s anything like my Me Mah told me I was than he’s going to be carrying it for years!’

Danny for his part blew a bubble with his mouth, great input kid.

“I- the rabbit, I guess! I dunno, maybe he’ll like Alice in wonderland or some shit.”

Marv seemed to perk up at the thought.

“Hell yeah brother! Boss likes those old books anyways, so he probably won’t notice if we borrow a copy for a bit!”

Ken snorted as he casually thew the frog back on the shelf,

“Marven, in case you forgot, Boss is very careful with those books of his. If you want to risk it, I won’t stop you but it’s your fingers on the line man.”

“Aww, anything for our lil’ Danny!”

The clerk raised an eyebrow but kept their mouth shut as the three goons went to pay. They kept their mouth shut as Bill paid in crumpled bills and let them get on their way.

“Yeah, well pass Ken wonderlad will you? This shit isn’t going to carry itself.”

Danny babbled as they tried to sort everything into a carriable position. He shook his new toy too a fro in an almost comical manner. Like he was giving orders before an ops.

Eventually they made headway and started to make their way back to crime alley. Only for Bill to raise a occupied hand to stop the others in their step.

“Wait a moment.. where are we heading? It’ll be suspicious if we head back to base. We clocked out hours ago.”

Marv shook his head,

“Can’t go back to my place, Gwen just got done with a double shift in the ER.”

“Kenny?”

Ken snorted and shook his head as well,

“We can try but we all know Me Mah is packin’ and not scared to point first if she doesn’t expect company.”

“Then where the hell are going to go?”

Bill didn’t like how the two of them were suddenly staring at him,

“No.”

“Aww come on Bill!”

“Nope. Nah ah”

Ken rolled his eyes kicked at his shin,

“It’s just for one night Bill. Tomorrow we can ask around with the other guys, but it’s not like we have many options right now.”

“My apartment is like the least kid friendly place in the neighborhood!”

Danny have a little wine as he shoved his face into Ken’s shoulder,

“Bill..”

‘Fuck…’

Bill pinched his nose as he closed his eyes, if only to block out the puppy eyes Marv was sending his way. For a big lug, it was stupid how effective they were.

“Fine… One night and you two owe me a favor after this.”

The two dumbasses actually let out a cheer loud enough to wake a nearby dog.

Leading the way Bill couldn’t help but wonder if it was too late to go to bar like they planned.

~~~~~~~~~

Hoodlums:

@reinluna,@confused-moose-child,@mimilikey,@emeraudesfateandfandoms, @dolfay, @boredomfarie, @aconitewolfbane, @withoutcontxt, @onyxlightdragon, @satanicrutialspecialist, @phoenixdemonqueen, @vixen-uchiha, @skulld3mort-1fan, @bytheoldwillowtree, @illusionwolfwriter24r8, @thewonderoflebanon, @vipower001, @autumnwulf,

#dp x dc #writing prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #jason todd #goonion bill #marv #marv and ken are my ocs #ken #still need a name #jason: they’re doing something stupid dick I need to go #dick: nope you are finishing your day off. what is the worst thing they could do in 24 hours?#red hood #it takes a mob

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sofiareidings · 8 months

Text

I Told The Stars About You

Summary: After a tough case that hit too close to home you decide to try and clear your mind by stargazing. When it doesn't work you suddenly hear the coworker you've been crushing on behind you.

A/N: This one-shot is less talking and more just light flirting. I think I'll be writing more flirty stuff in the future but I'm still learning so you'll have to deal with me! Also like I said in my pinned post in taking requests so feel free to send some! You can say a certain situation, a ship, a song to base it off, a trope, whatever! Just make sure to read my immediate no-gos.

Word Count: 0.6k

Song Suggestions: Esa Pared by Leo Dan ft. Vicente Fernãndez

The case had affected everyone. Cases that centre around kids always do, but this one really hit close to home for you. The best way you could think to cope with this was by doing the thing that always puts a smile on your face, even if only for a second.

It was almost pitch black when you parked your car on the vacant street. The only light being from the streetlights and the stars. Walking out into the old baseball field that the street backed up on you found a nice place to sit down. After getting situated you tilted your head up and just stared up at the stars. Looking at all the different shapes you could make. Listening to the sound of trees blowing in the wind and the sound of crickets.

Every time a memory from the case came back you focused on a new star, and a new happy thought. Normally you’d have smiled by now but it wasn’t happening. You couldn’t focus on the stars. The cold of the air became noticeable and the sounds of the crickets were now annoying. You couldn’t make out any shapes in the stars because they were becoming blurry by the tears in your eyes and the shakes in your breath. Everything was coming back and it was like you couldn’t do anything.

“Are you okay?” You jumped, startled by the voice behind you. When you turned your head you looked up to see Spencer standing above you, his hands in his pockets and a scarf wrapped around his neck and falling over his shoulder. You start to nod and wipe your face trying to calm yourself down before talking.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Your words came out in one breath. You tried to stand up but Spencer sat down before you could. He sat there just looking down at the grass like he didn’t know what to say. “How’d you find me?”

“You seemed off on the jet and when you drove a different way I got concerned. I guess I followed you here but that sounds like I’m a stalker.” He laughed a little at the end then looked up from the grass and at you. You weren’t fine, it was obvious. “It doesn’t take a profiler to realise that you are clearly upset.”

“The case, it just hit close to home. I don’t want to talk about it.” The sentence came out a little blunt, almost angry. He seemed taken aback a little but he knew you didn’t mean any harm. “I just…want to look at the stars.”

“We can do that then.” He nodded then leaned back on his arms and looked up. You did the same but couldn’t help but look over at him as well. His scarf had become undone when he sat down and his hair fell backwards. You took the moment of comfort and layed down on the grass, Spencer doing the same.

Instead of rejecting the advance, he looked away then squeezed your hand and didn’t comment. The heat in your face mixed with the butterflies made it happen…the stars had finally made you smile. They just needed a little help this time.

The two of you just layed there for a long time. Looking at the stars and enjoying each other's company. You turned your head to see Spencer still looking at the stars and when you moved your eye contact down his hand was laying less than an inch away from yours. In a moment of bravery you moved yours and put it in his while quickly looking back at the stars. You could feel him looking at you, clearly having noticed the gesture.

#criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #fandom #bau #sofiareidings

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sweetsweetjellybean · 23 days

Text

Your crush on Eddie was better off a secret and a kiss that should never have happened leads you into a storm.

I wasn't happy with my first version of chapter 4. So I polished it up and added a little more dialog. Feel free to wait for the next chapter but if you'd like to read it, either as a refresher or for the very first time, please let me know what you think. XOXO-Jelly

Masterlist Listen to Fake Plastic Trees Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago. Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Mentions of DV. Smut Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC: 11646 beta'd by @superblysubpar

A sharp chill nips at your cheeks as gusts of autumn wind blow through the amber-leafed trees surrounding Hawkins High's parking lot. You pick at the splintered wood of the picnic table beneath you, etched with initials and scribbles. The anguished croon of Placebo plays through your headphones, drowning out the sounds of the start of another school day. Shifting the pile of books on your lap, you steal a glance at where Eddie stands with his back to you a few yards away.

Lately, it’s like your best friend has purchased real estate in your brain. Daydreams resulting in hearts doodled in the margins of your notebooks a little too close to where you printed his name. His dark curls spill over the collar of his worn denim vest, shadowing the frayed edges of the Dio patch he had sown on last week. He's deep in conversation with Dan Shelter, a senior in the same class that Eddie would have been in if he hadn’t missed so much time after his mother passed. They both turn and look at you at the same time.

Eddie’s eyes narrow as his brows pull tighter into a frown. You push one of your headphones back, and the noise of everyday chatter and car engines bursts into your reality.

"You know your girlfriend is deeply weird, Munson," the spiky-haired jock says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket, not even trying to hide his distaste.

Girlfriend. You’ve both tried to stamp out that rumor—yet no matter who else you go out with, those sparks never last and pale in comparison to the steady flame you feel around Eddie. Would it really be so bad if it were true? The answer scares you more than you expect.

"She’s not my girl," Eddie retorts with a swift shake of his head, his voice edged with that familiar bite of annoyance. His foot scuffs against the asphalt, the white Reebok stark against the black jeans clinging to his narrow hips. An impatient sigh pulls the fabric of his Hellfire Club t-shirt tighter across his chest, outlining his lean frame. "You in or out?" His fingers snap near Dan's face, the sunlight catching on his silver rings, "I've got other places to be, and you're not my only customer."

"Sure, whatever," Dan grumbles, extending a hand with a few crumpled bills.

Eddie accepts the cash with an easy smirk, teasing the dime bag between thumb and forefinger, letting it sway like a pendulum. Dan’s hand hovers while he glances around for prying eyes, but Eddie lets the bag drop to the ground before he can take it.

"Oops," Eddie’s voice drips with feigned innocence before he pivots on his heel and walks away without a backward glance.

Dan’s face ignites with anger as he stoops for the bag, muttering a curse.

"Always a pleasure," Eddie calls over his shoulder, flashing a dismissive two-fingered salute. A gaggle of pink-cheeked girls from the sophomore class crosses his path, eyes trailing over him like he's their favorite song come to life.

"Ladies." He extends an arm, waving them on, his voice as smooth as a melody. They flutter past with giggles and heated glances. Despite their whispers of 'freak' in the corridors, they all vie for a chance to climb into the back of his van when no one is looking – to be the subject of the rumors they'd later deny.

He never hides his interest when he likes a girl — everybody knows when Eddie Munson is into someone. But he’s never looked at you that way, never given you that smile meant for those he desires. And that’s something that has never bothered you. Now, it stirs something else — a green thorny vine wrapping around your insides. He’s just Eddie – your friend. The same old Eddie, you reaffirm, even as your heart whispers lies of a different tune.

Without missing a beat, he saunters over, the rhythmic clink of his chain wallet punctuating each step. He leaps onto the picnic table, landing beside you with a thud, sending vibrations through the timeworn wood. His eyes linger on the girl's retreating forms.

"You need to be careful, Eddie," you warn, tipping your chin toward where Dan is stalking off in a dark cloud of annoyance.

"Careful is my middle name, doll." He smiles a big, sly grin, dimples deepening, causing a flutter in your chest, an unexplained sensation that's become strangely frequent these days.

He nods at your leg, eyes dropping to your thigh. "What’s this?" His dark lashes make half-moon shadows on his cheek as his thumb brushes over the square field of bright white crosses covering the denim patch on your jeans. A trail of tingles follows, unbidden and unwelcome. You disguise the shiver as a chill from the wind, even as you crave more of his touch.

"It’s called sashiko," you explain, hyper-aware of the warmth of his skin as the ghost of his touch lingers. "The art of visible mending."

"Looks cool." His gaze meets yours, a little too intense and a little too long. Your fingers clutch your notebooks tighter, a shield against whatever this feeling is.

"Are you coming over after school?" Your voice is steadier than you feel.

"I’ll drop you off, but I’ve got to go back to the trailer after," Eddie replies, his eyes still holding yours in a silent conversation you can't quite interpret. "I’ve got stuff to do." Something in his tone suggests layers you're not ready to peel back. "Not your kind of stuff."

The house where Eddie grew up doesn't look the same anymore. Someone else has moved in – keeping the lawn perfect and fixing up all the broken things, erasing any traces of tragedy. The neighborhood has moved on, absolving themselves like they hadn’t just turned their back and let it happen. As if it wasn't their problem. Eddie's staying on the other side of town now with his Uncle Wayne in a tiny one-bedroom trailer. Wayne's heart is in the right place, even if he drinks too much, just like Eddie's dad did. But he's not bad, just... lost when it comes to dealing with an angry teen, and with him working nights, Eddie's on his own to figure out how to deal with it all.

"I can keep you company?” You try to keep the offer casual despite the hump in your pulse.

He shakes his head, a shadow crossing his features. "Nah, I’ve got to stop at Rick's, then a run." There's a hardness in his eyes that wasn't there before.

You frown and look away, hiding your disappointment. "I don’t see what the big deal is," you argue, keeping your voice low, "We smoke together all the time."

"The big deal," he says, reaching out to lift your chin and forcing you to look at him. "Is that this is business, and I don’t want you involved. Alright?" His voice is firm, letting you know he won’t budge. "I’ll pick you up later," he promises. "Movie night. Just us."

The shrill ring of the bell is your cue to retreat, to put distance between you and these feelings threatening to upend everything. You nod at him, shoving your books into your bag. His gaze holds you for a heavy beat before breaking away. There's a shift in the air, a prelude to something you can't name, like the static before a storm. Eddie's last glance sears itself into your thoughts when you part ways at the door.

As you make your way to class, those feelings nag at you like a forgotten lyric. You hug your arms, trying to squeeze out the persistent ache that spreads through your limbs. It's a tangible pain, this longing, like a hand squeezing around your heart, making it hard to breathe.

But you push it all down, guarding it like a secret. To lock it away in the confines of your ribcage, where it can't taint the one thing you value most. The friendship you've built is too important, too rare to risk on a silly crush that might only live in your head and fade with time. It’s a gamble you won’t take. You can't lose him. You won’t watch that light in his eyes dim for you, awkward silences replacing the laughter. Without him, you’d be alone.

Cold gray days give way to dark, inky nights. The stars and moon are veiled behind thick cotton clouds, stealing the light earlier as fall edges closer to winter. Winds gust, sending wet leaves sticking to the glass of your office windows as the bare fingers of the boxwoods planted around the brownstone scratch against the house in protest.

Lowering the lid of your laptop, the light in the room dims as the brightness is trapped between the two halves. Your arms stretch over your head, loosening the tension in your neck as you push away from your desk, drifting towards the sounds of life from the living room. Steve’s long legs are stretched out on the chaise end of the couch, a Bulls game on the TV, but his attention is stuck on the laptop resting on his thighs.

“My eyes are going to fall out my head if I stare at that screen for any longer,” you declare, rounding the corner of the couch.

“Well, then, come stare at this screen instead.” He nods at the TV, extending his arm to make space for you to crawl onto the couch next to him and fit yourself into his side.

“You’re so warm.” You nuzzle into his chest, and his lips touch the top of your head. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“I’ll wake you up when it’s time for bed. I still have a few hours of work left,” he sighs, his finger sliding down the trackpad as he scrolls through a document that never seems to end.

“Is that for the launch?” Your eyes squint at the brightness of the screen.

He groans at the ping of another incoming email while toggling between the many windows he has open. “Yeah, we're in the final stretch. The event team is trying to finalize the details. Maroon 5 and Fallout Boy are locked in to perform, but we’re still waiting to hear back from a few other acts and about a million other details that need ironing out.”

“It’s going to be a great night, baby. Everyone will be so impressed,” you assure, the arm you have draped across his stomach tightening, trying to impress your words into him. “Everything is going to go smoothly, you’ll see.”

He scoffs, doubt clouding his voice. “I wish I had your confidence. The server's capacity is still a question mark, and we're racing to fix streaming delays. Fuck!” The heels of his hands press into his eyes. “All I need is this thing to fail at the last minute, especially with Richard and my dad watching.” He imitates his father's stern tone, “Typical. He’s always been a fuck up. Chokes right before the buzzer.” Letting his hands drop, his eyes turn to you. “I should have listened to you and not invited my parents. I actually never thought they would agree to come. Now I’m running around trying to get things ready for them too.”

“Hey,” you take one of his hands between yours, “That’s not going to happen, Steve. If the servers have issues or if there's a lag, it's just a hiccup. You've got a team to handle that. You've put in the work, and you're brilliant at what you do. Your parents will see that. Everyone will.”

He manages a smile, but it’s just a placation.

“What can I do to help?” You ask, “I’ll make sure we have some Pellegrino stocked and that cheese your parents like.”

There's a pause as he weighs his next words. “I’ve already called the housekeeper and told them to put fresh sheets in the guest room in case they decide to stay here, but I still need to make a reservation at the Four Seasons as a backup.”

Your jaw tightens, but you curb your annoyance at how John Harrington has everyone trained to cater to his high-maintenance whims, but this is for Steve’s peace of mind. “I’ll call first thing tomorrow. Consider it done. Anything else?”

He hesitates, a little apologetic. "My suit... the dry cleaner closes early tomorrow. I hate to ask, but I might not make it in time–"

“No problem. I’ll make time.”

His lips lift at the corners, and this time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I love you.” He leans forward, slotting his lip softly between yours. “I’ll put the ticket in your bag. Thanks for helping out, Ace.”

“I just have Eddie's interview tomorrow afternoon. I should have plenty of time." Standing, you tug at his hand. "Now, can we go to bed? Everything will look better after a good night's sleep.”

His mouth sets in a determined line as he shuts down his laptop, yielding to your pull as he rises. His hand finds a place on the small of your back, grounding you both as you climb the stairs together.

Hitching the strap of your messenger bag higher on your shoulder, you kick at a loose stone on the sidewalk in front of the brick building. Car horns blare in the distance as traffic rolls by in the busy neighborhood. The sun casts a glint off the steel CursedSound sign, its metal already weathering with a faint tinge of color. The heavy door is yanked open, its clank and whine making you jump.

"Hi," Eddie greets you with a soft tone from the other side of the threshold.

"Hi," you return, shyness adding a tremble to your voice that shouldn’t be there. His fingers grip the edge of the door, and light flashes off the Rolex peeking out from under the cuff of the plaid flannel he wears over a fitted v-neck and jeans, the fabric snug against his defined shoulders. It’s still a novelty to see how his slim build has filled in over the years. Part of you still expects the boy you knew instead of this man in front of you. He looks you over in the same way, like he’s trying to decide if you’re really there. Maybe it’s the differences he sees in you, too, or does he still see the lonely girl he once knew? You shift your gaze down the street, your toes curling inside your Converse as warmth climbs up your neck. "Are you going to let me in?"

"I don't know." He pretends to ponder, a smile forming, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Where's your hard hat?"

Tilting your head to the side, you purse your lips until he breaks into a chuckle. He swings the door open wider, welcoming you in. You pass him with a shake of your head and continue down the hall.

The lobby is in chaos.

"Sorry for the mess. The maid took the week off," he quips, watching you take in the space.

The brown paper has been removed from the windows, allowing bright light to stream through the streaked and dirty glass. All the furniture has been pushed toward the center of the room, and ladders and paint cans litter the floor space. A large mural wrapping around the windows and front entrance has been outlined but not completed. In the same graffiti style as the one upstairs, this one displays more cityscapes with waves of the lake breaking at the forefront. Winged skulls and guitars blend with colorful swirls of clouds rising toward the ceiling.

"It’s perfect," you tell him as your eyes follow the sweeping, colorful lines around the room. “Really beautiful.”

"Was that a compliment?" He asks, coming up behind you, his breath a warm whisper against your ear. "I thought it was a dump."

"Well, what can I say?” You spin around. “It’s growing on me." Your fingers move to your lips, concealing your smile as his deepens with your praise.

"You look really good." His low voice bounces off the empty walls, "I mean…your, uh, outfit is nice." He waves his hand toward you before wiping it on the front of his jeans.

Your brows raise as you glance down at the jeans and plain Lolla tee you put on this morning. None of the trendy outfits you usually wear for interviews seemed to fit right today.

"Wow, that was smooth," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I don’t know why I’m so nervous."

The fluttering in your stomach matches his energy. “Maybe it’s because I’m going to get you to spill all your secrets and print them so the whole world can sit in judgment."

A choked sound comes from his throat as his eyes widen into saucers.

Unable to keep a straight face, you giggle. "Relax, Eddie. I already told you I’m not writing some hit piece. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Besides," you shrug, "It’s only me."

A sharp breath escapes as his shoulders lower. "Yeah, you’re right." He says, taking a step forward, his gaze locking with yours. "After all these years, it's still you.

"Eddie." His name comes out on a breathless sigh as you look away. The shield of anger between you is heavy and battered, and you aren’t sure how much longer you can hold it up. He takes another step forward, and you clear your throat. "Why don’t you show me what else you’ve done?"

He rakes a hand through his curls, "Of course." His lips tighten into a flat line as he gestures toward the stairs. "After you."

You lead the way to the second floor, where the smell of fresh paint permeates the air. A ladder leans against a half-painted wall, and orange extension cords crisscross the carpet in the hall, winding into the studios like work has been suddenly halted.

"Where is everyone?" You look around the abandoned space before stepping inside Studio A. It's come a long way since your last visit. The deck that holds the mixing board is ready, and the wiring is underway.

"I didn’t know how long you’d be here, so I told them to take the rest of the day off." His eyes follow the movements of your hand, brushing over knobs and sliders of the soundboard that's still sheathed in a protective layer of plastic.

"You didn’t have to do that," you say, walking back out into the hall.

"I didn’t think we needed the audience," he shrugs, walking along with you to the next room.

"I hope you don’t fall behind schedule." The walls of the small Studio B are covered with walnut slats to create an acoustic barrier while still keeping the room open, while the mixing room kept the original exposed brick.

"I’ve got time."

"Even so," you move to the window. The sun glints off the mirrored surface of the tall building across the street. "I’m sure you're eager to open. Put out that first album with the CursedSound logo in the liner notes."

"Of course I am." He comes to stand beside you, taking in the bustle of the city at midday. "It’s gonna be good to have nothin’ between me and the music. Let the artists be as creative as they want. Their management can deal with the corporate A&R people and leave me out of it."

"You never did like playing by the rules," you smile, catching his eyes in the reflection of the glass.

He turns his head, studying your profile. "Why should I?" he continues, his tone more determined, "The rules sure as hell never helped me. I'm gonna take my chances as I find them, even if I have to play a little dirty. I deserve happiness the same as the next guy."

"Of course you do." The world has done nothing but take from him.

"What about you?" He asks as you return to the hall. "The rules seemed to be treating you well."

You raise your shoulders with a warm smile gracing your lips, one you have no intention of concealing. "I love my job. I like the city, and…I have Steve."

"You ending up with Steve Harrington," his voice curls around the name, a sneer you can almost see, "I gotta admit, I didn't see that one coming."

Stopping, you pivot to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. "He's a good guy, Eddie."

He sighs in a short, almost defeated breath. "I know he is, doll."

The unmarked door at the end of the hall provides a convenient distraction. "Where does this go?" You wonder with your hand closing over the knob.

"My apartment."

"You're living here?" You let it go like it burned you, swallowing the lump that has made a sudden appearance in your throat.

"Sure. Can't beat the commute." He reaches around you, turning the doorknob to reveal another flight of stairs. "Do you want to go up?"

Flashes of that day are more vivid than they should be for memories two years old. The closet carpet is soft under your fingers as wet tears rain down on the glossy pages. Steve's voice gets closer as he calls out your name. A tightness grips your chest as you attempt to step back, momentarily forgetting that Eddie's right behind you. He supports you with a steadying hand on your hip as he faces you, seeking your reaction.

"No, that's okay. I think we're fine down here. I wouldn't want to disturb anyone," you say, attempting to sound confident as you wipe your palms along the sides of your jeans.

Eddie scratches the side of his head as his brow wrinkles. "Who do you think it up there?"

A hot breath passes your lips as you turn away, walking back down the hall toward Studio C. "I don’t know," you call over your shoulder, too chicken to face him. "Skyler Simmons. Rock royalty. Media darling. According to the magazines, your long-time girlfriend. The one you own a house with. Ring any bells? Isn’t she here with you?"

"My what? Skyler Simmons?" The deep belly laugh that follows has you spinning on your heels to face him.

"Wait. You’re serious?" His dimples make an appearance as his smile deepens. "Me and Skyler?" He can barely get her name out without chuckling.

"The one you’re photographed with constantly."

His brows shoot up. "Keeping tabs on me?"

"Oh, don’t flatter yourself," you huff. "It came up in my research. Do you have a relationship with her or not?"

"I know her," he offers, shaking his head, "She’s a friend. We go to the same group."

"What group? The one for annoying assholes."

He pauses, his arms crossing over his chest. "The one for people with addiction in their families. That okay with you?" His voice escalates. The simmering anger in his eyes mirrors the intensity of his tone. "Skyler is gay. Her girlfriend's usually hanging around, too. Does that mean I’m fucking her too? Jesus."

Frigid water clashes with your hot blood as the fight drains away. Glancing at your feet, your voice diminishes to barely more than a whisper. "Why hasn't she come out in the media?"

"Maybe because it’s none of anybody's fucking business." His piercing gaze bores into you as the sharp words land like heavy stones in the sour pit in your stomach. "Hold on," he waves a hand in front of you, "Why do you even care?"

"I don’t," your voice falters as the dishonest answer leaves you without hesitation. Your eyes trace the patterns on the floor. "It just makes for a better story, is all."

His hands run through his hair, fingers tugging on the ends as his tone softens. "Doll," he pauses, taking a deliberate step closer. His warm fingers cup your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. Those amber swirls, always seeing beyond your surface. "No one else is in my apartment, and no one else is gonna be."

His touch sends a searing heat spreading through your skin as the weight of your engagement ring pulls on your finger. "You’re a grown man, Eddie. Do whatever you want." Stepping back, his hand falls from your face as you turn and enter the studio.

"Fucking stubborn," the low murmur carries under his breath as he follows you inside.

"It looks like this one’s almost finished." You spin around the room, taking in the progress, before letting your bag slide down your shoulder and sinking onto the couch.

Gray triangles of acoustic foam now adorn the live room walls in contrasting patterns, and layers of soft carpeting line the floor. The mixing room's mural stands completed, and the furniture has all been placed.

His eyes move around the room, the pride evident on his face. "Just some wiring and the vocal booth, and I’ll be ready to start setting the levels."

"This one’s your favorite, I can tell," you shift, tucking a leg under you as he joins you on the couch.

"Shhh," he hushes you, raising a finger to his lips. "The others will get jealous."

Rolling your eyes, you pull your phone from your bag, open the recording app, and set it between you both.

"How does this work?" Eddie's eyes are fixed on your phone while he rubs the back of his neck.

"Well, typically," your hand slips back into your bag to retrieve the neatly stapled pages of your notes, "I ask a question, and you provide the answer." You set the pages in your lap, drawing in a steadying breath. He’s sitting in front of you with a key to a locked door – one that might be best left closed and forgotten, but it’s time to hear him out.

"Eddie Munson interview, part one."

"Mr. Munson." You slip into your most professional tone. "Thank you for granting us an interview during this busy time. All of us at Stax are very excited to welcome CursedSound to Chicago."

He leans forward, his voice dropping slightly in timber as a much smoother, older Eddie begins to answer, "Thank you. I always have time for my favorite magazine." He winks.

Your lips press into a line as you tilt your head to the side, taking a quick glance at your packet. "In April 2003, Fever to Tell was released by a relatively new band and a completely unknown sound engineer. It went on to sell over a million copies, putting The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and the name Eddie Munson on industry minds. Fever to Tell is still, to date, one of my favorite albums. Were you aware of the significant impact this record would have when you were working on it?"

"At the time, we were really just hopeful, you know? We believed in the music we were creating. Karen and Nick, and Brian flew out from New York with their last dime, and we just got to work. Karen had this kind of raw, untamed energy, and I wanted to capture that, to add an edge to the album. It was this post-punk dance-floor-friendly racket that injected a much-needed dose of authenticity into a musical era that was getting stagnant."

"It's not an exaggeration to say that record helped shape the direction of indie and alternative rock for years to come. But what I want to ask is you before all that. What was the road like moving from Hawkins to having your dreams come true in LA? Was this the path you first set out on, or were there curves in the road?"

"I think 'curves' is a generous term for the absolute shit choices I was making for myself back then," he chuckles. "As you know, I left Hawkins about a year after I graduated. That town had already decided I would never be anything more than a freak– a loser with no future. If I had stayed, that's exactly what would have happened. I was trying to outrun my past without a clue what I wanted for my future. I had my own band back then, and sometimes, we’d open for slightly bigger bands that rolled through town. One of them was about to tour and invited me to go as their one and only roadie, and it felt like a free ticket out."

"Bananafish," you interject, swallowing and glancing down at your notes.

"Yeah, Bananafish. God, they sucked. Did you know they started as a Spin Doctors tribute band?"

"No," you laugh, "And that wasn’t a red flag for you?"

"It should have been. I wasn’t with them for long anyway. I think I lasted for three weeks before they cut me loose for getting in a fight with the drummer." He pauses, shaking his head. "I never knew when to shut my mouth. At that point, they had hooked up with another band called Everly. Slightly better, but not by much. I managed to hold it together for a few months. I was high or drunk most of the time, the only reason they kept me around was because they liked the way I babied their instruments."

"I remember,” you nod. “You’d spend half an hour polishing that Warlock every day after school."

"Got to treat a lady right if you want her to sing for you," he says with a sly rise and fall of his brows, draping an arm over the back of the couch, shrinking the space between you.

"I was surprised that you left it behind."

Eddie's expression turns more solemn. "There were a lot of things I wished I could’ve taken with me. But back then, I couldn’t even take care of myself."

"I don’t believe that," you swallow, the words sticking in your throat, "You could have tried."

"If I had tried, they would’ve ended up broken, and I’d‘ve lost them anyway." His fingers brush your shoulder, and you flinch. The leather creaks as you sit back against the arm of the couch, just out of reach.

"Back to Everly. Why did you part ways?"

"Oh, well, I fucked it up, of course. They had landed a spot at Bonnaroo, and I got so fucked up the night before I missed sound check. When I managed to pick myself up off the floor of the van, they handed me my duffel and a twenty and told me to pound sand." His eyes drift away, fixating on a point across the room. "I had barely been outside of Indiana, and there I was, stuck on some farm in Manchester, Tennessee, with no ride, no money, and no one to call. I was angry at the world and never felt more alone. People always talk about hitting rock bottom, I thought that was it, but now that I look back, it was more of a crossroads. If I had followed that darker path, there would have been no coming back. I was wandering around backstage where they park buses, hungover, maybe still half in the bag, and that’s when I met Max."

"Max Navarro?" You shuffle through the pages of your notes.

"Yeah. You know him?" Eddie’s eyes brighten as his gaze drops to the pages in your lap.

Your head turns from side to side. "You referred to him as a mentor in the Stones interview, but I couldn’t find much on him besides his name being listed as an audio engineer for several tours."

"That’s Max." Eddie breaks into a smile. "He’d tell you he likes flying under the radar. He was hanging out in front of the bus playing guitar with a couple of guys when I walked over like a cocky shit, picked one up, and started playing. He gave me something to smoke, and it wasn’t weed. All I know is that I woke up face-down in the dirt the next morning. I don’t know if he liked me or just felt bad for me, but he dragged me on the bus and had me start assisting him with the sound for Faith No More."

"Faith No More? Are you kidding me?" Your hands fall to your lap, slapping against your thighs, jostling the cushion enough for your phone to slide toward the back of the couch. "You had their poster in your room. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you had a charmed life."

"Well, even the sun shines on a dog's ass some days," he laughs.

"So Max is who taught you about engineering?"

"Max is who taught me about everything." His voice holds a reverence when he says his name. "He kept an eye on me. Showed me how to work the boards. He said he could see shadows following me around, so when we got to LA, he took me out to the desert, fed me some tea, and exercised my demons."

"Did it work?" Max wasn't the only one to see shadows looming. Consequences of decisions made by others. Expectations of a community that turned its back. They clung to him like an impenetrable fog.

"I’m not sure. I felt lighter after, but it could have been the gallon of water I sweat out," he chuckles. "After that, he cashed in a favor and got me an internship with a small studio in Laurel Canyon. I parked cars at night and lived in a room the size of a closet at Max’s house. I worked my ass off. I went to therapy–"

"How very L.A. of you," you chime in.

"Don’t knock it until you try it." He looks at you from under raised brows. "It’s, uh, good to talk about things. Be open, you know?"

"No thanks. I tried that once," you tell him pointedly, the tightness in your chest returning, "It didn’t work out for me."

Your arrow hit the target. Regret flashes in his eyes. "Doll–"

"You decided to stay in L.A. and work at a studio instead of going back out on the road?"

"I like studio sessions. Makes me feel like I’m working towards something. I like completing an album and putting it out in the world. Some people thrive being out on tour, like Max. Not me," he scratches at his chin. "Too many ghosts on those old roads."

Like the ones back in Hawkins that jolt you awake in the dead of night, murmuring past shames of a lovesick and foolish girl. Robin had seen it, and so had the entire town, but you aren’t her any longer. She lies resting beneath the frigid earth, her memory an unmarked grave. You've moved forward, and you’ll never go back, the city drowns out the remains of her cries.

"So you stayed and built your life there," you conclude, flipping through the pages of your notes, ticking off the points from your outline.

Eddie leans back, a contemplative look on his face. "I guess you could say that. I got my own place, made some great friends. Sundays are for Max's family and Chile relleno. The weather is always beautiful. But I really stayed for the music,” he shrugs. “Have you been? I could take you some time. Show you around. Max would love to meet you, the girl I won’t shut up about. I think you’d like it there."

The girl he hasn’t bothered to call in a decade. "To Los Angeles?" Your gaze rises from your notes to meet his nodding response. "I've been a few times. With Steve. Mostly for work."

"Oh yeah. Makes sense." His jaw tightens, and he averts his gaze. "Well, I guess the rest is history. Is that enough for your story?"

"Yeah." You reach for your phone, tapping the red square to stop the recording. "It will be a great opening piece for the series." You pick up your messenger, hauling its weight into your lap, tucking your notes inside. The afternoon is ending on a flat note. A stone sits on your tongue, holding back questions that you lack the courage to ask, but maybe it’s better this way.

Eddie sits up suddenly, snapping his fingers. "Speaking of history, I want to show you something." He stands up, looking towards the door and back at you, "Um.. wait here, okay? I’ll just be a minute."

"Okay-"

He holds up flat palms. "Don’t go anywhere." His eyes close as he winces, " I mean, you can wander around if you want. Just don’t leave."

"Eddie-"

"I’ll be back." He holds up one finger as he exits the room.

With a sigh, you push up from your thighs, rising to your feet, walking through to the live room where a drum kit stands at the ready. The snare looks a little worn, and the symbols have lost their shine. Your nails tap the high hat, and you smile at the shimmering sound.

"What am I doing?" You whisper, spinning the gold band on your finger.

The sound of the floor creaking echoes through the hall. Eddie enters the room with the large box he's carrying obscuring his upper half. His name written in Wayne's shaky handwriting, peeking out from underneath his fingers.

"What's all this?" You ask as he sets down the box with a heave in the center of the room and sinks to his knees, hovering over the taped flaps.

"I have no idea," he grins mischievously. "Wayne gave it to me when I stopped by last week and told him I would see you. But you know him, he never throws stuff out. It could be anything." His hand smoothes over the top as he raises a brow. "Wanna find out?"

Your hands slide over your jean-covered thighs before your feet carry you forward. "Mrs. Click better not be in there."

His head tips back with laughter. "I make no promises," he jokes while you take a seat on the floor on the side of the box.

His mouth quirks up, watching you get comfortable. With a fluid motion, he leans and grabs a box cutter beside the soundboard. His shirt lifts slightly, offering a glimpse of hair trailing down his belly and the sculpted muscle beside his hips. His tongue lightly grazes his upper lip as he expertly flicks the knife open, his jeans snug on the contours of his strong thighs. Exhaling slowly, you avert your eyes, scanning the room instead as you wait for him to slice the tape.

"Score!" He pulls out the ragged-edged sheet that was folded and tucked into the top of the box. "Corroded Coffin," he reads aloud the words scrawled across it with something resembling shoe polish.

"Oh no," you laugh, your head turning side to side as you rock in your seat.

"Hey. This is rare band memorabilia. It’s probably worth money," he defends, holding it up proudly.

"Yeah, to the guy you have to pay to haul it away," you giggle.

"Alright, Alright," he folds it up, the smile never leaving his face as he reaches into the box. "These are yours." He pulls out a stack of comic books and hands them to you.

"Still in good shape." You thumb through the copies of Tank Girl and Witchblade.

"My campaigns." He pulls out a pile of notebooks and sets them aside before reaching back in. "Some CDs." He comes out with a hand wrapped around a stack of jewel cases, the one on top catching your eye.

"Hey, that’s my Cranberries Cd!" Your fingers dig into the carpet as you tip forward, yanking it from his hand. "I looked for this everywhere. I knew you took it, you thief."

"I don’t know how that got there," he scratches his head, "You must have left in the van."

"Nice try, Munson." your eyes narrow, "I checked there." You lean over the box, poking a finger into his chest, "I knew you had a crush on Dolores."

"You got me. It was the accent," he admits with a grin full of dimples, his hand closing around your finger.

"I’m keeping it." You drop back into your seat and pick up the case to examine the disc.

"Holy shit."

You raise your head to meet his wide chocolate eyes, a look of sheer delight written across his face. "Close your eyes," he instructs, pulling back the flaps of the box, hiding whatever he's found.

"Mrs. Click?" You set the CD on top of the comics.

"Better," he says excitedly, waving a hand toward your face. “Come on. Close your eyes."

"Fine." You leave one eye open, folding your hands in your lap.

"No peeking." He wags a finger.

Your lips purse as you close your other lid, waiting for the big reveal. Plastic clanks against something heavy, followed by the rustle of cardboard.

"Okay. Open."

"Daisy!" Your hands fly to your mouth before you reach out with wiggling fingers.

He winces as he hands over the two-foot garden gnome. "How can you call something so ugly a pretty name like that?"

Taking the heavy lawn ornament in both hands, you gaze down at her droopy hat and too-large ears, which stick straight out beside her bulging eyes and porcine nose. Her rubbery lips are pulled back in a smile, showing off her buck teeth and flowery dress that barely conceals her body.

"She's beautiful." You cradle her in your arms. "Besides, you're the one who stole her."

"You’re the one who dared me to," he scoffs.

Your cheeks already ache with an unrestrained smile as the memories from that night surface. "I didn’t think you were going to wake up the whole neighborhood crashing into the bushes in Mr. Lawson’s yard."

"I was drunk," he defends, his face turning red.

"You tripped over your feet and ripped your pants," you gasp for air, trying to get the words out with your laughter, "You had on those Garfield boxers with the hearts."

"Of course, you remember that." His laughter joins yours, easy and familiar. "You're the one that woke up the neighbors, making the van backfire."

"It was the first time I drove, and I didn’t have a license." You clutch Daisy tightly to your chest as you try to catch your breath. "Mr. Larson came out in his bathrobe, screaming about shooting you in the ass."

Eddie shakes his head as you laugh at his expense. "He almost caught us when you stalled out. All for that hideous thing."

"Shh," you cover her ears with your hands. "You can’t get rid of her."

"Never," he agrees, reaching out for her. "I’ll find her place of honor around here somewhere."

"Put her on your nightstand," you suggest, handing her over.

"Ugh," he says, setting her aside, "I’ll have nightmares."

You burst into laughter once more, and his eyes ignite. He smiles like he’s savoring every sound, like your happiness is a hard-earned treasure he's been longing for.

The shards of the past press against the scar tissue encasing your heart as if struggling to free themselves and reassemble in the present. Your hand finds its way to your chest, pressing gently on the tender center, trying to quell the ache and remain in this moment—with him.

"What else? What else?" You clap your hands, bouncing in your spot.

"Okay, okay," he gives in, happy to indulge you. "Um, a pack of crayons, a monopoly piece." He places them aside. "Thanks, Wayne. Could have done without that. Looks like some clothes. Oh, this is yours." He tosses a ball of red fabric at you, and you catch it with both hands before he continues to search through the box.

"Is this what I think it is?" His voice brims with excitement as he pulls a rectangular tin from the box. He shakes it, and a sharp sound follows. "Yes." His tongue sticks out from the corner of his mouth as he pries off the lid.

His voice fades into the background as your focus turns to what you're holding. The fabric of your Musicland vest unfurls as you hold it out in front of you, the gold name tag still pinned to the front catching the light. A heavy sensation settles in your stomach, tightening and cramping as a sick, painful feeling creeps in and spreads — nausea churns as each inhale becomes battle.

There’s a scrape of metal as the lid pops off. "Polaroids," Eddie declares, his attention lost to the thrill of his find as he flips through the stack of photographs.

Your heart races as the room seems to shrink. "Stop it," you whisper, your voice quivering, your trembling hands twisting the vest as if folding it small enough can make the pain disappear.

"They’re pretty faded, though," he goes on, unaware.

"I said, that's enough!" The balled-up vest flies from your hands, landing back in the box. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you push yourself up on unsteady legs. "I need to leave."

Eddie's laughter dies in his throat as he looks up, the joy in his eyes replaced by confusion. "Wait a minute." He gets to his feet and follows you. The small pile you made topples over, forgotten as you pick up your bag from the couch. "What just happened?" He moves in front of you, blocking your path. "I thought we were having fun."

"Fun?" The word is a shard of ice. Without hesitation, you sling your bag over your shoulder and maneuver past him towards the door.

“Just hold on a minute.” He blocks your path again, hands up, eyes searching yours for answers. “Tell me what's going on.”

"What do you want?" The words slice the air, eyes locked, a bare blade of anger.

"I wanted to-" His eyes flick toward the abandoned box in the center of the room.

"No." Your head shakes, "Why are you here? Now? After all this time? What do you want from me?"

"I just wanted to see you." His arms cross over his chest as his voice turns softer. "I missed my friend."

"Your friend," sarcasm drips from your words as you quirk a brow, "So you show up here with a box of crap and a ‘hey doll’,” your voice lowers to mock him, "And I’m supposed to what? Forget about everything that happened and hand you a clean slate. Drop everything in my life to follow you around like a puppy because you feel like paying me some attention?"

"That’s not…I’m not asking for that." His hand runs through his curls, frustration building in his tone.

"I'm not going to sit here with you wandering down memory lane and watch you pretend like you cared." Your eyes sting, but tears won't fall. You've shed your last one for him long ago. "Like any of it mattered."

"No one's pretending here, doll." He steps closer, his hands falling to his side, fingers rubbing at the seam of his jeans. "Of course, it mattered—all of it."

Your bag falls from your shoulder with a resounding thud, its weight matching your resolve as you push your hand against his chest. "I don't believe that for a second. If it mattered, you never could have done what you did."

"Done what?"

"Left me!" Your hand lands flat across your heart. "Without a goodbye, just some shitty mixtape full of songs that I can't listen to without my heart breaking over and over."

"You're right, okay." His voice rises to match your volume, his fingers closing around your biceps. "I was a fucking coward, and I ran. I couldn't see that look on your face again, the one you had when I told you I was leaving. I should’ve said goodbye, but I knew you'd try to convince me to stay, and that was never going to happen. I'm sorry I hurt you, but I can't be sorry I left."

"Hurt me?" You push his hands away, taking a step back to control the cracking in your voice. "You didn't just hurt me, Eddie. You destroyed me."

He swallows, looking away. "You were better off."

Fresh anger surges, along with the strong desire to escape – to leave this dead and buried, maybe for another decade until the hurt isn’t so strong.

"See, that right there is why I'll never believe you," you snap, pointing an accusatory finger his way as you step around him, your hand closing around the doorknob. But at the last moment, you turn, wanting him to hear it. At least once.

"I didn't quit Musicland. I got fired. I was a mess after you left. I cried for days, but I clung to this pathetic hope that you’d call to explain everything. To say it wasn't the end for us. You wouldn’t just throw me away, right? Not after everything we had been through together. I wouldn't leave my room, not even to eat. I was so afraid that the second I left, the phone would ring."

There's regret in his eyes as he steps forward, getting closer until he can touch you again, one hand gently gliding up your arm.

"But that call never came, did it, Eddie? Not one. And every day that passed, I died a little. But then I wasn't sad anymore. All those tears, they turned to hate," you say coldly, locking your gaze with his. "I hated you. I hated every song that came on the radio, reminding me of you. I hated Hawkins and everyone in it. But most of all, I hated myself for trusting you. For believing that you ever cared about me. That I wasn’t alone. That's what you did to me, Eddie.”

“You made me hate myself."

"I’m so sorry, doll," his words barely crest the silence as his gentle hand cradles your jaw. “There’s so much I want to explain to you.”

His touch is hot, but inside you, a coldness lingers–inside your stone. "You kissed me. And then you left me the next day. You knew how I felt."

"I know. I know. I’m sorry." He steps closer, trying to pull your rigid form into his arms, lips brushing your temple. "You don’t even know how much. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing. Trying to make it up to you. But you’re wrong. It all mattered. I did care. That kiss..it’s the reason…" He pulls back and looks into your eyes, "You knew me, you always did, but there were things I couldn’t tell you. Things I couldn’t admit even to myself. I was scared and angry all the time."

Your head shakes as you swallow hard. "You're not even real!" You shout in his face, your fingers clutching the doorknob behind you. Spinning, you tug hard, but his hand slams against the door above your head, keeping it shut.

"Stop, doll," he pleads. “Let me explain,” but the push-pull intensifies. You're no match for his strength. "Stop it!" he yells. His hand pushes on your shoulder, turning you to face him. Anger flashes in his eyes, and his cheeks flush.

"I made you up.”

“No.”

“The boy I knew could never have done that. He could never have hurt me like that." Your shoulder jerks, breaking his hold as you attempt to turn away again.

His fingers wrap around the side of your neck, keeping you in place. "That boy could never have given you what you wanted. He wouldn’t have had the first clue how to handle you."

"Is that why you’re back?" You ask, still defiant even as his thumb presses into your throat, tipping your head to meet his gaze. "Dragging this all up again, ruining my life? Because you do?"

"Damn right, I do."

His words are a gravelly assertion, barely escaping before his mouth descends toward yours. For a heartbeat, the world pauses until your mouths finally meet — urgent and fierce. You part your lips eagerly, tongues finding their way together in a hungry and unapologetic dance. The firm pressure of his mouth moving in sync with yours is a spark, igniting a fire that seems to spread with each touch. The scent of clove and cedar leaves you lightheaded as the flames lick through your body. The scruff on his cheek is a rasp against your skin, a roughness contrasting with the smoothness of his kiss. He tastes like cinnamon and a hint of coffee. This kiss is filled with years of longing, swelling and crashing like an orchestra's finale.

Minutes slip away, yet your greedy mouths remain desperate. The room falls into a hushed stillness, save for the sharp intakes of breath and the sensuous wet slide of lips. The kisses seem endless, broken only by fleeting gasps for air, compelling you to pull each other closer, savoring every taste. Your fingers tangle in the soft waves at the nape of his neck, evoking a low, guttural groan that mingles with your shared breaths when you tug. His hands trace the curves of your body, touching every inch as they follow a path beyond your hips and ass, seizing the back of your thighs. With a firm grasp, he lifts you, pressing you against the unyielding door. You gasp as he positions you just how he wants — aligning himself hot and hard against your center.

"Fuck," he growls against your lips as his hips roll, igniting fireworks through your body. Your eyes flutter shut, and a kaleidoscope of colors burst in the darkness.

He nips at the plush of your bottom lip, teeth grazing in a tender claim, a muted buzz begins in your bag—a sharp, insistent sting—that yanks you from the haze back into the real world. His eyes remain closed when you pull away. He leans closer, chasing your mouth, but the moment is already shattered.

Your stomach plummets as the harsh reality sets in. His kiss now tastes like the ash of betrayal. The distressed whimper escaping your throat finally has him looking at you, shock written clearly across his features. Slowly, he releases you, your body sliding against his until your feet meet the floor. He takes a step back, hesitating, swallowing, "Doll —"

"No." You shake your head, your hands covering your mouth. The gold band on your fourth finger is a cool scorch against your swollen lips. "I have to go." You spring into motion, rushing to gather your bag.

"Stay, and we can talk about this," he implores, moving one hand to his hip while the other rakes through his hair.

"Please don’t," you plead. "Don’t ask me for anything else." You swing the strap over your shoulder. "I just ch—" But the word stays stuck in your throat, as your eyes swim with tears.

His face falls, "It's not your fault, okay? I kissed you."

"Eddie—"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was me," he insists, frustration in his voice as you scrub your face with your hands. "I don't want you driving when you're upset."

"I'm sorry," you say with an aching heart, pushing past him and closing the door behind you.

The sidewalk blurs under your feet as you race to your car. Fat raindrops splatter against the concrete like a spray of gunfire, each one a cold, wet slap against your skin. The sky chooses this moment to crack open, unleashing a torrent that feels personal. Your car comes into view, a bright orange ticket flapping under the wiper. Perfect. Just perfect.

With hands slick from the rain, you fumble with your keys before throwing yourself into the driver’s seat. Snatching the ticket from under the wiper as you go and crumpling it into your fist, stuffing it into the glovebox to be dealt with later. The downpour drums on the roof, enclosing you in a watery cocoon as you search through your bag for your phone. A missed call from Steve and a text reminding you about the dry cleaning. You spill the contents of your messenger onto the passenger seat, pens and lip gloss tumbling into the footwell. "Shit!" The word is a half-sob as you clutch the receipt marked with today's hours in unforgiving black ink.

Glancing at the clock on your dash, it hits you with the subtlety of a wrecking ball– six minutes until closing. It might as well be in another time zone, given the snarled rush hour traffic and the river that the streets have become. Your car roars to life, and you pull out onto the roadway, tires hissing on wet asphalt, windshield wipers barely keeping up with the deluge. Your skin still sings with Eddie’s touch, but it's the burgeoning storm of words—cheater, adulterer, betrayer—mixed with the soft hazel of Steve’s disappointed eyes that tattoo themselves across your conscience. This is the unforgivable sin, and you can't undo it, but you'll be damned if you don't at least try.

You're double-parked now, hazards blinking a frantic rhythm. The 'CLOSED' sign on the dry cleaner's door mocks you as you rattle the unrelenting metal handle. "Please, please, please," you whisper, pounding on the uncaring glass, your unheard pleas bouncing off the empty shadows within. A car horn cuts through the rain —"What the fuck, lady?" The other driver yells, uncaring of your predicament.

"I'm moving, I'm moving!" The words are a rain-soaked shout as you slosh back to your car, drenched and defeated.

Another angry horn sounds off as you pull into traffic, carelessly cutting off a Yellow Cab in your haste. Rainwater drips from your hair, soaking your shirt. Even with the heater set to blast, it does little against the chill that has settled deep in your bones. Down the road, a bright blue sign glows like a beacon, and you jerk the steering wheel, the car fishtailing as you skid into the lot.

The pharmacy's fluorescent lights are too bright and too sterile as you grab a small bottle of mouthwash off the shelf in the travel section and wait in line to pay, the store's generic electronic music grating against your already frayed nerves. Outside, you stand on the corner, swishing and spitting the minty liquid onto the sidewalk, repeating the process, trying to cleanse more than just your mouth. A passerby wrinkles their nose at you from under their umbrella. "This is Chicago! You've seen worse!" You snap, arms thrown up in exasperation while the rain and your regrets mingle on the cold pavement.

With pruney fingers, you pull the cardigan you had left at Stax off the back of your office chair. Shrugging it on, the material dampens from your wet t-shirt but offers a little warmth. Your phone buzzes as you settle at your desk — five missed calls from Eddie and four texts. The roar of the heavy rain and being buried deep in your bag had muffled its sound, not that you would have picked up.

Eddie: Answer the phone, doll!

Eddie: Look, I need to know that you’re okay.

Eddie: I swear to Christ if you don’t pick up.

Eddie: Okay, have it your way. I’m driving to your place.

What? No! Your thumb presses the call button, and it rings twice before it connects. There’s no hello, just the slight hum of an engine and the rain pelting glass.

“I’m okay,” you breathe into your phone, “I didn’t go home. I’m at my office.”

Your heart drums in your ears with each second of silence. Your eyes flutter shut, relief flooding you when he finally responds. An exhale loosens the tension in your chest. His voice resonates in a dark rumble through the phone, "We need to talk."

“I….I know,” your voice wavers as you wipe your nose on the back of your hand. “I just need a minute here, Ed. Can you give me some time?”

The rhythmic blink of the turn signal punctuates his heavy sigh. “Yeah. Alright. But doll,” he pauses as the sound of water splashing against his vehicle mingles with the whoosh of passing traffic, “You’re not running away from this. And trust me, the irony of that statement isn’t lost on me. Think about what I said, okay? I meant it all.”

With a tight throat, you whisper, "I have to go," and disconnect the call.

Placing your phone on the desk, you dab the raindrops off your face with a tissue. The quiet of the office wraps around you, its half-dark corners and the soft glow from the monitors creates a place for you to breathe and be still. The raging storm and the ticking wall clock echoing in the solitude do little to distract you from thoughts you’re not ready to face. With a deep breath, you lift the lid of your laptop, seeking refuge in the normalcy of work as you coax the screen back to life.

The song erupts from the speaker on the edge of your desk, a jolt of sound shattering the silence like an accusation. You grab it with fumbling fingers, scrambling to press the off button. Covering your face with your hands, you let out a sound that is equal parts sob and hysterical laughter, wondering how you ended up in this situation. With your elbows pressed against the wooden top, you bury your face in your hands.

“What are you doing here, kid?” The gruff voice cuts through your misery.

"Jesus Christ, Hopper," you gasp, clutching at your chest, "You scared the hell out of me."

"Guess we're even since Mr. Brightside nearly sent me into cardiac arrest." Hopper towers over you, standing beside your desk with his hands buried in his pockets.

“You listen to The Killers?” You ask, surprised while he drags a chair from the next desk, its wheels screeching faintly against the concrete floor.

“You kids really think Jim Croce is the only thing on my playlist?” A chuckle escapes him as he eases into the chair beside you, “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

You muster a puzzled look, shaking your head in feigned denial.

“Don’t bullshit me, kid. I don’t have much time. I’m meeting Joyce for dinner at that Italian place on Taylor Street. Have I told you about it? I’ve been dreaming about the breadsticks. Enzo puts some spice on ‘em, I don’t know what it is, but it’s good. You dip it in olive oil,” he groans, “Forget about it. Those things knock your socks off, and I’m wavering on the main course between—”

“I need you to take me off the studio opening,” you interrupt, folding your arms across your chest.

“We’ve been over this. Unless you have some good reason–”

“Eddie kissed me,” the confession slips out, eyes widening in shock at your admission, hands flying to cover your mouth.

His brows rocket upwards, then draw together, his gaze sharpening, voice dipping into a low, protective timbre, “What do you mean he kissed you?”

“No,” you clarify, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing an elbow against the desk, massaging your temple to soothe the forming headache. “I kissed him. We kissed. It was mutual.”

Hopper reclines, the chair creaking under his weight, his gaze level and unreadable. “I’m disappointed in you, kid. I never thought I’d be having a conversation like this with you.”

“I know. I know. Steve…” you trail off, eyes drifting to the photo of Steve on your desk.

Hopper leans in, his hand cutting through the air. “I don’t give a fuck about Harrington,” each word gains in volume, “This is about you and everything you’ve worked for. It’s 2012. That kind of nonsense ends careers. Do you know what can happen if he complains?”

Your eyes roll. “He’s not going to complain, Hop.”

“You don’t know that,” he counters, his head shaking off your naivety. “These things like this have a way of coming out. That was an amateur move. Where is your professionalism? What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, lowering your eyes. “We have more of a history than I let on.”

“Well, stop the presses. I couldn’t have figured that one out.” His voice lowers in resignment, “Maybe this is my fault–”

“No–”

Your protest is swift, but he plows right over you, “I’ve babied you. Maybe it’s because you’re my favorite or because you were just a kid when you started. I let you get away with too much over the years because you’re a damn good writer. But that stops now, I’m going to treat you like all the rest of the idiots in this place.” His hand waves around the room before pointing right at you. “You’re going back to that studio, and you’re going to keep your dick in your pants and get those interviews done. If you want to play kissy face, you do it on your own time. You got me?”

Your mouth drops open, disbelief palpable. “You're still going to make me finish?”

“Damm, right I am,” Hopper affirms, not missing a beat. "If I hand your work off, it raises questions. Big, messy questions. What do I tell downtown when they ask why the piece was reassigned? Unless you’re ready to come clean to Harrington?”

Your lip goes between your teeth as your head shakes.

“I thought so.” Hopper leans back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "This could be both our necks," he mutters, concern filling his voice.

Your head shakes, but your determination is clear. "It won't."

“It better not. I don’t want to hear another word about it until that last story is on my desk. Are we clear?”

Your jaw clenches, the reality of the situation hitting hard. "Crystal."

Hopper's gaze remains fixed on you, ensuring his point has been made. "Good," he says, his voice softening, "Now go on, get out of here. Deal with whatever mess you've got going on. Just make sure it's sorted by Monday."

Your key slides into the lock and you turn it slowly, the tumblers falling into place with a series of soft clicks. You pause, leaning your forehead against the chill of the metal door, grappling with a rising queasiness that sours your stomach.

A wave of home's warmth engulfs you, mingled with the earthy aroma of herbs and roasting potatoes. The vibrant strains of Queen accompany Steve's honeyed tones floating down the hall from the kitchen.

"Welcome home, ace. I was beginning to wonder where you were," his voice, laced with a touch of concern, greets you, “Busy day? Did you write me a Pulitzer?”

Your messenger bag slides from your shoulder, giving into gravity with a loud smack against the hardwood.

His voice grows nearer, warmer as he moves down the hall, the floor lightly creaking with each footfall. “I swung by the Athenian Room, grabbed us Chicken Kalamata, and I have a bottle of Chardonnay breathing.”

Your favorite. Your heart sinks further, receding behind your ribcage, unworthy of his care or devotion.

He stops short when he rounds the corner into the foyer, taking you in, his eyes reflecting your disheveled state.

"I didn’t get the dry cleaning," you admit, struggling to keep your voice steady. "I was... too late."

For a heartbeat, he's silent, but his eyes remain tender. “Hey, that's alright, ace. I'll just skip the gym in the morning and swing by the cleaners before work. Are you okay?”

Traces of the day find a path down your cheeks as you sniffle and draw the cardigan tighter around yourself. "I got caught in the storm."

“Did you forget your coat?” He draws closer as you give a small nod. His hands slide up your biceps, continuing on to wrap around you. “You're frozen.” He uses his thumb to lift your chin. “How about a hot shower, yeah? I'll keep dinner warm. You'll feel better after you eat.” His mouth begins to near yours, but you turn your face away.

"I think I'm coming down with something," you manage, your lies teetering atop your mounting guilt. "My throat is sore."

Concern etches his features, his brows knitting together as he adjusts, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You don't feel hot.”

Pulling away, you bury your face into his shoulder. "I think I'll just shower and go to bed."

“If that's what you want,” he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, though his tone is threaded with disappointment. “Go on up. I'll bring you some water and a couple of Tylenol.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you step away with a weight in your chest. “I'm really sorry.”

“Don't worry about it.” He waves off your apology, his smile faint but sincere. His arms fold over his chest as he turns back toward the kitchen.

As you climb the stairs, the music snaps off, replaced with the distant roar of a sports game, the announcers' voices carrying up the stairwell.

The embrace of the hot shower strips away the cold clinging to your skin, but it cannot wash away the regret. Sliding down the tiles, you draw your knees close while your tears fall, mixing with the stream of water spiraling towards the drain.

Your life is a song made up of the choices you've made, each one a different note that sounded so sure at the time, but now the harmony seems slightly off-key. The steam rises around you like a specter. It's the quiet between the chords. And you're there, just listening, trying to figure out if there's a note you'd change or if every single one was necessary. As you nestle into bed, sleep tugging like an insistent tide amidst the drift into dreams, one truth resonates clear– the music plays on.

Song 5 coming this week! Follow @tornupdates for notifications

Thanks for indulging me with this new version. I wanted to get it right. This next chapter is going to be Steve's launch party and will explore the fallout from that kiss. I love each and every one of you and I hope Torn!Eddie makes an appearance in your sweetest of dreams. -Jelly

#steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson smut #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #torn series

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