#I WAS AT THE SPEAK NOW TOUR!!!!!! I DESERVE TO BE THERE!!!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Congrats on 1000 you deserve 10000000 and I love you very many ♥️ for the requests:

J, mafia AU, smut, ring

You know how I like it 😉😘

Mickala!!! 😍😭💖

Thank you so much, I couldn't have made it without all of your lovely support. I'm so happy to have found you as a friend. Hope you enjoy my silly little Mafia AU!

Coup d'etat

Rated: E

Words: 999

Tags: Mafia AU; dark Eddie Munson; intrigue; blood and violence; bondage; nudity; explicit sexual content; consensual non-con

“Nice pool,” Eddie drawls, walking back from the patio into the house. “Could’ve made a bit more of an effort to clean it. I said to leave the place as you’d like to find it, Dick.”

Richard Harrington’s eyes scream bloody murder, but he doesn’t dare speak. Jeff and Frank have him flanked on either side, guns ready in their holsters, and Gareth is manning the door. Just a precaution. Harrington has been in the business for long enough to know he has lost. All of his most loyal henchmen are dead or on the run, and the more fickle ones have joined Eddie’s side.

“Aw, don’t pout.” Eddie pats the man's cheek jovially. “This is just how it works. Survival of the fittest and all that. Now, I believe that concludes our little tour of the house? Or am I forgetting something?” 

Harrington’s face twitches. Jeff laughs and rolls his eyes. 

“The bedroom, Eddie?”

“Ah, of course!” Eddie snaps his fingers, like he only just remembered. “Shall we, gentlemen?”

*

A giant bed dominates the far wall of the master bedroom. On the mattress, wrists tied to the headboard, is a boy. The soft, muted light glows off his naked skin. 

“Ah,” Eddie mutters. “That’s what I’m talking about. Turns out you can follow directions.”

Harrington says nothing. The boy, who stopped tearing at his restraints when he heard the door open, stares at him with wide, panicked eyes. 

“Dad? What- … Who are those people?”

Eddie coos. With a few long strides, he’s at the bed, sinking down onto the mattress. One of his hands finds the boy’s bare ankle, sliding up his leg to a firm, freckled thigh.

“Aw, darling. He didn’t tell you?” 

“Tell me what? Leave me alone, perv!”

The boy tries to shy away from his touch, but he doesn’t get far, bound in place as he is. Eddie chuckles. 

“Shhh, honey,” he scolds, cradling that pretty face with both hands. “It's okay. The name's Eddie, I work for your dad. Well, worked.”

The boy blinks at him, hazel eyes large and confused. Eddie laughs softly.

“See, the firm’s under new management. My management, to be more specific. I’m trying to keep it minimum bloodshed, so your old man’s gonna make himself scarce and I’ve agreed not to bother him. In return, I get to keep this fine house … and everything in it.” 

Understanding dawns in those pretty eyes. 

“No! Don't- don't touch me. Stay away from me.” 

Eddie makes a soft shushing sound and wipes the first tears away as they spill over.

“Oh no, sweet thing. It’ll be alright, I promise. I’ll take such good care of- wait a sec.” 

Because one of his hands has just slipped up to the boy's temple, fingers carding through thick, chestnut hair - only to come away red and sticky. The boy flinches, but Eddie grabs his jaw, holding him in place so that he can comb his hair aside. There’s a large, bleeding bruise on his temple. For a moment, the only sound in the room is that of the boy's hitched breathing. 

“Dick?” Eddie growls. “Explain this?” 

“He fought back,” Harrington mutters defiantly. “What was I supposed-” 

Eddie has him up against the wall, gun to his throat, before he can finish the sentence. 

“Are you kidding me? Trying to slip me damaged goods? I should fucking kill you, you son of a-” 

“Eddie,” Frank mutters. “C'mon, man.”  

Eddie blinks. 

“Right,” he says. “Get him out of my sight.” 

Relief washes over Harrington’s face as the gun disappears from his throat - only to be replaced by incredulous horror a second later, when Eddie holds out his hand before his face, palm up. 

“Go on, Dick. It's traditional, right? A sign of respect.”

Harrington growls. His hands curl into fists. Eddie smirks, raising an expectant eyebrow. Then, quickly, as if the touch will burn him, Harrington bows his head and kisses Eddie’s rings. 

“Not so hard, was it?” Eddie calls after him as he is escorted out. The door clicks shut. 

Eddie's smile slips. 

“Shit, Stevie,” he breathes. He's back on the bed in an instant, tilting the boy's head with gentle fingers to look at the injury. “What'd you go and do that for? I told you not to fight.” 

“And I told you it had to look convincing,” Steve retaliates. “Was I just supposed to let them tie me up and tear off my clothes and thank them for it?” 

Eddie's mouth twists into a grin. 

“We both know that's how you like it, honey.” 

He leans in, claiming those plush lips for a long, filthy kiss. Steve puts up a brief symbolic struggle, but Eddie growls warningly and slips a hand between his legs, and his protests turn into the sweetest little moans. Eddie only allows them to part once they're both out of breath and Steve is starting to buck and grind in his hold.

“Everything went well, then?” Steve asks. His voice is hoarse and raspy, and he needs to stop halfway through for another moan. “The- … the security codes all worked?” 

“Flawlessly, you sly little minx,” Eddie murmurs. He bites down on the perfect stretch of that long throat, rolls Steve’s balls in his hand, and delights in the full-body shiver it gets him. “That old asshole didn’t know what hit him.” 

Steve lets out a breathy laugh, rolling his hips to meet Eddie’s touch. 

“Good. Now untie me, so we can celebrate.” 

“Oh?” Eddie smirks, crawling further down and leaving a trail of biting kisses all over the soft skin of Steve’s chest and stomach. “But I am celebrating already.” 

Steve groans. “Eddie, c’mon!” 

“Ah-ah-ah, Stevie. There’s people out there who think I’m gonna ravage you tonight,” Eddie tuts, grabbing the boy’s twitching hips and blowing a warm stream of air on that pretty, flushed cock. Steve fucking mewls. The sound is like the sweetest music. “Be a good boy now. Gotta make it convincing, no?”

More celebration ficlets

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also, like, I'm not ready to hear the line

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on the re-record. i'm gonna cry and it's gonna be ugly.

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Why does Taylor’s little speech before “Dear John” make me think that the vault is going to have some absolutely devastating songs about how she was feeling in that relationship?

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My review of Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour Movie.

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your theme is so cuteee 🥺 love the purple 💜

hgnghg nO UR CUTE!!!!! *slams down uno reverse card* ✧*♪ヘ╰( •̀ε•́ ╰) me being a clown aside lmao, thank you vv much for this!! 💜💜💜 my impulsive 5 AM three-hour theme-editing hyperfixation has been incredibly validated and my joy hp has been replenished :'> please have my humblest offering of a purple-themed mr. kendall francis schmidt that makes me uhm respectfully feel Very things and also pls excuse the rUsHeD jankiness,,, (*////▽////*)

[supremeoverlordkat]

I haven’t checked to see if Taylor’s been unhinged on tumblr lately I’ve been too busy following her around the country via tik tok @taylorswift I hope you’re okay and resting with the cats before you go international

[aidenelsa]

IVY??????? @taylorswift do you not have any shame??

[queenofmistresses]

Adam’s third wife

A/N hi guys! First hazbin hotel fic, I did a vote and many of you chose Adam x reader so here we go! Let me know what you think and I’ll be able to do a part 2!!

There was a knock on the hotel door and Charlie excitedly rushed to answer it- there had been more and more sinners coming to the hotel wanting to try redemption ever since the last extermination, and she was excited to meet the next one! The last thing she was expecting however was this, Adam (first man, original dick, remember him?) standing at the door looking like he hadn’t slept or eaten in a week. He probably hadn’t. He looks panicked, he looks scared.

“Charlie sweetie is everything okay? Do you need any-“ Lucifer walks over to the door where they’re standing and sees why Charlie isn’t excitedly touring the hotel, and his eyes begin to turn red, clearly angry.

“Please.” Adam says, out of breath and looking like a guinea pig standing in the middle of a busy road. “You have to help me find her.” He begs. Lucifers eyes widen and go back to their usual colour, and Charlie looks down at her dad in confusion.

“What makes you think I know where she is? And if I did, why in hell, would she want to see you?” Lucifer responds, the picture of composure now he knows why Adam is here.

“Please. I know she hates me. But she’s all I have left.” Charlie is still looking down at Lucifer confused, silently asking what is going on.

Lucifer rolls his eyes. “So once again she’s a last resort, I see. You didn’t deserve her then and you certainly don’t deserve her now.” Lucifer begins to shut the door before Adam presses his foot in the way.

“I know. I’ve regretted it all since she left but how can I fix it if I can’t even find her?” Lucifer still looks like his mind is made up but Charlie looks at Adam, at his sad and helpless face and can’t help but pity him.

“Dad help him, that’s what the hotel’s for, right? What if he can change?” Lucifer looks up at his daughter and sees how much hope is in her eyes, “If he’s come back as a sinner he’s one of our people now right?” She points out.

He looks over at Adam again who is looking just as pitiful as before. “Fine, you can come inside and I’ll help you.” Lucifer begins to open the door, “but if you try to hurt anyone in here, you’re out okay? This is your only chance.” Adam nods violently, swearing he won’t hurt anyone and walks in behind Lucifer and Charlie.

Lucifer tells him to stay in the lobby while he deals with ‘something’, leaving him in the hands of Charlie and every other person he saw at the extermination. Shit. “So who are you trying to find?” Charlie asks, grinning up at him as Vaggie walks over, wrapping her arm around Charlie’s waist protectively. At Charlie’s question she looks up at Adam, seeing his nervous face and smirks.

“Really? You think she’ll want to see you?” Charlie looks at her and her mouth drops, clearly hating the fact that 2 people know something she doesn’t.

“No. But I have to try right?” Adam mutters out, embarrassed.

“Vaggiee tell meee.” Charlie begs and Vaggie throws her a playful eye roll and smile.

“Adam’s on the hunt for his ex.” She says smugly, making Adams cheeks heat up. Charlie looks even more confused.

“Eve?” She asks, to which Vaggie shakes her head. “Well surely it’s not my mother, no one seems to know where she is, so my dad couldn’t help.” She thinks out loud. “He has another ex?”

Vaggie nods affectionately and god does Adam want to leave, he’s been alone too long to watch this. “They didn’t meet til he died, she’s heaven born, but she fell.”

Now he wants to leave even more, he can feel Vaggie glaring daggers into the side of his head, he can’t look at them, ashamed. “What happened?” Charlie asks softly, and Vaggie sighs sadly.

“That’s her story to tell, and his I suppose but he’d never admit what really happened. You should ask her when your dad speaks to her.”

Things feel awkward after that, everyone in the lobby had clearly heard the conversation and he felt ashamed. Mostly about what he had done all those years ago. He thought about it often, he thought about trying to find her in the exterminations but couldn’t bring himself to it. He didn’t want to see the pain on her face again. He couldn’t bear it.

Lucifer came back and walked over to them, and Adam looked at him with the smallest glimmer of hope. “I can take you to her. She might not want to see you, in fact I would say it’s more than likely she doesn’t but I can take you there.”

“Thank you.” Adam breaths, he can’t believe he’s thanking Lucifer, the devil. But if it means he can see her again, he would do almost anything.

Lucifer takes them to his castle, and Adam feels a pang in his chest at the idea that she’d stay with him, but he wasn’t surprised. They had been friends before he fell, so it was only natural that she went to him for help. Charlie seems confused about being her, which Adam thinks is extremely interesting but can’t bring himself to dwell on it when she was right on the other side of those doors.

They all walked into the empty looking place and Lucifer snapped his fingers turning the lights on, to a dull light, muttering at how ‘she’ doesn’t like it bright. Adam remembers that about her.

Lucifer calls out her name loudly, announcing he’s back. “Lucifer! Hi! I’ll be down in just a moment, what’s the surprise you texted about??” A voice yells back. Adam, Charlie and Vaggie all shoot Lucifer a look, why had he said he had a surprise?

“It’s down here, come and see!” He yelled back before muttering, “don’t get too excited…”

“What was that last bit?” She yelled again before she appeared at the top of the stairs. And then she froze, staring at Adam. “Well that’s a crap surprise.” She deadpans, making Vaggie and Lucifer have to stifle their laughter back. “I was expecting a new duck.” She raises an eyebrow towards Lucifer as she walks down the stairs.

“I didn’t say it was a good surprise.” Lucifer tries to save himself as y/n gives him a look telling him to shut up.

“You must be Charlie.” Y/n smiles walking up to her and shaking her hand. “Your dad talks about you a lot.” She whispers and winks at Charlie.

Y/n immediately draws away and pulls Vaggie into a tight hug. “It’s been too long,” she says as she pulls away, “though I have to say I was sad when I found out you’d been banished here too.”

Vaggie smiles softly, “It’s okay, I found something better then anything up there.” She indicates towards Charlie with a soft smile, making Charlie visibly melt. Y/n smiles in complete understanding and steps back as Charlie pulls Vaggie into a hug and clutches onto her.

Then she approaches Adam and her smile drops suddenly. “Hello Adam.” He looks shocked for a moment before remembering he’s being spoken to and stumbles over his words, bringing a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

“I- er, um, hi y/n.” He finally settles with, looking sheepish. “Ho- how are you?” He asks quietly. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’m fine. Clearly better than you.” She looks up and down is figure, and brings a hand up to his hair to take out a stray twig caught in the mess. Adam watches her every movement with complete awe, looking surprised she’s touching him. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t…” He starts, then seems to rethink. “I needed to see you.” She scoffs and looks away rolling her eyes.

“7 years later? You do remember why I’m here right?” He nods and averts his eyes again, looking at the floor.

“I’m sorry.” He says which leaves her stunned. Her eyes widen and she looks over at Lucifer as if to check she hadn’t imagined it to happen. “I didn’t mean for it to happen the way it did. I didn’t know Sera would-“ he sighs. “I made a mistake.”

“That’s an understatement.” To that Adam nods, not saying anything. “So what? You wanted to say hi? You’ve done that now.”

“I wanted to know you’re okay. I know you hate me and I deserve it but I’ve wanted to find you everytime I’ve been here since it happened, but I just couldn’t bring myself to. But, you’re okay?” She nods. “Good, I’ll um… I’ll go.”

He turns away, starting to walk away when she sighs, “Wait.” She says and he stops turning back towards her, looking confused. “You won’t survive out there, you look like you’ve been sleeping in the streets since you arrived. If it’s fine with Lucifer you can stay here tonight and I’ll find you someone to stay. Somewhere else. Away from me.”

“You’re sure?” He says, eyes wide with hope. She looks over at Lucifer who nods at her and she looks back at Adam and nods. “Thank you.” He smiles nervously.

[finelinevogue]

friends before fans

summary - you were harry’s girlfriend and now you’re just friends, but the fans still dislike you

word count: -1.5k

pairing: ex-boyfriend!harry x reader

a/n: some mentions of therapy, rehab and mental health issues. idk wtf this is but let me know if you enjoy!!!!

Being Harry Styles ex-girlfriend was hard.

Dating Harry was easy, but the aftermath of breaking up with him was devastating.

It was scary how quickly fans could turn on you. Harry has such a huge following, but you never thought you’d go through what you’ve gone through.

Times had been so tough over the past few years, after the breakup, to the point where you weren’t scared at the thought of dying.

Just because you’d broken up with Harry though, never meant that you’d fallen out of love.

The newspaper headlines were the first to attack you.

Harry is so famous that the headline made the front page. Especially when you and Harry had been crowned as the most loved celebrity couple out there.

They didn’t know the truth though.

You were called toxic. Crazy. Manipulative and psychotic.

You would just call yourself depressed.

The year 2021 had not been a good year mentally for you and it constantly felt like you were dragging Harry down with you.

“Babe, it’s time to go meet our friends.” Harry said from the other room.

You were still laying in bed, unbothered to move because you just didn’t have the mental energy.

“Babe?” Harry called after no response from you.

“Y/N? We need to go now.”

“I can’t.” You said softly, no energy to speak louder.

You could hear Harry sigh loudly. Loud enough for you to know you’d upset him, but quiet enough to know he wasn’t going to argue with you.

He just quietly left instead, leaving you in bed with nothing but dark thoughts.

You could see how miserable you were making him, because of how miserable you were yourself. It only took one conversation to change everything.

“I think I need some space.” You told Harry, just quietly on the sofa next to him.

“Space?” Harry questioned.

“I n-need… I-I…. I want to go to therapy, H. I am scared I might do something stupid a-and I feel so sad all the time.” You started to sob.

“Baby… I.. I never never knew you felt this way.” Harry brought you over to him and sat you comfortably on his lap. He was crying too, ashamed he had not seen the signs of you feeling this bad.

“For a while now. I-I’m so sorry.”

“No apologies, baby. None at all. I love you so much and I will always love you so much. Let’s just get you loving yourself first, yeah?”

Harry had helped you find a rehabilitation centre for mental recovery and you were there for at least six months.

He was constantly there for you throughout the rehab process. He never once skipped the chance to visit you on visiting days. He paid for the entire process, even though you had been strongly against that.

Harry constantly reminded you how much you are loved, especially by him.

It took a while, but you finally got to a place where you could love yourself and life again.

When you left rehab, you realised just how bad things were in the social media world.

The moment your relationship was publicly announced as over, you were turned into a villain.

You had stopped the relationship with Harry, solely because you couldn’t give him everything he deserved.

No matter, Harry waited for you. Still is.

You weren’t a celebrity. Instead, you were a good home friend of Harry’s. Your fame came from being attached to Harry.

Now your fame was for the wrong reasons.

You never cared about fame anyways, but the constant hate and abuse is tough.

Harry is still always there for you, though.

There was an endless stream of hate on Twitter towards you.

Even still 3 years on.

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A simple post on Instagram and everyone on social media would attack you. For being there. For existing.

Everything changed a while ago now.

Harry had texted you a couple of weeks back, out of the blue.

Your hands were slightly sweaty as you walked through backstage to find the friends and family room.

Harry had secured you special tickets for all four Wembley dates, but you could only hope yourself to attend this last one.

You hadn’t seen Harry for months, still just friends.

Or exes. Depending from which angle you’re looking at it from.

You came today because you wanted to show your support for Harry, especially after the last few years you’ve put him through.

Holding the flowers in your none shaking hand, you entered the friends and family room.

It had been very long since you’d seen everyone. You found it difficult to see Harry’s family without Harry.

Luckily, Harry was in the room.

Dressed in comfortable clothes, he was a few hours before getting ready for night 4 at Wembley.

You stood to the back of the room, out of the way, since you didn’t feel secure enough to meet anyone. You often felt like, even though Harry always vouched for you, that his family still disliked you for putting their Harry through so much heartbreak.

What no one seemed to understand, though, was that Harry would endure that heartbreak all over again if it meant you could get help and become stronger again.

When Harry’s aunty turned around she spotted you. Either she didn’t realise it was you or was just looking into the distance, but because you thought she was glaring at you it made you feel super insecure.

Twitter was already trending your name because fans had spotted you outside the venue. Everyone was begging you to stay away from Harry.

Now his aunty looked like she meant the same thing.

You left the flowers on the table, that came with a card so he’d know who they’re off, and exited the room.

As you walked down the corridor, a security guard and must be fan stopped you.

“Are you Y/N L/N?” She asked.

“Yeah?”

“Wow. You have some unbelievable nerve being here.” Her words took you aback.

“I’m sorry?”

“Yeah too fucking right.” She scoffed and walked wherever she was meant to be.

You stood in the corridor and thought over what she’d just said to you. There has been no need to be so aggressive. She didn’t know anything about you or your situation. She can’t hurt you when she doesn’t understand the truth.

You were trying to repeat everything your therapist had taught you, but it was difficult with so many thoughts running through your mind.

Temporarily squeezing your eyes, you tried to press the negative thoughts away.

“Breathe.”

Your eyes shot open to see Harry in front of you.

It was amazing how Harry always seemed to meet you at the right place and at the right time whenever you needed him. It was never that you needed anybody. You needed him.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” Harry said, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek and softly stroke your cheek.

“You’re here.” You repeated to yourself.

“You’re alright, Y/N. We’re okay.”

Harry leaned into you and pressed a kiss to your forehead softly. You smiled at the familiar feeling.

“Hi.” You smiled shyly.

“Hello, you.”

“I arrived a little bit ago, but I got overwhelmed in that room.” You explained yourself.

“It’s okay. Mum saw you and said you looked sheepish. Came here as soon as she said. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Just don’t know whether I’m supposed to be here. People know i’m here and it’s… they’re not happy. I don’t want to cause any drama and—”

“Y/N, love, you’re not. They are causing the drama. I want you here. I’m okay with you being here. I am happy you’re here. That’s all that matters.”

Harry moved to hug you and you squeeze him back just as hard. His hugs always make you feel safe. He smells as warm and comforting as he feels.

“Please don’t leave.” He whispered against your face.

“I’m not. Just need you with me for a bit.”

“I’m more than okay with that.”

During the show, Harry made a speech about you.

He was fed up with the negative press and the hate you get. It was time to say something.

“My ex-girlfriend is here tonight! She’s my favourite person. I hope you love her as much as I do. All m’songs are written about her too. I thought we’d try an oldie for tonight, so I can dedicate to my person. I hope you’ll all join in with me and sing out if you know the words. This is Sunflower.”

[harrysfolklore]

times you were at wembley with harry - blurb

i really really hope your like this 🥺 tell me your thoughts.

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

2011 - take that concert

The last year was a roller coaster of emotions for Harry, in the span of a few months, he became a worldwide musical sensation alongside with the four boys that he now gets to call his best friends.

Of course, he was over the moon about his new life and how his dream was coming true, but the most special thing about the last year was that that he now gets to call his high school crush his girlfriend, and he couldn't be happy about it .

"I can't believe we get free tickets to concerts because we're in a band! This is amazing!" A cheerful Niall spoke, the band was currently at Wembley Stadium where the British legendary band 'Take That' was performing for the night.

"I know dude, and we can bring anyone we want too, this is the dream," Harry joined in, turning to look at his girlfriend who was seated next to him "Are you good? Do you want anything to drink?" he asked her, with small smile on his face.

"I'm okay, these seats are great," YN replied, the boys too indulged in their own conversation no longer paying attention to them, "Thank yo for inviting me."

"No need to thank me, love. I love spending time with you," Harry said making his girlfriend's cheeks instantly blush, "This place is madness, I hope we get to play here sometime."

"You will, Harry. And I'll make sure to be by your side when that happens, even if you don't want me anymore."

"Don't say that, you know I'll always want you around." Harry said with a serious face, and YN was about to reply before she interrupted by Louis' voice.

"Lovebirds! The show is about to start!"

"Okay, okay. Let me take a picture of you guys before the lights go out." YN said standing up and grabbing her phone to capture the moment.

The five boys smiled for her, excited grins on their faces and the same thought in their minds: how amazing it would be to play a show in Wembley Stadium

2014 - one direction's where we are tour

"I can't believe we're playing here tonight," Harry said as he took a look at the massive stadium, standing beside his girlfriend as they roamed around the area that soon would be filled with fans, "I just, can't wrap my head around the fact that we actually did it, three sold out shows here, I'm blown away."

YN smiled tenderly before speaking, taking in her boyfriend's excitement, "I'm so proud of you, baby. You and the boys deserve this so much."

"That's the best part of it all, that I'm doing it with the lads," Harry matched his girlfriend's smile, "You know, if I ever get to do my own thing I know for a fact that I won't be able to match everything we're achieving, but I'm okay with it. My dreams are coming true right now and that's all that matters."

YN knew that this was a constant thought on his mind and doubt whispered in his ear telling him that if he ever got to launch his solo career, he would never measure up and never reach the same heights as his band is doing.

"Hey, love," YN called for him, making him lock his eyes with her, "Everything's going to be fine, you will deliver an amazing show tonight and the following nights. And when the time is right, you'll be back here with your own music, I have no doubt in my mind that you were born to perform in stages like this one."

Harry smiled fondly taking in his girlfriend's words, "I love you, you know?" he grabbed her face before continuing, "Your constant support is what pushes me to do all of this, it means nothing without you."

YN leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'll always be here, supporting you through it all," she whispered, "Doesn't matter if you perform for 60,000 people or 6, I'm going to be proud of you no matter what."

And as Harry stood in the middle of the stadium with his girlfriend wrapped around his arms, eager to perform alongside with his best friends; he thought his life couldn't get any better , and no matter what happened in the future, he was going to cherish that moment for the rest of his life.

2022 - love on tour: harry's first solo show

"How do you feel, mate?" Jeff asked Harry as they stood together on the wings of the stage, Mitski was just done with her set and Harry was already on his outfit for the show, minutes away from hitting the stage.

"It's a weird feeling somehow," Harry turned his gaze to his manager and best friend, "I never thought I was going to ever be able to fill this place on my own, you know?"

"And here we are, two sold out shows!" Jeff threw his fist in the air as a sign of celebration and both of them laughed, side hugging as they kept admiring the crowd.

"Are you guys having a sappy sentimental moment without me?" they tuned their heads towards the voice called for them, that belonged to Harry's wife.

"I was just about to leave, actually, I have to check everything's running smoothly before this one hits the stage," Jeff ruffled Harry's hair for a moment, "You lovebirds enjoy your pre-concert shag, see you out there!"

YN and Harry both rolled their eyes and shook their heads, all the times they got caught doing their shenanigans before the shows resulting in a constant teasing from their friends.

"So, how do you feel, rockstar?" YN asked, getting closer to him and wrapping his arms around his waist.

"You know, Jeff just asked the same thing."

"Okay, no talking, straight to the pre-concert shag I guess!"

Harry laughed, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, looking out at the crowd together.

"I feel great," Harry said, turning his face to the side to locke his eyes with hers, "Being here again and having you by my side as my wife now is something that I thought would only happen in my dreams, so I feel great my dreams came true again."

"This is a time where I actually feel good saying that I told you so," YN smiled softly, "I always knew that you were going to be selling out this places on your own, baby. And I'm so proud of you."

"I know," Harry pecked her lips for a moment, "And that's the reason why I'm here, because you had never allowed me to doubt myself."

"You're here because you've earned it by working hard and pouring your heart out in everything that you do, there's no one who deserves this as much as you do."

Harry's eyes got watery at her words, and he grabbed her face to connect their lips, expressing everything he felt at the moment with a kiss.

"10 minutes till show time!" One of the crew members announced, making them break apart.

"Go sing about fruit and joke about dads, rockstar. I love you."

"Love you more, wifey."

And with a final kiss to his wife's lips he was off to perform, ready to charm a crowd of 80,000 people on his own, something that he never though he would achieve.

2023 - four sold out shows

gif by @londonharry

“And here we go again.” You whispered to yourself as you watched Harry hit the first note of Daydreaming.

You were on the VIP box of Wembley Stadium, accompanied by family and friends that came together to see Harry perform. The room filled with love, pride and joy.

“Honey, I’m home!” Harry said into the mic, making the entire crowd of 80k people scream, and you couldn’t help but turn your head to Anne standing beside you.

“He’s always so happy when he’s here,” she said, her eyes not leaving her boy who was performing on stage, “I’ve watched him perform countless of times and I still get overwhelmed with so much pride.”

You both smiled tenderly, sharing the same feeling. As the concert went by, you danced along to the music, traded friendship bracelets with Harry’s fans that approached you and took a few snaps with your film camera to capture the moment forever.

But now, you absolute favorite of every Harry concert approached, the time to listen to him sing the song that started it all: Sign of the Times.

“It’s not lost on me how insane it is to be playing 4 nights here this week, thank you so much. It’s very, very special to me,” Harry begun with his speech before the song, making everyone in the audience grow emotional, “My family is here tonight, my friends are here, my gorgeous wife is here, and a countless list of people who have supported me right from the very beginning.”

You put your hand on your chest, feeling tears gather up in your eyes and feeling how Anne side-hugged you, caressing your arm.

“These shows get a little bit scary for me because, they get so built up, and it’s a slow build, that feels like. I know what it means to be here tonight and it’s a bit scary because it makes it feel it’s a show all unto itself”

“He’s still feels like he’s not going to live up to it,” Anne whispered, making you look at her, “But remember how he thought he was never going to play here on his own? And now we’re here for four nights.”

“And now we’re here for four nights.” you repeated her words, smiling to yourself and admiring your husband on stage.

The song finally started and the tears naturally rolled down your cheeks, your body filled with pride and adoration for the man you’ve loved for over 13 years. As you watched the fireworks go off as he hit the final notes, you thanked life for allowing you to stick with him through it all.

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @waitingroomharry y @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies

tell me if you want to be added <3

[pers1st]

painkillers - alexia putellas x reader pt 2

pt 2 of dancing with the devil

pairing: alexia putellas x singer!reader

warnings: alcohol & drug abuse

songs used: you could start a cult - niall horan, painkillers - gracie abrams

If Lois noticed the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, he didn't mention it. You turned the radio on from the control in the back, desperate to escape the whistling thoughts in your head. They were bouncing from left to right, and all you could see was Alexia's face when she'd first spotted your bags. When she'd first realized you weren't going to spend the planned two days in Barcelona to watch her and Keira play. When she'd first realized you were leaving her.

Darling, I would give up everything...

You immediately turned the music back down. At this point, a tear rolled down your cheek and you wiped it away harshly, marking the skin a tint of red, leaving it stinging.

This song - Alexia had fallen in love with it once you'd showed it to her. Niall had reached out for a collaboration, as your manager had told you, and you, as always, wanted to hear your girlfriend's opinion. It had been before the start of her tour, and the two of you had been laying, bodies tangled, in her bed, sheets draped over your glistening nude bodies.

Alexia was the first person to hear every song you wrote, no matter where on the planet you were located, no matter how grainy her vision of you was, no matter how distorted your guitar or keyboard sounded out of her phone's speaker. She had loved it. She had urged - no, begged you to sing it to her that night, and all thought you had had to look up the lyrics, of course you had. You hated singing for other people when you were away from your job, wanting more than anything to not be the singer, but you did everything Alexia wanted, unable to refuse the dimples on her cheek when she smiled at your voice.

You took a sip of your water bottle. If Lois noticed there was vodka in it, he didn't say. At this point, you didn't even pull a face anymore, accepting the burn on your throat as a mere side effect.

Today, you deserved a drink. Leaving Alexia had, despite your preparation, hurt more than you had expected it to, and if you were going to have one last drink, one last bottle of vodka disguised as water, it was going to be today.

Once you touched down in Boston for your next concert, two days earlier than planned, you would stay sober.

The plane wasn't comfortable, though it was better than a commercial flight, and you fell asleep against your window the second you sat down, your head rolling against the cold glass in your deep slumber. The alcohol made you weary, and if Lois and Michael, your security, hadn't been watching you so closely, you would've dug into your purse for the bag of white powder, disguised under lipgloss, your polaroid camera and a whole bunch of other useless stuff. Just to ease the pain. Just to jerk you awake, maybe enough for a party later.

But you hadn't, and so instead, you had finished your water bottle and spent the minutes waiting to board in silence.

Your team was, at this point, used to your mood. They spent every day with you, and had been doing so for the past three months. At first, they had joined you on your parties and adventures happily, but now they were growing more and more concerned.

Michael noticed you took too long every time you went to the bathroom, steading yourself on his arms more and more each time. He noticed how you didn't react when you'd cut your leg on a broken bottle, shrugging the injury off before he could haul you away from the dance floor. He noticed how you called Alexia less and less, and he knew, when you'd announced you would simply be stopping by to gather some things in Barcelona, that the two of you were over.

The two of you had, at one point, been close enough for him to ask you why, but he knew now that you wouldn't answer. Speaking to you was touch and go, your mood never being predictable. Sometimes, the drugs made you angry and you lashed out on him, sometimes, the booze made you clingy and you swung your arm over his much taller shoulder to tell him how much you appreciated him, sometimes, everything was too much and you didn't speak at all.

Today was one of those days. You only awoke when the plane touched down in Boston, and you were passed out in the car once more. Finally falling into your hotel suite's double bed, you reached for the phone to dial room service. One last glass of wine. The vodka had upset your stomach, and you felt sick now. Wine was good for that. It made the slight ache in your gut disappear.

By the time you woke up the next morning, you were hungover, and Keira was upset.

"You have some explaining to do", Keira yelled over the phone when she had finally called you enough times for you to awake and answer her.

With squinted eyes, you stared at your best friend.

"Keira", you groaned, putting a hand to your forehead in an attempt to drown out the dull ache.

"No, don't Keira me. You broke up with her?!"

At this, you sat up, flicking on the little lamp on your bedside table.

"Did she tell you that?"

"She didn't have to."

A gulp found its way down your throat. Alexia was never one to show her feelings during football, and although her and Keira had grown quite friendly due to your relationship and the two of them being teammates. Still, you knew Keira wasn't the one she would go to about this. The fact that Alexia had been whatever enough for Keira to notice concerned you.

"What was I supposed to do? It didn't work anymore", you shrugged. The words twisted your stomach, and you were scared that if you took a deep enough breath in, the truth would spill out like bile. Keira didn't know any of your struggles. Keira didn't know why you had ended your relationship. Keira couldn't know.

"Make it work then! You two were so happy", Keira sighed.

"No, we weren't, Kei, and you know this. When was I supposed to make it work? I'm in the US until the end of the year, I'm touring through Europe afterwards. Ale and I... It was just time", you shrugged, wiping away the tears that once more appeared in the corners of your eyes.

"If a relationship doesn't work, you make it work!"

"Oh, like how you and Lucy did?!"

Silence fell between the two of you. You knew you had overstepped a line, but it didn't matter. Keira was overstepping too.

Keira took a deep breath in. You were right. She knew it too.

"So, how are you feeling?"

"Like the next album is going to be really fucking good."

Humor was a deflection for you and Keira knew it. She stared at you with a furrowed brow, nose crinkled.

"Just.. don't sulk, okay? Enjoy your tour, don't lock yourself in your room again. I can't wait to see you on Christmas."

A faked smile found its way onto your face. It was soft, not overdoing it just to ensure Keira would believe you. There was not a single cell of your body that cooperated with the way your lips tugged upwards, but it worked nonetheless. Keira smiled back at you.

"I've got to go now, we're meeting for the game soon. I love you."

"I love you too."

Keira was the only person, along with your mother, who had ever heard those words from you. Except for Alexia. Speaking them felt like a crime, but you were a criminal already. There was no way to undo what you had done, and Keira had told you to enjoy the rest of your tour. So that was what you did. Or, well, attempted to do.

In all honesty, the drugs were the only thing keeping you afloat. The oxycodone left horrible shadows under your eyes and when you awoke, you were sweaty, nauseous, you weren't yourself. Your team noticed it as well, and so did the bassist of your tour band, who kept supplying you with what he called "his good stuff".

Party after party, drink after drink, line after line. In all honesty, it was a miracle that you made it as long as you did.

Alexia hadn't heard from you since the breakup, officially. Unofficially, however, she watched every livestream of your shows with the fake TikTok account she had dedicated to saving videos of you. Your missing phone calls afterwards didn't go unnoticed, of course, but Alexia knew that there was no use in reaching out to you. She had tried, only to find out you had blocked her number, so instead of celebrating yet another successful show of yours via the phone, she wept and wept in the bed you had once shared, not allowing the shadows underneath her eyes to be visible to her teammates, nor the tearstained cheeks.

This livestream, a week after your breakup, was far more grainy than the prior ones. She assumed that there was bad connection, as she stared at Keira's iPad from the seat behind the strawberry blonde woman, but she was quite grateful for not having to see your face in as good quality, because she needed to listen, to focus, when you announced that you'd be playing a brand new song. This was her chance - her chance at finding out what exactly had caused her breakup. She had known that while traveling with the team, she wouldn't be able to watch the show the way she usually did, and as much as she hated to admit, she had chosen the seat behind Keira and Aitana strategically.

The two were sitting, heads together, in front of Kei's screen, staring at the grainy image of you wobbling around on your stage.

"I've written this song very recently, but I want to share it with you guys."

Ale's brows furrowed as Mapi, next to her, took out her earphones.

"Es Y/N?", your ex-girlfriend's best friend asked, nudging Ale's shoulder slightly.

"Sì´", Aitana answered, nodding with her eyes still focused on the screen. Mapi lunged herself forward, blocking Ale's view entirely, but the captain didn't have it in herself to complain. All she needed was to hear. The stream was loud enough for the rest of the bus to hear, and all though she wasn't the best in English, she had sure learned since being with you.

"I don't have a title just yet", you spoke into the microphone as soft chords began echoing through the speaker.

"So you might have to wait until I release it. If I release it."

Although she couldn't see, Alexia could envision the way you sat by your piano in a sea of a crowd, in a sold out stadium, with all the eyes on you, swaying softly with the flow of your melody.

I almost liked the way you fooled me

To make me feel like this would last forever.

But twice at night, I'd wake up sweating

To sleep without you here would do me better

I called you out and labeled you a problem

I should know that it takes one to know one.

Alexia sucked in a breath at that, as did everyone else. She had never heard your voice this monotone, this void of emotion, and it worried her. Above all else, though, she was confused. You had labeled her a problem? You would be better to sleep without her?

You represent the codependence,

I was down, you wore the shining armor.

The side effect is cold resentment,

Tricked me into thinking you were stronger.

She didn't understand. You had never been codependent on Alexia. The two of you had been a clingy couple, yes, but you had done your own thing, you had your own career, as did Alexia, and the both of you blossomed in sharing it. There had never been a moment where you had depended on her. And above all, you resented her? Then why had you cried when you'd left her? Why hadn't you been angry? Why had you never told her why?

Hold me slowly,

you don't even know me.

Home now, lights out,

pictures just destroy me.

Come through late, and

tell me that you want it bad.

"Whoa, Ale, ¿qué le hiciste an ella?” (What did you do to her?) Mapi whispered into her ear as the song ended and cheers erupted, and although Alexia had a few nasty remarks in her mind at what to tell her best friend, she was frozen in place. All of her teammates had been listening, and all of them were now staring at her. Just as Aitana's head vanished to the window, she caught a glimpse of you again, standing up from your seat wobbly.

A thought crossed her mind, for merely a second - Were you drunk?

But she didn't have time to think about it any longer, plugging her earphones in again, putting her head against the window to not watch the three songs she knew were left, shutting the world, and most importantly, her team out.

The silence didn't last long. The headlines came an hour later. That's what it had taken for her to realize that you hadn't sung about her at all. By the time the final whistle went in Madrid, she learned you were fighting for your life, somewhere in New Jersey. By the time the final whistle went in Madrid, her world was shattered in a totally different way.

notes: okay there’ll be a pt3 i promise !! sped home from work to write this bc i’m in love w this plot tbh, let me know what you think <3

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

Taylor’s funny for telling us to be kind to John Mayer when I’ve literally said I would hunt the man if given the chance.

[quirklezz]

Thank you so much ❤I was thinking that yn is Toms gf and is very loved by his fans as well, but also because she's a book author and tries her best to stay put of the spotlight("my books speak for me") and let Tom shine. Her aura is just super mesmerizing. I was thinking she could be a horror author( like the love child of Stephen King and Anne Rice) and Tom is her #1 fan. What do you think?

Bookworm | Tom Blyth

a/n: Thanks so much for requesting I love this idea since I also love reading and inspire to be an author myself. Feedback is appreciated and requests are open!

tomblyth Hard at work 🖤 @ynusername

view all comments

user1 LET HER COOK 🔥

user3 this may be my sign to start reading her books skskskskksksks

↳ user2 you def should I love her writing

user5 Tom has a gf?!?

↳ user1 Yes but she doesn’t post much since she wants to keep out of the spotlight

↳ user5 respect

user4 I know for a FACT Tom made that cup of coffee for her

↳ user3 yep!! I think he mentioned it in an interview before

ynusername trying to write but I’m getting distracted by the view @tomblyth

view all comments

user3 caption is so real

user4 if Tom was in front of me I’d be distracted by him too

user1 me during finals with that one Tom Blyth edit iykyk 😫

↳ user2 A MAN A MAN A MAAAAAN

user3 not me opening up booktok after seeing this

↳ user6 do you think YN knows about booktok?!?

↳ user1 I wonder if Tom knows about booktok because of her skskskskksks

↳ user3 her horror stories are so booktok coded fr

tomblythdaily Tom during the press tour for tbosas where a fan asked him to sign @ynusername newest addition to her horror series

view all comments

user4 we love a supportive bf

user1 omw to get a copy 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

user5 babe wake up new horror book just dropped by @ynusername

user2 they better turn one of her books into a movie already she deserves it

↳ user3 facts!! especially since Tom is her #1 fan and an actor he could easily star as the lead

↳ user4 Tom in a horror film written by YN we’d love to see it 👀

user6 was a YN fan before a Tom Blyth fan but I love seeing how they support each other

↳ user1 power couple fr!

tomblythupdates Tom is confirmed to play the lead in @ynusername film adaptation of her #1 best selling horror series. Follow us for more updates!

view all comments

user6 I’m so proud of her

↳ user2 same 😭

user3 SHE DID THAT

↳ user1 facts!!

user5 the fact that her book is being made into a movie and her bf gets to star in it is so inspiring to me 🥹

↳ user4 she’s winning at life

user6 @ynusername is saving the horror genre of 2024

↳ user1 she’s been saving it since her first book release

↳ user7 I haven’t read the books yet but now I want to

user1 Stephen King who? I only know YN ☕️

↳ user6 and I oop-

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 3/12)

ALRIGHTY HERE WE GO !!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie and gareth don't get along and eddie thinks you look cute when you're sleeping

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, alcohol use, maybe gareth's a bitch lol, scary feelings, a sprinkle of fluff, and eddie being down bad in every way, shape, and form <3

word count: 5.3k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Breakfast has been your favorite part of joining Corroded Coffin on tour. Aside from the fluffy, soft, sweet pancakes, grease-dripping bacon, and toe-curling orgasmic coffee, breakfast has always been lighthearted and fun. Richie makes everybody sit at the table together like a family so there can be some sense of normalcy throughout the busy days; it’s nice.

You alternate with your seating, wanting to get to know all of the crew members as best as you can while you have the time, and you’ve had decent conversations amongst some awkward ones. On the first day, you sat next to Mitch, the light coordinator, and listened to his story about how he met his husband. They’re expecting a baby this fall, and you two bounced a few names off each other for him to consider. On the second day, you sat beside Kaylee, the tour stylist, and talked about your college horror stories. On the third day, you sat next to Brandon, a stage manager, and spoke about… well, you don’t really remember because he talked the entire time, and you kind of blanked out. Slowly, you’ve made your way around the table each day, learning little things about the group.

Today, however, there is not the usual lighthearted and familial atmosphere at the table.

You came down to the breakfast hall a bit late from your shower, and the second you stepped into the room, you could sense the tension still hanging from yesterday. You haven’t spoken to or seen Eddie since he confronted Gareth at the studio, and you’re not sure if he’d even want to see you, but you have no choice but to take the only open seat next to him.

You quietly say good morning to everyone, and Richie is the only one who gives you a warm response. “How’d you sleep, birdie?” He questions around a mouthful of eggs. You nod and settle in, “Good, I almost slept through my alarm.” You jokingly admit. Richie chuckles, “1500 thread count sheets will do that to you.” He says, causing the table to erupt in a soft symphony of laughter.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you try your best to avoid glancing at Gareth, but there’s no doubt everybody notices the shiner he’s sporting on his eye. The room is filled with sounds of forks clanking against plates and the quiet mumble of short, faint snippets of conversation until Richie clears his throat, “We’ve got an interview with the press at twelve and rehearsals at three, like always, so do what you need to do before then. We can’t be late for this interview, got it?” He reminds the crew, and everybody’s head nods in understanding, all but one.

“I’m not going.”

All eyes turn to Gareth, a full plate sitting untouched before him as he slumps back in his seat. Beside you, Eddie lights a cigarette, and you opt to busy yourself with taking a bite of your French toast, practically feeling the anger radiating from Eddie as he takes a drag. Richie clears his throat once again, scooting closer to the table and tilting his head with a look of confusion, “Um… why not?” He questions.

Gareth glances at him as best as he can with his black eye, “Because I’ve got an eye the size of a tennis ball on my face, Richie.” Everyone at the table seems to uncomfortably shift now that the elephant in the room has been addressed. Eddie doesn’t waste a second to speak up from beside you, “Nothing you didn’t deserve.” For the first time since yesterday, Eddie looks at Gareth and sees the swollen eye he left from yesterday. Eddie doesn’t show a single hint of regret.

The table returns to quietly eating as Gareth ignores Eddie’s comment, “I’m not going.” He reiterates. Richie sighs and rubs the coarse mustache on his face, “You have to go, Gareth. Just put some shades on.” He suggests, returning to his food as if the conversation finished, but Gareth holds up. “I’m not gonna sit there in shades like a fucking idiot, man.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice, son,” Richie snaps, dropping the fork in his plate to look at Gareth. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole, and you’re sure you’re not the only person with that wish when you look at the other crew members at the table. “This band has an album coming soon,” he reminds the group, “We don’t have time for rumors and gossip to start circulating; you need to show up as a unit. This isn’t up for debate.”

The conversation could’ve ended there because, quite frankly, it seemed like Gareth was willing to go with it, but Eddie couldn’t let the moment to say something slip, “Just let him go, Rich.” He shrugs. You glance at Eddie, watching as he taps his cigarette ash into his plate, “It’s not like he brings much to the table anyway.”

Across the table, from the corner of your eye, you see Gareth lean forward to glare at Eddie, “The fuck does that mean?” He snaps.

Eddie looks at Gareth for the second time and shrugs, “Means you’re a shit band member, man. Fuckin’ Mitch has done more for this band than you ever have or could’ve done.” He gestures towards Mitch, ignoring when the man slightly cowers in his seat. Gareth looks at Eddie with a stone-cold glare, saying nothing momentarily and letting the thick blanket of silence curl around everyone's neck. He leans forward and points a finger at Eddie, who’s not even looking at him anymore, “Fuck you. You wonder why Chrissy left you for Jason Carver, it’s because you’re a fucking asshole.”

“Jesus Christ, guys–” Jeff tries to interject, but Gareth continues speaking, “At least Jason acknowledges her. That’s more than you ever did.” He jabs. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head before speaking around a cloud of smoke, “You don’t know shit about me and Chrissy.”

Gareth tauntingly laughs, “Nah, she filled me in quite a fuckin’ bit.”

The invisible ticking time bomb seems to have gone off in Eddie’s mind. He stands up from his chair, a loud screeching noise grating everyone's ears as he flicks his cigarette into his plate, “The fuck did you just say?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Richie interjects, standing up and raising his hands as a gesture to stop. “Enough. Fucking enough,” he glances between the two heated men in annoyance, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you boys, but you need to figure your shit out on your own time.” He snaps. Your hands rest in your lap, anxiously picking at the seam of your jeans, wanting to shrink into your seat because you can’t help but feel as if this is your fault. It was your journal he read anyway; you play some part in the issue, right?

Richie sits back down with an exhaustive huff, picking up his fork to resume eating, but before he picks up a piece of his food, he gestures at the table, “Either sit down and finish your goddamn meal, or fuck off somewhere. Both of you.”

Eddie stands for a moment before deciding to leave without another word.

By the time the press interview rolls around, you’re more anxious than you thought you’d be. Between the time frame of breakfast and now, you had more than enough time to ponder over the messy situation you’ve accidentally created between Gareth and Eddie.

Truthfully, you had no idea that the Chrissy Gareth had mentioned during your conversation was Eddie’s ex-girlfriend Chrissy; hell, you didn’t even know Eddie had an ex-girlfriend named Chrissy until yesterday!

On one of your few sit-downs with Gareth, you ended up discussing his love life, and you took the leap of faith to ask him if he’d ever been in love.

“…There was one girl. Her name was Chrissy; we went to high school together.” 

“You dated?” “No,” Gareth shakes his head, “No, we never dated. But I always had this weird connection with her… like we understood each other in a deeper way.”

You smile in awe of the sweetness behind his words, jotting down little notes in your journal as he speaks. “I always admired her to an extent, but she, uh,” he clears his throat and scratches at his jaw, “she was in another relationship for most of the time I knew her.”

Gareth silently watches as you continue to write. You look up at him when you realize he’s been silent for a while, and you open your mouth to ask what is wrong, but he speaks before you, “Is this um,” he gestures towards your journal, “this bit isn’t going in the final publish, right?” He asks. You tilt your head, a few questions running through your mind, but you brush them off, “Um… well, I suppose I can leave some of it out, yes.”

Gareth nods, shifting in his chair and clearing his throat. “Okay, good. Um… well, anyways,” he begins, “Me and Chrissy didn’t hook up until I went back to Hawkins during our break off from last year's tour.” 

Ultimately, Gareth had explained that Chrissy had recently left a three-year relationship when they’d hooked up. He explained that they crossed paths at a bar, and things took off from there, but he cut it off with her the following morning. He never told you why he cut it off, but you now understand the guilt of betraying his best friend had forced him to do so.

You had no idea that the entire conversation was pertaining to Eddie’s ex; if you had known, you would’ve never written it down. You wouldn’t have even finished the conversation if Gareth had told the whole truth because, quite honestly, you would rather not be in the mix of this disaster. 

You’re disappointed. Upset that Gareth practically used you to get the guilt off his chest. And the truth is, that conversation did little to nothing for Gareth in the long run; he still felt guilty for never telling Eddie, and it’s only gotten worse with the added tension between them now that the secret is out.

Eddie was cold toward you before, but now he’s thicker than the ice in Antarctica. He’s avoiding you at all costs— and maybe he’s just avoiding everybody. Still, you can’t help but take his avoidance personally, especially when you’d thought you were finally reaching some sort of middle ground with him.

You sit off to the side of the stage with the rest of the band’s crew as you watch them take their seats for the press interview. Eddie sits on one end of the table while Gareth sits at the other end, the other two members filling the two seats in between. Gareth had no choice but to cover his black eye with a dark shade of glasses, and it seemed like nobody paid mind to it— typical rockstar wardrobe and all.

The interview was off to a good start, with reporters asking questions about the upcoming album, life on the road, and relatively anything about the music. Near the end, however, is when things seemed to get rocky. The questions became more of a filler than anything important, and boys were evidently tired of answering. It wasn’t until a journalist asked a specific question that things seemed to reach a tipping point.

“There’s been rumors that this album has more love songs than usual. Could you confirm or deny that?” 

The boys look at each other, and Gareth leans forward to respond, but Eddie beats him to it. “There were a few, yeah, but um… They didn’t make the final cut, so maybe next time.” 

The energy vividly shifts amongst the boys; Gareth looks at Eddie and scoffs before leaning back into his chair, clearly throwing in the towel for the rest of the interview. You don’t understand the apparent dispute just now, but you find out when the boys finish the interview and walk into the green room.

“What the fuck, man?” Gareth spits, walking a few paces behind Eddie. “We’re not cutting the song.” His loud voice booms through the room, not caring if anybody will overhear their dispute. 

“I’m not putting a song out that you wrote about my fucking ex-girlfriend, Gareth. Are you out of your fucking mind?” Eddie snaps. 

Richie turns to the band and crew members and motions for them to leave the room, which nobody even bothers to protest, eager to escape any more awkward conversations for the day. Everybody else makes a beeline for the tour bus, planning to fill in the few hours before rehearsal.

You glance back at the room where Eddie and Gareth are bickering, and you bravely choose to sit in the chair outside the doorway. You try not to stick your nose in their business, but they’re arguing loud enough for you to hear snippets either way. The conversation doesn’t last long before Gareth storms out of the room and down the hall, bursting through the doors and out of sight.

You glance back into the room where Eddie stands, fishing out his pack of cigarettes and sparking up. You figure now is better than ever, so you clench your bag strap and stand up, hesitantly stepping into the room. Clearing your throat once you’re a few steps away from Eddie, you watch as he exhales a cloud of smoke. He glances at you and turns away, “What do you want?”

You take one step closer, “I um… I wanted to apologize.” You begin. He looks at you again, brown eyes tired and riddled with pain— and you can’t imagine how much of a whirlwind the past twenty-four hours have been for him. “For what?” He asks, confusion and annoyance laced within his tone.

He’s turned to face you, shiny chains glistening on his hips beneath the building lights. You shake your head, struggling to find the words, because, was this really even your fault?

You obviously can’t apologize for Gareth fucking his ex-girlfriend— you had no part in that— and it’d seem silly to apologize for accidentally dropping your journal. So, what exactly do you apologize for? How do you let him know that you’re sorry this was how he found out, even if it isn’t entirely your fault?

You decide to try and redirect your wording, “I want you to know that I was never going to put that in the final article.” You say.

Eddie scoffs, taking a drag of his cigarette before responding, “And why would I believe that?” He questions. 

He’s gazing at you like the first night you’d met when he was watching you from across the green room and commanding you to leave. You think he has the same intentions now, but Eddie has yet to learn that you’re stubborn.

“Well, for starters, Gareth asked me not to put it in,” you admit. Eddie’s jaw tenses and part of you feels as if you’ve tossed Gareth under the bus, but you had no choice. This was Gareth’s doing, and if you have to tell the ugly truth to save your image, then so be it. “He didn’t tell me why, but I know now. And now that I know the full truth behind that story, I definitely won’t write it in.”

Eddie watches you momentarily, intense eyes burning holes through you before he turns away. He scratches his jaw for a moment, taking a breath before returning to you. Eddie points to you, the burning cigarette hanging between his fingers as he speaks, “You know,” he begins, “somehow, you’ve managed to persuade everyone that you’re some sweet, innocent small-town journalist that just wants to ‘appreciate the artists,’ but that,” he gestures to your bag where he knows your journal is resting, ashes fluttering to the ground with each wave of his hand.

“That proved everything I believed about you.” He says. “People like you are fucking vampires. You suck the life out of people to keep you alive, and it’s fucked up.” He snaps. 

Your face twists in anger, subtly shaking your head as you subconsciously step closer, “Eddie, I didn’t… I didn’t even know she was your ex, and if I did, I would’ve never written about it.” You exclaim, tossing your hands in exasperation. “And I’m sorry you found out the way you did, but you can’t hate me for something someone else did!”

Eddie frustratedly rubs his face, “That’s not the point!” He exclaims. “I read your journal. I saw everything I needed to see to confirm that I was right about everything with you and this fucking article.” He stresses, his loud voice echoing throughout the empty room.

“I'm not here to destroy your life, Eddie!” You snap, voice raising to match the level of his own. Eddie steps closer, towering over you and glaring so intensely into your eyes that you almost cower, “I don’t fucking believe that for a second.” He snaps back.

His chest rises and sinks like a rocky boat beneath his angry breaths, and he’s so close you can smell the cigarettes and mint on his breath. The scent of his cologne wrapping around you and choking you like a snake.

You don’t know how much more patient you can be with Eddie. You don’t know how much more of this back-and-forth you can take before it drives you insane. You want it to end. You want him to understand that you’re not his enemy; you never were.

You can only think of doing one thing: unzipping your bag and reaching in to grab your journal. Eddie watches with a hint of confusion in his eyes as you crack open the journal and start flipping through the pages. “What are you doing?” He asks in annoyance, patience running thin at your silence.

You flip through nearly half of the book before finding the pages you sought. You don’t think twice before ripping them out, not even caring if it destroys the binds of your precious journal. “The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks again.

You tear each page out and drop the book to the floor, ignoring Eddie’s questions as you shred each torn-out page to pieces. Eddie watches in silent and hidden shock as each pen-soaked strip flutters to the ground, creating a heap of trash between where you both stand.

You tear the last piece and let it fall before looking at Eddie, watching as he gazes at the torn pages. Nearly five pages worth of writing, gone.

“There. It’s gone. Do you believe me now?” 

Eddie says nothing when he drags his gaze up to look at you, shock-ridden across his face. “I’m not who you say I am, Eddie. I’m not here to ruin your life; that was never my intention.”

Eddie stays silent, seemingly lost for words, and even if you want him to say something, your braveness has begun to falter, and you itch to leave the room. You’re strong-willed, but you’re no fucking superwoman, and Eddie has pulled every exhausting breath out of you, and you can’t seem to get a grip because every time you breathe in, all you smell and feel is Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

You grab your destroyed journal from the floor, not bothering to try and fix the binding before you shove it back into your bag, and you don’t say another word as you leave the room.

You’ve been writing for hours when you check the clock— twelve thirty-two. The band played a show tonight, but you decided to stay in your hotel to let your ankle rest— you haven’t been taking all the precautions the medic advised you to, so by the time lunch rolled around, you were in an uncomfortable fit of pain. You used your free time by tweaking the draft of your article— adding in new pieces of information and taking out unnecessary notes. You’re about twenty pages in, but by the end of the month, you’ll have compiled it all into ten; but for now, it seems your brain has become a muddled mess of words and ideas. 

You suppose drinking three glasses of wine didn’t help fix that, either. You’re tipsy, teetering on the edge of drunk, and that’s a dangerous place to be when you’re practically working. You don’t even want to think of the past drunken works you’ve made; they’re worse than you’d like to admit.

You sigh, dropping your pen onto the hotel desk, leaning back in your chair, and rubbing your hand down your face in exhaustion. You glance over to the chair you’ve propped up to rest your injured leg, deciding that you should probably ice it since you’ve neglected to do so all day.

You figure you’re done writing for the day anyway, so you put your things in order before grabbing the ice bucket and making your way out of the room to find the ice machine. 

What you don’t expect to find on your journey is a sleepy Eddie sitting in the hallway just a few doors down from yours. Maybe you drank four glasses of wine.

Out of common, drunk courtesy, you redirect your path and limp over to where he sits, arms folded across his chest and head leaned back against the wall with shut eyes.

You gently say his name to grab his attention, but he doesn’t budge. You shuffle closer, calling his name out again, and when that doesn’t work, you gently nudge him with your non-injured foot. His eyes flutter open, blinking away the light sleep from his eyes as he looks at you.

You tilt your head in question and ask, “What are you doing sleeping in the hallway?” 

Eddie shifts in his spot, grunting and glancing at the bucket in your hands. From the looks of it, Eddie is as sober as can be, so you guess he decided to skip out on the after-show festivities they usually partake in. “I um… I lost the key card to my room.” He explains, gesturing to the door across from where he’s seated.

“The band is out for the night, and the lobby’s closed, so…” 

You nod in understanding, glancing around the empty hallway, catching sight of a cleaning lady entering a room down the corridor. And technically, you don’t owe Eddie anything.

You could leave him here in the hallway to spend the night sleeping on the hard ground, and it probably wouldn’t bother him either way because Eddie clearly doesn’t like you, but fuck you feel bad.

You’re not a terrible person. You wouldn’t kick somebody when they’re already down, and Eddie… Eddie is clearly down.

Before you can thoroughly think it over, your liquor-weighted mouth speaks before you can stop yourself, “You could crash in my room for the night.”

Eddie looks at you with the blankest expression he could ever muster and blinks, “Why would I do that?”

God, he’s such a fucking asshole.

You shrug, gently swinging the bucket in your hand and glancing around again, “I don’t know, unless you'd like to sit here all night like a moron, then be my guest.”

Your ankle hurts as you stand and wait for Eddie to make up his mind, and just when you almost decide to throw in the towel and let him fend for himself, Eddie grumbles a short “Fine,” and gets up.

You watch as he reaches down to grab his leather jacket and turns to you, “You can go ahead; I have to get ice for my foot.” You tell him, pointing to your door so he knows where to go.

Eddie glances down at your injured leg and says nothing before he reaches forward and gently takes the bucket from your hands— cold, jewelry-covered fingers brushing up against your warm knuckles and sending shivers up your spine.

He hands you his jacket, and you stand silently, confused by the exchange. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he answers your question, “I’ll get the ice.” And he doesn’t even bother looking at you before turning around and leaving to find the ice machine.

You’re too drunk to figure out what that was about, and your ankle is starting to throb under the pressure of standing, so you walk back to your room clutching his jacket and trying your hardest not to let the familiar scent of Eddie knock you dead.

You leave the door slightly propped open for Eddie and place his jacket on the chair near the desk. In the meantime, you busy yourself with removing your suitcase and clothes you’d haphazardly tossed around from the extra bed where Eddie will be sleeping. You figure you’ll just head to bed once Eddie gets here, so you exchange your jeans and fitted top for shorts and a ratty old He-Man shirt from high school.

You’re setting your previous clothes aside when Eddie steps into the room, a bucket full of ice in one hand with a Coke and chips in the other. You raise an eyebrow, questioning the extra items, and he shrugs as he shuts the door with his foot, “What? The vending machine was right next to the ice, and I was hungry.” He explains as he places the bucket on the desk, making sure to avoid placing it on your work pages. He tries his best not to look at what you’ve written, and you don’t point it out when he clears his throat and diverts his attention to something else. He grabs the wine bottle and shakes it, raising an eyebrow when he realizes it’s less than halfway full, “I take it someone had a good time?”

You roll your eyes, walking over to take the bottle and put it back on the desk. “Not that it’s any of your business.” You respond, turning to grab a ziplock to fill with ice. Eddie takes the bag from you and shoos you away, “Go sit down, I’ll do it.”

Your face twists in confusion, “You’re starting to scare me. Are you gonna kill me?”

Eddie laughs and busies himself with scooping large chunks of ice and dropping them into the open ziplock. “I will if you don’t sit down.” He responds.

You relent and walk over to your bed, sitting at the head of the mattress to lean against the pillows near the headboard, doing your best to shove a pillow beneath your foot lazily. You sit silently, hands folded against your stomach, watching Eddie work.

He’s wearing his usual black jeans, decorated with hanging chains from his waist, and a plain white shirt, hidden muscles flexing beneath the soft cotton. His shoulders are broad yet hidden beneath the thick, curly mane of hair he has. Tattoos litter his arms, a few trickling down to his fingers, and you catch glimpses of his knuckles dripping with drops of water from the ice and— fuck.

There’s no way you’re checking out Eddie Munson, the asshole who’s made your life a living hell these past few weeks. You really can’t handle your liquor.

You panic and grab the TV remote, quickly turning it on to fill the silence. You distract yourself by watching the random sitcom playing until Eddie steps into your view. You must’ve been focused on the show because Eddie seems to have traveled to the restroom to get a towel to wrap around your makeshift ice pack. Your sheets are pulled back, leaving your bare legs on display, and you can’t help but squirm when Eddie stands at the foot of the bed and takes in the sight of you.

He says nothing as he gently lowers the ice onto your ankle. His inked fingers sink into the plush cotton of the towel, and if Eddie weren’t an artist, you bet he could land a job as a hand model. Or maybe you’ve really lost it.

His gaze flickers to catch your wide eyes, and you hold your breath when he speaks, “Is it too cold? Do you need another towel?” He asks. You stutter to answer him, so you shake your head no, eventually sputtering out a response of, “N-no, it’s fine. Thank you.”

Eddie turns to grab his snacks and falls into the other bed with a sigh, cracking open the bag of chips and popping a few into his mouth. You grimace and pull the sheets over your body as you comment, “If you bring ants to my room, I swear to god, Munson, I’ll hunt you down.” 

Eddie chuckles, glancing at you as you shift around and get comfortable in bed, “Not with that broken foot, you won’t.”

You glare at him over the heap of expensive duvets and pillows, “I wonder whose fault that is?” You respond, falling back into bed when you see him roll his eyes. 

Eddie clears his throat after a moment, “Speaking of that,” he begins; you peek over at him once again to watch as he puts the chips aside and grabs the remote to start flicking through channels. “Since we’re off these next four days, you should keep it light on your feet.”

You sarcastically laugh, “Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned for my well-being. This night keeps getting weirder and weirder.” You joke. Eddie pauses his task to glance at you, “No, I just…” You raise an eyebrow, urging him to continue. He rolls his eyes, “I’m not a complete asshole, you know?” He grumbles, turning back to the TV.

You’re snuggled into your sheets now as you watch Eddie flip through the channels, admiring how different features of his face light up under the different colors from the screen. He’s… pretty.

“What do you have planned for your days off?” You question behind a drawn-out yawn. You think you catch a glimpse of a smile on Eddie’s lips, but you can’t see very well in the dim lighting. “My Uncle Wayne is flying in, so… I’m spending time with him,” Eddie explains. You smile, “Your uncle?” 

Eddie nods, and you hum, “That’s nice… Can I meet him?” 

You’re never drinking wine again.

Eddie looks at you as if you’ve asked him the dumbest question on earth, “Why would… why?”

You shrug, “Maybe he’ll help me figure out why you’re such a grump.” You half-heartedly tease. Eddie scoffs, returning to watch the movie he’s landed on, “If you think I’m grumpy, you’re not equipped to meet Wayne.” He comments. And then something remarkable happens.

Eddie smiles to himself.

It’s small and obviously not meant for your eyes, but you see it either way, and it… fuck, it makes you feel things you would’ve never imagined you could for such an asshole of a man. What is going on?

“He can’t be any worse than you.” You joke. Eddie scoffs, “Nah, Wayne takes the cake for grumpiest man alive,” he bids. 

Eddie tells you about Wayne, little memories he remembers that bleed into more memories until, eventually, he’s practically taking a walk down memory road. You go back and forth with him, commenting when you had a similar situation or when Eddie mentioned the same show you loved in high school.

At some point, Eddie’s stories and the low hum of the TV lull you to sleep, and you find yourself lying in cotton candy clouds, sinking into the softness and letting it surround you. 

Eddie’s not sure when you checked out on him, but he figures he’d been talking to himself for a while because you're fast asleep when he looks over at you.

He watches you for a moment and appreciates the way the blue and white hues of the TV dance across your face. Your skin looks soft under the fluorescent lights, and he thinks the steady rise and fall of your breaths is more entertaining than any movie he could’ve landed on. And you’re so pretty— soft and molded to perfection, and Eddie thinks he might like you more like this; when you’re not talking and being the most obnoxious person he’s ever met. Eddie hates the feeling he gets in his chest from just looking at you. 

You’re cute, he thinks.

He shakes his head to free himself from whatever weird feelings are spiraling through his mind, and he turns off the TV, letting the darkness swallow the room.

He’ll just have to worry about his feelings another time, he thinks.

————

part four

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a/n: HII U MADE IT TO THE END, U CAN ALL THANK MY STINK @mmunson86 FOR THE TINY PIECE OF FLUFF, THIS WAS FOR U BAE <3 ANYWAYS, PLS LET ME KNOW HOW U LIKED THIS PART I ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR UR FEEDBACK, ILY BYE

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