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tinydefector · 18 days

Note

This is my first time requesting anything on this app rn pls bear with me 😭😭

Can you write the TFP decepticons (like soundwave, shockwave, megatron, knockout, starscream) reacting to a young reader with a 90s grunge/metal music taste? Like they regularly play it on a CD player and what not and maybe there can even be HCs about what they like in music as well

Grunge Reader

Oki before we get into the Scenarios, here's the list of bots their thoughts on the music, clothing choice and what I think they would listen too.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: non

Request and ask open, read pinned post

Soundwave: for me Shockwave indulges in your music on many occasions he enjoy things that make you happy and if it's grunge metal he tends to go out of his way to find music downloading it for you, for him clothing or fabric in general is a foreign thing, only higher ups in the council and senate had those privileges, so he he tends to rather enjoy seeing all the different fabrics you wear.

His music choices tend to go one of two ways, Tecnho music or classical music.

Favourites to listen to

- daft punk

- scandroid

- dance with the dead

- Beethoven

- tchaikovsky

Knockout : Knockout adores listing to both you and Breakdown sing along to grunge music it livens up the medical wing and the amount of concerts the happen of the three of you singing together is amazing, he does adore your clothing choice but most times it a lot of the clothing you wear while helping him weld ends up being your band shirts.

His music choice is very pop based but he does enjoy some scandalous metal and rock.

- Lady Gaga

- nine inch nails

- Nickelback

- My Darkest days

- Rihanna

Breakdown: This bot is a grunge and metal fan, has taken you to multiple concerts events and even shopping for stuff. He has a collection of Cds in his glove box for when you both hangout. He is the one who's slowly convinced Knockout to let loose and dance around to the music with you. TM biggest grunge supporter of the ship.

His favourite bands consist of

- Faith no more

- the smashing pumpkins

- limp bizkit

- powderfinger

- Spiderbait

Starscream: he doesn't understand the appeal nor is he a fan of the music but he will still suffer though it with little remark other than a few grumbles over calling it junk music, but deep down he does enjoy it but only I a tiny bit. Starscream is more into piano and organ. He loves different genres but if it has a piano in it he's automatically captivated. It's the old Vos senator coming out.

- Joe Hisaishi

- Elton John

- mozart

- Ludovico Einaudi

- Billy Joel

Megatron: Megatron as much for his snarl and growl over your 'human' music he doesn't really mind, but he won't admit that, he will enjoy listening to the grunge music on occasions softly in the comfort of his own quarters. It's not really to his taste but he does rather enjoy some of the lyrics.

Music taste for Megatron is funny because I see him enjoying things like, for him it's the lyrics more than the music itself but he would never let anyone know this was the type of music he indulges in.

- Kate bush

- The Wombats

- bastille

- of monsters and men

- Hozier

Shockwave: Shockwave is a strange one for he has no real interest in music he's interested in the effects it has on people the way they react to it. But he himself isn't interested in it, so he doesn't really react to your music. He lets you listen to it and he studies you, how you sing, dance and express yourself. (If it was Senator Soundwave it would be a very different case he'd be a kesha Fan and most like enjoy classical music too)

But for TFP shockwave i feel like he would listen to things that are educational and most times it's only until he has memorised it all.

The periodic table song, he has caught himself humming to when he wishes to remember one of the elements he needs.

____________

SOUNDWAVE

loud music blares from one of the observation desks, 'Best of you' by foo fighters can be heard, At the unexpected yet recognizable guitar riff emanating through his communications hub, Soundwave cycles a quiet ventilation as he turns from maintenance duties to move calmly toward the source of noise and nervous glances. Approaching the observation deck, his visor betrays nothing as optics alight upon the human seated amid controls, belting lyrics with unrestrained passion.

His field pulses gentle amusement even as He lowers the volume slightly. Leaning his massive frame close 'til his visor meets bright eyes. His fingers delicately tap rhythm against a polished table beside his assistant as silence finds its way back between songs.

"Awww why'd you turn it down? I was even speed typing!" They whine out.

"Come on Soundwave you enjoy my music don't try to deny it" the smug comment from them is teasing and aimed at him. Soundwave's visor flickers with a trace of amusement, a smile face flickers onto his visor.

" Volume exceeded safety tolerances for sensitive communication arrays. Appreciation for artistic expression acknowledged." The crude mix of recorded voice combined as One massive talon extends to delicately sweep an errant lock of hair from their smiling face. His free servo rests upon the large keyboard, slowly typing another quick report.

"Continuation of duties mandatory."

His thumb traces a tender caress of their cheek as he continues to work, watching over them as he does so.

"Can I please have it up just a little more, it helps me concentrate on work when I can listen to music" they ask while leaning into his touch, small cheek pressed into his servo.

At their request, Soundwave considers briefly through a gentle pulse of his field before dipping his helm in a nod. "Very well. However, monitor levels closely."

He leans close to peers with gentle scrutiny at their work display, enormous frame bending tenderly as if to shelter their focus.

A deep ex-vent whispers across their cheek and hair. They smile up at him, eyes sparkling in a way only organics do.

"Your the best you know that soundwave" it makes the Decepticon feel very smug hearing those words but he doesn't voice it, His Soundwave's visor brightens subtly as his field swells with pulses of unconditional pride. Inclining his helm in a slow nod, trying to get them to focus back on their work.

"Hey Sounds, I know cybertron probably has its own type of music but if you had to pick a favourite earth genre and artist who would it be?" They ask more out of curiosity. At the thoughtful inquiry, Soundwave's optics linger on them from behind the visor. Though alien to his kind, organic cultural forms have proven insightful in the creativity humans possessed.

After several nanokliks. "Energetic melodies and precise instrumentation suggest preferred categories termed 'Classical' and 'techno'. Composers eliciting strongest empathic resonance include Beethoven and daft punk through capacity to convey vast complexity and emotive depth often exceeding standard units of measurement." He states before they both continue work with a few questions passed between the two of them.

Knockout & Breakdown

'Break stuff' by limp bizkit blares through the medical wing, the sound of a welder can be heard along with singing from both Breakout and their Human assistant. "It's just one of those days!" They both sing out while they continue working on fix work. The human assistant continues welding as Breakdown works on checking that the Venicon being worked on was still in induced status.

Knockout raised an audio receptor as the sound blared through the medical bay, his visor flickering with surprise. He turned to see his Conjunx and their human assistant working together, the two of them singing along to the song. A smirk formed on Knockout's faceplate, finding the scene oddly amusing.

As Breakdown checked on the Vehicon, Knockout approached, leaning against a nearby table with his arms crossed. "Well, well, seems like you two are having quite the productive day," he commented, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Breakdown glanced up from his task, a grin spreading across his faceplate. " Just trying to keep the energy up here," he replied. "You should join us! It's therapeutic, trust me."

Knockout chuckled, his optics flickering with amusement. "Oh, I wouldn't want to deprive you of your precious bonding time with our human," he replied, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "But keep up the good work, Breakdown. We've got quite the repair queue today."

He's all fixed up Breakdown" they call to the other bot.

Knockout's optics widened in mock offence at the human's comment, a playful pout forming on his faceplate.

"Seems like you've got quite the team going here, Breakdown," Knockout remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice. "But don't get too comfortable. We've got plenty more repairs to tackle."

The human flicks up their welding visor as they look to the doctor, "awww do you want me to put some Nine inch nails on for you after KO I know you enjoy them and Gaga" they call out which gets a snicker from Breakdown as he helps the human out of the Venicons chestplate.

"NIN, Gaga, and little ol' me? You know just how to make a mech feel special," he replied, his voice dripping with exaggerated charm. "But I must admit, their music does have a certain... appeal."

Breakdown chuckled at the banter, appreciating the light-hearted atmosphere in the medical bay. He moves towards Knockout who wraps his arms around the larger bot.

Knockout, still leaning into his Conjunx.

"No smooching in the Medbay!, save it for later lovebots!" They human yells while flinging a wrench at breakdown and Knockout, the wrench doesn't hurt either of them but Knockout hisses out about his paint. They move to their phone turning the bluetooth volume as 'Paralyzer' begins playing.

Knockout's optics widened in surprise as the wrench flew past him, narrowly missing its target. He instinctively ducked, his servo reaching up to protect his visage. A playful smirk formed on his faceplate as he looked at the human assistant, his voice filled with amusement.

"Watch the Paint!," Knockout shouts looking towards them,He glanced over at Breakdown, sharing a knowing look with his fellow Decepticon. The unexpected interruption only added to the lively atmosphere of the medbay

"Cheeky little scraplet," Knockout declared, his voice adopting a playful tone. And it makes Breakdown laugh, “don't let them catch you calling them that Red they'll have your helm” Breakdown whispers back to his lover.

Knockout and Breakdown resumed their work, the sound of their tools blending with the music. Despite the wrench incident, Knockout found himself appreciating the human's lively spirit and their ability to inject a sense of fun into their daily tasks.

As the songs continued to play, Knockout couldn't resist adding his own flair, busting out some dance-like moves in between repairs, Breakdown even taking a moment to spin him around. With every twist and turn, his frame exuded a confident charm, his vibrant personality shining through.

In that moment, the medbay transformed into a temporary haven of laughter, music, and productivity. The boundaries between Decepticon and human blurred, replaced by a shared enjoyment of the moment. And as they continued to work and dance, Knockout couldn't help but be grateful for the unexpected companionship and the vibrant energy their human assistant brought into their lives.

Starscream

Starscream loathed being put on pick up duties for the Decepticons 'pet' human as he declared them. He taps his claws against the tree trunk with a snarl.

It's another five minutes before they finally show up at the pick up point.

Starscream narrows his optics at the organic's dishevelled appearance. "You are late," he hisses, talons clenching impatiently against the tree bark. "And what is this...costume you've adorned yourself with? Have you been cavorting in primate rituals again?"

Scooping the human gingerly in his palm, Starscream brings them up to optic level for a more thorough scan. His faceplates curl in distaste at the myriad colours and textures now clinging to their garb.

"I care not what strange fashions the earthlings find appealing. But you represent the Decepticons in this rusting backwater. You will present yourself in a proper manner"

His tone holds a biting edge, though he is careful not to squeeze too tightly and damage his unwilling charge.

Setting the human down once more, he transforms in a whirr of joints, air brakes hissing. "Now Get in. I've wasted enough time already fetching you." His engines rev impatiently, prayer wings arched in a silent threat. Time to return to the Nemesis.

"Stars, I told you I had a concert tonight!, don't talk shit about my fit!" They state while flipping him off. They move to climb into the pilot seat, still humming along to some of the songs.

Starscream's optics narrow dangerously at the human's insolent gesture. "Watch your fleshy appendage, worm, before I remove it," he hisses. Nonetheless, he waits impatiently for the organic to strap into the seat before closing his cockpit windshield. As his flight engines roar to life, Starscream vents a derisive snort.

"A concert, you say? Bah. What pompous cacophony of noise making as 'music' among you humans?" Lifting off and banking sharply into the darkening sky, Starscream runs stealth diagnostics with his free systems. The organic's attire had indeed been outrageous, unbefitting one under Decepticon protection. Still, information is information.

"Now, out with it.?" His turbines whine expectantly, They let out a laugh. "Oh and I thought you weren't interested in the primitiveness of human society, you wanna hear about the music, drugs or amount of people who got hurt in the most pit?" They leaning back into his seat.

"Music, drugs, and injuries, you say? Now you have piqued my interest, fleshling. While your species' rituals hold little tactical value, So out with it, then - what lurid tales do you have to tell?" The two chat between themselves before Starscream asked his next question.

"What strange sounds passed for music among the masses? I assume it involved heavy percussion and vulgar vocals."

"It really depends on your taste Starscream, I happen to enjoy 90s Grunge, metal." They reply while pulling up 'Cannonball' by the breeders as an example. Starscream isn't impressed by it.

"Did cybertron have music? What did you enjoy listening too?"

Starscream considers the noisy music playing in his cockpit, wings twitching in distaste. "Your earthly 'grunge' leaves much to be desired in terms of musical structure and composition," he sniffs. "Though I will concede it matches the primitive aesthetic of your species."

At the human's question, Starscream's optics take on a distant gleam as he delves into memory files. "Cybertron was home to a rich culture and history before the wars consumed all. In the arena before battle, great artists would compose symphonies to inspire our skills and stir our sparks. Legendary musicians like Ironwing wrote anthems that could lift one's spirit even in the depths of the Pits."

His turbines sigh wistfully. "As for my own tastes...there was something majestic about listening to Polyhex Quartet in the archives of the Elite Guard. The way their harmonies echoed through the stacks, remnants of a Golden Age long fallen...it was easy to lose track of time, imagining nobler days."

Banking closer to the Nemesis, Starscream gazes toward the ship looking for his landing platform. "But that was vorns ago."

They hum as they lean forward resting their chin in their hands. "Any kinda human music you do like?" They ask, it was the most starscream had really talked with them, he seemed to enjoy it when people were open to listen.

Starscream considers the human's question, After several nano-klicks of thoughtful silence, he rumbles, "While most of your species' artistic offerings leave much to be desired, I did find some merit in the instrumental compositions of a 'Ludovico Einaudi.' His piano works featured a pleasant minimalism and emotional resonance that reminded me a bit of Polyhex Quartet's melodies from vorns past." As the seeker comes in for landing they quickly finish their conversation before Starscream begins walking off leaving them on the landing pad. “Come on then!” He calls out

Megatron

'Ever flow' by pearl Jam echo's through the Nemesis, and Megatron knows full well who was responsible for the music, his human companion, they had somehow convinced Soundwave to let them play music through the ship. As he approaches the command deck he can see the human sitting on the armrest of his throne-like seat. They look up at Megatron with a smile on their face.

Megatron loomed over the human sitting on his command throne, his optics flickering in irritation beneath his battlemask. "Explain yourself, fleshling," he rumbled. "Why have you taken liberties with my ship? The Nemesis operates according to my will alone." However, beneath his stern facade, Megatron felt a grudging admiration for the human's boldness. Few dared such freedoms amongst the Decepticons.

"It's really too quiet in here sir, I thought some music might help with work progress'' they state smugly knowing full well Megatron wouldn't do anything about it, he enjoyed their company too much. As the song continues to play his optics roam the ship taking in how all the Decepticons seem to be working quickly.

Megatron's optics narrowed at the human's insolent reply, but inwardly he conceded the point. A droning silence could sap even the most industrious of mecha. And perhaps this...experiment with music had merits he had not considered. His gaze swept the command deck, noting with grudging approval how the Decepticons laboured at peak efficiency under the strange sounds echoing through the Nemesis.

"You show promise, fleshling," rumbled Megatron. They nearly gasp as Megatron picks them up, holding them to his chassis as he walks out of the command deck with them in toe. They look up at him slightly worried. "Megatron I can change it if you like, I just thought Pearl Jam would be a decent band not too heavy or distracting" they state softly.

Megatron chuckled darkly as the human gazed up at him with concern, still clasped gently in his massive claw. " For now I have no complaints." He strode from the command deck, the human neatly tucked against his chestplate.

The next song that plays is 'monkeys gone to heaven' - by Pixies it's alot softer than the first song and Megatron finds he doesn't quite mind it, it's not the type of music he listened to on Cybertron but it was tolerable.

"Sir, did Cybertron have music?" They ask softly as he places them down on his desk of his hub suite.

Megatron felt his tension lessen ever so slightly as the softer music drifted through his audials. Not the proud martial hymns of Cybertron's past, but... tolerable from this alien creature. He lowered the human gently to his desk, regarding them thoughtfully as the question prompted memories of ages past.

"Indeed, Cybertron had its share of musical compositions," he rumbled. "Grand orchestral." His optics dimmed as he recalled theatre houses echoing with stirring choruses of advancement and glory. How far his once-great planet had fallen since those golden epochs.

"What did you like listening to?, my music taste isn't to everyone's liking but I'm intrigued. What did the great Decepticon leader listen to before he was a leader?" They ask while sitting down watching as he flicks through reports.

Megatron hesitated at the question, taken aback by their audacity. None dared inquire so freely into his past.

"Before the uprising, in Cybertron's golden age, my tastes ran to Cycles of Triumph, music that stirred the spark," he rumbled after a moment. "I was a gladiator then, and such works I found peaceful."

A clawed finger tapped thoughtfully on the arm of his throne. "Your music lacks such scope and poetic pull." His fiery optics regarded the human keenly.

"Is there anything you have listened to of earth music you happen to like?"

"There was one tune - 'Running Up That Hill', I believe the humans call it. Sung by a femme named Kate Bush. An...oddly compelling work."

His optics flickered as another memory surfaced. "And 'Greek Tragedy' by the Wombats - an enjoyable song about the fleeting nature of your species. The instrumentation was pleasing, and the lyrics reminded me of Cybertron's golden ages now lost, days I do sometimes miss."

Megatron fixed the human with a stern gaze. "But speak of this to no one. Your music has proven of some use, small creature, so I permit its continued playing for now. "

Shockwave

Shockwaves optic watches the human walk around the desk, headphones in as they dance to their music, they weren't even away when he was there, as they sing along to their music.

Shockwave observes the human with detached curiosity, analysing their behaviour and attempting to understand the appeal of their actions. The rhythmic movements and the joy displayed on their faces seem foreign to him, as he had never experienced such emotions himself. He analyses the human's clothing, noting the 90s grunge aesthetic and its significance in human culture.

As the human continues to dance and sing, Shockwave's attention is drawn to their carefree nature. It contrasts sharply with his own isolated existence and the weight of his scientific pursuits. He finds himself captivated by their uninhibited display of emotion, something he had only observed from a distance.

Curiosity piqued, Shockwave decides to engage with the human, partly out of a scientific interest in their behaviour and partly out of an unexplainable longing for connection. He approaches cautiously, his footsteps silent, as he stands by the edge of the desk. With a cold monotone, he interrupts their dancing.

"Human, your behaviour is perplexing to me. Explain the purpose of your actions and the emotions they elicit."

They let out a noise of surprise as they quickly remove their headphones. "shockwave!, sorry i didn't know you were back" they state sheepishly.

Shockwave's optic narrows as he observes the human's reaction, noting their surprise and subsequent apology. He remains silent for a brief moment, processing their response before speaking.

"There is no need for apologies. Your unawareness of my presence is inconsequential," Shockwave replies, his voice devoid of any warmth or understanding. "Now, answer my previous inquiry. Explain the purpose of your actions and the emotions they elicit."

The human shifts uncomfortably, their expression changing from surprise to slight unease. They hesitate for a moment before replying, "I... I was just listening to music and dancing. It's a way for me to express myself, to feel free and happy."

Shockwave processes their response, analysing the concept of expressing oneself through music and movement. He finds it intriguing, yet foreign, yet past memories linger for a life that was but a past memory. The emotions they mention, happiness and freedom, are unfamiliar to him these days, but he can sense a certain appeal in their description.

"Freedom and happiness," Shockwave muses, his monotone voice betraying a hint of curiosity. "These emotions are foreign to me. What purpose do they have?”

The human looks at Shockwave with a mix of surprise and sympathy. "Well, Shockwave, emotions are a complex part of being human, humans feel a lot and well music seems to ignite that in us."

Shockwave's single optic flickers as he processes the human's words, contemplating the idea of experiencing emotions. He remains silent for a while, lost in thought, before finally speaking, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

"I appreciate your perspective. It is a concept I will consider further. Thank you for enlightening me."

The human smiles warmly, offering a kind gesture. "Anytime, Shockwave."

Shockwave nods, his optic fixed on the human.

With that, Shockwave turns to walk away, his mind filled with newfound curiosity and lingering sensations under his plating. The encounter with the human has sparked something within him.

"Wait Shockwave" they call out trying to get his attention before the bot left to continue more studies.

Shockwave pauses in his tracks, turning his attention back to the human who called out to him. His optic narrows slightly, displaying a hint of curiosity as he regards them.

"What is it?" he asks, his monotone voice betraying no emotion. "Is there something else you require?"

"Do you listen to music?" They asked. They wanted to know if he did and if so what kind of music he enjoyed.

Shockwave's optic flickers briefly as he ponders the question. The concept of music as a form of entertainment is something he had observed but never actively engaged with himself. However, in his quest for knowledge, he had gathered data on various forms of human expression, including music.

"I do not listen to music, it has no benefits to my work," Shockwave replies, his voice devoid of any enthusiasm. "However, I have analysed and studied different genres of music as part of my research on human culture. It is an intriguing form of artistic expression. But have not ever listened for pleasure"

The human's face lights up with curiosity, their eyes shining with excitement. "I could play some music for you?, you might get an understanding of why humans like it so much” Shockwave hesitates for a moment, processing the human's offer. The idea of experiencing human music firsthand intrigues him. He nods, his optic narrowing slightly in response.

"Very well," Shockwave replies, his voice remaining monotone. "I am open to experiencing music in order to gain a deeper understanding of its appeal to humans. Please proceed."

The human grins and quickly moves to a nearby control panel, fiddling with buttons and switches until ‘head like a Hole’ begins to fill the room. The music flows through the speakers, enveloping the space with its riffs and rhythms.

As the music plays, Shockwave stands still, his optic focused on the source of the sound. He analyses the intricate patterns, the interplay of different instruments, and the emotions that the music is designed to evoke. And a memory flashes across his processor. His green and white features in a mirror as he sings along to music in his Laboratory, he had just been at a council session, Proteus had irritated him extremely and music helped him settle after the session. It's a fleeting memory of another life.

After a few moments, the human glances at Shockwave, their eyes searching for any signs of reaction. "What do you think, Shockwave?"

Shockwave pauses, his optic brightening for a brief moment before returning to its usual intensity. "Strange…" he states. He'd have to do more research into this.

#transformers #transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers prime #megatron #Starscream #Knockout #tfp knock out #breakdown #breakdown tfp #soundwave x reader #soundwave tfp #soundwave transformers #shockwave #shockwave transformers

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carlossainzwho · 7 months

Text

do you get deja vu?

yep, it's part two time!

pairing/s: carlos sainz x ex!reader

warnings - swearing, not proof-read (sorry to my english teachers) and sexual references. (i sound like netflix help)

note - i'm really sorry you've had to wait so long for a fic!! this is part two, you can read part 1 for a little more background before reading this one. i really hope you enjoy! please reblog/like for support, it really makes me smile!!

car rides to malibu strawberry ice cream one spoon for two and trading jackets laughing 'bout how small it looks on you (ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha)

long long car journeys with carlos were the best, blasting out billie joe and queen all day, all night.

going to the same ice cream shop in mallorca

to get the classic ice cream

strawberry

with chocolate sauce

stuffing it all in carlos' face

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

feeling cold

wind blowing

exchanging your denim jacket for carlos' much thicker one

he looked funny

and handsome

and

he was hers, she was his

oh, ain't it funny

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

watching reruns of glee being annoying singing in harmony i bet she's bragging to all her friends, saying you're so unique, hmm

glee

making fun of his name

carlos science, carlos heinz tomato ketchup

singing 'smooth operator' till your throat hurt

but now rebecca's the one doing it with him

tight black dresses

at clubs

getting drunk

leads to

making out

leads to

the bed

So when you gonna tell her That we did that, too? She thinks it's special But it's all reused That was our place, I found it first I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu? (Ah), hmm Do you get déjà vu, huh?

no amount of

kissing her

hugging her

fucking her

could change how he felt in his head

he knew

carlos knew

he did all that with y/n

with rebecca snoring by his side

he knew that the jackets

the singing

glee

he did it all before

with

someone

else

Do you call her Almost say my name? 'Cause let's be honest We kinda do sound the same Another actress I hate to think that I was just your type

rebecca, y/n

rebecca.

y/n.

they both had kind of similar accents

search her up

rebecca donaldson: model, actress and carlos sainz's new girlfriend!

y/n was nothing

she meant nothing to carlos

I'll bet that she knows Billy Joel 'Cause you played her "Uptown Girl" You're singing it together Now I bet you even tell her How you love her In between the chorus and the verse

how many more times should she say

how much she missed him?

through the singing

crying

laughing

he was there by her side

but now y/n knew

that carlos was singing and crying and laughing with someone else

Strawberry ice cream in Malibu Don't act like we didn't do that shit, too You're trading jackets like we used to do (Yeah, everything is all reused) Play her piano, but she doesn't know (oh, oh) That I was the one who taught you Billy Joel (oh) A different girl now, but there's nothing new

y/n drove past mallorca

past the same ice-cream shop

that sold the strawberry ice-cream

the wind blowing

clutching onto her denim jacket

the one that would never fit carlos

now he's doing all that with someone else

but she doesn't know

that

it was all y/n

and now

he probably seemed funny

and handsome

not long ago

he was hers

she was his

but not anymore

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

taglist: @styles-sunflower @marsinout @queers-of-marybelltownship @alonsogirlie @hoeforevery1 @charlosgoggles @albonsluvr

hope you loved it! so sorry it took long :(

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astermath · 11 months

Text

songbird ♪♩♬

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: your singing had easily become steve’s new favorite sound. he can’t help but break out in an impromptu duet with you one night, and the two of you share a heartfelt moment together.

tags: domestic steve, established relationship, not rlly proofread, normal size font below!!

word count: 0.9K

notes: just smth short while i’m on my steve high lol, i’m a sucker for domestic steve oh my GOD RAHHH

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!

Even before you two started dating, Steve knew how you loved to sing.

You were a music fanatic, usually out by yourself with a little headset and a walkman, humming along with Cyndi Lauper songs as you went about your day. It was adorable, really, it made his heart swell. He’d started believing your singing was the only thing that could put his mind to rest after a long day, even if that wasn’t why you did it.

He’d told you how much he enjoyed it one time when you were cuddling, his head on your chest, your fingers tangling through his brown locks. You were softly singing something along the lines of a lullaby, and by god was it working. He swore he’d never been more at ease, just enjoying the gentle lull of your voices, taking in your warmth, your scent.

He’d turned his head so his chin was resting gently over your sternum, facing you with a sleepy yet adorable smile.

“You know, your voice is probably the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard...” His eyes remain half lidded, his words had a certain rasp to them due to his sleepiness.

“Yeah?” You smiled, in awe at just how god damn adorable your boyfriend was.

“Yeah,” he laid his head back down, ready to get back to his nap, “my pretty songbird...” he mumbled, before evidently falling into a peaceful slumber.

Now, when the two of you shared an apartment, your melodic voice became a welcomed part of his routine. Whenever he’d come home, he’d usually find you in the kitchen, swaying your hips and singing along to whatever was on the radio as you worked on dinner. He wished he could just keep watching you like that, in your own little world, but there was no way he could possibly restrain himself from getting his “welcome home” hug.

Today was just like that, Steve watching you from the doorway as you stirred some pasta, singing along to “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel. He licked his lips subconsciously, watching the almost hypnotizing movements of your curves as he slowly approached you.

His large hands settled onto your hips, giving a slight squeeze as he hummed along with you. You grinned, turning your head to press a soft kiss to his lips, before continuing to sing. His body moved along with the rhythm of yours, and you could feel his smile against your skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to your neck.

His hands moved down your arms to grab your own, pulling you away from the stove and closer to him. You giggled as he twirled you around, holding onto you with one hand before pulling you in back in close. He moved on from humming to fully singing along with you, and you were surprised by how good he was at it.

He held your face as your hands settled on his muscly arms, simply singing to each other as you basked in the sheer happiness of your sweet domestic life. Your voice softened as the song gradually faded back into regular radio chatter, eyes looking up to find Steve looking down at you with a look of pure and utmost adoration. It was like he’d found the human embodiment of a star, and he was dating her, living with her even.

A gentle, satisfied hum left his lips when you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him, thumbs stroking over your soft cheeks. He kept the same dopey, boyish smile on his face when you pulled away.

“Welcome home, Stevie.” You mumbled, lips brushing over his from the proximity you kept to each other. He realized you hadn’t said a word to each other yet since he returned, just burst out in song and kisses. It was cheesy, so cheesy, but it made him so happy.

“Couldn’t help myself,” He pecked your lips again, “you sounded so pretty,” another peck, “my little songbird.”

The nickname earns a shy giggle from you, and he now fully envelops you in his arms, holding your head to his chest. You can hear his heart pounding, just the same way it pounded when you’d shared your first kiss. The excitement remained all the same with him.

You just stood there like that for a moment, silent besides the sound of the stove and the radio, embracing one another. As much as you both liked to chat, the quiet, loving moments like this were just as valuable as any words you had to say to each other.

“Honey?” he asks, breaking the quietness between you both.

“Yeah?” you perk up, pulling back just an inch, enough to still feel his body heat.

“I think, uh--” He looked over his shoulder, “whatever you were cooking just burned.”

Your eyes widened for a moment, letting go of him and going to the stove to turn it off and prevent a housefire. He was worried you’d be upset, but instead, you started giggling, bringing a hand up to your forehead. “Shit, well...” You turned your head to look at him. “Takeout?”

He chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “Sure. Takeout.”

#stevemath #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington writing #steve harrington fan fic #domestic steve harrington #stranger things blurb #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things drabble #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fan fic #steve stranger things #aster writes stranger things

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bourbonesneat · 1 year

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If ship captains have the power to marry people, do they also have the power to divorce them?

Voyager had to have at least one couple that married and divorced three times. Janeway doesn’t even blink when they come in to ask her to marry them again. But she does make them do premarital counseling with Chakotay because if she’s going to suffer through this so is he.

There are couples she wants to divorce, and if they kept going in the DQ, she would’ve ordered them to divorce, damn the consequences.

She doesn’t even care about marrying people, but Neelix throws the best parties for weddings.

Marriage is a weird thing in the DQ because they could die any day so they don’t always build good foundations for marriage. And not every relationship needs to end in marriage.

There’s a betting pool on who will be the next to get married and the next to get divorced. Tuvok started it. He and T’Pel are listed, and if she were on board, he’d bet on them so they could divorce and split the extra rations. They would immediately remarry after collecting their winnings.

Admiral Janeway tells Captain Janeway that Seven and Chakotay get married in the future to collect on some 250-to-1 odds. She sacrifices herself before anyone can catch on.

Naomi Wildman is the flower girl in every wedding whether the couple has a traditional one or not. She also brings flowers for divorces.

Neelix’s divorce parties are legendary. They always start out awkward, but by the end of it, the exes are singing Billy Joel together. Q has crashed four divorce parties.

Harry has been Man of Honor and Best Man 17 times. He gives the best toasts.

Tom and B’Elanna fight over who gets to have Harry by their side.

#star trek #star trek voyager #voyager #harry kim #tom paris #tuvok #neelix #kathryn janeway #chakotay #b’elanna torres #naomi wildman #seven of nine

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skellymom · 5 days

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A TRIBUTE TO THE CLONES

As The Bad Batch Season 3 Comes To A Close...

youtube

"Goodnight Kamino"

(Taken from the Billy Joel song "Goodnight Saigon". I chose this song in particular as George Lucas wrote Star Wars with Vietnam in mind. EVERYONE...I WAS 6 YEARS OLD WHEN THE VIETNAM WAR ENDED! In my mind, the Clones are singing this song together...)

We met as soul mates on Kamino Island We left as inmates from an asylum And we were sharp as sharp as knives And we were so gung ho to lay down our lives

We came as highly engineered forces Sacrificed men as numbered corpses And we learned fast to travel light Our arms were heavy, but our bellies were tight

We had no home front, but we learned to cope They sent us holos, that gave us some hope We dug in deep and shot on sight And bet on the Force and the Light

We fought the Clankers on the landscape We passed the Spotchka and played our Jizz tapes And it was dark, so dark at night And we held on to each other, brother to brother We promised our Jedi's we'd fight

And we would all go down together We said we'd all go down together Yes, we would all go down together

Remember Jessie, remember Fives Tech fell on Eriadu, the end of their lives And who was wrong? And who was right? It didn't matter in the thick of the fight

We held the day in the palm of our hands They ruled the night, and the night Seemed to last as long as six cycles On Kamino Island

We killed with blaster fire, now serving the Empire And they were sharp, as sharp as knives They activated our chips, we killed Jedi on their ships Execute Order 66 had arrived

And we will all go down together We said we'd all go down together Yes, we would all go down together

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saltsicklover · 6 months

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Title: Vienna ☁︎

Master List HERE

Listen to Vienna HERE

A request based off of THIS prompt

Romantic Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x AFAB Reader

Small use of "Y/N"

Word Count: 3300+

Rating: T

Warnings: Medical Inaccuracy, Medical Terminology, Hospital, Passing out, light descriptions of pain, throwing up, heavy Billy Joel references, talks of children and having kids.

If it weren't for the lack of breathe crystalizing in the air, it could have been the dead of winter in those four walls, the world around them frozen.

"You don't get to make that choice for me," Bradley speaks firm, tone boarding on pitiless. The way he rings his hands does nothing to quell the way Red shakes. "We are a couple, we work through shit together, and now you just want to walk away without any sort of reason as to why?"

Tears swim behind Red's eyelids; her breathing slowing in an fruitless attempt to calm down.

"You want a reason?" The heels of her hands are pushed into her eyes, Bradley's eyes locked on her chipped nail polish, nails chewed down. Something is wrong. Red always has her nails done. Always shinning with a thick coat of colored lacquer; this is wrong. There are chips in the paint, her skin bitten, torn and red.

The twisting in Red's stomach does nothing but make her sick, as if she hadn't been nauseous to begin with. It's unclear as to if it's the pain is from the cyst on her ovary that threatens to rupture at any moment, or if the the breaking of Bradley's heart is enough to take out her whole body. A gentle hand comes up to cradle her stomach though it's tender to the touch, protruding in a way that's only comfortable in familiarity. Bradley watches her hand cradling her stomach, letting his gaze follow the line of her arm up to her shoulder.

"Vienna," Its the only word Red can stutter out, her eyes pressed together so tight it looks painful.

"Vienna?" Bradley questions, the answer he begged for leading him no closer to understanding why he walked into their shared apartment to find Red packing her bags.

She would have been gone already if she hadn't spent close to an hour on the cold bathroom floor, the rug scrunched up under her knees. Emptying her stomach in that very bathroom has become too familiar, yet never easier.

"Yes Bradley, it's because you are the one Billy Joel sings about," Red laments like it's the most obvious thing in the world and that Bradley is just missing it.

"You have all these goals, these aspirations, these dreams and you are working so fucking hard to get to them. And God damnit Bradley, you're so ahead of yourself that you're forgetting what you need, and I just know that I'm not it, okay? You'd be a fool if you're satisfied with me,"

A few salty tears escape between Red's tightly scrunched eyes, flowing down the wrinkled skin surrounding them. Bradley is exasperated at her reply, his words stuck on his tongue as he flounders. Maybe in some other universe this analogy would make sense, maybe he would be that lost kid Billy Joel is just trying to get to take a goddamn break, but here and now it's leaving Bradley with more questions than straight answers.

The air around them stands still, neither brave enough to take a breath let alone make the next move. They stand four feet apart, Red scooching back every time Bradley takes a step forward. She is consistently just out of reach, his fingertips just a bit too far away to brush against her burning skin.

Bradley tries to piece together the broken girl in front of him, wracking his mind for the pieces of her that have been slowly slipping away over the last six months. Red hadn't always been this way, tattered edges and fraying composure. When the pair met, Bradley swore she could stop traffic with her smile alone, from the way her lips curled up at the corners to the bright shade of red lipstick that he quickly understood to be her signature color.

The first time Bradley sees her, she is sat atop her classic Cadillac with the hood popped, her legs crossed at the knee as she bobs nearly her whole body along to the radio that sits next to her. Bradley pulls his Bronco off to the shoulder, kicking up dirt as he throws his own vintage vehicle into park. The Cadillac is a red beacon just guiding him in, like a lighthouse in a storm.

"Hey there, Sailor," She flirts from over the top of her sunglasses, the frames pointing out and bedazzled, as Bradley slides out of his vehicle, "Do you save all the pretty girls?"

Then he's laughing before he's even made it all the way to her, a raspberry hue of a blush creeping up over the collar of his uniform. That's Not Her Style by Billy Joel kicks through her little radio, the connection coming in with a handful of static.

"Aviator, actually," Bradley finally matters as he closes the rest of the space between them, allowing himself to stand right between her newly uncrossed legs. "And of course I do, I am a gentleman after all,"

The comment is half assed flirting on Bradley's part, which is new for him. With a smirk playing on her pretty red lips, she twists the nob on the radio so the music sings just a little bit louder. There's something powerful in the way she looks down at Bradley, but it's him who feels like he is ruling the world with all her attention focused squarely on him. Her eyes drift across his nametag, before making their way back up to his pretty, flushed expression.

"Okay, Aviator Bradshaw," Bradley fights back a laugh at the name, willing her to keep talking with a nod of his head. She leans forward, just over him and smiles, "Do you think all your airplane knowledge could help me figure out what's goin' on with my Daisy here?"

"Daisy?" He cocks an eyebrow at her, completely smiting already. Any woman who names her car in a man after his own heart!

The mystery woman pats the top of her car with a little smile, "Yes, sir,"

That makes Bradley flush deeper, a blackberry tint. He tries not to let his mind wander too far, but in front of this woman who seems to have an affinity for the color, he doesn't mind the intense blush that's rising up under his skin.

"This is my Daisy, a 1956 Cadillac Eldorado, she's a beauty, isn't she?" The woman looks down at her vehicle but Bradley's eyes are firmly stuck on her.

"Yes she is," He replies, eyes tracing over the bright red lipstick she has expertly painted onto her lips. "What's your name, sugar?"

"My name is Y/N, but my friends call me Red,"

"I can see why," Bradley sends a wink up to her, causing her to giggle. "Let me take a look, you just sit up there and keep looking pretty, alright?"

Red brings two fingers up to her forehead, flicking her wrist in a mock salute, "Yes, sir, Aviator Bradshaw,"

All Bradley can do is laugh; he knows he should correct her and tell her that it's actually Lieutenant Bradshaw, but he doesn't dare embarrass her out of fear that she might not meet his eyes again and Bradley can't have that. So, he doesn't say anything, opting to round to the front of the car. As he peers into the engine, Red resumes her cross-legged position, listening to a new song thrum through the cheap radio.

After a few minutes of staring at nothing in particular, Bradley catches her eye as he rounds back around the vehicle, a sheepish look on his face. "Looks like you need a new valve for your carburetor, nothing I can fix for you right now,"

"Can you drive me into town?" Red asks sweetly.

"Absolutely," Bradley is almost too quick to answer. He runs his sweaty hands off on his tan trousers, leaving behind dirt and oil, his once pristine uniform slacks now unwearable. Then, he reaches up to Red, taking her carefully by the waist, lifting her off the top of the classic car.

"Thank you, sir," Red peers up from under her lashes, letting her hands slowly slide from around Bradley's neck and down his chest before pulling her hands away all together. It takes Bradley just as long to let go, enjoying the way her body squishes under his powerful hands.

The ride into town is short, really, but the pair sit inside the Bronco in the parking lot of the auto mechanic's. The radio is playing that damn Billy Joel song again, and Red is humming along, the sound making Bradley's heart swell. Then, Red is sliding over on the bench seat, right into Bradley's space.

She leans in, taking his chin gently in between her thumb and fingers, before planting a kiss right to his cheekbone. "Thank you," She whispers into his ear, then she's back on her side of the cab, throwing open her door.

"What was that for?" He asks her, a cheesy grin adorning his face.

"Just givin' the pilot something extra for a perfect ride," She throws one last wink his way before slamming the door behind her. Bradley watches her hips sway all the way across the parking lot and doesn't take his eyes off her until she is disappearing into the mechanic shop.

Then, as he's throwing the Bronco into reverse with a glance in the rearview mirror, he catches the kiss print she left behind. It takes him six blocks before he realizes she quoted that damn song to him.

But now, Bradley barely recognizes the woman in front of him. There is no longer that stunning read lipstick adorning her lips, instead her face is flushed with it's own rosy hue that looks more sickly and burning than it does anything else. Red cradles her stomach, her fingertips pushing into her lower abdomen. Bradley grimaces at the way she digs into the soft flesh of her stomach.

There's a clear look of discomfort on her features from the way her face is pinched, expression sour. Bradley wants nothing more than to fold her into his arms yet he doesn't make a move. He watches her eyes dart between himself and her suitcase, then to the pile of clothes next to the bed. Red is calculating her next move and all Bradley can do is watch her.

"Red..." It's a start, her name trailing off his tongue in a tone he has never heard himself use.

"It's done, Bradley," Her vision is swimming, Bradley's body going fuzzy just beyond her eyelashes.

"Can I help you pack?" It's a shallow attempt to keep her close just a little while longer, like he's pushing his cupped hands together to the last little bits of their relationship from slipping through his fingers.

Red can't say a word, everything stuck in her throat all jagged and laced with pain. A couple tears slip from her lash line, streaking down her face as she nods to him. And so, gently Bradley sits down on the floor and begins folding her clothes. Each article is soft against the rough, seasoned skin of his fingers.

Carefully, Bradley pulls all of her undergarments from the pile, straightening them out and laying them flat so they can be easily packed. Each pair stained with angry looking patches from blood long washed away. Each and every pair, Bradley notices, stained to some degree. Some are worse than others, sure, but not a single pair are left unmarked.

The sight of it make's Bradley's stomach churn. So does the way Red is kneeling just a few feet away, her head to her knees with pain written into her features. Bradley's hands slow, the tee-shirt in his hands becoming nothing more than a crumbled garment as his attention is fixed slowly on his girl. He does his best to ignore his own tears that are threatening to take over. Red whimpers like she is holding back a scream.

"Red?" There is too much panic in Bradley's voice. Then, she is slumping forward, her body going limp. Bradley's world moves in slow motion as he watches Red pass out, his mind replaying the way the tension leaves her body just as gravity takes her. It's a good thing she was already on the floor, her head not smacking against the floor or any furniture on the way down.

There is a sort of humanity in the way Bradley cradles Red in his arms, bringing her head up to rest against his shoulder, her back laying against his chest. He positions her right between his legs, wrapping a strong arm around her frame. It's the way so many have cradled their loved ones before.

With a quick phone call an ambulance is headed their way.

As the paramedics haul Red down the hallway on the stretcher, Bradley can't seem to move from his spot on the floor. Here he is surrounded by her half packed suitcase and her collection of stained underwear. He knows there is still a half full glass of water with just a squeeze too much lemon sitting on her bedside table. Red's robe still hangs on the hook in the bathroom, just waiting for her next post bath routine.

Here is littered with her, and Bradley knows he has to fight for her harder, because Red is his endgame and Vienna is only worth it if she is by his side.

The drive to the hospital seems like a cloudy memory to Bradley, though he is sure he ran a red light. It's hours before a nurse guides Bradley back to Red's room and all Bradley can think about is the look of sympathy on that nurses face and the way Red looks so fucking small in the hospital bed.

The nurse disappears not a moment later, leaving Bradley to stand and stare at Red's features from across the room. Slowly, he creeps up to her bedside, taking a seat in the uncomfortable chair positioned next to her.

Bradley takes in the slope of her nose as he pushes hair back from her forehead. He brushes his knuckles over her cheek and in that moment he realizes this is the first time he hasn't seen her in pain for months. The realization hits him square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He doesn't know why it took him so long to notice, why he never realized that his girl was struggling, Bradley has no idea what's wrong with her.

He knows he shouldn't do it, but Bradley takes the chart off the end of the bed. He flips through the thick pages of the chart, scanning for anything he can make sense of.

PROCEDURE: TOTAL HYSTERECTOMY

CAUSE: FIBROIDS

PRIOR DIAGNOSISES: ENDOMETRIOSIS, OVARIAN CYCSTS

They are terms Bradley doesn't recognize, yet they make his stomach churn with anxiety. He spends the night at Red's bedside, one hand laced with hers while he scrolls through the internet with the other. He bounces from medical websites to reddit forums, they Mayo Clinic to a medical textbook he found the PDF for somewhere in the recesses of the internet.

The information he learns is vast, too much for him to digest in such little time. The sickness Bradley feels is a mix of guilt and exhaustion, the feeling that he has failed as a partner hanging over him.

Red finally wakes the next morning, groggy and confused as a doctor and nurse stand over her, checking her progress. A nurse carefully works at changing the bandages on her abdomen, an ache panging through Red as she comes to.

"Wha-?" She tries, but the nurse is quick to sooth her.

"It's alright, doll, Dr. Greene and I are taking good care of you," She coos as she works, her eyes fluttering between her work and Red's face.

"You're in the hospital," The doctor begins, his bedside manner leaves something to be desired, "You were brought in after you lost consciousness. You had an ovarian cyst burst, and we had to operate. However, when we got inside, we discovered that your endometriosis had progressed rapidly and you had large fibroids. We had to take everything, so we preformed a full hysterectomy. I'm sorry I don't have better news,"

Bradley listens to the doctor from the other side of the room, his head swimming with information. He knew this explanation was coming, but nothing could have prepared him for Red's reaction to the heartbreaking news.

"It's alright," Red manages, "I had an appointment to for my pre-op pap, anyway,"

The nurse looks so sympathetic, almost like there are tears in her eyes but Bradley can't quite make it out.

"So you know that you will no longer be able to carry children, nor will you be able to have a biological child," The question is met with a tired nod, sadness written deep into the lines of her face.

In that moment it all falls into place for Bradley.

All he has ever wanted is a family of his own, and Red knew she wouldn't be able to give that to him. She wouldn't be able to carry his child, or any child. So, she hid it, the ability to face the man she loves and absolutely break his heart's just too much. That's why she was leaving.

Not because she didn't love him, no.

But because she loves him enough to make sure he had every chance to live out that dream. So he could get everything he wants, even if it's not with her.

"Oh, Red," Bradley sighs, tears slipping from his eyes. The doctor and the nurse slip out the door quietly, leaving the pair alone.

"Bradley?" Red asks like she can't believe he is standing in front of her. "Why are you here?"

He tries to keep that question from breaking his heart, but he feels a bit more fragile as he takes his seat next to her once more.

"I couldn't leave you," It's the truth, but there's more he has to say sitting heavily on his tongue. "I know why you tried to walk away,"

The way she sighs makes them both ache. She doesn't say a word, so Bradley continues, slipping his hand into hers.

"Do you really think that I would throw away everything we have, the life we have built together just because of this?"

"But, Bradley," Red whimpers, trying to pull her hand back. He squeezes it harder, not letting it slip from his grasp.

"Red, I need you to hear this. I have wanted kids my whole life, you know that. I wanted them with you, because you are my everything, but kids have never been the end game. It's you and I, that's the endgame. A ring on your finger and a little house somewhere off the beach, maybe a little prop plane and a dog. God, Red, you are my endgame, and no ability to have children, or not have them is going to change that. I can't lose you, Red, you're it for me,"

They are both crying, ugly tears and snot slick across their faces. The way they clutch each others hands like they might drift apart if they let go.

"I love you, Red, and Vienna waits for us both, together,"

"Together," Red manages through the pain, through the tears. Bradley stands, brushing her hair back once more before pressing an overly wet kiss to the center of her forehead. When he sits back down, he pulls his phone from his pocket. With quick fingers music slowly begins to pour through the speakers, filling the quiet of the hospital room.

"Slow down you crazy child

You're so ambitious for a juvenile

But then if you're so smart tell me

Why are you still so afraid?"

Bradley sings the words to her, his voice low and full of love. Red listens to him as her eyes begin to droop, sleep threatening to take over. She fades in and out for a few minutes with the verses. Somewhere between wake and sleep, Red pictures Vienna in the way Bradley described, the vision taking over her dreams.

#Bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x you #rooster x reader #Bradley Bradshaw comfort #Bradley Bradshaw angst #top gun maverick fanfiction #saltsickrequests

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u2fangirlie-blog · 10 days

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Good Omens Crowley and Aziraphale Reunited Playlist

In anticipation of Good Omens Season 3, here’s the “Crowley and Aziraphale Reunited and It Feels So Good Playlist.” We know our favorite demon and angel will be reunited. Take heart, have faith, and keep hope. Crowley and Aziraphale will be together again, like chocolate and peanut butter. This is music Maggie and Nina would put together in a playlist for a party celebrating the Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship. The songs are about friendship and love.

How ever you as a fan define the love they share – eros, philia, or agape - we know Crowley and Aziraphale love each other. In the Good Omens universe, angels and demons are sexless and genderless. However, they can have genders and sex body parts if they want to. They can be sexual, asexual, binary, nonbinary, romantic, aromantic, hetero, homo, bi, pan. They can be any expression of the spectrum of identities and orientations. Above all else, they can love each other.

Maggie, Nina, Aziraphale, and Crowley are going to sing a karaoke version of “That’s What Friends Are For” at the party.

Please enjoy this unashamedly, unapologetically romantic, silly, sentimental, and sugary playlist (with extra cheesy goodness).

See note after list on song the selection process.

Songs include:

“You’re My Best Friend” – Queen

“Let’s Stay Together” – Al Green

“For Once in My Life” – Stevie Wonder

“Reunited” – Peaches and Herb

“Love and Happiness” – Al Green

“Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” – Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

“That’s What Friends Are For” – Dionne Warwick, Elton John, Gladys Knight, and Stevie Wonder

“I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)” – Aretha Franklin and George Michael

“Can’t Fight this Feeling” – REO Speedwagon

“Time After Time” – Cyndi Lauper

“I’ll Be There” – Mariah Carey and Trey Lorenz version

“I’ll Stand by You” – The Pretenders

“I Say a Little Prayer” – Aretha Franklin

“I Honestly Love You” – Olivia Newton John

“God Only Knows” – The Beach Boys

“Don’t Let Me Down” – The Beatles

“Just the Two of Us” – Grover Washington, Jr., ft. Bill Withers

“Just the Way You Are” – Billy Joel

“Your Song” – Elton John

“How Deep is Your Love” – The Bee Gees

“The Air that I Breathe” – K.D. Lang version

“Time in a Bottle” – Jim Croce

“Up Where We Belong” – Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes

“Islands in the Stream” – Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers

“Endless Love” – Diana Ross and Lionel Richie

“Almost Paradise” – Mike Reno and Ann Wilson

“Leather and Lace” – Stevie Nicks and Don Henley

“Feels Like Home” – Bonnie Raitt

“In Your Eyes” – Peter Gabriel

“I Want to Know What Love Is” – Foreigner

“Never Tear Us Apart” – INXS

“Eternal Flame” – The Bangles

“Heaven is a Place on Earth” – Belinda Carlisle

“Walking on Sunshine” – Katrina and The Waves

“Never Gonna Give You Up” – Rick Astley

“Everlasting Love” – U2 version

“[I Can’t Help] Falling in Love with You” – UB40 version

“Let’s Get It On” – Marvin Gaye

P.S.: Aziraphale secretly loves romantic duets and rock ballads. He wouldn’t admit it because his personality is classical music. However, he longs to sing karaoke duets with Crowley. “Reunited,” “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,” “I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me),” “I’ll Be There,” “Don’t Let Me Down,” “Up Where We Belong,” “Islands in the Stream,” “Endless Love,” “Almost Paradise,” and “Leather and Lace.”

P.P.S.: “Never Gonna Give You Up.” Crowley unironically loves this song, but he invented “Rickrolling,” so Rick Astley would get paid more in song royalties. Who’s laughing now?

P.P.P.S.: “Let’s Get It On.” Crowley has experienced all the infinite varieties of human, demonic, angelic, and supernatural being sexuality and intimacy. Like various “sins” thought up by humans (without demonic influence), he has taken credit for inventing some of the more fun, creative intimate activities. He consulted on the artwork in the Kama Sutra. Crowley secretly wants to snuggle under the blankets with Aziraphale on cold rainy days, but he would never admit it because it would ruin his reputation.

Note on song selection:

Yes, the playlist is exclusively classic pop and rock songs. I’m a Gen Xer. David Tennant and Michael Sheen are Gen Xers. Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett are Boomers. This is the music I grew up listening to. These songs make me feel good. They don’t write songs like this anymore. I’m a cool college English teacher. My job is to corrupt the youth of the nation. Ms. Myers is going to expose you to culture. I’m a cool spinster aunt. Auntie Amy is gonna learn you about oldies music. I selected songs that thematically fit with the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley. Listen to the lyrics. They fit. The list flows. You may not like my choices, so your mileage may vary. You can make your own playlist.

You can listen to it on YouTube.

#neil gaiman #good omens 2 #good omens 3 #aziraphale #crowley #playlist #reunited playlist #classic love songs

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bimrwolf · 1 year

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You Deserve Each Other

steve harrington x afab!reader (32k ) Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 warnings: steve and reader are little jerks to one another; 18+ (minors dni) for later parts; swearing summary: You and Steve have been together for five years. He's seemingly the perfect boyfriend, kisses on the cheek, knowing your orders at restaurant. A great lover. Too bad you've had enough can't stand him. a/n: inspired by You Deserve Each Other by Sarah Hogle

Steve loved his car. Its leather seats. The engine. The new car smell that still lingered, but now it had mixed with the smell of your shampoo. Him and his car had gone through so many adventures together. It was home to him.

Your head rested against the window. He was driving slow and missing any bumps in the road, realizing he wasn’t doing so to keep his car in safe condition but to make sure you wouldn’t wake up. He was still an hour out from Hawkins, the afternoon sun blazed through his windows and glimmered across your skin. The shadows of sugar maple trees that lined the highway ran across your face.

As soon as the wedding was over you two had decided to go straight home, your mini vacation was over. It was back to reality, and Steve had a nervous feeling in his stomach that as soon as he pulled into the parking lot of the apartment, you would run inside and pack your bags. Neither one of you talked about when you woke up together. Steve had finally found himself under the sheets. Your backside was molded into his stomach. His hand had been wrapped around your left boob. In fact, you two hadn’t really talked at all since yesterday.

He had barely left the chapel and you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. He didn’t mind. You often didn’t make any sleeping sounds, but you were humming to the Billy Joel song flowing from the radio. You did that sometimes. When you were asleep but your ears were still in tune to the world, replying to conversation, singing, having no recollection you did any of that when you woke up.

The first time he caught you it had been the night of your first official date. Not when he asked you to stay at Kitty’s but when he had shown up to your house, sweat beading his forehead with a bouquet of flowers. When you opened the door, you nearly laughed in his face, thinking he looked ridiculous. He had gotten annoyed, ready to storm off, telling you, “Just forget it.”

You stopped him. “Did you come here to ask me out, Harrington?” Your brow was raised, a smirk plastered on your face. At first, he thought he should have just told you, no. But since his time with you at Kitty’s he couldn’t help that stomach flipping feeling.

He had taken you on a real date the next day. Thirty minutes outside Hawkins there was a drive-in theater. Thirty minutes into the movie, which Steve was too nervous to pay attention to, you had fallen asleep. It wasn’t until he looked over at you for the first time that night, and you looked exactly the same as you did right now. Except you were younger, your hair was shorter, and the screen casted a blue tone to your skin. You were mumbling under your breath, replying to the characters talking on the screen.

It was like he wanted to bottle that moment up and keep it in his back pocket forever. He wanted you to be everywhere he went. He had spent years talking to you about what ifs, and that day he no longer wanted it to be that way. He wanted you. He nudged you, smiling when you rubbed your eyes, looking around visibly confused. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He chuckled, shrugging. “It’s okay. Really. It was cute.” You matched his smile, giving you a hint that maybe you wanted to push the what-if boundary too. He grabbed your hand gently, like it was the most precious thing in the world to him. “I like you.”

You looked away bashfully from him. “Like in a, you want to go out with me again kind of way?”

Like in a he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you kind of way. “Yes.”

You took a moment to take him in. You placed your hand on his cheek, thumb brushing over his freckle. His eyes fell to your lips, looking up to see that you were doing the same. There was that “what-if” question again. And that time you answered it, gently pushing your mouth on his.

Steve ran his hand over the steering wheel. She— his car— was where the birth of new beginnings happened. His sudden memory made him forget about the present, he had accidentally hit a hole in the road.

You made a small grunt, opening your eyes slowly, stretching your arms as best you could in the limited space. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” He told you, glancing to make sure you were okay.

You squinted, your eyes still adjusting. “It’s okay. How far are we from home?”

That last word made his heart skip a beat. “Uh, I think another forty-five minutes.”

You frowned, patting your belly. “I’m so hungry. Do we still have any granola bars left?”

He gave you a guilty look. He had hid the wrapper of the last granola bar in his pocket. “I was hoping you’d stay asleep until we got… home.” The word was like a stranger on his tongue.

You frowned and sighed, laying your head against the window once again. Steve felt bad. He hadn’t thought about eating before they left Porter.

A lightbulb went over his head when he saw the sign for a gas station about five miles away. When he turned you shot him a look.

“I thought you filled up the tank before we left.”

Steve smiled cheekily, putting his car in park. “I did.”

“Why are we stopping?” You almost looked afraid. He wondered if you thought he was about to leave you stranded or murder you.

“Why? To get you some food, sweetheart.” He poked your cheek.

“I can wait the forty-five minutes. This place looks scary.” You checked to make sure the doors were locked.

“You’ve fought a demogorgon effortlessly but you’re scared of a gas station in the middle of nowhere?” He was only teasing you. You elbowed him in the shoulder lightly. “Come on. I’ll protect you.” He jumped out of the car, and waved for you to follow. You eventually did. Reluctantly. “Get anything you want, princess. Daddy has it covered.” You looked at him like he had uttered the most vile and abominable statement in your life.

You walked around the mini aisles, clearly not appeased by the contents of the shelf. Steve walked up behind you, leaning into you, his mouth brushing your ear, smiling at the shiver you let lout. “Let’s play a game.”

“I knew it. You’re trying to murder me.” You snapped around, looking to see the nearest escape route.

“Relax. You remember one of our first dates when we went into the corner store on main?” He asked you.

“Yeah.”

“Remember what we did?”

He watched you as you thought for a second. He grinned when your face pinched in disgust. “I'd rather you kill me.”

He wasn’t listening, already searching, like he was on a private mission. “You grab the ICEEs.”

He was able to catch the mumbled profanities as you gave in, walking towards the ICEE machines. You had joined him at the register, pouting when you saw all the items on the counter. The cashier must have seen weirder or didn’t care because she looked more than bored ringing the items.

Once outside, Steve hopped on the trunk of his car, patting the empty space next to him. He already started to assemble the creation, listening to the occasional gagging sound from you.

“Ta-da!” He revealed a twinkie with a beef jerky stick stuck through the middle. The creamed filling oozed out.

You grimaced. “Do I have to?”

Steve frowned. “C’mon it wasn’t that bad.”

You slouched, snatching the twinkie from his hand and waited while he made one for himself. When he was finished, you handed him his ICEE. His favorite, Coca-Cola. “Cheers!” He proclaimed, tapping his cup with yours. You both took a sip so hard that made his eyes water. He noticed that you were concentrating hard, eyes closed shut as you slurped the ICEE.

You had finished yours a few seconds before him, moving onto the beef jerky twinkie. You hesitated before shoving the entire thing in your mouth. You shook your head in disgust, but still persevered with the atrocious flavors he knew you were experiencing.

Steve had barely swallowed the last of his own, when you had jumped off his car, hands up, tongue sticking out. “I won!”

“Damn it!” Steve tried his best to be mad. However, he was amused as you paraded around triumphantly. “Whatever.”

You laughed, approaching him. “Don’t be upset that I beat you at your own game, Stevie.” Steve narrowed his eyes suspiciously, grabbing your face as you spoke so he could see inside your mouth. “What—”

He cut you off, grabbing your empty cup. Your wild eyes already told him what he needed to know, but he still sniffed it. “This wasn’t even an ICEE.”

“Y-yes it is.” You stumbled, trying to hold back the laughter. Instead, you let out a loud belch. The final evidence he needed to erase your innocence. You backed up slowly when he slid off the car. Your hands were held up defensively.

“You dirty little cheat.” He tsked. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Steve, let’s just talk like rational adults, now.”

“A little too late for that, sweetheart.” You tried to run but he was faster, grabbing you, tossing you over his shoulder. His hand was cupped on your thigh, right below your ass.

“Steve!” You laughed, hitting his back playfully.

He started to spin you around, rocks crunching under his sneakers. The sun illuminated over the scene, like a spotlight. Like you two were the only people in the world and it only belonged to you both.

***

You were disappointed when Steve passed the “Welcome to Hawkins” sign. It was a slap in the face back to reality. You wanted to grab his wheel and turn it back around. You wanted to beg him to start somewhere new. Maybe somewhere like Florida. You had never been to the beach before.

Your entire arm was lazily under his, your hand dangerously close to his thigh. But that’s as far as you would let it get. He had asked you to choose the music for the rest of the drive. And you had coincidentally chosen the mixtape he had made for your first anniversary.

The sun had started to set, the clouds a palette of pastels. Steve put on his signal to go right to turn on the road that led him to the apartment. “Can you keep going?” You asked him. He didn’t argue. He did as you asked, pressing the gas pedal to keep going straight. “Turn here.” He did. You wondered if he recognized that it was the way to the school. “Okay, can you stop right by that street lamp?”

He slowly came to a stop, putting the car in park. He tried asking why you wanted him to stop there, but you were already looking adoringly out your window.

It was a house. A small brick house. The grass was trimmed perfectly, a big oak tree stood tall in the middle. There was a paved driveway big enough to perfectly fit two cars. There was even a porch that was big enough to put chairs outside if you wanted to bask in the morning sun. A for sale sign was staked into the yard. You turned to Steve, eyes shining brightly. “I drive by this house everyday after work. Sometimes I stop and just imagine.” But only imagine, you thought to yourself. You bit your lip, looking at your fingers. “I know it’s stupid.”

Steve grabbed your hand. “It’s not stupid.”

“But it isn’t what you want.” You finally let him see you. Both of you wanted the same thing, but were on different paths to get there. Finally, it was like you both realized neither of you had to stay on those paths because you could meet in between. And it was beautiful.

Steve offered an assuring smile. “What I want is for you to be happy.” It was like he wanted to say more but he stopped himself. “I could live in our tiny apartment the rest of our lives but as long as you’re happy. Are you happy?”

“I love our apartment. I love that you have to slam the bathroom door to shut all the way. I love that there’s a permanent coffee stain on the counter from your mug. I love that it’s the first thing I got to share with you.” I love you. You wanted to scream it: I love you. I love you. I love you!

He grabbed your face, palms splayed across your cheeks. His eyes were soft, like a pool of dark whiskey that you wanted to get drunk on. “But are you happy?”

If he asked you that question a month ago you would have easily shouted, no, you were far from happy. And when you had suggested moving back in with your parents, you were convinced he was unhappy too. But you thought about how the last few weeks, the tiny changes you both had made had outshined the drawbacks in your relationship. It was like a scissor cutting the rope that held both of you back. It was like a mirage, tricking you into thinking the two of you were in ruins, the point of no return. “Steve, I don’t think I’ve ever known what that word meant if you weren’t in my life.”

Steve choked on a small sob, smiling. You thought he was leaning in to kiss you until he closed his eyes, bit his lip, and let you go. He was right next to you but you already missed him so much. “I… I need to show you something.”

The apartment was only a seven minute drive, but it might as well have been the two hour drive from Porter. He hadn’t said anything since he turned around to drive back home. He was doing the thing when he got nervous, chewing on his thumb. He almost looked guilty. Now, it was making you nervous, wringing your hands. He was agonizingly slow getting the bags out of the car. You almost told him to forget it, you two could get them later.

He trudged into the apartment, taking his time to walk into the bedroom, finally placing the bags down. He looked over his shoulder at you, taking a deep breath, retreating into the small closet. He came back with a brown briefcase. It was familiar, you had seen him carry it to work occasionally. To be honest, you thought it was all for show. That maybe he carried it when he knew his dad would drop by and Steve wanted to present himself as professional.

He plopped it on the bed dramatically, hands on his hips. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” He rubbed his neck, another given that he was really nervous. “You are always wondering where I am on those late nights with Eddie…” He trailed off, avoiding eye contact with you.

Your eyes widened, hands on top of your head. “Oh my god. No! I thought Eddie was done with all of that nonsense. And now he dragged you into it?”

Steve was taken aback. He looked hurt. “I wouldn’t call it nonsense… it’s actually kind of fun. Dustin had begged me for months to try it–”

“Dustin? Jesus. Eddie had a kid involved?” You shook your head, looking up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I’ve been dating a drug dealer. Right under my nose.”

Steve paused, processing your mini-outburst. “Wait… you thought I was talking about… drugs?” He laughed at the last word.

Now you were the one who was confused. “You… weren’t?” Another panicked thought crossed your mind. “If it’s porn–”

“It’s not–” He pulled in an expansive breath, opening his mouth to say something. It sounded like he had muttered “fuck it” under his breath. He began to unclasp the suitcase. You shut your eyes tightly, the anticipation was overwhelming. You felt him nudge you, telling you it was safe to open. You did, but almost as slow as when he drove here. You peered in the suitcase, your worry evaporating.

Inside was a Dungeons and Dragons beginners manual, a leather journal (you had gotten it for him one year for Christmas), and a green dice. You turned to him quickly. He had a sheepish expression on his face. “Would be cooler if it was drugs, right?” He joked.

You could feel your eyes brighten, leaning closer. “You play D&D?”

Steve was prone to feeling self-conscious, ever since high school, always worrying about how others perceived him. He always made the same face, crestfallen and insecure. He looked away from you. “Go ahead, just laugh.”

“Are you kidding me? Why would I laugh?” You grabbed the case of dice, the light in the room reflected against the green plastic.

“I dunno. Because it’s lame.” His voice dropped. “Thought you’d think it was stupid.”

“Stupid?” You thought he had to be joking. Your voice was soft, placing your hand on his arm. “If it’s something you enjoy. It’s far from stupid.Is that your character sheet?” You grabbed a sheet covered in Steve’s handwriting. “What’s a bard?”

Steve paused, taking in your reaction. You could feel him watching you in bewilderment as you further examined the items in the case. Steve cleared his throat, moving closer, your shoulder hitting his chest. You wondered if he could hear how your heartbeat thumped, or how the hairs on your neck rose, tingling. It felt incredibly warm being so close to him and it was comforting. “Uh… it’s kind of hard to explain. Think of it as a master poet who, when they perform their art, can cast magical spells.”

“Steve Harrington a poet?”

You felt his hand ghost at the small of your back. You shifted, leaning into him, allowing his fingers to brush under your shirt, bolts of electricity shocked your skin. “More like Leif is the poet.”

“Leif?” You looked at his character sheet and saw the name scribbled at the top. You giggled.

Steve rolled his eyes, grabbing the sheet from your hand, placing it back in the case. “Okay, that’s enough of that.”

“Steve.” You whined, grabbing his shoulder. “I’m not making fun of you. Do you know how relieved I am that this is what you’ve been hiding from me all this time?”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. I thought maybe, I dunno, those hot moms who come by the shop got their grip on you or something. I can sleep peacefully at night knowing you really go play a fantasy game, reciting the poems you write.”

Steve cackled. “I told you, Leif is the one who writes them.” He paused, giving you an endearing look. “But I guess I can’t deny that he has a muse.”

Your face heated, you looked away bashfully. “I just wish you had told me about it. I wouldn’t have cared.”

Steve broke away, sitting at the edge of the bed. “I guess we’ve both been afraid of showing ourselves, huh? Like I dunno, maybe we were scared because we both aren’t the same kids from five years ago. Hell, we’re not even the same people we were a month ago. Guess we were both scared of letting one another learn the new stuff… in fear that we wouldn’t like each other now.”

Your feet were the ones who took initiative to walk over to him, closing the gap. His legs were parted and you squeezed perfectly between them. It was like second nature to put your hands on his shoulders. You smiled. “I have another confession.” His expression told you to go ahead. You giggled, brushing a strand of his hair back. “I fucking hate those curtains I bought.”

You looked over at the monotonous curtains that you dreaded looking at every single time you woke up or walked into the bedroom.

Steve scrunched up his face before breaking, his hand snaked around you, pulling you into his lap. You let out a squeal when his fingers dug into your side. Your noses nudged against one another. “Unbelievable. I’ve hated those curtains since you nearly broke up with me.” His words prickled your lips like a painter softly brushing over them.

You poked him softly in the shoulder. “I told you they weren’t the reason.”

He hummed, not believing you. He spread his hand against the side of your face. His eyes drooped, sincere, but serious. “Do you still want to break up with me?”

You wished it was appropriate to laugh. If you still wanted to break up with him, you would not be in his lap. You would not be running your hand through his hair. Your lips would not be brushing his own. “No,” you whispered. He took the word from your mouth, making it disappear when his lips fell onto yours. It was saccharine, tender, and heavenly. His touch exuded love, patience, and security. You felt like a flower blossoming, tall, in a field of sweet chamomile.

Steve broke first, catching his breath. He kissed your nose, clinging tighter as if he thought you were going to change your mind and run away. He looked over at his briefcase of DnD contraband. “So you don’t think I’m a total nerd, then?”

You smirked. “No, you’re definitely a nerd. But you make it look sexy.”

He tilted his head back, this time his hand not shying from slipping under your shirt. “Do I?”

You bit your bottom lip. “Yeah, why do you think I beg you to wear your glasses?” You gave him a fake pout. “Too bad you lost them.”

He went in for another kiss. “Yeah, too bad.” Another kiss. “How will you manage to survive not having your sick fantasies about me when I wear them?”

You changed your position, both legs wrapped around his waist. “That’s presumptuous.”

He kissed you a little harder, ending the conversation that was sure to come up again. He pulled you in closer, both of you gasping when you grinded over the hardness in his jeans. This time you didn’t tease him, bucking your hip again, drinking each other’s moan.

Your fingers started to play with his buckle when the phone started to ring. “Should get that,” you mumbled.

Steve’s lips were preoccupied with your neck to give an answer.

“Steve…”

He broke away, lips swollen. “Let it ring. If it’s important they’ll call back.”

That was enough convincing for you, your lips fell back into a synchronized rhythm, drowning out the phone. Steve stood up, holding you, laying you back on the bed. He went to grab the collar of his shirt. The phone started to ring again.

“Looks like it’s important.” You told him as he ran his hands over his face in frustration. You propped up on your elbows, watching him storm into the hallway to answer it.

You heard him greet the caller rather rudely, but after a response on the other end, it turned into a respectful tone. You sighed, climbing off the bed, joining him in the hallway, leaning against the wall. He gave you an exasperated look, shaking his head. “Can this not wait until the morning?” You could hear the familiar vexed sound of his mother’s voice on the other line. You sighed, coming to terms that whatever was about to happen would have to be placed on hold.

Steve hung up the phone, apologies already spewing from his mouth. You stopped him. “What’s going on?”

His hand ran through his messy hair. “Mom’s car isn’t starting and she needs me to look at it tonight. I shouldn’t be long. I can bring back food from Kitty’s on my way home.”

“No.” You crossed your arms. Before he could argue, you continued. “I’m coming with you.” You turned around to go change into more comfortable clothes. You had helped him at the shop once or twice before. Albeit, you were the designated flashlight holder, but you were definitely not getting any type of car fluid on your nice shirt.

Steve followed you. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to feel like you have to come. I really can call back and tell her I can’t come until the morning.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’d have to wake up early enough to fix it so I can get to work on time. It’s more practical to do it tonight.” You felt him watch as you slipped on a shirt that had bleach stains on it. You turned around, eyeing him up and down. “We’re a team, aren’t we?”

There was a beat, half of his face turned upward. “Yeah.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Get dressed.” You walked out of the room.

It was an hour later and you wondered if you and Steve were still playing the game where you were trying to get under the skin of the other. He had managed to magically find his lost glasses. But not only that, he had put on a t-shirt, the sleeves so short, barely there, showing off his biceps. You almost scoffed in disbelief, thinking how it was cold enough for it to snow.

He leaned over in the hood of his mother’s car, and although you were on flashlight duty, your eyes wandered to his ass sticking up. You jumped when you felt his hand wrap around your wrist, pulling it down so the light was shining on a part you didn’t know the name of. “Stop getting distracted.” You could feel the smirk even if you couldn’t see his face.

“Can’t help it that you have a cute butt.”

“I didn’t realize you were staring at my ass. I assumed you were thinking about those sicko fantasies.” He stood up, licking his lips, pushing the bridge of his glasses up his nose, knowing exactly what he was doing.

You failed as you tried to look annoyed. “You’re a dick.”

He gave you a smug look before going back to work on the car. You couldn’t help smacking his bottom. He jumped, head hitting the hood. “Jesus, you know my mom is watching us through the window, right?” You glanced over to Martha’s beady eyes peeking through the blinds. You gave her a tiny wave. Steve laughed, turning you around. “Did you only come here to mess with my mom?”

“No, I came because I wanted to. But messing with your mom is a perk to the job.” You got on your tip-toes watching him twist something. “What’s wrong with it anyway, do you know?”

“I fixed it about thirty minutes ago when I topped off the coolant.” You came to the realization that this entire time he had been messing with random parts.

The scoff you let out made him chuckle. “I’ve been freezing my tits off out here for half an hour for nothing?” You shined the flashlight in his face. “Why?”

He squinted against the light, standing back up to escape it. “You’re not the only one who likes messing with my mom, sweetheart.” His grin was smug. Silver shadows of the moon casted a mischievous glow on his face. “She’s probably running my dad’s ear off right now on how I’ve been working on it far too long. That it’s serious and she might have to get a new car.” He wiped his hand on a rag, throwing it inside his emergency tool box that he kept in the trunk of his car. He closed the hood, and as soon as he did his mother walked outside in a designer fur coat, shivering as if she had been the one standing out there for an hour. “Is everything okay? Is it fixed? Do I need to get a new one?”

Steve glanced at you, brows raised, telling you I told you so. You snorted as he convinced her everything was okay, even starting the car with ease. She grabbed his face like he was ten-years-old, peppering his cheeks with kisses, telling him she didn’t know what she’d do without him.

You watched them, smiling when Steve looked at you, his eyes pleading for help. He wasn’t used to affection from his mother. It made you wonder if she regretted not being around, leaving him behind in the empty big house, trying to fill the emptiness with bodies that he didn’t really know. But now he had someone that he did know. And more importantly, who knew him back.

***

Steve was surprised when you had been the one to accept his mom’s offer to stay for hot chocolate. His mother walked into the sitting room, holding two mugs. She handed a mug to Steve first. Steam clouded the air, a mountain of whipped cream towered above the top. It was created more delicately than the other mug that was surely meant for you. Steve took the initiative, handing the hot chocolate in his hand to you and then grabbing the second one for himself. You scooted closer, leaning into him and suddenly he didn’t need the hot chocolate to feel warm.

He mentally laughed at how the scene was drastically different. His mother was sitting on the couch, his father on the other end, reading a book. They were miles apart and he didn’t mean just physically. Whereas he sat so close to you, he could smell your perfume– which you had changed and it smelled like tangerines.

“How was the wedding?” His mom broke the silence.

You wiped a dollop of whipped cream off your nose. “It was beautiful.” The light in your eye made a tiny smile form on his lips.

Martha clicked her tongue. “Me and Conrad are just so hurt we weren’t invited. I mean we all went to school together. Don’t you agree, Connie?”

Conrad looked up from his book, clearly not listening. “Right.”

Steve’s mom paid no mind. “Let’s hope that’s not the case for your wedding.” He swore he heard under his mother’s breath, “If there will ever be a wedding.”

Steve felt you sit up, the ammo on your tongue ready to fire. He grabbed your hand, beating you to it. “We actually eloped.”

You made a sound but his mother’s was louder. She clutched her chest, claiming she couldn’t breathe. His father, annoyed that everyone was disturbing his peace, told Martha to take deep breaths. Steve laughed, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. He gave everyone a look of innocence, throwing his arm over your shoulder, offering a wink that only belonged to you. “Joking!” He held a hand up defensively.

His mother threw her head back, “Oh, bless it. Thank you Jesus.” She turned to her husband. “I was sure I saw the image of Aunt Linda at the pearly gates waving at me.” She put the back of her hand against her forehead, wiping away imaginary sweat.

There was an awkward laugh that came out of you, shifting uncomfortably. “Why should it matter if we had eloped?”

“Because I don’t want my son to make the biggest mistake of his life.”

Steve felt your body crumble, hearing the pieces of your heart shatter against your ribcage. “Right.” You set the mug on the table, the clink against the table was ear-deafening. You pushed a tight-lipped smile to your face. “I guess we know the truth now. That Steve would be making the biggest mistake if he married me.”

“Oh please. That’s not what I meant.” Martha rolled her eyes. “Steve, will you tell her how ridiculous she sounds?”

Steve wondered how many times you had to hold the pieces of your own heart, putting it back together yourself. “No.” Everyone’s eyes snapped to him, staring but he was only looking at you. He gave you a nod, saying I’m sorry it took me so long, but I’m here now. We’re a team. “You’re not allowed to speak to her like that.”

“I didn’t—” his mother began.

He narrowed his eyes, locking them with his mother’s. They were big and brown, just like his. “You can speak to me however you want. You can tell me how much I’ve disappointed you as a son. You can even disown me. But I never, and I mean ever, want to hear her name in your mouth like that again. She doesn’t have to prove shit to either of you.” Steve rose from his seat, taking your hand, helping you off the couch. You looked so beautiful, even with your mouth agape, eyes wide in shock. “Tell her you’re sorry.”

“Steve…” It was the look she gave him before. The look that said, let’s talk about this in private. Those talks always consisted of how you needed to learn your manners. When she realized her son wouldn’t budge, tightening his grasp on your hand, knuckles turning white. She let out a heavy sigh, lips pursed. “I regret my choice of words.”

Steve stormed out of the house, your hand still in his as he dragged you along. You kept calling his name, but his ears were red, on fire, steaming. His jaw clenched.

“Steve—”

He cut you off, pivoting, crashing his lips on yours. It was an apology. Five years he stood by and let his mother berate you. Five years he pretended not to hear your sniffled cries in the car ride back. Five years he had been a coward, afraid of losing his family if he ever said anything. But in the midst he had almost lost something more important than anything he had cherished— you. He almost lost his home.

Steve pulled away, already missing you. He ran his thumb over your mouth, his fingers splayed over your cheek. “You know I love you, right?” And it hurt him that the word took you aback. Had he not said it enough to you? Did you still not love him anymore? “I don’t love you because it’s a habit. I love you because I want to love you. My body aches when you’re not there. And I’m sorry if I led you to believe that all this time, I didn’t.”

You grabbed his hand from your face, placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. It was still bruised from the man he had hit in the bar. “I know, Steve.” You laid another tender kiss on his lips. “Let’s go home.”

The air in the apartment was different. It no longer felt small or dingy. The pipes moaning sounded more like singing. Their neighbors arguing sounded more like laughing, and Steve wondered if the reason behind the changes were because he was actually listening to the world like how he was supposed to.

Steve told you he was going to take a shower, a part of him wanted you to join. You didn’t. In fact, you had stayed in the same spot, in your chair in the living room. He had come out, now in his pajamas, and hair damp. He had instinctively put back on his glasses, ready to tease you. He had hid them in his nightstand for weeks, banishing them to hell. But finally he noticed that adorable glimmer in your eyes that made him think, glasses weren’t all that bad.

His face fell when he noticed that you were crying. It wasn’t a sob, nor were you loud, but he could recognize those sniffles from a mile away to know you were trying not to cause a scene. He crouched down in front of you. He didn’t ask what was wrong. He didn’t say anything. He grabbed your hand, letting you cry a little harder. You looked at him sadly. “I wish you saw yourself the way that I do.”

His brows furrowed. He was lost.

“You’ve been fighting for me every day for five years and I neglected to see it.”

“It’s okay.”

“No. No it’s not.” You shook your head. “Steve, you punched a guy because of me.”

“Yeah, but you assaulted a police officer because of me.” He offered you a half-hearted, assuring smile.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, pushing his shoulder. “It was only a tiny push, he barely moved!”

You both broke into a fit of laughter. You held your sides, and Steve marveled the angelic sound of sweet vibrato coming from you. It took about a minute for you to ground yourself, giving him another serious look. “Steve?”

He replied with your name the same way.

Another breathy laugh fell from your lips. “On Friday, you said you missed me.” You bit your lip, clearly nervous. “What did you mean by that?”

The corners of his lips lifted. “For starters, I missed this.” He motioned between you two. “I missed when you wanted to tell me everything. Bad or good. I missed when you woke me up in the morning by just kissing my shoulder.” He grabbed your arm. His voice dropped, low, whispering. “I miss you here.” He kissed your wrist. “And here.” He kissed your knuckles. He raised up. His fingers pushed up the sleeve of your shirt. He kissed your forearm and shoulder. His lips brushed your ear. “I missed you so much I couldn’t breathe.”

He felt you shiver, your chest raising up and down slowly. Your noses hit against one another as you turned your head to look at him. His eyes were a pool of intensity, silently begging you. “Will you show me?”

He kissed your nose. “Show you what?”

“Show me how much you missed me?” You weren’t very loud. But the words echoed off the walls and he believed his heartbeat was so loud the neighbors could hear.

He tilted his head, lips ghosting yours. “Why should I?” He was teasing you, pulling away when you tried to hook your fingers in the band of his sweatpants.

He was kissing you before you had let the words out. “Because I need you.”

It was open-mouthed and hungry. It was like another one of your arguments, fiery and fighting for the last word. It was the push and pull of lips, clutching onto the soft cotton of your shirts. Steve only broke away to safely set his glasses on the coffee table, returning to you quickly, unable to handle one millisecond away from you.

He stood, hilting you up, legs wrapped around his waist. His hands on your ass, holding it tight, holding you tight. He carried you to the bedroom, careful, not wanting to hurt you, like he was carrying a priceless jewel. The briefcase on the bed now exiled to the floor.

He laid you against the gentle river of bedsheets, you were illuminated by his pool of desperation. Each article of clothing was torn off slowly, like it was a big red bow on top, nimble and careful. Steve lifted your legs, placing them on his shoulder. He slipped your underwear down your legs, discarding them to the side.

He adored you. No– he worshiped you. He used his mouth to say a prayer against the skin of your legs, his tongue praising a god as he savored you. His tongue lapped, devouring the sweet, thick, honeyed sounds pouring from you. Her fingers tangled his hair, and like a skilled harp player, knowing exactly what made him whimper.

You broke, thighs tightening around his face. Heavy pants as he set your legs on the bed, crawling on top of you. His elbows on either side of your head. Your teeth clinked against one another in a fierce kiss because you had laughed. Your hand palmed him through his boxers, kissing the map of freckles on his jaw, and he really wasn’t sure what your final destination was supposed to be.

And as he sank southwards, you drowned together in the mattress with every wave. Intertwining the rhythm of your moans and his choked back groans. He wasn’t sure what was louder, your heartbeats or the sound of skin connecting in sticky slaps that was just pure filth. “Steve…” You begged him, head thrown back, allowing him access to attack your neck. “Steve,” you mewled.

He felt like he was about to unfold, and he knew you were too. “Tell me…” He gasped as you met him in a nerve-ending thrust. “Tell me you love me?” His words were soft, but heavy. “Please.”

You opened your eyes, trying not to come undone just yet. Your fingernails gripped his back, crescents forming. “I love you.” A vehement whine followed. “Of course I love you.”

You both unraveled together, your name fell from his lips, like amaryllis, blossoming, filling the room. There were no words that needed to be uttered when he climbed off you, but also that was due to the fact he was still lazily placing pecks on your body. It was bare legs tangled together, bodies flushed against one another, Steve rubbing circles on your back.

He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep. It only felt like he had blinked when he was awakened by a kiss on his shoulder.

The rest of the weekend went by in a blur. Sunday had been spent at home. Most of the time you were cuddled together on the couch, watching trashy television. It was just talking, consisting of unimportant things. It was silly touches, toothy smiles, and eyes glimmering. It was love.

And that’s why on Monday, Steve didn’t want to part from you. You woke up together, ate breakfast together, and left the house together. Steve put on his blinker as a wave goodbye when you had turned on the street to go to the school.

He greeted everyone at the shop, ignoring the suspicious looks as he bounced to his office. Eddie was smoking a cigarette, leaned back, feet up on Steve’s desk. He eyed his friend up and down as Steve pranced in, humming a wordless tune. “Eddie, isn’t today just beautiful?”

Eddie quirked a brow, bemused. “Sure, yeah.”

And in a blink of an eye, Steve was pouting, shoulders drooping to the floor. His hand on his chest, sighing deeply. He looked like a puppy who had been shot. “What time is it?”

“Eight fifteen.” Eddie put the rest of his cigarette out, the sound of his boots plopping to the floor as he jumped up. “You okay, man?”

Steve smiled. “Never better, why?”

Eddie was experiencing whiplash from the quick sharp turns of emotions. “I dunno, you come in practically skipping and then the next you look…” He waved his hand in the air. “Gloomy.”

Steve exhaled another deep puff of air, dramatically looking at the window. “It’s hard to appreciate the beautiful day when I miss her.”

Eddie looked around the room, tilting his head to the side, his hair falling in the motion. “Holy shit.” His grin was big and all teeth. “Guessing you had a fun weekend?”

Steve smiled, patting his friend on the shoulder. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

“I should have charged you for couples therapy.” Eddie put on his vest.

Steve found himself at his desk, ready to get to work, although his mind was too preoccupied thinking about you. “Yeah man, think you really missed your true calling.”

“New business idea. H&M Counseling.” Eddie joked.

Steve scoffed. “Yeah, I think my dad would be ecstatic to hear his son started a business where feelings are involved.”

“Speaking of your dad. Did you forget to give him the finance books from last month?”

Steve was already nose deep in a catalog for car parts. “No, I gave it to him on the first like always.”

Eddie hummed in acknowledgment. “Then why is he here?”

“I don’t know.” What Eddie had said didn’t register until a minute had gone by. Steve’s eyes widened, his head shot up when the door to the office opened. Conrad Harrington stood clean and proper, like a sore thumb, in the doorway. Steve’s mouth fell.

Conrad looked at Eddie, giving him a smile that he didn’t actually mean. “Munson.”

“Mr. Harrington! Pleasure to see you.” He held out his hand. Steve’s dad looked at Eddie’s hand, then back up to his eyes. Eddie quickly retracted the offer, awkwardly rubbing his neck with it. “Right, uh, I gotta go… cars.” Eddie hurried out of the office, sending Steve a look that said ‘good luck’.

When the door shut with a click, Steve quickly stood up. “Oh… uh… do you want to sit down?” He motioned for the chair in front of his desk that Eddie had had claimed as his long ago. It was worn and Steve was sure a screw was loose on one of the wheels.

He cleared his throat, hands in his pockets. “This won’t take long.”

Steve was worried. “Was something wrong with the books?”

His father licked his lips. “No, the books were fine.”

Steve was puzzled. “Were numbers low?”

“I’m not here to talk about business. I came here as a father to talk to his son.”

Steve felt the sweat at the back of his neck, the collar of his shirt felt a little tight. His father had come here to yell at him for what he had said Saturday night. He stood a bit straighter, preparing himself for what was to come.

“What you said the other night–”

“I’m not apologizing–”

Conrad held his hand up, stopping Steve from continuing. “I’m not here about that. I mean, I am. But not what you think.”

Steve’s defensive attitude dropped, but still keeping a sliver of his guard up, still wary of what this conversation was meant to come.

“What you said the other night made me realize something about myself.” His dad blew out a breath of air. “I failed you.” Steve felt like he hadn’t heard him correct, pinching himself to ensure he was still real. He chuckled to himself. “And I guess as you know, it’s hard for a Harrington to admit that.” It was true, you were a disgrace to the Harrington bloodline if you were a failure. “I spent my time as a father trying to prevent you from being a failure, out of my own pride, and in the midst I was the one who failed.”

Steve had never had a real talk with his father like the one he was having at that moment. Vulnerable and transparent. Conrad looked around the room. “If you were a disappointment, I wouldn’t have trusted you to start this place.”

“I...” It was all Steve could make out.

“I’m still not finished.” The face he made was unfamiliar to Steve. But he swore it looked, kind? “I wasn’t sure if you were thinking straight in your relationship. But what you said made me think… nevermind. I came here to give you this.” Conrad took his hand out of his pocket, placing a black velvet box on Steve’s desk.

Steve felt the air leave his body. “Is that?”

“For your mother’s sake– don’t elope.” His father smiled. And not one of his usual condescending smiles but a genuine smile. Before there could be any tears shed or hugs, he walked away, stopping at the window. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it son?”

And Steve breathed in the moment. “Yeah, dad, it is.”

***

You didn’t want to get out of bed. You clung to Steve as he tried to get up, burrowing your entire body against his. “I have to go to work, sweetheart.” He sounded sweet like honey. “And you do too.”

“I don’t want to go.” You raised your head, letting him see that you were serious. You had gone to work all last week and it was almost unbearable.

Steve laughed as you crawled on top of him so he wouldn’t get out of bed. His hands laid on your hips, fingers toys with the hem of your shorts. “Why do you not want to go to work?”

You tucked your head. “I’ll miss you too much.”

His face went soft like a puddle of water, wrapping his arms around your body, pulling you down to his bare chest in a hug. His hand rubbed your back. “It’s only eight hours. When you think about it, it goes by fast.”

“Eight hours turns into an eternity when you miss somebody.” He couldn’t see you pout, but the chuckle he let out told you he felt it. He lifted your head with his finger, smiling, giving you a gentle kiss.

“I really have to go to work today.” He didn’t budge.

You sat up, dramatically clutching your stomach, then hands on your cheeks. “Is it hot in here? I think I’m coming down with something.” You grabbed his hand, placing it on your forehead.

His face was serious. “You do feel warm.”

“See, I shouldn’t go into work today. And you shouldn’t either. It could be contagious.”

“You’re right. I know exactly what the matter is.” Steve pulled himself up, you were now sitting in his lap. An unrecognizable gleam flashed across his chestnut eyes.

“You do?” You asked him.

He hummed, shaking his head, sucking in his teeth. It was like he was a doctor breaking news to a terminally ill patient. “I’m afraid I’ve been sick with it for five years. It was only a matter of time before you caught it.” He then broke out into a toothy grin. “You’re lovesick.”

You had decided to spend the day home, convincing Steve to call the school for you, claiming you had food poisoning. But you were disappointed when Steve got dressed for work right after. You followed him around, like a lost puppy, as he collected his belongings.“You have your lunch?” You asked him.

“Right here.” He lifted the bag that you had packed him.

“Should you take another jacket? I think it’s going to get colder later in the day.” He was amused as you handed him another jacket, taking it with no argument. There was a moment that you just stopped and looked at one another. “Are you sure you have to go to work?”

He kissed your cheek, resting his forehead on yours. “How about this? You can call the shop whenever you miss me most.” Once you agreed to the compromise, he was gone before you came up with any ideas. It wasn’t like you were planning on stealing his keys and locking them inside the car.

You sat in your chair, leg bouncing, pretending to grade papers, but your mind was too focused on the clock, which had been stuck on 8:30 for far too long. You started to wonder when the last time Steve had changed its batteries. He always forgot to put them in the right way, making you do it. It made you giggle at the thought. He was sometimes the face of the idiotic jock stereotype. No one’s perfect. You take that back, Steve is perfect. And God you missed him.

It was only 8:32 AM when you called the shop.

“H&M Auto Repair, Eddie speaking.” Eddie yawned, clearly still not fully awake, sounding annoyed that they already had a customer calling.

“Hi, Eddie.” You said happily, hoping he would recognize that it was you.

It seemed to wake him up once he heard your voice. He greeted you enthusiastically. “You’re not calling to send me on a wild goose chase again, are you?”

You laughed. “No, I’m not.” You felt like a schoolgirl, passing notes in class. “I wanted to talk to my boyfriend.”

“You know how to break a fella’s heart.” You could hear Eddie move, probably dramatically holding a pretend arrow to his heart. “To think you were calling for me. Thought we had something real special going on.”

You made sure to roll your eyes loud enough for him to hear. “So sorry, Eds. It’s not you, it's me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Here’s your lover boy.”

The phone rustled as he handed the phone to Steve. You smiled, heart beating fast when you recognized the sound of his breathing. “You didn’t even make it an hour, babe.” You imagined him leaning back in his chair, smirking.

“You said to call you when I miss you most.” You defended yourself. “And so here I am.”

Steve chuckled, it was granulated but still sounded like the most beautiful melody you had ever heard. He could hang up and tell you that you used your one phone call. But instead he asked, “What am I going to do with you?”

“You should be lucky.”

There was a beat.

“I’m the luckiest.” There was a long sigh. “I gotta go.” But you could tell he didn’t want to. Maybe he was thinking the same as you, that you wished you could crawl through the phone and be with him.

Your finger twirled around the curl of the cord. “See you when you get home?”

“If you can survive that long, sweetheart.” He teased you.

You said your goodbyes, waiting to hang up until he did. You weren’t really sure what to do next. And after long deliberation you took the time to put on the radio and clean. Not that the apartment was messy, but the stove was caked in crumbs, there were dishes in the sink, and you hadn’t really done laundry since your weekend in Porter.

It was 10:15 AM when you had finished your last load of laundry, carrying the basket into the bedroom. As you folded clothes, the room felt darker than normal, even with the light on. You glanced at the window, the curtains were drawn back, but the light still caught into the fabric, holding it hostage. You ran your fingers on the pattern you once thought was pretty.

You left the room, coming back with a ladder. If Steve knew you were on it by yourself, he’d get on you. But then again, he wasn’t here and it wasn’t that far of a climb. As soon as you were close enough to reach the rod, you yanked it off the hook. Sunlight poured into the room, illuminating the tiny dust specs that floated around.

Once you put everything away, you wiped your hands, placing them on your hips, satisfied with the work done. It was 10:47 AM, and a loud yawn came out of you. Maybe a small nap wouldn’t be terrible.

You crawled onto the couch, letting your body sink into the cushions. The smell of Steve still lingered from weeks ago when he would take turns sleeping on it. And it was like it was the easiest thing to do and close your eyes.

You jolted awake, your arm instinctively hitting whoever had just shaken you awake.

“Ow!” The familiar voice of your boyfriend chuckling. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You sat up, looking at the boy in front of you. He was crouched, smiling, holding his cheek where you assumed you had hit him. “Steve?” You wondered how long you had been asleep. When you turned to look at the clock, you rubbed your eyes. It was only 11:36 AM. “Why are you home?”

Steve grabbed your hand. “Because I told myself I would come home early when I missed you most. I almost turned right around as soon as I left for work. And then when you called me I had to talk myself out of it. I was doing well until I opened my lunch.”

You grinned. “You found the note.” When you made his lunch, you slipped a handwritten note inside:

Have a good day :)

Yours Truly

“I wanna take you somewhere.” He told you. “Right now.” Fortunately, you were already dressed. As you put on your shoes, Steve grabbed your car keys. You didn’t question as you got into the car he never willingly chose to drive. But you also noticed his BMW was not in its usual spot nor anywhere to be seen in the parking lot. Steve must have noticed your confusion. “Eddie drove me home. My car was acting weird on the way to work.”

You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t believe him. Every time he lied, he blinked rapidly. He had done it just then. You bit your tongue, not pointing it out. He seemed nervous. When you set your hand on his hand, he jumped, giving you an apologetic look.

He had brought you the house. The House. But rather than parking in the street, he pulled into the driveway. You couldn’t help but let the thought cross your mind that your car looked like it belonged there. “What are we doing here?”

Steve was already jumping out of the car, coming around to open your door. His hand placed on the small of your back as he led you to the front door. There was a statue of a frog on the ground he picked up, revealing a key. “Are we allowed to be doing this?” You asked in a hushed whisper, even though there was no one around.

“Of course we are. I asked for permission.” He unlocked the door, dramatically motioning for you to go inside.

You hesitated, worried that he was actually leading you to a swarm of police officers. Or maybe your own death. But then he gave you that look, telling you that you could trust him. Your fear being washed away, overrun by excitement. You practically ran inside, hit immediately with the smell of vanilla cookies. It was bigger on the inside than the outside. “It’s even more beautiful than I thought.”

Steve was beaming from behind you as the two of you walked throughout the house. “They recently refurbished it.” Steve said as you gushed over the red brick fireplace in the living area. You squealed when you caught the sight of the kitchen. There was so much counter space compared to the apartment. Steve leaned against the doorway, smiling as you opened all the cabinets, imagining where you could put all the dishes. “Hey,” he said gently. You looked up at him. He was flushed, brushing his fingers through his hair. “Come with me.”

You followed him down the hallway, walking into a large room. Looking around, you had concluded that you were standing in what is supposed to be the master bedroom. Steve grabbed your hand, pulling you through an opened door to the left.

You gasped. It was a bathroom. It was decently sized, a large counter, the walls covered in sage green wallpaper adorned with silver flowers. But your main focus was on the large bathtub against the wall, a glass shower on the other side of it. The bathtub was ivory, reflecting the sunlight that flooded through the window. There was a long rectangular spout on the back of the tub. It almost looked like a jacuzzi tub you’d find at a spa.

Your eyes twinkled when you looked over at Steve. “I’ve never seen something so beautiful.”

“Why don’t you sit in it?” Steve asked you.

You shook your head, grabbing your arm shyly. “No, that would be weird. We don’t live here.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Take your shoes off and it will be fine.”

Steve was very convincing. Plus, you believed he wouldn’t let you leave until you gave it a try. You kicked off your shoes, giggling as you ran over to it, sliding down slowly, imagining you were slipping into a pool of steaming hot water. “I’ve never felt anything more magical.” You sighed, stretching your legs out, your feet not even reaching the other side.

Steve walked over, getting on his knees, his eyes were endearing but his smirk was mischievous. He pushed his glasses up. “Just imagine. You come home after a long day. I could run you a nice hot bath, maybe even give you one of my massages.”

“That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You leaned closer to him, looking at his lips. “Will there be bubbles?”

Steve licked his lips. “So many bubbles.” You leaned back, tittering when he stuck out his bottom lip, pouting. “You know, what the best thing about this bathtub is?” Steve raised a brow. You continued, “It’s big enough for two.” You didn’t have to say another word, Steve shoes were off his feet. He climbed into the other side.

You sat in silence, soaking up the imaginary hot water and bubbles. The sun perfectly casted drops of sparkles on his face. You wondered if he could hear your heartbeat even when he was all the way on the other side of the tub. “Steve.” Your foot nudged his leg. His eyes had been closed the entire time, opening them, locking his doe irises with yours, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You’re my best friend. You know that?”

Steve's face grew softer. “Yeah?”

You looked away shyly. “Yeah.”

“Even though I slurp noodles or forget to take the trash out. And even when I’m sometimes an asshole?” It was supposed to be a joke. But you could tell a part of him wasn’t.

Your face pinched into a silly grin. “Yeah, because it cancels out when I’m a bitch.”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed. “You’re my best friend too.” His words were soft and tender. It made your stomach flutter, and toes tingle. A beat went by before he said your name. You never realized how much you loved hearing him say it until recently. He licked his lips again, but nervously. “I was gonna wait. I had a nice dinner planned this weekend and…” He stopped, laughing to himself. He dug through his front pocket. He opened a box, placing it on the ledge of the tub. “I’ve always thought I wanted you to need me but really, I need you. I don’t think I’d have a life if it weren’t for you.” You could see the tear threatening his lashes. “If I ever forget to tell you that I love you or I’m not with you; I want you to be able to look at your finger and be reminded of that I love you today, tomorrow, and forever.”

Now you were the one crying, lip trembling as you smiled. “But what about wanting to wait to buy a house?”

Steve looked down, wearing a look of guilt. “I kept my promise.”

“What?”

He looked up, sheepishly. “We’re currently in our house. Or I guess it will be. We just need to sign the papers and it’s ours. Our house.”

You wiped your face, still confused, stuttering. “B-but… h-how?”

Steve shrugged. “Savings.”

“I mean, yeah. But I know it wouldn’t cover everything.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I sold her.”

Her? Who was her? Your brows knitted together, trying to piece everything together. Your mouth fell open, eyes wide. “You sold your car?” His expression told you everything. “Steve,” you cried. “You love that car.”

“But I love you more.” He proclaimed. It rolled off his tongue easily, like breathing. “Yes, I love my car, but eventually the motor will stop running. But this,” he motioned between you two. “This will last a lifetime.”

You looked around the bathroom. And according to Steve it was now your bathroom. Ours. And then it was as if the answer to his question was easy. As easy as it was to blink and think. You grabbed the box, like it was treasure. Treasure which only belonged to you. And Steve. It was yours and his. It was your love. “Yes.” You had never been sure on some things in your relationship with Steve. But you had never been more sure in your life giving him that answer as you let him slip the ring on your finger. It twinkled like his eyes.

Your lips fell on his, deep and slow, savoring the moment. You wanted to bottle it like perfume and wear it everywhere you went. You weren’t sure what it’d be like in the next five years. Or who you’ll be.

But it didn’t matter, as long as you were still his.

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