#blurbs are so hard
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thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.
when youâre in the shower, heâs sat on the lid of the toilet on his phone (watching those rug cleaning videos) enjoying your faint singing under the stream of water, the smell of your body wash on the cloud of steam- ready to pass you a towel or get your back.
when youâre at your desk, working from home or studying, heâs just on the other side of it reading the paper with one outstretched leg tangled with both of yours. heâs dead quiet when youâre on a call, just happy to be around.
when youâre doing laundry, collecting the clothes in the hamper and crouching to stuff them into the washer- turning around and accidentally colliding with a thick wall of muscle.
âsorry, loveâ
he steps aside but you can hear his soft footfalls as he continues to follow you throughout your home.
when youâre both watching something on the couch, what starts as his pinky locked with yours turns into his arm around your waist. that turns into your head on his chest, which culminates with you falling asleep in his lap with his cheek on your head and soft snores emanating from his lips.
when you grocery shop, you push the trolley but his chest is to your back, arms either side of you and hands clasped over yours on the handle. you can thank his military training for his uncanny ability to tell exactly when youâll stop walking.
when he wakes up in the middle of the night, on a rare occasion when youâve managed to slip out of bed without him realising, heâs immediately in a panic calling your name.
âin here, my loveâ
as soon as his heart settles, he realises the bathroom light was probably a dead giveaway. youâre taking a wee, youâll be back in a minute.
that doesnât stop a sleepy simon from leaning in the doorframe, shielding his eyes from the big light as he waits for you to finish up.
even on the short walk back to bed, you can feel fingers twisted in the back of your shirt- almost like youâre leading the way.
minute youâre both on the mattress, youâre being wrapped up in his arms, slotting you perfectly into the curve of his front- almost like youâre made for him.
(and you are)
#idk idk IDK i just want to he needed by him#heâs so big and strong and independent he spends his whole life doing things himself#doing the hard stuff on his own- i like to think at homes heâs needy#and i like to think you let him because he deserves it#doesnât have to be big strong soldier at home he can be a little whimp#older bf!simon#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley blurb#simon ghost riley blurb#simon riley drabble#simon ghost riley drabble#simon riley headcanon#simon ghost riley headcanon
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iâm completely and utterly in love with the concept of reader developing feelings for alastor, but she knows heâs aroace so she doesnât know how to communicate/doesnât wanna cross any boundaries. so the next best thing? distance and close herself off from him.
when theyâre in the same room she will not look at him or talk to him in case it slips that sheâs head over heels.
she even goes as far as standing on the other side of the room because being too close to alastor sends her into a nervous frenzy.
but alastor, being the very observant demon that he is, notices how closed off sheâs being when heâs used to her standing close to him. used to her soft and calming voice. used to having her presence around him all the time.
does he miss it? yes. will he ever admit that out loud? absolutely not.
so alastor confronts her about it. and maybe it takes a bit of poking and prodding to finally get reader to admit everything and sheâs so terrified because âi donât wanna lose you to my stupid and idiotic feelingsâ
but then⊠hehe. alastor just says;
âmy darling, i love and cherish your company more than any of the others here. itâd be a downright shame to not have a beauty like you on my armâ
#â„ lexiâs daydreams#stfu iâm blushing so hard rn#if anyone wants to talk specifc concepts of this pls do!!! iâm OBSESSED!!!#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel#alastor x you#alastor fluff#alastor x reader#alastor imagine#alastor fanfiction#alastor the radio demon#the radio demon#hazbin hotel blurb#hazbin hotel fluff#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader
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đđ đđđđ, đđđđ đđ đđđđ đđđă»h.j.
đž â you don't think jisung cares about you enough to tell your fans you're dating, fucking. he proves you wrong when he pulls you in on stage, and kisses you in front of everyone.
âïž â paringă»hanji x reader // genresă»suggestive, band members with benefits, han writing hold my hand for the reader // wordsă»1.5k // warningsă»illusions to sex, kissing on stage, cursing and general crude language, han is kind of an asshole in the beginning, but he makes up for it, kinda silly kinda sexy, a little bit of my weird awkward writing style.
a/nă» ngl it was kinda crazy rewriting this. i wrote this near the very, very beginning of my old blog and i found it rotting in my drafts bc i never got to re-upload it...then i re-read it and remembered why... (why did i never use proper punctuation holy shit) but yeah i had fun writing them on stage ngl also what do we think of the new layout/theme?? (guys im still @lixies-favorite-cookie :))
"So you're okay with fucking me before the show, but telling people we're togetherâthat's where you draw the line?" you spit, narrowing your eyes at a frustrated Han, stress-sweating as he wrestles with his guitar strap, huffing when it gets caught on a tuft of his hair.
He's flustered, cheeks flushed and red as he cards his fingers through his hair, untangling the rogue strand from the slider. It's a Han Jisung staple: rushing right before a performance because, before he can actually get ready, he has to hear the setlist 143 times, chat with the sound tech about his new gaming system, andâhis personal favoriteâdrag you into the bathroom to screw the daylights out of you.
He calls it: jisung's good luck fuckâą
You haven't decided if you love it or hate it.
He huffs, giving you an agitated look, "We really don't have time for this, the show starts in 5 minutes." He continues tuning his guitar, testing a few strings.
"You seemed to have plenty of time when your dick was inside of me!"
He buffers, his ears flushing red as he fumbles a loud, off-tune string.
The crew freezes.
"Jesus, just put your damn bass on, y/n." He mutters, his entire face painted dark red.
You clench your jaw, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes. The crowd roars from behind the velvet curtain, anticipating, your now, very soon arrival. He's right, you do need to get ready. Though, that knowledge doesn't make the crack inside your ribs any less painful.
It was futile arguing with himâif he wanted to, he would.
There's no wound getting on stage couldn't fix.
It's already an hour into the concert and the adrenaline still hasn't worn off, thrumming hot through your veins. Han's guitar explodes, threading its way into your last string fluidly. You whisper into the mic, your voice low and seductive, rolling over his riff like whiskey and wine.
The crowd goes wild, stomping so loud it makes the platform shake. Han eats it up, running across the stage and high-fiving a throng of women right before the final riff.
You finish the song with a dark, crisp chord that vibrates through the stadium with a bitter hiss. You're both gasping into the mics when everything's said and done, exchanging exhausted looks. You look over, watching as sweat drips down his forehead, making his hair stick to the back of his neck. The same thing is happening to you.
It's scorching up here, but it's worth it.
Han pants, scrunching his brows as the camera zooms in, tearing his IEM's out. You're both smiling, wobbly and slightly off center, but smiling nonetheless.
Then, he looks at you.
He's looking at you like he's plotting something, like he's in love with you, and like he's about to do something monumentally stupid all at the same time.
Whatever he was thinking, you were down.
Suddenly, the next song erupts from the speakers and he turns to you with a smile.
Han wrote the lyrics to this song after, finally, putting a label on the whole bandmates-with-benefits thing you two had going on.
It was three in the morning when you found him slumped over the bathroom sink, steam slipping out of the glass shower panels. He was butt-naked, a white towel slung over his neck, catching beads of water trickling from his wet hair. It was clear that he was troubled, a tight knit forming on his eyebrows as he stared at the single sentence written on his notebook.
First, you laughed at him for not putting clothes on before grabbing his notebook. Then, you spent the next three hours working him through his writer's block.
It was then, with your hair disheveled and mascara smudged underneath your eyes, he realized he was completely, irrevocably in love with you.
And in a typical Han Jisung fashion, he wrote a song about it
And, also, in typical Han Jisung fashion, he hid that song and his stupid feelings away from you, until, well, now.
You give him a 'what the fuck are you doing?' look before, just like he practiced, he slides towards you, plucking the first dramatic chord. You anxiously flick your eyes over his face, then the crowd, then back to him again.
"Numerous trials and errors and fights,"
A thousand eyes are watching him, and yet, he's only worried about yours. You stand there, looking both very awkward and very pissed, not knowing what to do with the bass hanging off your shoulder. He just smiles.
"Every time I see you cry
I feel like drowning in the dark
You said it's fine, but no, I'm not 'Cause all I want is you, not your tears
ëëŹŒìŽ ë§ë„Œ ëêčì§
I wanna make you the happiest one, no fear"
His gaze never falters as he takes the final step forward, dropping his guitar and pushing away his mic. You were a messâhair caked to your forehead by sweat, eyeliner streaming down your face from your tears, but, to him, you were as beautiful as you have always been.
It was just you and him in that stadium, when he cups your cheeks, and whispersâ
"So baby, hold my hand now"
Then, he kisses you. He kisses you so hard, with so much passion it makes your knees go weak, melting into his arms. Confetti cannons explode around you.
There was no mistaking who he belonged to now.
When he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and his lips are swollen and he just can't keep his shit-eating grin off his face. Tiny, colorful paper flutters around you, falling onto his shoulders and in his hair. It was magical, all of it was utterly magical.
It takes you a solid fifteen seconds to realize that there are other people in the room.
Forty four thousand to be exact.
He turns to the crowd, throwing his hands up into the air and finishing the song like nothing happened.
Han has been studying music for about as long as he has been alive, and in all of his 24 years of living, he has figured out three things.
One, music was the language of the heart. Two, music can only be created through passion. And three, his heart never stayed silent when he was with you.
#i like lowk fuck so hard with the header#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#skz x y/n#skz x you#skz x reader#han x you#han x reader#han jisung x reader#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#han fluff#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#stray kids imagine#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#han fanfic#skz fanfic#skz reactions#skz au#SKZ#stray kids#han jisung#han jisung x y/n#han jisung fanfiction#han jisung imagine#han jisung angst#stray kids blurb
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God I might get in trouble for saying this but when I say I need to worship the man that is quinn hughes I mean it!
Hello, lovely. Here, you will never be in trouble, coz it is Quinn who will be in trouble for existing and being hot. đââïž This should be a simple thoughtâŠ.butâŠ.it became a full drabble. [This thot is also inspired by an excerpt i saw in Instagram (see at the end)] Severely no BETA. It is 3AM when i finish it.
Burning Touches
TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Hurt/Comfort (slight), Body worship (m!receving), Teasing, Unprotected Sex (protections, please. Itâs important, lovely), Overstimulation (m), Quinn is being pathetic (kinda subby if you squint. He is definitely. / Switch notes) or he is just too weak for you đ
Count: 1716 words | Masterlist | Taglist
Quinn shivers the moment your hands finally touch his skin after hours of you tracing soft circles over his shirt. His hands grip the sheets to prevent himself from breaking his promise not to pounce on you and let you do what you want to do, because he will. Heâs so close when all he can see is you on top of him.
Your eyes are glazed as you pour every bit of your attention on him.
The longer this goes on, the more he yearns for it. Every second, every minute, every hour, every day. That is all he wants. Him occupying your mind, because you occupy his. Every fucking day of the year.
When your finger slips under the hem of his shirt, he groans, nearly jumping at how quickly your eyes meet his, falling to his throat like youâve marked the very sound that came straight from his fucking soul. Because it truly did. Heâs fully bare. All his soul. All his body even fully clothed. All his mind. Every inch of him is at your mercy.
Then up, up and up, your hand travels. You purposely scratch your nails on his skin, marking and staking your claim with streaks. Physically temporary. Mentally permanent. Do you realize that? Every scratch youâve made on his body is forever ingrained in his soul. Every single one.
All he can do is moan, pathetically thrusting his hips up for relief that heâs not at all getting because you arenât sitting on his cock. Just on his thighs. His fucking thighs that are covered by his fucking sweatpants. Damn it.
âJust why didnât he just wear his boxers? Why did he pick these sweatpants after the shower? Just why?â he hounds past self.
"Take it off, Quinn," you order, bringing him back to his reality.
You donât need to expound. He understands, quickly sitting up, tugging his shirt with one hand, whimpering like a fool when you climbed off him so he can also remove his pants and briefs. His heart is aching at the smallest distance from you standing off the bed, your hands behind you. Too far. Youâre too far. You shouldnât be this far away from him. This shouldnât be allowed.
Youâre just two feet away, but it feels like youâre on the other side of a cliff where the connecting bridge has rotted and broken from the middle, effectively not letting him cross when all he needs is to be stuck to your skin. It wonât matter to him if there will be a deadly drop of sharp stone edges or a raging river. He will climb downâjump down if necessaryâand crawl his way up to get to you. He needs you.
Despite his need, he only stares as he burns. Heâs on fire as your burning-yet-dazed eyes soak in every detail of his body, taking your time. From his tousled hair, to the strands falling on his temple, to his slightly overgrown beard, to his shoulders, to his chest, to his abs, to his leaking cock, to his legs, down to his fucking toes. That makes him squirm, sitting back down with weak knees, his breaths coming in harder and harder.
His cock twitches when your eyes land on it. When your tongue darts out to sensually lick your lower lip, he falls further down steps of insanity. It hurts. His cock aches. So much. He needs to be touched by you. He needs to be fucked by you. He needs you more than ever.
Yet he sits, because he needs you to see how good he can be. For you.
 So good as he silently gazes at you, yearning for nothing more but your slightest touch.
"Just one touch. Please. Please. My Love," is the plea that got stuck at the tip of his tongue. The plea that he hopes you can see in his eyes, in the way he trembles. You must see him. He begs you to see.
The relief he feels when you step forward, crossing the impossible distance, is overflowing. Then you touch him, your palm meeting his chest, pushing so gently yet firmly. He fucking whines. You touched him. Now, heâs shaking even more. Too rattled. The anticipation is getting too much that his eyes burn from unshed tears. He can barely think as he follows your wordless order. He moves back to lay down. He gasps when you mount him. A lazy smile on your pretty face makes his chest tighten.
Why are you so beautiful? You are literally glowing. Itâs probably the warm light of the lamps that youâve carefully picked that made his house a home for both of you. Â Yeah, the lights. But itâs you. You glow because youâre you. You glow because you are the light of his life.
A beacon that saves him in the darkness of nights.
No matter how exhausted he isâfrom the game losses, from the harsh speculations about him leaving, from the coldness of his teammates, his friends, being moved, from the cruel reality that his happiness doesnâtâor wonât everâmatter in the team after he gave everything for the teamâyouâre there to make it all better.
Oh, heâs lucky to have you.
His love.
He only realizes that he is silently crying when your thumbs brush away his tears, when you lean down and start to kiss the falling drops. Youâre here. Always.A broken sob finally escapes him when you press your forehead against his. No words or permissions need to be said. He brings his arms around you as he seeks more comfort. The heated moment takes a pause. He cries because he needs to let it out and you know that.
âDonât leave me,â he pleads. âEver.â
âI wonât,â you immediately reply with no hesitation. âIâm here.â
âAgain.â He tightens his hold.
âIâm here.âYou squeeze your thighs against his sides, putting your weight on his chest, to ground him. It works. It always does. You repeat, âIâm here, Quinn.â
He cries and cries. He feels so vulnerable and so safe. He can be who he is, feel what he feels, break when he needs to, because you will always walk beside him, stop with him, wait with him as he gathers his pieces back together. You see him. All of him.
And he sees you.
He loves that he matches everything you give him. He will never be tired of doing so.
For minutes you two stay like that. Holding one another. Until his tears dry. Until he purges all the negativity with the help of your light that guides and that incinerates what needs to be gone. Until all thatâs left is him still being absolutely fucking horny. His cock is begging for release as you softly rub your pussy over him, so slowly, so deliberate, because you know that his need is now different.
You press soft kisses all over his face, neglecting his lips where he needs it the most. Your hands slowly guide his to the headboard where he understands it should stay. He gulps and grips the bar. Shivers run down his spine because you donât move to secure his wrists with the shackles dangling there for him to use on you or for you to use on him. Now, itâs for the latter, but you donât use it. You simply trust him to keep his hands there. He wonât betray your trust. Not ever.
You kiss him lower. To every part of his body that you took your time drinking in earlier. He burns and burns and burns. So much more that you are touching him. Your lips ignite goosebumps on his skin, your tongue darting out to taste every bead of sweat that appears.
Your silent yet so loud repeated and cycling murmurs strum the strings of his soul, âYouâre beautiful. Youâre handsome. Youâre strong. Youâre amazing. Youâre clever. Youâre tenacious. Youâre the very best.â
So affirming.
So touching.
He feels worshiped. Every kiss, every lick, every word affirms him. He feels loved. You love him. Only fool would be blind to that fact. Quinn is not a fool.
So, for every compliment, he answers, âI love you.â
Even if you donât need to, once or twice, you reciprocate, âI love you too.â
When you kiss every exposed inch of him except for his lips and cock, you move up his body with more. Only now, your kisses are more of bites than kisses like you want to eat him.
You are eating him.
And instead of âI love youâs, while his knuckles are turning white as he grips the bar harder that he feels his arms cramping, his soul reverberating with every beat of his heart, he says âPlease. Bite down harder.â
He needs you to leave bruises.
He needs you to break into his skin and make him bleed.
He needs you to swallow the slightest drops of blood of him.
He needs it so much.
Then, instead of compliments, you chuckle against his skin. Your eyes twinkle as you meet his pleading eyes. You murmur, mocking him, âOh, you would like that, huh, Handsome?â
You wonât leave marks.
Not even the slightest imprint of your teeth. Not even the slightest discoloring for a hickey.
Not when he begs and whines and whimpers. Not when you sink your pussy down his cock. Not even when you fuck him after telling him not to move. Not when your pussy clenches around him so hard that he comes for you.
Over and over again.
However, when his mind is raw and fuzzy from how much you milk his cock that he canât physically come anymore and when a tear of frustration escapes him, you finally bite down hard into his neck until his skin breaks.
Pain and pleasure shoot down his exhausted body. His cock twitches, aching and wanting to come but nothing comes out.
He is blacking out, his hands letting go of the bar, falling on the bed, not even going around you. Heâs so spent.
Any noise is getting muffled, yet he hears your breathless and exhausted words so clearly.
âSuch a good boy, Quinn. You did so well for me.â
The excerpt (I fear I got no link to source because I only screenshotted it days ago and it didn't leave my head one bit):



Good night đđđ I love you, sweeties, lovelies.
#sorry for the hurt(/comfort) part#i also sobbed so hard writing it but idk if you will sob#i did so hard that i almost stopped writing#sorry for the wrong grammars#no BETA yet#ruinix answers#ruinix drabbles#quinn hughes#qh43#qhughes#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes blurb#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes drabble#quinn hughes smut#nhl x reader#nhl imagine#smut#sweet#sweet quinn#not too smutty if you ask me đđđ#wrote this as a mini blurb for two hours then have to edit the existing then write for three so...yes i died
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lonely hearts club
You kiss her forehead and pull Steve up from the couch, putting your jacket on and tossing him his. âOur Valentineâs day wouldnât be the same without someone crying or throwing up. Weâre going. Dinner can wait.â Steve wraps an arm around your waist. âSheâs right. This is just tradition for us. A sacred thing we look forward to every year.â âYou two confuse me so much.â Nancy laughs wetly, overwhelmed by your kindness. âWe get that a lot.â Steve kisses your temple. âCâmon, angelface. The lesbians need us.â
Summary: ten valentines days with steve. some years it's romantic, some years it's heartbreaking, but for better or worse, he's your forever valentine.
Rating: general, some swearing
Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of vomit, pregnancy, cheating (steve doesnt cheat)
Words: 11.9k
Before you swing in: happy valentines day !! is this a day late ? sure. but we're going to ignore that ! heres a cute little fic of valentines day with steve throughout the years. joe touring really influenced this because i made steve a rockstar but honestly it fit tbh. anyways, hope you enjoy !
-
Somehow itâs always Steve who you spend Valentineâs day with.
In high school itâs because of academic obligations. Youâre student body president and Steve is the president of the key club. Each year when February rolls around, the two of you are responsible for hanging pink streamers in the gym and selling enough tickets to afford a decent DJ.
Thanks to the infectious Valentineâs day yearning for love and potential makeouts under the bleachers, the Lonely Hearts dance always manages to draw in a crowd. That, and Steve promises that anyone who buys a ticket is guaranteed a dance with him.
Itâs gross and highly exploitative. And also quite brilliant.Â
You never cash in your ticket, though. While Steve spends the night spinning around girls dressed in pinks and reds and whites, youâre manning the punch bowl to make sure no one spikes it.
Each year, Steve finds a way to sneak gin into the cherry liquid behind your back.
âIâd stop serving little Benny there that punch of yours.â Steve slides next to you, dressed in all black with a rose pinned to his ribbed vest. He reeks, a terrible concoction of every perfume worn by the girls heâs spent all night with.Â
Benny, a small, frail fourteen year old with eyes too big for his comically small glasses, hiccups. His hand is extended towards you, empty cup waiting for more. His face is flushed and he sways ever so slightly.
You sigh. âHow much gin did you pour in this time, Harrington?â
âAn entire bottle.â
âI hate you, you know.â
Steve laughs. âNot my fault that you never catch me.â
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you glare at him. âI still hate you.â Then, remembering that a severely intoxicated Benny is still waiting for his drink, you gently tap the kidâs arm. âWhy donât you go sit in a corner, buddy?â
Benny hiccups again and stumbles away. Steve snickers, but his laughter turns into a yelp of pain when you kick him in the shin. âDonât you have girls to dance with?â
âNot if you keep kicking me like that,â he winces, rubbing his quickly bruising injury. âJesus, are those heels made of steel?â
âWhy are you still talking to me?â
âCanât a guy talk to his most consistent girl?âÂ
A snort masks the reddening of your cheeks. âReal flattering, Harrington.â
âIâm serious!â Steve nudges his shoulder against yours. Heâs smiling wide at you, charming as ever. âYou realize this is like, our third year spending Valentineâs day together, right?â
You roll your eyes. âWeâre only spending it together for a school dance.â
âStill makes you my longest running Valentine, Y/N.â He winks, smug, and you want to stain his pretty face with the cherry red of the punch before you. Heâs close to you now, close enough that you can smell his expensive cologne under all the perfume that taints it.
Suddenly your mouth goes dry. You look up at him and find that heâs already staring down at you. He doesnât move, doesnât shy away from the proximity that only seems to be growing smaller and smaller between you.
âSteve!â Heather Morgan stomps over, the ruffles of her lilac dress swishing with her forceful steps. She stops in front of you and him, though she doesnât bother to acknowledge you. âI thought I was guaranteed a dance?â
Three Valentineâs days with Steve Harrington, countless prom committee meetings and club organization conferences, shared lunch periods and classes, all have led to the intimate knowledge of the lines of his face and how every miniscule twinge of muscle reveals everything heâs feeling.
The forced smile that he gives Heather, eyebrows drawn together and eyes dim, is nothing like the bright and overwhelming smile he gave you only moments ago.
âYouâre absolutely right.â Steve holds his hand out to the girl and walks towards her. âWith all the hard work Y/N put into this dance, itâd be a shame if I let it go to waste and not abide by my promise.â
Your cheeks burn at the indirect compliment and Heather simply rolls her eyes. She yanks Steveâs arm and he gives you one last weary, yet shy and gentle, smile thatâs etched alongside his freckles and moles.Â
â
After graduating and moving to Chicago for college, you figure that maybe your first Valentineâs day in a big city will be spent with someone who doesnât get freshmen drunk and dance with demanding girls.Â
Then, your first week in intro to philosophy, you meet Oliver.Â
He enters five minutes late, out of breath and frantic, and blindly throws himself into the first seat he finds. In his rush, he doesnât see you until heâs thrown his jacket off and hears your quiet, âouch.â
âOh, my god.â His blue eyes are wide as he stares at you in horror, taking in the scene before him. Heâs completely thrown his jacket on top of you. âI-I am so sorry!â
His British accent nearly sends your brain reeling. Oliver is tall, his black hair makes his skin appear almost luminescent, and thereâs a dimple in his cheek that softens the harshness of his accented vowels.Â
âItâs fine,â you shrug the jacket off, too shy to say much else. Heâs arguably the most perfect man youâve ever met and itâs eight in the morning and youâre not quite sure if this is a dream. âJust⊠caught me by surprise?â
âChrist, Iâm genuinely so sorry.â He runs a hand through his hair. âI-I overslept and I only just switched into this class quite literally twelve hours ago andââ
âTop row,â your professor clears her throat, glaring at you and Oliver. âIs Aristotle really so interesting to you that you decide to interrupt my class in glee?â
Youâre beet red, frozen in shame and fear, but Oliver simply laughs and ducks in head. âMy apologies, Miss. Please, continue.â
Even the professor is charmed by his accent, and she shakes her head with a slight chuckle. She carries on with the lecture and Oliver is quiet next to you. You donât speak for the rest of class, but during the last five minutes, a note slides across your desk.
Coffee?Â
â Oliver (the dunce who threw his jacket on you)
A second coffee date follows the first. Then a third. A fourth. A fifth and sixth until they slowly turn into dinner dates. Sneaking into each otherâs apartments when your roommates arenât home. Kissing as you lazily study together in bed.Â
Late January comes and you think that youâve finally, finally, found someone to spend Valentineâs day with. Someone real and yours and lovely.Â
Oliver tells you to meet him at his apartment at 7:30 for dinner. Heâs promised you homemade roast, a recipe from his mother. Valentineâs day will be a quiet dinner with only candlelight as your company. No streamers or spiked punch; itâs everything you couldâve ever wanted.
âThe potatoes need a few more minutes, then we can eat.â Oliver kisses your forehead as he wipes his hands with a towel. The kitchen is warm, the smell of herbs and garlic infiltrate the air. On the counter the beef is resting, its aroma enough to make your mouth water.
You take a sip of wine. âThank god.â
âHungry, are we?â
âA home cooked meal by my hot boyfriend?â You raise your glass. âOf course Iâm hungry!â
Oliver laughs, kissing you again. âWell, good thing I have all night to feed youââ
The front door slams, startling the two of you, and someone calls out, âSorry! Sorry, please ignore me!â
Your fingers tighten around the stem of your wine glass hearing their voice.
Oliver groans, âone second, babe.â He leaves your side, but you donât follow, too afraid to face whatâs waiting for you on the other side of the wall.
âI thought I told you I had the apartment tonight?â You hear Oliver hiss at the intruder.
âYou did! I just-I kinda left my guitar here and Robin will kill me if Iââ
âHurry up!â
âWhat, your date canât wait five seconds?â A laugh, pleased with his own joke. You close your eyes, imagining the scrunch of his nose and tilt of his lips; you havenât forgotten the details of his face, even after months of not seeing him.Â
Oliver mumbles something and you strain your ears to listen. He sounds upset, anxious, arguing with the other person in the room, and something akin to unease creeps into your stomach.Â
âRelax, man. Just go finish that bizarre British dinner for Bianca.â
Silence.Â
You set down the wineglass and finally walk into the living room. The click of your heels is the only evidence of life within the apartment. Oliver stands near the door. His eyes are closed, he doesnât want to face you just yet.
Steveâs back is turned to you. His posture is relaxed, natural. He isnât aware of what heâs just undone.Â
âLong time no see, Harrington.â Your arms are crossed, shielding yourself from whatâs to come. Your voice sounds more confident than you feel. âI guess youâre the roommate I never got to meet.â
He spins around quickly, almost falling over, recognizing your voice immediately. His childish stumbling tells you that he almost doesnât want to believe it. When Steveâs eyes land on you, they soften, warm brown filling with fondness once more.Â
âY/N!âÂ
Steve steps forward as if to hug you, but then seems to remember where he is, what he had previously been talking about with Oliver. He stops, the fondness in his eyes diminishing to confusion, then slowly to anger.Â
âYouâre⊠not Bianca.âÂ
âEvidently not.â Your laugh is bitter.Â
Steve narrows his eyes at Oliver. âWhat the hell, man? You told me you were dating some chic named Bianca.â He points a bewildered finger at you. âThis is Y/N.â
âIn my defense,â Oliver sighs tiredly, clapping his hands together in a defeated manner. âI didnât think youâd know either one of them, so. This is just brilliant.â
âAre you dating them both?â Steveâs eyes bulge out of his head. If you werenât on the brink of crying and throwing up, youâd laugh at his poor state of shock.Â
âThatâs how cheating works, Steve.â You say weakly.
Oliver tries to say something, but heâs drowned out by Steveâs yelling. âAre you fucking serious?â
âSteveââ He tries again.
âNo! I-I was unknowingly an accomplice in your cheating?â
âI did try to hide them both from youââ
âYouâre such a jackass! I thought the British were supposed to be posh and all that-that bloody bullshit!â
You touch the back of Steveâs elbow. Youâre mortified and embarrassed and you really want to cry right now. No words come out. Your mouth wonât open. All you can do is hope that your touch is enough.
Immediately Steve stops yelling. He tugs you against his chest, understanding everything the touch meant. He doesnât care that itâs been six months since heâs seen you or that you were never particularly close in the first place. He wipes the tears that have started to fall from your eyes with a tenderness you didnât know was innate within him.Â
âIâm taking you home,â he says, voice barely above a whisper. âGo get your things, alright?â
Weak and numb, you do as youâre told.
âY/N, waitââ Oliver tries to reach out for you.
Steve steps between you. The look on his face is violent, almost frightening. Youâve never seen him like this. âDonât.â
Oliver stumbles back. Itâs enough of a distraction for you to quickly grab your purse and keys, vision blurry from tears as your body shakes. Every nerve, every fiber of your skeletal body is screaming at you to run.Â
When youâre ready, Steve uses his body to prevent Oliver from looking at you. His hands are gentle as he guides you to his car. He whispers reassurances, rubs circles into your back, and allows you to cry the entire way home.Â
It doesnât surprise you when Steve doesnât leave after parking in front of your apartment. It also doesnât surprise you when he walks you to your door and lets himself in.Â
âStay here,â he all but shoves you onto the couch before making his way to your kitchen. He walks through the apartment as if heâs done so his entire life. âIâll be right back.â
âWhat are youââ
âLess talking, more crying!â
You curl yourself into a small ball, too tired to argue with Steve. While you have no idea what the hell heâs doing, youâre relieved that your roommate, Jane, is out with her boyfriend for the night.
At least someone is having a happy Valentineâs day.
Steve returns with two pints of ice cream and spoons. Heâs already opened one of them and hands it to you as he plops onto the couch. âFigured youâd have a stash.â
The ice cream he hands you is your favorite flavor. You donât remember ever telling him this. âHow did youââ
âThis is our fourth Valentineâs day in a row, Y/N,â Steve pokes your side. âWhen are you gonna stop questioning my loyalty to our sacred tradition?â
Mouth cold from ice cream and face hot from crying, Steve manages to pull a laugh out of you. Itâs feeble and small and more of a grimace than something joyous, but itâs more than you ever thought was possible.
Steve laughs with you, knocking his own pint of ice cream against yours. âTo Valentine's day, angelface.â
âTo Valentineâs day,â you sniff, laughing again. The moment is bizarre and not at all how you envisioned spending the day, but somehow itâs wonderful and reminiscent of the years before. Thereâs only one thing missing. âI miss the pink streamers.â
âIâll hang some up next year.â Steve promises, winking at you as he always seems to do, falling back in familiarity.Â
You rest your head against the couch, warm, and hum thoughtfully. Steve always keeps his promises, and you can almost envision the messily strewn up streamers and tacky holiday decorations he would find and insist on using. The apartment would be full of light and warmth, and the thought makes you smile. Â
âIâd like that.â
âÂ
Inexplicably, Steve becomes your best friend.
He all but declares Oliver dead to him and refuses to step foot in their apartment unless itâs to eat or sleep. He cuts off all contact with the guy without even blinking. You try telling Steve that he doesnât have to jeopardize his relationship with his roommate and he scoffs at you.
âIâm giving that motherfucker the coldest shoulder known to man, Y/N. Whether you like it or not.â
And there isnât anything else to talk about, really.Â
Slowly Steve starts spending all his time at your apartment to avoid his, and you find yourself actually enjoying his company. He doesnât stray far from your room and he always brings over extra napkins from the restaurant he works at, saving you an extra five dollars a week in household supplies.
Plus, Steve introduces you to his coworker Robin, and sheâs so enthralling and chaotic and vibrant that itâs only natural that when she becomes your best friend, Steve does, too.Â
Spring semester ends and Jane announces that sheâs moving out to live with her boyfriend come summer. The first person you call is Steve. He moves in a week later.Â
âHave you looked over the sheet music yet?â Robin has her legs tossed over your lap as the two of you sit on the couch. Steve sits on the floor, leaning his head against the couch, his hair tickling the bare skin of your leg.Â
Youâre watching some movie that Steve had been dying to see. Itâs Valentineâs day and heâs begged you to let him watch some cheesy romance movie he saw an ad for. He claims itâs to get into the holiday spirit, but you know itâs because he has a crush on Patrick Swayze.
Robin tagged along because she has a crush on Jennifer Grey.
âHey, doofus!â She throws popcorn at Steveâs head when he doesnât respond to her question.Â
âCan you at least aim for my face?â He flicks the popcorn out of his hair, cringing. âThe butter makes my hair feel gross.â
You ruffle the locks, shaking his head in the process and he swats you away, albeit without any cruelty or malice. âCould be from all that hairspray you drown it in.â
âIâm with Y/N on this one,â Robin leans forward, invading Steveâs space with ease. âAnyways, did you read the music or not? Kelly wants your opinion before our gig tonight.â
âWhy does she care what I think?â
âBecause youâre the lead singer?â Robin looks at you. âDo you think all that hairspray has rotted his brain?â
You shrug. âProbably.â
Steve flips the both of you off and you giggle together at his annoyance. Ever since meeting Robin, making Steveâs life as miserable as possible has become your favorite thing to do together.Â
Robin then asks again about the song and she and Steve fall into a conversation about Kelly and her obsession with their other bandmate Connor and whether or not the song is actually good or if itâs just another attempt for her to win him over.Â
You watch them talk with a lazy smile. They become so animated when they discuss music, and you admire how well they work together. It doesnât surprise you that they formed a band together after only being friends for two days. They take music seriously, obsess over it in a way you donât think youâll ever quite understand, but that you will always admire.
âYouâre coming to our gig tonight, right?â Steve suddenly turns to you, eyes pleading and hopeful.Â
âWhere is it again?â
âThe Vexture. We go on at ten.â
Robin has turned her hopeful eyes to you as well and you shift uncomfortably. The Vexture is a grungy club thatâs always packed with people looking for someone to call their own, and given the fact that itâs currently Valentineâs day, itâll only be worse.
The thought makes you nauseous.Â
Steve sees you grimace and he immediately throws himself into your lap. âNo. Absolutely not. You have to come.â
âI havenât even said anythingââ
âYou were going to bail!â
âIâI wasnât!âÂ
Robin pinches your cheek. âYouâre a terrible liar, dear.â
You try to argue but Steve covers your mouth. You thrash underneath him, completely opposed to his body weight on you and his grimy hands covering your mouth, but heâs freakishly strong and Robin is a traitor who helps him hold you down.
âLook, Y/N.â Steveâs hair falls in your face. âWe all know that last year was rough.â
âFuck Oliver!â Robin shouts, wringing her hands together as if envisioning choking him.Â
âWhat she said. Anyways, you took a hard hit. Itâs understandable. But I refuse to let you spend Valentineâs day all alone, alright? You havenât dated anyone in months. Youâre coming tonight.â
You want to bite him, to kick him off and pinch his skin, but you know heâs right. Deflating, you cross your arms and reluctantly nod.Â
Steve and Robin cheer, jostling you around, and despite the annoyance and fear youâre feeling, you canât help but laugh at their childish joy.Â
âLove the enthusiasm, but can you guys get off me now?â You croak out in between laughs.Â
They scramble off the couch and Robin helps you up. She fixes your hair and kisses the tip of your nose. âWe have three hours to make you irresistible tonight.â
âIâm not dressing upââ
âYou have no free will when it comes to me.â Robin smiles wickedly and grabs your hand, pulling you to your room, having long forgotten about the movie thatâs still playing in the background.
âCan I join?â Steve calls after the two of you.
Robin slams the door in his face.
The Vexture is loud and overflowing with people by the time you get there. The lights are dimmed and Robin has to hold your hand as she guides you through the crowd. Since theyâre performing, theyâre allowed to cut the long lines and are able to get you the best seats in the house: backstage.
âYou made it!â Kelly throws her long and lithe arms around you. She smells of vanilla and honey and her hair is tied in loose knots. Glitter adorns her eyelids and pink hearts dot her cheeks.Â
âIâm being held against my will,â you shout into her ear, hugging her tightly. âBut Iâm here.â
Connor pats your back and chuckles. Heâs matching Kellyâs heart theme with a pink heart painted on his own cheek. âWell, at least youâll have a good time!â
Steve hands him a guitar and checks his hair in the mirror. Robin dressed him in a white button down and demanded that he leave the first four buttons undone. The exposed strip of skin from the base of his neck to the swell of his chest burns your lips.Â
âWe ready?â Steve pulls you by the waist, flush against him, and winks at his bandmates.Â
Kelly and Robin cheer and Connor slams his drumsticks together. A cheer of your own tumbles from your lips, allowing your body to lean against Steveâs, and his fingers dig into your side as his chest rumbles with pleasure.Â
The crowd erupts when they get on stage. They all get into their places. Robin with her keyboard. Kelly and the bass. Connor behind his drum set. And Steve, front and center of the stage, smiling into the mic as his fingers pick at his guitar.Â
âHowâs everyone doing tonight?â Heâs a natural on stage. People scream his name and he plays into it with such confidence and charm. Steve smirks, knowing he has the audience in the palm of his hand. âThatâs what I like to hear!â
He plays the first few notes of the song theyâre starting with tonight. Easy and light. Heâs setting the audience up, tempting them, leaving them wanting more.Â
Steve grabs the base of the microphone and tilts his head at the crowd. âWhoâs here with their Valentine tonight?â
Almost everyone cheers and whistles. Hands get thrown into the air and lovers kiss the smiles off each otherâs face.Â
âHell yeah!â Steve laughs, high on the energy in the room. He plays a few more notes, turns his head away from the crowd as he does so. You watch him, curious, and find that heâs looking at you.Â
When he has your attention, Steve laughs again and goes back to the mic. Heâs smiling wide, cheeks pink. âYou know, Iâm also here with a Valentine tonight.â
The audience gasps and cheers and claps for him. Robin wolf whistles, loud and obnoxious, teasing eyes looking only at you. Kelly snickers and Connor points one of his drum sticks at you, clutching his heart dramatically.
The apples of your cheeks pinch together a glorious red and Steve canât take his eyes off you. His eyes, soft as they always are when he looks at you, are like molten earth. He smiles into the mic again, unable to look away from you.
âThis is our fifth Valentineâs day together,â he tells the crowd, smiling so much heâs almost slurring his words. âI kinda hope that this angelface will always be my Valentine.â
Robin whistles again and the roar of the Vexture is so loud now that you canât hear anything besides the blood rushing in your head. Steve screams along with the crowd and Connor counts the band in and thereâs music all around you and dancing and Steveâs sweat drips down his chest and thereâs a burning deep within your stomach.
Heâs beautiful.Â
You hope that heâll always be your Valentine, too.
âÂ
Sophia enters your life early junior year. You find her in your kitchen one morning wearing one of Steveâs old t-shirts, and you make her a cup of coffee.
Sheâs nice. Her hair is bronzy and she has incredible green eyes and an angelic laugh. She studies English and sheâs the only other person besides your classmates who has read Plato, so youâre honestly quite fond of her, and you can see how Steve falls for her hard and fast.Â
Robin, however, has other thoughts.
âI donât trust her.â She says one day in January. Steve is at Sophiaâs, so you invited Robin over to bake cookies and watch the latest episode of a show you both enjoy.Â
You frown at her. âWhy not? I think Sophia is nice.â
âEver notice how the only way we can all collectively describe her as is nice?â Robin shivers. âWhat kind of psycho only has one personality trait?â
Well. There isnât a lot you can argue with there. Sure, everyone who has met Sophia has liked her, but when you think about it, Robinâs right. Theyâve all described her as nice, maybe quiet, but always nice.
âI think youâre just overprotective of Steve.â You try to defend. You like Sophia. Sheâs become a very loose, very distant, acquaintance. âJust give her some time.â
âTheyâve been dating for months now, Y/N. She creeps me out.â
âSophia isnât some off putting creature, Robinââ
âGuys!â Steve barrels through the front door. You and Robin both scream, but he ignores your terror and throws himself at the two of you. âHow much do you guys love me?â
Robin responds with, âhow much money do you want?â while you reply, âdepends on the day.â
Steve breathes heavily, grasping your hand. âI need you guys to please, please do me the biggest favor.â
âDid you kill someone?â You pull your hand away, weary of the scene before you.
âWhat? No! I justââ Steve inhales sharply. âItâs Sophia.â
âI knew it!â Robins screeches, but you jump and cover her mouth. She tries to scream through your silencing, but her words are muffled and jumbled.Â
You smile at Steve awkwardly. âDonât mind her. Whatâs going on with Sophia?â
âShe wants to go on a double date for Valentineâs day.â You and Robin stare at him as if heâs insane, and Steve groans. âLook, I know it sounds crazy, alright? But she-uh. I guess sheâs had some shitty Valentineâs days in the past and thought itâd be better if we had other people with us? As a safeguard?â
âThatâsâŠâ Concerning, you want to say, but Steve is staring at you, pleading, and you really donât feel like dealing with his anxious monologues. âInteresting.â
He rubs his face. âItâs insane, I know, but I just⊠I really like this girl, you know? So if one of you could justââ
âIâm out.â Robin raises her hands and you shoot her an incredulous look. âIâm sorry, Y/N, but I actually have plans this year and I really donât feel like spending them with Steve.â
âAnd you think I donât have plans?â You ask them, offended, and Steve looks at the ground and Robin suddenly finds the tile very interesting. âOkay. At least pretend that I have some dignity.â
âIâm sure you have a lot of dignity, angelface.â Steve tries to amend. âAnd youâd have even more dignity if you went on a double date with me and Sophia. Iâll even find someone to be your date!â
In theory, it sounds like your worst nightmare. Spending a night with a loved up Steve and Sophia while youâre with some guy you met only hours ago. All because Steveâs girlfriend doesnât feel comfortable enough spending Valentineâs day alone with him.
But Steve has had to hold your hand through a nasty breakup and other horrific dating exploits since then. Heâs held your hair up when youâve been sick. Makes you your favorite snacks during busy exam seasons. He cleans your room when he knows youâre exhausted.Â
Steve is your best friend. The least you can do is this.Â
âFine,â you finally give in. âBut the guy better be hot.â
The guy Steve finds you is, in fact, incredibly hot. His name is Max and he meets you and Steve outside the restaurant dressed in a well tailored suit.Â
âWhereâd you find this guy?â You whisper to Steve while Max isnât looking.
âHe knew Connor in high school.â He whispers back. âMakes a lot of money. Works in finance.â
Your mouth drops, but you quickly cover it up when Max opens the door for you and Steve. Heâs a perfect gentleman and rests his hand on the small of your back. âYou guys been to this restaurant before?â
âA few times together, but I donât think my girlfriend Sophia has been here yet.â Steve sits down and grabs a menu before checking his watch. âActually, she should be here by now.â
Maxâs face twists slightly. âHer name is Sophia?â
âMax?â Sophia, rushing towards your table, stops and gasps out his name as if sheâs been stabbed.
âOh, dear.â You set down your menu. Something tells you that there wonât be any eating tonight.
âSophia?â Max nearly falls to his knees in front of her, eyes shining at the girl as if sheâs hung all the moon and stars with her delicate fingers.
They stare at one another, neither moving, and Steve looks between them with a bitter taste in his mouth. âSo⊠you guys know each other?â
Sophia winces and Max coughs.
You grab your purse. âSteve, why donât we head homeââ
âWhatâs going on here?â His voice is strained. He looks at Sophia and you see the upset he tries to suppress. The clench of his jaw and the furrow of his brow. âSoph, who is this guy?â
âHeâs no one, I promiseââ
Max steps forward. âWe dated for a few years.â
âYears?â Steve exclaims.
âBroke up on Valentineâs day last year, actually.â He looks at Sophia with a pained expression. âI⊠I missed you.â
Steve falls against his seat in disbelief. Sophia holds the base of her throat in a weak attempt to soothe herself.
âYouâre really not helping, Max.â You glare at him, rubbing your friendâs shoulder as he sits at the table, mourning. Steveâs mouth doesnât seem to be able to close and heâs looking at Sophia as if trying to silently plead with her to tell him that none of this is real.
Except is it, and Sophia closes her eyes. âI-I canât do this, Steve.â
Her apology sends the chair flying back as he stands abruptly, desperately reaching for her in the crowded restaurant while you and Max remain silent. âWait, canât we justââ
âI should go.â Sheâs crying and the green of her eyes are a startling shade of brilliance. She really is quite lovely; the beauty breaks your heart. Steve calls after her as she leaves.Â
You hold him back. He screams at you to let him go, but you know that this time you have to be the one to break his fall. To catch him as he caught you the year Oliver broke your heart. There are tears in his eyes and his hoarse voice begs the girl to stay, but sheâs long gone.Â
Max stands there in the wreckage. He doesnât know what to do or who to follow.Â
âJust go,â you tell him, pulling Steve back down to sit. He collapses into your side, too ashamed to cry and too exhausted to care. Heâs weak against you and your arms encase him. Max doesnât move, and your voice raises before you can stop it. âGo!â
He listens, and the other patrons in the restaurant watch as yet another person runs from your table. A waitress gives you a pitying smile that you donât reciprocate.
Steve hides his face in your neck and you gently cup his cheek to make him look at you. âHey,â you say when his eyes finally focus on you. âLetâs get you a drink, okay?â
He drops his head on the table with a defeated sigh. âGive me whatever liquor they got.â
âThe stronger the better?â
âYes.â
âComing right up.â You wave a waiter down and order four shots and two beers. Steve doesnât say anything while you order, but he does shift closer to you once the waiter is gone.
The buzz of the restaurant is low, though full of laughter and conversation. You sit with Steve, fingers stroking through his hair as his head remains on the table. He lost all sense of pride the moment he begged Sophia to stay, so he allows your nails to scratch his scalp.
Drinks get set on the table and Steve throws both of his shots back before you can even pick one of yours up. He wipes his mouth and cringes at the taste. You stare at him, slightly concerned. âAlright over there?â
âNeed more liquor.â
You stroke his cheek. âHow cute. You think Iâm going to let you drink your sorrows away.â
He bats your hand away. âI donât know if youâre all caught up, but I just got dumped on Valentineâs day, Y/N.â
âAnd?â You laugh at him. âThat happened to me too, buddy. Youâre officially a part of the lonely hearts club. Howâs it feel?â
Steve drops his head back onto the table. âIt feels like weâre fucking cursed.â
âIâll drink to that,â you clink your beer against his. âCheers.â
Itâs quiet for a while. You finish your shots and sip slowly at your beer. Steve remains hidden away at the table, refusing to sit up and face the reality of heartbreak. You allow him to take all the time he needs, replenishing his drinks when he runs low. Heâs quiet, but he knocks his knee against yours every time you squeeze his hand.Â
Iâm here.
Thank you.
The chatter in the restaurant dies down and you pay the tab and help carry Steve home. Heâs significantly more drunk than you are, and youâre relieved that you chose to eat somewhere close enough to walk. He stumbles the entire way home and you have to cling onto his hand so that he doesnât fall.
Steve drags your body onto the couch the second you open the apartment door. He collapses on top of you. His arms hold your waist and his nose presses against your neck. You bring your hands to his hair and sync your breathing with his.Â
âThink itâll always be like this?â Steve murmurs after a while. âYou and me and goddamn Valentineâs day?â
Six years of sharing the holiday together. Six years of being each otherâs person to spend the day with and draw cheesy cards for. Six years of laughter and tears and secret glances and inside jokes.Â
Six years, and yet it still doesnât feel like enough.
âWeâre best friends, Steve.â You whisper into his ear, lips brushing skin. âOf course itâll always be like this.â
He shivers at the sensation of your lips. Alcohol burns through his system. He finds himself upset that he drank tonight. He wonders what wouldâve happened had he not met Sophia. If he had taken you to the restaurant alone and left sober.
Steve wonders if he wouldâve kissed you then. If you wouldâve let him.
But he had met Sophia. Heâd taken you to the restaurant to have dinner with her. He got drunk tonight to forget the way she tasted. You walked him home because you couldnât trust him to take care of himself. And now heâs too afraid to kiss you because he knows it could ruin everything heâs so carefully built with you.
He falls asleep to your heartbeat.
âÂ
âWho gets married on Valentineâs day?â Robin tugs at her dress in disgust. âI mean, that should just be illegal.â
You help her fix her dress and shrug. âI donât know. I think itâs sweet.â
âThatâs because Steveâs walking you down the aisle tonight. Youâre biased.â
âHeâs the best man and Iâm the maid of honor,â you poke her stomach. âItâs quite literally tradition to walk down the aisle as a pair.â
Kelly, who has been fixing her makeup the entire conversation, peeks her head from behind the mirror. âTo be honest, Connor and I did intentionally plan for Steve to walk you down the aisle.â
Your jaw drops. âKelly!â
âThe two of you are just so cute!â She laughs. âYouâre two of our closest friends. We want whatâs best for you, so Connor and I figured weâd just give you guys a little push.â
Robin rolls her eyes. âBelieve me. Iâve been trying to get them together for years now. What is this, your eighth year of being each otherâs Valentineâs?â
Your head whips to her. âItâs only our seventh. And what do you mean youâve been trying for years?â
âIâm practically the reason Steve moved in with you. He wanted to live with me months before you asked him to move in. Naturally, Iâm a prophet, and I told him no. Now here you guys are, walking down the aisle together. Tada!â
âOh my god.â
âI mean, it worked!â Robin frowns. âWell. Sort of.â
Youâre speechless and Kelly takes pity on you. She walks over and rests a gentle hand on your shoulder. âY/N, I love you. Connor and Robin love you. Steve loves you. You know that, right?â
âIâŠâ Youâd be a liar if you said the thought never crossed your mind. Especially after the breakup with Sophia. Youâve always been close with Steve, but in the last year thereâs been this shift that you havenât been able to describe.
Thereâs coffee waiting for you every morning. He holds your hand and strokes his thumb against your palm. Steve ends up falling asleep in your bed most nights now, wrapped around you as his breath warms your skin. His own room has slowly been turned into a makeshift studio for his music.Â
Sometimes you catch Steve staring at you, and sometimes the heat of his gaze doesnât scare you.Â
But sometimes it does.
âWhy are we even talking about this?â You deflect, setting your eyes on Kelly and her gorgeous veil. âYouâre getting married in less than an hour. Canât we talk about that?â
âBabe, all Iâve done for the last year is talk about this goddamn wedding. Iâm the bride and right now I demand that we gossip.â
Robin laughs at you and youâre about to make up some excuse about needing to go organize the roses again when the brideâs door opens. Kelly yelps and covers her dress as you and Robin step in front of her to block the intruderâs view.
âRelax,â Steve holds his hands up. âItâs just me. Unfortunately, Iâm not the groom.â
Kelly shakes his head at him fondly. âWhat do you want, Steve?â
âConnor sent me here because apparently I lack the ability to shut the fuck up and it was stressing him out.â
You snort and Robin hunches over as she giggles. Kelly smirks. âYeah. I believe that.â
Steve sticks his tongue out at the three of you, and the conversation from earlier gets dropped. He helps you and Robin with the rest of Kellyâs makeup. He irons her dress, showers her with compliments, and your heart constricts every time he touches the edge of your silk dress with childlike wonder.Â
âYou look beautiful, Y/N.â He whispers when itâs just the two of you. The door to the aisle hasnât opened yet. The rest of the wedding party stands behind you, waiting.Â
A blush coats your cheeks. You loop your arm through his and bask in his fondness. âThank you,â your hand rests on his chest. âYou look quite handsome yourself.â
And he does. Steve is cruelly beautiful in his suit. His tie matches the lace of your dress and you want to pull the end of it and bring his lips to yours. He stares down at your lips and you wonder if heâs thinking about yours, before the music starts.
The door opens. Down the long, carpeted length of the church stands Connor. There are flowers everywhere and Steve grabs the hand that rests against his forearm. He squeezes it, takes a deep breath, and together you walk down the aisle.Â
During the wedding Robin cries. The vows are exchanged and she has to cover her mouth to contain the sobs that spill from her. Steve catches your eye from across the pew and the two of you smile at your friend, your love for her forming into one.Â
Sometime late into the night Steve finds you. He hands you a drink before promptly dragging you to the dancefloor. You protest, shy, but he doesnât listen.
âI told myself Iâd dance with the prettiest girl at this wedding, angelface. And it just so happens that that girl is you.â
You laugh at him, following his hands as he guides you through the motions of dancing. âDonât let Kelly hear you, otherwise sheâll strangle you.â
âLet her,â Steve spins you, eliciting more giggles to fall from your pretty lips. âIâll die a happy man now that Iâve danced with you.â
âThat was disgusting.â
âAnd charming. Donât forget charming.â He spins you again before bringing your bodies even closer together. âYou know what this reminds me of?â
You gaze up at Steve. âWhat?â
âThe Lonely Hearts dance.â
Exasperated laughter follows his confession. âYouâre really thinking about our high school dance right now?â
âWhy wouldnât I? Every year I was dying to dance with you.â Steveâs thumbs stroke up and down the sides of your waist. His grip on you tightens. His voice lowers and you recognize the adoration that paints his brown eyes. The air between you stills. Steve dips his head, his forehead brushes yours. âAnd now I finally got that dance.â
You donât breathe. If you do, youâre afraid that the exhale would shatter the fragility of this moment.Â
âWas it worth it?â You donât recognize your own voice and the breathy way it comes out. Your hands move up Steveâs chest and snake around his neck. His head knocks against yours, your noses centimeters apart, lips separated by inches.
You feel Steveâs smile more than you really see it. âYou tell me.â
He kisses you, cradling your body as if it were made to fit into the crevices of his palms. Lips move against lips and your skin hums at the sensation of finally welcoming him home. His skin greets you with a soft tenderness and your lips coat his mouth with sugary sweetness.
âGet a room!â Robin throws a napkin at the two of you, forcing you apart, and when you come up for air you see the biggest smile on her face.Â
You hide in Steveâs neck, embarrassed, though not enough to not leave small, fluttery kisses on every mole your lips can find. Youâre already addicted to feeling him shiver beneath you.
âSeems we have a wedding to plan for next year!â Connor raises his beer and points at you and Steve, cackling loudly.Â
Kelly is next to him and she kisses her husbandâs cheek and beams at him. âIt took âem long enough!â
âDo you guys mind?â Steve pulls you away from the dancefloor, glaring at his closest friends who all love him endlessly and whom he loves even more, and basks in your giggling as he whisks you away. âIâm trying to kiss Y/N here!â
âUse protection!â Robin calls out while Connor and Kelly whistle and cat call.Â
Steve finds an empty closet and no one can find you for the rest of the night. Kelly never lets you live it down, Connor commends you for the bravery, and Robin has to wipe away her tears.
âÂ
Your first semester of senior year, Steve and Robinâs band gets signed. The record label is apparently legendary because they collapse onto the ground screaming when they get the phone call. Twenty minutes later, Connor and Kelly are at your apartment screaming alongside them.
Two weeks later they book tickets to New York and you help Steve pack his bags. Everything happens so quickly and itâs almost nauseating trying to keep up.
âWeâre in the studio from nine to five every weekday, so Iâll call you every day at six.â Steve folds a pair of jeans and hands them for you to place in his suitcase. âWeekends Iâll call you at five so that we can eat dinner together.â
You give him an odd look. âDonât you want to go explore the city while youâre there?â
âI mean, sure. But I can do that during the day. The moment the clock strikes five or six, itâs my girlâs time.â
âSteveâŠâ Youâre so stupidly in love with him sometimes. âI donât want you worrying about me while youâre there. This is a huge opportunity for you.â
âWho said anything about worrying about you?â Steve walks up behind you and kisses your neck. âAngelface, Iâm worried I might die after the first week without you.â
Your hands brush through his hair. âYouâll be fine, Stevie. I guarantee that in five days tops youâll be having too much fun to miss me.â
âWrong. I will be talking everyoneâs ears off about you and will probably get banned from a lot of bars because of it.â
Sighing, you turn and face him, pressing a soft kiss to his brow. âSteve, itâs only for a few months. Each day weâre apart will be one day closer to being together.â
âHow about no days apart and every day together?â
You kiss him, slowly and drawn out, as if time is on your side and youâre in excess of it. Steve hums against you, tightening his arms in a lazy hug, and you know that youâll miss him forever.
The first few weeks are hard without Steve. Youâve never lived on your own before and youâve never really spent a day without him since you were eighteen. Now youâre twenty-one and thereâs no one to kiss you awake or make faces in the mirror with you as you brush your teeth.
Whatâs worse is that Robin is gone, too. And Kelly. And Connor.
Their absence makes you realize that you direly need other friends who arenât in a literal band together.Â
Steve keeps his promise and calls you every day. He always asks about how your day has been, he tells you every detail about his. He tells you that heâs started writing all his thoughts down in a notebook that he wants to tell you so that he doesnât forget, and it makes you ache even more.Â
The months pass by slowly. December drips into January and then February greets you with her winterâs kiss. Thereâs snow in Chicago and even more to come, and you know Steve will be excited to see it when he gets back.
Which coincidentally happens to be Valentineâs day.Â
And also the day you get violent food poisoning.Â
After months of being apart, the first time Steve sees you again is with your head in the toilet bowl, hacking up your lungs and dying.Â
âOh, Jesus.â He drops his bags and comes running over, immediately gathering your hair so that you donât get it dirty as yet another wave of nausea hits you.
âWelcome home.â you say in between bouts of bile. Truly, you think this is a new low that youâve reached. Here you are, deathly ill and incredibly sweaty, while your lovely boyfriend has just arrived home after months of missing each other. âSorry that you have to see this.â
Steve rubs your back and sits with you on the ground. âDonât be ridiculous. Even spilling your guts out I think youâre hot.â
âThatâs sweet,â you throw up again. âWould you be a dear and kill me now?â
He laughs, massaging your tender body, and doesnât once leave your side. He flushes the toilet for you when needed. He gets a rag and soaks it in cold water and rubs it across your forehead to help regulate your fever. He hums to you when your stomach twists in pain.Â
Eventually the nausea settles enough for you to ask Steve to carry you to bed. He does, and he sets you down gently before crawling in next to you. He fits your body against his, hand on your stomach as if he himself can ease its ache.Â
âIâm sorry,â your voice is raspy, the acidic bile still lingering. âIâm sure this isnât the grand reunion and Valentineâs day that you had in mind.â
âIâm laying in bed with you and you love me.â Steve kisses your overheated forehead. âThatâs all I ever want for Valentineâs day.â
Your eyes fall shut and you exhale shakily. âI just⊠I wanted our first Valentineâs to be special. I had it all planned out. I rented your favorite movie and bought all the ingredients to make the gnocchi you love so much, and then as I was folding the laundry I just-I died.â
âFood poisoning. Americaâs silent killer.â Your laugh rings in Steveâs ears and he smiles, kissing your face again and again and again. He runs his nose down your chin, brushes the hair out of your face. âBesides, this isnât our first Valentineâs. Iâm counting all the ones we spent together single and lonely whether you like it or not.â
âThe fifth one wasnât so bad,â you muse. You still remember the roar of the Vexture as Steve announced that you were his Valentine. âYou were annoyingly charming that night.â
âThat was me declaring my love for you, you know.â
You turn to him, startled. âPlease tell me youâre joking.â
âNope.â Steve clutches his chest. âThere I was, telling the love of my life that I wanted her to be my Valentine forever, and then in the end she friendzones me. Truly brutal stuff.â
âBut that was years ago! We were nineteen, thereâs no way in hell you were actually in love with me.â
He grabs your hand and kisses it. âY/N, Iâve been in love with you since we were fifteen. I was just waiting for you to like me back.â
The idea of Steve being in love with you since you were kids nearly sends you back to throwing up. Youâre overwhelmed by it. By the idea that someone couldâve loved you for as long as he has. That he still loves you now. For nearly a decade.
âY/N? You got all quiet over there. You alive?â Steve pokes your cheek and itâs then that you know that there was never anyone else for you. You were his from the moment he walked into student council and demanded cleaner mirrors in the menâs bathroom.
âI love you.â You tell him. Theyâre the only words created for what you have.Â
Steve scrunches his face in an endearing manner. âI love you, too.â
âNow tell me all about New York.â
And he does.
âÂ
Robin tells you that tour life is romanticized and that within the first week youâll strangle her and Steve to death, but you donât believe her. When you see the size of the bus the five of you will be staying in for months on end, you start to second guess what sheâs said.Â
âItâs⊠cozy?â
Connor huffs at you. âThatâs one way to look at it.â
âItâll be fun, guys!â You try again to make light of the situation, though really you also donât believe what youâre saying. âI mean, think about how much closer weâll be after this.â
âWerenât you a philosophy major?â Connor looks at you skeptically. âIsnât the whole schtick of those old white dudes pessimism?âÂ
Steve throws an arm around you. âShe graduated top of her class, actually. And yes. Those old white dudes loved being bitter bitches.â
âI think Y/Nâs right.â Kelly joins in now. âWeâre a family. It canât be that bad.â
âFamous last words.â Robin mutters.
They are, in fact, famous last words.Â
Connor learns that he gets car sick easily on day two. Kelly learns that she has a fear of car sickness on day three. Robin leaves her keyboard at one of the venues they play at the second week and doesnât realize it until youâre already at the next venue an entire state away. Steve loses his voice after the sixth show and spends the entire bus ride to the next venue sulking.
You, however, are honestly having a great time. You didnât get to travel with the band last year due to school, and now that youâve graduated, youâre enamored with seeing places that arenât native to Illinois or Indiana.Â
âSteve, if you gargle salt water in my ear one more time, I will shave your head in your sleep.â Robin threatens during week four. Her eye is twitching and you truly do believe that she has a razor hidden somewhere.
âI have to protect my voice.â He argues, pouring more warm water into a cup before mixing salt in. âI canât lose it again!â
âThat was a pretty rough show.â Connor says from his bunk. Being nearly 6â4, he barely even fits in it. His legs hang off awkwardly and heâs been complaining about his back for weeks now.
âI thought Robin sang pretty well.â Nancy, the bandâs tour photographer, says quietly from the makeshift kitchenette. She joined during the third show and you think Robinâs been in love with her since the fourth one.Â
âUh, thanks. I guess.â She squeaks out, hiding behind you in a not so subtle manner. You pat her hand, sympathetic.Â
Steve gargles and spits the water into the sink. âRobin has an incredible voice, I agree. But thatâs besides the point. Weâre on the clock full time, even if we donât have a show tonight.â
âAnd tell me, my dear wife, why we donât have a show tonight?â Connor sings to Kelly.
âWhy, my dear husband, I do believe itâs because itâs Valentineâs day and Stevie over here demanded the night off so that he can court our beloved Y/N.â
Steve rolls his eyes at them and you laugh. âIn our defense, we havenât exactly had a normal Valentineâs day together. Weâre in dire need of one normal night.â
Nancy tilts her head at you. âBut arenât you guys together?âÂ
âYeah, but we werenât for a while.â
âOne Valentineâs day Y/N found out her boyfriend was cheating on her, who also just so happened to be my roommate.âÂ
Robin throws her head back and shouts, âFuck Oliver!â And Connor and Kelly join.
âThanks, guys.â Steve turns back to Nancy. âAnother year I made Y/N go on a blind double date with me and a girl I was dating at the time. Turns out, the guy I brought for Y/N was also the ex boyfriend of my girlfriend. So that was fun.â
âOne year we actually walked down the aisle together. Before we were even dating.â Nancyâs eyes widen and you shrug at her. âWe were in the same wedding party.â
âHappy anniversary, babe.â Connor blows a kiss to Kelly and she catches it, blowing him one back.
âAnd last year I got horrendous food poisoning and Steve had to drive me to the hospital since I was so dehydrated. He cried filling out my paperwork.â
âI did.â
Nancy looks between you and Steve. âAnd this year, you guys willâŠ?â
âIâm taking Y/N out to a nice, totally normal and totally romantic dinner. Iâm going to wine and dine my girl and then weâre going to cuddle in our way too small bunk bed and sleep.â
You beam at everyone. âItâs a pretty good plan.â
Except you and Steve donât even make it to your reservation. Later that night, right before you call a taxi, Nancy bursts through the bus door with a frantic look in her eyes. You drop the phone and rush to her. âWoah, hey. Whatâs going on?â
âHave you seen Robin?â There are tear stains on her delicate face.Â
Steveâs body tenses. âLast time we saw her was when she left with you guys, why?â
âIââ A broken sob prevents Nancy from telling him anything else, and you take her into your arms.
You soothe her, your own worry for your friend setting your body on edge. Steve shares a look with you, both wondering what the hell is happening. Robin left with Nancy and the others hours ago to go check out some local bar, and now here Nancy is, crying in your arms, with Robin nowhere to be found.
âNance,â drying the girlâs tears, you try to get her to calm down enough to speak. âI need you to breathe with me, okay? Take a deep breath and then let it out slowly.â
You inhale, so does she, and after several seconds you exhale long and slow. Nancyâs breath stutters and her tears soak the white blouse she looks so delicate in, but still she breathes.
Steve stands over the two of you, arms crossed with his eyebrows pinched together in worry. He taps his foot and you know itâs taking everything within him not to tear down the entire town to find his best friend.
âWhat happened with Robin, Nance?â Steve gently asks her, crouching down to her eye level. âIs she okay? Are you okay?â
Nancy wipes her face and sniffs. She canât look at you or Steve. Her eyes face only the ground as she picks at her nails. âWe⊠We kissed.â
âThatâsâŠâ Steve looks at you, silently asking if he should be elated or concerned, and all you can do is shrug helplessly at him. âThatâs-thatâs great, right? I mean, you two were totally love at first sight. Like, Romeo and Juliet but without the, you know. Death. I mean, at least I hope thereâs no death, but seeing as youâre currently crying Iâm a little nervousââ
âWhat my boyfriend is trying to say is that weâre happy for you guys, but also a little concerned.â You interrupt Steveâs ramble. âWhat happened after the kiss?â
Nancy continues picking at her nails. Her crying has subsided but her face remains broken and anguished. Her eyebrows knit together and her mouth draws into a thin line. âI-I kissed her, and then she just⊠She ran.â
âShit,â you sigh, dropping your head.
Steve throws his own head back and curses as well. âAnother category five.â
âYup.â
Nancy turns to you. âCategory five? What the hell is that supposed to mean?â
You wince, grabbing her hand in hopes of quelling her sudden anger. âLook, Robin isâŠâ
âA gem.â Steve finishes for you, and you nod at him.
âSheâs my best friend, and sheâs incredibly brave and charismatic and bold. Iâve seen her punch men five times her size. She always speaks her mind and never takes no for an answer, but sheâs also vulnerable. She hides a lot behind her humor.â
âWhen I first met Robin, she was going through a pretty rough breakup.â Steve sits next to you and Nancy now. âAnd since then sheâs become the worst person imaginable when it comes to dating. She always freaks out and leaves the relationship before they can leave her. And a category five freakout is⊠bad.â
âWeâve only seen it once before with some girl she met at a gig a few years back. They kissed and Robin locked herself in the bathroom and refused to leave until the girl was gone.â You tuck Nancyâs hair behind her ear. âWe arenât telling you this to scare you, weâre telling you this because you clearly love Robin, and she loves you. Sheâs just⊠sheâs been hurt before.â
Nancy slouches on the couch. âBut I donât want to hurt her! I didnât even mean to kiss her, but she looked so pretty under the purple lighting and was laughing at some stupid joke I made and-and suddenly we were kissing and it was incredible and thenââ
âCategory five.â Steve mimes an explosion with his hands. You glare at him.
âHow about this, weâll find Robin for you and bring her back here. I think the two of you just really need to talk about this.â
Steve raises his hand. âI personally think they just need to makeout.â You elbow his side and he groans in pain. âYeah, okay. That was fair.â
âI canât ask you guys to do that.â Nancy sniffs. âYou were so excited for your date tonight and youâve already done enough.â
You kiss her forehead and pull Steve up from the couch, putting your jacket on and tossing him his. âOur Valentineâs day wouldnât be the same without someone crying or throwing up. Weâre going. Dinner can wait.â
Steve wraps an arm around your waist. âSheâs right. This is just tradition for us. A sacred thing we look forward to every year.â
âYou two confuse me so much.â Nancy laughs wetly, overwhelmed by your kindness.Â
âWe get that a lot.â Steve kisses your temple. âCâmon, angelface. The lesbians need us.â
Nancy nearly chokes on her laughter and you giggle as well. The bus door closes and itâs just open road before you. Youâre in the middle of Wisconsin with nothing but grass and dirt for miles ahead. Wherever Robin ended up running off to, you sincerely hope itâs close.
In the end, you and Steve end up walking nearly two miles to a nearby gas station and find Robin face deep in a pint of ice cream. Her cheeks are smeared in chocolate and her puffy eyes are red. The moment you find her, Steve throws himself into her arms and you hold them both as she starts to cry.
It takes several conversations, many tissues, and a few threats before youâre able to convince Robin to walk back to the bus with you. She freaks out the entire two miles and Steve has to fully pick her up at one point to prevent her from fleeing, but eventually youâre standing in front of the bus door with Robinâs iron grip on your hand.
âI-I canât do this.â She chokes out, short of breath as panic sets in again. âPlease donât make me do this.â
âYou can,â Steve pokes her cheek, though his hand rubs her shoulder with affection. âAnd you will.â
âWhat if she hates me now?â
You hook your chin over Robinâs shoulder, butting your head with hers. âThen weâll be here to catch you, dummy. But we wonât need to, because Nancy is currently pacing the bus waiting to kiss your pretty face again.â
Robinâs body tenses and she gets ready to run, but Steve swoops her into his arms and you yank the door open so that he can throw her inside. She screams, but you slam the door shut and Steve helps you keep it closed as her fists pound against it.
âLet me out!â Robin screeches, throwing her body against the door.
âKiss and make up! Those are the rules!â You scream back, clenching your teeth to keep your footing.Â
Robin screams again and Steve has to throw his entire body weight back to keep her inside, but eventually her anger exhausts her and soon thereâs only silence within the bus. You and Steve press your ears to the door, breaths held so as not to miss anything, and faintly, very faintly, you hear Nancyâs soft voice mixing with Robinâs embarrassed tears.
Stepping back, Steve holds his hand for you to high five, which you gladly accept. âGod, weâre great.â
âThe best matchmakers this town has ever seen.â
Steve tugs you against him and holds you close to his chest, inhaling your scent and humming in content. You melt into him and he holds you for a while, just the two of you, swaying softly together as the gentle February wind dances around you.
âI think year nine went pretty well.â You murmur into Steveâs skin.
He buries his face in your hair. âI have a feeling year ten will be even better.â
â
The bandâs breakout album, Angelface, becomes an instant success. It tops every chart, critics praise it, fans scream along to all the songs, and Steve claims that youâre the reason for it.
âI name an album after you and suddenly it sells a million copies overnight.â He nips at your neck, humming when you writhe beneath him. âYouâre my good luck charm, angelface.â
You want to tease him and call him crazy, but when his hand comes up to massage your breast through its thin fabric, your moans drown out the noise in your mind.Â
Connor and Kelly buy a house with a studio built inside of it. The band rehearses there every day in preparation for their next album. Robin brings Nancy along, the two of them always giggling quietly to themselves in between sessions. Nancy becomes the bandâs official photographer. All the photos are of Robin.Â
Steve surprises you one day with the keys to your own home. He tells you that the second the money from Angelface was his, he went out and bought the house the next day. The home is much bigger than the apartment you once shared together, though small enough to still feel intimate. There are mahogany floors and a bay window in your bedroom and you couldnât be more in love with it.
February comes and Steve sits you down at the kitchen table with a pen and paper in front of him.Â
âAlright,â he says, setting his hands on the table with an air of authority to him. âValentineâs day is approaching. We know what that means.â
âThat disaster is ahead.â You nod solemnly, following along.
âExactly, so hereâs what weâre going to do. Iâm going to make you a fancy dinner without anything that can possibly get you sick. No eggs. No meat. No dairy. Nothing prone to yacking.â
âNot sure what that leaves you with, but Iâm listening.â
Steve writes everything down. âThere will be only electric candles because Iâm now terrified that the only disaster left is a house fire, and I spent a concerning amount of money on this house.â
âI fear the same.â
âPerfect. Iâll get us some wine and a movie to rent. Our landline will be turned off so that absolutely no one can contact us. Weâre going AWOL here, Y/N. Desperate times call for desperate measures.â
You lean forward and place your head in your hand. âWhat if Robin tries calling, though?â
âI love her, but we landed her a girlfriend last year. She owes us this Valentineâs day.â
âTouchĂ©.âÂ
Steve looks down at his list. âOkay. Am I missing anything?â
You think for a moment. âNo, I think thatâs all, just donât forget I have a doctorâs appointment that day so I wonât be home until a bit later.â
âAlready accounted for that. Iâll be buying undisclosed decorations for the house to surprise you with.â
âUndisclosed? How many spy movies did you watch before this?â
âDonât worry about it.â
True to his word, Steve does decorate the house while youâre gone. You get back from your appointment and your home is an explosion of pinks and reds. There are streamers everywhere and a small disco ball hangs from your living room ceiling. Music from your high school years plays softly in the background and the house smells of acidic tomato and garlic.Â
âSteve?â You call out, breathless as you walk towards the kitchen. Heâs spared no expense. The floor is littered with roses and thereâs wine waiting for you on the table with small electric candles flickering in the darkness.
âDo you like it?â You turn around and find Steve holding a bouquet of roses, dressed in a familiar tuxedo. Itâs all black and his ribbed vest has the same rose pinned to it that it did back when you were in high school trying to stop him from pouring gin into the punch.Â
Your heart beats wildly and an overwhelming mix of emotions simmer in your stomach. âYouâreâŠâ
âThe best boyfriend in the world? I know.â Steve grabs the wine and pops it open, pouring you a glass. He hands it to you with a wink, but you donât accept the drink. He tilts his head in confusion. âI thought you loved red wine?â
âI-I do.â Youâre quick to reassure him. âBut after my doctorâs appointment today, Iâm not so sure I should have any.â
Your heartbeat spikes again and Steve sets the glasses down immediately. Heâs at your side a second later, worry for you written all over his handsome face. âYou said it was just a regular checkup. Are you alright? Are you sick again? I-I can drive you to the hospital, just let me turn off the stove before we actually do have a house fireââ
âSteve,â your voice cracks with love and warmth. He looks up at you, pink lips parted in a small frown that you want to kiss better. âI canât have wine for nine months.â
âNine..? Thatâs an oddly specific number.â His lips turn downwards. âIs it like, some type of allergy now, orâ?â
âNo, Stevie.â You cup his face with a smile. Grabbing his hands, you bring them to your stomach. His palms lay flush against your abdomen, warm, and something in his face shifts. His eyes widen slightly, soft air escapes him, and your face burns from how wide you smile. âIt isnât an allergy.â
âYouâreâ?â He doesnât want to say it, afraid that if he does, that if heâs wrong, his heart would be broken in an irrevocable way.
You nod, brushing his hair back. âIâm about ten weeks along.â
Steve sinks to his knees, dropping his head to your stomach and staring at it with an innocent gaze of love. His eyes fill with wonder, with tears. âY/N.â
He whispers your name like a sacred prayer, lips pressing to the flesh over and over again as your fingers tangle in his hair and your joy coats his skin.Â
âI know weâre young, butâŠâ You whisper down to him. âI want this. I really, really want this.â
âI want this, too.â Steve slides his hands up your body and stands, cradling you in his arms while his face buries itself into your neck. You can feel his tears wet your skin, the slight trembling of his body. âGod, I want this.â
Your lips ghost the shell of his ear, down the veins in his neck, the crest of his collarbones and the lines of his jaw. Steve pulls you, closer and closer and closer, until your skin is his and his breath is yours.Â
âHappy Valentineâs day, Stevie.âÂ
Steve smiles down at you. His face has changed since you first met ten years ago. The lines around his eyes have deepened slightly, his boyish smile is now more charming than endearing, and his jaw has become more defined.
His eyes, however, are the same eyes you fell in love with all those years ago. The toffee brown still reminiscent of the student council meetings you always bickered in. Theyâre still soft when he looks at you, open and lovely as they were at the Lonely Hearts dance.Â
There is still so much love that is embedded in Steveâs hand woven features for you. His hands stroke your stomach and your lips are against his. The excess of love is syrupy thick.Â
All it took was ten Valentineâs days.
-
â writing masterlist
â if youd like to buy me a coffee âïž
â please feel free to like, reblog, and comment. i adore hearing from you guys :)
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington x fem#stranger things#m's writing#fluff#this is such a cheesy one#i was smiling so hard writing it my god#havent done purely fluff in so long
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quiet - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader

"Wind speed isâ"
"It's windier than usual." You huff, situated at the top of the dock as you stare down through the scope. "Hotch."
"Can you get the shoulder without harming the boy?"
"It would be a gamble."
"Will you hit a major artery?"
"Guaranteed no."
"Hold fire."
You watch as Morgan tries to argue with the unsub, your fingers reaching to pull the earpiece from one side, staring as Morgan succeeds in talking him down, the boy free from his arms as you sit up and plug your earpiece back in, rolling your shoulder back as you nod at Morgan.
You sit at the police station with Reid as he finishes up the last bits of the profile.
"You know, I always wondered how it'd feel to find a victim that I actually know." You hum.
"Let's pray you never do." Hotch mumbles.
"I don't want to, but I wonder." You organize the papers in your hand, closing the tablets as Spencer stares at you.
"And if one of us ends upâ"
"Don't even finish that sentence." You grumble. "The day I know a victim, I'm killing myself."
"Okay, that's notâ"
"I passed my psych eval. Chill." You hold your hand out at Hotch. "Besides, I couldn't leave our boy wonder to hold up alone with geographical profiles, hm?"
"I did it alone before meeting you." He raises a brow.
"But we've gotten faster with them." Hotch nods. "Wheels up in thirty."
You lock eyes with Spencer, and you stick your tongue out.
"I'm still smarter." He huffs.
"It's alright. When the day comes, we'll see which one of us actually survive." You wrap up your bag, humming quietly as Spencer watches everyone else leave. "What's wrong?"
"Just wanted a moment." He mumbles, staring out the glass as he tilts his head down to brush noses with you. "I'll do the laundry when we get back. The wind must've been disorienting."
"Not the worst thing ever." You close your eyes, humming. "I'll cook dinner?"
"Sounds fair." He opens his eyes when Rossi walks out, straightening himself. "Come on. Let's go."

#ep ref is 6x22 or 23 idr#âŸ.snippy#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x reader#âŸ.blurbs#he's a quiet expression of love type of guy argue with the wall (crashing out)#i also have like 5 more drafts of this series + the masterlist and it is SO hard holding back from just dropping everything.. grrr
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holy shit. HER HAIR???
#FUCK shes so hot#billie eilish#billie eilish x reader smut#billie eilish x fem!reader#billie eilish x female reader#billie eilish x you#billie eilish x reader#billie eilish x y/n#billie eilish x f!reader#billie eilish icons#billie x reader#billie#billie eilish fanfiction#billie eilish smut#billie eilish fanfic#billie eilish fic#billie eilish fluff#hmhas#hit me hard and soft#hte#happier than ever#wwafawdwg#when we all fall asleep where do we go#dsam#dont smile at me#billie eilish songs#billie eilish lyrics#billie eilish imagine#billie eilish blurb#âȘ billie
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rafe would be so FED UPPPPP with you constantly saying your "girl dick" is hard. like, you see a recipe for an absolutely orgasmic looking dessert, and you're like, "oh yeah, my dick hard rn." or, you meet up with rafe, and he's wearing one of those slutty little shirts that CLING to his muscles and have you practically salivating and you're like "i just popped a boner." he would get sooooo pissy every time and be like "cut that shit out. people are gonna think you're serious," but you just love saying it so much because it's so fun and saying "im wet" just does not have the same ring to it (plus annoying him is a major bonus).
#đ#đŠč Ś đ âïž sol rambles .á#saying my dick is hard is my favorite thing to do#(im a girl and dont have a dick)#having a dick seems so fun đ#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron concept#rafe cameron thoughts#rafe x you#rafe x reader#outer banks#obx
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Small spoon John Price my beloved
Who lets Nik hold him and cuddle him and put him back together after a mission gone south
Who lets Simon wrap two arms around him from the back in the privacy of his office, masks, literal and figuratively, coming off
Who lets Gaz sit in his lap and lets Gaz's hands wrap around his head (John's arms secure around the smaller's back) and don't be fooled it's Gaz doing the holding
Who lets Soap collapse into his arms when the Scot catches him sleeping on the couch in his office (again don't be fooled, it's Soap doing the holding, even if Soap doesn't realize it)
Who comes home to his missus to just fall apart in her arms, head buried in her neck, arms squeezing her mid section, carrying her up with a soft hearted grumble for mandatory cuddles in their bed, where he curls into her chest and buries himself in the warmth of her. And maybe, come morning, there's soft, slow, gentle sex that's better than anything else she has with him.
#can yall tell this is my favorite way to write headcanons yet?#ajdkfjencinfcib i cant i just want to comfort and hold this poor man who tries so hard to carry the world on his shoulders#i also definitely have a fever so more fever thoughts comin your way#i went on a three mile run this morning so maybe im makin the fever up?#who knows cuz i dont#cod#call of duty#captain john price#cod blurb#cod headcanons#cod hcs#john price x reader#this bear of a man let him be miiinneeee#price x ghost#price x soap#nikprice#cod nikolai
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âsay âhi daddyâ fâme, câmon baby you got it,â from rafe after heâs smeared powder residue over your gums :3 heâs squeezing your cheeks together n movin your mouth for you, phone flash making your eyes hurt as he watches through the video
#so in love with the concept of him smearing coke on your gums#brain rotting so hard#rafe cameron#rafe#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe prompt#rafe blurb#outerbanks#outer banks#outerbanks smut#outer banks blurb#obx#obx smut#obx blurb#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron blurb
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Given how common it is for book posts that say "just give me the book blurb! stop with all the other things!" to get tens of thousands of notes, I feel the need to say, as a tiny micro-publisher: if only sharing the book blurb sold books, trust me, we wouldn't be wasting our time with all the other shenanigans.
But just sharing the blurb doesn't work. Most people scroll right by.
And so we try every single method we can think of, including sharing the blurb among them, to try to get whatever eyes we can on the book.
Of course the description of the story is the best way to sell the book and get people interested, but it only works if y'all actually read it. And getting most people to the point where they'll read anything that isn't already immediately and actively part of their existing interests is fucking hard, so we use splashy graphics and short hand to try to hook people, and then hope that when they read the blurb, that hook will go from "oh, that's worth a glance" to "oh, that's worth a buy."
Also: just because the exact post you saw promoting a book didn't include the blurb doesn't mean other posts about the book don't!
Sorry. I just have seen so much of that recently (and not just because of that poll about "what convinces you to buy," I actually found that whole poll extremely interesting and informative) that I'm kinda losing patience with it.
Just posting the blurb doesn't work.
Signed, someone who sells books for a living, or at least tries to.
#unforth rambles#and istg if someone is like well maybe your blurbs just suck#uh... look i'm not gonna pretend we know the magic formula for writing the perfectly hooking blurb#writing blurbs is hard#but it's far harder to actually get anyone to read them#how do i know?#because posts about books that don't have graphics are much much harder to get notes on#like i've been doing this for over 4 years#do you really think i want to spend my time making quote graphics and trope graphics and and and#but again if just sharing the blurb worked we wouldn't share anything else#i have much better ways i'd rather be spending my time#but it doesn't work so please readers stop lecturing on this topic until you're prepared to put your money where your mouth is#in terms of reading blurbs when they're shared AND reblogging them!#today in: things I probably shouldn't post lmao
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If you sent Price your nudes he's calling immediately. No typing bubble, no reaction, just 'John Price âĄ' at the top of your screen. Pick up, love.
He hates getting pictures half because he's a possessive technophobe and can't stand the possibility of you being seen over such an unsecure line (please don't show him your social media he'll lecture you to hell and back), and half because it leaves him ruined for the rest of the day.
Answering that call -- because, be honest, there isn't another option -- to the deep, slightly hoarse greeting on the other side is a hundred times better than whatever discreet text he could have sent. Hearing your influence over this man in just the tone of his voice sends powerful chills over your body, the anticipation of his ever-welcome directions leaving you almost impatient, wanting to test his resolve further. Practically moaning his name in greeting, answering him in drawn out monosyllables. When he puts on that voice and starts scolding you for taking him away from his work, distracting him from his duties, your head bobs, nodding along as if he were there to see. If he was he'd have probably cut the scolding short, your eyes glossing over and focus zoning out while you wait for him to get to the part where you 'abuse the hold you have over him' and 'make him act reckless' before the Captain's inevitable capitulation.
#Tuck a polaroid into his pocket instead#so he can get hard to a picture of you nobody has or will ever see. Seriously he'll protect it with his fucking life.#bunny writing#john price#this is j a quick blurb ana said it was fine so here eat eat eat#price
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for writing game, iwaizumi + assistance <3
hope this sparks some inspo and thank you in advancee
hi there!! thanks for sending in a prompt đ«¶
contains: friends to lovers (ish), halloween parties, reader is dressed as catwoman, expletives, iwaizumi is thiiiiis đ€ close to murdering seijoh4 (jk)
iwaizumi + assistance
this is a set-up.
iwaizumi knows he shouldn't have fucking believed anything the boys "promised" him back when they assigned him this costume.
the suit is fucking tight, spandex digging into his groins and all other crevices that definitely should be aired out after after a few hours. he's had to constantly readjust his stance almost every few minutes, the black fabric compressing his thighs and torso, significantly constricting the range of motion his shoulders and arms are typically used to. if anything else, it could double up as a back brace from how rigidly straight it's kept his posture all night.
he'll give it to makki though; he did outdo himself sourcing this year's costumesâthis batman set looks pretty damn legit.
except for one tiny problem.
there's no fucking pee hole. it's a zip-up, zip-down one-piece situation. and that normally wouldn't be a problem, except that oikawa "accidentally" knocked over a cocktail straight into his pants, the sickeningly sweet liquid now seeping straight into the fabric and past his boxersâcold and sticky as it touches his skin.
and so, the problem: his pants are wet, it makes him want to fucking pee, and coincidentally, the only vacant bathroom is across the hall, at your apartment.
this is why he believes this is a set up. that, and the fact that you're dressed in an outfit strikingly similarâjust with cat ears.
he's been asked five times in this party if you're in matching couple outfits.
it catches him off guard, flusters him because of how badly he wants to say yes. but, you're just friends, and he doesn't even think you like him that way (despite mattsun and oikawa practically begging him to confess. makki tells him he thinks you're going to do it first).
so he politely smiles and says no, but you look good, your costume clinging to you in all the right places. thank fucking god he has a cape because he's pretty sure he spent the first 30 minutes in the party hiding his boner.
"hajime, it's fine, i swear," you stand beside him in front of the conveniently locked bathroom in oikawa's apartment. from the other side of the door, he's pretty sure he hears mattsun and his girlfriend mumbling. maybe fucking? who knows. "you can just use the bathroom in my apartment."
he glances at you before closing his eyes, contemplating, before finally agreeing to you.
"okay."
if he's being honest with himself, friends is definitely an incomplete label to what you are. as oikawa's neighbor, you are conveniently around all the time; and oikawa being oikawa, the ever-social butterfly, he's somehow managed to carve a space for you in the friend group.
(never mind the fact that oikawa's sniffed him out from the moment he first introduced you.)
you were a crush, then a friend, and now you're someone he picks up from work and drives back home three times a week, because he "has to train oikawa." you don't question it, even when you both know he stays over for dinner way past the gym's open hours.
"you know where it is," you open your apartment and urge him in.
"sorry again," he turns to face you.
"yeah, yeah, just pee!" you laugh, shoving him towards the bathroom door.
getting out of the suit is manageable, and he's able to wipe off a bit of the cocktail that's leaked to the suit and his boxers just to make sure it isn't gross and sticky when he gets home later. peeing is a big relief once he gets it over with, but it's when he has to suit up again that things become difficult.
stretching out the spandex one body part at a time is a workout in itselfâthe hardest task being when he has to pull it over his shoulders, adjusting it to fit properly over his arms and chest.
but then the zipper breaks.
and he truly thinks makki has fucked him over.
iwaizumi contemplates what to do next for a good, good while. he tries calling oikawa, only to no success every time; no way in hell is he calling mattsun in the middle of having sex. and calling makki isn't even an option; he'd never hear the end of it.
then you knock on the door, your voice soft and concerned as you ask, "hajime? you good in there?" you hit it spot on, too, "do you need help with your suit?"
iwaizumi presses his palms to his eyes. he's a rational man, straightforward and logical in thinking. there is literally no other option for him right now but to ask help from you. again.
fuck.
.
it's 30 minutes later when oikawa barges in your door, and the sight that greets him is iwaizumi in nothing but a hoodie (the hoodie you borrowed some time ago) and his boxers, with his hands on your waist as you hover your hairdryer over the crotch of his batman costumeâcat headpiece off and all.
"you finally got together?!"
#iwaizumi x reader#hq!! x reader#shotorus.workbook#omg i hope u enjoyed this!! i had fun thinking it up ehehe and writing it#in my mind this is set in the same universe as the halloween one i did for mattsunâactually its the same party HABFHBSF#some stuff about the fic: iwaizumi is hot in that costume i spared the details bc i was going to combust MYSELF#but it clings to his muscles REAAAAAAL good and there's really not a lot of padding in the costume itself#bc makki believes in iwaizumi's anatomy enough to deliver#what happened in between iwaizumi asking for help and oikawa barging in??? we may never know đ€·ââïž kidding !#i just didnt write it in bc it would be too long but#if anyone is curious maybe i'll write it as a separate thing!#other stuff abt the fic: reader became good friends with oikawa first bc neighbors but then oikawa admittedly wanted to play matchmaker#so he invited reader a ton to their group things so he could introduce em to iwaizumi HAHA and iwaizumi crushed hard#they become close pretty quickly too hence why reader calls him hajime HAHAH and they hang out even outside of the group#theres definitely something like they text a lot and stuff but neither of them are sure of how the other feels so they arent admitting#reader has borrowed a hoodie from him tho#(aka the one he's wearing in the blurb bc it's the only article of clothing that fits him in reader's apt)#also they figured they'd just kill time by drying iwaizumi's costume bc for sure they couldn't chuck it in the dryer so the next best thing#was to just use a dryer and spot dry it#makki did source most of the costumes! except mattsun's and his gf's#uhhh they go back to the party afterwards but reader literally had to makeshift lock iwaizumi's costume with safety pins HAHA#i guess his muscles just be too popping đ€·ââïž#fvntybomb#ask#rep#ask game answered
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â± Û« Ś
â§ đđđđ đđ
đđđđđđ đđđđđđđđ.
ăstar-crossed lovers. they, who shall defy the stars âžâž.áâ
âlove can be just as fickle as fate itself my child. but some day, you may very well come across a wrinkle amongst this finely woven tapestry that is your fate. it wonât be something you notice at first, and you will simply carry on with your days as usual â perhaps theyâll feel a little brighter. the moon always does appear more luminous when itâs accompanied by the stars after all. but when you do take notice of that wrinkle, that loose thread, i wonder ⊠will you sever it as though it were nothing but a flaw in the fateâs design? or will you unthread your tapestry and weave a new one from that single thread?â
ah ⊠i think i finally understand what you meant by those words now, master. to be honest.. i was scared. fate has never been a kind friend to me and so out of fear, i wanted to sever itâsever this. but now that iâm standing here in his arms, melting from this kiss and how it deepens ever so slightly, not with urgency but reverence, each soft press of his lips a whispered oath ⊠i wonât just weave us a new tapestry, iâll weave our entire future together.
i can no longer imagine a world in which this precious star of mine burns out. i love him â unbearably and so very, very tenderly.
đš ââ ïčâ â±â that wonderful illustration you see above there was created by the lovely artist Pengu1nHero on vgen!! aaaa honestly they equally surprised me with informing me these piece was finishedđ„čstaring at it has me kicking and giggling my feet along with making my heart flutter ?? TYSM ONCE AGAIN TO THE ARTIST GO CHECK THEM OUT AND SUPPORT <3
#â âłđȘ· â àŁȘđ Ś
#divider creds: strangergraphics !!#06/06/2024 â âĄ#SURPRISE !! HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO THE STAR-CROSSED LOVERS đ€đ«#uwaaaa.. honestly thereâs so much i want to sayđ„čone year ago this little troublesome star boy wandered his way unexpectedly into my life ..#and has not left since ( everyone who remembers the sethos incident will take my word on this LMAO )#itâs hard to believe a year has past since his release already 0.0 just a few months ago i was reeling over the fact we ..#were finally getting his official birthday art soon and now here we are with amethosâ one year anni#the moment i received the art i instantly found that boost of inspiration and motivation i feared not having for this day hehe ..#AND IM SO GLAD I DID BECAUSE I REALLY LOVE HOW THIS SMALL BLURB TURNED OUT <3#to give a bit of context ;; the person speaking at the beginning is andersdotter! a mage of the hexenzirkel who was amĂ©lieâs master ..#growing up and was a conversation they both had in the past when she was much younger than now mostly around her early teen years#i love talking about fate when it comes to genshin because it has such a unique take on it but also .. i love amethos as star-crossed lover#following that quote is of course amĂ© speaking ! all of this is but a small peek into not only their first kiss but also their confession .#which as i mentioned in their selfship chart was a very stressful moment for them going from a fight to the confession ultimately in the en#gosh.. the way heâs holding her .. I LOVE IT WHEN THEY DO THE GRABBING THEIR CHIN/NECK THING DURING KISSES ..#IT MAKES ME SO UNWELL AND GIDDY >///< yet when it comes to describing a kiss in writing i struggle ;-;#hopefully that isnât noticeable in this case i tried chat đ#also major thank you to ayame for helping me come up with a title for all this! <3#raising my glass to these two lovers .. hereâs to many more joyful years to come for them đ#proposal art next year chat? /j ⊠maybe ?đ#REWRITE THE STARS IS SO AMETHOS CODED BTW UEUEUEUEđ„č
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fifty bucks - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader (flashback snippet)

No one in the BAU really remembers when the dynamic between you and Spencer changed.
Sure, Morgan knew that Reid had a crush on you because of how speechless he was upon first meeting you, but no one really expected Spencer to make a move or anything of the sort.
Thus, you had somehow found yourself in the center of a bet where you'd lose fifty bucks if Spencer Reid didn't make a move on you first.
But the word "move" is a little bit murky, though. You're sure he's making a move when he's bringing you coffee in the morning, and you're sure it's a move when he falls asleep on you on the plane, but no one in the BAU concedes (sore losers) so when you find Spencer at the door of your apartment asking to go out, you place a second bet since you've already won the first.
Spencer gets your fifty bucks if Morgan asks him about your relationship first. You keep it if Penelope asks first.
You get your fifty bucks when Spencer's caught up in the moment and gives you a goodbye kiss before you're off with Hotch.
"Snipe, with me."
Spencer catches your wrist before you're gone, pulling you in for a kiss on your forehead. "Stay safe."
You hear yelling on your way out, but you have an unsub to catch.
Rossi gives you the fifty on the plane when you cheer, and Spencer pretends to be mad (you keep it under your ID at all times as a lucky charm).
Spencer gets the fifty from you two months after you get it.
"You left your glasses." You hand Spencer his case as you sit at the desk next to his, and Emily's jaw drops from where Morgan's sitting.
"Snippy!"
You tilt your head, and Emily has that look in her eyes that doesn't mean anything good.
"His glasses?" Morgan raises a brow. "Snippy, you got something to tell us?"
Spencer tilts his head at you with a smile, and you hold a hand over your heart.
"Spence, no!" You gasp, clutching your heart as he steps over. "I don't even have it!"
"It's under your ID as a lucky charm." He leans over you, flipping your ID to slide his fingers under the plastic, pulling out the Grant from your ID. He holds the fifty between his fingers, and with a flick of his wrist, the money disappears.
He laughs when you huff.
"I'll buy dinner tonight." He mumbles.
"We have a case." Garcia walks in, blinking at the sight of Spencer so close to you. "oh my god. Oh my god! What?! You are so telling me all about this later!"
You muster up a smile, and she shoos all of you to the round table.
You give Spencer a half-hearted look at the table, and he smiles back.
Hotch shares a look with Rossi, and you pray this doesn't warrant an HR meeting.

#inspired by all of gf2bellamy's secret dating pieces bc ik spencer was trying SO HARD to hide the relationship at first#âŸ.snippy#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x reader#âŸ.blurbs
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Souleater Au where Eddie is a meister and Steve is a weapon.
Steve comes up to Eddie on day one of school and basically tells him that he's going to be Eddie's weapon. Eddie takes one look at Steve's preppy, uptight everything and basically says "pass".
He comes to deeply regret this when they do their presentations with the whole freshman class and Steve turns into the most badass greataxe/electric guitar he's ever seen.
He begs Steve to take him back but he turns up his nose at the offer, saying he'll find someone else.
Steve cycles through a bunch of different meisters but none of them are ever completely in tune with him. Meanwhile, Eddie has been trying to win Steve over this entire time, showing off his guitar skills and strength at every opportunity, never trying to pair with another weapon unless it's mandatory for class.
At the end of every week he asks Steve if he's changed his mind, and every week Steve says no he hasn't and Eddie leaves a little dejected but determined to try until Steve picks a permanent meister.
In the end, Steve agrees to give him one try. If they can soul resonate on the first try then Steve will agree to be his weapon, if not he'll keep looking and Eddie will leave him alone.
Much to Steve's eternal annoyance, they resonate almost instantly.
#is this something???#I haven't watched sould eater since I was 16#but this idea was plaguing me#so you get to have it#here!#steddie#stranger things#dreamer speaks#eddie munson#steve harrington#fanfiction#blurb#I'm trying so hard to find a place for Robin in here#in my head I'm comitted to Steddie forming a band#but I don't know what other weapons make good instuments#trumpet gun??#trumpet that shoots bullets and also fire??#that's fucking dumb#Google show me instument weapons
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