#dels stranger things thoughts

[delta-piscium]

anyways, them

[borntowildflower]

god’s country mv 🗝️

[cherricolaaa]

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤 ♱

𝐼 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑔𝑢𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑝 𝑤𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒, 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑓 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑔 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑡, 𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑔𝑢𝑦. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑔 - 𝑠𝑎𝑑𝑒

༉‧₊˚.𝒲𝑒𝑙𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔༉‧₊˚.

ℳ𝑖ღ𝒽 (miah) 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ , 𝑚𝑎𝑗ℴ𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑝𝑠𝑦𝑐𝒽𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑟 𝑗ℴ𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑠𝔱

𝑖𝑚 𝑏𝓁𝑎𝑐𝑘-𝑎𝑎, she/her (obvi)

𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 

━━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ━━━━━━━━ 𝓸𝑟 𝒽𝑒𝑟𝑒

@𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑎𝑎

[nik0-l41]

stranger things fun fact! : murray and alexei are actually based off two characters played by Bianca del Rio and Katya Zamolodchikova, from the movie Hurricane Bianca 2: From Russia With Hate

[fairyysoup]

steve harrington is lana del rey unreleased. tell me i'm wrong, you can't

[trafltr]

ooh baby, ooh baby, i’m in love | eren jaeger.

the note 𐦍 i’ve recently been thinking about a successful, older (early to mid thirties), soft spoken eren who lives to spoil the woman of his dreams—so i’m gonna share this with y’all too. i’m actually just projecting our relationship. not proud of the ending but wtv. part two here. inspired by west coast, lana del rey.

contains 𐦍 nsfw, fem!reader, stupidly rich!eren, established relationship, vaginal sex, mating press, cervix kisses, use of pet names (princess, baby, my wife, the usual yk), unprotected sex, breeding, squirting, softie eren, mild body worship, size kink, hand on stomach while fucking mhm, i love you’s exchanged, praise kink, eren talks to your pussy while he’s in it, i’m thinking black reader but it’s all subjective babes: if you like it, read it!!

truth be told, eren jaeger doesn’t believe he has much to live for.

he’s kept his circle small for all of these ongoing years; with the occasional extension of acquaintances from work dinners, or christmas parties—though, he preferred to slip away from such events when eyes weren’t so…watchful. he likes to think his social battery has drained over the course of his life. looking back at his angstful teenage years, fourteen year old most likely wouldn’t recognize the person he is today.

his once intense nature that resembled an overbearing presence of loud determination turned calm—steadfast and slow to visible anger (with the exception of a passive aggressive comment here and there from simple annoyance). the short hair that once barely covered his nape now fell to his broad shoulders, however, he preferred to keep it up—maintaining appearances while keeping it convenient. the smaller five foot six body grew to an intimidating lean six foot four instead.

however, those things were quite trivial; he knew such changes happened with growth and eventual maturity.

but for a significant chunk of his life, eren was never the greatest with women. he was oblivious—blind to the wandering eyes full of admiration from girls in his classes and workplace—and nose deep in his books. he wouldn’t rest until he was on top of his grades; which he had no problem with. His emphasis on success failed him when it came to the dating scene; to say the least he was shy—and married to his work as well.

but on top of all this, eren was a patient man, and good things always comes to those who wait.

and when a dangerously beautiful woman comes wandering into his life on the street outside of an office dinner he gracefully slipped away from, asking him for an extra five dollars to help pay for her cab home from a no-show date—a woman that has him battling the slew of warning alarms sounding away in his usually zen mind and redefining what he thought was himself—he knows that he’s waited long enough.

simply put, he’s a man of his craft; dedicated to two things. his work, and his wife.

His wife—the phrase has his brain melting into pure grey matter that spills out his body in the form of love. To even think he has the opportunity to refer to you as such is priceless in itself. eren didn’t believe he could love—let alone love this hard. you ask him to run, he’ll say how far; jump—how high?

you’ve changed him—ever since he offered to drop you off in his sleek black mercedes benz parked somewhere by the valet and you giggled in response, saying ‘i’m not usually so trusting of strangers’ will the slightest glint of curiosity in your bright eyes.

and somewhere in between the months, his ten hour workdays turned to six, important software development meetings got pushed back for convenience, the accumulating days of paid time off started being used, for once, his assistant could do their job, and his new focus was you.

diamonds and pearls, nails and hair, dinners on boats and vacations on beaches, shopping sprees on his black card and all of his devotion towards you—only you.

eren…he’s a worshipper—it doesn’t take much for him to get on his knees for you. he’s not ashamed, if anything, he’s proud. he likes to say that anything that’s his, is yours; so who are you to deny what he gives you?

that’s another thing he oh so loves about you—you readily take everything he can offer. you let him take care of you, and he wouldn’t want it any other way; you’re his wife after all.

his wife, his wife.

“my wife…” eren mumbles to himself as he buries his face into the crook of your perfumed neck. the pronounced scent makes his head spin, you can’t fathom how in love with you this man is. as his large hands engulf your own, he’s met with the texture of your wedding ring that cost him over twenty grand, the one you cried over when you saw it in his hands offering it to you—but eren doesn’t think it does his adoration for you enough justice.

he prefers to show you.

while there’s no doubt that material items and dream homes are things you like to receive—there’s nothing better than the way he has you now, one leg resting atop his shoulder and the other barely slung around his waist as he steadily ruts his hips into your own.

oh, how could you be so beautiful? splayed out on the bed like a wicked man’s deepest desires and dreams; the one he secretly lusts for from across the room with no hopes to introduce himself because you’re just so out of his league. your hair is messily draped over the silk pillows, all remnants of your lipgloss/lipstick gone from your parted lips and instead smudged on his own, the gold necklace with his diamond initial was falling into the dip in your neck, and you were gazing at him with need. pure, heartfelt need.

your body arches towards him, manicured hands trailing towards your own chest to play with your nipples that hardened from the low temperature of the room. “i need you eren, make me feel you—i want it.” your voice is smooth, accompanied with a small whine that reminds him just how spoiled you are, and how it’s all his fault.

but he couldn’t care less—you deserve it for wandering into his life to make you his own.

“i know princess, i know.” he knows damn well you need him, he knows, he knows—he’s repeating it as he peppers a kiss to your jewelled ankle before pressing down on the back of your thigh to steady himself.

eren fucks like he loves—endlessly and hard.

maybe that’s why the way he bullies your pussy while bottoming out has you grasping at the threads of the sheets and chanting his name like a hymn followed by prayer. he lets your cunt feel every bit of him, the ridges—veins, down to the last inch. he’s terrifyingly big, another thing you love about him.

his dick feels like it’s mushing your insides, curving up against your spongy walls that oh so desperately tighten around him. every thrust is harder than his last, and the way the trimmed hair resting above his base brushes against your clit provides all the extra stimulation that has your head rolling to the side. your uncontrolled moans turn to sobs when you feel his tip tickle your cervix—and boy does it make him a rejuvenated man.

“look at me.” his words barely register as syllables in your clouded mind—you keep your head turned, eyes focused shut as your body shakes upwards from the fervour of his unrelenting tempo. there’s a lot of things eren can have, and you not watching the way his slick covered dick slips in and out of your weeping pussy isn’t one of them. “you have to look at me pretty girl.” his tone is soft but firm, thick fingers taking your chin in his hands and turning you towards him once again.

“see how well you’re taking me? all of it.” he gives you a million dollar smile, hinting for you to watch where the two of you connect. “your pretty cunt just wants it so bad, right?”

“oh, eren…” it’s always a sudden surprise how soiled his mouth can get at times like this. heeding his request, you watch his cock disappear in your folds—and you sight of it has you fluttering around him like a whore.

“you were made for me, weren’t you? prettiest sight i’ve ever seen.” you’ve heard his praises a multitude of times, having him ramble on about fucking you so much your walls moulded to fit him like a tight glove, only that now, he’s saying it to your pussy instead.

“only you ‘ren, was made just for you.” you babble out, feverishly bucking your hips up to meet his ruts.

when your eyes finally rip away from below and back up to his face, the look he wears has your cunt melting like putty. with furrowed brows, a dip in his forehead and a bitten lip, he watches your body move with each fuck. even in such a sinful position, you were just so divine.

almost subconsciously, his ringed hand moves from your hip and over to your torso, gliding over your pierced belly and stopped at your lower stomach, “I’m right here baby.” gently, he applies pressure to the spot, making your eyes blow open as you moan in response. the feeling gives you butterflies—ones that go straight to your clit and stimulate the nerves in your shaky legs.

“cummin—eren i’m cumming!” you’re rambling, scrambling to push his hand away from your belly, but it’s all too late, and eren knows that well. how could he not? your body is a temple, he’s explored every inch of it, and the sudden vice grip your walls have you him and periodic throb of your cunt is all too telling. your orgasm is drawn out, legs spazzing around your entranced husband, “mm, oh-fuck! yesyesyes eren, don’t stop!”

oh, aren’t you just perfect. his eyes soften when he watches how your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, only to capture it in a languid and sloppy kiss, teeth grazing your plump lips and sucking on them like a sweet. you whine he pulls himself away from your body completely, instead he takes the time to tack his thumb to your puffy clit, rubbing feint circles and the occasional attempted heart on the bud. he always does this, coaxing out the last of your orgasm with nimble fingers that you dream about

“you gonna let me take good care of you?” he asks softly between hushed breaths while grabbing hold of both your legs and hoisting them over his shoulders. helplessly, all you can do is nod; you’re in a trance at the very sight of him. his defined torso is illuminated by the back light of one of the many lamps in your bedroom, his hair is slipping from its captive elastic band, the grip of his hands on your ankles sends searing hot pulses straight to your sensitive clit.

he gives himself a few good pumps, sliding his length between your folds. your wetness aids him in bottoming out once again, but your sensitivity has you squirming in his hold. “gotta stay put baby.” he marvels, talking you into submission, “that’s my girl.”

his praises are followed by the shift of his hands down to the back of your thighs, they gently rub the plush skin before pushing them down to meet your chest. while there are some circumstances where looking down at you sparks something within him, eren likes to be eye to eye with you when he’s balls deep—turns him on even more being in such close proximity with such a captivating woman.

you squeal from the uncomfortable burn in your hamstring from being folded in half with the additional feeling of eren’s body weight on your own. you swear that you can feel your heart palpitating in your ears as you feverishly clench around him. “it’s too much! can’t take it, can’t take it!”

“of course you can, you know you can, your pussy takes everything i give it.” eren speaks between juts, pressing your knees to your shoulder blades as he pistons into you without any regard for decency. his thrust feel like a hammer, knocking your body into the memory foam mattress you begged him to buy.

stars cloud your eyes as he wraps himself tighter around you, head in the side of your neck as he peppers kisses across your skin. your pants and gasps are loud, amplifying the sounds of slapping skin and balls hitting the fat of your ass. his favourite part is when you dig your nails into his back, leaving cresent shaped imprints and jagged lines across it like a painter with a canvas; scars of your love.

deep groans fill your ear, soft and sweet; all eren can ramble about is you—how good you feel, how quick you can make him unravel like a ball of string, how lucky he is to have you in his life—the list goes on.

“i love you—fuck, i love you so much baby, you treat me so well.” with his declaration of love, his pace seems to increase, fucking you dumb and leaving you to heave for whatever air is left to breathe.

“i love you too, so much.” your eyes scramble around in your haywire brain, overloaded by the repeated feeling of the jackhammering going on in your walls and the non-stop cervix kisses he gives you. “it’s all yours, eren; you deserve it, you deserve this pussy. you married this, have it.”

eren jaeger doesn’t believe he’s deserving of much; has he earned things? yes. but you…laying beneath him, telling him he deserves you? it makes him never want to leave—not that he would dream of doing so in the first place.

he does deserve it—your words make his brain malfunction. he deserves it. fuck, you might just be the death of him.

you’re crying for him, grasping at any part of his body possible to get him closer to you than physically possible. your tighten around his base once more, and your hand flies down to messily prod at your clit in an attempt to play with it.

meanwhile, eren’s unrelenting pace falters; that man knows he’s going to cum soon, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it with you. so he pleads with you to give him one more—telling you that you’ve got another one bundled up in there for him. to say it’s true is unknown, but your body listens to eren, and miraculously whatever he believes will happen comes to fruition.

but your body is delicate—everyone knows delicate things break under pressure. with the unrelenting strain and stretch his dick gives your walls, the tight feeling in your core, and aching numbness in your legs, your buildup feels much more violent—ready to release all built up tension given to you by your husband.

“eren—keep on going like this and i’m gonna make a mess!” you fuss around, hand reaching to gently push his torso away in fear you may soil the freshly made sheets.

“that’s the goal.” he states as a matter of factly, brows furrowing as a suppressed groan bubbles up from his chest at the thought: pretty little face going stupid and clawing at anything within reach as you writhe and cum all over his torso and lower body. you can’t make him budge now that he’s a determined man.

his strokes grow sloppy but powerful, curved cock repeatedly ramming into your spongy spot that force your plush walls to grip around him, “you’re eating me up here, love.” he mumbles, moaning into your mouth in the disguise of a messy kiss.

the last roll that tips you over the rocky edge is a shaky one, the last one he could give before emptying himself into you. it’s thick and hot and you feel it fill you as you twitch underneath him and cover his abdomen with your juices. wordlessly, his hands reach for yours as he stills; soft lips peppering the lining of skin on your cheek.

eren jaeger knows that change is inevitable—it comes with time. but eren jaeger also knows one thing will stay the same; his love and adoration for the pretty girl laying below him.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

rafe cameron as a baby daddy who doesnt allow u to talk to other ppl

stop i love this, I kinda changed it so reader only talks to people who he lets her (: so like absolutely no pouges

𝒟ℴ𝓃𝓉.

Masterlist

Warnings: dark!rafe, sorta controlling behavior, he’s not a good daddy, gun pointing at Sarah again sorry girlie, gun flashing that’s it rlly,

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe had little rules when it came to the new house. But there was two he always put emphasis on.

1. Don’t open the door for him, wait it out.

2. Don’t talk to people he doesn’t give you permission to talk to, or people he doesn’t like. No strangers, no pogues.

He walked around, pacing the living room while on the phone. He whispered so he didn’t wake the baby who you just got to fall asleep.

“That’s not what I fucking said!” He said, voice rising in volume until he looked back down the hallway and realized his mistake, the baby awoke with a loud cry.

You gave him a look, a look he knew by now. He quietly walked out and went onto the porch with a sigh.

“Sh. Sh…” you mumbled, picking her up and gently rocking her in your arms.

Today was going to be long.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe was out, he mumbled he’d be back and he was going with a friend. You believed him when you saw Topper coming out the car.

Finally, the baby had been sleeping again. You fed her and Rafe gave her a shower. It was night now, and you just switched on the tv, turning it down and curling up on the couch.

You ended up falling asleep, that was until a harsh and loud knock came from the door.

“Open the fuck up, Rafe!” She shouted, you furrowed an eyebrow. You knew that voice. Sarah Cameron, Rafes sister. He despised her.

You rubbed your eyes out of tiredness, the baby would wake if she keeps it up, you thought. And that was the last thing you wanted.

But if you opened the door and talked to the pogues, Rafe would be livid. But as soon as you heard her let out a small cry, you weren’t thinking and got up quickly.

“Hello?” You grumbled out, opening the door. her knocks stopped when she saw your face.

“Oh. Shit. I’m- I’m sorry. I forgot he had a-“

She was cut off by a cry, making you groan.

“He’s not here.”

“Where is he?” A blonde haired boy asked, lightly pushing Sarah.

“I don’t know. Can I please just go-“ You lied. You did know.

“We’re really sorry, but it’s really important. You have to understand-“

“I’m not telling a bunch of kids where my boyfriend is so you guys can go beat him up or something. Sorry. If you’ll excuse me, I have a baby to take care of.” You closed the door, leaving them dumbfounded.

“Does Rafe have a baby?” John B asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I didn’t know that.” Sarah mumbled.

“I’m more shocked Rafe has had a girlfriend this long.”

They stood there, waiting for him. You didn’t even notice them after you left.

They didn’t know however, that he had a little camera installed, where he was watching on his phone.

You didn’t think about it until you went back into the nursery to try and get her to sleep again.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath.

“I gotta go, man. I’ll see you later.” Rafe said to his friend suddenly, standing up and saying his goodbyes.

He practically raced towards his house, looking back on his phone to see them all talking and just waiting at his front door.

He got out the car and they all went towards him.

“Never fucking come here again.” He was seething with anger when they came up to him.

They all began to talk over each other to him, in anger.

“Shut up!” He shouted, hands moving towards his waistband. They all didn’t, and one of them went to go punch him but they just ended up on the floor.

“Get the fuck away from my house. Leave.” He flashed his gun now.

“We’re not fuckin’ leaving-“ his sister began to argue.

He pointed it at Sarah, one of the boys going in front of her.

“You didn’t tell me you had a baby.” She spoke from behind the boy.

“Leave. Or I will fucking kill every single one of you. Was all he said, putting the gun down and walking towards his home, ignoring them. His gun still in hand as he opened the door.

They walked away, defeated but with a new plan. He was dripping with anger when he entered the house.

“What did I tell you?” He asked you, before you could say anything.

“I know, I know, but I-“

“There was a reason I didn’t want them knowing you or her.” He motioned to the nursery room. He walked closer, gently grabbing your face and looking into your eyes, wiping the hair from your forehead.

“There’s a reason why you can’t talk to them.”

“I know. But they woke her up and I didn’t-“

“You talked to dirty fuckin’ pogues. They know you exist and they know she exists.” His hands were trembling, you noticed.

You slowly grabbed the gun from his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t want anything happening to my girls, that’s all.” His voice was shaky, his hands still on your face as he searched your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I know. I love you. We’ll be perfectly fine, okay?” You put your forehead on his, he nodded, his breathing calming down.

“I love you.”

[skyebounded]

Tapes For My Lover

© Skyebounded, do not use my work, but you may share it.

.main masterlist. .stranger things masterlist.

premise: You left some tapes for Eddie to have after you’re gone, and now he is finally listening to them… 

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, blood sweat and tears. (tell me if their is more) 

WC: 6.8k

A/N: So this idea came to me and I instantly fell in love with it. There is just something about it that leaves me with a feeling of comfort knowing that its Eddie. Anyway, I hope you guys like this one, I sure as hell did.

IMPORTANT: the italics portions are flashbacks. bolded italics are Readers comments, and just plain text is good old Eddie.

(you can listen to the songs, I did, but I also listened to Stargirl Interlude by the weeknd and lana del rey to make it hurt more)

The box had been sitting on his shelf for months now, taunting him, a constant reminder that you were gone, and were never coming back. He couldn’t lie, he had tried to get rid of the box several times, just throw it in the dumpster, and forget everything, even forget you, but he couldn’t. You would never forgive him for it, and he knew that, but that's not why he kept it, no he kept it because it was the last parts of you that he had. The last thing you gave him, and no matter how much it hurt him to gaze at the box every waking moment, he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it. 

He couldn’t stop beating himself up for all of it, your death, the fight. You had died before they had figured out a way to save you, to keep you out of Vecna’s grasp, and it killed him. Killed him to know that he had the ability to do it, he just didn’t know it soon enough, and worst of all he hadn’t forgiven himself for it, for not trying harder to save you. And he wondered if he ever would. 

You had left the box lying on his bed, the day you died, no note, no warning, just the box. He refused to open it, fear of what was inside, consuming his very being. A part of him thought that if he did, that If he opened it, he would finally be admitting to himself that you had died and that he would never see you again, and he couldn’t accept that. So he did what he did best, shelved it, and pretended like it didn't haunt him. Walking past it every day, ignoring the sizable amount of guilt that filled him as he did. 

Today he couldn’t, not anymore. Eddie walked over to his bookcase, gently pulling the old Vans shoebox off the shelf, as he made his way to the living room. He set it down in the center of the coffee table and stared at it. Wondering if by some chance it would explode and claim him, bringing him to you once again. He closed his eyes, stopping the tears before they had even begun. It was time. Taking a deep breath he pushes back the top, revealing the contents inside. 

It wasn’t what he expected, cassette tapes, and on top, your very own walkman. He recognized it immediately, It had always been glued to your hip every waking moment. He couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t have it on, the headphones framing your perfect face. A folded piece of paper sat underneath the walkman that had his name written perfectly on it.

He closes the box, running his hands over his face and through his hair, ignoring the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. Getting up and walking to the fridge, grabbing out the first beer he finds, he cracks it open, glaring at the box from the comfort of the kitchen, anxiously tapping his ring against the glass bottle. 

Despite thinking that he had the strength, the will to do it, it started to dawn on him that maybe he didn’t. He still wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

After a few hours of pacing, trying to do anything but think of you, he decides to give it another go, making his way back to the cursed spot on the couch, and opening the box once more. 

Grabbing the piece of paper with shaky hands, he takes a deep breath, unfolding it to see your neat handwriting. With another deep breath, he begins to read,

Hey Cutie, 

I give it about four months before you open this box, maybe even more until you read this letter. So, listen, In this box, there are a few tapes, each one labeled with a date, and I know you’re at least smart enough to put them in order before giving them a listen, however, I have already cued up the first one for you, so you’re welcome. I’m not going to tell you what's on them, that's for you to figure out, but I hope that you do. Anyway, tiger, I’ll let you get to it. 

He’s not sure how long he's been staring at the note, memorizing the way your curl your ‘y’ in every sentence, or the way each ‘i’ has a heart over it instead of a dot, but it’s long enough for his legs to get sore, and his eyes to burn. He sets the note down, picking up your walkman and running his fingers over all the stickers, tracing the buttons with his thumb. With another deep breath, he placed the headphones over his ears and pressed play. Closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the couch. At first, nothing, and then it plays, Everybody Wants to Rule The World. His pulse quickens and he feels like he’s sinking into the couch when he hears your melodic voice over the music. 

“Everybody Wants to Rule The Word….didn’t we Eddie? Hey handsome, do you remember this song, I guess I mean more importantly do you remember what the song signifies?” You chuckle, and his heart wrenches at the sound. “September 16th, 1985, the day I met you,” Eddie fights the urge to pull the headphones off and chuck them across the room. “Do you remember that? That day?” Of course, he remembered, how could he not. It was the day he met you, the love of his life. Sitting in a booth at Andy’s Frozen Custard, all alone. 

“Andy’s, booth four, 1:35 pm. I had been stood up by Colin Jacobson and was fighting back the urge to cry. I had forgotten my walkman, my only saving grace, and was contemplating on what I did wrong..”

“Nothing, you did nothing wrong,” Eddie mumbles out loud as if you could somehow hear him, and perhaps you could. 

“I often thought it was a miracle that I was so desperately waiting for Colin to show because when that bell above the door went off, I probably wouldn’t have looked up, and then who knows if you would have even noticed me.” he scoffs, knowing damn well that he would have seen you, how could he not have, you were the prettiest girl, sitting all alone in a booth, you were an attention grabber. “It’s still crazy to me that you did what you did..” you trail off, humming along to the beat. 

Eddie had spotted you, tracing the checkered pattern of the table with your finger. No ice cream in hand, nothing but a sullen look on your face, and he wondered to himself how on earth someone so beautiful could be so sad. When you looked up at him, he could swear his heart skipped several beats, your eyes meeting his and the corners of your lips turning up in a smile before your cheeks turned rosy and you looked away. It would have been a lie to say that he hadn’t tried to get your attention again, doing whatever he could think of to grab your attention just once more. It wasn’t until he nearly tripped over a child running by that he caught your gaze again, and by that time his surprise had been ruined. 

“You just slid into my booth, with a strawberry milkshake and two straws, bold of you. You didn’t even have to say anything…God my heart melted. You just handed me the straw and winked.” Eddie can't help but smile, feeling the tears slowly trickling down his cheeks. “Somehow you always knew how to make things better, how to make me feel better…god I wish-” You stop mid-sentence, sniffling trying your best to hide the pain you were in, and yet Eddie knew what you were going to say. You were going to tell him that you wished that he was there with you, by your side as you made these tapes. Holding you close telling you that everything was going to be okay, that you didn’t need to make these at all, because you wouldn’t have a reason to, or at least that's what he hoped you would have said. 

Eddie handed you the straw, followed by a wink that sent butterflies erupting throughout you. “Sorry I’m late sweetheart,” he smiled. He doesn’t know what compelled him to say it, but seeing you, sitting here, he felt like he had been saying it to you his whole life. You fight to suppress the smile that inevitably took over your lips. 

“It’s okay, handsome.” You had never been so bold, but much like him, it felt right..comfortable. You plucked the straw from his hand, and plopped it straight into the shake, taking a long sip before he could do anything. As if on cue the music changed, and ‘Everybody Wants To Rule The World’ started playing. 

“Oh I love this song,” you exclaimed as you being to hum along to it, blissfully unaware of just how hard he was falling for you in that moment. He just sat back, watching the way you found a way to dance in that small booth, with a smile on his face. He never asked you why you were alone, looking so down, and that was perhaps because it changed as soon as he sat down, but to him, all that mattered was that he was able to make you smile. Once you noticed the way he was looking at you, your cheeks flushed, and you hid your face behind a napkin. 

“Wow, even hiding behind a napkin, you are still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” he chuckles, sliding the milkshake over to his side of the table. Taking a long-drawn-out sip as he waited for you to show your face again, and once you did, he couldn't help the smile.

“I will never understand why you sat down with me, smiling as you’d known me, but I’m glad you did because that was all it took Eddie, your cute smile, the strange way that you knew just what to say, the strawberry shake… just you. You had me immediately, there was no way I could fight it, I was yours...and you didn’t even have to ask.”

The song ends and the tape clicks off. Eddie’s eyes shoot open, overwhelmed, numb, and yet desperate for more. He leans forward, searching through the box, and grabbing out the next tape:  

He puts it in the walkman and presses play instantly, waiting to hear your voice once more. Leaning back again, letting his eyes fall closed.

“I see you’ve made it to the next tape, I’m proud of you.” Only You starts to play, and it takes him slightly by surprise, he wasn’t entirely sure what this song correlated to. “I know you are probably wondering what the hell this song has to do with anything, and truth be told I don’t imagine that you would know, considering I only ever listened to it by myself.” you take a deep breath, “September 24th, 1985, a few days after our first encounter. The date better sound familiar to you now, because if it doesn't, we have some problems, Eddie.” You chuckle softly, and it breaks his heart, hearing you imply that if he had forgotten the date, things would end badly for him. Lucky him he remembered it, fondly. “Our first date, which also just so happens to be the first time we kissed too. God, I swear if you forgot…” Your tone held a sense of warning, but he could hear the way you were breaking. 

“We’re not supposed to be here Eddie, this is private property!” you teased him as you climbed over the gate, he wasn’t sure at first if you were being serious but seeing you making it to the other side of the fence, smile growing on your lips, he had a growing suspicion that you were just fucking with him. Rolling his eyes, he climbs over the gate after you, nearly losing his footing as he lands. You would have sworn he did it on purpose, just so he could stumble into you and have you catch him. If it was the case, you didn’t mind it, in fact, a part of you preferred that story. Eddie on the other hand was just clumsy. Eddie grabbed your hand, pulling you along with him as you made your way past the security station, climbing over the turnstiles. “Should I be concerned that you are a natural at this?” he asks, gesturing around you. You had never done something like this, at least not on a larger scale. Breaking and entering wasn’t a frequent recurrence of yours. Silently, you just shrug, your brows shooting up and a cheeky grin forming on your lips, the very lips that he hadn’t been able to stop staring at. “I think if anyone should be concerned it's me, this was your idea, and for a first date nonetheless.” You chuckle. “Yeah well I had to go big or go home,” he smiles wildly. 

“You probably didn’t know this but that was the first date I had gone on in a while, I mean unless you count the one where I got stood up. Anyway, I  was so unbelievably nervous, in fact, my palms were so sweaty I was mortified,” 

Eddie smiles, wondering if you knew how nervous he had been because he imagined it was nothing compared to what he was feeling that day. Having to constantly fight the urge to kiss you every time you looked at him, or every time you laughed, or to be honest, after every time you did anything.

Eddie pulled you into full view of the baseball stadium in all its glory, standing at the very back looking down at the desolate field, the whole thing just for you. Heat crept to your cheeks, and your lips did their best to hide the smile. Eyes wide, mesmerized by it all. It wasn’t the fact that it was done up in any way, but more the fact that he had brought you somewhere that you two could claim as your spot, somewhere no one would think to look for you, a perfect spot for you and him. Little did you know it would become just that, your spot. Too entranced by it all to notice that Eddie wasn’t taking in the same view as you, but rather admiring you, your smile, the way your hair frames your face, the way your mouth hung open just slightly drawing attention to your perfect lips. He was gawking at you. 

“It's beautiful..” you murmured, “Indeed.” You pull your gaze away to look at him, who instantly pretended, poorly might you add, that he hadn’t been staring at you the entire time. 

“The entire night was just..” you pause, “magical.” you sigh. 

“No, that's the big dipper,” you argue. Eddie shakes his head dramatically, “Absolutely not, I have never  seen someone be so confident in such a wrong answer.” You prop yourself up on your elbow, staring down at him, wondering if somehow you were in fact wrong and had just made a fool out of yourself, only to see that his eyes were closed. “You’re not even looking!” you giggle, playfully slap his chest, leaving your hand to linger there. Eddie, being the eccentric person that he is, grunts, tongue resting out the side of his mouth as if you had just killed him, and you can’t help but laugh. He opens his eyes at hearing the sweet sound of your laughter. His tongue runs across his bottom lip as he grins at you. 

“Gahhh, you had me thinking I was dumb,” you remark, eyes narrowing on him. “Oh well we can’t have that I’m afraid, it simply will not do, madam.” 

His hand slowly comes to meet yours, resting on his chest. He wraps his hand around your, his thumb grazing the top of it gently. It was taking every fiber in his being not to grab you and kiss you. Perhaps that's what you wanted, but his head was spinning, he couldn’t think straight, and there was no way for him to know for sure. Luckily, you knew exactly what you wanted, him. Without hesitation you lower your face down to him, your lips grazing his, as your eyes fall closed. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” you ask, your soft lips pressing to the corner of his mouth. His hand comes up and cradles the back of your neck, pulling you down as his lips lock with yours. Gentle, slow, and perfect. There was no denying the butterflies that erupted in your stomach, as his tongue skimmed your bottom lip, begging for entrance, that you would undoubtedly give. Tongues swirling around each other, head spinning, faces flushed, you were in heaven. Eddie pulls away from you, resting his forehead against yours, both of you smiling against each other's lips. Perfect and yet not enough. Eddie draws you back in, his lips catching yours once more but this time with more hunger, more passion. Tilting his head, he adds more pressure, deepening the kiss. As his arm wraps around you, flipping you onto your back, a moan leaves you. Eddie can’t help but smile into the kiss. His hand grips tightly to your hip, and your legs intertwine as he cages you. His tongue meets yours once more, dancing with your own. Needy hands start to roam your body, dipping under the thin fabric of your shirt, hungrily moving up your sides. The rings adorning his fingers, cold against your heated skin as they move further up your body. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, urging him to continue with it all. You feel his hand hesitate just under your breast, and you encourage him by a tug of his hair, and a nip at his bottom lip. 

His hand cups your breast, thumb running over your hardened nipple. Your body shutters at the touch, shivers jutting up your spine. You had never felt so desperate, so needy for someone, but for Eddie, you were both. 

“I still can’t believe that I panicked and pushed you off! God, I wanted to go further that night, I know I never told you that, but it’s the truth…I’m sorry..”

Eddie chuckles to himself. To this day he had wondered if he had made the wrong move, touched you too quickly, or grabbed you in the wrong place. He never minded it though, he enjoyed every moment of that night and wouldn’t have changed any of it. 

“Anyway, this song was what I played for months after that night.. constantly repeating: Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do, and fill my heart with love for only you:” you sing the lyrics. “Baby, it's you, and it will always be you.” 

The tape clicks off and Eddie doesn’t move. He sits in silence too afraid to play the next one. He hates that it's come to this, having to hear your voice in such a way instead of hearing it in person. Hates that he can’t hold you in his arms and just talk, just feel you close to him. The numbness starts to set in as he starts to picture you there with him. Cuddled up against him on the couch, your hand on his chest, like you, always used to do. God, he missed you. Missed every little thing about you. 

After a few moments, he moves on to the next tape, pulling it out of the box and putting it in, pressing play instantly. 

As soon as the music starts he knows. Groaning at the song that he often claimed he hated, only to tease you, but truth be told he loved it. 

“I can't fight this feeling any longer….And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow…What started out as friendship has grown stronger. You can claim all you want Eddie, that you hate this song but I know the truth! This will forever be your favorite song all thanks to me!”

“Never!” he calls out into the empty trailer. No matter what you said, he would never willingly admit the love he had for this song. 

“I mean why shouldn’t it be, I only listened to it all the fucking time…I have to admit that I kinda did it to annoy the shit out of you, but I could tell it was getting to you..” you pause, clearly reminiscing about it. “Do you remember that time…” you tone holding a sense of suggestion to it, one that Eddie picked up on immediately. 

There was no forgetting it, not when you played the damn song the whole entire day. It would forever be ingrained in his very being. 

You had been walking around Eddie’s trailer, your trustee walkman glued to your hip, music far too loud to hear anything other than the same song on repeat. Each lyric fell from your lips as you danced around in his room. Eddie had been on the couch, studying for a test in Miss. O’Donnell’s. He had already shut you out for the hour, dead set on acing the test, well more like barely passing. He insisted you not bug him any further. He wouldn’t admit it, but you knew that the constant repetition of that song had him in a sore mood, so you had decided to give him a little bit of space, but not for long. Noticing Eddie’s hellfire club shirt resting on his dresser, you grab it, replacing your own clothes with the shirt. It rested nicely against your bare thighs, a sentiment you wondered if he’d enjoy. 

Wandering out of his room, you spot him, hard at work. Your lips press into a thin line as you suppress your grin, an idea forming, one sure to rile him up. You start your song over, blasting it at full volume, as you begin to sing the lyrics. You watch his eyes fall closed, heaving a heavy sigh, as he looks up at you. The look of annoyance quickly fades to be one of surprise, and intrigue, one that he tries to hide. Except there was no way to hide the growing evidence in the confines of his jeans, luckily you couldn’t see it. 

“I can't fight this feeling any longer….And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow…What started out as friendship has grown stronger….” You begin to sing, very pitchy and very off-key. It was enough to drive Eddie insane. He fights the urge to pay you any attention, as he turns back to his textbook. You laugh to yourself at the sight of his eyes wide, and his lips in a downturn. As you get closer to him, you begin to dance along to the music, swaying your hips along to the beat. 

“Sweetheart, I swear to god…”  he warns, but you can’t hear him, too intent on annoying the hell out of him. 

“You know that my favorite thing to do to you is to annoy every fiber in your body, It’s honestly an obsession of mine.” you chuckle. Eddie sighs, a soft smile forming on his lips as he recollects all the times that you did just that, there were far too many to count. 

As you continue your dance, you notice him, stealing glances at you, his eyes drinking in every curve of your body, admiring the way his shirt fit you, the way it sat on your bare thighs, riding up with every step you took. You grab the bottom of the shirt, drawing it up your body and revealing your panties, watching the way he shamelessly licks his lips. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to finish studying, not when you were tempting him so, especially not if you kept singing that dumb song. Eddie throws his textbook aside, and leans back, this time giving you his full attention. “And if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door...Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore!” you sing. He doesn’t know how you do it, manage to annoy him so, and yet at the same time make him fall for you even harder. Reaching out, Eddie grabs your arm, pulling you down onto his lap, taking your headphones off, and setting them on the coffee table. You can’t help the fit of laughter that hits you as you look into his dark brown eyes. 

“You are driving me crazy,” he chuckles. You open your mouth to offer a rebuttal but you’re met with lips and tongue, silencing you immediately. 

You don’t recollect moaning his name until your back meets the couch, Eddie on top of you, and your clothes gone. Your hands tangled in his hair as he worships every inch of you with his mouth. Claiming you in the ways that only he can. His fingers cling to the soft skin of your hips, holding you in place as he makes his descent down your body, his lips and uneven breath fanning across your burning skin sending shivers up your spine. 

Your back bows at the feeling of his mouth, whimpers as his tongue glides along you, and sweet shocks of pleasure course through your veins. As you focused on the lapping of his tongue, the movements of his fingers, he was focused on the rise and fall of your chest, the breathy moans leaving your lips, the sudden jolts of your body. Nothing was as beautiful as you were at that moment. No amount of art or even music could bring him as much joy as you could. 

“I should have done it more. If I would have known that's how you would react…god I would have done it all the damn time. I mean for crying out loud, that tongue of yours is truly magic.” 

Truth be told, Eddie wished you had, wished that you still would. He would give anything for it now. To see you prance around in his clothes, completely engulfed in your own little world and blissfully unaware of everything around you. Even to hear you sing this song terribly, just to get at him. You were his breath of fresh air, and he needed you desperately, just like he did then.

Indescribable, the way he felt having you wrapped so tightly around him, your fingers gripping to him as if in a moment he would slip through them. Your head foggy as you move together in sync, sharing labored breaths as your lips graze each others. The coarseness; of his voice like music to your ears as he whispers words of encouragement, everything that you need to hear as he coaxes sinful sounds from you. His hand finds yours in the chaos, fingers intertwining with yours as he holds your hand above your head. 

Crying out as the ache inside of you subsides and your release hits you, only to be swallowed by his lips, as he pushes you through it. Nothing but pure bliss as you feel him follow after you, filling you completely. He collapses on top of you, only to rest his head against yours, and pull you into an innocent kiss. 

“I will say this, Eddie…I do believe this song is magic...I really do. I swear anytime I listen to it I'm instantly taken back to that exact moment; one I will never forget.” 

The song fizzles out to a stop and Eddie’s eyes open. As he leans forward he notices one more tape and his heart wrenches. He’s not sure if he has the strength to listen to the last one, knowing that once he does, it’s done, you’re gone. He knows he can’t wait forever, not when he needs to hear your voice again. With a shaky breath, and trembling hands he puts in the last tape. Finger hovering over the play button. 

“Come on Eddie,” he mutters. He runs his hand over his face, wishing that somehow it would wipe away every semblance of pain and dread from him. Finding the courage once more, he presses play and closes his eyes. 

“March tenth, 1986, I got my acceptance letter to Columbia and told no one, I wasn’t going to tell anyone but you found out, ” you struggle, your voice soft and melancholy. Despite wanting to sound happy, alive, and well, you knew that it was just wishful thinking. “My father had no right to tell you, to make you feel like it was your fault because it wasn’t” 

Eddie’s jaw tenses at the mention of your father. He had never liked Eddie, and he understood why, it was for this very reason, Eddie stood in the way of your dreams. He didn’t know it, not until your father told him, however. 

Eddie stood in the doorframe of your parent's home, anxiously waiting for you to save him from the silence that your parents were giving him. They had never liked Eddie, and for what reason, he had no idea. He had never done anything to give them a reason to dislike him so, and yet they had found one of their own.

“Have you congratulated y/n yet?” your father asks, his eyes boring straight through Eddie. With a nervous chuckle and a faulty smile, Eddie’s left to ask what he means.

“Columbia, she got her acceptance letter…Did she not tell you?” 

He could feel the color draining from his face at the words. He’d had no idea that you had even applied anywhere other than the University of Indiana. 

“She told us she wasn’t going to accept,” your mother chimes in. 

Eddie had a strong feeling that they were implying that it was his fault, that because of him you weren’t going to go to Columbia. At one point Eddie might have fought them on it, told them that it was your choice and that he had no weight in the matter, but something told him that was wrong. Something told him he was the exact reason you weren’t going. His jaw tenses, as he stares at the staircase, waiting for you to come down, and if on cue, you do. Rushing down with a smile on your face. 

“Hey, babe!” you say, rushing over to kiss his cheek. He doesn’t know why but he can't seem to find the words to say anything to you, but you were far too happy to notice. You say your goodbyes, kissing your father's cheek and blowing a kiss to your mother before you drag Eddie out of the house. 

“It has been haunting me, the fact that we haven’t talked about it…not sure that we will ever get the chance, but..” You mumble the last bit and it's like daggers in his heart. It had been one of the very reasons he had been beating himself up since you died. You had never fought, never disagreed on anything meaningfully. It killed him knowing that he had been so cold to you, angry that you could keep something from him. What hurt more was that he never wanted to talk about it, you both just let it hang in the air acting as though it wasn’t there, as it silently tore you both apart. 

“I guess now is my chance..” 

“Columbia! When were you going to tell me? Or better yet, were you even going to tell me?” Eddie asks, his tone harsh as he paces back and forth in the trailer. 

“No, I wasn’t going to tell you, because it doesn’t matter, Eddie! I’m not going..” you shout at him. You were fuming, you had wondered why the entire drive he had been so quiet, so distant. And now you knew. “You know what, Eddie, I really don’t see the problem here?” 

He stops in his tracks, turning to look at you, eyes narrowed and cold, something you had never seen from him before. “The problem is you are throwing away everything you have worked for, every dream that you’ve had to stay here in this shithole with me! If you fucking think that I would ever let that happen, you’re delusional. I could never live with myself knowing that the only reason you’d stay is because of me. I’m not worth all of that.” 

You stand up, tears burning in your eyes as you approach him. “You don’t get to say that. I’m not just staying for you, I’m staying for me,” you argue. Eddie takes a deep breath, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. 

“No you’re not, because if you were you would never have had applied, nor would you be keeping it from me! Did you think that I want this for you, want you to be stuck in a town with no opportunities, a town that's cursed and sick? Do you really think that I would ever allow that?” He retorts. 

You scoff, taking a step back, “Allow!? Eddie, you don’t control me, I make my own choices same as you, It is my choice on whether or not I stay. You don’t get to take that away from me, you don’t get to push me away.” 

You sniffle, crossing your arms over your chest as a sense of security. You’d be lying to say that anxiety wasn’t building inside you, worrying about where this conversation would inevitably end. 

“Sweetheart, I can’t let you throw away everything you’ve ever cared about for me, not when there is so much more out there for you. You have to go, you have to go and live your life without me,” he says sternly. 

The tears break free from your eyes as you ball up your fist and hit it against his chest. “Don’t say that! You’re the one making me give up the only thing I care about. You.” 

He doesn’t say anything, doesn't look at you, because somewhere in his mind he knew it was the truth. You would never achieve anything in this dumpy old town, and especially not with him. He also knew that if he looked at you, crying into his chest, desperately clinging to him for comfort, he would give in, and he couldn’t. 

“You have to.” was all he said. 

That had been the only discussion that you’d had about it. Leaving you both broken and unsure of the future. You had told him that you would go, both of you knowing it wasn’t the truth. It had come to the point where you both danced around the whole thing in general, neither one of you bringing it up again. It pushed you apart, leaving a void in both of you.  

“The truth is Eddie, nothing you were ever going to say was going to make me change my mind. I had it made up from the very beginning. I only applied to please my parents, and sure a part of me wondered if I would get in, but in the end, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to leave you. You are my future,” you choke. He could hear the way you were trying to silence the sobs that were leaving you. The way your voice quivered as you said future. Tears stream down his cheeks at the thought. To him, you had always been his future, his everything. He wanted to build a life with you, a family, an adventure just for the two of you. He wanted to spend his days making you happy. It had always been the plan, and in his own twisted way, pushing you away was his way of doing that. He thought that if it was meant to be, you would always come back to him, but in your mind, you would never leave him, because it was meant to be. 

“You are my everything, Eddie. I hate that we fought, we never did until then and it killed me. It killed me to know that you thought that I could just leave you, I would never leave you by choice, never…” 

You take a deep breath, doing your best to collect yourself. “I hate that I never got the chance to say it, but I love you, Eddie Munson. I don’t know why it took me so damn long to say it, especially not since I knew it from the moment you slid into my booth, but I am saying it now. I love you, and I will always love you. No matter what you do, or how hard you try to push me away, Always.” 

Eddie didn’t think his heart could break anymore until he heard you say it. It had always been an unspoken thing between the two of you, you knew he loved you and he knew you loved him, but hearing you say it meant so much more. He gasps, releasing the breath that he didn’t know he had been holding, his heart racing and his head reeling as he tries to calm himself. His hand clutched his chest, desperately trying to cease the pain he was feeling. 

“I’m sorry I never told you about Columbia. I never thought that I’d have to, as selfish as that sounds.  Also, I’m sorry if these tapes are causing you pain, I didn’t want that, but I didn’t know if I would ever get the chance to tell you this in person. I don’t blame you for anything, and I don’t want you to blame yourself for anything either, I know you will and I need you to promise me that you won’t. “Promise me, Eddie…say it..” 

“I promise sweetheart.” he breaths, wiping the tears away with his hand.

“Eddie, baby, I need you to do something for me, and I know you are going to object, but I need you too,” you pause, letting out a small chuckle. “I need you to live your life, don’t throw it away. I need you to graduate and continue to make music and do whatever else it is that your heart desires. I need you to open yourself up to someone else, to fall in love, and to let someone fall in love with you the way I did. I can’t have you missing me always and missing out on all the great opportunities that I know are going to come your way. “So here it is, I chose these songs because they’re my favorites. They remind me of you, of all the moments we shared, all the laughs, kisses, tears…To me, they are the perfect narrative of our story.. I chose them because no matter where you are, I will always have them, and therefore I will always have a part of you. ”You stole my heart from day one, with your bold comments and eccentric attitude, your inability to ever stop talking about the things you love, or in general. You made my life so much better than what it would have been if you had never walked through Andy’s door, and for that, I have to say thank you. Promise me you won’t miss me too much, just be happy, god, please just be happy.” 

There’s a long pause and Eddie wonders if it's the end of the tape if those were your last words until he hears it once more. That damn song falling from your lips once again, but this time it’s not pitchy, it's not annoying, it’s bittersweet. 

“My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you…I've been running round in circles in my mind...And it always seems that I'm following you, girl…'Cause you take me to the places that, alone, I'd never find..And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight…You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night...And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might..And I can't fight this feeling anymore…”

The tape stops, and a tear falls down his cheek as he stares at the box before him. There was never a doubt in his mind that you were the one for him, his soulmate, and even though you were gone, he’d always have a part of you left. He pulls off the headset, places it gently in the box once more, and closes the lid. Even though it still hurt to say goodbye to you, he felt he would be okay, knowing he still had you by his side, always. 

a/n: I cried like a damn baby writing this shit, I hope you did too!  Also, I would love to hear your feedback!

Yep, just reread it and cried even more. 😒

[fbfh]

older!logan x reader hcs

wc: 1.6k

genre: age gap, sort of sugar daddy logan

warnings: big (but legal) age gap, logan is early 40s reader is like early 20s, brief odette mention, logan is a killer lawyer, rory kinda traumatized Logan lol, I haven't finished gilmore girls or ayitl yet so don't come for me lol, logan is obsessedddddddd with reader, mildly smutty, mentions of marriage and proposals, your relationship progresses really quickly

summary: you were reading in a coffee shop when a charming gorgeous much older guy decided to strike up a conversation. little do you know that within a very short time that same charming stranger will know your dress size, your shoe size, and your ring size.

song rec: off to the races - lana del rey

a/n: the choke hold older logan has on me..... euthanize me at this point lmao

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280

As with all nsfw works, all characters are aged up to 18+ (like way over 18 in logan’s case lol)

That being said jesus christ let’s dive right into the brain rot

First things first, a little more about Logan

He’s in his early 40’s and aging like a fine goddamn wine

MEGA MEGA dilf vibes

After the whole millions of dollars sunken into a bad investment in his family’s massive media conglomerate mishap, he still faced a lot of pressure to join the family business

But with Rory rejecting his proposal, he felt so fucking down and beaten up by life

He just had two massive blows to his ego back to back

And he needed a win

Then the strangest thing happened 

He just got back from another late night of partying with his friends and switched on the tv so he wouldn’t have to fall asleep with his thoughts, and some random movie was playing

The girl in the movie is at dinner with her boyfriend and thinks he’s going to propose, but he breaks up with her instead

It hits a little too close to home and Logan’s about to switch it off

Then she decides to go to law school to prove herself

He finds himself getting more and more invested in this movie, relating more to Elle with every scene, and by the morning he confronts the idea he’s been shoving away for too long so he doesn’t rock the boat

He talks to his dad and they decide Logan will go to law school, but remain a prominent board member and shareholder of the family company

Mitchum is surprised by how responsible and well thought out Logan’s plan is

He’s forging a path to a very lucrative field - one Mitchum can tell he’s going to be very successful in - while still staying involved enough in the family business 

So Logan goes off to law school, and 20 years later he’s a total shark 

He’s a prestigious, expensive lawyer with a reputation for never losing and a long streak of killing it with really high profile cases

Now the Huntzberger name carries all the weight and power of his father’s media reach, and Logan’s success in the courtroom 

He’s excelling 

And he’s excelling enough to keep his family out of his personal life for a while 

He’s living the bachelor life until he hits 40

That’s when his parents decide it’s really unacceptable that he’s still not married 

So they tell him if he doesn’t get married soon they’ll arrange something

Some french heiress or something 

And Logan finds himself right back where he didn’t want to be

And then, like a gift from god, he sees you

Like I said in my initial drabble, Logan first saw you in a cafe reading some dusty novel no one actually reads like war and peace or crime and punishment or something

He's seen people your age do that before, reading complicated stuffy literature to seem smart and make some pretentious English class commentary that barely makes sense 

So he calls you on it

"War and Peace, huh?"

He’s expecting you to say something fake and pretentious

Some bullshit fake deep pseudo intellectual shit

But you look up at him, only pausing for a moment before you speak

You’re surprised to see such a gorgeous guy in a little cafe like this

Especially one that seems interested in talking to you

And god, the way you talk about it

The way your eyes light up

It takes him by surprise

He's not just interested

He's invested 

You start talking and realize that you've been talking for way longer than you expected to

And he wants more

He wants to know more about you, wants to see you sweet smile and hear your cute little laugh when he says something charming or compliments you

So he takes you out to dinner, his treat 

He guides you out the door and into his Porsche with his hand on your back 

It's a subtle gesture but it makes your stomach flip 

Then he buckles your seat belt for you

If you weren't sold before you sure are by now 

So he takes you to this nice fancy restaurant, wines and dines you, and he is laying on the charm thick

"Oh, come on. A pretty young thing like you must have a boyfriend."

"Really, you have excellent taste.”

You don’t miss the way he’s been eyeing you all night

And he doesn’t miss the way you squeeze your thighs together when he touches your face or plays with your fingers

One thing leads to another and after he pays the bill and leaves a generous tip, you find him ushering you back into his porsche

And yet again he closes your door for you and gets you all buckled in

This time when he drives his hand rests on your knee

He thinks he can handle this

He’s the biggest whore on the east coast /affectionate 

Then you grab his hand and move it up your thigh

There’s no going back now

He’s in just as deep as you are

Before you know it you’re tearing off each other’s clothes

His lips are all over you and motherfucker does he know what he’s doing

He worried for a moment he might have lost his edge

But as he lays you down into his big soft bed, your skin touching his silky sheets for the first time

But definitely not the last

As he finally touches you and feels how wet you are for him

He knows he didn’t peak in college

“Shh, listen,” he says between kisses that make you feel dizzy, “you’re gonna tell me if it’s too much for you, can you do that?”

You nod while he holds your face in his big hands

“You gotta say it,” he chuckles at how sweet you are, how well you respond to him, “use your words, baby…” 

You manage to choke out a desperate yes between kisses that makes his stomach twist

And that is the very beginning to your intense affair with Logan Huntzberger 

He’s desperate to see you again

He sends flowers and a dress and a gorgeous necklace to your apartment

And not the normal amount of flowers

The Logan amount of flowers

So a lot

And you can’t believe your luck finding a hot rich older guy that’s so into you 

You really like this attention

Your daddy issues are SCREAMING

And Logan likes having someone as gorgeous and intelligent and into him as you are

And he wants to do this right

But he’s rapidly approaching the deadline his family set

He doesn’t want to scare you off

GOD that’s the last thing he wants

But he is terrified of proposing and having it end up like it did the last time

Eventually he works up the nerve to talk to you about it 

He’s explaining everything to you while you pay your bills 

But it says they’re already paid

And your credit cards are paid off

And your debt has just disappeared

Even your student loans are gone

And there’s a fat deposit in your checking account 

He paid off all your debt and didn’t tell you

By the time he’s done explaining that you basically either need to get married asap or you can’t see each other anymore he still hasn’t brought it up

And you realize he’s not going to

He didn’t pay your bills to guilt you into anything

He’s not holding it over your head

He’s taking care of you

And all you’ve ever wanted is someone who will take care of you

Logan is surprised when you agree

But he’s even more surprised at how fast you agree

You sit in his lap and end up rambling about how much you love him, how you don’t think you’ll ever find anyone you like as much as him or anyone that treats you as well as he does

To no one’s surprise the conversation ends with him taking you on every surface of your apartment

Hours later you’re cuddling naked on your couch, resting your head on his muscular chest and listening to his heartbeat

“So like… are we engaged now?” you ask looking up at him

He laughs sweetly

“No, not yet. I have to actually propose first.”

You think back to your conversation earlier when you first said you’d want to marry him

“So that didn’t count before?”

His heart breaks at how little you ask for

“No, that didn’t count.” He kisses your head, “I’m going to take you out somewhere nice, give you a proper proposal, with a nice ring.”

You get butterflies thinking about it

You can’t believe how much he does for you

How much he wants to do for you 

You’re quiet for a moment, and he can feel you smiling into his chest

“...Okay.” 

Your voice is so small and bashful, and he can hear you suppressing a flustered giggle

Fuck he can’t get enough of you 

He laughs and pulls you closer, grabbing your chin and makes you look up at him so he can kiss you 

You fall asleep in his arms

And you think that you won’t mind being married so young if it’s Logan you’re marrying

Logan is looking at you with so much love and adoration

And right before he falls asleep 

He thinks that maybe it’s not too late for him to find love after all

[delta-piscium]

the real reason Steve brings a date to a high school basketball game for a high school he doesn’t even go to anymore is because the one time Nancy went with him the team won and his sports superstitions kicked in and he can’t just risk Lucas losing because of him not having a date, so he will take on the burden and ridicule of being the guy who graduated and drags new dates to games all in the name of not upsetting the delicate intricacies of rituals in sports

[leclsrc]

darling audrey, congratulations on 5000 followers! ur witty personality and words of gold have charmed us all <3 considering your celebration, i would like to request a drabble with charles based on the song margaret by lana del rey. there’s just something about “he met margaret on the rooftop, she was wearing white, and he was like, ‘i might be in trouble’” or “when you know, you know” ughhhhh love is so sickeningly wonderful

good as gold – cl16

This is the story of Charles experiencing a rooftop conversation with a stranger. For Charles, this is the story he will tell of how he met the love of his life for the first time.

auds here... much like lana in this song i am messy with the pen, but missed this blog very much, i love you all & genuinely hope you're well mmmwaaahhhh :)

You’re wearing this dress. This long, white, lace-linen thing, too chilly for a London rooftop, too chilly for a London ground floor, too chilly for London, really. It’s the first thing Charles says to you, as a poor excuse for an opener, but you soothe his supposed troubles away with a laugh and a wave of a hand. It’s alright, I’m used to the cold, your lips form cloudily. Worst case scenario, I spill some wine on the dress.

The wine you mention is in a glass wrapped by your left hand, which brings itself upward to your lips, staining them violet for a second before you lick the residue off. You should know, I’m more a white wine kind of girl. He laughs, and every other word he thought would come easy comes so stuck, wrestled out of him. For once it’s not because he’s nervous, definitely not because he’s unsure. In fact he’s never felt surer of himself, and his self-assurance is almost foolish if it wasn’t so resolute in the fact that he’d one day like to slip a band over your blank slate of a ring finger.

Already he feels like it’s too late, he’s missed out on too much time with you. He should’ve known this laugh years ago, felt your skin when he was much younger, known you in an embarrassing phase while he was in his own. His desires feel childish, juvenile, but they feel so real, so much so that he verbalizes them to Lando in a desperate attempt to stave them off at the end of the night.

But that is later and this is now, now you tell him you’re here for work. You’re a something-something at somewhere, too professional for him to repeat back to himself in the fluid way you’re gifted. He asks what else is keeping you in a city like London and he phrases it like London is a shit city, and you joke: “Aside from the fact that it’s basically a first-world city?” He stutters in response, he stutters. “I’m joking. It’s work.”

Work, you say, not a guy, not a girl, work. No ring on your finger. You, like him, are committed to nothing but work. And because you’re two people in your early twenties, the rooftop conversation gradually ebbs in that direction, a foray into the worlds you’ve traversed by yourselves. He shares, ever a man of little words, stories of ex-girlfriends he’d rather not bring up again. He says the usual. He’s thankful, but it’s over.

You too, you sentiment. A while ago. I knew him for years, but we wanted different things. Just wasn’t right, something like that. Your index finger tugs at the plain gold chain resting on your collarbones and slides back and forth. The lights—strung up on poles on the roof and from establishments below—shine on certain angles, illuminate your hair, the beauty mark on your cheekbone, the stain of burgundy lip gloss on the wine glass in your hand. “Maybe in another universe.”

“Do you believe in that?” He asks. All he knows about possible universes is that Marvel and that Oscar-winning A24 film Lewis made half the grid watch and give roses to. The concept is interesting and likely true, but he feels secure thinking this is his only universe. Which, technically, is true, too.

You say kind of. “But that idea gives us too much allowance for mistakes.”

“I know. I guess I believe in it in a…” He’s afraid he sounds stupid, but your eyes are egging him on, genuinely curious, burning bright with a want for him to keep talking. “In a… I feel like I’ve met you before, kind of way.” Like he knows everything he has to know about you and him and it’s been barely an hour.

“I get that.” You pause. “I get that.” Then, with a pretty smile and meek hand over the linen chest of your dress, you excuse yourself to refill wine and make talk with the party host. He lingers, of course, watches the sway of your dress, waits to see if you will turn and smile a funny little just us smile, but of course you don’t. You’re a stranger after all. He turns away to find Lando, and for a second he feels like there are eyes on him, but he keeps walking and shakes it off.

“Marry?” Lando repeats half an hour later, when they’re both tugging their coats on. “You just met her. She got out of a long-term relationship a while ago. And so did you.”

They’re in the foyer of the townhouse, and Lando is pulling open the door now, under the impression that his words successfully permeated Charles’ delusions. He turns and Charles is stationary on the last step, humming to himself.

“Mate,” bogs Lando, eyes dead serious. “How do you even know—”

“I know.” Charles says simply. He never even had to ask himself. He just did. He just does. “I have to run up and do something… don’t wait up.”

[cherricolaaa]

This describes exactly how I feel

[freelancearsonist]

el chico del apartamento 512

➔ Frankie Morales x gn!Reader - 1.6k

➔ There's a rumor going around your building about the resident of apartment 512, and you're eager to investigate.

➔ Rated PG-13 for allusions to sex but otherwise just some plain old fluff and fun. post movie canon wife and kid erasure sorry, takes place in colombia, both reader and frankie speak spanish and everything is translated.

➔ this is my entry for the Selena Drabble Challenge hosted by mi esposa @fhatbhabie <3 sorry i've been sitting on this forever hehe but i hope you enjoy

Frankie barely manages to pull himself out of the slump he’s in for the first year or so after the absolute disaster in the Andes.

He misses his family, misses his friends, misses his crew–his brothers. He tries to convince himself that it’s for the best, that it’s only a matter of time before those assholes who were in cahoots with Lorea come after him–that the people he loves will be safer and happier if he’s not around them when it happens. And most of the time he can block all that sadness and pain out by throwing his whole mind and body into the earnest construction job he picks up in this new town within this new country. But it catches up to him late at night in dreams and quiet whispers of intrusive thoughts; that he’s a coward for abandoning the ones that needed him most, that he could’ve done more to make that damned mission less of a disaster. That he could’ve come out of it rich and happy if he wasn’t such a fuck-up.

He wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, an ache so deep in his chest that it feels like he’s been shot. He clutches at his sternum and tries to catch his breath but he can’t. His body wracks with sobs and he knows he’ll never be okay again.

But somehow, he ends up okay anyway. Somehow, he falls back to sleep just to repeat the cycle the next day.

There’s a rumor going around amongst your neighbors that apartment 512 is haunted.

People hear things–weird things. Screaming, crying, banging–and always at the dead of night. And everyone swears up and down that they’ve never seen the guy who supposedly lives there. The people who say they have seen him get more dramatic with their descriptions every time–toweringly tall, shoulders that could stand up to a wrecking ball, hauntingly sad eyes and gaunt face. It’s like he’s a thing of legend–a story they tell their kids to make sure they behave. “Don’t run in the halls or the guy from apartment 512 will get you.”

You figure he’s probably just some guy who works long hours and likes to watch horror movies to unwind or something–not a monster or a ghost, just misunderstood. You haven’t seen the guy yourself, but you kinda like him anyway. The building’s certainly been a lot quieter since he moved in… well, everywhere except his own apartment, at least. 

You find yourself keeping a more vigilant eye out, alert to any face in the building that doesn’t look familiar. It seems kinda silly to want to see someone you don’t know, but you’re a little nosy and a little more than curious. If there’s some truth to the rumors that have been going around by the people who claim to have seen him, you want to find out for yourself.

It’s a completely ordinary night when you notice an unfamiliar face in the mailroom, and you have to do a double take. This stranger is handsome–tall and dark with shaggy brown hair and an even shaggier patch of stubble across his jaw.

He’s just standing there, staring blankly at a row of mailboxes, looking so… foreboding. You approach slowly, cautiously; part of you thinks you should just walk away and let this man do whatever he’s doing. But there’s a large, louder part of you that approaches with curiosity. There’s just something about him that draws you in, that makes you put on your best smile and ask, “Señor? Necesitas ayuda?” (Do you need help, sir?)

He blinks slowly, heavily, and then dark brown eyes flicker towards you.

“Oh!” He clears his throat and it’s like he’s coming back from an out of body experience–the color returns to his face, his eyes lose that glassy sheen, and his posture loosens a bit. He looks friendly now, sheepish even. He wrings his big hands and shifts on his feet, as if he’s been caught at a vulnerable moment. “Lo siento, estaba en la nube.” (Sorry, I was spacing out.)

“Está bien,” you tell him with your most disarming smile. “Andas buscando algo?” (It’s okay. / Are you looking for something?)

“No, solo estoy recopilando mi correo,” he rumbles before flashing you the most charming smile you’ve ever seen in your life. (No, I’m just getting my mail.)

He fishes through his pockets and finds a small silver key–and then he inserts it into the box labeled “512”.

“Tú vives en el apartamento 512?” There’s a strange air of reverence in your voice despite trying to hide it. This is the guy everyone’s been talking about, and he doesn’t seem nearly as monstrous as everyone tried to make him sound. (You live in apartment 512?)

“Uhhh… sí?” He chuckles and looks over to you, and you can see the way his brow furrows at the look of shocked surprise on your face.

You realize you’re actually gaping open-mouthed at the poor guy, and you snap your mouth closed as soon as you see the little crease between his brows deepen. Not soon enough for it to go unnoticed, though–the corner of his mouth flickers up in a pseudo-smirk, and god he’s handsome.

“No hemos tenido la oportunidad de conocernos aún.” You look up at him and give your best, winning smile as you give him your name. There’s a strange, fluttery feeling in your stomach as his dark eyes meet yours–have you mentioned how handsome he is? (We haven’t had the chance to meet yet.)

“Mucho gusto,” he says with a smile. “Soy Frankie. Supongo que vives en el edificio también?” (Nice to meet you. / I’m Frankie. I’m guessing you live in the building too?)

“Oh, sí,” you say with a slight laugh. “No soy ningún tipo de acosador, vivo en el apartamento 526.” (Oh, yes. / I promise I’m not some kind of creep, I live in apartment 526.)

And then you catch his eyes dragging along your form, not even the least bit subtle, and you try your best to be nonchalant about the way you have to lean against the wall to avoid melting into a puddle on the mailroom floor; especially when you see those full lips of his curve into a smile, and you know he’s liking what he’s seeing.

“Nah, no creo que seas un acosador,” he hums–and there’s that damned smirk again. If you don’t get out of here you’re going to start drooling. (I don’t think you’re a creep.)

He grabs two letters from his mailbox, examines the envelopes, and then unceremoniously dumps them both into the trashcan in the corner with a mumbled, “Malditas estafas por correo.” (Damn junk mail.)

“Eso es lo único que recibo ahora también,” you tell him sympathetically. (That’s all I get anymore too.)

He brushes past you slightly as he moves to the door, and you get a whiff of distinctly woody cologne that makes your heart pick up a beat. You try to act normal and go to open your own mailbox, but he stops in the narrow doorway and leans against the jam to look at you.

“Te volveremos a ver aquí?” (Will I see you around again?)

You think the rumors about him were right, at least a little bit. He’s towering and imposing–he fills the entire doorway with ease. He’s firm and broad and sturdy and big. Maybe he would be intimidating to someone else, but all you can think about is climbing him like a tree.

“Sí. Puedes verme cuando tú quieras.” (You can see me whenever you want to.)

His eyes flicker indecisively for a moment, and then he draws his bottom lip between his teeth. “Qué tal viernes por la noche?” (What about Friday night?)

You try not to focus on how you want him to bite into you like that as you tell him, “Sí, eso sería perfecto.” (Yes, that would be perfect.)

“Perfecto. Te veré luego.” And then he flashes you that damned adorable boyish smile again before he retreats from the mailroom. You think he’s going to be trouble for you. (Perfect. I’ll see you then.)

The monthly building meeting is Saturday morning, and you’re glad to see Frankie’s decided to join in finally. Everyone throws curious looks his way as he walks through the room towards where you’re seated, but no one is curious or brave enough to ask who he is.

“Buenos días, querida,” he murmurs, discreetly ghosting a kiss against your cheek as he drops into the seat beside yours. There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes as they trail over your outfit: the same one you wore to dinner last night, the same one you picked up off his bedroom floor this morning and shoved on hastily to get to this meeting in time. (Good morning, dear.)

Before you get a chance to respond, your neighbor from across the hall plunks down in the seat on your other side.

“Escuchaste ese ruido anoche?” She asks, sounding more amused than annoyed. (Did you hear that noise last night?)

“Qué ruido?” You ask with a raised brow. (What noise?)

She smirks with satisfaction, like she knows something you don’t. And then she looks pointedly between you and Frankie. “Suena como si nuestro fantasma en el apartamento 512 hubiera conseguido un socio para él.” (It sounds like our ghost in apartment 512 got himself a partner.)

You nearly choke on your own tongue, but Frankie just chuckles raspily and wraps an arm around your shoulders. He learned all about the rumors from you last night over dinner, and he thinks they’re hilarious. Besides, they’ll die out soon enough anyway–he’s never slept quite as peacefully as he did last night in your arms–if he doesn’t feed them a little bit. And if feeding the rumors means keeping you moaning and groaning the way he did last night, he can’t say he minds it one bit.

➔ beta: @shakespeareanwannabe; dividers: @saradika-graphics

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[brujawrites]

✧ ˚ · . 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 — 

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: "𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞," | masterlist | next chapter

contains: suguru x female reader, shoko ieri, college au, modern setting, college!suguru, english major!suguru, pining, slow burn, inspired by lana del rey lyrics, 18+ ONLY MDNI

synopsis: meet reader! see how suguru and reader's paths have crossed before and why we're especially excited to see him in class this final semester. chapter 1 of a series so there's alot of background being set up!! ao3 - kofi - playlist - pinterest

"sometimes I feel like i've got a war in my mind, I wanna get off but I keep riding the ride, I never really noticed that I had to decide to play someone's game, or live my own life -- and now I do. I wanna move out of the black, into the blue,"

— "Get Free", Lana Del Rey

Suguru Geto was so cool to you. He just exudes an air of captivating mystery, a quality that draws you in. You found a reflection of yourself in him — the curious, introspective soul that found joy in dissecting and analyzing literature and movies for the sheer pleasure of finding a deeper meaning in art. This was a stark contrast to the persona you currently inhabited. Ever since you got everything you thought you wanted by joining the sorority, there’s this “hot girl” facade you’ve been keeping up. You had to, at least you tell yourself that. Being Vice President of the sorority, the hair and nail appointments every couple weeks, the packed schedule every single week, consumed by obligations at work, for the sorority, date functions, or mixers with fraternities — it was everything you thought you wanted. 

The past two years had been hard in an unconventional way. You were suddenly best friends with over 60 girls, learning about what it meant to be a ‘sister’, navigating your academic life, new found social life, & trying to not fail miserably. 

Meeting Suguru in Spanish class two years ago may have actually been around the time things started to get overwhelming. The sight of him walking into the bustling lecture hall remains etched in your memory. His raven black hair gracefully framed his cheekbones, a striking contrast to his fatigued expression. He calmly looked around the room for a potential seat when his gaze suddenly met yours, his velvety dark eyes sending what felt like a jolt of electricity through you. Immediately, you looked away, intimidated by such abrupt intimacy. As the moment drifted away, you couldn’t help but steal more glances, mesmerized by the effortless allure of his hair half-tied, and admiring the contrast between his hair and the crisp white of his band tee. Your hungry eyes lingered on the sight of his strong, lightly tanned forearm, the muscles flexing as he set his bag on the ground in front of his feet. 

A small smirk played on your lips as the facts informed the fiction, aligning your romanticized narrative with reality — you liked him. You wanted him… right? It seemed like a recurring pattern, a new infatuation added to your roster each semester, you were starting to hate how your mind went to those places when looking at complete strangers. He settled into his seat a few rows ahead, to your right. The rest of the hour-long class went by as your attention wavered from the professor's lecture to the constant pings of the pledge class' group chat on your laptop, all while thoughts of this enigmatic boy swirled through your mind. What was it about him? Obviously, his looks played a role — he was undeniably attractive! But there was an unspoken allure about him that resonated with you. Something remarkably genuine.

He was attractive, but not like the frat boys you had started to learn — those confident, almost arrogantly charming boys supported by the rowdy group of self identified brothers. Suguru stood apart in that way, his demeanor stoic, shrouded in enigma. You, on the other hand, were no different than those frat boys. Donning your Greek letters, surrounded by sisters at parties or on campus, you exuded a confidence that was empowering. But when you’re all alone, face to face with a cute guy, maintaining prolonged eye contact feels like you’re in over your head. 

A twinge of disappointment grew inside you as the realization set in; you haven’t changed. You hadn’t felt the profound shift you had envisioned when justifying your sorority membership to friends back home. College was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to compensate for feeling like a loser in high school. Encountering someone like Suguru served to remind your of your discomfort within your own skin, in your clothes. Despite this, you pressed on, going through the motions because you thought that was what would make you happy. You thought it was what you wanted. 

That concern quickly snowballed into a full-fledged personal identity crisis, intensifying by the time you were twenty-one. Everyone your age experienced that overwhelming anxiety about the trajectory life seemed to be going in, right? You were pretty aware that these insecurities stemmed from your less than wonderful experiences in grade school. The desire to be accepted, to belong, felt deceptively straightforward but in reality, it was complex. Seeking validation through association of status started to overshadow authentic connections, a realization that took two years to hit. Stepping down from the exhaustive responsibilities of the exec board of your sorority, a position that took way too much time and stress, you now craved a final semester dedicated to your genuine pleasure. No more putting on a facade, no more living for appearances. 

So, when you trudged through the cold, grey January air to your senior seminar to find three or four other students, you immediately slipped into your unnatural facade, feigning interest in your phone screen instead of others around you that actually held your interest. So much for not living up to appearances, you thought silently to yourself when he walked in. 

Suguru Geto. The name alone sent a jolt through you, so seeing him walk into the room sent a surge of excitement swiftly followed by a pang of panic. Today, he looked impeccable. His hair effortlessly framing his features, a brown flannel that accentuated out the deep hues in his eyes, paired with a white crewneck & off-white khakis. Simple, but something about it brought on a flush of warmth over your body. As he moved closer to your side of the classroom, the facade threatened to crumble. Buried in your phone, pretending to text your roommate, Utahime, just trying to avoid the prospect of awkward eye contact or embarrass yourself by speaking to him. 

Your attention is lifted from the screen when the desk in front of you starts to shift. Suguru stood before you, unfastening his backpack, meeting your gaze. You silently hoped your flushed cheeks weren’t betraying your emotions as you offered the boy a friendly grin. After all, the two of you knew each other. A soft smile grew on his lips before he turned away, settling into his seat before class.

Yeah, you think to yourself, recalling that you and Suguru had crossed paths before, that it wasn't a fantasy you made up. Last Spring you took that boring poetry theory class together. That professor was super strict & everyone in the class realized it at the same time when he revealed the daunting project: reconstructing a Wikipedia page for an ancient poem. You got a B for the midterm, Suguru got a D and was shocked to see your grade so much higher than his. “Everyone got a super low score,” you remember him rationalizing, a touch of defeat in his tone. There was nothing you could really say back to him thanks to the slight intimidation that comes from talking to someone so effortlessly cool. Handsome, even. 

“Yeah, I’m not entirely sure how I managed that score either. I didn’t really know what I was doing.” You admitted, not intending to mislead, but also recognizing you had no actual insight to give.

“I’m gonna call Shoko and see what she got. See ya later,” he waved before strolling over to the bike rack, phone already at his ear with Shoko on the dial. You tentatively wave back, feeling a peculiar sensation settling in your stomach. You noticed Shoko and Suguru in class together, but they’re dynamic never struck you as particularly flirtatious. They were definitely close though. It was funny for you to think back to the immense crush you had on him the spring semester one year before, only for fall semester to roll by — out of sight, out of mind. And then, there you were a year later.

The digital clock on the wall hit 9:30 right as the professor entered, exchanging morning greetings before setting up the projector. The first class of your last semester is starting now, causing a subtle flutter in your stomach. It was surreal that just four years ago you got lost in this exact building during orientation week. You had experienced a myriad of changes within yourself since starting university. Why did you feel such shame about it? Because it’s not you, you quietly reasoned to yourself. As Suguru adjusted in his seat in front of you, his hair and big shoulders encroaching on your desk space, the subtle whiff of his black-cherry scented cologne served as a gentle reminder of your conundrum. 

Okay, so you’re into him.

This time, you silently told yourself, you’re actually going to do more to get to know him. Usually, your interest in men gravitates towards fraternity-affiliated boys, but after two years of mingling with them, nothing felt truly authentic, worthwhile, or genuine. Reflecting on the time an upperclassman in another sorority was gushing about her parents meeting through Greek life at a mixer — you could barely mask your dismay at the notion of finding a lifelong partner within that circle. Gradually, you learned to adapt to navigate those environments with copious amounts of alcohol among other substances. They served as a mask, veiling the disdain some of those young men would bring out in your expression. Their thoughtlessness with their dicks and carelessness with their words often left you repulsed and disheartened..

“Alright,” the disappointment in your professor’s voice snapped your attention back to the room. “Well, you were expected to have had that reading done for today’s discussion. Given that only two of you have actually taken the initiative of checking their emails before class, we’ll need to end early. Check your email for Thursday’s assignment as I’ll be sending it out briefly.” The sound of zipping bags and shuffling papers filled the room as the Professor’s words trailed off, students preparing to leave. Both you and Suguru remained seated, attentive. Hot, you thought. A man with respect for women speaking. “Thursday’s discussion will cover today’s missed discussion along with the planned agenda for our second meeting. See you then.”

She nodded briefly in your direction, and a faint warmth spread across your cheeks from the unexpected attention. Only two of you completed the reading? That caught your curiosity, and it seemed Suguru shared that sentiment. Pivoting in his seat to face you, his grin returning with your flush. “Hey,” his voice, smooth and gentle, made the corners of your mouth instinctively curve upwards. 

“Hi,” you replied with a playful smirk, casually tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Did you do the reading?” Suguru’s voice lowered, his gaze discreetly scanning a few classmates nearby. You responded with a nod and a soft giggle. 

“Did you?” You teased back, your own voice barely above a whisper. You felt like jelly when he rewarded you with a chuckle. Oh man, you thought silently.

“Yeah, I did. It’s just... none of it really made sense. Wondering if you might have some notes or something you could share,” he admitted as you both gathered your belongings, preparing to leave. You suddenly felt self conscious about your outfit, conscious of his attention. You and Suguru were unintentionally matched with your puffy, white turtleneck and shades of brown from your plaid mini skirt complementing his flannel. The leather knee high riding boots didn’t exactly match his black Converse in style, but certainly in color — you just worried it was too… girly. You hoped he wouldn’t write you off for your affiliation to Greek life. 

“Um, I did read it, but I have a bit of a weird approach... Do you have a class next or are you free for a bit?” the words spilled out before you could second guess yourself. Yes, keep going, you urged yourself silently as you led the conversation with Suguru into the hall. He can’t make assumptions without knowing you, you reminded yourself. He nodded agreeably, indicating he had some time to spare, then suggested grabbing a table at the coffee shop near campus. As you exited the building together, you decided it was time to let him see the real you. 

[bluewasthecolor]

How You Get the Girl

Word Count: 3117

Warnings: None

A/N: Getting back into my writing era, I guess. This is for @lana-del-reys-gf because apparently this is something she wanted me to write and I (being the unbelievably kind and generous human that I am) happily obliged. Obviously, it's also for anyone else who wants to read it. As always, let me know if you like it and what other requests you have!

“G, wait.” You grab your best friend’s hand, stopping her before she can drag you into the bar. Georgia looks back at you with knit eyebrows. “I’m not sure about this. I don’t want them to think I’m trying to ruin your team bonding time.”

“Oh my god, Y/N.” She groans, tugging on your hand. You refuse to budge. “I already cleared it with the girls, they’re happy to have you. Who wouldn’t be excited to spend an evening with the Y/N Y/L/N, after all? Come on, idiot.”

With that, you allow her to lead you inside and to a booth filled with her Bayern teammates. They greet you, introducing themselves one by one (although you already know all of their names from playing against them at both the club and international levels for so long), and then settle into easy conversation. You observe, still not wanting to intrude on their time together despite Georgia’s insistence that you wouldn’t be. It’s nice to be on the outside for once, actually. You’ve been with Barcelona for so long that it’s impossible for you to feel like a stranger with those girls and while that’s usually a nice feeling it can get a bit overwhelming. They all know you so well that it’s impossible for you to be on the outside. Seeing a different team dynamic than the one you’re used to is unfamiliar but refreshing. 

“Hey, Y/N, wanna help me grab another round of drinks?” Sydney interrupts your train of thought, extending her hand to you. You allow yourself to be pulled to your feet and accompany her to the bar. 

“I noticed you getting a little quiet there and wanted a chance to get to know you on my own.” She explains as you walk side by side. You’re not complaining–Sydney’s gorgeous and you’ve been sneaking glances at her all night. 

“Ask me anything, I’m an open book.” You smile at your feet, appreciating the German’s genuine tone. 

“How did you and Georgia meet, exactly? You’re American and play for Barcelona, so I’m not exactly seeing the connection there.” She asks after you place your orders. 

“I actually played for City a ways back. We met there and something just clicked–she’s been my best friend ever since. I wanted her to come to Barca with Lucy and Keira last year but that clearly didn’t work out.” 

“I mean, it worked out for us.” Sydney jokes, nudging you. “G’s been a beast here. You should think about making a move - Munich’s a pretty cool city. Would you ever consider that? Leaving Barcelona, I mean?”

“Maybe someday, but not now. The team chemistry is unbelievable, you know? It feels like home and that’s a hard thing to find.” You surprise yourself with your honesty. Something about Sydney just makes you feel instantly at ease. “But tell me something about you. I feel like I’m doing all the talking here.”

“What do you wanna know? I’ll give you three questions.”

“What’s your favorite place in the world?”

“That’s too easy, even you should know that and we just met tonight. Munich. It’s my home.”

“Fair, fair.” You nod to yourself. “A harder question this time, then. What would be your perfect date?”

“I’m easy to please, honestly. Dinner, a walk, something with time for plenty of conversation. Last question.”

“Can I have your number?” The German woman is clearly surprised by this, but she smiles and gestures to your phone. You hand it to her and she puts her number in. 

“I’ll be expecting a text.” She winks at you and turns to head back to the booth, drinks in hand. You trail behind her, unsure of how a night out with Georgia and her teammates led to you getting Sydney Lohmann’s number. This was not at all how you’d expected the evening to go, but you weren’t exactly complaining. 

One Week Later

“Y/N! Get off your phone and join the fun!” Mapi teases from her spot on the couch, lunging to grab your phone from your hand. You dodge her, but in the process find yourself rolling onto the floor.

“You have been on that phone a lot lately, Y/N.” Keira chimes in. “Who are you talking to on that thing?”

“Sydney.”

“Sydney?”

“Lohmann.”

“As in the one that plays for Bayern?” This is Mapi again, her voice incredulous. You nod, blushing. “Y/N, I can’t believe you! I thought you were just visiting Georgia when you went to Munich but you were getting yourself a girl. And here I thought I was the slut of Barca.”

Mapi’s final comment earns her a shove, but in reality, her comments don’t bother you all that much. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but you’ve found yourself falling for Sydney quicker than you thought possible. She’s witty and kind and if you could talk to her 24 hours a day you would. Just as you’re thinking this, your phone buzzes.

Syd: Y/N? Still there?

Syd: You’ve gone dark on me

Y/N: Sorry, got pulled away there. 

Syd: All good. I had an idea while you were gone, though.

Y/N: Care to share?

Syd: Well, I’ve got some time off coming up…

Y/N: …?

Syd: And I was thinking that maybe I could come visit you

Syd: Only if you’re up for it, of course

Y/N: Are you serious?

Y/N: I would love that.

You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face as you continue to text Sydney about her upcoming visit. The noise of your teammates fades into the background and she is all you can focus on. The fact that she’s so willing to come see you after only one in-person conversation adds a level of attractiveness to her persona that is new to you. You’re not used to women being so invested in spending time with you but it’s a welcome unfamiliarity. 

“Y/N, we’re going to get gelato, let’s go!” Ingrid’s voice pulls you from your thoughts and you look up to see your friends gathered at the door, looking at you expectantly. You scramble to join them, pulling your shoes and jacket on haphazardly. You slip your phone into your pocket, wanting to focus wholly on your team for the remainder of the night, but Sydney doesn’t leave your mind once.

Three Weeks Later

You shift nervously at the kitchen counter, trying not to let your anxiety get the best of you. Your eyes are locked on the door and you can’t seem to do anything other than wait. She’ll be here any minute and all of your attempts at distraction have failed. You’re not even sure why you’re so nervous–it’s not like this is your first time meeting and the two of you text practically nonstop. Still, though, this will be your first date (and, in true sapphic fashion, it will extend through the weekend as you insisted she stay with you instead of at a hotel). At this point, Sydney knows you better than most but you can’t shake your worries that when she arrives she’ll regret everything. 

All of this goes out the window when the door to your flat opens, however. You’ve intentionally left it unlocked and instructed her to let herself in, wanting to avoid the awkwardness of having to greet her at the door. Sydney walks in looking as though she’s just come from a spa rather than the airport, skin glowing and not a hair out of place. She stops in front of you and you have to remind yourself how to speak.

“You’re here.” Is all you can manage to say, a smile spreading across your face. She smiles back at you and nods, stepping closer to you. 

“I’m here.” She murmurs, grabbing your hands and pressing her forehead to yours. The sudden contact makes you inconceivably nervous, causing you to squirm out of her grasp.

“So!” Your voice is overly loud, compensating for the nerves you’re feeling. “I guess I should give you a tour of the place. This is the kitchen, obviously, and that’s the living room,” You make an awkward sweeping gesture in that direction. “I set up the sofa bed for you–it’s actually pretty comfortable. The bathroom’s over there and if you need anything else just let me know.” You begin to back slowly towards your room. “I’m gonna, um, go get ready now. Bye”

“Y/N?” Sydney stops you before you can shut your door. You look at her slowly, praying you haven’t somehow already messed this up, but a smirk is playing at her lips. “Pick you up at 6.”

-

Six o’clock comes much quicker than you anticipated and, before you know it, Sydney is knocking on your bedroom door. You swing it open to find her looking even more radiant than earlier in the day if that’s possible. Her brown hair is loose around her shoulders and she’s dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. The simplicity suits her and will be perfect for your evening plans.

“I wasn’t sure what to wear since you refused to tell me where we’re going, so I had to guess.” She grumbles as you drag her out the door, grabbing the bag you had packed earlier. 

“You look perfect.” You reassure her, still not giving up any details about the date you have planned. Since the city is yours, it only seemed natural that you take the reins on planning your date, although Sydney had attempted to make an argument that she could show you parts of the city you’d never seen before (you were doubtful). The result of your careful planning means that much of your anxiety has dissipated. For the most part, you know what to expect for the rest of the evening and that fact alone brings you relief.  

After walking a ways, you arrive at a small park with a view overlooking the city. You lead Sydney to an empty spot in the grass and spread out the picnic blanket you’d stashed in the bag. She sits, pulling you down along with her. You immediately busy yourself with unpacking the meal you’d brought, not wanting to ruin the moment, but as it turns out you don’t have to worry. The silence is broken by Sydney’s laugh. You look at her, confused.

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.” She explains. “You just—you brought all my favorite snacks. I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“You sound surprised.” You say, raising your eyebrows. “You don’t think I pay attention to what you tell me?”

“No, it’s not that! I’ve just never had anyone plan such a specific date for me and I was…nervous I think? Not because of you! I mean, yes because of you, but, like, in a good way.” Sydney’s rambling proves to you that her nerves are just as high as yours and this makes you feel infinitely better–and instills you with a new sense of confidence. 

You lean forward, pulling the German in for a kiss and effectively shutting her up. It’s the first hat you share and it’s everything you’ve been waiting for. The second that your lips meet you know that it will be the first of many, not only tonight but for many months–years, even–going forward.

Later, when you return to your apartment, you linger in the doorway to your bedroom watching Sydney bustle about. She’s unpacking and getting water and somehow it’s all just so perfect. You’d set up the sofa bed for her, not wanting to be presumptuous, but all of your worries have gone out the window. Now all you want is for her to be the one sleeping next to you.

“Syd.” Your voice startles her and she looks up at you. “Do you wanna–you don’t have to–but would you want to sleep in my room, um, with me?”

“In your room.” A smirk is slowly spreading across Sydney’s face as she walks towards you. “With you. In your bed? I thought you’d never ask. I thought I was going to be banished to the sofa forever.”

“Shut up,” You can’t help the smile that creeps into your voice as you take her hand and lead her into your room. This is certainly going to be a very good night. 

Three Months Later

“I can’t just up and leave, Sydney! I have people here–a home here. I would never ask you to leave Munich for me.” You resist the urge to throw yourself face down onto the sofa as you pace, in the midst of a heated argument with your girlfriend.

“I don’t understand though, it’s not like I’m asking you to give everything up. Bayern made an offer, I’m just saying it would make a lot of sense. G is here and your family is back in the States anyways, so it’s not like you’d be losing much by moving.” You can hear Sydney sigh through the phone. “I want to be with you but this whole long-distance thing is hard, Y/N.”

This argument has been going on for the past week, ever since you were approached about a possible transfer to Bayern. You didn’t really even consider the offer but when you told Sydney she seemed to think that you should accept it. You can’t see yourself leaving Barcelona anytime in the near future, long-distance or not. 

“I know it’s hard, Syd. I know that. I miss you like crazy but I can’t leave my home.”

“So what do you suggest? We just keep doing long distance forever?” The bite in Sydney’s voice is unmissable and you wince slightly.

“I don’t know–I mean, no. Not forever. We’ll figure something out but I can’t leave right now. I’m not sure how else to explain it to you.”

“Let me know when you have a plan.” 

It’s clear that the German woman has become checked out of your relationship all in a matter of seconds and you know it will be easier for both of you if you don’t prolong the inevitable any further. 

“I think…” You pause, willing yourself to think of another solution. “I think we both need some space. Maybe this is it for us.”

“Yeah. Maybe it is.” Sydney’s voice has turned cold and there’s a distinct lack of emotions behind her words. “I guess this is goodbye.”

And with that, after the three blissful months you’d spent together, Sydney hangs up the phone, taking your heart along with her. In a rush of emotion, the tears you’d been holding in since your argument started begin to flow. You weren’t together for all that long, but even in the short months of your relationship, it became glaringly obvious that Sydney knows you better than anyone else–better, even, than Georgia. She listened and asked questions and was so unbelievably genuine that you often found yourself in disbelief that someone this perfect wanted you. You had just lost all of that. Everything you’d built, everything you had yet to build, was crumbling around you in a matter of moments.

One Week Later

A sudden knock on your door wakes you from your nap and you roll over to look at the clock, confused about who could be trying to visit you right now. It’s your one day off and you’re fairly certain that you’ve made it clear to Mapi that if she even thinks about dragging you to some coffee shop you’ll kill her. It’s been a week since the breakup but your schedule has been so busy that you really haven’t had time to wallow–today is the day you’d set aside for that. Somebody, however, seems to have different plans. Groggily you stumble to the front door and open it–the person on your doorstep isn’t Mapi or Keira or any other of your Barcelona teammates, but someone much more shocking. 

“Can I come in?” Sydney is soaked from the downpour outside and looks as frazzled as you feel. You stand to the side, letting her walk into your apartment. She sees herself over to the couch and sits down. You opt to stand in the kitchen, wary of why she’s here (both in your apartment and in Barcelona in general). 

“What are you doing here, Sydney?” You ask, arms folded against your chest. “You couldn’t have given me a little warning?”

“I’m sorry, I just–I had to see you.” The midfielder’s voice is shaky and as you look at her longer you can see just how red and puffy her eyes are. She’s been crying. “The way things ended between us, I just couldn’t bear it. I don’t want us to be over.”

“Well, me neither, but you made it pretty clear that if I don’t move to Munich we’re doomed.” As you speak, you move to sit next to her on the couch. “Unless that’s changed?”

“I still think living in different countries isn’t ideal–” Sydney starts, and with her words, your hopes deflate.

“So nothing’s changed then.” You cut her off, voice flat.

“You didn’t let me finish. I do think it would be easier if we were in the same place.” She takes your hand as she says this, and you don’t pull away. “But if I have to choose between what’s easy and what I want, I’m choosing what I want every time. Especially if what I want is you.”

“Okay, but Syd, you were right before. This whole long-distance thing is really really hard. There has to be something to make it easier, right?” You look at her almost pleadingly, hoping she’s come up with some sort of solution.

“I mean, I do have an idea.” Your ears perk up at Sydney’s words, “It’s not perfect but it might work. In the off-season, we find a place together–I don’t care where but I think for both of our sakes it might be best if it’s not Munich or Barcelona. Or we both evenly split time between the two cities? Either way, we’re always together. During our seasons we see each other every chance we can. It will still be hard but I think we can do it. What do you think?”

Instead of answering, you pull Sydney into you as a response. As her lips meet yours you are reminded of your first kiss, all those months ago on your first date. This kiss is different–you’re much more familiar with one another now, for one–but you get that same feeling as you did on that night. This kiss is indicative of much more than what is right in front of you. It’s indicative of everything to come.