#i have been listening to this album on and off since you sent me this ask | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

felixbit · 2 months

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i like it

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader w. 2k genre: drama, a mix of fluff + angst summary: you've been in a situationship with hyunjin for almost six months. while he's taking you out, you decide it's time to make or break what you have with the goal of becoming official. warnings: none a/n: i was in a writer's block for like two months, but the album seems to have broken it?? stream ate for good luck (and there will likely not be a part 2 to this)

Six months of back and forth has been driving you crazy.

You'd met a guy that changed your life. He was everything you'd ever wanted: gorgeous, talented, somewhat wealthy, and a kind soul. He was passionate, driven, and everything else that made you want to be his. This was Hyunjin.

The only problem was: Hyunjin struggled with commitment.

He'd take you out on fancy dinners, dates, drop a grand on a shopping trip, but couldn't bring himself to make it official. He sent you flowers, good morning texts, random food orders to your place whenever you mentioned you were hungry over text. But it was 'casual'.

You decided to play his game, give him time to open up. You'd learned that he'd been in a long-term yet rocky relationship that had only ended three months before you met. Of course you wanted to give him time to heal. You wanted him to come to you when he was ready.

He never did. He'd spend all day in your apartment, taking a day off work just to see you. He'd hold you and kiss you until the sun fell and rose again. You would wake up to breakfast in bed served with a side of kisses and little love notes. But, he was instantly avoidant when it came to you asking if he was ready.

So, you were in a weird relationship purgatory. He'd give you everything but a title in his life, and that's all you ever needed with him. The internet seemed to deem it a 'situationship', but it was another label that Hyunjin would likely avoid.

The thought was eating you up inside. Three weeks ago, you drafted up an ultimatum confrontation text to send him. It turned to collecting dust whenever you pasted it into messages and immediately deleted it. Hyunjin was amazing, even with his faults. Could you stand to lose him over wanting to be his?

You sat on the couch that Hyunjin had bought you two months ago, plagued with thoughts about him all morning. He'd been busy almost the entire week, which would throw a wrench into any potential plans. His work was demanding at times and you knew how committed he was to it.

When you finished making breakfast, you ate it while listening to a playlist Hyunjin had sent. He had a good ear for music, especially picking out songs you'd like. He'd started a habit of making you a playlist at the start of every month and you'd listen religiously.

Just as you were finishing up, your phone vibrate and fished it from your pocket. Looking down at the screen, your heart skipped a beat and a smile immediately rushed onto your face.

hyunjin: good morning!!

This was everyday routine. If you didn't wake up to a classic 'good morning' text, you'd get one before the clock ticked over to PM. Sometimes he'd admit he forgot to right when he woke up, but he was pretty good at staying consistent on his timing.

y/n: good morning hyunjinnie :)

That damn nickname. You'd called him a plethora of nicknames since you first started seeing each other, and it was making it infinitely harder to find it casual. The worst part was that he liked them. He encouraged you to use more.

hyunjin: sleep well? y/n: i did, just ate some breakfast hyunjin: yum! y/n: how's your morning been so far hyunjin: perfect now that i'm talking to you

Seeing that text made your heart tug and caused a small outburst on a nearby pillow. It didn't deserve to be hit so many times, but you couldn't contain the cuteness aggression. Also, a little bit of frustration.

y/n: stop itttt!!! making me blush hyunjin: that's my charm y/n: your charm is looking like a cute ferret hyunjin: oh yeah?

Just as you sent the message, you scrolled through your phone for a few photos you had saved of ferrets the night before. Selecting a few and pressing send, the two of you delved into a discussion on his ferret-like looks.

Turns out, he could carry a conversation talking about what animals you both looked like the most for longer than expected. By the time you realized how long you'd been at it, it had almost been half an hour.

y/n: wait. aren't you supposed to be at work by now?? not texting me about ferrets hyunjin: oh yeah, about that hyunjin: i took today off, was thinking we could spend some time together and go out

This was strange, to say the least. Hyunjin was normally quite engrossed in making sure his work was finished. A few months back, you had to convince him to call out of work when he had a high fever and could hardly stand up from his bed.

y/n: what's gotten into you so suddenly hyunjin: what do you mean? y/n: you? hwang hyunjin? calling out of work for me? hyunjin: well of course, why wouldn't i y/n: idk

It took a few tries of writing out variants of 'you're not my boyfriend' before settling on the text you sent. Such official behaviors by a man so scared of labels drove you mad. It was almost perfect, almost.

hyunjin: talk to me y/n: later, okay? hyunjin: how about when i take you out then? y/n: sure

Being so bland over text made a pain swell up in your chest. You wanted to be open and honest with him, but pushing him past his limits had grown to be a massive fear in your mind. The harder part would be figuring out what to say.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to tell him. You'd found Hyunjin to be one of the most understanding people to walk to earth. The last time you'd pushed at all for labels was almost three months ago and you'd given up since.

What was there to say, anyways? 'I want you to be my boyfriend or I'll explode'? It was certainly accurate to how your mind had made it seem. The idea of being exclusive with Hyunjin was exhilarating but terrifying.

hyunjin: can i come get you in an hour? y/n: yes

You turned your phone off and set it face-down, sighing and looking at the ceiling. The uncertainty was building, but you had made a decision: it was time to ask. You couldn't keep dancing around the issue. You had serious feelings for him.

So, you kept checking the time as it grew closer and closer to when Hyunjin would come get you. With thirty minutes left, you were already dressed and finishing getting ready. Your heart raced at the thought of him.

The minutes dragged on, but the time finally came. Feeling a ringing buzz in your pocket, you saw his name and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" His voice came from the other end of the line.

You slightly smiled at the sound of him, but responded. "Hey. Are you outside?"

"Yeah, you can come down now, if you're ready."

"Alright, I'll see you in a minute."

Hanging up the call, you composed yourself to the best of your ability and headed down towards him. The wait as you took the elevator was tense, but the second you stepped out of the building and saw him everything else fell away.

Every time you saw him, it was like the first time all over again. His long, black hair and defined features had your heart in a twist. You approached him with a smile on your face, and one matching on his own. He pulled you into a tight hug, smelling his perfume.

"Hey," He said, his voice muffled into your shirt, "How's your day been?"

You pulled away and smiled at him, taking his hand in your own, "I've been okay, missing you like I always do."

Hyunjin chuckled, reaching his free hand up and stroking your cheek softly. "I've missed you, too. That's really why I called out today."

"You missed me that much?"

"Of course."

Before you could bring anything else up, he was calling you over to his car. He had a cafe he planned on showing you, telling you a bit about it as he began to drive towards it. The whole way, you caught him sneaking glances over at you from the driver's seat.

When he pulled into the parking lot outside of the cafe, he opened your door for you and walked you inside, his fingers laced with yours. He read over the menu with you, pointing out a few things that sounded good to him and a few he thought you'd like.

You picked out an order and he was quick to get to the register, paying for both of you without a second thought. You found a table as he waited and brought you drinks, sitting down right opposite you.

"So," He said with a sigh as he took a sip of his drink, "I was worried about you this morning."

"Worried?" You looked at him slightly puzzled, "What would you have to be worried about?"

"You were just.. distant. I could tell when you suddenly texted differently, and I was scared I said something to upset you."

"Oh." You looked up from your drink at him, seeing the way his eyes gazed back fondly into yours. This was the opportunity, if there ever was any.

You took another long drink and took a breath to stabilize. "Hyunjin, I've been thinking about us. I guess I first have to ask you, what are we?"

Hyunjin frowned slightly and you watched his hands fidget on top of the table. "That's.. not an easy question to answer. You're an amazing person I like to be around all the time. That's all I know."

You felt your heartstrings pull. "Hyunjin, I want more than that. I'm done with just being someone you hang out with and buy all sorts of things. I really like being around you, and I really like you. But I can't keep pretending we're dating in my head when we aren't."

Hyunjin looked at you silently, his expression utterly unreadable. His eyes were slightly widened, and you could only see his uncertainty.

You continued, "I can't do this constant push-and-pull, Jinnie. I want to be yours, and if I can't be that then I need to move on and save my own feelings. I'm sorry."

With that, you set your own hands on the table across from his, looking at him. He sat for almost thirty seconds without speaking, looking down at the table and then back up at you.

"I.. don't really know what to say."

You held your breath, but he continued on after a second of silence. "I've been unfair to you, I know. With my last relationship, I had so many doubts and fears.. I was just so comfortable in having us. I didn't want to worry about labels.

"I never realized that's not really what you wanted. It's not your fault that I didn't. So, don't say sorry. I'm sorry. I can't lie and say it's not a bit scary to say, but I like you too. A lot. So much it made me stupid. So I'll be yours. If you'll have me."

You couldn't contain the smile that spread out onto your face, and his followed. He reached across the table and took your hand in his, and you couldn't help but feel like crying. "Hyunjin.."

"Please be mine. I swear, I'll be a better boyfriend than I was a weird situationship."

You nodded vigorously. "Of course I'll have you," You said through a choked-up laugh, "Do you know how many times I almost introduced you to my friends as my boyfriend?"

He grinned and shrugged. "Well, now you can! I just.. I wanted to take it slow, but I guess I didn't stop to ask you how you were feeling after we first decided that."

You stood up from the table and he did as well, pulling you into a tight hug. "Thank you for putting up with me," Hyunjin's voice shook slightly, "And letting me be your boyfriend."

You pulled away from the hug and nodded. "Thank you for understanding when I said something. And, you know, being my boyfriend."

Hyunjin snickered softly and pulled you into a kiss. Maybe it wasn't so bad, after all.

#hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz fic #stray kids imagines

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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The Interview

Inspired by this post by @xoxoladyaz. Read on Ao3.

Eddie wakes up to one single missed call from Gareth on his private phone.

No one calls his private phone.

He dials back instantly.

"Hey Eddie," Gareth greets. He sounds tired.

"What's up? What's happened?" Eddie asks, a thousand and one scenarios running through his mind. Gareth is in Indianapolis, and Eddie's thoughts are filled with only his uncle back in Hawkins.

"Nothing's happened that we can't deal with, or rather, that I've already been dealing with. But, uhh, there's an interview you should watch. Let me send you a link-" there's a pause as Gareth does just that "-and just call me back after you've watched it. I know we usually ignore the shit people say about us but this- it's different."

"Okayyyy," Eddie says slowly. "I'll watch it."

They hang up without goodbye because Eddie's just going to call him back after the video. Opening his messages he sees the link, and then Gareth sent a follow up text you need to watch from 12:32 onward.

The video is nearly two weeks old already, and YouTube shows him a face he knows. Robin Buckley looks older but it's definitely her. Her hair isn't styled much differently than she had it in high school, just above her shoulders and a little wild. She's wearing a three piece suit in emerald green, slightly oversized on purpose by the look of it. She's sitting in a chair, cradling a grammy with one arm, as the interviewer sits across from her.

Eddie taps the screen and drags the progress bar closer to the 12-minute mark and listens. He hears the tail end of Robin's response to some question about her album before the interviewer asks what must be the question Gareth wants him to listen to.

'So, I think everyone is dying to know if you and Eddie Munson are friends. You're both from Hawkins, Indiana. Isn't that correct?' the interviewer asks.

Robin's smile slips a bit, 'I- uhh, this is going to be unprofessional of me but I made a promise to someone regarding if I was ever asked about Eddie Munson. So, can I have one minute to make a phone call before I answer your question?'

'Oh. By all means, make your call.'

Eddie watches as Robin is brought her phone by someone who is probably her personal assistant. She wastes no time in unlocking it and finding whoever in her contacts list.

'No time for formalities. I've been asked about Munson. Can I tell the truth?' Robin's mic isn't strong enough to pick up whatever answer she gets on the phone but she shakes her head to whatever answer she's been given. 'I told you, I love you more than this career and I've already got the grammy. I'll handle the fallout. It's not about me. It's about you.' What follows is a few seconds of silence before Robin nods and says goodbye, ending the call and passing the phone back to the PA.

The interviewer's eyebrows are up to her hairline in shock. 'That sounds ominous. You think it's career ending?'

Robin grins and it's almost feral. 'Corroded Coffin's fans have always been ruthless, and perhaps a bit heartless, so what I have to say will certainly set them on the attack. To answer your original question, yes, Eddie Munson and I are from Hawkins. We even shared band class in high school, but that's the end of what connects us. We are not friends, but we once were.'

'Can you elaborate on that?'

'Our friendship ended ten years ago when he ruined my best friend's life for fame and fortune, and Steve's never really known a day of peace since.'

Eyes wide, the interviewer leans closer, 'Steve? As in, Hey Steve, Steve?'

Robin nods, 'Just the one.'

'Are you prepared to talk about how one song ruined your friend's life?'

'That was the purpose of the phone call. Yes, I think people should know the truth. Munson vented his bullshit breakup rage into a song and fucked off out of town. A week after its release, his fans doxxed Steve. He wasn't out to his parents, you see, and Corroded Coffin's fans, Eddie Munson's fans, outed him. They sent hate mail to his house by the ton, it seemed. The fallout from that- the aftermath-' Robin cuts off as her eyes water and she swipes at them, smearing some mascara across her cheek. 'I'm sorry. I almost lost my best friend, the platonic love of my life, that day.

'It's public knowledge, what happened, you can look it up online if you know what to look for. But it is also so incredibly personal. I want to be the one to say this because it's important. What you do in life, it has consequences, and sometimes those consequences are for other people. Whether you think it will, or not. I'd rather people hear it from a human voice, from someone who loves Steve, and not the journalist view. No offense,' Robin shoots the interviewer a sweet smile.

'None taken, please continue.'

'Steve was hospitalized, I won't give the details,' Robin says, in a watery voice as she's clearly trying to not cry at the memory. 'When Steve was finally released from the hospital, there was no one but me to pick him up. And he's going through this while nursing a broken heart. He and Munson had only been broken up for maybe a month before Hey Steve came out.

'In less than two months, Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. And to top it off, that man gets to become rich and famous off a venomous, hate-filled song about their breakup. It talks about Steve like he's coward for not willing to be out, yet, and how... what's the line, about conformity?'

'Conformity holds your leash, baby, so run to the end of your chain and bark,' someone off camera shouts.

'Yes, that, thanks. Accusing Steve of picking 'conformity' over his love. Steve wasn't picking conformity, he was picking safety! And the worst part? The hate mail has never stopped. Steve lived with me and my family for a few months after getting out of the hospital before the hate mail got too much, and someone showed up at my childhood home, looking for him, threatening him. They had a gun. It was traumatic. I was still in my senior year of high school-' Robin cuts off, taking deep breaths.

The interviewer reaches across to place a comforting hand on Robin's, 'I can't even imagine what that must have been like.'

Once Robin has composed herself, she says, 'sorry, this is a lot. I've had ten years to come to terms with it, and I've waited seven for someone to ask me about Munson. I didn't think it would be this hard.

'And it's not- I can't blame Munson, or Corroded Coffin, for everything that happened. He doesn't control his fans. But he's never said anything about the treatment his fans give Steve. And if they're like this towards Steve, are they like this towards all his other ex's? Does Munson not care, or, almost worse, does he not even know?' she stops again, getting a faraway look for a moment before looking at the interviewer again. 'I had to help Steve move again. Just last month. They're still finding him. Sending him hate. Doxxing him.' Now she looks at the camera directly, "Eddie Munson. Call off your fans. Stop playing Hey Steve at concerts. Isn't a decade of hurt enough?'

There isn't a lot that makes Eddie feel anything these days, he'll admit. A decade of fame has made him a bit cynical and callus. However, Robin had said something that made his insides squirm. He swipes across the screen, rewinding the video to hear Robin say Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. -ents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. The man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. Marry one day.

He pauses the video. That can't be right. That has to be a lie Robin is adding. To garner more sympathy or make Eddie, and therefore Corroded Coffin, look worse. Steve and he had been young and naive when they'd dated. There was no way they'd have ended up married, even if Eddie had stuck around Hawkins longer. Gay marriage wasn't even legal when they broke up in 2013.

Eddie unpauses, skips forward to the end and listens to Robin speak directly to him. Stop playing Hey Steve? The song that rocketed Corroded Coffin into the limelight? No way. And call off his fans? Like they're dogs he's supposed to control or something. The video ends and the YouTube algorithm shows him a number of react videos. Eddie clicks on one and falls down the rabbit hole.

At first the algorithm shows him responses in his favor. Videos made by his fans defending him, or strategically picking apart what Robin had said. Eddie wants to agree with them, he doesn't think he's done anything wrong other than live his life, but then.

Then a video of a guy wearing merch sold during their tour last year plays. He's on the right side of the video while a screen recording is on the left. It takes him less than five minutes to get Steve's past addresses found. And Eddie is... well, he's a little horrified at how long the list is. At the short amount of time Steve's spent in any one place is.

The guy in the video reads out the state, city, and how long Steve lived at each address. The longest one is when Steve made the jump from Florida to Maine, where he lived for 19 months according to the video, and that was years ago.

And then the guy, he fucking starts to speculate about where Steve might have moved to next.

"We can't know for sure, but it looks like he headed back west? You can see from the last 3 addresses he's been just jumping state lines to the next place. I'm guessing Oklahoma, Kansas or Nebraska next. If Steve thinks he can try and ruin Corroded Coffin through Robin Buckley, then it's up to us to prove him wrong," the guy is saying, and Eddie thinks maybe this guy is just exaggerating but the comment section is already filled with other people saying vile shit about what they should send to Steve or what they'd like to do to him physically and-

Eddie clicks off the video, to the next recommended. The more he watches, the angrier they seem to get. He goes to the search bar and looks for new react videos.

He finds that everyone has an opinion. He watches videos where his own fans express their disappointment in him. They talk about how Corroded Coffin runs an antibully campaign and then allows their fans to bully an ex and for not calling out the ones doxxing people, wanting to know which was the reason - does Eddie not know, or does he not care? Eddie didn't know. Truly. But he can't help but wonder if he didn't know because he didn't care.

He'd written all his feelings into a song, and now that he's older, he can see that a lot of what he was feeling is an exaggeration and dramatization of what really happened. But the point is, he'd written out his feelings and moved on.

The man he thought he'd marry one day.

His stomach twists uncomfortably as Robin's voice rings in his mind.

He continues his spiral down YouTube until Gareth calling him again breaks through and he answers.

"How is this the first time I'm hearing about Robin's interview?" Eddie demands.

"You've got a damn good PR team, that's how. I guess you fell down the rabbit hole, then?"

"How'd you-"

"Is been almost 4 hours since we talked. Doesn't take that long to watch a 30 minute video."

"Oh. Alright. So, why did you want me to watch the video? Am I supposed to respond to Robin?"

"No. People don't actually want to hear from you. They want to hear from Steve. And that's why you needed to watch. 'Cause Robin's announced that Steve's finally ready to make a statement. Robin's going to post it on her Twitter. Tonight. So, we've got to be ready. If anything Robin said turns out to be true, we might have a problem on our hands. A slander lawsuit being just the beginning."

"Fuck."

"What a way to sum it up," Gareth chuckles into the phone before his tone becomes serious, "hey, how are you doing, though? With it all?"

He thinks about it, and how he really feels, before answering. "It's been years since I've thought about Steve, y'know? I... I've had that luxury. I didn't know.... Did you?"

"No. Hell no! I'd of said something. I mean, shit man, we run an antibully campaign 'cause high school was shit to us. If I'd known at all we'd have been telling them to fuck off. Harassment's just what they call bullying adults."

Eddie swallows. "Guess we just have to wait and see what Stevie has to say."

"I'd come sit on the couch with you and refresh twitter frantically but, well, Indy's a bit of a ways off. I'll call after Robin's posted, then?"

"Yeah, man. Let's see the damage," Eddie sighed. "Talk to ya later."

"Bye."

Eddie digs out his laptop and pulls up Robin's twitter page. He adds an auto-refresher extension and sets it to refresh every minute before opening his phone and pulling up YouTube again.

#steddie #my fic #based on xoxoladyaz's ficlet #it'll be three parts i think #the interview #Steve's response and the immediate aftermath of that #and eddie meeting up with steve to talk

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berzahoes · 10 months

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sing a song for you | tom blyth

summary: reader is on tour with hozier as his opening act and debuts a new song that tom helped write

an: yes this was because i am listening to hozier right now.

tom had taken some time off from doing interviews to finally attend one of your shows, well your opening act since you were on tour with one of your favorite artists, hozier. thankfully the show was near his brooklyn apartment so he didn’t have to drive far. he messaged you a couple of times but he knew you wouldn’t respond since you were busy preparing for the show.

when it was finally time to leave, tom made sure his apartment was locked and drove to the venue. as he parked his car, he quickly texted the cast group chat that he had arrived since rachel, josh and hunter were also attending. rachel texted back saying they were getting merch and that she had bought him one of your shirts.

before he could put his phone away, you called. “hey, i just arrived. rachel, josh and hunter are getting shirts.” he spoke into the phone.

“i could’ve given them free shirts. remind me to send them stuff later. sorry i didn’t text back. i just had the best conversation with beth about fleabag.” beth was your best friend and also your guitarist.

“you will take any opportunity to talk about fleabag and i love it.” tom smiled as he walked to the venue. he saw multiple people wearing homemade and official merchandise with your lyrics or logo and it made him happy.

“so i actually have a really important question.” you said.

“yes, love?”

“remember the song we made when you were filming billy the kid? i talked with the record label and it’s going on the next album,” you continue. “but i want to sing it tonight and the band said it was okay. and i want to ask you permission if it’s okay for me to sing it.”

“love, it’s your song. you don’t have to ask.” tom chuckled.

“yeah, but this song is half you half me. you’re getting writing credits on album, not just the song, tom. you helped a lot.” you reply.

“so does this mean if you win a grammy for the album, i will too?” he teased. “sing our song, i would be honored to hear you sing our song for the first time.”

“i love you.” you said then hung up.

“hello all of you lovely people!” you spoke into the microphone. the crowd cheered, tom being one of the many people that yelled the loudest. “you’ve been such a great crowd that i thought it would be a good time to sing a song that has never been heard by anyone other than me and the love of my life. he’s here tonight by the way along with our friends.”

you could feel yourself blush as tom yelled “i love you!”

“i love you more,” you replied. “he and i wrote this song in a day on the set of his show. thank you for being such a great crowd and i hope you all love this song as much as i loved writing it with my husband.” you smiled. you and tom would often call each other husband and wife even though you weren’t legally married. it was just a habit.

“that’s my wife!” tom yelled. rachel had gotten her phone out to record the performance and, of course, tom’s reaction.

watching the video that you sent me. the one where you’re showering with wet hair dripping

tom was amazed at your talent. he looked around the venue and saw how everyone was so focused on you. he then started to mumble the lyrics. he liked how you two were the only ones who knew the lyrics. it was your special moment. rachel had turned the camera from you to tom and noticed how in love tom looked. it was clear that you and tom were soulmates.

#tom blyth one shot #tom blyth fanfic #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #billy the kid #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #singer!reader

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scoops-aboy86 · 2 months

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I Want To (Secret Admirer pt 8)

Finally got to the "drunken confessions" part of day 6's prompt!

wc: 4103 / rated: T / set after season 3 / also on ao3

Eddie’s van has always been a piece of shit, but she’s his piece of shit. Even when she breaks down halfway between the Hideout and Gareth’s house, necessitating a rescue from Gareth’s mom in her station wagon so they can get all of their equipment out before the tow truck arrives. Even when it means he has to really lean hard into dealing so he can come up with the money to pay for repairs.

Even when it cuts into his writing-to-and-recording-things-for-Steve time. But he had managed to get the tape of Steve’s favorite songs recorded and sent off, finally—no easy feat, since he’d had to learn most of the songs from scratch for this tape. Could’ve done without the Tears for Fears and Wham!, and he’d listened to way too much pop radio in order to get decent recordings to study… but he’d been pleasantly surprised by the request for Queen. He already owned some of their albums.

Didn’t peg you for a Queen fan, sweetheart, but if anything it makes me even more smitten with you. Quick question though… Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees? Is that a nostalgia thing or is there a story there?

Anyway, while poor ol’ Shelob is sitting in the lot behind Thatcher Tires, the guys have helped by keeping their ears to the ground about parties for him to hit up. Jeff is even coming with him to this one, not to help directly but enough of a known associate that he’ll act as a passive form of advertisement, letting interested partygoers know that Eddie has set up shop in the walk-in pantry just off the kitchen.

And it’s working. He’s basically sold out when someone comes over while he’s got his head down, counting his take so far, and asks, “Hey man, do you still have any weed left?”

Eddie freezes—just for a second. He hasn’t had much direct contact with Steve over the years because it was always Tommy who did the buying, back when the Harrington house was party central. But he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

He looks up, determined not to fall into those warm hazel eyes, biting the insides of his cheeks hard in an effort to will away the flush that wants to rise in his face.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie lies. He has some he’d squirreled away for himself, but whatever. Steve can have it. Can have everything.

Don’t think about the letter he’d written back to Steve, answering in detail what all two guys can do together. That way madness lies. The kind of madness where he offers Steve something else by way of just dropping to his knees right here in Melissa Sarby’s kitchen pantry.

Steve grins—he grins at him! And pulls his wallet from his back pocket. Eddie has never been more jealous of a folded rectangle of leather in his life. “Great, how much?”

Eddie tells him the amount and names his price, steeply discounted compared to how much he’s charged everyone else tonight. He can’t get over how good Steve looks, for all that he’s moving a little stiffly, subtly babying his healing ribs beneath a short-sleeved button-up shirt. He’s also wearing, Eddie realizes, fucking makeup to disguise the fading black eye. It’s good work, probably Robin’s. (Jealous again, even though he believes Steve about the platonic thing. It’s just, why stop at envying a wallet, right?) And the shorts he’s wearing… Those cannot be the grandpa shorts he’d written about, hugging his ass in all the right places. Meanwhile, Eddie’s jeans are more hole than denim and his Iron Maiden shirt is the one with the bleach stain and the sides cut down to practically his waistband because it was hot as shit today. It’s still warm, even after dark.

But wait. Wait.

Did Steve, still recuperating from his injuries, get dressed and made up just to try and track down an opportunity to switch from painkillers to sweet Mary Jane? Or because, like he’d mentioned that one time, he associates the smell with his secret admirer and is seeking it out as a self-soothing thing? Or did he… Does he know? Did he come to this for Eddie, somehow?

Whatever Steve’s reason for being here, it makes Eddie sweat, but he’s also grateful just to, like, bask. He’s seized by a sudden urge to come clean, to look Steve in the eye and reveal himself as the author of those letters, call him sweetheart or baby or big boy to his face—

“Maybe I’ll see you around the party,” Steve says casually. And maybe Eddie is crazy, or hopeful, or way too in love with the unattainable, but he could swear he hears the last word lifting a little, almost like a question.

Eddie nods his head, says, “Sure.”

And well. Damn. Does Steve know? Is that why he’s kinda sorta asking if Eddie is going to stick around? Or is this just Steve being friendly, because he’s a good dude now?

Either way, even though Eddie’s stock is basically cleared out, now he wants to stay. Which is not to say that he isn’t vibrating out of his shoes with nerves. After Steve exits the pantry, Eddie slips out and helps himself to a couple shots of whatever’s closest on his way through the kitchen—because it’s not like he can smoke his anxiety away anymore, Jesus H. Christ.

But Steve called him brave, and goddammit if this isn’t an opportunity to seize the day, stare down the barrel of a gun, pee into the wind. He can be brave, right? If he can’t, he might never find out if anything is ever going to happen for real, if they could ever be something, and then the regret will eat away at him for the rest of his cowardly life.

“Hey man,” Jeff calls when he sees Eddie, threading through the sticky crowd to meet him. “Ready to go?”

Which is code for: it’s hot and sticky in here and the music sucks, let’s leave. And while all of that is definitely true…

“I think I’m going to stick around a bit,” Eddie says, and holds up his metal lunchbox, waggling it a little. He just hopes his voice isn’t doing anything noticeably weird, either from nerves or the recently downed mystery booze. (He hadn’t taken the time to look at the bottle properly. Definitely hadn’t bothered to taste it.) “If you’re heading out, though, you mind looking after the Shelob Get Well fund for me?”

Jeff shrugs and takes it. “Okay man. Better you than me.”

He’s a good friend. Eddie appreciates him for not asking questions, though that might just be tabled for later. And sure, Jeff was also his ride home, but whatever. He can get home on his own power even without wheels. That’s what legs are for.

Eddie spends the next hour or two cycling between getting his nerve up to approach Steve then abruptly losing it and revisiting the kitchen for more liquid fortification. Every time he spots Steve in the crowd again, he isn’t doing anything in particular—hanging back against the wall and people watching, or drifting by the party snacks, or occasionally chatting with some of the incoming seniors that he must know from the sports teams he’d been on last year. It doesn’t seem like Steve is in any rush to leave, though, so there’s still time for Eddie to prove to himself that yes, he can be brave.

But after seeing one of the cheerleaders latch onto Steve’s arm, Eddie does another u-turn. The millionth fucking one, probably. This time after getting a refill, he decides to investigate the music situation, see if there are any non-shit options, not even going to fuck with it, probably… It’s very unlikely that he’d intentionally dump his current cup of punch on the tape player just to protect his unhappy ears, cross his heart and swear to Van Halen.

But no, instead: betrayal. Because his stupid legs have carried him too far from the edges of the room, too close to the dancing, fucked up masses in the middle of the living-room-slash-dance-floor, and he gets sucked in. Holding his cup up high over people’s heads—because he’d rather dump punch that somehow tastes stronger than straight liquor on their heads than splash it on their chests, apparently. Eddie tries to muscle through, resigning himself to a wobbly straight-shot across the room instead, but it’s only a matter of time until someone hip-checks him into some poor bastard.

When it does happen, whoever it is at least has the coordination to catch his drink before it spills. Eddie swallows hard at the sensation of a big hand wrapped around his hand on the cup, and brings his gaze around to meet warm hazel eyes.

“Woah there,” says Steve fucking Harrington, looking a little worse for wear from sweating through his foundation. Or maybe Eddie is just way too close for his own safety and knows what to look for.

“Talkin’ to me like I’m a horse?” Eddie blusters, trying to sway back before he gets caught in Steve’s gravity like he wants to. “Bold.”

Maybe it’s the whole room that’s swaying. Maybe he overdid it a bit. Shit, why had he stayed at this terrible party again? Steve, and free booze, but, like… now Steve is here.

Looking at him. Evaluating. And, after a second, gently guiding him back out of the throng. “Maybe,” Steve replies near his ear while they move. “I’m going to lead you to water and try to make you drink, so I guess we’ll see.”

They make it to the bathroom just as Eddie’s churning stomach decides to make a run for it in earnest. He ends up bent over the sink, sparing maybe a tiny fraction of a thought towards the fact that at least what’s coming up is mostly liquid, shouldn’t clog anything—the rest of his half-offline brain power is going towards not reacting to Steve holding his hair back for him. He can feel fingertips on his scalp, and they might as well be the only things keeping him upright.

Goddamn traitor legs.

The next thing Eddie knows, he’s sitting on the closed toilet lid and Steve is pressing the cup back into his hand, rinsed out and full of water now. He raises it to gulp, some of the liquid sloshing out the sides to run down his neck, feels good…

“Hey, slow down man,” Steve says, taking the cup back and leaving Eddie to gasp at the reintroduction of air. “You’re gonna hurl again if you drink too fast.”

“S’nothin’ left,” he mumbles. Steve is so close… He told Steve that he’s a guy, didn’t he? So it’d be okay if… Oh, but he hadn’t told Steve that he’s him, Eddie. So maybe it wouldn’t be okay. Maybe if he kissed Steve, Steve would think he cheated on his secret admirer, like Lois Lane cheating on Superman with Clark Kent. The idea makes Eddie start to giggle.

Steve smiles back at him. “What? You figured out you’re not a horse ‘cause I could make you drink?”

That makes him snort after a moment, because it’s such a dumb joke but also it took him so long to get it. Eddie might have to kiss him anyway.

He should rinse his mouth first.

“Nooo,” he drawls, rising up and putting a hand on one of Steve’s several shoulders to steady himself. “I just gotta.” That’s it, right? Yeah, that’s a complete enough sentence. Onward.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks. He trails after Eddie’s beeline for the sink, grabbing for Eddie’s curls again when he dips to stick his mouth under the faucet. “Hey, don’t drown yourself, man!”

“I’m rinsing,” Eddie retorts, but it gets lost in the stream of water. He swirls and spits a few times, then straightens up and emphasizes again, “Rinsing.” And then he leans into the other man’s touch, because he can’t help himself. Steve is so close and, holy shit. Actually touching him, which has never happened before tonight, and he’s only ever caught whiffs of Steve’s cologne from a distance but it is intoxicating.

Or… maybe he’s just way drunker than he meant to get. Oops.

Oh well.

“How’s my breath now, baby?” he asks shamelessly, dipping closer. Lets his voice drop low and rumbling, and could swear he sees some heat rise to Steve’s less-makeuped cheek.

“Could definitely be worse,” Steve replies diplomatically. He puts a hand on Eddie’s hip though, like he’s afraid he might fall over without it, and that makes Eddie feel less inclined to pout—because god, those hands. They’re so big, he wants to roll around in them. “Did you drive here?”

“Hm?” Eddie flutters his eyes back open, not totally sure when he’d closed them. He’d been thinking about Steve’s hands. Absently starting to compose a letter about what he’d like to feel them do in his head, out of habit. “No… Had a ride here, was gonna walk home.”

Steve hesitates, then offers, “I could give you a ride, if you can give me directions.”

“A trade,” Eddie murmurs. “You’ve caught my interest, Sir Steve.” As if he didn’t have it already, permanently. With a vague after you gesture, Eddie nudges Steve with his hip in the direction of the door. “To your noble steed, then! For the last child of Ungoliant to trouble the unhappy world has retreated to her lair in Cirith Munson till such time as she can be healed.”

“I have no idea what that means, dude,” Steve says. But he’s got a little grin on his face like he’s not put off by the blatant nerdery, and the hand still on Eddie’s hip guides him along with him with minimal fuss.

“Sssssecretsss,” Eddie hisses back with a lopsided smirk, because he’s a little freak and Steve might as well see that up close.

Tomorrow he’ll be mortified, but that’s Tomorrow Eddie’s problem. Right now is Drunk Eddie’s time.

He sinks gratefully into a comfy passenger seat in Steve’s beemer, no weird lumps or stray pokey springs like in his van or any of his friends’ (parents’) cars. Blinks slowly up at Steve while the man buckles him in place, head lolling a little to catch sight of the two moles on his neck, just beneath his jaw, that look like a vampire bite. Licks his lips and rests his eyes for a moment while the world spins lazily around him, then opens them again when the car starts and the radio comes on.

“Boooo,” he heckles once processed that it’s one of those pop stations he’d been listening way too much lately. Which he’d done for Steve, and this is Steve’s car, but he’d also been suffering through this crap at full volume for days to learn to play it, so it’s not like he’s being unreasonable. “Change stations, Stevie, I’m not—I can’t take it anymore. I’ll puke the blood that’s leaking down from my ears, you don’t want that in your fancy car.”

“Don’t joke about that, man,” Steve replies, but reaches over willingly enough to turn the volume down to almost nothing. “So, where to?”

Eddie mutters directions and promises to flap his hand in the right direction whenever they get to intersections, since he’s sure Steve has never been to the Forest Hills trailer park before. But when he points out turns, it always seems like Steve is already taking them. He turns in the passenger seat to squint at him, the turn signal clicking maddeningly against his eardrums every single time Steve puts it on.

“How come you know where I live?”

“I don’t?” Steve glances at him, then back at the road. “I’ve lived in Hawkins my whole life. It’s not exactly big, I know where the trailer park is.”

Eddie stares at him for another minute. He watches the street lights shine on Steve’s face, casting shadows, making him look ethereal at times and unknowable in others, sometimes both. And fuck, he wants.

But it’s Steve Harrington. They’re in Steve Harrington’s fancy car, barreling towards the moment when Eddie clambers out and says goodnight—maybe not in that order, he doesn’t know yet, but it’s going to happen either way. How many girls has Steve dropped off in this car at the end of a date?

It doesn’t matter, because they weren’t on a date. Steve had held his hair back while he threw up and is giving him a ride home because he’s a nice guy. Steve… doesn’t know they’ve been exchanging love letters all summer.

“I need something to listen to,” Eddie blurts out, leaning forward to turn the volume back up and switching over to whatever tape is in. “Let’s see what local white knight Steve Harrington listens to in his spare time, shall we?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t—”

There’s a click and a whir, and the tape starts up in the middle of an acoustic cover of Queen’s ‘I Want To Break Free.’

Of Eddie’s acoustic cover, and the sound of his own humming that makes him drunkenly wonder, Is that really what I sound like?

Steve has been listening to the most recent tape he sent him in the car. Eddie can feel his eyes going the size of dinner plates—there hasn’t even been time to get a letter back about it, he sent it that recently. His chest fills up with fizz and nerves because maybe Steve was listening to it on the way to the party, and if so what does that mean?

He doesn’t move a muscle, barely even breathes, and Steve seems similarly quiet in the driver’s seat next to him. And suddenly (because Steve’s right, Hawkins isn’t a big place, it never takes all that long to get from point A to point B) they’re pulling into the trailer park and Eddie is gesturing stiffly to which trailer is his.

The car pulls to a stop and Eddie… doesn’t move. His tape is still playing, that one about being head over heels now.

I’d let you fight my battles too, at least until my ribs get back to normal and then we can both fight both of our battles. You know I’d do that for you, right? If you ever need me. I really like these letters. I really like you.

Love, Steve

… Fuck it. That love is still caught in his heart, pumping the sweetness of it through his arteries and veins with every beat, and he’s dizzy with booze and wanting.

Eddie turns towards Steve, fumbling to unbuckle his seat belt as an afterthought, half climbing over the middle divider to get even a fraction of how close he wants to be. Hears Steve’s soft intake of breath while he leans in, reaching to cradle the back of his head instead of his left cheek in case that might hurt (because he may be drunk off his ass but he remembers, okay, doesn’t want to hurt his sweetheart) and kisses him.

Soft at first, the barest hint of trying to be chaste, but one taste could never be enough. The rest of the world is white fucking noise as Eddie licks his way inside Steve’s easily parting lips, seals them together, steals the breath right out of his lungs with the perfect way they slot together. He’s shaking with it, drunk and stupid and floating and Steve’s hands are in his hair again for a much, much better reason this time, kissing and being kissed back.

“Let’s see what local white knight Steve Harrington listens to in his spare time, shall we?”

Steve’s heart jumps into his throat, realizing what Eddie is about to do. “Oh, uh, I don’t—”

For as drunk as he is, Eddie is fast. Too fast for Steve to come up with some excuse for stopping him, and then the evidence of the tape he’d used to psyche himself up for the party floods the car, because… Well, the latest letter was still filling his head, all the ways Eddie had promised he could be good with his hands, and the soothing sounds of guitar and Eddie’s voice kept him at pleasantly equal levels of calm and stirred up.

He expects Eddie, loose tongued as he is, to say something. Take the opportunity to reveal himself finally and offer some lighthearted quip about their different tastes in music again. Steve, heart still in his throat, wants that, because he’s never been one for hesitating to rip off the band-aid.

This thing between them, the softness and hope of it, is the only thing that’s kept Steve afloat since he’d had to admit to his parents that he’d lost his car keys. He’d written to Secret Admirer—to Eddie—about it, of course, but he might have… minimized a bit. Mentioned them calling him irresponsible, and some of the emotional hoops they’d made him jump through before agreeing to arrange for replacements, but he’d left some things unsaid.

Like, how he knows how to get a copy of a key made but that requires, you know, something to copy! His parents had kept all the spares when they gave him the car, even though it’s his name on the title—a detail which makes him seem like a spoiled brat if he complains, but he’s always felt like that was calculated. And how he had no idea how to get a new car key made from scratch, and still doesn’t because they hadn’t explained it, just done it.

Or the way he’d been so apathetic for days after that series of phone calls that Robin had offered part of her savings to help him get his own place. “A loan,” she’d explained. “Anything to get you out from under those people’s thumbs, Steve, they’re horrible human beings. They didn’t call back about you having a concussion but they called immediately after getting your message about some stupid keys? That’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard about, way worse than a giant spider monster made of melted people!”

Steve just. He needs a win right now. He needs some sort of reassurance that Robin isn’t a one-off good thing in his life. If he and Eddie could just get on the same page and stop pretending that they didn’t both want to kiss each other…

Because he’s been pretending all night, ever since the moment he’d seen Eddie in person for the first time since only half-noticing him in school. Watched him for a while while there were still people crowded around, knowing that it might mean there’d be nothing left to buy by the time he approached and then maybe they’d end up talking. Hadn’t happened, sadly, so he’d stuck around—and damn, he’s glad he did. It seemed like every time he’d caught a glimpse of the man after that he had a new drink in hand, and by the time he herded Eddie into the bathroom his eyes were so unfocused that Steve wasn’t sure he even recognized him until “You’ve caught my interest, Sir Steve.”

He’d wanted to say that the feeling was mutual, but hadn’t quite had the nerve.

But now Steve is driving in a cold sweat because they’re listening to Eddie’s tape and Eddie himself is stock-still to his right.

And look, all he’s hoping for at this point is to get Eddie home safely, maybe strike up a conversation as he’s helping the guy inside or whatever Eddie needs, whatever he can get away with. Being able to touch him at the party had given him goosebumps despite the summer heat in general and the thick, humid air inside the house. Selfishly, he wants more, but knows he needs to content himself with breadcrumbs until they make it to the real stuff, not wanting to give away how clingy he can be (if he hasn’t already in his letters). So when he pulls to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, he’s glad when Eddie doesn’t leap up and bolt immediately.

The kiss catches Steve off guard. It’s so gentle and tentative at first, for all that Eddie just about threw himself across the car to initiate it. Just as quickly, it turns hungry, and it’s that hunger that has Steve readily opening, accepting, wanting right back. Eddie kisses him like he’s trying to leave a mark, and he does. A fierce and possessive blaze that’s totally separate from the burn of lingering alcohol, one that doesn’t start to hurt until it ends.

Tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @kurofuckingshi16

@bookworm0690 @millseyes-world @live-laugh-love-dietrich @the-tenth-mus-e

#steddieweek2024 #scoops words #secret admirer steddie #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #jeff (stranger things)#eddie munson's van

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months

Text

just make the tik tok

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'behind the scenes'

rated t | 880 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, modern au, frankie is anti-tik tok

📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱

Joining Tik Tok was a mistake.

"I cannot believe you thought having a band Tik Tok would be a good idea," Frankie said to Jeff as they watched Eddie and Gareth doing some stupid dance. "Look at them. They're stupid. You made them more stupid."

"I just thought it was a good way for people to see behind the scenes of the tour. Everyone agreed!" Jeff shook his head as he saw Gareth lose his balance and grab onto Eddie's shoulder to stabilize himself.

"The last one got 300,000 likes. We gained followers who never listened to our stuff before. They may be stupid, but my plan isn't."

Frankie sighed, but didn't argue further. Jeff was right. He just hoped he never had to do any ridiculous dances or trends to keep people interested in their music.

****

"You guys have gained thousands of followers on all platforms since you started being active on Tik Tok. It may be wise for all of you to be on camera," one of the producers of their album suggested.

"Not happening." Frankie shook his head. "They get what they want from those two idiots."

"Hey!" Gareth and Eddie yelled in unison.

Jeff waved them off. "If Frankie doesn't wanna do them, he doesn't have to. We agreed that this was a voluntary thing."

"Yes, we did. But we're seeing growth and there's been a trend of comments asking where he is in some of the videos."

"I'm in some videos," Frankie crossed his arms. "That stage tour one. I was setting up my bass."

"But people wanna see you. They wanna get to know you, feel connected. That's the beauty of this era. We can make fans feel like they're truly a part of the band, which leads them to sharing and buying." One of the managers of the PR team said. "It's good for your brand if you're just as involved as they are."

"I didn't know we needed to have a brand beyond metal band." Frankie rolled his eyes and stood up from the couch he was sitting on. "I'm gonna head to the studio and work on music. Which is our job."

No one tried to stop him.

****

"There's a woman who keeps asking where you are." Eddie shakes his phone in front of Frankie's face. "She thinks you're leaving the band and is begging you to stay."

"Tell her I'm not leaving the band." Frankie sat down at the table on the tour bus with his bottle of beer and the shrimp leftover from catering at their show. "Though the urge is strong when Gareth keeps drinking my beers."

"She's hot," Eddie continued, seemingly ignoring Frankie's words. "You should make a video so she knows you're not going anywhere."

Frankie rolled his eyes. "I'm not doing a fuckin' Tik Tok."

Eddie held the phone out to him, showing him the woman's profile.

She was hot.

And apparently only ever really concerned with where Frankie was. She'd even sent a DM asking if he was okay.

"Fine. How do I make one?" Frankie asked with a sigh.

"Seriously? We beg you for two months to make one and it's a hard no, but one hot girl wants you to be in one and you're ready to become a social media influencer?" Eddie teased.

"As if you didn't make an entire series of videos rating new pop songs because Steve asked you to."

Frankie grabbed Eddie's phone, ignoring his flailing to try to grab it back.

The app was already open, and he found it surprisingly easy to start recording a video.

"Hey everyone. I'm not leaving the band. I just hate social media shit. I'm fine. I'm not mad at anyone. Except Gareth who owes me 83 beers from stealing mine over the last six years. Yes, I've counted." Frankie sees a timer counting down and decides to give an awkward wave with his other hand before stopping the video. "That should be fine, right?"

He didn't wait for Eddie's response before saving and posting it.

"Uh. Usually they look at them before we post." Eddie explained as he took his phone back.

"They can take it down later if they want."

'That's...not really how this shit works, dude."

Frankie shrugged and continued eating his shrimp for a few minutes until Jeff came to sit next to him, calm as ever.

"You made a video." He yawned, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Yeah."

"It's got 54,000 likes already."

"Can't help that I'm charming."

"It hasn't been that many beers!" Gareth yells from his bunk, half-asleep.

"Your girl messaged," Eddie handed Frankie the phone with a smirk.

Glad you're not going anywhere 💗

"You better get her number, dude." Jeff nudged his arm. "She wants you so bad."

****

Nearly a year later, and more Tik Toks than he ever hoped to be a part of, Frankie smiled down at the VIP section for their sold out show at Madison Square Garden.

Sasha stood there smiling back at him, singing along to all their songs.

After the show, he'd probably be pulled into a stupid video with Eddie or Gareth, but he didn't really complain anymore. Not when those stupid videos were responsible for bringing him his future wife.

#corrodedcoffinfest #corroded coffin #unnamed freak stranger things #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #gareth stranger things #stranger things

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auspicioustidings · 4 months

Text

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 5

'Twas Past One O'Clock

Summary: You find a ghost in your house. Words: 2.2k

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

T’was past one o’clock and you were ready for some alone time. By the time you got back to the house Simon and Joey would be off to the football and you could just chill out after delivering 250 iced biscuits for a wedding that had taken you all your sanity to get done in time. You knew the two of them would have left the house spotless for you. Simon insisted when he was home he handled the majority of the cleaning and Joey being the fantastic kid that he was always wanted to help.

You desperately needed to lie down. The morning had taken it out of you and you felt run down and a little nauseous from all the running around.

Maybe after you could finish off the album you had been working on for Joey’s birthday. It was all Johnny, the story of who he was and your relationship with him. The more time went on the less scared you got about telling your son about his dad. You couldn’t help but send a quick thought up to wherever Johnny was, a sheepish apology for waiting so long with a promise that you and Simon would make sure his son knew him.

It came as a surprise seeing Joey sitting on the front step rather than at the game. You were out of the car and rushing over when you saw the look on his face, like he had seen a ghost.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt? Where’s dad?”

You were on your knees checking him over, frowning when you saw he had turned off his hearing aid and rapidly signing your questions instead. He only ever turned it off when he was upset and had very little hearing without it which always worried you. It was valid of him to want quiet when he was having big emotions and you never wanted to force him to keep it on if he didn’t want it, but as a mother you also wanted him to always be as safe as he possibly could be and that meant being able to listen for any danger.

“They were fighting. I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

“Who was fighting?”

“Dad.”

“Who was dad fighting with?”

“Dad.”

“What do you mean? Is dad ok?”

You felt your heart squeeze tight. It had been years since Simon had had a bad episode. He still had mild ones now and then, still had nightmares, but he hadn’t hurt himself or anyone else in such a long time. He worked as a trainer now, not spending much time away from home. That had happened 4 years ago when he was offered a promotion up to Captain and chose to instead come out of active duty. Eventually he had told you that it didn’t feel right being anything but a Lieutenant. He never had to say out loud that it was to do with Johnny, but you knew that’s what it came down to. If Johnny couldn’t call him Captain, then he’d stay as LT.

“Which dad? Because they’re both in there. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You searched Joey’s face. He was angry, sad, frustrated. It was in his expression and the way he signed. You tried to understand what he was telling you with your heart pounding and your mouth feeling painfully dry. You didn’t know what to do. Leaving Joey on the step was against your instincts, but now you were terrified for Simon. What on earth was going on? Was he ok?

You jumped when you heard a car door slam and turned to see a very serious looking John Price coming towards you.

“John? What’s going on?”

He looked from you to Joey to the house.

“Is he here?”

You wanted to ask who he was talking about but Joey beat you to it. The kid was a pro at lip reading.

“He got here when we were about to leave. Punched dad, broke his glasses. I got told to wait outside for mum.”

You didn’t understand what was going on. Who punched Simon? It at least had to be someone he knew, more accurately someone he trusted. He would never have sent Joey to sit outside if not. If someone dangerous was in the house, Simon would have sent Joey straight to the pub down the street that Eyitayo ran. She was a veteran who had worked with Simon before and he trusted her to get you and Joey safe in the event of someone tracking him down.

The fact that Joey was sat right here meant it wasn’t someone that was a danger to him. But also someone that would punch Simon. And someone that John knew was here.

“I was going to tell you.”

You knew the look John was giving you. Guilt. It was a look you had become accustomed to from him, a look you got anytime the topic of your deceased husband came up.

“Going to tell me what John? Who is inside my house?”

You knew. Who else could it be? You looked at John, waiting for him to say something, say anything that meant there was not a ghost in your house. Instead he looked shamed and in pain, knowing as well as you did by this point that your life was about to fall apart again.

Perhaps a better mother would not have walked into the house and left her son sitting there. You were not better. You loved your son more than anything, but in that moment you felt dissociated from everything and everyone, the only sound the rush of blood pumping around your body which floated forward without your conscious effort.

You saw Simon first. His glasses were broken, one lens a spiderweb of cracks and the frame warped but still valiantly clinging to him. There was dried blood at his nose, a streak from where he must have wiped it away. The beginnings of a black eye. But it was his eyes. You had loved this man for most of your adult life and you had never seen him look so broken. Not when he came home from a bad deployment needing you to take control. Not when the anniversary of Johnny’s death came and went with each passing year. Not when Joey screamed at him once that he didn’t need to listen to him because he wasn’t even his real dad (God he was so like Johnny with how his temper flared and he picked the most hurtful thing to say that he could before immediately regretting it).

The other man was sat on the sofa, head in hands. His hair was long. He looked older than he should be you thought. There was such a great tension in him that your disconnected body gave a sudden thrum between your legs, remembering what this man turned into when he came home from a bad deployment, angry and violent with nothing to turn it into but aggressive passion. But it was a wasted effort of your biology as your brain processed who was sitting in your living room and your stomach gave an almighty lurch, sending you with a stumble to the small toilet off the side of the living room to empty it.

There was swearing coming from the men. A rough hand brushed your hair away from your face while another rubbed your back.

“Cap told me tae stay put but ye know me. Should’ve warned ye rather than scaring ye like this. I just… I couldnae wait bonnie. I just wanted tae see ye.”

He sounded like himself but not. His accent was a bit twisted now, something slightly wrong about the tone, something more Slavic now. But my God it was him. Older, harder, a little worse for wear, but it was your Johnny. Your John MacTavish. There was a hand on his face, fingers shakily tracing the changes. It took you a moment to realise it was your hand. He leaned into it, his eyes intense on yours. It had been a decade and this man still burned for you the way he had before he died.

How you wished that he didn’t feel so strange despite it all. But then, who wouldn’t become a stranger after a decade apart?

“You… you died…”

“I’m so sorry. It wisnae supposed tae be so long. A few months, just tae make the world a safe place for our family.”

You couldn’t think properly. You felt so ill and so tired and it was overwhelming. You looked through the open doorway and tried to find Simon but even if he was there you weren’t sure you could get your vision to focus enough to tell. Your eyes were swimming you realised, tears blurring everything.

“Did he know?”

“Aye.”

Your heart had barely broken before Johnny was making a choked sort of noise and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Fuck. He didnae know. Simon never knew. I shouldnae have said that, I just… you’re married to him.”

You didn’t think you would have survived if Simon knew this whole time. It was too severe a wound to ever hope for recovery. It was so like your Johnny, that knee jerk reaction when he was hurt that he immediately regretted. You were so unused to it now. Simon wasn’t like that, he was careful with what he said even when he was angry or hurt. Honestly you had wished sometimes he was a little more like Johnny because it made it hard to even tell that he was angry or hurt when he so rarely let it show.

“You died. You died and I wanted to die with you.”

“I’m here now. It’s going tae be ok bonnie, I’m right here. We can move wherever ye want, ye liked it up North eh? Start again.”

It was like your consciousness all slammed back into your body at once. The bone deep exhaustion was tempered only by the sudden alarm at his words.

“I- no, I… Johnny, I have a family.”

Oh, you had not meant for those to be the words you gave him. You had not meant for it to cause him to look like he had been shot. Although you supposed Simon must already know what that actually looked like. You wanted to throw up again. His hand on your shoulder gripped tighter, almost painful. When you flinched his face fell and he let go, backing up out of your space with his hand going to tug on his own hair.

“I ken… I couldnae expect… if it was anyone else I’d be happy for ye. Naw him bonnie. It cannae be him.”

“But it is.”

You tried to wordlessly plead with your first husband, to have him understand. You could no sooner stop being entirely in love with Simon Riley than you could stop your own heart beating. Your solid and steadfast Simon who was outside comforting your son, who left you with the first love of your life because of course he would. He had been firm with you long ago in his belief that you would never leave one another, not with how tangled up you were. You had split up once and that had ended within 12 hours with you being fucked in the neighbours shed at a party for the cup final. How could you ever live without him?

It was as incomprehensible an idea as living without Johnny had been once upon a time.

“Is everything ok?”

You saw the hurt in Johnny when you relaxed at hearing Simon coming back in.

“Joey?”

“Gaz came to pick him up. He’s… as ok as he can be.”

He eyed Johnny warily as he pushed into the bathroom to gently help you up. You were so tired and you let your weight sag against him.

“She needs to get cleaned up and rest a bit.”

“Aye I’m naw fucking blind Si.”

“Could’ve fooled me MacTavish given that you had her on the floor.”

“Fuck all the way off Riley!”

He was alive. He was alive and here and him and his best friend were at each other's throats. It was your fault wasn’t it? If you hadn’t fallen in love with Simon this miracle could have been met with only happiness. God you wanted to sleep. You wanted to be clean and to brush your teeth and sleep. You wanted to wake up and be able to hold Johnny, to prove to yourself he was here and real and alive.

“P-please…” you choked out, not entirely sure what you were asking for.

There was silence for a moment and you could only stare at the floor, swaying a little with how woozy you felt.

“...ye have that hippie tea?”

“Top right cupboard, I’ll…”

“Aye. Don’t you worry bonnie, I’ll have it hot and ready for ye.”

He ran a hand over your head, bringing it to your cheek and then your chin to tilt your head up to look at him.

“I love you. So much” he said, voice rough with emotion as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and walked away.

You barely remembered the shower. All you knew was that you were tucked into bed with your favourite tea and your exhaustion took you under fast enough that you couldn’t follow the conversation happening outside of your bedroom.

#mhairiwrites #ghost x reader #soap x reader

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thrillered · 2 months

Text

"You Know I Mountain Dew It For Ya" | Spencer Agnew x Reader | Pt. 6

Pt. 6: the pod

You sat at the smosh mouth desk, sipping on a mountain dew kickstart that you stole from Spencer. You figured if you were going to talk about your song you should have mt dew, as fanservice. The crew was finalizing camera settings and waiting for Amanda and Shayne.

“This kinda sucks” You said, taking another sip of your drink.

“Ouuu, i’m gonna tell spencer.” Kiana teased. Earning an eye roll from you.

After a few minutes everyone was ready to record. “Hello everyone and welcome back to Smosh Mouth, I’m Shayne.”

“And I’m Amanda. And today we have a very very special guest, all the way from big hollywood and the desk around the corner from mine, Y/N”

“Big Hollywood wow” You laughed.

“You have skyrocketed in fame.” Shayne comments.

You sighed deeply, “Yeah…”

“Uh Oh, that doesn’t sound good.” Amanda responds.

“No no It’s really awesome it’s just been different, I guess.” You began, “I’ve been in the public eye for quite a while now but, obviously, never like this.”

“Let’s rewind a little,” Shayne interjected, “you guys know Y/N, she’s been with Smosh for years now. At this point, dare I say, one of the most loved cast members.”

“Oh stop it.” You giggled.

“Well it’s true, everyone loves you. Especially me.” Amanda jokes.

“I can see the fan edits already. Wait, we need to stare at each other longingly.” You piled on.

“Anyway,” Shayne laughed, “What a lot of people don’t know, well not anymore, is that you are a musician as well.”

“Yes, I’ve been writing music my entire life but I started producing my music about a year before I joined Smosh. I got much more serious about it thanks to Josh, shoutout josh.” You explained. “I have a stockpile of songs, I’ve only released a few though.”

“You have two albums out right?” Amanda asked.

“Yeah I have two albums, three EPs, and three singles, the newest being everyone's favorite Espresso.”

You continued bantering, answering questions and talking about your career. You enjoyed how much both Shayne and Amanda cared about what you had to say, being able to deepdive into some of your music was a lot of fun. You even learned that Shayne listened to your entire discography over the weekend.

“Let’s get into the juicy stuff” Amanda began, “We sent out a community post where people could ask Y/N questions so let’s get into some of those.”

“First up is from Gianna L: What was the inspiration behind Espresso?”

“I really just wanted to make something fun and bright. A lot of my music comes from a very vulnerable place but I’ve just been so happy that this song stems from that. I’ve felt like myself and truly I have smosh to thank for that.” You rambled, “Okay to wrap it up, Espresso was inspired by being confident and loving yourself because it makes you irresistible.”

“I actually love that so much,” Amanda smiles.

“Yeah that type of thinking is important,” Shayne adds, “I would know, I have a psychology degree.”

You answered some more questions regarding your creative process and your lyrics. You got to talk about how you make coffee for the whole office almost everyday in regards to the lyric: “That morning coffee brewed it for ya”. Then the inevitable happened.

“The most asked questions are about Spencer.” Shayne began, “For those of you who don’t know, Spencer is the director of the games channel and is often in videos as well.”

“But most importantly,” You cut Shayne off, “he’s my best friend.” You finished, earning a few ‘awww’s from the room. “Believe me, I have seen the conspiracy theories and comments about “Spenspresso”-- great name by the way. And yes, some of the lyrics were inspired by my dear friend. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without him and since this song is about finding confidence I had to give a nod to my best buddy, one of the people who have always supported me and made me into the best version of myself.”

You laughed, “I wish I could give a more juicy answer but it’s just a little thank you to my best friend. That doesn’t mean I want the edits to stop, I do love those, and the fan art. Me and Spencer send them to each other constantly.”

You wrapped up the podcast, hoping confessing your platonic love for Spencer was enough to keep the heat off of you for a while. That is until you stare at Spencer for too long in the next games video and people clip it.

—

“How was the pod?” Spencer asked, setting his lunch down and sitting in the chair next to you.

“It went well, It was actually so much fun to talk about myself for so long,” You jested. “You’re gonna get an ego boost out of it though.”

“And why is that?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow and sending you a knowing smirk, the action making the tips of your ears hot.

“Oh shut up.” You shoved his chair away playfully. He quickly scooted it back to you, even closer than before, your knees bumping each other.

You both finished your lunches quickly, Spencer opting to head back to his desk to work. You followed him, sitting on a couch near him, scrolling through your phone until you heard a few muffled “fuck fuck fuck”s coming from Spencer.

You got up and stood behind him looking at his monitor. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Nothing, it’s just an issue with the audio of the last games video, I don’t think it’ll be able to be recovered” He responded, his shoulders tightening as he rubbed a stressed hand over his face.

You knew Spencer worked really hard on that video, he had been so excited to have the cast play the game and now it seems like it will never see the light of day.

“I’m sorry Spence,” you said, knowing there wasn’t much you could do to help. Noticing how tense he was you placed your hands on his shoulders and began massaging them, working at the many knots.

He let out a low groan as you pushed into a particularly nasty spot on his shoulder. As you worked your fingers through his neck and shoulders his groans turned into sighs of relief.

“That feel any better?” You asked, hoping you could assist your friend.

He rolled his neck a few times, “Holy fuck, that’s actually so much better. How did you do that?”

“I took a single massage class in college for a random credit I needed.” you replied, running your fingers through his hair as he tilted his head back to look at you.

“You’ve gotta do that more often, I feel like I got my damn neck replaced.” He laughed.

“You just let me know, I learned back, hands, and legs too so..” You trailed off, winking at him, relishing in the pink hue that graced his features. “Lunch is almost over, I gotta go, I’m filming ‘you posted that?’. I’ll see you later, love ya Spency” You smiled, grabbing his hand and leaving a feather light kiss on his knuckles before walking away.

“You are so whipped dude.”

Spencer spun around to the source of the sound, seeing Alex Tran standing on the other side of the desks.

“God, is it really that obvious?” Spencer questioned.

“I wish you could’ve seen the googly eyes you were just sending Y/N,” Alex laughed, “Like, the whole office can feel the tension.”

“It’s not tension if it’s one sided.” Spencer rebutted.

“One sided my ass, she’s totally into you, has been forever, if I had to guess.”

Spencer thought about Alex’s words. Could you really feel the same way as him? He’s a smart guy, he knows that, so could he really have been so stupid this whole time to think you were just friends?

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew/reader #shayne topp #smosh #smosh games #smosh pit #smosh spencer #smosh cast #smosh fanfiction

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Note

I’m so glad you liked the jokes!

(I though they were hilarious because my sense of humor is nothing if not bad dad jokes, puns, and sarcasm. But I can’t even take credit for them because I found them online haha)

For the blurb idk if you intended for me to ask for something specific or not but I kinda just want to see what you’ll come up with if that’s okay? I feel like any idea you had would be better than mine anyway lol. Up to you really on whether or not you already have ideas or need some help. ♥️

the jokes were so so good i loved them truly. my sense of humor is the exact same way. and oh bless your soul for letting my mind run wild. i present to you all an idea that literally sent me feral, in which you've got some new perfumes and eddie is a blind idiot.

warnings: fem!reader, reader is very vaguely described as having hair that is at least shoulder length as well as buying items such as bras perfumes and chapsticks, hints at sexual themes but no actual smut, neck kissing and just good old fashioned kissing happens, eddie is kind of a perv? a little bit? also, not edited (what's new?) minors dni.

wc: 4.1k+ (i got a little carried away)

“Smell this.”

The demand is paired with a sudden wrist in Eddie’s face that nearly has him falling off the bed.

“Excuse me?”

You and Eddie had been best friends for a while now. Since that first week of freshman year. Eddie, in all his awkward glory, had leaned up from his seat behind you in Mrs. Damon’s first hour English class, stabbed you right in the shoulder blade with a dully sharpened pencil just to inform you that he liked your shirt. You, in all your teacher’s pet façade, had only shushed him harshly and glared before turning back around. But some time between the ice breakers and the saving grace of the first bell of what would be a long high school career, you’d decided you would address him before you’d scurried out of that classroom and thank him. But not before you’d informed him that you didn’t even know the band displayed, had just thrifted the shirt for looking cool, and had unknowingly sent Eddie on a mission to educate you in the glory of his favorite band.

And nearly six years later, he was still on that mission. You were stubborn and had sworn loyalty to Fleetwood Mac before Eddie and Metallica had ever even stood a chance.

He doesn’t mind. He’d listen to the Rumors album on repeat for the rest of his days if it meant he always ended up in this position at the end of the day — in his room, on his bed, lounging with you to pass the time.

Your wrist is still held up dangerously close to Eddie’s face in the present day, a look of determination and contemplation overtaking you, “Smell. My. Wrist.”

Six years is a long time to grow comfortable with someone. And, in Eddie’s case, fall in love with your best friend.

“I’m not smelling your wrist, weirdo,” he mumbles as he swats your hand away, squinting at the way you were perched on your knees as they sunk into his mattress. He had been halfway to a much needed nap before you had lost interest in whatever magazine you’d been reading, “Why do you even need me to? What didja do to it?”

His words are still half slurring from fatigue. If he cuts off your pestering strategically enough, he might still achieve that nap his heavy bones so desperately yearned for.

You readjust yourself, flopping down to sit beside Eddie with your legs stretched out as he lifts himself up. Shoulder to shoulder, calf along calf, the two of you prop your backs against his warm bedroom wall, “I went to Starcourt yesterday with Nancy and bought some new perfumes-“

“Perfumes?” he wrinkles his nose, “Plural?”

He would have sworn he’d have noticed a new perfume, but these days, he’d been trying to put some restraint on his pathetic crush. Tried to tame the yearning inside of him, which meant less indulging in things like sniffing the air like a freakish dog whenever you entered a room just to drink in the smell of you that had brought him so much comfort over the years. Less letting his eyes linger on the straps of the bras you’d started wearing more of since you’d begun to hang out more with the likes of Nancy Wheeler, who had been single-handedly teaching you how to be a girl in a way Eddie had never witnessed from you.

You’d wasted most of your critical youth surrounded by boys, by Eddie. Go figure that Wheeler was jumping at the opportunity to mold a blank canvas.

“Yes, I bought perfumes, plural, as in multiple- oh, don’t give me that look, Munson,” you scowl when he makes a face, wrinkles forming adorably between your brows. (Brows he was pretty sure Nancy had plucked for you last weekend, but again — Eddie wasn’t supposed to notice those things anymore. Tampering the crush, or whatever idiotic goal he had set for himself.), “They were on a BOGO sale. Bite me. Anyways, I got these new perfumes, and one of the ladies was telling me and Nance how you should layer your scents. Which, God, doesn’t that sound ridiculous?”

Eddie hums, eyebrows raised skeptically at where this rambling was going.

“So I bought these scents that she said might pair well together. But then, she was talking about body chemistry and-“ you cut yourself off, clearly realizing how boring this topic might be to someone like Eddie who hadn’t even picked out his own drugstore cologne (you had), “Listen, just… just stop questioning it and smell my wrist.”

Once again, you hold your arm out in front of Eddie’s now softening face. He’s holding his breath, which he hopes you don’t notice, as he weighs his options.

Smell your wrist, probably subjecting himself to a terrible sort of pain when he realizes he'd much rather be placing feathery kisses there before moving onto your knuckles as he holds your hand. Or deny you, possibly hurt your feelings or offend you as he brushes this off as another girly thing he wanted nothing to do with.

The fleeting image of your face if he were to reject you in this moment is enough to make his choice for him.

He never could say no to you.

“What am I even supposed to be smelling it for?” he grumbles as he reaches out and grabs your forearm, opting that safer territory than your hand as he guided your skin closer to him, “Like, I’m not a scents expert, sweet-“

Oh.

Eddie’s brain short circuits as the tip of his nose brushes your soft skin. The pet name dies on his tongue, the inhale through his nose cutting off just as suddenly.

Oh, God. Oh, fuck.

He already knows he's a sucker for you, a dog with a bone when it comes to your presence and attention. He already relished in your old perfume's scent and the way it would cling to a room, lingering on his sheets when you’d sleep over after a movie night gone too late. When you’d borrow his Hellfire shirt and return it without washing it, leaving the collar tainted with sweetness and enough undertones of vanilla to make a chasm within him yearn terribly.

But this new perfume, perfumes technically, were something different. They weren’t the same as the body spray you’d been using every day since freshman year. They were deeper, more complicated, more womanly than he had prepared himself for.

“Does it… does it smell good?” you meekly ask him, suddenly going shy at his frozen state, “Like, is it working with my… my own smell? Sometimes perfumes smell good on their own but don’t work with your body’s chemistry, that’s what the lady had been explaining to me and Nan-“

“It’s working.”

It’s all he can manage to choke out as he lets go of your arm so that it falls away and takes the sweet smells with it.

God, it was working.

Eddie felt more embarrassed than he had that first month of puberty, when he was just discovering girls and noticing the stretch of t-shirts over chests. He felt even more affected than the first time he’d let his eyes wander over the back of Cheryl T’s thighs the last day of eighth grade, and discovered the wonders of an ass’ curve.

All his blood would not be rushing south. No. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t allow it, not when he was fully grown and should have some self-control, and certainly not when he was wearing his thinnest pair of boxers with grey fucking sweatpants.

Your eyes are wide with innocence, or at least what he hopes is innocence, “Really? It smells good?”

He has to clear his throat before he can properly reply, “‘s good, yeah. It, uh, yeah. Smells good.”

Think of naked grandmas. Think of kicked puppies. Think of literally anything except her soft ski-

“Awesome!” you’re suddenly sitting crisscross beside him, facing him fully, “Okay, that’s- awesome. Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” were you just as flustered as he was? Was he reading this wrong? “The lady actually told us - okay, I know it’s stupid and boring so bear with me - but she told us to put them on all our pulse points. So that way, it… uh… it makes the perfume last longer.”

He can’t get the smell out of his nose. Something so sweet, something so enticing, something so… you. The perfumes were fancy, but somehow, they were you. Smells of summer and spring and tooth-aching sweetness that was driving Eddie mad.

He’ll never be able to let you sleep in his bed again. He doesn’t want to consider what shameful, hormone-fueled decisions he would make if he had to experience his pillow smelling like that even when you were long gone.

Get it together, Munson.

“Makes sense,” he lies, still struggling to get his tongue to function properly. All he’s thinking about is trailing it over that sweet spot on your wrist now, lips sucking on every inch of skin you currently had exposed- Naked grandmas. Kicked puppies, “Is that all you needed? Can I take a nap now?”

Hell, he’s torn between wanting you to stay and ushering you out of his trailer so he can have a few moments alone. Weighing the risks of escaping to the bathroom for a few minutes too long just to get his problem under control.

He’s twenty, not fifteen. A girl’s perfume should not be affecting him this way.

Your face falls ever so slightly, “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry. Like I said, I know it’s boring-“

“It’s not boring,” he interrupts, realizing that he’s mere seconds away from genuinely hurting your feelings. Or perhaps he’s already there, having been a complete idiot. He still remembers your face the day he’d contained his reaction to your new bra — how he’d gone into autopilot and snapped the strap like some little boy on the playground just to play off how flustered it made him. You hadn’t admitted it to him, but his reaction had hurt you. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, “The whole science behind it — it sounds pretty cool, honestly.”

Nothing that made you so excited, so giddy, could ever be boring to him. He loved seeing you buzz with your emotions and expectancy. He just didn’t love the way his heart and mind seemed to run with every single, little, goddamn bone you tossed him.

You were his best friend. He shouldn’t think of you like that. He couldn’t.

“It is,” you light back up in the slightest, saucer eyes boring into his again. Not quite as animated as before, but not quite as deflated as you had been heading, “Actually- Can I ask another favor?”

Anything.

“Sure, sweetheart,” his heart had finally slowed its pace, the reigns back in his control as the perfume lingered in the air but didn’t overwhelm him, “What’s up?”

“So… the wrists aren’t the only pulse points you’re supposed to wear perfume on.”

Oh, God. Where were you going with this?

“No?” he tries to tease, tries to smile at you. It’s fruitless — his heart has begun to pound again, “I sure hope it wouldn’t be. I mean, blood kind of rushes everywhere, isn’t that the point-“

“The neck,” you blurt out, making the rest of Eddie’s sentence disappear into the air, “The, uh, the neck is the other place. Well, not just the neck, it’s…” you trail off, twiddling with your thumbs for a second before you lift a hand to gather away any stray hairs from curtaining the side of your neck. You even go so far as to secure the hand behind your ear, “Behind the ears. You’re supposed to spray it behind your ears, too.”

“Okay…” he enunciates slowly, resisting the urge to bite his lip as he starts to catch up with where you’re going with this, and desperately hoping that he’s wrong.

“Can you… Would you…” you pause and take a deep breath, eyes shutting for a second. When you open the back up, a new wave of determination is set around your pupils, “Eddie, can you smell my neck?”

What sort of sick, twisted, wet dream am I living in right now?

Eddie is suddenly convinced you never interrupted his attempt at a nap. He’s asleep right now, soundly curled into himself, and you’re still lounging casually with your magazine on the other side of his bed. That must be it, because there’s no way you’re actually offering him to press himself so closely into your vicinity as he’s only ever dreamed of.

“What?” he weakly questions.

If this is a dream, dear God, don’t let me wake up.

“Can you smell my neck?” you repeat yourself with a little more confidence before pulling your best puppy dog eyes, “I just- I want to make sure it smells good. Everywhere.”

Damn Nancy Wheeler for whatever journey of self-discovery she’d sent you on. Damn her, and damn the perfume lady, and damn Eddie for reaping such benefits.

He should say no. He should really, really say no.

He’s wearing goddamn grey sweatpants, he should say no.

“S-Sure.”

Famous last words.

Your hair has already been moved, making it easier for Eddie when he leans forward at his waist. You lean in as well, jutting out your chin and angling your neck for his taking.

It’s such a bad idea.

The tip of his nose is bumping your skin again as his eyes flutter shut. He’s trying so hard to contain himself, to not make a fool of himself. But when he feels that softness again, when he’s being unraveled by warm notes of vanilla and patchouli, deep breaths of apple blossom of blackberry – he just breaks.

He doesn’t realize that his lips have joined his nose in brushing up against your sweet spot until he hears you let out a shaky gasp, one that almost resembles a whine.

His reaction should be to pull back. He should remove himself, apologize for going too far, stop before he’s fallen off the cliff himself. He doesn’t.

Instead, he takes a moment of stillness as his head reels, overcome in the smell of your new perfume again and ears straining relentlessly to seek out another one of those pretty sounds.

He wants to hear it again. He needs to know if it was a moan or a gasp, or nothing more than a ticklish breath.

His lips pucker with intention this time. His nose trails up behind your ear, taking in the full bodied scent of the perfume on the skin as he places another chaste kiss against your pulse.

It’s racing. Your heartbeat is goddamn racing.

The moment his lips connect, another gasp sounds. A sharp intake of breath that whistles so sweetly to his ears before you’re exhaling with a proper, albeit quiet, whimper.

No amount of naked grandmas or kicked puppies can save him now. He’s a goner – he’s been a goner – and he leaps off that cliff full force now as he leans back and out of your space.

Your eyes are shut. Eyelashes fluttering prettily, just barely brushing the skin beneath your eyes.

He almost whispers out a gentle sweetheart as he stays close enough for you to feel his breath on that very same cheek, but when your eyes finally do open to meet his, he can’t get a single word out before his body moves to its own accord.

His lips press to yours before he can overthink it.

He waits for the inevitable – for you to freeze up against him, for you to shove him off, for you to curse him out. He shouldn’t have done that. He should’ve asked for permission, he should have had more self-control.

But you don’t. Instead, you take him by surprise and you kiss him back.

Instantly, without an inch of hesitation, your lips work in tangent with his. Parting and welcoming him as if they had been waiting for this moment longer than he could comprehend. Pressing back with just as much, if not more fervency as his do. You match his desperation every step of the way until you’ve both exhausted all the breath inside your lungs. He has no choice but to pull back, to part from you and gulp in oxygen before he makes any more bad decisions.

Lord know he’s full of them when he’s suddenly gazing into your glossy eyes.

“I’m sorry-” he immediately rushes out to apologize, but a sharp shake of your head halts him.

“Don’t be,” you whisper, “I… Do it again.”

“What?”

“Kiss me again. Please.”

Eddie isn’t in the business of making you beg; he never really can say no to you.

He kisses you again. And again. And again. A collage of pecks and soft slipping, tasting your chapstick and somehow moving the two of you so that he’s back to his original position with his back against the wall, and you now straddling his lap. You hover, completely unaware of how much you’re affecting him. When you let his tongue slip into your mouth without any bartering, he ends up letting out a moan that slips right down your throat. His hands are still so hesitant, but when you reach down and encourage his palms to engulf wherever they please, he’s on a mission of exploration. Soft caresses to your thighs, from the ditch of your bent knees to the skin hardly hidden beneath the hem of your lounge shorts. They wind their way up the pathways of your hips, squeezing at the soft give of the flesh there before he continues upwards. Up, up, up – until they find home in the curve of your waist, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you impossibly close.

That damn perfume doesn’t just linger, not anymore. With you pressed against him, with the way he’s wound so tightly around you, it drowns him. Vanilla, coffee, blackberry, apple blossoms. A multitude of scents he’s sure his plain nose can’t even pick up on, and that he doesn’t really care to name. All he cares about is the smell of you. Something new and something fancy, but so very you.

“I-” you break from the kiss, “Can’t-” you smack another one on him, beginning to take initiative, “Believe-” the next one misses his mouth, hardly landing against the upturned corner, “It took-” your final kiss lands on his dimple before you pull back fully and cup his hands within your palms, still hovering and straddling his waist, “A stupid fucking perfume ruse to get you to kiss me.”

He’s lovedrunk, all slow blinks and dumb-founded smile as he looks up at you, hardly processing the words, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you squeeze his cheeks a little tighter in your touch, “I can’t believe I had to pull that whole stupid act of fluttering my lashes and oh, Eddie, can you smell my perfume for me? To make sure it smells good? To finally get you to just do something.”

His head clears a little as the ghost of your kiss still buzzes on his lips, “Wait- what?”

Your palms slide away, scratching at what scruff has gathered across his jaw line before your hands fully fall away, “You made me act like a damn fool, Eddie Munson.”

“It was all just an act?”

“I can’t believe you were so oblivious.”

“You only made me do that so I’d kiss you?”

“That,” you shrug, curling your hands into fists and gingerly placing them on his chest as his arms untangle from you slightly, only his knuckles resting on your waist now, “And the bra thing. And the whole thing when I bought all those chapsticks and couldn’t pick a favorite flavor.”

“They all tasted good,” he says, confused as he peers up at your faux annoyance, “I even tried them on for you-”

“I didn’t want you to try them on,” you whine, letting a few breathy laughs slip as you sit back, resting your weight entirely on his thighs and narrowly missing his boner you surely hadn’t noticed yet, “I wanted you to taste them off of me. I wanted you to make me put each one on, and kiss me stupid before you’d demand that I move onto the next one. I wanted to be the one to get your lips all sticky, not the fucking chapstick tubes themselves.”

“You-” Eddie’s mouth drops wide open, nearly wider than his eyes, “Hold on, you only brought that up so I’d fucking kiss you?”

You nod as if it had been obvious, grinning wildly now, “God, you’re dense, Munson. I kept telling Nancy you’d figure it out eventually-”

“What does Nancy have to do with this?”

“Nancy has been trying to help me concoct ways to get you to grow the balls and kiss me for months now. Although, to be fair, the bra thing had been Steve’s idea.”

“Harrington?” Eddie gasps out in disbelief as you only throw your head back in laughter. It’s a beautiful sound, one that makes Eddie’s heart race even more painfully than the perfume had, “You went to Harrington for advice about me?”

When you lift your head back up to look at him, you’re all soft smiles and delighted eyes as you quietly admit, “I was getting kind of desperate here.”

His chest heaves, finger unfurling from around your waist.

“I was starting to think maybe you just didn’t like me bac-”

Without warning, Eddie’s hands are gripping your hips and he’s flipping positions, pinning you beneath him. He can’t wrap his head around it. You’d been wanting him to kiss you all this time. And he’d been a blind idiot. Snapping your bra straps, stealing away chapsticks and applying them himself when this entire time, he could have been living out his wildest fantasies.

He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything more as he begins to attack you with kisses. One for every missed opportunity. No expanse of skin goes untouched as they graze over your lips, your cheeks, your chin, your neck – anywhere Eddie can access feels the pressure of his eagerness.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he curses himself over your giggles, coming up for air just to stare at you, “I could have- Oh my God. Sweetheart, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“You are,” you agree breathlessly with aching cheeks, “God, you are.”

He balances himself on his forearms as he stays lifted above you, his hair forming a curtain to cut the two of you off from the rest of the world.

You’re beautiful. Even more beautiful than that first day he’d met you in class, when you’d shushed him and all he did in return was make absolute heart eyes at you.

His best friend. The person he’d be yearning and pining for for six long years. Who had been trying to get him to kiss her for over six months now.

“I like you,” you confess, not breaking eye contact as a hand comes up to his cheek. He’s quick to turn his head, to let your palm press against him as he presses a kiss to your inner wrist, the perfume engulfing him again, “In case that wasn’t obvious.”

He swallows hard, letting his lips remove themselves slowly from your skin and his nose to linger as it presses into the smooth skin, “I like you, too. Have for a few years now.”

“A few?”

“Okay, yeah- the whole time,” his words pull a wider grin from you, “Don’t look so smug. I’m not letting you live down this whole perfume bullshit scheme.”

“And I’m not letting you live down going feral over some overpriced scented oils,” you retort, your cute snort cut short as your breath catches when he kisses your wrist again, “In all seriousness, though… Do you really think it smells good?”

He takes the opportunity to finally lower his hips. Just enough so that his crotch is brushing against your inner thigh, “Yeah, I think you could say I think they smell very good.”

Your hand travels back, caressing at his ear and sending a shiver down his spine before both of them latch behind his neck, prepared to pull him down into a kiss, “You got hard over some new perfumes, Munson? God, you’re easy.”

“I am,” he doesn’t fight it as he lets you, not gravity, tug him downwards, “I am so easy when it comes to you, baby.”

“Good thing I’m wearing one of those new bras, then,” you muse, placing far too quick of a kiss for his liking onto his lips before you tug him a bit lower, burying his face back in the side of your neck as you whisper in his ear, “Prove it.”

Eddie should probably send a thank you card to Nancy Wheeler and the mall’s perfume lady. Not Harrington, though. Never Steve Harrington.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar

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#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #no use of y/n #i had so much fun with this i'm not even sorry #it had me YEARNING #GIGGLING #KICKING MY FUCKING FEET #god i hate him i wanna show him my new perfumes #shamelessly described my own new perfumes i just got too sorry

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probably-writing-x · 1 year

Text

Distanced

Summary: can u write an imagine with reader and drew starkey being at the beginning of the dating stage (met through friends and even though they both really like each other they haven’t revealed their love face to face) so during a party reader saw drew talking with a few actress, influencers, LA girls and she gets jealous and insecure so she starts distancing herself to him thinking that she doesn’t deserve him and she’s too ugly for him but she doesn’t explain herself and drew thinks that he had done something bad and after weeks decide to have a discussion annnnd they both revealed their feelings.

Warnings: Discussions of body image issues, alcohol use, I think that might be everything?

Author’s Note: Sorry this is so long - I started writing and kept going. It’s been a busy few days so I haven’t been writing as much but hopefully I’ll be back to it now :)

———

The thing about being in the celebrity world was that, eventually, everyone was connected. Whether it was a friend of a friend who worked with another guy on a film ten years ago, or it was a neighbour’s neighbour - everyone eventually got to someone else. That’s how you’d met the majority of the people that you considered friends in the industry. You’d released your first album three years ago but it still felt like you were taking your first steps in being ‘famous’. Thankfully, you’d met some good people - Kelsea had become like a sister to you and she’d taken you under her wing instantly. Since she’d started dating Chase, too, she’d been introducing you to more and more people - notably, Drew. She knew that you two would hit it off when she introduced you at a party and you clicked almost instantly, spending the entire night talking in a booth away from the crowd. Since then, he texted you everyday, he’d become the guy you rang when you were walking home or in a taxi on your own, the one you texted to say a quick ‘home safe’. He sent you stupid videos he found online, and facetimed you to listen to him run his lines, or when he needed help with what to wear to an event. Drew was just… nice, you know?

“Okay, sorry, I’m back,” His face pops back into the frame of the facetime call as he sits back down on the couch and picks up his phone from where it was sat pointing up towards the ceiling, “My food arrived.”

“What did you order?” You ask, propping your phone up against the coffee machine on your counter so that you could open your own bag of takeout food.

“I went for chinese food,” He grins, pulling out the boxes of takeout.

“Me too,” You laugh, “But the good place was closed so I had to order from the kind of shitty one.”

“You hate the kind of shitty one, you’re going to eat the chicken and say that it’s a bit dry and that your rice doesn’t have enough flavor, and then you’re going to complain that your takeout night was ruined.”

You narrow your eyes at him through the screen, “That happened one time! How do you even remember that?”

Drew chuckles and sets his phone down so that he can eat, leaning it against the lamp beside his couch so that he’s still visible in the frame, “I remember things (Y/L/N).”

“Okay, which film did you choose?”

“Oh, I picked a terrible one, you’re going to love it. And I think if we try a few times we’ll be able to get the timing perfect this time.”

~~~

“Okay so what are we actually going to tonight?” You ask Kelsea, laying back against the cushions on her bed as she potters around the room, deciding on her outfit.

“It’s a party, I don’t know anything more than that,” She laughs, “It’s meant to be good though, it seems like everyone in LA is going.”

“I don’t like these things, they’re so stressful,” You grumble, pulling the hood of your hoodie up over your head.

“Well maybe if you started getting ready you’d feel more up for it a-“

She’s cut off by the sound of a key in the door, followed by two familiar voices laughing as they walk in. The pair round the corner and you’re met with the sight of Chase and Drew coming into the apartment.

“Hey honey,” Chase grins when he sees Kelsea, going over to kiss her quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Hey (Y/N),” Drew wiggles his brows, slipping off his shoes and flopping down onto the bed next to you, he looks at you and puckers his lips exaggeratively.

“Grow up,” You roll your eyes, turning around so you can rest your head against his chest sideways, your legs dangling off the side of the bed as he stretches down the length of the mattress.

“(Y/N) I need you to talk some sense into Drew here,” Chase encourages, “He doesn’t want to come tonight.”

“I mean, I’m not up for it yet either,” You shrug, “I need like a shot or two and then I’ll be more in the mood to party.”

“Shots, okay, we can do shots,” Chase nods, “How about you two can start getting ready, and we’ll make dinner, and we’ll get some drinks. Sound good?”

“I didn’t agree to make dinner,” Drew points out, “Frankly I can’t think of anything worse.”

You reach a hand back to poke at his ribs and he flinches back from you, locking an arm around your neck and shoulders to trap you against him. He uses his other arm to tickle at your sides until you’re writhing underneath his touch.

“Drew!” You squeal, fighting to get away from him, your legs flailing.

Chase and Kelsea look at each other with a knowing expression, like they were watching the start of a film they already knew the ending to - a sort of inevitability that it seemed impossible to avoid.

~~~

You spend the next hour or two getting ready with Kelsea, changing your outfit three times before settling on one - a black crop top with spaghetti straps and a pair of wide leg black pants, heels underneath that were practically hidden by the excess length of the trousers.

“You guys ready to go? The uber’s here!” Chase calls out, knocking a couple of times on the door of the bedroom before poking it open just an inch or two before opening it fully, “Alright, good to go?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” Kelsea nods, smoothing her hands over her dress.

When she goes over to him, he wraps an arm around her and tells her she looks beautiful, kissing her shoulder. You follow behind and see Drew waiting for you as the other two leave just ahead.

“Well don’t you scrub up well,” He grins, reaching out his elbow for you to link an arm with his, still taller than you even with your heels on.

“Not so bad yourself, Starkey,” You laugh, holding your hand around his bent arm to help you walk with him.

“Okay, so, how long do we have to stay at this thing tonight?” Drew asks, stepping forward and reaching out a hand for you to take as you’re about to descend the stairs.

“Come on, it’ll be fine, at least we know a few people that will be there,” You point out, “Can’t be that bad.”

“You’ll be regretting saying that later, I promise,” He shakes his head, waving his hand a little more in front of you, “Come on, hurry up.”

He’s wearing a dark green button up shirt and black carpenter jeans, baggy around his legs. It seems to darken the features of his face, defining the freckles around his nose and cheeks, lessening the normal brightness in his eyes. His hair is growing out now from him shaving it for Outer Banks and you’re sure it gives him an innocence beyond what anyone else saw. You loved it most when it was messy, a hundred directions on his head, a sort of carelessness to it.

“Are you coming or what?”

It’s Chase that calls up from the bottom of the stairwell. And you realise for all of the time you’d been staring at Drew, admiring him, he’d been staring at you too.

~~~

The party is already busy when you arrive and there’s people queuing up outside to try to get in. Drew links arms with you as you get out of the car, like he’s constantly scared you’re on the brink of falling whenever you’re in heels. It’s in a club, already littered with tens too many bodies, and music that pounds from the walls, chatter drowned out by the noise.

“Let’s go get us some drinks,” Drew says into your ear and he moves his hand from your arm to press on the small of your back, guiding you in front of him as if he would shield you from the growing crowd behind.

You slip through non-existent gaps in the crowd until you eventually break through to the bar, waiting in the queue with Drew behind you. His hand falls to your waist, his body towering over you from behind and his eyes seemingly on full alert for everything and everyone around you.

“A tequila sprite and a rum and coke please,” You call over the bar to the server who nods at you with a smile, taking two glasses to prepare the drinks.

Drew shifts into the space beside you and leans his forearms on the bar, “Are you trying to get me-“

“Hey!” It’s a voice from beside him that interjects, a girl.

She’s about your age, you think, with makeup that you’re certain you couldn’t match even with the best products. She must be a model, and her outfit is like something straight from a runway. You’re suddenly aware of how itchy your top feels around your chest, and how your trousers don’t seem to be sitting in the right place on your waist anymore. But you ignore it, turning back to the bartender as he pours in the rest of your drink.

“Have we met before?” She asks to Drew, her hand falling to his upper arm.

He looks at her with a frown, “No, no, I don’t think so. I guess I would remember if we did.”

“Well, yours is a face I definitely wouldn’t forget,” She smiles in return, “Who did you come with tonight?”

“Just a few friends,” He returns.

You pause with the drinks glasses in your hand, suddenly hyperaware of how the condensation seems to scratch with the cold against your palms. A few friends. He wasn’t wrong. You and him were just friends, right?

“Well, maybe if your friends don’t mind you could come and dance with me,” The girl smiles, her hand not yet moving from his arm.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll see you around.”

With that, she disappears and Drew turns back in your direction, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Oh, um, here,” You clear your throat, stretching out an arm to give him his drink.

He takes it from you and smiles, taking a sip, “Alright, should we go find the other two?”

You nod and follow behind him in the crowd, he stretches an open hand back as if offering for you to take it but you pause before doing so. It was still undecided in your mind if that was a good thing or a bad thing that he’d been so completely nonchalant. Like that had just happened and it didn’t mean anything. Did it not mean anything because he wasn’t trying to flirt back? Or did it not mean anything because he didn’t think you should care if he was flirting?

After a second too long without your hold, Drew turns back to look for you, eyes flicking between you and his empty hand as if reminding you that he needed to know you were there. You place your hand in his palm and let his fingers wrap around you, not making any move to hold his hand back, just yet.

You meet up with Kelsea and Chase and end up on the dancefloor. Your drink is finished by now and so is another and another, and at some point you’d all done two rounds of shots. Drew is dancing beside you, his arm bumping yours as he moves, trying to make you laugh with every exaggerated dance, or every effort to shout the lyrics of every song he recognised.

At some point, a group of girls are dancing beside you and one of them reaches out to tap Drew on the shoulder. He turns around one another of the girls reaches a hand out for him to take, spinning herself around and starting to dance with him. Chase nudges you and points in that direction as if you hadn’t seen it in the first place, watching as Drew gets engulfed by the group, dancing with them as they laugh at his moves. Kelsea glances in your direction and her brows drop as if concerned, as if worried for your reaction. You force yourself to smile at her and tear your eyes away from Drew, taking a long sip of your drink.

This was silly. You couldn’t keep thinking about this. But the more you thought about not thinking it, the more you thought about it. And you found yourself looking to the group of girls more and more often. They were all in different dresses, and you were sure you recognised their faces from the TikToks that could come up on your for you page of ‘get ready with me’ videos or ‘get dressed with me to go to…’ videos, another two of them you’ve seen at a fashion week before. They’re gorgeous. Their makeup still looks pristine even after hours of being in this hot club. And you’re suddenly aware of how yours is starting to feel more obvious on your face, how your foundation probably doesn’t look as good as it did when you left. How the curl of your lashes has probably dropped by now, your lipgloss non existent. You’re thinking of everything.

When you look back again, Drew’s leaning down to the height of one of the girls so that she can speak into his ear. He laughs at something she’s said and pulls away slightly, his eyes catching yours as his gaze flicks away from her. He smiles but you find yourself looking away before you can think to smile back, feeling slightly less comfortable amongst the party of unknown people.

~~~

You’d stayed at Kelsea’s that night, sleeping in her spare room, and you’re up before she is, a cup of coffee in hand as you’re sat on her balcony.

“Hey, honey,” Her voice cuts in as you’re halfway through your cup of coffee, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long, the pot’s still full if you want some,” You smile, tucking your feet underneath you on the chair.

“I’ll grab some in a minute,” Kelsea responds, sitting down on the other chair, “So, how are you doing after last night?”

You look at her and ponder giving a dismissive response but her face is too genuine to try and lie to, “I- I don’t know how to feel.”

“Okay, well I’m just going to start this by saying you’re allowed to feel upset, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know if I am though Kels, like me and Drew are just friends - why would I think that I have any place to feel any type of way about him and girls from clubs, you know?” You shake your head, taking a sip of your coffee to stop your bottom lip from trembling, “I just… me and him… I’ve never seen him with girls like that, so I didn’t know what to think.”

Kelsea nods, knowing to let you speak before she says her piece.

“I know we’re friends, and that’s fine. But I just saw those girls and I saw the way they were with him and they looked so… and they had this like confidence and they just…” You take in a shaky breath, “I’m not them. I’m not going to be them.”

“Oh honey!” Kelsea comes off from her chair and crouches in front of you, her hands on your knees, “(Y/N) you don’t need to be them. Drew doesn’t want you to be them. Do you know that? I see the way he is with you, the way he talks about you, that’s not the way you talk about someone if you’re just friends. Those girls, the club, last night, they were coming up to him, he wanted to be with you. I know he did.”

You want to believe her. But even the mention of his name forces the thoughts of last night back into your head, cycling through them like snapshot images, each one a little clearer and stinging just a little more.

“I’ll be okay,” You reach one of your hands down to squeeze Kelsea’s, “It was just one night. It’s okay.”

She furrows her brows and rubs her thumb over your knee, “Alright, I’m going to go and wake Chase up before he’s late for his press stuff.”

Kelsea disappears back inside and you sip down the rest of your coffee, drawing your legs up to your chest and trying to breathe out the tightness between your lungs, blinking away the blur of tears from your eyes.

~~~

It’s a day later when you realise you can only go so long avoiding Drew - perhaps less time than you’d originally thought that it would take. He had texted you a bunch yesterday, originally a good morning text, then turning into a couple of videos he thought were funny, ending the video string with one about when ‘the one person you speak to doesn’t reply’. By the night, he sent you one message saying that he was starting to get worried now that you hadn’t replied, and that he just wanted to check if you were okay. Today, he had called you in the morning and then followed up from his other text saying he was probably just being stupid but he wanted to make sure you were good. You reply with a simple;

Just been busy, got studio sessions coming up. Speak soon

You debate sending a heart at the end but delete it before pressing send. He reads it straight away and responds;

Fuck me I’m just glad you’re alive, felt weird going more than a day without speaking to you!! Hope your studio sessions go well, superstar <;3

You like the message and lock your phone, the same tightness settling on your chest as you’d had at the club, as you’d had yesterday morning. Your breath turns shaky again and you try to ignore it.

The next few days go relatively the same - Drew texts you in the morning, sends you something that reminds you of him or tells you to listen to a song that he’s found. You reply a few hours later with a short response or just react to the message, not wanting conversations to carry on like they normally do.

Another couple of days in, he calls you as you’re leaving the gym and you wait for it to go to voicemail, listening to it as soon as the notification comes through.

“Hey, superstar. I wasn’t sure if I’d get through to you, but I’m guessing you’re busy, um, just calling to say… well, I don’t know what I’m calling to say. Just that I miss you, I mean it’s only been a few days but… I don’t know. Feels weird not talking to you, so call me when you get the chance, let’s make plans or something. Alright, I’ll leave you to… well, I don’t know what you’re doing, which is weird, it feels like I always know what’s going on with you… um … whatever, call me back, or don’t if you don’t want to, I don’t know I-“

It cuts off after that and you’re just met with the monotone voice of your voicemail asking if you want to repeat the message. You listen to it once, twice again, finding comfort in the sound of his voice for those digital seconds.

Your finger hovers over his contact as you think of calling him back but you shift it to the text button instead.

hey! sorry i didn’t get to my phone in time - just been busy with the new album so the days are just going too fast. not sure when i’ll be free, i’m sorry

He reads it instantly and the elipsis bubble appears to say he is typing, disappearing and then reappearing a couple of times.

i told you not to forget me when you were famous (y/l/n). I miss you!!!!

You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying at the words, reluctant to try to come up with any response that would feel fitting.

speak soon !!

~~~

It’s another week later when Kelsea invites you over for dinner, one of those sort of ‘no isn’t an option’ invites. You turn up with a bottle of wine and she wraps you in a bear hug when she sees you, a hand on your shoulder before she lets you come into the apartment.

“What’s going on?” You frown, looking at the slightly panicked expression on her face.

“Okay, don’t be mad,” She winces, “But Chase didn’t realise you were coming tonight and Drew’s here before they go out for dinner with the cast. He’s been asking about you.”

You shrug your shoulders, shake your head, “No, it’s okay, don’t worry. We’re friends, it’s fine.”

She furrows her brows a little, “Are you sure?”

“Of course!” You force a smile that you’re certain is believable enough and she must believe you, leading the way into the kitchen where there’s already a dinner cooking on the stove.

“Hey (Y/N)!” Chase gets up as you walk in, hugging you quickly.

You hug him back and, over his shoulder, spot the sight of Drew standing from his chair at the kitchen island.

“Hey stranger!” He raises his brows, “Where’ve you been?”

“Just a busy couple of weeks,” You nod, tightening your grip around the bottle of wine, “Been a bit M.I.A I guess.”

“Yeah, just a little,” He smiles softly, his eyes seeming to yearn for a little piece of you to come back to him, “Well it’s good to see you.”

You clear your throat, “You too.”

You try not to notice the way he watches you as you cross the kitchen, taking your jacket off and finding a bottle opener in the drawer to open the wine. You avoid eye contact when he watches your move to grab a glass from the shelf, pouring a portion of the liquid into the glass and swirling it around.

When you take a seat at the island, it’s the one furthest away from him. And when his eyes find yours then, it’s like they’re full of worry for his defeat - like this had just confirmed every thought that had been going through his head for the past week and a half. You, once again, find yourself trying to ignore the tightness in your chest, the way it restricts your breath as if he’s pulled it into him. Your eyes turn away from him as soon as you can force yourself to.

You’re just leaving Kelsea’s that night when you see the call come through. You’re almost a full bottle of wine in and it’s late as you’re descending the elevator to get to your Uber.

Your phone buzzes and your lowered inhibitions are the only reason you answer.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N),” His voice sounds slightly breathless on the other end of the phone, “You answered.”

“What’s happening Rafe?”

“Um…” He clears his throat and it crackles down the phone line, “Chase just said that Kelsea texted saying you were heading home. I figured you’d be getting a taxi.”

“I am,” You return, “I’m going down to it now.”

“I always call you when you’re getting a taxi.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “No, you don’t need to-“

“I always do (Y/N). We’ve known each other for seven months, and I always call when you’re in the taxi, why wouldn’t I?”

“Have you been drinking, Drew?”

“Have you?”

Both of you are silent.

“Is that the only reason you answered?” He asks and you’re sure you can hear a shake in the words.

You don’t respond.

“What’s going on, (Y/N)?” There’s definitely a shake now, somewhere close to a tremble, “Why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

“You’re not losing me I’ve just been b-“

“Don’t say you’ve been busy,” He quips, “You’re always busy, but you always make time. This isn’t that, this is different.”

You’re silent.

“Answer me (Y/N),” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the tension in his words seems heightened, harsher.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“I’m free now,” He responds, “I’ll be at yours in half an hour.”

It might be the remaining buzz of alcohol in your system, or the sight of your taxi driver turning into the road, your way home, to Drew, but you don’t think twice when you say;

“Okay.”

~~~

A painfully slow thirty minutes later, Drew buzzes your front door to come up to your flat. He lets himself in and you’re sat waiting as if counting the seconds of him ascending in the elevator. You’ve drank a bottle of water by now and the wait has seemed to sober you up quicker than usual. And then there’s a knock at your apartment door and you’re sure your heart stops as you open it.

He’s wearing a shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top, wrinkled around the bottom from where it had been tucked in but wasn’t anymore. He looks disheveled as if he’d rushed to get here before the minutes caught up with him, or perhaps before you changed your mind.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” He breathes out, “You look beautiful.”

You were wearing a baggy t-shirt that hung around your thighs, a pair of gym shorts underneath, your hair pulled back from your face in a bun with strands seeming to fall out on their own accord, no makeup on your face but your cheeks rosy from the wine in your system.

“Do you want to come in?”

He steps through your front door and you step past him to close it. Drew doesn’t make any effort to move further and neither do you. He’s just stood in your hallway looking at you and you’re stood with your back a few feet from the front door, somewhat feeling isolated now you knew he wasn’t leaving.

“What’s going on (Y/N)?” His shoulders drop as if he just needed to get the words off of his chest, a relief slipping over his features to finally say the words to your face.

“I-“ You take in a deep breath, “I just feel like things are weird between us.”

“They’re weird, yeah,” He scoffs, “They’re weird because you’ve been avoiding me.”

Drew laughs then and you find yourself letting out a little laugh too, the two of you gripping onto the pieces of normality that still remained.

“Did something happen at that party? Because I’ve been wracking my brain and that’s the last night I can remember where it felt like things were normal. And since then I’ve barely seen you. Did something happen? Did I do something? Did I say something?”

You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself as if you’re cowering away from the idea of having to admit to anything.

“(Y/N)…”

“I hated it-“ You stop yourself, letting your thoughts gather, “We were at that party and I hated it. These girls were flocking to you and flirting with you and chatting to you and all I could think about was how much I hated it. Which is stupid because I have no reason to feel like that but I couldn’t help it and then I hated that I felt like that because I-“

“(Y/N), breathe,” Drew steps towards you, his hand reaching out and lacing with yours.

The contact seems to ground you, his eyes burning into your skin but somehow seeming to calm the raging fire of your nerves.

“I know I have no reason to be jealous, I know that, but I just,” You shake your head, “I was jealous.”

“You were jealous,” Drew returns, the corners of his mouth upturning with the slightest glimpse of brightness on his features.

“It’s stupid because I know we’re just friends and I know that I don’t want to lose that and-“

“You were jealous,” He’s really fighting back a smile now, but it seems to fight harder against him as his lips stretch into a grin.

You look up at him then, your eyes locking with his, you’re sure you forget how to breathe for just a second.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” His brows furrow for a second but he doesn’t seem to lose the joy on his face.

“I just-“ You look down again, “I didn’t want things to be weird between us, or for you to lie and say that you felt the same way.”

Drew moves his free hand up and presses a thumb underneath your chin, his index finger bending around the front to push your chin upwards, guiding your eyes towards him, guiding you back to him. His eyes are sincere, flicking between either of yours.

“It wouldn’t be a lie.”

You open your mouth and close it again, words catching on your tongue as you’re sure your whole body is going to freeze in this exact spot. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing - to stay in this moment.

“But maybe next time you’re feeling jealous, just tell me. Does that sound good to you?” He dips his head just slightly, his fingers not moving from around your chin.

You laugh lightly and nod your head, “That sounds good.”

He chuckles and moves his hand around to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over the skin, “And those girls? They’re not you.”

You feel your cheeks heat under his touch, his gaze, his words, “Not me?”

Drew shakes his head, “I don’t think anyone could come close,” He hums, dropping his head closer to you until his lips are just an inch from you, breath hot over your features.

In just a second, his lips press to yours, softly as if savouring the feeling of the first time. His hand moves from yours to instead drop to your hip, guiding you backwards until your back is flush against the door. With the contact, he deepens his kiss against your lips, his fingers slipping back into your hair.

When he pulls away, you’re both a little breathless against each other.

“God I’ve waited so long to do that,” He mumbles, pressing his forehead against yours, a smile crawling onto his lips.

“Next time please don’t wait so long,” You laugh, your arms moving to link your hands behind his neck.

“I don’t plan on it,” Drew smirks, dipping his head once again to kiss you, more sure of himself than before.

And, then, you’re sure. You’d stay locked in this moment if you could.

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googlyexes · 2 years

Text

JEALOUS

character: Nagi x fem!reader

synopsis: Nagi tries to ignore y/n for 24 hours

A/N: wattpad @claiqres

"Nagi!"

y/n tried to get Nagi's attention, sitting on his lap, giving him cheek kisses, playing with hair, but Nagi continues to ignore her out of jealousy.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to call Cyno the finest boy." y/n pouts before hugging him from behind.

"come on Nagi... I'll help you build Ganyu later." Nagi still ignored y/n. Y/n sighed and let go of Nagi.

"Well I hope you forgive me soon, I need to go grocery shopping, I'll be back soon."

Nagi side eye at his girlfriend walking out the apartment before sighing. "Phew, I don't know if I can keep up with this..."

y/n walks in the H-Mart store with a cart picked out outside with the other dirty carts with random stuff on them....

y/n looked at the snacks and the food courts, it's been a long time since y/n went out to go shopping since Nagi insist to do it.

y/n picked out some vegetables and fruits before going to the meat section where they have Kobi beef that y/n loves a lot.

"Ooh! this one looks good!" Y/n eyes sparkled looking at a snack box near the cashier register.

Also, y/n makes sure to look at the k-pop albums after buying her groceries. They have a lot of albums and the k-pop light sticks brand. Recently y/n been obsessed listening to NewJeans, let's just say she's a bunnie.

y/n looked at the albums, picking up some albums, looking at the prices, some of them aren't that bad. y/n looked at the NewJeans album before getting the Haerin version of the OMG album.

"Thank you, have a great day!" The lady who works at the kpop shop smiled at y/n who smiled back and waved.

y/n legs felt tired and had to go home, y/' sent him many texts but never responded. Y/n frown while looking at her phone. She feels like she did something wrong that might of actually hurt him.

It can't actually be him being jealous because y/n called cyno the finest person on genshin...

But she didn't mean it like that, seriously. "Let's just go home, I have to make food..."

y/n drives for about 10 minutes to her home, y/n looked through the windows to see Nagi still playing on his computer.

Y/n grab all the plastic bags with all the groceries in them and close down the trunk. She walked up the stair porch before unlocking the door.

"Nagi! I'm home!" Y/n called out, he didn't respond back. "Nagi, I'll cook dinner, be ready!" Y/n yelled out again.

y/n put the bags in the kitchen counter before grabbing the food out of the bags and placed them on the kitchen counter.

Y/n took off her apron before smelling the steam, which made y/n super hungry that she wants to eat it by herself.

"Nagi! Food is ready!" Y/n called out, in a few seconds, Nagi came out of the room as Y/n smiled at him but before y/n could talk to him. Nagi took his plate and walked off.

"Huh?" Y/n was stun, did someone actually piss his pants?

Y/n frown and decide to eat by herself alone in the kitchen while on her phone reading webtoon.

Y/n fell asleep on the couch that night because she didn't want or face Nagi knowing that he might be mad at her.

Y/n had no blanket and had to force herself to sleep with the breeze of coldness air. Nagi walked out of their room to place his dish in the sink when he saw y/n sleeping on the couch.

Nagi frown at this and went over to y/n brushing her hair off her face. "I'm sorry my love." He whispered in a sweet tone.

Nagi slowly pick you up in a bridal style and took the sleeping y/n to their comfy bed. Nagi also feel pretty tired so he made his computer sleep and close it before going to bed with his girlfriend.

Nagi played with y/n's hair think how ignoring for 24 hours is really hard.

"I'll make it up to you I promise..." Nagi kissed y/n's hand and her forehead before wrapping his arm around y/n's waist.

"goodnight."

#blue lock #blue lock fluff #nagi #nagi seishiro #nagi fluff #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock smut #seishiro nagi x reader #blue lock x reader

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nomizombie · 9 months

Text

(2) Fanboy!König x Rockstar!GN!Reader 🎸🎤🎶

[SFW/Wholesome] ; more rocking out!!!! Mutual pining, gender neutral, no usage of y/n!!! Author has never been to a concert or been a rockstar, not proofread…

[A/N] ; ty for all the nice comments on my last post! my face is gonna be sore from all that smiling 😭😭 heres a continuation from the last part, hope you enjoy!!! :)))

Part 1

Your hand hovered over the call button. Would it be so bad to call him? I mean, he did write his number down. The least you could do is call it. Thats normal. Yeah, that’s completely normal.

You tapped the call button and waited (for 3 seconds) until you heard the familiar click.

Silence.

“Hello?” You called out.

More silence.

“This is König right?”

Even more silence. Unbeknownst to you, König was a trembling mess on the other end. He parted his lips and no sound came out.

“Ah, I’ll just hang up then. Must’ve been a wrong number-“

“The albums. Thank you for signing them.” A meek voice spoke.

“So you are there after all!”

You hear nervous laughter on the other end.

“Sorry. Um. Whats the word? Starstruck?”

You couldn’t help but giggle.

“‘s alright, König.” His name was getting easier to say the more you said it.

More silence.

“Your singing. It was great.” He spoke again. This time a bit more confident.

“Well, I would assume so since you have so much merch of me.”

“Ah. Right.”

More silence. He was a lot more awkward over the phone.

“So… do you like the band or do you like me?”

Even more silence. Maybe you pushed too far. Maybe a guy like him doesn’t like teasing-

“You. You’re a good singer.“

You chuckled as you heard his response. Nevermind that, teasing him was fun. You could imagine the shaky hands as he held his phone, the pink tips of his ears, and the quietness as he thought of a response. How cute.

“Only good?

You pushed further.

More silence.

“It’s amazing. I’m in a trance when I listen to you.”

Now it was your turn to blush from your cheeks to your neck. Such simple words but it felt so good coming from him.

...

You had never texted with someone so much. Especially not someone as kind as him.

Every waking second, you spent tapping away on your phone. Before you fell asleep, in between shows, even during a meal with your bandmates.

It started off simple. You sent him a quick thank you message for the necklace and he responded with an also simple thanks for the handshake. Then, he followed up with another message complimenting your performance, and that might've been when you started expecting his texts.

Weeks later, you two continued to talk nearly everyday. Obviously, people began to notice. Your small smiles and giggles were frequent enough that even your manager got suspicious.

“Got someone special?” She snickered as she gripped the steering wheel. You couldn’t see her face but you just knew that she was raising a brow at the rapid screen smacking of your phone.

“Huh?- No! Its just a friend…” you quickly clarified.

Her eyebrow climbed a little higher as she gave you the look in the rear view mirror.

“Doesn’t seem like just a friend.” She laughed again, noticing your red cheeks, "Hey, I won’t get mad, I promise.”

Your cheeks continued to burn as she tilted her head to the side, silver earrings dangling and clinking as she waited.

“Okay, fine. He’s a fan from our December show.” You sighed. You really couldn’t hide anything from her, could you?

She gasped, “A fan?! Gasp! Our lead singer is into groupies!”

“He’s not a groupie! Its just- How do I explain this… He’s really fun to talk to.” This time your entire face burned.

“Fun, huh? Well I will warn you, dating a fan never goes well. Be careful alright? Can’t have our star vocalist getting heart broken now, can we?” She tutted her finger at you. Surely an experienced warning.

Before long you had arrived at the concert hall. This gig was probably the biggest youve had in months. Hundreds- no, thousands would be here tonight, watching you play. But, you could care less about the numbers, you only needed one person to come, the massive fanboy that you’ve been texting everyday the last few weeks.

You hands reach for your phone.

- im here at the venue. you almost here?

- Yes. Almost. Good luck with your show.

You two had been texting for weeks now, nearly everyday (or more accurately every hour) but he was still super formal with you. It was almost a little adorable that he still felt nervous interacting with you.

- awesome!! see ya :D

The typing animation played for a long time, disappearing and reappearing a few times before he finally responded.

- See you soon. 👍

An emoji. That's new. You grinned at the thought of him struggling to text you but that was quickly forgotten when you felt a cold hand on your shoulder.

"Stop texting your friend and start your warm ups! People are starting to come inside!" Your manager growled before quickly ushering you into your changing room.

By the time you stepped onto the stage, you were still struggling to rid your mind of thoughts of him. It's funny how much this boy has completely taken over your brain. But nevertheless, you greeted the crowd, strummed your electric guitar and started off with a new song. This one about your most recent obsession.

As you sang, walking from stage end-to-end you found yourself scanning the crowd for your favorite fan. But, oddly enough, he was nowhere to be found.

"That's odd." You muttered under your breath. Seriously. You have a massive audience tonight and the only thing on your mind right now is König? Get your head in the game.

Sweat beads dripped down your neck as you jumped up and down on stage, hyping up the crowd as you continued to hit ever note. The music was the only thing you could think about. You soon fell into the groove of the song, but yet, he still remained at the back of your mind.

With one final strum, you sank to your knees, panting. When's the last time you had really felt the rhythm? You smiled. Your new obsession was your muse.

As you trudged off stage, a damp mess dragging your feet behind you, you suddenly hit a wall. A very tall and solid wall.

You hissed, rubbing your sore nose as you opened your eyes. Once again, the worn out logo of your band crowded your vision. Your gaze travelled upwards as you finally realized that this wall, is in fact, not a wall.

A pair of beady eyes in a balaclava stared down at you.

"Hi." He said quietly.

"K-König! What are you doing offstage?!" You suddenly remembered how sticky and dewy your skin was, how damp your shirt was and the crazed, frizzy hair. You smoothed your hair out and wiped your face on the sleeve of your shirt frantically.

"Why are you here?" You asked a bit more calmer this time.

His ears turned a light red as he averted his gaze.

"Well... I wanted to watch you from here... and your manager… let me in." He breathed. Pausing in between words as he grew a little redder.

"My manager- her?!" Your calmness had left just as fast as it appeared.

He blinked at you. A few seconds of silence before nodding his head and rubbing his neck nervously.

"Ja, that's right."

"Holy shit- wait, how'd she know who you are..?" You asked curiously. You had never once mentioned his name or described him to her.

"Oh, uh..." He thought for a moment, finding the words in English.

"She's my... How do I say, like- aunt but not, kind of like my mother's friend." He muttered the last part quickly.

That explained the collection of exclusive merch.

Noticing your confusion, he continued, "Ah, it's not important. Your voice, lovely as always."

"Thank you, König." You grinned at him, your eyes squinting as you smiled.

His eyes widened before squinting as well. The way you said his name always made his heart jump in his chest. Meanwhile, you just couldn't get enough of his eye-smile.

The conversation was silent again. He stared anxiously at you before lowering his head.

“Can I… ask you something?”

“Of course, shoot away.”

He went quiet, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, before continuing.

"Well- do you, um..." His signature stuttering and stumbling over his words.

You hummed curiously.

"Do you want to get a-a drink together? Later? I'll wait for your autograph session and then I was wondering if you wanted to go out perhaps, of course you don't have to it was a stupid question, wasn't it? Excuse me then, I shouldn't have asked-"

"Of course. I would love to," you cut him off. His rambling was strangely... endearing?

Shock filled his eyes before he chuckled nervously.

"Ah. Sorry- I got a little anxious."

"It's okay!" You laughed. How was this behemoth man so cute? “What time?"

"I'll text you." He smiled and you noticed how his eyes crinkled when he did. That was never going to leave your memory, was it?

dividers by @mmadeinheavenn !!!!

Hii!!! If you got it this far, tysm for reading!!! ❤️❤️ Lmk if youd like more!! I like this au but i would also love to expand! If you have any ideas my requests are always open :)!!!

#fanboy!könig #rockstar!reader #fanfic #fluff #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #konig x reader #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig fluff #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig x y/n #könig x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty #°˖ ⊹ ꒰✒️꒱ ♡#. ˚₊‧꒰ა 🧟🧠 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

Text

Plot Idea I'll never fully flush out or write but gotta get out of my head or it'll never let me know peace again. It's basically Steve sent from the future going all John Wick. if YOU want to take this plot and write it, or if it inspires you to write something, tag me in it. I'd love to read it.

A 26-year-old Steve Harrington gets sent back to the morning of November 6, 1983. IDK if it's like El using her powers to punch a hole in time or like, some other way but everyone still alive has given him something to use as proof of his time-travel and get their younger versions to believe him, because he's got a time limit. No idea how long, but once he's altered history enough that the timeline he left ceases to exist, so will he.

No one he cares about dies this time. It's the mantra playing on repeat in his head as he looks down at the notebook that took Nancy almost three full days of nonstop writing to fill. It's the entire timeline of events, gathered and recounted by everyone still alive, because this Steve has been fighting a losing battle since Spring Break of '86 because Henry won and Hawkins got torn apart and it's been a fight to survive ever since. He's going to stop that from happening.

No one dies this time.

Will doesn't get taken that night, because this Steve is already waiting for him at his house. From Will's perspective this is just some Guy but he's more scared of whatever chased him home then of the person on his doorstep. So, Steve tells him to hang tight and all but shoves him into the house before cutting himself somewhere on his arm and stepping onto the lawn yelling out 'come and get me, ugly'. Of course, the blood draws the demogorgon. And while 17-year-old Steve was no match for just one, this Steve has been fighting packs of them for years now.

He's armed to the teeth and takes it down with precision. He's not unharmed, just one is still fast and dangerous. Steve knows how to fight them now, though. He covers the dead demogorgon with a tarp he stole from his own garage earlier that day and sits on the front porch to wait for Joyce and Jonathan.

Will is both terrified and awed.

Somehow, someway, he gets the Byers to listen. Shows them the dead demogorgon and gives Joyce the notebook from his backpack.

"Read it, and if you aren't convinced, I have more proof of its contents."

And he leaves. The next morning, he has to find El before Benny does, which he succeeds at but just barely. El is skittish and afraid but Steve gets her to trust him. Maybe because her powers brought him back here, she feels a connection to him, a trust that's there instinctively?

He returns to the Byers' house, carrying El the whole way. He stays off the main roads because people are going to recognize him as Steve Harrington and the less people that see him, the better.

Joyce lets him in and immediately fusses over El. Gives her some of Wills clothes to wear.

She's read the notebook cover to cover and has questions. Steve has answers and digs into his backpack to find the item the Joyce from his timeline gave him for proof. Maybe the proof is the same for everyone - individually recorded cassette tapes of their own voices telling them impossible things. Other proof consists of a photo album, pictures of everyone, the destruction of Hawkins, and of the ramshackle home they'd built in the remains of the apocalypse.

Then something something, details pending, everyone gets filled in on the danger that's coming. Maybe the kids get left out this time, get to just be kids or maybe they don't.

Steve meets his younger self and that's just a whole Deal but eventually he gets his younger self to listen. He tells him that being a jackass isn't worth it, and that he's not going to have a reason to change who he is in this timeline, because the events that lead to him being a better person don't happen. He's not going to have his whole life uprooted, so if he wants to be a better, nicer person, he's going to have to pick that life for himself.

Steve doesn't know if his younger self will listen, but he hopes.

Steve hunts down Brenner and shoots him point blank in cold blood. No regrets. Then he shoots the corpse a couple more times. He doesn't get to hurt El ever again. It's only after that that Steve feels the shift, knows that he's going to cease existing by the end of the day, and there's one thing left he needs to do.

He gets Hopper to let him post up with him in his police car at Forest Hills Trailer Park so he can try and catch a glimpse of Eddie Munson, alive and well.

Hopper asks who Eddie is to him.

"Nothing. We never got a chance. Will never get a chance," Steve answers. "Your Steve Harrington won't ever have a reason to even look his way. He died, back in '86. He didn't need to. He shouldn't have."

"You spy on all the other people who died?" Hopper asks. It's not judgmental, just curious.

"No," Steve says, then decides to be honest because he's going to be gone soon anyway, "I barely knew Eddie, but I wanted to love him anyway. Fell in love with his memory, from stories told to me by the kids and Wayne. We were nothing to each other when he was alive, but he could have been everything if we'd gotten a chance."

They don't talk after that. Steve gets to see Eddie arrive home, jump from his van full of life and vibrance and if Hopper notices his silent cry, he politely ignores it.

They drive out to the quarry after. Steve doesn't know what it's going to mean for him to stop existing and he didn't really want a witness to it, but Hopper insisted someone should be or else they'll all just wonder about it.

They stand looking out across the water. Hopper sees something from the corner of his eye and turns to look at Steve but he's not there anymore.

There's nothing left of the Steve Harrington from the future but his actions and a photocopy of the notebook that Nancy made because she wanted to study it, but Joyce didn't want to let it out of her sight. The cassettes, photo's, and original notebook all just disappear before everyone's eyes.

The fight's not over. Henry is still alive, but they're more prepared for him this time around. They know what to expect.

Hopefully that'll be enough this time around.

#i dunno what this is #i just dont have it in me to write this full fic #but maybe now that ive written this part down it'll leave me alone #does younger steve take his advice? i dunno

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jqmalikhsgib · 6 months

Text

stars

six

aaron holds his wife close to him. she’s only just got home and he missed the smell of her lilac shampoo. yn meant everything to him! losing haley sent him in a dark path for a long time. in the divorce and when she was killed. it broke him over and over again.

aaron never thought he’d have the willpower to move on from his first love. he thought she’d be his one and only. he accepted that, for awhile.

but in comes this most amazing, breathtaking, beautiful, smart, kind woman who instantly stole his heart!

yn and aaron met during one of his cases. it had been in new york city and it turned out fashion week just so happened to happen during the time they flew in new york for a case. it was a happy accident.

aaron liked to call it faith. normally he’d be the first one out of the hotel, heading straight to whatever precinct the team had to be for the case. he’d deal with the crappy coffee they had and get on with figuring out who the unsub could be.

that day was no different. this time though, he wanted to treat himself to better coffee. plus, he had been craving a dunkins donut for awhile.

when aaron arrived to dunkin donuts he sighs at the long line in the drive through. aaron decided to just go inside.

walking in he sighs as he stands in line. aaron soon hears commotion outside and sees that some people stopped a woman and asked for photos and autographs.

aaron ignores the commotion. he orders his drink and a few donuts, before he heads out. he gets a small glimpse of the woman before getting back in his car.

aaron didn’t really think too much of it. that is until he sees her again later that night. the team had solved the case, arresting the unsub and finding the woman he kidnapped, bringing her home safely. the team wanted to celebrate.

normally aaron would decline the offer to come along, wanting to get a good night sleep before jetting off the next morning. this time he accepted. he didn’t know why, but his inner voice told him he deserved to go out and have fun.

they went to a small club derek had found. he watched as his team danced, laughing at derek’s smooth moves.

aaron takes a sip of his beer before excusing himself to the restroom. once he finished his business he heads to the bar. aaron sees a woman looking very uncomfortable while a guy tries to flirt with her. she tries to be polite, giving him a smile. aaron could tell he wasn’t really getting the hint. she politely declines his advances. the man grabs her arm a little to aggressive for his liking. aaron frowns before walking over to them.

“everything okay?”

“yeah, it is! back up buddy!”

aaron puts his hands in the small of her back. the woman looks at him with pleading eyes. aaron recognizes her from earlier that day.

“i wasn’t asking you.”

“listen, i was having a discussion with the pretty lady here! why don’t you leave!”

aaron grabs his badge. the guy raised his hands before leaving.

“thank you!”

aaron hums. “yeah, any time.”

the woman smiles at him. “that a real badge or are you an actor?”

aaron gives her one of his signature small smiles. “it’s real. fbi.”

“oh? how long have you been an agent?”

aaron scoffs. “i don’t even remember. it’s been so long.”

“you look oddly familiar. have we met?”

“saw you at dunkins. you were signing autographs. im assuming you’re a celebrity?”

she laughs. “you don’t recognize me?”

aaron shakes his head. “mostly listen to the classics. i am quite old.” aaron states.

“you don’t look that old mister fbi agent! but, yeah, i am! im barely famous though. have like three albums out right now. it’s one reason why i can walk freely in the streets of new york without being spotted too much.”

“you can call me aaron.”

“aaron, huh? very suiting for an fbi agent. i like that. my names yn. i go by my middle name though in the industry, rihanna.”

aaron smiles. “what brings you here in new york?”

“i was invited to a few fashion shows. since im up and coming people want me everywhere. it’s been a busy week for me.” yn states.

“i understand. traveling a lot, yeah?”

“mhm. you travel?”

aaron nods. “yeah, all the time. im a profiler! my job consist being in different locations all the time.”

“profiler? you’re in the big leagues then, huh? i heard you gotta be crazy smart to be considered.”

aaron laughs. “something like that. it’s mostly got to do with reading people, places, and things, you know? just looking a little deeper than others would. like studying it more.”

“okay mister profiler, let’s see how good you are at your job. profile me.” yn smirks.

aaron smirks.

“just by standing next to you i can tell you’re an amazing artist. you write music from the heart and release it for the world to know who you are and what you’ve been through. you underestimate yourself. you don’t think you’re good enough which is why you call yourself low leveled, yet you’re already being invited to big events, which means you’re getting way more attention than you’ve ever imagined.”

yn left speechless. she didn’t know what else to do or say. yn just stood there before blinking rapidly. “wow, you’re good!”

“it’s just from the few things you’ve told me. nothing major.”

“who’s underestimating themselves now?” she smirks.

aaron chuckles.

the two continues to chat for a while. they lost track of time. soon enough emily comes to find aaron, letting him know she’s taking derek and spencer back to the hotel. both of them drunk off their ass.

aaron lets her know he’ll be right behind them.

“it was great talking to you, yn.” aaron smiles as he goes to walk away. “aaron, wait!”

aaron turns around. yn hands him a piece of paper. “please, call me. i enjoyed talking to you.”

aaron smiles. he places the paper in his pocket before waving. the rest was history.

he was smitten that very day and continued to be smitten about her. he felt like haley brought them together.

they were perfect. his perfect little star.

#aaron hotchner x black!reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #jqhotchner #jqhotchner masterlist #stars jqhotchner #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader

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daintyshu · 4 months

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

xv. calm (1.2k written)

note: italicised speeches are spoken in english! cw: kys jokes

you shake your head at the text sunghoon just sent. always so chaotic hoon. you two were done with dinner and you had been waiting outside the restaurant as the boy needed the bathroom. you remembered seeing a record store on your way up and you still had some time to kill before the movie, so you decided to go take a look.

upon entering the shop, the clerk greets you cheerfully as you nodded politely at her. you slowly walk through the aisles, looking carefully for what you were looking for.

recently, your brother had gotten a vintage record player for fun when he didn't have any vinyl records so you decided to go get some today since you were already here.

"oh my god!" you exclaimed to yourself. realising how loud that probably was, you looked around the store, relieved to see it was practically empty except for the clerk who giggled at you. "they have them here!" you excitedly brisk-walk to corner of the store where a vinyl record had caught your eye.

a 5 seconds of summer vinyl record.

it was of one of your favourite album of them so you were quick to recognise it. you picked it up, eyes widening as you realised the whole section was filled with other 5sos vinyl records.

is this heaven? you thought to yourself.

after a while, you laid down two of your favourites; calm and youngblood, staring at them in a daze as you tried to decide which one to get. you would've taken all the 5sos records the store had, if only you weren't a fresh graduate who was only working part-time. why do vinyl records sell at such high prices anyway.

"you should take calm," a voice suggested and naturally you answered back. "right? but youngblood's so good too,"

it took you a few seconds to realise you had gone to the mall with sunghoon and not jay, so you shouldn't be having an english conversation with your friend right now.

you turned to the voice almost immediately, bowing slightly. "oh my god, i'm so sorry. i thought i was talking to my friend," you apologised, looking up at the owner of the voice. your head tilted in recognition upon seeing his face.

"oh? you're one of riki's friends right? jay?" also often referred to in your head as the cute vanilla latte boy. you also remembered his name being similar to that of your best friend's. "jake," he corrects you and you nod sheepishly. "ah right, jake, sorry."

"it's fine, you speak english?" he questions curiously. you were caught off guard at the seamless switch between korean and english, forgetting that he was the one who had suggested which record you should get. "oh yeah, i spent a few years in the states. you? you're korean?" you question back.

"yeah my family moved to australia when i was young but we moved back here after middle school," so he's australian. that explains the charming accent. "ahh, that's around the same time i did too. so, you listen to 5sos?"

"i do, yeah!" the boy answers excitedly and you chuckle at this. he resembled an excited puppy. "what's your favourite song?" you ask, looking back down at the two records in your hands, still deciding.

"easy, old me," he answers without skipping a beat. "oh that's a good one! it's one of my favourites too,“ you agree wholeheartedly with jake. "one of? so what's your favourite one then?"

"i have so many though.." you trail off thoughtfully, a little pout forming on your lips subconsciously.

"but if i had to pick one...maybe kill my time?" you tilt your head a little, unsure whether or not it really is your favourite song from them.

jake simply chuckles. you were just so adorable that he had to hold himself back from reacting in a way that would make you think he's weird.

"oh yeah, yeah, that's a good one too. you should get calm then, kill my time would sound so good through a record player," he suggests. "i know! but ghost of you would sound so good too," you tell him, still unable to decide which to get despite the boy giving his opinion.

"well in that case, why not just get both then?"

you purse your lips, giving him an expressionless stare. "i would if i could afford both, bro. wouldn't be standing here for the past five minutes trynna decide between either," you tell him honestly.

jake might be overreacting but he thinks he can hear his heart smashing into tiny pieces when you called him bro. he didn't know whether to feel honoured that you were comfortable enough to refer to him as so or be heartbroken that he just got bro-zoned.

"oh, yeah, didn't think of that. well, if yo—" he didn't manage to complete whatever he wanted to say when he got interrupted by an excited voice.

"noona!" the two of you turned to the source of the voice, you bracing yourself when you got tackled into a side hug by a much taller boy. "oh, riki! what are you doing here?"

"i'm here with jake hyung!" he points to the boy next to you. "we're gonna go see kung fu panda at 6," he explains, looking at his watch which prompts you to look at your own. it's 10 minutes to 6 and sunghoon still hasn't come up yet.

"hey, i'm watching that with my friend too! we should go up together!" you told the younger boy. and as if on cue, the door opens and said friend enters the store, you waving him over.

"hoonie! i don't think you've met riki. sunghoon, this is riki and jake," you point at your younger friend and his friend—who's also your new friend, considering how easy it was to have a conversation with him. "riki, jake, this is sunghoon,"

the three boys greet each other in a friendly manner before sunghoon turns to you. "ready to go?"

"oh, yeah i just...i'm gonna go pay for this first," you took one last look at the youngblood vinyl record in your left hand, putting it back where it was. you clutched the other vinyl to your chest, glancing over at the australian, smiling softly at him as you walked past the group and to the cashier.

jake bites his lip to prevent a smile from growing. you took his suggestion.

even though you bro-zoned him earlier, being at the receiving end of that cute smile from you could wipe away any disappointment he even felt in the first place. you just had that effect on him.

this was his first time interacting with you for as long as he did and seeing you up close. you were just so pretty he couldn't believe he even managed to talk to you without tripping over his words. conversation with you just flowed naturally despite how short it actually was.

he wonders what it would be to sit down and have a long talk with you. he wonders what it would be like to be in your circle of friends.

and as he absentmindedly nods to everything riki is yapping about to him, he watches your friend talk to you with the most loving gaze in his eyes. he wonders if that's what he would look like when he's finally in your life. maybe one day. maybe soon.

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synopsis. in which you work at odd atelier cafe and can only make hearts in your lattes, causing a certain boy to misunderstand your intentions..... then he brings his friends and chaos ensues.

taglist (open): @semisemirin1i82 @txtmetonight @ilyjxdz @miniature-tragedy @n1k1mura @t00miee @manooffline @aerivrs @saranghaohoshi @woninluv @moony-mari @nctsshoes2 @sunghoonnsupremacy @mnxnii @lisaswifey @enhy4me2 @en-chantedtomeetyou @enhypenlovre (strikethrough means unable to tag!)

#enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #enha smau #enha x reader #enha x reader smau #enhypen social media au #enhypen texts #enhypen x reader smau #enhypen #enha

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