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ace-turned-confused · 3 months

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spin me around | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | read on ao3

summary: you find a vintage record store full of rare finds, the man behind the counter the rarest of them all word count: 2,4k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a dress, way too much music talk, food & alcohol consumption, pet names, touching in public, dirty talk a/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! i saw record store on your wheel and ran away with it - this is highly self-indulgent with the music references (like woah) but what better place for it than secret springs :) not beta'd, keep slaying

The stair treads creak as you head up to the second floor, blank CDs are fastened to the risers and old warped vinyl hangs from the ceiling. A faint melody floats down the stairwell that you don’t recognise, the instrumentals rising in a crescendo as you climb, the varnished railing worn and knotted.

You’d found this place online on your quest for a bargain, the secondhand vintage vinyl shop is situated on a fashionable street at the top of town with picturesque mountain views. After stalking their social media pages, you decided you’d just come and see it for yourself. Having mentally prepared yourself for parallel parking, it was unusually stress-free for a Saturday morning, the sun just beginning to warm the air.

Reaching the landing and glancing around, the room is essentially wallpapered with band posters, crates and crates of records are alphabetically organised, and a gallery of LPs sits on shelves behind the counter. A few customers are rifling through the various collections, one man perched on a barstool with headphones wired into a cassette player. The space is light and vibrant, it feels like a sacred haven.

What really catches your eye is the man behind the counter — unruly silver-streaked hair, trimmed moustache and greying beard, unreasonably broad shoulders that fill out his faded thin t-shirt.

“Mornin’!” He looks up as you round the bannister and flashes you a winning smile, his brown eyes sparkling in the light filtering through the windows. “Anythin’ in particular you lookin’ for?”

You greet him shyly as you enter the room, “Just came to look around, thanks.”

“No problem.” He turns back to his newspaper and you can’t help but stare, stuck in place as you think you’ve found far more than you could’ve imagined.

The sheer number of records fitted into the quaint shop is amazing, with some dividers spilling over into two or three boxes. Flipping through the S category, you find Sade, Stealers Wheel, Steppenwolf, Stevie Nicks, and countless others — a never-ending supply of artists and albums, some popular and some obscure.

Your eyes go wide at seeing Pretzel Logic, a favourite album by a favourite band. You’ve considered for weeks whether or not to just buy the damn thing online at full price, but you never did. Now you see why, some sort of divine intervention leading you here to snatch it up at a fraction of the cost — or it led you here for that man.

You’ve been peering over to him every time you move to the next crate — crinkles around his eyes, plush lips, deft hands. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is, hidden away up here from the rest of the world. Admittedly you tried looking if he had a wedding band on, but you scolded yourself before you could complete the task, not wanting to get caught.

Time slips away from you as you switch between scouring through everything and stealing glances at the mystery music man, your fingers cramping from holding onto far more records than you’d planned to take. You scan over the tables and check for anything you may have missed, slinking through the room and placing your selection on the counter. You rummage in your bag to find your wallet.

“Fan of Steely Dan, huh? Gaucho, Pretzel Logic, Countdown to Ecstasy… You’re cleaning me out here, darlin’.” You lift your head at his words, losing yourself at the endearment.

“Yeah, uh… couldn't help myself,” you huff a laugh, feeling heat under your skin as he keeps his attention on you, a half smile on his face. “I did pick out some others, too. For some variation, you know?”

He fans the records out on the table to see each one.

“Yeah, thought you might be a Fleetwood Mac girl, Eagles is a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one… Steely Dan, though? Wouldn't have pinned a girl like you as a fan of ‘em.”

“A girl like me…?”

“Far too pretty.” He winks at you with a tilt of his head, that half smile now spread fully across his face before he moves to add up the total. Your mind races as you try not to stand and gawk like an idiot.

“I saw online you had Dark Side of the Moon… do you uh, still have it, by any chance?”

“Full of surprises… I’m afraid we sold that one already, noticed it’s a bit of an elusive find ‘round here.” He drums his fingers against the wooden top and looks at you briefly, his eyes warm.

Shuffling papers around, he picks up a notepad, big hands and thick fingers dwarfing the pages. “I can keep an eye out for you, if you’re okay giving me your number? Won’t bother you, just business.”

“Yeah, sure.” His fingers graze across your skin as you take a pen from him and write down your information. Tearing the page off, you slide it across the counter and tease him, “Wouldn’t mind if you bothered me.”

“Well then, maybe I will. I’d love to know what else you got in your carefully curated collection.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you pay for the records, and he slips them into a brown paper bag, folding and unfolding the top like he doesn’t want you to leave.

“There’s actually this nice restaurant—” he turns to look behind him, grabbing a small carton and repositioning it on the counter, stalling as he tries to find the words, “—they have uh, live music on Friday nights… if you’d be interested.”

“Sounds fun…” You mull it over, impressed by his boldness but still wary. “Can I let you know?”

“‘Course, no pressure, here,” he writes his own number on a new page and tears it off, holding on as you reach for it and brush your fingers over his hand.

“And you are?”

“Joel Miller.”

Joel Miller. You quite like that.

You’d stared at Joel’s number for days, a constant back and forth on whether or not you should go. On the one hand, you knew nothing about this man except his name and where he worked; on the other, you’ve seen just enough of him to be well intrigued…

You caved and said yes, which brings you to the present day — it’s Friday afternoon and you’re pacing in front of your wardrobe, worried about what to wear. To avoid losing your mind over this, you text Joel for some insight.

You: So, what am I supposed to wear tonight?Joel: Place is smart casual, I guess

Smart casual — arguably the worst fucking dress code description in existence.

You: That doesn’t help meJoel: Just wear a dress or something nice? I’m sure whatever you choose will be perfect

Perfect? Well, that certainly raises the bar. You suspect that Joel isn’t impressed by material things, and isn’t phased by flashy appearances, but you still want to make an effort. He called you pretty once already and you’re hoping he’ll repeat it tonight.

Approaching the restaurant, the brick wall facade is lined with fairy lights, the stars just beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky, and muffled music sounds through the windows and glass doors.

Joel waits out on the pavement like a gift from God himself — black dress pants, a hint of chest peeking out from behind his button-up, a blazer hooked on one finger over his shoulder. You can’t help the way your gaze runs over him, noticing how his tummy just pokes out past the waistband of his pants, and just how well fitting those pants really are. You swallow to steady yourself.

“Hey.”

“Hi…”

You fall into silence as you take each other in — a low heat settles at the base of your spine and you drop your eyes to the floor, holding back a giggle like an enamoured schoolgirl.

“Shall we?” He pulls the door open and gestures for you to lead the way, eyes sparkling and a crooked but warm smile on his face, a guiding hand on the small of your back as you step inside.

Black-framed minimalist posters line the walls, the floors are polished dark wood and exposed brass light fixtures hang at varying heights from the ceiling. You pass a long, elegant bar lining one side of the room as you’re led towards the back of the restaurant — this place oozes sophistication, even the waitstaff are in fancy uniforms. Not smart casual.

Joel pulls a chair out for you as you reach your table, a small reserved card rests against a floating candle and two red roses bloom in a slender vase.

“Do you mind if I take the wall?” you ask timidly, pointing towards the opposite bench.

“Not at all.” His gaze is soft as he shakes his head, eyes trained on you as you both take your seats.

“I just— I like being able to see, it’s uh…”

You smooth your hands over the tablecloth as your voice fades off, resisting the urge to make a game of blowing the candle out. You flit your eyes up to look at Joel, finding he’s already staring at you, candlelight flickering in his eyes. You drop your gaze to the table again, failing dismally at suppressing the grin that spreads across your face.

“You look gorgeous, by the way — if you don’t mind me sayin’. Knew you would, of course, but…”

It seems your outfit choice has paid off — gorgeous?

After hours of flinging clothes off hangers, you’d finally settled on a black, mid-length dress — a sweetheart neckline with white piping, the same white mirrored on the hem, a daring slit up one side of the skirt. There’s nothing casual about it, but seeing Joel dressed up and the finely decorated restaurant has calmed your nerves.

You don’t dare look at him again as the waiter returns and places two menus on the table. The night’s barely begun, and you hope it doesn’t end any time soon.

There hasn’t been a lull in the conversation once during dinner, a sharing dessert now in the centre of the table as Joel swirls what’s left of his whiskey around the glass. He held back all evening, fingers twitching and curling into a loose fist alongside yours on the table until he finally allowed himself to dance them across the back of your hand.

“How’d you get into all this record business?”

“Started workin’ there on weekends as a kid, wanted to earn some pocket money. The old man who owned it was like a mentor, he taught me all about the world. He left it all in my hands when he retired, and I’ve never looked back.”

A fond smile on his face as he retells his memories, you saw the first day you met how happy and comfortable he was in his charming shop, and it seems that charm bleeds over into him, too.

“And you get to meet all kinds of people — loud, friendly, aloof… pretty ones, too.” He gives you the same wink and devilish grin as before, continuing his stories as if you aren’t burning across the table.

Sometime during the night, he’d moved to sit next to you, claiming he ‘wanted to see the band’ — the arm draped on the bench behind you and fingers trailing across your shoulder says otherwise.

He mentioned at the shop that there was live music here on Friday nights — the one thing he didn’t mention? That tonight’s particular band was a jazz quartet — the slow, smooth, romantic kind of jazz, the kind that acts as the perfect backdrop for a night of cheeky flirting, lingering glances and desperate touches.

“Joel, can I ask something?”

“Shoot.”

You roll the edge of the tablecloth between your fingers. “Is this a date?”

“It can be, if you want.” You drop your hands and eye him, unimpressed by his response.

“Alright, I’ll admit, I was hopin’ for a date. I wasn’t really sure how to ask, didn’t wanna come on too strong.”

You’re silent for a beat, considering how to respond. “I mean, you could’ve just asked.”

“Well then, you wanna go on a date?” He tilts his head, eyebrows raised.

“I thought we were already on one.”

He chuckles at your remark, downing the last of his whiskey and momentarily tracing a finger along the rim of the glass. You focus on his movements, imagining his fingers tracing patterns into your skin instead.

As if he can read your mind, he twists himself towards you and plants that same hand just above your knee, fingers curled towards the inside of your leg as he scrapes his nails against you.

“And?” His voice is almost a whisper in your ear, “Has it been a good one?”

He glides his hand up your leg and into the slit of your dress as you nod, higher, higher, higher until his fingers brush against lace. You wonder if he can feel the fabric dampening.

“Y’know the Pink Floyd you asked about? It wasn’t sold, I kept it for myself. I’ll play it for you sometime.”

“You’re gonna talk about music? Right now?”

“What should I talk about instead? The delicate panties you got on? How wet they’re getting?”

Your breath hitches as he shifts his fingers, tucking them just under the edge of your panties and caressing your skin. Glancing around, the band are still playing low and slow, most tables having cleared out by now.

“Would love to see ‘em, if you’ll let me. I’d really love to see what’s underneath though. Pretty girl like you’s bound to have a real pretty pussy, too. Certainly feels like it, Jesus.”

He presses his fingers into you with more force this time and you turn your head to him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide and not from the dim lighting. He glances down to your lips and back up to your eyes again and you close the distance between you. He repositions the arm around your shoulders, hand holding the back of your neck as you lock your legs together and grind yourself against him.

His lips are soft, beard and moustache tickling your skin as he swipes his tongue against the seam of your mouth. You moan into him as you part your lips, letting him lick into you and you can taste his whiskey. He pulls back and you whine, teasing you with just enough to leave you reeling for more.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Take me home, Joel. Please, I need you.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Wanna hear the music you can make.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #secretsprings

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steddielations · 5 months

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nonsexual d/s for sub Eddie week with art here by @ent-is-indecisive

“Eddie, will you please open the door?”

“I ruined it, Steve, I messed everything up.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby, let me in, c’mon.”

All the music from the party almost drowns out Steve’s voice, but a small pathetic piece of Eddie clings to it like an anchor. He opens the door and Steve’s brows knit sympathetically at the state of distress Eddie's in. It’s all fucked up.

His leather sleeve is wet and sticky, he can’t stop raking his fingers through his hair, ruining the nice waves Steve styled for him earlier because he was too much of a wreck to do it himself. It’s all fucked up.

“I fucked up.”

Shaking his head, Steve comes inside and shuts the door behind him. “It wasn’t that bad. Could’ve been worse, remember when Robin threw up in the middle of an audition.”

“Steve, at this point they’re gonna pay me not to make an album,” Eddie stresses, pacing around the bathroom. “I spilled wine all over the guy. Dale fucking Grazer wants to talk serious paper and shake my hand and I just emptied my stupid little glass all over him!”

“It was just wine, not puke or something,” Steve says lightly, trying to bring Eddie down from his frantic state. It works, his voice is a tether for Eddie to grab onto. “Come here, let me fix you up.”

Eddie does as Steve says, not trusting himself to make any more decisions when all he’s done today is fuck up.

Steve guides him over to the sink, wetting a towel and dabbing Eddie’s jacket. He’s so calm, like this isn’t the most important night in Eddie’s life and it’s not already blown and he can still make that hotshot from the record label like him.

Steve’s acting like everything’s fine, which makes Eddie feel stupid and small like he's overreacting, he tries to let Steve’s energy calm him too but it’s hard.

“You’re overthinking, I can see it on your face,” Steve says, being gentle but not in a coddling way that would make Eddie feel even more stupid.

He straightens out Eddie’s sleeve, good as new, then works on Eddie’s hair next. His fingers are soft and skilled and so sure, knowing exactly how to fix it and how to make Eddie melt under his touch.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, just trying to let Steve fix everything. He's way better at fancy parties and schmoozing than Eddie is. He always knows how to get Eddie out of his head and that’s what he needs right now. As pathetic as he feels about it, he needs to stop thinking. Let Steve think for him, even.

“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” Steve prompts softly and Eddie is helpless but to let it all out.

“I can’t stop saying the wrong shit. Why’d I tell him my dad’s in prison? Or bring up the dropped murder charges, or all that stuff about ket, I just can’t shut up.”

“No, that’s just you, the whole big personality charismatic rockstar thing. Trust me, that guy’s got star eyes for you.”

“This is just like with Paige’s label. I messed that up, and now I’m ruining Jeff’s chance again, and—”

“No you’re not, that guy loves Jeff already, everybody loves Jeff.”

“You’re right, he’s got this, he doesn’t need me. Let’s just get out of here, make a run for it.”

Eddie barely takes a step before Steve’s hands circle both his wrists, his grip gentle but solid, holding Eddie in place. It flips the same little switch in Eddie as the cuffs they use in the bedroom. It takes away the option to run.

Somewhere in the jumble of his mind, he knows it’s the right choice, trusting that Steve wouldn’t let him make the wrong one.

“We’re not going anywhere, baby, this is your chance too.” Steve rubs up and down Eddie’s arms, guiding him around in front of the mirror.

It’s hard for Eddie to look at himself right now and see it written all over his face. Steve cleaned the stain and made his hair perfect again but he can’t fix whatever’s making Eddie… Well, Eddie. Whatever it is that made him flunk senior year 3 times, or screw up the first chance he had to make something of himself, or the reason Ronnie won’t pick up his phone calls, or the reason Wayne sleeps with his keys on the bedside table in case he has to come running to Eddie’s rescue like always—

Steve’s fingers lightly cup Eddie’s chin, he’s standing behind Eddie now, his body warmly pressed against him.

“Look here, honey.” Steve gently tips Eddie’s head up to meet his own eyes in the mirror. They’re glistening with unshed tears that almost fall when Steve says soft but sure, “You’re not a fuckup,” and prompts Eddie, “Say it.”

Eddie swallows the lump rising in his throat, “I’m not—”

He chokes up a little bit and Steve waits patiently.

“Tell yourself,” Steve whispers, all earnest-eyed in the mirror like all he wants is to make Eddie believe it.

“I’m not a… fuckup,” Eddie gets the words out and a few tears slip free with them.

Steve brushes them away. “You can do this. Say it.”

With a deep breath, Eddie tells himself, “I can do this.”

Steve kisses his temple, gives him a little praise that he admittedly needs so much right now, “You’re gonna be so good.”

Eddie’s mind starts to clear of everything that’s not Steve rocking him slowly in his arms, whispering, “You’re my good boy,” as many times as Eddie needs to hear it. He feels his confidence building back up, getting more comfortable in his skin again with Steve holding him, believing the words Steve made him say in the mirror, believing the words Steve kisses into his neck and loves into his skin. He can do this.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me,” Steve prompts and Eddie turns a little, blinking slowly, eyes feeling heavy with the slow dose of bliss Steve gave him.

“I’m your good boy,” Eddie murmurs and he believes it.

When they leave the bathroom later, Steve can’t hold his hand through this, but Eddie still feels him.

He charms the fuck out of those suits from the label. They love Jeff, everybody loves Jeff, and they love Eddie too. The whole band is definitely getting signed, at least that’s what Steve says on the ride home.

Eddie greedily soaks up all the praise and attention, feeling a little spacey with it, Steve's big warm hand on his thigh grounding him. He can't wait for them to get home so he can properly thank Steve.

#i just think eddie needs steve to tell him he's a good boy sometimes and i'm right #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #subeddieweek #also thank you again ent i'm flattered you wanted to draw this and it's so gorgeous and I appreciate it!!

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x0xomady · 9 days

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made with love

˙⊹܀☁︎˚˙⊹⁺.

summary: harry and you are in london for fall, so you make cookies, listen to old music, and fall even more in love.

(harry styles x female reader)

warnings: 18+ it’s not heavy smut, but there is still some smut in it, oral fem reciving, sickingly cute fluff.

a/n: my last few stories have had some heavier themes and plots, so i wanted to write something sweet! this is all autumn themed since summer is over :)

˙⊹܀☁︎˚˙⊹⁺.

the cold streets of london are filled with dew from the rain, fallen leaves, and people. harry and you are walking along the street back towards his apartment after being at the store. after much debate and harry threatening to sleep in the guest room for a month, the two of you decided on making chocolate chip cookies.

⋆｡˚⁺｡ one hour earlier, at the store ｡⁺˚｡⋆

“what do you mean, chai cookies? what the hell is a chai cookie? that’s a tea, not a dessert, sweetheart.” harry looks at you in confusion as you walk through the baking isle of whole foods looking for ingredients.

“it’s a thing! you know it has chai, nutmeg, cinnamon, all that good stuff.” you shrug and continue looking for the bags of flour.

“uh no it isn’t. we need to make chocolate chip cookies! everyone knows chocolate chip cookies are the best classic cookie.” harry sighs dramatically and drops the container of chocolate chip cookies into the basket. “where’d you even the get the idea for chai cookies?”

you smile and try not to laugh as you turn and look back at harry, knowing he would be mad about the source of your new fixation. “you know…. taylor swift posted them on her social media-”

harry gives you a deadpan look and doesn’t say anything.

“yeah, yeah, fine we can make chocolate chip cookies, you drama queen.”

⋆｡˚⁺｡ present ｡⁺˚｡⋆

as you make your way through the crowded streets, the cold night air nips at your nose and leaves your hands feeling cold and stiff. the light of street lamps falls upon the wet pavement, casting a faint yellow glow upon it, while the buildings look dull and dark against the dark sky.

harry and you walk silently beside one another, dodging other pedestrians who seem to be just as bundled up against the cold.

you look up at the sky and see the clouds are beginning to move in, covering up the stars and making the city darker. harry looks down at you, his breath visible in the cold night air.

“you warm enough?” he carries the bags in one hand and reaches over, lacing one of your hands with his.

you feel the warmth of his hand against your cold skin and give him a small nod.

“yeah i am,” you say with a smile, feeling harry’s rings against your hand as you walk. “you sure we have everything we need?”

“i think so,” he says with a small shrug, squeezing your hand in his. “eggs, milk, butter, vanilla, flour, sugar, and chocolate chips. and i even remembered the baking soda. which by the way- i had no idea what that was until today.”

you roll your eyes and smile at his words. if there was one thing harry could not do, it was bake. he could write albums, go on world tours, and play multiple different instruments, but if he had to mix ingredients, it turned into world war three.

“you could’ve just bought premade cookie dough,” you point out with a smirk, looking over at him. “or we could’ve made something easier, like rice crispy treats, or brownies-“

“first of all,” he begins with a mock offended tone. “rice crispy treats are a kid's food. secondly, we’re trying to get the full autumn experience, okay? none of this “store-bought” nonsense.”

“we can get the full experience by cuddling on the couch under a blanket and watching a spooky movie,”

you counter, raising an eyebrow as harry rolls his eyes at you. the cold from the air gives him a light pink tint to his cheeks as you walk through the streets. “but i guess you’re right…. watching you trying to bake is horror enough.”

he gasps, looking down at you in mock horror. “you think i’m that bad?!”

he grabs your hand tighter and pulls you down the street faster as you get closer to his apartment. “that’s it. i’m going to make the best fucking cookies and force you to eat them.”

˙⊹܀☁︎˚˙⊹⁺.

“okay…. add…. 3/4 cup of sugar.”

you nod and start measuring the cup of sugar. harry’s sat on the counter with his legs dangling off the side, reading the ingredients out for you to add to the bowl.

“aaaand… 3/4 cup of brown sugar.”

you smile at the sight of harry sitting on the counter so casually. he’s wearing his favorite “DAMN” hoodie that he wore whenever he could. you add the brown sugar to the bowl and look at the dough.

“okay it looks good. come help me roll it out so we can bake it.”

harry smiles and hops off the counter, standing next to you eagerly and looking down at the dough.

“ohhh so i AM allowed to help, good to know.” harry sighs sarcastically and moves the sleeves of his hoodie up, revealling his tattoos.

you roll your eyes and put the dough on the counter. harry had TRIED to help you mix the ingredients at the beginning, but...

⋆｡˚⁺｡ a few minutes prior ｡⁺˚｡⋆

“okay add the flour, h. i measured it, just drop it in the bowl.” you nod towards the cup of flour and watch as harry picks it up.

instead of dropping it into the bowl like a normal person, harry decided to hold it up about three feet, so when it fell in, flour shot EVERYWHERE.

“oh….” harry looks over at you with flour coating his entire face and hands, letting out a sneeze as the flour goes in his nose.

“oh for fucks sake, harry.”

⋆｡˚⁺｡ present ｡⁺˚｡⋆

so he was benched after that.

“yeah, yeah, stop whining and help me roll it out.” you smile at the sight of your boyfriend squishing the dough around.

he grins at you at you and begins squishing the dough with his hands, pushing it out with his palms. the sound of harry’s favorite fleetwood mac song, “over my head” is playing throughout the kitchen.

“i’m over my head… oh but it sure feels nice” harry is mumbling along to the lyrics as he rolls the dough around. your heart flutters and you smile a little at the sound of harry singing. you could never really get over having harry styles around like this.

“this is fun. just mashing around some sticky dough and getting it in my fingernails for no reason whatsoever.”

you roll your eyes again and start forming the little balls of dough, putting them on the greased pan. “stop being gross.”

“no no i can’t help it, it’s too fun.” he grins at you, shoving one of his hands in the dough and holding it up to you.

“see look, my fingerprints!”

he presses the dough against your cheek before you can protest, laughing as he leaves a sticky, doughy handprint on your face.

you gasp and push his hand away, feeling the sticky dough on your cheek. “harry!”

he laughs loudly and holds his hands up in surrender. “i’m sorry, i couldn’t resist. you’re just too cute.”

he moves closer, bringing his face close to yours and licking the dough off your cheek. “mm tastes good. not that you don’t always taste good, because trust me, you do.”

“oh shut up,” you scoff, playfully pushing him away as a blush spreads across your cheeks.

he grins and kisses your cheek before going back to rolling the dough into shape. after a second of silence he speaks up again. “oh shit- it’s everywhere.”

you turn to see that, sure enough, almost the entire counter was covered in dough, with little bits of it clinging to your skin and shirt. you look up at the sight of harry’s hands completely covered in sticky dough.

“harry how did you manage to get dough EVERYWHERE?”

“uhm, excuse me, i think you mean how did WE manage to get dough everywhere.” harry grins as you give him a look. he holds his hands up, admiring the dough on them. “see, we’re bonding.”

harry’s smiling and giggling like crazy. you roll your eyes and give his shoulder a gentle shove. “yeah, bonding over dough. i think we’re at peak relationship goals right now. just put flour on your hands to get some of the dough off”

you couldn’t be mad at him at all. you knew what harry meant by “bonding.” harry had been on tour for almost three years straight, and you finally had the chance to spend more than a week at a time together. you knew he felt guilty about being gone so much, and that’s why he was so set on having a “perfect fall” together.

you look at your messy hands and sigh, shaking your head. “okay let’s finish putting these in the oven.”

harry grins, shaking as much of the dough as he can from his hands, sending little clumps of it flying into the air. he giggles and grabs some paper towels, wiping the rest of it off his hands.

“yeah okay i guess i’ll try not to get any more dough on your stuff and everywhere,” he responds, moving back to the counter towards you. “just because you’re being so sweet about it.”

you smile at his words and give him a peck before grabbing pans and putting them in the oven. “mkay… lets go pick a movie”

˙⊹܀☁︎˚˙⊹⁺.

“johnny depp is so hot in this movie.” you sigh dramatically and take a bite of your cookie, watching the iconic scene of him in a crop top.

harry nods in and takes a bite of his own cookie. “yeah i agree.”

the two of you are sat on harry’s large couch, watching the perfect scary movie, “a nightmare on elm street.” you’re sat on the couch, laying back with your head on harry’s chest eating your cookies. they didn’t come out perfect, harry’s large (and just a little awkward) hands hadn’t formed the best shaped cookies.

but it was all perfect.

the front window of the apartment was left open, letting in the cold breeze and smell of rain as the clouds and mist filled london. each cookie was made with love and it was evident in the taste. you could tell harry was happy. he was so anxious about making sure you spent time together, and he was finally making it happen.

your large, fuzzy throw blanket is draped over the two of you as you watch the classic horror movie. harry’s hands mindlessly run over your waist as his focus on the movie.

he lets out a small breath as his hand rubs up and down your hip. he lets his fingers trail down, tracing little patterns against your skin.

it had been so long since the two of you could just be together like this. tour schedules had been hell, and he hadn’t had a break for almost a year. he was trying to make the best of it, he could tell you were also having a good time. you were so happy to just be near him, he could feel it in the way you relaxed into his touch.

“ughh that is disgusting. acting is…. mm subpar” harry says sarcastically and fake gags at the sight of johnny depp’s characters gruesome death scene. he grabs another cookie and puts it in his mouth, wincing at the sight of the blood.

“yeah yeah, I forgot I was with an experienced actor,” you scoff sarcastically, looking up at your boyfriend, who’s pulling a face. it was cute how affected he was by a cheesy 80s horror movie.

he rolls his eyes and grins down at you, still continuing to make a face as he watches the movie. “hey i’m allowed to criticize, remember don’t worry darling? yeah that’s right, masterpiece.”

he brings his hand from your waist down to your leg, gently squeezing your thigh as he looks back at the tv and watches the movie.

you smile and shake your head at his words, taking another bite of your cookie. “oh that’s right. please forgive me.”

the two of you continue to watch the movie, occasionally commenting on the acting or the plot. harry's hand never stops moving, tracing patterns on your waist and thigh, and you can feel yourself relaxing more and more with each passing moment.

the rain outside picks up, making a soft tapping noise against the window. the cool breeze from outside makes the room feel cozy and warm.

harry pulls your sweatpants down and tosses them to the side before grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer to him. he starts pressing kisses along your legs, starting from your ankles and working his way up. his stubble scratches gently against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. he takes his time, savoring every inch of your legs as he moves higher and higher.

the rain outside continues to fall, creating a soothing background noise combined with the quiet sound of the movie that only adds to the intimacy of the moment. you can't help but let out a soft sigh as he reaches your inner thighs, his fingers digging into your skin.

as he reaches your core, you gasp and grab onto harry's thick curls underneath the blanket. he presses a kiss against your folds, and you let out a low moan. your heart races as he continues to explore, his fingers tracing patterns against your skin. you lean back against the couch, your body going limp as you let yourself be consumed by the sensation.

harry's hands move up to your hips, holding you in place as he continues to taste and tease.

you feel his warm breath against your skin, and his tongue darts in and out, sending shivers down your spine. he suckles your sensitive nub between his lips, holding your body close to his. the scratchiness of his stubble gives a delicious sensation as his mouth, and chin scrape against your mound.

your fingers dig deeper into his curls, holding him in place as you arch your back, pushing yourself closer to his mouth. "yes, please h, need more." your voice comes out as a whimper as you push your hips to meet his face.

harry's hands grip tighter on your hips, pulling you closer as he continues to taste and tease. he can feel your body trembling beneath his touch, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. he takes his time, exploring every inch of you as if it's the first time he's ever tasted you.

but suddenly, he pulls away, leaving you wanting. he pushes the blanket off, revealing your flushed skin and the desire in your eyes. he gives you his signature cheeky grin, his green eyes meeting yours.

"what do you need, love?" he asks, his voice low and husky. his hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

you bite your lip, your breath still coming in short gasps. "i need you," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

harry's grin widens as he hears your words. he leans back in, pressing a kiss against the inside of your thigh, keeping his eyes on yours. "yeah?" he asks, his voice low and husky. "need my fingers, baby?"

you nod and holds onto his curls. harry takes his time, tracing a path with his fingers up your thigh, making you squirm in anticipation. when he reaches your core, he gently slides a finger inside of you, making you gasp at the sensation. he starts to move his finger in a slow, steady rhythm, his thumb pressing against your clit.

harry's eyes never leave yours, watching every reaction and response to his touch.

"you look so good," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. he presses a second finger past your entrance, and you let out a low moan as he begins to explore deeper. "so, so, so pretty," he says, his breath hot against your skin.

he continues to move his fingers inside of you, building up a rhythm that has you pressing your hips up against his hand. your breath comes in short, sharp gasps as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

harry's fingers curl inside of you, pressing against that spot that makes your whole body tremble.

"oh, shit," you gasp, your fingers tugging on harry's hair for support. he smirks against your skin, his fingers continuing to thrust in and out of you. he presses tight circles on your clit, pressing light kisses against your thighs and mumbling words of encouragement.

you can feel your orgasm building up inside of you, your body tensing up as you get closer and closer to the edge. harry's fingers continue to move inside of you, his touch driving you wild. you whimper out, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as your orgasm finally crashes over you.

harry smiles as he feels your walls squeeze his fingers, his eyes locked on yours as he watches you come undone. he gently presses kisses against your clit, his lips soft and gentle against your sensitive skin. slowly, he moves his fingers out of you as you ride out your orgasm.

"good job, baby," he whispers, his voice low and husky. "you look so pretty." his eyes are filled with adoration as he gazes at you, his fingers still tracing patterns on your skin. you can feel your body relaxing, your muscles releasing the tension as you come down from your high.

“love you so much,” he sits up from where he was kneeling on the floor between your legs and grabs a towel to gently clean you up. he stands up and presses a kiss to your forehead. “told you, you taste better than any of those damn cookies.”

˙⊹܀☁︎˚˙⊹⁺.

i may or may not have been inspired to write this after i made taylors chai cookies 👀

-💋

#x0xomady #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #one direction #harry styles fluff #smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #one direction smut #one direction imagine #fluff

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ebsmind · 9 months

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𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 ❀ tom blyth x fem!singer reader

summary : readers reputation isn’t all that good but who cares since she’s met the love of her life

warning(s) : reader gets slut shamed :( but that’s it

a/n : i’m going to be real honest i wanted to use hailee steinfeld as the fc BUT i just had to do olivia bc she’s so me and i listened to delicate by taylor swift about 10 times while i made this 🙃

i also had a really hard time coming up with why the readers reputation is 👎🏼 so i kinda just went with the whole olivia and sabrina thing but it’s reversed!! 😼 (so instead of olivia getting broken up with it’s sabrina who got broken up with)

ynuser happiness 🙃

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user1 oh so ur happy bc ur a home wrecker?

user2 yikes…

user3 Y/N PLS I CANNOT KEEP DEFENDING YOU GIRL

user4 y’all don’t even know the full story pls

user5 she’s such a slut

*comments have been disabled

ynuserupdates the tea is popping hot between these three! y/n rodrigo has now claimed that she has never had any romantic relationship with joshua basset…will sabrina carpenter clear the air between the situation??

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user1 she SPOKE on the situation??

↳ user2 yeah she went on a podcast

user3 oh shit

user4 this is why yall shouldn’t believe everything on the internet 😭

user5 poor y/n and sabrina :(

↳ user6 all over a guy too :(

user7 guys will always be the problem

ynuser i’m soooo excited to announce that i wrote a song called Can’t Catch Me Now for the new Hunger Games : The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes movie!!! 🕊️🐍🧡

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rachelzegler THATS MY GIRL!!!

user1 sis really said lemme just make the greatest comeback of all time

user2 oh she’s slaying ur honor

hunterschafer the best person who could’ve written a song for this movie

tomblyth so proud of you

user3 TOMS COMMENT OMG???

user4 i just KNOW this song is gonna be so good

user5 girl was probably finishing up writing this song when the whole sabrina and josh thing was going on 😭😭

thehungergames 🧡🧡🧡

ynuser life recently 🖤

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user1 Y/N WHOS THE BOY

rachelzegler SOFT LAUNCH I REPEAT SOFT LAUNCH

tomblyth cutie

❤️ by creator

↳ user2 SHUT UP OMG

user3 TOM AND Y/N????

user4 SOFT LAUNCH MY ASSSSS RACHEL

user5 pls wasn’t she just with that josh guy?

↳ user6 girl she went on a podcast and said it was a fake rumor

user7 oh this next album is gonna HIT

❤️ by creator

tomblyth premier day

tagged : @/ynuser , @/rachelzegler , @/hunterschafer , @/thehungergames

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ynuser hey that’s me!!!

ynuser took the last pic on tom’s phone

❤️ by creator

rachelzegler oh we ate that

user1 y’all SLAYEDDDD

user2 stream can’t catch me now yall ✌️

❤️ by creator

user3 y/n taking a .5 on tom’s phone is so cute

↳ user4 no literally they are my PARENTSSSS

user5 the girls are slaying ur honor

hunterschafer love you!!

tomblyth added to their story!

ynuser delicate mv out now!!

tagged : @/tomblyth

tomblyth i’m in love with you

↳ ynuser i love you more

user1 OH MY GODODJNSND

user2 AN ALBUM IS COMING

user3 BRO TOM BEING IN THE MUSIC VIDEO I CANT???

user4 NOW THIS WAS A HARD LAUNCH

rachelzegler omg the cats finally out of the bag I CAN TALK ABOUT THEM NOW

↳ ynuser PLSSSS sis was eager and almost spilled the beans like a week ago 😭

↳ rachelzegler i just LOVE YALL SO MUCH

hunterschafer such a perfect song for a perfect couple 🖤

user5 i cannot do this today

user6 joshua basset is def crying in the corner

↳ user7 NAH FR HE FUMBLED HER AND SABRINA

conangray ate

user8 y/n be so fr we been knew since the announcement of can’t catch me now

❤️ by creator

#tom blyth #coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus snow imagine #social media #social media au #ebs writes things!#userebs

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hazelsmirrorball · 1 year

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Rockstar Girlfriend IV. | Hazel Callahan

Rockstar! Hazel Callahan x Popstar! Reader Summary: Hazel Callahan and Y/n L/n have to be in a pr relationship, but both of them can stand each other but recently things are starting to look up. Warnings: Enemies to lovers! Enemies to lovers! Enemies to lovers! Angst , slight jealous! Hazel. Sad! Fight (not physical) Not proof read. Sorry for any mistakes, English isn't my main language. a/n: It’s friday so it’s time to be sad in bed! Here you guys go, thank you so so much for all the support. I love reading your comments, they really make my day. Thank you for reading

part one. part two. part three. part five

Hazel Callahan was never a jealous person, why would she be? There was no reason to be jealous. She had everything she could possibly think of, fame, money, talent and the list goes on and on. She could talk all day about all the things she had but aside from those material things Hazel knew she was attractive, she could have anyone fall at her feet in an instance. So she couldn’t understand the wave of jealousy hitting her body as she saw Y/n from afar flirting with someone. Hazel gripped tightly on the beer she was holding glaring daggers towards Y/n as she threw her head back laughing at some joke the person next to them.

“I bet it wasn't even that funny” She muttered to herself while taking a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving Y/n ‘s way.

“Who isn’t that funny?” Josie asked, popping out of nowhere behind Hazel causing her to jump, almost spilling her drink. Hazel rested her hand on her chest trying to push away the fact that she had scared the living shit out of her. Josie turned towards her unconsciously blocking Hazel’s view of Y/n.

“What the fuck, Josie? You can’t jump out of nowhere. I could’ve spilled my drink on this lovely white couch. This is a million dollar couch. We can’t afford to ruin this couch” Hazel rambled reaching towards the couch pushing herself up so she could see the interactions Y/n was having with the unknown stranger better. Josie rolled her eyes, still not noticing Hazel's true intentions.

“Have you seen your net worth? You could fill a house just with those damn couches and still have money. But that’s not even the important thing. Today’s the perfect day to scare people.” Josie responded by pulling Hazel by the arm, making her sit next to her on the couch.

Josie was right, today was the perfect day to scare people. October 31st had rolled around really quick and this year people were more excited than ever. And people being excited by something made management want to hop on that train. That’s how Hazel and everyone else found themselves at a Halloween costume party in honor of B/n’s album launch. As much as Hazel wanted to deny it, she actually wanted to be at that dumb party. She had seen how important that album was for Y/n and her career. She had worked hard to get it out and the least Hazel could do was support her.

The past few months as a PR couple weren’t as bad as she thought it would be. Being forced to go around town to be spotted by paps and fans so turned into dates where they could talk countless hours about things that didn’t make sense. Movie nights, sleepovers, late night dinners, they outings started transitioning from public to the privacy of their house. Hazel had learned every inch of Y/n’s apartment and every incho of her heart. It was hard for Hazel to see the line of where their pr relationship ended and their relationship started. She had found herself wanting for her phone to light up wishing it was a text from Y/n or how everything reminded her about Y/n. She was falling and she was falling hard.

All she could think about was Y/n. Every ounce of inspiration started with Y/n. She made Hazel feel complete. Yes she had “everything” but nothing in the world could make her feel the way Y/n did. Hazel wanted her to feel happy and if she had to go to that party and dress up, she would do it in a heartbeat. So as soon as the theme of the party got revealed, Hazel found herself at the nearest halloween store.

Hazel was actually excited to go to the party and see Y/n, knowing that she was going to love her ghostface costume, but never in a million years she would’ve thought that she would see Y/n, her Y/n, snuggling up to some random person.

“Hello? Earth to Hazel. Are you here?” Josie exclaimed concerned, snapping her fingers in front of Hazel’s face. Hazel shook her head turning to face Josie finishing the last sip of her beer and placing it on the small table in front of them.

“Shouldn’t you be…I don’t know making out with your girlfriend or bothering PJ? Don’t we spend enough time with each other as it is?” Hazel snapped, taking Josie's drink and taking a sip. She waited a few seconds before turning her head once again on the pair a few feet away from them, noticing how they hovered against each other a few inches of locking lips.

“Rude much? I have you know, Isabel is currently talking with this agent about a modeling gig and PJ is desperately trying to get a girl which leaves me no option to spend time with you. So, what’s up your ass. You’ve been moody ever since we got here.” Josie said getting more comfortable on the couch in front of her. She followed Hazel's gaze, noticing what she was looking at. “Oh, you found out about them?” Josie asked Hazel, making her snap her head towards Josie quickly.

“Them? What do you mean about them?” Hazel responded quickly, not trying to hide her true emotions or intentions. She was going to find out who that person was and why she was wasting her time with them instead of spending time with her. Y/n didn’t even think of sending a hello towards Hazel’s way being too busy making googly eyes at the unknown person.

“That’s Y/n ex, they were together before the pr thing between you two started. I guess since it’s over they are rekindling their relationship.” She continued while resting her legs on the coffee table in front of her. Hazel furrowed her eyebrows trying to process the information she had heard.

“Wait. What do you mean now that it’s over?” Hazel asked, placing Josie's drink down completely facing her this time, her body almost on top of hers.

“Didn’t you receive the constant chained emails? They have been updating both of the bands about your guys publicity stunt. ” She replied, searching for her phone so Hazel could read the emails their manager had sent both of the teams.

“Who the hell even reads email anymore? I thought G sent the important updates via message. Why did no one tell me that they were sending things via email.” Hazel replied, taking Josie's phone scrolling down to read the messages in front of her.

Hazel felt her world spin as she read the words in front of her on the flashing screen. Her eyes quickly scanned the twenty emails and all the responses. Everytime she read one more word she could feel the high she had with Y/n slip away, it was all fake.

Without even thinking it twice Hazel felt herself move up from the couch heading towards Y/n not before handing the phone back to Josie. Her stomps were strong as she pushed past the crowd of people. When she finally got next to the pair she grabbed Y/n’s arm ignoring the disappearing smile on her face. Before her or her ex could say a word, Hazel pulled her outside. The cold breeze hit Hazel's face, but she could feel herself getting hotter by the minute, pissed off out of her mind.

“What the hell,Hazel? I was trying to have a conversation” Y/n exclaimed annoyed, pulling her arm away from Hazel’s touch. Hazel looked at her pissed off, something unfamiliar to Y/n. She was used to seeing cocky Hazel and as of recently sweet Haze; but angry Hazel was a new thing for her.

“When were you going to tell me about the emails?” Hazel said roughly, not breaking eye contact with Y/n. She could feel how just by her choice of words Y/n confidence turned down.

“The emails? What emails?” Y/n asked clearly about her throat while playing with the ends of her skirt. Hazel laughed sarcastically, taking her by the chin, making her look at her.

“What emails? Let me help you out and refresh your memory. The email where you claimed that going out with me was a way for you to get me to write the songs for your album. An easy way to get on top of the social ladder. I thought you said that you wanted to write things for yourself? To make a name for yourself in the industry, why the hell did you use all the songs I fucking wrote for my bands album. I showed them to you in confidence and you stole from me. What the actual fuck, L/n” Hazel exclaimed letting go of her chin not wanting to hurt her due to the fact that she wasn;’t in control of her anger.

“I didn’t know you were going to read the emails. It was just my team a…” Hazel looked at her shocked, feeling her heart break at the choice of Y/n’s words not believing that this was the same girl she had fallen desperately in love with.

“You didn’t know that I was going to find out about the fact that you were fucking me over and leading me on these past months for a stupid album. Are you hearing yourself right now”

“No, Hazel. You don’t understand! You’ve always had everything I just wanted to see what it was like. You knew from the beginning that it was a pr thing really, but now I..”

“Honestly, I actually thought you were actually a good person. I felt like shit being around you, I didn’t think I was worthy of being next to you. But now, I guess it was the other way around. I really hope that using me for that damn album was worth it. Because right now you gave me inspiration to write a new one” Hazel turned away as tears started forming on Y/n eyes. As Hazel walked away Y/n could feel her only inspiration slipping away.

Hazel was gone and out of her life, like she always wanted, but why didn’t it feel good. Why did she want to see her face and the constant reminder that she was there? Hazel Callahan had an effect on her that she couldn’t lose but now it was too late, she was slipping away.

...

[previous part]

next part

Thank you for reading

#hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan imagine #hazel x reader #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #kit tanthalos x reader #kit tanthalos #save willow #willow #ruby cruz #ruby cruz x reader #bottoms movie #Hazel Callahan reader insert #reader insert

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tayloralisonswift · 11 months

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slut! is such an interesting exploration of the larger thesis of wildest dreams (this will end but it’s so good right now), specifically what will happen to her when it ends, what it will cost her, and ultimately taylor deciding that yes this moment is worth them slut shaming me for however long they will. that’s how lovesick she is. (it’s very Romantic but that’s another post.)

in general 1989 is an album obsessed with consequences. out of the woods repeatedly asks if it’ll end well. all you had to do was stay declares that there are consequences to her ex lover’s actions. i wish you would daydreams about what could’ve been if they’d made different choices. bad blood is about the consequences of betrayal. wildest dreams sees the end as it begins. how you get the girl is an instruction manual on how to get the outcome you want. clean describes a woman in the aftermath. wonderland discusses what she should’ve done differently to not end up here (essentially: everything she did.) new romantics takes the theme and plays around with it - maybe this is all gonna fuck me up, but isn’t the aesthetic worth it?! and then there’s the vault.

all of this is to say, 1989 is an album set in the past, with all the wisdom of what is to come. keeping that in mind makes slut! and its promise to pursue the thing that will hurt even more precious

#ok now I’m going to bed #idk if this makes any sense and I’m too tired to proof read!

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supernovafics · 1 year

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𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐍

pairing: professor!steve harrington x professor!fem!reader

word count: 6.8k words

summary: in which it had been twelve years since you last saw steve harrington. and you never thought about him, mainly because you’d forced yourself not to. but, suddenly, it was hard to avoid thoughts or reminders of him when after all of those years, you finally saw him again. it was an abrupt moment that oh so quickly brought back memories and old feelings that managed to do a number of things; confuse, scare, and worry you. after everything that happened between you two, you fully believed that you would never want to talk to him again. but maybe that was the exact thing that needed to happen.

warnings: explicit language, mentions of cheating, a bit of fluff, implied smut, a shit ton of angst but with a happy ending

author’s note: this took forever and it's insanely long but i love the way it turned out<33 the rest of the trilogy will be out next, so "august" and then "betty" coming (very) soon!! (full "folklore" album series masterlist here!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“and when i felt like i was an old cardigan under someone's bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Fall Semester 1996

You rarely ever thought about your life pre-Rhode Island. Mainly because you never wanted to, but also because it felt so far in the past that there was never any reason to focus on what used to be.

You segmented your life into two phases. One, before you left your hometown, and, two, the moment you drove past the “Leaving Hawkins” sign and never looked back, refraining to listen to the part of the sign that told you to “Come Again Soon.”

It had been nearly twelve years since you left the small Indiana town, and there wasn’t one moment where you ran into anyone that you once knew from that “before” life, which, in turn, meant that you never had any reason to think about Hawkins.

Until you did run into someone. And it was probably the worst possible person you could’ve ever run into.

Steve fucking Harrington.

You would’ve rather seen Simon Gardener— your crush from sixth grade who you’d thrown up in front of when the two of you got paired up on a Science project— than Steve.

But, now here he was, standing barely twenty feet away from you. You’d nearly dropped the coffee you’d waited almost twenty minutes for from your favorite coffee shop. Instead, you spilled some on your hand and only inwardly winced at the feeling because you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself.

You almost turned around and walked out of the building you just walked into, but your office was right down the hallway that Steve was currently standing in the middle of along with the head of the English Department, Dan. And now that there was spilled coffee on your hand you really needed to go in there and rummage through the drawer of your desk that contained a bunch of leftover napkins from random nights when you’d order takeout to your office.

Before you could contemplate further about what your next course of action should be, Dan spotted you and called your name, waving you over to where he and Steve were standing.

“Hi, good morning,” You greeted him, expertly avoiding eye contact with Steve because you didn’t want to see his reaction to seeing you for the first time in what pretty much felt like forever.

“Let me introduce you to the new addition to the History department upstairs,” Dan said and then gestured to Steve, which forced you to finally look at him. “Steve Harrington.”

You could tell he was surprised to see you, but he hid that surprise by smiling at you, and you hated that even after all of these years, his smile still managed to do something to you.

Now that you were closer to him, you could see some minor differences about him. His hair was a bit shorter, nothing too crazy or dramatic, but you noticed how his “iconic” hair was a bit more tame compared to how it used to be. And somehow he managed to get a little taller, only a couple of inches, but still you noticed that too.

He overall looked older, which obviously made sense because twelve years would do that to a person. However, there was still something all too familiar about him. That same boyish presence that you had gotten so used to seeing still lingered on him. Behind his eyes, you saw exactly that boy you fell in love with that one summer.

The summer that you never really thought about; in fact, you’d forced yourself not to think about it. But, now with him right in front of you, random flashbacks to moments from that July and August, especially August, were the only things circling your mind.

Your loud laughs and wide smiles as you swam in his pool and let your body wrap around his underneath the water, your drunken talks until the sun came up, the makeout sessions in his car that almost always led to doing other things in his bed since his parents were never home.

You pushed those memories far away, just as quickly as they resurfaced.

“Hi,” You said to him and forced a small smile.

You could tell that he was studying you just as you had been studying him, taking note of what you looked like now and comparing that to the version of you that he used to know. Whatever differences you had, you felt like they were subtle like his were, and just came with the territory of aging twelve years, but maybe he saw something else. He was the only person who you felt was able to actually look inside of you; he had known the ins and outs of who you were.

“She’s a Professor in the English department,” Dan told Steve, and you were insanely grateful for Dan’s presence at that moment because you knew that it would be hell if you had been alone with Steve right then. “Oh, what happened to your hand?”

You looked down at your hand, somehow you had actually forgotten about the spill that happened only moments ago.

“Little coffee mishap,” You said with a small, awkward laugh. “I have some napkins in my office, though, so I’m just going to head in there.” You looked at Steve and directed another forced smile at him, you had a feeling you’d be doing that a lot now. “Nice to meet you.”

You mentioned something to Dan about seeing him at a faculty meeting later and then headed to your office, which was only about ten feet away.

When it was just you alone behind the shut door of your office, your brain could finally process everything that had just happened.

Steve was here. Not Hawkins, not Indiana, Rhode Island. And not only was he simply in Rhode Island, but he now worked at the college you had been working at for the past two and a half years.

The only word you could think of at that moment was “Fuck,” and then you couldn’t help but mutter it under your breath. You took a sip of your coffee and let the familiar sweet and slightly bitter taste soothe your nerves.

Barely thirty minutes later— after trying your hardest to finish up the planning for a lecture you had been working on for the past few days but failing miserably because your mind couldn’t help but wonder why Steve was here of all places— you were stepping out of your office and almost crashed right into him.

“Jesus Christ,” You yelped; once again so surprised to see him.

“I swear I was about to knock and this is just freakishly weird timing,” He quickly told you. “I wasn’t being a creep and waiting for you to come out.”

“Okay,” You said with a small nod. Somehow his nervousness at that moment made you feel less nervous. “Um, what’s up?”

“Can we talk, maybe?”

“I have a class in fifteen minutes, so I can’t now,” You told him as you glanced down at the watch on your wrist. “But, um, maybe soon, yeah?”

You were completely lying, there was no way you were going to talk to him soon; at least not about what you assumed he wanted to talk about. You refused to do that.

Luckily Steve couldn’t see through your lie, or if he did, he didn’t call you out on it. Instead, he nodded at your words before you walked away.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“'cause i knew you. steppin' on the last train marked me like a bloodstain. i knew you. tried to change the ending peter losing wendy.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Somehow, and much to your grateful surprise, you rarely ever saw Steve. And when you did, because he was only just upstairs so it was sort of inevitable, there were only quick passing glances shared between you two along with tight-lipped smiles and small waves; both of you too busy to have any kind of actual conversation with one another.

However, you did manage to learn a few things about him over the past month he’d been there. You heard through the grapevine— said grapevine being various faculty members that seemed to grow a quick liking to Steve— that he was taking over Tamara Wilson’s two Early European History classes for the rest of the Fall semester because she went on maternity leave, and in the Spring he’d be teaching it again along with a U.S. history course.

None of that information answered the one question constantly running through your mind, though.

What the hell was he doing here?

Because you had to admit, you were so curious to know about all of it. How he was here, why he was here, how this coincidence could’ve happened.

But, you also really didn’t want to talk to him because you had the strongest feeling that the conversation would also involve the past, that summer, and how much you didn’t want that to happen outweighed your curiosity.

Therefore, on the night of the college’s annual Winter Gala, the first instance that could actually allow you two to talk to one another, you still tried your hardest to avoid him.

You had always hated these kinds of events because they were solely used to schmooze alumni and other donors to get them to give the school money, and even though you understood the need for that, you still didn’t enjoy attending. However, you knew that you always had to show face, at least for an hour or two.

And you made it nearly an hour and a half without having to see Steve and you were almost certain that you actually wouldn’t see him. But, moments before you were about to make your final rounds and say goodbye to people, mainly Dan so you could prove to him that you’d shown up, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

It was almost too easy to know that it was Steve because it was only his touch that ever managed to send something equivalent to an electric shock through your body. And with the strapless black dress you were wearing, his hand making contact with your bare shoulder immediately made surprised goosebumps rise to your skin.

“Hi,” He said, offering a small smile. Somehow the first thing you noticed about him was the bow tie he was wearing. He was also wearing a black suit with a white button-up shirt, but the bow tie caught your eye first. You were immediately reminded of a memory of him saying how much he hated bow ties, but you had told him how great he looked in one. In this moment, you hated how right you still were.

“Hey,” You responded with a smile of your own, and you sincerely hoped he couldn’t see your nervousness through it. He opened his mouth to say something but you jumped in before he could. “How’s your first month here been so far?”

“Good,” Steve answered with a nod. “A little weird just jumping in at the middle of the semester and trying to go along with what Wilson already set on the syllabus. A weekly quiz was on there, and I immediately told the students that we wouldn’t be doing that anymore.”

“They probably love you for that.”

“Yeah, I got a round of applause on my first day.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, you were only fifty percent sure that he was joking, but either way, the thought amused you.

You wanted to ask when he got into history and into teaching, but maybe that question would open a can of worms that would lead to other topics of conversation you wanted to stay away from.

“I can guarantee that at least half of them will want to be in your class next semester,” You said instead of asking what you really wanted. “You’re gonna be doing U.S. History, right?”

“Yeah, and I’ll still be taking over for Wilson, so I’ll have three courses next semester, which should be interesting,” Steve nodded, and then a look crossed his face as if he just remembered something. “But, that probably sounds like nothing to you because I heard that you’re currently doing four American Lit courses and one British Lit course. Oh, and you’re the only person in the English department teaching that many courses, which sounds insane but that’s also pretty cool.”

You pretended as if now knowing that he had asked about you didn’t affect you at least a tiny bit. And you also pretended that hearing the admiration in his voice didn’t affect you at all either.

“Yeah, I’ve only been teaching here for a little over two years, so I still get stuck with most of the basic courses. Which isn’t horrible, but it’s pretty boring and easy, so I always do a lot,” You told him with a small shrug. All of the work that had been on your plate for the past few years sounded like a lot— maybe even too much— but in your mind, it actually wasn’t as crazy as it seemed. Because you liked drowning yourself in your job, it made you feel useful, and you’d spent so much time before and right after you left Hawkins feeling the exact opposite that you’d do almost anything to make sure you never felt that way again. “But, next semester I’m doing an advanced Creative Writing course for the first time, in addition to only two American Lit courses, so I’m pretty excited about that.”

Steve smiled at you. “That’s nice.”

This small talk felt okay to you, it was bearable. It was also mundane and a little trivial, but you’d rather that than talk about the past. Apparently, Steve had other plans, though.

“I had no idea you moved here.”

You pulled your eyes away from his and focused on your half-empty flute of champagne that you’d gotten when you arrived at the event and was probably disgustingly warm by now. You contemplated for a few moments whether or not you should avoid Steve’s question or allow the conversation to go in the direction that it was inevitably meant to go in. Maybe it was stupid to think that you’d be able to pretend as if your past, which Steve was quite involved in, never existed.

“Yeah… I went to college in Massachusetts and then I went to grad school here in Rhode Island but in a different part of the state, a little more north. And I always just stayed here, always finding a reason to stay around, some small internship or job, and then I ended up at this college because a friend who was already working here recommended me. I had never done any teaching before, but I actually like it.”

You didn’t tell him that the main reason why you always found a reason— more so desperately searched for reasons— to stay in Rhode Island was so that you never had to go back to Hawkins. But, maybe that was obvious, at least to him, because he was a huge factor as to why you knew that you needed to leave that town and never look back.

You silently wondered if he had been gone from Hawkins for a long time too, and then you realized that with the turn the conversation had taken, you could actually ask that question.

“When did you leave Hawkins?”

“Almost ten years ago now,” Steve said, and you had to admit, you were kind of surprised by that answer. To you, he always seemed like the type of person that would want to stay in the small town. “Decided it was time for a scenery change and my parents, especially my dad, were more than happy to send me anywhere.” He let out a dry and slightly sad chuckle, and you were all too quickly reminded of why you had always despised his parents. “He pulled some strings at this small college in Ohio, so I went there and actually liked it a lot, and I haven’t been back to Hawkins since.”

You two were sitting at an empty table now, somehow silently agreeing to migrate to that spot as you continued your conversation. You placed the glass in your hand on the white tablecloth and turned to look at Steve.

“When did you get into history?”

“My first semester I had this professor for a World History class and he was really great; Richard James. It was probably the first class ever that I actually cared about what was going on because of how he was teaching everything and I became pretty interested in history. I took a couple more history classes with him and some other professors too, and still really liked it so I changed my major to it. And after I graduated I started TA-ing for some of the advanced classes he was teaching.”

There was a smile on your face that you wanted to get rid of but couldn’t because it was just so nice to hear how happy Steve was as he talked about the past almost ten years of his life. You hated to admit it, and you’d probably never do so out loud, but there was still a part of you that cared about him so much, and you were glad that he was happy.

“And then I ended up here because last month Richard was supposed to do a talk here, but he got sick last second and asked me to fill in for him. And for some reason, the head of the History department really liked me and offered me a job.”

You had never been the biggest fan of history so it wasn’t that surprising that you had missed the first time that Steve had been here, but your mind couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if your paths had accidentally crossed then.

“I want you to know, though, that if I would’ve known that you also worked here, I wouldn’t have taken the job,” Steve told you, somehow pretty much reading your mind and answering your unasked question. “Because I know you left Hawkins because of me. Because you never wanted to see me again, which I completely understand.”

His words right then surprised you and you had no idea what to say in response to that; your thoughts started running a million miles a second and you could only look down at your hands in your lap. But then you didn’t have to say anything because Steve kept talking.

“I’m still really sorry about everything that happened.”

You were so close to telling him to stop talking about it. You were fully ready to make up some lie about how the past was in the past, and how you were over everything that happened twelve years ago.

But, right then you actually didn’t want to lie and pretend that none of it mattered. You didn’t want to avoid the past like a plague, as you’d been doing for the past decade, and like you especially had been doing for the past month since Steve showed up in Rhode Island.

However, it couldn’t happen here. In the school’s basketball court that had been transformed for the evening into a ballroom-type of elegant space. No one was paying attention to either of you, but the potential for someone to come up at any moment while you were finally having this conversation with Steve worried you.

You finally let your eyes meet his again. “Can we talk about this outside?”

Steve nodded as you stood up and he followed you out the nearest door.

It was dark outside, the time now nearing on ten o’clock, but the many lamp posts brightened up the emptiness of the quad. You found a bench and sat down, the cool metal against your back calmed your nerves a bit.

You were suddenly reminded of the last time you and Steve talked to each other before you left Hawkins, which was about a month into Senior year at a random party at Rachel McKenna’s house. It was barely even a conversation because you refused to listen to him and his slew of apologies back then. And then you also refused to talk to him for the entirety of the school year.

You were still unsure if you had any regrets about that.

“I really don’t even know where to start,” You said now with a small sigh. “I always forced myself to never think about us; about that summer and the aftermath of it too. For the longest time I pretended as if none of it really mattered. Because I knew that we no longer mattered to each other.”

“You always mattered to me,” Steve told you and it was almost too easy to hear the honesty in his tone.

Still, you were quick to shake your head at him. “Stop, you can’t say stuff like that.”

“But, it’s the truth.”

You bypassed that softly spoken statement because even though you could hear that he was being honest, you didn’t want to acknowledge it right then. So, instead, you focused on something else that he previously said.

“You’re right. You were the main reason that I left Hawkins, not the only reason but definitely one of the big ones. But, it’s also funny because you were one of the reasons why I almost wanted to stay.” Your next words sat right on the tip of your tongue, but they were almost too hard to get out. You cleared your throat and took a quick breath before speaking. “Because I loved you, I literally loved you. So much. But, I knew that I couldn’t, or that I shouldn’t, because nothing could actually happen between us. That summer we were living in a dumb fairytale that could never become a reality. And it was so fucking stupid of me to ever think that we could actually be something real.”

“I wanted us to be something real,” Steve said and you had to bite back the scoff you wanted to let out in response.

“Yeah, weeks after you told me that what we were doing would have to be over because it was the end of summer and Nancy was coming back to town,” You said, trying hard not to let yourself get thrust back into that memory because the exact words he had said to you that day were still etched in your mind. “But, when we abruptly ended, it finally put everything into perspective for me. I felt like such a shitty person because of what we did and how it was a fucked up thing to do. And then immediately having to pretend as if none of it ever happened made it all feel so much worse. I hated you, but I hated myself so much more for everything that happened. That’s why I never wanted to see you or talk to you again, especially at that stupid party.”

You hadn’t realized you were crying until a soft look took over Steve’s face and you suddenly felt the wetness on your cheeks. You haphazardly wiped them away and averted your eyes from his, feeling immensely embarrassed because you hated that talking about all of that, things from years and years ago, still made you cry like you were that seventeen-year-old girl all over again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry you felt that way,” Steve told you. “But, it was all so much more my fault than it was yours. I was the one that cheated on her.”

“But, I knew. I knew about Nancy, and I knew that what we were doing was wrong.” But, I still did it because I wanted you so bad, and I loved that you wanted me too. You didn’t say that part because you hated the way it would make you sound.

“Still, it will always be more my fault. I was such an asshole back then. All of that ‘King Steve’ stuff really got to my head and I did a lot of shitty things,” He said, and you could tell that he wasn’t proud of that part of his past and he really did feel bad about it. “But, I don’t regret you, or us, or that summer, though. And maybe that still makes me somewhat of an asshole, but that’s okay because it’s true. I don’t regret you. Not at all.”

Somehow hearing him say those words made you realize that you didn’t regret any of it either, which was a thought that actually made you want to cry harder. Because even though you should’ve regretted everything because of every single thing that happened after— the hurt and shame you felt so strongly for months after— you knew that you’d let yourself do it all over again.

You’d still stupidly talk to him for the first time ever outside “Ralph’s Sandwich Shop” after he mocked you on the fact that you liked to put potato chips inside your sandwich and then praised you once he tried it and realized how good it was. And you’d definitely still let him kiss you for the first while swimming in his pool in the middle of the night after whispering to him, “Are you sure?” and his answer being a small nod and his lips pressing against yours that led to the chain of events that brought you both to where you were now.

You wholeheartedly knew that you’d do it all over again. And because of that, it made you say your next statement.

“I don’t want to be angry and upset with you anymore, or pretend you don't exist. I want us to be okay with each other.”

“I want that too. I want us to be friends,” Steve said, and although being friends was a lot different from simply being okay with one another, it actually didn’t sound like too crazy of an idea to you.

You nodded at him. “Okay. Yeah, me too.”

You held out your hand for Steve to take, which he did, and the two of you shook hands to seal this “deal.”

Your gaze broke from his and you glanced down a bit. “Nice bow tie, by the way.”

“I remember someone told me that I looked good in them and I believed her.”

“She’s still right.”

“Good to know.”

You both smiled at each other and then laughed, and it may have taken twelve years, but it finally felt like the past was really in the past.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“but i knew you. dancin' in your levi's, drunk under a streetlight. i knew you. hand under my sweatshirt, baby, kiss it better.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 1997

It was during the most random of moments that you were startled by how close you were able to become with Steve again, and how almost too easily it was able to happen.

Joking around with one another actually felt normal to do, and even talking to each other about anything and everything somehow felt like second nature all over again.

Steve was the one person from your “before” life that you had wholeheartedly believed you never wanted to see again, and now you were glad that he was in your life again. Those stark lines between “before” and “after” that you had drawn twelve years ago were now completely smudged.

Sometimes when the two of you were in your or his office late at night simultaneously working on whatever you needed to while eating takeout from random places, you were hit with the thought, “Holy shit, I can’t believe I’m here with Steve fucking Harrington right now,” and when you would tell him that random thought, he’d laugh a bit and agree that this sudden turn of events did feel at least a little unexpected.

But, he liked how things changed these past few months, and you really did too.

Now it was you asking to use the shower in his hotel room that once again made you feel surprised by how comfortable you were with him.

“Can I use your shower? The one in my room doesn’t get hot for some reason,” You had said and then immediately laughed because of how insane the request was, but of course, Steve didn’t mind.

“Yeah, sure,” He answered with a nod of his head, opening his door further to fully let you in the room.

“Thank you,” You said, smiling at him as you walked in, a towel from your hotel room next door in hand along with a change of clothes. “I’m gonna tell the front desk about it tomorrow. I would do it now, but after the four-hour drive today, I actually feel disgusting and am in dire need of a shower.”

The two of you along with a handful of other faculty from the English, History, and Theology departments were in upstate New York for a small weekend-long conference. Things like that were definitely one of your favorite parts of your job. Hearing talks from the authors of books that you loved, and then being able to pick their brains afterward. It felt like you were a student all over again, but in a better way because you were only listening to the stuff you cared about.

It was also pretty endearing seeing how excited Steve was about everything too. He’d gone on and on about a lecture on World War II that was scheduled for tomorrow for at least an hour during your car ride together, and his happy rambling somehow made you want to go to it too.

“I haven’t taken a shower yet, so I actually don’t know if mine works either,” Steve told you as you headed toward the bathroom.

“Oh God, please don’t say that,” You responded and went to turn on the shower. You sighed in relief when you felt the water get warm on your hand. “Okay, we’re good!”

After your shower, you joined Steve where he was sitting at the foot of his bed. It probably would’ve made sense to head back to your room, both of you had to be up fairly early in the morning, but you didn’t necessarily want to leave just yet; even though the two of you had just spent the past four hours holed up in a car together.

He was clicking through channels on the small television placed atop the dresser, trying to decide on something to put on, before settling on a movie that looked quite familiar to you; Footloose. It was the movie that the two of you watched the first time you went over to his house that summer.

“Do you remember this movie?” He smiled at you and it was hard not to laugh at his question.

You met his gaze. “I definitely remember, but do you? Because you fell asleep during it.”

“I eventually got around to watching it,” He responded and you smiled at that.

“Good,” You told him as you pulled your eyes away from his and turned your attention back toward the television, the movie was close to the end.

When the credits started rolling ten minutes later, you were about to say goodnight to Steve and finally head back next door to your room, but he started speaking before you said anything.

“Do you ever wonder how different things would be now if we had ended up together back then?” He asked, and the vulnerability and genuine curiosity laced within the question made your heart constrict. “If I hadn’t been an idiot and gone back to Nancy at the end of the summer. If I realized earlier that I really wanted to be with you.”

His words actually managed to surprise you because, over the last few months of you and Steve becoming friends again, that part of your deeply intertwined past was something that neither of you talked about. What the two of you used to be to each other, so deeply and utterly in love, hadn’t once come up in your conversations. Maybe it was the elephant in the room that had yet to be addressed. However, a part of you also felt that it was unnecessary to talk about it because, just like everything else, that was also in the past.

“Things would’ve definitely been different,” You ultimately said, words feeling unsure because you now felt so confused. Your next statements came out rushed as you leaned back on the bed, your back hitting the comforter and your hands covering your face because you were purposefully avoiding eye contact with him. “Sorry, I don’t really know what to say right now. I didn’t expect you to say that, and now my mind is kinda spiraling a bit.”

The question became a broken record in your mind.

Do you ever wonder how different things would be now if we had ended up together back then?

You actually had never wondered about that because, for the longest time, you had forced yourself not to think about Steve, or that summer, or even Hawkins in general. But now your brain was spiraling in a thousand different directions with potential answers to the simply stated but insanely loaded question.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was a stupid question. I don’t even know why I asked it, honestly,” Steve responded, words coming out rushed just as yours had. Something about his current sudden nervousness reminded you of the first encounter you two had in the hallway when you learned that he lived in Rhode Island. “Please forget I said anything.”

You didn’t want to forget, though.

“It would’ve been good, I think,” You said softly. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but you still didn’t want to meet his gaze. “I think we would’ve been really good together. I wouldn’t have spent almost every day working at the library, and instead, I would’ve gone to your basketball games and swim meets, and I’d actually enjoy it all because I was watching you. And we would’ve gotten drunk at parties on the weekends, and then the next morning you’d still drive me to my shift at the library and stay the entire time because there was nothing else that you wanted to spend your Sunday morning and afternoon doing. Maybe after graduating, we would’ve chosen colleges somewhere close to Hawkins, or even somewhere so far away from the small town. Probably someplace far away. But that part of it doesn’t really matter because we would’ve been together, and that’s all that would have mattered.”

There was really no doubt in your mind that that would’ve happened, or a different but similar version occurring that also included you and Steve simply being happy and in love with one another.

You felt the bed shift a bit after a few moments of your previous words lingering in the air of the hotel room and settling heavily over Steve, and you finally pulled your hands away from your face to look at him. He was now also leaning back against the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“God, I was such a dumbass,” He muttered, and you could hear the sadness in his voice.

You turned on your side to face him. “We both were. I wish I let myself forgive you at that party.”

“I didn’t deserve your forgiveness then,” He responded as he turned on his side as well and met your eyes. “Sometimes I feel like I barely deserve it now.”

There was so much you could’ve said in response to that but words didn’t feel right in that moment. So, instead of saying something along the lines of, “Please stop beating yourself up about it. You’re a good person,” you shimmied yourself closer to him, closing the small gap of space between you two, and pulled him in for a hug.

The position was awkward, one of your arms was sandwiched underneath him and you knew that it would almost immediately fall asleep and cause some discomfort. However, any and all awkwardness faded away when you felt Steve reciprocate and his arms circled around you.

“It’s okay, okay? I promise everything is okay between us,” You whispered, almost certain that your words got lost in his neck, but when you felt him squeeze you tighter you knew that he was able to hear you clearly. And not only that, but he believed you.

And then it felt like almost second nature for you to make a joke to make things feel light again. “Actually, I’m still offended that you fell asleep during Footloose the first time we ever hung out. I don’t forgive you for that.”

You felt his body shake with laughter which made you smile, and after a few moments, you pulled back from the hug to find him smiling softly at you.

“I’ll redeem myself when the sequel comes out,” He said.

“It’s been twelve years, I think the sequel ship has sailed.”

He laughed again. “Okay, yeah, that’s true.”

You should’ve taken the newfound silence as your opportunity to say goodnight to him and head next door to your room. However, you couldn’t find the will to fully pull yourself away from him. His arms were still around you, like yours were, and your faces were dangerously close. But, the current proximity didn’t feel dangerous or worrisome to you. Instead, it simply felt right; which was an abrupt feeling that should’ve confused you, but somehow it didn’t.

“I really missed you,” He told you, breaking the silence with a statement that only cemented that “rightness” you were feeling at that moment.

“I missed you too.” Your four words somehow felt so effortlessly honest. Even though you had pretended that he and that summer never mattered by forcing your thoughts away from it all, Steve always still held a place in your heart. Deep down inside of you, something that resembled a yearning for him almost always lingered. “I constantly tried to tell myself that that wasn’t true, but I really did miss you… And I’m so glad we’re here right now.”

“Me too.” He looked at you so softly that you felt yourself slowly melting under his gaze.

In your mind, which now suddenly felt so clear and the farthest thing from confused, the next thing you wanted to do seemed like the best thing to do. In fact, it was something that you felt like you needed to do.

Your hand that was resting at the nape of Steve’s neck moved to his cheek as you dipped your head just a tiny bit closer to him.

Steve closed the small gap some more and his lips ghosted over yours for what felt like a fraction of a second before he pulled back a little and looked at you. “Are you sure?”

“Now that sounds awfully familiar,” You joked, referring to that moment in his pool all those years ago, and although he cracked a smile at your statement, you knew his question was serious.

You weren’t kids anymore. The two of you couldn’t just kiss and let it mean nothing in the end.

But, you truly didn’t want it to mean nothing.

You couldn’t have a good ending back then, but did that mean that you still couldn’t have one now?

“I’m so sure about this,” You told him and before he could potentially respond with anything, you let your lips find his, and how quickly Steve kissed you back nonverbally told you how he felt about it all too.

You were completely done for, you knew that for certain. There was nothing that could compare to this and there would never be anything that could compare to this— Steve’s lips on yours for the first time in years, but it feeling like the last time it happened was only yesterday. It was all so innate and easy, probably the easiest thing you’d ever done.

The way his hand found your waist to pull you even closer to him, which made you inwardly smile, and the way you let your fingers settle in his hair and lightly tug on the brown locks, which elicited a soft sigh in contentment from him— you still knew every part of each other so well.

Two people that had been apart for so long finally coming back together. It was a statement that technically summed up you and Steve, but in your eyes, that felt too simple and didn’t accurately summarize the hurt, pain, and turmoil that had accompanied the past twelve years. And it especially didn’t correctly encompass the current part of it all, the “coming back together” part.

Because that part felt indescribable.

A part of it felt similar to watching a movie that ended just the way you wanted it to, or having someone right there to help you get back up and patch up your wounds after you’d fallen off your bike. A feeling that said that even though everything had once felt so uncertain and the complete opposite of perfect, it wasn’t that way anymore.

Things quickly felt so good and right, and both of you were already making internal promises— promises that you’d later whisper to one another while wrapped up in the sheets of Steve’s bed— to never let each other go so easily again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“and i knew you'd come back to me. you’d come back.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

(read “august” here!)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington one shot #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff

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evermoredeluxe · 2 months

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it baffles me that people think taylor doesn’t know the discretion of a shorter album anymore. it downright makes me think that fans sometimes just don’t understand her. im not even gonna talk about re-records because if you’re using them as your argument then… do you even understand the re-records’s marketing… as for TTPD, taylor outright said that she needed to release everything to be free of it. she went through a shitty experience (understatement) and did what any artist does: make art to process it. in her case, it’s also her job. and she wanted to be free of the trauma so she released it all for the public. maybe look at her beyond just an entertainer, and try looking at her as a human and you’ll probably understand why she made this selfish decision (and btw she’s allowed to make selfish decisions, that doesn’t make her a bad human lol). none of this means that she needs to be forced back into a controlling relationship with her label so she can be kept in check… that’s a fucked up thing to say

the only time i would say she released a new album that could’ve been chopped is lover (and i love lover). if i were to critique the album as a consumer, i think if it were shorter, it would’ve felt more authentic because there’s some stuff on it that feels forced (for the lack of a better word). but even in this case, as a fan, i can understand that she had just started with a new label and thought this was her last chance to be “successful” so she was doing everything to ensure that the opportunity doesn’t go away and she gripped the moment with too much force. like idk i feel like fans are so cruel and not-understanding of taylor and everything she does is looked at in bad faith and it shocks me because that’s usually what haters do…….

#arshia takes #arshia talks

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mxlti-fand0m-imaginess · 8 months

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Slacker // Tara Carpenter

request: none!

prompts: none!

summary: you’ve been in love with tara for as long as you can remember, but you’ve always been too scared to make a move. when she starts dating chad, you feel like you’ve lost your chance to be with here.

warnings: language, angst, hurt no comfort, reader having a low self esteem in a few parts, crying, slight ooc tara at the end (she's a teeny bit mean)

word count: 3.2k

a/n: gn!reader

join my taglist! album masterlist!

I open the door to you, and never close it

You make me feel brand new

And now you're in my room, I hope you know that

There's nothin' I wouldn't do

“So… what’s going on with you? Something seems different. You like someone, don’t you?” you asked Tara, a teasing lilt in your voice.

Tara had seemed different in the past few weeks. She was happier. Brighter. Which of course you were happy about, it’s not like you wanted your best friend to be miserable, but you hated thinking about someone else making her feel like this. You had been in love with her for so long, and the thought of seeing her in another relationship made your heart ache. But you knew that she wouldn’t stay single forever, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

“Maybe…” she replied, a shy smile growing on her face as her cheeks tinted pink.

You felt your heart shatter at just that one word, but you couldn’t let it show. You had to force a smile and pretend to be interested. Because that’s what best friends do. Tara didn’t know anything about your feelings for her, and you wanted to keep it that way. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if she learned about your feelings for her, and didn’t ever want to find out.

“Ooo, spill!” you smiled, rolling over on your bed to face Tara.

She shook her head and smiled, burying her face in her hands.

“I dunno. I don’t think I should.”

You huffed in exasperation and rolled your eyes, the smile never disappearing from your face. “Seriously?! That was one time, and I was drunk! You know I would never intentionally tell your crush that you liked them. And besides, it ended up working out with Amber, didn’t it?”

“I guess… but if you tell him, I’m never telling you anything ever again!”

You smiled victoriuosly. “So, it’s a him?”

Tara groaned, throwing a pillow at you. “You’re insufferable!”

“Maybe. But you still love me.”

Tara smiled. “Unfortunately.”

You smiled, sitting up and throwing the pillow back at her. “So… who is it?”

Tara blushed harder and buried her face in her hands once more. “...Chad.”

I could’ve had her

But I guess I'm just a slacker

And maybe it wouldn't even matter

Of course she liked Chad. Of fucking course. He was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Not to mention Tara had known him for years before she ever met you. They had grown up together, and they had been through so much together. Of course she would fall for him. He was everything you weren’t. Attractive, confident, popular. He was perfect. Even if you tried, you couldn’t point out anything wrong with him. Which just made you even more upset.

“Y/n…? Is everything alright?” Tara asked, nudging you.

You shook your head slightly as you tuned back into reality. “Hmm? Oh yeah, everything’s fine. Guess I just zoned out. So… Chad, huh?”

Tara nodded, a wide, lovesick smile on her face as she rambled on and on about him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pay attention. Her words would only make you feel worse, and you were dealing with enough negative thoughts as it was. Instead you just focused on her. How beautiful she looked. That shine in her eyes as she talked about him. You wished she would talk about you like that. You wanted her to love you, not Chad. But some part of you just always knew that it would never happen. Tara never saw you as anything more than a friend, and nothing could ever change that.

“Do you think he likes me? I mean I think he was flirting with me yesterday, but it’s Chad so…” Tara trailed off, looking at you hopefully.

“Well he does flirt with everyone. He’s just kinda like that,” you replied, immediately wanting to kick yourself when you saw the slightly deflated expression on Tara’s face.

Were you really that pathetic that you would turn your best friend away from someone she liked, and someone who you were pretty sure liked her too? You couldn’t do that to her. Sure, you might’ve been in love with her. But above all, you just wanted her to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with you.

If it always ends in disaster

So I'm just a slacker

I'm just a slacker

“But, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s not like that with everyone. I think there could be something there. You should go for it,” you said, a sad smile on your face despite your best efforts to appear happy.

“Are you sure? What if he rejects me?”

You gave her an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me? No one in their right mind would ever reject you! I mean, you’re fucking perfect. You’re stunning, kind, caring, funny, thoughtful. You’re practically everyone’s dream girl.” You cut yourself off, realizing how you were talking about her and how close you were to accidentally revealing your feelings. “And besides, even if he did reject you, and that’s a big if, it’s Chad. He’s not gonna be a dick about it. He’d probably just pretend that nothing happened and would go right back to treating you like normal. You have nothing to lose.”

“You really think people see me like that?” Tara asked, a little bit skeptical of your kind words.

You smiled to yourself, knowing that everything you had said was exactly how you felt about her. “I know they do.”

Stars are in your eyes and mine won't focus

To me it's no surprise

And now I fantasize, of you and hope that

You won't realize

Well, she did it. Tara asked Chad out. And it had gone exactly like you had said it would. He liked her back and both of them were happier than you could ever remember seeing them. All because you did the right thing and pushed them together instead of being a selfish prick. So why did it still hurt so much? You should be happy for them, right?

But despite it all, you just couldn’t bring yourself to be. Just seeing the two of them together, seeing how happy Tara was with Chad, it made your stomach turn. She should be with you. You should be the one making her smile, the one holding her hand and kissing her goodnight. Chad didn’t deserve her. You did. You could treat her so much better than he ever could, but you knew that you would never get the chance to prove it.

“What’s got you all grumpy?” Mindy asked, sitting down beside you on the couch and following your gaze to see what you were looking at. “Ohhh. You like Chad, don’t you?”

You shook your head, drawing your knees up to your chest as you let out a sigh. “That’s not it.”

Mindy gasped, her eyes widened as she turned to face you. “You like Tara. That’s what’s got you all upset. But I thought Chad said you were the one who convinced Tara to ask him out?”

You nodded, turning your head to look at her. “I did. She just looked so happy when she was talking about him, and I could tell he liked her too. I just- I didn’t want my unrequited feelings to get in the way of her being happy.”

“So you willingly decided to make yourself miserable just so she could be happy? Wow, you must really be smitten.”

“Yeah, I am. I think… I think I love her.”

“You know… it’s never too late,” Mindy said, nudging you with her elbow.

You sighed, turning your gaze back to Chad and Tara who were currently laughing uncontrollably over something he had said. “I think this time it might be.”

I could’ve had her

But I guess I'm just a slacker

And maybe it wouldn't even matter

“You really like him, don’t you?” you asked Tara, resting your head against your shoulder as the two of you sat in her bed.

“He’s… amazing. I don’t think I ever knew what it felt like to be in love before him. It’s like… it’s like he sees me for me. He’s not my missing piece, he makes who I already am better. He makes me want to be better. It’s like every day is a dream and it just keeps getting better.”

You raised an eyebrow and nudged her in the side. “Love?”

Tara’s eyes widened and her cheeks darkened as she realized what she said. “Oh, I uhm- I didn’t mean to say that. It just kinda slipped out, I guess.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you love him?”

Tara didn’t say anything for a while, and you were almost convinced she had fallen asleep, before she finally spoke up again. Her words piercing you like a knife entering your heart.

“Yeah. I do. I love him. I know it’s only been a month, but I mean, I’ve known him forever. And when it’s right, you just know. And it’s all thanks to you.”

“It is…?”

“Yeah! I mean if it wasn’t for you, I never would’ve told Chad how I felt about him. You convinced me to go for it, and I’ve literally never been happier. I wouldn’t be with him if it wasn’t for you.”

You smiled and tried your hardest to stop your tears from falling. A month ago, you were convinced that you had done the right thing, that you should put Tara first, no matter how you felt about her. But now… now you wanted more than anything to go back to that night and convince her that Chad didn’t feel the same. Selfish as it may be, it would’ve been worth it to save you from the pain you were in right now.

But you couldn’t go back. It was too late to change things. She was with Chad now. And there was nothing you could do about it.

If it always ends in disaster

So I'm just a slacker

I'm just a slacker

“It’s never gonna stop hurting unless you tell her. I know that’s not what you wanna hear right now, but you need to tell her how you feel. Or you’re going to be stuck spending forever wondering if she ever felt the same. You’re never gonna be able to move on until you know,” Mindy said, frowning as she took in your disheveled state.

It had just been Chad and Tara’s three month anniversary, and they were still as happy as ever. You could barely hold back the tears that wanted to pour from your eyes as you watched them together. It was just too much. Seeing them together was too painful. And you didn’t know how much longer you would be able to take it.

You had stormed off to your room, mumbling something about a headache, leaving everyone else in yours and Tara’s living room. Mindy had followed you, mumbling some other shitty excuse before rushing to go comfort you. But right now, her words weren’t making things any better.

“You don’t understand, I can’t! I know she doesn’t feel the same. Okay? I know. Telling her how I feel is only going to make things worse. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable around me. I don’t want to lose how close we are. If there’s even the slightest chance that telling her I love her could push her away completely, I would rather take my feelings to the grave than risk having to spend my life without her.”

“But you’re miserable! You can only hide your feelings for so long, and it’s only gonna be worse the longer you wait,” Mindy said, sighing as you sniffled and wiped your nose with the back of your sleeve. “Look, I’m not gonna force you into doing anything. But I know what unrequited love feels like. It sucks. And the longer you hold it in, the worse the pain is going to get.”

You didn’t say anything, laying down in your bed and pulling the blankets around you tighter. Mindy sat there for a few minutes, waiting for you to say something, but there was nothing left for you to say. You had done this to yourself, and now you had to deal with it.

“I’m gonna go back out there with everyone else. If you need anything, just text me, okay? I’m here for you.”

And oh, I know I've been holding this in for so long

Thinking of you every time I write a song

And I could’ve had her

“Is y/n okay?” Tara asked as soon as she saw Mindy.

“Huh? Oh yeah, they probably just ate something bad,” Mindy said, waving it off.

“I thought y/n said they had a headache?” Tara asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

Mindy’s eyes widened, mentally cursing herself for her slip up. “Uhh, yeah, that’s what I said.”

“You’re not making any sense. I’m gonna go check on them,” Tara said, getting up and starting to walk down the hallway.

“Don’t!” Mindy shouted, grabbing Tara’s arm to try and stop her.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I- I can’t say,” Mindy sighed, reluctantly letting go of Tara, knowing that she had fucked up and that there wasn’t anyway to cover it up without seeming more suspicious.

“I’m just gonna go make sure they’re okay,” Tara said, before turning to Chad and pressing a chaste kiss against his lips. “Be back soon.”

Tara started walking towards your bedroom, concern filling her from how mysterious Mindy had been. Something was definitely wrong, that’s for sure. But why was Mindy being so weird about it? What didn’t she want Tara to know? It was all so strange, but as Tara grew closer to her room, her concern multiplied tenfold from the muffled crying she heard coming from the other side of the door.

But I wasn’t smart enough

And I’ll never ask her

If she’s still calling my bluff

Tara knocked on the door gently before pushing it open, peeking her head in to see you curled up in a ball on your bed, sobbing beneath the mound of blankets you buried yourself under.

“Y/n…?” she asked, walking in and shutting the door behind her.

Even underneath all of the blankets, Tara could still see your form tense at the sound of her voice, making her face fall. Was all of this because of her? Were you upset with her? Had she done something? She couldn’t think of anything that she could’ve possibly done to upset you like this, but that didn’t make your feelings any less real.

Slowly you sat up, letting the blankets fall from your face. Your eyes were red and puffy. You looked utterly miserable. Tara frowned as she moved closer, sitting down beside you. You subtly shifted a bit away from her, which only made Tara’s frown deepen.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, sniffling as you hurriedly wiped your tears away. “I can’t tell you.”

“Y/n… it’s me. We tell each other everything. You can trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just- I can’t tell you…”

“Did I do something to upset you?”

You shook your head.

“Is this about me and Chad?”

Without even having to say anything, Tara could tell by the subtle shift on your face that it was. You were upset about her and Chad. Why would you be upset about her and Chad? Oh. OH.

“Do you… like Chad? Is that why you’re upset?”

You shook your head, feeling more tears slip down your cheeks. “He’s not the one I like.”

“What do you mean? I don’t- Wait… do you like me? Is that what this is about?”

You nodded, your face heating up in embarrassment. You never wanted her to find out, let alone like this, but you couldn’t lie to her. She would see through you instantly. So you figured that it was better to just get it out, rip off the bandaid and deal with the heartache that you knew was coming. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too harsh about it.

I could’ve had her

But I guess I'm just a slacker

And maybe it wouldn't even matter

“Oh. Well uh- talk about shitty timing,” Tara said, a sad laugh falling from her lips.

“What do you mean?” you asked, expecting a lot of different reactions, but not that one.

“I like you too. Or at least I did. Before Chad. A few months ago, when I told you I liked him, I definitely played up just how much I liked him. I guess I was trying to figure out if you liked me too.”

Your eyes widened at her words, your vision going black as you felt your head spin. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. You must’ve heard her wrong. She probably just rejected you, and your brain just twisted her words to help cope with the hurt, and it just somehow made it worse.

“What…?”

“I liked you. I really really did. But I could never figure out if you felt the same. So I told you I liked Chad, which I did, but barely. And then you pushed me to go for it. I just assumed that you didn’t feel the same. Because if you did, then why would you push so hard for me to be with someone else?”

“Because I wanted you to be happy! Seeing you get with Chad crushed me. Tara, I’ve been in love with you for years. I just gave up on anything happening because you never paid attention to me like that. I didn’t want to sabotage a chance for you to be happy just because I knew it was going to hurt me.”

“You were really willing to suffer just so I could be happy?”

You scoffed and gestured to yourself. “I’m pretty sure that’s what’s happening right now. I had the chance to be with you and I blew it. This is just great.”

“I’m sorry. I forced myself to get over you, and now I’m with Chad and… things just feel so right. I never meant to hurt you, y/n. Trust me, I had no idea what this would do to you. And if I had known all this back then, things might’ve been different. But now…”

“Now you’re with Chad. And there’s absolutely zero chance that you’ll leave him for me. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, y/n. I love him. And I just don’t feel like that about you anymore. But you’re still my best friend, and nothing is going to change that. I didn’t want things to happen like things, and I’m so sorry it ended up like this. But it’s too late. I’m with Chad now, and that’s not going to change anytime soon.”

You opened your mouth to respond when there was another knock on your door as Chad pushed the door open and poked his head in.

“Is everything alright in here?” he asked, his eyes locked on Tara’s even though you were the one who needed checking up on.

Tara nodded and stood up, walking over to him. “Just perfect.”

If it always ends in disaster

So I'm just a slacker

I'm just a slacker

tags: @Hocksetters @hyeyulove @shad-ade

if your name is crossed off, it means i can't tag you!

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scoops-aboy86 · 2 months

Text

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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ichikopotato · 7 months

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Hii!! Here’s a request.

Maybe like fluff of y/n having her period and asks Tom to comfort her by giving her hugs, cuddles, and kisses.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ!

2009! Tom

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ : ᵀᵒᵐ’ˢ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗ ᵍⁱʳˡᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰᵉʳ ᵖᵉʳⁱᵒᵈ, ʰᵉ ʰᵉˡᵖˢ ʰᵉʳ ʳᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ʰᵉʳ ᶜʳᵃᵐᵖˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉˢᵗ

warnings: too much cuteness!

a/n: yall i got this synopsis, warnings, a/n from @onlykats, enjoy!

— IT WAS A RAINY DAY , Tom found himself busy at the studio with his band. They were all working so hard on a new album, Humanoid. They finished working at about 7PM. He was driving home, worrying about his girlfriend. She hadn’t been texting or calling him since he left.

He sped up, eager to see his girlfriend. When he arrived, he didn’t even bother to park his car properly. He noticed all the lights were off in their apartment, he unlocked the door, walking in.

He saw everything was normal, a few snacks on the kitchen counter. He went straight to their bedroom, knocking. “Schatz? Are you in here?” He opened the door, seeing you curled up into a blanket.

“Oh, meine Liebe.” He removed the blanket off your head, his heart breaking at the sight of you quietly crying. “What’s wrong? Did you need me?” “What happened?” “Are you okay?” He cupped your cheek, pouting slightly.

You sniffle. “I-im fine, baby. I just got my period” He sighed, relieved. “meine liebe, you could’ve told me earlier. I would’ve bought you all the things you needed—“ you cut him off with a kiss, reassuring him that you were fine. He moaned softly, pulling away.

“Baby, are you sure you don’t need anything?” He murmured. “M’fine, my love. I just want some cuddles” you whine softly. He chuckled, playing with his lip piercing. He removed his bandana, along with his shoes and laid down beside you.

He wrapped his arms around you, laying his chin on top of your head, kissing your forehead. “mmph.. I missed you, Ich liebe dich” he whispered.

You smile softly, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Inhaling his addictive scent, you sigh. You look up at him with doe eyes, pleading. “Schatz, kiss?” You mutter.

His heart melts at the sight, leaning down to your face to kiss you. You slowly reach up to play with his cornrows, moaning softly.

He muttered in between kisses “m’gonna take care of you until you feel better, okay?” “I love you— mm..” “im gonna buy you all the food you need, m’kay?”

You pull away, panting and flustered. You smile, whispering “Dankeschön, Tommy.”

He smirked, “Gern geschehen, Engel” as you both slowly fell asleep, with him massaging your belly.

The next day, you woke up with a new plushie, so many snacks, drinks, along with some sanitary supplies on your kitchen counter, all with a written note “I hope this is enough, there’s more to come when I get home later, meine liebe:)” from your loving boyfriend.

THIS IS SO SHORT BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED, LOVE YOU ALL💋

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz smut #cute #period cramps #comfort

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eds6ngel · 1 year

Note

hey! I saw that your requests are open! so i can ask for an eddie x reader where she tries to understand more about d&d or metal, those things to try to please her bf, however eddie doesn't have a good day and ends up mocking and embarrassing her. I liked your account, if you don't like this, please ignore me! 💗

of course my love, i loved this ask! and thank you for the compliment <3

warnings: fem!reader. pet names. established relationship. angst, but it ends in fluff. swearing. j*son c*rver mentions [1.7k]

As Eddie exits the torturous walls of Hawkins High, he exhales a sigh of relief. If he was being honest, today had been a shit day. Jason was in one of his moods where he decided to turn all of his obvious internal issues into spiteful words towards him. Something that on the last day of school of ‘86 was not the ideal send off.

He needed to see one person, one girl. His girl.

Eddie walks over to his van, leaning against it as he lights a cigarette, knowing you, his girlfriend, should be there any minute.

But, two smoked cigarettes later, and you were nowhere to be found. Not a trace of you in sight.

“Fuck,” he grits out, throwing his blunt cigarette on the ground and stomping it out harshly with the heel of his shoe, the underneath becoming more destroyed by the day.

He swings open the door, sliding in his seat before slamming it shut, huffing out in frustration. He puts the keys in, turning on the engine, Metallica’s “Kill ‘Em All” blasting through the speaker as he sets off towards his trailer.

Where the fuck were you?

The sound of the bell ringing alerted the store clerk, you pushing open the door with a nervous expression on your face.

You slowly makes your way to the counter, asking the tall man, “Um, hi. I was wondering if you had the latest album by… um, AC/DC, I think they are called?”

“Sure thing!” he replies cheerily, “You want cassette or vinyl?”

“Um, cassette please, thank you.”

Eddie had been rambling for months about their latest album. He’d already bought the album on vinyl, practicing the newest tracks until his fingers were numb and red. However, he recently talked about owning the album on cassette, that way he could take his latest obsession on the go with him.

So, trying to be the supportive girlfriend you are, you went on a hunt to track down the cassette yourself, even if you weren’t the most knowledgable on metal music. But, hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?

After gnawing at your nails in the middle of the store, the man returns from the back, holding up a brand new cassette.

“Here you go, ‘Who Made Who,’ freshly delivered here this week.”

Huh, the name didn’t sound right. You could’ve sworn this was the album Eddie was talking about. Pretty damn sure the artist was correct too. You were no metalhead, but the constant talkings from your boyfriend sure let you in on a lot of facts.

Nevertheless, you take the tape from the man’s hands, eyeing the cover. A blue background. You were certain Eddie’s was red. Maybe they changed the cover for the cassette release?

“Thank you. Just what I needed,” you replied, smiling through your doubts.

“‘Course darlin’,” he says, “That’s $8.”

After giving the clerk your $10 bill, he gives you $2 in return, before you bid farewell and exit the store.

Now, to surprise Eddie.

It took five knocks before you were greeted with the sight of your boyfriend, his hair a fluffy mess and eyes red. The poor boy looked exhausted.

“Hey, baby,” he practically slurs in tiredness, “What are you doing here?”

It was 5pm. You were meant to meet him at 3:30, the end of the school day. He should be feeling more thankful than he was, but with everything that went on during today’s hellish time at Hawkins High, he was knocking on death’s door, both emotionally and physically.

“Um, hi babe!” you reply, holding your hands behind your back, “I have a surprise for you.”

He looks at you dumbfounded, “Uh, thanks, I guess. Where were you earlier on?”

“Well,” you cheerily say, taking a seat on his couch, “This gift may be the answer to that question.”

You hand over the cassette, Eddie taking it in his hands to eye up the cover, just like you did in the store a mere thirty minutes before.

You start to ramble, explaining the reason as to why you made the purchase, “You’ve been rambling a lot about how you owned this on vinyl, but wanted it on tape so you could blast it in your van, so I decided to go out and buy it for you!”

Eddie looks at the cassette you placed in his hands with the upmost confusion. He’d never spoken about AC/DC recently. The only album he’d rambled about to you was Metallica’s “Master of Puppets,” even showing you how he mastered the solo to the titular song.

He shakes his head, a soft laugh coming out of mouth as he replies, “Jesus babe, your listening skills are not working well recently, are they?”

The sense of pride you felt quickly diminished at Eddie’s harsh words. You second guessed yourself already, but decided to trust Eddie’s words over your own, but maybe your worries were right after all.

“Wait, did I do something wrong?” you ask sheepishly, the nervousness slowly creeping back in.

He chuckles, “Baby,” he looks up at you, “You think this shit is metal? Yeah, because talking about how you want to pound women is what we write about. So incredibly metal babe,” he rolls his eyes, scoffing at the association between the two bands.

Before you can even get a word in, Eddie is rushing to his bedroom as you sit there alone for a couple of seconds, the guilt beginning to settle uncomfortably at the bottom of your stomach.

Eddie was usually very patient when it came to you learning about his hobbies. You were sort of polar opposites in the sense that you knew practically nothing about the aspects of his life that defined him. D&D, metal music, Lord of the Rings? Your knowledge on them was subpar.

But, he was willing to teach you, give you the basics, help you understand him more. It built your relationship in that way. But, something about him today was different. That sense of understanding and patience had flown out of the window, a sense of moral righteousness in the subject taking over.

He quickly returns, holding up the vinyl in his hands. You were right. A red background. Definitely not the same as the cassette you had purchased.

Putting the two side by side, he scoffs again, “Sweetheart, tell me one thing about these two covers that look remotely similar. Because to me, they look like completely different albums.”

You’re trying not to let the tears prick at your eyes. All you wanted to do was show that you supported him in his interests. Living in small town Indiana meant that Eddie was constantly called a “Satan Worshipper” simply for listening to the genre. And now that you were one of the only people who accepted and supported him in his identity, you were met with sarcasm and distaste.

You sigh out, knowing that you had riled up your boyfriend. Grabbing your purse, you stand up and walk towards the door, “I’m just gonna go, Eds.”

This made Eddie snap back to reality, realising the words that were coming out of his mouth. You were indeed no expert on metal, and who was he to judge you for that? He couldn’t expect everyone to know as much as he did.

He places both the cassette and vinyl on the kitchen counter, “Wait, sweetheart, I’m sorry. Let me explain—“

But, you cut him off with a disappointed expression on your face, “No, Eds, it’s okay. I know I suck at knowing metal, and obviously I’ve pissed you off by not listening to you well enough. So, next time, I’ll let you buy it yourself. It’ll save all this hassle.”

The guilt was now settling in Eddie’s stomach just like it did yours. But, before he could muster up some quick apology to save himself, you were out the door and gone.

Eddie leans his head down on the counter between his arms, breathing out a “Fuck,” as he realises his mistake.

He needed to make up for this somehow. And not in some half-assed way that he was making up on the spot. He needed to clear his head and plan this out. He needed to prove himself to you.

Once you got home, you headed straight to your room. You couldn’t be dealing with the weight of Eddie’s words, so you took off your make-up and changed into pyjamas, lying in bed until your body decided it was time to sleep.

But, with your mind racing, your body was doing anything but relaxing. It was 9pm by this point, you wishing that a peaceful slumber would take place any minute.

But, the sound of frantic knocking at your bedroom window alerts you from your relaxation. Groaning as you lift up the covers, you pull back the curtain to the sight of your boyfriend, a guilt-ridden look across his face.

You sigh as you pull up the window, “What do you want, Eddie?”

“Could you just let me in sweetheart, please?”

Begrudgingly, you signal with your arm to let him in, the boy clambering through the window.

He breathes out as you take a seat on the edge of your bed, “I guess I should start by saying sorry.”

You nod your head, “A good starter, yeah,” you softly chuckle.

There’s a small smile that creeps on his face as he takes a seat next to you on your pink-coloured duvet, “I know this is gonna sound more shitty than I want it to, but, today’s been hard babe,” he explains. “Jason… He just… God, I wish he would just leave me alone for a second, you know? And just that frustration from him I pushed onto you, which was totally wrong.”

You shake your head, “I mean, I didn’t help matters by picking up the wrong fucking album.”

He places a soft hand on your arm, rubbing it with his thumb, “Don’t blame yourself, okay? I should’ve been thankful you even put in the effort at all. And if anything,” he leans closer, “Even thinking of getting that album is so incredibly metal.”

The both of you laugh as you lean in, your lips connecting in a soft kiss, an apology without words.

As you part, you lean your foreheads against each other, your hand still cupping the side of his cheek as his lies comfortably on your waist. “Again, I’m sorry,” he apologises, “I’ll work on those anger management skills.”

You breathe out, “And I’ll work on my listening skills, compromise?”

“Compromise.”

i hope this is close to what you were hoping for! thank you so much for the ask <3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb

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sintiva · 2 years

Text

LOVE BETWEEN, e. jaeger ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

❁ summary: the two newlyweds, mr. and mrs. jaeger, emulate the special meaning of love between two human beings

❁ content: blackfem!reader, just light touching and kissing, alcohol is consumed, but nonetheless, this is straight sappy content...my first sfw piece...🚶🏽‍♀️

❁ notes: kali's album is so so so good, and love between is currently my favorite, so what did I do? thought up a scenario on the bus. i hope you guys enjoy it! feedback appreciated😊 — playlist

love between two human beings can be so wonderful… it was true, right now in this very moment. in this life, as eren’s hand settled in the dip in your back; smoothing over the warm and sticky skin. you had worked up quite a sweat, but he continued to guide your feet with his. he was holding your hand up and leading you in a careful, slow, and simple waltz. the warm, yellow lights of the botanical garden lit the perfect path, so neither of you would lose balance or topple over into a bush.

“jus’… follow my steps, promi-” blegh… he burps. you both freeze and stare in disgust! eren had the audacity to look appalled, himself.

“‘rennn, tha'snasty! say 'scuse me.” you giggle, hitting your fist against his chest, and then follow with a soft barrage of multiple petty hits. he conceded, playing into your scene of punishing the silly boy for burping so unexpectedly.

the slur and fumbling of words only reaffirm that you two are meant to be. you're both calculated, intricate, and suitable human beings made perfectly for the other. extra time was devoted in the creation of you both.

you were both young, drunk, newlyweds. slow sippin’ on wine until mr. jaeger offered shots. “well,” you suck your teeth and tilt your glass of wine to your mouth downing the rest of the rich, red liquid, “i wouldn’t be able to call myself mrs. jaeger if i refused. now would i?” you scoot your face closer to his and he adores how the tip of your nose and the apex of your cheekbone glisten from the faint golden shimmer highlight you brushed on them earlier.

“exactly! as a jaeger, you must be able to hold your liquor. can you do that my sweet wife?” with an outstretched hand he takes his index finger and tilts your chin up, careful not to ruin the makeup you worked so hard on.

pshh, you let the air wisp out the corner of your lips in disbelief. “can you even do that, husband?” you bat your eyes and wrap your hand around his wrist in wait for his answer. he smirks and chuckles in disbelief. his head hangs in embarrassment and he lifts his free hand to his forehead to shield the red that creeps it’s way up to his neck, and further spreads to his face.

you giggle; releasing his wrist and mocking him for his quick flustering. he pouts at you and calls you an evil, little thing, "but you love me though.”

“like no one else in the world, baby.”

his lifts his but off the seat, and leans forward to peck your lips — always careful not to mess up your pretty lip look. you suck in your cheeks, trying not to be like that newly wed couple, but you just couldn’t help it. you didn't want to be that overly giddy partner, but there was no need to restrict your affection. you wanted to be all over each other, shower the other in kisses and feed each other as you wined and dined. it was sweet, magical; everything you could’ve only dreamed, intangible — until eren somehow made it a dreamy reality.

eren beckoned the server over, and you grasped onto every word and brand he asked for. patron, tequila, old fashion, on the rocks, no sour mixes, any and everything — even rum and more wines. an entire language that you didn’t understand, but you’d drink it. one thing you knew for sure was that you only wanted a small amount of salt on the rim. but eren had the poor server bring over all those drinks and extras just for him to get "tipsy" on his third shot of patron.

which leads to the current predicament. a slow, sweet, and passionate waltz. his emerald eys sparkle in the way that yours shine. his lips curl up into an innocent but cheeky smile when you accidentally slip, or your heel awkwardly grates along the concrete; he'll catch you with an "I've got you, baby."

"i know you do, 'ren. you always have, even...even before all this."

he's got you. in sickness, in health, in any predicament that may make you question the capability of your love. even in the solitude and inescapable signs of death.

he'll hold you and cherish you in his arms. specifically, in this moment as you both hold the other. as you portray a disgusting amount of public affection that makes the wondering eye gag and repulse at the sight of you two — content, and carefree.

"our love is wonderful you know,"

"you think so?" you lift your forehead off his chest and wait for his answer.

"because i've dreamed of this moment since that day I met you, yn, since the day I've laid my eyes on you-". i forgot to mention he rambles when he gets a little tipsy.

"-from the day you picked on me for tripping over my shoelace in the work cafeteria. yeah, it was a stupid mistake, but the way you approached me. I'll never forget it," one smooch, as his hands drop to your waist. his fingers knead the warm, supple flesh. he's scooping you up in a way that only you're familiar with.

the music in the back now seemed like a figment of your imagination. a minor fracture in your perfect reality. a memory only feasible if eren was out of your sight. your vision blurs as he opens his mouth again.

"it was how you spoke to me, and how you looked,"

he's trying his hardest to focus on his words, but his hands have a mind of their own. his own feelings of sentiment make him woozy, and enamored — with you, and just you. this space between you two he needs to consume it.

i even remember how you smelled that day, baby. can you believe that?

"ohhh, e-eren," you've been struck by the wave of emotions you've been jumping with the entire night. you promised yourself that you wouldn't cry, not like this. not in the beautifully lit, and well-maintained green scenery of the botanical garden. the only time he succeeded in making you this vulnerable to your emotions was when he proposed.

one year ago, on a trip to turks and caicos. alone on an island sipping on margaritas until you were being more susceptible to your sexual fantasies that involved the nature of being overseas.

"this isn't what i expected, i never do things that make me happy, but this — being with you, experiencing life alongside you has made me the happiest. i can't imagine a life, my life without you, yn"

and then there's another smooch on your lips, and a warm thumb gliding across your cheek to wipe the slew of tears that slip out of your beautiful eyes. the slow dancing stopped, leaving the two of you to sway along to an ambiguous tune. the ending of the song — a true fantasy. but the birth and unification of life with the other, a world where claiming the other as "mine" has become so sweet and dulcet.

"honey, you said you weren't gonna cry."

"i know, but — just..." and you break down. digging your fingers into his arms, scared to let go. scared of the future, the end of this moment. the end of a man truly loving and worshipping you the way eren has. a prior life that he's made you forget.

"i've never, ever had this in my life, eren. you know this, and i want us — this," you sobs get louder, but eren understands, he knows you and every single part of you. your body, brain and those thoughts that make you question every little thing.

"i'm yours for forever, angel. till the end of us, till the end of me. i am forever devoted to you."

"you're stealing all the good lines from my head, eren, stop it." you whine and place your fist on his chest. he always had a way with words, that you just could never articulate. a soul like eren's was rare, it was a beauty, a true beauty. the soul of a man that you truly deserved.

"one of us has to say them, and it's helping me distract my tears." he sniffles, unexpectedly. his brunette strands tilt forward as he drops his head and succumbs to his tears. he's been holding them in, working through a hammering heart as his wife cried before him. he was a sensitive guy too you know, but he made sure that you heard his words first.

eren was entirely aware that you needed this moment, maybe he needed it more, but it was a solidifying factor. crying together, loving together, hardships together, and the inevitable. together.

"promise me," he holds your face, for an intimate kiss this time — a pause from the tears, "that our souls have been intertwined for an eternity. you're mine, I'm yours?" that emerald shimmer of his teary eyes makes your knees feel weak. but that promise was a given.

"I promise you, mr. jaeger, m-my life, my love, and my... my devotion. my soul has bonded in a forever tie with yours." you barely manage, but you got it out. that's all that matters.

"you promise?" he knocks his forehead against yours and gently soothes your body with his hands; holding you like the most fragile thing on the planet.

"i swear, promise — everything." you sweetly reply, and dry those tears. you peer up at him. eyes swollen and red, but you wait for the final factor. the fourth kiss that seals the deal. the fourth slotting of his lips against yours when he murmurs a sweet, "c'mere, baby, i love you."

the sweet feeling of his tongue agasint yours. the taste of alcohol distilled by pressure and passion — and a bit of tears.

the fourth kiss of infinite companionship, a partner, and a lover. two conflating souls, bound by the spell of love.

you and i, till the end of time.

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