#“those bands weren't even around !!!!! no one listened to them !!!!” most of them were i think

[kmt123whatsthetea]

Loved from afar

Fred Weasley x reader

Requested by: @fuckyeahphelpstwins-blog

Request: “Stalker Fred Weasley”

A/N: Thank you for the request! I'm sorry that I've been gone for so long. Life problems. I was going to do Kinktober but eventually forgot about it when this lovely request popped up (I haven't checked Tumblr in a while so I'm sorry if it was requested a month or so ago). I feel like I rambled a lot during the first few paragraphs, but I needed to give Fred a real pervy vibe. I was planning on getting it written by Halloween, but I had a crazy week of clowns and witches.

T/W: Stalking (Duh), Fred being a real obsessive and possessive creep, mentions of roofieing (kinda), Stealing, Underwear sniffing,

Fred and George were a team. They had been pulling pranks and getting into trouble together since they were in nappies. Molly even sent them to the naughty corner together (which might not have been one of her best ideas, since they always seemed to fill the house with giggles and whispers). That’s why George was more than worried when Fred started to pull away. When they had a prank planned, Fred would always excuse himself and run off.

Now George might not have been the most attentive student, but he did notice that Fred only excused himself when you were around. The problem was, you didn't seem to notice. If you and Fred had been a thing, maybe you’d have been more talkative when George said hello in the hallway and maybe Fred would have told him about you. But that's just the thing, you and Fred weren't a thing.

That very thought is what kept Fred up most nights. He’d wished upon stars, four leaf clovers, made love potion after love potion to slip into your drink at dinner, but nothing. He knows the love potions didn’t work because he made them himself, but it's not like he could ask Hermione or Harry to make him one. Asking comes with an explanation.

Fred just couldn't give up. Every little glance filled him with hope. That one time when you were both paired together for a potions project, he kept palming himself under the desk. He’d lean in and catch a whiff of your shampoo, making some excuse about how the fumes made him a little dizzy. He couldn't believe his luck when you just looked the other way. He had never cum in his boxers before, but he didn't change them. In his eyes, it was proof that you had an effect on him. Like a badge of honour.

You didn’t think much of Fred’s behaviour. Being dizzy in potions class is understandable. The way he seemed transfixed when talking to you, maybe he was just a great listener. Those little things that went missing, normal forgetfulness.

Fred would never openly admit to stealing. But the things of yours that he took, he wasn't stealing. You were his girl, he was just borrowing your things. The way a girl would borrow ‘steal’ her boyfriend's Quidditch jersey (he had tried on multiple occasions to offer it to you to wear). He kept that drawer in his bedroom enchanted for a reason. Inside were pens, a scrunchie, a piece of crumpled paper with some scribbles on, and a few strands of hair tied together with an elastic band. But the piece de resistance was a pair of white underwear. Your underwear. Fred couldn't believe how insanely lucky he was when he snuck them out of your room while you were at Hogsmeade. He treated them with such care. He caressed and petted the fabric, even holding them to his nose like it was the sweetest smelling orchid. He had thought about wrapping them around his cock, but the thought of defiling such a sacred piece of fabric made him shiver.

One of his best ideas was when he put the underwear on a pillow. He buried his face into the soft fabric while his hips rutted against the other end. He didn't care about ruining his pillowcase. These were given to every other student who got a letter. But the underwear? Your underwear? They stayed either tucked in the drawer, splayed across his face, or kept in his pocket during class.

Freds next target was a pair of underwear that hadn’t been in the drawer. He wanted to get a fresh pair. He searched your room, careful to keep everything in its original place. Your room was like a palace, an undiscovered temple just for his eyes. Every one of your possessions was a gem, your hastily made bed was a pedestal where a sleeping princess could wait for her prince. He was your prince, and his kiss would open your eyes just like a princess. He really couldn't help himself as he laid on your bed, burrowing his face as deep into the fabric of your pillowcase as he could. Suffocation be damned, he would die a happy man.

He made sure to take things that he knew you wouldn't miss. The clump of hair from your hairbrush, your pillowcase (which he swapped with a fresh one from the bottom drawer), and lastly a pair of your underwear which he found tucked in the small hamper by the door. The holy grail. He brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply.

The scent was unlike anything he's ever smelt. Such a sweet smell. Better than your perfume or the scent of your shampoo. This was all you. He let out a groan at the smell, his eyes rolling back at how heavenly a simple bit of fabric could smell, all because it belonged to you. The lace seemed softer, the scent purer than your other natural scents. How a single smell could paralyse him for a whole minute, he would never know.

But his trance would soon end when he heard footsteps outside. He had never moved so quickly, not to hide from you. But underneath your bed acted as his secret sanctuary within the confines of your room, one where he could stay safe and still be as close to you as he liked (although in your bed with you was a dream he longed for). He peeked out from underneath the edge of the duvet to see your shoes, carrying you across the room to carry out your after class routine. His eyes stayed glued to your legs, the most he could see without revealing himself. But his breath hitched when your skirt dropped to the floor, followed by your shirt. Your shoes were kicked off in the corner and your bra came off after.

He nearly had a heart attack. If he peeked now, he’d see heaven. It was worth the risk of being caught. His hands slowly pushed the duvet up, his head peeking out. There you stood in just your underwear and grey knee socks. Your breasts free for his eyes to see, and only his eyes. He was so entranced by the very sight of your naked flesh that he almost missed his cue to duck back under the bed. He held his breath, making sure he was in the clear before letting himself reminisce about what he had just witnessed.

The rustle of fabric and the bed springs squeaking above him were a sure sign that he was in the clear. You were so tired, poor baby. Don’t worry, just rest. It’ll be okay..

Fred’s watching over you

[vampsvitae]

chick hicks would've went through a huge creed, stone temple pilots, rhcp, and most definitely undone by weezer phase between when his racing career flopped and when he started his show and every time without fail when something happens he just reverts back to his depressing dad music and sits in his garage on some musty couch head in hands and shitty beer

[scoopsahoy]

whale tail

ぺ  word count ⋰ 1.8k

✰  tw ⋰ none :)

❍  cw ⋰ swearing, sex + fingering, oral (female receiving)

✐  masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

Eddie was convinced you had to be teasing him at this point. The way you swayed your hips when you walked, those too-tight jeans, and the way you touched him nonchalantly when you spoke. It was like you wanted him to jump your bones.

But there was one day in particular that he couldn't get out of his head. He had mentioned wanting to sell some vinyls he didn't listen to, and they just happened to be the bands you loved most. So you begged to come look at what he was discarding, him enthusiastically agreeing — what, with the crush he had on you.

But when you squatted down to dig through the box of records, your underwear poked out above your jeans. The only reason it caught his eye was because they weren't just any regular underwear.

You were wearing a thong.

It wasn't intentional, they just happened to be the only clean underwear you had at the moment.

Eddie didn't breathe for probably a good ten seconds, his eyes locked on the Y shape they created. They were a deep red and had lacy trim, and he wondered how they could possibly be comfortable. He wondered if you wore them for him, if you walked around every day with those panties on.

And the thought of that turned him on a ridiculous amount. Picturing you going to school every single day with the hottest underwear hidden beneath those clothes could've made him bust on its own, but he had to control himself while you were in his room.

You gasped, finding a copy of Rock a Little by Stevie Nicks. You stood up and turned to face him, your whale tail disappearing under your shirt.

"Where did you get this?" you asked, staring at the album cover.

"What, that? A thrift store, I think."

"Do you have any idea how hard I've searched for this?" He shook his head. "I have every single other Stevie album, but I've never been able to find this. It's always sold out." You looked up at him. "And you found it at a thrift store!" He chuckled a bit. "You lucky fucker. How much?"

"It's yours."

"What?"

"Take it. It's yours."

"Come on. I brought money."

"Seriously, just take it. I don't want your money."

You rolled your eyes. "Eddie, don't be ridiculous. The whole point of this was because you wanted to sell these. Let me buy it." You pulled the five dollar bill out of your pocket and stepped over to him, shoving it in his front pants pocket.

He instinctively jerked back a bit after realizing he had a partial boner. You noticed as soon as your fingers went in, and you looked up at him.

"Sorry," he said immediately, walking quickly into the living room. You two were the only ones home, Eddie having said something about him working.

Your eyes were wide and you swallowed the spit in your mouth, following him after a few seconds.

"It's okay," you reassured. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No, it's not your fault."

"I mean, isn't it, kind of?" He furrowed his brows a bit. "I'm not an idiot, Eddie. I could feel you staring at my ass when I was squatting."

"I-I wasn't staring at your ass."

"Then what were you staring at?"

"Uh... I could see your underwear."

"My underwear?" That's when you realized what you were wearing and your cheeks went red. "Oh. Shit, I... I didn't even realize I was wearing those."

"They're pretty," he said awkwardly.

"Uh... thanks. I should, uh, get going." He reached into his pocket and pulled the money back out and tried handing it to you. "For the last time, Munson. Keep it. That's how selling things works." He still looked annoyed, but agreed and laid it down on the coffee table. "I'll see you around school, yeah?"

"Yeah."

And with that, you slipped out of his door and practically sprinted to your car.

—

The next day at school, you were putting your books in your locker when you heard footsteps stop on the other side of the door. You closed it a bit to see Eddie standing there with his arms crossed.

"Hey," you greeted warmly.

"Hi."

"What's up?"

He held your jacket out and you sighed. "You left this at my place."

"Oh, thank you. I completely forgot about it."

"Yeah."

He didn't move after you threw the jacket into your locker.

"Is there something else?"

"I... Yeah, kinda."

"Okay, what is it?"

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about last night."

"What about last night?"

"You know."

You remembered the whale tail, mentally punching yourself.

"Oh. That."

"Yeah. That."

"So what are you asking?"

He looked at you for a minute before choking out, "Come by again tonight." He leaned closer to you, his lips just inches from your ear. "And wear them again."

Without another word, he turned and walked away. You were in a bit of shock, your eyes wide and mouth agape.

So when you found yourself standing outside his trailer, your fist in the air waiting to knock and the same thong underwear on as yesterday, you took a deep breath before connecting your hand with the door.

You didn't even finish knocking before the door whipped open. There stood a smiling Eddie with a beer bottle in his hand.

"Hey," he smirked.

"Hi."

"Come on in." You walked up the few stairs and into the living room, where he came up behind you with another bottle in hand. "Want one?" He put them down on the counter after he asked.

"Oh, no thanks. I don't really drink-"

You were interrupted by his lips against yours. He was gentle but dominant, his hands on your sides. You kissed back and braced yourself on his shoulders.

He turned you around and sat you on the small table to your left, his hips between your thighs.

"This okay?" he asked into your mouth.

"Yes," you breathed.

As you kissed, he reached down and unbuttoned your jeans, looking down to see the thong. He smirked, making eye contact with you.

"You wore 'em."

"You told me to."

"Mm. Good girl. Lift your hips up."

You did as told and leaned back on your hands, lifting your hips into the air to allow him to pull your pants off. He couldn't take his eyes off your body, the thong really complimenting your figure.

You pulled his lips back to yours and felt his fingers creep up your thigh. Once his pointer finger started lightly pressing to your underwear, you broke the kiss.

"Take 'em off me," you commanded, to which he followed. He pulled them off of you with such speed that you couldn't even lift your hips all the way.

Once you were exposed, he dropped to his knees and began kissing your thighs, making sure to look at your face. You bit your lip and whimpered as you watched his mouth inch towards their destination.

And when he buried his face in your pussy, you threw your head back and moaned. You laid back so you were flat against the table, your head hanging off.

He propped your legs on his shoulders and held the tops of your thighs, his tongue working wonders.

"Shit," you whispered, unable to stay still.

Getting you off seemed to be his only objective, watching your body writhe as he ate you out. One of your hands was tangled in his hair, the other hand on his.

Sloppy sounds filled the trailer, and it didn't take long for you to feel yourself going over the edge. But when you finally did, he didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. He continued exactly what he was doing, desperate to give you at least two or three orgasms before his pants even came off.

And when he succeeded the third time, you had to physically push him away. You'd never had more than two at a time, so the third one was almost too much for you.

When you looked down at him, his grinning face was soaked. You couldn't help but giggle as he wiped his chin with his shirt. He stood up and leaned over you, kissing your neck a few times before moving to your mouth.

"Do you have condoms?" you asked a moment later.

He immediately pulled one out of his pocket before undoing his own pants and dropping them to his ankles.

He was thick, and you could tell he was going to stretch you out. He tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth and put it on with ease, his fingers tracing circles around your clit. Your body jerked at the sensation, both of you chuckling.

He pressed the tip of his dick against your entrance, teasing you for a moment.

"Eddie, please."

And with that, he was pushing into you. The sound of your moans filled the room, your back arching.

"That okay?" he asked, looking at you for approval.

"So good."

That was his cue to bottom out, your eyebrows furrowing at his size. He started out thrusting slowly, giving you time to adjust. But his speed soon increased, involuntary moans tumbling from your mouth.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whined, his grip on your hips only tightening.

"Kiss me, Eddie," you begged, him leaning down and connecting your lips. You could tell this was uncomfortable for him, so he picked you up, still inside of you, and carried you over to the counter. He sat you down and held your head in place to kiss you, continuing to thrust into you.

This position was even more pleasurable, your body flush against his as he fucked you. The hand not on your face was pressed against your lower back, keeping you still.

He was close. He was never this quick to finish. But something about your pussy was magical. You were easily the best fuck he'd had. But he was good at holding off his orgasms for longer sex. And he wanted to please you.

So when he could tell you might be close to another orgasm, he reached down between you two and with his thumb started fingering you.

You couldn't even speak before another one ripped through you, unable to keep yourself from moaning loudly. To quiet you, he kissed you deeply, engulfing every sound that came from your mouth. And feeling you cum around him made him fill the condom, both of you grunting and moaning into each other's mouths.

When he finally stilled his movements, the only sound in the room was that of your out of sync breathing. Your foreheads together, neither of you could move for a moment. He kissed you, you returning it lazily.

"Jesus," he said.

"That was good," you whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. You're good at that."

"I know." His sarcastic cockiness could only make you chuckle.

Neither of you spoke while you got redressed. You decided to take another look at his records, your thong poking out of your pants again.

"We should do this again sometime," he said as he opened your car door for you.

You leaned against the inside of the door, propping your elbows on it.

"You want to?"

"Absolutely. Do you?"

You smiled. "Absolutely. I'll be back tomorrow."

[aishnico]

#𝙎𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃: 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦

» summary: the famous guitarist of guns n’ roses is not sure what he feels towards you

» word count: 3.2k (wOOOOO)

» warnings: cringey stuff (help 🙄🙄), alchohol, drugs, not cheating but you might take it personally (?) suggestive content, he’s a bitch until the last parts, fluff at the end (?), grammar issues (as always)

“so, what’s up with that girl in that music shop?” duff asked his curly-haired friend while drinking his vodka.

his friend yawned. “huh, who?”

“the girl in the music shop, you even invited her to our last concert. izzy said he saw you two on outside.”

he blinked a few times. then realization hit him. “ooh, you’re talking about miss fortune,” he then started to laugh like an idiot. “be ready to hear what will come.”

he didn't care about you, at first. he just thought you were a cute girl who was in charge of one of his favorite music stores when sometimes the owner, your dad, wasn't around. you would look at him impressed and with adoration whenever he played one of the greatest guitar solos. your reaction would cause him to chuckle and boost his ego.

you wondered since when he was playing and how many hours he was practicing a day. of course, your mouth was wide open when you heard the answer. you acted like you weren't believing him, but deep down, you knew it was mostly true.

after some time, he asked you to attend one of his band's shows to see more of his guitar capabilities. and it's not like a famous rock star asks you this every day. so you accepted his offer.

the show was crazy; his bandmates were also crazy and flirtatious as fuck, but they killed the show. you were looking for him after the show. then saw his friends taking drugs while a couple of half-naked chicks were sitting by their sides. you assumed he was going to join them, but you saw him outside trying to light his cigarette. but you grabbed it from his hands with a sly smile. he furrowed his eyebrows.

"c'mon, girl, give it back."

"there are better things to do than this. what are you doing here?"

"just went for some fresh air. the atmosphere inside is making my head hurt today. guess i'm not in the mood."

"this," you pointed his lighter. "doesn't make fresh air. also, won't this make your head hurt more?"

he rolled his eyes at you. "and what are you suggesting?"

that was the first moment when he thought you were, strange. more strange and different than the girls he has ever met. he never thought you would bring him to a chinese tea shop. and he wasn't expecting you to pay for both of you. he had never tried this type of tea before. hell, when was the last time he even drank tea?

the waiters even offered both of you fortune cookies. he thought they were nothing but bullshit. who would even believe in them? of course, you would.

"how can you even believe in these?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows at the cookie.

"well, i don't know about you, but for me, most of them are true!"

"i've never eaten this before."

"come on! how about the fortune cards? have you tried them before?"

"no. like i said, they are all bullshit." he said with a strict tone.

"at least eat the cookie."

he did as you said and broke the cookie in half. he didn't even look at the mini-paper and wrinkled it. then saw your sad puppy eyes looking at him. he sighed and straightened the paper without showing it to you.

'the thing you might be looking for is nearer than you think.'

what does that even mean? he furrowed his eyebrows again. "what does it say?" you asked him excitedly, and he wrinkled the paper and put it in his pocket.

"you're no fun." you muttered.

"and you are the most hilarious person i've ever met. it's getting late. let's go."

"would you accompany me?" you asked with a teasing tone.

usually, when he would go on his 'dates', he would call a cab for them. he doesn't remember when he accompanied them on a walk or when he agreed to accompany you now.

he listened to your beliefs about those fortune things he found bullshit, how tea is better than coffee and country music is actually nice to listen to, which he disagrees with on both. you two didn't have any common things at all. but he found it amusing to argue about things about which you didn't have the same opinion as him.

you were now standing before your house. you smiled at him. "thank you for the company."

he shrugged. "i mean, you asked me to do it so..."

"yeah yeah, good night, saul." you planted a kiss on his cheek before entering your house. he stood there for a couple of seconds. then started to walk fast to the street to find a cab. he had already lost a lot of time.

"she then kissed my cheek, and she probably thinks we're dating or something." the guitarist laughed at his sentence with duff. he took another roll of cocaine.

"i think she did that because she wanted to tease you?" duff asked.

"tease me? man, i don't even have eyes on her. she's weird. not in a bad way, though."

"don't tease her himself. girls like her may think you're in love with her or something."

"trust me, she's like the last person to fall in love with."

that was what he has been telling himself since your little 'date'. he didn't bother to contact you, neither did you. he thought you were just acting indifferent.

he almost forgot you while he was on tour. every day traveling to another city, playing the same songs, meeting with new chicks, and sometimes making out with them...

it has been almost a month and a half since you saw each other. they were in los angeles again, working on a new album. one day, he received a phone call from the owner of his favorite music shop. the shopkeeper told him that there were new pedals and equipments for electric guitars at the shop. he got excited and went on his way to the shop.

he spent about an hour there, testing new guitars and equipments on them. however, he decided he didn't need them for now. he thanked the shopkeeper, and before leaving, he saw a familiar picture of a woman behind the cash point.

what he did not expect was that the woman in the picture, you, was the shopkeeper's daughter.

"haven't you met with my daughter yet? strange... i remember that she told me that a famous guitarist would come here often while i had something to do."

"i... don't remember her."

"hm, i don't think you can see her often here from now on. she's in college, so she doesn't have much time for her dad anymore, I guess." he coughed.

"what's her major?"

"english literature, i believe"

"cool... anyway, take care." the guitarist answered when he was about to leave the shop. before he could pull the door, somebody else pulled. you.

both his and your eyes wide open. you smiled at him sincerely. "what a pleasing surprise! we met again." you chuckled.

"oh? isn't that our little miss fortune?" he seemed to remember now.

"miss fortune? that's not the best way to describe me but okay. i'm in a hurry, but i'd like to meet you tonight at the tea shop where we went about a month ago. bye!" you rushed inside without saying anything else.

"hey! when should i come?"

your father grinned at him and the guitarist left the shop.

why did i say that..? the man thought to himself. i probably sounded desperate to see her or something. ugh...

he made his way towards the local bar where he and his bandmates would usually hang out. maybe he could kill some time before heading to the tea shop. he just wanted to lay on a couch for a while but couldn't say no to a pretty lady who wanted to share her bottle of jack daniels with him.

"waiting for someone, handsome?"

"i'm waiting for someone, actually."

"hm, unpunctual people are not up to good."

"actually, i don't know why am i waiting."

"are you waiting for a date?"

"i don't think it's a date, just a hangout."

"well, i don't think you should wait too long for a hangout. you have nothing to do better?"

"guess no"

"well, i think there is." the lady smirked at him before attacking his neck with kisses and bites. the man threw his head back and inhaled. he gave her more permission to attack. eventually, he got turned on, pulled her head off, and connected their lips before heading to the nearest toilet.

it was almost 9 p.m. and only now did he remember he needed to go after washing his face. his head was exploding. he still didn't know why he was heading there. he certainly did not have feelings for you. he didn't find you super attractive, and he didn't find a reason to hang out with you often.

were you friends? he also didn't think so. maybe you would complain about him to his father like a little girl, and then your father would forbid him to come to his shop? that thought was hilarious to him.

after about half an hour, he was standing before the tea shop. when he looked through the window, he saw no one there except a ginger employee. he then hesitated but entered inside.

"i'm sorry sir, but we're closing here after ten minutes." the ginger woman told him before going to the personal room to change her clothes.

he huffed at himself. it was just a waste of time for him. why did he even bother? he asked this question to himself for the nth time.

he made his way to the door but stopped once he heard a door opening sound from behind. he returned his face to the sound and saw you with a shocked expression, but it turned into a relaxing small smile.

"you came..."

"you called."

then your ginger friend got out of personal room and tapped your shoulder. "we're closing in ten minutes. make your last order, then close the shop, alright?"

you nodded. "good night!"

"good night!"

you both watched her leave, then looked at each other awkwardly. "i thought you wouldn't show up."

"i planned to come here earlier, but..."

"but..." you repeated after him and got closer to him. your happy face dropped off. you looked at his neck full of hickies. "guess mosquitoes nagged you." you gave him a small smile.

"oh, is that much visible? my friends will tease the shit out of me."

you didn't reply and made your way toward the cash point. "what can i make for you?" 

he looked at the tea chart for a couple of seconds. "you know what? make the tea we both drank when we were here."

"i don't remember which we drank."

"then make your favorite. make two cups of them."

"oh? you seem pretty thirsty." you teased him.

"nah, that's for you. you treated me that time. now i want to repay."

you nodded. "oh, so that's why you came here. to repay me."

this thought never passed through his mind but he chose to lie. "yeah, pretty much." you didn't look up to him but nodded.

after a couple of minutes, you put two cups of tea on the tray and went to where he was sitting. you placed his tea in front of him. "thank you."

you sat next to him. admiring people from afar. a lady and her boyfriend were clinging to each other to get warm. an old lady was struggling with her walker and her son (or someone else) was trying to help her. three children running on pavements while laughing (why were they outside at this hour?)

but he could care less about the outside. he was admiring you. he was admiring how soft your expression was. how you looked cute when you're puffing the steam from tea. how slowly you're drinking it, but it is still hot, and you manage to burn the tip of your tongue a little bit. he chuckled at himself.

"what's funny?" you pouted at him.

"you. you're funny."

you rolled your eyes at him. "you're annoying, mind your business."

"what happened to your lovey-dovey attitude? i still remember that kiss." he teased you.

"ugh, don't remind me. i cringe every time i remember this. god knows what was i thinking... besides, i know that meant nothing to you."

"ooh, how do you know that?"

"because you would try to contact me, at least passing by that music shop. but you never did these for the past month. you just chased some mosquitoes, and they chase you back."

he laughed at this. "why do i feel like we're arguing like we're actually a couple?"

you didn't know how to reply, so you continued to sip your tea. you didn't talk until you finished your tea. you looked at his side and saw that his cup was full.

"you didn't even take a sip."

"i waited for it to be cold."

"trust me, it is now. but i have to close the shop. drink it or give it to me." you said while reaching your hand to him. but he quickly grabbed the cup and drank it all at once.

your mouth was wide open. you blinked a few times. "this is not some tequila okay?! you can't just one-shot it!"

"who says?" he replied while heading to the cash point. you followed him there and finished your cleaning and checking the last things before heading door with him.

after locking the door you looked at him. you thought he wanted to say something so you waited patiently.

"thank you." was all he said. you lowered your head, and smiled at yourself. "i shall thank you. for the free tea."

"i forgot to thank you at that time. and i thank you now for your kindness."

he would never thought these words would actually leave his mouth. like, he was a completely different person now.

"you're welcome, i hope you enjoyed your tea."

"trust me, i did."

"well, i'm glad." you looked at him now. after a brief moment of silence, you coughed. "i should get going. you should too. don't drink too much at this hour. huh, why would you listen to me?" you lowered your voice at the end but he heard it anyway.

"i already drank today. and i have no desire to drink again. not now, but surely tomorrow."

"alright, good night saul. take care."

you smiled again and started to walk on your way. "wait!" you heard him calling you so you stopped. he immediately came next to you.

"would you want me to company you?"

you chuckled at yourself. "i do not want to waste your time."

"trust me, you won't."

what was that again? what did he just say? he completely agreed that he was just someone else right now. but his stomach got hurt so much when you sincerely smiled again. it wasn't pain, it was something else. it feels like something quivers in his stomach and the breath from his lungs is leaving.

he feels exhilaration.

"are you okay? you're trembling," you asked him worriedly, caressing both of his arms.

he feels like he is about to explode.

"the weather- yes, the weather is... getting cold. we should get going."

"look, you don't have to come with me. my house isn't far from here anyway. you're shaking. just find a cab and head to your home. you won't be happy when you get sick and you have to be at the studio at that moment."

oh how sincere you were in your words and how caring you were towards him.

"i'm gonna be fine," he smirked and you both started to walk next to each other.

both of you didn't talk. although the silence wasn't disturbing. it was a comfortable one. million thoughts were flying inside his head right now. he was mainly thinking about your current situation. what you two were? what you were to him? was this feeling temporary? was this feeling gonna hunt him constantly? he didn't know.

the only thing he knew was that he had to find a reason to hang out with you again.

he wanted to know more about you. wanted to hear about your college life and lessons. want to know about your family and friends. wanted to know your favorite color, food, animal, movie, and more. he wanted to learn about you more.

"are you feeling warm yet?" you broke the long silence. but it seemed like he was in his deep thoughts.

"saul?" you called him. he then came back to reality and looked at you. "

"huh? excuse me, i was thinking about something."

"i asked if you're feeling warm yet."

"oh, yeah. pretty much."

"good."

a silence occurred between you once again. this time, he broke it. with saying something unexpected.

"although i would feel completely warm if you make me a soup."

you laughed hysterically. "i bet those chicks make hella delicious soups."

"nah, i don't think so. i want to try your meals someday."

he didn't care about it anymore. he didn't care anymore if he was being someone else. he liked it

"someday... someday seems cool."

"your behavior did really change. i would lie if i say i don't miss the old lovey-dovey miss fortune [name]."

"h-huh? don't call me miss fortune. i'm not interested in that stuff that much now. besides, unlike you, i love this saul."

"oh? you don't like my old me?"

"he was salty, but he was okay. i would still hang out with him."

he couldn't hide his smile but managed to hide his slightly flushed cheeks. even if he was being like this, or normal himself, you would still be next to him.

finally, you both were standing in front of your house. you inhaled and looked at him. "thank you for your accompany."

he just shrugged, couldn't find anything to say. so you cleaned your throat. "good night, saul. take care."

"you too, good night."

you smiled and before you pulled the door he called you by your name. you turned your head at him.

"no good night kisses?" he asked with a cheeky tone. you just rolled your eyes at him playfully. "don't tease me, boy, now go and get some sleep."

"woah woah woah woah- you know what it feels like to me? like i just skipped a big part of a romance novel." duff laid on the couch, almost going to sleep right there.

"i know it happened in one night but, i'm telling you. this time, wasn't like the first time. the first time i really wanted to walk away from there. but this time, i didn't want it to end."

"congratulations on your new hook-up then. just know, i'm gonna make it shorter by saying she's the last person to fall in love with."

"hey, mind your own business!"

"fine fine..." the bassist yawned loudly before slowly drifting off.

they didn't talk for a few minutes since saul was lost in his thoughts again. then something clicked in his mind.

there weren't two versions of him. there wasn't this cheeky and normal saul. there was only one. and that only one have…

he broke the silence.

"dude, i think i've fallen in love with her for real."

the bassist woke up and dropped his bottle of vodka to the floor. "you what?!"

[1spy]

1988 | Guns N' Roses - "Patience"

I was riding my bike with a friend back in middle school, and he started singing this song that sounded really cool. The kids now would call it a meme song, where there's just one catchy bit that gets memorized and transmitted instantly to seemingly every kid you know. All I know is we were riding our bikes around and singing this song at the top of our lungs like kids did back then:

Take me down to the paradise city / Where the grass is green and girls are pretty / Oh won't you please take me home

It was so dumb and fun. And I had not, at the time, even seen the video for "Paradise City." In fact, the first video I remember seeing from Guns N' Roses was their mega-popular acoustic ballad "Patience."

It's not the most representative song in their catalog. GNR's debut album, Appetite for Destruction, had come out in 1987 and was full of heavy, uncompromisingly sleazy hard rock bangers that made other LA hair metal bands sound tame and fake in comparison. The album painted a portrait of a Hollywood underworld where sex and drugs are traded for access and opportunity, but where the American dream is most likely to end in an overdose. All of which seemed pretty far away from my life in suburban Spring, Texas.

But Patience was a perfect entry point for me, a kid whose favorite band was—at the time—the Eagles. The gentle acoustic ballad opens with Axl whistling, which may have been a savvy bid for pop relevance only one year after Bobby McFerrin's huge #1 hit "Don't Worry Be Happy" also included prominent whistling. Patience got all the way to number four.

I wasn't the only one connecting GNR to the Eagles. Hotel California and Appetite for Destruction have similar themes involving sex, excess, and corruption in a drug-soaked Hollywood. Axl had performed backing vocals on Don Henley's album, End of the Innocence. And Henley played drums and sang backup when Guns N' Roses played "Patience" on the 1989 American Music Awards.

It took two years for it to happen, but the singles for "Welcome to the Jungle," "Paradise City," "Sweet Child O' Mine" and "Patience" eventually made the band ubiquitous. And Axl was constantly in the news for being a terrible human: starting shows late, nearly starting riots at his own shows, saying racist, misogynistic, and homophobic shit, and otherwise being a huge asshole.

At the time none of that mattered to me. What mattered was the way I felt when I pressed play on the CD. It was exhilarating every every single time. It still is. Appetite for Destruction is the best selling debut album of all time because it has no skips. It's an incredible hard rock album front to back, full of songs that are musical, surprising, funny, sophisticated, angry, and—more than anything else—convincing. It was hard to listen to Appetite and then put on Warrant, Poison or Motley Crue. Nirvana killed all those bands, but GNR put them on notice.

"Patience" wasn't on Appetite. It was on a follow-up collection of two EPs called GN'R Lies. The GNR half was old live performances from 1986 ("Move to the City" was my fave). The "Lies" half was a set of four acoustic originals whose popularity may have inspired MTV Unplugged:

"Patience"- the second song I ever learned to play on guitar all the way through.

"Used to Love Her" - A jokey song about killing your girlfriend and burying her in the back yard.

"You're Crazy" - Better, bluesier, and somehow darker than the version on Appetite.

"One in a Million" - The song whose lyrics included racist, anti-immigrant, and homophobic slurs, but also functioned as an Axl Rose origin story.

Even when I was a kid listening, the lyrics to "One in a Million" bugged me because Axl's lyrics on the song weren't just hateful, they were the worst lyrics he had recorded. It was a missed opportunity, because it's probably the best song on this record. It was his best vocal performance, it had the best solo, and Axl whistles over the opening again with an even better melody. It sucks because he ruined the song with half-assed, bigoted lyrics.

None of this is to provide an apologia for GNR (or for me). They were my favorite band until my senior year of high school. They were the reason my first guitar was a Gibson Les Paul like Slash played. And I dove DEEP into both Use Your Illusion records when they came out (I could write three or four more posts about UYI I & II).

But once Izzy Stradlin' left the band, I knew they were never going to make another record as good as Appetite. The best songs off Use Your Illusion are the Izzy songs. The coolest guy in that band was Izzy. And the best post-Appetite record by anyone in the band is Izzy's solo record with the Ju Ju Hounds.

I went to see Guns N' Roses in 1992 with Soundgarden opening. And I'm glad I did. But Izzy wasn't there, and I felt his absence. Basically, it feels like I left GNR when Izzy did.

But if he ever rejoins the band, I might see them again.

Fave lyrics (for someone who loved walking the tough suburban streets of Cypresswood at night):

I've been walking the streets at night Just trying to get it right It's hard to see with so many around You know I don't like being stuck in the crowd And the streets don't change but maybe the names...

[unclewaynemunson]

prompt idea! :D

steve being a poet and eddie being a songwriter. they both reference each other in their works and no one has put it together yet.

( also hi you're awesome )

Oooh anon I love this, this is such an intriguing concept bc the possibilities are ENDLESS with this one! I hope you like the direction I ended up taking it in :) (and thank you so much for dropping this in my ask box! <3 )

EDIT: I wrote an expanded version for this one and it's also on ao3 :D

---

Jeff was the one who introduced Eddie to Ronan Right. His mom was moving and when Eddie visited to help, he found his friend with his nose buried in a small book that was nearly falling apart in his hands.

“What's that?” Eddie asked, flopping down next to Jeff among the boxes.

“My mom's favorite poet,” Jeff mumbled, barely glancing up from the page.

And as soon as Eddie got a chance to pick up the book from where Jeff had left it, he was hooked. He was no help at all for Jeff's poor mom, completely engrossed in poem after poem, reading them again and again and again.

Eddie liked reading poetry to get some inspiration for his songwriting, but a lot of poetry had this atmosphere of pretentiousness around it. This didn't. It was surprisingly simple. To the point, with a rawness to it, mostly short poems that had a simplicity with which they managed to cut right to the heart of things.

Ever since that day, Ronan Right became Eddie's biggest source of inspiration. He'd never start working on new songs before reading one of Right's poems first. And whenever he got stuck on his lyrics, he'd pick up one of Right's books – and every time, without fail, he'd find something in there to help him find the right words.

---

When people would ask Steve what inspired him, his answer was always the same, always simple: music. Most people probably assumed that by that, a poet would mean classical music or maybe jazz of some kind. They were wrong: Steve Harrington, professionally known as Ronan Right, liked to blast the most screamy metal imaginable whenever he was writing – much to the discontent of his poor neighbors. He didn't care much for lyrics, it was all about the sound for him: about volume, about harmonies, about a combination of ingredients that somehow managed to flip a switch inside of his brain that unlocked the more creative ways to look at words.

His favorite band was called Corroded Coffin. Something about them stood out in the long list of metal bands he loved to listen to. It was something about the sound of the singer's voice, about the guitar riffs, that simply made sense to him, made the words that he was looking for bubble up to the surface naturally.

He got halfway through the first song on Corroded Coffin's newly released album, when he froze at his desk. He didn't care much for lyrics, but those words... There was something familiar about them.

He replayed the song from the beginning and started frantically flipping through the pages of one of his earliest poetry bundles... Yeah, there definitely was something familiar about those lyrics.

They weren't copied, exactly. It could just be a coincidence.

But the album kept playing on and Steve kept getting distracted by the lyrics because there was so much familiarity in them. It wasn't like the singer was stealing from him, it wasn't even like he was taunting his copyright or anything like that... It was like he was building on Steve's words. Like Steve had laid a foundation that had sparked Corroded Coffin to make something beautiful. Like the two of them shared a mind, a soul, an inspiration.

And Steve wrote the best poem he had ever written, in one go, that day.

---

More bundles followed. More albums were released. And they kept interlocking with each other, one causing the other to do something new, try something different, figure something out.

Ronan Right was still an obscure poet, well-respected but not mainstream enough for bigger successes. Corroded Coffin was still an obscure metal band, praised by the connoisseur but too experimental to ever get anywhere bigger than the verge of the metal scene. The only one who noticed the textual similarities between the two, was Jeff's mother. She'd smile her knowing smile and chuckle quietly, delighting in her own private understanding.

---

A new book was about to get published. Steve had to drive down to Chicago to meet with his publicist and talk some things through, but his car was in the shop so he got on a train instead. The meeting went well, Don't try to be a hero officially got the green light, and feeling content, Steve pulled out the latest Corroded Coffin cd to put in his walkman as soon as he got on the train back home.

“Hey,” the guy opposite him said with a smile and a nod towards Steve's walkman, just before Steve could put on his headphones. “Corroded Coffin, nice.”

“You know them?” Steve asked, taken by surprise, a matching smile creeping onto his own face.

“Yeah.” The guy chuckled. “Yeah, I know them.”

Sunlight fell through the window and shone on the big rings around the guy's fingers, catching Steve's eye – and pulling his gaze towards the tiny book he was holding in his hands.

“Hey,” he said, “Ronan Right, nice.”

The guy stared at him for a few seconds, something like disbelief in his big brown eyes. “You know him?!”

Steve felt laughter bubble up in his chest. “Yeah, I know him.”

[megantheestallion-ismypresident]

"Girls like girls"

Deena Johnson x fem reader

You moved to Shadyside a few months ago, you've heard about about this town being a shithole, and some sort of witch called Sarah Fier possessing people turning them to killers which sounds stupid in Y/n's opinion.

Her Dad died when she was 13, and it shattered y/n's heart. Her mom became a alcoholic, so y/n had to support herself.

Y/n's mother had moved to Shadyside for a fresh start, Y/n thought moving to Shadyside would be the worst idea, but she actually met three amazing people who changed her life.

Y/n met Kate through cheerleading ever since you got on the team. she was your first best friend, but one secret Kate told you was that she sells drugs with her other best friend Simon so they could leave Shadyside one day.

Y/n was totally supportive of that, and she also met Simon, Simon, and y/n's friendship was very flirty they would often flirt and mess around with each other. Y/n had a crush on Simon at first but he had eyes for another girl at school so she knew it would never work, but she still loved Simon as a bestie, He cheered y/n up when she was sad and he was the life of the party.

But the one person that stood out to Y/n was Deena Johnson, She seen Deena in band, Y/n thought she was the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen, her freckles and curly hair. Kate introduced you to Deena. Y/n was very nervous, and she felt like she was going to melt.

You thought you weren't going to be close to Deena but in the end you and Deena were very close, you guys talk about Shadyside, you both hang out alot after-school, you both listen to The pixies.

Y/n wanted to make a move to ask Deena out and tell her that she liked her, but Deena started dating Sam. Deena was very happy, and y/n loved seeing her happy, but she doesn't feel happy that she's with someone else.

Deena and Sam had been dating for six months until they broke up since Sam moved to sunnyvale.

Y/n was there for Deena when Deena needed a shoulder to cry on. She was there for Deena and and her little ''Fuck Sam" phase. You know how much Deena was angry at Sam but you knew she still loved her and would never get over her, Deena even quit band because of her.

But she got back into the band since Sunnyvale was hosting a candlelight vigil for the victims, so players, cheerleaders, and band had to go.

God, you hated those stuck-up Sunnyvale pricks

You made it inside the bus, seeing people amped up, and all up in your face, which you were very annoyed with, so you saw Deena and sat next to her.

"Hey." Y/n said to Deena.

"Hey." Deena responded.

"I don't wanna fucking do this." Deena said.

" Trust me, me too, I'd rater be at home listening to music, not going to Prissyvale." Y/n said, rolling her eyes.

" I don't want to go there but I have to because I have to give this to someone that I used to- it doesn't fucking matter anyway." Deena said mentioning to the box on her lap, which contains pictures and stuff with her and Sam. Y/n wished she was with Deena before Sam did.

It was silent on the bus ride. y/n looked out the window seeing Sunnyvale.

As the bus driver stopped in front of Sunnyvale High School, everyone got out of the school bus and made it to the football field.

Kate walked up to Y/n. " I know you like Deena." Kate said to Y/n straight forwardly.

" What? Is it really that obvious?" Y/n said to Kate questionly.

" Duh, I saw the way you looked at her when you first met her. You look like it was love at first sight." Kate said, smiling at Y/n.

"Well, it's not love at first sight since she's stuck up on Sam." Y/n said.

" Don't worry, you'll find someone, and if you don't, you always have me." Kate said jokingly.

" Shut up." Y/n said as she blushed at the short girl.

Y/n stands next to Deena, Y/n saw Deena looking for someone in the crowd to see Sam with this guy wrapping his arms around her.

Deena looked heartbroken she wanted to be sucked up in a black dark hole and disappear.

Deena left the football field, which made Y/n feel bad for her.

Y/n followed after Deena saw her sitting down in the corner of a wall.

" What's wrong?" Y/n said as she saw her crying.

"Oh, you know Shadyside being a shithole, seeing someone you use to know with someone else." Deena said sarcastically as she laughs, wiping away her tears.

Y/n comes over to Deena sitting right next to.

" I can't believe that she can just pretend like we weren't together and put up this bullshit facade ever since she moved to Sunnyvale, it was like she was ashamed to even say we were together, like I didn't matter to her, I was gonna give her this box of memories we had together but all I want to do is set it on fire." Deena said, feeling anger rise up.

"Maybe you need to let her go." Y/n said to Deena.

Deena gets up, scoffing as she rolls her eyes as she gets up, looking at y/n.

" Do you think it's that easy, she had a impact of my life, and you just expect me to let it go, God that was really fucked up to say Y/n." Deena said angrily

" I'm just saying she made you felt like shit ever sine you guys broke up, you literally quit band because of her, she literally has a impact of your life that you need to let go of, can't you fucking see." Y/n said, defending herself.

" Why did you want me to let go of her?" Deena said, questioning Y/n.

" I don't want to talk about it." Y/n said as her heart beats rapidly as she wants to admit that she likes deena.

"No, tell me, I mean you have so much blunt honesty to tell me to hurt my feelings, so please tell me Y/n." Deena said, targeting Y/n.

" Because I fucking like you!!! Is that what you want me to say? I wanted to tell you I fucking like you for months, but you were to stuck up on sam, that I felt like I was gonna loose you, I know how much you miss her but I just can't stand you talk about her." Y/n confessed as tears come out of her eyes.

Deena didn't say something as she looked at Y/n in her eyes.

" Deena, please say something... you know what? I'm gonna go and leave you alo-" Y/n was cut off as Deena kisses Y/n passionately cupping her face softly.

Y/n kisses Deena back as she waited for this moment to happen ever since she met Deena.

" I'm so fucking sorry, Y/n I was so stuck up on Sam that I didn't realize how much it affected you, I really liked you when I first met but I was so blinded by Sam and how much I wanted to be with her, I really liked you too but I was too scared to admit it and was so stuck on sam." Denna confesses as she looks at Y/n teary eyes.

" When we're done with this, can we eat cheeseburgers and listen to The Pixies and sing our hearts out." Y/n smiles, laughing with tears in her eyes as Deena laughs with her.

"I would love that, and your right I need to move on from Sam and focus on the good side of my life which is you, and I'm sorry for my attitude, that was very bitchy of me." Deena apologized.

" It's OK I've heard worse." Y/n said smiling at Deena.

Deena kissed Y/n again as she rested her forehead on Y/n's

"Y/n L/n, will you be my girlfriend." Deena asked.

" Of course." Y/n said pecking Deena on the lips.

Deena walked hand in hand as they make it back to the football field.

[palmastrings]

The Seven Deadly... Rings?!?!

@nocreativityfornames you're a genius I'm just gonna go ahead and swipe this and *eats*

original post here

Essentially what if we started Nightbringer but we also had the brothers in tow in the form of rings.

No, I didn't spell check this, I'm don't write very often so excuse any weirdness. I suck at grammar and ignore spell check.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Solomon holds his hand out expectantly, presenting to you a handful of exquisite multicolored rings. 7 to be exact. Each one a familiar face, in a somewhat familiar time.

Honestly, this isn't really that astounding by any means. When living in the Devildom, you've come to expect even the most unexpected situations. The rings were probably the least surprising thing you've heard today, seeing as how you had mysteriously been thrown across time and space and landed in the Devildom... approximately 7,000 years ago. Maybe? Nobody is really good at saving dates around here, especially when the average demon lifespan stretches from now to, basically, the end of time itself. A slight over exaggeration? Again, maybe. But in your defense, in your feeble mortal eyes, that's what it may as well be.

The rings jingle in your hand as you tentatively scoop them from Solomons cold hand.

Apon first glance, they would appear to be normal rings. Pristine, each gold band is fitted with a unique colored stone matching those of the beloved demons from your normal timeline. Although, if you really focused on it, twisting the bunch of them in your palm with your fingers, you could feel how warm the metal is. It was as if someone had worn the rings before you, even though it should not have been possible, as you would be the first to bear them. Along with the warm glow of the rings, you could faintly feel an intense pulsing sensation coming from the set. Whether or not it came from what could possibly be a rapid heartbeat or the emanating pulse of horrific eldritch powers, you couldn't tell.

You go to slip them on your waiting fingers until Solomon interrupts you.

"I will warn you Mc, they were terribly rowdy before I turned them into rings, I don't blame you if you find them overwhelming to wear."

"Thanks for the warning, Solomon. I appreciate you coming all this way to help me by the way!"

"Anything for my favorite apprentice! Oh! And put in the good word for me!" Solomon winks. He turns, presumably to go and survey the Devildom of millennia ago. You're eternally grateful he went through all this trouble, not only to willingly throw himself across time and space, but to also take the time to bring along the demon brothers.

You insert each hoop onto your fingers. They fit perfectly, made just for you to wear. For a moment, there is silence. You almost begin to doubt they're even there. The only sign of anything unusual is the pulsing jewelry around your fingers, seeming to wane slowly, just until it matches your own heartbeat. Then the screaming.

"Mc! Did I hurt you at all?"

"Can you hear me?! What happened?

"AHHH, I can't believe you met me while I was in my blunder years! Wahhh!! I'm so embarrassed!!"

"Oi! Human what the hell?! What were you thinking just vanishing like that?"

"Mc, why did you leave?"

"Hon, you nearly gave me a heart attack when I heard youd gone missing! Lets go home asap!"

"..."

Suddenly, you weren't so alone in your head. A barrage of questions, sobs, and abnormal talk of urgency was flung straight in your direction. You could practically visualize the tearful Levi. The clear image of the batting white eyelashes of Mammon as he looks worried at you. Along with what's definitely becoming a new wrinkle on Lucifers face as you listen to him interrogate you. It was almost relieving to hear them speak with such familiarity to you. After being treated like a stranger not too long ago, this felt like you had brought a piece of home with you in this strange version of the Devildom.

Maybe, just maybe in the strange place, in this strange time you could make the most of it. With a sorcerer and the seven rings at your side you may just be able to tackle the newly fallen brothers of the past, the new ruling power of the Devildom, Diavolo, and finally find out why you were sent here by the one called, Nightbringer.

[leeknowsnot]

listen (platonic han x reader)

genre: angst, no comfort, band!au

notes: platonic, 9th member!reader, reader is changbin's sister, written in 3rd pov, reader is referred to as she instead of "you"

warnings: mentions of d-ath and s-ic-de

i'm still in the process of writing kinktober day 3 so here you go for now!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ" your burden is not yours alone

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ there are those who share it

there are those who learn from it

and there are those who

willingly speak about it

you just have to listen"

January 7th, 2023

"Stop. Let's stop," Seungmin abruptly said from the other side of the room, ceasing the music being made within the four-walled enclosement they were in. Everyone had looked at him in confusion as he ran a palm through his face with an exasperated exhale, the guitar hanging on his shoulder yet looking like it had weighed more than it did. Minho was silent but he was eyeing the other male along with Chan who was raising his eyebrows. Seungmin's tone was not loud yet it was laced with quite the frustration.

"Y/N," he called out. She blinked, mouth agape and glanced at him. Seungmin stood before her, eyes wallowing in what seemed to be dismay followed by a few more gazes from Chan and Minho.

She spoke, a confused tone lacing her words. "Y-Yes? What's wrong?"

Seungmin replied with a sigh, "We've been practicing the same song for a whole week now and you've been hitting the wrong beats for more than thrice already. Our first gig is just around the corner and it's only a few days before we finally get on stage with a large crowd watching. Let's try not to mess this up, okay?"

She had found herself having more difficulty nodding than staying silent but she had an uncomfortable fidget on her seat which Chan noticed. "She's probably just tired. We all are, considering we even had weekends reserved for practice and we all know she gets tired a lot more than the rest of us. I think we should call it a day," he tapped on the male's shoulder.

The frown from Seungmin's mien softened, looking at her before he had finally agreed to his proposal. "You're the boss. I'm just trying to keep things on track," he says.

Minho had sent a nod at Y/N's direction as he put back his bass on the stand and with a few words of notice about where he'd be headed, left off.

"I'll be going on ahead as well then," was the last thing Seungmin had said before following suit, leaving the two of them in a complete silence. It felt like Chan was staring right through her soul and it somehow made her conscious.

"What is it?" she muttered through her lips, looking down at the snare drum that had seemed to become the most interesting object to look and distract herself from his stare.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" his voice was straightforward, typical Chan, but there was a slight tone of concern laced within his words. "You do seem like you've been out of it for the past days. Is there something wrong?"

She shook her head, probably out of instinct but she had decided is would only bother Chan if she said yes. "It's nothing, really. You're right, I'm just probably tired. Seungmin has been out of it as well and the others.. They're probably exhausted too."

They weren't. In fact, they had plenty of rests in between practice hours and they were more than enough for exhaustion to be such an overstatement.

"Are you sure?" he asked. His voice was even, mellow.

Y/N hummed, hoping her facial expression was convincing enough for him to stop questioning her which would probably lead to a whole therapy session. "I'm really fine. I just need some breather, that's all," she answered. To which in her surprise, Chan had taken as a genuine response and finally left her to herself by her drum set. She sighed in relief, packing her drumsticks in her small backpack and threw the cover on the set.

When she was finally set on leaving the studio, she stood beside Chan as he sat, burying his face on a piece of paper. Probably finding the right word for a new song from his so-called mind palace. He was never the first to leave the studio and was always the last to leave—thus, the whole band teasing him that he was here more than he had stayed in his own house. She bade him goodbye, leaving the room and headed towards the corridor.

It was never silent in the record label's building. If not for the muffled sound in practice studios, her brother Changbin's loud and booming voice could be heard echoing through the walls. As she reached the training room, the same drum set, recording set, and instruments had welcomed her and brought her waves upon waves of memories.

...

You always call me full of regret

You want me to save you again

December 12th, 2020

"You really have a nice voice," she had said out of the blue, slightly startling the male whose back was turned at her.

"You really have a hobby of giving people heart attacks," Jisung deadpanned at her, earning a laugh from the female. She sat beside him, hand occupied with her lunch tray and gave him a wide smile.

It was during middle school when they first met. She had been friends with Chan for quite a while but it was also not long when she had met Jisung. "Did you try singing at talent shows or joining bands? You shouldn't put that voice to waste, you know," she said, chewing on a piece of fry.

"No. I don't like bands."

"Why not? Afraid of a little commitment? I heard Chan's planning on forming a band for the school show. C'mon, it's fun!" she laughed.

"It's not very convincing coming from someone who transferred schools a lot and met sorts of people. But no, it's not like that." He eyed back his notebook, gripping the pen between his fingers and started scribbling again. He never had the best penmanship.

"I just don't like how they disband in the end eventually after years of bonding."

...

After all these years, the days go by

I've seen you fall a million times

Everybody makes mistakes

February 17th, 2022

"What's with that face?" he gave her a side look, ready to inch away. "Why do you look like you're about to cry."

Y/N clicked her tongue, glaring at him. "I'm not. I just can't get this beat right. I've been redoing this part for how many times now, it still sounds weird." She scrunched her nose at him. "Minho won't be too happy if he hears that mistake during our number. You know how he just stays silent but he's actually judging you. Even Changbin refuses to help me out with this."

"Alright, alright. Give me the drumstick, we'll sort your problem out," he sighed at her, which had probably sounded like he was done with her whining. She gave him the weirdest grin.

"Stop it Y/N, you're weirding me out."

...

June 5th, 2022

Y/N scooted towards Jisung, eyes peeking at whatever he was writing. "What are you doing?"

His head snapped at her direction, a surprised expression on his face. "Y/N, you scared me! Don't go creeping up on people's backs, it's scary!" She only gave him a hearty laugh, taking a seat beside him.

Jisung let out a sigh before chuckling, head turning back to his notebook. "It's a song," he says.

She shrugs. "You always write songs. Don't you do something else? Something more... fun?" Jisung gives her a laugh.

"Rich coming from someone who's also a band member," he rolls his eyes. she nudges his shoulder.

"I play music, not write them. Beating drums prove to be far more entertaining than composing." This earns her a smile from Jisung who turns back to writing again.

"It's kind of like a stress reliever for me. I get to say things i can't say. Pour out the feelings I can't show," he says.

She sat beside him silently, an amused expression on her face as she watched Jisung pour out his lyrics on his paper.

...

It feels so hard to watch you hurt

From the pain a lesson learned

This is how you find your way

July 23rd, 2022

1 ring. 2 rings. 3 rings. 4 rings.

She didn't want to answer her phone. Her weight had gone down yet she refused to move an inch. How many days had she skipped classes? She couldn't count how many.

Usually in cliché novels, it would rain dramatically in sync with the protagonist's melancholy. But it was the perfect weather; no rain, no scorching sun, no whistling wind. Just plain silence that gave such a temperature that was comfortable for everyone but her. Y/N cursed at the sky. She cursed at the simple noises by the street outside her house. She cursed at the faint droplet from the sink by her bathroom. She cursed at everything.

A loud banging from the front door disturbed the deafening silence. It irritated her. She tried to ignore it, hoping it would cease eventually but the more she ignored it, the more it became louder. It took more than half of her will to stand up from her bed, hair disheveled and almost stumbled down the stairs. She was pondering whether to open it or just pretend she was not home. Ths cold metal knob came in contact with her palm as she twisted it open. They stood in front of her, four faces agape with disbelief and distress. Chan was the first to speak.

"Why weren't you answering our calls? We were worried about you," he had a look of both guilt and responsibility. Minho looked like he was ready to scold her for neglect and Chan was not very pleased at the sight of her state. Jisung was giving her a sympathetic look.

"We know you're still sad about our loss. But that's normal. We lose some, we win some," Jisung says. "Here, I had Felix bake you a cake."

"I'm sorry," was all she could say.

...

You feel so lost, I've been there too

Skies so dark no way through

Stories only scars can tell

November 20th, 2022

Y/N knocked at the practice room door, clutching at her drumsticks in her hand. "Anyone here?"

Seungmin and the others stood behind her, sweat dripping through their shirts as they had finished their last band show for the university—a college farewell party.

A muffled answer came from inside the room. "I must've locked the door by accident. My apologies. Yes, I'm here." Jisung opened the door, his other hand occupied by the guitar he was holding.

"We're going out for a drink. You left the backstage so soon earlier so we came looking for you," Seungmin spoke from behind her.

"It's our last day as students, after all," Minho followed. Chan only gave a nod.

He pondered for a moment, pursing his lips and finally gave an answer. "I'm sorry. I might not be joining you guys this time, I have some... matters to attend to." Y/N gave him a puzzled look. "But I'll try to join once I'm finished."

"Are you sure?" Chan asked in which he responded with a nod. She looked at him, torn whether she should ask if he was doing alright or not. She went for the latter.

"Hey, are you alright?"

He gave her his most genuine smile. "Yes."

...

February 11th, 2023

The sun had barely touched the buildings when Y/N arrived at the studio. Just a few days ago, the band was running on sticks and stones with her being off beat and Minho being on the edge of losing his patience but today was different. Yesterday was the milestone of Stray Kids' first live musical performance as a band under a well-known label and it was definitely more than something to be celebrated about.

The moment she entered the label's building, a lively party had filled the place from ground to the top floor. It was as if yesterday the othe band had the same festivities right after theirs and that was a couple of weeks ago. It was the label's way of recognition over the bands' efforts.

She squeezed herself towards their room, sometimes bumping past shoulders of people that were familiar only by face but not by name. As soon as she reached the others, she let out a huff. Seungmin was by the side, pouring Jeong In a drink, her brother was laughing at Chan's antics, and Minho was looking at Chan with a weird expression as he always had. It was just like any other day.

Only, it felt incomplete.

As if a puzzle piece was missing.

She walked past Changbin, placing her drumsticks by her set and took her bag from her shoulders. He had given her a wave, greeting her but she didn't answer.

It felt wrong. It all felt very wrong. It felt... What was it? Unfair? Why was she feeling unfair? Was it because she was the only one who felt that way or was it because she was wondering why they never mentioned anything about him?

"Hey," she heard her brother speak from beside her, now leaving an occupied Chan who busied himself with Minho's weird expressions.

"Hey," was the only answer she gave.

"Are you alright? You look like you woke up on the bad side of the bed again," he responded back at her, his locks brushing at his left cheek but to which he paid no heed at. "Don't tell me you're having PMS again—"

"I'm not in the mood for jokes, Changbin," she cut off his sentence. Y/N sighed, glancing at everyone with both her eyebrows raised. Both spoke with a hushed tone that only they could hear. "Doesn't it feel wrong to you? Everyone's having so much fun, it's unsettling."

"Of course everyone is," he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. "It's your band's debut yet you're the only one who has that ugly, long face. Not that you're weren't ugly before."

She glared at him, ready to stab him with a drumstick the next time he cracks an untimely joke again. "I hate it. We shouldn't be celebrating so much like this. There's nothing to even celebrate about."

Apparently Changbin didn't like her statement. Even Y/N herself was surprised at her own words. "Y/N, I don't see the problem why we shouldn't be doing this and you won't even tell me why."

"I also don't see why you're not feeling the same way I am right now," she retored back at him.

"Feel what, Y/N? I don't get you. If you just told me—"

She had cut off his statement with a louder tone. "Why, you ask? I should be the one asking that. Why is everyone acting as if everything is okay? Why is no one talking about Jisung?"

She had said it too loud. Heads turned towards her, mouths shushed, and the only noise was the low volume music by the speakers.

"Why is it that everyone just started pretending that everything was back to normal and why did Chan pick up that rhythm guitar without even saying a word? As if Jisung had never been our member? As if he never existed?"

"Tell me, Changbin. Why is no one telling me why he had to take his own life?"

Her voice broke along with her heart as the room fell silent. The radio hushed, mouths shut, and the loud footsteps came to a stop. But her head did not.

Faces upon faces of pity, empathy, and confusion had stared at her. She didn't want any of that. She wanted an answer. A clear answer. She paid no heed to the pool of tears that had found themselves continuously streaming down her cheeks.

"Tell me. Why did I not ask if he really was okay and didn't know that his 'yes' was the last thing I was gonna hear from him. Tell me. Why did we not notice how much he was hiding himself behind his fake smiles.

"Tell me. Why are we so happy without him?"

She didn't hate Seungmin, or Minho, or Chan. Nor any of the other members and bands for celebrating. Nor any of this. She hated herself. Her ignorance. Her blind eye towards what he had actually been feeling. Her guilt.

It was guilt.

She should have listened. Not at the loud strums of his guitar. But at the silent screams of his heart. She should have.

if you know anyone struggling with d-pression, anxiety, or just need someone to talk to, please PLEASE reach out to them because they're not alone in this fight. you're not alone in this fight. we're not alone in this fight.

[cillianate]

JUNE GLOOM

pairing— warren rojas x fem!reader

content warnings— drugs, alcohol, language, mentions of cheating and abuse, reader is a songwriter, slight hints towards reader being caucasian, band member reader, any spanish I use may not be accurate, as I don't speak it fluently, if you catch any mistakes let me know!

genre— just a small fluffy drabble!

word count— 566 words, 2976 characters.

"I sat down, made a list of all the things I care about," sounded your voice from somewhere in the house. Warren, who had just woken up from his nap on the couch, had figured it may have been from a record. But he'd burnt through every song in the house, and he'd never heard this before.

"Think I mentioned 'Scott Street' and Springsteen," nobody else besides his girlfriend, you, was in the house. As he started to walk towards your shared room, which he believed was the source of the noise, he started to realize that it was, in fact, your voice he'd been hearing.

"And I wrote your name twice," finally, he knocked on the door of your room. A quiet fumbling and then a small voice could be heard, "It's open," it said.

There you were, in all your glory, sitting on your well made bed covered in colorful quilts and pillows, with a guitar in your hands.

"Mi vida, don't stop on my account. Is it alright if I stay? Listen for a while?" He said.

"Sure, honey. I don't mind," you said as you stood up and grabbed his soft yet calloused hands and dragged him closer to the bed.

He flopped down next to you, the bed shaking with him. His feet reached the ground and he rested his palms behind his head as if to cushion himself.

"Keep playing, woman! You're amazing," he spoke with the biggest smile on his face, "I've only ever heard you singing backup vocals, but damn, darlin'! You should be our frontman!" You blushed and giggled a small bit at his endless compliments. He had always been the funny type, you even thought he was joking when he confessed his feelings for you a few months back.

So, with your white cotton tank-top and shorts, you continued to sing and strum on your wooden guitar.

"I hate it, nothings changed at all since we were seventeen,

You could never keep your money, or hands off me,

And I still want you like that,

But I can't make a lover out of you unless you ask me to."

Of course, this song was not about Warren. You'd written it a year or so ago about a man you had been seeing for a while, but inevitably broke things off with. Warren had quite literally been your saving grace. You two were twin flames, two sides of the same coin.

You'd known him since you were young children, and of course, you had written your fair share of songs about him. You'd only play those when he was out of the house, though. You weren't sure you wanted him to hear your entire sappiness yet.

He watched you in awe, his eyes sometimes drifting from your face to your soft, slightly tanned arms. How he loved when you'd wrap them around his torso at all times of the day. He didn't need to be high to genuinely enjoy your company like he did with most people nowadays.

He sat up, resting his chin on his hand while his elbow rested on his criss-crossed knee, looking like an attentive kindergartener.

And as you strummed the last chord of the song on your guitar, he leaned forward to kiss your lips and said, "Play me another one, mi corazón."

SONG—JUNE GLOOM. alix page

[lokis-army-77]

Notes

Robin Buckley x female reader

Word Count: 1319

The reader is part of the more popular crowd. She has been slipping short love letters into Robin Buckley's locker for the past few months, then one day she receives her own.

Warning: Fluff, talk of family and friends in the 80s not really liking anyone who likes the same sex.

I'm so sorry if this is awful, I literally rewrote this five times because I had no clue where I was going with this ask.

Masterlist (Taglist linked here)

The Hawkins High School hallways were practically empty as I looked around me cautiously. I opened my locker and quickly grabbed my backpack and the English textbook I needed for homework. With another glance over my shoulders, I opened the textbook to the first page where I had stashed a folded piece of paper. Smiling down at it I felt my face heat up.

I had been placing these short love letters into the locker next to mine for around three months now and the girl who was receiving them was none the wiser. She had no clue who it was and even though she didn't know it was my feeling being laid out on those pages, I was relieved because no one knew my secret.

She was almost my complete opposite socially. Band geek who was too shy to come out of her shell around people she didn't know. She hung out with people around School I never would be allowed to. Meanwhile, I was friends with the most popular people in Hawkins. With parents who were among the most wealthy in town, I had never had to try too hard at anything, people flocked to me and most probably weren't even my true friends. 

She was cute with her short light brown/dirty blonde hair and the baggy sweaters and jackets she wore. Every Time I saw her I'm sure my face went completely red. 

Robin Buckley was my crush and I was too scared to tell her to her face. 

Liking girls was never something that came up in conversation with the more popular side of Hawkins High, it was always boys, what sports game was going on that week, and if anyone was hosting a party that weekend. 

I couldn't tell my friends anyway. The information would somehow get back to my family and I'd be disowned, cut off, and thrown away. I had seen it happen to my uncle Thomas a few years back when he said something about a boyfriend at a family Christmas. I've never heard from him since. 

I was taking a big risk even writing these letters to Robin and stuffing them through the vents in her locker. If anyone found out I liked her and not some overly egotistical basketball or football player, my life as I know it would be over in a flash. 

Stepping back from my locker and closing it shut, I made sure none of the three people in the hall were watching me as I carefully stuffed the note away into Robin's locker. 

…

The next day I spotted Robin with Nancy Wheeler, chatting at the lunch table right next to mine. They were looking at something and when I got closer, I realized it was my note.

"I don't know Nancy, I just wish I knew who she was." Sighed Robin.

I kept listening to their conversation as I sat down with my lunch. 

"I know you do Rob, but maybe she's coming from a place that won't allow her to openly admit any of this," Nancy spoke. I nodded along to what she was saying, knowing she was right.

"I get that, I really do, I'd just like a hint as to who she is. You said the handwriting looked familiar, are you sure you can't pinpoint whose it is?"

My eyes when wide. My handwriting. Shit, I didn't think of that. I never interact with Robin ever so I never thought that the recognition of my handwriting would ever be something that would happen. But Nancy? I worked with her on the school paper, and she definitely knew what it looked like. 

In my shock and surprise, I let their conversation slip away. I wanted Robin to know that it was me who liked her but at the same time, I didn't. Worry surged through me at the thought of the whole school somehow finding out my secret. 

I just breathed. If I just didn't let Nancy see anything I had written physically, I should be fine. Most of the work we have to do on paper is typed and printed anyway. 

….. 

The next week passed by and still Robin hadn't a clue who I was. I had placed my letters in her locker like always. That was until I opened my locker Friday afternoon and a note fell to the floor at my feet. 

Curiously, I picked it up and unfolded the lined paper to reveal scratchy handwriting. 

Hi. I'm so awkward at this but I hope you don't mind. Thank you for all of your notes. I was actually really surprised to learn that it was you writing them, I've kinda had a crush on you since seventh grade. I can't tell you how nice it was to read your thoughts about me and I just want you to know that I feel the exact same way. I'm bummed that it took me this long to figure out it was you, I guess I have Nancy to thank for that one. After school, I'll be at the swing set at the middle school if you want to stop by…

-Robin

Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. My heart pounded as I read and reread the note, eyes bulging at the name scrawled out at the bottom. My hands trembled at the thought of walking out the double doors of the school and heading to the playground. What is someone saw? What would happen? I was nervous and a bit scared and the thought of not going did cross my mind but the thought of Robin waiting and me never showing up churned my stomach. 

After a few deep, calming breaths, I packed up my things, folded up Robin’s note, and headed out of the building. The parking lot was almost completely empty and no one crossed my path as I made the trek up the small hill to the middle school.

Turning the corner around the building, I could see Robin sitting and swinging quietly, back facing me. She turned quickly when the sounds of my footsteps on the gravel reached her. 

Her face brightened when she saw me and the smile she had made my knees go weak. 

“Hi.” I waived.

“Hi.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m just like, really nervous.” I laughed and wrung my hands together. 

“You, nervous?” She asked. “I’m the one who should be nervous, the most popular girl in school actually likes me.” 

I took the last few remaining steps toward the empty swing beside her and sat. 

“Thank you.” She reached her hand out to me, placing it on my knee. I watched her with wide eyes. “I actually really enjoyed reading those notes.” 

I smiled. “Yeah? They were the only why I thought I could talk to you. The only way I knew how to tell you my feelings without letting everyone know. Liking girls isn’t something my friends or family are okay with.” 

“I know what you mean.” Her hand came to rest on mine. She pulled back slightly when my eyes snapped from her face to my lap. “Sorry, was that too bold of a move?” 

“No.” I moved to grab her hand again, bringing it back to my lap, and intertwining our fingers. “I liked it.” 

“Do you think maybe you would like to hang out sometime? I mean it’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to, it's just that I think it would be really great and I would love to spend some time with you.” She began to ramble on and I squeezed her hand, calling out her name. She stopped and looked up sheepishly. “Sorry, I spew words when I get nervous.”

“We can totally hang out. I’m free tomorrow, my parents are on their monthly business trip, so you can come to mine if you want.” 

“Definitely.” 

“Then it's a date.” I smiled at her.

[inkrabbit]

Makeup

This was a quick idea I had. This is mainly to try and help get me back into writing since college has taken over my life. So enjoy some Mary Goore stupid shit.

I do have a more thought-out plot for Mary, but that's a lot of work, so I'm doing a bullshit rambling first.

Mary loved having you on tour with them.

Why wouldn't they? You didn't take up much room, and you offered a lot of help with the band. From carrying equipment to getting everything organized and ready for the show, Mary was always extremely grateful for the help, as was the rest of the band.

Of course, Mary had their own way of showing their thanks. A soft grunt, pat on the back or shoulder, or even, on the very rare occasion where no one else was around, you would get a quick half-hug.

But just like everything else in their life, Mary was complex. They didn't know how to properly express their emotions, having never been able to when growing up. They didn't know what proper love was, and the fairy tales told in stories were just that; a fairy tale. There was never a “love at first sight” moment for them, and there was never those “butterflies” that people talked about.

But then they started to hang around you more and more, and they started to experience emotions for the first time. They hated it. They never felt nervous like others claimed, but there was always this strange pull towards you. It wasn't noticeable at first. Sure, they would always feel a little lonely when you would leave, but Mary would go back to doing whatever they were doing.

It started to get worse when they got closer to you. Your undying loyalty and open-minded nature. How gently you treated them, showing them what a healthy friendship should be, rather than all of the other people who would borrow money or only bitch about their own problems.

That was how you started chipping down their walls; you got them to finally open up after countless weeks of gently prodding. And when Mary finally spoke up, they expected you to leave. They expected you to see all of their problems and turn your back on them like everyone else.

But instead, you stayed. You changed yourself for them. You did things that would make them comfortable. For once, Mary was put first in someone else's life and not the other way around. The times you would come over to their apartment, knowing they were either too lazy or busy to go buy groceries, you would bring them instead. When they had bitched about running out of some paint they needed for a painting they were working on, you had grabbed more for them, and getting the exact brand they preferred, too.

Their most cherished gift from you, however, was the deck of tarot cards you had bought for them. They had mentioned it a couple times, saying that there was a deck down at the metaphysical shop in downtown that had caught their attention, but they hadn't had the opportunity to go back and buy it. Lo and behold, a week before the tour, you dropped by their apartment, a bright smile on your face when you sat on the couch next to them and brandished the exact deck Mary had been eyeing. That was the day they finally realized their feelings for you. They finally understood that “butterflies” term when they realized that you had actually been listening to their idle rambling. That everything they said was actually sinking in.

You weren't there for bragging rights about being friends with Repugnant's lead singer. You weren't there to potentially take them for a ride and then abandon them when you had your fill. You actually listened. You cared.

That care transferred over to their music and, especially, their equipment. Mary didn't always trust themselves with their guitar, nor did they always have much faith in their ability to pack things properly. But you were always behind them, a playful smirk on your face whenever you would hold up something they would've left behind had you not caught their slip-up.

Because of you, Mary had their makeup for this tour and didn't have to go buy some shitty brand at the last second that probably would've just been cheap paint from the dollar store. They've done that a few times, nearly losing eyesight one night when the black around their eyes started to melt with their sweat, seeping into their eyes towards the end of the show. It was a miracle they was able to clean it out without much problem.

That wouldn't be the case tonight. They were sure of it. You gathered up the makeup, sitting beside them on the old couch, applying their makeup. They would never openly admit it, but they loved feeling your touch. You were so gentle. They weren't used to that. They were used to rough hands that grabbed and squeezed wherever they wanted, occasionally grabbing at their jaw too harshly for some wanted eye-contact.

Not you.

“Tilt your head.” Your instructions are soft, gentle, and you use two fingers to guide Mary in the direction you need. Their head tilts up as they give you a soft grunt, feeling your fingers glide across their skin. They loved it, leaning into your touch without consciously realizing it.

You didn't say anything.

But when you started to apply the eyeliner, they noticed that you were getting antsy. You were constantly shifting on the couch, your brows furrowed. You kept turning their head this way and that, trying to find a comfortable position for the both of you. They're more than happy to let you position their head however you want.

They won't ever tell you this, but they're doing it on purpose, all to feel more of your touch. When you finally finish applying the eyeliner, there's a look of satisfaction on your face, a warm smile that makes their heart feel light.

“All done!” you tell them happily, letting them look in the mirror. It looked great, yeah. Perfect even. But as you went to reach for the blood, Mary moved. They had time – plenty of time before having to be on stage.

They grabbed you, burying their face in the crook of your neck and rubbing, smearing the makeup and making your squeal, hitting their shoulder. They can't help but laugh loudly as they pull back, the black and white makeup having turned that area of your neck a dirty gray color as you bitched about all of your hard work. They just give you a toothy, shit-eating grin as they shrug.

“Whoops. Guess you'll have to do it again.” they say playfully, their heart starting to pick up as you grumble softly. And yet, you pick up the towel, gently wipe off the makeup on their face that had been smudged and ruined, and started all over again.

It wasn't Mary's fault that they didn't know how to tell you that they adored being this close to you.

[daddyy333]

Band kid!Robin x color guard!y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 1.1k

warnings: I’m blanking but I know there’s gotta be at least one please let me know if you find one I’m sorry in advance

REQUESTED: @amberputh

summary: Robin is in love with the best girl on the color guard team, and little does she know you’re just as crazy for her

For 3 years Robin had been admiring you during pep rally’s and halftimes and other events. You joined color guard in freshman year at the same time Robin joined the band, and Robin now had the biggest crush on you because of it. You were considered one of the best on the team, you were very skilled and the tricks you were able to do made the crowd gasp and cheer throughout the performances.

And god, the way you looked had Robin messing up the music and nearly forgetting to play all together. You were so beautiful, and so confident too. You always came to the band members and told them how good they sounded, sometimes even bringing them snacks for after the games and the long and tiring school events.

What Robin didn’t know, was that you didn’t always watch band practice just to practice your routine. You didn’t stay after every game and talk to the band team only to congratulate the band team. You didn’t buy special snacks for Robin just because you overheard her talking about her gluten allergy just because.

You did all these things because you wanted to see her. You wanted to talk to her the most out of everyone. You wanted her to realize you listened to her and actually cared about her. But she never seemed to notice and it broke your heart sometimes.

Both of you were terrified the other was straight. So for 3 years you just watched each other, falling more in love with the other with every performance.

You started working at Family Video and shortly after Steve and Robin walked in with applications. You knew only one other position needed to be filled but you begged Keith to make up some other job so both of them could work here and you could see Robin more often and really truly get to know her.

When they started their first shift, Robin ran off to explore and memorize things on her own and it was just you and Steve. “I know there was only one position left. How did another suddenly open up if you’re still working here?” He asked and you looked around nervously.

You chuckled and said “uhh I’m not sure” “oh come on, I know you like her. It’s okay, I don’t care that you like girls. Besides, it’s kinda obvious. You were basically drooling when Robin was walking around trying to memorize the sections” he said and you chuckled nervously.

You blushed and said “ok, fine I like her. But please, please don’t tell her. I don’t know if I’m ready yet. Oh and uh, I convinced Keith to just kinda make a new position for her to fill” “alright, alright, I won’t tell her. But you don’t have to be scared about asking her out, trust me” he said and winked.

It still took you 3 months to say anything. It was the last basketball game of the year, and you were doing a solo routine. You were a little nervous, solo routines made you anxious because there was no one else to hide your mistakes.

“You’re gonna do good. You always do good,” Robin said and you sighed, fiddling with the flagpole. You smiled and said “thank you, Rob” She smiled and a few moments later everyone was on the field and was performing with incredible skill.

Robin watched you like she always did, admiring your focus as you twisted the green flag over your head and then waved it beautifully as you swayed your hips slightly to the song. God, those shorts looked too good on you.

When your solo came Robin was smiling so hard it was getting hard to play properly. You did amazing, didn’t even mess up once and you even improvised a few moves you had been working on that weren't actually supposed included in your performance, but that just made it 10x better.

Once everyone was off the field, you ran to the bathroom to catch a breather and also fix any makeup that got sweat off in the heat of Hawkins. Robin ran to the bathroom and tackled you in a hug, congratulating you and squealing about how amazing you did.

You giggled and said “are you sure it was good? Even the parts I improvised?” Of course Robin knew your entire routine by heart as she’d been watching you practice for weeks. She nodded and said “it was amazing! Dare I say, beautiful! It was! It was beautiful! I- you…you’re beautiful, y/n”

Your eyes widened at the words and she looked down at your lips for a second, before gently leaning in and kissing you softly. You smiled, kissed her back harder. She pulled away and gasped, covering her mouth.

Tears pricked her eyes and she said “I’m so sorry…please, oh god please don’t be mad at me. I don’t know what I was thinking- please don’t be mad-” “Robin, stop it. I’m gay. Like, really fucking gay. Especially for you”

Robin laughed, tears still streaming down her face. “Me too, y/n…me too” she said, whimpering a little but still chuckling. Your child trembled as you said “Robin, please don’t cry” You moved forward and cupped her cheeks, kissing her softly.

She kissed back just as soft as her hands found your waist, caressing it softly. You moved one hand to her back, pulling her flush against you. She smiled and you pulled away for air, pressing your forhead against hers.

“I really freaking like you, y/n. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to kiss you” Robin said and you chuckled. You sniffled and said “I like you too, Robin. I watched so many goddamn band practices just to see you and be in the same room as you. I don’t know how I went so long without kissing you, I don’t ever want to stop now” You pecked her lips softly and she giggled.

You brought her to your house after the game and after you showered she just couldn’t keep her hands off of you. She hugged you from behind as you made frozen pizzas and kept stealing kisses whilst you waited for it to cook.

You loved her, you knew that you loved her already. But you didn’t want to scare her away. So for now you’d let her smother you in kisses and you’d do the same, that girl has no idea what she just got into by dating you. You were completely and utterly obsessed with her. You loved everything about her.

Just you wait, Robin Buckley. You’ll be stuck with y/n for a long time.

Taglist: @amberputh

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Joseph Quinn

Jamie Bower

Steve Harrington

Robin Buckley

Maya Hawke

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Lo’ak

Neteyam

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

i came as soon as i heard eddie requests were open. came running

can we get a best friends to lovers with possibly a little bit of forbidden romance sprinkled in?

Requests have resumed. You can submit yours here!

Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, readers of color too).

The more details you had to your request, the better it is for me. EX: “What about some fluff for Eddie after he’s had a long day?”

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral Reader

___________________

The funny thing is all of this: is that it should not be happening and yet it is. Yet is is and your curls are curling at the sensation of Eddie's lips against your skin and those the shop is empty, you feel like the thundering of your heart is loud enough to attract anyone within a 25 mile radius.

And this should not be happening, but you can't find yourself to stop it. You don't want to stop it. Because thank fuck it is happening, though you won't have pegged this for how the end of the summer would go.

The thing about Eddie kissing you right now is that the summer started slow in the car shop and felt like it would bubble, but never boil. Because what's to come from two friends who are working at a mechanic shop--especially a mechanic shop that's been in your family for as long as you've been alive and for as long as your father's been alive, and for as long as his father's been alive, and for as long as his father's been alive. To say the car shop is a heirloom is not an understatement. It is. It is a relic in the relic town of Hawkins, but it helps that the family name is a good one.

Everyone comes here admittedly. So while you and Eddie simmered, there is plenty of work. In a small town ensuring to keep a good name has it's own set of rules--treat every customer like family, even if they are just passing by. And the passer bys are the most fun to work with all in all. They take one long look at you and think there is no way they are in the right spot--that is until you open your mouth and peel around the front desk, hand extended out for the keys so you can take a listen or look. Your track record for initial diagnosis isn't batting a thousand. However, 8 times out of 10 you are right. Apologies are rare, but there are plenty of folks who give you the raise of their brow with the clear awe. You think it's enough sometimes.

Summers are never too slow--plenty of people want to get out and about, taking tripes to Indy for the weekend or sometimes longer. So there's a lot of maintenance you wind up handling. After the one guy who had been helping in the shop enlisted in the Army, your family was looking for a spare pair of hands in the shop.

Fates aligned when just a few weeks later, Eddie mentioned it might suit him better to have a summer job. Sure he still wanted to focus on the band, sure he still wanted his youth, but he'd grown terribly bored of not having much else to do and knew from years prior--how he landed in selling outside of a very real and desperate need--he was not the type that did well with being idle. The scar on his palm could attest to that.

You told Eddie then, in school at that time during lunch, that you're sure your dad would easily agree to let him on for the summer if he really want. Doesn't seem like you are if the town thinks you're sweet for me, Eddie teased. He gave it with a dazzling smile and he even laughed.

The words beat against your teeth, Would it be so bad? but you never uttered them. You and Eddie had too many years and too many embarrassing stories stored between the two of you for it to ever seem to grow into more. When Eddie asked how to hit on a girl, you gave him the advice. When you were embarrassed by hookups that left you unsatisfied, Eddie offered movies and ice cream and there was just a line in the sand that best friends weren't supposed to cross.

But something in you itched for you step over it. You hadn't. Eddie hadn't seemed like he cared to take things any further. That is until you spent eight hours with him in the shop. It started small--lingering smalls, him laughing at things too hard that weren't that funny, offering to stay behind until the shop was fully shut down though you and your dad were definitely more than capable of locking it down yourself.

Today though, today was different and you noticed it the second Eddie waltzed into the door. He slung himself over the front of the desk, winking up at you. "What's up first, boss?"

Boss had slipped into Eddie's lexicon over the last four weeks and at first you didn't pay much attention to it. A couple of the other guys would default to the name when your dad wasn't in the shop and you were taking over for the day. But Eddie's always said it with a bit of a grovel in his voice. Like he wants every syllable of the word to drip with honey. And it does.

You look through the invoices that are still left over from the door before. Two cars needed a part that were being delivered later in the morning with the mail. One person just needed to come in and pick up their car.

You tried your best to ignore the jab of Eddie's voice. But you definitely notice the bit of dampness pooling under your pits. "Can't do nothing just yet until parts are delivered."

"So, slow morning?" Eddie questioned. It almost sounded like he wanted to insinuate more, but those words never fall before he pushes up. "Guess I can straighten up the back soon. Didn't get a chance to clean up much last night after yesterday." He winked over at you. "Holler if anything comes in."

You weren't one to take one small thing and run with it. But right before lunch, Eddie's seemingly attempts to flirt were watching up a notch. "Finished that tire rotation," Eddie saed, slipping in behind you. His hands, which he's careful to wipe on a rag, settled onto your shoulders to let you know it's him. Then he bendt in close, arms slipping around your neck loosely and resting against your chest. "Blue Chevrolet. No surprise. Still got half the brake pad on the all four. Should be good for a little bit longer"

His voice wasn't quiet. Because it feels impossible for Eddie to be quiet. But his voice was low, like it'd been with the nickname earlier and you were putting together something. Like maybe that line in the sand was being erased.

Your father returned to the shop after lunch and Eddie hadn't pressed on with anything. Though, you did noticed him, plastic fork in hand with the carton of fried rice, feet kicked up on the desk while you refreshed the coffee pot and his eyes gleamed. You weren't sure what the expression was but it made your stomach stir.

It was like a dare. But the thing you knew better than anything is that not evert challenge should be answered. Did Eddie really want you or was he just playing a game?

Your father only got a four hours in the shop before having to part again--the company sent the wrong part and though you'd called and handled most of it, your father still wanted to get the car done since it had been promised to be complete by tomorrow. It would be a couple hour drive for him to get the part from the next city over but you treat everyone like family and it means driving to the next city then it just means driving to the next city.

In your father's absence and after Eddie patched up a tire due to a small puncture from a nail, the shop lulled. You were sorting invoices, boring but necessary work and Eddie's stare was hot on the back of your head.

"What would you do if I kissed you right now?"

The question fell in the silence with a clatter--it was clunky and abrupt. But it broke something--the utterance of the question shattered all pretense of pretending to ignore Eddie's advances. There was no playing dumb here.

Eddie still lingered at the threshold between the front desk and the garage. He looked a mess--hair tied back partially and a few streaks of grease on his forehead from his constant fussing with his bangs in the summer heat. His overalls with greasy--from constant use. The work boots your dad passed onto Eddie to spare his Reeboks were creased and scuffed but more protective seemed to be the most interesting thing to Eddie.

His head was ducked and he fiddled with the end of his rag.

"I'd say please and thank you," you returned. The boldness shocked even you--when would those words have ever even been considered as a possibility to be uttered you're not sure. There's something in the sheepiness of Eddie's stance in contrast to the boldness of the words that you feel like you have to make up for defecit.

Those all the words you needed to have said before Eddie's gasping, head raising and though the surprise is clear, he crossed the space, the four feet or so and pulled you up by your cheeks. And he kissed you.

And he's still kissing you, thumbs stroking at the apples of your cheeks. His whimpering into your mouth when you pull him in tighter, pull his hips. Eddie's filling all of your sense, then dipping his head to kiss along your jaw and you finally half blink open your eyes to take in the sight of Eddie in your embrace.

Your heart thunders in your chest. Eddie kissing you. You are kissing Eddie. And it's barely 5PM, anyone could walk in. But it doesn't really matter. You tug Eddie's face up and out of your neck. He doesn't budge at first, but when your hand slips into the curls and you give a pull back at the root, he groans and gives into the action.

"Where the hell has this been?" you ask.

He snorts, eyes searching over your face. "Since literally forever. I was too chicken shit to say anything."

"Why now?"

"Why now? Oh, god, I don't know. I've spent every single day of the last month of a half here in the shop, watching you so in your element and it's quite irresistible. That and Wayne's sick of my pouting. So am I. I had to do something. Been trying to hit for three weeks now. And you're always so focused on the job. I was afraid it wasn't working. Figured I'd go for plain and obvious."

Your fingers, which have unfurled from the tugging grip, slip down to the back of his neck, tugging him in just a hair closer. Your lips brush but don't fully meet. "We're supposed to be best friends. They don't really cross this line."

"It's killed me to just call you my best friend. I want more," he whispers. "Can I have more?"

"I'm not supposed to fraternize with employees," you tease, bumping your nose over his.

"I can quit today," he huffs, tightening his hold on your face to kiss you. "I could quit right now." Another kiss. "Right this second." Another kiss.

"Wayne would be pissed if you did. I'm sure he's glad there's another stream of income."

"The extra produce has been nice," Eddie laughs in return.

You close the gap this time, daring to tease Eddie's lips with the tip of your tongue. He lets you in without hesitation. There's the boil--right in the pit of your gut. "Don't. I'm the boss, so who cares."

"Don't quit?"

You nod, slipping a hand down to Eddie's ass. "The view's been great."

"I'm starting to think maybe you only want me for my body," he laughs, eyes gently twinkling. "And I can't say that I'm all that mad." Eddie knows just how much he's imagined taking you over the desk and the number of times he's dreamed it too.

"Perhaps, we should have a proper date first."

"Whatever you want, boss. You know when my next day off is anyways."

You snort. It is true, considering you make the schedule for your dad when you work. "Next Thursday--let's say we go catch a film. Extra butter on the popcorn," you tack on, knowing Eddie's demand already.

"Oh, I'm going to love this. You already know." He taps your ass. "Next Thursday--a movie. Extra butter on the popcorn and skittles."

"Sounds like a date."

[words-are-fireproof]

Blood Upon the Snow: Seven Years Post Outbreak (1)

Summary: Joel meets a group in the forest outside of Boston.

Content/Warnings: canon typical violence, hunters come with their own warning, Joel comes with his own warning, death, guns, canon disabled character, disabled original character.

A/N: My timeline is all over the place, but I don't care. So consider this to be slightly AU at this point. Thank you to @wyn-n-tonic for listening to me moan about this story for weeks now. Thank you for looking it over, too.

Word Count: 1.2k

[Masterlist] || [Series Masterlist] || Part One || Part Three

-----

Dark eyes peered down the scope of a hunting rifle. The sounds of the forest behind him buzzed with the low, muffled sounds of animal life. They were easy to ignore. With the fresh snow that had fallen the night before, he could barely hear them.

He should be worried; any manner of creature could sneak up behind him, clickers included, and he wouldn’t know it until it was too late. He tried to ignore that thought as it sent a light tremor down his spine. Years spent fighting the infected and other hunter groups should’ve made him care a bit more about his self-preservation, but he found he couldn’t care less. If he were to go out, his body dragged across the snow, turning the white crimson with his spilled blood, so be it. 

A sharp pop pulled his focus down the barrel of the gun again. A body some yards in front of him fell to the ground and in his confusion–unable to hear the yells in front of him, their gaping maws the only indication of talking–he didn't know what to do or where to go. So, he watched. Watched the leader of the small mass of bodies yelling muffled orders as the band of inept gunmen fired aimlessly in the hopes of meeting their target. 

Then he saw the hunters. A stealthy throng of people with well kept rifles appeared from the shadows of the forest. Another sharp pop and another body fell. He didn't know either group. No face looked familiar from this distance. The ragged and dirty clothing didn't offer any identification. No patches. They weren't Fireflies. They definitely weren’t FEDRA. They were just…people. Trying to survive. 

And doing a poor job of it. 

He had two choices–one, the most logical one, had him turning around and returning to his own camp. Two, the one most likely to get him killed, had him going to help. Both viable options. Neither sounded appealing. 

Joel Miller lifted his rifle, trained it on a hunter, and fired. The sound triggered a bout of tinnitus, his ears ringing with a high pitched squeal that made his fists clench around his rifle. But he had no time to let his frustration get the better of him. One hunter down. Four more to go. All bodies present looked around in equal parts fear and confusion. 

He took another shot. The ambushed party fought back, another hunter falling in the snow. He stood with a wince, his knees cracking unpleasantly as he took off in a sprint. The last hunter fell before he could fire off another round. Relief spread warmly through his chest as he approached the hapless band of travelers. The pocket of air lingering around them felt warm and sticky with the humidity of breath pluming around them and the anxiety pulsing between them. The smell of iron filled his nose. It barely phased him anymore. 

“Thank you,” the nicety caught him off guard. Hardly anyone used those words anymore. The ones who did usually weren’t to be trusted. 

He shrugged. “Looked like you needed help.” 

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a woman and the person he assumed served as her interpreter. Her hands moved quickly but rather hidden behind the bodies of the other members of the group. He tried not to stare at them, and if he found himself staring at her, then so be it. Even before…seeing sign language was rare, even in his large hometown. He often wondered if the Deaf community hid themselves away from society, in plain sight, the perfect disappearing act. 

The silence between him and the rest of the group ebbed awkwardly. If they lingered any longer, they’d be picked off one by one. 

“We’d better get going,” a burly man announced in a loud and largely muffled voice to his left. Joel was right. Clearly he was the leader. 

“Where are you trying to go?” Joel asked quietly. Years of sneaking around taught him how to be silent when it mattered. 

He’d just taken down a group of hunters. Others were bound to be somewhere nearby. 

“Boston,” a clearer voice, female, rang clearly to his right. 

“Nothing good in Boston.” 

His gaze flicked to the woman and her interpreter again. Her eyes watched her interpreter’s hands closely, but he swore he felt her hazel eyed gaze land on him more than once. He tried to ignore it, and her, but the way her hands moved mesmerized him despite his best interest. 

“We’re trying to reach the quarantine zone,” another voice sounded among the group. He couldn’t tell the direction it came from which meant it came from around his bad side. 

He sighed with a sharp frown, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re about forty miles from there. Clickers and hunters are all around these parts. Good luck getting through.” 

A murmur rippled through them as Joel shifted in the snow. The hair on the back of his neck raised. Something felt weird. He couldn’t describe it. It just felt off. He couldn’t be sure if it was a hunter or one of the infected. Or it could be an animal stalking its prey. When the first of the infection hit, the zoos remained locked up, the most dangerous animals safe behind iron bars. But slowly the animals were released or died or the bars rotted away. There was no telling what stalked the woody areas outside the quarantine zone. 

The burly man he immediately pegged as the leader turned to speak to the group. Joel waited, mulling on the dilemma presented before him. He could help. He could ferry them safely to Boston. He knew all the back trails and nonpatroled areas. He had a safehouse not but a few miles from where they stood, hidden behind vines and overgrown bushes, an old homestead that his own people knew about but couldn’t pinpoint if they tried. He had another much closer to the QZ and one further off he could use to throw the hunters off. A two day’s hike with semi-experienced survivors didn’t appeal to him. But if he didn’t help, they’d be picked off easily. One by one. Until there was no one left. 

The hazel eyed deaf woman would be the first to go.

“Forty miles in which direction?” 

He pointed to the north. “Sun’s about to set. You won’t get far tonight.” 

“What’s your suggestion?” 

He let out a long breath. “I have a safehouse. Ten miles in the opposite direction. We’ll get there before the sun sets.” The leader opened his mouth to say something, but Joel cut him off. “One time offer. Take it or leave it.” 

The leader glanced between his group, his red, beady eyed gaze bouncing between everyone. Joel’s own dark gaze avoided his, settling on the woman as she said something to her interpreter. The interpreter turned to the leader. 

“We shouldn’t go with him,” he said, repeating what the deaf woman had signed.

That didn’t surprise him. He wouldn’t trust himself if he met himself in a snowy forest. “Tell your friend this is the only offer I’m giving you.” 

She frowned, eyes narrowing as she shot off something obscene. He didn’t need to know sign language to know that she said something untoward. She could talk all she wanted. It didn’t make a difference to him. 

“We’ll go with you,” the leader finally acquiesced. “We’ll kill you if you try anything.” 

Joel wanted to see him try. 

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hiya can i request a platonic and romantic matchup for Stranger Things? If i can only pick one then just a romantic matchup please. I'm 19, bisexual and my pronouns are she/her. I have brown eyes, pale skin, round face, about 5'4 and my hair is naturally black and curly, but i like to dye it blond and straighten it. I feel like blond suits me more. I always get compliments on my legs, nose and hair, so those are the parts of me i'm confident in the most. I'm also confident in my sense of humor since i'm always making my friends and family laugh. People that don't know me that well would describe me as nice and quiet. People that do know me would still describe me as nice, but i'm much more louder with them and i like to playfully tease them. I wouldn't go too far since i don't want to hurt their feelings, but if it happens i'll apologize. Although i am nice, i don't let people take advantage of me and if you're being disrespectful towards me for no reason, i WILL give back that same energy. One thing i've learned is to not care about what other people think of you. No matter what, they'll find something to criticize you for. Which is why i stopped caring about popularity and just focus on myself. I'm honest, but not like mean honest you know? I'm not like those people that are super rude and then claim they're just being "honest" with you. Most of time i'm pretty relaxed and i don't like worrying. My parents are from Mexico, so i'm also fluent in Spanish. One of my hobbies is listening to music. I mainly listen to rock, rap and gruperos. My favorite rock bands are The Rolling Stones and Soda Stereo. My favorite rapper is Snoop Dogg. My favorite gruperos are Los Bukis and Los Acosta. My other hobbies are playing card games like Uno or Cards Against Humanity, watching tv shows and movies and shopping.

Thank you so much for requesting a matchup, I am sorry for the long wait! I hope you enjoy them! <333

---

Stranger Things;

(Platonic) -

Eddie Munson:

👹 You knew Eddie when you were in school, hanging out with him when you weren't busy; even sometimes watching him play D&D; but once you were out of high school, unlike Eddie, you still spent time with him, since he was one of your best friends

👹 You'd hang out with him at his trailer, listening to music and just jamming out; even though Eddie's a bit stubborn when listening to other music aside from Metallica, he would listen to your favorite bands and music, just to make you happy

👹 You and Eddie are pretty compatible, both not giving a crap about what others say and not caring what others think, nd if someone does say something out of line, especially about Eddie, you won't hesitate to call them out on their bull

👹 Aside from both loving music and all that, you both are kings and queens of teasing and sarcasm, always fooling around with others, especially Steve when you met him and the gang

👹 You were glad to have Eddie as your friend, always there for you, making you laugh and always fooling around and having a great time; you wouldn't ask for anyone else to call your bff

---

(Romantic) -

Robin Buckley:

🌈 You met Robin when you and Eddie were sucked into the Upside Down drama, and you really liked her, like a lot; you loved her sense of humor, the way she just acted in general, she was hilarious, perfect, gorgeous...

🌈 You were slightly nervous around her, which was pretty new to you, and you could tell that Robin was a bit nervous around you as well since she would slightly stumble over her words, and she never did that, (as Steve recalled)

🌈 The two of you did get closer, and as time went on, Robin would always try and stay by your side, always making sure if you were alright after something big happened, and just in general; you did the same, shoulder to shoulder with her after finding Eddie in the boat house, and even holding her hand after jumping into the lake

🌈 It wasn't until after Vecna was killed and done for that Robin confessed her feelings to you, maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe the overwhelming fear of dying that cause this spur of feelings and words gushing out of her, but she confessed to you, and you returned those feelings eagerly

🌈 In the end, you would spend all the time you could with Robin, eating lunch with her on her breaks at the Family Video and hanging out on the weekends teaching her how to play Uno, and even binging your favorite tv shows together after a long day; everything was perfect and you couldn't believe how lucky you got