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itsmarsss · 6 months ago

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Vulgar Display of Power [Miguel Diaz x fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)

You can never fucking beat him in a fight and it's getting frustrating.

Request: omg more miguel please!!! smutty if u can xx already dating if you want? Fic title comes from my (second) favorite Pantera album. Word count: 4,350 Warnings: SMUT. established relationship, theres plot but it only serves to justify the sex lol, i use present tense in this, degrading, first time sub!miguel kind of, handjob, fingering, oral sex, penetration (p in v), semi-public sex (i guess? no one's around but the location isn't exactly private), a lot of use of pet names (baby, babe, love, mi amor), so much swearing. obviously no one is a minor here I don't mention much context but can be read as hs senior year or later, doesn't really matter. if you're a minor kindly keep away from my blog and this fic please

“Fuck!” You yell out as Sensei Lawrence announces Miguel’s win. In turn of your frustration, Miguel sports a grin that playfully mocked you.

Now don’t get it twisted, you’re not a bad fighter. You’re not even a good one- you’re great. The best, except for…

“Diaz! Good one.” Sensei Lawrence praises.

“Nice, dude!” Hawk comes to fist bump him.

Tory comes to you. “Girl get it together! You’re better than that!”

“I’m fucking trying.”

Miguel hears the two of you talking and decides to insert himself into the conversation. “Come on, it’s not a big deal.”

“I say this with love but it is a big deal and I’m gonna find a way to beat you.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

[. . .]

“Hey,” you hear Miguel call from behind you, turning around for a split second to look at him before getting back to packing your stuff to leave the dojo.

“Hey.”

“So, are we still on for tonight?”

“Yeah. I just wanna go home first and take a shower.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Hey are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something seems… weird.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe,” you tell him, bringing a hand to his face and lightly tapping his cheek.

“You sure?”

“Yes! I just said it is!” You realize you blew up at him for no reason, immediately feeling bad for it and apologizing, not managing to look at him. “Sorry.”

“See? That’s what I mean!”

“I really am sorry.”

“Okay, but something’s clearly wrong.”

You stay silent, and he walks up to you, cornering you so you’d face him.

“What’s going on?”

Honestly, you don’t want to tell him. Because it would sound stupid. Because it is stupid. You don’t even exactly know why it had gotten so under your skin this time.

“It’s fine. I’m just a bit off today.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, but you don't have to lie either.”

“Fine. You wanna know what’s wrong? I’m frustrated because you keep beating me.”

“What?”

“Every single time we’re picked to fight I just can’t fucking beat you. And yes, I’m glad you don’t go easy on me, cause that would be like a million times worse, but I'm frustrated with myself. You’re the only one I've never fully beat in a match. The closest I’ve ever gotten to that was a tie.”

“Well most of the time it ends up in a tie.”

“Yeah but none of the time did it end with me winning.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this.”

“Of course you don’t. I just feel like if I still can’t beat you then have I really been getting better?”

“What? That’s nonsense, babe. You know that, right? Of course you’ve been getting better. We all have.”

“See I told you it would be stupid. I don't even know why I'm feeling this way.”

“That’s okay. We can just sort that out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll ask sensei for the keys.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna stay here and fight and we’re not gonna leave until you win.”

“That’s really not what I was trying to get from this-”

“What, are you scared?” He knew just how to tug on your strings.

“Oh fuck no.”

“Then we’re doing this.”

“But what about the date?”

“We can go tomorrow. If you need my help today, I'll help you today.”

“Okay.”

[. . .]

“Alright, ready?”

You only nod your head yes, too focused to even speak.

“Okay. Round one.”

You get a couple punches in, but he’s faster than most of your hits. He wins..

You huff, annoyed. “Again.”

“Again.”

“Okay that’s it. Again.”

This time, determination runs through your veins, as tired as you were. Every single moment of feeling weak or inferior or as though you were seen by others as basically the female equivalent of Miguel, and not yourself, not someone capable of being better than him in any way, channeled into this round.

And you won. This time, you fucking won.

“Wait that’s three,” you realize.

“Yeah! You won!” Miguel celebrates.

“What?”

“You won, babe!”

“Oh my God. Holy fucking shit. I won?!”

He laughs, coming up to you. “You did.” He places a quick kiss on your lips, but you’re taken over by the adrenaline, pulling him back to you by the collar of his shirt when he went to pull away, tangling him into another kiss, deeper and more passionate this time around. “That was hot,” he comments, as you finally did let him part ways with you to breathe, your bodies still flushed together.

You feel your cheeks burn at his comment. “I just kicked your ass,” you joke.

He doesn’t even seem fazed by the comment. “Yeah you did,” he grins.

“I did not expect that to unlock some sort of loser kink in you.”

“Hey! That’s not what this is!”

You lift an eyebrow, amused.

“What, you’re telling me it’s a crime if my insanely hot girlfriend looks insanely hot while kicking my ass?”

“Should I kick your ass more often then?”

“You’re welcome to.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Shut up,” he retorts, finally having enough of the playful bantering, unable to wait a second longer to have your lips on his again.

Miguel pulls you even closer to him- if that were even possible- by pulling on your waist, not wasting a second more before diving in again, pulling you into a kiss that is much more feral this time around. His actions scream that he wants you, and the high from having reached your goal and beat him in the last round mixed with the lust forming in you from seeing him so affected, so attracted to this, it feels good.

You suppose some people would maybe come into an issue if they found themselves in your place. Men aren’t exactly known for being great at dealing with women being better than them in… well, anything. But Miguel acted genuinely proud of you. Hell, he’d canceled your date night to help you with this because he realized it was important to you. And more than being supportive, he was turned on by your display of power.

His kisses start trailing out of your lips, to your jaw, to the space below your ear. “You did so well, love. You should get something in turn, huh?”

Your mind was getting a bit foggy. Still, you join in playing his game. “I suppose I should. What are you gonna do?”

“Whatever you want me to,” he breathes out. Oh. That was definitely new.

“Whatever I want?” He only nods, looking up at you, waiting to be told what to do. Holy shit, that was hot. “That sounds good.”

“Just tell me, please, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise,” he pleads. It was almost pathetic. You decide you’d never get enough of hearing him plead like that. You loved the times in which he was more dominant, but you could definitely get behind this too, no issues whatsoever.

You pretend to think. “I don’t think I will.”

“What? Why not?”

“I want you to guess.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I- Uh- Ih-” he takes a deep breath. He liked that. You smiled. “I can do that.”

“Good boy,” you try, hoping he didn’t find it weird.

Apparently, he didn’t. “Fuck. Fuck,” he lets out in almost strangled sounds, wordlessly dropping himself to the floor. He looks up at you with doe eyes, as if pleading for permission. You smile at him, signaling everything was okay. You cage his jaw with both your hands, and he closes his eyes for a moment, letting you play with his hair.

“You look so pretty like this,” you coo, and he feels it down his spine, his eyes fluttering open.

“Sit.”

“What?”

“Sit,” he repeats himself, but it isn’t demanding. Not this time.

“I heard you.”

“Sit, please, baby.”

You grin. You didn’t know you’d like this this much. “Of course, baby.” You sit down on the bench, legs closed. He parts them confidently, eyes not leaving yours as he does so slowly, positioning his body between them. With his face mere inches from yours, he looks up at you again.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He guesses. His cheeks red, he clearly looks embarrassed. It turned him on and it turned you on too.

You nod eagerly, signaling he’d guessed right. He smiles and closes the distance between you, pulling you down and attaching his lips to yours. It starts out slow, tender, experimental- testing the waters. He grows eager pretty fast, though, kissing you harder, his hands traveling to either of your thighs and planting themselves there firmly, squeezing in a way that makes you gasp slightly in surprise.

He pulls away just to tease you about it. That’s the kind of little shit he is.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Not this then?”

He squeezes your thigh again and you try to act unbothered.” He notices though, pleased with himself.

“Oh shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He pulls you into a kiss again with no warning, more feral than before, his hand traveling upwards, inside the legs of the shorts you were wearing.

“Take it off,” you pant out, a stern tone overtaking your words, and he complies without questioning. You smile, pleased with that. You lift your hips slightly for him and he throws the shorts somewhere on the floor behind you.

He stares at your underwear for a few moments, as if lost in a trance. You laugh. “Hello? You here?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

“Used to what?” You move a hand to caress his face.

“The fact that I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

“Aw, do you like that, baby? Does it turn you on?” You ask, your tone almost mocking him.

He only nods his head yes, looking embarrassed.

“That’s good.” You make a show to slowly take off your shirt, a sudden surge of confidence running through your veins at his words, discarding it along with the shorts behind you. His eyes widen and he mumbles a few words, the volume of his words so low you couldn’t make it out for the life of you, before he just surges forward again, not aiming for your lips this time, but for your jaw.

“What was that?” You manage to breathe out as he continues his trail of kisses along your jaw.

“What?”

“If you’re gonna talk you’re gonna let me hear it. Got it?”

“Oh-okay.” He continues to place quick, slight pecks along your jawline, but you know exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re not distracting me from that. I wanna know what you said, baby. Wanna hear you.”

“I said- I said uh-“ he gulps. “It’s dumb.”

“That’s okay.”

“I just said ‘fuck me’.”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh. It was dumb,” you mock him again, and you can see he didn’t expect that.

“What?”

“I though you wanted to fuck me,” you joke.

He doesn’t take it as a joke. “I do. I do I just meant- it was just-“ oh. This was for real.

“I know, love. I was just teasing you. Okay? You’re being so good to me.”

His eyes almost sparkle at the praise.

“You know I think I changed my mind.”

“What?”

“Maybe I should fuck you.”

“What do you mean?”

You look down on him and smile, a genuine sweet smile. “Get up.”

“But-“

“I thought you said you’d do whatever i wanted you to,” you fake-pout.

He doesn’t say a word before standing back up. You do the same, keeping your body flushed to his. You slowly turn the two of you around, cornering him until the back of his knees hit the bench and pushing him to sit down on it.

Standing in front of him, you tilt your head to the side as you take in the view. He looked disheveled as ever. You loved it. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.

“I- I can take it off.”

“Yeah I think you should.”

“What… what do you want me to take off?”

“Let’s go with the shirt first, baby. How about that?”

He nods furiously. “Yeah I can do that,” he takes his shirt off in a millisecond, throwing it with your clothes on the floor.

“Oh, you look so pretty,” you coo, stepping closer to him and lifting his chin up to look at you. You make your way around the bench to be behind him, and you can see him gulp in anticipation. Fuck, you were loving this a little too much. You trace his biceps with your finger. “Your arms, I love your arms, you know that? So big and strong,” you exaggerate, and he quirks an eyebrow at the suspicious comment. This doesn’t sound like it was getting to a nice praising place. “And your body, I mean your abs. Your thighs, your thighs are so pretty, baby,” you crouch a bit, still behind him, wrapping yourself around his back so you could snake your arms to his thighs, still only tracing them with a single finger. “So how come you lost to me like a bitch?”

That seems to remind him very well of what was happening.

“It- it was one time.”

“One time you lost to me. But you’ve barely ever won, have you?”

He stays quiet.

“Come on, baby, talk to me…” you pout, snaking your arms around his torso and kissing his neck.

“N-no.”

“Did you like that you lost to me baby?”

Quiet again.

“Did it turn you on?” You whisper in his ear and you can feel him take in big a breath. .

He couldn’t even look at you .

“Oh, pretty boy, I wanna hear your voice!”

He gulps again. “It- it turned me on,” he confesses.

“I never knew you were into this sort of thing.”

“Me- me neither.”

“Do you like it when I’m stronger than you? When I tell you what to do?”

You remove yourself from his body entirely, and he whips his head at record speed to look at you, desperate for your touch again. You circle the bench once again, standing in front of him. You grab his jaw and lifts his head up to look at you, your other hand messing with his hair. “So pathetic. I’ve barely done anything to you and you’re this hard.”

You finally sit yourself down on his thighs, legs on either side of his torso, and he immediately and instinctively grabs your ass ‘for support’ as he’s always insisted with a grin.

“You’re so fucking pathetic you’ll do anything I tell you to. Won’t you?” You pout, tilting your head.

“I’ll- I’ll do anything you want.”

“That’s a good boy,” you mess with and pet his hair again. You loved it when it was just long enough for his curls to appear.

He shivers. “Can you say it again?”

“Oh, no can do, baby. You’ll have to keep being a good boy to earn it.”

“I’ll- I’ll be a good boy, okay?”

You nod silently, your arms draped around his neck, and you pull yourself closer to get access to his face. You kiss along his jawline slowly, paying extra attention to the spots just under his ears, which made him shiver like crazy. When you find it sufficient, you move down to his neck, and he lets you, tilting his head to the side. You kiss down his neck, trying your best to not leave any marks. He’s still shivering now, and you know him well enough to know he’s okay, but can’t resist teasing him a bit more.

“Oh no, baby, you’re trembling! Is everything okay?” You feign ignorance. He doesn’t reply. “Aw are you too horny to speak to me? Is that the issue?” You mock.

He lifts his hips for some friction, an involuntary tell that he was enjoying this too. “Aw, do you like it when I’m mean to you? Huh?” You lift his chin again. He begrudgingly nods his head yes. You smile and move your hand from his chin to his cheeks, squeezing both off them. “Does my baby like it when I’m in control? When I handle you like this? When I call you names?”

He tries to reply, but can’t really with you squeezing his face like that.

“Oh I can’t hear you baby!” You let go of his face. “You’re gonna have to say it again.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I- I like it when you’re mean to me.”

“I know, baby boy. I can feel it.” With no other warning, you palm him through his shorts. He was impossibly hard. Knowing he was liking this was for sure improving your confidence. The moment your hand meets his crotch his breathing becomes unsteady and he thrusts his hips up again, wanting more. You start kissing along his neck as you keep feeling him up through the shorts, and then he is gone. He lets himself let out delicious moans you would play on repeat if you could, tilting his head back to grant you better access to his neck. He wants more, and you know he does. But you want to hear him say it.

After a few minutes, he does.

“Please take it off.”

You press a gentle kiss to his neck, containing a grin. “What are you talking about, babe?”

“My shorts, take them off, please. Please, take them off.”

You press a quick peck on his lips this time. “You beg so pretty, baby. I think I’ll need more of that.”

He looks confused.

“Anything I tell you, right?”

He nods.

“Good. Eat me out.”

His eyes widen at the bluntness of it all. And then he realizes what you meant by needing more of his begging: you weren’t going to solve his little problem all that soon.

“I- yes. Yeah.”

You pull yourself off of him and he stands up as quickly as humanly possible, grabbing your hand and yanking you to Sensei’s office, rushing to move everything that was on his desk. You catch his drift and pull yourself up to sit on it. You’re so enthralled you don’t even really have the time to rethink what you’re doing and where you are. Miguel gets himself on his knees, and the sight of it from above is breathtaking.

“Are you sure you wanna be on your knees? They’re gonna hurt.” You ask him, seriously this time.

“I don’t care,” is all he says, dismissing the thought. He pulls you closer to the edge of the desk, and you let yourself lean back on your elbows. He brings a hand up your thigh and takes off your underwear, you lift your hips up to help.

He brings both his hands to your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, opening your legs.

He wastes no time before diving in, startling you when, in a second, his head is between your thighs while his hands squeeze them hard and his mouth is suddenly on you.

He moves his tongue up and down your clit, occasionally circling around it. Now and then he takes a long lick, from your hole to your clit, letting out a moan from time to time as he tastes you, and he picks up on the shaky breaths and loud moans you let out at that (and the way your hands fly to his hair, slightly pulling it.)

He moves his tongue to your hole, licking and kissing around it before getting it inside.

It makes you almost want to scream out his name.

“Oh my god. You’re being so good to me, baby. Please don’t stop-”

You can feel his smile.

He takes one of his hands off of your thigh and moves it to thumb at your clit as he keeps fucking you with his tongue. The feeling is heavenly, but you can’t help but want more.

“Your fingers.” Is all you say, and he gets it.

Normally in a situation like this he’d be teasing you in some way, but right now just the thought of upsetting you with that and having you leaving him to finish himself off, or something down that lane, got him quiet.

He changes what he’s doing, going back to flicking your clit with his tongue, and slowly inserting one of his fingers. You decide you want to tease a bit more. “That all you got?” You challenge him, knowing exactly what you’re doing. He inserts another finger, not taking the care to do it slowly this time, and he pushes them deep inside you, curling them upwards to make sure you felt it.

You let out a moan that’s so pornographic you’re almost embarrassed at it, but you can feel him grin at it, pleased with the reaction. He keeps on, but at a slow pace. In other instances, you didn’t mind some slow, passionate sex. You loved it, even. But right now you wanted to be fucked.

“Harder.”

He pulls his head up to kiss you. You let him. As you make out, your taste still on his tongue, his fingers thrust harder, deeper inside you, making you moan into his mouth, which Miguel seemed to enjoy a little too much.

You can feel yourself brimming an orgasm, and your words become nonsense as he keeps on, your noises becoming so higher-pitched you can barely register you’re the one making them.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum. Holy fucking-“

It hits you suddenly, killing your train of thought. Your body trembles as he keeps thrusting his fingers into you, letting you ride out your high. He laps it all up gladly, but you pull him away, your clit oversensitive.

That doesn’t mean you didn’t want more.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, baby. You were such a good boy. But I want you to fuck me now.”

Miguel was still not used to you being this blunt. And honestly neither were you, for the matter. The words just kept coming out.

“What- what do you want me to do?”

You get close to his ear and whisper. “Whatever you want, baby.”

His eyes widen. Whatever he wants.

He pulls you off the desk and wordlessly takes you back to the locker room. He leaves you for a second to retrieve a condom from his bag. A prepared man, you’d say.

You manage to take a better look at him and laugh. He furrows his eyebrows together. “What?”

“You look so fucked out right now.”

He rolls his eyes at you and takes off his shorts, kicking them away. He goes to pull his boxers down but you stop him, stroking him in an agonizingly slow pace. He lets out a groan. “Please stop, I’m not gonna last.”

“Oh poor you.” You yank his boxers down. His dick is so hard it must be painful. And all from losing a fight and being called mean names. He walks the two of you backwards until your back is against a wall. He puts the condom on and looks at you for a green light.

“Go on, baby.”

He nods, pressing his cock into your hole slowly, letting you adjust to the intrusion.

“Fuck.” You breathe out.

“Was that a good fuck or a bad fuck? Does it hurt?”

“I’m alright. It was a good fuck.”

“Okay.” He hikes up one of your legs to his waist, and you think he’ll be content with that position, but he hikes up your other leg too, pressing your back even more firmly to the wall and supporting your weight by holding firmly onto the back of your thighs.

“Woah what are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother responding, thrusting into you experimentally.

“Holy shit.”

That is enough for him. His thrusts become harder, deeper, faster. He hadn’t realized just how desperate he was until now.

Hitting the spot inside you that made you see stars with every thrust, it doesn’t take long for his breath to quicken and his thrusts to become sloppier. “I’m gonna- can I-“

Was he trying to ask for permission to cum? Holy fucking shit, that was hot.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. You’ve been so good. You can cum.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he chanted.

You laugh as his desperation, but it quickly turns into a moan, with Miguel eager to cum and fucking you so hard now you can’t even understand how he could still hold up your weight while doing that. Bless you universe for giving you a strong, strong boyfriend. But all of that didn’t matter now, because he was fucking you so good you could feel the familiar sensation of an orgasm building again.

“Please don’t stop.” That was the first time you begged him for something the whole time.

“I won’t, mi amor.” Oh, that broke you. That one pet name didn’t come out all that frequently, so when it did, you felt giddy on the inside.

With a few more thrusts, both of you reach your high, and at that point Miguel did have to pull you down, although your legs currently trembled so hard it was a little difficult to stand, but he helps you out after tying the condom up and throwing it away.

“Holy shit,” you finally let out.

“Holy shit,” he agrees.

“What were you saying about your loser kink again?”

“Will you shut up about that?” He smiles.

“Was I too mean to you? I might’ve gotten a little carried away."

He looks down to the floor in embarrassment as if he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion. “I liked it.”

“That’s good baby. So, shower?”

“Yeah you stink,” he makes a disgusted face, plugging his nose and everything just to irritate you.

You roll your eyes at him.

A/N: pls be kind to me and cut me some slack i've never posted smut before 😭 i promise ive had sex before 😭 fighting for my life lmao

#cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #miguel diaz #miguel diaz x reader #miguel diaz imagine #miguel diaz x you #cobra kai x reader #johnny lawrence #eli moskowitz #hawk #tori nichols #mars writes #miguel diaz smut #miguel diaz x reader smut

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juniperskye · 9 months ago

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Begin Again.

Sneak peek: Reader got out of a relationship about eight months ago and was sure love was meant to burn and break and end…but this particular Wednesday made her believe that maybe, just maybe, she could begin again with someone new.

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 1236

***Flashbacks are indented and in italics – this story flashes from present to past a few times. ***

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, implied age gap (kinda?), anxiety, self-consciousness, Past abusive relationship, explicit LANGUAGE, no use of y/n, mention of Jack, mention of Hotch’s previous relationship, story is guided by begin again by Taylor Swift (lyrics aren’t all directly used), mention of a love of the Beatles. I think that’s all, let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, second guessing your outfit choice. Were the heels too much? Would he comment on them, would he be okay with them? Maybe you should switch to flats, they would be a safer choice.

“Babe seriously. Do you have to wear heels?” He berated you. “These are the shoes she told us to wear. I can’t switch shoes I’m a bridesmaid and were all supposed to look uniform.” You explained. “Really? You’re going to make me look so fucking stupid. Who cares if she chose those, just tell her the didn’t fit or the clasp broke or something.” “I’m not doing that.” You said. “You’re so difficult. Just change your shoes, it’s not a big deal. I just don’t want to look like a fucking idiot because my girlfriend is towering over me.” He continued.

You could remember multiple arguments that went that way. Him yelling at you for dressing how you wanted, so you didn’t. He started picking out your clothes and you complied, because that was easier than having him tear you down.

You smoothed your hands over your clothes and made your way out the door. The drive to the Café was a short one. You parked and made your way across the street, ready to go in and get a table for the two of you, fully expecting to have beaten him there.

To your surprise, when you opened the door, there he was. Aaron stood from his seat and walked toward you. You met him halfway and he pulled you into a gentle embrace. You didn’t fail to notice how he still towered over you despite your heels,

“Hi! It’s so good to see you.” He said pulling out your chair.

“Oh, thank you! It’s good to see you too, I was really glad you called.” You smiled as Aaron returned to his seat across from you.

“Yeah, sorry that it’s a random Wednesday, but with my job it makes it so hard and with us being free today I wanted to take the chance and spend it with you.” Aaron explained.

“I am happy to be here! The day doesn’t matter.” You shot Aaron a shy smile.

“You look beautiful by the way.”

You couldn’t help but blush at Aaron’s words. He had been so kind and gentle with you since you had started seeing one another. You had only gone on a few dates, but things were really good. The two of you had agreed to take things slow, having both gotten out of relationships not too long ago and Aaron also had Jack to think about. You guys had texted and talked on the phone quite a bit. He had gone as far as to call you late one night after a particularly rough case.

The two of you were currently talking about how your respective weeks have gone. Aaron had just gotten back from a case (hence why you were on your date now) and you had just completed a pretty big project at work. In the midst of your conversation, the song playing in the café changed to I Will by the Beatles, one of your favorite songs.

“Oh my god I love this song!” You gushed, quietly humming along.

“You like the Beatles?” Aaron asked.

“I love them! I have every one of their albums on vinyl.” You blushed.

“I don’t think I have ever met a woman with the same level of Beatles obsession as my own.” Aaron smiled at you in admiration.

The two of you ate while quietly enjoying the music and one another’s company.

“For if I ever saw you, I didn’t catch your name. But it never really mattered, I will always feel the same. Love you forever and forever, love you with all my hear- “ “Jesus, can you stop fucking singing that song?” He huffed. “Babe, it’s a really good song, I wish you would just listen to the words.” “I don’t give a shit about your stupid song. I don’t get it anyway.” He shut you down.

Aaron and you continued your conversation upon finishing your meal. You were in pure bliss with how amazing things were going. Aaron was attentive and gave you his full attention. He nodded and responded when it was needed. He also held conversation so well, he gave just enough information about himself in combination with asking you about yourself.

Another thing that had you swooning over Aaron was the fact that he had thrown his head back in laughter a few times throughout your conversation. You truly couldn’t wrap your head around how lucky you had been to have met Aaron. Your ex had never found your sense of humor funny, and it was nice to be in the presence of someone who appreciated it.

“Can you not make jokes like that when we’re in front of my friends? Like seriously what the fuck was that?” He demanded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke. Your friends laughed.” You shrugged. “It wasn’t even funny. They just laughed out of pity to save you from the embarrassment of nobody understanding your stupid ass jokes.” He rolled his eyes at you as he stormed off.

Aaron checked his watch and noticed how late it was getting. He looked into your eyes and smiled, neither one of you wanting this day to end. But he needed to go pick up Jack from soccer practice.

“Can I walk you to your car?” Aaron asked.

“That would be great.” You smiled, wrapping your scarf around your neck.

As you made your way over to your car, you thought about talking to Aaron about how your ex had truly broken you, and that part of the reason you’d requested to take things so slowly is because you had to relearn how to accept love from someone. The last eight months had allowed you time to fall in love with yourself again, but loving someone else was a whole new obstacle you were working through.

Aaron’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, he had been talking about how he wanted to introduce you to Jack, not now, but in the near future. He had come up with a nice way to do so.

“So, Jack and I always watch Elf and the Grinch around Christmas, I think it could be nice if one night you came over and watched one of them with us, you know. It gives us a few more weeks to really solidify things between us and by then we will have been seeing each other for four months. What do you say?” Aaron looked hopefully at you.

“Only if it’s the Jim Carrey Grinch movie. That new animated one is cute and all, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the live action.” You smiled back at him.

“Of course, it’s the Jim Carrey one. We take things very seriously at our house.” Aaron smirked at you.

Aaron and you shared a laugh, and then he brushed his hand over your cheek, leaned in, and kissed you gently. December couldn’t come fast enough. Things with your ex had really messed you up, and he’d left you believing that love wasn’t meant to flourish, just burn, and break and end.

But on a Wednesday, in a Café you watched it begin again.

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yellowbrokenblue · 10 months ago

Text

„Just… Pretend.”

summary: in which harry convinces you to spend your summer in cape cod with his parents as his ‘girlfriend.’ but everything is just pretend, your not actually his girlfriend and you never have wanted to be his girlfriend, you’ve never seen him as more than harry styles, the singer… but by the end of the summer will that change?

tropes (so far) : fake dating

part one

“It’s just for one weekend.” He pleaded, “Then you can go back to hating me. You never even have to talk to me again, I don’t care.”

You sigh, your head falling backwards with a groan. You did not want to do this at all, but he’d been persistently asking you for days.

“C’mon, please?”

You roll your eyes, “You’re on a date with a new girl every week, I’m sure any of them would be up for it.”

“I can’t just take anyone to my parent’s place.”

“Why not? Or how about you just tell them you’re not seeing anyone right now? They won’t care.”

“I just need you to come, alright? I’ll owe you one, I promise.”

“Why me? There’s a million other people you could take, besides I’ve already met your parents at a show, they’ll never believe we’re seeing each other.”

“And they really liked you!”

“There’ll be a ton of other people that they like too, Harry. Choose anyone else.”

“I can’t.” He sighs.

“You can.”

“I can’t.” He repeats.

You look at him with tired eyes, awaiting his explanation. You’d been over this a hundred times, you had no interest in pretending to be his girlfriend while he visited his parents over the summer.

“I already told them we’re together.” He says quietly, avoiding eye contact.

“What?” You scoff, “You’ve gotta be joking.”

“They just… They met you at the show, and they really did seem to like you, and they kept going on and on about how they want me to find someone who makes me happy and stuff and I shut them up by saying we’re together…”

“You’re unbelievable.” You say, annoyed.!

The fact he’d been telling his parents ridiculous lies without even telling you about it, when said lies actually involved you had pissed you off.

Harry’s parents were lovely, and a producer on his latest album you’d met them a couple times at shows- Especially during the LA residence where you and his parents sat through the concerts in a VIP booth. His mum was lovely, always smiling and knew every single lyric. She told you that she was in Harry’s 0.5% of top listeners on Spotify last year.

You thought that was cute.

 You couldn’t relate though, 5 Seconds of Summer were your top Spotify artist- Harry could never find out about that.

“They’ve been asking for me to take you to the beach house for months-“

“Months?!” You interrupt, “How long have you been telling them we’re together?”

He shrugged, “Since the end of the Forum residency?”

“Harry that was SIX months ago!” You yell, “I can’t pretend to be in a six month relationship with you, that’s ridiculous.”

He sits down on the couch, hugging a pillow.

“Yes you can. You practically know everything about me already. We spent every day of the tour together.”

“Everything about you in a career aspect.”

“Everything in general.” Harry corrects, “Sometimes I think you know more about me than I do.”

“I don’t. You’re just saying this because you’re convincing yourself that this ridiculous idea will actually work.”

“Name my first pet.”

“What?” You question. He was being stupid. There is no way you’d ever be able to spend two weeks with his parents over the summer, it was never going to work. It was a recipe for disaster.

“C’mon. You know the answer.”

He just kept staring at you. He wasn’t giving up. The longer you stayed silent the more intense his stare got. When he began to raise his eyebrows you’d given up.

“Max.” You mutter quietly, unimpressed with this whole game he was playing.

“And what am I allergic to?”

“Marshmallows, but you eat them anyway.”

Harry was grinning, and it was pissing you off. He was winning and he knew it.

“My favourite Christmas song?”

You rolled your eyes, “Christmas lights by Coldplay, but you tell everyone that it’s Merry Christmas Everyone because it’s a classic.”

Harry was giving you a ‘I told you so’ look. He wasn’t going to quit until you agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend.

You sigh softly, “Even if I agree to this… It could he really damaging for my career.”

“No one will find out.” His face was more serious now, and you could tell from the way he was looking at you that he meant it, “I’ll make sure of that.”

“But if if does-”

“It won’t.”

“But if it does, because there’s always a chance no matter what you think, then everyone will only think I got hired to tour manage because we’re ‘sleeping together.’” You say, using air quotes, just to further elaborate that this was all fake.

Harry had already got his grammy, he was at the peak of his career he’d be fine no matter what happened. But you were a female music producer in a male dominated industry, if people think you were only hired for this album because you’re fucking the singer- your career was over.

“If people find out I’ll kill you.”

“Does this mean you’re gonna agree?”

You nod, reluctantly.

“Thank you!” He jumps out of his chair, “I swear I’ll make it up to you, thank you so much.”

— — —

If you were in Harry’s position you’d be vigilant of everything, everyone, everywhere. You’d be paranoid of someone jumping through your bedroom window while you were asleep. But Harry was oddly calm. Maybe he was just like that. His lips were formed almost in a smile while he slept, and his eyes were moving under his eyelids- probably from a dream he was having. He wasn’t calm very often- recently he’d been very on edge and anxious about everything, it was nice to see him look so peaceful. You hoped for that sort of peace someday soon.

You had been in the studio going on six hours, and when he’d taken a break from recording so you could go over the tracks he’d managed to fall asleep in that short period of time.

You let him sleep while you packed up the equipment, putting things back into their assigned places, and didn’t bother waking him up until you were 100% ready to go.

“Harry,” You said softly, shaking his shoulder lightly, “Harry we gotta go.”

His eyes opened and he blinked a few times to adjust himself to the light.

“Huh?”

“We only had the studio booked until six, we gotta go.”

“Oh,” He sat up, stretching his arms and cracking his neck that had went into a cramp, “Sorry, don’t even remember falling asleep to be honest.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You shrug, “We got enough done today anyways. You deserve a rest.”

There were only three days left until the day Harry had said you were leaving for his parents place, and you had skipped over the subject every time he’d tried to bring it up. You didn’t really want to think about it because you were dreading it so badly.

“I’ll give you a ride home.” Harry said as you left the studio building.

“No, it’s alright.” You say, “I’ll just get an Uber.”

Harry glared at you, “Y/N, just get in the car.”

You glare back. But it had been a long day so getting a free lift wasn’t so bad.

“So.” He said, starting the car. “We gotta go over some things.”

“About the album?” You play dumb.

“… No.” He rolls his eyes, “Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Love, you gotta tell me some stuff about you. My parents are gonna ask me shit and I don’t have a clue what to tell them.”

You groan. You should’ve stuck to your gut and got an Uber.

“Like what.”

He shrugs, “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple.” You reply.

“Mines is blue.”

“I know,” You reply.

“What’s your favourite song?” He asked.

You laughed to yourself a little.

“Jet black heart,” You grin, knowing you’d get some sort of reaction out of this answer, “By 5 Seconds of Summer.”

“5 Seconds of Summer?” Harry scoffs, “They’re punks!”

You roll their eyes, “They turned to pop music and half of them are married, they’re hardly punks.”

“You know one of them dated my sister, right?” Harry groaned.

“Yep,” You grin, “And wrote a banging tune about it as well.”

“Don’t remind me.” He muttered.

“Look, you asked me a question and I gave you an honest answer. You can’t complain.”

“I know, I know.” Harry said, “You got any exes?”

You raise your eyebrows, “What?”

“This is the kind of stuff I need to know! Like I dunno if I’m your first boyfriend and all that.”

“Harry… I’m 24 years old. You’re not my first boyfriend.”

You said it almost as if he was your boyfriend. It sent a chill down your spine. This was going to be a long few weeks.

“Good to know.” He said.

He dropped you off outside your apartment.

“I guess the next time I see you will be for when we’re leaving, yeah?”

You nod. There was no studio session booked until after his vacation to Cape Cod, where his families beach house was, so he was right. The next time you see him would be at the airport.

“Flights at seven.” He says.

“Got it.”

The next few weeks were going to be hell.

part two coming soon…

support me through ko-fi! (buy me a coffee!!)

#harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles story #fake dating #fake dating trope #fake relationship

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think-like-a-poet · 7 months ago

Text

Traitor- CL16

Part 1- Traitor ( you are here)

Part 2- Take me back to the night we met

Part 3- Bust your windows out your car

Boyfriend Charles Leclerc x singer Fem!Reader

Summary: You found out that your boyfriend cheated on you and your friends help you pack up.

wc: 1200+

A/N: I am using Alex for the photos, but of course no hate to her.

F1Gossip

F1Gossip: Charles Leclerc spotted on a yacht with a mysterious woman. Are Charles and singer Y/N L/N, his 'current' girlfriend, broken up after five years of dating?

Cl16ferarri: Charles nooo

Y/NisBest: All Men do is lie

F1Ferarrifan: I can't defend you anymore Charles. WHYYYY

Y/n/Charles: They were suppose to get married.

-> clsuppermarcy: they were together for 5 years. How can that not mean anything to him???

Lovegossip: Maybe they just broke up. He didn't have to cheat.

User682: Home wrecker

LebeYN: I feel a new album coming

-> SingerF1: I hope so

HateYm: Finally, i hated her

-> Supportynalways: Fuck off

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

You couldn't believe it. When you opened up Twitter and saw that your boyfriend, now an ex-boyfriend, was trending you didn't expect it to be because of this. Charles had been spotted with a woman on a yacht. They were standing to close to each other, to close to be friends. Your gut feelings were confirmed when you saw the next photo. They were laying on a sunbed, this woman on top of Charles, making out. The next photo was Charles kissing her, it kept going.

You had felt sick to your stomach by the look of it. How could you be so stupid to let this happen. He had told you that he was going to a meeting with his team. Well this looked highly unprofessional and definitely a job for HR. Did those five years mean nothing to him?

You had gotten up from the couch to pack your bags. You were still in your apartment, in Charles apartment. You tried to get everything in your suitcases, not wanting to go back and see Charles. You know that if he asks to forgive him you wouldn't be able to resist him.

You heard your phone ringing and saw that it was Pierre. Not knowing if Pierre already knew and wanted to talk about that or if it was an emergency, you picked up. "Bonjour Pierre," you greeted through the phone. You placed the phone on the duvet so you could continue while speaking. "Salut, are you okay?" he asked right away. Was Pierre really asking you this, probably knowing what is going on. Being Charles' s best friend he should not be doing this.

Placing some clothes inside the suitcase you answered "Never been better," The answer was filled with a thick layer of sarcasm. Tears were now streaming down your face as you tried to keep your breathing steady. "I am going to get you with Kika. We will be there in 20 minutes, please don't leave." you heard a car start in the background and you couldn't believe what was happening. Even though you, Pierre and Kika were close, you were friends with them because of Charles. Charles had been the one to introduce you to his best friend, who later became one of your closest friends. "You don't have to. I can just take a cab to the airport, you don't have to ruin your time." you snicked.

You heard a voice in the background of the phone and before you knew it Kika's voice was filling the phone speaker. "Hello Honey, don't even try to resist. We will pick you up. You are in no state to be alone. We will get some take out and watch a movie. " you smile at her comment. You love her for this.

"Wouldn't it be weird for Pierre. I mean that jerk is his best friend." you heard a soft 'put it on speaker' before hearing the french mans voice again. "He is, but not right now. I don't tolerate cheating. I will not take his side on this." laughing you finally agree with their suggestion of picking you up. "Alright, I am still packing so you don't need to be so fast. I am trying to get five whole years into two suitcases. "

Everywhere you looked in the apartment it reminded you of Charles. He had asked you to move in after 1 year of dating and you had abruptly moved all your possessions into his apartment. It had become your home. You had filled it with furniture you found in stores. Your plants were in all the Corners and there was no way to take those all with you. Pictures of you and Charles were standing on your nightstand, his eyes looking right at you. Had you been so blind to see that it was all fake?

He hadn't even tried to call you after the gossip was all on the internet. You knew that he had seen it, that boy was always looking up his own name. He had to know what people were thinking of him. He had seen the pictures, seen the way people were thinking and he didn't even try to talk to you.

You heard a knock on the door and screamed that the door was open. Not even ten seconds later Kika was by your side and took you into a hug. "I am so sorry honey. Men are truely awful." you couldn't help but let tears stream down your face as your wrapped your arms around the Portuguese woman. "Don't let your boyfriend hear that." you joked and

"I am not here to judge, only to carry your stuff out of here. I have an extra box for your books."He held up a big carton box, two more laying next to him "I don't know if everything fits if you need more stuff in these, but at least more than those suitcases. " Pierre walked towards the bookshelf which was mostly filled with your books. You have always adored reading, but because of your singing career you didn't have much time for it. "Just tell me which one are you favorites and I put them all in and move them to my car. We do need to hurry a bit because I know that Charles is on a flight back."

Of course that man was coming back home. That is why she wanted to leave so fast as she could to do everything to avoid that jerk. "If you can grab all the limited edition and hardcover ones first that would be great. For the rest just fill them with what space is left. I am really thankful for your help." Pierre shrugs his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal. He started to place all the books carefully into the boxes. Kika had walked to your bathroom to get your make up and skin care products.

After ten more minutes of packing up and checking if you had all the important stuff, you three left the apartment and walked towards Pierre's car with the suitcases. Kika went to sit next to you in the back and Pierre behind the wheel. "What do you want to eat?" the model asked. You didn't really mind so long it wasn't ice cream. Charles had taken a lot of his own brand home but his trainer didn't let him eat it, so you had been trying to get rid of all those tubs by eating them. "I just want some sloppy, salty McDonalds fries. And maybe a burger."

Pierre had put it on the radio and started to drive to the main road. "McDonalds it is."

Part 2

#charles leclerc 16 #charles lecrelc #cl16 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #pierre gasly #kika gomes #charles leclerc

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cutieebabyy · 12 days ago

Text

i miss you, i’m sorry - k.b

summary: you and katsuki broke up due to his upcoming career as a hero. you’ve just released your debut album and got invited to a well-known event to sing and discuss the new album. little do you know, your classmates would be there with your one and only ex-boyfriend.

pairings: aged up!katsuki x singer!reader (they’re in like their last year of hs.)

“so, y/n, about your upcoming album, we’ve just been dying to ask, but is this inspired by a certain someone?” i narrow my eyes at the question the interviewer asks. i was expecting this, but i still can’t hide the shock on my face. what is it with nosy people wanting to constantly butt into my life? i’m not stupid. i know exactly what she’s implying. she wants to know if my debut album is inspired by my breakup with katsuki. technically, it is, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“more or less. i guess that’s for me to know and for you to find out.” the audience “ooh”’s and i smirk. “well, there you have it, folks! now, while we go on a little break, i dare you to jam out to y/n’s single, ‘i miss you, i’m sorry!’”

the cameras temporarily shut off as an ad plays and i get up prepare on stage with my band. “you guys ready?” i ask them. one of them chuckles, “nervous, but definitely ready.”

“it’s okay to be nervous. i am too.”

“we all know why.” he winks. “i’m nervous because this is one of my first times singing in front of an audience like this and this is live, not because of him.”

“yeah, right.” he replies. i’m about to come up with a snarky reply when my manager walks up to all of us. “you all ready? cameras turn back in 20.”

“minutes?”

“seconds.”

“crap.” i mutter. i plaster a smile on my face and turn around towards the cheering crowd. i grasp the mic and then i hear my manager in my ear piece, counting down the seconds left to start.

“3, 2, 1…aaaaand, we’re live.”

the interview grins. “as you all know, we’ve got the y/n l/n here, ready to perform a single from her debut album, so here goes nothing! break a leg, y/n.” she laughs before the cameras turn to me and the lights dim enough for them to see me and my band.

i inhale a shaky breath, scanning the crowd. “do you remember happy together? i do, don’t you? then, all of a sudden, you’re sick to your stomach. is that still true?” me and everybody here knows exactly who this song is directed to and as the lyrics flee my throat, i don’t dare to hide my anger, but most of all, my heartbreak and love that i somehow still have for him.

katsuki and i were perfect together. we were always together, no matter what. he didn’t care what people thought of us. he didn’t care that his friends teased him for being in love. he didn’t care about how different our goals were in life…until he did.

we broke up last year. or, well, he broke up with me last year. spewed some lies about us not seeing things the same and it wouldn’t work out in the long run. i just don’t understand. he always knew that my long life goal was to pursue a career in the music industry. i made it clear from the very beginning. sure, i was in the hero course and everything, but i didn’t want to be a hero. i did it so my parents would lay off of me already. and, well, it’s too late to back out now since we graduate this year.

and even though, he broke my heart and stepped all over it, i still have immense love for him.

“you said forever, in the end, i fought it. please, be honest, are we better for it? thought you’d hate me, but instead you called and said, i miss you, i caught it…”

a little bit after we broke up, he called me in the late hours of the night. for some reason, i picked up. i couldn’t decline the call, knowing he’d been on a mission that night with best jeanist. i was worried something had happened to him. the moment i heard him utter those words, that he missed me, i was shook to my core. i was frozen. it’s like i couldn’t breath and the words wouldn’t escape my throat. i wanted to, so badly, beg him to come back to me— that i missed him too.

instead, i hung up on him. i begged for him to come back once and he still left, i made a vow to myself that i’d never do it again— no matter how much i wanted to.

“good to each other, give it the summer. i knew, you too. but i only saw you once in december. i’m still confused.”

my heart clenches as the words spill from my mouth. i remember writing this song, a few months after we broke up. i remember sitting up against my bed, every night, wondering why he broke up with me, and i couldn’t control myself as i picked up my songbook and wrote every single thing i felt. this entire album is exactly how i felt when he broke up with me.

my eyes don’t leave the crowd once. i’m about to open my mouth to sing the next verse, but the words get clogged in my throat when my eyes connect with the burning ones i dream about. the ones that belong in distant memories and not in the present. he’s not alone, though. he’s with our— his friends. denki, kirishima, mina, and sero.

“you said, forever, and i almost bought it. i miss fightin’ in your dorm, breakin’ things when you’re disappointed. i still love you, i promise. nothin’ happened in the way i wanted. every corner of this school is haunted. and i know you said that we’re not talkin’, but i miss you, i’m sorry.” i don’t take my eyes off of him, making sure that i mean every single word that leaves my mouth. i still love him and i miss him.

i wish i was good enough for him. was i not pretty enough? he used to tell me i was beautiful. he used to whisper sweet nothings into my ear after our limbs entangled in our sheets. he used to stare at me and smile when i caught him. he used to play with my hair when he was bored or when he was reading.

“i don’t wanna go, think i’ll make it worse. everything i know brings me back to us. i don’t wanna go, we’ve been here before. everywhere i go leads me back to you.”

as i keep repeating the lyrics, my mind drifts to all the times he’d wrap his arms around me and told me i was the greatest thing that ever happened to him— how he promised to love me forever. i remember our shared kisses— how we’d lay down on our sides and stare at each other until the other grew tired. and now, he’s just a stranger i know everything about.

i know how his eyes crinkle when he laughs. i know he’s not as cruel as everybody makes him out to be. i know how bad his anxiety gets and how he needs to go on walks sometimes to calm down. i know how he secretly like chamomile tea and listens to conan gray when he trains.

i know everything about him.

i finally tear my eyes away from him as the audience cheers. i bow and wave before heading backstage to my dressing room.

the next few days are a blur. millions of tweets are being posted about my album and my performance, but more specifically, the look katsuki and i shared as i performed.

a few days ago i was performing in one of the most popular venues, getting interviewed by one of the most famous interviewers, and now i’m sitting in class, studying to be a hero. my friends congratulate me and sing their favorite songs off of the album. and i grin.

my eyes drift to the boy in the corner of the classroom who’s staring right back at me. he doesn’t hide it either. instead, he throws his his head back and continues to stare at me through half-lidded eyes.

“y/n, you’re, like, crazy famous now!” mina exclaims. “no, i’m not.” i chuckle, shyly. “girl, do not play with me! look at this. you’re blowing up!”

she scrolls through a few of the posts until she lands on one of katsuki. it’s a picture of him at the venue. i think he’s looking at me. the photo is captioned, no way he’s looking at her like that when he was the one who broke her heart.

ochaco gasps. “is that…bakugo?”

mina rapidly nods. “yeah, we tricked him into going. he didn’t know y/n was performing and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.”

“ha, bakugo has haters now. it’s about time. i’ve seen too many edits of him. he’s stealing all the chicks, man.” denki says.

“he can’t help that he’s so manly!” kirishima cries, clutching a hand to his chest. “right, bakubro?” he yells.

katsuki rolls his eyes. “shut up.”

“when are you performing again, y/n?!” mina asks, excitedly. luckily, no one brings katsuki up again and nobody mentions anything about the break up. after katsuki and i broke up, everybody was extremely shocked and they didn’t get over it for months— they still aren’t— but i couldn’t take them talking about how cute we were all the time, so i made them swear not to talk about our relationship around me anymore.

luckily, they listened.

“probably after graduation. might be going on tour. i dunno.” i shrug.

“tour?!?!?! our precious y/n is getting out there. you better remember us when you’re all rich and famous!” mina says.

“i will.” i tell them. and i mean it.

hours later, when the sun sets and everybody is asleep, i make my way toward the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. i can’t sleep tonight for some reason. my heart aches and i feel like i can’t breathe. i wish i could be in his arms again. i wish i could feel what it’s like to be loved again— truly loved.

as i’m preparing my tea, i hear a soft grumble behind me. his soft grumble. “that song was about me, wasn’t it?”

i freeze. “what?”

“the one from the other day.” he says. i feel him take a step closer, his shadow looming over me. my back is turned to him, so i can’t see him, but i can feel him. “it is, isn’t it?”

“what do you care if it is?” i don’t mean to snap at him, but the anger i’ve held in for so long— i’m unable to stop it.

“you miss me. and you still love me. i know you do because i love you.” my breath hitches. “katsuki, please, don’t do this to me.” i turn around and push him away from me so i can escape his suffocating presence.

“y/n.” his voice breaks and i feel my walls crumbling. his rough, calloused hand wraps around my wrist. “please.” that one word is what has me turning around and finally looking at him. he looks everything but okay and i just want to wrap my arms around him and tell him that everything will be okay and that i’m here for him.

“what do you want me to say to that, katsuki? i still love you? because i do! with everything in me! but you left me! you left me when i needed you most. because of what— my career choice? sorry, i’m not good enough for you.” i scoff.

his grip tightens around my wrist. “i broke up with you because it wasn’t going to work out. you know that.”

“how the hell do i know that if we never even tried?!”

“it wasn’t going to work. i’m not good enough for you, i was going to end up breaking your heart sooner or later— we both know that.”

“no, because before you did what you did, i never thought that you’d be the one to break my heart. you told me you loved me.”

“i did— i do.” he corrects.

“then, why did you do it? why did you break up with me? and don’t give me that stupid excuse about it not working out.”

he sighs. “come on, y/n. you know me. i’m messed up. i always have been and i always will be. there’s nothing good about me. and you? you’re perfect. look at you. you’re blossoming and you’re growing and i can’t be the one to hold you back.”

and this is where my anger ends. i take a step closer. “‘suki, you’re not messed up. and even if you are, who cares? we all are. even our perfect little class president iida is messed up. i love you— perfect or imperfect, good or bad. i love you. you’re not going to hold me back because you’re growing too. katsuki, you’re going to be a hero soon. you’re already going on missions. hell, you’ve even got fan pages for you. my point is that you’re everything i ever wanted. all i want is you.”

he doesn’t say anything.

neither do i.

i place my hands on his biceps and reach up to peck his lips. it’s awkward at first and he doesn’t kiss me back. but when i pull away, his hand wraps around the back of my neck and his lips crash onto mine. and it’s then that i realize that katsuki and i’s story never ended, and it never will because for as long as i live, i will love this man like breathing. his tongue delves into my mouth and i gasp at the fierceness he doesn’t dare to hold back. i feel the pain he’s held in for so long and i also feel the time we lost.

“i love you.” he mumbles softly as he pulls away.

#Spotify #bakugo x reader #bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsuki x reader #mha #romance #trending #imagines #bakugo imagine #bakugo oneshot #oneshot #x reader

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marengogo · 2 months ago

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UGH!-9: Y’all Done Did It

Listening to the play list Who is Standing next to you

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

Yes, I am enjoying my day-off, thank you for asking 😘. In fact, everything was going 🍑y, and then, as I scrolled on my husband’s post to see if other people had requested PIXID and liking all the ones who requested it 💜 I noticed one comment, and then a similar one and then I started scrolling …

WHAT THE FUCK IS ALL THIS?:

The whole time AYS aired I left it alone. I saw this type of comments on the Blue Bird app, but I left it alone.

I thought: “Blue Bird AMI don’t know better Marengo, let them be …”, “Once the show is finished everyone will go back to their regularly scheduled stanning …” … that’s what I kept telling myself 😩 yet; here we are.

For Fuck Sake:

Are You Sure?! 👏🏾 Is a Jungkook 👏🏾 and Jimin 👏🏾Show 👏🏾. Period👏🏾.

Do you know American Hustle Life? Yes! It is a Joonie, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, JM, Tae and JK show.

Do you know Bon Voyage? Yes! It is a Joonie, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, JM, Tae and JK show.

Do you know In The Soop? Yes! It is a Joonie, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, JM, Tae and JK show.

IT REALLY AIN’T THAT HARD.

I don't even know how to keep explaining this. Forget the shipping, forget the fact that JK and JM might be a couple, forget ALL OF IT:

I know I still have to do the EI post about JK, but let me say this for the MILLIONTH TIME: JK IS NOR STUPID OR CRUEL. If he, and JM, wanted a show where they would invite members every other episode, they would have a show where they would invite members every other episode and this would have been clear from the very beginning, because just like myself, I believe organization and routine to be a big part of JK’s life. Tae was an exception/special guest. As simple as.

Does this mean that they hate the members' presence? No. Do they want to leave the band? No. Do they think they are the most important members? NO. It simply means that maybe, just maybe, these two particular members particularly enjoy each other’s company. Some of us think it is romantic, the general public think it is strictly friendship: WHATEVER! Can AMI please please please acknowledge all harmless forms of expression? Joonie came out with one of the best albums out there, by himself, and JK & JM went on various trips and adventures together, which they wanted to share with us, AS SIMPLE AS THAT.

Liking Are you Sure?! doesn't make you a shipper, liking Are you Sure?! doesn't make you less OT7, however, liking Are You Sure?! will make you a person who is accepting of whatever harmless forms of entertainment that are being gifted to you by people whom you supposedly care about, and that very obviously means a lot to them, SO AMI NEEDS TO STOP TRYING TO TWEAK IT, BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH IT IN ANY WAY.

Yes I am a bitch, Yes I am petty, and Yes I am also OT7 AMI, an OT7 AMI who thinks two gentlemen in the band may fancy each other, but that is about it. I don’t go around forcing people to believe my perceptions, I don’t go brain-showing people into believing that these two individuals are married and I am very aware that they may just be straight men whom were never even curious.

Remember my grammar pet-peeve? The one where I explained that Some people isn't the same as All people? Well, the same goes for Are You Sure?! Isn’t the same as A show like Are You Sure?! Like this person commented:

TRANS: A travel show. Something like Are You Sure? With Hobi 💜💜💜💜

This type of suggestion is totally fine. This ☝🏾, implies that the person understands that this particular show is something that two other members did, but it would be nice if two other members would make their own show with similar premises. So NO, Are You Sure Season 2?! Shouldn’t be a show with two other members and NO JK & JM don’t need to invite all the members if they don’t want to. And once again, for the love of everything that is demure,

it doesn't mean that they hate the members.

Okay? Okay.

Ayte, I’ve said all I wanted to say, now it's time for some comfort food & drinks.

またね！💋

Marengo.

#Marengo Goes UGH!

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beauty-and-passion · 5 months ago

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Why you should listen to Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium

I didn't expect to truly write a post about this album.

Anons introduced me to its genesis, production and themes and they seemed interesting... but was there enough food for thought?

I had no idea. My expectations were positive, so I imagined I would listen to something good: I just didn't know if this album had enough for me to talk about and say something new - considering that the CCCC fans already did a great job analyzing every detail of the songs.

But when I listened to them (and read more theories/explanations), I noticed some interesting things. Things that stirred my brain and made me think. Things I wanted to talk about.

So here I am, writing a post about Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium Volume 1. I am not pretending to explain the lore or the songs in detail and I don't want to bother you with an extremely long post. All I want is to give you some material to decide if CCCC is worth a try.

And, if you've never heard about it before, I hope my words will spark your interest, because this album deserves more attention.

One last thing: please be aware I will talk about all sorts of themes, from love to suicide, because those are also the themes of the album.

_______________________________

A simple plot

I can hear you, fans who have listened to the whole album: simple story?! It's complicated! It's open to interpretations!

And yes, you're right. But if we consider the core foundation on which the songs are built... well, that's quite straightforward. With this album, Chonny Jash is telling us about his struggles and how they led to a psychological split inside him into Mind, Heart and Soul. Then these three parts start fighting, until they find a way to reunite again.

And yes, we can also add that this is a time loop and things are destined to repeat themselves, but the structure is still simple, clear and concise. As clear as the tripartition of the album into Calamity, Cacophony and Concord, three parts that correspond to the story's three main points: the split, the fight, the reunion.

And this simplicity isn't a bad thing, oh absolutely not. This is perfect.

There's a common misconception that a good story should be complicated. The plot should be complex and convoluted and the more complex and convoluted it is, the better the story will be. I made this conceptual mistake too and it took me years to realize how wrong it was: the better stories are not the most complicated ones, but the simpler ones.

Why?, you may ask. Isn't a simple story proof of amateur writing - or even worse, lack of creativity?

Actually, it's quite the opposite and there are four reasons why:

If a story has a simple, clear foundation, it will be easier to build on it: a simple foundation is stable and strong, it won't break down too easily. You can add layers and metaphors and hide your plot points behind different interpretations, but your public won't get lost, because the foundation would still be clear: there are three figures, they fight, they reunite. Everyone can understand it.

If everyone can understand your foundation, your story is universal. Everyone can approach and experience it, from an old person to a child, and everyone will find something inside: a message, a feeling, a piece of advice, anything.

If your story is universal and the foundation clear, your vision is also clear. And if your vision is clear, you know what you're doing. And if you know what you're doing, your story will be much more organized too: there won't be dull/useless parts, filler, or moments in which you're just dilly-dallying, waiting for the right idea to strike.

Since your story will be more organized, the flow will be better too and the events will make sense, the public will be more prone to welcome the suspension of disbelief and immerse themselves in the story. People aren't stupid, they can subconsciously feel when an artist is confident and the story is strong. And once they feel it, you win. The public is yours now, you can guide it into your world and show your vision as you intended. And people will let you do it, because they know they're in good hands.

This is what I experienced too, the more I progressed with my listening. There was a lot of care behind every word, the lyrics kept explaining and expanding the plot and everything showed the confidence of an author who knows what he is doing and how to do it.

And there's nothing better for a story, than a confident author.

_______________________________

Clear elements despite the ambiguity

Even if the foundation of CCCC is very simple, the story is enriched by a ton of ambiguities and things purposely left very vague. They may be better explained when/if Volume 2 comes out in the future, they may be left open to interpretation forever. It doesn't really matter: having a full understanding is good, but leaving everything behind a veil of mystery is a good choice as well. It depends on Mr. Jash's choice - and if my previous point wasn't clear enough, I trust this guy's choices.

However, despite the ambiguity, I also really appreciated how there are a lot of extremely clear elements in this story, starting from some events, to specific details of the main characters involved.

Some examples?

Heart tried to shoot/kill/destroy Mind

Heart's breakdown is due to something love-related

The whole series of events is stuck in a loop

Mr. Jash threatens suicide if the parts of himself don't reconcile

Mr. Jash frequently talks about how he keeps making covers of songs others made before him

And what about the details? For example, we know that every character has a specific set of elements associated with them:

an object: a blindfold (Heart), a crown (Mind), a trident (Soul)

a name: Artemis/the moon/Juno (Heart), Apollo/the sun (Mind), Atlas (Soul)

a color: black+purple (Heart), blue+white (Mind), gray+red (Soul)

And those are all elements we get from the songs and they get stuck with you, while you progress with your listening.

Again, this is a very clever choice: considering everything is open to interpretation, having some clear elements serves as "anchor points" in a sea of ambiguities. By doing that, the listeners won't get lost in a maelstrom of possibilities, but they will keep being guided down a clear path - the one traced by the main points of the album (breakdown, fight, reunion).

Also, having some fixed elements keeps everyone's attention too: some people might like to get lost in pure ambiguity, but most lose interest in a too-vague story. Even if the author had a clear plan, if everything is too obscure, people will inevitably think: "It's incomprehensible, so the author had no idea what they were doing" and ditch the story entirely.

Mr. Jash handled the ambiguity aspect very well, by balancing the obscurities with the clear elements. And this proved, once again, how clear, strong and detailed his vision is.

_______________________________

Favorite character?

Ooof, that's hard.

Each character has a specific personality and that alone proves how carefully Mr. Jash planned every element related to them.

Heart is sad, desperate, apathetic, prone to self-pity, sick and tired of everything. But he's also strong enough to try and oppose Mind out of fear of what he could do. He tried to attack someone as powerful as him and take him down, just to preserve the Soul and save their vessel.

And that proves he's not weak at all: he's a lot more powerful than he seems. And, as he said, he's not a child: he felt Mind could've been a threat, so he took the matter into his own hands and tried to find a solution.

And it makes sense his solution was so drastic, because it was dictated by feelings. Because the Heart is influenced by feelings. It's perfectly coherent with the kind of character he is.

Same goes for Mind: he's cold, harsh, a threatening figure because of his design/nature. He takes control of the situation, he appoints himself as the new leader, he wants to react, do something, move forward and ignore the element he sees as the weak link.

And he definitely doesn't hold a grudge towards Heart, nope nope: my bro spent a whole song saying "Look at Heart, he's an idiot". And then, if this isn't enough, he ended his song, by calling Heart "akaryocyte": which is a cell without a nucleus. Hence, a virus.

I'll admit it: this sick burn is the sickest burn that ever burned and probably the most clever insult I've ever read and that made Mind top #1 best character of the album - sorry Heart, but Mind is too sick. (Also, I am a cold logical person too, so I ended up thinking the guy wasn't so bad after all.)

Last but not least, we have Soul. And Soul is basically shut down all the time by these two motherfuckers arguing, to the point he looks more like a shadow, rather than a real character... until he decides that you know what, time to show how confident he actually is:

You must be so arrogant to think that either of you Can control The Soul so wholly When to be one whole you can't hold solely

One song was enough to show Soul's true colors. He's stronger than the other two, he's more in control than them and he's the only one able to draw a line and make an actual threat: if they do not find a way to reunite, he will kill them both.

A couple words and Soul's picture got flipped: he's not just a background voice anymore, he's the leading figure now. And if he is sick and tired, then these three are facing the real shit.

But just like the other two, Soul isn't just that and we see it in The Bidding.

Here happens something incredibly beautiful: once Heart and Mind find a way to harmonize, Soul immediately rejoices: with the impatience of a child, he asks them to do it again, "One more time, go again/No, this can't be the end". Soul, this powerful figure who threatened suicide one second ago, begs them to try again, to do it "for me", because they can finally harmonize, because "I don't know how much more I can take".

Once again, with a couple sentences, we learn how heavy this whole situation has been on Soul and how eager he is to try again, once the other two find a possible harmony.

This doesn't just show how deeply Soul has been affected by the whole situation, but also (on a higher level) how strong hope is.

Soul was ready to commit suicide: a few verses before he said this was the day "we'll tie the rope". But one small step in the right direction, despite being flawed and made out of spite and resentment, was all he needed to change his mind and drop the idea of suicide entirely.

That also proves how human Soul is. Because this is what humans feel too, especially when they play with the idea of suicide. Most of the time, this idea is the result of desperation and inability to find a way out of a situation that seems impossible to overcome. But once these people find even a teeny tiny fragment of hope, the will to live overcomes desperation and people latch to said hope, no matter how small it is. And, just like Soul did here, they try to have it again, to repeat it, to feel that spark again.

Because the will to live is always much, much stronger than the desperation that leads to suicide.

_______________________________

The choice of a time loop

These three characters are stuck in a time loop: things are destined to repeat themselves. And believe it or not, but this is extremely human too - and a clever choice as well.

From a psychological perspective, Mr. Jash can "break" again anytime. Life is full of stuff and events, so... who knows? Maybe in the future, he will face another heartbreak and his Whole will break down into three once more. Or maybe it won't be because of a heartbreak: maybe something else will happen and lead to a new split, a new fight and a new reconciliation. Maybe even the lack of confidence that starts to shine in Concord is proof of a future split.

But if we think about it, the time loop works from another perspective too: a meta one.

Every time you listen to the whole album, every time to replay the songs, you are relieving the split. Every time you listen to them, Whole splits into Heart, Mind and Soul. Every time you trace their history, they split, fight and reconcile.

In other words: every replay is a new loop, a loop in which these characters are stuck - not just because of their humanity, but because they're characters and this is their story. They cannot escape from it, because that's their entire world.

I don't know if Mr. Jash thought about that while making this album... but he gave me this thought and that's just another proof of what I said at the beginning of this post: if a story is very well made, everyone can find a message inside it. And I'm sure you will find something too.

EDIT: You will find the whole analysis of CCCC Vol. 1 starting from HERE

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

TAGLIST:

@royalprinceroman @mudpuddlenl @allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia @whatishappeningrightnow @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling @payte @hypnossanders @idontreallyknow24 @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical @patton-cake @hereissananxiousmess @purplebronzeandblue @cynicalandsarcastic @lost-in-thought-20 @andtheyreonfire

@riseofthewerewolf @rosesandlove44 @chewy-rubies @groaaaaan @arya-skywalker @csi-baker-street-babes @queen-of-all-things-snuggly @reesiereads @dracayd-universe @starlightnyx @stubbornness-and-spite @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing

@thatoneloudowl @grayson-22 @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella @boopypastaissalty @nevenastark @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside @coldbookworm @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3 @the3rddenialist

#chonnys charming chaos compendium #chonny jash #cccc #chonny mind #chonny heart #chonny soul #cj soul #cj mind #cj heart #cj whole

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sequinsmile-x · 4 months ago

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Where You Go - Chapter 2

She isn’t sure what does it, whether it’s the condescending tone in her mother’s voice, or how she can hear her aunt laughing in the background, but she’s lying before she can stop herself.

“Actually, I am seeing someone."

AKA - the one where Emily asks Aaron, her best friend (who she happens to be hopelessly in love with) to pose as her boyfriend at her cousin's wedding, and things change between them forever.

-x-

Hi friends,

Thank you so SO much for the reaction to chapter 1 - genuinely a little blown away.

They are going to get much, *much* stupider before they figure it out, and I hope you enjoy the journey <3

As always, please let me know what you think - it means the world!

-x-

Warnings: full list of tags can be found on the Master List

Words: 5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He’d always known she came from money, but he’s still surprised when they pull into the driveway of the estate where they were staying for the weekend.

“They’ve booked this entire place?”

She chuckles at the disbelief in his voice and pops another piece of candy in her mouth as she sits up straight, no longer slouching in the passenger seat.

“Oh yeah,” she says, blowing out a slow breath as she rolls her neck, her body stiff from the 6-hour drive, “Aunt Charlotte and Uncle David always want the best for Tiffany.”

He hums as he continues to drive towards the mansion where the wedding is being hosted. Emily had explained that the entire place had been rented out - every room booked and being used for Tiffany and her soon-to-be husband’s guests.

“Haley and I got married in church and then had the reception at a rec centre,” he says and she turns to look at him, unable to stop herself from smiling, the happy wistful look on his face when he thought of Haley one she thought he’d never get back, “We were fresh out of college, it was all we could afford.”

“It still looked beautiful,” she says, thinking of the photo album she’d seen one night as Aaron showed it to Jack, the large book open on the little boy's lap as he ran his tiny fingers over pictures of his mother, “And it wasn’t all for show like this weekend will be.”

He hadn’t missed the tension in her that had only increased the closer they got to their destination, a tightness in her shoulders that only her mother could bring out of her. Before he picked her up this morning, the passenger door stuffed full of packets of candy he’d gone to the store to buy for her, he’d wondered if he was doing the right thing, if he could cope with being so close to her for two days before they went back to their normal distance. The moment he saw her, all uncharacteristic nervousness and rambling appreciation for what he was doing, he knew he didn’t care about himself - only her - and he didn’t want her to face this alone.

“Thank you for driving the whole way,” she says, smiling softly as they park up. He chuckles, winking at her in an attempt to soothe her.

“I don’t seem to remember you offering to switch at any stage,” he teases, his smile only getting wider when she scoffs at him, “Plus, what is it Garcia called you that one time - a passenger princess?”

She rolls her eyes but can’t stop the laugh that escapes as she unclips her seatbelt, “This is all very rich coming from the man who wouldn’t have handed over the keys even if I asked.”

He watches as she looks back at the estate they are staying in, and her smile fades, slipping off her face as they watch other guests mingle.

“We could turn around,” he says and she looks at him so quickly he thinks it must hurt, “Say we had a case we couldn’t get out of.”

She doesn’t think she’s ever been more in love with him and it takes her a moment to get over it, to swallow everything she can’t let herself feel back down, the lump of it painful in her chest, “That’s sweet but, at this point it’s going to be easier to stay,” she replies, her hands tight in a ball on her lap so she doesn’t reach out for him, “Thank you for doing this.”

He shakes his head, “You can stop thanking me. This is what we do for each other. We…” he trails off, unsure how to put it into words, and he clears his throat, “Show up.”

It didn’t feel like enough to explain what they’d become for each other, a back-and-forth that they’d unknowingly started when he showed up at her door and asked her to stay after she’d quit to protect him.

“Yeah. We do,” she says, her tongue sticking out to wet her lip, “We should get going.”

They get out of the car, but he moves quickly, at the trunk and hooking both of their bags over his shoulder before she’s even got her door closed. She raises her eyebrow at him when he shakes his head as she tries to take her bag from him

“You wouldn’t want them to think you’re with someone you isn’t a gentleman, right?” He asks, a smirk on his face she finds as irritating as she does attractive, and he nods towards the small group of people nearby, including her mother and Aunt Charlotte, out of earshot but close enough it’s clear they are watching them.

She huffs, “I suppose not,” she says, her hand dropping to her side, “Last chance to back out.”

He steps towards her, missing how her breath catches in her chest as he looks over at Elizabeth, and he places his arm around her, his hand landing in the curve of her waist. He tugs her closer, desperately trying to pretend his palm didn’t fit perfectly in that space, his thumb catching under her ribs and his little finger against her hip.

“Never.”

___

She can barely concentrate at the rehearsal dinner.

All she can think about is Aaron’s arm slung across the back of her chair, how his fingers would occasionally graze her bare shoulder when he moves. If she didn’t know she was as excellent as she was at hiding her feelings, if she hadn’t literally been trained how to, she’d be worried that she’d immediately give everything away.

Her mind keeps flicking between the gentle way he’d been touching her all day and the queen bed in their room. She hadn’t thought about it until they arrived, something she chastised herself for, but she knows she can’t say anything about it without raising suspicion. She’d seen the look on Aaron’s face too, his eyes ever so slightly wide as he dropped both of their bags down onto the bed, a comment about how they’d figure it out later hanging in the air between them.

He makes her jump, his hand on her knee under the table when she’s too distracted by him to hear the waiter ask her if she wants more wine. He immediately withdraws his hand, an apology in his eyes as if he didn’t even realise he’d done it. She reaches out for his hand on the table and squeezes it, linking their fingers together as she tells him it’s fine, that he hadn’t overstepped, with nothing more than a soft smile and her warm skin against his.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone,” Elizabeth says from across the table, making Emily curse, not for the first time that evening, whoever put the seating plan together.

“Well,” Emily replies, reaching for her wine, feeling emboldened by the slight buzz from the alcohol and the fizz in her skin wherever Aaron touches her. “We don’t talk all that often, Mom. Should I have sent an email?”

Aaron coughs to cover a laugh, and he runs his thumb back and forth over the pulse in her wrist, and she only realises right then that she’d never let go of his hand.

“It’s funny,” Elizabeth says, a look on her face that lets Emily know whatever she was about to say was the complete opposite of funny, all of her focus on Aaron, “I saw you at Del Mar a few weeks ago,” her smile turns wry, “I was going to say hello but I saw you were with someone. I only saw your date from behind,” she flicks her eyes to Emily, “If I’d known it was you I would have come over.”

Emily feels Aaron get tenser, the heat radiating off the arm he has slung over the back of her chair getting closer as he shifts a little in his seat, at the mention of what must have been one of his last dates with Beth before they broke up. She knew this was a test, an attempt from her mother to poke holes in the story she didn’t entirely believe, and it was one Emily was more than willing to take.

She leans closer to Aaron, flashing him a reassuring smile as she makes a point to reach for his hand behind her, linking their fingers together as she tugs his hand over her shoulder so she’s now holding both of them. She desperately tries to ignore how right it feels to be boxed in by him this way, how his fingers seemed to slot perfectly between hers. She tries to memorise it, wants to remember how it felt to do something as simple as hold his hand for the rest of her life, doesn’t want this taste of what could have been to fade.

“We love Del Mar,” she says, squeezing his hand, “Don’t we honey.”

He snaps out of whatever trance he’d been in and he nods, squeezing her hand back, an apology he doesn’t need to give her shining in his eyes.

He smiles as he looks at Elizabeth, making a point of saying something he knew was true even if the context was a lie, Emily’s sweet tooth the only reason he kept peanut butter cups in his office, half a pack of them still wedged in his car door. He wonders how well Elizabeth knows her. If she knows Emily had a love of chocolate that rivalled that of his young son, if she knew she hated pens with blue ink to the point she once told him off for signing off paperwork with one. He wanted nothing more than for it to be his place to make sure Elizabeth knew that he knew who Emily was, that he loved her for who she was, not who he wanted her to be.

“You can’t keep Em away from the dessert menu. No matter how much Tapas we order.”

Elizabeth lets the point go after that, which Emily is grateful for, and the rest of dinner goes by without incident. As soon as the drink reception starts, Aaron goes to the bar. Emily loves that he knows her well enough that he doesn’t even ask, a soft smile on his face as he steps past her, his hand skimming over her lower back as he goes.

She barely has a moment alone when Tiffany walks over, throwing her arms around her like it had been weeks since they’d last spoken, not years, “Emily, it’s so good to see you. I meant to call after…well everything,” she says, coming the closest anyone had so far to mentioning her return from the dead, “But you know what life is like.”

Emily hums, not sure that your cousin faking their death was normal in most people’s books, but she lets it slide, “Of course, It’s good to see you too, Tiff,” she says, hugging her for a moment before stepping back, “Thank you for inviting me, this is already a beautiful weekend.”

She waves her off, “Oh of course. We have got to talk about that boyfriend of yours,” she says, casting a glance over her shoulder, “Aunt Lizzie said he’s your boss?”

Emily clenches her teeth and suppresses a sigh, unable to help but wonder how many conversations there had been about her and Aaron that she hadn’t been privy to since she told her mother he was coming.

“Yes, we met at work,” she says diplomatically, unable to stop herself from smiling when she looks over and he’s looking at her already, “He’s amazing,” she says easily, because it was true, “Anyway, you should tell me about Andrew.”

Tiffany immediately beams at the change in subject, “Oh, well he works for Daddy…”

She forces a smile and makes eyes at Aaron across the room, silently asking him to get back here and he nods, turning back to the bartender in an attempt to hurry him along. Emily huffs out a breath, barely paying any attention to Tiffany’s self-involved rambling, and she crosses her arms over her chest as she looks back and forth between her cousin and the back of Aaron’s head.

“Oh my god, what’s that?”

It takes a moment for Tiffany’s words to register, and when Emily looks at her she realises she’s staring at her chest. She looks down and she feels the life drain out of her, the brand mark Ian had left behind peeking out from the top of her dress, pushed up by her crossed arms. She barely thought about it these days through sheer force of will. She didn’t want to give it the power it had over her in the beginning, didn’t want it to symbolise what Ian had intended it to. She hadn’t thought about it when she’d packed the dress to wear this evening, and all of a sudden all she could think about was if the dress she’d brought for the actual wedding would show it too.

She clears her throat, hoping her voice doesn’t shake as she pulls the dress up just enough to cover it, “Oh, it’s nothing,” she says, smiling at Tiffany, hating the intrigue she sees in her eyes, a reflection of when they were girls together, when they would get up to mischief in hallways that were used to serious people in pressed suits.

Tiffany leans in, her voice low as if she’s conspiring, not picking up on Emily’s resistance to talk about it, “Did he do that?”

Emily knows that Ian had taken some kind of mythical place in her family’s lore, the man so bad she’d had to fake her death after he’d come damn close to actually killing her, and she hates it. It makes him bigger than she wants him to be, large and somehow more ghoulish than he’d been when he was alive.

She clenches her teeth, her lungs burning as she struggles to breathe, “Yes. He did,” she says simply, looking over at Aaron again, her eyes meeting his as he turns away from the bar, a drink in each hand, and she smiles tightly at Tiffany, already walking away as she carries on, “Excuse me.”

She needed air, she needed to get out of here. She needed to remind herself that she’d somehow survived. As she steps outside the cold air is briefly overwhelming, forcing more air from her lungs as she stumbles ever so slightly, catching herself on the wall for a moment before she walks forward - putting enough space between her and the ballroom until she can deal with it again.

She’s barely alone for a second when she hears his voice, a blessing and a curse all wrapped up into one because of course he’d check she was okay.

“Emily?”

She turns to face him, the smile she’d been using on her family all day painted across her face, “I’m okay, I just needed some air.”

He briefly considers leaving her to it. Considers handing her the champagne he’d got her and heading back indoors even though he can see through the lie, can see the fake smile and the shining eyes that she is so desperately trying to hide. He can’t bring himself to leave, something about the nervous energy flowing off of her like a fine perfume enough to keep him rooted to the spot just a few feet away from her.

“I saw you talking to Tiffany,” he says, stepping closer only to put the glasses of champagne down on the table between them, cigarette butts he’d assume were hers if she’d been out here any longer strewn across it, “Did she say something?”

She sighs, and whilst her instinct is to lie, to brush it off, she doesn’t. She fights against it because she can see that he cares, that he’s trying to be the friend she finds herself needing more and more these days.

“She…” she clears her throat, looking down at the ground to break eye contact, “She saw the scar on my chest. She asked about it and in a very roundabout way she asked about Ian,” she laughs humourlessly, “And I know it’s something people will ask about, but for the first time in a long time I chose outfits for this weekend without thinking about it…and now it’s all I can think about.”

He knew about the clover, she knew that, so she didn’t have to explain any further. He’s silent and when she looks back up she half expects him to be staring at her chest, his gaze fixed on the dress that she was holding in place, her hand unable to move, but he’s looking at her face, his lips pressed together as he decides how to reply.

“Do you want to go back to the room?” He asks, the randomness of it slightly disarming at first, but she finds herself nodding, wanting nothing more than to just hide for the rest of the evening, but she hesitates, her hand pressing further into her chest. He takes off his suit jacket and offers it out to her, “Here you go,” he says, his lips turning up into a soft smile when she looks at him like he’s crazy, “It will cover it until it’s not the only thing you’re thinking about anymore.”

She huffs out a breath and she shakes her head, “Aaron…”

“Come on,” he’s still holding the jacket, a hand on each of the lapels as he encourages her to turn around, “Plus, it’s cold out here. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t offer you my jacket?”

She knows what he’s trying to do and it warms her from the inside out. If it was anyone else she thinks she’d refuse, even if it was an actual partner, but there’s something about him offering to help in this way, when she knows he understands how it feels to grapple with a body changed by something he had no say over, that she can’t turn down.

“Well,” she says, nodding as she turns around, “We can’t have people thinking you’re a bad boyfriend.”

She closes her eyes as he slips the jacket onto her arms, the mix of the smell of him wafting from the material and the way his fingers graze over her shoulders as he settles it onto her briefly overwhelming. A flash of the affection she wanted from him all the time.

“Exactly,” he says, grateful she’s got her back to him, that he has a moment to gather himself, the feel of her bare skin against his as electrifying and tortuous as it had been all night. “You ready?”

She turns and he tries to ignore how good she looks wearing his jacket, the sleeves of it going past her hands and the hem almost mid-thigh. When he blinks he can picture her in nothing but one of his shirts and it’s too much, forcing a shiver out of him as he looks at her again. She frowns.

“If you’re cold-”

“I’ve got it under good authority that I’m a walking furnace,” he says, cutting off any attempt to give the jacket back as he stands next to her, linking his arm through one of hers, “I’ll make it to our room.”

She nods and lets herself be led back into the ballroom, taking the opportunity to slip back into their roles as she wraps her other hand around his tricep, all but hugging his arm to her side. They let her mother know they are going to bed, and Emily takes a moment to assure Tiffany she’s fine when she attempts a clumsy apology, saying that she was tired from the journey that morning, the lie easy and sweet as it sits on her tongue.

It’s only when they make it back to the room that Emily considers that they’ll now have to deal with the one bed issue. When the door is locked behind them, their linked arms uncurling the moment they are behind it, she huffs out a breath as she looks at the bed.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Aaron offers, his expression kind as she’d ever seen it, “If that makes you more comfortable.”

She shakes her head, “No,” she says, the gentle weight of his jacket still pressing on his shoulders, the lines already so blurred from the half a day they’d been here that she can’t bring herself to care that she’d inevitably be hurting her own feelings by having a taste of what it would be like to sleep next to him, “We’re both grown-ups. And I don’t want you to hurt your back,” she winks at him, “As long as you promise - no wondering hands.”

His eyes go wide and he splutters, a sound she’s not sure she’s ever heard from him before, “Emily, I’d never-”

“Aaron,” she says, reaching out and placing her hand on his arm and squeezing, the shift of his muscles under his skin making her stomach flip, “I’m kidding. You’re probably the only actual gentleman I know,” she assures him and he nods, laughing weakly at his own blustering, “I’m getting the bathroom first though.”

He nods, oddly grateful for a moment to himself, to recalibrate after the strangely domestic feeling that had settled over them, “Of course.”

He sits on the bed as he waits, the sound of her getting ready for bed floating in from the bathroom, muffled slightly by the door. He smiles as he hears her humming to herself, something he’d found out she did whenever she did almost anything outside of work. He feels familiar love for her blooming in his chest as he allows himself to imagine a life for a moment where this was his soundtrack every evening as they wound down the day together.

When the door opens and she steps out he’s taken aback by her natural beauty, the softness that came with just being Emily and not Prentiss or whatever her family expected of her. He’s grateful that he’s seen her like this before, that countless evenings in his apartment with Jack where she’d worn sweats and baggy t-shirts, with no make-up and her hair piled on her head like it was now. It means he’s prepared, that he doesn’t stare at her for too long or make her self-conscious on an evening when she already felt on edge thanks to a thoughtless comment from her cousin.

“Do you feel better?” He asks as he stands up, grateful taking his jacket back from her, folded over her arm - a far cry from her own clothes balled up in the crook of it.

She nods, “Yes, thank you,” she stands there for a moment, not able to read the look in his eyes and hating that she can't, “Your turn.”

He smiles and steps past her into the bathroom and she blows out a slow breath. She climbs into bed and waits for him, only realising she hadn’t checked what side he preferred when he steps out a few minutes later in his pjyamas, a wry smile on his face.

“That answers that question,” he says, but before she can offer to swap he’s climbing into the other side of the bed, “I prefer this side anyway.”

She presses her lips together to stop herself from smiling, furious at herself for the girlish reaction that made her stomach flip at that admission, “Lights off?”

He nods as he settles into bed next to her, both of them careful to stick to their sides as the room falls into darkness and silence

“You’re not like any of them,” he says after a few seconds, clarifying when he realises he’d verbalised half a thought, “Your family. You’re not like them.”

She hums, her smile sad in the darkness of the room. There’s something safe about it, about laying next to him, both of them achingly aware of the other just a few inches away, their bodies stiff and tight as they desperately try not to touch each other, even though all it would is one of them reaching out their hand. She isn’t sure if it’s the comfort of him being so close, or that she can pretend for a moment that she’s alone, but she finds herself saying something she’s never told anyone.

“I used to pretend that I was adopted. I’d lay in bed and wish my real family would come get me, and that I’d have maybe a brother and a sister and parents with normal jobs,” she smiles wryly as she tilts her head towards him, searching for his face in the dark, “But I undeniably look like my mother,” she laughs humourlessly, “And I have my dad’s nose.”

He smiles, swallowing back the desire to tell her she’s beautiful, the words stuck against his ribs as he forces them down, knowing it’s not his place to tell her that no matter how much he wants it to be.

“Do you miss him?”

She presses her lips together as she turns to face him again, his face clearer now her eyes had adjusted to the dark, “My dad?” She asks, and he nods, “I do. Or I miss what we could have had,” she smiles sadly and shrugs, “I was in college when he died and…we were never that close. I hoped one day we could be but we never got the chance.”

He can tell by the way she drifts off, how her voice catches in her throat a little, that she feels exposed. He hates that she feels that way. After everything they’d been through he wanted her to know she could trust him with anything, that he would never judge her. They knew the worst parts of each other and were still here, still clamouring to learn more and he doesn’t think he’s ever had that with anyone - even Haley.

He clears his throat, determined to make her more comfortable, “I can understand that,” he says, turning to look at her, lost in her eyes that somehow seemed deeper right now, as if the darkness of the room was bleeding into them, “My dad he…” he clears his throat again, his jaw briefly tight, “He wasn’t a good man. At all. And it almost made it worse when he had good days - because it meant he was capable of being the father I wanted him to be,” he smiles wryly, shaking his head at himself as he rests his head back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling as he says the last part, something he’d never dared to utter out loud, “The father I want to be to Jack.”

Emily didn’t have to be good at her job to know that Aaron had grown up around violence. It was written across his skin, in the fine print of how he acted, how he would switch from being careful to risking his safety in a heartbeat. It was in how gentle he was with Jack, how he’d press Batman bandaids against grazed knees with care so tender it made her ache. Skin that had once broken open over his knuckles, torn apart by bone and tooth as he beat a man to death in front of her, stretched white as he put his hands over his son’s on the handlebars of his bike, words of encouragement flowing out of him so easily he didn’t resemble the man who’d once barely spoken to her when they first met.

She can’t help but reach over, her hand wrapping around his over the covers as she pulls it from his chest. She links their fingers together and squeezes, her expression serious when their eyes meet.

“You’re an excellent father, Aaron,” she says, running her thumb back and forth over the heel of his hand. He smiles tightly, and it’s enough to tell her that he doesn’t entirely believe her, “I’ll tell you that every day until you believe me,” she smiles wryly, “Or at least until you tell me you believe me to get me to stop.” They both laugh and it eases something in her chest. She feels drawn to him, shifting her upper body just enough to press her cheek against his shoulder, hungry for more physical contact after being pressed up against him most of the day, storing as much of it away as she can before the weekend is over, as if she’s saving acorns for winter. “Jack is so lucky to have you.”

He hums and breathes her in, hesitating for a moment before he rests his cheek on the top of her head, letting himself pretend for a moment that this was his life. That he fell asleep like this with her every night. He hears her suppress a yawn, but he doesn’t move, content to lay in this awkward half-embrace as long as she is happy to.

“We should get some sleep,” he says, and she nods, yawning again.

“Tomorrow is going to be a long day,” she grumbles, making no move to shift away from him, the comfort of being this close drawing her in, an addiction she isn’t entirely sure she’ll be able to give up in approximately 36 hours.

“Night, Em.”

She’s already sleepy, pulled into it by the comfort she thinks follows him everywhere and the fantasy that she could have this forever, “Night.”

She falls asleep first, her hand loosening its grip on his as she drifts off but not slipping free, her fingers still linked through his. He dares to turn his head just a little, not wanting to risk waking her, and he kisses her forehead, his nose briefly buried in her hair before he rests his cheek there again, a soft smile on his face as he closes his eyes.

When he falls asleep he dreams of a life where he could have this for more than a weekend.

-x-

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her-power · 11 months ago

Text

Last Chance to Dance (Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Summary: Modern Eddie + reader are early 30s. Eddie is the famous lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin, who has gotten himself into legal trouble due to his antics and drug use. Eddie broke your heart many years ago and he receives a letter from you asking to meet to talk about what happened between you two so long ago. Secrets are talked about, mental walls are built and broken down. Most of this series will be in Eddie's POV. (I will also be putting song inspirations on each part 🤍)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: There will be a LOT of mentions of heavy drug use in this series. This series DOES NOT glorify the use of drugs. It is not cool, it is not fun, it is something that destroys people and everyone around them. I have loved and lost people I know to drug and alcohol use, a lot of what you read here is my own personal experience from what I have seen with my own eyes. I hope this series will spread awareness and will give anyone and everyone who reads this hope. If you or anyone you know is struggling with addiction, please know you are not alone, there is help out there.

The silence is almost deafening as I sit there in my dimly lit office, tapping my finger against the arm of the chair; the metal of my ring clinking as I stare at my therapist, Dr. Catherine Ryan, in front of me. She had a kind smile, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk today.

“What’s bothering you?” She asks gently.

I gaze at her, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. A stupid habit I formed when I stopped using six months ago.

Let’s see, I’m tired of the noise inside my head that is constantly reminding me what a piece of shit I am. I’m lucky that my bandmates don’t hate my guts for the shit I put them through on tour when I was needle deep in a heroin fog and couldn’t remember the lyrics to a fucking song I wrote. My music career is only surviving because the world thinks we’re on a hiatus to write our next album when I actually did a stint in rehab and have court ordered mandatory therapy once a week. The only way I can have therapy is if she comes to my escape cabin in upstate New York and escorted in and out by a security guard.

Oh, I also can’t stop thinking of you, the one whose heart I broke fifteen years ago back in Hawkins, Indiana because I was too scared to love or be loved. The same you who mailed me a letter that I received at my P.O. Box in Boston three days ago, that I haven’t opened yet and sits in my back pocket folded up, because I’m too much of a pussy to see what you have to say.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I tell her, taking a cigarette out of my pocket. I let the smoke fill my lungs and exhale the smoke away from her.

“What do you want to talk about?” She asks, crossing her legs. I stare at her long legs, and my eyes scan up her body. She was curvy and thick, with a perfect set of tits and stunning green eyes. I almost laugh, if a beautiful woman like her was in my house six months ago, it wouldn’t take long before I’d have her bent over the back of my couch, fucking her until she couldn’t take it anymore. But I couldn’t do that anymore. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, or whatever the fuck the saying is.

“Eddie, this is mandatory therapy. I can’t help you if you’re not willing to talk. We’ve had four sessions so far, and the only thing we have talked about is your drug habit.” She seemed annoyed, and I couldn’t blame her.

“I’m only here because of my drug habit.”

“Is that all?”

She was testing me, and I smile at her, leaning my elbows against my knees. “You know, I bet you are really good at helping people and are able to get your patients to sit here and cry about their shitty lives or whatever it is people tell you. But I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, you’re not gonna get it from me.”

“You keep up a guard. Defense mechanism, it’s common in people who have been hurt before.” She says, scribbling a note down.

I narrow my eyes. “I sense judgment in your tone, and I’m not sure I care for it.”

“It’s not judgement, Eddie. It’s an observation. I’m observing you.”

I sit back against my chair and scoff, lighting up another cigarette with the ember of the one I just had. I inhale deeply. “I think our session should be cut early today.”

She closes her notebook and gives you a kind smile. “If that’s what you want.”

“I do.” I tell her.

I get up from my seat as she stands, walking her to the door where the security guard waited outside. I may be an asshole, but I know how to be a gentleman. Chivalry isn’t dead when your name is Eddie Munson. She nods at me as she leaves, handing me her card for the time of the next session for next week and I close the door behind her. I stub out the cigarette in the ashtray and let out a deep sigh. I plop myself on the couch, hearing the crinkle of the letter in my back pocket and I lift my hips to pull it out. I look at the neat print on the front; seeing your handwriting brought back so many memories that I had forgotten about.

Why would you send me a letter? Is it just to tell me how happy you’ve been these last fifteen years since I’ve been gone, that you’re married with children, thriving in your thirties?

“Well, the only way to know is if you open the letter, dipshit.” I mutter to myself. I groan, shaking my head as I rip the letter open and unfold it. It was only two pages, but you had written a lot.

Hey, You’re a tough guy to find, being famous and all. I didn’t think this P.O. Box was real at first, but I ended up tracking down Gareth and he told me it was real. I can’t believe he still has the phone number he’s had since high school. I don’t know why I’m writing you a letter, I guess I could’ve just texted you, he did give me your number, but I wanted this to feel more personal. Like when I’d write you those stupid folded notes in class. I know it’s been a long time, and you’re probably thinking I’m absolutely insane, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. There are so many things that I wanna say to you. There are so many things that were left unsaid, and I guess lately it’s been bothering me. You’re probably not even going to get this, so I don’t even know why I’m continuing to write. I don’t want you to think that I hated you or have hated you this whole time. It would be easier to hate you, believe me, I’ve tried but I physically cannot have that kind of power over me. I’m proud of you, Eddie. You worked so hard to get to where you are, and you made your dreams come true. I knew you could. I want to tell you I’m proud of you in person; to let you know that what happened in the past stays there and we can both move forward in a way. I mean, I just told you now. I know you’re really busy and I feel stupid now. But I will be in Boston in December, the week of the 18th while my aunt is down in Florida for the week, house sitting. Gareth had mentioned you and the band were taking a hiatus to focus on the writing and doing some self reflecting. I would love to see you, especially with the holiday season.

It’s not every day you get to see the boy you’ve known since diapers be on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, selling out stadiums.

Please don’t feel obligated, though.

I suddenly forgot how to swallow, and I almost choke on my own saliva. You had written your phone number on the bottom of the last page. I swing my legs onto the floor, taking my phone off the coffee table. I scroll to my contact list, and add your name, along with your phone number.

I pause, my hands begin to shake, and I inhale deeply.

“No no no, not now, not now.” Grimacing, I sit back on couch, closing my eyes as my stomach turns to knots and my chest feels like it was going to explode. I can feel the sweat bead at the back of my neck as the panic attack feels like it’s choking me out and I groan. I go into the drawer of the coffee table, pulling out the lorazepam pill bottle, taking a minute to open the cap because my hands were so sweaty. I throw the pill in my mouth, swallowing it dry and breathe in through my nose.

This happens more often now, especially since being off dope, I had to learn how to deal with them like a normal thirty-four-year-old man. It took a lot of convincing for my doctors to give me the lorazepam, but apparently threatening to go and take a hot shot of heroin to kill myself was convincing enough for them to give me the lowest dose of the stupid pill.

I close my eyes. Thinking back to how I got here; how I could’ve lost everything because of my own stupidity, because of my inability to slow down, because I took sex, drugs, rock and roll too literally. All because I refuse to let love into my soul and hold on tight.

One year earlier

The dressing room walls echo with the moans of myself and...I don’t even remember her name. Sarah? Shelly? It doesn’t even matter. I only see the back of her head anyway; she was very blonde. I hold onto her hips tightly, slamming my cock in and out of her. She was screaming like a porn star, and I’m pretty sure she was putting on a show.

“Oooooh, just like that baby. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Oh goddd, you’re so fucking good.” She moans and I roll my eyes, slamming into her harder just to get her to shut up. I reach over to the coffee table to grab my tiny vile of cocaine, I pop open the cap, and pull out of her for a moment. She was still rolling her hips as I sprinkle the drugs onto her ass.

“Stop fucking moving.” I tell her, grabbing the plastic straw and snorting back the drugs into my airways. She moans again when she hears me snort another line off her, and I slam myself back into her. My head falls back in pleasure, the effects of the cocaine causing every single part of my body to pulsate, and I can feel my orgasm approaching.

“Fuuuuck.” I moan, my rhythm getting sloppy, and she groans.

“Cum inside me baby, cum inside me.” She moans and I immediately feel myself go soft. Fuck this. I stop moving and slide myself out of her, she turns to look at me, her mouth opened in a gasp. “Why did you stop?”

I take a cigarette out of my pack and light it. “Get out.”

“What?” She snaps.

“Get your shit and get the fuck out of my dressing room. Telling me to cum inside you, I know what you’re doing.” I take her dress off the floor and throw it at her. Her eyes narrow and she gets up from the couch, throwing the dress over her head.

“You weren’t even that good, fucking junkie!” She yells at me, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lungs. She looked like a cartoon character. Her eyes wild, her hair a wild mess, her fake tits bouncing as she storms out of the room. I lean back on the couch, a little mad that I didn’t cum, but whatever, that’s what my hand is for. I don’t know why I invite these women back to my dressing room after every show. Most of the time, these women don’t even know the words to our songs, they just want to be able to tell their friends they fucked a rockstar. I sigh, opening the vile and do another bump. I’m one hundred percent in love with heroin, but I’m an addict. Cocaine just takes the edge off when I need it to. I tie my hair back in a low bun, blowing my bangs out of my face. I stand, catching a glimpse of myself in the fluorescent lit vanity mirror. The lighting made me look terrible; I was thinner than normal. The ram skull tattoo across my abdomen looked discolored, but I know it was just the way the light was hitting it. I was losing muscle mass in both of my arms, but since tattoo sleeves covered both my arms, no one could notice. No one knew how bad it was getting with the dope; I honestly preferred to suffer in silence about it, but I knew they noticed. I would feel Gareth’s eyes burn into the back of my skull whenever I would escape to go into a bathroom, or immediately go into my hotel room to get started on my new supply. I felt terrible keeping it from him, he was my brother, my bandmate, but he didn’t need to worry. I was fine, at least that’s what I told myself.

We had awhile before we hit the next city of the tour. The tour bus felt too crowded, too stuffy. We all decided it would make sense to hide out in a hotel for a few days before we got to Atlanta. I requested my own room of course, the supply I just bought felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket. Isn’t that what they say about money?

Money meant nothing to me; if I lost it all tomorrow, I wouldn’t care. That’s the beauty of this drug, you don’t have a care in the world once that shot courses through your veins.

I lock the door to my room after saying goodnight and head into the bathroom. I pull my shirt over my head and undo the belt from my jeans. I set everything up on the table: fresh needle, the drugs, and water bottle cap. It doesn’t take long for me to pull the dope into the syringe, at this point it’s like riding a bike for me. I sit on the floor against the bathtub, I wrap the belt around my left arm, pulling it tight with my teeth and clench my fist. I see the most perfect vein pop up in the bend of my arm; I have to be careful though, I can’t go to the same spot twice or else I’ll blow up my veins and then more people will notice. I’ve always hated needles, isn’t that ironic? I’m thinking that as the tip of it pinches my skin and my thumb is on the trigger, slowly pushing it down.

“A spoon full of sugar makes the medicine go down…” I sing softly, feeling the sweet burn of the heroin flow like a tsunami in my veins. My eyes flutter close as the most beautiful feeling overcomes me; my head lulls back against the porcelain and I feel a smile grace my lips.

A loud knock at my door startles me out of my high, and I’m pissed.

“Hang on a second.” I mutter and awkwardly pull myself up, undoing the belt from my arm. I place the cap on the needle and toss it behind the doors under the sink.

Knock knock knock knock knock

I toss my sweatshirt over my head, putting a cigarette to my lips. “Yeah, I hear you! Fuck, I’m coming.”

I open the door to find Gareth standing there with his arms crossed, I light the cigarette and wave my hand, tilting my head at him. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing?” He asks me.

“What do you mean what am I doing? I’m not doing anything.” I inhale on the cigarette, and he continues to stare at me. If there was a God, I thank him for giving me brown eyes, because at least he wouldn’t be able to see how my pupils look like pinholes. “Do you wanna come in?”

I move to the side, and he walks by me, I shut the door, locking it.

“Do you want a beer or anything?” I ask him, going into the mini fridge, pulling out two, I could feel myself about to nod, but I quickly stand up, clearing my throat so I can at least look like I’m not fucked up.

“No, I’m fine.” His eyes scan every inch of my room, the floor where my clothes were, Sweetheart laying on the foot of my bed. My necklace I always wore with the red guitar pick laid on the nightstand by the bed. I always take it off before I shoot up, I don’t know why, I think something is going to happen to it if I don’t, it means a lot to me. His eyes fix on my belt on the bathroom floor, he doesn’t say anything, but I know what he’s thinking.

“Gareth, if you got something to say, man, just say it.” I tell him, leaning against the small table, I ash my cigarette into a coca cola can.

He turns to me; he was still blessed with a baby face that I remember from school. “How bad is it getting?” He almost whispers.

“How bad is what getting?”

“The drugs, man. Come on dude, I know you’re not stupid.” He sits across from me on the foot of the bed, gently moving Sweetheart over.

I sigh. “Gareth, I’m fine. It’s not getting bad.”

He puts his head down, shaking his head. “Don’t fucking bull shit me, Eddie. I’ve known you for almost two decades. Have you even looked at yourself lately?”

I close my eyes, feeling a wave of anxiety hit my lower gut, and I force it to go away by not caring. “Don’t worry about me, man. I’m serious.”

“Of course, I’m gonna fucking worry!” He stands up, his face full of rage. “If you fuck up this tour, our entire music career is in the gutter! How many times have I had to bail you out when you’ve been coming down from a cocaine binge and are late to rehearsal? How many goddamn times have I had to convince cops not to arrest you when you’re inebriated beyond belief. It’s getting fucking old, man.” He towers over my 6-foot frame and again, I start laughing.

His eyes widen. “Are you seriously laughing right now?

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “I am, because it’s funny how you think I’m gonna be the one who’s gonna fuck up this tour. I built this band from the ground up, nothing and no one is gonna fuck that up.”

“Oh fuck you, dude!” He yells at me. “You built this? What happened to you saying this entire band was built on friendship, loyalty and fucking friends who play nerdy games? What happened to that Eddie?”

“Dead.” I give him a sideways smile. “Dead dead dead.”

He looks at me incredulous. “Wow. You’re an actual nightmare.”

“You’re the one who decided to knock on my door.” I place the cigarette in the can, hearing it sizzle out. I cross my arms over my chest, already itching for another shot. “Anything else?”

He scoffs, walking towards the door and stepping out. “No. Have a good night, Eddie.”

“Yeah, you too!” I scream at his back as I shut the door, locking all the locks and kicking the bottom of it. Suddenly, the chair near the table gets a boot from me, followed by the lamp, the paintings on the walls. I smash the beer bottles against the windows, and when I’m finally spent, I collapse on the bathroom floor, digging out the needle. I’ll leave the hotel a couple hundred dollars to pay for whatever I damaged; I’ll hopefully remember to clean up tomorrow.

I’m pretty sure I put too much in it this time, because I’m riding something wild right now. My eyes are half lidded, my breathing is slow but it’s such a peaceful feeling.

“Makes the medicine go down…medicine go down…”

The beginning of that year was when shit started going downhill fast for me. Once I had gotten my panic attack under control, and I felt calmer, I sent you a text message, realizing that tomorrow was the 18th. I typed up, deleted, typed up, deleted, about six different times before finally sending you: Hey stranger, it’s Eddie. Pretty wild to hear from you. I’m currently up in my cabin in upstate NY, but if you are gonna be in Boston. I can make the trip. It would actually be awesome to see you. Hope you are well.

I forgot how nervous you made me, even back then. You were such a kind, beautiful soul, who loved me and took care of me when I didn’t deserve it. I was so nervous all the time because I really loved you too, but I couldn’t…wouldn’t let myself feel it. You were the only woman in my life that knew me, and actually saw me. You were my best friend, always my partner in group activities in elementary school. It was us against the world the minute I kissed you for the first time when we were eighteen, and then it ended with me, burying my head in the sand, because I’m a fucking idiot.

My phone dings and I see your name pop up. Hey!!! Wow, your own cabin huh? Are you a mountain man or something this winter season? I’m sorry if my letter was all over the place, I really should’ve just texted you but, whatever. Here we are now. Yes! Let’s meet, I can give you a spot to meet for coffee? Unless you just want my aunt’s address, I don’t know how Boston is when it comes to famous people.

I type up a message: Boston is one of those cities that is wild to play on stage in front of, but the people don’t give a fuck if you’re famous. Which is why I bought a condo there, I can live out some downtime in peace. Coffee sounds great. Just let me know a time when you are settled.

You quickly respond: Ha! Boston is pretty rad. I’m already here, I got here a day early. I know you got a pretty long drive so we can meet the day after tomorrow if you’d like? Say around 10?

I type up that that time and date worked for me and begin packing a small suitcase to take with me on the trip.

I honestly felt like I was dreaming all this; I get sober, you, a woman that was literally the one that got away because of my own fucking deep-rooted issues, comes back into my life and wants to see me? I feel like I’m living the Notebook. Except, the rated R version where Ryan Gosling is an ex-junkie, who doesn’t build houses, or used to blow cocaine off a woman’s asshole.

I groan, I already know I’m gonna fuck this up again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The coffee shop you chose was a place I’ve never been before, it seemed newer, and no one batted an eye when I walked in. I take off my sunglasses and scan the place. It was quaint, quiet, with rustic undertones but mostly modern.

“Eddie?”

My eyes immediately fix on you, sitting in the back booth by a small window, and I feel my heart flutter down to my stomach. God, you were stunning. Your eyes still shone that sparkle in them, your smile was just as adorable as I remembered, especially the dimples in your cheeks. I whisper your name and find myself quickly walking towards you. You wrap your arms around my shoulders, and I let out a deep sigh, almost lifting you off your feet, as I hug the curves of your waist, burying my face into your shoulder. We stay like that for a while, you giggle into my chest, telling me you couldn’t believe it was me and that I was here. I didn’t want to let go, but I knew I had to. We pull away and you are still smiling, looking into my eyes, you lift your hand to gently curl your fingers into my hair and I smile at you.

“I love that you still kept this hair.” You say, shaking your head, looking like you’re still trying to process that I’m standing in front of you.

I gently cup your face, swallowing hard, studying you. You turn your cheek into my hand, and I slowly remove it. You nod for me to sit, and I scoot over into the booth, peeling off my leather jacket. I still stare at your face; I couldn’t believe you were real. The server comes over to take our coffee order, I get mine hot with triple espresso and a shot of caramel, and you get an iced coffee with a shot of vanilla and almond milk. I smile, you’ve kept the same order since you started drinking coffee.

Your eyes fix on mine, and I smile at you, sipping my coffee. “You haven’t changed.” I tell you softly.

“My back will have to disagree with you.” You laugh, spinning the straw with your finger. “You haven’t either, aside from more tattoos.”

I smile; remembering that you were there for most of my smaller ones. I had convinced you back then to get a large tattoo that started from under your breast, all the way down to the top of your hip; that was always my favorite part of you to taste. I cross my legs, feeling a tingle in my lower belly. Fucking pervert.

I notice a few finger tattoos on your right hand, and I nod to them.

“I told you they were addicting.” I laugh. “How many do you have now?”

You laugh, a sound so beautiful to my ears, I want to cry. “Sixteen? Seventeen?”

My eyes widen and I laugh. “No way! Let me see.”

You meet my eyes, your face turning crimson. Of course, there were hidden ones, I immediately feel like I overstepped and go to apologize when you speak. “It’s a lot of random ones, all over. I added some stuff to the rib piece.” That one you show me, you lift up your sweater, and I feel my dick twitch.

Pervert. Dirty pervert. It’s been fifteen years, put your dick away.

The cluster of wildflowers that started from your ribs to your hip had added roses to different spots they ended up entwining into a beautiful ivy vine, before falling off towards your back. I notice the bottom of a small piece on your sternum, and you pull your sweater back down.

“That’s beautiful.” I tell her, smiling. “What have you been doing these last fifteen years?”

“Well, I moved out of Hawkins.” I smile at that, she always wanted to leave that place. “I moved to Maine, I bought myself my own little cabin in the woods. I’m a nurse at the local hospital there.”

My heart practically bursts with pride, and I laugh. “See? You don’t have to be famous to have your own cabin. That’s wonderful, I know that was always a dream of yours, becoming a nurse.”

“Yeah, it’s fulfilling. Heartbreaking 99% of the time but fulfilling.” Your eyes fix on mine again, and we just share comfortable silence as we stare at one another.

“Your eyes are sad.” You say suddenly.

“What?” I snap myself back down to my reality; it was easy to get lost in your eyes.

“You look like you’ve been through hell and back again. Sorry for being blunt, I’m just sorry for whatever is bothering you.” Your eyes show me that same familiar kindness, and I smile awkwardly at you.

“I’m okay.” I tell you, only half lying.

You place your hand over my ringed fingers, gently entwining them. I stare at our hands, and gaze back into your eyes. “What am I doing here?” I whisper to you. I can feel my heart do another back flip, and my brain screams at me to get up and run because I can still feel your love.

Your fingers gently move over the bumps on my rings, and your eyes dart to mine. You spot the small silver chain around my neck, half tucked in my shirt, and you lift your hand to gently pull out the red guitar pick. You finger the plastic and smile. “Wow. You kept this all these years.”

“Of course, I did. I never take it off.” Except when I used to shoot dope, but that’s beside the point. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sweetheart, why am I here?”

You sigh, giving me a sad smile. “Would it be weird if I said that I really fucking miss you? And for the last fifteen years, I haven’tstopped thinking about you.”

Heart exploding.

My breath hitches and my eyes widen slightly. “But…I hurt you…and I left—"

“I know, I know you did, but” you take my hand again. “Eddie, we were best friends. Since before we could even say those words. You were so important to me. You’re still important to me. How could we throw that away?”

I stare at you, reading your face, gazing at the shape of your mouth, the way your hair falls in waves, the curves of your breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut, pulling my hand away from yours. “You wouldn’t think that anymore once you know what I’ve done, who I’ve become.”

“Then tell me.” You say softly, your eyes dart from my lips, to my eyes. I stare at your lips, remembering how perfectly they fit against mine, how soft they were. How eager you would be when your tongue would slip into my mouth, deepening the kiss, your soft moans vibrating against my mouth as I carefully push myself inside you.

I meet your eyes; you’re waiting for me to say something. I shake my head, running my hands over my hair. I sigh. “How long you got?”

You look at your wrist at a fake watch. “About a week.” I laugh and lean back in my seat, sipping my coffee.

Yeah, I missed you too.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Special shout out to: @trixyvixx @originalstar1 @iggyizalien @themorticians-world

& so many of you who supported my last series.

I wouldn’t continue writing if it weren’t for you guys giving me the motivation to do it. Love you all!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson comfort #rockstar eddie munson #Spotify

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boydepartment · 1 year ago

Note

Grumpy x sunshine trope w/ jay :<

I GOTCHU MY DEAR <3 if you wanted the reader to be the grumpy one shoot me another ask and i will be so happy to write you up another one :)

you’re smiling- jay park x reader

MASTERLIST au is ambigious, he could be an idol or he could just be a dude wc- 752

This was your first time going on a vacation with a group of friends, it was uncharted waters and it made you so excited to experience new things with your friends. You were so lucky to have such a nice group, it kept your spirits way up.

Even when your best friend sometimes got a little down spirited. Jay Park wasn’t always like that, he just sometimes had that look written on him that made some people who didn’t know him a little intimidated. You’ve watched him roll his eyes at people and huff out of annoyance; it didn’t stop you from bothering him sometimes though.

You couldn’t help it, you absolutely loved getting into his personal space and trying to make him smile by doing stupid things that sometimes landed in you getting hurt. Jay's immediate response was to always patch you up with a remark or two on how you need to be more careful. You would just smile and nod.

You didn’t know this, but Jay loved this about you. He loved how even if he was in a mood that didn’t stop you from bothering him. In fact, you never bothered him at all, it took him a long time to realize that. When he finally connected the pieces that you didn’t actually bother him, and he started to miss your little quirks- Jay knew he was in hot water. Part of him didn’t want to go on the trip knowing you were going to be there because he just knew he would fall more in love with you.

And here you two were, it was late, and the window was open in the kitchen. It lets the hot summer breeze warm you both up from the freezing cold air conditioning. It was comforting.

“Oh, come on why wont you listen to it with me?” You whined as he did the dishes that originally Sunoo was supposed to do. He ended up accidentally knocking out with Heeseung, though you think he did it on purpose.

“Because I am doing the work, so I choose the music.” Jay said stoically. He had his back faced towards you, you just kicked your feet at the dinner table and watched him.

“So then, I will do the dishes and I can pick the music!” You hopped up and he whipped around, towel now on his shoulder.

You looked up at him with curious eyes and he did everything in his power to not break his monotonous look, “whaaat?” You gave him a funny look.

“Last time I let you do the dishes you ended up getting water stains on all of them.”

You whined and grabbed onto his arms, “I looked up YouTube videos please!”

Jay looked down at you, “you looked up YouTube videos on how to do the dishes?”

“Um obviously, I wanted to get better at it for you!”

Jay felt his heart pang, he blinked a couple times before you softly flicked him in the forehead. You were giggling and he wanted to do something, ANYTHING, but he just kept his stoic look.

“Move over I wanna do it, and I want you to listen to the new album with me!” You shoved him lightly and he moved over. You went on your tip toes to grab the towel, then you faced the demons in the sink. He just watched you as you danced around, you were still doing it wrong. But Jay didn’t mind, he will clean them up after you go to bed or something. He just enjoyed watching you.

You were in your own little world listening to the singer belt their heart out, it was upbeat and fun. You always thought Jay should listen to more music like this, you think it would help his grumpy attitude. You “finished” the dishes and turned to him; he was smiling at you.

“Youre smiiiling!” You skipped over to him to tease him more.

“No, I’m not.” Jay said quickly and looked away; he covered his mouth with his hand.

“Yes, you are! You must like the album then!”

You really had no idea; he thought the album was OKAY at best. What he really liked was watching you dance around and be one of the brightest things he has ever seen. You were like a sun to him, and you really had no clue how much he loved to bathe in your sunlight.

“Oh, nooooo you caught me! I think the album is just so good.” He said sarcastically and looked at you. Your response was to laugh and put the towel back on his shoulder.

Jay watched as you walked to the other room, his smile coming back when you weren’t looking just like always.

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0rah-s · 2 years ago

Text

Guilt - chapter 2

Teenage!reader x various!genshin (platonic)

Tw: reader kinda has depression, some cursing (this should not be used as a mean to diagnose yourself!)

Sorry for any mistakes, English isn't my first language

Your mind raced?

What was happening?

Were you being robbed??

Whatever in hell was happening - someone was still in your house.

The most sensible thing to do would be to hide in an unconspicuous area of you bedroom: in the wardrobe? Under the bed? Behind the curtains? URGHHH all this thinking began to fry your brain.

Unfiltered murmurs passed through your doors due to the poor noise cancellation of your room ; there were multiple voices, meaning the level of danger and doubled if not trippled!

Curiousity had the best of you but thankfully stupidity hadn't - you had a message that was ready to be sent to the police immediately in case of danger (which told "there's an intruder/multiple intruders in my house and i am home alone, i live at *your adress* please send help). You opened your door praying for the door not to creak (and thank the heavens it did not).

You tip-toed your way nearer to the living room where the noise was coming from, and peaked at what was going on.

Your jaw droped; a group of... cosplayers??

That made no sense...

Before you had the time to compose yourself and think rationaly, you saw a very tall man picking up what seems to be a small journal.. was that..? YOUR BABY ALBUM PHOTO ?!?

You yelped in embarrassment and fear which gave your position away, half the people in your living room snapped their heads toward you.

You froze.

A tall and charismatic purple lady readied her spear, "Who goes there, explain yourself! "

And guess what ? That did not help calm down your anxiety ;D

Running was useless, you sent the message you typed before leaving your room to the police number and slowly walked up to the strangers with your hands in the air (your phone still held in your right hand).

"Ei, let's deal with this matter in a moderate manner" the tall man in a smart brown suit then looked at you "surely there must be room for negotiation. what is your reason for bringing us here and what do you require from us. I am certain we can reach a common ground" a shorter man in red and a green little girl nodded in agreement.

"As a sustainer of heavenly order i simply cannot accept! I will get my answers through whatever means." Her face couldn't possibly get sterner, if not for your exhaustion you would have been shaking in fear right this instant.

The same man that had graped you album interjected, "yeah, i think we should all chill out, that looks like a kid-" he walked walked up close and scanned you, looked at you dead in the eye, spun you around and side hugged you.

Huh ?

"But i bet they could be of help!" He exclaimed with the widest grin. The others stayed silent at the suggestion, it was worth a try.

"Say kid, d'you know where we are? Thats a pretty weird but nice place! " Was that a compliment?

Mustering up all the courage you could gather, you spoke.

"T-thank you ??"

"You're in my house right now... So inthenicestwaypossible shouldn't i be asking you who you are and what you're doing here?" You said as you avoided eye contact at all costs.

A blond person came forward in front of the purple lady (was it to make you feel safer?). "That's a fair claim, how about we answer eachother's question?" You nod in agreement.

He smiles at your willingness to cooperate,. "how about we start by introductions?"

The man still hugging you goes "OH oh ok I'll go first!!" *Ahem* "apart from the little green lady and the kid, everyone knows me here but but for the sake of my die hard fans - I'll go again. The name's arataki itto, a pleasure for the both of us" you couldn't help but chuckle and alas the oni had managed to calm your nerves.

"Is it truly safe to give our personal information to a stranger? For all we know this shy acts could be a facade to make us lower our guards" an angry green man said. A happier looking green man answer "we wont know unless we try!"

And each by turn introduce themselves, and then came you. Deep breath in, deep breath out. "My name is y/n and- oH SHIT!" The suddent rise in volume alarmed all people present in the room and set them back on the guards. "Oh geez i totally forgot i called the police on you! Wait a minute!!!"

You hurriedly unlocked your phone and went to the text message and improvised something (you typed: im sorry false alarm, those were my neighbours which my parents had given a spare of the keys to. I profusely apologizes!!)

You sighed in relief at the fact that they had not yet got onto you and were probably too bussy with other cases.

Still confused they all stare at you. "Is.. everything all right?" The person that introduced themselves as kazuha asks.

"Yes, i just realised that i had almost reported you to the authorities for breaking into my house haha...."

"How could you possibly have done it so fast?" The monst- ei said.

"With my phone i guess?"

"What's a pphhhone?"

God this is gonna take a while...

Tag list: @innuwu @mikoochaan @guess-i-die @thatdeadaquarius @slaylatus @astolary @shinydrakeon15 @scarlet703 @candyqueen10 @motherscrustytoenailclippings @namine123 @kokxm1 @percea @zyphyrr @amaisverydum

Im so incredibly sorry of the wait again ( ToT) the next chapter should arrive pretty fast !!!!

Ask to be tagged!

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harrysmimi · 2 years ago

Text

Best Boyfriend

Synopsis: One where Harry finds his girl having a break down

More of my work

Harry was going over to see his girlfriend at her flat as he'd returned back in London just last night.

It was a Saturday morning and he has been planning to surprise her with a weekend away. Maybe a little trip to somewhere near or day out in London itself. He picked up breakfast on his way to her flat.

His heart sunk to his stomach the moment he entered her flat with the help of the spare key she gave him last Christmas, it was his present she said so he can come over whenever he pleased. There he found his girl layed on her bed in her studio flat with text books and printed notes every spread over the mattress, the place was a mess, pillows and blankets thrown on the floor to make room for her stuff. She was layed there with her laptop on her tummy watching some cartoon crying her eyes out. By the sounds of the show playing on her computer it seemed it was something funny and not something to cry over.

"Hey, love what's wrong?" He rushed towards her dropping the bag pf breakfast on the coffee table. "Are you watching a sad movie, baby?"

"No, I'm watching Noddy and Friends that's not fucking sad!" She cried. "I'm sorry!"

"What's wrong, my love?" He moved her notes away carefully to make himself room to and proceeded to close her laptop shut to pull her in his arms.

"I can't do this!" She exclaimed, sobbing, "I understand nothing."

"What can you not do baby?" He was confused, "it's okay, do you wanna talk about it?"

"This stupid project. I don't know where to get the information from. My professor thinks just because he's been teaching this subject for thirty years that we know everything. This sucks! I wanna drop out." She on ranting, "but I can't because my mum will be mad. This is so draining."

"Why don't you ask your professor do give you some tips?" He suggested.

"I did, he said I'll get everything online and in the notes. I have no fucking idea where to find a fucking Balance sheet of a random company online."

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's all okay." He assured her, "let's do one thing, you're up for it?"

"What?" She whined, "I don't want to go anywhere. Just lemme be here."

"No, listen to me. I got us breakfast, I'm sure you didn't even had your breakfast yet. Then we're gonna go on a little walk." His hand ran in soothing strokes on her spine. "It's just a project, I'll help you with it." Now that made her loft her head up, he had tried helping her once before but gave up because he did not understood a thing he read. "No, I am gonna help you this time. I promise you. Now come on let's eat."

"I don't want to." She started crying all over again. "I am sorry I'm crying."

"No it's alright lovie." He pressed a kiss on her forehead, "it's alright. Getting out will help clear your mind. I see watching something to do that isn't helping you now. Let's eat and go out, yeah? We can go get your favourite frozen yogurt."

Her fave turned of something of embarrassment when he mentioned of them going out. Her eyes pooled up with tears all over again, her cheeks glistening with the tears.

"I don't get paid till tomorrow!" And there she was sobbing again.

"Who said you've to pay? I'm taking you out on a date, now come on." He urged her, "I'll pick this all up for you." She finally agreed got out of bed to go wash up her face.

It's been little over eight months YN and Harry started seeing each other, and out of three months he was away for filming for Dunkirk and getting his album all finished up. He is sure she is still not quite over her little awkward and shy phase, but he doesn't blame her. She's got a lot going anyway. She's in the last year of college and it's been stressful for her. And living miles and miles away from home wasn't doing anything to help her either, last year she couldn't even go to see her family over her winter break. Harry took it upon himself to be with him.

He's most amazing boyfriend!

It was the best Christmas he's spent in a long, long time though. Though she couldn't buy him presents like he did (and went a little overboard) she made him a few little DIY ones. Like jar of little notes to read when he's feeling: low, anxious or just need a little motivation, a pearl necklace (though he broke it on accident soon after), gave him a free manicure.

She's a keeper, Mitch said seeing the little glass jar at Harry's place.

Meanwhile Harry gathered up her notes spread all over her bed, and took everything out of the little take out boxes onto dishes. Put back her bed together for her even though he knows she's gonna be pissed for doing her work. She needs a break.

"Come on," he grabbed her hand in a gentle hold before she could even say a word and walk to the coffee table where he'd set up their breakfast.

"Thank you!" She cooed noticing he's got all her favourite food. Like he really woke up early and went to the restaurant and waited in line to get the food which she likes. It warmed her heart.

"Of course my love," he leaned in to get his long awaited kiss from her with puckered lips. She finally smiled and leaned in too press a kiss on the full on his lips. "That's my girl!" He grinned peppering her face with more sloppy and wet kisses which made her let out a line of soft giggles.

They went out like he promised her. They got the Frozen yogurt from her favourite place, he even surprised her with an impromptu visit to the London Eye.

Later that day he actually sat down and started on with the project with her. It was a difficult one so they're going to have to spend the sunday in to get it done as it was due on Monday, midnight. Two days seemed enough.

He actually helped her and not be his naughty self and annoy her like her enjoys to some times.

N O T E :

I wrote this in one sitting. 😭 Please tell me if there are any mistakes on here.

Please do leave tell me if you're liking my work so far. And leave a like and reblog if you wish. 🤗🥰

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @theroosterswife24 @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @japanchrry Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year ago

Text

“Just hold still…and done!” Nancy grinned as she capped the eyeliner. She brushed a lock of hair out of his face before declaring, “You’re officially stage-ready.”

Eddie turned to look at himself in the mirror, instantly pleased with what he saw. Steve always said that his big-ass Bambi eyes were his best feature, and the eyeliner really was making them pop. Add that with the tight jeans, the leather jacket, and the combat boots, and Eddie actually looked like he belonged on a stage.

He looked good, but he only cared so much about his own thoughts, “You think Steve will like it?”

Nancy rolled her eyes, “Like you have to ask. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t have a heart attack.”

Eddie grinned at that. He could only hope that his reaction would be that good, “And it will last all night?”

“At least for 12 hours,” She reassured, “I used the good stuff. This eyeliner lasted on my mom for a fifteen-hour plane ride once, with layovers. You’re ready.”

Eddie nodded. That was basically equivalent to spending a wild night with Steve, the odds were in his favor. He reached over to give Nancy a one-armed hug, taking the time to hover for a second before she gave him a subtle nod.

“God, you’re such a lifesaver,” Eddie sighed as he squeezed her to his side, “You sure you don’t want to come?”

Nancy snorted, “Are you kidding me? My dad would ground me for the next five years if I got caught. And you know I love you guys but I can barely deal with Steve gushing over you on a normal day, let alone one where you actually look hot.”

“Awwww, you think I’m hot?” Eddie cooed, laughing at the way it made her cringe.

She was already gathering everything back up into her makeup bag, trying and failing to hide her little smile, “Don’t push it.”

But he did, of course he did, the whole way back to the Wheeler house, earning himself a sharp pinch to his arm more than once. He dropped her off at home, promising that they would call her first thing in the morning to say how it went. Then he picked up his boys and the four of them were off, all of them excited out of their minds.

Eddie had never imagined that he would be playing on a real stage, in a real city. It had been a silly little radio contest for a charity event, first five callers got the privilege to audition to be a one-time opener for Metallica, a band that Eddie adored but the rest of the world hadn’t seemed to have caught on to yet. It was a one-time thing, paired with some great luck for the station to catch them for a single night before their next album release. But still, it was a big deal, especially for people like them that had less than zero connections. Steve was the one who insisted that they call in. Eddie had just never thought that they would have actually won.

But they had, and the prize was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet a band that Eddie just knew was going to be huge one day. Plus, free hotel rooms for the weekend? What more could a guy ask for?

It was a fun drive, of course it was. You couldn’t get Eddie, Freak, Gareth, and Jeff in a room together without it being a blast. The only problem was that he already missed Steve. Which was, admittedly, stupid as fuck considering that he’d see him in a matter of hours. He just hated that he had to sneak out for this. Or more aptly, he hated that his parents forced him to sneak out for this. But they had a good plan here.

He’d lie and say he was going to bed early to prepare some bullshit elaborate date for Nancy, one that would involve him being gone for all of Saturday. He’d sneak out his window by seven, drive the two hours to be there just in time for the curtains opening at nine-thirty. Then they’d spend the night together like they had been every night for years, his parents none the wiser.

The shitheads.

Saturday night and Sunday would be a little trickier, but Steve was coasting off the fact that his parents usually forgot to say goodbye when they left for a trip. They had a red-eye flight at 3 am, and Nancy was already prepped to make a fake phone call to ask if he could stay for dinner Saturday. With any luck, they would forget about him entirely, both of them too tired to think about the fact that they wouldn't have seen their son for nearly two days. The last bit was more of a gamble, but Steve wasn’t about to let his parents' wrath ruin his shot at a romantic and paid-for weekend with his boyfriend. Besides, when it came to Nancy, his mom basically never questioned anything. Hell, she was basically on the edge of planning their fucking wedding at this point, beyond ecstatic that Steve had finally gotten himself a permanent girlfriend.

God, that girl really was a lifesaver. Eddie was almost surprised at just how much he liked her, and not even because she was beyond useful when it came to hiding their relationship. She was just…kind of cool? He didn’t know how else to describe it, but her whole gun-toting, no-nonsense, and slightly bitchy persona was really doing it for him. Honestly, on a bad day, Eddie was slightly afraid of her, but he kind of liked that too. The fact that she could go from scarily intense to sarcastically hilarious just equated to a winning personality in his book. And that wasn’t even counting how happy she made Steve, and vice versa.

Sometimes he’d wander into the room that they were supposed to be studying in, only to find the two of them completely off the rails either talking about their shared passion for musicals, high school gossip, or more often than not, Steve Harrington approved seduction methods for her to try out on Jonathan Beyers. Or Tom Cruise, depending on the timing.

They wouldn’t even notice that he walked in most of the time, too caught up in laughing with each other. Maybe it was weird, but sometimes Eddie would just watch them for a minute. Steve would be all giggly and smiling and adorable, and it just made Eddie feel warm. Hell, even seeing Nancy happy was enough to make him smile most days, the girl deserved it after everything she’d been through last year. She was a good person and a good friend. And Eddie was going to get her so many corny Indy souvenirs for covering their asses tonight.

They were all nervous as hell when they finally got there, but actually getting to meet the band while they were setting up went surprisingly well. Though that mostly had to do with the fact that they had prepared for it. They had a fool-proof system of aggressively stepping on each other’s feet when one got a bit too fangirly. And though it left all four with some bruises, it did manage to stop Gareth from telling James Hetfield that he would totally marry him if he was a chick. They made a good impression, Eddie was pretty damn sure of it considering they offered free tickets for their next tour.

It was fun, even if he was still nervous as all hell when it was their time to play. He had never felt this anxious walking out on stage before. Maybe that had to do with the fact that it was a real stage, but still. He wasn’t the type to be nervous about performing at all, whether that be at the Hideout or hopping on lunch tables for an impassioned speech.

He swallowed as he looked out into the crowd, heart pounding in his chest as he realized just how many people were there. It was a far cry from the Hideout where they would be lucky to get ten people to actually notice when they were finished. But this had to be a hundred plus. Eddie’s eyes zeroed into the front row, scanning it for the one thing that could calm him down. It didn’t take long to spot him.

There he was, smack dab in the middle of the row, completely out of place with his adorable pink polo. He was leaning against the railing, hearts in his eyes as he waved up at him. Eddie grinned, his nerves disappearing the second Steve blew him a kiss. Just the sight of him was enough to bring Eddie back down to earth.

He stepped up to the mic, guitar in hand, and started to sing.

Excerpt from chapter 14 of this fic

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #the universe trapped in your skin #stranger things #very indulgent chapter #before the drama of season 2 #and i know thats not how radio contests work or where metallica even was but #lucky for me its all fantasy lol #this is sfw but the fic itself is not #secret relationship steddie #beard nancy wheeler #steddie childhood friends au #steve and nancy friendship #eddie and nancy friendship

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