#Song Prompt
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wildflower
jason todd. f! reader
description. harboring in the loss of your late boyfriend jason, his brother is tasked with protecting you, but he begins to think he crossed the line when the late robin is back from the dead and he already sacrificed much.
warnings. death / grief / funeral / super angsty / violence / fighting [gotham combat] / slight substance use / slightly au-ish [dick attends jasons funeral] / this is so ouch like tear inducing / pre-death to redhood! jason / platonic! dick and reader relationship /
based on wildflower by billie. adjusted to fit the story / blue lyrics match dick, red lyrics match jason and their thoughts
she was your girl, you showed her the world
things had been perfect. Perfect as assuming there were hardly any flaws or cracks surrounding the surface, so you would say that the relationship you shared with Jason was perfect. Who was to argue over movie nights, and watch the Gotham City sky-line off the rooftop under the grey illumination of the moon. Blissful kisses and dinner at the Wayne’s.
But what you were unaware of, was the costume that was making him sick; from the inside out. Yellow cape behind him waving in the wind almost like a warning and a sign for him to slow down. To take the mask off and face the real him. The Jason behind the glamour and confusion of life yearning for the truth. Little by little robinhood was driving him crazy and his past tickled at the back of his mind. The Joker wasn’t too far behind him either.
A few days after the two of you had begun dating, Jason bit down his pride. Anxiety bubbling in his stomach as meals were becoming less and less — as well as sleep, and though he couldn’t put a finger on the uneasiness he was having, It was making him bitter and irrational to everyone else. Including you.
Trudging through the Wayne residence, to pull a fluffy-haired Dick Grayson aside. Dick could see it all in Jason’s face, the existential dread, grief and sadness in one. His eyebrows furrowed and bags so deep it was leaving dark holes under his eyes.
So Dick asked if the two of you had broken up? Perhaps he was grieving the loss of your relationship, to which Jason shook his head but snatched Dick up by the collar of his shirt,
“Can you promise me something?” Jason stammered, voice shaking and his knuckles turning white against the blue shirt Dick was wearing
“Look after her, please. I-If I were to die tomorrow and there was no me…make sure she’s okay…please”
Please.
The six-letter word was something Dick thought that he would never hear out of the boy's mouth, but here he was; late in the depths of the night — begging him — almost on his knees. Dick couldn’t stop nodding his head, hands wrapping around Jason's wrist to pull him away from his shirt.
His brother didn’t really ask for much and a big request for his first ask was a little jarring.
It itched at the back of his mind seeing as Jason dropped his grip on his shirt and left, almost ghostly in his appearance.
she was cryin’ on my shoulder, all I could do was hold her, only made us closer until July
Flowers smelled nice in the rain. But not appreciated when you were front row, looking down at a sleek black casket. White and red roses decorate the top, with a wooden picture stand to the side. It was bittersweet how time worked. Snatching Jason down as his hourglass of time was shortening and dimming and his lucky nine lives were suddenly zero.
You, with your mouth agape gripped onto the umbrella as the rain poured down zoned out as his eulogy was being read.
Jason. Your Jason was in that casket, and his lack of contact suddenly made sense to you.
Dick paid close attention to how you were moving, tears littering your cheeks and sliding down your face like it would a window pane, and the grip you had on the umbrella similar to the one Jason had on his shirt a few months prior. His eyes trickled down to your hand, that was jerking forward until you consciously pulled it away and balled it into a shaking fist.
The wave of grief you were riding, and Dick right along with you.
It made the boy cry more seeing the way you were unraveling, the once energetic attitudes you had, dulled and destroyed with dead eyes and despair.
His hands couldn’t help it as they trickled their way to your forearm. Sending a gentle swipe of comfort and support, to which your body felt light and your head knocked onto his shoulder. Dick froze, Jason’s words playing like a record in the back of his mind as he held onto you. The umbrella for one, becoming an umbrella for two as his loose hand took it from your own.
Crying together was all you can do. A watchful Bruce at the back of you two, eyes burning holes into the shadow of the umbrella to his face. Guilt riddled in his stomach, was this what it felt like to lose?
His eyes connected with Alfred who could only stay silent as he watched as the young duo cried together.
That day, Dick publicly vowed, to you that he’d be there. For you to not be a stranger and that the Wayne Manor was always open to you, and of course Jason’s belongings. That it’s what his brother would have wanted.
but i see her, in the back of my mind, all the time
Dick was mortified, the heartbroken look on your face replaying in the back of his mind and it’s been years since Jason has been dead. His ears would ring constantly and sleep was becoming harder. Working with the Titans eased the pain of thinking about his loss…well, your loss—
As expected, you pushed yourself away, doing what you knew best.
It was easy to ghost the bat family shortly as the years came by. Bruce stopped calling but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching and Dick tried to keep you updated on his life — until traveling got in the way. So you bit the bullet and changed your number.
It settled your brain inside, to calm the panic that would rake through your body when you would get a message from Dick; almost irritated that Jason’s name wasn’t the one at the top of the screen instead— something saying that he wasn’t dead and that it’s just a prank. You would hope and you would dream.
like a fever, like i'm burning alive, like a sign
Dick respected your silence, and your absence all together. But it did feel like a slap to the face when Alfred would ask and he’d lie like he knew the answer when he didn’t. Truth is, his heart sank when he realized your number wasn’t the same. His cheeks got warm, his chest was burning and his stomach swirled at the thought of you, and maybe it was the selfish desire and urge to protect you and keep Jason’s word alive; because if he was honest, he was doing terrible at it.
So he spiraled, digging up everything he possibly could about you, so he could actually sleep at night knowing you were in good hands. He wondered if you were dating again, had you changed your hair or your job? But according to the Gotham City street tv’s you still looked like a spitting image from how you looked when he last saw you. Black from the trench coat at the top of your body to your shoes, it sent a shiver down his body.
But what was he going to say to you?
“Hey y/n I hope you’ve been well?”
“I’m sorry Bruce stopped calling”
“Why did you change your number?”
Dick felt his throat run dry, a cold tough lump every time he swallowed, almost like he couldn’t breathe. Then he sunk into his chair, floppy hair pushed back by his hands as he gripped at his scalp, typing in the nearest florist that he knew.
That evening, A mix of flowers arrived at your desk; Jason’s favorites. Your hands are entangled in the vase, fingers ghosting on the stem and leaves. Sniffing them almost took you back to standing in the rain that day. Coldness fills your body and the void that hasn’t been filled. You shrieked as your finger sliced a rectangular card of white paper, your crimson blood staining the white as you read the note; I hope you’re well — D . G
And you knew that name better than anyone.
and I know that you love me, you don't need to remind me
Grunts filled the air, alongside the slapping of fist against flesh and scuffing of shoes. The redhood emerged wrecking havoc on criminal business in Gotham and it certainly wasn’t going to go unnoticed. Dick should have known the minute he put his blue and black suit back on as he tussled side to side with the rather buff and tall man in front of him.
The red-hood shoved Dick off of him, holding onto the side of his mask in between pants “Why don’t we do this with honesty”
Dick tilted his head in confusion as he watched the red-hood dethrone his mask. Shaking his hair out and rolling it like a bowling ball towards Dick. Jason’s hair was a tad bit longer now, money pieces frosted blonde, and a J scar etched into his cheek, his gaze was hard and so lifeless. Dick felt like his heart stopped beating in his chest, breathes shakier than ever — burning up like he did when he had a fever. The wound was reopening for Dick. To see a very much alive Jason Todd in front of him was enough to throw him off his step. Hand crossed over his hip from the punches to his stomach, Dick doubled over.
“I’m gonna be sick, how are you…”
“fight me.” Jason spat bitterly as he stared at Dick, ignoring the way the boy was trying to piece together if his death even happened. If the body in the casket was even real, who could he blame?
“Why would I fight you, you’re my brother?” Dick argued taking off his domino mask, eye makeup surrounding his eyes as he stared into Jason eye-to-eye. He couldn’t feel his soul; he couldn’t see through him, and for some reason their meeting felt oddly eerie. He dropped the mask, the thick eye mask landing right next to Jasons mask on the floor. The dichotomy.
do you see her in the back of your mind, in my eyes?
“Where is she?” Jason poked, but Dick just remained silent his body resting against the wall,
“Dick, where the hell is she?” Jason repeated, this time with some base in his voice as the octave got louder.
He moved in closer.
“I can’t— I can’t tell you that I’m sorry” Dick muttered as his head hung low. Jason cursed under his breath as his body turned facing away from Dick as he had a hand resting over his mouth. “But I can reassure you, she’s safe”
“So tell me where she is!”
“I CAN’T !”
Maybe this was selfish of him, Dick thought this was the right move, the smarter choice…even; and guilt was chewing him up and spitting him out like bird food.
“I am sticking to what you said to me, and what you requested. You can’t just go back and play house, she’s hurt!” Dick paused as he tried to gather her thoughts, “let her heal”
His comment sent Jason over the edge, as his body lunged forward, fist in the air to plummet Dick’s face, missing as Dick’s reflexes started to kick in. Dick was doing well, dodging Jason’s punches until he reached in his holster, bringing out a small gun— silencer attached and began shooting at Dick in front of him who was successfully dodging every bullet.
“You can’t find her if I’m dead!”
Jason stopped firing, staring at the boy below him, chewing at his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut. Face filled with contemplation and indecision, Jason held his finger on the trigger firing it anyways, as the bullet traveled deep into the cement next to Dick’s leg — purposely missing by an inch. It did make his heart pang seeing the way Dick scrunched up in terror, with his arms blocking his face.
did i cross the line
Jason stood in front of your apartment building, fully suited in his suit. It was almost menacing how he looked. Thick boots on the fire escape, wet from the light dusting of rain as he broke your window seal open to climb inside.
Jason was immediately overwhelmed, it felt awfully warm inside but your perfume was also everywhere, every crevice of the room. His wet footsteps trickling around the room as he saw how empty your apartment looked. It almost reminded him of his own. Your white sheets, lack of red or color anywhere and that wasn’t quite like you. There was hardly any decor on your bedroom walls, but he didn’t wanna loose hope.
Jason traveled further down the hall of your apartment, the living room and kitchen separated by an island table that was closer in the kitchen, but still…minimalist and lack of pictures. He snickered to himself. It wasn’t you, or the you that he knew that encouraged him to not wear black all the time when he wasn’t out playing robin. He de-gloved his hands reaching for the photo that was facing down on the table— lifting up the glass to reveal a picture of a much younger him, and yourself together. It was taken by Alfred at one of Bruce’s Gala’s and it pained him how awkward he looked, but his eyes were vibrant and full of hope.
Jason’s body suddenly felt warm and he wanted to rip every article of clothing off his body, he couldn’t recognize himself or what he had become, where he had even been had been a blur. His memories felt every bit of a dream. But you were constant. The memories he had of you never changed, his hand shot up to his chest like the air was suddenly hard to breathe, when he crouched to the floor; knees in front of the mantle.
Jason was planning to get comfortable, his hand reaching up to take his mask off when he heard the jingle of keys outside your front door. Cursing to himself he took off, hiding back into your bedroom with the light off blending in with the dark curtains you had and the wall shadow.
He heard the front door open, you were walking in after your shift; struggling to stay upright as you shrugged off your coat and purse to the couch. The familiar trench coat that you always wore slightly damp but blobbed as it rested on the arm. You took off your shoes, one by one which made you notice the track of footprints on the floor. It was Gotham, meaning people liked to play on the fire-escape for fun which made you grab a knife from the knife block.
On the way down the hall, you’ve seen the picture of you and Jason up-right, causing your hands to grip around the picture but you think it could of been the alcohol you’ve been drinking that was making you see things. Flipping the picture over and back face down to the table you followed the footsteps into your bed-room.
Pushing the door open was rather humbling when met with vacancy and silence. You couldn’t even bother to hit the light as the moonlight shined on your face and casted a blue hint into the bedroom. But the breeze of your window was frustrating you. Sobering by the minute, as the knife dropped to the bed. You mumbled words to yourself like — “get it together,” “what’s wrong with you” and it pained Jason to see how you were moving from his stance in the curtain. You’d looked so similar from when he had last seen you, but the lack of color on your body made it clear the pain hasn’t left you. You’d become him, dull and lost.
Reaching the window you finally closed it, noticing that the lock to your window was broken. Groaning knowing you’d have to call maintenance that took forever and a day, so you turned on your heels as you walked out of your bed room and to the bathroom.
Jason couldn’t move, his feet felt cemented in the floor as he rested his body weight against the wall…He was trying to ignore the dampness of his mask and his face, as the tears cooked an obnoxious amount of condensation.
He was gone and out the window with the flush of the toilet and perhaps Dick was right about one thing.
i know you didn't mean to hurt me, so I keep it to myself
©TWINGLOCKROBINS 2025
#twinglockrobins — fics#angst#angsty fic#jason todd angst#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x reader x dick grayson#platonic! dick grayson x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#redhood x reader#red hood#redhood x you#jason todd fic#fanfic#redhood angst#dc x reader#song prompt
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Written for @steddiesongfics.
Heat Waves
August Prompt: Heat Waves by Glass Animals (2020) | Word Count: 1500 | Rating: E | CW: Explicit Sexual Content | Tags: There's a Heat Wave in Hawkins, Eddie POV, Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Pining, Voyeurism, Masturbation
It's fucking hot.
The fan is doing very little to keep up with this unbearable heat wave they're going through this summer. It's hotter than balls, and Eddie is absolutely certain it has something to do with the after effects of Vecna. Like cracking open the earth somehow unleashed the heat straight from hell itself. It's undeniable that this area of Indiana is ten or more degrees hotter this summer than the surrounding areas, and honestly, watching the meteorologists bend over backwards trying to explain the cause of it is often hilarious.
There is no explanation they are ever gonna come up with that makes any sense, but god bless 'em for continuing to try.
Eddie is laying in his bed, listening to music on his headphones, because the neighbors are far too eager to call the cops on him these days. So, Wayne gently suggested the headphones, and for Wayne, Eddie obliged. Tonight, it's just him and Iron Maiden, as he lays in his boxers, hair damp with sweat. Even now, in the middle of the night, the temperature inside the trailer is nothing short of miserable.
The scars on his side are tight, and no matter how much lotion he rubs into them, he still worries that they are always gonna be this way. Feel this way. Look this way.
Just. Be this way.
At least no one will see him here in the dark.
Wayne's at work, Henderson's surely at home in bed, and Steve is gone for the night.
Steve's here a lot, too much probably for Steve's sanity, but Eddie isn't about to shoo him away. No fucking way. But he doesn't blame him for not wanting to stay all night in a trailer with very little air movement. It's a hot box.
The government is supposed to do better, this is allegedly just temporary, but Eddie knows better. They brushed them off into a trailer that's worse than the one that was ripped apart, and this is exactly where they'll stay.
He's sure of it.
Temporary his ass.
But he doesn't expect Steve to suffer through it, too. Not when he has a big empty house, with all that expensive central air.
Steve tried to get him to come back to his house, but Eddie hasn't done that since his parents showed up unannounced on weekend and freaked the fuck out that Eddie Munson, Murderer, was on their couch.
Assholes.
It's a goddamn miracle that Steve isn't one, at least not anymore. Maybe not ever. Eddie isn't sure. Not now. He always thought King Steve was the asshole, but maybe, just maybe, Eddie was the asshole. Maybe they both were, in different ways. Eddie can't decide what's true.
Eddie thinks about Steve all the time. Sometimes he's all Eddie thinks about. He shouldn't. He knows that. They're friends, and that's a miracle in itself. Even if Steve did have an interest in guys, Eddie's sure he's not Steve's type. Especially not now that he's damaged goods.
The fan blows across his body, back and forth, and his one remaining nipple comes to attention with the breeze. Eddie isn't even sure why. It's not cold in here, but he still rubs his thumb across it.
It feels good, and he doesn't take for granted that he can feel anything at all there. Not now.
His dick stirs, and it's too fucking hot for that. Unless he wants to go take a cool shower, and he really doesn't want to move from right where he is. Not tonight.
But his cock hardens, trapped against his thigh, and he slides his hand under the waistband of his boxers, pulling his cock upwards. Wrapping his hand around it loosely. Jacking slowly, eyes closed. He doesn't intend to take this anywhere, not really, but if he can just show it a little half-assed attention, maybe it'll settle down.
Lazy stroke, after lazy pull, and before he knows it, he's edging himself towards a slow, easy orgasm, even if his hand is way too fucking dry, and this wasn't how he intended on this going.
But it feels good, so he keeps it up. Loose grip, slow strokes. He prefers not to rub any additional skin off of his body, thanks. He's lost enough, as is.
He thinks about Steve. How it'd feel if it was his hand instead, breathing out his name, "Steve."
And that's when he hears it, a whine.
Eddie's eyes snap open, and Steve is standing in the shadows of the doorway.
He's a mirage. The heat wave faking him out.
But he's not shimmering. He's not moving an inch. Eddie can barely see him at all, just the familiar outline.
"Steve?" Eddie finally chokes out, voice scared, as he pulls his headphones off his ears and down around his neck.
"Yeah," Steve says, "it's me. Sorry. I was staring."
Eddie laughs. He was staring. Eddie wasn't gonna mention it, but if he wants to bring it up, that's fine.
"Never seen a man jerking it before?" Eddie asks, not pulling his hand out of his boxers. His dick is still hard, and very interested in the man in front of him.
Steve licks his lips, and Eddie's dick jumps against his palm, "Yeah. Sure. Just. Not you."
"Well, I'm only a man," Eddie says, slowly pulling his hand upwards, going to stop touching himself with Steve in the room, when Steve startles him.
"No. Don't."
"Don't?" Eddie questions, hand stilled. "You want to watch?"
Steve nods.
Fucking hell.
Eddie's not shy, but this is brand new territory, even for him. Letting his friend watch him finish jerk off is nothing he's ever dreamed of before.
Eddie rubs his palm over the head of his dick, gathering up the precum there, trying to help the glide in any way he can.
His eyes are still on Steve, and Steve's own palm is crushed against his jean-clad crotch. Goddamn.
Eddie strokes himself, lazily, keeping eye contact with Steve. Steve's sweating, drops running down his forehead. This is the hottest thing that's ever happened to Eddie, and it's not even close.
Steve's rubbing himself through his jeans, and his dick looks fucking huge, at least from here. Eddie wants to see it, touch it, taste it. Get fucked by it. Stroke it while he fucks Steve. Any of it. All of it. If he'd only be allowed,
And as much as Eddie wants to see Steve stand there stroking himself while fully-clothed until he comes in his goddamn jeans from watching him, Eddie wants more.
Eddie makes a decision, he tugs down his boxers, freeing his cock from the fabric confines. Showing all of himself to Steve. His scarred hips, his hard cock, all for Steve.
Steve's eyes are glued to him, watching as Eddie holds onto the base of his dick, cupping his balls, holding everything for Steve to see.
"Goddamn," Steve breathes out.
"I've shown you mine," Eddie says, with a bravery he didn't know he had. He must be delirious from the heat, "Wanna show me yours?"
Steve's nodding, popping the button on his jeans, tugging the zipper, wiggling the tight denim down his thighs, taking his briefs with them.
Oh, fuck.
He's everything Eddie wished he might be, and more.
"Look at you," Eddie says, "Can I touch?"
And that's all it takes, Steve is shimmying across the room, kicking off his shoes, getting fully undressed as Eddie yanks his boxers off, doing the same.
Then, Steve's naked body is covering his. His mouth finding Eddie's, tongue immediately sliding inside, as if they've been doing this together forever.
Eddie moans, hands rubbing up and down Steve's back, his ass, and they're both covered in a light sheen of sweat. Slick as they rub against each other, rutting their hard cocks skin-to-skin. Desperate. Hot.
This is a whole 'nother level of horny. Eddie's never felt like this in his whole life. He feels drunk, stoned, fucked up on this man who's rubbing off on him.
Eddie cups his ass cheek, squeezing, before brushing the tips of his fingers against Steve's asshole, and Steve bucks against him, coming.
Oh, fuck. They are gonna have so much fun together.
Steve leans back, and rubs his palm through his own come, and then wraps his fist around Eddie's dick, and starts jerking him off in earnest. Eddie can't decide what to look at. His own cock, being worked over by Steve. Steve's face. Or Steve's softening dick, laying against his thigh, thick and wet.
It's all so fucking good.
Steve twists his wrist, and Eddie comes, hips lifting off the bed.
And Steve smiles, laying back down on him. It's too hot for that, way, way too hot, but Eddie says nothing. He just rubs his fingers up and down Steve's slick back.
They're gonna need a shower, and soon. But right now, Eddie'll suffer through the heat wave to have this wet dream of a moment together.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! 🎶
#steddiesongfics#song prompt#stranger things#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#thisapplepielife: short fic#thisapplepielife: steddiesongfics
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Fic Titles: Song Edition
Part II
I can't steal you (like you stole me) - You, The Pretty Reckless
Spinning all these stories - Skinny Bitch, Lena Meyer-Landrut
It's just another rainy Sunday afternoon - Lemon Tree, Fool's Garden
When I watch the world burn (all I think about is you) - Doom Days, Bastille
Let's compare scars (I′ll tell you whose is worse) - Swing Life Away, Rise Against
Sunsets and silhouette dreams - You be the anchor [...], Mayday Parade
Who could deny these butterflies? - Remembering Sunday, All Time Low
As we say our long goodbyes - Run, Snow Patrol
Naked bodies look like porcelain - Love, Daughter
I wish you were a stranger - Over my head (Cable Car), The Fray
Send my regards to hell - Blame, Bastille
We do fall before we rise - Blood & Glitter, Lord of the Lost
Our hearts beat (control them) - In spirit golden, I Blame Coco
Admiring from afar - we fell in love in october, girl in red
The safest place to hide - MakeDamnSure, Taking Back Sunday
I am my own worst enemy - The Consequence, You Me At Six
My lover and my best friend - Rehab, Rihanna
It's a sign that someone loves you - Don't swallow the cap, The National
There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin - Take me to church, Hozier
The wonderful mess that we made - Flaws, Bastille
Drink the poison lightly - I'm not the one, 3OH!3
Saving life in the dark - Believe, Yellowcard
To warm the cold side of the pillow - Hunger of the Pine, alt-J
I'd probably still adore you - 505, Arctic Monkeys
You killed me with your smile - Tonight, Reamonn
Mistaken for strangers by your own friends - Mistaken for strangers, The National
Three whole words and eight letters late - Fireworks, You Me At Six
You say you love me and you roll your eyes - Everyway that I can, Sertab Erener
I'm so surprised you want to dance with me now - Pink Rabbits, The National
To distract our hearts from ever missing them - Youth, Daughter
More titles!
#fic titles#fanfic#writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writing community#song prompt#writing ideas#June 2023
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꒱ pretty u - woonhak
pairing. woonhak x f!reader
genre. soft, fluff
warnings. friends to lovers, loser!woonhak, mention of curses and some bad words, cliche, mayybe cringy, mention of myungjae, song prompt, the narrative times may be a bit odd wanna kms
wc. 5k+
"When I see you, I feel like I'm out of breath, I don't usually act like this, gathering all the nice words I want to give you, but when I'm in front of you I always run out of words" (예쁘다) SEVENTEEN
nt. soo, this is the first fic i'm posting here. i was actually just thinking about reading, but while i was watching a translation of pretty u, this idea came to my head with woon and i NEEDED to write it down and publish it. hope you like it! btw english isn't my first language, so there may be some grammatical errors... i tried my best, guys. i accept feedback!
It was finally the day. The day when the coolest Kim Woonhak would ask out his biggest and only crush, one of his best friends and the prettiest girl in the world according to his own words, you.
He had been preparing all night for this moment, they say that "nothing ventured, nothing gained" and Woonhak will confirm it, even if fear ate him up completely.
According to Woonhak, you're the love of his life. He had never experienced the same feelings he felt when he met you and when he's with you, although it's true that he had liked some girls in the past, this time wasn't the same. The first time you two met was the most cliche thing in the world, leaving him completely captivated, just like love at first sight.
Remembering the past, Woonhak wasn't in a good moment, suddenly his whole environment had changed to pursue his dream, and you were like his salvation, his light at the end of the tunnel, falling madly in love with your smile and your cute big-doe eyes, reaching out to him at his worst and most unexpected moment.
That's why, after almost a year of friendship, he finally decided it was time to ask you out, something simple, but he already had a whole future in mind if everything went well...
༘ . ⋆
Nothing went well, he didn't even had the chance to ask you out.
To start with, when he woke up he didn't hear his alarm, arriving late to school. He hadn't even been able to take a shower and he barely managed to brush his teeth and have breakfast moments before arriving at school, mentally cursing having slept late nigth because of his nerves. Second, the teacher punished him outside the classroom for being late, and his friends making fun of him didn't help at all. And third, he didn't even had the chance to approach to you. But despite everything, Woonhak didn't gave up and decided to wait until the next day.
༘ . ⋆
Why weren't words coming out of his mouth? He was finally in front of you, in the perfect place, there was no one around and you were under a tree in the school yard. So why didn't he talk? His hands were sweating and his heart was beating like crazy, keeping his gaze fixed on your beautiful curious eyes, that looked at him with interest.
"I-I… y/n… w-would you like…" he stammered nervously, with a big lump in his throat, wiping the palms of his hands on the sides of his uniform pants, feeling his throat slowly dry out 'I should have drank a glass of water…' cursing mentally.
"Are you okay Woonhak?" you asked amused.
But damn, he wasn't okay, he was too nervous, his words were stuck on the tip of his tongue. Licking his lips he barely answered "oh, yeah! don't worry, I just…" scratching the back of his neck nervously.
'Please, I never ask for anything, I'll promise to believe in youㅠ' and said and done, the school bell rang, announcing the end of classes and finally breaking the awkward moment for him.
༘ . ⋆
"…and then she had to leave" Woonhak finished telling, letting out a frustrated groan, burying his face in his hands with great embarrassment, listening his friends laughing at the background, mocking him "affectionately"
"Gosh, Woonhak, you really don't know anything" wiping away his tears from laughter, Jaehyun leaned playfully on his shoulder "Our baby is growing up!" and with some embarrassment, Woonhak tried to get away from them with a pout on his face, before being pulled back onto the table.
"Ah, Woonhak, we'll help you, don't worry" of course he should be worried, and he accepted with some distrust, not wanting to notice the mischievous smiles of his friends.
༘ . ⋆
'Dating class' was the first thing Woonhak noticed when he entered his shared dorm and approached the living room, noticing a small blackboard resting on an easel and his friends around it, with glasses and notebooks in their hands, looking at it attentively and sitting him on an armchair, sitting around him while Jaehyun was still standing next to the blackboard, before clearing his throat.
"Okay Woonhak, today we'll teach you everything you need to know and do before and after a date" noticing how the rest nodded in unison "pay attention Woonhak!"
Should he be worried or happy…?
"I can't take it anymore, I have a lot to say, I can't take it anymore, I'd rather tell you in a letter"
It had been a few days since everything started, he didn't even remember the exact number of days, and still nothing went as planned, it seemed like fate was against him. When he was finally about to ask you out something unexpected always happened, and Woonhak was nothing but worried, he just had to say "Do you want to go on a date with me?" It wasn't even complicated, but he didn't had the courage to do it. Woonhak felt like his nerves were slowly eating away at him and for some reason he couldn't stop thinking if this was the right thing to do or not, like, what if he breaks your friendship because of his stupid feelings?
He had already done everything, he filled an entire notebook with nice and romantic words and phrases, he followed his friends' advices, he drank glasses of water every morning to avoid the lump in his throat, he practiced in front of the mirror, he even dressed up and made a fool of himself in front of you, and all the flowers in the small garden outside his apartment had disappeared, maybe he counted too many petals?
And finally, he began to slowly get fed up, even if he continually promised that the next time would be the charm, he couldn't stop thinking if he should just confess his feelings, even though the fear continued to eat away at his head. Maybe he's not even the right person for you, would confessing really be the right thing to do? Maybe he should look for one last flower.
And so the day had come, this time he wouldn't ask you for a simple date, this time Woonhak planned to confess his feelings to you, the person who completely stole his breath.
Where after thinking and reflecting a lot, he decided to be completely sincere and do it his way. Although it seemed cliche for others, for Woonhak it was simply perfect. If he wasn't able to talk to her face to face, what better than a love letter that spoke for him?
It had been approximately three and a half days, 11 romantic movies, three playlists of 3 hours each, approximately 29 sketches of letters with the most cheesy phrases, searches in the dictionary and finally he had finished writing the letter, delicately wrapped in an envelope.
He was standing face to face with you and with his arms outstretched, with the letter in one hand and in the other a small teddy bear. Giving you his heart completely. Where after a big breath and closing his eyes tightly, he finally let go of all his feelings, remembering the many tips and thousands of practices with himself, releasing from time to time light nervous breaths and some cute stutters.
And when he finished, he felt your soft and warm lips on his cheek, slowly opening his eyes, he lost his gaze in your deep and warm eyes in front of him, noticing the big and cute smile plastered on your face. And as the soft breeze enveloped both of you, attracted by each other, your lips finally met softly, fitting perfectly, just like a puzzle.
"You´re pretty"
#boynextdoor#kim woonhak#woonhak#boynextdoor woonhak#woonhak x reader#woonhak x y/n#bnd woonhak#bnd x reader#bnd imagines#boynextdoor fluff#ㅤdividers by v6que#pretty u - seventeen#song prompt
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For @tellmegoodbye and kinda inspired by the song heavenly by broadside. Thank you for voting early 💜 I hope you like this!
This is set after 4x04 so there are hospital and injury mentions
Carlos blinks awake, stretching his arms out in front of him and into TK’s chest.
“Good morning, how do you feel? I know your head still hurts.”
He winces when he realizes and adjusts how he’s laying on the pillow. “Yeah, a little. just that though.”
TK already has ibuprofen tablets and a water bottle for Carlos to take. “I’ll go make breakfast. You’re staying in bed.”
“Fine. Can I at least have coffee today?” Carlos wasn’t allowed any while being kept in the hospital for observation and he is craving it now. At TK’s unsure look he adds a “Please?” with his best cow eyes.
TK’s eyes narrow like he knows what Carlos is doing. “One cup,” he promises with a kiss and gets up. Making Carlos smile as he gingerly gets up to go to the bathroom.
So what if he’s being a little whiny? Carlos thinks. TK told him so when they were finally left alone at the hospital. His fiance has practically begged to take care of him in the past and doesn’t care how much he whines.
If anyone else was taking care of him right now, Carlos would insist he get out of bed and make his own breakfast. He repeatedly said similar things at the hospital yesterday too. It’s different with just TK though. He feels safer than he’s ever been with anyone. Given what they’ve been through in the past three days now, he has no desire to hide anything. He’d have a hard time doing that anyway. They know each other so intimately. TK knew Carlos’s head still hurt before Carlos was even fully awake. Carlos knows TK will make him a miel with oat milk and extra cinnamon mixed in, because he really likes his coffee that way but can’t always take the time. Knowing all the little things like that just makes him love TK even more.
“You were supposed to stay in bed.” TK’s voice pulls him out of his reverie when he slides the bathroom door open. He has their coffees on their nightstands and a plate of scrambled eggs with vegetables and two forks sit on a tray next to him in bed.
“I still have to go to the bathroom by myself, babe. Maybe you’ll even let me venture to the couch later.” Carlos says as they work together to adjust the pillows so they can sit comfortably.
“No screens yet. I won’t let you get bored though.”
“Oh yeah?” Carlos smirks suggestively.
“Not that. Shut up and have some breakfast.”
Carlos takes a sip of his miel and closes his eyes as he hums in delight, “This is heavenly, baby.”
If you also want to participate in my election day show and tell all the information is here
#R's election day show and tell#song prompt#this was fun#I'm not that good at describing emotional little musings#tarlos#tarlos fic#I'm sorry if there's typos too
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Song prompt
Hero and Villain Duet between twins Danny and Damian.
Danny is taking out the GIW agents after they took Dani and Jazz from him, when the Batfam shows up.
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♡ - 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎𝐎
prompt : based off this post.
pairing : frat! leehan x afab!reader.
genre : song lyric based. drabble. angst.
word count: 1.1k
warning : because of the song choice she going to be a little angsty. suggestive content. substance use mention.
disc : lowercase intended. borrowed the layout from @en-heedeungie.
❝i'm terrified by thoughts of getting close to you justify my terror when we talk it through. find somebody else to kill the pain for now pop another pill and help your brain calm down ❞ - chase atlantic
leehan and you had been friends with benefits for quite some time now. you met at welcome weekend of college and from there things just kept spiraling. leehan said he wasn’t ready for a serious relationship and honestly you weren’t entirely ready either so kissing him for fun seemed like a great option. leehan ended up joining a frat with a bunch of his friends and things continued as they use to be. you two would meet between classes and hang out which usually led you both to kissing or hooking up. you started to notice that the boys were doing riskier things influenced by some of the older frat members. today you showed up at the party ready to have a serious talk with leehan about what you’ve been feeling, you fell for him the one thing you weren’t suppose to do. serious conversations about the two of you weren’t very frequent because you both agreed that your relationship was strictly hooking up.
when you walked into the party you felt a little self conscious as people glanced over in your direction but there was one gaze that lingered that made you feel comfortable. leehan’s eyes traced every inch of your body as he glanced away to focus on what his friend jaehyun was saying. “honestly man feelings aren’t all that.. what you and y/n have is perfect just fuck and don’t have to do all the cute couple shit.” this came from jaehyun of course. a few laughs from some of the other guys and the girls that were hanging around erupted and you grimaced just a little. you hadn’t realized that leehan had even told them that you two were hooking up.
you walked the rest of the way over to the group and leaned down to whisper in the boys ear, “leehan, mind if we talk upstairs?” he glanced up at you then just nodded a little, standing up and putting his hand on the small of your back. “we will be back guys.” he winked playfully and the others started hooting some. your cheeks flushed as you played off the hoots from the guys and you walked up the stairs with leehan in tow.
the pair of you found an empty bedroom and the second you were in the room you felt his lips on yours and of course you indulged in the kiss for a moment but you had to stop him. that is not what you came up here for. you needed to stay focused. you pressed your hands flat against his shoulders to push him back from you a moment. “i want to talk seriously leehan.. please.” one thing was you could taste the alcohol on his lips. what you didn’t know is that this serious talk with you scared him.
“what do we need to talk about? talking is sooo boring.” he drawled on as he placed a hand on the door to cage you between his body and the door. “i’d much rather be kissing you y/n.” his sweet talk usually made you weak at the knees but you came in here determined. “i don’t think i want to be just friends anymore.” you admitted and the second the words left your lips he was looking away from you, jaw clenched slightly. “fuck y/n…we agreed. no feelings.” did this mean he felt nothing for you?
your body was still caged between his and the door to the room and everything inside of you felt shaky. you didn’t exactly admit to your feelings for him yet but the implication was there and you know he picked up on it. “i’m sorry.” you were looking at the ground now because looking at him was going to hurt more than anything. when you look into his eyes and see the soft gaze that he lets show when it’s just the two of you. “you need to find someone else. i can’t be the person you want me to be. i can’t fix you.” leehan muttered to you as his hand fell from the wall and he took a step back.
i can’t fix you. those words rang in your mind. he knew your history, he knows what you’ve gone through, the two of you have talked about it. he held you while you were crying after your last episode. now here he is saying that you need to find someone else, that he isn’t the one. why does he get to decide that? “i can’t say that i feel anything other than lust for you.” he was partially lying but you didn’t know that. he sounded so serious.
it took everything in you not to cry right there in front of him. you wanted to go back to twenty minutes ago before you made up your mind to come in here and tell him how you felt, at least then he could still hold you and things wouldn’t have to change. you wouldn’t have to lose your best friend and the person you fell for all in the same breath. “okay.” it was all you could get out in that moment as you pushed yourself off the door.
leehan did care about you, he just knew that between the both of you being fucked up for your own reasons he wasn’t ready to support you the way you deserve to be supported. he thought it would be cruel to hold onto you when he couldn’t give you the relationship you needed. he couldn’t even help himself so how could he help you? he was struggling with finding himself and the frat wasn’t exactly helping in fact it was enabling his behaviors that were getting to be more consistent. he did however look at you before you walked out of the room. seeing that broken look on your face made him want to reach out for you but he reminded himself that you could be so much happier with someone else.
you exited the room no more words exchanged between the two of you and went right outside to your car, the walk there felt like a blur. you could hear the music, the people calling for you but you ignored it all until you got in your car and the waterworks started. you looked towards the frat house as tears fell. a part of you hoped to see leehan coming outside to check on you, but you didn’t see him. you focused back on the steering wheel and clenched it in your fists letting the tears fall down your cheeks. after a moment of crying you heard a knock on your car window and you glanced over to find jaehyun? you rolled your window down slightly after composing yourself, “hey.. what’s up?” you questioned as if you weren’t just crying your eyes out. “mind if i drive you home? you are in no state to drive home like this y/n.”
a/n: this a lil toxic and when i had anna proofread she went "it's pretty sad so far" i said "yeah and that's it the rest is up to readers interp". let me know if you guys liked this one or not. feedback and comments are always welcome.
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Song ask:
Bob Marley - Three little birds
May doubt and fear
Fly out the window
Open to enlivening light
Beauty in bloom
Never before realized
Peace and prosperity pour in
Perhaps not a deluge
But enough to get by
Sustaining smiles
Comfort even in storms
No clouds can cover
The freedom of faith
In brighter tomorrows
#thank you so much!#song prompt#bob marley#three little birds#inspired#song recs#spilled ink#spilled thoughts#poetry#positive poetry#uplifting words#poets on tumblr#anxiety#perspective#mental health#autumnsunshine10
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For @drarrymicrofic 's song prompt "My Tears Ricochet" by Taylor Swift. G | 386.
Warnings: MCD, implied toxic relationship.
On My Grave
“Why is he crying?” Draco asked, watching his husband standing lifelessly in front of his grave. “Isn’t my death what he wanted?”
Death tilted her head. “Is it?”
Draco nodded. “It is. He said it. He regretted marrying me. He wanted to be the Wizarding World's hero. Everyone he loved wanted him to be the hero. He couldn’t be it with me by his side. He should rejoyce now that he could be the hero again.”
“If that were the case, shouldn’t he just divorce you? Or kill you long ago?”
Death's question caught Draco off guard. His heart had stopped beating but it could, it would have been dancing right now. The mere idea that Harry loved Draco more than being the Golden Boy made him elated. But Draco only entertained it for a second before shaking it away. He shouldn’t hope. Hope always brought despair. Nights of crying himself to sleep had taught him that.
“He's a hero. Heroes don’t go around abandoning their spouses or killing them. So he had to bear with me even if he did not want to,” Draco pointed out the most logical answer.
Death hummed. Draco could not tell if she was agreeing with him or not. Since his encounter with her, she had never shown any clear emotion. Maybe it was just right. Death was never anything emotional. It was the living that felt emotional over it.
“Anyway, he’s going to join us soon. You can ask him when the time comes,” Death said as she pulled Draco away. “Time to go.”
Draco's eyes widened. “What do you mean?!” he shouted but Death didn’t even give him a glance.
Draco anxiously looked back at Harry. He hadn’t moved an inch since Draco had waken up on his grave that morning. Harry didn’t look very lively, but he also didn’t look like someone who was going to die either. Draco chewed his lips, watching Harry’s figure becoming smaller and smaller.
Maybe Death was just saying nonsense. Maybe what Death meant by 'soon’ was dozens of years later. To a being like Death, that much time should be just a blink.
As Death pushed him through a gate, Draco decided to stop thinking. He was dead, anyway. Whatever happened to the living wasn’t his place to worry about.
#drarry microfic#drarry#h/d#microfic#drarry fic#draco malfoy#harry potter#death#rated: g#warnings: mcd#toxic relationship#miscommunication#romance#angst#song prompt#inspired by music
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saphs song prompt challenge
ring in the new year with me and a silly challenge. any fandom, any genre. only rule is that you must use the song to inspire the fic. multi chap, one shot all are welcome. do as many or as little as you want, on time or not! doesnt matter to me. most fall into the angst/hurt comfort genre because that's what i write best but i threw in some other more happy ones
theres a collection link on ao3 for them here
all of these songs are some of my favorites to write to/about and i wanted to share :)
on each day of the month ill post some of my favorite lines/a bit of analysis of each song if anyone needs a bit of inspiration. happy writing everyone
the songs:
jan 1: quite miss home by james arthur
jan 2: lonely eyes by lauv
jan 3: dear reader by taylor swift
jan 4: my friends toyota by asiris
jan 5: montana by mikey ferrari
jan 6: girl on the internet by knox
jan 7: 3 am by matchbox 20
jan 8: jet pack blues by fall out boy
jan 9: love u like that by lauv
jan 10: line without a hook by ricky montgomery
jan 11: who says you can't go home by bon jovi
jan 12: just to hear you say that you love me by faith hill
jan 13: honest by the chainsmokers
jan 14: two by sleeping at last
jan 15: i hate your friends by alex cole
jan 16: safe inside by james arthur
jan 17: all i want by kodaline
jan 18: almost lover by a fine frenzy
jan 19: stick season by noah kahan
jan 20: if i could fly by one direction
jan 21: what am i by why don't we
jan 22: falling slowly from once
jan 23: the night we met by lord huron
jan 24: roaring 20s by panic! at the disco
jan 25: wonder by shawn mendes
jan 26: best years by 5 seconds of summer
jan 27: one way ticket by one ok rock
jan 28: falling by harry styles
jan 29: give me love by ed sheeran
jan 30: illicit affairs by taylor swift
jan 31: shallow by lady gaga and bradley cooper
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Busted but instead!
It's two girls who are absolutely sure that their bestie’s bf is cheating.
They’re hellbent on finding evidence to show their bestie they're right and can’t wait to bust him!
Are they right? Is he actually cheating or is he just horribly (and hilariously) misunderstood?
Who knows?~
Yea, she’s finally gonna see your lie. This is how it’s gonna be When she finds out that I was always right. You’re busted!
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How to Format Your Posts 💬
1️⃣ Title: Add a creative title
2️⃣ Song Prompt: Mention the song
3️⃣ Content: Share your piece (use a “read more” if it’s long).
4️⃣ Tags: Use #JanuarySongChallenge, #[Song Title], and any relevant tags like #drabble, #poetry, or #fanfiction. Don't forget to tag @monthlywritingchallenges
#january writing challenge#writing challenge#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writing#writing prompt#writerscommunity#writers and poets#monthly#challenge#january#song prompt
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Written for @steddiesongfics.
Vigilante Shit
October Prompt: Vigilante Shit by Taylor Swift | Word Count: 7777 | Rating: E | CW: Unsafe Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent | Tags: Modern AU, Past Break-Up, Divorced, Angst, Exes-to-Lovers, Hopeful Ending, Famous Eddie, Corroded Coffin, Platonic Stobin: Ride or Die (Eddie Might Die If Robin Has Her Way, lol), Unsafe Sex, Barebacking, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, Except It's All Love Underneath, Mr. Americana and the Heartbreak Prince
Also available right here on ao3.
they say looks can kill and I might try Taylor Swift, Vigilante Shit
Steve steps out of the taxi, and looks down, smoothing the lines of his shirt. Hoping it's not too wrinkled. He's left it unbuttoned one more button than would be considered decent, but nothing about today is going to end up decent, he's sure of it. The fabric is tight, midnight blue and clinging to his sides, his biceps, tailored to perfection. He made sure of it. When he looks good, he feels good. And today? He needs to at least feel good about how he looks.
He stands on the sidewalk, shrugging on the leather jacket that doesn't actually belong to him. The one with the chained up broken zipper on the sleeve. The one from before. A relic of years gone by, of kids that have been dead and buried by adulthood.
He doesn't actually need it, weather-wise. But if he's digging up bones, he might as well dig deep.
And he looks good in it, without fucking question.
Tonight he isn't dressing for women, or men. He's dressing for revenge.
The event space is old, he can tell. One of those remodeled places, salvaged from the hands of time. He's never been here before, and wishes he didn't have to be at today, either. He wishes he was seven hundred miles away, at home. When the plane touched down here this morning, he felt like he was being suffocated. Like the air was thicker, like he was being stifled, just because he lives here.
Steve avoids the city like the plague. Henderson moved here a few years ago, though, and Steve would be lying if he hadn't felt betrayed. He felt like a side had been chosen, and that it wasn't his.
Steve knows that's irrational. But he still feels that way, especially when he's alone with his thoughts. Robin has gotten sick of hearing about it. She's the only person on earth he feels comfortable letting see how much he still hurts.
How much he'll always be hurt, maybe.
Coming here today feels a little bit like torture, and opting out was definitely his first instinct.
But here Steve is. He couldn't do that to Henderson.
Even if he lives in town. It's not like Henderson ever mentions him anymore. Dustin quickly learned that was a bridge not to cross with Steve if he wished to continue living.
So, Steve cut off his nose to spite his own face, like a fucking idiot. Now he gets no information on Eddie, no secondhand gossip from friends, no nothing that doesn't come from the gossip rags.
Steve double-checks his reflection in the door of the brick building, fingers combing through his hair. Looks good. Like the rest of him. That much he is confident about. Everything else is the problem.
It's an old building, and when the old elevator opens, Steve looks around the big, airy ballroom. There's an open window seat, and he walks over and perches in it, waiting. The setting sun is warm on his back, and while he hasn't heard for sure, he knows in his gut that Eddie will be here. There's no way Eddie's missing Henderson's engagement party.
Even if that means seeing Steve.
Steve had checked the tour schedule, hoping, praying he'd be halfway across the world tonight. But there was a suspicious looking break in their dates. As if this had been planned around it.
It probably was.
But Steve can't worry about Eddie. He will, of fucking course, but it would be so much better for his own well-being if he didn't.
Eddie cut the first tie between them, but Steve is the one that burned the bridges behind him, making it permanent. If Eddie wanted to run from him, well, then he was gonna stay fucking gone. Steve wasn't interested in providing any sort of lifeline for Eddie to ever use to climb out of the hole he insisted on digging for himself.
Robin and Henderson have both said in soft, roundabout ways that Steve was kind of being a dick. Being petty, bitchy, mean. But Steve doesn't care. He got his heart broken. He lost his husband. He can be all of those things, and more.
Steve spins the ring on his finger, the one he hasn't worn in years. The old gold band that he dug out of the back of his closet, and spent all morning polishing into a gut punch.
His motto for tonight: Don't get sad, get even.
He wishes Robin were already here, but she's never been on time a day in her life. Every flight she's ever booked has been delayed, if not outright canceled, and today was no different. Unfortunately, that means he's sitting off to the edge of the ballroom by himself, waiting for something to happen.
Nothing does.
Friends who have become closer to strangers mingle, and laugh, leaving him on fringes, alone. And Steve knows that's his fault. He cut a large swath out of his life, isolating himself. Licking his wounds in solitary confinement. Robin is his only companion, besides his misery and grief.
He needs to suck it up, go mingle, force himself to dole out apologies and be a little more active in the festivities, certain that he's been foolish. Eddie isn't coming after all.
Steve makes his way over to Dustin.
"Congrats, kiddo," Steve says, wrapping his arm around Dustin's shoulders, squeezing.
"About damn time, I thought you were gonna sulk in the corner all night," Dustin snaps, and Steve laughs. No, he's not gonna do that. He just needed a minute. And he gets that Henderson understood that. He's a good kid, a good man, now.
He keeps talking, "I thought you were gonna go on some sort of anti-marriage tirade."
No, no, Steve was wrong. He is still a little shit.
"I'm not anti-marriage," Steve says, and he isn't. Sure, his didn't work out, but he's not going around assuming that everybody else's will end up the same way.
Unless they plan on marrying Eddie. Then, that's on them. Play dumb games, win stupid prizes.
"He was supposed to come tonight," Dustin admits.
Yeah, Steve figured as much, "Sorry he let you down, kid."
Dustin looks up at him, "Sorry he let you down, too."
Yeah, well. Shit happens.
The room is sparkling with twinkling lights that look even better as the sun melts into the horizon. Tray after tray of drinks and passed hors d'oeuvres make the rounds, and everyone seems happy to see him, maybe forgiving him a little too easily for his disappearing act.
They come see him in his window, like it's his new office. Handing him drinks, food. Doling out hugs and kisses. Stories. Sharing their lives with him.
Robin comes in earlier than he expected her, and she throws her hands in the air, announcing her arrival.
Dustin hugs her, and then she marches over to the window seat he's been holding court from.
He stands, and she steps into his arms, squeezing him tight, "Hi, dingus. Sorry I'm late."
"You're early," he says, and she's not. She's nearly an hour late. But for him, she's right on time.
Eddie didn't come. He doesn't have to say it, she knows. He feels foolish. He's wearing Eddie's leather jacket and his old wedding band, and dwelling on a past Eddie clearly doesn't give a flying fuck about.
Steve squeezes Robin back. It's been too long. Living in separate cities is for the goddamn birds. Maybe he should move closer to her. Pack up his life and just hit the road and be wherever she wants to be, always.
That sounds like the best plan for a lifetime of happiness that he's had in a goddamn long time.
"We could call the FBI. Tell them he's a drug mule. Tell them he's evading taxes."
Steve doesn't think either of those things are true.
He's about to say so when he feels the air in the room change.
Fuck.
He drops back to the bricks, not really able to stand under these conditions.
Eddie's here, Steve can't see him yet, refuses to scour the room, looking, searching, but he knows. He always knew when Eddie manifested himself into Steve's presence. Like a magic trick Steve doesn't know the secret behind, and probably never will.
Steve leans back, and sprawls out on the brick window sill he's been sitting in, and Robin is looking down at him wide-eyed. Because she's well aware of the only thing here that could knock his feet out from him.
She steps to the side and turns to look.
And he's determined to keep his head up. He's gonna meet this head-on, no-holds-barred. If Eddie wants to look away, wants to run like he always does, then he can be the one to do that. Again. Because Steve's got nothing to be ashamed about.
He didn't fuck up their lives. Eddie did.
Two black suits, his private security Steve's sure, flank Eddie. Like there's a threat at his friend's engagement party. Fucking ridiculous.
Well.
Maybe there is a threat: Steve.
At least a threat to his peace, and as if on cue Eddie stops in the middle of the room and stares. Steve stares back. Wrist resting over his own bent knee. They say looks can kill, and tonight Steve damn well might try.
Steve won't blink first, won't back down.
And eventually Eddie gives, loses, and looks away.
Steve smiles to himself, taking a sip of his drink, swirling the ice in the lowball glass, as Robin's eyebrows have permanently lodged themselves into her hairline. He makes small talk with her, when he knows she wants to say so fucking much about what just happened. There will be time for that later, time to dissect and replay, but only then does he unfold himself from the window seat, sauntering across the room, stopping to talk to his friends. His.
Steve doesn't look his way again, but he can definitely feel the eyes boring into him as he moves around the room. Good. Let him stare.
On the way back from the bathroom, Steve passes a little too close to the sun.
And Eddie reaches out, snagging Steve's hand in his, squeezing it hard enough that it pinches his skin between the ring he has no business wearing, but Steve doesn't react. Doesn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he can get to him in any way.
Not anymore.
He just looks at Eddie, and Eddie stares back.
Eddie doesn't let go. Instead he shifts his hand, sliding it upwards, until he's hooked his finger through the chain on the jacket sleeve, and starts to pull Steve by it, like he's on a lead. His feet betray him, and he follows.
So do the bodyguards.
"No, stay," Eddie says, like they're guard dogs. Maybe they are. They definitely heel to his command.
And he leads Steve out of the ballroom, down a long hallway, trying to push open door after locked door, until he finds one that gives, swinging open. It's empty, and probably used for staging or a dressing room during other events. There's a fancy couch, and the whole place is lit by the moonlight coming through the deep-set windows.
Only then does he let go. Steve feels burned.
But he doesn't react to that, instead Steve stands there, hands on his hips as Eddie lingers, several paces away, staring back.
He didn't ask for this, for any of this.
"What the fuck do you want?" Steve snaps, and Eddie's teeth are showing as he stalks forward. Steve refuses to take a step back, refuses to flinch or lose an inch of ground to him. Eddie's not gonna steamroll him, not ever again.
"What the fuck is this?" Eddie asks, reaching out and squeezing Steve's wrist. The jacket. Then flicking Steve's finger, the ring, as it rests on his hip.
"It's a wedding ring. I know that's probably confusing for you, since you never wore one of them. It ruined your aesthetic, or whatever this is," Steve mocks, waving his hand around Eddie's whole being. All the black leather and silver jewelry that doesn't mean shit.
Eddie ignores all that, and his eyes narrow down on Steve's hand, demanding, "You marry somebody else wearing my ring?"
"Maybe I did," Steve snaps. "What's it to you?"
And Eddie loses the standoff. His hands find his hair as he roughly pulls at it, spinning in a circle.
Steve smirks.
"You want it back? Here. Take it," Steve spits out, angry, so fucking pissed off for the past decade or more, pulling the ring off his finger and throwing it. Listening as it hits the wall across the room, and then clatters across the hardwood flooring.
He shrugs out of the jacket and throws it next. Hitting Eddie square in the chest.
The sound Eddie makes is distraught, feral, and if Steve didn't know he's only bullshit and bluster, he'd probably be scared.
But he's not scared of Eddie Munson. At least not in the way the rest of the world is, hoodwinked by the reputation he built with his carefully cultured public image that is just lie after lie.
Steve wasn't sure what would happen next, but Eddie on his hands and knees, patting around in the dark, his phone flashlight darting around trying to catch the glimmer of metal, wasn't what Steve expected.
"Why fucking bother?" Steve asks as he crosses his arms over his chest. Because honestly? He doesn't need it. He made his point. He cut him. He won this round. He needs to leave before he gets left. Again.
And Eddie didn't want him to have it back then, so why waste time digging up old bones? Let sleeping dogs lie.
"Because," Eddie grits out.
"Just let it go, Eddie. Just like you let me go," Steve snaps, and Eddie's head whips up, the flashlight suddenly blinding Steve.
Steve shields his eyes, "Put that down, asshole."
"Then don't fucking say that," Eddie snaps.
"Like it's not true?"
It is true, and Eddie can't even begin to deny it. He fucking ran, two years into their marriage. Two years that they spent more nights apart than they did together. Two years where they were too young. Too different. At least that's what everyone else said when the dust settled. Like, it was just a mistake anyone could have seen coming.
Like, two years had been a good run, but that this had always been the expected end result.
Steve hadn't expected it.
That didn't matter, though. They divorced, long-distance, papers delivered and signed through lawyers. All contact completely severed. And then they both spent more than a decade being extra careful to not wind up in the same region, let alone the same building, or room.
Now, here they are. Eddie on his hands and knees rooting around for ancient history, and Steve wishing he could be swallowed up by the floor under his feet just to be out of here. Away. Anywhere else.
It's bullshit. All of it.
Eddie finds it with a huffed laugh, and Steve isn't sure what happens next. Does Eddie pocket it? Keep it?
No, he stands, and stalks over to Steve, "You wanna wear it? You're gonna wear it."
And he forces it back onto Steve's hand, a perversion of the first time he did it. It catches on his knuckle, and hurts as Eddie forces it on, but Steve watches it happen, can't look away.
Then, Eddie's even further in his personal space, mouth closing over Steve's, hand sliding into Steve's hair, pulling. Steve kisses him back, hands digging into his back, holding on tight to everything he's already lost.
Steve's whole fucking body betrays him. He moans in Eddie's mouth, dick rushing towards hard, as Eddie leans further into him.
Learning all Steve's secrets from his time away.
Steve doesn't want Eddie to know anything about him.
He also wants him to know everything.
It's infuriating.
Even more so when Eddie spins him around, shoving him forwards, making Steve catch himself on the back of the couch.
Eddie puts his hand in the middle of Steve's back, and presses downwards, hard. Bending him over the back side of the vintage couch. Steve goes, willingly. The ornate wood trim digging into his belly. Eddie's hand rubs up and down his sides, hands feeling how his shirt is hugging his skin, and Steve knew it was a good choice. But he doesn't have time to gloat before Eddie's fingers slide around, brushing Steve's stomach, slowly unbuttoning every button of his shirt. Roughly pulling it from his arms, catching on his wrists before being tugged loose, then moving on to unhooking his belt, unbuttoning his jeans, before yanking them down his thighs.
Steve digs the toe of his boot into the hardwood floor, trying to get some leverage that he knows he'll need. It's gonna be rough, and fast, and hard. Desperate.
Overdue.
Maybe a little bit mean. Steve's not sure what kind of headspace Eddie's in. Hadn't had the chance to really gauge him, before he was drug away into the darkness to fight and fuck about unfinished business.
All their business is unfinished.
Eddie's pressed flush to his back, his palm pressing into the center of Steve's chest, his fingers moving through his chest hair. His cock, hard through his jeans, pressing into Steve's ass. A promise, or a threat.
Either, both, maybe. And then Eddie makes good on it. Steve hears him tearing open foil. Then he feels the cool liquid running down his crack. He tries not to jump, startle. Of course Eddie's carrying travel packets of lube. He shouldn't have assumed anything else.
Then there are slick fingers, one, then two, pressing at him, in him. Sliding deep, working to push all his buttons, proving Eddie hasn't forgotten a goddamn thing. One hand working fingers inside him, the other palming his balls before reaching down to tug on his cock. Just like Steve always liked. But Steve won't make any noise. Won't give Eddie the satisfaction. But Steve's breathing deep and hard, panting as he pushes back against Eddie's hand. Demanding more.
Eddie listens for once, too fast, too soon, and Eddie's breaching him. Steve wanted to draw this out. But that cock that Steve has loved, missed, needed is working him open, fast and rough. It's not enough, it's too much. All at once.
Steve loses, can't bite it back any longer, and Steve huffs out a whine of a breath as Eddie slams into him. He hasn't felt this in years. It's exactly the same, but totally different, too. It's like being fucked by a complete stranger.
It's also like coming home.
He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to keep quiet. The last thing he wants is any of their friends to see him like this. To know that he allowed himself to be bent over this easily. That all he had to do was spend fifteen minutes alone with Eddie before he allowed his resolve to crumble to dust, desperate for it, the second Eddie laid hands on him.
Eddie's not wearing a condom, Steve can feel the difference, can feel the ease of the slide in a way that he hasn't since Eddie cut and ran. Steve knows he should be mad, furious that Eddie thinks he still has that right. That he thinks his blanket permission from a decade ago overrides a goddamn divorce. But Steve's not mad. And he hates that he's not mad. Resents that he gets off on the fact that it's still only Eddie that has been invited inside him, and has been allowed to leave his mark deep, in more ways than one.
"Fuck you, Harrington," Eddie says, and Steve claws at the fabric of the couch, blunt fingernails scraping against the rough texture of it.
"You already are, asshole," Steve says back.
Eddie laughs. It sounds more delighted than deranged, and if Steve keeps his eyes shut, he can pretend this was another lifetime ago.
It's easy to go along for the ride, just allowing himself to feel what he hasn't in so many years. It's not like he's been celibate, or alone, but he has been without this. Without Eddie, and having a taste of it again might just wreck him.
There are lips against his back, and a cock splitting him wide. In his mind he's twenty-two and in love. Really in love.
When he opens them again, he's thirty-four, and bitter. Broken.
Angry.
So goddamn angry that his life, their life, turned out to be bullshit.
And suddenly the tears burn his eyes. Fuck. He's gonna cry. He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if he can stave it off with that alone. As if he can just will it away, by wanting it bad enough. But it's not working. He's gonna do the very last thing he ever wanted to have happen in Eddie's presence ever again. When he can't hold it back a second longer, he hitches in a ragged breath, and Eddie stutters, stilling all momentum, immediately.
It nearly gives Steve whiplash, going from a hundred to zero, just like that.
Which is fitting. That's how their whole relationship turned out. From hot and heavy, to distant strangers. Why would this be any goddamn different?
"Steve?" Eddie asks, a warm palm against his back. Rubbing soft, soothing circles, his guitar calluses scratching gently. "Sweetheart?"
That's the last straw, it's too familiar, too much, and he curls over the back of the couch as far as he can as Eddie pulls out, leaving him empty and more bereft than he already was. Steve tries to reach backwards, tries to lure him back. Back inside, back to Steve. Just back, in any way he can get him.
It doesn't happen, of course, and Eddie tries to manhandle Steve into turning around to face him. Steve would rather do anything else, so he won't allow himself to be turned because Steve's still bigger, always has been bigger and stronger, and Eddie's hands disappear before reappearing as he moves around the couch to kneel on the cushion next to where Steve is actively wishing to be swallowed whole.
"Steve," Eddie says, the voice reedy and scared, hands brushing down Steve's back, then moving through Steve's hanging hair, trying to find his face. "Did I hurt you? Did you…" Eddie trails off, thumb on Steve's cheek, "Did you not want that? Did I - did I read you wrong?"
Steve shakes his head. He's hurt, of course he is, just not in the way Eddie means. Of course he wanted this. He just can't. Not with Eddie. It's too hard.
Even if that's all he wants.
He looks down at the cushions below, he sees Eddie's bare thigh, tattoos unfamiliar, and his cock, very familiar, scared into softness. Nestled there in his open fly. Steve wonders if he smells the same. Wants to bury his face in Eddie's crotch and breathe deep.
What an unhinged thing to want, he thinks. But Steve just wants to go home, go back in time.
Eddie's still gorgeous. Always has been, though, and Steve snakes out a hand, curling it around Eddie's forearm.
Asking him not to go.
Asking him to stay this time.
"Sweetheart. Look at me, or I'm getting Robin," Eddie says, and Steve hiccups a laugh as Eddie plays with the hairs at the nape of his neck.
He's not his sweetheart, not any longer, he knows that all too well, but hearing that come out of his lips makes something bloom in his chest. An unfurling longing. Nostalgia for a time he'll never be able to return to, as long as he lives.
It's already gone. They've already grown up, distant from each other.
And Steve raises his head enough to meet Eddie's eyes.
"She'd kill you," Steve says, trying to blink the wetness from his lashes.
"I'd let her," Eddie answers.
Steve misses him. He's right here, looking right at him, but Steve misses him something fierce.
"Are you okay? What's going on?" Eddie asks, scooting closer, his hand never leaving Steve's neck. Fingers brushing against his skin, keeping contact, soothing him in a way only he ever could.
Steve laughs, bordering on unhinged.
"Vigilante shit," Steve breathes out, and it's like he's ran a marathon, maybe an ultra.
And Eddie laughs, leaning forward and pressing his mouth to Steve's temple.
Steve leans into him.
"Well, that's fair, sweetheart," Eddie says, "I'll give you that. I deserve it. But are you okay?"
"I'm okay," Steve reassures. As okay as he'll ever be, anyway, here surrounded by the smoldering embers of the life he watched burn to the ground.
Eddie rotates until he's laying down on the couch, and opens his arms for Steve. Steve takes the offer, sliding over the back of the couch, crawling on top of Eddie. Not very gracefully since his pants are still trapped around his thighs, boots on his feet.
"Here, let me help," Eddie says, trying to maneuver him to sitting. Steve allows it.
And Eddie slides off the couch, kneeling at Steve's feet. Eddie looks at how Steve has them laced so they just slip on and off, and it's an old Eddie trick. Steve knows it, Eddie knows it.
"Well, this is sexy," Eddie says as he gently pulls the first one off his foot, then the second. And Steve laughs. Eddie then pulls his jeans down, tossing them aside, "Can you breathe now?"
Steve nods.
Undressed, and a little more unburdened, Steve watches as Eddie sheds his own pants, and then gets back on the couch, laying back against the cushions, an invitation.
Steve takes it.
He's pretty sure their naked asses aren't supposed to be on this antique piece of furniture, but he'd like to see anyone tell Eddie Munson no. It's impossible, and a waste of breath. Always has been.
So, they lay together, Eddie's hand stroking up and down his back, fingers against his spine. Whispering words that Steve's waited a decade to hear. And Steve listens, feeling the rumble of Eddie's chest, the timbre of his voice that is somehow even deeper than it was at twenty-three. They kiss and grind soft cocks together until they aren't soft anymore. They roll together until Steve slides back down on Eddie's cock, ready to finish what they started.
It's gentler now, and Steve's pretty sure that might make this worse, after. Hate sex, angry fucking to get each other out of their systems, he thinks he could get over. That he could take at face value.
But this?
This is too soft. Too loving.
And that's gonna destroy him when it's over.
Eddie was, is, will always be, the greatest thing he's ever lost. Steve swears he only blinked, but in between that breath and the next, Eddie had slipped through his fingers.
But he wouldn't give this up. He never wanted to give Eddie up. Not then, not now, and that's really fucking hard to wrap his head around. That it ended against his will. That the thing he was sure was forever, crashed and burned so fucking quickly, completely out of his control.
He couldn't save them from themselves. He couldn't save them from the self-destructive streak Eddie just couldn't shake.
He couldn't stop Eddie from running.
Distance, blossoming fame, and the road just being more of an obstacle than they would have ever imagined when they stood up and said I do, promising forever.
Well, forever was pretty fucking short, Steve guesses.
He rocks on Eddie's cock, fucking himself as Eddie holds his hips in his hands.
"That's it, sweetheart," Eddie encourages, and Steve's setting the rhythm now. The pace, the intensity, so he can't even blame Eddie for this slow down. For this softness.
This is all on him.
But Eddie still fits in him like he was made to be there. Of course, Steve assumes Eddie's cock has been in lots of places since they buckled and folded. So, yeah, that probably means a doctor's visit, and a nerve wracking wait for test results will be in his future for being impulsive and foolish.
At the same time, he still trusts Eddie. Maybe he shouldn't. It makes no sense to, for fuck's sake. Eddie broke his heart, abandoned him like he meant nothing. But for some reason he trusts that Eddie would have never slid into him, warm and bare and familiar, if there was a cause for concern.
He's always lost his fucking mind when he came to Eddie. That not changing today is no fucking surprise, not really.
Steve angles himself so Eddie's bumping his prostate, over and over, and it's just too much, too good, and Steve tenses, coming all over Eddie's belly. But he keeps grinding down on Eddie's cock, determined to get him over the edge, too.
Eddie groans, hand squeezing Steve's hip, "I'm gonna come."
"Do it," Steve breathes out, and Eddie does. Shoving up into him as far, and as hard as he can, and Steve tilts his head back, enjoying that this moment has happened for them, one more time.
He collapses onto Eddie's chest, laughing the way he always has after good sex, Eddie's softening cock still inside him, and Steve's not about to pull away yet.
The door opens, and Steve pops up to look to see who has found them.
Robin.
"Goddamnit, dingus," she says from the doorway. He's aware from her angle she can see he's shirtless and debauched. She can't know that Eddie's still in him, soft, but unwilling to extract himself.
"I take it that asshole ex of yours is under you?"
"Hi, Robbie," Eddie says, still unseen by her, from his place on the couch under Steve.
She doesn't respond, ignoring Eddie. Which is to be expected, Steve supposes.
"Get cleaned up. Dustin's realized you're both missing."
Steve watches as Eddie stretches his arm backwards into her view, making the okay sign and she slams the door in response.
They both laugh, and Steve lays back down on Eddie's bare chest, kissing him again. And again.
"She hates me now," Eddie says, when they break apart.
"With the fire of a thousand suns, yes," Steve answers, tucking his face into Eddie's neck. Robin and Eddie used to be friends, best friends, but when Eddie cut and ran, Robin wrote him off swiftly, with finality, and without remorse. Steve appreciated the loyalty. And he's gonna need it, tomorrow. Because he knows this was just one night, one mistake, but he's gonna milk it for all that it's worth since he's already in for a penny.
"We really have to make an appearance," Eddie says, and Steve whines at the idea. But he lifts up, Eddie's cock sliding out of him for the last time. At least he knows this time. At least he can brace for the impact.
But Eddie has other ideas.
"We'll be seen, we'll congratulate the kid, and then I'll take you back to bed, and show you how much I've missed you."
Steve nods. Yes. That. All of that, please.
If he only gets one more night, he wants to draw out this long overdue goodbye as much as possible.
"We hadn't even had dinner," Dustin admonishes, shoving Steve's shoulder. Eddie puts a hand between them, like this might escalate.
"That's my bad, kid," Eddie says, shit-eating grin on his face.
Henderson is more forgiving. He loves them both. But Robin's glaring daggers through Eddie's back. There's no way he doesn't feel it. Steve can feel it, and it isn't even directed at him.
The party is winding down, and at the first opportunity, Eddie holds out the old leather jacket, helping it up and over Steve's shoulders.
"Steve," Robin says, a warning, and he steps away from Eddie, leaning down, hugging her.
"Let me say goodbye right this time," he pleads and she nods against his cheek.
She hates this, Steve knows she does, but she lets him go. She'll let him make this mistake. Will let him poke at this old, never-healed, wound.
Eddie leads him out the front of the venue. A crowd has gathered. Word must have spread that Eddie Munson was in the building, and now flashbulbs are blinding Steve, and Steve's instinct is to let go. Drop Eddie's hand and run. Hide, get out of sight. But Eddie doesn't let go of his hand. Even as he's guiding them towards the waiting black SUV.
One of the security guys reaches for the door handle, and Steve sees Eddie rest his hand on his shoulder. The guy immediately backs off, and Eddie opens it for Steve himself. Standing there, looking grown up, and then suddenly his arm pops out, and he dips into a half-bow.
Steve laughs, loud and happy. He's still Eddie.
He wishes he had a picture. Wants to replay that memory in his mind forever, and he realizes suddenly that he probably can. That in the next ten minutes the entire walk from the building to the car will be uploaded from at least a dozen angles.
There's gonna be story after story of Eddie Munson entering the building alone and re-emerging four hours later with his ex-husband on his arm.
The divider in the car goes up, and they can't keep their hands off of each other.
Steve shifts on the leather.
"What's wrong?" Eddie asks, pulling back to look in his eyes.
It's only Eddie, so he tells the truth, "I'm leaking."
And Eddie grins, wolfish and wild, "Well. I could take care of that."
The pulse of want goes through Steve. It's filthy and is he really gonna let Eddie eat his ass in a moving car, a driver just on the other side of the barrier?
Yeah, yeah he is.
He moves to his belt, but Eddie's fingers replace his own, "Let me, sweetheart."
And at this point, Steve thinks he'll let Eddie do anything he wants.
The pictures from outside Eddie's building are sure to be obscene. Eddie, mouth red and lips shiny, Steve's hair in utter disarray. The crowd is rowdy, extra loud and demanding, and Eddie seems to be in no hurry. He's smiling, and looking around, as if this is completely normal.
As if he always hooks up with his ex-husband, rims him in the car, and the waves to the fans, after. He looks happy, thrilled even, instead of annoyed to be caught in the public eye.
Maybe it is normal for him, but it's definitely not for Steve. This was never his life, not even when they were married and Eddie's star continued to rise. Maybe, especially not then. Eddie wanted his private life to be private and that meant Steve was left at home, out of sight.
Not tonight.
Tonight it's obvious what they've been doing during the car ride. The press will have a field day building a timeline with the pictures and videos.
Eddie holds Steve's hand, tight and protective, leading the charge, but he uses the other to wave. To stop and sign an album. A poster. All while his security tries to wrangle him inside.
"This is Steve," he tells a fan, a camera shoved in his face.
Steve tries to put on a pageant smile, and is certain he's failed. This is fucking bizarre. Has Eddie really changed this much? Then they're moving again, finally making their way towards the door.
"Thank you," Eddie says, looking right at the man holding open the door.
"Mr. Munson," the doorman says, and Eddie shakes his hand, and Steve really thinks the guy wouldn't have if he knew where Eddie's hands have been recently.
They're taken to a private elevator, and when it opens, it's in the middle of a huge penthouse apartment.
Which is pretty amazing. The only thing fucking up the view is Gareth on the couch, in his underwear. He's holding a bowl of cereal under his chin, and he accidentally tips it on himself.
"Sorry," Eddie says, "I wasn't expecting to bring home company."
"Oh, that's okay," Gareth answers with a smirk.
"I wasn't talking to you," Eddie laughs, and Gareth grins. "If you got cereal on that couch, clean it up. I'm not smelling sour milk for the next decade every time I sit down."
"Yeah, yeah," Gareth says.
Then he looks right at Steve.
"Steven," Gareth greets, and Steve gives him a little wave. He's really grown up since Steve saw him last.
Eddie puts his hand on the small of Steve's back, "My bedroom is back here."
It looks like his closet exploded, a familiar mess. Eddie starts picking up clothes off the bed.
"Sorry, I had trouble deciding what to wear tonight," Eddie says, several pairs of black jeans that look identical to Steve slung over his arm.
His room has a hell of a view. There are floor to ceiling windows, and Steve stands there and looks over the city. Eddie's done well for himself. But Steve knew that, never doubted that he would, but it's just something else to see the reality of that with his own eyes.
Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's middle, hugging him from behind, his chin hooked over Steve's shoulder.
Steve closes his eyes and just leans into his touch.
Eddie's hands are all over him. Rough calluses touching, stroking, remapping his skin. Seemingly marking the changes. Steve's face down on the softest, worn-in sheets he's ever felt. They smell like Eddie. They feel like home.
They aren't fancy, no satin or showy black here, just comfortable gray cotton. The real Eddie, not the persona.
The lights of the city are casting the room in shadow, but Steve doesn't need to see Eddie. He can feel him.
Eddie is rocking into him, slow and steady. There's no hurry, no racing towards the finish line.
Because this is goodbye, and neither of them are quite ready to let go. Not yet.
When Steve wakes up, it's dark in the room, and Eddie is dead to the world, his hair is fanned out across the pillow. As much as Steve wants to roll over, curl into Eddie's body and go back to sleep, he's aware it's time to go. He doesn't want to do it in the morning when it's awkward and sad. The harsh light of day ruining this. Eddie had shown him how much he'd missed him, as promised, and Steve's gonna carry that with him, feel it for days.
This is a better ending than they got last time.
He dresses quietly, and Steve's carrying his boots out of Eddie's bedroom, when another door in the hallway cracks open.
"Oh, hell no," is the pronouncement, and Steve turns and looks. Gareth.
"Yeah, well, I love you, too, Gareth," Steve says, as he keeps walking. He doesn't need any lip from this kid. Never has, never will.
But then he's jostled as Gareth forces his way in front of Steve, blocking his path out of the hallway. Standing in front of him, not allowing him to just sneak away in peace. Does there really need to be salt rubbed into the gaping wound? He's going. Maybe he fucked up. Maybe they both did. But it was one night. Closure. Ripping open old wounds. Whatever you want to call it.
"Just where do you think you're going?" Gareth hisses, and Steve just glares at him.
"Back to my own hotel, back to my own life. What the fuck is it to you?"
And Gareth grabs Steve's boots, yanking them from his hand, one landing with a thunk against the plush carpet. Then he kicks his foot out, banging it against the door they're stopped in front of, like a crazy person.
"What the fuck is your problem, dude?" Steve snaps, and the second door opens. Goodie, then Jeff, standing in the doorway. Why are they all fucking here? Don't they see enough of each other on the goddamn road? Steve tilts his head back, annoyed, "Great. Just great."
"Steve?" Jeff asks. Like he might be someone else.
"Don't you run away from him again!" Gareth hisses, and Steve feels insane. In what universe did Steve ever run from Eddie?
"What the fuck? Run? Me? I'm the one that ran? I think you've rewritten history there, kid," Steve says, squatting down to pick up his fallen boot.
And Gareth shoves his shoulders, knocking him off-balance and onto his ass.
Oh, Steve's gonna kill him.
But Eddie gets there first.
"What in the actual fuck?!" Eddie screams, getting in between Gareth and Steve as Steve puts on the one boot he has control over.
Eddie attempts to wrestle the other away from Gareth, bullying him around the hall.
"I was helping you!" Gareth yells, ducking under Eddie's arm, darting to the side, but that allows Goodie to easily snag the boot being held hostage during the evasive maneuver. He turns it over to Jeff, who hands it down to Steve, waiting for him to get it pulled on, and then helps him to his feet.
Ushering him past Eddie roughhousing Gareth against the wall, making him squawk and squall. Not a thing has changed. It'd be funny if it wasn't so ridiculous.
Jeff holds his arm out behind Steve, a protective gesture, and presses the down button for him.
Steve steps in when the door opens, sees Jeff pressing the intercom on the wall, and then the doors close. The last thing he hears before he descends is a hand slapping against the doors, and Eddie's muffled, "No!"
When Steve steps out of the private elevator, the same doorman from earlier is waiting and steps forward.
"Mr. Harrington, this way," he states, and hovers a hand behind his back, just like Jeff had, like Jeff must be so used to this, that now he was doing it himself. He hears the doorman radio for a car to be sent to the escape hatch and Steve thinks that sounds a bit dramatic, but smiles to himself.
So, there's a back entrance they use, but Eddie decided to have them dropped off out front. He wanted them to be seen, and Steve doesn't try to read into that. Tries not to interpret it as a hard launch, as he's led down a long hallway, far away from the front of the building.
The doorman holds open a door that leads to a flight of stairs that go down, down, down. Steve smiles at him, even if he's a little embarrassed to be slinking off underground in the middle of the night. Maybe the doorman is used to it. Maybe this is part of his regular job, ushering out Eddie's conquests.
"Steve, wait!" he hears, as Eddie is rushing down the hallway toward them.
"Mr. Harrington," the doorman says, giving him a choice. He surely works for Eddie, especially if he knows who Steve is without having ever met him before, but he's clearly giving Steve an out.
"It's okay," Steve says, and the doorman takes a step back, as they both watch Eddie run down towards them only in his jeans, barefoot.
The doorman lets Eddie and Steve step into the stairwell, and then closes the door to the hallway, giving them some privacy. Eddie nods towards another door, and then taps his watch against the plate on the wall, lighting it up green, unlocking it. Once he opens it, it's a small balcony. With some sort of dark screen that Steve assumes only works one way. They can see out, but the world can't see in. Eddie's sure living a fancy life.
The fresh, fall air feels nice against his face, and Steve closes his eyes. Eddie pats his pockets, finds what he's looking for, and then lights a cigarette. When it's offered up, Steve takes it. At least on this side of the building, the street is blissfully empty. The crowd from earlier, totally gone.
It feels normal, and the sounds of the city hum with life down below.
"Don't go, or at least let me walk you out," Eddie says, hand on Steve's forearm, and he keeps talking, "Are you okay?"
Steve laughs, "Just plotting Gareth's demise."
"I'll help," Eddie says, a small grin on his face. Then he looks serious, "He shouldn't have shoved you."
"I just didn't have my center of balance, and he took advantage like a little shithead."
"Still," Eddie says.
Steve's not mad. Trying to be forced to stay is way better than being encouraged to leave.
"It's fine. He just didn't want me to run again," Steve says, raising an eyebrow, and he smiles when Eddie cackles. "You been telling stories?"
"No. Well, of course, but not about that. He knows what really happened. He's just-"
"Your Robin," Steve fills in.
"Yeah. How is Robbie? We didn't really get a chance to catch up."
Steve laughs, Robin would have eviscerated him had he tried.
"Good, great. Happy. Well, probably not tonight. She doesn't want to clean up any more messes you and I make with each other. But good, otherwise."
Eddie just stares at Steve, eyes unwavering.
"What?" Steve finally asks.
"What if we don't make any more messes?" Eddie asks, big, brown eyes looking into Steve as if he can see his soul if he stares hard enough.
"Eddie," Steve says.
"Seriously. What if we do it right this time?"
"Are you not still on the road?" Steve asks, because he knows the answer to that, and Eddie's a lot more famous than he was the last time he thought he needed to leave Steve in the dust.
"Yeah, but not in the same way. I'm older. Wiser."
"You sure about that?" Steve teases.
"Let a guy dream," Eddie banters back, then adds, "Let a guy make up for his sins."
"Well, you do have plenty of those," Steve teases.
"I do," Eddie admits, then reaches out to squeeze Steve's arms, "But I'm ready. For you. For this," he says, hand sliding down to brush against Steve's wedding band. "How 'bout it?"
Like it's that easy. Like there won't be conversations to have, and the same old problems to tackle. Like there isn't deep-seated hurt to smooth over, overcome.
But none of that matters. Not really.
Because, yeah. Steve's ready for it, too.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! 🎶
Notes: If you're familiar with the song by Taylor Swift, you'll have recognized where several of the lyrics popped in. (And other songs from Taylor's discography as well.) I love these song challenges, since music inspires me to write things SO often.
This got way longer than I intended. I was gonna write it jointly for this and "wrath" over at @corrodedcoffinfest, but 1313 words went by way too fast, haha. 🤣
#steddiesongfics#song prompt#stranger things#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie#exes to lovers#thisapplepielife: short fic#thisapplepielife: steddiesongfics
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For the Spotify ask game... Galex and number 55 please :)
Eras of Us - Fletcher
George fiddled with the drink before him. The condensation on the glass left his hand feeling damp and tacky. A sensation he didn't particularly like but it was distracting. It took his eyes away from the door, and for a moment, he forgot that he was waiting on anyone at all while he used a napkin to dry off his hand. And then the chair across him moved, and there he was. Alex looked the same as he had all those years ago but there were differences. There was a smattering of grey hairs at his temple. His eyes had the beginning of crows feet from years of laughter and his smile was the same. A sweet, little quirk of his lips that had George's heart tripping over itself with how fast it was beating. It had only been five years but it felt like an eternity. "Hey Georgie", Alex spoke softly, settling in the chair with a take away cup of what George knew had to be white hot chocolate. He would even bet there were marshmallows in there and a grated flake bar. It had always been Alex's go to, and even after all these years, George knew it off by heart. He even had an old packet of Alex's favourite hot cholocate and a mini chocolate grated in the back of one of his cupboards. It was tucked away the mug that had always unoffically been Alex's before it had all fallen apart. "It's been a while" George manged to choke out, trying not to get lost in the whirlwind of past memories blaring through his mind. Alex was here. He was here and real, and he was smiling at George as if no time had passed. "I was glad you reached out", Alex said after a moment, hand wrapped around his drink as he caught George's gaze shyly, "I missed you" George could feel the tears pricking his eyes as relief flood through him because he missed Alex too. He knew why they had broken up. He understood it, and he lived it but that didn't mean that George didn't miss him like a limb. He had spent five years chasing a fading dream, pushing himself to catch up with rookies and keep his Mr Perfect image intact as if it could ever fill the hole Alex had left when he had retired. Alex had wanted to marry him, to come out, start a family somewhere quiet but George was still chasing that dream despite having left Mercedes years ago. But now, now maybe things could be different. "I missed you too", George's words sounded watery as he tried to speak, "Alex, I...." A hand reached across the table to cover his. Warm and protective, everything George had been sorely missing as he lost himself in Alex's warm brown eyes. "George, I know", Alex whispered back at him, because he probably did. Alex had always known George better than even George. He probably knew exactly what he wanted to say as he brushed his thumb across George's hand, "New era, yeah?" It took everything George had not to reach across the table and kiss him as he finally smiled back at Alex. "Yes" George smiled, "A fresh start"
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Cover me - Bruce Spreengsteen
157 words / @drarrymicrofic
“You can’t stay in here forever,” Harry said, peering out through the blinds, at the crowd gathered on the other side of the window.
Draco frowned at him. “I most certainly can,” he argued. “The Prophet is living on my doorstep. The whole world is out there looking to report on me; I’ve seen enough.”
“You act as if they’re not trying to catch me here as well, Draco.”
“Come on, baby,” Draco pleaded, ignoring Harry altogether, and oh, he knew what that did to Harry. Harry gave him a pointed look, but Draco only smiled, pulled the covers of the bed down a bit in silent invitation for Harry to join him.
Harry shook his head fondly before turning out the light and bolting the door, deciding that everything else could wait — braving the prophet, and the rest of the world, it could wait. For now, Harry would hold Draco in his arms and cover him.
#drarry#drarry microfic#song prompt#golden era#drarry fanfic#Draco malfoy#Harry Potter#Draco x Harry
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Song Based Writing Prompts!
Some prompts based on songs I regularly daydream about and to!
boys, bugs and men (Paris Paloma): childhood friends to lovers to enemies
Found Heaven (Conan Gray): character returning to their toxic home after growing up and escaping it
Illuminati (ONICKS): Character does everything possible to reach impossible riches but soon their past comes back to haunt them
Hawk In The Night (Madds Buckley): Character being raised to become a powerful person but instead, uses their power to destroy their mentors
SCUMBAG (NOAHFINNCE): Character getting exactly what they deserve
Tounges & Teeth (The Crane Wives): Character A has changed beyond recognition but still craves their relationship to Character B
#writing#creative writing#writeblr#writerscommunity#writing prompt#fic prompt#whump prompt#dialogue prompt#song prompt#favorite songs#song#prompts#fanfiction#ao3#story prompt#writing ideas#writing prompts#fantasy prompts#writing exercise
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