#i also try to keep the songs of the time and that's me done rambling in the tags

[jannacalendar]

Sleater-Kinney || Jenny

Do you wanna forget? Live in the dark Was she just too close To everything? Didn't we almost have it almost have it almost have it almost....

[one-sunny]

Waiting, waiting

Sanji x reader

Summary: Following the events of Whole Cake Island, Sanji is a broken man. He turns to the only person he has felt true affection for with a desperate plea. Angst, desc. of a panic attack, hurt comfort.

Based on the song “Would you fall in love with me again.” Also, disclaimer, i haven’t seen the entirety of the WCI storyline but im sending it anyways 🤷‍♀️

Masterlist

Would you fall in love with me again,

Your relationship with Sanji has always been complicated. You knew of the affection you had for each other, of the longing, and of the little things stuck in your minds that have kept you away from each other. He offered sweet words and the affirmations you needed for comfort. You offered him a gentle presence and acceptance. There were consistent lingering touches and longing stares. But there was always something keeping you away from each other.

There was nothing but relief upon Sanjis return to the crew. You were aware of what he endured and of every way he was different.

He returned to doting on you all, but he lingered in the kitchen and away from the crew far longer than usual. His prep took extra time. The dishes were a much larger task. And above all else, he no longer accepted any aid from you as he so freely did before.

If you knew all i’ve done?

Sanji made an effort to avoid you upon his return to the ship. He was a broken man, but above all else, he wasn’t sure he could face you. After everything he had done. After everything he had to face. Could you really look at him the same?

The man was never sure what to make of your relationship before.

You spoke to him freely, combatting his flirting at time, and leaving him a flustered mess. No one could make him blush in the way that you did. No one made his heart flutter like you. And no one made him feel loved like you could.

The things I cannot change.

Sanji felt his lungs constrict.

Everything was too much. The things weighing on his mind, playing in a constant loop, it was all too much. His hands ball into fists and the cigarette is flattened between his lips with the effort that it took to hold back his tears.

But it wasn’t enough.

A hand presses to his mouth in efforts to quiet his cries. His fingers were wet and pruned from soaking in the dish water, the smell of soap overwhelming his senses. Shoulders begin to shake and his knees nearly buckle with the effort of keeping himself upright.

His breath hitches. One. Twice. A third time and Sanji feels himself spiraling. He can’t breathe.

Would you love me all the same?

“Sanji.” You call out to him. He doesn’t have to turn around for you to take in his wrecked state. You rush to his side, prying his hand away from his mouth and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Hey, hey, hey.” You coo in effort to comfort him. “Sanji, you’re okay. I’m right here. You’re safe. You’re on the Sunny.”

His hand shoots out to grab at your sleeve, nails digging into the fabric. Quick breaths push out of his mouth as the tears stream down his cheeks.

You cup his face in your hands, speaking to him in a low voice and trying to talk him through the panic attack. To breathe. To let you in. To remind him that he is safe now.

As his breathing stabilizes, he collapses forwards into you. “I’m sorry.” He calls to you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sanji, why are you apologizing?”

He tugs you closer and presses his face into your shoulder. You hand rubs along his back as he sobs into your shirt. “I’m sorry.” He repeats the words over and over. “I’m sorry I’m not a better man for you.” He chants his apologies for everything he has done. For not treating you how he should. For not showing you the love you deserve. “I’m so in love with you and all i’ve done is run from it. You deserve better.”

A shiver shoots down your spine at his ramblings. He was in love with you. He was in love with you. It was something that you knew deep down, something you easily reciprocated, something that the two of you had complicated for far too long.

“Sanji, hey, come on. Come on love.” You coax him out of his place at your shoulder, running your fingers through blonde locks, and look back at him with every ounce of adoration in your body. “I forgive you for everything you’ve done, okay? You were trying to protect us. I could never fault you for that.”

“You don’t understand, I- I-“

“I don’t care about any of it.” You wipe at the tears to no avail as they continue to fall. “I love you the same as I did before, Sanji. I’m in love with you. And I always have been.”

His lips purse into a thin line and his chin quivers with his effort to just stop crying.

You stroke a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair out of the way, and leaning in to press a delicate kiss to his skin. Your lips trail around his face to pepper kisses along his skin. His fingers tighten into your shirt as he clings to you.

Then, a laugh leaves his lips. It’s breathy and clipped, but it warms your heart all the same.

“I missed you, Sanji.” Your lips brush along his jaw, your voice tingling at his skin and making a smile pull to his lips. You lean back and revel in the smile that you had missed so much.

“I missed you too, darling. More than ever.” Sanji presses his forehead to yours as another breathy laugh leaves him. “Can I- Can I kiss you?” He shakily asks.

You push forwards to connect your lips in a delicate kiss and his hands move to cup your cheeks. The kiss is tinged with salty tears and tobacco, but it’s a combination that is just so Sanji that you don’t mind. Sanji is the first to drag himself away, drawing in a deep breath, before breaking out into a bright smile. It lights up his whole face this time.

I know that you’ve been waiting, waiting for love.

[stevie-petey]

track two: but youre such a tease

“Perfect,” he mouths at your ear, smile tickling the sensitive skin there. “Everything you do is perfect.” “Helps that I have a good teacher.” You shiver at the sensation, voice frailer than you’d like.  “In no time you’ll be replacing me in my own band.” The shell of your ear lands in his mouth and he bites down, hard enough to force a gasp out of you, but gentle enough to leave you leaning in for more.  You pull away slightly and shake your head. “No, I think I’ll stick to photography. Easier to remember where my hands go.” “As if I wouldn’t guide you through it.”

Summary: now officially the februarys concert photographer, you hit the road with them on tour. how bad can three months be stuck inside a small tour bus with steves needy hands and songs reserved only for you ?

Rating: general, some swearing, drinking, horny

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, steve is a slut (endearing), mentions of alcohol, underaged drinking, a bit smutty and mature content ahead

Words: 16.2k

Before you swing in: HAPPY CRUX DAY !! sorry this took so long i was on spring break and also battling academic demons. im back now ! hooray ! and the crux is amazing fly makes me want to collapse and i honestly envision fly for this series as well. gap tooth smile too. fly fits more for chapter 3 :) take that as you will ! anyways, i was really brave and wrote my own lyrics for this chapter so pls be kind and enjoy !

-

With three divorces, a multi-million record label company, and hundreds of performance legends who all owe their careers to his ear for talent: Leonard Branham is a force of nature. 

He shoves papers into the band’s faces and starts rambling off legalities that you don’t even try to keep up with. All you catch, at the very tail end of one of his spiels, is that the Februarys can make only small, miniscule edits to their EP at the studio. Nothing else. Nothing new. Nothing unexpected. 

“If you even think about tainting the green in your music, I’m suing you all for defamation.” Leonard warns them with a wave of his cigarette. “Minor edits to the music only. Anything bigger than my second wife and I’ll shoot you.”

While it’s unlikely the short, stout man has an actual gun, no one in the Februarys is willing to run the risk. They nod at his every word. Steve even audibly gulps as he signs along the dotted lines. 

“You won’t regret this, Lenny.” You shake the man’s hand again. “No big changes. You have their word.”

Leonard’s mouth pinches in displeasure, but he doesn’t say anything. He takes his hand from yours and brings his cigarette to his mouth. It’s almost down to the filter, a nub more than anything else. 

“Whatever,” he drops the nicotine onto the carpet. Rubs it in with his polished leather shoes. “Just do as I say. Ring me when it’s done so I know when to start harassing small businesses into selling your music.”

Then Leonard Branham leaves just as quickly as he appeared. The scent of cigarette smoke is the only thing left in his wake. 

“Did that just happen?” Steve’s question floats through the room, not particularly aimed towards anyone. 

You flick his ear to break him from his awe struck spell. “Sure did. Now you have all the time in the world to make imperceptible edits to the EP so that our pal Lenny can wrack up some misdemeanor charges.”

Years from now, when someone asks you how exactly Leonard managed to get every record store in the country to display The Februarys on their shelves and every radio station to begin rolling out the lead single, Tease, you’ll tell the person exactly what you told Steve: misdemeanor charges. 

Three divorces, millions of dollars, a knack for discovering talent: Leonard Branham really is a fucking force of nature. 

A month later you’re pressed against the kitchen counter. Steve’s chest lines your back and his hands rest on your waist. Dustin’s hair tickles your face and Robin’s own hands fiddle with your fingers as the impatience gnaws at her.

Will and Lucas stand against the fridge. Max hangs off her boyfriend’s shoulder and Mike paces the room. El sits to the side with Nancy, who has spent the entire hour-long wait gripping Jonathan’s leg, forcing him to sit still. 

There’s food scattered throughout the apartment. Cold pizza and cans of beer and candy wrappers all on the floor. The air inside the walls is thick and warm and brimming with anticipation. 

The clock on the wall flicks to 11:59PM. 

“One more minute.” Steve’s fingers twitch, tightening around your body. His chest is tight and you can feel his erratic heartbeat. 

A small, dented radio sits on the kitchen counter. Some unimpressive, generic bluegrass song drones through its shitty speakers, and yet the device sucks everyone in. No one dares to look away from it. In less than a minute it’ll sing the beginning chords of Tease for all of New York to hear.

“Do you think they’ll announce who we are first–”

Nancy’s hand stifles Jonathan’s words. He makes muffled complaints, tries to speak through her clasped hand, but she’s firm in her silencing. 

“I’m doing this for your own good, honey.” She smiles sickly sweet at him. “If you’re talking while the song starts, Steve will kill you and Robin will bury the body.”

“And we’ll help.” MIke points to him and Max, smirking at Jonathan’s eye roll in begrudging acceptance that for the next thirty seconds, all there will be is silence.

The small hands inside your watch tick by, agonizingly slow and calculated. You can feel Steve’s eyes staring down at the wrist that his lips have grazed a million times before. Only for once he isn’t imagining kissing the skin but rather how his voice will sound through radio waves. 

“And that was Margarete Joel’s Fishing on a Wire.” The nasally voice of the radio presenter cuts through the thickening silence. The clock strikes midnight. The only movement in the kitchen is the pounding of hearts. “Next up we have the, uh. The Februarys? Huh. Happy February I guess.”

“Told you your band name is stupid.” Dustin grumbles, already dodging the punch that he knows Robin will lay on him. 

“Shut up!” She hisses at him, leaning even closer to the radio now.

The presenter clears his throat, excuses himself, before continuing. “My apologies, folks. Anyways, here’s the Februarys and their new song, Tease!” 

And even through the shitty and dented speakers that are five years past their prime, the beginnings of Steve’s acoustic chords intermixed with Mike’s electric strings sounds as beautiful as rain and thunder on a summer day. Soft melodies colliding with harsh grandeur. 

Everyone screams. Loud, unabashed, prideful and exhilarated and happy. 

Nancy jumps into Jonathan’s arms and Mike throws himself at El and Lucas and Will and Dustin jump around in a circle as Max and Robin scream into each other’s faces and Dustin is cheering and your body gets thrown over Steve’s shoulder in a dizzying rush and you only have seconds to grab your camera before he’s running around the apartment in a victory lap worthy of Greek chariot racers. 

“We’re on the radio!” Steve twists and turns throughout the apartment, hands securely on your legs, careful you don’t fall.

You’re giggling in his infectious glee, stomach warm and light with endless pride for a group of people you’ve only known for two months; it feels like you’ve known them all a lifetime. 

They’re the closest family you’ve ever had and the rush of your love for them vibrates your body. Steve flings you around and everyone is still screaming and you’re laughing so hard that it’s almost impossible to take the photos that you want. 

No one is quite in frame in any of the photos. Half of Robin’s smile in one image, parts of Max’s red hair, Jonathan’s scrunched face and Mike’s pink gums. The images end up blurry and overexposed. 

Still to this day they’re your favorite pictures that you’ve ever taken. 

“Mark my name into your skin,” Steve wails through the chorus, harmonizing with your uncontrolled laughter thrown over his shoulder. “Coax it inside your wrist.”

Jonathan’s fingers rap against the counter and he’s drumming along as Mike pretends to shred the guitar strings that project through the speakers. Robin’s head bounces to the beat and she’s pressing her own fingers into the countertop as if the entire world is her keyboard while Max simply sways to the music and imagines she’s playing her bass to Lucas.

An impromptu performance of the Februarys in your overheated kitchen. For one night only. Come one, come all. 

El cheers and dances along. Will and Dustin try to mimic Mike’s erratic movements. Lucas and Nancy watch their lovers as if the performance is real and the warm light above them are stage lights. 

As you’re trying to take a picture of Robin’s pink hair flying with every head thrust, you’re suddenly thrown onto the couch with Steve toppling right above you. The air knocks from your chest and he breathes his own into your skin. 

“Tease! Tease! Tease!” He accentuates each lyric with a kiss to your face. 

You choke his name out in between laughs and it only drives Steve forward. Sets his skin more on fire. 

“Mark your name into my skin,” he nips your collarbone playfully and you think you hear Robin’s teasing whistles. 

Everything is blinding. The lyrics, the heat of Steve’s skin. His lips. The Februarys’ eyes all on you, all on him, playing along to the performance. 

“Don’t know how to resist,” Then Steve’s skin is gone and he swings you off the couch, onto your feet, spinning you around and around and around, leaving you gasping for air. “Tease! Tease! Tease!”

On the last syllable your body stills. You’re face to face with the boy in front of you. His smile is wide, cheeks a wonderful rosie, and your heart feels so full that it threatens to burst sickly sweet grenadine. 

“Tease,” he whispers, as if now, finally, he’s become breathless as well. The music builds, Steve doesn’t look away. He doesn’t move, doesn’t loosen his hands from your tender flesh. Your chests brush together and you know that if you look up, if you give into the temptation, that the final notes of the song will haunt you forever. 

Then the radio cuts out. The song is over. The applause begins. Childish cheering and praise for the band from their most beloved audience. The Februarys’ own cheering for their song being on the radio. For doing it together as a band, as a family. 

The applause rips you back to reality. Reminds you that the performance is over. The show is done. Curtains are drawn, lights are about to go out.

Clearing your throat, you’re the one who steps away, out of his grasp, and yet it’s Steve who pulls you back in, presses a single, gentle kiss to the inside of your wrist. Coaxing his name into the skin just as he’s written into his lyrics. 

“Tease,” he says, song long over, before finally letting you go. 

It’s the closest you’ll ever get to an admission to the question that you’re too terrified to ask. 

– 

The EP does well. Better than anyone could’ve ever thought possible. Almost overnight copies of the tracks sell out. Record stores are met with a demand for more. More music from the Februarys, more EPs, more information about who the band even is. 

More, more, more. 

Leonard is so consumed with his financial glee that he sends a crate of liquor to the apartment with a note consisting only of, You beautiful bastards have made America love green again!

“What’s with this guy and thinking our music is green?” Robin hesitantly opens one of the liquor bottles, sniffs if, then recoils with a gag. “Holy fuck, is this what he drinks?”

“Rumor has it he killed his first wife with homemade liquor.” Mike pops open his own bottle and pours himself a glass, which Nancy promptly takes away from him. He shrugs, having expected this. “Figured I’d try.”

You frown. “Wait, the guy has a dead wife?”

“Made headlines a few years back. I’m surprised you didn’t see any of it.” Jonathan takes a cautious sip from Mike’s stolen glass. You watch his face turn red, then ghostly white, before he stumbles out of the kitchen and into the bathroom.

“Who the fuck did you guys sign with?” You ask in horror, the sounds of Jonathan’s retching floating through the walls. 

Robin closes the crate. She definitely isn’t making the same mistake as her bandmate. “A man who really likes green, apparently.”

Steve wanders into the living room, hair messy and shirt hanging off his shoulder. His blurry eyes take in the scene before him until they settle on the crate of liquor. He jolts awake at the sight and rushes over to Robin’s side.

“Holy shit,” he opens it up, whistling at how full it is. “You guys want any of this?”

“No.” Everyone in the kitchen says at the same time. 

Steve blinks at the odd response. “Did I miss something?”

“No,” you hand him the glass that nearly killed Jonathan. “Here, try some. It’s really good.”

Robin’s mouth twitches and you have to bite your own lips to keep from smiling. Nancy and Mike are quiet, watching, as Steve, bless him, trusts you blindly. 

He takes one sip. Drops the glass. Soon his retching join’s Jonathan’s.

It takes three hours before Steve is willing to talk to you again. 

–

The Februarys gain a large audience faster than they can keep up with after the unexpected success of their EP. Their weekly performances at their regular venues become sold out every night. Crowds scream their name, more than ever before. Flashing lights and stuffy concert halls and crowds that would do anything for them.

Steve feeds into it. As if he was born for it.

In a way, you suppose he was.

His usual array of girls he sleeps with grows almost as quickly as his success does. Dustin says there’s a correlation there. A positive one. He’d do an equation on it if it wasn’t so goddamn obvious in the first place. 

“That’s the fifth girl tonight.” Robin’s untrusting eyes never leave the girl who sits in Steve’s lap. She’s painted azure and shimmering under the dressing room’s dim lighting. The four other girls cram to be as close as possible to him, each painted their own bright colors. “His room is barely bigger than mine. Where the hell is he going to fit them all?”

You hand Robin a cloth to wipe her makeup off. The rush of the show is just beginning to exit your bloodstream. Tonight had been a good gig, a great one even, given the fact that there are currently five girls pawing at Steve’s chest. He’s still sweaty from the performance but he doesn’t bother trying to wipe the grime away. It must add to the rockstar facade that he knows the girls are here for. 

“I really don’t want to think about that. We share a fucking wall.”

“Sorry, babe.” Robin scrubs her lipstick off. “If you get too traumatized, just come to my room. I promise I won’t keep you up too late.”

You snort at her overly flirtatious wink. “The day I fall into your bed is the day I fall into Steve’s.”

“So I’ll see you next week?”

“Oh, definitely.” Sarcasm stabs your voice. “Be next in line for all the girls he sleeps with. What a dream.” 

Robin smears at her eyes, clumps of mascara falling out at the harshness. She looks back in the mirror and finds Steve again. His lips are wrapped around a bottle. She isn’t sure where it came from or how many he’s had since the stage lights have gone out. You watch as her disapproving frown slowly melts into concern. Uncertainty. Worry.

“You don’t…” she hesitates, swallowing back a growing wave of cold concern. “You don’t think it’s anything to worry about, right? I mean. The girls. It’s… there’s been a lot. Even for Steve’s standards.”

The girl’s worry for her friend makes you swallow back your own uncertainty. Robin looks at you through the mirror and her blue eyes look so small without their stage makeup. Fresh faced, pale pink streaks through blond hair you’ve run your fingers through during late nights together talking about art and music. 

“I’m sure he’s fine, Robin.” You pinch her cheek, reddening the skin to elicit the squeaky laughter you’ve come to adore. “An EP, insane manager, and adoring fans is basically Steve’s wet dream.”

Only Robin doesn’t look convinced. You sigh, tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You guys are finally getting to live out your dreams,” she smiles at the small reminder and you kiss the crest of her cheekbone. “And Steve is enjoying every second of it. You should be enjoying every second of it.”

“I guess you’re right.” 

You pretend her smile is more genuine and assured than it really is and tangle your fingers through her hair once again. Robin’s eyes close at the touch, practically melts, and you end up braiding the strands as a way to distract her. 

As you braid Robin’s hair, the conversation loops over and over in your head. A lot has changed in the last few weeks, faster than you’re willing to admit. The crowds are bigger and the venues are flashier and people have even started recognizing you whenever your camera is in your hands. It’s a whirlwind, fast and loud, and Steve is right there in the crosswinds with you.

More girls, more substances, yet the moles on his face still pinch together when he smiles. He still crawls into your bed most nights to play guitar and sit quietly developing film. You’re both still doing what you love, performances and photographs. 

Steve still calls you angelface. That’s as good of an indication as any that things are still the same, though maybe shinier, superficial, but the image itself is still intact. 

–

A few weeks after the release of The Februarys, Robin demands that you and the others celebrate its release without the labor of smuggling underaged adolescents into a bar. 

“We need to get shitfaced and not worry about possibly traumatizing the children we choose to live with for some classified reason.”

No one argues with her. Since moving in with them, you haven’t spent a night out with only Steve and the other legal-aged adults. Somehow Mike or Max or Dustin or anyone else in their group manages to tag along, and while you’ve come to adore them, you’re growing paranoid that you’ve somehow wound up on a watchlist somewhere for how many venues you’ve broken into these last few months. 

That, and Lucas got lost in one of the prohibition tunnels last week and Nancy had to form a small search party. 

The club Robin ends up dragging everyone to is called Webster Hall. You’ve never been, but Steve promises you a round of drinks and you’ve never said no to free liquor before. On the outskirts of the East Village and almost always surrounded by NYU students looking for easy hits, the club’s famous nightlife and live performances quickly pulls you under its tide when you stumble in.

“Holy fuck,” you gasp out, feeling your eyes widen at the overwhelming sights and sounds. On the stage performs a band you’re vaguely familiar with, recognizing their lead vocalist from gigs with the Februarys. Lights flash fluorescent red above you and the band’s vocalist screams a grand crescendo as the floor goes wild. 

“Pretty intense, right?” Steve has to scream in your ear in order to be heard, though he doesn’t waste the opportunity to grab your waist and pull your chest to his. “Don’t worry angelface, you’re all mine tonight.”

And you are. 

You feel safe in Steve’s embrace. He holds onto you just tight enough to remind you that he’ll go wherever you go, without any hesitation, and he’s just as much as yours are you are his. 

Steve buys everyone round after round of drinks. He never strays far from you, he doesn’t allow his hand to leave your waist the entire night. The cold metal of his ring cools your flushed skin and the graze of his bracelets send pleasant stings to your flesh. 

Sometime after the third round of drinks you lose Jonathan and Nancy in the crowd. He’d been wanting to get closer to the stage and she’d been wanting to get closer to him. 

The fifth round you’re dancing with Robin and the press of Steve’s rings still dimples in your skin. She spins you around and around and the music soaks your body alongside the alcohol and Steve’s smile looks like liquid sex in the red lighting. 

The sixth round Robin is gone and Steve’s hands are everywhere. His fingers slip between the straps of your lace bra, dig into your ribcage at the skin just at the crest of your breast. His hands slide up your stomach and pull up the thin sheer shirt that hardly covers an inch of skin. 

“Someone’s touchy tonight,” your voice shakes slightly, your neck is exposed and you gasp when Steve’s lips maul it. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t consider that he’s never done this before, that he’s never kissed you quite like this. “Fuck.”

“Can you blame me?” Teeth bruise your veins, he pulls you even closer hearing your pretty sighs. He cups the lace of your bra and fingers the fabric that’s been begging him all night. “Wearin’ something like this and expecting me not to want to touch.”

His whispered praise sets your skin on fire and you know you shouldn't be doing this, but the film of alcohol that soaks through your bloodstream weakens what little denial that remains in your body. The thin lines that trace through Steve’s freckles into your pulse snap with every kiss he lays against your skin. 

The seventh round of drinks and you find your spine digging into a wall, shoved into a dark corner with Steve’s teeth marring your neck. Normally so gentle and soft with you, his desperate mouth greedily bites any inch of skin it can reach and you’re weak and wanting. Putty in his hands, all you can do is cling to Steve’s shirt as his knee shoves itself between your legs.

“That’s it,” he says when your body collapses into the hardness of his knee. The deepness of his voice makes you bite back yet another moan. “That’s my girl.”

Then Steve’s fingers pinch the hardened nipples that press against your bra and any resolve you once had is gone. You’re his girl. His angelface. 

“Excuse me!”

Steve’s lips are pried away from your collarbone and the cold air that replaces his lips stings. You open your eyes, unsure when you even closed them in the first place, and see a girl shoving her way between you. She’s shorter than you, her eyes darkened by streaks of black eyeshadow and liner, and the tinsel in her hair creates a cascading illuminance that leaves you wondering if she’s truly real. 

“What the fuck?” Only Steve’s affronted reaction tells you that she’s very much real and that he’s very much pissed off by her interruption. 

“I’m sorry,” the girl has to stand on the tips of her toes in order for her shouting to be heard by Steve. She’s completely standing in front of you now, uncaring of the fact that your thighs were only moments ago encased with his. She shows no remorse, instead clawing at his shirt to get his attention. “But are you Steve Harrington?”

Steve steps closer to you, tilting his head at the girl with curiosity and apprehension. “Yeah, why?”

“I love the Februarys!” The girl squeals and throws herself at him, too lost in her ecstasy to realize that Steve has gone entirely still. “Can I get an autograph?”

“I…” Steve’s mouth opens and closes as stares at her, unmoving. His chest doesn’t rise with breaths as the seconds pass and you watch as the disbelief on his face melts into surprise before warming into a smile. 

Outside of performances, no one has ever recognized Steve enough to ask for an autograph. Now here he is, at a club surrounded by rock and jazz and music that makes his heartbeat spike and a pretty girl knows who he is and loves his music. He told you once that he was going to be a rockstar. Now he’s starting to believe that it’ll actually happen.

The girl smiles sweetly up at Steve. “Well?” She nudges her head closer to his chin and the droop of her lined eyes warn you of what’s about to happen.

You see it in the creases of his smile first. The lines mold together to fuse Steve’s lips into the cocky, self-assured smile he reserves only for performances. Then you see it in the way his warm eyes darken to a bitter dusk as he looks the girl up and down, lingering on the cleavage she presents to him. 

Steve’s hand falls from your waist before landing on the girl who has taken your place and you know he’s found himself someone else to call his girl for the night. 

“Anything specific you’d like me to sign?” Unashamed, his eyes drop down to her exposed chest and your throat tightens at the idea of staying in the humiliation any longer. 

“I’m gonna go find Robin,” you grab at Steve, forcing him to finally remember your presence. His eyes are unfocused, he isn’t really looking at you but rather at his newfound attraction and you want to wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his face. Angry that you’re even upset in the first place, you spit out, “Don’t wait up.”

And then you’re gone, shoving through the crowd of people who seem to have someone to dance with and call their own. Behind you, despite the obscenity that is the volume of music in the small area, you still somehow manage to hear Steve’s fucking breathy laughter as you leave.

The sound only burns the open wound of the hurt you know you have no right to feel. Steve isn’t yours, even if for a few drunken moments the two of you allowed the lines to blur into something more. 

That’s all it had been. A few drunken moments. Nothing else. 

But the heat on your neck, leftover remnants of Steve’s pink lips, won’t leave. The heat grows warmer and warmer until your skin blisters at the sensation. You blindly stumble towards the bar with hot tears in your eyes before colliding into someone new.

He’s tall and handsome with red hair that’s shorter than Steve’s and he kisses your neck with more fervor than desperation and he’s everything you’re aching to forget. His hands are softer than Steve’s calloused ones from years of playing an instrument and he sucks the alcohol regret from your lips yet you don’t bother to ask for his name.

You’re shoved against the bar and the hard surface digs aggressively into your back, but the guy bites back your pained sounds with overly eager flicks of his tongue and your eyes close at the sensation. 

He says something into the skin of your neck, but it’s impossible to hear him over the alcohol and music and sex that lingers in the air. His lips drag over your jugular, forcing your head to fall back, but as your eyes squeeze shut once again, you feel a familiar burn on your skin.

You’re being watched.

Steve’s eyes reflect the pleasure that must paint your own face. He’s watching you, eyes dark with the girl he left you for wrapped around him. She hangs off his neck, pressing messy kisses to the smooth skin that you’ve traced your fingers against, but Steve’s eyes remain only on you.

His gaze creates a burn in your core that licks at the heat already there from someone else’s lips. 

You bite your lip, suppressing a moan at the idea of Steve watching you writhe in pleasure. The guy beneath you mistakenly assumes the moan is meant for him and he nips even harder at your neck. There will be a bruise tomorrow from his teeth and you know that Steve will pretend that he was the one who left the mark.

Spinning on that dizzy edge. Kissed her face and kissed her head. 

Muffled singing breaks through the sound barrier between you and Steve. He never takes his eyes off of you and you can’t bear to take yours off of him. His chest heaves a moan that you’re aching to hear, to elicit yourself, to swallow, but he’s across the room wrapped around someone else and all you can do is pant against a stranger’s mouth as you watch Steve’s tongue dance in a mouth that isn’t yours.

Dreamed of all the different ways I had to make her glow.

You imagine that it’s Steve who grinds into you. That it’s him biting your collarbones and marking you as his. That it’s his voice that whispers aching words to you, telling you how beautiful you are, how he’s been waiting for you all night. 

“Why are you so far away?”, she said, “Why won’t you ever know that I’m in love with you?” 

Steve watches you get off with another guy, throat tightening with every moan you know he wishes he could hear, and you watch him, dripping and craving for your own release, as a girl who isn’t you gets him off. 

“That I’m in love with you?”

– 

Lines of people overflow out the venue’s doors a month later. Security refuses to let you and Nancy inside. 

“Packed house,” the gruff man blocks the door. “No one else is allowed in.”

Nancy scoffs at him, holding up the small backstage pass that Steve had given you before the show. Your names are written on them and the silver lettering flashes in the security guard’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” she shows him the pass yet again. “But we’re supposed to be at the front with the band. I’m not sure what else you need from us.”

The man shrugs, indifferent. “Not up to me. It’s the law, miss. Fire codes.”

You pick at your camera’s strap and feel impatience gnaw at your skin. The show starts any minute and you’re not even close to the barricade. Inside the venue you can hear the crowd growing louder and louder as the anticipation eats away at them. You should be in there right now, capturing the moment with your lens to encase forever in an image. 

“C’mon,” your voice draws out in a whine that you aren’t necessarily proud of, but you’re desperate. You’ve never missed a show and you refuse to start now. You shove your camera in the guard’s face, “I’m the band’s photographer, and if you don’t let us in, I quite literally will lose a paycheck tonight.”

“Not my problem.”

“But–”

“Why are you ladies outside?” Leonard shoves the backdoor open, surprising both you and Nancy and the security guard as well. His eyes are hidden by the sunglasses he refuses to take off, even in the dead of night, and his frown takes in the scene before him. “Well? What the hell is going on out here?”

The security guard is the first to recover. “Sir, I can’t let them inside. The law is the law.”

“Says who?” Leonard licks the greedy smile on his face. “The law is whatever I fucking say it is. Let them inside.”

“New York’s fire code clearly states that–”

Leonard slams his hand down on the door, his rings creating an echo like a gunshot. “I don’t care! I’ll pay the damn fire marshall myself, he owes me a favor anyways.” Steve’s voice trails through the venue’s walls and Leonard shoves a fat finger towards the sound. “But you hear that? That’s the sound of you wasting my fucking money that trickles down to her,” he points at you now. “Let them in. Now.”

The veins in the security guard’s neck strain, but even he knows that it’s no use arguing with a man like Leonard. Squaring his shoulders, he steps aside and gestures for you and Nancy to walk through. 

“Enjoy the show,” he says through gritted teeth. 

You and Nancy quickly step inside, weary of the aggression brewing between the two men. The backdoor slams behind you and Leonard claps his hands in amusement once you’re inside. “Well, that was fun.”

“Thank you, Mr. Branham.” Nancy says, ducking her head to avoid his eyes. 

“Thank my wallet by getting your asses out on that stage floor.”

Not needing to be told twice, you’re sprinting through the endless hallways behind the stage. Steve’s on the third song of the night and you’re not wasting another damn second away from him and the music. 

Bursting through the stage-side entrance, you shove past the drunken audience and jump over the fence barricade, right into the small strip of security meant only for you and Nancy. Front and center, Steve finds you and smiles, settling your uneven heartbeat. 

Nancy accompanies you eventually, but you’re too lost in the performance to notice. The crowd is electric tonight and Robin’s excited giggles get caught in the mic and you’re in love with the life that has fallen into your hands. 

After the show you meet up with the band backstage like normal. They greet you and Nancy with eager conversation to relive each second of the gig—a tradition now that you both adore. Mike talks Nancy’s ear off and Steve’s gripping your waist the second he sees you. 

“You were late tonight, angelface,” he pouts into your hairline, kissing it to tell you that he isn’t upset, more worried that something may have happened. “I missed you.”

You stroke his cheek to erase the frown that makes his delicate features even more devastating. “Sorry, rosie. Had some problems with security.”

“Even with the passes?” Robin jabs at the lanyard around your neck. “What’s the point of these things, then?”

“They can only do so much against overcrowding of adoring fans.” Nancy tells her. “You guys are threatening fire codes, now.”

“Are we still bitching about the law?” Leonard’s cigarette smoke enters the room before he does. 

Steve’s posture straightens the moment he sees him. “Mr. Branham, sir, what are you doing here?”

“What, I can’t check up on my investment?”

Max glares at him. “We have a name, you know.”

“I know, little red. Ease up,” Leonard takes a drag and blows the smoke up at the ceiling. “Anyways, fire codes are such a fucking waste of money. Back in my day, fires were admirable.”

Jonathan clears his throat, uncomfortable with the man’s presence. “Sir, with all due respect, we would prefer not to be a fire hazard.”

“Boring.”

“I… I’m sorry?”

Leonard sighs. “No, I suppose it’s my fault. I’m old and slow now, should’ve booked you guys a tour sooner.”

Lightning silence strikes the room. It happens quickly, violently, leaving only bodies stunned in perpetual stillness. 

“Did you…” Robin gulps at the air, her pale skin nearly translucent. “Did you just say ‘tour’?”

“Of course I did.” Leonard seems to realize that he’s left everyone paralyzed and looks around. “What? Did you guys think you’d just drop an EP and call it a day?”

“No!” Steve’s quick to step in, not wanting the man to think they never considered the possibility, that they aren’t ready for the possibility. “No, it’s just… This is all happening so fast, sir.”

“And?”

“It’s been a month, Lenny.” You’re less polite. “They can’t just pack up and abandon their old lives that quickly.”

Behind Leonard’s sunglasses you can feel his unhappy gaze burning your skin. Everyone else in the room holds their breath, not wanting to agree with you too quickly, but not also not wanting to say that you’re wrong, either.

It all feels like too much too soon. They only barely have gotten used to the attention brought by their EP. They interact with fans. They perform shows as if they’ve been doing so for years. They work themselves to the bone to please the demand that they’ve always dreamed of.

But their ears still ring after every show. Some nights the strain of the lights pound a migraine into Robin’s skull. Mike and Max struggle to keep up with their assignments on top of lyrics and notes and chords. Jonathan’s bruised fingers prevent him from using his hand most days. Steve’s chapped lips drip blood down his chin. 

The Februarys are still adjusting to the life they’ve been pistol whipped into, smiling at the bruises and marks, but a tour was never something on their mind. 

“But they will.” Leonard eventually says. “They’ll do anything for their tour.”

Touring would mean Mike and Max dropping out of college entirely. It’d mean leaving Dustin alone in an apartment at only eighteen after swearing to his mother that they’d take care of him. It’d mean Nancy and Jonathan committing to the distance, separating from one another because she won’t be able to follow with a job in New York. More girls, more attention, and more alcohol accessible to Steve’s already deluged lifestyle. Longer days and nights for Robin’s already exhausted body. Trusting that your own career will be safe in the hands of a band that’s still learning, stumbling alongside you.

A tour would mean change. A lot of change. Rapid and staccato and unforgiving if they’re not careful. 

But Steve looks around at his bandmates. He studies their faces, having memorized the hidden crevices of their emotions etched onto them when he was only a teenager with dreams that they all shared. They’re looking at him, too. They all know what their answer will be.

“We will.” Steve finally responds. His usual boyish glee is somber. When he swallows, it’s almost as if he swallows down the naivety. “We’ll do it.”

Leonard smiles. He knew what their response would be.

“Then I guess I’ll start making some calls.”

– 

Later that night Robin lays in your bed, inhabiting the space normally reserved for Steve, only he’s in the room next door with a thudding headboard and drunk feminine giggles. 

You have one of your old records playing in a vain attempt to drown out the noise. Robin offered to go to her room, but you have film that you need to develop and you’ve rigged the lighting in your space to best suit its chemicals and Robin doesn’t want to leave you alone. 

A harsh slam against your wall shakes your desk and the developer mix for the film almost spills. “Shit!”

“Do you think that’ll follow us on tour?” Robin scrunches her face, watching as you manage to salvage the mixture and spare your desk its harsh chemicals. “Because I really fucking hope not.”

“Steve will be in a new city practically every night. Of course it’ll follow you on tour.”

Something about your response upsets Robin. She bites her lip and closes her eyes, as if trying to wash away whatever it is that causes her displeasure. 

“Talk to me, Rob.” You abandon the film and lean over the girl. “I’m here.”

“His drinking is getting worse,” she whispers, ashamed of the words that build in her throat for release. “And the girls don’t fucking help.”

You suck in a breath. “We talked about this, Robin. Steve’s just enjoying himself.”

“And what happens when we go on tour? What, do we just allow him to overindulge and hope he doesn’t hurt himself? He’s fucking drunk on fame already. He doesn’t need more.”

“He’ll be fine,” you promise her, though you both hear the apprehension in your words. “I mean, he’s Steve. He can handle a little more.”

“Okay, fine, Steve can handle it,” Robin sits up, shoves her face into yours, “but can you?”

You flinch away. “I-what?”

Robin stares at you, long and hard, the clench in her jaw only releasing when she finally decides on what to say. “We’ll be locked inside a tour bus for weeks on end. Nowhere to go to escape Steve’s descent into biblical lust and gluttony that you inevitably feed into whenever you fucking smile at him.”

She sees right through you. “Will you be able to handle it?”

Your throat tightens. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? Because the way I see it, the two of you have been dancing around each other the moment Steve set his carnivore eyes on you. Which is fine! I want you guys to be happy together! But Steve’s going through girls faster than I can count and he’s drinking more and you’re hiding in my room most nights pretending it doesn’t have any effect on you.”

The words come spilling out of Robin’s mouth in a rapid succession that makes you wonder just how long she’s kept it all in for. How long she’s seen through the lines and boundaries that you thought were only visible to you and Steve. 

“Y/N, what I’m trying to say is that I’m scared this tour will drown you,” Robin’s soft hands wrap around yours. “I’m worried about Steve, I always am, but I’m also worried about you.”

“And I’m telling you not to worry about me,” your interlocked fingers twist together, but Robin doesn’t let you pull away. “I promise I’ll be fine. Steve and I…” there are no words to describe the gummy tenderness that coats your relationship with the man.

“I refuse to be a hookup, okay?” You find Robin’s eyes and hold her gaze. This is the only thing you’re sure of when it comes to Steve. He may leave your mouth craving his. The dizzying heat that accompanies his lips may leave you wanting. But you know, above all else, that the heat cannot ignite the wick that he’s soaked through with his fingers. 

There will not be a match for the flames. 

“I won’t be another girl that Steve sleeps with.” 

“That’s what scares me,” Robin’s sad smile extinguishes any fight you have left. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her touch lingers on your cheek. “How stubborn you are and how lonely Steve is.”

Sobering words for addicted thoughts. 

One day you’ll look back and wonder when Steve’s loneliness stifled the stubbornness.  

The rest of the month passes in its usual haze, only now between performances and rehearsals, any remaining free time is spent making phone calls and storing items into boxes. With Leonard’s terrifying connections, he manages to plan an entire tour within a few weeks. It takes Steve’s begging and Max’s threats to get him to agree to allowing the band a month of breathing room before the first city. 

Nancy is left to call her parents to inform them of Mike’s decision to drop out of college. Steve calls for Max while you and Robin are tasked with breaking the news to Dustin’s mom about your three month absence. 

None of the parents are happy at the start of the phone call, but with some convincing, they slowly accept that this is something inevitable. 

“I can’t believe you’re abandoning me.” Dustin throws a stack of Robin’s keyboard cables into an empty box. 

Steve flicks the kid’s hat. “We’re coming back, doofus.”

“Yeah, in three months.”

“As if you aren’t excited to finally get rid of us,” Robin snorts. She hands him some of her extra sheet music, “can you toss these in my rehearsal bag?”

Dustin rolls his eyes but takes the papers from her and puts them where she’s asked. He sits in the center of Robin’s now neat and empty room and lets out a low whistle. “This is depressing. I never thought I’d miss your mess.”

You knock your shoulder against his, hoping to lessen the sting of seeing his friends getting ready to leave him. “I’m sure Lucas will find a way to wreck the room.”

Dustin’s mom, Claudia, had only agreed to you leaving as long as Lucas moved into the vacant apartment. Seeing as how the kid lives in shitty student housing, he’d been quick to accept the offer. He moves into Robin’s room the day you leave for tour, so Dustin won’t be on his own for too long. 

“If my room smells like sweaty basketball shoes when I get back, I’m telling Max that it was Lucas who broke her last bass.” Robin threatens, pointing a guitar pick at Dustin. “You got that?”

“Why are you threatening me?”

“To deliver my message, oh small one.”

Dustin grimaces at the nickname and you chuckle, leaning against the kid. “Won’t you miss us, Dusty?”

“Please get evicted sooner.”

Everyone laughs and the once cold room warms at the noise. No one says it, but you’ll miss living together, just the four of you, across the hall from one another with the outside world forgotten. 

The night before it’s time to leave, Dustin and Nancy rope the others into throwing the Februarys a surprise going away party. 

Lucas is in charge of decorations, placing messy blue and purple streamers throughout the apartment. A misshapen, crooked inflatable disco ball hangs from the ceiling and spins at a comedically slow pace. El bakes cookies shaped like italicized F’s and Will helps her with the icing. 

Nancy supplies the alcohol and Dustin is tasked with distracting you and the band members for the three hours it takes them to set up. 

“I still don’t understand why we had to help you deliver soldering tools in the goddamn rain.” Steve flings the front door open, but in his struggle to undo his umbrella, he doesn’t notice the apartment’s decorated state.

Max follows right behind him, shaking her wet hair out. “I don’t understand why we had to all go.”

“Maurice needed my help.” Dustin herds the rest of the band inside, shielding them from seeing anything else.

Mike scoffs. “Who the hell names their kid Maurice? That’s such a stupid name,” he walks inside, brushing past Dustin and falls against the couch, rests his head back, and then says, “why is there a disco ball in your apartment?”

Robin looks up. “What disco–”

“Surprise!” Nancy and the others come out from their hiding spots. You think they say more, but Steve’s startled scream drowns it out.

Jonathan sweeps Nancy into his arms, laughing despite his drenched state. “What’s all this?”

“Did you think we’d let you guys go without one last party?” Lucas shoves party hats on everyone’s head. He places a particularly pink one on Max and winks, blowing her a kiss when she blushes.

The wire of your cone hat snaps around your chin and you smile at the sting. You look around the apartment in disbelief and love. “You guys really did all this?”

“I baked cookies.” El nods, proud, and Mike kisses her head fondly.

Will licks sugar off his fingers. “I iced them.”

“I’m guessing you were in charge of distracting us?” Steve narrows his eyes at Dustin, shivering in his damp shirt. He had you hiking through Manhattan during a literal storm. 

“Yup!” 

You hold Steve back from rounding off on the kid, sliding your hands around his waist and trapping him in your embrace. Plucking a hat from Lucas, you push it into Steve’s mess of hair and kiss his cheek. “Care for a dance?”

Steve spins you before you can even finish the question.

The night is spent licking icing off of sugary cookies and chasing it with whatever liquor concoction Robin comes up with. Music blasts from the radio and the boxes that litter the floor go ignored. No one wants to acknowledge that come tomorrow, you’ll be separated from one another. 

For now, you sing along with El and challenge Will to a drunken drawing contest and show Dustin how to work the aperture on your camera and capture Lucas’ wide grin as Max kisses his shoulder and Nancy shares the last of the cookies with you. 

Laughter and reminiscent joy. That’s how the last night is spent in the apartment.

– 

According to Leonard, he chooses fifteen cities and twenty performances for the Februarys’ first tour because it’s “enough to please the demand but not enough to jeopardize the divorce settlement in case it tanks”. 

He’s strategic in his planning. Each venue is big enough for an excited crowd but small enough to guarantee a sold out house. The cities selected have younger demographics and populated tourist attractions to ensure a draw in. 

Leonard Branham spares no expense for the Februarys’ first ever tour.

Except for the tour bus itself. 

“It’s… definitely travel sized.” You stare at the vehicle before you, wincing at its compact size. While you hadn’t been expecting a grand vehicle, you had at least thought there’d be room to breathe.

Robin drops her head in her hands. “We’re gonna kill each other.”

You want to argue with her, but when Steve excitedly ushers everyone inside to tour the bus, you see that there’s even less room inside. A line of bunk beds on both sides, six total, with a kitchenette smushed to the side accompanied by a pathetic pull out couch and a fridge so small it can only hold five items. 

While everyone stands to the side and wonders how the hell you’ll survive the close proximity for three straight months, Steve is bouncing off the walls.

“This is insane!” He strokes the mini-fridge as if it’s some mythical creature.

“This feels like sleepaway camp,” Max sniffs at one of the bunk beds in disdain, gagging. “Holy shit, it smells like sleepaway camp.”

“I call top bunk!” Mike jumps onto the nearest bed he finds and lands with a thud so terrifying you fear for a moment that he’s broken the bus entirely. The landing knocks all the air out of his body and he rolls to the side, wheezing. “Fuck that hurt.”

“Careful!” You run over to the boy, who’s about to roll completely off the small twin sized mattress. “Dude, you’re way too tall for that lanky body of yours.”

“Hurts,” he slaps you away, clutching at his back. “God, I’m gonna die.”

“Guess I’m with him, then.” Jonathan steps between you and places his things on the bed beneath Mike’s. “Nancy gives me one job and five minutes in her brother already gets hurt.”

Robin throws her things onto the top bunk on the other wall, head narrowly avoiding hitting the low ceiling. “I call Max for my bunkmate!”

Max shrugs at this, setting her bag down at the bunk beneath the girl’s. “As long as I’m not with Mike, I don’t care where I sleep.”

You cross your arms, hurt that Robin chose Max over you. “Well, what about me?”

“You’re bunking with me, angelface,” Steve drags you to the end of the bus, already all over you. “I called dibs on you the second I found out we were getting a tour bus.”

“It’s true.” Robin pokes her head out from her bunk. “Fucker ran into my room at like three in the morning to announce it and everything. He wouldn’t stop talking. It was really annoying.”

Your face burns at the idea of Steve being so excited to share a bunk with you that he woke his best friend up in the middle of the night to tell her.

“What can I say? I know what I want.” Steve throws you onto the bottom bed and crawls on top of you, collapsing once he’s situated himself. He curls around your body and sighs happily. “I can get used to this.”

“You do realize there’s an entire top bunk that I can sleep in, right?”

“We both know you’ll be crawling into my bed every night.” You pinch his side and Steve squirms away, laughing, but he doesn’t leave. Not entirely. Instead he sits up, looks down at you with soft eyes, and brushes the pad of his thumb against your jaw. “I promise I’ll be the best bunkmate. I’ll even let you have all the blankets.”

A large part of you knows that you should tell Steve no. You should grab your bag and place it on the empty bed above you because in the small space you can feel all of Steve against you. This will only create yet another blurred line between you, but his body is warm and the weight of it kisses your ribcage. 

Will you be able to handle it?

Robin’s words taunt you. 

For months now Steve has been driving you insane. His lips against your neck still paint your veins. How hot he felt beneath you that night at the club and the way his eyes darkened when you moaned someone else’s name. How the next morning he greeted you with soft humming and gentle touches that left you reeling. 

Now Steve’s chest lays against yours and the bridge of his nose skims the base of your neck. The metal of his nose ring soothes the blistering flesh. There is no room for you to escape to. No walkman to drown out the screaming of your desire. 

“Tell me about the first city we’re going to.” You poke Steve’s cheek to get his attention away from your sensitive neck. It’s all you can do to keep from melting into him. 

Luckily Steve takes the bait and unwinds his body from yours, exhilarated to talk about what he loves the most, music, and you want to revel in his love for it as well to escape the other love that lingers in your bones. 

And as Steve’s eyes light up as he describes the setlist and venues and chord sequences you wonder how you’ll ever make it out alive.

Fifteen cities. Three months. A short amount of time to bite your teeth and bear the weight of this excess within you and Steve’s ever delicate skin; but It’s only fifteen cities. You’ll be fine. 

A lot can happen in fifteen cities.

– 

It takes a total of twelve hours before you’re considering jumping out the moving vehicle.

The first night on the bus is fine. Jonathan and Mike pass out before you’ve even left the state of New York while Max reads some comics in her bed. Steve has his head in your lap, not once letting go of you since the bus’ engine roared to life, and Robin crawls into the spare bed and challenges the two of you to a game of poker. 

She throws the deck of cards in front of you and you don’t miss the way her eyebrows furrow when she sees Steve’s hands wrapped around your thighs. 

“Extra touchy.” She whispers into your ear the minute Steve is distracted with his cards. 

“It’s only for tonight,” you whisper back, scared that you’ll be overheard. “Just play your king already.”

Robin gives you a tight lipped smile, calling your bluff in more ways than one, and plays the cards in her hand. 

Only Steve’s enamored affection with you doesn’t lessen the next day. If anything, he only gets worse. 

He wakes you up with frenzied kisses and tickles your sides to brighten his early day. He follows you into the small bathroom, hangs off your side as you brew some coffee with the shitty machine left in the bus. If you sit on the pullout couch, he sits on top of you. If you want to lay in bed to rest your eyes, he’s already wrapping you into his chest. 

It’s as if living with you hasn’t been enough for Steve. Now, with less square feet than a hotel bathroom, he’s inhaling all of you at a pace that threatens to choke you. 

By hour twenty, you’re hunched over a map desperately trying to find any goddamn roadside attraction to escape to. You need fresh air that isn’t exhaled from Steve’s sugar-sweet lips. 

“Why don’t we stop by the Delaware Water Gap area?” You’ve spread the map out on the small, tilted table for the rest of the band to look at. After hours of driving, everyone is anxious to get off the crammed bus as well. “It’s only a fifteen minute detour. Can’t hurt to take a look.”

“Is it a park?” Max squints at the paper.

You nod. “It’s big enough for us all to spread out. Honestly, for the next three months, I think it’ll be best if we try and stop at whatever parks or attractions we pass. Stretch our legs, ignore one another for a blissful thirty minutes.”

“Count me in,” Robin twists her neck, cracking it obscenely. “I feel like I’ve aged fifty years since leaving New York.”

“Parks are nice.” Jonathan agrees, nodding.

“I’m gonna piss in every place we stop at.”

Steve flick Mike’s head. “Shut up and go tell the bus driver to stop at Delaware Gap.”

By the time you get to the park, the midday sun peeks out from behind the mountains. The early May weather casts a dewy glow around the greenery. The trees stand tall and vibrant and the scent of wildflowers satiate the yearning in your chest for something tender. 

“Not bad, Y/N. This place is fucking magical.” Robin pats your back, then turns to Max. “Care to frolic in some fields with me?”

The younger girl purses her lips, uncertain, but before she can say anything Robin is already grabbing her hand to chase her though the vast hills and landscapes.

“Don’t go too far! We’re leaving in thirty minutes!” Steve calls after them.

Robin’s quip is fast. “Whatever you say, dad!”

You laugh at the remark and Steve can only shake his head, hiding his own amusement. He grabs your hand and tugs you towards an open field. “C’mon, let’s go before Mike pisses everywhere.”

Mike sticks his middle finger up, which Jonathan promptly shoves down. “Please don’t make me call Nancy.”

“You’re such an annoying snitch.”

Their arguing fades in the distance the further Steve takes you. The field itself is empty despite the beautiful weather. Clouded skies with a hint of sunlight to warm your cold skin and the melodic buzz of bumblebees lazily flying past. Towards the edge of the green-laid field is a riverbank of lazuli water that bubbles and splashes and Steve finds a rock for the two of you to listen to its harmony. 

You sit and listen to the water rushing past for a while together, enjoying the serenity of the moment without anyone else. Your bodies next to one another and the water splashing your faves.

Eventually Steve pulls you into his lap. He’s brought his guitar with him and uses the instrument to push your back into his chest. His hands hold yours, outlining your fingers with the strings, helping you form the right patterns to play the beginnings of Tease.

“Now place your finger here,” he pushes your ring finger down alongside your middle. “Good, now do you remember how you get the sound to come out?”

“Like this?” With your other hand your thumb grazes the strings at the hollowed center. Remembering Steve’s gentle instructions, you’re careful with the motion, soft, and you’re rewarded with a clear, beautiful sound.

Steve kisses your shoulder and cheers. “That’s my girl! God, you’re a natural. Do you remember how to play D?”

Your pinky falls to what you hope is the right string. “This one?”

“Play it and see, angelface.”

You stick your tongue out at Steve for his lack of help, though you know he really is trying to teach you how to play the guitar. Learning the instrument had been his idea. He insisted you needed something to do during the endless downtime you’ll have between shows and you’ve never been good at telling him no. 

That, and Steve is a surprisingly good teacher. He’s patient with you and explains the intricate notes and hand placements in a way that eases the complexities. He doesn’t rush you, he never gets upset when your finger catches on a lone string, and he always showers you in praise for every correct chord. 

Steve’s expectant and encouraging smile prompts you to press your fingers down, strum at the tension, and fill the empty space in the chord of D.

“Perfect,” he mouths at your ear, smile tickling the sensitive skin there. “Everything you do is perfect.”

“Helps that I have a good teacher.” You shiver at the sensation, voice frailer than you’d like. 

“In no time you’ll be replacing me in my own band.” The shell of your ear lands in his mouth and he bites down, hard enough to force a gasp out of you, but gentle enough to leave you leaning in for more. 

You pull away slightly and shake your head. “No, I think I’ll stick to photography. Easier to remember where my hands go.”

“As if I wouldn’t guide you through it.”

The shift in Steve’s features mirrors the shift in the breeze around you. A sudden heat cuts through the once pleasant cold and festers between you. Yet underneath the heat of his gaze and the warmth of the air is a sickly sweet tinge of something more.

More more more.

“And how would you guide my hands?” Your raw throat cracks at the edges of your words. You leave your back against him. It feels safer this way to speak. 

Only Steve unwraps himself from you, crawls on his knees to face you. “Well,” he says, hungry eyes on you. “I’d place your hands here,” he grabs you, settles your left hand upon his chest. “And here,” your other cups his face, the stubble rough on your fingertips.

“And your hands?” The sigh dissipates in the air.

“Mine,” he whispers, “Would go here.” Heavy hands cup your own face, holding you as if you’re made of glass, heating the crystal with their molten tenderness. 

The guitar lays forgotten between your bodies.  “Steve…” 

In the palm of his hands nothing else exists. You’re weightless, falling forward, bracing for impact that will only devastate you. Steve leans into the fall, his body relaxes, unabashed. His nose dips down and his lips exhale upon your own and just before the collision of the inevitable, you turn your head, force his lips to graze the apple of your cheek.

That’s what scares me.

The words smear the edges of Steve’s hurt confusion on his face when he pulls back to look at you

“Y/N…?” The crack in his voice, shameful. The flex of his aching hands on the cheek his kiss crash landed into. 

How stubborn you are and how lonely Steve is.

“Hey!” Robin’s shout echoes over the roar of the water, over the chasm that divides what once was and what could’ve been. “Lovebirds, we’re leaving!”

Hands fall from your face and suddenly you’re cold again. The heat vanishes. The only air left is the withheld sigh that lingers in your lungs. 

“C’mon,” Steve grabs his guitar, offers to help you stand up. “That’s our cue.”

His voice is the same as it was before. Neutral, teasing. No evidence of the vulnerability only moments ago that laced it. The way Steve’s body moves doesn’t reflect the hurt that flecks his eyes that he refuses to place on you. 

Releasing the sigh stuck in your throat, your hand finds his and he pulls you back up, back to the before. The reality. 

Neither of you speak the entire walk back to the tour bus. Your footsteps leave marks in the grass beneath you and Steve’s guitar thuds softly against his side. 

The kiss that almost was hovers like a lonely ghost. 

– 

Hours later you’re in a venue somewhere deep in Pennsylvania. A bit run down, paint chips flick off its mauve walls. The venue isn’t the most glamorous place for the Februarys’ first performance on tour. A sold out show and an audience that packs itself in front of its stage, however, more than makes up for it. 

It’s also just nice not having to illegally smuggle Max and Mike into the twenty-one only venue. 

“Has anyone seen my jacket? Bright red, real trenchcoat vibes in a Bowie way?” Robin runs around the dressing room, her tattered tie half-way tucked into the hem of her pants. Her hair hangs in her face, strands messily meshed together with a nearly dangerous amount of pearled pins. “I swear I packed it!”

The iridescence of the pearls catches in the light and you quickly take a picture, the blues and pinks nestled in her framed hair. “Did you check your bag?”

“Yes!” She runs past you and throws open one of Steve’s suitcases. “I swear, if that fucker tried stealing it again I will kill him–”

Max undoes the first few buttons of her collared shirt and two twin braids frame her face. “Can you look for my vest while you’re at it? I think Steve is just trying to hide all our shit from us because he’s too cheap to buy his own.”

“The rich kid is a thief. Can he be any more stereotypical?”

Steve sits at the mirror and glares at them both. “At least pretend to consider that I’m a decent person.”

“No time. Need my jacket.”

Robin runs off and you spot Jonathan fumbling with a pair of deep brown cowboy boots. You zoom your lens in, laughing under your breath. “Howdy, partner.”

“Nancy said I should try out a new look.” He blushes, shifting away from the camera. “Is the sweater too much?”

“I think it’s just the right amount of southern charm and obnoxious drummer.” You reassure him.

Mike, however, doesn’t spare Jonathan the same kindness. “Who the fuck wears a sweater at a rock concert?”

“You’re wearing a janitor’s suit, dude.” Max throws a cord at him.

“It’s a work shirt,” Mike scoffs. “Not a janitor’s suit.”

“You look like a mechanic.”

“That’s the look I’m going for. At least I don’t look like a lesbian bartender.”

The two go back and forth in their insults and you smile at the familiarity of it. Pennsylvania venues don’t carry the same charm as the ones you’ve grown fond of in New York. There’s hardly any graffiti on the walls or messages left from past performers. No luck wished to the others or curses thrown to the public. 

You sit at the mirror next to Steve. The tension between you lingers, but you do your best to ignore it by facing the others to try and catch any moments to photograph. Max finds her vest, its black contrast harsh against the white of her shirt, and when she flashes you a pleased smile, it’s captured onto film.

Robin pops up behind the girl and jumps onto her back for a photo, only the weight startles Max and they fall to the ground, squealing, and your camera follows their every movement. 

“Why did you do that?” Max rolls onto her side, laughing hysterically.

Robin laughs just as hard. “For Y/N’s art!”

Their limbs tangle together on the carpeted floor, but before you can raise the viewfinder to your eye, a hand lands on your wrist. You flinch away, looking up to find Steve holding up a thick silver bracelet and a shy smile. 

“Can you, uh. Help me?” He motions towards his own wrist. “Forgot how hard it is to put this shit on.”

“Of course.” You set your camera down and take the bracelet from him, draping it against his slim wrist. He hisses at the contact. The cold metal must sting. “Sorry,” you murmur.

He shakes his head. “Don’t be.”

The soft reassurance echoes something else unspoken. Is he telling you not to apologize for what happened earlier? That he isn’t upset with you for pulling away? A part of you wants to believe that there’s more to his words than just a minuscule parting for an apology. 

Words claw at your throat, pleas and explanations, but the only three that come out are, “I’m still sorry.” 

“Y/N,” the hand that isn’t encased in yours comes up to your face, landing the same way it did in the field. His eyes fix on you with downturned lips. You’re not used to seeing him this way. Serious, weak, simultaneously foreign on his normally carefree face. “Why did you pull away?”

And he isn’t asking for an explanation to be cruel or imply that you owe him anything. Steve doesn’t ask you because he wants to tease you or scorn what you’ve done. He asks you with vulnerability, with an openness that startles you. 

Even though it shouldn’t, the question still catches at your ribcage. He’s always managed to surprise you. 

Your silence eats away at the lines that tie you to each other. Steve watches you in the mirror, patient as he was when he was teaching you the guitar, features soft and quietly expectant. 

Just as they did the first time you spoke them to Robin, the words burn your tongue on their way out. “I won’t be just another girl you sleep with.” 

Minutes before Steve’s very first show on his very first tour. 

He doesn’t react. Not how you expect him to, at least. He stares into the mirror, face stoic, jaw clenched. Something seems to settle over him, then. With every passing second of silence grows something else. Something darker. 

Unsure what to say, your fingers trace over the veins in Steve’s wrist. Maybe you do it to warm the metal that’s been placed upon it. Maybe you do it because you’re not quite ready to give this pleasure up yet. 

Steve swallows. Nods. “You’re doing it wrong.”

You look at him, surprised he’s even said anything at all. “What?”

“To warm the skin,” he takes his hand from yours, grabbing your own hand instead. He opens your palm, traces the lines within it with the tip of his nail, before slowly, ever so slowly, his hand encircles your wrist, turns it so the flesh underneath is exposed. “You do this.” 

He kisses the vulnerable skin. A sacred vow that he’s written about. 

And then Steve’s carefree and charismatic smile is back. Your hand gets dropped. As if nothing has happened. But when he winks at you in the mirror, makes a whole show of it, deep down you know he can only look at your reflection because he isn’t quite ready to face the version of you next to him. 

The change is disorienting. The performance is bitter; Steve doesn’t falter in the dizzying bitterness like you do. 

Instead he spins to his bandmates, cheering. “Who’s ready for our first show of the tour?” 

Robin and the others scream right back, clapping and prodding each other on. Steve’s smile is wide and manic. His own clapping enthusiastic. “Why don’t we all take a shot before we go on?”

Mike dives for the bottle of vodka left on the table courtesy of the venue. The bottle sloshes around as he beckons for the others to join him. Jonathan snatches it from the kid’s hands with the roll of his eyes and takes over pouring the drinks one by one. 

The scene before you is perfectly curated for your profession. The lighting bright enough for everyone to be visible. The Februarys smile at one another, youthful and vibrant, yet your shaking fingers struggle to get them all in frame. 

When you look back at the photos one day, you’ll notice Steve’s pained smile blurred into the image. 

“Just us!” He shouts, glass raised, beginning the pre-show ritual meant only for them. 

“Just us!” The Februarys echo. 

The vodka drips down Steve’s neck. His lips glisten. He exhales the fiery afterburn of the liquor and quickly throws his arms over his bandmates. Their heads brush together in the huddle of their bodies and the pounding of your heart reverberates Steve’s “showtime!” 

Despite everything, the Februarys’ first show is fucking fantastic. What Pennsylvania lacks in style, the crowd screaming back every lyric fills the void. Purple lighting floods the stage interspersed with white and pink and hints of blue in the smoke. 

Unlike their original four songs and handful of covers, the setlist of songs from The Februarys are energetic and fast and edges on overwhelming. 

Steve screams into the mic every chance he gets. Robin pounds her keys to Jonathan’s crescendos and Mike screeches chords through his electric guitar alongside Max’s rounded bass. 

The audience feeds into the band’s raw and tenacious joy. Bodies sway to the music and bounce off of each other in the deeper parts of the chaos. Their reactions are enamorating to watch, and while you’re lonely without Nancy’s grounding presence, you distract yourself with learning how to elicit reactions from the crowd yourself. 

You figure out how to get the crowd to cheer for you, to look through your lens and shout their praise for the band on stage and into your camera. The photos come out livelier, intimate, a snapshot of the unfiltered devotion for this one night only. The attention you get from the crowd, though small, is exhilaratingly reeling. 

Yet it’s only a taste of the rush that Steve must feel; you wonder how he’s able to handle the full bottle of it. 

“Pennsylvania, it’s fucking scorching in here!” Sweat drips from Steve’s face and onto the sheer black shirt that adorns his torso. The fabric clings to his soaked body, its sheer interlace offers hints of the chest underneath and glows in the stage’s light. 

People scream back their agreements. The venue’s temperature is hot enough that the glass of your lens has started to fog, though the band’s final song ends and still they demand another. The unbearable heat only ignites the desire for more. 

“Excuse my appearance,” Steve runs a hand through his damp hair, silver bracelet catching in the light. His perfectly rosie face breaks into a smile. “Is my face really red?”

Even though you know the question is directed at the crowd, you still nod, still feel the need to respond to his every word. The crowd, however, says what you can’t, shouting that he is indeed red. 

“I’m red?” Steve mocks disbelief. He knows that he’s red. He hears your whispered nickname for him every time he closes his eyes. He has the photo from the first night you ever called him rosie hidden away in wallet; only for him to see. 

More screams and amused cat-calling and Steve’s gruff chuckle drawls on. “You know, an angelface once told me that I get all rosie when I perform. She even calls me ‘rosie’ now. Isn’t she sweet?”

Hearing the name fall from Steve’s performing lips strikes into every overwhelmed cell in your body. 

“Now, she doesn’t know this, but I figured that for our last song I’d perform her name for me tonight.”

Rosie. 

“I’ve had this song written for a long, long time.” Steve looks directly at you now. Down the barrel of your loaded camera. “Are you ready?”

Jonathan’s knowing wink is the only warning you receive before his drumsticks count down. And then he pounds on the drums and Robin’s keys ring in the air, her laughter hinting at something more. Mike whistles and Max blows you a kiss. Their reactions tell you everything you already know.

They all knew what Steve’s closing song would be. 

An unreleased song dedicated to rosie. 

And it’s a fucking beautiful song. Bashful with youth interlaced in its harmonies that resemble lullabies you grew up on. Raw, innocent and overwhelming naivety that clashes with a bitter tension in its chords. 

Rock-a-bye-posie? 

No, maybe it’s ring-around-my-baby?

Or could it be rosie and falling down with you?

Rosie pink light creeps onto the stage, its saturation an exact match of the shade you long ago fell in love with. 

The melodic strain of Steve’s voice infiltrates your senses, hijacks your body, leaves you with only the knowledge of your name and how he loves to whisper it when you’re alone. Your camera rests forgotten at your side; there will be no photos of this performance.

He stalks across the stage towards you. No mercy, no sympathy for the onslaught of lyrics that chip at the cracks of a foundation built on hasty stilts. 

Mixed up all inside my head the rush of lullaby blues.

Yes or no? Or is it maybe?

Or could it be forever rosie?

Steve will be your rosie for as long as he allows it—forever, if you’re lucky. The shade of pink will always be a reminder of the boy. The scent of roses will one day leave marks in the grenadine heart of yours. 

Rosie closes the show. The final note cuts to the finish and all lights go out. 

Screaming. Endless screaming. A thunder in the too small venue that rattles the walls. 

But you don’t register any of it. The cheering falls deaf on your ears. Body humming with the need to touch and kiss and soak your love into another’s like an itch, you’re jumping over the barricade before the Februarys have even left the stage. 

Backstage you search every hallway for him. Pushing past curtains, stumbling over wires and giant lights, swiping past confused security guards, you search for him everywhere. 

Steve finds you first. Of course he finds you first. 

He collides into you. You’re in his arms and he’s spinning you around and around. A ring around its rosie. Your rosie. Flushed face, sweaty and whole. No one else exists in this world of yours. 

Your feet find the ground and Steve’s earthy scent hovers over you. Hands on your waist. Eyes on your lips. His own lips lowering down, edging closer and closer, until his hot breath touches your skin. 

A mirror image of hours before in a field with river water. 

Only this time you don’t pull away. You don’t bite at the hand caressing your ribcage. 

Close enough to feel the heat that radiates off of them, Steve’s lips whisper against your own, “Can’t just be another girl I sleep with, right?”

And then he’s gone. Pulling away entirely, tearing apart from you to deal with the wake of the wanting left behind and the words that ice your skin. 

Head spinning, you stumble back, grasp at the air that’s been forced from your lungs. You’re disoriented and confused and Steve, unable to hurt you, brings the lips that were cruelly taken from you to your forehead. 

“Thank you for coming tonight,” his lips linger, soft, as if apologizing for the body they’re attached to. “I hope you enjoyed the show.”

“Steve–” But the lump in your throat catches at the desperation in your veins. 

It isn’t enough. 

“Harrington!” Steve rips away from you, head turning to the source of his name, and finds a security guard with a hoard of girls being held back. “Want me to let them into your dressing room?” 

You watch the overly saturated, performance ready smile return to Steve’s face. He straightens his shirt out, fixes his hair, before nodding at the guard. 

“Send ‘em my way.” He leaves. 

Not once does he look back at you.

The dressing room’s door opens and Steve lets the girls in. The door gets left open. You can hear the rest of the band talking to each other inside. An unintentional, painful reminder that your job tonight isn’t done.

Left for want and nothing, you swallow down the hurt that stings your tongue. You grab your camera, inhale once, twice, cutting a smile into your glass face, and then walk into the dressing room to take the pictures you get paid for. 

– 

The rest of the tour follows this way. 

Hours, days, weeks, and eventually months pass like an exhaled gumdrop breath. Sweet, satiating, but the jagged candy leaves cuts inside your cheek that fester if you pick at them. 

Every night Steve dedicates Rosie to you. Every night he says something different into the mic. Every night the words are meant for only you to understand. 

“Winter in New York was lonely until I packed up some boxes.”

“She plasters my photos all over her walls and I write her songs she’ll never hear.”

“Who knew the face of an angel could stand someone like me?”

All for you, yet the second the lights go out Steve falls into someone else’s arms. A new girl in every city. Robin doesn’t wait for you to say you told her so; you don’t want to claim the prize of being right. 

During the day Steve’s yours, wrapped around you with an easy smile. He still calls you angelface and he’s still rosie. The suggestive comments and teasing flirting doesn’t diminish or lessen. You play into it just as much as Steve does, each of you holding onto what little familiarity that’s left between you. A back and forth with no chance of a winner.

Nothing changes, not visibly, at least, but an unease saws at the strings you’ve attached to one another and everyone holds their breath.

Then the nights come and you lose Steve again. He stumbles into the bus smelling of alcohol and women more often than not. No one knows where he goes. No one wants to ask. No one wants to be the one who brings the growing concern into the light. 

Instead the Februarys focus on their tour, on enjoying the sights of new cities and bleak roadside attractions and the knowledge that they’ve somehow made something tangible with their water-colored dreams.

They throw the excess fear into writing their first real album. Full length, explorative, narratives not yet written down. Bigger than their EP, bigger than anything they’ve ever done before. Though the fast progression feels natural to them now. Familiar. 

The tour bus fills with the arguments you heard in your apartment all those lifetimes ago. Robin’s poetic lyricism clashing with Mike’s metaphors and Steve’s unfleshed melodrama.

“For the last time, El’s eyes being ‘marooned embers soaked in coattails of whiskey’ makes no fucking sense.”

“The line has layers! It’s symbolic of being love drunk with someone’s brown eyes while her eyes are literally brown!”

“Wheeler, stop talking before Robin leaves you at the next rest stop.”

Only now their arguments are interspersed with Jonathan’s own sensitive songwriting and Max’s clever play on words.

“What if instead of ‘soaked in coattails of whiskey’ we change it to ‘soaked in cocktailed whiskey’?” 

“I think that’s beautiful, Max.”

And hearing the Februarys’ arguments, seeing the entanglement of their vastly different minds coming together to create something honest, beautiful, reminds you that the brighter, less heavy aspects of touring still exist. 

During their fifth show Mike comes up with the idea of creating new dares every performance. Stage diving, launching water at the crowd, racing across the stage mid-show every time the key of E is played. 

One night Max dares Steve to shove his mic in his mouth and for an entire song it’s stuck in the hinges of his jaw and Robin has to push him backstage to get it out. Nothing else has topped that dare since. 

“I really thought I could get it out,” Steve complains later that night. “Jesus, I thought I was gonna die.”

You brush his hair from his face. “Would’ve been a really embarrassing way to die.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“I only get paid to photograph you. Nothing in my checks cover being nice.”

As much as you enjoy watching the dares on stage, your favorite part of tour is traveling around the country with the band. They grow closer than ever before in the hectic blur that has become their life. 

Lazy writing sessions in national parks. Wandering around cities they’ve never heard of together. Bizarre roadside restaurants that serve possum. Passing giant semi trucks on the interstate and pissing off their drivers by demanding them to honk their horns every chance they get. 

And you’re a part of it all. Following the Februarys blindly wherever they take you, camera always aimed at their shining faces. 

Playful memories with Mike and Max, helping them pull pranks on the older band members. Moments with Jonathan when there’s no one else in the bus, just the two of you, reminiscent of your college days. Sleepovers in Robin’s bunk and shared whispered giggles.

And Steve. Always Steve.

One night, about halfway through the tour, he crawls into your bunk. You’ve long since stopped sleeping in his bed on the bus, the smell of everything you try to ignore kept you awake for nights on end. You finally had to leave. 

You’re not sure what time it is when Steve crawls back to you. The performance tonight was livelier than usual with an even larger crowd of girls waiting for him at the stage door. You’ve learned to pack your things up in the bathroom to avoid watching him leave with them. 

Only tonight when Steve wakes your sleeping body up, he smells of rainwater and green earth. No traces of metal alcohol or floral perfume linger beneath his scent. 

He wakes you with butterfly kisses to the skin he dreams about, moving closer when you don’t pull away. Instead, you open yourself to Steve, grabbing at his shirt to pull him into your bed, and he falls asleep as the boy that you know, deep down, he truly is. 

Kind and gentle. 

Rosie and wonderful.

– 

Leonard didn’t believe the band when they told him they were from Indiana. According to Max, he hadn’t even known that the state existed until they asked to perform close to Hawkins. 

“I don’t understand how he’s made so much money if he doesn’t even know all fifty states.”

“To be fair, I also try to forget that Indiana exists.” Robin tells Max. 

“Yeah, but at least you have a reason to.”

You look at the two of them in concern. “Do none of you have a happy homelife?”

Max snorts. “Why do you think we formed a band in the first place?”

“Not a very reassuring answer.”

In the end, Leonard books them a performance in Indianapolis. Two hours from Hawkins, it’s the closest he’s willing to get to their rundown hometown, and no one complains about the distance. It’s better that way, just outside of Hawkins without ever really stepping back inside. 

As you’re all getting ready at the venue, conveniently located at the heart of Indianapolis, the door to the dressing room swings open and reveals a mess of curly hair and a gummy smile. 

“Did you assholes miss us?” Dustin’s nasally and endearing voice fills the room almost as fast as you engulf him in a hug. 

“You’re here!” You squeeze the kid tight, gasping in surprise when you see Will and the others beaming in the doorway. “Holy shit!”

Mike throws himself at a bashful El while Max and Lucas wrestle each other to the ground. Jonathan isn’t any better, pulling at the belt loops of Nancy’s shorts and covering her tiny body with his.

Still holding onto Dustin, you watch the reunion between all the lovers with Steve and Robin standing beside you. 

“They’re disgusting.” Robin snorts, no edge to her comment. “I hate it.”

Steve yanks you from Dustin’s arms and drapes his own over you, holding you close to his chest. “Fucking vile, if you ask me.”

“You’re literally swaddling Y/N like a baby,” Dustin frowns, motioning towards Steve’s clingy hold of you. “Are you two seriously still not together?”

“God,” Robin rubs at her temples. “Don’t bring that shitshow up. You’ll give Steve a fucking aneurysm.”

An uncharacteristic shyness shadows Steve’s expression. He drops his arm, covering an embarrassed cough with it instead. Unable to help it, you laugh at his scandalized reaction.

“Need some water, rosie?” You playfully pout, swatting at his back. “You don’t sound so good there.”

“Fuck all of you,” he chokes out. 

Dustin cackles. “I think you only want to do that with one of us, Steve. Do you want us to guess who?”

“I’d rather fucking die.”

Taking pity on him, you shield Steve from the teasing and lead him towards a concealed corner of the room. Everyone else is busy catching up, but you can still feel Dustin’s eyes following and Robin’s unwilling acceptance. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, ignoring them.

The surprise arrival of your friends disrupts the monotonous routine of the dressing room in an infectious way. 

El braids tinsel into Max’s hair and the two girls spend almost all their time gossiping about what their boyfriends had been up to while apart. You take a picture of the glittered strands wrapped around El’s fingers.

Robin and Nancy fret over Jonathan’s appearance, the two of them throwing shirt after shirt at him and demanding he wear anything other than thick sweaters or ratty t-shirts. Jonathan doesn’t bat an eye at any of it, however, and the content smile on his face paints your film. 

Mike and Lucas arm wrestle as Dustin and Will referee. The roar of their laughter and the strain of their biceps filter through the image in a boyish, endearing way. 

“I really missed them,” Steve hooks his chin on your shoulder, standing behind you, watching the familial scene unfold. You can feel his own smile brush against your ear. “I knew I’d miss them, but having them here tonight…”

“Finally feels like home?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I guess it does.”

And there he is again, kind and gentle. Rosie and wonderful.

That night, the Februarys perform for their family. They ignore the demands of the unknown fans and strangers who shout their praise. None of it matters to them when they look at their loved ones beside you, crammed together in the security barrier, all cheering even louder for them.

Steve ends the concert with Rosie and you don’t realize that none of the others know the contents of the song until Nancy elbows your side and Dustin rolls his eyes. Will, Lucas, and El try to hide their snickers, but you still somehow hear them over the music anyways. 

You press your face to your camera’s viewfinder and pretend you’re too engrossed in the action to spare yourself the embarrassment of their knowing looks. 

After the show Nancy tells the band that she and the kids are staying in a hotel a few blocks away for the night. Five minutes later, you cling onto Steve’s back as he charges through the streets of Indianapolis with the rest following. 

The small hotel room can barely fit everyone inside, but none of you care. Drinks get opened. Lucas fishes out a deck of cards to play and the room fills with chaos and jokes and teasing and remembrances of the times before. 

“Steve got a mic stuck in his mouth like an idiot.” Max throws a spade down. “That's red, everyone drink!”

Beer fills your mouth and Will nearly chokes on his. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Max slipped in someone’s vomit last week.” Is all Steve says. 

“You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone about that!” Max flings a beer tab at him.

“Promises can be slippery, Mayfield.”

You snort into your drink and Steve smiles at the sound. He leans down to the exposed collarbone, revealed to him by a slip of your t-shirt, and kisses the skin there. Unashamed of the group’s eyes on him, he mouths and needles at the flesh.

“Can you at least kiss the back of my neck?” You twist away, wrestling your camera trapped between his chest and yours. “I want to take pictures of everyone.”

Someone snorts, the sound resembling Jonathan’s disbelieving one, but you don’t spare them a glace. You tug at Steve’s shirt and try to force him behind you. “Steve!”

Reluctant, he pulls away long enough to crawl to the base of your neck, right where the small strands of hair meet your spine, and resumes his kisses.

“Happy now?” He mumbles into your skin. 

You don’t bother responding, instead aiming your camera at the others. Only when your lens focuses, their amused, almost baffled, faces cut into the frame. 

“What?” You ask them, alcohol making your mouth move before your brain can stop it.

Dustin scoffs. “Not dating, right?”

“Max, can you place your card next to the beer tab? I think the shapes would look interesting together.”

“You can’t ignore us, Y/N.”

“Sure I can,” you smile. “Now, who’s ready for another drink?”

The topic gets left alone for a while. More drinks follow. Max continues the cards and the drinking game slowly turns into a tortuous one the longer Steve sucks at your sensitive skin. At first he’s easy enough to ignore, but when he finds a spot just at the crest of your spine that leaves you gasping, he’s relentless. 

“Y/N!” The flick of Robin’s fingers stings just enough to force your attention back. “It’s your turn to draw, if you can handle not melting into Steve’s arms for five seconds.”

“I–”

“She’s busy.” You’re picked up into the air and thrown onto your feet by Steve, who steadies your confused footing by gripping your waist. “Sorry, guys.”

And then you’re being dragged away from jeers and poorly hidden entertained booing by the others. None of them are upset. In all honesty, they’re more surprised Steve lasted as long as he did. 

Sticky July air washes over you. Outside the streetlights shine down on Steve’s quick footsteps chasing after your drunken giggling. He’s running after you and you’re begging him to follow and in the dark of the night it’s just you and him in a city that doesn’t feel real. 

Drunk and in love Steve’s hands snatch at your body and you’re spinning round and round and round. No weight, no strings, only his touch and your breathless adoration.

He’s singing a song that you don’t recognize but you don’t ask him what is because you never want him to stop. His voice circles around you and his fingers dig into your flesh as if he’s carved it himself. Maybe he has. Maybe he’s carved you to fit into the pieces of himself just as much as you’ve carved him into yourself.

The dizzy love-drunk head rush catches at your foot, trips your body into a fall that Steve catches. He breaks the fall with the brush of his nose against yours, like magnets your lips push and pull apart, never quite landing, never quite settling. 

But Steve needs more. 

He stills the sway of your body, stops the vibrato of his singing. He looks down at your lips. Dark brown eyes catch on the parted lips that wordlessly beg him for more, begs for the same thing he craves. 

The laughter in your chest quiets. Its remnants stick in your throat at the angle of Steve’s head, dipped low, leaning in. 

And then he stops at the precipice of your lips. His dark eyes flicker back up to yours, he sees the resolve in them that betrays the pleading of your mouth. Sobering, sombering. Mourning.

He pulls away. 

“You’re such a tease,” Steve can’t do to you what he wants. All you ask from him is to not get hurt and he won’t allow himself to hurt you, either. “Let’s go home, okay?”

He grabs your hand. 

The very same hand that insists on holding him at arm’s length when all he wants to do is dance.

When you get back to the hotel, everyone has fallen asleep. The floor of the room is littered with sleeping limbs and bodies pressed against one another. Wordlessly, Steve finds a small corner to slot himself into, rests your head on his chest, and you fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

Sometime during the night Jonathan takes a photo of the two of you asleep. The polaroid ends up tucked into the ceiling of Steve’s bed in the bus, held up by the wires of your mattress above his.

Neither of the men talk about it. 

– 

Eight cities and ten shows remain. The tour rapidly approaches its end.

Leonard Branham only speeds things up. 

“If tickets continue to sell as quickly as my son sold his soul, I might even consider officially signing the Februarys.” The payphone crackles. Everyone crowds into the phone booth, terrified of losing the shitty reception and Leonard’s ominous words. “I mean, Christ. If you tickle my ass right, you guys could get an actual album out of me!”

An album.

That’s all they’ve ever wanted. 

“Mr. Branham, that would be incredible–” Steve’s praise quickly gets cut off. 

“That is, on one condition.”

“Anything, sir.” He means it. The band would do anything if it means they can write the album they’ve been ingesting since they were kids. 

Leonard’s steel sharp words come out piercing. “Don’t fuck up.”

The temperature in the stuffy phone booth drops. 

“I-I don’t think I understand, sir–”

“Don’t fuck up.” Leonard repeats himself. “Don’t get someone pregnant. Don’t get your ass too stoned to perform. Don’t sound like squealing kittens. I’m not wasting my fucking money on a bunch of kids who can’t wipe their own asses.”

All that ever seems to follow Leonard Branham’s conversations with the band is stunned silence. Only this time the silence is wilted, clutched chests and twisting stomachs of dread. 

“Do I make myself clear?”

Terror. The dark cloud of it seizes at them. You can see it on their pale faces and stifled breathing. 

“I said,” Leonard’s impatience picks at the wound he’s stabbed into their guts. “Do I make myself clear?”

Steve licks his dry lips, exhaling, “Yes, Mr. Branham.” 

“Good.” He hangs up. Doesn’t wait for them to say anything else. 

The dial tone shuts off, a deafened finality to it. The gravity of the situation chokes at the band. Despite the exhaustion of performing and constant travel, touring has never once felt like a burden to them. 

Writing together, dreaming up an album that defines who they are, the lyrics they want to leave behind in the world, has never felt like a chore. Everything has always come easy. Even in their most defeated and anxious states, never before has their entire future looked back at them in terror. 

One slip up, one mistake, and they’re gone. 

They were just kids messing around until then.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ please feel free to like, reblog, and comment. i adore hearing from you guys :)

[fairestwriting]

Hi! Hope you're doing well! I love your writing, I got so excited when I saw you're rqs were open!!!

Could i request dorm leaders w/reader who sang a break-up song while they're dating w/a happy ending? not for a performance or anything, just listening to music and singing along and a mob character passing by heard it. then suddenly there's rumors around the school saying their relationship is falling apart. the reader doesn't know. the boys don't realize that it a big misunderstanding and think that the reader might not be happy with their relationship and they desperately try to make it up to the reader.

Kind of like this one including malleus and azul https://www.tumblr.com/coralinnii/697097733985730560/singing-a-break-up-song-while-dating-feat

sry for rambling, i really love the way you write the characters, if it's too much, don't worry about! thank you!

fjfejf thank you i hope you enjoy your rq too <3 this one takes me back…. throwback sunday

(Also happy (late) valentines day everybody! i wanted to post that that on time for it but it got. so long

𐙚 Riddle Rosehearts

Ironically, you might have even shown him that song before. Riddle is pretty out of the loop, so he’s always curious about what you’re listening to. He never thought that your enjoyment of the song had anything to do with your relationship. It’s just a song, right? And at first, he thinks the exact same when the rumor arrives at him through Cater, chastising him for spreading such baseless claims.

…But it doesn’t take too long for it to get to him. And wasn’t that one of your most listened songs too? He can never remember the titles very well. His uncertainty feeds on the words of others until they make complete sense to him. If you were really happy, why would you be so obsessed with that specific song, after all? Riddle starts to pick apart his own actions, trying to find what could have made you so unhappy… And the truth is, everything is not only going well, but he probably mixed up the song from the rumor with an unrelated song you’re actually obsessed with. His entire issue is built around an impression that you’ve been secretly wallowing all this time, all due to some awful thing he’s supposedly done— Without even noticing how much he hurt you, no less.

Suddenly, when you spend time together, he’s awkwardly asking if you’re really sure that this or that is really okay, like he did when you just started dating. You ask him what’s wrong, and he quickly, awkwardly, blurts out that he heard the rumors, and he was trying to make up for his actions… And you’re just standing there, confused.

Luckily, Riddle has just enough common sense that saying his worries out loud makes him realize how frankly insane he sounds. And when he hears that he was, in fact, thinking of the wrong song, his whole face is as red as his hair. You might have to hold back some laughter as you comfort him… Despite the ridiculousness of the situation, it does feel sweet that he’s so eager to make you happy. Even if it means having to fix a huge problem he doesn’t quite understand.

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

There’s probably no shortage of rumors about your relationship. Good ones, bad ones, and a good few that were just weird— Leona says with his full chest that he thinks they’re all a waste of time, that it was just people being bored, or jealous, or both. He does wholly believe his own words. He also remembers every single thing he hears about you two.

Similar to Riddle, his initial reaction is that the rumor is just stupid. You listening to a song meant that you wanted to break up with him? Really? People must be running out of things to say, if they’re fixating on something so meaningless… And yet, he can’t keep himself from getting the urge to watch you more closely when you’re together.

Leona will die before he actually admits this rumor ever got to him, really. Even the people he overheard talking about it said it kind of seemed like a reach. He’s not about to start a conversation about it, or even openly express that some stupid bit of gossip had him so worried— But he still feels the need to watch. Do you get bored when you’re just sitting nearby while he’s supposedly sleeping? Do you look uncomfortable when he comes closer? Questions like that come up in his mind.

The answer, of course, is that you don’t. And that’s the end of it… or at least he wants to believe that. The rumor won’t come up unless you mention it, he just randomly comes off just a little softer than usual. It’d be hard for anyone to make the connection, surely Leona wouldn’t get that affected by something so silly, he said it was stupid himself. And yet, it’s still hard to miss how he visibly relaxes when you confirm that’s how you thought.

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

There’s all sorts of rumors going around about Azul himself, but they’re mostly just long debates on whether it’s worth getting involved with his deals or not. That’s easy enough to ignore when he has people coming in and out of the Lounge everyday. People who complain were just mad about the consequences they faced due to not reading the fineprint and all that.

This self awareness doesn’t help that much when the rumor comes to his attention, though. He’ll comment about how childish the people gossiping about you were to whoever tells him the news, but his words are hollow. Logic is already in the process of leaving his brain, entirely skipping over how ridiculous the whole thing was. It’s sudden enough to hit him with every mistake he might have made like a truck. The office door is slammed shut and locked so he go insane in peace. The thought of rumors themselves are what stands out the most. That had to be what drove you over the edge, right? Someone must have told you terrible things about him, and now you were miserable and confused and— And then he’s calling you, urgently asking for you to give him a chance to explain himself.

The whole “song” part of the rumor might as well not exist anymore. You ask him what this was all about, and he’s going on and on about how he swears whatever you heard about him wasn’t actually that bad and how he’s sorry that you’re getting caught up in all of this mess. You have no idea what it’s all about. It takes a bit of a back and forth for him to realize this. Then he’s just silent. And on instinct, as the realization hits him, he just hangs up, mortified.

You leave to go see him in person, worried or confused or amused or all of the above. You knock on his door, asking him what was up, what rumors he was talking about, he’s too embarrassed to answer for a bit. When he finally does, he looks at you so guiltily, you might even expect he’s about to make a serious confession— It does take a little effort not to giggle when he actually explains it. Insists to get you two some fancy dinner afterwards to make up for the “trouble”, no matter how much you insist you’re glad that it was just a misunderstanding.

𐙚 Kalim Al-Asim

Surprisingly, or maybe not, Kalim is actually quite used to people gossiping about him too. It doesn’t mean he’s the best at handling it, but even before deciding to work on becoming a more capable person, he was already a couple steps ahead from quite a few other people. Even compared to the other dorm leaders — or maybe, especially compared to them — he usually doesn’t have a very hard time ignoring what others say about him.

The first time he hears the rumor, it’s from a few Scarabia students whispering to each other in the corners of the dorm lounge. His first concern is calling out how rude it is to spread rumors about other people, and while he doesn’t have much of an aura of authority, people like him too much to not back off. He thought that was the end of it, and was almost succesful at fully ignoring the rumor, but he’s unlucky enough a particularly nasty someone catches on that it did bother him, despite it technically not showing on the outside.

And then it’s not just a problem, but a long running one. Because he doesn’t want to listen to people saying all those mean things about you! You’re always happy when you’re around him, there’s no way you’d be secretly holding a grudge over… what, really? You two don’t even fight! …That’s the sort of thing he’ll be telling himself, as time passes, and without him even fully processing the building anxiety, you start to wake up to… random gifts from your boyfriend, piled up at the door of your dorm room. How long had it been since you forgot about the song, when you reach the point of deciding to ask him what this was all about? Who knows. The gifts didn’t feel that odd at first, he just does that sometimes, but you were starting to run out of space, and Kalim was starting to act weird around you. So you bring it up… And he actually bursts into tears.

Poor guy, honestly. He’s a mess, saying he’s sorry, he didn’t know what else to do to make your not want to break up with him, all that. He’s saying he’ll let you go if that’s what you truly want when you interrupt him and ask what he’s even talking about, and he tearfully mentions he heard those rumors— That at this point might have even died down. You have to assure him it’s all just rumors for a while, and he tears up again, this time out of happiness. He’s not even going to think about how crazy it was that he got so deep into something that had no depth at all. He’s just too glad that you’re not upset.

𐙚 Vil Schoenheit

Vil’s initial reaction mostly depends on what sort of day he’s had. It’s harder to not overthink things when he’s already stressed — Not that he believes it in any case, it’s just unpleasant to hear either way. The whole thing sounds, frankly, just too shallow to truly hit him. How could anyone claim to know how you were feeling just because you liked this one specific song? How could they even confirm you actually liked that song at all, really… But people still talk about it, and that’s how it sticks to his thoughts.

He’s already dismissed the rumor itself, the question is whether it really came up out of nowhere or not. Maybe someone had noticed you were looking down, or you confided in a friend about relationship issues, and that’s what’s really behind all those flashy claims about the song — The idea makes him anxious. You two usually just talk it out if there’s an issue, so what could have happened? You’re caught off guard when he asks you out for lunch, just the two of you, right in the middle of the week because it’s the only time slot he has available.

You think maybe he just felt like doing something nice but still easygoing. So it definitely feels strange when he starts to speak up about how he’s aware he’s not perfect, but he’s willing to work on anything that might bother you, you realize he looks oddly serious for the situation—

You blink, telling him you knew that, but everything was fine. If anything was wrong, you would’ve just talked to him, like you always do. He stops on his tracks, suddenly feeling kind of silly. If it was anyone else, maybe he’d question if you really meant that, but you say it so easily it couldn’t not be the truth— Then you ask him if something is wrong, and he does his very best efforts to circumvent the topic, something about being told you were unhappy… You recall a friend bringing up the rumor to you, before that, and it feels hard to believe something so silly would get to him. It turns out to be a nice date anyway, though. Maybe something you could do more often?

𐙚 Idia Shroud

Honestly, even before he registers that all of this is over you enjoying a song, his brain is already going haywire. When it does hit that this was all over a song, though, he stops, and not because it’s all over a song. But instead because the gossip itself implied that you weren’t listening to it while wallowing by yourself— Then, right after, he wonders if that means things were even worse than they seemed. Did people know because you were telling your friends about it or something? The questions keep coming up, the logic getting more and more complicated inside his head…

Would it be better to check up on you? Straightforwardly ask if anything is wrong? There’s no way he could just do that, what would he do if it all turned out to be right, if you’ve been silently despising him this whole time? In the end, you don’t hear from Idia that day at all. Then Ortho calls you out of concer, not knowing what’s happening beyond the fact his brother is losing his mind. You can even hear him in the background, telling him to hang up.

…And after a day without any texts, and a call from Ortho that sounded like Idia might as well have been stabbed in his room, you rush over to his dorm. You hurry to check up on him, expecting something bad, and he’s actually shocked you’re worried about him. That you don’t outright hate him. Hearing that, you’re understandably confused.

Your reaction brings him back to reality a bit, prompting him to ask if he’s done anything wrong. You ask him what made him think that. He mentions something about a song. Music, of course, is the furthest thing from your mind right now, so you ask him which song— It soon becomes clear there’s been an insane misunderstanding. After relief hits, it’s a little awkward, and he’s apologizing for how crazy he must have looked. You’re just glad your boyfriend didn’t get jumped or anything like that. Details can be discussed later.

𐙚 Malleus Draconia

Malleus takes it all pretty seriously. You probably showed him the song yourself, since he gets curious about the music you like, and it did stand out to him that it’s breakup music— But he doesn’t consider that, by itself, a reason to worry. He’ll always believe your word over others, which is why it’s so confusing to him to hear that you were supposedly unhappy. And people were considering your taste in music as proof on top of it all? Would that mean that showing him the song was some sort of indirect message, then…?

It doesn’t feel in character for you, he thinks, but he doesn’t want to risk it. He does consider doing something to make up for his supposed mistakes, but since the topic of breaking up is on the table, he decides nothing could really be enough. And you were really so upset you were about to give up on him, he doesn’t know what he could do to make you feel better. In the end, he just decided to ask — right at the very next time he sees you, before saying anything else — why you wanted to break up with him.

”What”,you echo, and for a moment he wonders if you were really so resentful you were making fun of him, but that definitely doesn’t sound like something you’d do. He explains he heard people talk about it, saying he wanted to “hear your thoughts on the matter before believing anyone else”, that he was hoping to solve whatever the problem was. He’s so serious it stuns you, you tell him there aren’t any problems.

That confuses him. What did you mean when you showed him the song, then? Nothing, it turns out. You just liked the music. His worries dissipate soon after that, if you say it was all well, of course he’ll believe you. He does remind you to tell him if it’s not, because he doesn’t want that imagined scenario to become true at all, but he’s ready to just (very) gratefully set it all aside. Simple as that. Won’t get it if you seem to find the situation amusing, but won’t stop you from finding humor in it either.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[doiliedaze]

Intertwined, Sewn Together

Butch mechanic! Vi x Bimbo flower shop owner! reader

Warnings: Vi courting reader very obviously, flirt Vi, tooth-rooting fluff, reader is a perv a little (implied she has masturbated to the thought of Vi before), reader is such a botanical nerd and rambly mess, reader lacks common sense just a little bit, reader is whipped for Vi bad (I feel you girl), sweet to heavy make out session but nothing too major, butch bulge 😵‍💫

Genre: fluff

A/N: a lot of Adrianne Lenker songs remind me of Vi but especially not a lot, just forever! The songs that inspired this fic are crush, not a lot just forever, heavy and Constant Craving!! I typically think of bimbos to have confidence but I want this bimbo to have a more shy nature or like a quiet confident like flowers because they are so dainty but they hold so much energy and meaning! I also know nothing about mechanical stuff so bare with me…I gotta stop not knowing things in my Vi fics😅

Language of flowers guide: carnations= fascination, distinction and love | peonies= love, romance and purity | baby’s breath= everlasting love, purity, innocence | iris’s= affection and devotion | violets= everlasting love, lesbian courting, faithfulness and modesty | lavender= love and devotion gardenias= protection, hope, love and trust

These are the meanings with romantic connotations it can differ based on the connotations. Can also differ based on color!!

───────┈ · ·

“Stupid fucking car! Stupid fucking auto shops!” You mutter to yourself as you walk into the auto repair shop. Your pink bug has been in the shop for two weeks now, something about an engine? You aren’t sure but you felt like it should be done by now! You also spaced everytime you talked to your mechanic because she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen!

“Excuse me?” You say with a wobble in your voice as you tap the mechanics shoulder. She is as handsome as ever and her gaze is electric!

Her floppy pink hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. Vi her name tag read but it never seems to leave your lips…well at least in public.

“Hey sweet thing, more questions ‘bout the car?” She says smoothly as she rubs some oil on her overalls.

The lump in your throat thickens when she calls you that. Gosh she makes you squirm internally well you hope she doesn’t notice too much.

“Hi…uh yes please!” You follow her mindlessly and as soon as she updates you, you focus on the scar on her top lip or the freckles sprinkled across her cheeks or the way she cocks her eyebrow when she’s explaining car stuff to you or-

“Lost?” Her voice mellows out from excited to enchanting. “No! I didn’t mean to stare I was tryna listen.” This technically isn’t a complete lie!

With a nod you can tell she was trying to think of a way to explain it to you instead of getting mad at you. That’s a constant in your life, if you’re confused you’re use to being yelled at.

When she breaks it down for you, it all comes together! Before you could say thank you she says, “y’know it’s nice when you stop by.” Her hands nonchalantly slide into her pockets. “Oh I don’t do much when I’m here?”

“You don’t need to do much sweet thing.” She took a curt step forward. “A woman like you is enchanting to breathe next to.” Her voice lowered to a husky whisper. Not a husk of lust no, a husk of admiration.

Flustered you look away not exactly knowing how to respond. So you choose to flee like the fleeting honeybee you can be. “Wow look at the time! I have to be on my way-”

“Wait! I mean…may I have your number before you go?” This time she didn’t step any closer giving you some room to breathe not wanting to come off any stronger than she already is. You can tell she had to mentally work up to it, the tips of her pierced ears were red.

Excited but trying to keep calm you give her your number…well your work number. You accidentally made your business number your personal number and never went back after you printed out 500 business cards, which was also too many business cards!

Since that day you haven’t talked to Vi…traditionally at least. She’s been ordering bouquets from your shop and shipping it to meet you in the morning. The meanings behind each are beautiful and unique!

This bouquet had carnations, peonies and baby’s breath! Which confused you when you first saw them, typically she’s put some violet or lavender in there…

Maybe it was a signal to call her, or her affections has changed?

You were going to call truly but your nerves got the best of you! So when your car was ready you were going to surprise her!

Vi is under the impression you weren’t interested in her advances until she could hear the click of your heels as you try to walk as quietly as possible. It’s hard for someone as radiant as you to go unnoticed.

“Hey sweet thing, ready for your car?” She says softly mustering her small smile.

Before she could go on you hand her a bouquet that was behind your back. It was filled with violets, iris’s, lavender, gardenias and peonies with some sticks to add a rustic flare to it.

“I know I haven’t called nor given any action to your affections but I don’t want you to think they go unnoticed! Especially after you started to stop sending violets and lavenders I knew I had to do something. I would be naive to act as though I’m not attracted to you but-”

Vi cuts you off by waving her hand in the air, “thank you, y/n I appreciate it and you don’t have to explain yourself. I’m a woman of action and you babe are showing out.” She smiles as she takes the boquete. “Y’know I’ve never been given flowers? I…thank you.” She holds them closer to her chest.

Ever since then y’all have been spending your free time together. The workers at your shop love when Vi comes by. She’s always bringing snacks and good conversation! At first the guys at the shop were slightly annoyed by your presence but when you brought baked goods along with flowers for Vi, you were welcomed.

Vi pulled up to your shop after hours knowing you were closing. “Sweet thing you ready?” She smirks as she revs her motorcycle. Although she looks so hot on it you hate being on it with her but she always takes you home.

“Course pretty” you say with a smile and sway in your hips as you get on the back.

You two have a spot. It’s a cozy cliff on this mountain. It’s a bit of a drive but y’all don’t mind. The two of you set up blankets and food as you lay back and gaze at the stars…well you were. Vi was too busy staring your face off. Realizing she hasn’t been replying to your rambling you turn to her and stare back going to caress her cheek.

She’s at home with you. You validate her butchness as she to your femmeness. No one has ever been all that interested in her work, especially to the extent of helping her fix her dream car. You’re there for her and she’s here for you.

Vi has always been described as a courageous woman but when it comes to you? She’s a fucking wimp! The two of you have been taking it slow due to the courting process but she knew tonight was the night. The night she’d ask you to be hers…to try not to say that she loves you because she does. She can feel it in her gut.

“You okay Violet?” She melts when you say her name, the only person she wants to hear say it. She rolls on top of you, somewhat putting her weight on you, more her chest.

“Can you feel that? That’s how my heart beats everytime I’m around you. Which is concerning because I’m around you a lot!” She snorts causing you to laugh a little. You nuzzle your face into hers and you let her fingers entangle into yours.

“Be mine. I can’t live another second without you as mine, my counterpart, my femme, just mine.” She breathed as if she was letting a weight off her shoulders she didn’t know she had.

If she’d was quicker to open her eyes she’d see how excited you are. Impatient as you are you kiss her. The kiss starts off slow, just your lips pressed together awkwardly as you try to stop smiling.

Vi grips your hands tighter as she presses closer, biting your lip. She doesn’t want to make the kiss sloppy but she can’t help but explore you.

Her tongue presses and wraps itself around yours. You mumble her name and her breathe hicks. Her bulge presses against your thigh softly rutting as she kisses you.

You wrap a leg around her causing your skirt to fall some and she moves a hand to grip your thigh. Even though this kiss is moving fast there’s restraint from both end.

You break away to breathe a string of saliva following. “Should we go?” You whisper as she nuzzles into your neck groaning a yes.

The two of you are new to peace, especially a peace you two could provide each other. However you’re willing to get tangled into each other.

───────┈ · ·

A/N: i got nervous writing it teehee!! I hope you enjoyed @milanyas <3 I’m definitely going to expand on this idea because I lowkey feel like it could’ve been longer but I didn’t know how and I didn’t really want smut? I’ll probably make an imagine for you dolls!

Taglist- @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss

Dividers- @8bbitbunni

[supernovafics]

eddie has a crush on you

wc: 683

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

eddie has a crush on you, and it’s become blatantly obvious to everyone except you. 

only days after he met you at the hideout when robin introduced you both, he made you a mixtape. you had half-mentioned that you wanted to get into new music and eddie ran with that information, putting the tape together in just one night and then giving it to robin to give to you since she saw you more often. 

the next time you saw him at some group hangout at steve’s house, you told him that you really liked the songs he put on the mixtape and his heart nearly exploded out of his chest. he happily smiled and rambled on and on about some of the specific songs you said you liked, recommending you more songs from the artist and promising that he’d bring you their full album or just make you another mixtape altogether. 

that was when everyone saw it, how much he obviously liked you. but, you didn’t. 

you saw everything he did for you as just a simple friendly gesture, which was great in your eyes because you wanted more friends in this small town that you moved to only a few months ago.

when he was the only one that would come with you to see some new horror movie at the theater, or when he showed up during your quiet shifts at the bookstore and stayed for a few hours just to keep you company, you simply felt lucky to have him as a friend. 

robin was the only one to tell you differently, though. 

“oh, come on. he’s looked like a little puppy pining after you these past few weeks. i can’t believe you don’t see it.”

you laughed at her words. “you’re insane.”

“no, i’m right,” she said and you only shook your head in response, another laugh falling from your lips because you still couldn’t really believe it. 

that changed only a week later, when you got sick and robin told eddie, and then he showed up to your place armed with chicken noodle soup, cough syrup, and a few movies that you had mentioned to him one time that you really liked. 

“you made this yourself?” you asked as you poured the soup out of its tupperware and into a bowl. 

he smiled sheepishly at you as he nodded. “yeah… it actually wasn’t that hard, though. this lady at the grocery store helped me get the ingredients and then basically wrote down the instructions for me too.”

you gave him a small smile. “thank you.”

you looked down at the bowl of soup. him making it was probably the nicest thing someone had ever done for you, and that was when you finally knew. it was also when you realized how you felt too. 

you both settled on your couch after you ate the soup. one of the movies eddie brought over was playing in front of you and your head was against his shoulder because the cough syrup was making you a little sleepy. 

“eddie,” you said with a sniffle maybe halfway through the movie and turned your head to look at him. there was something about the drowsiness of the medicine that made you feel a little bold in that moment. “do you like me? like, more than just as a friend?”

how red his cheeks got at your questions told you everything you needed to know, but he still gave you a flustered response. “oh, um, yeah. yeah, i do… but, i completely understand if you don’t and—”

you cut him off with a quick shake of your head and you gave him a small smile. “no, it’s okay. i like you too.”

the immediate elated grin that broke out on his face at your words made you want to kiss him, but you refrained from doing so because you didn’t want to make him sick too; you were also too tired. 

“oh. nice. cool,” he said, trying to act normal about it all but was still smiling widely. 

you laughed a bit. “cool.”

[cosmique-oddity]

Music. I love music its very important for me and you guys dont even imagine how happy i am when i find "the one" who work insanely well with the idea i have of a character.

So now im just going to ramble about Mecha AU and characters and playlist.

Particulary Theme Songs >:D

Here we go

Vortex : Psycho Killer.

Yeaaaay i already shared this idea but i think the messy lyrics that doesnt rhyme and the fact that the singer seems to do drugs in the middle of the song fits Vortex. Its funny to hear that apparently it sound like the singer is yelling at himself. I can imagine Vortex alone in a room, yelling. And the others are confused and go in that room, having the idea of saving the poor people that cross the path of Vortex. But there is no one. Vortex is yelling at his reflection in a mirror. Also all the things about not being able to be relaxed. Cigarette do that. Its stressful.

"Run run run ruuun awayyy".

First Aid : *mischievously* No >:)

First Aid : Red Flags

Dont tell me this situation never happened with someone who was trying to date Felix before and thought he was just sweet and a kind medic. Forget the end. The random ran away and yelled. And i like the pairing Red Flags x Psycho Killer. Fits.

Swindle : Watch me Work/Figure n°9

Watch me Work is how people percieve Swindle. Well sort of. Its the struggle that are not very internal and personal. Its things that people can imagine about him. And i like the energy U.U

FIGURE N°9 ??? AAAOOHHH how can i convert you to my vision. Extracts time ! :

"But didn't realize instead of setting it free

I Took what I hated and made it a part of me"

Satisfied ? OK heres another :

"I can't separate myself from what I've done

Giving up a part of me

I've let myself become you".

HAH *gasp* first time i checked the lyrics i gasped. Thats Swindleeeee !!! Thats him. Talking to the hypothetical person who had his job before him.

Onslaught : In the End

Linkin Park being the theme song of the Combaticons fr. I think like all the things he tried, just failed. That all the things that happened, Vortex Death, Swindle changing post and losing himself into politics and faux semblants, Brawl and Blast Off leaving the base. Yeah.

Blast Off : Nobody's Listening.

LINKIN PARK AGAIN YEAH. Blast off is that silenced voice. He is quite quiet. And the real person that silence him, is himself. Then how do you wish for peoples to listen to you when you dont give yourself the chance to be listened at ?

Shockwave : The Line/Sing for Absolution

I have a lot of feelings about this, The Line song and Shockwave & Orion.

"Keep the memories of who i was before"

WHO DARED WRITING THIS LINE ????

Just listen to the other lyrics but hey trust me it kinda WORKS. Shockwave talking to Orion.

Also Sing of Absolution is for the case where Shockwave loved Orion.

Orion : Army Dreamers

Well yeah he died. *trying not to cry, lay down, cry a lot*.

Deadlock : Joga

"All that no-one sees

You see

What's inside of me

Every nerve that hurts

You heal

Deep inside of me

You don't have to speak

I feel"

EM field, Ratchet, healer. You know you know. You KNOW. *yell again*.

I realize im explaining myself very poorly.

Ratchet : Feeling Good.

Theres something about this song. But yes its about Deadlock. Theres a lot of version of this song (one that fit Jazz Prowl absolutely perfectly but not on Mecha AU. Michael Bublé ones)

This one, the tone of the voice being used, hoarse, match with his mental state. Tired.

But yet thats a positive song, very positive. Deadlock is giving him a new life, where he can rest a little, where he can slow down and enjoy....

And "you know how i feel". Is answering to the "You don't have to speak

I feel" of Deadlock song.

Roddy :> ! :

i made a playlist about him so i have a lot of songs. But my personal favorites are All Stars and Im Still Standing.

"You'll never shine if you dont glow"

And

"Looking like a True survivor, feeling like a little kid, im still standing".

Unkillable warrior.

Jazz : Jazzzzzzzzz. Immortals !

Immortals because "I'm bad behavior, but I do it in the best way".

And : "I try to picture me without you, but I can't

'Cause we could be immortals, immortals

Just not for long, for long"

Prowl :

hmmmmm Prowl i didnt really know. Had troubles. But there was this song about Jazz Prowl that was cool, I was Made for Lovin You

Blurr : Human

YES THIS IS SAD UUUH

LEAVE ME ALONE. I really think about Blurr like a fricking human human. I love him. Leave him alone.

<- when this is your favorite character so you absolutely cannot explain why because there is just too much emotionnal attachement towards him. But yeah go listen to the song. Its famous anyway.

Swerve : Cant Take My Eyes of You

Ah....and he tried ! Trust me he tried.

Muse version. Because muse.

@keferon this is my tribute to your amazing AU today

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Golden Girl Texts

Written for @jolapeno's Dear-uary challenge. I chose to do texts between Dieter and Golden Girl throughout their friendship. General warning for drug and drink mentions... it is Dieter.

Thank you to @devineconjuring for her help and accepting my rambles. She also made the Sweets bride pic much more ~Golden~

The texts start from when Warren & GG get engaged and end at Dieter leaving for London at the end of So It Goes.

FYI, the texts receivers switch. Check the top first for whose phone it is. 🫡

Blue is Dieter. Pink is Golden Girl.

✨July, 2016✨ Dieter’s Phone

There’s that familiar hot pit in his stomach, it burns brighter as he zooms in on the ring. Fuck. He should have done something… or at least told you how he felt about you, but instead he stayed quiet, finding solace in illicit substances and people. He’ll respond tomorrow. Right now, he’s going to pop some pills, fuck someone, and try to forget the text. 

✨September, 2016✨ GG’s Phone

Oh Sweets, you're too good to everybody around you. Too good at finding the best in anyone. A broken man like him doesn't deserve your concern. He hits repeat on "Self Control" waiting for the lines that always makes him think of you:

Wish I was there, wish we'd grown up on the same advice And our time was right Keep a place for me, for me I'll sleep between y'all, it's nothing

✨April, 2017✨ GG’s Phone

Why are you zooming in on the picture of your husband's best man? Why do you wish he was sitting on the lounger next to you at this luxury five star resort? Why does Warren have to insist on working during your fucking honeymoon? Why is it only 1 PM and you've already had three piña coladas?

✨September, 2018✨ Dieter’s Phone

You got it. Your dream house with the picket fence and the pretty lawn. You got the large backyard with the picturesque view. You're going to fill that home with cool art, unique finds, and beautiful memories... and he'll just be a visitor.

✨January, 2020✨ GG’s Phone

New Years is bullshit. It's something he's always believed, but it's made worse when he has to watch the woman he's in love with inside her beautiful home kissing her husband at midnight. Bullshit.

✨August, 2020✨ Dieter’s Phone

You call Dieter, he answers all bleary eyed with a huge smile lighting his face at the first sight of you. You talk to him for three hours, comforting him, telling him all of this will be worth it. You put a package of cookies in the mail for him the next day.

✨September, 2020✨ Dieter’s Phone

Of course you're happy for him. Of course you don't know that when he stood at the altar in that dingy Las Vegas chapel and Anika walked out, his heart sank when he realized she wasn't you. Of course you don't know he's already miserable.

✨April, 2021✨ GG’s Phone

You knew it wasn't going to last, but you still wanted to believe that maybe one day Dieter would find his soulmate.

✨June, 2023✨ Dieter’s Phone

Damn, he's getting brave with these mixes.

A selection of songs from Dieter's playlist For Sweets #16

"Sun In The Morning" - Future Islands

"Pretty Please" by Dua Lipa

"Red Eyes" by The War On Drugs

"Amoeba" by Clairo

"The Color In Anything" by James Blake

"Bodys" by Car Seat Headrest

"Foreign Kicks" by We Are Scientists

✨June, 2023✨ Dieter’s Phone

Dieter doesn't answer, as amazing as Vegas sounds. Frankly, he's sick of Warren and his bullshit. He barely even recognizes him these days... he wonders what you think.

✨September, 2024✨ GG’s Phone

[hypernova-writes]

Could you do headcanons for scout x a nurse reader? could be nsfw or not I just think it's a cute concept👉👈

A/n: ASK AND THOU SHALL RECEIVEEEEEEE I love scout so much, that’s my baby, that’s my man fr. Also I was listening to this song while writing these, and I MAY have thought of a fic for this concept- I fear i may be delusional for him..

Scout with a Nurse!S/O

Can we HELLLOOOOO NURSE. (..sry..)

But no for real, He gets his own personal nurse, and they love him? Oh yea sign him up!

Definitely rubs it in the face of the other mercs, who have to deal with Medic while he walks down to your room.

“Ha! Screw yall chuckleheads! My baby’s gon’ take care of me!”

He’ll come to you with the simplest of paper cut acting like he’s gonna DIE if he doesn’t receive a kiss from his baby.

If you follow him up in his antics, it’ll just make him fall deep in love with you. Kiss his cheek, kiss his hands after you change the bandages, tell him how much of a good boy he’s being for you. He’ll be a puddle in your hands.

Definitely likes to steal the treats you have set out for the other mercs. Like SEVERAL times you have caught him sneaking treats from the bowl you had set out.

“Scout, baby. I can see you, ya know..”

“Huh? I don’t know what you could possibly mean babes~”

Loves sitting in your office while you do work, he’ll keep you company with his rambling and if you give him something to do or organize he’ll do the best that he can!

He thinks you look oh so cute in your uniform! Often finds himself hugging you from behind, he smiles, just loving how you feel in his arms.

It makes him wanna just bend you over your desk~ (NSFW Under the cut)

Speaking of bending you over your desk—

He has done it multiple times, especially if you’re giving him those bedroom eyes when he comes in for a check up. Oh yea, drop them panties, bend that sweet ass over, he needs some sweet lovin’ from his nurse.

He’s careful not to leave bruises, but he can’t help it, your hips feel nice in his hands, he loves having something to grab on while he’s rutting into you like his life depends on it.

Won’t admit it out loud, but is totally into the nurse patient role play, and has asked you to do it several times already.

“C’mon sweet cheeks..aintcha gonna heal ya mans?..i got something between my legs that need your touch”

Loves, Loves, quickies in the clinic, he likes seeing how fast he could make you cum before you have to go back to attending to the other mercs to help medic out.

He often teases you for how funny you walk afterwards, which usually bites him in the ass when the two of you are alone.

Using spare bandages to tie his hands behind his back, and covering his eyes, you give him a special ‘checkup’ that has him turn into the moaning and whimpering mess.

He is a total simp for you..like end of story.

That man ain’t going no where, and even if you try to, he’ll find his way back to his baby.

[tinyshyteacup]

Hello love!

Loving everything so far! 💜

Could I get 🦄 with Juice and honestly writers choice. I'm down for anything 💜

• Clear Passages •

I came up with this and found it amusing, hope you can get a chuckle from it and not be grossed out ! 🙀

Tw: medical stuff ?, colon hydrotherapy discussed (not at length)

Juice had been keeping something from you.

Not in a bad way—he wasn’t hiding it.

But… well.

He just never really figured out how to bring it up.

It wasn’t like it was a secret.

It just wasn’t exactly… the kind of thing you expected from him.

It started in the kitchen.

You were making tea, humming softly, when Juice leaned against the counter, watching you.

He was fidgeting.

Which wasn’t unusual.

But this was… extra.

He kept shifting, opening his mouth like he was about to say something, then shutting it again.

Finally, you turned to him, amused.

"Juice, what is it?"

"Huh?" His head snapped up. "Nothing. I mean—no, not nothing. I just—I was thinking about something. That I should probably tell you. Not that I was keeping it from you babe. I wasn’t. But it just never really—uh—came up. So I figured—"

"Juice." You smiled, gently cutting him off with a soft peck to his lips. "Just tell me."

He took a breath.

Then—

"I own a colonic and weed shop."

You blinked.

And then—"You own a what?"

Juice nodded, dead serious.

"It’s called Clear Passages. Well, I only own like twenty percent of it, but still—it’s a good investment. Helps people. Good business model. You’d be surprised how many people wanna be, y’know, cleared out."

You just… stared at him.

Because what the hell was he talking about?

And that?

That was all the encouragement he needed to start rambling.

"See, here’s the thing," Juice started, gesturing wildly. "People don’t realize how much stuff just sits in their system. You think you’re fine, right? You eat, you digest, whatever. But, no—there’s buildup."

"Buildup?" you echoed, face scrunched up, completely lost.

"Yeah! Years of it. Just sitting there. You ever feel sluggish for no reason? Kinda bloated? That’s it. That’s the buildup. It’s just sittin’ in your guts, cloggin’ you up."

You stared.

"Juice…"

"But that’s why it's a game-changer, babe. Clears you right out. Flushes everything. You wouldn’t believe how much lighter you feel after. More energy. Better digestion. You get this whole… like, mental clarity thing, too. It’s wild."

"You’ve done it?"

"Oh, yeah. More than once. First time was kinda weird, not gonna lie, but after that? Fucking incredible."

You blinked slowly.

"You let someone…"

"Yup." He nodded, completely unfazed. "Totally worth it."

You pressed your lips together, unsure how to process this.

"And the weed?"

"Oh, yeah. We got a dispensary in there, too. Kinda makes sense, right? People get nervous about the whole thing, so, y’know, we help ‘em relax first. Plus, medicinal benefits. You ever think about trying edibles?"

"Juice, I can’t even handle a full cup of coffee."

"Okay, fair. But microdosing? Total game-changer."

You sighed, rubbing your temples.

"Let me get this straight. You—my sweet, goofy, video-game-obsessed boyfriend—own part of a colonic and weed shop?"

"Uh-huh."

"And you never thought to mention this?"

"Babe, when was I supposed to bring it up? ‘Hey, honey, how was your day? Also, have you ever considered colon hydrotherapy?’"

"…Okay, fair point." You sigh.

"Listen, I’m just saying—you should try it," Juice insisted.

You shook your head. "Not happening."

"Babe—"

"Juan Carlos."

"Okay, but think about it. Just think about it."

"I have thought about it. My answer is still no."

"But—"

"No."

He sighed dramatically, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, arms snaking around your waist.

"You’re missing out." He whispered with almost sing-song like hope.

"I think I’ll live." You deadpan.

He peeked up at you, pouting. "You sure? ‘Cause you might feel better. More energy. Clearer skin. Stronger immune system."

You gave him a look. "Juan Carlos Ortiz, do not try to sell me this  like it’s a new skincare routine."

"I’m just saying! People sleep on this stuff, but it’s legit. We got regulars."

"Good for them."

"You ever get curious, though—"

"I won’t."

"—it’s a safe space."

"Juice."

"Okay, okay." He grinned, holding his hands up. "I’ll drop it. For now."

You exhaled, relieved.

Until—

"But if you ever change your mind—"

"Juice."

He laughed. "Alright, alright. No pressure. But… y’know. Just keep it in mind."

You rolled your eyes.

Because of course your boyfriend was like this.

Of course he was.

[leveebreak-s]

if you know me in real life KEEP SCROLLING i'm so serious. look me in the eyes. please ignore this one. if you read this and i find out i'll probably block you i'm sorry (that includes you nemo)

jimbert nonsense under the cut. zeppelin mutuals if you have thoughts please share them, especially @incredifishface and @tangerina24 i'd be very happy to hear from you.

Tea For One becomes so loaded when read through a Jimbert lens. I'm not saying the song IS a jimbert song, only that it COULD be, and that reading it that way is compelling and at times confounding

first of all, genius says the song is about robert missing his family while he's on tour, which seems valid on paper, but given the context in which it was written doesn't seem like the most logical interpretation to me. presence as an album was written when robert was recovering from his accident, wheelchair bound, and unsure if he would ever be able to tour again. there was very much an atmosphere hanging over the band and robert especially that this album might be their swan song. he was staring down the barrel of an end to life on the road, life in the band, life with jimmy. it's a very melancholy song and i would describe the tone as...defeated?

Like, given that the man is newly homebound, I think it's safe to say that what is making him feel "this way" is not the carnival of life on the road but the isolation and loneliness brought on by pain and temporary disability.

Sittin' lookin' at the clock

Time moves so slow

I've been watchin' for the hands to move

Until I just can't look no more

How come twenty four hours

Baby sometimes seems to slip into days?

A minute seems like a lifetime

Baby when I feel this way

I guess this is the part of the song that leads people to the conclusion that the song is about missing his wife and children while on tour, but "now I can't get back again" ? Again, on this album he's confronted with the idea that he might never tour again. He's very much about to get back again.

There was a time that I stood tall

In the eyes of other men

But by my own choice I left you woman

And now I can't get back again

I have more thoughts on this but for the purposes of this post i digress. This song could be about Maureen. I'm not trying to prove that it is about Jimmy, I'm just trying to prove that reading it that way is interesting.

the idea that their glory days are coming to an end are all over this album. hell, the first song is called achilles' last stand. and that song is definitely about robert and jimmy, as fishie and leds have already so eloquently proven. the end of the dream. time to ramble on. by my own choice i left you. "and now i can't get back again" does indicate that robert has some pretty mixed feelings about the possibility that this is the end. on the one hand, he's ready to assert himself independently, break free from their covenant, prove himself beyond the band. on the other hand, having his autonomy in the matter ripped away from him is not what he wanted. and i'm not just talking about the injury keeping him from life on the road, but from his partnership with jimmy which is, in jimmy's eyes, inseparable from their working together.

this is my favourite part of the whole song and also the one i find the most confounding. BY THE BY the chord progression is the same as on "since i've been loving you," which according to jimmy was done on purpose, as an exercise to see how different of a song they could make with the same chords and many years of songwriting behind them.

To sing a song for you

I recall you used to say

Oh baby this one's for we two

Which in the end is you anyway

is it: i recall you used to say "oh baby this one's for we two" which in the end is you anyway? or is it: i recall you used to say "oh baby this one's for we two anyway which in the end is you anyway?" this stanza really invokes jimbert for me. I am thinking about the dynamic between the two of them in the beginning. jimmy as a sage who plucked robert from relative security, found him, saw him, made him who he was at this time. robert as an acolyte but also as a young god in his own right, once a student and still a devotee but now an intellectual equal.

"this one's for we two, which in the end is you anyway."

in the end, "we" are something that you created. you birthed this, turned our lead into gold, created me in your image, and you will be the one to tend to it for all time. maybe "we" weren't even real to begin with. maybe "we" were only ever a product of your vision for world domination and eternal life. if THAT's not about the end of jimbert (the first season anyway) i don't know what is.

idk if anyone will bother to read all of this but please know that i wrote it in like 10 minutes off the cuff so if it's a bit incoherent i apologize i just have a LOT of feelings about this song. if i got anything wrong please let me know or *hope beyond hope* if anyone wants me to say MORE about it let me know because i could go into a LOT more depth

[oldhalloweentape]

🐀Junkrat (OW I & II) x (gn) Reader💣

(Beginning relationship pt. I Edition!)

(Picture’s not mine!)

(My friend @mushygutznstuffz helped me pick out this song!! Thanks again man, love you!!!)

- Boisterous to a fault, Junkrat is the type to want the world for you, him, and his best pal Roadie!

- Could ramble on and on about it for hours, and usually at a fast pace because he’s used to people ignoring him. Extremely excited when he realizes you were actually listening, engaging with him when he’s on a verbal tirade about his schemes.

- Again, he is not used to being in a romantic relationship or really knowing how to express it. But he tries so hard to convey it because he knows how much it means, but it becomes too much at times.

- Telling him to tone it down is probably the way to go— That or I hope you like stolen shit because the second he sees something loosely related to what you like and just goes yoink. Now it’s in your hands. Don’t ask where it came from <3

- Sometimes the gifts are a bit worse for wear— I mean it’s Junkrat what do you expect? Has given you so many bouquets with scorched and wilted flowers. It’s the thought that counts.

- Speaking about thought, he genuinely tries when it comes to you, wants to know and remember so much— Writes (more like scribbled, we all know that mans writing is chicken scratch) and keeps soot smeared sticky notes about things you said and he managed to remember littered about in his work space.

- The first one to say “I love you” like three hours after you guys make it official, why would he wait to say it when it took him so much time to realize his feelings and confess?

- He’s definitely not afraid of PDA, even on the battlefield, smacking you on the ass after a team kill, giggling insidiously as you punch him on the shoulder.

- If you are particularly touchy he has the tendency of wiggling in excitement, squealing all the while.

- So much energy in that lanky body of his, sometimes he gets too caught up in his emotions— Impulsivity is his middle name.

- Just about anything that includes his explosives gets his blood pumping, shaking in excitement like he’s a chihuahua that just gave a blood donation and he’s obsessed with holding onto you in some way as he does.

- His favorite thing to do is scoop you up and give you a bear hug smooshing his face against your hair. I mean, homie’s 6’6, but if you’re like taller— He’ll still do it, doesn’t matter. He’s determined goddamnit.

- If you don’t like it he’ll try to keep that in mind but he does have the tendency to forget a lot.

- Boundaries will have to be established, which will naturally have him pouting like a kicked puppy.

- Affectionate bribery is his go to when he wants to do something highly illegal with you, if you reciprocate it gets his eccentric ass self cackling and giggling.

- Makes you so much shit, weapons included, I also see him naming weapons after you. He just can’t resist naming them after you, you’re perfection in his eyes. Not that he’d ever admit to spare his ‘reputation’ (but let’s be honest, everyone knows he’s whipped for you).

- Loves you so so so much— But it’ll take some time for him to be convinced to take a shower, stinky, greasy, soot covered little fuck.

- Stubborn too, so it’s a legit stand off between you, him, and Roadhog (cause let’s be honest anyone would get fed up with smell grease and B.O mixed in a unholy concoction of death). It eventually ends with Roadhog being able to grab him from behind, with Junkrat fighting tooth and nail to get out of this inevitable event.

- When it’s all said and done after like an hour of struggle, bubbles, and dirty water he’ll just sit angrily on the couch, arms crossed and muttering under his breath as you dry off his hair with a towel.

- Which kinda makes up for it, likes it when you scratch his head with your fingers. Feels nice against his scalp, though, he’ll give you guys the silent treatment for like three hours maximum before he gets right back to his chattering and shenanigans.

(There!! Now, I’ll get back to my Venture bullshit again, stay tuned!)

[spence-whore]

Movie Night

Spencer Agnew x Reader

Request: what request are you the most excited to write? also what would spencer be like during a movie night? I’m just curious

A/N a couple of things before we get to this imagine! One, I’m not sure if you wanted this as an imagine but I thought this would be cute as one, so I’m writing it. Secondly, I’ve been really excited to write all of these tbh. I feel like the ones I have been really excited about though are the ones being inspired by certain songs. I have gotten a few requests for song based ones and it’s just been exciting because it’s been music I love and even some I have never heard of before. So, it’s been a challenge trying to think of my own way to interpret it to Spencer and an imagine! Last thing, this is pretty short but i hope it’s still good.

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You and Spencer have known each other since you were in middle school. You were childhood best friends, which eventually turned into high school sweethearts. You moved with Spencer to California, which led to you getting a job with mythical and him working for Smosh. It was like the best of both worlds. The two of you don’t get a lot of time together compared to what you used to get. So, the two of you do movie nights every Wednesday night. You cook some type of food and get a bunch of snacks and sweets. You pile it all together on the living room table. While you’re doing this, Spencer makes a pillow fort on the couch and gets everything set up. Sometimes he will come into the kitchen to attempt to annoy you but he just gets roped into helping you fix something.

Tonight was movie night and the two of you decided on the classic, Napoleon Dynamite, for tonight.

“Spencahhhh” You shout in a fake Italian accent from the kitchen, “Can you come here for a second, my love?”

“If you’re just gonna pull me in here to make me help you make some sticky dessert again, I will actually cry.” Spencer says walking into the kitchen and laughing. “Listen, you remember what happened last time. I had to shower before we got to even start the movie.”

“Oh, whine about it why don’t you.” You say sarcastically, shooting Spencer a glare. “It wasn’t my fault anyways. I was literally just icing cupcakes and you thought it would be funny to smear icing on my face. So, I simply got you back. It was your fault. I just got lonely and didn’t want to be in here alone.”

“Y/N, I was literally like a few steps from you.” Spencer says laughing really loudly. “But hi, I’m sorry I left you all alone. I will stay in here. I’m finished up in there anyways.”

“I’m just putting these cookies on this sheet. Once the pizza is out, I’m going to stick them in there.” You explained, nodding your head towards the oven. “We can just start the movie and eat the pizza til the cookies are done then I’ll grab them.”

The two of you seriously like to go all out with unhealthy foods this night since you try to eat decently healthy every other day of the week. As you finished putting the last of the cookie dough on the sheet, the oven went off and Spencer stood up to grab it for you.

“Please remember to grab the oven mitt this time. We really don’t need a rerun of you burning the shit out of your hand then having to cancel movie night.” You quickly said with a smile on your face.

“Good lord, you’re never going to let that down, are you?” Spencer muttered while sliding on an oven mitt to grab the two small pizzas. “Are you sure you’re always up to doing all of this cooking and baking? I feel like today is really the only free day we get together. We could just always order food from somewheres and go pick up snacks and desserts from the store.” He rambles while walking over to the table to place the pizzas on it.

You shrug your shoulders, keeping your back to Spencer while you walk over to the oven and pop the cookies in. “I always just feel better knowing that everything is home made. I ate fast food so much as a young adult in college.” You turned around to face him. “I made a promise to myself that whenever I got out of college, no matter what, I would make the time to cook something to eat for myself; even if it is something small. Plus, I always like incorporating things you like or haven’t tried yet in the mix. I always like surprising you. You always praise it, so it gives me that drive to want to do it more.”

Spencer just stared at you with a love struck look on his face then walked up to you and yanked you into a hug. “I wasn’t complaining about it and I hope you know that. I mean god, I’m beyond thankful for a partner that loves to cook like this. If we’re being honest? I would probably live off of fast food all throughout the week if it wasn’t for you.” He whispered into your hair then kissed the top of your head.

You just laughed really loudly into his chest, “I’m going to be honest with you, that’s another one of the reasons I do it. Fast food makes anyone feel icky and weak. I like knowing that you can get a good meal and actually feel good throughout the day. I guess it’s like my love language.”

Spencer pulled back from the hug and placed his hands on both sides of your face for a minute just looking at you. “I love you so much and I hope you never forget that.” He gave you a quick peck then nodded towards the kitchen table. “I’ll grab the plates if you cut the pizzas?”

You nodded then grab his face really quickly before he could walk away to give him another kiss. “I love you too goofy ass.”

You walked over to the cabinet and grabbed a pizza cutter while Spencer grabbed two plates and walked over to place them on the table while you were cutting the pizzas.

“Oh wait,” You said just remembering. “You’re gonna love me even more. I went and bought more Mountain Dew Kickstarts because I realized you were almost out. I also bought two single ones, one of you and one for me, tonight.” You say with a soft smile on your face.

Spencer aggressively kissed you on the cheek then walked over to the fridge to grab the drinks. “You ready to watch the absolute masterpiece that is Napoleon Dynamite?”

“Spencer, this is like the seventh time we have watched this movie this year and it is May. You would think at this point, I would be tired of it. I’m so excited to watch it.”

Spencer chuckled at you and shook his head, “You’re a dork. I’m taking these drinks into the living room now. Do you need help carrying anything?” He asked turning to look at you.

“Nope, I got it all here bub. Just grab my phone because I set on a timer on it for the cookies.”

You carried the two plates into the living room and could’ve just cried walking in there. Spencer always goes all out with the pillow forts. It looked so big and so comfortable. He always had laid out so many different candies and popcorn in two huge bowls on the living room table. You placed the two plates of pizza on the table and realized he had also went and bought you new flowers to put in your vase, to replace the ones that were starting to wilt.

Spencer looks at you with the most serious look on his face then in Napoleon’s voice says, “Gosh, can we start the movie already?”

[pixthefuckup]

the warriors but as the crazy shit I've done as a new Yorker myself

All: had been in Manhattan for something fun, then got lost on the q, then had to head all the way back from the end of the line to Queens, made it to one of the safe stations i could transfer only to face the MTA deciding multiple times that they could no longer send a train following the proper routes i needed (i got on and off so many trains), and ended up leaving from the closest station i knew, speed-walking home in the freezing cold, cursing God and the MTA, until my dad finally came to escort me home safely.

Cochise: i have gone to parties for way older people. i get all the nice perks with a twist: i have to do karaoke performances for my mom and her friends at parties or cheer on their karaoke. i've done this multiple times. my voice will literally die and i can't keep up after a couple of songs, even though these middle-aged ladies can. i persevere for the sake of food and drinks.

Cowgirl: once saw an extra virgin olive oil bottle and spaghetti and instead of being sane and thinking about recipes, i fully blurted out "once your spaghetti comes to a boil, stick your d*** in some extra virgin olive oil." IN THE MIDDLE OF A CROWDED SUPERMARKET. IN THE LINE TO THE CASHIER SURROUNDED BY STRANGERS.

Fox: i once outran a train because i could. i had a bit of a lead because i was in the middle of the platform once it started coming in but trains are pretty fast. it was coming up from behind me but i kept running. eventually i could hear my friends saying i already outpaced. i looked behind me and sure it was, behind me. pretty cool.

Cleon: i was in a short film where i got beaten up multiple times. thrown into stairs, shoved against a wall, etc. not as bad as my co-star who i strangled and also shoved into walls but it was pretty bad. we also broke the boys bathroom door during this (it was in the stairwall we were working with) so it was a funny bit of teamwork where i was the lookout and the one holding the still working door shut in case staff tried to come in and the other guys were just doing their best to pick the door lock to get it open and unbroken.

Ajax: once shoved my head through the subway doors to try and get through while it was closing (i wanted to get home quick and my friends were already on). ended up accidentally getting it clamped on my neck so i basically had to shove it open with my bare hands. if it's funnier... i'm in middle school during this. so imagine you're like a full blown adult sitting on the train and all of a sudden, you're watching a 13 year old, with braces and tiny pink strands flowing through her brown hair, shoving a door open with her hands while her friends are trying their best to help. you don't know whether to continue staring or clap once she gets through and finally on the train.

Rembrandt: got high in the middle of the park with my friends and instead of being chill like i expected, i went on a rant about the artistry of dante and vergil, fanfiction, and both of their connections to each and the veil, reaching beyond life to things we cannot touch. i also was real rambly and uneloquent compared to how i am irl.

Swan: once had a sprained shoulder the day before my kickboxing practice. I still went in and told the teachers only to realize both didn't hear me. i didn't feel like repeating myself so i pushed myself through the rest of the class. i then listened to a scolding from one of the teachers at the end for not putting my all into it, nodding along as if i didn't have a shoulder injury because i didn't want to sound like i was making up excuses last minute.

Mercy: once had such a crazy crush on a girl that i was willing to brawl with some other people. i then got shoved under a bus seat while she was punching a guy on top of it. she helped me get out after but ugh did i have to stare at chewed up gum for a while.

[viccharine]

is it still me that makes you sweat? (my fav outfits from the fever era)

(silly rambling + commentary + process under the cut! reblogs appreciated!!!)

happy 19th birthday, afycso!!!!!! can’t believe that it’s been 19 years since the best album of all time was released, time really does fly lmfaooo

as a bit of celebration, decided to draw some of my fav fits from the fever era!! from left to right is Katie Kay, Ryan Ross, and Roger Fojas!

here are the reference pics i used:

i had wanted to add in Dusty because her outfit is also AMAZING, but i did lose some motivation after sketching out the first three :( also, composition-wise, i probably would have had to readjust the sizing of everything if i added a fourth figure, so i decided to just leave it at three

Ryan Ross is a tad bit out of place since he’s part of the band and the other two are performers, but lowk? just wanted to try drawing the rose vest! I don’t think i quite did it justice, but it sure was fun!!! and that is all that matters tbh

about my process: I really love screen tones guys. like i REALLY love screen tones. this is just layers upon layers upon layers of screen tones, i truly think i am allergic to using anything other than screen tones

i can’t help it!!!! I LOATHE using color in my art actually and also im a sucker for texture!!!!! it was so fun messing around with textures and different screen tones, UGH!!!!! luv them fr <3

some extra process pics (sorry for shitty quality):

just some extra thoughts about the fever era: afycso is truly my favorite album in the world, HANDS DOWN. there really isn’t another album that I listen to completely on a regular basis (the only album that comes REMOTELY close is from under the cork tree)

to me the aesthetic of afycso is UNMATCHED, out of every band i’ve done fanart for I just keep constantly coming back to this album!!! it will never fail to inspire me genuinely, even 19 years later it still holds up remarkably well

(there is something to be said about the misogynistic undertones of a lot of early to late 2000s emo/pop-punk music which afycso was NOT exempt from, but I talk more about that in my commentary under the “dance dance” post I made about a year ago! to summarize, I cannot in good conscience make art about this album without acknowledging how it talks about women, ESPECIALLY as an afab person, but I also have to acknowledge that these songs played and continue to play a large role in my artistic journey. I am not saying that every band in the early to late 2000s was necessarily misogynistic just because of the lyrics, but rather that the standard, acceptable ways that we talk about and refer to women in media have changed in the last 20 years. we can enjoy the music, but we shouldn’t try to replicate it exactly. if you have any more thoughts about this subject, feel free to send me an ask! I love to chat!)

anyway that’s it, byeeeeeeeeee! <3

[agentstarkid]

SZÍVEM ✦ DR3

"In the symphony of emotions, "Szívem" resonates as a melody of love and tenderness. This Hungarian term translates to "(you are) my heart" in English and carries a depth of emotion within the context of love. Beyond a mere anatomical reference, "szívem" embodies a profound and sentimental connection. It's a tender expression, encapsulating the heart's vulnerability and openness in love. When someone refers to another as "szívem," it reflects an intimate bond, signifying that their heart beats in unison with the other. It signifies a poetic intertwining of hearts, acknowledging that love is not just a fleeting emotion but a permanent residence within one's very essence. In the language of love, "szívem" conveys a sentiment that goes beyond words, expressing a deep, intrinsic connection and an acknowledgment of shared emotions at the core of a meaningful relationship."

✦ pairing: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ type: social media au

✦ fc: becky g

✦ warnings: female!reader, fluff, mentions of sexual acts, age gap, language, internet meanies, horniness lol.

✦ pit wall live: Holii loves! I'm so sorry for the wait but so much has happened since I posted chapter 3, the main problem was that my laptop's battery died and I had to buy a new one and that took me weeks 😢 but I came back with a new ace up my sleeve...I KNOW HOW TO MAKE GIFS NOW!!! 🤩 (well, kind of lol). Also, I'd like to give a massive shoutout to Tally (@onceuponaoneshotfanfic) for being my personal English-er and always being an angel, letting me bounce on her all my ideas and all my constant ramblings 😝💖 — go and check out her fics, they are masterpieces! PLEASE don't forget to feed this fic monster with reblogs and/or comments! Enjoy this extra sweet chapter! 😘

─── The Joker & The Queen (Masterlist)

JANUARY 1, 2021

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yourinstagram has added to their story!

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JANUARY 4 - 7, 2021

yourinstagram has added to their story!

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danielricciardo has added to their story!

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JANUARY 15, 2021

yourinstagram

♡ liked by rubendias, mclaren, danielricciardo and 6,452,325 others

yourinstagram SURPRISE!!! Excited to share that my studio album 'Chrysalis' is taking flight tonight at midnight! 🦋✨ To put it plainly, for the first time in my life, I just couldn’t stop writing songs. To try and put it more poetically, this album embodies a journey of love, growth, and the beautiful chaos in between. This couldn't have been possible without my muse, the one who untangled all the strings around my wings that were tied. Now, I remember what it feels like to fly ❤️

View all 20,975 comments

user i would like to apologize now for the person i will become after this album comes out

danielricciardo I'm glad to witness your journey. You're the one soaring, and I'm here cheering you on from the ground. Keep reaching new heights, love ❤️

yourinstagram You might be cheering from the ground, but your love has been the wind beneath my wings 🦋❤️ Grateful for your unwavering support 🥰

lilymhe talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference

user3 "I love you so much and so you can imagine how much, count all the stars and add one more" <- "Tanto" is such a romantic song 😭

user4 i wish i could gatekeep this forever…

user5 we, the dan-y/n nation, claim butterflies as one of our anthems!

userA ‘Enchanted’ will forever be our #1 anthem, but ‘Butterflies’ is #2 🦋

user6 "boys will be boys but girls will be women" you should be damn sure i'm gonna blast that song in the office 24/7

user7 if the word ‘aesthetic’ was an album:

user8 what's everyone's chrysalis holy trinity!?

userA Butterflies, Cowboy Like Me, Golden Hour userB Peace, Lightweight & Little Did I Know — I'm a sucker for songs where the singer shows vulnerability userC userB i did tear up a little bit with Peace ngl — "Give you my wild, give you a CHILD"!?!? SCREAMING!!!! userD is2g miss yourinstagram if you come out announcing a baby ricciardo after this i'm gonna send you all my hospital and funeral expenses 🫠

user9 Mom help my emotional support global superstar is fucking with me again

userA AHDHERKR YEAH userB me every single day, this woman lives to terrorize me lmaoo userC she's insane and i just deal with it tbh I mean releasing a whole album after releasing another one not even 6 months ago?! that's NUTS!

user10 good morning to "With your boots beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con" and "You set my world on fire and I know, I know everything's gonna be alright" and "little did I know you would be the one I confide in...Little did I know it was you before I ever decided" and "Never knew I could laugh 'til I couldn't breathe, never thought I could show someone all of me, things are better than they've ever been" and "I watch superman fly away, you've got a busy day today. Go save the world I'll be around" and "My name is whatever you decide and I'm just gonna call you mine. I'm insane, but I'm your baby" and "My heartbeat is a sail, your heartbeat is a wave" and "The way you look at me, I'm starting to believe that I could call you mine and you'd still let me shine" good morning to daniel ricciardo for the masterpiece he inspired.

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FEBRUARY 4, 2021

danielricciardo

♡ liked by yourinstagram, georgerussell63, landonorris and 9,435 others

danielricciardo To the woman who makes every day brighter and my heart fuller... Happy anniversary, Chip ❤️ Here's to the love that grows stronger with each passing day.

View all 5,201 comments

yourinstagram One year down, forever to go! ❤️ Let's continue reaching for the stars together 😘

georgerussell63 Happy anniversary, lovebirds!

natalie_pinkham Happy anniversary to the dynamic duo! 🌟 Here's to many more years of joy and laughter! 🥂❤️

user Happy anniversary to the power couple that leaves our hearts racing 🏁❤️

kymillman Cheers to the love that keeps burning rubber and breaking records! Happy anniversary, Daniel and Y/N!

yourmomsinstagram Love you and miss you both ❤️❤️

userA not the queen mother only commenting on dan's posts 😂 yourinstagram userA don't be fooled by "both", she only means him. He's her favorite child now 🫡 yourmomsinstagram yourinstagram no seas celosa!! 🤨😅

user2 the difference between their captions speaks so loud lmao

userA maybe daniel is realizing that what he needs is a woman by his side, not a girl. userB uh I think you misspelled it, you meant he doesn't need a SLUT*

martingarrix Who would've thought that when I introduced these two, I'd be creating a masterpiece! 🤷‍♂️ Happy anniversary, you crazy kids!

danielricciardo Haha Garrix, the man of many talents! Thanks for playing Cupid that night, mate!

ausgp POWER COUPLE GOALS!! 😭

scottyjames31 Who knew Daniel's biggest accomplishment would be convincing Y/N to love his terrible jokes? Love sure is weird! Congrats mates! 🎉

danielricciardo I'm sure you can relate mate, right chloestroll? chloestroll all I can say is that yourinstagram and I desperately need a girl's trip yourinstagram i'm already packing my bags babe, see ya at the airport chloestroll danielricciardo 💔 scottyjames31 💔 x2

user3 Congrats! Just feels like male celebrities aren't even trying to find girlfriends over 25 anymore. Well good luck and God bless

user4 Their age difference is so gross 🤢

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yourinstagram

♡ liked by danielricciardo, drewbarrymore, jessicaalba and 6,107,435 others

yourinstagram Every love story has a beginning, and ours started with a smile. Fast forward, it's been 365 days, countless memories, wild adventures, and a heart full of unwavering love, and it feels like we've only just begun. Thank you for being my constant, my greatest love, and my best friend. Happy anniversary, Danielito! Here's to the countless sunsets, slow-dancing in the kitchen and the beautiful journey of growing together.

I love you ❤️

I'll always feel enchanted to have met you. ✨🃏

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user she loves romcoms so much she’s now in one of her own 🥰

user2 Universe conspired, hearts collided, and now they're inseparable! ❤️

danielricciardo it's been a journey I wouldn't trade for anything, amor 🥰

martingarrix Happy anniversary to the dynamic duo I proudly orchestrated! 😎 As the undisputed mastermind behind this love story, I must say, you're welcome!

itsvittoriasousa uh nope, this was a joint effort 🤨 this wouldn't have happened if we didn't drag her to that party when all she wanted to do was to stay at home and watch re-runs of friends all night 🤦🏻‍♀️ iamdannaschwarz I wouldn't disagree with a pregnant woman if I were you, man 👀 yourinstagram itsvittoriasousa that was a great plan!! but I do prefer this outcome better so, thank you, guys! 😝

corey_wilson Happy anniversary, legends! Watching you two navigate this journey together is pure magic 🌟

zendaya the most attractive couple of all time!! Sorry to reduce you to looks 🤷🏾‍♀️

yourinstagram zendaya if you don't objectify us it doesn't count, babes 💕

user after everything she went through on her past relationships i'm really happy she's found someone who could love her and cherish her how she deserves! 🥹❤️

kristenanniebell Happy anniversary to the couple who defines love and friendship in the most beautiful way! ❤️

selenagomez such genuine souls 💕

user2 they just called me single in too many languages 😭 this video is so adorable! I feel like we are intruding in a sacred moment

userA their song choice is making me cry even more because ‘start of something good’ by daughtry conveys a sense of hope and optimism and the anticipation of a promising journey ahead and it's just perfect for them 😭❤️ userB He kisses her three times when "and all my scars don't seem to matter anymore 'cause they led me here to you" plays and now I'm on the fucking floor sobbing 😭

jvn Don't mind me, I'm just here melting because this is too damn cute 💖

user3 lucky girl, she is not that pretty, nothing special in her beauty

fioamato Happy anniversary, you two lovebirds! 🥂 Can't believe it's been a whole year of watching your love story unfold. Here's to many more chapters filled with laughter and adventures! Love you both! 💖✨ #ThirdWheelingForLife

user4 this looks like a fresh faced teenager with an old geezer. it's weird. Anyways, this relationship is not gonna last

donatella_versache Wishing you both a day as fabulous as you are ❤️

salmahayek Happy anniversary, danielricciardo and yourinstagram. Your journey is a testament to the power of true love. Here's to many more years of happiness! 🍾💖

user5 I’m gonna hug a tree at 90mph

user6 not my heart melting for these two 😭

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MARCH 9, 2021

yourinstagram

♡ liked by danielricciardo, natalie_pinkham, chloestroll and 7,402,385 others

yourinstagram Giddy up, loves! 🐎✨ Excited to unveil the 'Cowboy Like Me' music video! This marks my directorial debut, and who better to have as the leading cowboy than the hottest man in town 🤤 This song, this video — it's all about him. Get ready for a wild west love story with a dash of cuteness, a sprinkle of sexy, and a whole lot of us. Join the ride! 🤠

View all 21,475 comments

danielricciardo Howdy, need a ride? 😏 You know what they say about a cowboy with a large belt buckle 😏

yourinstagram oh sir, i'm feeling really very altruistic lately and y'know what they say... save a horse, ride a cowboy 🤘🏼😜 btw it's that a pistol in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? 😏 userA hello? 911? 👮🏻‍♂️ right here these two are being horny on main AGAIN 👀👀👀 JAIL TIME!!! 😩 userB I SPAT MY WATER!!! 😳

danielricciardo I had a hog-killin' time filming this 🤠 i'm waiting for my academy's nominations already 😎

user Mami? No. Mami? No. Mami? No. Mami?? 🥵🍑

camila_cabello OMG YES YES YES 🔥🔥🔥

lilyjcollins Always in awe of you 😍

user2 cant wait for y'alls kids to look back on this video in 20 years and be like wow my parents are so fucking cool

chloestroll forever obsessed with you ❤️

michaelitaliano i'm free next time you need an extra, just saying

yourinstagram sure, you can be the rodeo clown. I know you are a natural 😊 user lmaooooo 💀💀💀 it screams sibling energy 😂

user4 THE TAG PLACEMENT I CAN'T 💀💀 MISS Y/N YOU'RE A SAVAGE

user5 He's so proud to be with her!!! No one else has showed this amount of pride — they are both glowing 🤧❤️

lilymhe not a crumb was left 👏🏼 literally ICONIC

user6 He doesn't wreck her plans he helps them happen 😭

user7 she gives off desperate for attention vibes

user is it her or is it you hun? get off of her page

user8 LOOK AT MY MOM AND DAD!! 😭❤️

user9 WE ARE SHAKING MISS L/N

user10 flop flop flop flooooop 🤡

userA she really is so embarrassing lmao userB she needs to put on some fucking clothes because she looks like a slut 🤢

user11 can you imagine creating so much drama wherever you go, can't be able to keep your legs shut for once, leech off of your bf fame to promote your music video and still being the queen of flop 😂

user12 it is criminal how good they both look in this 🥵 when he had his hand lingering on her waist at the bar????? i was about to fucking COMBUST!!

userA what about at the rodeo??? when she runs her hands on the back of his shoulders and winks at him??? 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵 userB this whole video is a religious imagery fr userC the little scenes of them in bed and around her room and house??? MADE ME REALIZE THAT I WAS NEVER AS STRAIGHT AS I THOUGHT I WAS 🤯😩

user13 the harries miss her so much 😭 but she looks so happy, she's absolutely glowing and I can't help but feel so happy for her ❤️ I hope he gives her the world because she deserves it so much ❤️🥺

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MARCH 14, 2021

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APRIL 1, 2021

vanityfair

♡ 3,170 likes

vanityfair When fame meets speed, love takes an exhilarating ride! #Y/NL/N and Formula 1 star Daniel Ricciardo heat up the cover of VF's April issue, sharing their rollercoaster ride of love, the challenges of distance, and electrifying plans that'll leave you wanting more! Their candid insights provide an inspiring portrayal of love amidst fame and busy schedules.

"Love is a beautiful and complex journey, and everyone's story is unique. While I can't speak directly to someone else's personal experiences, for me love has the power to heal and transform," the singer-actress tells VF.

In 2020, they experienced the global quarantine together in Australia, navigated the ups and downs of fame and long-distance relationship, celebrating wins and more.

View all 5,475 comments

yourinstagram Absolutely thrilled for this opportunity and be able to share it with my love. Grateful for each moment and excited for what's to come! ❤️

yourinstagram somebody call the fire department because we are smoking hot 🚒🔥

user 👆🏼 get yourself a woman that can do both 🤭 danielricciardo you lucky mf

[danielricciardo and others liked this]

user2 Who knew quarantine could lead to this much romance? 🥰

user3 Dreaming of falling in love during quarantine like Dan and Y/N. Can't relate, but happy for them! 😂💕

user4 suddenly i can't breath 🥵

user5 FUUUCK SHE'S WEARING HIS INITIAL 😭😭

userA smth smth "I want to wear his initial on a chain around my neck, not because he owns me but 'cause HE REALLY KNOWS ME. Which is more than they can say" userB in my eyes that's a big and subtle "f u" to the haters 🤭 userC UGH WHAT. A. WOMAN. 😩

user6 I can't decide if I wanna be Daniel or if I wanna be Y/N 🤯🥵

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MAY 9, 2021

yourinstagram

📍 Catalunya, España

♡ liked by rubendias, mclaren, danielricciardo and 6,452,325 others

yourinstagram you make me feel sweet like papaya 🧡

View all 20,975 comments

mclaren Rocking the papaya color like no other 🧡😍

user she slays in every color 🔥

danielricciardo can I have a taste por favor? 👀

user2 #TeamYN forever and always 🧡

user3 her first time on the paddock this year and she ATE 🥰

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MAY 16, 2021

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itsvittoriasousa has added to their story!

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yourinstagram and danielricciardo have added to their stories!

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─── Please don't forget to reblog and/or comment! ♡