#sorry every time i realise what a song is about i feel so silly for not having gotten it sooner

[bronzetomatoes]

[Guy who just connected some dots voice] hey wait a sec

[knavesflames]

heyyy el

requesting politely reader ... tending to ... arlecchino with her mouth and going from starting timid to taking a bit more control to arles surprise

lots of care and love just like in the one you just posted :3

mhm ty

Hi anon<33 I hope you are doing well and having a nice night (it’s night for me). I liked this idea >:) sorry lol it took me a while to come up with a concept but I hope this suffices 😁😁😁 (hi guys the dirty words are slowly making a reappearance)

Word count: 2.2k

Contents: soft dom!reader (kind of yes), bottom Arlecchino, cunnilingus (funny word), fingering at the end, orgasm denial (ONCE GUYS OKAY ONCE), also praise (guys I’m cooked)

Songs I listened to (for fun): fantastic- king princess (is this one obvious or not), disease- lady gaga, shhh!- viviz, pivot- HEYOON, boyfriend- dove Cameron, impurities- le sserafim

There’s more but I forgot

Nsft utc<3

Arlecchino is not a receiver. She gives and takes nothing, it’s how she’s always liked it, whatever the reason may be. She has not explained, and you doubt she will. Arlecchino is very secretive, you’ve come to learn. She divulges what she must, and keeps the rest hidden. Even you, who seems to know more about her than anyone ever has, is kept in the dark about a lot of things– what exactly triggers her nightmares? What truly happened with that ‘Mother’ of hers? There are rumours, of course. Arlecchino is mad and cursed, she killed her Mother ruthlessly without reason, she killed her best friend for nothing other than a simple quarrel. You know them to be false, now you know her better, but what you can’t seem to understand is why she lets the lies fester, why allows herself to be portrayed as a cruel monster. She can’t seem to answer you.

Arlecchino also refuses to tell you why she pushes herself so hard, or why she has such strict rules for herself. You beg her to take that damn suit off constantly (for.. Multiple reasons, both you and her know that well enough– she only obliges when it ends in you as a quivering mess on the bed). “What happened to regular clothing? I know you dislike dresses, but you don’t have to force your body into that silly suit all the time.” is a phrase often uttered. Silence is the only answer given.

Silence seems to be an answer you get from her often. In different contexts, of course. Sometimes, she is silent when she is comfortable, when she is thinking, when she is angry.. You realised long ago that she is a woman of few words– and even fewer sounds. During the rare occasions you get to make her feel good (whether that’s simultaneous to your own pleasure, or before), the only sounds you really hear are the soft breaths and the slight grunts whenever you do something she particularly likes. You have made it your mission to coax more sounds out of her, even if it’s the last thing you do. You experiment with different things each time you get to make her feel good, anything remotely sexual she’s done to you, you try with her. Degradation doesn’t work, her only response is a cock of her eyebrow and a scoff. Praise is a little bit better, earning a soft kiss on whatever part of your skin she can reach. Tying her up is out of the question– she has made it abundantly clear multiple times she only enjoys the act of bondage, however small, when you are on the receiving end. It’s the case for a lot of things, and it almost irritates you. Almost. it turns out the answer is something much simpler than anything you’ve ever tried, and you mentally curse yourself for taking so long to figure it out (for Arlecchino, that was the point. She likes the game, even if she truly is trying to keep her weakness hidden).

The answer was something she had done to you almost every time you had engaged in some form of intimate act with her. There aren’t many acts more intimate than your partner giving up the ability to speak because their tongue seems to be.. Busy. You just hadn’t realised that Arlecchino would ever be on the receiving end. So, after much pleading (and begging to the point it almost seems you’re begging her to fuck you instead of the other way around), she seemed to relent. Barely.

“Let me try,” comes the soft whisper from your lips, hitting the side of her neck as you gently place kisses there. There’s no reaction, but you could swear you felt a shiver. Moving away from the milky, unmarred skin of her neck (one of the only places that isn’t marked with either her curse or an array of scars), you almost expertly push the blazer off her shoulders before slowly sinking to your knees. The carpet is fuzzy, but it doesn’t do much to soften the hard wood underneath. You can’t find yourself caring. The blazer lands on the back of the desk chair. Excited, desperate fingers tug at the buttons of those godforsaken trousers until they finally do what you want them to do. You’ve done what you can, you can’t push her hips up so you can continue to take them off, she’s stronger than you’ll ever be (you like that). “Don’t you think it would feel nice? You know it feels nice. Do you not think you deserve it?”

“I do not deserve the pleasure you give me,” she murmurs, a rare show of her inner thoughts. The woman criticises herself too much, you think. You wish she wouldn’t be so strict with herself.

“Irrelevant,” She shivers at the slight sternness of your voice. It mirrors her own. “Do you want it?”

Arlecchino doesn’t respond for a while. Her hand moves to your head, and she caresses your hair, gently stroking and tugging at the strands before she eventually speaks, a whisper, a subconscious attempt to hide the fact she’s about to chase something she never allows herself to. “Put a pillow under your knees, at least.”

You grin, so pleased with yourself. You stand again, only to sprint and find a pillow. It happens to be the pillow you sleep on, it doesn’t matter. You return to your position only to find her trousers messily on the ground, and the top four buttons of her dress shirt undone. The look in her eyes is one you’ve rarely seen– want. “Beg.” you whisper, the grin still on your face. Arlecchino’s own face twists into a frown.

“I will die before I beg for anything.” Her tone is resolute, and you sit there nonetheless, unmoving apart from the finger tracing up and down her toned thigh. You both stay like that for an agonising two minutes before she barely mumbles. “Please.”

You are incredibly aware that you won’t get more than that, so, even though you know it doesn’t do much, you mutter “good girl”. It does do something, though. You barely hear it, but her breath shakes. You take it as an initiative to start, so you let your lips find her thigh, planting wet, open mouthed kisses up towards her inner thigh. You continue, and– she’s soaked already. You’ve done exactly nothing and she’s as wetter than you’ve ever seen her. Your eyes move up to hers, a raise of your eyebrow as you open your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off before you can speak.

“Do not. I am aware of the.. situation.”

“But you’re all wet and it’s all for my tongue. Isn’t that sweet?” You’ve never been this cocky at all, and Arlecchino would be a liar if she said she didn’t like it. She tries to find words, something to refute the claim, but her words are ripped from her lips when she feels your own lips graze her clit. It’s a tiny movement, really, but one she isn’t entirely used to. The only reaction she makes, however, is a slightly sharper exhale. Until your eyes stare straight into hers and you do it again, though for longer. Then again, though this time your tongue presses flat against it. Your tongue doesn’t move, much to Arlecchino’s dismay. The hand that rested in your hair gently tugs.

“Continue.” She speaks breathily, and her words shake. You can practically hear her gulp as she tries (and fails) to calm herself, and you know she’s probably telling herself to show no emotion. Though, when you finally start moving your tongue in slow, languid motions, you hear her shaky sigh and feel her hand in your hair tighten even more. You try to find a rhythm that affects her the most, alternating between soft licks and harder presses— you find that swirling your tongue around her clit, occasionally moving down to dip your tongue into her aching cunt. Your eyes dart up to her every few seconds to catch her mouth falling open and her head tilting back. When her mouth isn’t open, she’s stifling any noise she could possibly make, gritting her teeth so hard you’re almost certain they’re going to crack. The next time you tear your eyes away from her skin and move them to her face, her eyes are squeezed shut, and only then does a quiet groan escape her.

Something seems to change in your mind, because your hands move to grip her thighs, holding them apart despite them trembling. She’s sensitive, after all, it isn’t often she gets taken care of, is it? The blackened hand not pulling greedily at the strands on your head moves in an attempt to push your hands away, but your voice vibrates against her (which of course, causes another quiet sound to slip from her). “Keep your hands on the chair.”

Arlecchino’s eyes shoot open, a gasp practically ripping through her lungs. “You cannot expect me t—“

“Do it or I stop. Let me finish making you feel good.” She scolds herself internally for letting you get too comfortable with her own tricks. Either way, it feels good and she doesn’t want you to stop, though she’d rather cut off her own arm than admit it. She doesn’t need to say a word, though, the small groans (and whimpers) tell you everything. Especially when they grow louder, and her chest begins heaving, and her voice breaks with every utterance of your name. It’s the most pleasure she’s ever outwardly expressed.

“Why did you stop?” Her exasperated, breathless voice echoes the room. You stopped just as her orgasm was reaching the peak, causing it to ebb away quickly, a sense of disappointment growing in Arlecchino’s stomach. Her eyes, now piercing into you with that familiar irritated stare, meet yours, your own full of amusement. Wiping your chin (when you’re eating pussy like it’s the last meal you’ll ever eat, it tends to get messy, doesn’t it?), you chuckle and respond in your own teasing lilt.

“You taste so good, and your pussy is so damn pretty, Arlecchino. I don’t particularly want to stop right now. You can take it, can’t you? Keep your hands still.” Her face twists into some odd mix of mortified and aroused, but your tongue meets her clit again, and the only sound she can make is something so uncharacteristic, a whine. You continue exactly what you were doing before, though this time you decide to slide a finger into her— the reaction she gave was definitely a pleasant one, her back arching off of the chair, her hands squeezing the seat of it in an attempt to keep them still. Arlecchino reaches the peak quicker this time, and despite your bossy orders, she finds herself melting into you completely, her hips grinding herself onto your tongue as much as she possibly can. It’s completely different to how she was at the beginning, her plan to remain unbothered and stoic foiled.

“Can I— please don’t stop this time.” When there comes no response from you other than a curl of your finger, she moans your name in a useless attempt to get you to answer her. You’re being mean, she thinks, and you’re using everything she does against her. “Answer me. Tell me I can cum.”

How is she still demanding things from you even in this position? She lost all control a long time ago. You find your eyes opening though, and while adding a second finger, your voice softens and you speak, voice full of affection. “Be good and cum for me, then. Now, before I change my mind. Let yourself feel good, yeah?”

Arlecchino doesn’t need to be told twice, because her hips lose whatever rhythm they had when your tongue presses flat against her, letting her choose the pace and the rhythm she knows will get her there quickest (it doesn’t take long, the woman is so sexually pent up it’s laughable). Within a minute, she’s crying out, her hands flying up to her face to cover the obscene expression she knows is there. You pay no attention, only watching every movement with a sense of satisfaction and a smile in your eyes. You keep your finger curling and your tongue still until her body stops rocking, and her hands leave her face. When her face, the one you find so beautiful, emerges from behind her hands, mascara slightly smudged, you can’t help but snicker as you pull out and away from her.

“Better?” You ask, wiping your chin once more with the back of your hand. You somehow look so smug and the look on your face pisses Arlecchino off, just a little. How you’re so calm and collected and she’s a fucked out mess sat in her desk chair.

“Yes,” she says, her voice sharper than she intends it to be really, but she continues in the same tone. “I do hope you don’t think we’re finished, hm?” Your head tilts in slight confusion, but the smile remains on your face. After a while, Arlecchino’s own lips twitch upwards, barely noticeable, but you notice nonetheless. “How could I leave you without feeling good, too? Go to the bedroom, please.”

[oblivionsdream]

Hey @oblivionsdream !

I have 2 questions - bear with me…

As you know, I love your work, but have only just recently started actively engaging with it.

I actually first came across you and your Jester x knight OC’s at least a year or two ago, when a fellow DinLuke shipper tagged it with #dinluke, so it showed up on my feed. If you aren’t into Star Wars and are unfamiliar with it - that’s the romantic pairing between Din Djarin (the Mandalorian) and Luke Skywalker.

For a while, I actually thought that it was a medieval DinLuke au because there are quite a few fanarts exploring that ship in different universes (including ours) and different timelines, etc.

One of the things that lent credence to this idea was the fact that the king looks so much like the Jedi, Quinlan Vos.

The characters do also closely match the personalities that a lot of the fandom have collectively given Din and Luke on tumblr - like Luke actually being a feral mischievous gremlin underneath his serene Jedi facade, and Din actually being the more composed (and often lovingly exasperated) of the two.

It was a surprise when I looked more into it and realised that they are original characters, completely unrelated to DinLuke and Star Wars as a whole.

So I guess I’m just curious what was the inspiration behind the Jingly Menace and his steadfast, taciturn knight? Was it a song or a meme or just watching a medieval show and during a scene with a jester, you had a sudden burst of creative juices like “Eureka! Pretty jester x hot knight!”

Sorry if you’ve already answered this and I’ve just missed it while scrolling through your page.

My other question (this I know has been queried to JM himself but he nervously evaded the question) when JM is shown crying in one of the first pictures you posted of him, what was the actual reason that you had in mind behind it? Was it just simply because his attempts to get the hot mysterious knights attention had thus far been unsuccessful (from his perspective anyway) and he succumbed to a private moment of vulnerability?

Every time I look at it, I’m dying to know!

Anyway, love you! Hope the JM comic is still on the horizon at some point - coz I would buy and read the crap out of it!

Hey there!

I honestly had no idea what DinLuke is though I've seen the tags. My knowledge of Star Wars comes from whatever I have absorbed against my will being online and when my best friend made me watch the prequels a few years ago 😂

So Jester solely came to be because I've loved jesters for many years at this point. I just find them fun but there's never enough content for them out there so I just wanted to make my own oc. I also just love trickster characters- anything fae like or I always adored Loki in Norse mythology so he's very based into those kind of mischievous vibes and humor.

Augustine was purely accidental. I saw some Tumblr post about a knight or maybe it was about a jester and a knight (I no longer remember) so I thought it would be funny to doodle Jester with a random knight being a menace asking him about his big sword. Augustine was never supposed to be a character. But then I just kept coming up with other ideas for Jester and this random knight whose face he never saw and whelp here we are.

Soooo the crying. It was definitely a private moment no one else was supposed to witness. Part of something I find interesting with playing with Jester's character is the idea that sometimes the seemingly happiest and funniest people are also the saddest but they just cover it up with a smile. His backstory before coming to the castle is still something that affects him but also he feels lonely at court. He constantly craves the validation of attention he didnt really get as a kid and is constantly surrounded by people but also he feels very lonely in court. He is in a strange place of being neither noble but also not quite a commoner/servant. Nobility will look down on him and not take him serious because he's just a silly guy but the servants are wary to get too close because of his close relationship with the king and the fact that he technically has a higher status as Court Jester. He is one of Monty's closest confidantes but his own secrets keep him from being fully honest with his king. It's a strange place of feeling alone in the middle of a crowded court where everyone sees his silly jester persona and make up but no one sees beneath it.

I still hope to make a comic! Just trying to find the time to get all my ideas in order. Thanks for liking my silly guys!

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Empty Chairs At Empty Tables

So this is inspired by the song for my favourite musical Les Misérables ‘Empty Chairs At Empty Tables’ where the character Marius sings about loosing his friends during the French Revolution. I feel that this song fits a lot of characters from the HBO war fandom but I was just drawn to writing this fic for Eugene Sledge. Warnings: themes of war, loss, grief, death, death of a beloved pet, PTSD

Thank you so much @georgieluz for proofreading it.

Deacon watched the couple, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as sat with a lopsided grin. Eugene never saw him move but every time he turned around he was right in his heels. Eugene reached down to scratch his dog's head affectionately, watching as he smiled up at him.

“The way he looks at you, sometimes I wonder whether he’s the love of your life instead,” Y/n joked, laughing as Eugene stuck out his tongue at them.

“You’re just jealous that he got the last sandwich.”

“Not at all, you know I’d do anything for him,” Y/n began scratching Deacon’s arm which caused the dog to flop down onto their lap.

“Which is exactly why I’m not worried about leaving you with him. I know you’ll both look out for each other,” Eugene sat down, a solemn look on his face.

“We’re gonna be just fine, right Deacon? Your Dad has nothing to worry about,” Y/n spoke to the dog and Eugene felt his heart swell for the hundredth time that day as he realised just how much he loved them.

“Gene, please don’t be sad,” Y/n reached over, cupping his cheek. “We’re going to be just fine.”

“I know,” Eugene mumbled, his lip wobbling as the tears began trickling down his cheeks. “I just don’t want to leave you.”

“I don’t want you to leave either, but I know you have to. It doesn’t make it any easier though,” they admitted, running their fingers through his red locks.

“I love you, Eugene Sledge. Come back to me.”

“I promise.”

To my dearest Y/n,

How I wish I was at home with you. I want nothing more than to be back in that field, on the red-checked picnic blanket with you and Deacon. Those days were so simple. If only all of life could be that simple.

Today I saw a man have his whole leg blown off and he just stood there looking at us, it was as if he didn’t realise what had happened to him until the medics were trying to get him on a stretcher. How does that even happen?

I hope everything at home is going well. Thank you for visiting my parents, it means a lot to them when you visit and Deacon always loves your visits, he tells me so personally. I wish I was there with you. All I want is a hug. It seems silly really, childish even, but to just have your arms around me, even for a second would be enough.

I love you always my darling,

Your Eugene

————————————————————————

My Eugene,

I’m sure by now you have received the news of Deacon’s passing from your parents. I am so sorry, my love. Just know that he did not suffer. His old body carried him well right until the end and I spent the last three days and nights of his life by his side. We sat out under the apple trees and I read to him just like you used to. He was comfortable when he passed. The house is quieter without him. Now that I am without either of you I do feel truly alone, not even Sidney is here to support me.

I pray every night for your safe return to me my love.

I love you forever and always

Your Y/n

Eugene felt his legs shaking as he stepped off the train onto the platform, his hands shaking as he held onto his kit bag tightly. He could see Sidney, leaning against his truck, a cigarette hanging limply from his lips. It was the reunion he was excited for but not the one he had been yearning for. Sid talked all the way back to his house, talking of his fiancée, life since he’d been home, and his family but Eugene barely registered any of it, his mind too preoccupied with the image of Y/n.

“Drop me here, Sid,” Eugene spoke up as the view of the driveway came into sight.

“You sure, I can drive you up to the house?”

“No, it’s okay. I need the walk. I’ve been stuck on the train for hours.”

Sidney pulled up to the end of the driveway, cutting the engine.

“It’s good to have you back, Gene.”

“It’s good to be back. Thanks for the ride, Sid.”

Eugene slung his kit bag over his shoulder, leaving Sid behind him as his legs carried him up the driveway in long strides. As he approached the house he could see them, arranging one of the flower baskets by the front door, their sleeves rolled up and looking just as lovely as the day he’d left. Eugene felt his heart swell at the sight of them and he promised he would tell them every day.

He dropped his kit bag in the lawn chair, approaching them slowly so as to not disturb them.

“Y/n?” He spoke, his hands shaking a little at his sides.

Y/n dropped the flower basket, oblivious to the terracotta shattering across the decking.

“Eugene?” They squeaked, their hands coming to their mouth. “Is it really you? Are you really here?” Y/n stepped down off the decking, moving to stand in front of him. Their hand reached up to cup his cheek, Y/n’s fingers grazing at the soft flesh and Eugene sighed.

“It really is you,” they whispered, tears trailing down their cheeks to match Euegne’s.

“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“It's so quiet, isn't it?” Euegen turned his head to look down at Y/n, as they smiled sympathetically at him.

“You'll get used to the peace again, my love. I promise.”

“It’s not that,” Eugene sighed, shifting to sit up on his elbows, “Deacon always used to snore on the end of the bed. He was so noisy when he slept.”

Eugene could feel the tears starting to trail down his cheeks being brushed away and a chaste kiss placed on his lips. “I miss him every day,” Eugene cried, a sob escaping from his lips as he was enveloped in Y/n’s embrace.

“It’s okay, Gene. We’re going to get through this together.”

“NO YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. YOU WEREN'T THERE!” Gene screamed, throwing another vase across the room and watching as it smashed on the floor, glass shattering like icicles across the hardwood floorboards and the flowers cascading amongst the disarray.

“I know I wasn’t there for you then, Eugene but I’m here now and I am never leaving your side,” Y/n cried, “So don’t keep trying to push me away because I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you have no idea. They’re all dead, they’re all gone and I came back. Why did I deserve to come back? There are houses all around the world with empty chairs where they should be sitting right now,” Eugene slipped down onto the floor beside the smashed vase, his head hanging low as he sobbed.

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore and was by his side in an instant, cradling him close, comforting him. “Shh Eugene, please don’t talk like this. I need you. Your family needs you. I am so glad you came home.”

“But why did I deserve to come home and they didn’t,” Eugene glanced up at them, his large tearful eyes breaking their heart further.

“Because I love you, that's why. Because it wasn’t your time and quite possible because you deserved to come home.”

“And they didn’t.”

“No. You all deserved to come home. What you must do now is decide what you want to do with your second chance. You were given a chance to come home and you must live each day to the fullest for all of those who didn’t make it home. Okay?” Y/n looked down at him and Eugene nodded, resting his head against their chest. Y/n reached down, cradling their fingers through his ginger hair, soft, soothing strokes. Eugene’s breathing soon settled into a more normal rhythm as Y/n heartbeat calmed him.

“I’m glad I came home,” Eugene whispered, “because I have a very important question to ask you.”

“You do,” Y/n replied, looking down at the man they loved.

“Will you stay with me? Always?”

“Of course I will Gene. I’m not going anywhere.” The couple sat on the floor of Eugene’s room, no longer aware of the time or space around them. The only thing that mattered right now was that Eugene was home, and he was safe and with time he would heal from the horrors he had seen.

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @lena-basilone @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt @samwinchesterslostshoe

[tpwkwriter]

hiii so i have a request! Could you do one like still in harry's 1d days. So like y/n is louis sister and she has been friends with the band since the beginning and harry has been in love with her since he first laid eyes on her and all that. But he never told her because she always had a bf but those bfs would never treat her right like always ignoring her and flirting with other girls so harry kept this like journal where he wrote how in love he is with y/n and how he would treat her right, how he know everything about her all the little things and how no one could love her as much as he does. So then one day like during prince hair harry her and harry are sharing a hotel room with seperate beds (ofc haha, but because they have always been best friends) and y/n finds this journal and like reads all the things he has written and then she goes to him and is like "well, if i didnt know any better i would say mr styles has a crush on me" and he gets all nervous and says that it isnt just a crush and he is in love and that and then he asks "will you be my girlfriend. I cant' go another day of not kissing you, hugging you, touching you I cant stand you not being mine" and y/n finds it very sweet but she is very insecure and kind of rejects him in a nice way because she feel they will critisise her because they expect harry to be w a model and gorgeous girl and harry is tells her how beautiful she is and how he feel in love the moment they met and how it didnt matter what the world thought because no one can love her like he can and he know eveything about her so he asks again "will you let me be your boyfriend" and she finally agrees and then he holds her close and protectively and then y/n starts tearing up and says sorry because she was being silly and he says "dont be. Its not silly, baby. I'll be her to wipe every tear and to comfort you. Your heart is safe here, you are safe with me, my love" and then how they spend the first night together because well they share a hotel room and then the morning after harry saying how happy he is and how he has always dreamed about it and then they meet with the boys and tell em the news and they are all very happy and are like "about time" and yeah hope you understand it thank you again so much it would be great i feel its so cute! <3

Does he know?

OMGOMG THANK YOU FOR THISS!! the detail you put in and the image it painted in my head AHHH❤️

I’m so sorry this has taken so long!! I really wanted this to be perfect!! 🌷 but thank you for your patience It means the world x

Warnings: jealousy, mentions of toxic relationships, cussing, smutty themes if you squint, pent up emotions.

— — — — — — —

— early 2013 —

Harry’s fingers held a ballpoint pen between his fingers, the lined paper sat empty on the table adjacent to him.

There new album ‘midnight memories’ was due mid November of this year, he loved his job but these deadlines took the piss.

‘Fuck’ he whispered to himself, he didn’t realise the clock had gone over midnight.

The shared tourbus was at a halt for the night the rest of the four boys remained in there bunk and no one heard a peep from them through the rest of the night.

“Y’alright H?” Y/n said Peeling the curtain that separated the bunks to the lounging area of the bus, and pulling it back behind her.

“Sorry y/n, did i wake you?” He quietly asked, dropping his pen instantly.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t have a crush on y/n, she was also the youngest of the Tomlinson family so her and Harry grew up together at the same time and age, hitting each milestone and big birthdays together.

“No, no not at all” she waved, sitting on the sofa next to his.

“What y’doing awake still?” She asked, taking a sip of her water.

“Tryna get song ideas, getting absolutely nowhere” he said, crossing his arms back and leaning back on the cushions.

“What are you doing awake? He smirked.

“Can’t sleep, excited for tomorrow” she smiles.

“Haven’t seen you all on stage for a while” she added.

They sat and spoke for awhile, what y/n was oblivious of is how many ideas he was racking up watching her.

She reached her arm out to grab her water bottle, her wrist was exposed from her hoodie sleeve for a second, what Harry didn’t expect was to see an inky drawing.

“Is that a tattoo?” He asked.

“Oh this?” She askers pulling her hoodie up her arm.

“Yeah, me and Louis got matching a few days ago, a random spontaneous idea that popped into our heads” she laughed repressing the day her and her older brother got matching ‘28’ tats.

“It’s funny because ben, hasn’t even noticed it, and it’s like our 4th month together” y/n mentioned, a slight frown forming on her face.

Harry’s heart teared a tiny bit, she was still with this ‘Ben’ it was clear none of the boys got on with him, he wasn’t the bestest of boyfriend.

“Really?” He asked, eyes widening.

“Mmhmm, don’t know what to do about this whole Situation-ship thing”

“Well, do you love him?” He asked, fiddling with the hem of his band tee.

“I can’t say I do Harry” she sighed, “but there’s a part of me that feels bad” she added.

“Don’t feel bad, if it’s not meant to be, s’not meant to be”

All y/n wanted to do was scream out her attraction to him, something clicked in, the soft and gentle words he spoke, the way he still looked good at 1am after a busy day, the way he made a band tee look like piece of designer. Y/n wasn’t sure what happened.

Y/n soon enough found herself back in her bunk, trying to push down her sudden butterflies, hoping it’s just a 1am sleepy thought, the last thing she wants is to thirst over her brothers best friend.

When y/n and Harry exchanged there goodnights, he instantly got back to his paper.

‘Does he know’ he whispered.

‘Does he know’ he repeated.

‘Your secret tattoos?” He asked himself.

He instantly jotted these phrases to himself.

Harry tried to think to himself of the little things you do.

Maybe you could be his muse this time around?

—

It was 8:45am the next day the bus was off again at 5pm so for now they could relax.

Y/n believed she was alone on the bus, she thought the boys were out doing the coffee run, she thought wrong.

“But she doesn’t know who I am, and she doesn’t give a damn about me” she sang whole continuing to organise her suitcase on her bunk.

As the beats of ‘teenage dirtbag’ continue, she moves her body to beat and sing.

“Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag baaby” she sung.

“Y/n you may be a Tomlinson doesn’t mean you can sing like one though” he interrupted, almost kicking the tourbus door open and walking over to her bunk with her Starbucks in hand.

“Heeeey, I’m a lovely singer, it should be me selling out O2” she said with pride.

“She got you there tommo” Niall piped in walking in.

“See” she giggled.

“Thank you for this lou” she dragged taking a sip of her iced coffee.

“No problemo, me and and the lads are heading to the studio in a bit y’ can come if you want?” Louis offered sitting on his bunk opposite to y/n’s.

“Yeah will do” she answered.

At this point all boys were back on the bus enjoying some quality time together, but all Harry could think of was the remaining lyrics.

‘The songs that you sing when your all alone?’ He thought to himself, that’s a keeper.

——beginning of where we are 2014——

In past year y/n and Harry had become closer than ever, it’s was a night at the MSG, the boys opted on a hotel instead of the bus, to Louis’ dismay y/n and Harry were up for sharing a hotel.

“Neither of you better be doing anything” Louis called the opposite of the hotel door.

“Fuck sake lou, you can come in” she laughed, laying her head back on the hotel bed frame.

The door clicks open to see a wet head louis, who was still clad in his joggers and ‘the who’ tee.

“You nearly ready Harry!” He called, pulling his phone out and glancing the time.

“Yeah man” he said emerging from the bathroom.

“Have fun tonight guys” she called out as they both met each other at the door. “I’ll be sure to watch some shitty livestream of you all prancing about on stage” she laughed.

“Thanks love” Louis said rolling his eyes.

“See you y/n don’t get too lonely without us” Harry smirked flashing her a wink while adjusting his head scarf which kept his unruly curls at bay.

“Bye boys” she called as they slowly walked off and headed to the arena.

They had been gone about an hour and y/n knew they wouldn’t be back till maybe after midnight.

She decided to set down and get ready to stay in her bed and have a relaxed night.

When unpacking her bags and digging to find her favourite pyjamas she was sure she packed. A large ‘thump’ was heard the other side of the room.

“Shit” she jumped.

A relieved smile, when it was something falling out of Harry’s suitcase.

She turned her head and spotted a brown, leather notebook that was lying on the carpet by his bags.

Once y/n had picked out her pjs for the evening, she walked over to the bed she picked out in the hotel room.

She placed them down by her pillows and was about to reach out for her phone by the charging port until something about this note book, caught her eye, ‘one and only’ was scribed into the leather with black ink.

She knows she shouldn’t, she knows that not hers, that’s Harry’s, that’s his property not y/n’s but there was something pulling her in a feeling she couldn’t push down.

A shaky breath left her mouth as her fingers reached out towards the book in front of her.

She peeled back the smooth cover:

23rd of February 2013

Ben doesn’t know how lucky he is, such a smart, beautiful, caring woman, how could he take her for granted??.

Y/n’a heart was running a Marathon.

“No” she said louder than she anticipated.

She flicked to the next page:

28th February 2013

‘All of us were at the studio this evening I couldn’t stop staring at y/n, I feel terrible knowing it’s my best friends sister, but she is wonderful’

Her mind was now matching her palpitating heart, a million thoughts were being processed at that moment.

He really thought the same the whole time?

She quickly flicked another.

3rd of March 2013

Write a couple of songs for midnight memories is it bad to say there all inspired by one person.

If she was mine she wouldn’t be ignored or treated terribly, I hope Louis talks to her about this Ben.

Y/n did agree with this statement getting rid of Ben was the best thing she’s done.

But she didn’t know Harry was the one with a crush.

She couldn’t believe her eyes, he really felt the same? He really did like her? She was almost hyperventilating.

10th of March 2013

I’ve noticed when y/n gets anxious she plays with the ends of her hair, I wish I could just scoop her into my arms and tell her it’s going to be okay.

Ben is finally out the picture, hopefully she can be with someone who knows her self worth.

Her heart is beaming, butterflies fill each side of her tummy, her mind still feeling a little delusional and still very much in disbelief.

Maybe this was her sign to take there friendship another level up.

She slammed the cover over the paper and decided if she’d read anymore she’d become a crimson red mess.

She gently tucked it into the suitcase of where it fell and tried to go on as normal.

She decided to wait up for Harry and see what she could do about this, she couldn’t hide this any longer she wish she knew sooner about his little crush.

It was just past midnight and she heard the hotel room key click in approval.

A tired looking Harry appears.

“Y’alright” she quietly asked.

“Mmm” he hummed shutting the door behind him.

Y/n move to one side of her bed, and patted the empty space beside her, inviting him to join.

Wether it was just his sleepy mind, but he took no time and accepted her invitation.

Y/n let him adjust to the light, and get comfortable not wanting to overload him already.

“Y’okay” he asked, noticing her thinking face.

“Yeah” she smiled.

“Well if I didn’t know any better, than I think that you mr styles have a teeny crush” she said, a breathy laugh leaving her mouth.

His eyes widened, now it it was his time to go red.

“Wha-“ he nervously laughed.

“I guess y’right” he said looking straight ahead at the blank wall.

“Y/n, m’gonna be honest”

“I’m in love with you”

Y/n’s heart pounded inside her chest, this is real? This was real life, he admitted.

“Harry” she blushed.

“And I know, it’s probably weird, we’ve been friends for 4 years now and on a random night , I’m now saying this but, seeing you keep hurting yourself on these boys that don’t understand you, it hurts”

“Harry-“ her cheeks becoming a strawberry colour.

“Be my girlfriend?” Harry blurted.

Y/n’s ears almost burned at the question, Someone she actually had interest in liked her back? And wanted to be with her? She felt like. Lovesick teenager again.

She wanted this, more than ever.

But Louis.

Realistically there was nothing wrong with it, they were the same age, and both wanted it.

“I can’t stand another day, not touching you, not hugging you, not wiping your tears away” he added, which caused y/n’s thought process to halt.

“Harry, y’too good for me” she started, a glossy layer had formed over her eyes.

“Y’need someone better, your options are so big” she said head almost dropping to her lap.

“Hey” he said taking using his index finger and thumb to guide her chin up.

“What I’ve learnt is your the one I want, haven’t been able to settle because of you y/n”

“Be mine?” He asked once again leaning his forehead on hers using his free hand to wipe the tears away.

“Please” he whispered, this is all he’s wanted.

Worried that her words would fail her at that moment all she could do was frantically nod.

“Yeah?” He smiles, there noses basically touching at this point.

“Words baby, need y’words” he reminded.

“Yeah, yes harry yes” she smiled, tears still manage to cascade her cheeks.

“Thank fuck” he breathed, now hesitating to wrap his arm around the girl, oh how he’s longed to do that.

The girl crashes into his touch, not taking her time either.

“Your okay, y’safe in my arms love” he whispered into her hair, pressing his long awaited kisses.

— the following morning —

Both Harry and y/n were getting ready to meet the rest of the lads on the bus, which was round the back of the hotel.

“How are we gonna tell them?” Harry asked getting the rest of his stuff.

“They’ll understand, Louis will be unsure but he’s my brother he can’t hate me forever” she laughed.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and they made there way to the boys.

“Guys we have something to tell you all” y/n began.

— — — — —

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

Oooh a drabble or oneshot inspired by the song where you belong by The weeknd, with lloyd hansen. Theme: Jealousy....what do ya think?

I loved writing this. Thank you. Sorry it's taken so long, my life seems to have gotten rather busy lately. Hope you enjoy x

Where You Belong... Lloyd Hansen x reader - sequel to Better Believe It

Warnings: 18+ readers only, swearing, oral (f-receiving), fingering, hand job, sucking on titties, manhandling, public sex? Sex on a desk, unprotected sex (wrap it), use of daddy, nicknames (baby girl, baby boy, baby, sunshine, angel), slight angst, jealous!Lloyd, appearance by Jake Jensen, guns

I feel the blood rushin' throughout ya body

You see the scars painted over my skin

I'm always numb to the topic of loving

I fell in love with the subject of sin, oh

I don't have to remind you, oh, oh

It's my need to confine you, oh, oh

I see your face every time I'm with somebody else

Can't you see that I want you?

I don't have to remind you, oh, oh

Oh, whoa-ooh, woah, oh

Where you belong

Lloyd was pouting. And the longer he sat in his car outside of your computer repair store watching you through the window as some nerdy-looking fucker flirted with you, he pouted even more. Lloyd never pouted, unless he wasn't getting his own way, and then he pouted like a little boy being told no. And right now all he wanted to do was march right up to you and fuck you over the counter that you were leaning on, in front of the nerd and claim you as his. But you weren't his. You had been a way to pass the time and a way to take his frustration out, but that had ended months ago. Well, two months, a week and four days ago, not that he had been keeping track since you left him. Two whole weeks of devouring your cunt whenever he pleased, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you provided to be the best way to keep his mind from exploding as he tried to complete his mission.

"So... You wanna stick around for a while, angel?" Lloyd asked and pressed a kiss just behind your ear. His moustache tickling your sensitive skin.

You gave a tired hum. "Depends. You gonna fuck me like that if I do?"

Lloyd chuckled and pushed himself up so he was over you. "Oh, sunshine," He said with a shit-eating grin. "You better believe I'm gonna fuck you silly."

A smirk curled at your lips as you wrapped one arm around his broad shoulders and wrapped your fingers around his semi-hard cock making him moan. "Then I'm all yours." You pressed your lips against his as you gave his cock a soft squeeze around the shaft.

Lloyd began humping your hand as your tongues fought for dominance. He reached up with his left hand and wrapped his hand around your throat giving it a squeeze making you moan and pause momentarily, allowing Lloyd to take control.

He pulled back with a smirk. "I'm going to fucking ruin you, Sunshine."

It had been you to ruin him. Usually, women never got under his skin, but you had bewitched him from the moment you met. You were perfect.

"I need to go home, Lloyd... Jake, called... something about a bug on a corporate company's software and he needs my help. I'm sorry."

At first, when you informed him you had to return home, he was more disappointed than heartbroken. He'd be losing the best pussy he's ever had, but he had always known eventually it was going to happen. You and he were just some 'vacation' fun, nothing more. But as those two months, one week and four days began to pass, he realised that it may have been just more than 'vacation' fun for him and he was missing you more than he first thought he might. That's when he decided to go out and find someone else to fuck, but he found it was only your face he wanted to see in the midst of pleasure. It was your moans and touches he was craving not that of a stranger.

Lloyd's nostrils flared and his hands gripped the steering wheel tight as he watched you wrap your arms around the guy's neck and kiss his cheek before wandering off out of sight. Lloyd glared at the guy as he watch you walk away with a smirk. Lloyd let out a heavy breath through his nostrils as he opened the door and got out, slamming it shut behind him. His hands balled up into fists as he marched across the street towards your store.

The sound of the door being kicked open in the other room startled you from your work. You raised your head and peered over your shoulder towards the black curtain that separated the back room and the front of the store from each other as you listened to the commotion out front. It sounded like Jake was arguing with someone.

You stood up and walked towards the curtain, only to jump back with a gasp as it was thrown open. Your eyes widened in surprise, "Lloyd?"

Lloyd smirked at you. He closed the gap between you, crashing his mouth against yours as he pulled you into his body. You could faintly hear Jake talking but you were preoccupied with Lloyd's tongue in your mouth and his hard cock pressing against your thigh to care. Your arms wound around Lloyd's neck as you moaned into Lloud's mouth, and waved Jake away. You let Lloyd guide you backwards until you were pressed against your desk and his firm body.

He pulled back from you with a grunt and turned to face Jake as he pulled a gun out of his jacket and pointed it at him. "I've told you once, get the fuck out, kid." He growled. You shivered at his tone feeling yourself get hot and bothered.

Jake's mouth fell open in shock before he looked at you with a frown. "Y/n, tell your pornstar to stop being mean to me."

Lloyd gritted his teeth as he moved towards Jake.

"Jake..." You sighed as you pulled on Lloyd's shoulder to stop him from moving away from you. "Go home." You smirked at Jake before looking up at the man in front of you. "Lloyd, unless you're going to fuck me with it," You put your hand over the top of his gun and pushed it down. "Put that thing away." Jake scoffed in disgust as he turned away from the pair of you and closed the curtain behind him.

"You'd love for me to do that, wouldn't you, Sunshine," Lloyd smirked down at you as he dropped the gun onto your desk before crashing his lips against yours.

You moaned into his mouth as you threaded your fingers through his short hair, tugging firmly as he firmly grabbed your backside in his large hands. He lifted you and placed you on top of your desk, standing between your legs as you spread them for him.

Lloyd pulled back from you panting as he pushed your summer dress up your thighs. "Fuck. Can smell her." He ripped your panties down your thighs and threw them over his shoulder.

"She's missed you." You moaned as he ran his knuckles through your already wet folds.

"I hope she as." Lloyd hummed as he looked up into your eyes and pinched your chin between the fingers of his other hand. "What about you, Sunshine? You miss me?" He asked as lightly pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth.

You nodded with a soft sigh as Lloyd moved his lips across your skin. "More than you could know." You whispered and began unbuckling his belt. "Now fuck me, Lloyd." You leant back on your desk with your legs spread wide for him. You played with your sensitive clit as you watched him palm his hard cock through his pants.

Lloyd smirked to himself. "I will, Sunshine, but let daddy get a taste. I've missed her sweetness." He licked his lips and dropped to his knees before you.

You let out a breathy moan as Lloyd pressed his mouth against your cunt and began devouring you.

"Fuck. So. Good. Baby." Lloyd groaned against you. "FUCK!" Lloyd pressed his face against your cunt with a moan, his mustache rubbing against your clit as he fucked you with his tongue.

"Fuck, baby." Your head fell back with a deep moan as you threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged making Lloyd groan against you.

Lloyd pulled back from you and shoved three of his thick fingers inside your quivering pussy and pressed his thumb against your clit. "Cum!" Lloyd ordered.

You cried out as you came around his fingers. Fuck, you'd missed how quick he could make you cum.

As Lloyd stood up between your spread legs, his face glistening in your juices and made quick work of his pants, pushing them and briefs down his thighs until his cock could spring free. He spat into his hand before wrapping it around his cock and gave himself a couple of strokes.

Lloyd hooked his arm under your knee and pulled you closer to the edge of your desk. He took a hold of his cock and ran the head through your folds making your breath catch in your throat as the tip nudged your clit.

With a deep moan Lloyd pushed his bulbous head inside your warm wet hole making your eyes roll back with a moan. Lloyd bent down and stuck his tongue into your already open and willing mouth.

You both moaned into each other's mouths as Lloyd's thick cock split you open and he bottomed out.

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders as Lloyd began to move his hips back and forth. "Fuck." You moaned.

Lloyd shoved his face against your shoulder with a groan as you squeezed his cock. "FUCK!... Missed... you... beautiful," He pulled down the strap of your dress so your breast was free and fondled it as he moved his hips at a punishing pace. "Mine... No one... Else's..."

You moaned out as Lloyd ran his tongue over your left nipple before he wrapped his lips around it and began to suck on it. You tangled your fingers in his hair and you arched your back as Lloyd bit your nipple. "Oh, God, Lloyd," You cried out.

Lloyd pulled back with a pop and crashed his lips against yours as he fucked you harder.

He pulled back with a heavy breath. "Fuck!" Lloyd bit his bottom lip as he watched himself slip in and out of your wet pussy. "Oh, fuck," His head fell back with a groan as he moved harder and faster.

He slipped his hand between you and began circling your clit with his fingers. Your eyes screwed shut as you grew closer and closer to your release, switching between muttering praises and begging. Fuck, you'd missed Lloyd.

"C'mon, angel, cum for me... Need it... Please." Lloyd panted as he held your gaze.

You shook your head, "I want... Your-"

Lloyd chuckled as he pressed a short kiss to your lips. "Don't worry, Sunshine," He reached up with his free hand and wrapped his fingers around your throat as he moved his other fingers against your clit harsher. "I'm right behind ya'." He hammered harder into as he squeezed your throat making your eyes roll back.

You let out a an almost silent scream as your orgasm hit. You pulled on Lloyd's hair making him groan in pleasure and let go of your throat as you crashed your lips against his in a heated kiss as Lloyd's movements stilled as he came.

You pulled back from him and rested your forehead against his as you both caught your breath, still holding on to each other's body.

"I'm glad you're not dead, Lloyd." You whispered, gently pushing him back from you as you untangled yourself.

Lloyd chuckled, "Aww, were you worried about me, Sunshine?" He smirked at you as he tucked himself away. "I told you before there's no need."

You rolled your eyes as you hopped off the desk and took your panties from him. "Don't tease, Lloyd. It's not cute." You bent over and pulled your panties on.

Lloyd laughed again, "Don't pout because you missed me, Sunshine."

You laughed as you stood up and looked at him. "You missed me too, or you wouldn't be here, Lloyd." You folded your arms across your chest with a pout.

Lloyd frowned, "I missed your pussy, there's a difference." He folded his arms as he stared at you.

You rolled your eyes at him. "Bullshit!" You huffed as your cell started going off beside you in your desk. You picked it up with a frown, "What is it, Jake-" You gasped in surprise as Lloyd ripped the phone out of your hand and threw it against the wall making it smash. "What the fuck is wrong with you!" You smacked arm angrily.

"We were having a conversation, you don't just answer your cel-"

"IT WAS WORK!" You shouted. "Have you forgotten how many times you did that?"

"Oh, please. You told that little twerp to go home. He knew what we were doing. There's only one reason why he's calling." Lloyd glared at you.

Your mouth hung open for a moment before you began smiling at him. Any time Jake texted or called you whilst you were having your 'vacation' fun, Lloyd got pissy and would fuck you even harder, claiming it was because of 'work'. Now it made sense.

"You're jealous." You smiled at him.

"What?" Lloyd's brows furrowed as he scoffed. "Like fuck I am."

Your head fell back with laughter. "Oh, my god, you're jealous of, Jake." You said teasingly making Lloyd huff.

"I am not jealous of that little fuck." He glared.

"Aww, baby boy," You cupped Lloyd's cheeks and mushed them together. "There's no reason for you to be jealous." You cooed making Lloyd push your hands away from him, only making you  laugh even more.

Lloyd huffed as you continued to tease him. "Shut your mouth, before I shut it for you." He grunted and grabbed his gun from your desk.

"Aww, what's wrong Lloyd? Don't like hearing the truth?" You pouted at him before you let out a soft laugh. "Relax... I won't tell anyone you're really a big, soft, pussy whipped, little-"

You let out a startled gasp as Lloyd grabbed a hold of your throat and shoved you against the wall, forcing his gun in between your lips.

"I warned you." He snarled in your face.

You stared up at him with wide eyes as you pressed your thighs together.

Lloyd looked down and shook his head with a chuckle, "Just a whore for daddy, aren't you?" He asked.

You nodded the best you could with the gun still in your mouth.

Lloyd removed the gun and replaced it with his mouth, forcing his tongue in between your lips as he ground his hips against you, his hardening cock pressing between your legs and making you moan.

"Fahk," He panted against your mouth. "Need to get you home..."

You let out a soft moan as he trailed the tip of the gun up your thigh. "Promise you'll fuck me with it this time?" You asked.

Lloyd groaned, "Baby, I'll fuck you with anything you want." He kissed you again.

[curseofhecate]

I never was the best to you

Sirius Black x Female!Reader, Subtle Remus Lupin x Female!Reader.

In which you and Sirius break up and you realise you were never the best to him.

1.6k

tw: angst, depression, not eating, suicidal thoughts (kind of), my shitty writting.

This imagine is based off of the song 'Best' by Gracie Abrams. I'm going to be honest 'Good Riddance' destroyed what was left of my mental health. Also this is my first attempt writting something so sorry if it sucks (because I'm pretty sure it does).

The first week after things between me and him ended wasn't easy. I didn't have the energy to get out of bed, the thought only exhausted me. I skipped most of the day's meals, not only becasue I didn't have an appetite but I wanted to avoid him at all costs. Which meant avoiding the Great Hall and being absent from both breakfats and dinner.

Lily would offer bring food in my dorm for me after dinner.

I knew she was worried about me. Both her and the Marauders, minus Sirius of course, had made many fruitless attempts to get me to do something productive, or do anything at all. James went as far as saying I could borrow his invisibility cloak, which was his most prized possesion, so that I could walk around the castle without him noticing.

Remus offered to take me to 'The Three Broomsticks' on a Saturday afternoon, which was by far their busiest day, even though he hated crowded places. Lilly cancelled her date with James just so me and her, along with Marlene, Dorcas and Mary, who also ditched their plans for me, could hang out all day. "Think of it as an 'Only Girls’ day. No boys allowed" she had said.

I had turned every single one of their offers down.

I must really have sucked at being a friend back then.

They gave me many chances to move on and to forget, to feel alive again. But I felt like I couldn't let go of him just yet so I decided to stay dead, let the days pass without a meaning in them. It was too soon.

The one time Lily managed to get me out of bed that week was on a gloomy Thursday afternoon, when she walked with me to the Great Hall for dinner. I was relieved when I took notice of Sirius' absence. I wasn't sure I could face him yet.

But it wasn't ten minutes later when Sirius walked into the Great Hall with a dark haired Ravenclaw, who was laughing over something he had said moments ago, holding his hand. My heart only broke into tinier of pieces at the sight, ones that I thought I wouldn't be able to restore.

The boy stopped, kissing the girl on the lips before they parted her going to sit by her friends at the Ravenclaw table while he headed our way. Only when he turned his head to scan the table for the rest of the Marauders did he notice me.

His expression didn't flicker, that silly smile still lingering on his face. That silly smile I grew to love, only to hate later on. He walked over to us and sat next to Prongs, who happened to be sitting across from me.

He sighed and started filling his plate with food before eating. I stayed there frozen. How could he have gotten over us in such a short time. It was like I never meant anything to him. But even if I did back then, I clearly don't now.

So I sat there, looking at him casually conversing with Oliver, the Gryffindor boy in our year who happened to sit next to him. We were so close, yet so far apart.

I regretted not listening to Lily telling me not to fall in love with him back then, because it would end up with my heart broken. I regretted the memories I made with him, I regretted that he was most, if not all, of my firsts. I regretted him.

He was the worst of my crimes. The one that caused me such pain that if I could turn back time, I'd never commit.

Remus, who seemed to notice my discomfort, placed a hand on my thigh softly as if he wanted to tell me 'It's okay, I'm here for you, still'. The subtle move had me melting. Why couldn't Sirius be more like his friend?

Then the Ravenclaw girl from earlier came over. She took Oliver's seat next to Sirius and interlocked their hands. Valerie, she introduced herself. She was in the year below us and seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that it hadn't even been a full week since me and Sirius had broken up.

I told her my name, for I didn't her to think I had anything against her. Anything at all. It didn't matter that the boy I loved most had left me just to get with her a few days later.

Deep down I wanted to scream.

Instead I sat silently, Remus' hand still on my thigh, watching the two interact. And at that moment I waved goodbye to all the versions of myself I was when he was still with me. 'Good Riddance'.

Looking back, I an see why things took such a turn. I was never good enough for him, let alone the best. And I would never be, no matter how much I tried.

I would lie to him constantly. I'd tell him I was alright, even when I was clearly struggling. I kept my problems to myself, not daring to let him completely in, fearing he would leave me if he saw how bad things actually were.

I felt like I had to make up a completely different version of my life, like I had to hide all my flaws and struggles. I felt like I had to create this perfect image for him to love me.

I knew I shouldn't but I couldn't help but keep lying to him. It was like a little strange addiction of mine.

Even when I completely isolated myself he'd try to stay, he'd try to help me. He might not have known what I was going through at the moment but he still tried to be supportive and made sure it was known to me that he cared.

And even though I knew he was there for me, I still passed him away and built countless of walls around me so I could keep my struggles secret. So I would still be perfect in his eyes, when in truth everything was falling apart.

He had every right to leave. He could have anyone he wanted, he of course wouldn't want to stay with someone who was drowning in their own thoughts. He could be with someone so much better than me, so much prettier than me, someone so much smarter. Someone like Valerie.

I never was the best to him.

So why would he stay with me?

We were so different; it is even surprising how we got together in the first place. He was loud and brave, and always voiced out his thoughts. I was quiet and shy, and afraid of almost everything. The dark, thunders, growing up, making decisions.

I feel terrible because I gave such gravity to so little things that didn't matter at all. He was struggling too, with his family and his brother but instead of helping him through his problems I neglected him. Focusing on my own demons.

That's what I regret, most of all. That I didn't care enough for him, or at least I didn't show it.

If I could, I would change every little thing about the way I handled it.

He let me in. He trusted me with his struggles and his fears, he let me see the sensitive side of him. He let himself break down in front of me, he let me see him in a vulnerable position. He gave me the best of himself, never hiding anything from me.

It wass my fault, it was all my fault and I'd never let myself forget this.

But he moved on. He healed and kept going like we never existed while I was still right where he had left me. I was losing every last bit of self control I had, my grip on reality slipping. I was building so many walls around me that it was suffocating.

But I deserved it. I deserved it all. For what I did to him.

Sometimes I wonder if everyone would be better off without me. Maybe if I wasn't there the Marauders and the girls wouldn't have to worry about me. My parents wouldn't have to be disappointed in their child. My teachers wouldn't worry about my well being, that seemed to have taken a toll on my grades. Sirius wouldn’t have felt neglected once again by a person he loved.

Sometimes I just wish I could end it.

It would be okay if I didn't exist in the first place. But if I left now, the only thing I would achieve was to wound the ones that still cared. And I couldn't bring myself to do that.

So I stayed.

And things eventually got better.

I still regret it.

[helenofjupiter]

assigning taylor swift songs to bridgerton couples (part 1)

with explanations that no one asked for (proceed with caution)

part 2 for e, f, g and h

so i’ve been going kinda crazy about bridgerton the past few weeks, i read (and reread) all eight books and at some point while reading i couldn't stop trying to find taylor songs in my mind which would fit each couple. so i chose two songs for every pair, some of these have actual thought behind them, others are mostly based on vibes. i hope you enjoy this unhinged tangent <3

anthony & kate - i was actually reading gregory’s book when this completely genius thought hit me - treacherous IS the kanthony song. i mean it starts with “put your lips close to mine as long as they don’t touch”. insert a picture of any one of the hundred times they almost kissed in the show. even the build up of the song reminds me so much of the slow burn we had in the series. also lyrics like “i hear the sound of my own voice asking you to stay” (anthony being “what?? no!!! you can’t go back to india. wtf do you mean you’re not staying once edwina marries???”),  “and all we are is skin and bone trained to get along forever going with the flow but you're friction” through the lens of kanthony i see this line as them just constantly aggravating each other.

the second song for them is dancing with our hands tied. i hadn’t thought about this song in a criminally long time. oh boy. (i also just now realised how long this post is gonna be) “i, i loved you in secret, first sight, yeah we love without reason” i’m sorry but these dumb bitches were in love since that first fateful early morning horse ride you can’t convince me otherwise. “people started talking, putting us through our paces // but we were dancing, dancing with our hands tied, hands tied” this screams when they got caught and were forced to marry in the book. their hands were tied - they had no other choice but to marry but they were dancing because they actually did love each other (awww). other than that there are two lines that sort of go hand in hand - “i loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us” and “i'm a mess, but i'm the mess that you wanted” in my head this is from anthony’s perspective. him dealing with his fear of morality and losing kate and while kate does have the eldest daughter syndrome, anthony is the bigger mess of a person in the relationship.

benedict & sophie - enchanted is a no brainer, it needs no explanation. now for their second song i picked the lakes. this resides in the vibes category. listening to this i can’t help but imagine benophie living an artsy quiet life in my cottage. i’m actually interested to see how their living situation will play out in the show because i feel in the books benedict wasn’t as involved in the ton. i guess it’s just a bit hard for me to envision show!ben being so chill about moving to some place in the middle of nowhere. 

colin & penelope - of course, dress. i listened to this on repeat while reading the whole book in one sitting. honestly a marvellous experience, can’t recommend enough . for the second song i had to go looking, had to travel far like colin one might say. and once i arrived in the long forgotten country of taylor’s debut album i found a piece of music so clearly polin coded that it’s baffling this fandom isn’t talking about it. the song in question is  i’m only me when i’m with you. it feels silly to explain this one because being from taylor’s early career the lyrics aren’t terribly clever so let’s focus on the chorus. “i'm only up when you're not down, don't wanna fly if you're still on the ground” some people want colin to be just ken in the show but i actually really liked how they both have a career in writing at the end of the book (penelope better had published the book she started writing). “the other half i'm only trying to let you know that what i feel is true and i'm only me when i'm with you” you can’t tell me this isn’t colin telling penelope she is beautiful over and over again and how much he loves him because he was a fool not to realise it sooner. while in the book penelope feeling like she is truly confident and herself around colin, i think in the show this line works from colin’s side just as well. 

daphne & simon - while most of the fandom has crowned wildest dreams as the saphne anthem (taylor’s version), i just couldn’t get behind it. yes, they used the song in their season but in my mind it just does not embody their relationship. firstly, the great war, i mean the first line “my knuckles were bruised like violets”. simon… boxing… you see the connection, right? okay, i promise it gets (even) better. “and maybe it's the past that's talking, screaming from the crypt. telling me to punish you for things you never did” in case of simon, he was hanging on to his hate towards his father and refusing to have kids with daphne, punishing her while it wasn’t her fault what had happened to him as a child. “somewhere in the haze, got a sense i’d been betrayed” i hate this part of their stroy (i do not condone daphne’s actions) yet i can so clearly picture simon still partly on his high of pleasure but starting to realise what daphne had done to him. i think i like this as their song because well they both were all kinds of wrong in this situation and at the end of the song it’s acknowledged “there's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair” and still it has a happy ending just like saphne. their second song was hard to find and i’m not a hundred percent sure about it but a present to you so it goes…  “all eyes on us, you make everyone disappear” - season 1, episode 1 “stare into my eyes”. i felt i needed to give them a sexy song and i do feel like it matches their sexual tension but this one is definitely up for debate.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Sketchbook Week Day 4 - Dreaming of Bumping Into You (Chapter 2)

Summary: When Johanna is woken up in the middle of the night by a strange phone call, she knows she has to ask Kaisa what is happening. She just doesn’t know which is more concerning; whether it’s the words being said or the way her best friend sounds while she’s delivering them

Notes: Written for @sketchbookweek Day 4 - Apologies

Listen, this fic’s song is obviously Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High, but the ‘you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor’ line in Taylor Swift’s Is It Over Now? OOOUUGHHHH

Read it on ao3

Kaisa was, if anything, used to feeling like a useless sad waste of space on her own. But the thing she was only just getting used to again was, she didn’t have to do that anymore. Now she could feel like a useless sad waste of space with someone by her side telling her she was being silly.

It was a welcome change. So she reached out for it even when she didn’t really realise that that’s what she was doing.

She went to Tildy’s house after the library was closed for the day, forgoing her usual extra organisation time and deciding that that would be a problem for tomorrow morning’s version of herself. Depending on whether her former mentor managed to coax her into staying for dinner and then some extra hours just to catch up (she usually did), she’d probably hate her former self for it come daylight, but hey, screw that jerk.

The key that she’d kept since her teens still worked, and Kaisa had already checked with Tildy if it was okay for her to keep using it (the answer had been an enthusiastic yes, of course). She let herself in, the voices that reached her ears as soon as she stepped inside betraying that they wouldn’t be alone. If it were anyone else, Kaisa would have been pissed at having to talk to someone who wasn’t Tildy. But she recognized the second voice, and oddly enough she had no trouble with it. Hadn’t ever, truth be told.

She found Tildy and Frida sitting together at the kitchen table, eyes turned to astrology sheets spread all over it.

On cue as always, the eldest witch opened a beaming smile at the sight of her. The youngest one… not so much. It stung, but Kaisa had come to expect it; it had been the same for a couple of weeks. She couldn’t even blame Frida for it, poor kid. It was Kaisa’s fault that she was at a very tight spot, caught between genuinely liking her and wanting to defend her and not being able to do so since it was her very best friend (her familiar, for crying out loud) who was the one avoiding her like the plague and no doubt listing her reasons for it when the librarian was out of earshot.

Kaisa had no idea what Johanna had been telling her daughter about her, but whatever it was, she wouldn’t blame Frida for it. Even if she damn nearly teared up when the kids she’d grown so fond of went to the library and ignored her completely outside of their cold ‘good afternoon’s.

No matter. She still returned Tildy’s smile as best as she could, and gave Frida one even if she couldn’t match it. She was so concentrated on it, in fact, she didn’t even notice when Tildy’s face turned into a frown and she squinted at the spot just above her head.

“Hey, you two!” Kaisa greeted with a cheeriness she absolutely did not feel. She was so tired her head was pounding, having woken up feeling like she hadn’t slept through the night every morning for at least a month. “Sorry to interrupt, I just came to hang out for a bit. I can come back some other day.”

She didn’t want to come back another day. She wanted Tildy’s comfort and she wanted it now, but she wasn’t self centred enough to barge into someone else’s training and make them uncomfortable. Not when it was Frida, at least.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Frida answered even if she didn’t really look Kaisa in the eye. It was already a step forward from how she acted at the library, though. Maybe she just didn’t want Hilda to see her being kind to her. “We were just finished, actually! I should probably get back home.”

An awkward silence stretched itself over them, as Frida began putting away in her backpack that which belonged to her and Matilda for some reason continued staring past Kaisa, now pointedly enough that the librarian noticed. Kaisa fidgeted, biting the skin on the inside of her lip. When the child (teen, really, but she didn’t want to think about it at that moment) made to get up from her chair, Kaisa forced herself to speak up and step closer.

“Wait!” She blushed when the two of them turned to her with questioning looks. “Frida, I’m sorry. I know things have been awkward lately, and that’s exactly why I came to talk to Tildy, really. And if it’s not a bother… I’d like to talk to you, too. Because I care-” She took a deep breath, looking at the table rather than at her. “I care what you think about me. You don’t have to listen, of course. I know loyalty goes both ways in a familiar’s relationship. But if you could, I’d like to explain myself.”

Frida, for her part, looked taken aback and a bit like a deer in headlights. “You don’t have to-”

“I do. I have no idea what you’ve heard, but if you could give me the benefit of the doubt, I’d like for you to build your own opinion. Even if this isn’t a matter that should even concern you at all.”

Though it wasn’t audible, Kaisa could see Frida’s gulp by the bobbing of her throat. She nodded shily, almost imperceptibly, and sat back down at her chair. With a relieved sigh, Kaisa sank down in front of the two of them, noticing how Tildy was eyeing them with curiosity and even a bit of wariness.

“I’d very much like to know what this is about.” The elder said. “You’ve both been acting off for a while. Any looming disasters I should be aware of?”

A self deprecating smile graced Kaisa’s lips. “Only my personal life.”

And then she told them. Her part of the story, all of it, leaving gaps only in the parts that couldn’t be filled by anything other than ‘I am quite deeply, irrevocably, dreadfully in love with Johanna Pearson”. But she told them about Johanna’s first visit, and then the second one, and the bizarre accusations that she’d brought. She told them about swallowing her pride and going to Johanna’s house, only to have her heart stomped on (platonically, of course, because she’d never be stupid enough to think someone that out of her reach could want anything else with her, right?). She told them about having lost the closest friendship she’d had since she’d been a carefree child. She told them about not knowing what she’d done wrong and it eating her alive. She told them about replaying what had happened over and over in her head, wondering what she could have done to change that outcome, only to come to the conclusion that the problem was her each time.

Tildy had held and caressed her hand throughout her rant, and when she was done, Frida looked baffled. And then she told the part of the story that she’d heard, that Hilda was a light sleeper and had been woken up every night for a fortnight by a phone call to their landline in the dead of night. That the first times it had happened she’d seen her mother look miserable the next day. That she’d suddenly stopped going to the library and ever mentioning it or Kaisa, and that even if she didn’t comment anything about it to her daughter, even if Hilda had no idea what any of it was about, she was smart enough to connect the dots. Hilda didn’t know how, but she knew Kaisa was responsible for her mother being a wreck for the past month.

The two students stared at each other, enough trust between them that they didn’t question the other’s truthfulness. Have you ever seen a computer loading screen? Of course you have. That’s what the two of them would probably look like to anyone who was to see them at that moment, their minds overheating at trying to process an amount of information they were far too smart to have any trouble putting together.

The first thing that registered in Kaisa’s mind was that Johanna wasn’t shit talking her to her daughter. That was good. The second thing that did was that the phone calls were real. And they had been causing true distress to Johanna, so much so that she couldn’t even hide if from Hilda when usually she was so good at doing just that. Which meant she hadn’t been looking for a way out of their friendship, nor purposefully pushing her away. It should have made Kaisa feel better, knowing that. But it didn’t, really, because she now realised she’d been a grade A asshole who had called her best friend a liar. So what if she took somebody else’s voice for her own? It was three in the morning, she couldn’t be expected to have all her brain cells fully functioning after being startled out of sleep by the ringing.

Frida was giving Johanna’s sleepy mind more credit, apparently, reasoning out loud how the mysterious caller could have Kaisa’s voice. Her mind immediately went to audio editing and voice altering spells, shooting ideas while Kaisa stared at nothing in particular and tried to process all of that.

It was odd, though. It was odd because Tildy was uncharacteristically quiet. Generally that happened when she wanted them to work something out by themselves, so when they’d run out of ideas (not that Kaisa had contributed with a single one. Her mind was too busy rotating the thought ‘she doesn’t hate me, she doesn’t hate me’ over and over to do anything else) they turned their gazes to her. Her face wasn’t sporting the typical look that somehow conveyed pride and a sense of ‘how cute, you have so much to learn still’ at the same time. Tildy was still staring at the top of Kaisa’s head with a gaze so focused it could probably melt ice.

“So-” Frida said when their mentor didn’t immediately jump to praising the good ideas and gently correcting the ones that were utter trash. “What do you think?”

Matilda didn’t even blink. “Kaisa. Have you been sleeping well?”

It took her a couple of seconds to gather her bearings. Out of all the things she’d expected Tildy to comment on, her fucking dark bags weren’t on her list. But sure, why not. She’d heard weirder things come out of the witch’s mouth.

“No. I’ve been waking up feeling like I didn’t rest every day. Figured it’s just anxiety.”

She hummed. “How long has that been happening?”

“Like-” Eternity. Every minute she spent like that dragged itself on and on until it felt like she’d never felt like anything but tired. “A month, give or take?”

Tildy nodded, turning her gaze to her eyes, finally. It was cutting and cold, taking Kaisa by surprise. Just not as much as her next words did.

“And tell me, my dear, have you had this hex over you for long?”

…......

This time, she did not resist the urge to buy flowers before heading to Johanna’s. In fact, all three of them agreed that that was the least that could be done. And that’s how a coven of witches ended up at Tildy’s favourite florist, choosing flowers for a bouquet while secretly stalling for time for Kaisa to put herself together and think about what she was going to say. It would have to be good, too, because it would take a miracle for Johanna to take her back. Hell, it would take a miracle for Kaisa to even get to the sorry part, since she now had to live with the knowledge she’d apparently spilled her guts all over Johanna.

It was frightening. She tried to keep in mind that Johanna’s first reaction after receiving the phone call had been checking that she was fine, and that she hadn’t, apparently, deliberately pushed her away. That she maybe, possibly, had a chance, or had had once, at least. But it was a difficult thing to focus on when she’d spent the past few weeks thinking their entire relationship had been built on pity at best. Still, she wasn’t trying to achieve any miracles here. She wasn’t about to ask Johanna out on a date right out of the bat, or anything of the sort. She just wanted her best friend back.

They left the flower shop with a bouquet of lily of the valley, white roses and pink carnations.

It was a damn good thing she had the two other witches with her, because judging by the amount of times Kaisa thought about bolting during the walk to the Pearson’s household, her nerves would have probably won out eventually if she wasn’t being watched. It was with much effort and no small amount of anxiety that she eventually found herself in front of Johanna’s flat, flanked by her coven.

Her raised fist wavered in front of the door, flashes of the last time she’d been there crossing her mind unwantedly. It hadn’t been her fault. But that didn’t mean it didn’t feel like it.

Tildy put a gentle hand on her shoulder, encouraging her with a soft “you can do it” near her ear. Frida squeezed her forearm (not her hand, since she was using it to hold the bouquet). It was all the encouragement she needed. Good thing too, since it was all the encouragement she could get.

She knocked on the door.

Which was answered by Hilda.

Immediately, her expression morphed into a frown; a predictable reaction, considering the first thing she saw was the librarian with a bunch of flowers. But then it melted into growing levels of confusion as she noticed her best friend and the arch sorceress by her sides.

“Hilda.” Frida said before Kaisa even had the chance to formulate something rational to say. “Please come with us. Trust me with this one, they need to talk.”

Hilda clearly wasn’t too fond of the idea, but she did trust Frida. So after popping back inside the house to give her mother a heads up, she came back out again and left alongside the two witches, just not before shooting Kaisa a glare that left no question that she’d have to face her anger if she hurt Johanna.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

When Kaisa stepped inside (this was certainly not a door frame sort of conversation, and no one was blocking the way, anyhow), she saw Johanna already standing up with her arms crossed over her chest. Her drawing table was littered with her work tools. Great, she’d interrupted her thought process. What a perfect beginning.

“I didn’t- I didn’t lie.” Kaisa said after a fortifying breath, only to cringe after doing so. Sure, start your apology by defending yourself. Why not go ahead and just throw the flowers at her face and run really quickly? “Hold up, let me try this again.”

She closed her eyes just after seeing Johanna’s eyebrow quirk up. No matter, though, she knew how foolish she must look. She could only hope there was a chance that humbling herself in front of the woman would make her more likely to forgive her. After a couple of heartbeats, during which she’d willed them to not be that damn fast, she began again.

“Listen, Anna, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you, and that I doubted you. I’m sorry I acted like you were being unreasonable when you just wanted to make sure that I was okay and to know what was going on. And I’m sorry if I overstepped when I called you. Except I need you to understand that I really don’t know if I did, because I can’t remember it.”

“Is that so?” Johanna’s attempt at nonchalance was undermined by the fact that her voice sounded like she was about to choke up. Kaisa gave her the grace of pretending she didn’t notice it, knowing she wasn’t faring much better herself. “Then why the hell didn’t you just tell me you were high? Do you think I would have-”

Interrupting her was probably not what she should have done, but Kaisa couldn’t bear to let her finish, anyway. She was desperate to get her to understand, desperate to see what could be salvaged of them, desperate for her to stop thinking Kaisa would ever misjudge her like that.

“I wasn’t!” She all but pleaded. “I was under a hex! I called you, I said whatever I did, and I remembered nothing of it because a spell was cast on me and made me do it. I know it’s a piss poor excuse, but it’s true! I-” Noticing how she was rambling, Kaisa stopped to breathe for the first time since she’d started the explanation. When she continued, it was with a bit more of strenuously forced calm. “I’d never treat you like that. When you told me about the calls, I thought you were making up an excuse to stop talking to me. You can’t notice a magical working that is cast on you, at least not directly. You can only notice it’s consequences. I only know about it now because Tildy saw through it and broke it for me.”

It was a good explanation, and Johanna would know so. She’d never allowed Kaisa to live down the tide mice incident, after all. So it wasn’t the hex bit that she questioned.

“So you didn’t mean what you said, then?”

Kaisa blinked. Focusing on controlling her breathing could only take her so far, and her heart picked up pace again. The damage had been done, she reminded herself. Keeping her feelings a secret not only had been harming them, but it was also no longer an option. It would be stupid to try to deny it, and if she had any hope of doing any damage control it would probably be required for her to wear her heart on her cheek. It was just fair after what she’d put the woman through.

“I meant all of it.” She started out saying, hoping that Johanna’s sudden blush was a good sign. “I still don’t know exactly what it was. But the hex I was under was crafted to force fiends to reveal their better hidden secrets. The witch who put it on me vastly overestimated how much I wanted to keep her from getting a spell. The person under the magical influence can’t actually remember their actions, because that would alert them to the casting. But I can imagine what I must have told you.”

Johanna had, at some point, let her arms fall to her sides, no longer looking so guarded but rather taken aback and… hopeful? Though it was entirely likely that Kaisa was just imagining what she wanted to see. Either way, there were no signs of resistance or discomfort when the librarian stepped closer, so she did, even if she still kept a respectful distance. She tried to look Johanna in the eyes for this next bit. Probably failed, but an attempt was made.

“I can imagine what it must have been.” She repeated almost quietly. “Because I was terrified of you finding out how I feel about you. Of you finding out… before I was ready. But I think this is just an excuse I was telling myself. I think I never would have considered myself ready, or deserving of being with you. So even if I wouldn’t admit it, that was my best hidden secret. That I care for you not just the way friends care for each other. That being around you makes me nervous in a nice way. That I think you’re the prettiest person I know, even if that should be a given since you must own a mirror or two. I don’t expect you to return any of my feelings, of course. I’d be happy to remain your friend, if you’d do me the honour. But I am so sorry that I made you think I’d only ever admit all of that under the influence. I am sorry I was an idiot who didn’t listen. I’m sorry I left you thinking I’d be that cruel, because I really was acting like it even if I didn’t know so.”

She raised the bouquet to Johanna, still far away enough that both women had to fully extend their arms for her to reach it. The artist eyed it wearily, her brows furrowed even as she took the flowers into her arms. She looked at them, and then at Kaisa with that same expression, not like rejection but more like she was trying to wrap her head around what she’d been told.

Kaisa waited patiently for a reaction. She wasn’t in any position to make any demands, and nor did she want to.

“I- this is a lot.” Johanna whispered. “A lot to process, I mean. Could we maybe go somewhere later?” After a glance at the window, and at the stars already out, she backtracked. “Or maybe tomorrow? I just- thank you for the apology. I just don’t think my brain is fully functioning right now.”

Doing her best to plaster a smile upon her face, Kaisa nodded. It was perfectly understandable, and even if it squashed her best outcome fantasy scenarios of leaving in Johanna’s good graces, and already more than she could ask for. If she was being given the chance to see her again, then not all was lost. Probably.

“Of course.” She said, taking a step back with as much dignity as she could (not a lot). “Does tomorrow morning at the park work for you? I can use my break to meet you, so around ten?”

Johanna nodded in agreement. They’d find each other at their usual spot in the park. That bit didn’t even need to be said out loud.

“Okay.” Trying not to be disheartened by Johanna’s eerie silence, Kaisa sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I’ll let Frida know she can bring Hilda back, too. Thank you.”

She was aware of Johanna’s eyes on her back as she left the apartment, debating whether this a good sign or a bad one and eventually settling that it was just what you did when someone who was talking to you walked away and not much else was happening. Johanna just stood there, stunned and coming back to herself slowly, piece by piece. Kaisa had been out of the door for many moments when she properly registered the flowers she was holding, the weight and the scent of them, the light colours and beautiful shapes. She’d been gone for a couple more moments when Johanna registered the confession, a proper one given while staring at her face. And Johanna-

Johanna had let her walk away without the slightest explanation as to what her feelings were.

“Shit!” She ran to the window overcome with the feeling that she was running out of time, but some god must be watching over her because she did so exactly when Kaisa was right in front of the building.

‘Kaisa, wait!” The shout made Kaisa immediately turn to where the sound had come from, clearly startled out of her skin. “I love you too!”

The witch stared at her with her mouth hanging open, turning Johanna’s attention to the ridiculousness of what she’d just done. She blushed the shade of the carnations she was holding.

“Just wanted you to know!” She shouted again and then ran away from the window, which was how mature adults handled having a crush, thank you very much.

If she’d stuck around just a second longer, she would have seen a radiant smile blooming on Kaisa’s face.

The witch walked away with a new glow. That night, she’d stay asleep for as long as she wanted without waking up against her will and knowledge, and even if she didn’t know so yet, she’d leave from the park the next day with a lot more than she’d had walking in. Maybe she had found what she’d been hoping to find, after all.

…......

The Committee of Three was very surprised to have such a young witch request an audience, alone, with them. But they acquiesced, of course. If they could ever get Frida to leave Matilda Pilqvist behind and play on their side, she’d be a valuable asset.

“It has come to our attention that a hex has been placed over Kaisa.” The girl stated once she was in their hall, her voice echoing and her confidence making her sound a lot older than she actually was. “And she has reasons to believe it was one of you to have done so.”

Juniper shrugged, not knowing what that was about but not really caring if it was true. Abigail smirked to her sister, whose silence was the only confirmation she gave. To someone as intelligent as the young witch in front of them, it was enough. If it angered her, she didn’t let it show.

“I am willing to give away my mentor’s best spell.” She said, matter of factly. While the girl had never been so… formal around them, they understood that the situation probably called for it in her mind. They all listened closely, now more interested than ever. “If you are willing to vow never to put a hex, curse, jinx, or any other type of malicious casting over any member of my coven.”

The negotiations were quick. There was no reason for them not to be, with the offer being exactly what they wanted and the condition, something they figured they could live without. Frida refused to budge until they had signed a magically binding scroll that would make sure they couldn’t go back on their word, at least not without suffering dire consequences. Once she was satisfied, Frida put the scroll she’d brought with herself down on the floor and walked away with her head held high.

The preparations for the casting were done immediately. They followed the scroll’s instructions to a fault - Matilda’s spells tended to be temperamental and fickle to say the least - and chanted in unison as soon as all was ready. Protection spells were usually subtle, so none of them were expecting to see any changes to the Witches’ Tower or its structure, content enough when they felt the surge of magic emanating from the centre of their casting circle.

It was, that way, a big surprise when they turned around and saw that all of their stylized lamps, the ones that looked like spiders with their metal limbs, had turned into actual spiders twice the size of their heads, and were coming down in their direction.

The Committee never attempted to outsmart anyone from the Pilqvist clan ever again.

[trash-iest]

1,4,12,15,23,35,38,40,4650,55,60,75,78,83,86. You don't have to answer these. It's alot I know and I'm sorry. Just.. curious 😅

1. What do you crave in a psychological sense? Intimacy, passion, purpose, belonging, social interaction, etc.?

Passion & purpose (im sorry it's impossible to choose one)

4. Who's the most important person in your life right now? Why?

Myself because i need to consistently work towards my 5 year goal. Its the bare minimum but feels a lot so im hoping ill adjust and become a better version of myself if not the best.

12. What's your most controversial opinion? Would you state it publicly? What's the most controversial opinion that you would publicly support, if it's different?

The moon is made of cheese and pluto is a planet. Oh i would shamelessly state that publicly and stick out my tongue if the other person tries to educate me on the matter (im sorry if you were looking for serious answers, we dont do that over texting)

15. Is there a song, book, movie, or other piece of media that has drastically altered your life? What was it, are there multiple?

This is stupid (but youre allowed to laugh at how basic i am) Book: 13 reasons why. So just a bit of context: Up until grade 7 i was an extremely insensitive kid like id mindlessly laugh at people in school, made fun of their insecurities and was completely clueless about feelings/emotions. It was just considered banter since i was the class clown but the way id gang up with my group and tease other kids was wrong, yet no one corrected this behaviour (tbf i didnt grow up with cousins and they rarely ever visited so there was no sense of realisation) Now end of grade 7 i came across this book and I casually started reading it like any other book and lets just say i didnt expect the traumatising details. It was nothing like the stuff i used to read and it ended up giving me the biggest reality check. I started analysing my behaviour and realised how i might be an actual bully and i couldnt fathom the thought of someone resorting to self harm or suicide because of my silly jokes so i stopped and apologised to those few people. Lets just say this book was the first step towards developing eq and becoming a better person.

23. What would you never admit to in real life?

A LOT of things. I cant really think of anything atm but i mostly just stay quiet when people say questionable shit because i dont have the energy to explain my pov and idc about their opinion lol.

35. What's wrong with you? Physically, mentally, whatever comes to mind. What's right about you? What are your best and worst traits?

Physically— i have a HUGE nose, kinda short, dont have grey/hazel eyes, i wear specs (doesnt look cute), my nails chip every time i grow them out and theyre not a natural pretty shape. Also, i dont feel pretty like an actual girl; im not elegant or any of that and neither am i a hot tomboy. Im just eh. (Edit: i just remembered the dark circles and i look dead without lipstick/lip taint lol)

Mentally— anxious sometimes but thankfully no more anxiety attacks. I feel like my major trust and commitment issues come under personality disorders but ill just list them here. My therapist said im stubborn and very rigid (and I believe him over anyone else) and quite frankly i feel incapable of forming a real human connection. To sum up my worst traits: Im mostly horrible at reciprocation, im always emotionally unavailable, im selfish, hella lazy, careless, stupid. Im definitely forgetting something so whenever I remember it ill add it here lol. My best traits: im very understanding when it comes to the other person needing their space. Im a good listener because i rarely have good advice or solutions lol. Im calm and rarely ever lose my temper which doesnt really last long. I believe in communication instead of letting misunderstandings grow until they explode (im guessing thats good because it has strengthened my friendships)

38. Who do you miss, if anyone?

My 15 year old self. She was so happy, loved the way she looked and was so mentally stable (i might be considered a narcissist at this point)

40. Would you sacrifice your life for a stranger? An acquaintance? A loved one?

I WILL SACRIFICE MY OWN LIFE FOR PAKISTAN (its hard for me to be consistently serious, bear with it pls)

46. Do you have a "right person, wrong time"?

Yeah feels like it

50. What qualities do you find charming?

Whatever prince charming brings to the table (its so hard to be serious about this im sorry it reminds me of middle school)

55. What reminds you of your childhood?

Certain songs, snacks and a few places.

60. What are you afraid of? What are your worst fears? Are you afraid of any of the following - the dark, fire, heights, being alone, people, spiders, snakes, blood, drowning, or death?

Betrayal/abandonment from someone i truly love, getting attached to the wrong person, staying unemployed after graduation, childbirth and raising my own kids, emotionally depending on someone and lizards 💀 Of the following: people, only the big spiders like tarantulas etc, snakes, drowning only because i dont know how to swim and its a very painful death from what ive heard so no thank you.

75. What is your favourite fairytale?

Definitely hansel and gretel because of that edible cottage (still such a dream) but I recently read the story of the youth who went forth to learn what fear was (grimm's fairytales) and its my favourite one as an adult now.

78. Have you ever written a poem or song about someone? Or had someone write one about you? Do you hope to have either of those experiences in the future?

Nope i havent. My best friend has written poetry for me, about 3 times. It was super cute but it constantly made me feel indebted because ive never made a grand gesture like that and what she wrote was proper poetry and she appreciates me so much. Ive only ever written her letters with my ugly handwriting yet she treasures them. Hypothetically if i do find someone in the future like that idk how id react but ill definitely be thinking about ways to reciprocate.

83. What's your type? Otherwise, do you think you attract a certain sort of person?

An aromantic asexual or at least someone whose love language isnt physical touch and theyre naturally not a cheezy person but i feel like im asking for a lot here since most people associate romance with their partners and what i say is considered abnormal or bs so lets not go there. Ill need to be attractive to attract a certain type of people or anyone for that matter lol.

86. What could you talk about for hours?

Honestly my chattiness depends on my mood or the type of day im having instead of a particular topic.

[whataboutbibi]

HELLO STINK, IMMA ALIVE! It's been a month uh 😞 so so sorry for not doing this before but life at uni has been so intense this past month and I wanted to sit and read it properly, the way it deserves and give pof justice but they wouldn't leave me alone, like, i just wanna to go back to my silly fics yk🙄 ENOUGH TALKING let's get into what matters.

“So, from the new album— Wasting Love.” - stop it. I'm already emotional reading this

"Yeah, you haven’t left his fucking mind in the past six months you’ve been apart from one another. It’s been six months, and Corroded Coffin has released two albums and started their second leg of tour since he last saw you— and you’re still all he thinks about." SIX MONTHS MISS MA'AM??? how long did I sleep?

"He feels it when he’s sitting backstage before a show, feels it when he steps into a new hotel room every night, feels it when he’s ruffling through his suitcase and comes across that journal that’s been haunting him for ages now, and he definitely feels it when he reads the fifth page in the Rolling Stone magazine where the description of Eddie resides, the one where you’d crafted and molded Eddie into a shape he’d never been able to see before, the one where Eddie first came to terms with the true sight of you and your intentions." - these two make me emo in the best way 🥹

"He asks about you when he can, because, unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s quite familiar with your boss, Anna, and she’s like an annoying older sister to him." help I loved the plot it caugh me off guard tbh

Gareth scoffs, “Yeah, but you wrote an entire fucking album about her"- as he should btw

Gareth makes a face, eyebrows raising in an ‘I rest my case' manner. “And she’s not a chick,” Eddie adds. - Aww this reminds me of that one time when Eddie called Jeff's gf "chick" (Naomi I think) and he said the same thing to eddie 😃

"And it gets better when Eddie scans the crowd, coming down from the first song of the night and finally taking a look at his audience, and there he sees it— he sees you. There you are under flashing lights, drowning in a sea of people with that glint in your eyes." ME?

God, you’re really fucking here. - LETS FUCKING GOOO

"He’s gotten thicker in the few months, beefier around his arms and chest, and the long chains and pendants he wears from his neck rest down the valley of his torso, smeared in sweat and sin. You want to drag your tongue across his chest, taste the salt and his cologne, tug the silver cross between your lips, and suck and make him whimper."

You missed him. God, you missed him so much. :(

"It’s slightly difficult, and there are a lot of gangly limbs and yearning hands reaching out everywhere, but Eddie eventually gets you over the barricade, and you’re gazing up at him with a warm grin when you sway on your feet. You wish you and Eddie could just walk away and have each other like you’ve been imagining for months, but Eddie has a job, and he’s working." *realising rockstar!eddie it's not just the aesthetic but his actual fucking job lol 😭

"Jeff is smothering Naomi in a sweaty hug and smattering kisses all over her face, and you’re glad to see they’re still together." YES YES YES I was rooting for them too

"It’s dawning on you that most of the pivotal moments between you and Eddie have been in a dressing room, so it’s not irrational for you to feel a bit uneasy when you step in, and Eddie closes the door." - no bc I'd be already freaking the fuck out

You huff out a laugh at that, and Eddie grins. “How is he?” You ask. Eddie tips his head back and forth like he’s thinking, “Same old man as before. Think he’s got a girlfriend now. He’s being an asshole about the details, though.” He rolls his eyes, and you snort. You’re happy to hear Wayne has a person for himself now; if anyone deserves it, it’s him. - so glad when writers give Wayne justice 🫶🏼

Eddie shakes his head, briefly shutting his eyes as he waves you off, “Nah, fuck that. You don’t need to apologize—” “But I do. I told you I wanted space, and then a week later, I’m plastered on a fucking cover with Baine fucking Carter.” - what 😧

Baine Carter is a well-known songwriter within the industry. He’s got tracks spread all over the top charts, and he has a way of talking that can make just about anyone fall into a trance until you realize most of what he’s saying is just made-up bullshit. In hindsight, Baine wasn’t much different than most people in the music industry— it was a moment of weakness and pure vodka-weighted thinking. And, of course, it’s the moment when cameras find you. - the way birdie didn't wasted a sec 💀💀 She's my hero y'all

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes when he gently squeezes at the warm skin of your thigh. You tip your head lower, holding your gaze on Eddie as you lowly speak, “I’m not having sex with you tonight, Eddie.” - well if birdie doesn't want it I VOLUNTEER MYSELF AS A TRIBUTE 🙋‍♀️

"It’s like a sigh of relief to have Eddie’s lips on yours after such a long time. Weeks of nights and days spent trying to remember how it felt having his plump lips pressed onto yours, how he tasted, how warm his tongue was when it slunk into your mouth. None of those times you’d try to remember, none of those phantom feelings that would breeze through your body could ever amount to how it actually feels— it’s as if you’re seeing color for the first time." FINALLY!!

"There are things that you both need to say, uncover, and express feelings about, and god forbid you get dicknotized before the words can come out correctly." - DICKNOTIZED? LMAO

Your legs are kicked up on the couch, and Eddie finds his fingers slinking around your bare ankle, gently squeezing, “Want something comfy?” He asks. - ...Are we sure this is the same man that ran her over with a golf cart and broke her ankle at the beginning?

You stay quiet, allowing him to speak, “Everybody just lives to work dead-end jobs. Being creative is like… a sin or something, I don’t know. I just want to give the kids somewhere where they’ll feel… safe. Seen. Something I never got for myself.” - STOP I LOVE HIM SM this is brilliant

Eddie snorts at that, pink lacing with yours as a smile spreads across your lips, “Not bad actually, I might name it that.” - and i wanna see it. Epilogue when 🤗

Eddie’s demeanor is unwavering as he blinks at you, but his tone is accusing, “Do you want me to be angry with you so you can feel justified?” -oh😦

“And I’m telling you right now that I’m not angry.” He’s teetering on the edge of irritated now, and you tilt your head. “I listened to the album, Eddie. I listened to the song; you’re seriously gonna tell me you’re not angry?” wtf did he wrote on that album I'm scared💀

"Your chest aches when the lyrics echo in your mind." - 😦 now I get it.

"It’s tender, the space you’ve both created. You’re both fragile and reactive in the best way, like a healing exposed nerve, and Eddie will be forever in your debt for how patient you are with him. He’s not good at talking about real shit, but he’s trying to fix that, and you make it easier because you push him in the way he needs to be— you encourage him to say what he feels even if he’s afraid he might end up shooting himself in the foot and chasing you away again because— ‘It’s the only way things will get better.’" - their chemistry is INSANE. it's so good to witness how things flow between them cause they can be feral over each other but so emotionally intimate at the same time. Does it even make sense?

“Hippie shit,” Eddie mutters as you hop down from his couch. Your eyes narrow, “Hey,” you nudge your foot against his thigh, “Don’t be an asshole. It was on your shelf anyway.” - he's a hater to his core.

"There are tears in your eyes as you blink down at the gift in your hands, and you know Eddie must think you’re insane for crying over a book— a journal at that. It’s a pale yellow colored leather, with two leather straps that are tied into a neat bow, and in the corner, your name is stamped in tiny cursive gold letters— your real name."

"The gift Eddie has for you has been with him since the fourth week he knew you. He’s been holding onto it for so long because he’s been a coward and didn’t know how to form the words ‘I’m sorry’ with his tongue— but now, Eddie’s riding on a high, and he needs you and wants you all the time and there’s no better time than now, right?" -SINCE THE FOURTH. the fourth WEEK?

You laugh at that, body warm with adoration because, yeah, that sounds like your grandfather. You sniffle, wiping under your eyes, “How did you know?” You ask. Eddie shrugs as he sits next to you, “The cover of your journal had his name on it, so I kind of pieced it together since you share a last name.” - boy was scheming

You don’t know what to think, what to say. It’s the kindest thing Eddie (or anyone) has ever done for you. Your grandfather had been in the business of handmaking journals for as long as you can remember; he was part of the reason why you took such a liking to journalism. He had a brief history in journalism himself, and he would sit and go through his best works with you when you struggled to fall asleep— he helped you see the world through the lens of an artist, and you never looked back. - THIS IS PRECIOUS I'm gonna CRY

"Eddie shifts beneath you, and you sigh, turning your head up to nuzzle against the base of his throat. Your teeth drag across his skin, red lines left in their wake before you let your tongue coast up his pulsing vein, mouth kissing and suckling at what you can reach— and Eddie whimpers."

“You know…It’s past midnight.” - yeah well...

His cock feels strangled and achy in his jeans, and he imagines how good it’ll feel to sink his cock into you as he swirls a gentle finger around your entrance. “For the record,” He drawls, watching your lips part when he dips his finger into you, “It’s been nowhere. My dick, I mean.” - You breathlessly laugh, hips wriggling, your pussy eager for more. “Been beating it with my fist for the last six months, so. Just want you to know— it’s only you, baby.” - when he goes celibate for us <3

It takes everything in Eddie to pull away from you, and he thinks he’s gonna marry you when you reach out for him. Thinks he wants to just whisk you away and live on the side of a secluded mountain or some shit. Thinks he wants you to be the mother of his kids when you smile up at him as he rises to his feet, gazing down at you over the apple of his cheeks as he removes his jeans. - I expect nothing less 💖

“Quit teasing,” You whine, squirming beneath him. Eddie grins, breathlessly panting as he looks at you, “So impatient.” He mumbles, shifting further up your body until the inside of his thighs press against the side of your tits. You can feel the cool drag of his rings against your sternum, and it sends licks of fire through your core. “My baby’s so impatient, hm?” He taps his cock against your chest, and your frown, fingers digging into his thighs."

All of us and birdie rn:

His other hand smooths over your ass, heavily slapping it once before gripping the warm skin as he speaks beside your ear, “Wanna fuck your ass one day, hm? Gonna let me? Say you’ll let me.” - this mans a total menace

And you think to yourself, with the scent of Eddie whirling around you and his touch all over you and his pretty voice in your ear, that yeah, you can work through this together. Even if the process will tear you to shreds all over again. After all, that’s the price of falling for a rockstar, isn’t it?" - woah and I'll never be the same again stink 😭 I'm so glad I found the series, it was fun to keep up with it and you ended it just the way they deserved <3

Also, sorry for talking too much I have to contain myself. But that's it for now. I'll miss it SM! Byee stink 🫶🏼🥲

PRICE OF FAME (PART 12/12)

AHHH !! friends, we've come to the end of my first fully done series, and she's not perfect in a lot of ways but she's mine and I'm so happy and thankful to have shared it with you lovely folks

i hope I've done them justice, enjoy <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you decide to visit eddie for a chat

contains: enemies to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of anal, mentions of death (readers relative), sexual themes, angst, heavy mutual pining, fluff, and eddie being so head over heels that it's hot <3

word count: 10.6k

| previous part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“So, from the new album— Wasting Love.”

Over time, Eddie’s learned that he can’t stand interviews— especially interviews with questions aimed towards nothing but tabloid gossip and headlines. The first big interview that Corroded Coffin booked was exciting because— well, it was their first one! Maybe the questions weren’t as intricate and thought-out as the ones they gave David Bowie on TV, but it was something.

That excitement wore off quickly, though, and unfortunately, interviews are one of the top ways to spread publicity so— “Wasting love,” Eddie huffs, tipping his hips forward as he shifts on the couch. He’s bored out of his mind, aching to leave and be done with the shitty questions about his love life or the people he hangs around or whatever. He taps the heel of his foot into the ground, lips twisting as he chews at the inside of his cheek, “What about it, man?” Eddie asks.

The rest of the band is in the fucking clouds— why would they answer a question about a song entirely unrelated to them? Plus, Eddie’s 99.9% sure they did a few lines without him, which, fucking assholes.

The interviewer shrugs, “Well, why didn’t it make it to the final cut? And what’s it about? Tell us more about that track.”

What a bullshit fucking question. 

Wasting Love is one of the most, if not the most, straightforward songs Eddie’s ever fucking written. The only reason why he’s asking about this is because, well, there’s been rumors of Eddie and his most recent love affair— none of which are true, but Eddie doesn’t bother to come out and tell the truth because what’s the point? What’s the point in telling the truth if it will get twisted anyway?

Either way, Eddie shrugs, blinking behind his dark sunglasses, “I mean…” He purses his lips and tips his head side to side as if thinking, “Kinda self-explanatory with the lyrics, man.” He finally responds.

And in the background, Eddie can see Richie practically constructing his next ‘I know you hate it, but it’s good publicity’ lecture. So, Eddie relents— “It’s about… meaningless sex basically. And it didn’t make the cut because it was a shitty song.”

It wasn’t, actually, Eddie thinks it was a great fucking song, but the intentions behind it— not quite so.

“I think the fans would disagree on that.” The interviewer jokes.

Jeff takes a deep breath and shifts in his seat, “I mean, part of it was because it just didn’t flow with the essence of the album.” He adds, and Eddie mentally thanks him for taking over and so easily diverting the topic to something else. For the rest of the interview, Eddie’s mind is elsewhere, thinking about everything outside of this room, thinking about what he’ll eat later, thinking about the show tonight, thinking about you.

Yeah, you haven’t left his fucking mind in the past six months you’ve been apart from one another. It’s been six months, and Corroded Coffin has released two albums and started their second leg of tour since he last saw you— and you’re still all he thinks about.

You’re still in his dreams, still dancing behind his eyelids when he shuts his eyes, still vomiting all over his fucking journal when he writes. It’s madness, really. Eddie can’t remember the last time he was this hung up on someone— he wasn’t even this distraught when Chrissy left him.

Sure when he and Chrissy ended, he wallowed in it for a month or two, but it wasn’t long before he got fixed on uppers and groupies. Chrissy was heartbreaking in the sense that she was his first love, his first real relationship— but this… this is different. Eddie doesn’t know why it’s different, can’t really pinpoint where the colors change, and the memories start to jab at his chest differently, but he feels it.

He feels it when he’s sitting backstage before a show, feels it when he steps into a new hotel room every night, feels it when he’s ruffling through his suitcase and comes across that journal that’s been haunting him for ages now, and he definitely feels it when he reads the fifth page in the Rolling Stone magazine where the description of Eddie resides, the one where you’d crafted and molded Eddie into a shape he’d never been able to see before, the one where Eddie first came to terms with the true sight of you and your intentions.

Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t know how he ended up in this predicament, but by god, he would never fucking recommend it because— fuck, you won’t even talk to him!

And sure, you don’t owe Eddie anything, you don’t owe him a call or a chance to visit or anything of the sort, but Eddie was holding onto that sliver of hope you gave him before you left. 

He asks about you when he can, because, unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s quite familiar with your boss, Anna, and she’s like an annoying older sister to him. Anna tells Eddie how much of an idiot he is occasionally, but she always cracks and tells Eddie that you’ve been good and how you sometimes mention him, but it’s always quick, and nobody ever has room to pry about it. And when Anna tells Eddie about how you crossed paths backstage with a certain red-headed girl and read her to filth, Eddie chuckles and mumbles something along the lines of, “That’s my girl.”

Anna nearly gagged then. 

Still, Eddie only catches glimpses and whispers of you, never really getting the full fix to last him a day, but it’s enough to keep him alive and wanting. 

“Maybe she doesn’t get your calls, man.” Gareth shrugs, leaning into the mirror as he ruffles his hair. It’s been hours since the interview now, and showtime is in… Eddie doesn’t know when because he didn’t listen when Richie was rambling on about tonight’s schedule.

“She gets my calls, dude; Anna said she does,” Eddie grumbles.

“Okay, well, then maybe she’s just, like, over it. I don’t blame her; you're a pain in the ass.”

Eddie kicks his boot into Gareth’s shin, and the boy hisses, tossing a red Rillos wrapper at him. “Ow, asshole. It’s not my fault she hates your music.” He snips. Eddie makes a face, “It’s your music too, dumbass.” 

Gareth scoffs, “Yeah, but you wrote an entire fucking album about her. Our album is literally about her, you know that, right?” And Eddie thinks he should just kick Gareth’s teeth in at this point, maybe that’ll get him to shut up. “How would you know it’s about her if I never told you it was?” Eddie prods.

Gareth rolls his eyes, dark eyeliner casting a shadow on his face as he turns to glare at his friend. “Is there another chick you’ve been fucking that’s got you by the balls that we seem to have forgotten about?” Gareth sarcastically asks. Eddie glares at him, reaching for the cigarettes on the vanity table and sparking up.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke when he answers, “No.”

Gareth makes a face, eyebrows raising in an ‘I rest my case' manner. “And she’s not a chick,” Eddie adds.

Gareth hums with a tight grin, reaching out to poke at his friend's face, causing Eddie to grimace and bat him away, “You’re in love, Munson. Fix it or get over it,” He says shortly before making his way toward the door. Eddie can hear the dull scream of fans when Gareth opens the door, and Eddie thinks about the tickets he’s sent you every show— prays to whatever false god there is that you decided tonight is the night before he decides hope is useless and you’ve gotten over him. Gareth cuts through Eddie’s thoughts, “Come on, I can hear Richie’s bitching from here.”

Eddie’s mind is never in the game until he steps onto the stage, with bright lights blinding him, screaming fans, and his adrenaline at an all-time high. He comes back to earth then, comes back, and does the fuck out of his job— because this is the best part. The best fucking part, and it’s always been that way.

And it gets better when Eddie scans the crowd, coming down from the first song of the night and finally taking a look at his audience, and there he sees it— he sees you. There you are under flashing lights, drowning in a sea of people with that glint in your eyes. 

Eddie thinks he’s imagining it because, fuck, he’s been dreaming of this for weeks on end; surely his delusion can reach the heights of hallucinations, right? But no, you’re real.

You’re so fucking real. So fucking insanely real beneath Eddie’s fingertips when he reaches out, ignoring the screams and clawing of fans as his fingers loop around your wrists and he says your name.

God, you’re really fucking here.

Eddie looks prettier than you remember when you first see him— curly mane draped over his shoulders and dark tattoos glistening on a bare torso, white lights framing him like he’s some kind of fucking archangel.

He’s gotten thicker in the few months, beefier around his arms and chest, and the long chains and pendants he wears from his neck rest down the valley of his torso, smeared in sweat and sin. You want to drag your tongue across his chest, taste the salt and his cologne, tug the silver cross between your lips, and suck and make him whimper.

His eyeliner is smudged and dark, and his smile when he gets a moment to take in the crowd makes your chest ache. He’s so pretty it hurts. He’s a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You missed him. God, you missed him so much.

His smile falters when he sees you, and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but his eyebrows pinch like he’s in pain, and you only want to wrap yourself around him and breathe in that scent that’s been haunting for nights on end.

He’s insane for jumping down to the barricade, like, completely-lost-his-fucking-mind, down-in-the-gutter, insane. But you can’t find it in you to protest when he steps up to the fence, reaching out and looping his warm finger around your wrist. “What the fuck?”

Your lips twitch into a smile at his words, but the crowd is getting rowdy with their beloved rockstar so up close and an elbow is being shoved into your side and Eddie moves quicker than you can comprehend, tugging you forward to the very front and motioning you to jump over.

“You’re insane!” You yell over the noise of the crowd. Eddie grins, damp curls dangling over his eyes as he peers down at you, “Unless if you wanna get crushed, be my guest.”

It’s slightly difficult, and there are a lot of gangly limbs and yearning hands reaching out everywhere, but Eddie eventually gets you over the barricade, and you’re gazing up at him with a warm grin when you sway on your feet. You wish you and Eddie could just walk away and have each other like you’ve been imagining for months, but Eddie has a job, and he’s working.

His eyes are blown wide, and his lips are so kissable, and his warm hand is squeezing your hip as he nods toward a security guard. “Keep an eye on this one, Rob,” He shouts over the screaming fans. You’re eyeing Eddie as he steps back toward the stage, sinking his in-ear back into place with a sly grin as he winks, “She’s real sneaky.”

The show is great, as it always is, and Eddie tries to be deft about it, but it’s evident to just about everyone how he practically clings to the side of the stage where you’re standing in front of. It’s cute, you’ll admit, but you feel bad for the fans, so you try to move around a bit.

The last song comes, and the show ends with Eddie and Jeff practically climbing over one another as they shred their guitars and the crowd goes insane when Eddie leans forward to drag his tongue up the side of Jeff’s face, grinning when the other boy rolls his eyes and walks off.

You’re being pulled backstage quicker than you know it, just in time to meet the group as they jog off the smokey stage with big grins on their faces.

Jeff is smothering Naomi in a sweaty hug and smattering kisses all over her face, and you’re glad to see they’re still together. Gareth is twirling his drumstick between his fingers and scanning the room for someone, but you don’t have time to try and figure out who because the one person you’ve been waiting for steps out next, and he’s got the biggest grin on his face as he practically jogs up to you.

You’re smiling and giggling out a greeting as he steps up to you and grasps your face between his hands, “No kisses!” You warn before he can lean in, and Eddie’s too excited to even pout about it. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, you know that?”

You reach up to slink your fingers around his wrists as his thumbs caress the soft skin beneath your eyes, “Got enough life left in you to talk?” You ask. Eddie’s eyes dance across your face, taking you in like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to before he nods. “Always.”

The dressing room seems to be the altar of truth for you and Eddie.

It’s dawning on you that most of the pivotal moments between you and Eddie have been in a dressing room, so it’s not irrational for you to feel a bit uneasy when you step in, and Eddie closes the door.

He’s like a kid in a candy store, trying not to touch what he sees. His eyes are so bright, but you can tell he’s holding himself back from doing and saying the things he wants, and you appreciate that he’s giving you the space, waiting for you to give him your yes or no.

Eddie plops onto the couch in the middle of the room and looks at you with a glint in his eyes. You deeply breathe, shifting in your spot before leaning back against the door, tipping your head as you study him; thighs comfortably spread, inked stories fluttering to life with each rise and fall of his bare torso. He’s a dream.

“I thought you’d be way more upset.”

Eddie’s lips tug like he wants to smile at the sound of your voice, or maybe it’s the sight of you, and he shifts in his seat with a shrug, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and sticks it between his lips, and when you see him pat himself down, you’re already moving like it’s muscle memory.

You pick up the lighter on the coffee table and walk over to Eddie, sparking the flame as you speak, “You’re allowed to be upset, you know?” You remind him. Eddie’s gaze flickers in color as he looks up at you, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that rise up on your skin when his hand reaches up to rest on your hip, thumb caressing you over the material of your skintight dress. Streams of fire are licking up your spine as he leans forward to burn the end of the paper stick, and your center aches when he gently squeezes the fat of your hip. All throughout this, Eddie never lets his eyes fall from you.

He mumbles a short thank you once the cigarette lights, leaning back to rest against the seat as he looks up at you. You fight the urge to comb your fingers through his hair or do something dumb like climb into his lap. No doubt talking would fly out the window then.

You gently toss the lighter onto the coffee table and sit on the loveseat across from the pinnacle of your thoughts from the last six months. Eddie speaks around a cloud of smoke, “Do you want me to be upset?” He asks.

You shrug, trying your hardest not to break beneath his unwavering eye. “I don’t know.” 

Eddie smiles then, and the strings of your heart play a symphony to the notes of his voice when he speaks, “I was for a little bit,” He admits, tapping ash onto the carpet, “But then Wayne told me to get my head out of my ass.”

You huff out a laugh at that, and Eddie grins. “How is he?” You ask. Eddie tips his head back and forth like he’s thinking, “Same old man as before. Think he’s got a girlfriend now. He’s being an asshole about the details, though.” He rolls his eyes, and you snort. You’re happy to hear Wayne has a person for himself now; if anyone deserves it, it’s him.

You shift, like you can’t seem to get comfortable enough, and you know you’re stalling, and you can see Eddie fighting to not call you out, so you try to ease into it; “Is that when you stopped calling?” You ask.

Eddie stiffens under the question, and you know the answer. He grimaces and runs a hand over his face with a soft groan, “Fuck,” he curses, “Fuck, yeah, it was.” He answers. “I’m sorry, I’m a fuckin’ hothead. I had made it a goal to call every night and then—” “I upset you.”

Eddie’s eyes are soft, and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes on his, “It wasn’t fair what I did, Eddie; I’m sorry—”

Eddie shakes his head, briefly shutting his eyes as he waves you off, “Nah, fuck that. You don’t need to apologize—” “But I do. I told you I wanted space, and then a week later, I’m plastered on a fucking cover with Baine fucking Carter.” 

Baine Carter is a well-known songwriter within the industry. He’s got tracks spread all over the top charts, and he has a way of talking that can make just about anyone fall into a trance until you realize most of what he’s saying is just made-up bullshit. In hindsight, Baine wasn’t much different than most people in the music industry— it was a moment of weakness and pure vodka-weighted thinking. And, of course, it’s the moment when cameras find you.

“Kinda my fault too,” Eddie shrugs, “Camera’s wouldn’t have found you if I didn’t have press riding me.” And he’s right, but shitty press isn’t his fault, so how much of that can you really blame him for?

Eddie snickers at the memory of you painted on the cover of several magazines, “Think you’ve got a type, sweetheart.” He teases. Your face screws up in defense, and you scoff, “What does that mean?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Come on, you’re gonna tell me you didn’t say my name when he—” “We didn’t do anything— firstly— and even if I did say your name, I would never in a million years admit it.” You point out with a raised eyebrow. 

Eddie smirks with a playful glint in his eye and he deeply breathes as he ashes his cigarette and rises to his feet. “I don’t care that you hooked up with Bain fucking Carter,” Eddie softly admits with a hint of a mocking grin, “Did it deeply wound me to the point where I almost thought I was gonna die? Yes.” He jokingly says, to which you want to roll your eyes at, but he’s stalking over to you like he’s some lion on the prowl, and all you can muster is a small huff with a mumbled, “You’re dramatic.”

Eddie stands in front of you and leans over to press his palms onto each side of your seat, leaning down until his face hovers above yours, “I’m kinda known for it, darling.” He winks.

Your core stirs at the proximity, and you can feel his breath against your top lip. “I will admit, though,” Eddie lets his hand drop to round over your bare knee, callused fingertips caressing your soft skin, “It gave me a huge ego boost seeing you with a literal replica of me.” He snickers, fingers dancing into the inside of your thigh. You huff, a playful glint in your eyes as you run your tongue across your teeth, “Yeah, I imagine your head couldn’t fit through the door for at least a month, huh?”

Eddie shrugs, “Depends. Which head we talking about, honey?”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes when he gently squeezes at the warm skin of your thigh. You tip your head lower, holding your gaze on Eddie as you lowly speak, “I’m not having sex with you tonight, Eddie.”

Brown eyes flash with a familiar look you’d missed before they drop to your lips. “What about a kiss? Just one.” He presses. Your eyes narrow, “I doubt you could ever do just one.” 

“You’ll never know if you never try.” His lips twitch up into a sly grin, taunting you and pushing you until your brain is just a muddled mess of yes, no, yes, no, yes, n— fuck it.

It’s like a sigh of relief to have Eddie’s lips on yours after such a long time. Weeks of nights and days spent trying to remember how it felt having his plump lips pressed onto yours, how he tasted, how warm his tongue was when it slunk into your mouth. None of those times you’d try to remember, none of those phantom feelings that would breeze through your body could ever amount to how it actually feels— it’s as if you’re seeing color for the first time.

It’s a fucking kiss, that’s for sure.

It’s long, and it takes you both a second to relearn the kinks and maneuvers you both favor, but then it’s as if time never passed between your bodies— you’re moving like one unit, like every second of your lives has built up to this moment.

Unfortunately, air is a necessity to living, so you’re pulling away sooner than you’d wanted to. Eddie’s other hand is digging into the cushion beneath you, and you can practically hear his thoughts spinning as he wills himself to pull back. You shiver as his fingers squeeze your thigh one last time before slipping away. 

“How's that for a kiss?”

Brown eyes with pools of liquid gold, you missed the searing pain it gave you each time you reached out and touched. You purse your lips, tasting him on your tongue as you tip your head in thought— menthol and whiskey. “Care to answer a few questions? Pick up on our game?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, breath tickling your nose as he snickers with a glint in his eyes. He studies you for a moment, like you might pull out and say never mind, but you only raise an eyebrow as you await an answer. “Your place or mine, honey?” He drawls.

You preen at the open door he’s lent you, “It’s your city, isn’t it?”

You don’t take the same car with Eddie to his place.

It’s not that you didn’t want to take the same car, but something about that look in Eddie’s eyes said that he absolutely wouldn’t be behaving on that car ride, and you immediately suggested separate vehicles. You’re unsure if you trust yourself to hold your promise in a confined space with Eddie… or maybe you don’t trust him… or— yeah, it’s both of you. Eddie wasn’t ecstatic about it, but you don’t care because you swear to god you aren’t going to fuck Eddie before you talk— like, really talk.

There are things that you both need to say, uncover, and express feelings about, and god forbid you get dicknotized before the words can come out correctly.

Eddie’s home is everything you thought it would be: chaotic in taste, lively, musical, whimsical, and all things that scream Eddie. The entryway is open and vast, with a clear view into the living room, where you can see a sunken living room build with guitars and papers strewn about. 

Eddie’s ushering you further into his home before you can look deeper into the entrance, but you don’t mind because his living area is like an artist's wet dream. There are comfy couches, red, cream, and colors alike, and there’s a rug in the middle that looks like a psychedelic trip of dark colors, and along one of the walls is a long shelf of endless records.

“I moved in like a year ago, so it’s not perfect, but… this is me,” Eddie says. You hadn’t been paying attention, but now that he walks into your line of vision, you can see his shoes are off, and his loose blouse is fully open. He looks like a fantasy; lean body dripped in expensive clothes and clinking jewelry, shoulders broad and sculpted beneath his wavy hair. Fuck.

You slip your shoes off and let your feet sink into his home's fluffy, deep red carpet, never once dropping your gaze from him as you walk over to the couch. “It’s beautiful, Eddie. It’s very you.”

You sink into his couch, turning so you can face him with your arms crossed over the back of the sofa as you watch him pick a record and set it up. Through the surround system of his home, the familiar riff to Tommy Bolin’s Shake The Devil rings. You watch Eddie sink a hand into his hair, shaking out his messy curls before pausing. The guitar is loud and you’re leaning forward when he snaps his head to dramatically look over his shoulder. You stifle a laugh, intrigued to see where he’s going with this— and you hate to admit that you begin enjoying the show when he turns around, fingers crafted and messily playing an air guitar to the track.

His stomach and chest flex with each of his moves, the buckle and button to his jeans open to flash you a dangerously low view of his happy trail leading to sinful places. He’s walking sex; head tilted back as he shreds the imaginary guitar, hips moving with the song as he walks toward you. He sinks to his knees in front of you, and with his living room being sunken and him still being on the higher level, you’re just in line with the view of his spread legs, crotch on full display. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he gazes at you, switching to air drums before the words kick in. You can’t hide the smile that graces your lips as he dramatically sings along, leaning forward until his face is just inches in front of yours, ringed fingers reaching to cup your face. Standing face to face with the devil, huh?

Your hands have a mind of their own apparently because they reach out and coast up Eddie’s jean-clad thighs, nails scratching up against the material until your fingers hook into the belt loops of his jeans. You lean forward on your knees, sharing a breath with the pretty boy, and you smile. Eddie groans low in his throat, the breakdown of the song blasting in both your ears and your heart racing. His teeth dig into his lips like he’s trying to physically hold himself back, and you softly laugh. “Laughin’ at my misery?” He asks.

You shrug, “Maybe. You look fuckin’ hot.”

Eddie groans again, eyes rolling back into his head before he dives forward, nuzzling his face into your neck and faking a bite as you squeal. “Can’t say shit like that to me, princess. Wanna fuck the shit out of you.” His teeth drag against your pulse, and you squirm with a louder squeal, causing him to tumble forward, collapsing onto the couch with you, and your limbs mix like one big painting as he dramatically grunts on impact. He shifts until he’s laid on his back, head resting in your lap as he peers up at you.

“You staying the night?” He asks.

You snort, brushing a strand of hair from his face, “Didn’t I tell you we’re not having sex?” You remind him. Eddie huffs and digs his head into your lap as he shuffles in his spot, “Did I ask for sex just now?” He challenges. You raise an unconvinced eyebrow, “So, you want me to spend the night just to spend the night?”

Eddie’s eyes gleam as he looks up at you, “It’s been my dream.”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him off you with a huff, “Get me a drink, and I’ll think about it?”

Eddie hops up as if second nature, padding over to the stereo and turning it down just enough to hear you as he talks over his shoulder, “Sure thing, honey; what would you like?”

Honey, honey, honey.

You want to drown in it.

You’re not listening as Eddie lists off the drinks he has, busy swirling in sticky, sweet, golden lakes and admiring the shift of Eddie’s hips and ass beneath his jeans. “Surprise me.” You respond.

“Copy that, madam.”

He doesn’t go far because there’s a built-in bar on the other side of the room, so you have the perfect view of him working his magic, mixing liquor and dropping ice cubes into a crystal glass. When he finishes making your drink, he turns and walks over to you with this glint in his eyes, and you feel your body heat under his gaze. “This one's on the house,” He says with a wink, handing you the drink. You thank him, taking the glass as he sits back onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions and watching you gently sip before pulling a sour face.

He laughs, “Too strong?” He asks. You grimace with a shake of your head, smacking your lips, “No, no, it’s good. Thank you.”

Your legs are kicked up on the couch, and Eddie finds his fingers slinking around your bare ankle, gently squeezing, “Want something comfy?” He asks.

God, he’s relentless.

You laugh, “You really want me to stay,” You tease. Eddie sinks like he’s letting all inhibitions go as he answers, “Desperately.”

He can tell you’re cracking, and you have to hide your grin behind the glass as you shake your head in disbelief at yourself, “Fine. Go, before I change my mind.”

And Eddie’s sprinting up, holding his jeans up from falling as he jogs up the stairs with a happy cheer.

A half-hour passes, and you find yourself sitting on Eddie’s comfy living room floor, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt of his because, in Eddie’s words, ‘there’s no need for pants in a home setting, sweetheart.’ You think he just wants easy access and an eyeful of your bare legs.

Eddie’s licking up the crease of a blunt and your body is warm with whiskey and the shrill of a jazzy melody from the radio. He’s so pretty, leaned over the glass coffee table, bare shoulders flexing, curly hair draping as a curtain as he works. He clicks his tongue when he’s done, and you raise an eyebrow, pressing your bare toes into his thigh when he scoots closer. “Up for a smoke?” He asks.

You don’t smoke much, not that you don’t enjoy a nice high, but you find yourself more appreciative of your highs when they’re spaced out and random. You nod, and Eddie grins, “Atta girl. Here, honorary first hit,” He passes the blunt to you, and you snicker, grasping it between two fingers and holding it up to your lips. Eddie helps you with a lighter, leaning forward to burn the end of the paper, and you take one good drag before pulling the bunt away, rolling the smoke into your lungs to settle as best as you can handle before you sputter out in a small coughing fit.

Your eyes water, and Eddie grins as you pass it to him, leaning forward to kiss your temple, “That was good, baby.”

You watch as he takes a hit of his own, huffing out a few coughs of his own, and jesus christ, why do rockstars always smoke devious shit? It’s strong, whatever Eddie has you smoking, and it only takes you three hits before you already feel a buzz coming, and Eddie looks so pretty with low eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Ready to play our game?” He rasps out.

“Mm.” You agree, reaching out to take another hit.

“Did you listen to the albums?”

I can't destroy what isn't there

Deliver me into my fate

If I'm alone I cannot hate

I don't deserve to have you

Oh my smile was taken long ago

If I can change I hope I never know

God, did you listen to the albums? Sure, you have it ingrained into your fucking mind, and it burns.

You smile, slowly blinking because, of course, that’s Eddie’s first question. You breathe out clouds of fairy dust as you speak, “Yes, I did. Did you read the magazine?” You ask.

Eddie nods, leaning back against the couch, extending his legs out as he eyes you, “I did. Which song did you like best?”

“Mm, the one with the drums.” You smile.

Eddie laughs, and you pass the blunt back to him before leaning back on the opposite couch, toes almost touching when you extend your legs across the carpet. “You’re a kiss-up, you know that?” He gestures to you, to which you only shrug.

Eddie crawls across the living room, and you fight the urge to reach out and thread your fingers through his hair as he plops himself right next to you, leaning against the couch as well. Your thighs are touching, and you can feel the warmth of him, and the smell of weed is wafting through the air, and you just want to nuzzle into Eddie’s chest and never leave.

“Miss me?” You teasingly ask. You can hear the slight smile in Eddie’s voice as he responds, “Negative. You?”

You snort, “Negative.”

You shuffle to lean against Eddie, and he can’t seem to help it when he reaches out to push your hair back gently. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?” You ask.

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch in confusion, no doubt lost by what you mean, considering he already has his lifetime job figured out, “What do you mean?”

You sigh, wriggling as you fight the urge to wrap your body around him, “I mean,” You shrug, “Well, you’re not gonna do this forever, right? Like, at some point, you’re going to have to throw in the towel, age, and whatnot,” You dismissively wave, “What will you do then?”

Eddie pauses and thinks for a moment, and if you couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you would think he vanished into thin air. “I, uh…. Well, you’ll think it’s stupid.” He mumbles.

You frown, turning your head to look at him, “I won’t. Tell me. Please?”

He looks at you with these soft, fond eyes before nodding, “I wanna start a music school in Hawkins— maybe, like, a creative arts school, you know, something for the weirdos. Not just music geeks.” He admits. His tone is so soft, maybe the softest you’ve ever heard, and he’s fiddling with his rings like he’s nervous, and it’s the cutest sight you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not really celebrated there. Creativity, I mean.” He adds.

You stay quiet, allowing him to speak, “Everybody just lives to work dead-end jobs. Being creative is like… a sin or something, I don’t know. I just want to give the kids somewhere where they’ll feel… safe. Seen. Something I never got for myself.”

It’s… it’s fucking brilliant. It’s so brilliant it makes your chest ache, and you decide that you would do just about anything to make sure Eddie’s dreams of a music school come true.

“I told you it’s stupid. No one ever thinks it’s good.” He mumbles after a moment with your silence. You frown and shake your head, sitting up straight to look at him. “No. No, Eddie, it’s amazing…It’s fucking amazing, and you should do it. You have to do it.”

“You’re just playing nice.”

“No, seriously. Fuck whoever said it wasn’t a good idea, it’s brilliant.” You press on, and you want to lean in and pepper kisses all over his face because— seriously, who the fuck told him it was a shitty idea?

“I grew up in a small town too, and— shit, it was not fun wanting to be something other than a nurse or a teacher. Got a lot of shit trying to ‘reach for the stars’,” You huff out a laugh. Eddie’s eyes are so gentle as they gaze at you that you almost melt. “I would’ve appreciated something like that. Munson’s School of Arts.”

Eddie snorts at that, pink lacing with yours as a smile spreads across your lips, “Not bad actually, I might name it that.”

It’s a back and forth of that for a while, silly questions amongst genuine ones until you find yourselves sat next to each other, arms pressed together, bodies yearning to wrap around each other as you fiddle with the strings of Eddie’s carpet. And there’s something, you know. Eddie feels something that he’s not telling you, and it’s killing you because it’s what you need to hear before you take the plunge. “Are you angry with me?” You softly ask.

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, and the blunt was snuffed out a while ago, so he’s not taking a drag but instead just stalling. “I mean,” he pauses, “I already told you, Birdie. What’s the point in going back on it?”

You frown, glancing at him, “Because I want you to tell me how you feel, Eddie.” You respond.

Eddie’s silent again for a longer moment, and you want to whine when he shifts away to sit in front of you. He folds his legs up, resting his elbows over his knees as he sits face to face with you, “Do you want me to be angry with you?” He steadily asks.

Your blink, “I— no?” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, “Honestly, a little bit, yes. It’s okay to be angry with me, Eddie; that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Eddie’s demeanor is unwavering as he blinks at you, but his tone is accusing, “Do you want me to be angry with you so you can feel justified?”

And, ouch.

That’s not the truth at all. Or maybe it’s some truth, but in your true feelings, that’s not what you mean. It’s only a fleeting thought because you’re human, after all, right?

“That’s not fair,” You frown with a small shake of your head. Eddie raises another eyebrow, and you tilt your head, “I’m only trying to be as transparent as possible, Eddie. That was the main issue.” You remind him.

Eddie turns to the coffee table, grabs your forgotten glass of Jack Daniels, and takes a swig for himself. “You wouldn’t tell me how you felt, and I was always left in the dark.” You say.

“And I’m telling you right now that I’m not angry.” He’s teetering on the edge of irritated now, and you tilt your head. “I listened to the album, Eddie. I listened to the song; you’re seriously gonna tell me you’re not angry?” 

Eddie can only glance at you then, and your frown deepens. “That’s… different.”

“How, Eddie? It’s about me—” “Yeah, because you fucking walked out on me on closing night,” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to feel?”

Your chest tightens as you look into the eyes of your dreams, lyrics swirling in your mind because you’ve fucking memorized every word. You listened to it until you felt sick, dizzy with a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs.

You sold me out to save yourself

And I won't listen to your shame

You ran away, you're all the same

Angels lie to keep control

Your chest aches when the lyrics echo in your mind.

“I just want you to be honest with me. If I made you feel that way—” “No, that’s not—” Eddie shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, and cringes like it's painful. “That’s not it at all— fuck.” He puts the glass down and scoots back over to you; knees pressed into the fluffy carpet beside your thighs as he leans in and cups your face, eyes darting over your pretty features. “I was angry, and I was a shithead, and I had people talking in my ear and— shit. Please don’t think you ever blame yourself for that, please.”

Your fingers are cold, but Eddie’s wrists are warm beneath your fingertips as you frown up at him, “Just tell me how far out you are, Eds.”

Eddie looks at you with soft eyes, a callused thumb running under the delicate skin beneath your eye. He leans forward, pressing his lips against your forehead, and you preen, nuzzling forward and sinking into his warmth and scent that you’ve missed for so long.

“Not far,” He responds, lips brushing over your skin. “You?”

You hum, body reeling as Eddie slinks his arms around you, “Not far.”

Forty minutes and another blunt later, and Eddie’s floating in the fucking sky.

Eddie can’t believe it really, having you in front of him, next to him, limbs pressed to limbs with your laugh ringing in his ears— Eddie thinks this is some sick, realistic dream.

It’s tender, the space you’ve both created. You’re both fragile and reactive in the best way, like a healing exposed nerve, and Eddie will be forever in your debt for how patient you are with him. He’s not good at talking about real shit, but he’s trying to fix that, and you make it easier because you push him in the way he needs to be— you encourage him to say what he feels even if he’s afraid he might end up shooting himself in the foot and chasing you away again because— ‘It’s the only way things will get better.’

But you’ve always been patient. You were patient six months ago, and you’re patient now. You know exactly what you want, and you’re firm in what you say and feel, and it makes Eddie feel safe.

He’s never had this kind of thing— he’s never had a relationship where someone talks and leaves room for him to speak as well— two-way communication or whatever the fuck Robin says. It’s different, and it’s good, and Eddie thinks he must have shit taste if it’s taken him this long to realize it.

Chrissy never really cared for what Eddie wanted or preferred, or how something she did would make him feel. Eddie, at the time, didn’t think much of it and was more than happy to ride along with her ‘low maintenance’ nature, but it only cut him off from growth more than anything.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore because Chrissy is in the past, and you— you’re so pretty standing on Eddie’s couch in just his shirt with a blunt hanging between your fingers. You’ve just returned from changing the record— Surrealistic Pillow; Eddie knew the second you dropped the needle and watched you spin around with a shit-eating grin. 

“Hippie shit,” Eddie mutters as you hop down from his couch. Your eyes narrow, “Hey,” you nudge your foot against his thigh, “Don’t be an asshole. It was on your shelf anyway.”

Eddie slinks his hand around your calf, blinking up at you as you stand over him. You reach down, the burning blunt standing between your fingers, and Eddie happily parts his lips to let you slip the tip in. Burning sativa licks up the sides of Eddie’s brain, and he melts when your other hand sinks into his hair, gently pressing his bangs back as his eyes flutter. You hum, and Eddie’s lips tip into a smile as the smoke churns in his chest. Your knuckles curl into his roots, and Eddie could fucking cum right now, no questions asked.

He’s harder than a rock, and he’s not ashamed when he sinks his hand down the open fly on his jeans to palm himself, lowly groaning as he tips his head up, playfully blowing clouds of smoke up your shirt and grinning when you squeal. He chuckles, hand slinking further up your leg to grip the fat of your thigh as he tilts his head to nip his teeth at the inside of your knee.

He turns to let his chin rest on your thigh, blinking up at you with hazy eyes, “Let me in, baby.” He pleads.

You sink to your knees until you’re face to face, and Eddie’s hands glide under your shirt, warm and itching to explore as he feels the flutter of your lungs beneath his fingertips. “No funny business, Munson.” You remind him, swatting him away when his fingers prod at the cup of your bra. Eddie grins, brain fuzzy and warm, and he can’t stop himself from leaning forward and planting a quick kiss against your lips.

“I have something for you.” He says. Your eyebrows raise, and Eddie smiles, standing up with a grunt and shaking out his stiff limbs. “Don’t move,” He points to you before padding off.

The gift Eddie has for you has been with him since the fourth week he knew you. He’s been holding onto it for so long because he’s been a coward and didn’t know how to form the words ‘I’m sorry’ with his tongue— but now, Eddie’s riding on a high, and he needs you and wants you all the time and there’s no better time than now, right?

He’s holding the gift behind his back when he steps into the living room, and he smiles at the sight of you laid out on his floor, eyes closed as you sink into the music. You’re on cloud nine, Eddie can tell.

He drops to his knees over you, pressing his free hand into the floor beside your head, and his hair creates a curtain over you when you look up at him. “You look… tempting, to say the least.”

Your eyes playfully narrow at Eddie, and you squirm beneath him, “What’re you hiding behind your back?”

There are tears in your eyes as you blink down at the gift in your hands, and you know Eddie must think you’re insane for crying over a book— a journal at that. It’s a pale yellow colored leather, with two leather straps that are tied into a neat bow, and in the corner, your name is stamped in tiny cursive gold letters— your real name. 

It’s a replica of your old journal, the one that had gotten ruined when you tore the pages out to prove a point. But you don’t understand— “How did you get this?” You ask in a soft voice.

Eddie grins, reaching out to thumb at your bottom lip, eyes soft as he watches your eyes dance over the journal. “Called in a favor from Michigan.” He jokingly says. Your chest aches, and you frown when you look up at him, fingers tight around the binding of your gift, “You talked to him?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah. Got a lot of shit from him first, I’ll tell you that,” He pauses and scratches at the back of his neck, “He told me he hates my music.”

You laugh at that, body warm with adoration because, yeah, that sounds like your grandfather. You sniffle, wiping under your eyes, “How did you know?” You ask.

Eddie shrugs as he sits next to you, “The cover of your journal had his name on it, so I kind of pieced it together since you share a last name.”

You don’t know what to think, what to say. It’s the kindest thing Eddie (or anyone) has ever done for you. Your grandfather had been in the business of handmaking journals for as long as you can remember; he was part of the reason why you took such a liking to journalism. He had a brief history in journalism himself, and he would sit and go through his best works with you when you struggled to fall asleep— he helped you see the world through the lens of an artist, and you never looked back.

You’re elated as you run your hands over the pages, imagining what the phone call between Eddie and your grandfather was like. You wish you could’ve been there to hear it; you wish you could’ve brought Eddie to meet him in person because even though your grandfather acted tough and mighty, he had the softest heart you’ve ever known, and he would’ve adored Eddie.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you put the journal on the coffee table. You huff, turning to clamber onto Eddie’s lap, glaring at him as your hands dig into his shoulders, “I hate you so much.”

Eddie grins at you, and you drop your head to his chest, snuggling further into him when he wraps his arms around you. You grumble against his chest, turning your head to speak, “You’re making it so hard.” You complain.

You feel the rumble of Eddie’s voice in his chest as he hums, “Hm?”

Eddie shifts beneath you, and you sigh, turning your head up to nuzzle against the base of his throat. Your teeth drag across his skin, red lines left in their wake before you let your tongue coast up his pulsing vein, mouth kissing and suckling at what you can reach— and Eddie whimpers.

“You know…It’s past midnight.”

“Fffuck–”

Eddie’s dead.

He’s gone. Six feet under. In the next life, body turned back to dust, never coming back, dead. This must be the seventh circle of heaven— is that a thing? Or is that only hell?

Either way, Eddie’s on an entirely different plane of heaven as you press your body against his, knees tightening around his waist as he pulls you close and smears his lips against yours. He can feel the heat of your core through his pants, and his hips have a mind of their own when they buck up into you.

Your fingers are blind and eager when they wriggle through the tight space between you and Eddie, but it sends shivers up Eddie’s spine when you drag your nails down the soft skin of his lower pelvis.

Eddie’s lips part against yours, and he’s licking into your mouth, tongue flicking at your top lip as you shakily moan. “What happened to no sex tonight?” He lowly teases. His hands sink beneath your shit, squeezing at your hips and guiding the roll of your hips.

“Shut up, Eddie.” You whine, fingertips digging into his shoulders when he rubs against your covered clit. Eddie smiles, watching as your face twists in pleasure, and his chest nearly bursts because you’re so fucking pretty.

“You want me?” He asks.

Your lips twitch into a smile, and your hands slide down his arms to rest over his wrists that flex as they work you back and forth over his crotch. “Yeah,” You breathe, tipping your head down to hover your lips over Eddie’s, “I do. I want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s tongue runs over his lips, and he catches your bottom lip, and you lick out to catch his tongue before pressing your lips together. Eddie uses one hand to cup your face, “You’re not curious where my dick’s been while we were apart?” He teases.

And if you weren’t practically humping Eddie right now and thinking straight, you probably would’ve choked Eddie out or something— but you only mewl and grind down harder. “Not funny.”

Eddie hums, fingers dancing across the band of your panties before dipping past the barrier. He feels like a pirate who’s finally found the hidden treasure, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to ground himself because, Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking wet.

His cock feels strangled and achy in his jeans, and he imagines how good it’ll feel to sink his cock into you as he swirls a gentle finger around your entrance. “For the record,” He drawls, watching your lips part when he dips his finger into you, “It’s been nowhere. My dick, I mean.”

You breathlessly laugh, hips wriggling, your pussy eager for more. “Been beating it with my fist for the last six months, so. Just want you to know— it’s only you, baby.”

You mewl, leaning forward to press your forehead against Eddie’s as you grind against him, shivering when he finally sinks a finger into you, drawing out to circle your clit with sticky arousal before sinking back in with two fingers.

You’re sharing each breath, taking each other in and out; Eddie watches with low eyes as your face twists in pleasure.

“Take it off,” He grumbles, “Take your shirt off.”

You’re moving like it’s second nature. Shaky hands reaching down to loop around the loose shirt, dragging it up and over your body— and Eddie’s head tips back with a groan. “Jesus fuck,” He curses, one hand busy working you as the other reaches down to palm your breast, “When did you take your bra off, you fuckin’ minx?”

You whimper against Eddie’s lips when he kisses you, the force of his eagerness pushing you back. Eddie keeps pressing you back, shuffling and moving around so he can press you down onto your back and hover over you. “Wanna taste you. Let me taste you.” He begs.

You shake your head, lips messily smearing against his, “No. No, you said—” god, Eddie can’t stop fucking kissing you, “You said you’ll let me have you next time, Eds.” You whine.

Fuck, you’re so fucking cute. You’re a goddamn dream pouting up at Eddie, grinding against his fingers as he ticks them up against your walls. “Yeah? You want me?” Eddie breathlessly asks. Your lips are pouty and swollen as you nod, “Already told you I did.” You say.

It takes everything in Eddie to pull away from you, and he thinks he’s gonna marry you when you reach out for him. Thinks he wants to just whisk you away and live on the side of a secluded mountain or some shit. Thinks he wants you to be the mother of his kids when you smile up at him as he rises to his feet, gazing down at you over the apple of his cheeks as he removes his jeans. You’re so pretty, hair spread out beneath you, tits on full display, tummy fluttering with each drag and push of your breaths. You’re lightly dragging the tip of your finger down your stomach, a teasing glint in your eyes as Eddie throws his hair into the shittest bun known to man, and fuck, you’re dipping your hand between your thighs.

Yeah. This is heaven, and you’re god.

Eddie thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life on his knees worshipping you.

Eddie’s body is warm when he crawls back over you, his body now bare, save for the chains that dangle from his neck. One cross, one guitar pick, one pentagram. They’re cold when they drag up the valley of your chest, and your body perks up with chills.

You slink your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, titling your head up to kiss him as your fingers curl into his messily tied hair. “Give me what I want, Eds.” You softly say against his lips. “Fuck my mouth, please.”

Eddie curses, rutting his cock against the inside of your thigh, and he nods, “Yeah. Fuck. Okay, yeah. Just lay here and look pretty, baby.”

The lasting effects of the three blunts you’d shared with Eddie are swirling through your body, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine as Eddie straddles your hips. He’s the prettiest sight to ever reach your eyes, toned arms, and chest working in tandem as he reaches down to wrap a fist around his cock— and god; you forgot how pretty his cock was. The tip is ruddy and flushed, and your core twists when he angles himself up, and you see the piercing beneath his tip. You definitely hadn’t forgotten about that little detail these past months.

Eddie’s chest is rising and falling quickly and stray pieces of hair cling to his lips when he licks them. You watch with wide, eager eyes as Eddie strokes himself, ringed fingers running against the soft skin of his shaft, pretty hisses curling through his teeth when he thumbs the slit of his tip.

“Quit teasing,” You whine, squirming beneath him. Eddie grins, breathlessly panting as he looks at you, “So impatient.” He mumbles, shifting further up your body until the inside of his thighs press against the side of your tits. You can feel the cool drag of his rings against your sternum, and it sends licks of fire through your core. “My baby’s so impatient, hm?” He taps his cock against your chest, and your frown, fingers digging into his thighs.

“Lucky you’re cute.”

Eddie’s then shuffling and moving around so you’re both comfortably positioned as he kneels over your face, pretty cock glistening above your lips. You open your mouth and let your tongue hang out, ready for Eddie to feed his cock to you, and he chuckles, tapping his swollen tip against your tongue before dragging it to tease you. 

It’s good. It’s so good. The taste of him, the feel of him, the pretty noises he makes. You can feel the cold barbell dragging across your tongue with each slow thrust he gives you, and you can’t wait to feel it inside you again. You’ve been dreaming about it for weeks on end now.

He pulls out with a slick pop, tapping his tip against your lips as he hums, “Ready? Gonna give you what you want now.”

You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

He’s thrusting in and out of your mouth at a mind-numbing and thigh-clenching rate for just under five minutes before he starts to break. You can feel it in the stutter of his hips, the twitch of his cock on your tongue, the shuddered moans and grunts. You reach up to drag your nails down the soft skin of his stomach, and Eddie whimpers for the second time, and you think it might be your favorite sound— you want more.

He’s pulling out with a curse, squeezing at his tip, and you’re such a fucking tease; you lean forward to kitten lick at his aching tip and hum when he hisses. He shuffles back just enough to lean forward and press a messy kiss to your lips, humming at the taste of himself on your tongue.

“Fuck me, Eddie. Please. Want it so bad it hurts.”

“Jesus fuck— turn around.”

You’re shaking, and Eddie’s touch feels like fire as he helps you flip over to lean on all fours. His hands coast up your back and into your hair, and you push your body back into him, ass pressing against his wet cock as you moan when his fingers curl into your hair.

His other hand smooths over your ass, heavily slapping it once before gripping the warm skin as he speaks beside your ear, “Wanna fuck your ass one day, hm? Gonna let me? Say you’ll let me.” “Oh my god,” You roll your eyes with a smile, tipping your head to the side when Eddie kisses your neck before nipping at your ear. You can feel the curve of his smile against your skin, and it makes your chest flutter as he pulls you up to press your back against his chest.

He’s reaching down between you to grasp his cock and paint it against your wet cunt, and you lose your breath. “Come on. Say you’ll let me fuck your pretty ass.” He practically begs.

You moan when he slips his head in, teasing you with what he knows you want. Your head rolls back to rest against his shoulder, and he hums, slinking his other hand up to cup your throat as he continues teasing himself in and out of your pussy.

You smile, lazy and high and blissed out, “No.”

Eddie groans at that, fingers tightening around your throat as he sinks in deeper. “Not even a finger?”

You push your fingers through his hair, his curly strands nothing but a tangled mess within his hair tie. Your legs tremble as you wriggle back into him, but your voice is steady as you speak, “Fuck me first, and maybe I’ll think about it.”

Eddie takes that as a challenge, apparently, because next thing you know, he’s slamming into you and pressing in to the fucking hilt— all big and pierced and toe curling to the point where your moans turn flat, and all you can do is lace your fingers through his that rest on your hip and hold on for dear fucking life.

He’s pressing you face-first into the carpet, making sure your cheek rests against the couch pillow that had been thrown aside earlier. His fingers are clenched around yours, digging into your hip as you whine and moan into his floor, sobbing out his name with each groundbreaking thrust he gives you.

It’s all-consuming; the way Eddie’s fucking you, the filthy words slipping from his mouth, the lingering effects of weed— god, you feel like an exploding star.

Supernova shit or something like that.

Eddie’s cursing and spilling dirty words of encouragement when you come, leaning over to press his chest against your back and coo into your ear.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Keep squeezing me like that, baby. You’re so good.”

“Y’sound so pretty when you’re coming on my cock.”

You’re breathless and quivering, and a pitiful whine slips from you when Eddie pulls out, but you can feel him as he wraps his hand around his cock and finishes off, pretty moans pressed into the skin on the back of your neck. The feeling of his sticky release dripping onto your ass makes you want to go at it again already.

He’s peppering kisses across your neck and shoulders, and your body slumps onto the ground in exhaustion, but you smile when he presses his lips to yours.

“So, was that good enough? Have I been granted access to the holy grail?”

You glare at Eddie from where his chin is hooked over your shoulder. He raises a suggestive eyebrow, and you huff. “I’ll tell you what,” You start, shifting and purposely rubbing your ass back against his sensitive cock, smiling when he hisses.

“Make up for the last six months first, and I might be able to cut you a deal.”

“Now you’re just stringing me along.”

You hum, “Oh, like you did with me some months ago?”

Eddie pauses at that, eyes narrowing at you, and you think— fuck, maybe that was too soon. But then a smile cracks across his face, “Touché.”

He sighs and sits up, peeling himself from your sticky skin before gently patting your hip. “Ass up, baby. Got a lot of making up to do, and we’re on a tight schedule.”

And you think to yourself, with the scent of Eddie whirling around you and his touch all over you and his pretty voice in your ear, that yeah, you can work through this together. Even if the process will tear you to shreds all over again.

After all, that’s the price of falling for a rockstar, isn’t it?

————

the end.

————

a/n: HOLY SHIT GUYS

if you've made it to the end of this long-winded (and incredibly late, I'm so sorry) ending to this story i can not thank you enough. these two have been so fun to write and i don't plan to leave them completely in the dust so they're not gone forever, but thank you so much to everyone who read and shared and commented. this story has allowed me to meet the most beautiful, kind, funny, and loving people I've ever had the pleasure of talking to and that will be my biggest takeaway from this journey🥹

the biggest thank yous to my pretty mutuals who have been here the whole way, ilysm and want to shrink you guys and put you in my pocket <3

anyway, i'll shut up now, i hope i was able to do these two justice with their ending!! i love and appreciate all kinds of feedback, and as always, thank you for reading, ily <3

————

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@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn

@mossiswriting @kellsck @joannamuns9n @siriuslysmoking @mysteris-things @amazingori @honey-eyed-munson @saintlike78 @eddieslooneymoonie @alexa4040 @yujyujj

[tears-of-boredom]

okay The Hustle is like actually a pretty cute movie, like it fr left me a smile on my face. I can even endure the annoying pop song of the credits for it. also, that is another white boy. slightly different breed but like, same genus still if you catch my drift. but i think i missed the comedy part? like I was very doubtful of the movie at first because it was a comedy and i don't usually really like them tbh, but I like, did not notice any joke in this?? like I know that there were some, but i guess i just thought myself a bit more perceptive. anne hathaway's accent stuck for me apparently. was the part with penny in jail supposed to be comedy? i guess i just dont know what a normal reaction to comedy is. I also watched the first episode of the first season of doctor who, and this is related because I laughed so hard when it was confirmed that the london eye was the like transmitter. not because of the actual joke they did, but because it was literally the first thing i thought of when the doctor gave the description. it was really funny to me that it was literally like one of the top 5 tourist attractions. and also it was funny that they both needed to see the ferris wheel to realise that it's even a possibility. like, london + big circle? you should think about the eye of london immideatly, and then keep thinking of other answers because why the fuck would it be that simple. and I genuinely laughed at that. but then like, i just kind of,, enjoyed the vibe of The Hustle. like there was no part where i laughed, or thought "thats funny". instead i just really enjoyed how light and silly the vibe of the movie was. though, you know, my eat the rich senses were going off the whole time with anna's character, so I didnt enjoy her that much. like, I know that people will just see a girlboss and like her because she "slays", but honestly i never get those things. rich people should be slayed, regardless of whether they slay or not. especially if theyre not even like nice people.

like, I just...I guess she gets a bit of sway with me because she seems to just rob other rich people, but still. whats it matter when she seemingly just hoards the money anyways.

sorry i am like especially on my communist bullshit rn because i personally dont have much money, and that makes me feel really anxious. i could handle it if it was just my own expenses i needed to consider, because like i can handle starving myself a bit if it comes to that, but i live in a household. and I feel really fucking guilty just living here for free. so i feel the need to cover some expenses of others when I can, although i do not need to. but now i cant do that. also I am trying to wait out the deadline of my birthday, when a medical thing i want(need) will be free.

i just fucking hate rich people ya know. oh look at me i bought this car that uses gas that has methane gas in it aren't i so cool.

why are rich people, of all people, always pushing for poor people to invest for later profits. invest 40 years of your life to 24/7 work and maybe youll be able to buy a house, easy as that! and then the same rich people are literally living every day like its their last. what are they investing in when they support oil companies? they are literally living in the moment so hard that they do not care of the "whole fucking planet actively dying" thing.

i hate hypocrites. and rich people. if I was allowed to kill every billionaire(and millionaire), on the condition that i had to literally eat them, i would leave no fucking crumbs. and I would get on some drugs to deal with whatever the side effects of cannibalism were.

wait wasn't this post about the hustle. well, you know. movies about crime are always bound to unleash my red rage. also I'm joking about me being a communist, kind of at least. because i dont know what the like, official ideals of communism are. but its just like a thing of, if someone doesnt like it when I call myself a commi, i probably wouldnt like them anyway. you have to at least be able to joke about being a communist. and I guess this works for facism too, in the way where if you joke about being a nazi, i will not like you. cus acting like a racist "as a joke" isnt really funny.

anyways I am sorry. im tired. and the whole day ive been thinking about how i want to read fanfics. and also how i want it to rain properly. and I know that I could just read the fanfics, there's nothing really stopping me,, but I guess I just dont want to be dissapointed again. the scenes and athmospheres ive been imagining in my head will always be better than any fanfic writer can create. im sorry, I genuinely am tired. i dont know whats up with me, cuz i literally woke up at noon. like I hope it isnt anything long term thats making me so tired.

[margowritesthings]

Ghosts and Smoke

*i wrote this with this song in mind, so please feel free to listen for extra vibes!*

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 2791

warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE END OF RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2, angst, death, smoking, suggested post-sex scene

a/n: y'all i am GONE. it killed me. the end of red dead killed me and all i've done since is cry and write this damn angst. i'm sorry, but i'm also not. hope you enjoy!! also, thank you for all the love on my latest piece! im so glad youre as into this silly cowboy man as much as i am rn.

It was so quiet. You were used to the quiet lately, going it alone, but not here. Not Shady Belle, which was always full of laughter and fire and swearing and gunshots. The leaves rustled and your broken heart beat every so often but other than that, there was nothing. No laughter, no fire, nothing. You’d hitched your horse about a mile away, careful to keep her hidden well, so you were well and truly alone here. 

You looked up at the house, still somehow standing tall amongst the ghosts and smoke and tried your best to take a deep breath. It was about 30 paces away from you, past the campfire, your old tent and the fountain. A twig snapped under your boot as you took the first step, fingernails digging little moons into the palm of your hand. You could do this. Just past the campfire and you’d be halfway there.

═══════☆═══════

“What’re you always lookin’ at when I do this, huh?” Arthur asked, meeting your eye and wearing that amused smirk that suited him so well, sending your heart fluttering each and every time. 

That awful feeling people only get when they realise the other knows you’ve been watching them churned your stomach for a second. Honestly, you hadn’t even realised you were staring. 

“Nothin’. I just… my daddy used to smoke those things. He always tried to teach me to roll them for him and I never could. You seem so good at it.”

Sat around the fire with some of the camp, Arthur had been rolling some tobacco into a cigarette. You always found yourself watching him, finding the way his fingers expertly knew what they were doing somewhat hypnotising. And then there was that moment his tongue darted out from his teeth to lick the paper, which was… a sight to behold, to say the least. 

“I’ve got years of experience… I can teach ya sometime, if you’d like.” 

The opportunity to spend more time with Arthur dangled in front of you, shining like a medal. You reached out and grabbed it, nodding at him eagerly, “I’ll warn ya, my daddy tried real hard. I’m a difficult student.” 

Arthur’s head tilted, a cocky grin dominating his features beautifully before he pulled the masterfully rolled cigarette to his lips and licked down the length of the paper. You tried to remain composed while the air was stolen by an outlaw straight from your lungs. 

“I guess I’ll just have t’work you real hard then, won’t I?”

═══════☆═══════

The camp always smelled like smoke, so the fresh air felt wrong as you stepped past the plot that was formerly the fire you’d spent so many nights beside. The logs and stumps repurposed into chairs still sat around the burnt blackened circle, waiting for people who would never again be together. 

You kept walking, jaw clenched so hard your teeth ached. Your old tent caught your eye, at least what was left of it, singed and ripped canvas still hanging pathetically, tangled in a branch. In and amongst the ruins of your former home, your eye is caught by a piece of metal catching the dappled sunlight above. Kneeling down briefly, you pushed damp soil and leaves out of the way to reveal a metal cup trodden into the ground. For a silly little cup, it hurt far too much.

═══════☆═══════

“God damn it!” You swore, watching the tobacco scatter across your legs. Arthur chuckled, low and throaty, leaning against the tree your tent was hung around and taking a long, leisurely sip of coffee out of his cup. Gathering the tiny leaves back together on your skirts, you scowled at Arthur before starting to load the paper back up again.

“You gotta loosen up. Your fingers are too stiff.” He advised, watching his student intently. Easier said than done, really, hunched over a lantern in a tent, but you didn’t want to sound like you were making excuses. 

“Right, yeah... Got it.” You mumbled, your tongue poking out between your teeth, a sure sign of absolute concentration. It was all in vain, though, as the paper crumpled at a funny angle and sent tobacco flying once more onto your person. 

“Shit!” You hissed, flexing out your hands in a futile attempt to 

“Alright, easy now…” he cooed, earning another glare when you realised you recognised the phrase and tone of voice from when a snake spooked Arthur’s horse.

“I give up. This is hopeless.” You tried to reach up to hand him the paper to roll his own damn cigarette and he stepped forwards towards you. Expecting him to take it, you were surprised when he instead handed you his mug and sat down right up next to you. You hadn’t been this close since he first rode you into camp and you felt so small flushed against his broad shoulders like this. 

“Hold that, warm your hands up and I’ll show you again.” You obeyed your orders, doing just as Arthur said as he rubbed his own hands together, occasionally blowing into them. Without another word, he covered your hands, sandwiching them in between calloused palms and heated metal. The unexpected contact knocks you pretty hard, but you somehow manage to find the composure to mutter a thank you and hope you weren’t blushing too hard. 

You looked up to Arthur, only to find he was already looking at you. When your eyes met properly, it felt as though someone had just lit a fire right beside you. The air felt… heavier? No, lighter. Both? You didn’t know and couldn’t quite seem to figure it out, feeling the fuzziness of 4 whiskies that you hadn’t actually drank.

All from the touch of a hand?

The moment was weighted now, and you both knew it. The quiet between you twisted and grew and almost became palpable, but you physically couldn’t talk, not knowing if any actual words would leave or lips or some incoherent murmurings.

“Here. Let me show you.” Arthur took his hands away and the lack of contact had you almost… pouting? You didn’t have time to examine why you were so disappointed, though, as Arthur sat behind you, his chest right up against your back. His legs pressed against the outside of you and you were worried that he was close enough to hear your heart, beating right out of your chest. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Y’have t’make sure you get it nice and tight, so the bottom doesn’t fall out…” His arms wrapped around yours and his hands cupped yours again. The contrast was stark, his tanned, hardened skin making your hands look even tinier. You couldn’t breathe, wedged between the smell of dried tobacco and coffee on one side and smoked tobacco and Arthur on the other. Your fingers so naturally followed what he was doing, and before you could even register it, you had a perfectly rolled cigarette in your hands.

“Oh shit! I did it!” You twisted slightly, only to see the excited grin on Arthur’s face as he watched you squeal proudly. He took the roll from you, placing it right between your teeth and pulling out a match. A questioning brow raised as he lit a match, suspending it in front of the cigarette until you nodded your permission and he lit it. You coughed. He laughed, chest still pressed firmly against your back.

“I’m real proud of you. Now y’gotta learn to smoke the damn things.”

═══════☆═══════

You left your first tent for the last time, vowing to never look back. Wet leaves clung to your boots, dragging across the floor past the crumbling fountain and some other tents being reclaimed by nature, muddy and covered in ivy. The final path up to the house was so familiar after so many hours watching it, waiting for your beloved to return from a job, wringing your hands with worry. The porch creaked as you stepped on it, the site of so many tear-filled reunions. The door was no longer on its hinges and fell with a bang at your touch, echoing out into the forest and sending the wildlife running. 

You were home. For the last time.

═══════☆═══════

“I’ve got a surprise for you-uuu.” you sang out, hands held behind your back as Arthur stepped the threshold into the abandoned manor. He looked tired, but still managed a sleepy smile as you reached up to kiss him on the cheek. He caught the kiss, snaking a hand around your waist and pulling you closer for a more tender moment. You hadn’t seen each other in 3 days, Arthur off near Strawberry following a lead, so being back encased in his arms felt like home had come back to you.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, gentle smile tugging on his lip, “A surprise? For me? Y’shouldn’t have, darlin’.” The humbleness that appeared whenever you tried to do something nice for Arthur reared its adorable head and you shook your head, one hand still pinned to your back, clutching your gift. 

“Close your eyes!”

“Alright, alright…” Arthur chuckled, holding his hands up in a mock surrender as he closed his eyes. You waved at him a few times, just to be sure, before pulling a single, wonky cigarette out from behind you and tapping Arhur on the chest.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. Nonetheless, his face lit up with pride as he realised what exactly it was that he was looking at.

“You did it?”“I did it!”

“Yes!” He was so excited for you, more so than you’d ever seen him and your heart swelled. This big, scary cowboy, pulling you into a hug and spinning you around because you finally managed to roll something smokeable.

“I’m so proud of you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and never told you that it fell apart before he had the chance to light the damn thing.

═══════☆═══════

The stairs groaned under your weight miserably, each step feeling more and more likely to collapse. It always was the loudest staircase you’d ever heard, impossibly difficult to sneak around on when trying not to let a whole camp know that you and Arthur were both going upstairs. Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you knew if you started now you’d never make it upstairs. You couldn’t break, because there was nobody left to put you back together.

Every step required a more laboured breath, splinters half-heartedly brushing your fingertips as you traced them over the rotting bannister. You were alone, but the ghosts ran up and down around you, laughing and teasing and smiling and kissing and loving and taunting just how alone you really were. 

A few more strides and you were there. His door was closed and for some reason that made it all that harder to breach the barrier and enter Arthur’s room. A shaky hand reached for the handle, twisting agonisingly slowly and pushing through.

Arthur always, always stole the breath from you, but it was always in the best way. Not like this, not how winded you felt seeing the empty, abandoned room. It was never exactly a palace, Arthur being the first to admit to that, but whenever you used to be there it had this… energy woven into the air. You realized, standing there in that moment, that it wasn’t the place at all. The place was… just that. A place, dying where it stood, rotting and filled with ghosts. The air was clean, but it couldn’t fill your lungs. You needed the fire, built by your soulmate, keeping you warm every night. You needed the cigarette smoke he breathed, tickling your lungs and coating his lip. But it was gone, stamped out and extinguished by God’s great plan. It hurt so much that you laughed, just once, harsh and loud, before your back fell into the wall of Arthur’s bedroom and you slid downwards, your legs finally giving in. Your lungs burned for the cry that just wouldn’t come as you pulled your languid legs towards your chest. 

You hugged your legs close for a second, before the exhaustion reached your arms and they dropped to your sides. One hand hit the damp wooden floorboard, where the other hit something much colder, the ring on your finger clanging against it loudly. The sudden break of agonising silence shocked you for a second, instinct and past trauma screaming at you that you were in a shootout, but you managed to calm down quickly as soon as you figured out the cause of such a volume. 

The floor fell out from under you. Not physically, though you wouldn’t have been surprised, but everything around you seemed to fall when you laid your eyes on the little metal box beside you, rust embellishing the corners and hinges.

Arthur’s tin.

═══════☆═══════

You felt the rise and fall of Arthur’s bare chest, your head resting on it as you tried to gain control of your own breath. The blood was still rushing in your ears as you came back down from the intense high what you’d just experienced with Arthur gave you. Limbs jelly, vision fuzzy, you pressed a lazy kiss to his skin. The fingers mindlessly running through your hair stopped, Arthur in a momentary contemplation that resulted in him reaching over and grabbing a cigarette from the table beside his bed.

“Pass the matches over will ya’, sweetheart? They’re in with my tobacco.” 

You nodded, rolling over to your other side to reach over to your side of the bed, where Arthur’s stash tin sat. While Arthur waited, cigarette hanging limply from the side of his lip, you opened the tin and froze. There was the usual hit of the strong scent of tobacco, the little box of matches, and papers, but those were to be expected. What you didn’t expect to see was a charcoal sketch stuffed in there, staring back at you. It was a remarkable likeness, though you were sure you’d never looked as beautiful as how Arthur had drawn you, laughing in a way that lit up your whole face. The emotion was all too much, sitting in your throat and filling your eyes with wet tears.

“Y’alright? Are they in there?” A concerned voice asked, forcing you to swallow the overwhelming happiness for a moment or two, nodding, handing Arthur the matches and closing the tin. You nuzzled back into his chest, swirling a finger around the little hairs that trailed down his abs.

“I love you, you know that?”“I know. I love you too.”

═══════☆═══════

The tin was so cold in your hands, that cold that you could feel it through your shirt as you held it close to your chest, so hard it was though you were willing more into existence than was there anymore, as if Arthur himself was in there. One last deep breath to find the courage and the tin popped open. The smell of tobacco hit your nostrils and infiltrated your lungs and it hurt. The scent was so undeniably Arthur that it felt so wrong that he wasn’t there with it. He was gone, you knew that, but there was some hope in you that you’d find him hiding in the smoke, just like he always was. 

Clumps of leaves were a little damp in your fingers, attacked by the elements, but you managed to gather enough dry bits and pull out one of the papers. It was cold, but your hands didn’t seem to notice. You had to do this, there was nothing else left. No leads, no job, no Arthur. Just you, alone in an empty room in a lonely house.

Your nimble fingers worked slowly, savouring the ritual of sprinkling in the grind, rolling it up and sealing it, just as he taught you.

That’s it. You got it, sweetheart.

Take your time.

You pictured him, arms closing you in as he guided the paper over with you. 

Just one step at a time.

Soon enough, there was a cigarette wedged between your fingers. 

See? Look at you.

The first few matches were duds, ruined by the water, but eventually you got one lit. You remembered Arthur, cupping his hands over the match as he lit to protect the flame from the weather. You did the same, not trusting the hole where a window once stood proud. 

The tip lit and you breathed in. You coughed. You cried.

The last cigarette of Arthur Morgan. 

You got this, darlin’.

You inhaled smoke. You exhaled ghosts, swirling and wisping around you, caressing your cheek just like he did.

I’m so proud of you.

[mycurrent-hyperfixation]

Take A Chance On Me - Chapter Thirteen (Eddie Munson x Reader Series)

Series Summary: Corroded Coffin is lacking only one thing that could help them win the upcoming Battle of the Bands; original songs. So when a new band comes to town with a lead singer that looks all too familiar and a repertoire of original songs up their sleeves, Dustin concocts a plan that will get you to spill all of your songwriting secrets to Eddie. It’s just a few dates, right?

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Word Count: 10.7K

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader, Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, 10 Things I Hate About You AU

A/N: Here we are: the ending. I literally never thought this day would come what with me getting shadow banned a million times. This fic turned out way longer than I ever planned and it honestly brings me so much joy to have the few of you still here reading my work. I don’t know how much I’ll be writing going forwards since my life is getting a bit busy but please send through your request! I don't know how promptly I’ll respond to them but I like to try and write a little bit everyday to try and improve my writing, so my silly little fics help with that. I cannot thank you guys enough for being so supportive of my work! Just know that every like, reblog and especially every comment has my heart absolutely soaring. As always, I LOVE YOU ALL!! 

In all honesty the sheer multitude of glances you were sneaking out towards the crowd was getting quite pathetic now, and you were perfectly well aware of that fact. Yet their frequency only grew with each passing minute, your embarrassment flourishing with each one, knowing the action wholeheartedly pitiful and yet finding yourself unable to stop. It was almost involuntary now, your head turning of its own volition whenever new footsteps entered the space only to find unfamiliar faces attached. In the end, you told your band that your tardiness in starting the set on time stemmed from an issue with your amplifier, yet their knowing smirks betrayed their disbelief.

With a resigned sigh, you finally traversed the last few steps across the small stage to the microphone, forcing a smile onto your features as the crowd cheered. It was nice being back in the Hideout, the space small and yet friendly as familiar faces cropped up amongst the sea of bodies. Your eyes scanned the crowd once more, hoping that you had just missed his arrival, and yet knowing the truth before you had even finished your search.

Eddie Munson was not there.

The thought caused something to hurt within your heart; a resurgence of every feeling of betrayal and pain you had felt over the last few weeks hitting you all at once. Back at the finals of the competition the invitation you had offered to him had seemingly come from nowhere, the proposition surprising you just as much as it had Eddie. But his smile had grown wide and his eyes had become alight and something warm had blossomed in your heart at the sight of his clear elation. So the thought that he would not show had, in truth, never once crossed your mind; and it made the reality of the situation all the more painful.

“Hello everyone,” you called out into the space, allowing yourself to revel in the cheer that they responded with.

“Tonight we’ve got a few classics for you-” You paused for just a moment as the front doors opened once more, the familiar faces of Dustin, Mike and Lucas entering hurriedly. And then right on their heels was an all too familiar figure; his hair slightly frazzled and his brows knitted into a look of annoyance as he whispered something to the boys and as they downturned their eyes to the floor, looking almost ashamed. Eddie sighed as the boys eventually mingled into the crowd, his mane of hair slightly more unruly than normal, his eyes wearier as he finally turned his attention to you. He seemed to still as he realised you were watching him, and the sheer look of panic that flooded his features almost had you wanting to laugh.

“Sorry,” he mouthed, looking more exhausted than you had seen him in a while, and so you thought it quite pertinent that you offer him a small smile in understanding. At the sight of it, Eddie seemed to relax just slightly, resigning himself to standing by the back wall, the crowd far too thick now for him to attempt to make his way any closer towards you.

“This first one is a personal favourite of mine, and I’m sure most of you know it. I mean, who doesn’t love ABBA?”

Eddie pretended to gag and you had to force yourself to turn away for just a moment lest a laugh escape from your throat. When you turned back to look at him, a soft smile was situated on his face, and you could not help the quickening of your heartbeat at the sight of it.

“This one’s called Waterloo.”

The plan was a simple one.

And yet now, at the prospect of actually seeing it through, you felt almost like throwing yourself from the stage and simply running away. You swallowed thickly, struggling to meet Eddie’s gaze now when you were about to admit everything to him, when you were about to pour your heart and soul into the familiar lyrics and hope that he understood.

“My, my,

At Waterloo, Napoleon did surrender

Oh, yeah

And I have met my destiny in quite a similar way

The history book on the shelf

Is always repeating itself.”

Eddie looked unperturbed by the lyrics, and you could not quite tell whether it was because he had simply never heard the song before or whether he wasn’t quite understanding the meaning behind it all.

“Waterloo

Couldn't escape if I wanted to

Waterloo

Knowing my fate is to be with you

Wa-Wa-Wa-Wa-Waterloo

Finally facing my Waterloo.”

It was the latter you decided; he wasn’t understanding the deeper meaning. His features were cool, nonchalant even as he leaned himself against the back wall, his arms folded lazily across his chest. He knew that you looked at the people you were singing about, had even admitted to it when the two of you had been lying beneath the stars. And yet even though your gaze remained unwavering with his for the entirety of the song, he merely continued to offer you a kind smile in return.

In all honesty, it made you want to laugh.

Because it wasn’t long before the song was coming to an end and Eddie still appeared none the wiser. You chuckled to yourself lightly before turning back to your bandmates and shaking your head. Robin groaned, Meg rolled her eyes and you had to swallow down your own annoyance. But when you turned back around Eddie was still smiling softly at you, and you felt your frustration slip away all at once.

“This next one is by Billy Joel.”

Eddie’s eyes became alight at the name, and you could tell that he was reminiscing about the very same thing that you were. That night seemed like so long ago now, a different time with different people. And yet remembering the way that Eddie had held you against his chest, how gently he had swayed along with you to the song, made butterflies erupt within your stomach and a small blush escape onto your features. And whilst it could have just been a product of the growing heat in the room, you thought that you saw the slightest tinge of red appear upon Eddie’s cheeks.

“This one’s called A Matter of Trust.”

Two love songs in a row and the message still had not clicked for Eddie as he continued to rest nonchalantly against the back wall. But in a way you supposed you could not blame him. Technically you had not written the lyrics, and where usually Eddie listened with rapt attention during your original songs, he likely correlated the covers with background music that stemmed from his radio.

 “Some love is just a lie of the heart

The cold remains of what began with a passionate start

And they may not want it to end

But it will it’s just a question of when.”

Now he wasn’t even looking at you, too busy responding to whatever it was that Dustin had said to him, and the sight made you want to growl in annoyance. Because here you were, having spent the past week trying to curate a set list that would communicate everything you felt within the depths of your heart. Cassettes and records littered every square inch of your room, your Walkman having been glued to your hip all week. It was entirely infuriating having it all wash so easily over Eddie’s head that it made you want to jump down from the stage, to grab a hold of Eddie’s shoulders and shake him until he came to his senses.  

“I’ve lived long enough to have learned

The closer you get to the fire, the more you get burned

But that won’t happen to us

‘Cause it’s always been a matter of trust.”

It would have been easier just to tell him the truth of it all, you knew. To sit him down and communicate clearly the decision you had painstakingly come to the conclusion of. You were willing to try again, as scary as it was, the only thing left to do was let Eddie know. And yet as terrifying as the prospect of telling him had been, you could not quite pass up the opportunity to make a slight spectacle of it. You had communicated much of your feelings to each other via song, so it seemed only apt to continue the tradition.

“It’s hard when you’re always afraid

You just recover when another belief is betrayed

So break my heart if you must

It’s a matter of trust.”

You felt almost like turning away as you sang the lines, remembering all too quickly why it was you had chosen this song in particular. It resonated perfectly, too perfectly perhaps so that now you felt wholeheartedly embarrassed as you bared your heart out for Eddie and as he didn’t even notice. But maybe in the end his obliviousness would be a good thing, for it gave you time to change your mind if you wished to do so. There was the very real possibility that your heart would get utterly broken, and where once you had prepared yourself for that possibility, now it loomed over you menacingly.

As you finished, the final notes of the song reverberating around the room, a lingering feeling began to grow in the pit of your stomach. You pushed it aside, knowing that the thought would only distract you from your performance. 

And yet, three songs and an oblivious Eddie later, the feeling continued to linger, its presence only growing with each passing minute.

Perhaps Eddie was aware of the message you were trying to convey. Perhaps he understood the meaning behind each song and was simply not showing it out of a sense of pity, for there was of course the very real possibility that he no longer felt the same.

That final night at the competition had changed so many things, had resurged an abundance of memories of how wonderful things had been before the truth of it all had been revealed. It was Eddie’s presence that had done that, his eagerness to seek you out and linger by your side enough of a message for you to assume he still wanted whatever it was that the two of you had had. But Eddie was kind, so inherently kind that maybe you had assumed wrong, maybe he had already moved on.

So as the final notes of the song reverberated around the room your gaze fell away from him, a shyness overcoming you now.

“Maybe we should skip the next song,” you turned to say to your bandmates, ignoring the cheer that erupted from the crowd. Your eyes met Meg’s first, then Vicki’s before coming to rest on Robin, and the roll of her eyes was enough for you to know that she had peered into your thoughts and was having none of it.

“We’ve only got one more cover and then the original to go. He’ll definitely figure it out by then.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” you mumbled, although it was clear Robin heard you.  

“If he doesn’t run up here and instantly make out with you, I’ll do it myself,” she whispered, and you could not quite stop the surprised bark of laughter as it erupted from your throat. So when you turned back around, a smile fixed firmly in place, you found your heart feeling just slightly lighter. For even if Eddie were to reject you, there was still a show to put on.

“This is the last cover we’ll be doing for tonight and it’s something a bit different than the stuff we normally do.”

Eddie was still standing by the back wall, his smile lazy, his posture relaxed and his head cocked just slightly to the side, intrigued. You smiled warmly at him, trying to rid yourself of the remnants of the sinking feeling that still lingered. When Eddie’s smile widened in response you felt more of the feeling dissipate.

“This one’s by The Chordettes who I’m sure most of you haven’t heard before. They’re a bit old but they’re still good.”

Now your smile was widening, upturning into something more devilish and you could tell that Eddie noticed, his head cocking just slightly further, his brows furrowing now.

“This one’s called Eddie, My Love.”

You watched on as Eddie’s posture stiffened, as his breathing stopped altogether, and as his figure stilled completely so that he looked almost to have become a permanent fixture upon the wall.

 

--- 

  

Eddie was quite certain that he was going to pass out.

It was a hallucination he was quite sure, merely a fabrication of his vivid imagination that had somehow seeped out of the realm of his dreams and into his waking life. Because he had dreamed of this moment; frequently and repeatedly, in any and every scenario that his mind could conceive.

You had said the title of another song and Eddie had simply misheard, he was quite sure, his mind having extracted whatever it was that you did say and replaced it with what he wanted you to say. So Eddie remained where he was when the song finally began, half expecting to hear something he had heard from the radio instead.

“Eddie my love, I love you so

How I’ve wanted for you, you’ll never know

Please, Eddie, don’t make me wait too long.”

The likelihood that Eddie would pass out grew exceptionally larger now that he appeared to have stopped breathing. And yet although his lungs were starting to burn and his head begun to grow dizzy, it was as if his body had simply ceased to function, too in shock to continue what had once been automatic processes that were essential to the continuation of his life. But in truth, Eddie barely noticed, too busy watching you.

Your gaze wavered from his constantly as if you had to build the courage to look at him whilst you sang. But it only made the situation all the more endearing, all the more real, for if you were nervous about singing lyrics that you had not written there had to be a reason why.

And yet still Eddie scarcely let himself believe it.

“Is this…” fell from his lips, his mind too distracted by your figure upon the stage to finish the sentiment.

“Real?” Dustin finished for him. “Yep.”

In truth, he hadn’t even noticed the boy’s reappearance beside him, and Eddie’s sudden awareness of his presence had him jumping slightly. When he turned to look at him, Dustin’s smirk was devilish, a glint of mischief behind his eyes that led Eddie to believe he had known about this plan.

“Oh Eddie, Eddie, I love you so

Eddie, please, just write one line

Tell me your love is still only mine

Please Eddie, don’t make me wait too long.”

Seemingly of their own volition Eddie’s legs began moving beneath him, traversing the tightly knit crowd as he began to make his way towards you. His advancements were slow, accompanied by glares from the people he squeezed past even though he was quite sure he was mumbling apologies along the way. But it was easy to bump into a shoulder or step on a foot when he refused to take his eyes off of you.

“Oh, Eddie, Eddie I love you so

Eddie my love

Oh, Eddie, Eddie I love you so

Eddie my love, I love you so.”

Your gaze was unwavering now as you said the words that Eddie had dreamed of you saying, the very same three words he had first uttered at the video store. In truth, he had not come into the store that day with the hopes of confronting you. He had in all honesty only gone to rent a movie in the hopes that he could distract his mind from you for a moment. So when he had heard those three words leaving his lips he had been just as surprised as you had likely been.

And yet he hadn’t regretted saying them.

As the last few notes of the song reverberated around the room, it was as if, along with the music, your confidence had faded, your eyes quite obviously looking at anything but at Eddie as he cleared the last few rows of people and made it to the front. He was so close to you now, close enough that if he were to reach out slightly his hand would brush your leg. So he connected his hands to the lid of the stage and forced them to stay there, slightly afraid any unwanted advances would have you changing your mind about everything.

When the song had finished, you ignored Eddie as you turned to say something to Meg, and Eddie couldn’t quite manage to contain the small growl that left his lips. You were toying with him, he was quite sure, if the devilish smirk that upturned your lips had anything to say about it.

Eddie knew that there was still one song to go; an original that he had been looking forward to hearing for the entire night. And yet he could not quite fathom having to wait for the entire length of a song to talk to you.

“Finish the set there,” Eddie whispered up to you and saw as your smile grew wider even though it was clear you were trying to suppress it. It made his own smile grow and his hands itch to reach out and grab you.

“We’ve got one last song for you guys,” you said to the crowd, your eyes locked firmly with Eddie’s. The smile upon your lips looked almost devilish now, as if you were well aware of Eddie’s torment and revelled in prolonging it. He groaned dramatically and you had to turn your head away in an attempt to hide your laughter.

When you turned back to brush your lips up to the microphone, Eddie thought that he saw a slight hesitation as you did so. The smile across your lips faltered just slightly, and Eddie could not quite help the furrow in his brow, for although the change in your disposition was miniscule, it was there nonetheless.

“This one’s called Lonely No More.”

You were avoiding his gaze now, Eddie was quite sure as he desperately tried to catch your eye once more if only to offer you a reassuring smile. Your gaze flickered to his only once before the song started, and it was so fleeting that Eddie nearly missed it. The song meant a lot to you, Eddie could already tell, and so he leaned just slightly closer even though the sound of your bands’ instruments was almost deafening this close already, if only to show you that he was listening.

“Now it seems to me that you know just what to say

But words are only words, can you show me something else?

Can you swear to me that you’ll always be this way?

Show me how you feel more than ever, baby.”

Your gaze only returned back to Eddie during your delivery of the last line, and yet it was with every word that Eddie found himself completely mesmerised. This was it, everything that you had to say to him, everything that your relationship could be or would be going forwards wrapped up in a remarkably catchy song. You needed more, he knew, more than just words. You needed proof that whatever still lingered between you could work, and Eddie was sure as hell going to give it to you.

“But I don’t wanna be lonely no more

I don’t wanna have to pay for this

I don’t wanna know the lover at my door

Is just another heartache on my list

And I don’t wanna be angry no more

You know I could never stand for this

So when you tell me that you love me, know for sure

I don’t wanna be lonely anymore.”

A range of emotions seemed to hit Eddie all at once as if his brain was unsure which one he should be feeling and so felt them all instead. Elation had his heart soaring within his chest. Happiness seemed to course through his veins alongside his blood. Relief had his muscles relaxing all at once as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. But there was the hesitancy that lingered behind the words, your fear of trying again that had his heart breaking slightly. But then again, Eddie could not blame you. He had been the one to hurt you in the first place. He had been the one to ruin the perfect thing that the two of you had shared and so he could not condemn your fear that he might do it again.

“Now it’s hard for me, with my heart still on the mend

Open up to me, like you do friends

And you sing to me and it’s harmony

Boy, what you do to me is everything

Make me say anything, just to get you back again

I think we can try.”

He would show you, Eddie had decided. He would show you just how much you meant to him the very moment the song was over. He would allow no room for miscommunications, no action or word that would make you question the validity of his feelings. He would give you everything that you deserved and more. Eddie would not squander this second chance, for he was well aware of just how valuable it was.

“What if I was good to you, what if you were good to me?

What if I could hold you ‘til I feel you move inside of me?”

Eddie seemed to choke on nothing at all, catching the sly smirk that upturned your lips. You were going to be the death of him, he was quite sure, and he would enjoy every minute of it. Your gaze turned away from him as you continued, your eyes closing and your hips swaying in the tell-tale sign as you got lost in the music.

“And what if it was paradise, and what if we were symphonies?

What if I gave all my time to find some way to stand beside you.”

You were picturing it, Eddie was quite sure, picturing everything that could be between the two of you, and Eddie was picturing it along with you. He would go to every one of your shows and you would go to every one of his, lingering in the front row where he had an unencumbered view of you whilst you danced to his songs that he would inevitably write about you. About the way that you took his breath away every time you smiled at him. About the way you were so completely mesmerising upon a stage. About the way that he so wished to take you back to his bedroom and devour you completely, the way he would pleasure you until your breathy pants and your guttural moans became a new kind of music to his ears.

“I don’t wanna be lonely no more.”

And you wouldn’t be, Eddie vowed as you played the final chorus of the song. Eddie would not allow you to ever be lonely again for as long as you allowed him to stay by your side. He would erase the memories of your past with his stupid jokes and featherlight kisses. He would treasure you as the boys that had come before him had not, their stupidity in not doing so almost incomprehensible to Eddie as stared at you suspended before him, ethereal in the glow of the stage lights.

The last notes of the song trickled from the strings of your guitar, echoing around the room until they were eventually drowned out by the cheers of the crowd. Eddie watched on as the people around him erupted, as your lips brushed up against the microphone one last time as you said your goodbyes to the crowd, and yet he heard none of it. Instead, he waited until the stage lights dimmed, until the crowd turned their attention away from you and began to meander from the venue, until you became distracted by something Robin was saying to you as you unslung your guitar from your shoulders and placed it gently away, before he finally made his move.

He jumped up onto the stage, the movement swift and quick so that it startled you slightly. But before you could react to Eddie’s newfound proximity, he was bending down and leaning forwards until his shoulder was connecting with your stomach. In one swift motion he pushed upwards until you were being lifted from the ground and onto his shoulder.

“Eddie!” you squealed in surprise, and Eddie could not stop his lips from curling into a smile when he heard the laughter laced within your voice. “What are you doing? Put me down!”

The action was awkward and at one point Eddie feared that he might drop you when your weight tipped unevenly to one side. But his grip tightened around your waist to steady you, and although you squealed in surprise and punched lightly at his back in protest, you made no move to extract yourself from his embrace.

“I’m showing you how I feel,” Eddie said back, his words low so that only you could hear him as he turned to face your bandmates instead. They were staring at him now, he quickly realised, Meg unrelenting in the death glare she always seemed to be sporting these days and Robin with a knowing smirk of approval.

“Sorry ladies,” Eddie said, throwing a smile at each of your bandmates. “I’ll need to steal your lead singer for the rest of the night.”

“We had an appointment with some milkshakes, Munson,” Robin said jokingly.

“I’ll make it up to you!” Eddie called, before he was swiftly leaving, traversing the few lengths of the stage with his eyes glued to the floor lest he trip on a wire and drop you. All the while you seemed incapable of halting your laughter, the sound loud and slightly breathless as he felt the vibrations of it through where your body was draped over his.

The night air was cold when Eddie opened the back door of the Hideout, and he wondered for just a moment whether he should quickly return inside to see if you had brought a jacket. But as he lowered you from his shoulder, his movements gentle and precise so that your feet barely made any sound at all as they landed upon the ground, you lingered in the close proximity that the action had left you in, and so Eddie could not quite bring himself to depart from you. Your hand had brushed down his chest in an attempt to steady yourself within your newfound upright position, and Eddie could not help but notice when you did not pull it away. So he allowed his own hands to remain where they were still connected with your waist, his grip light just in case you wished to pull away.

When Eddie noticed the way your skin had become speckled with goosebumps, it was almost begrudgingly how he unslung his own jacket from around his shoulders and draped it across yours if only because it meant that he was no longer touching you. But the soft smile and the small blush that arose upon your cheeks at the action made him bolder until his hands were returning to your waist once more.  

The two of you stayed like that for some time; your breaths slightly visible as they intermingled in the air before you. There was something palpable between you now, something that made it hard to speak and hard to breath and hard to fathom doing anything else other than lingering within the moment.

“I’m sorry if I…” Eddie began, the thickness of the air making it harder to speak. “All the songs. I didn’t realise and-”

“No, I should have been clearer,” you interjected. “I don’t know…I just thought it would have been…cute or something. But it was kind of stupid and I should have just told you outright, but I guess I was scared-”

“You were scared?”

“Yeah,” you hesitated. “I thought you might not…feel the same anymore.”

The sound that erupted from Eddie’s throat was so loud and viscerally raw that the bark of laughter echoed in the emptiness of the carpark. It startled you slightly and Eddie could feel you jump in surprise as you shifted against him.

“I may have been dumb enough not to understand what you were trying to do in there but I’m not that dumb.”

“You’re not dumb at all,” you chastised. “It wasn’t exactly all that clear now that I think about it. I mean, a cover of ABBA? No wonder you didn’t think anything was different.”

Eddie barked out another laugh and when his gaze returned to you his heart warmed slightly at the sight of a soft smile placed gently across your lips.

“Let’s do something,” Eddie said, his voice far softer than he had intended it to be. “Anywhere you want to go and I’ll take you.”

“Eddie I-” you began, and Eddie could tell from your tone that you were going to reject the proposition. The two of you were close, your hand still placed delicately against his chest as your breaths intermingled in the air before you. And yet Eddie needed to get closer to you still, to feel you against him in any way that he could. So he leaned down, connecting his forehead gently with yours as he closed his eyes, revelling in the feeling of you, the scent of you.

“Let me show you,” he interjected, and the desperation in his voice surprised even him.

You had closed your eyes as well now as the two of you lingered in the silence of the carpark, Eddie’s scent engulfing you completely as his jacket sat perched across your shoulders. Something passed unsaid between you, an understanding of sorts that made the air somehow easier to breathe.

Somewhere close by a cricket persisted with its chirping and then, further away, a dog was barking as if neither of them were quite aware of the silence that the situation demanded. And yet Eddie heard nothing but your breath so close to his now, his heart beating so rapidly that he was quite sure you could feel it through where your hand was resting upon his chest.

He wanted to show you everything; the depths of his desire for you, of his need for you. He would show you how you took his breath away whenever your lips upturned into that beautiful smile of yours. He would show you how every morsel of his being burned for you, how he yearned for your touch at every hour of the day and then dreamed about it every night.

And yet as he pulled away to look upon you once more, there was something behind your eyes—a spark of sorts—that led him to believe that you knew. How could you not, after all, when he had confessed the very depths of his heart to you back on that day at the video store. Yet he would show you anyway, he resolved. He would show you just in case there was any part of you that still doubted him. He would show you to quell any reservations you might still have about it all.

“Okay,” you relented, your lips upturning into a smile that had Eddie’s heart somehow thundering faster. “I want to go with my friends and get milkshakes.”

“Oh.” Eddie could not quite quell the disappointment that seeped through him, but he tried to catch his features before they became too crestfallen, forcing his lips into a smile that he thought even the cricket knew was fake. He had asked you what you wanted to do and he could not resent you when those plans did not include him.

“And you as well, dufus,” you said with a laugh, punching his chest lightly. “I want to go get milkshakes together.”

“Oh,” Eddie said again, his tone lighter this time as his smile became genuine. “Yeah, anything you want,” he hastily added.

“But I’m expecting a second date,” you continued, your voice light-hearted. “And I want ample warning of it this time.”

“Anything you want,” he repeated, and his tone was softer now, more gentle, more serious.

His smile was soft, his eyes even more so as he looked down upon you, the light from the moon reflecting in your eyes. And although he knew it highly improbable, Eddie could have sworn that his heart skipped a beat. This could not be real, he thought to himself, you standing here before him, allowing him the pleasure of touching you, of basking in the closeness of your presence. And yet your touch felt so very real against him, your bodies so close now that as the gentle breeze wafted past your hair shifted along with it until it was brushing up against Eddie’s neck and tickling his skin.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Eddie heard the words fall from his lips, powerless to stop them as they reverberated in the stillness of the air. A blush escaped onto his features and he bowed his head forwards just slightly to try and get his hair to hide it. But his attempts at concealment were in vain for your smile only grew at the sight of it. 

“Well then maybe you should,” you responded, and your voice was just as breathless as Eddie felt.

You were close now, somehow even closer than you had been when Eddie had first extracted you from his shoulder so that your body was pressed flush against his and your lips were mere inches apart. He had pulled you closer towards him from where his hands were still connected to your waist, he realised, and yet you seemed to almost fall into the movement. His touch was light, the pads of his fingers barely skimming across the curve of your waist and yet although he wanted nothing more than to dig his fingers into the flesh of your body and crush you against him, he refrained, allowing you the option to pull away if you so wished.

“I’m scared that if I do, I’ll wake up.” 

It was his running theory at the time, for how else was it that all of his dreams seemed to be coming true? He was asleep, he was quite sure, his mind reimagining the very dream that had been haunting him for the past few weeks, unrelenting even in his waking life. This reality was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, for surely it was too perfect to be real. 

And yet you were so warm and so solid within his grasp in a way that his dreams could never seem to replicate; your perfume so pungent, your skin so soft. So he allowed himself to revel in the moment, for whether it was a dream or not, for just a second you were his.  

The moon and the stars sat reflected within the depths of your eyes and although Eddie was so wholehearted captivated by them, he found himself momentarily distracted by the soft curve of your lips, the way they parted slightly in the middle and the soft breath that left them and danced across his cheek. And maybe it was because the more he touched you the more hopeful he became that he was in fact within the waking world or maybe it was because the sight of you like this before him was a miracle in itself, but either way Eddie watched on as one of his hands departed from your waist and came up, his fingers brushing lightly against the curve of your jaw as if he were afraid the touch would shock him. But you simply leaned into his hand, and the action had his breath hitching within his throat.

There was something within the air now, something almost palpable, something that fizzed and crackled and raced along with Eddie’s heart. It made it harder to breathe and yet Eddie forced himself to inhale anyway if only to revel in the scent of you so close before him.  

In the end it was you that closed the final distance and Eddie found himself immensely grateful for the action for he was quite certain that if the final push had been left to him the two of you would have remained in your created limbo all night. He had been scared, he realised, so very scared that you would pull away or that you would regret the action or that he had somehow managed to completely misread the situation altogether and would only succeed in pushing you further away should he connect his lips to yours.

But where Eddie had expected the kiss to be gentle, timid almost, he was pleasantly surprised when he was met with something more fierce; you were so very fierce as if you were a woman starved as your lips crashed against Eddie’s. He could find no hesitation in the action, no inclination of regret anywhere in your movements so that in the end it took Eddie only a second to respond back with just as much fervour, having to refrain from completely devouring you. The hand that had come up to brush against your jaw came around to cup your neck, as if Eddie were trying to somehow pull you closer. Your own hands came up to grip at Eddie’s hair, and he was thankful when you did not mention the small moan that left his mouth when you tugged slightly at his roots.

With the hand that was still connected to your waist, gripping it fiercely now, Eddie manoeuvred you until he felt your back connect with the wall of the Hideout. He pushed you against it and then crowded himself against you, careful to leave enough room should he feel any hesitation come from your ministrations. But instead, your hands left his hair, coming down to connect with his waist before pulling him flush against you. Eddie couldn’t help but smile into the kiss at the action.

But just as quickly as the kiss had begun you were pulling away, dragging Eddie along with you as he chased your lips. He let you go with a small sigh, revelling in the sight of your reddened lips and wanting desperately to worsen their condition. Yet he refrained from doing so, feeling slightly lightheaded anyway. You were better than any drug, Eddie realised, and he was an addict chasing his high.

Although the kiss had been fleeting, it had left him breathless all the same so that for just a moment it was only the sound of his pants that filled the air. He was leaning over you, caging you against the wall and yet you made not move to pull away from Eddie, one of his hands was still fixated firmly to your waist, the other coming up to rest against your cheek instead. He brushed his thumb lightly over the curve of your cheekbone as if confirming to himself that you were still there, that you were still real. Your lips upturned into a gentle smile at the touch, and Eddie found himself incapable of looking away from it.

“How are you real?” Eddie heard himself ask, and as the words seemed to echo in the stillness that surrounded you a deep blush invaded his features. Your smile grew at the sentiment and Eddie tried to hide the reddening of his cheeks underneath his mane of hair.

“Well when a Mommy and a Daddy love each other very much,��� you began and Eddie could not quite seem to stop the bark of laughter as it escaped from his throat.

When the silence settled over the two of you once more, Eddie knew that the moment was coming to an end. So he allowed himself to pull you somehow closer against him.

“We should head back inside,” you said, and Eddie could not quite seem to quell the disappointment that coursed through him at the statement.

“Let’s just meet your friends at the diner,” Eddie pleaded, hoping that he could prolong his time with you in any way.

You laughed, and Eddie revelled in the sound of it as it echoed into the stillness of the night.

“I have a very expensive guitar that’s still sitting on that stage. So as much as I would like to, Eddie, I can’t risk losing it.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Eddie said with a smirk and the laugh that followed was somehow even better than the first.

“Come on,” you whined, your body pulling away. Your warmth and your scent were leaving along with you so that Eddie could not quite help the desperation that shot through him to remain by your side. But your touch did not leave him completely, your hand departing from his waist to instead travel down and intertwine with his. You dragged him along behind you as you began to make your way back into the Hideout, Eddie in no way trying to hide his disdain for the change in the situation so that you had to pull forcefully in order to move him.

He begrudgingly followed only once it was clear that you would leave him behind if he did not, Eddie rushing forwards momentarily in an attempt to get to the door before you so that he could open it. But before he could, he found your hand tugging lightly against his as you hesitated.

“Eddie?” Your tone was serious now, and so Eddie turned back to face you with an expression that he hoped mirrored how much he was listening.

“Yeah?”

“If this is going to work…if we’re going to work…you can’t ever lie to me again.”

 Eddie stilled, his hand coming to grip yours more tightly as he racked his brain for something to say, for some way to comfort you and to eradicate the hint of pain that had flashed behind your eyes as you had remembered it all. So when he moved he did so slowly, making sure that you were comfortable as he grew closer towards you once more. His actions were tentative, hesitant almost as he brought the hand that was not confined within your own upwards, his heart thundering as he gently brushed his fingers against your cheek. You closed your eyes to the touch, leaning into it just slightly in such a way that had Eddie hoping that he was helping to ease your reservations.

“It nearly killed me last time I lied to you,” he said, his voice so soft that it came out as barely more than a whisper. “I don’t think I could survive doing it again.”

The corner of your lips upturned ever so slightly as you reopened your eyes, your gaze coming up to bore into Eddie’s own. And if it was not for you pulling away once more, your attention turning instead to the door that led back inside, Eddie thought it likely that—with the light of the moon and the stars and the sheer beauty of them anyway—he would have gotten lost within your eyes forever. So he let himself be pulled along behind you, slightly more willing to follow this time as he leant forwards to open the door for you.

“But what if, like, you ask my opinion on a new song or something and I think it’s shit. Can I lie so I don’t hurt your feelings?”

You punched him in the shoulder.

“I’m already starting to regret this.”

Eddie’s bark of laughter echoed out into the emptiness of the night.

 

---

Whilst Eddie had honestly not thought that this day would ever come, that you would ever forgive him enough to let him try again with you, he could wholeheartedly say that within the multitude of fantasies that he had had about of getting you back, none of them had included the scene that was laid out before him.

A couple sat towards the back of the diner looking thoroughly annoyed at the ruckus of children that had just walked inside, Dustin, Lucas and Mike’s loud conversation continuing as they piled into the booths. Gareth and Jeff shuffled in beside them, their presences having gone completely unnoticed by Eddie back in the crowd at the Hideout due to his inability to look away from you. Gareth had only smiled when Eddie had returned back inside with his hand intertwined with yours, and something unsaid had passed between them, an understanding of sorts.

Eddie could not quite blame the couple as they got up from their table and promptly left, for the group that followed behind the children were not any less quiet even though the majority of them were older. Robin was chatting away enthusiastically to Steve and Vicki, Meg lingering silently by their side as they followed you into the second booth, Eddie hastening to take the seat beside you. He blamed the lack of space that the seat provided for why he had to sit so close to you, your side pressed up flush against his even though Meg had more than enough room to claim the space on Eddie’s other side. But if you noticed his proximity, you said nothing, and for just a moment Eddie thought that he felt you lean just slightly more against him.

“Vanilla milkshake?” Eddie questioned as you barely even glanced at the menu before you. When you turned to look up at him, Eddie felt his breath still at the sight of the delicate smile placed across your lips.

“I think I’d prefer Triple Choc Fudge.”

“I knew it!” Eddie called in triumph, ignoring as the kids turned around in their booth to glance quizzically at him. “Admit it, triple choc fudge is better than vanilla.”

“It’s not better,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I just want that one tonight.”

Eddie’s smile turned into something more devilish as he leaned down, his lips brushing faintly against the shell of your ear.

“I thought we weren’t lying to each other,” he whispered.

You punched lightly at his chest as a deep blush engulfed your features. Eddie chuckled at the sight.

“I’m not lying,” you whispered back, your own smile slightly toying now.

“I’ll get the truth out of you one way or another,” Eddie said, his voice coming out lower and slightly raspier than he had expected, revelling in the sight of your blush deepening.

“If you guys are going to continue being this insufferably cute,” Robin interjected. “I’m going to throw myself off a bridge.”

Now it was Eddie’s turn to blush as he looked up to realise that every pair of eyes were on him, including all of the occupants in the other booth who had only continued to stare at him, Dustin wiggling his eyebrows completely unsubtly. Eddie sunk slightly lower in his seat under their gazes and became immensely grateful when the waitress appeared at the end of the table, her pen and pad at the ready.

“Do you want to share?” Eddie mumbled down towards you, unwilling to bring the attention of the group back upon him should he speak too loudly. The smile that upturned your lips at the proposition had his heart beating faster, and he thought it likely that you were thinking of the very same thing that he was; that night that felt almost like another lifetime, where the two of you shared words over a milkshake, where Eddie had pulled you tight against him and stolen you from the diner, where you had spilled long forgotten secrets to each other in the silence of his bedroom.

You nodded, and Eddie’s heart soared.

The waitress left and the ruckus continued, Mike and Lucas fighting over something in the next booth as Steve leaned over to scold them. And yet although the noise of it all was practically deafening, Eddie could not quite bring himself to focus on anything other than the feeling of your body pressing against his. He felt like reaching out and grasping your hand within his, or perhaps resting his palm against your thigh. Nothing too high as to make you uncomfortable, just anything at all that would get him just slightly closer to you. In the end, he settled with resting his arm on the backrest of the booth behind you, not quite brave enough to go all the way and wrap his arm around your shoulders as he had originally intended to do with the movement.

But you had always been able to read him so well, to peer into the depths of his mind and see right through him until there was nowhere for him to hide. And so in truth he should not have been so surprised when you reached up, grabbed his hand and pulled it downwards until his arm was draping across your shoulders. He stilled at the touch, his breath pausing along with it as you turned up to look at him and flashed him a devilish smirk. You knew the affect you were having on him, he was quite sure, and you were revelling in his complete lack of composure because of it. The milkshakes arrived, and yet still Eddie could not quite seem to pull his attention away from you; from the way your back was pressed just slightly up against his chest now, the way you seemed to relax into his touch and continue on with your conversation with Steve as if nothing were awry, as if Eddie’s heart were not about to rip right out of his chest.

He could not quite believe how he was experiencing this moment, how he was allowed to sit within a booth sharing a milkshake with you as you chatted away idly with your friends, your body pressed up against his. It all seemed so mundane, so normal in a way that his relationship with you had only ever managed to be within the depths of his fantasies. He had dreamt of the day where actions like this—the simplicity of you leaning against him—would become autonomous, the movement so practiced that it felt natural and did not cause an eruption of butterflies to explode within his stomach. But then, looking upon you leaning so comfortably within his embrace, Eddie could not quite fathom ever having you within his arms and not feeling like his heart was going to explode, and the thought was oddly exhilarating.

And so Eddie allowed himself to revel within the moment, maybe tightening his grip around your shoulders just infinitesimally to make sure it was all real, his gaze fixated on nothing but you. He watched the way you talked animatedly, periodically leaning forwards to take a sip from the milkshake before turning back and offering the drink to him. He watched the way you laughed and you smiled, the sight still managing to have his heart beating faster. He watched the way his jacket still sat perched across your shoulders, the clothing looking somehow out of place and yet wholeheartedly breathtaking upon you in such a way that made him want to rip it straight off you.

He relaxed back into the seat, seemingly unable to wipe the soft smile that lingered across his lips, his gaze pulled from you only when he was roped into the conversation he had not been listening to.

And when the night was coming to an end—Eddie wholeheartedly depressed by this realisation—he made sure to bask in the time he had left within your presence, slipping his hand into yours when the two of you shuffled from the booth and tugging you quickly out of the restaurant before you could protest when he left some bills upon the table.

The night air was cold when the group of you finally dispersed into the carpark and yet the sky was void of any clouds, making the dark space remarkable easy to traverse and allowing Eddie to see you clearly in the glow of the moon. He barely even noticed as Steve chastised the kids for something or another, pulled only from his reverie when your hand slipped from his—the action paired with a quick turning of your head and a flash of a smile up towards him—as you went to say your goodbyes to your friends.

Eddie watched you go, flexing his hand as your warmth left it, refraining from reaching out and pulling you back into him. And because he seemed incapable of not staring at you within that moment, he wholeheartedly failed to notice when Dustin shuffled up to him, the sudden presence of his voice having Eddie jumping in surprise.

“You’re welcome,” Dustin said.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“For what?”

“For this,” Dustin said and his gaze followed Eddie’s until he was looking at you as well. Eddie looked between you and the boy, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“What-” Eddie began, and as if Dustin had been anticipating the question, he answered it before it had even been asked.

“This was my plan all along. You were practically foaming at the mouth when we went to her first gig and I knew you would be too much of a chicken to do anything yourself.”

“Hang on, I was thinking about doing something. I-”

“You never would have spoken to her if I hadn’t made you drive to the record store that night she was closing.”

“I-” Eddie tried again, but he knew the fight was futile. Dustin was right. There was no point in disputing what was obviously the truth. So Eddie sighed in defeat, turning away from the triumphant grin that he knew Dustin was sporting. “Could have done without the whole plan though. I nearly lost her because of you too.”

“Yeah, I didn’t really think that all the way through. But, hey, it all worked out in the end.”

“You’re a little shit.” But just before Eddie could tackle Dustin into a headlock and hopefully pull his underwear high enough to elicit enough pain for the boy to learn a lesson, Steve Harrington smelt the beginnings of the ruckus and promptly appeared before Eddie could lay a hand on the boy.

“Stop tormenting the guy and get in the car,” Steve ordered, and Dustin, who looked as if he was about to talk back, took one look at Steve’s hands placed upon his hips and thought better of it, shuffling away with one last backwards smirk at Eddie.

“Don’t listen to him,” Steve said, watching carefully to make sure that Dustin followed his orders.

“He’s a good kid,” Eddie said. “But sometimes I just wanna kill him.”

“I know the feeling,” Steve said with a sigh.

A silence blossomed between them, and Eddie thought it pertinent that he fill that silence lest it turn awkward. He liked Steve, liked him far more than he ever thought he would, but he was yet to interact with him without you beside him and something about that thought made him nervous.

“I can take some of them home if you want,” he offered.

Steve only smiled.

“I appreciate the offer and on any other night I would definitely take you up on it,” Steve began before turning his attention away from where the kids were bickering inside of his car to look towards you instead, enamoured in a conversation with your bandmates. “But I think you’ve got to focus on her tonight.”

Eddie knew that Steve was right, following his gaze until his eyes were resting upon you also. There was a part of him that sighed in relief at Steve’s rejection of his proposition, so wholeheartedly grateful that he felt almost like turning and engulfing the other boy in a hug. A wide smile spread across Eddie’s lips as a laugh escaped from your throat, the sound echoing out into the empty carpark. Eddie could feel Steve’s gaze turn towards him briefly, but it was as if, now that he was looking upon you, your very figure had hypnotized him, your laugh and your smile and your entire being so very captivating that he could not pull himself away.

“If you-”

“I know,” Eddie interjected.

And with those two words it was as if something unspoken passed between them. Steve had no need for threats anymore, no need for warnings of the pain he would inflict upon Eddie should he break your heart. Because it was almost like Steve knew. Almost like he could see the way that Eddie was gazing upon you now—with a fire burning deep behind his eyes that admitted the very depths of his desire and adoration and devotion to you—and was set at ease with what he saw. So with a quick slap to Eddie’s back which might have been slightly harder than was strictly necessary, Steve made his departure with a smile upon his face that quickly disappeared when he noticed the kids fighting in the backseat of his car.

Eddie barely even noticed the slap, barely even registered when Steve left his side, for he was watching with rapt attention as you finally said your goodbyes to your bandmates and they began to make their own departures. His strides towards you were quick as Meg and Vicki finally traversed the rest of the carpark to their vehicle, Robin giving you one last hug before she skipped after Steve.

He felt almost awkward now presuming that he had the right to touch you and so refrained from outstretching his hands towards you as he so itched to do. But then he remembered the way you had reached up and grabbed his hand so that his arm rested upon your shoulders back in the booth, and the thought made him momentarily bolder. So when he finally reached you his hands connected lightly with your waist, allowing you the room to pull away should you so wish.

You turned your gaze up towards him at the touch, and the smile that spread across your features when your eyes found his had Eddie’s heart soaring within his chest. In the end you did not pull away, but instead leaned backwards until your back was connecting with Eddie’s chest and your head was resting lazily against the crook in his shoulder. Something warm erupted within him at the action, at the sheer comfort that your body seemed to be exuding within his presence so that his grip tightened upon your waist.

“Can I drive you home?” Eddie asked into the silence of the carpark as Steve’s car backed out of his spot, the kid’s waving at you from the backseat as they left. Dustin flashed him a devilish smirk through the window and Eddie only rolled his eyes in response.

“I suppose I could allow you the honour,” you responded, and you could feel the slight vibrations of Eddie’s chest as he chuckled.

Once the sound of Steve’s car had dwindled away into the distance, there was nothing but the sound of your breaths intermingling into the air as the two of you remained in your position, simply basking in the warmth of the other, neither of you willing to pull away just yet. But then you were turning so that now it was your chest that was pressed up to Eddie’s. He thought the change in positioning a vast improvement, for now he could see the gleam in your eyes and the way the moon illuminated your smile.

“Tomorrow,” Eddie found himself saying, and he could not quite blame the small furrow that grew between your brows. “For our date,” he continued. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 7:00.” And then because he thought his tone slightly presumptuous, quickly added, “I-if you want to.”

Your smile grew.

“Someone’s impatient,” you said, and then after a second’s hesitation, continued. “Okay.”

The silence settled between you once more. Slowly, you removed your hands from where they had been pressed against Eddie’s chest and instead rested them lazily around his neck. The movement somehow brought you closer to him, so close that Eddie couldn’t quite figure out how he had managed to keep himself from devouring you. Your lips were inches from his, a smile still placed delicately across them.

“Can I kiss you?”

Eddie remembered the last time he had uttered those words, how hopeful he had been that your proximity had been an indication that you had wanted him just as much as he had wanted you. But body language was a fickle thing, and Eddie was not going to assume that the closeness of your lips was any semblance of consent. You would want to take things slow, he was quite sure, and he would ask you that very question. But not now. Not after a perfect night that did not need to be ruined by serious conversations. But although Eddie would in all honesty get down on one knee tomorrow if you so asked him, he would travel at the pace of a snail if it meant that he got to call you his.

Your smile grew wider at the question as Eddie waited with bated breath for your response.

But your response never came.

Instead, you shifted yourself onto the tips of your toes and connected your lips gently to his.

But unlike the kiss the two of you had shared only hours before where Eddie had pressed you up against the wall of the Hideout and you had let him, this kiss was different. Eddie’s lips moved slowly against yours now, almost languidly, and yet the passion behind each movement was somehow just as fierce.

Eddie was taking his time.

He did not rush for there was no need to. He was mapping you out, taking note of every blemish and crease upon your lips and then delving further to explore the depths of your mouth. In that moment there was only you and him standing in the silence of the carpark, and to Eddie, it felt almost as if it were only you and him in the entirety of the world. Eddie could have quite happily spent all night with you like this, your breaths short and sharp, your scent engulfing him completely. Your taste was intoxicating, somehow even more so than he remembered it being when he had first kissed you back in his trailer and the thought had a moan escaping from his throat. Your hands flew up to tangle within his hair almost as if you were trying to get him closer, Eddie doing the same as his grip upon your waist tightened.

But he needed to feel more of you, even when your tongue started to explore his mouth and so one of his hands departed from your waist and came up to cup your jaw instead. His thumb stroked against your cheek, his grip firm as if he needed to feel every inch of you that he could. You inhaled sharply at the touch, and the sound of it had something stirring low within Eddie.

It was you who pulled away first and Eddie thought it quite the sensible thing to do for he had come to the conclusion that he would sooner pass out than pull himself away from you within that moment. But your forehead remained against his, your pants intermingling into the silence of the night. Your lips upturned into a smile when your gaze met his, and Eddie could not stop himself from smiling back.

And then you were shifting, your hands coming down to rest once more around his shoulders as you leaned forwards and buried your head into the crook of his neck. And then, as if it were instinctual, as if the action were so practiced it had become autonomous, Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you back, having to refrain from squeezing you too hard.

Yet somehow the hug was even more intimate than the kiss had been, something heavy and fierce lingering behind it, something unsaid passing between where your bodies were intertwined with one another so that neither of you could quite bring yourselves to pull away. Your scent engulfed him completely, your warmth so welcoming so that Eddie came to realise that he had not hugged anyone like this in a very long time.

And Eddie thought that this must have been why.

All of the loneliness and the rejection and the pain that his life had borne so far had all been worth it if it meant that this was what was waiting for him at the end of it.

You.

---

Songs Used:

- Waterloo by Abba

- A Matter of Trust by Billy Joel

- Eddie, My Love by the Chordettes

- Lonely No More by Rob Thomas

---

Main Taglist:

@alicetweven @juggernort @theh3aven @manamitoyota @mimiluvsualot @cherrypieyourface @kaqua @c0untryclub @goldencherriess @emotionaldreamer @givemethesleep @milkiane @miscreantsnopossoms @legendaryfestsoul-blog

Series Taglist

@grungegrrrl @thirddeadlysin @boomitsallie1 @renaroo123 @wordsthatwaterflowersinyoursoul @annnnn91 @bakugouswh0r3 @aivilovio @wannabewiedzma @edsforehead @tvserie-s-world​ @boomhauer​

[paladin71]

i NEED a scene in season 5 where will and mike go to mike’s basement to get resources…(i cba to write an actual scene so just have an outline)

after the end of season 4 scene where they’re stood on the field looking out onto the huge smoke cloud they all go back to hoppers cabin and decide it’s best to split up to get resources and then meet up later. jonathan pairs up the temporary groups and him, nancy, will and mike go to the wheelers house.

once they get to the house jonathan and nancy go upstairs to her room and will and mike go to the basement.

scrambling around for things mike knocks everything over on the top of the cabinet.

will: what are we even supposed to be looking for anyways… (looking around aimlessly)

mike turns his head around to look at him.

mike: umm i don’t know man, just anything that you think will come in handy. weapons. maps. cassettes. you name it.

will: weapons…in mike wheelers basement? yeah right. (he says with a slight chuckle holding a limp catapult)

that’s when mike walks behind the couch and holds up a huge crowbar.

mike: you sure about that will…

will: you know what. i take that back.

they both laugh and sit down in sync onto the couch to look through a pile of different cassettes and put the ones they don’t need back in the box.

will: to say the worlds ending as we speak. it sound silly but when we’re together it honestly feels like no time has passed.

this makes mike stop what he’s doing and he diverts his attention away from the cassettes and at will instead.

mike: it doesn’t sound silly at all will. it’s nice to be back with you again. like old times. i’m sorry i’ve been so distant over the past year. i did try to contact you but the line was always busy.

will: you did? urgh that would be my mom. i honestly thought you just didn’t want to contact me…

as will says this the conversation is briefly interrupted by will taking his shirt sleeve and wiping the dust off one of the cassettes.

he realises what it is and stares in awe. it’s the ghostbusters theme song.

will taps mike on his leg and shows it to him without saying a word.

even though no words were exchanged, mike knew exactly from the smiley look on wills face what he was thinking.

this was the first time in ages that mike had actually seen will with a genuine smile on his face. they were in their own little world despite the chaos going on outside.

for them both, memories of that one halloween day came flooding back at once. despite the events that happened that day. they seemed to be both focusing on the same memory.

taped to the back of the cassette was a picture of the party together in their ghostbusters costumes. it was the same photograph will had ripped up when destroying castle byers but mike had a copy of it.

mike: remember what we said?

will looked up at mike with a confused expression knowing exactly what he was going to say next but wanted to act oblivious.

will: umm no…what did we say?

mike: oh come on will.

he says trying to encourage the memory to come back to will even though he knew all along.

mike: crazy together…does that ring a bell?

will: hmm not sure

the smile on mikes face completely dropped but then will started laughing.

mike: what (said with apprehension)

will: i can’t believe you thought i forgot. if i’m being honest i thought YOU had forgotten.

mike: i could never

mike places a reassuring hand on top of will’s. unlike in season two. this one was different. it meant more this time.

both of their eyes were filled with so much love.

they’re both interrupted (yet again) but this time by the creak of a door at the top of the basement stairs. it’s jonathan and nancy.

will and mike quickly move their hands away trying to look as natural as possible. which in this situation is extremely difficult.

nancy: you boys got everything?

mike: umm yeah…i think so (stuttering)

he stands up frantically looking around for his backpack. he then picks up every item and shoves them quickly into the bag.

jonathan has a smirk on his face but it soon turns serious as he is snapped back to reality and realises the situation they’re still all in. the future of hawkins and their friends lives depends on every small decision they make.

jonathan: cmon let’s go then

will picks up his backpack and takes the headphones that are hung over the bottom of the stairs and wraps the wire around his fingers. he then makes his way up the stairs to meet with jonathan and nancy.

but mike is lacking behind.

nancy: mike we don’t have all day. get your ass moving.

nancy rolls her eyes and jonathan and will laugh.

too high up to see the top of mike’s head, will could just about see what mike was doing.

mike had picked up a stash of paper that had its own binder and designated drawer.

they’re were ALL of wills drawings. every single one of them.

mike put the folder into his bag. zipped it up. and ran up the stairs.

will glances quickly glances at mike and looks away trying to hold back a smile.

mike: why are you looking at me like that… (he looks embarrassed realising that will just saw what he was doing).

will: no reason…

[i-am-kind-of-lost]

I posted 4,491 times in 2022

That's 772 more posts than 2021!

529 posts created (12%)

3,962 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@6hrshiftgril

@babbling-brook-of-books

@straightedgesavior434

@petrichornial

@hotgirlsrk

I tagged 2,954 of my posts in 2022

Only 34% of my posts had no tags

#fave - 477 posts

#world heritage post - 224 posts

#serotonin - 222 posts

#cat - 219 posts

#save - 80 posts

#this - 74 posts

#prev - 72 posts

#stranger things - 59 posts

#people - 55 posts

#pretty - 52 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#you just love to take up as much space as possible at your favorite gentrified coffee shop and/or the library with your spread of aesthetica

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Mfs be 8 and say stuff like, “When Hozier said this, I felt it.” Shut up. Go watch Shin-Chan

61 notes - Posted January 25, 2022

#4

I did not like the Annie and Hughie scene. Sorry. 

I get that they are trying to show Toxic Masculinity bad, but it doesn’t kind of work here. Hughie has never had a problem with Starlight being stronger than him. He has always been insecure about his abilities. Everyone in the group treats him as this useless tool, and it just reinforces that. Like last episode, when he asked MM and Butcher whether they want awkward, powerless Hughie, or supe Hughie who can take care of himself. 

That scene felt really forced. Really forced. The violence over the past three seasons has torn down his morality, and he just doesn’t think there’s any other way. And he’s right. 

What can they do about Homelander? Use diplomacy to stop him, blackmail him, take away public support, shame him out of existence? 

He doesn’t want to be one who needs to be saved every single time, who needs to be protected, the one who is a liability every time they are out on the field. He’s tired of that. I mean, yeah. If it comes down to a fight, which it most probably will, he doesn’t want to be the one hiding in a corner. 

104 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

#3

Vigilante casually admitting that he didn’t mind Peacemaker bullying him because he doesn’t feel emotions.

104 notes - Posted January 28, 2022

#2

Okay genuinely asking

What srk 2000s movie is the best?

Like i was just listening to tumhe jo maine dekha and i realised that i don't even know what that movie is from and like everyone has seen them

so from which should I start?

~cupcake

Tumhe Jo Maine Dekha is from Main Hoon Na. How do you not know that? Jail. Jail.

Okay, so SRK from 2000 to 2010 is pretty much flawless era, except some movies which I don't remember. They are probably shit if I don't remember them.

Every single of these. And I mean, every single of them has a mind-blowing good album. Guaranteed two-three songs in each, which you will love for as long as you will live.

Main Hoon Na (2004) is quintessential Bollywood movie. It is the most bollywood movie to ever movie. You know. And somehow it still works, till this day. Soundtrack is first love vibes.

Om Shanti Om (2007), is another one of the same mould. Made by the same director, Farah Khan. Silly as fuck. Soundtrack is god-tier good.

Chak De India (2007) has probably SRK's greatest performance, along with Swades and My Name is Khan (onto them, later). You have probably seen this. I mean of course you have. The emotions this movie makes you feel, and the fact that it actually juggles multiple characters, and just ugh. I love this movie so much.

Kal Ho Na Ho (2003). That's it. Just watch it, if you haven't.

Veer-Zaara (2004). SRK had a very good 2004 btw. He was nominated for Best Actors for 3 different movies. Veer-Zaara is probably one of the best pure Romance movies, made in this country. Rani Mukherjee is so good. Fun fact, the soundtrack of this movie, uses compositions made by Madan Mohan, who had died in 1975. 30 years after his death.

Mohabbatein (2000). This movie is one of the major reasons I want to become a professor in a college in a hill station. Oddly similar to Dead Poets Society. Just like Koi Mil Gaya is very similar to ET.

Swades (2004). The least bollywood movie among the lot. His performance is iconic as hell. I love the pace of this movie so much. And I really love the romance-plot as well, because it doesn't feel overdone, or rushed.

My Name is Khan (2010). You have probably seen this already. It's a little overdramatic in the end. It's Karan Johar, what do you expect. But his performance is so good. So good. Features the greatest proposal scene in the history of cinema. The scene where he meets Jimmy Shergill after the latter's wife is attacked, will never not make me cry. Same goes for the scene, where he reunites with Mandira.

K3G (2001). YEAH.

Dil To Pagal Hai (1997). Everyone remembers the soundtrack of this movie. As they should, because it's fucking amazing. But the movie is so much more than the soundtrack. It's so good. Akshay Kumar is in it, as well.

ALSO.

How I remember these movies, has a lot to do with nostalgia. A LOT. If you have never seen them in your life, and you are watching them for the first time now, you are not going to enjoy yourself as much as I do. Some of them are problematic as fuck. Looking at you Mohabbatein. Move on you fucking weirdo, you are hallucinating your dead girlfriend of 10 years. These movies were a huge part of my childhood, so yeah, I remember them very fondly.

112 notes - Posted April 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

You know, ignore the quality of the movies and shows, and the oppressive practices that are used by making them, but aren’t MCU fans nauseated by the number of movies and shows. 

Every single month, there is a movie or show that is coming out. Every single month. How do you like, feel any excitement, or like just ugh. Aren’t you bored and tired.

138 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

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