#♪music box♫ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

headkiss · 10 months

Text

you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

3K notes · View notes

neosimi · 1 year

Photo

🎼 4t2 Simmify Music Nook 2 🎹

happy thursday! here is myshunosun’s simmify music nook 2. ♡

@platinumaspiration mentioned how she'd like it in her game, so i got right on it! i ended up resizing the book clutter just a smidge, in order to fit better on the shelf. there is some clipping going on w the piano. i lowered the keys in milkshape a bit to make it less apparent, but ah well. oh! and i’m actually quite proud of the lamp since it has an unlit/lit state! hooray! anyway, that should be all. as always, please lmk if there’s any issues, enjoy!~ ʕっ˘ڡ˘ςʔ

book clutter 1: 156 polys | deco/sculpture | $50

book clutter 2: 324 polys | deco/sculpture | $50

concrete bookshelf: 478 polys | surfaces/shelves | $800

cute succulent: 566 polys | deco/plants | $45

floor lamp: 1196 polys | lighting/floor | $80

framed poster: 46 polys | deco/wall hanging | $75

potted palm: 650 polys | deco/plants | $150

upright piano: 821 polys | hobbies/creative | $1000

part one here. files are compressed. collection file included.

UPDATE 3/18/23: fixed piano mesh GUIDs as to not conflict w the maxis piano. please redownload and allow the piano mesh file to override.

download: [sfs] | [box] ♪♫♡

credits: @myshunosun.

#ts2 download #ts2cc #4t2 #s2cc #4t2 conversion #sims 2 #s2 buy #4t2cc #ts2 #sims 2 cc #ts2 object #ts2 buy mode #gif warning #insert dancing cat here :D #hope u love it nikki !! <3

1K notes · View notes

sebuckyverse · 1 year

Text

for a good time, call [3]

modern!rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

series summary: Eddie Munson is a burnt out rockstar, touring the country. When he finds a phone number written on a bathroom wall, he strikes an unusual friendship with a coffee shop barista who has no idea who he is.

warnings: 18+ cussing, f!masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, smoking, flirting, mutual pining, angst, strangers to friends to lovers word count: 3,5k

an: omg guys, here it is! i hope you enjoy. as always, if you like it let me know by reblogging or leaving a comment - it means so much to me!

chapter two ♫ masterlist ♫ askbox

chapter three ♫♪♩·..·

After a beat of silence, the phone went dead. Disappointment creeped into your soul, but you tried to fight it off. Maybe it was an accident, perhaps the connection just cut out. But as the minutes ticked by, you sat on your bed, clutching your phone that silent. Your bedroom door was open and you could see the moon illuminating your worn out sofa in the living room. It was dead silent, just like your phone.

Was this all a scam? Were you being catfished by some lonely elder, or worse, a disgusting perv? Were you that stupid and naïve?

With shaky hands, you placed your phone back on your nightstand, plugging the charger in. You settled back under the covers with your back facing your bedroom window, clutching the blanket under your chin. In the warm cocoon of your sheets, you fell into a restless sleep.

.•♫•♬•

Eddie wasn't better off. He didn't sleep at all that night. He was racking his brain trying to come up with an excuse that could justify his actions. Landing on zero ideas, he gave up at about 4.30am. He kept opening and closing his iMessage app, sometimes just watching the empty text box and other times actually typing something, then deleting it and tossing his phone on the floor.

He was a piece of shit, honestly. He was wired up to call you, he hit the right button, he heard your voice and then he panicked, once again. In those two seconds, your voice was enough to take his breath away. Your voice was quiet but hopeful and he wrecked everything.

Eddie opened the doors to his suite balcony, sitting down on a wicker basket chair and propping his feet on the metal railing. The chilly air was dancing around his hair and bare shoulders, he was only wearing a simple pair of dark sweats, from which fished out his (regular) cigarettes and lit one. He kept looking at the skyline and the city below it, he could see the roof of the arena he would be playing at later that night.

He pondered what type of music you liked, if you would like his stuff. Would you go to a show, cheer him on from the front row? Or would you be the type to wait in the dressing room unbothered, like his ex. What would you say if he asked you to come to one of his shows? They are scheduled to play two shows in New York in two weeks...

Eddie finished his cigarette stepped back into the room, opening the closet where he caught a glimpse of his rosy cheeks on the mirrored doors and putting on a Corroded Coffin hoodie. He stepped to the desk adjacent to the closet and pulled open a small drawer filled with hotel amenities. He found what he was looking for, a blank sheet of paper and a pencil, returning to the balcony where the sunrise was creeping up on the city. He used to do this back in high school, when he was still playing Dungeons & Dragons, drawing different maps and monsters for each session. It almost felt liberating, skimming the ashy tip of the pencil along the paper. He hadn't done anything creative in months, he'd only kept the same routine every day. Maybe it was time to change that. Maybe it was time to stop moping around and improve some things.

.•♫•♬•

''There you go, sir. Have a nice day!'' Robin piped out next to you, handing a middle aged guy in a very expensive looking suit his go-to espresso, to which he didn't even respond to as he kept typing away on his phone. When he was out the door, Robin rolled her eyes and muttered ''Asshole.''

You snorted, grateful for he company and for the fact that the café was pretty busy today, you could use the distraction. You woke up this morning to two text messages, one from your co-worker asking for you to fill in for her today as she had to take her dog to the vet and another was from him. You didn't open his text yet and you couldn't see it from the preview either, because he had sent a photo right after the text, so the screen just said ''Sent a photo.''

You were itching to know what could he have possibly sent, but you purposefully kept your phone at your locker today. Still feeling iffy about the situation, you hadn't mentioned the call thing to Robin, but you did fill her casually in on your texting to which in return you got a confirmation that her and Cherry were indeed now girlfriends.

''Ugh, she asked me after the show - which was amazing, by the way - and I had to say yes. You just can't say no to her,'' she kept babbling while putting a new tray full of frozen croissants to the oven.

You were re-filling the espresso machine with new beans. ''What show was it anyway?''

Robin closed the oven door with her hip while pulling the oven mitts off. ''I don't really remember, coffin something. Cherry loves them, that's why we went. It was real heavy, the singer was pretty cool though, straight from the 80s.''

''What do you mean?'' you asked.

''He had long hair, so he looked like Bon Jovi or something. I mean it was cool, but you don't see that look every day.'' she replied, straightening her apron and greeting another customer who'd just stepped in.

You hummed in response and proceeded to the cash register to take new orders. The day flew by and by the time you only had 20 minutes left, Robin was at the back, emptying the dishwasher and you were counting cash when the door opened again. You vaguely remembered her hair color and her wine red lipgloss, so it wasn't too hard to recognize Cherry when she strolled in.

''Hey, I'm Cherry.''

You accepted her outstretched palm and shook her hand. ''Y/N. Nice to finally meet you, for real this time.''

''Same here,'' she smiled ''Though I feel like I know you already. Robin talks about you a lot and I already know you can't handle more than two drinks.''

''And three tequila shots!'' you returned her smile and Robin came busting out the back, rushing past the counter and throwing her arms around Cherry, pecking her cheek.

''Glad the introductions are over,'' she quipped and turned to Cherry ''missed you, by the way.''

''Gross.'' you joked, which ended up with Robin's apron in your face.

''Ha-ha. Would you mind if-''

Before she could finish her sentence, you dismissed her with a hand swipe. ''Yeah yeah, I can finish up here.''

''You're an angel. You know I'd do the same for you if you weren't single and lonely!'' Robin snickered and you fake gasped, but they were out the door before you could say anything back, waving at you from the outside.

''Idiot.''

You grabbed your things from your locker and closed the café, stepping out onto a golden sunset. You walked along the streets leading to your apartment building, passing a bus stop with a big poster on it, the deep rich colors popping and a guy in the middle of it, clutching a guitar. You recalled your conversation with Robin from earlier. Coffin something, a singer with long hair. The name on the poster said Corroded Coffin and the guy on the poster did seem like he could be from the 80s.

Not thinking much of it, you finally decide to take a look at your phone. Besides the two texts, your breath hitched when you noticed there was a missed call as well, 4 hours ago. You checked out the messages first and opened the photo he had sent. It was a picture of a sketch, what could immediately be recognized as the New York skyline. It was nice too, the lines were sharp, it was pretty detailed too.

7.21am - Kirk ''I'm an asshole and I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, I panicked at the last second. It's a shitty excuse but it's the truth. I'm really sorry, I'd love to talk to you if I could have another chance. I couldn't sleep all night, so I drew this for you as an apology. It's not great, but I hope you accept.''

8.01pm - Kiwi 'It's a great sketch, btw.''

It didn't even take him a second to hit you back.

8.01pm - Kirk ' 'God, I thought you'd blocked me.''

8.02pm - Kiwi ''I'm still thinking about it. I'm convinced you're a catfish.''

8.02pm - Kirk ''I promise I'm not.''

8.02pm - Kiwi ''Okay, prove it.''

8.03pm - Kirk ''How would I do that?''

8.05pm - Kiwi ''I'm sure you can figure it out.''

.•♫•♬•

What the hell was he going to do? He was convinced you had blocked him last night. He sent you the text this morning and for more than 12 hours it was only showing as 'sent.' Not received, not read, nothing. Now reading you thought he was catfishing you, Eddie needed to prove to you that he was real and that he was serious this time.

Without thinking much of it, he dialed your number again and waited as it rang. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder and made his way to the dressing room bathroom, locking himself in to give him some sort of privacy.

The phone kept ringing and ringing. Were you punishing him for not picking up? He wouldn't hold it against you, he kind of deserves it. Besides, Eddie loves a woman who can beat him up.

Finally, after he had already given up hope, the line clicked and he heard your voice again. ''Yes?''

Eddie could also hear cars driving in the background, your breathing was a bit quicker than normal, a little shallow. You were outside somewhere.

''Is this proof enough?'' he asked, barely breathing.

''You could still be some weirdo, but I'll let you off the hook for now. Hi.'' Eddie thought he could hear a smile in your voice.

''Hi,'' he sighed, shoulder relaxing where he was leaning against the door. ''How are you?''

''I'm fine,'' you replied. ''I just got off work, I'm walking home.''

''I thought you had the day off.''

''I did,'' you sighed, some shuffling coming from your side. ''A co-worker asked me to switch, so I did.''

''That's generous of you, are you always this nice?'' Eddie teased.

''You tell me,'' you quipped back, matching his energy right away. He liked that, a lot. He liked you.

''I'd say so. You gave me another shot, though you didn't have to.''

''Don't waste it. I normally don't give second chances.''

Eddie chuckled, ''I won't. Can I ask you something?''

''Shoot,'' you agreed.

''Do you, like.. recognize my voice?'' he cringed. ''It's a silly thing to ask, 'm sorry.''

You laughed and the sound danced around his brain, shooting a bunch of endorphins into his belly. He hoped it wasn't weird to picture you based on your voice alone, but you sounded pretty.

''No...'' trailing off, but quickly you recouped ''So you're a musician then?''

''Uhh... maybe.''

''That's cool! Don't worry, unless you're in an 80s indie band or a 90s boyband, I probably don't know you, sorry!''

''Is that the only stuff you listen to?'' Eddie asked incredulously.

''Hey, I like what I like!'' you defended and he could hear the slight creak of a door and soft steps that became a bit louder, like you were climbing some stairs. The call crackled for a second and then he could hear keys jingling and the unlocking of another door.

''You made it home?'' he quizzed, destined to make sure you were alright.

''Yeah, finally. Now I have a three day weekend!''

''Cool! What are you pl-''

Before Eddie could finish his question, he was startled by the banging behind him, the door he was leaning against shaking under his back. He quickly covered the microphone, holding the device against his chest. ''Eddie, you in there man? We gotta start getting ready.''

It was their drummer asking. Eddie shushed him and told him he was on the phone. The drummer replied with a dishonest 'sorry' and left him be.

''Um, sorry about that. Shit.'' Eddie apologized and wondered if you heard anything.

''Don't worry about it, Eddie.'' you shot back and he could almost see the grin on your face. Why did it seem like you had the upper hand every time?

''Hmm, you got me. Now you tell me your name,'' he challenged.

''I thought you already named me,'' you shot back, your voice suddenly so sweet and innocent.

''Oh, come on. That's not fair.''

''I don't think you've earned it yet.'' Something about that sentence made him twitch in his pants. Fuck. He wanted to earn your name, something else too. Your voice was sultry, the tone of it sticking to his brain like honey. He needed more of it, he needed to keep you talking. He was in a trance almost.

''Making me work for it?'' he prompted, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, resting it on the door.

''You bet. I come with a price, you know.'' You joked.

''I'm willing to pay.'' Eddie replied, dead serious.

.•♫•♬•

Your phone call with Eddie, as you now know him, ended pretty abruptly after that. He got interrupted again and he had to go, to start getting ready for the show you supposed. For exactly two seconds after you hung up, you thought about googling him, but decided against it just as fast as that. You wanted to get to know him personally, not through tabloids.

Your body was thrumming however, your cheeks felt hot to the touch and there was the tiniest vibration between your thighs. You needed a cold shower, asap. You didn't expect the talk to excite you that much, but his voice was something else. Smooth, raspy at times when he lowered his tone. A bit more nasally when he got excited. You wanted to hear it again, teasing you. You wondered what he sounded in person, what his laugh was like, what sounded like when he was out of breath, gasping in your ear.

Stop, you scolded yourself and hurried in removing your work clothes and dumping them in the laundry basket. You took a cool shower to calm down, changed into silky pajamas, then popped a frozen pizza into the pre-heated oven and set the timer to 15 minutes. While you waited for dinner to be ready, you occupied yourself with finding a good movie to watch while you ate, poured a glass of water and changed Eddie's contact name on your phone. Watching a movie should keep you distracted for a few hours, until Eddie was free to call again, which would presumably be in the early hours of the night.

When the movie finally finished, you were full and hydrated. It was only a quarter past eleven so you still had a couple more hours to kill. You decided to move to be this time, grabbing an unfinished book from your desk and settled in under the covers. You turned on the reading lamp on the bedside table and kept your phone close to you. Soon enough, you were submerged in the book, the scene written on the page getting spicier. You gulped as you read how the main characters were ripping each others clothes off, devouring one another. You had a perfect picture in your head, the words coming alive in front of you, envisioning the guy eating out his girl the way the author had put it in the book. Shit, your thighs clenched at the thought of someone doing that to you.

You jumped when your phone vibrated against your bare thigh, slapping the book shut abruptly.

''Hello?'' you answered, trying to calm your breathing.

''Hey, what's up?'' Eddie asked, sounding a little out of breath himself.

''Oh, um, I was just reading a book.''

''What's it about?''

You cleared your throat, ''J-just some rom com, don't think you'd be interested.''

''You alright over there?'' Eddie quipped, chuckling softly.

''I'm fine, totally fine.''

''Uh-uh,'' Eddie sounded totally unconvinced ''tell me what you were reading.''

''Why?'' you were growing nervous.

''You're basically hyperventilating, that must be some book. Was it scary?''

''No.''

''Erotic?'' he joked, chuckling.

You remained quiet, the words dying on your tongue.

''Oh, it was.'' Eddie mused, his voice lower now. ''What were they doing?''

''They were just kissing and stuff,'' you whispered like you were scared someone would overhear, chewing on your bottom lip as a nervous habit.

''Did some simple kissing get you that worked up, baby?''

Baby. He was doing nothing but enhancing the tingling in your white cotton panties.

''No,'' you breathe, rubbing your thighs together at this point.

''Hmm.. Were they doing more? Having sex?'' he spoke and you could hear faint shuffling on his side, then the soft close of a door.

''Not exactly.''

''No? What then? Don't be shy.''

You squeezed your eyes shut, somehow embarrassed like the whole world could see you right now. You took a shaky breath in and quickly blurted out ''He was eating her out.''

There was a small pause before Eddie hummed. ''And how did that make you feel?''

''Good,'' you replied.

''Just good?''

You whimpered. He was toying with you, pulling your strings but you didn't want him to stop either. You switched the phone to your left hand, to free your dominant hand to caress your stomach, occasionally dipping lower. ''Aroused.''

''What are you doing right now?'' Eddies breathing sounded heavier now, too. His voice has a raspier edge than before.

''Rubbing my thighs,'' you sighed. The feeling of your palm sliding over the inside of your thighs felt nice, for a while. There was a warm wet patch on your panties, too.

''Shit. Lay down for me.''

You did as he told, scooting lower on the bed until you were horizontal. ''Okay.''

''Good girl,'' he praised.

Jesus Christ. No one had ever talked to you like that, you'd only read that in your books. Those words sent a jolt straight to your pussy.

''Want you to touch yourself, can you do that for me?''

''Y-yeah,'' you hiccupped, guiding your hand under your pajama pants and skipping your panties too, cupping your mound and feeling the gathered wetness there.

''Doing so good for me, honey. Touch your little pussy for me, tell me how wet you are.''

You couldn't hold back the moan that bubbled up as you followed his instructions, sliding your fingers easily through your blazing folds due to the slickness. ''S-so wet, Eddie.''

''Fuck,'' he groaned. ''Wish I could be there, need to see it for myself. Would you want that?''

''Yes, Eddie!'' you wailed, gliding your wet fingers down your slit, then back up again and focusing on your puffy clit, pulsing with want. You circled your clit with your middle fingers, putting the phone on speaker and dumping it next to your head so you could use your other hand to slide it under your shirt to thumb your nipple, adding even more pleasure.

''Would you let me eat your pussy, too? Let me tongue fuck your little hole?'' Your cunt clenched just at the thought of having his warm muscle shoved deep into it. It was begging to be filled, hungry for it. You found your weeping hole and pushed your middle finger in, moaning at the stretch. Eddie meanwhile continued his verbal assault. ''Fuck, baby I'd lick you so good if you'd let me have the honor. I bet you're already knuckles deep in your pussy, aren't you?''

You could only cry out ''uh uh'' as you added another finger, pushing them as far as you could reach, curling them upward to graze that one and only spot.

''Good fucking girl. Keep punishing that tight hole for me. I know it's so tight, would barely fit my fat cock. Shit. I wanna fill you up, fuck you 'til your crying, begging for me to stop. But I wouldn't stop until you were stuffed full of my cum - you want that baby? Wanna be so filled with my cum that it's flowing out of your abused hole, huh? Leaking down your crack, I'd clean you right up.''

''Eddie, oh my God!'' you cried, tears stinging your eyes as you thrashed around, your clothes sticking to your sweaty body. Fucking your fingers in and out, you pressed your palm down to add more pressure to your clit, building up your high.

''You close, sweetheart? Wanna hear you cum, you sound so fucking perfect already. Keep working those fingers, don't stop.''

''Fuckuckfuck, I'm cumming. Ohmygod.'' Your high hit and you lost all vision, only listening to Eddie talk you through it, telling you what a good girl you were, how proud he was, how good you sounded.

When you came down, you carefully withdrew your fingers and wiped them clean on your pants, trying to catch your breath.

''My name's Y/N, by the way.''

On the other side, Eddie burst out laughing.

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #modern!eddie #modern!eddie munson #for a good time call

1K notes · View notes

jessamine-rose · 1 year

Text

♫ ♪ ⊱ .⋅ Aoede ⋅. ⊰ ♪ ♫

Once upon a time, @diodellet and I joked about Singer! Reader x Stan! Pierro as the modern AU of my Yandere! Pierro fics. Fast forward to the present, I have applied my clown makeup ꒰(•́⍜•̀)꒱

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, toxic stan culture, stalking, kidnapping, drugging

♡ 1.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ So how did someone like Pierro become your no#1 stan? Even in his youth, he considers himself above such reprobate theatrics. But that all changes during a rough period in his life when he hears you calling out to his soul in the middle of a busy street.

♡ In actuality, you are an ordinary busker. Hypnotized by your music, Pierro stays for the remainder of your performance. You are like a beacon of hope that sprung out of nowhere, with your angelic voice and uplifting lyrics. And you’ve clearly noticed him because you cheerfully thank him after your last song.

How could he describe the solace evoked by your music? He feels calm, invigorated.

“Your performance was utterly enchanting,” is all he tells you.

He takes a few bills out of his wallet, but you quickly pack away your tip box.

“Thank you,” you reply, a bright smile on your face. “Your smile was the best payment I could’ve asked for!”

♡ Since then, whenever he visits that area, Pierro looks for you to no avail. You’ve completely vanished, leaving him to question whether you were truly some guardian angel. Then one day, out of nowhere, he hears your voice again on the radio. The familiar song is followed by your official introduction as an up-and-coming artist.

♡ As it turns out, you were scouted by an agency!! Pierro had miraculously attended your last street performance, and now he can listen to your music anytime. Your debut album is worth the purchase; it has the same divine melody…minus your presence. And so, against his better judgment, he attends your first official concert.

♡ Your second performance is just as life-changing. Onstage, illuminated by the heavenly lights, you successfully mesmerize the entire audience including Pierro. From afar, you look ethereal, dreamy, charismatic…and he also finds you pretty. Very pretty, like a god who descended from the skies to share their gift of song with the world.

♡ Pierro is not blind to the parasocial nature of your relationship. Regardless, he listens to your new albums religiously, sends you elegantly-penned fanmail, and attends a few more concerts and fan meetings. Unlike your “hopelessly degenerate” fans, he greets you in a calm, serious manner and doesn’t prolong his turn with you. His gaze is rather intense in photos, however.

♡ There is also the dark side of his adoration. Constant thoughts about you, endless loops of your songs, the urge to hunt down your undeserving stans, a suppressed desire to bridge the distance between the two of you. It is no wonder that as your career comes crashing down, so does his entire world.

♡ It isn’t your fault, of course. The paparazzi, the media’s criticisms, your exploitative agency and toxic fanbase…he sees how it takes a toll on you over the years. You can fool the entire world with a false smile, but he sees the growing dimness in your eyes. After another leaked hospital visit, your agency announces the termination of your contract.

♡ Your remaining fans are devastated, but not so much as Pierro. Yet despite his despair, a cruel part of him revels in it. He buys your discounted merch at clearance sales and writes more heartfelt letters until your agency stops forwarding your fanmail. He no longer has to share you with the world.

♡ That being said, he has no time to grieve your downfall. Stagnation would be an insult to your legacy, and now he can fully devote himself to his work. So he accepts a job offer from the Tsaritsa, moves to Snezhnaya, and establishes the Fatui.

♡ Fast forward a few decades, he has built a new life for himself. The Fatui is now a powerful organization, prestigious on paper and feared in the black market. Meanwhile, you have been reduced to an old name in music history, forgotten in favor of new talent. And while his obsession survives in personal playlists and merch collections, Pierro refuses to waste time searching for you. Rather, you return to his life on your own.

♡ He is simply browsing the drugstore when a stranger bumps into him. Just as he is about to brush off the accident, Pierro hears their apology and whirls around. It’s you, standing in front of him, this time without stanchions or bodyguards.

♡ His first thought is that you’ve changed. Older appearance, plain clothes, a quiet voice. No one else would believe that you were once a lively singer with the power to charm hundreds of people. If anything, you are the one staring at him with awe and respect.

♡ Your nervous “Do I know you?” is what snaps him out of his thoughts. Pierro quickly denies it, and your relieved expression only confirms your identity. He accepts your apology, walks past you, and observes you from a distance. Sure enough, it’s all there from your telltale mannerisms to the snack preferences memorized from magazine interviews.

♡ …Your tired disposition and purchased medications also aren’t lost on him. After following you to your apartment, he drives back to his office and enlists the Fatui in gaining intel. Within days, he catches up on your post-musician life. You laid low, moved to Snezhnaya, joined a company which lets you work from home. What a pitiful fate.

♡ Another crucial fact is that you no longer recognize him. While that stings, Pierro understands—he, too, has changed over the years, with his fine suits and dignified attitude. Actually, he could use this to his advantage. With his elevated status and the dissolution of your professional boundaries, he can entertain what was once a foolish dream.

♡ You begin to run into him everywhere—in the drugstore, the grocery, your favorite cafe. Your encounters soon evolve into brief conversations then casual dates. With each reunion, Pierro falls deeper into his obsession. Who knew that the real, imperfect you was this enchanting?

♡ Courtship aside, it’s also natural that he seeks justice for you. The companies which exploited you? Exposed for their crimes against other celebrities. Your old song favored by the YouTube algorithm? Instantly hit with copyright strike, along with your remaining legacy. Even your official channel gets hacked and deleted. In other words, Pierro gatekept his idol

♡ From your end, you don’t suspect anything. Sure, you do question your frequent run-ins until Pierro claims that the Fatui opened a new office in your area. And despite your disbelief when he formally asks you out—him, the director of the Fatui?!—you accept out of mutual attraction. You haven’t had a close companion in years, and he makes you happy.

♡ Sure, he is vague about his life before the Fatui but that’s fine, right? You’ve only started dating and he respects your own secrecy. You’re still hesitant to reveal your previous identity, given your slandered reputation. Your saving grace is that Pierro seemingly doesn’t know your stage persona at all, a rare trait for those from your generation.

♡ A few weeks into your relationship, you are invited to his home. His estate is palatial, heavily guarded, distanced from the city. And Pierro is nothing short of a perfect host as he shows you around, allowing you to admire his private art collections from Snezhnaya and Khaenri’ah. In your current state, you’ve never felt more out of place.

♡ After a few glasses of wine, you head to the bathroom. While Pierro gave you directions, he didn’t specify which door it was. Which is how you discover what seems to be a storage room for more paintings and art pieces. Oops, time to close—is that your face?

♡ Shakily, you turn on the lights. All four walls are covered in framed posters—your posters from the height of your career. The display cases hold your old merch such as vintage albums, T-shirts, accessories, fragrances, photos and magazine articles, every relic of your past. What is all of this?

♡ The answer is a familiar letter set on the table. The handwriting, the name on the envelope, the wax seal with a four-pointed star…doesn’t this belong to one of your devoted fans? You only look away when a shadow engulfs you; it’s Pierro standing in the doorway.

“Careful now, this is my most prized collection. What a shame, my surprise has been ruined.”

♡ Despite his serious expression, his gaze is absolutely terrifying. You can’t even panic before you are suddenly overtaken by drowsiness. Your vision blurs; you lose your balance; you nearly collapse if not for Pierro catching you. You can only weakly flail in his arms as he carries you to his room. The last thing you hear is his gentle humming, a familiar melody which lulls you to sleep.

♡ It was wise of him to serve the drugged wine early. With you unconscious, Pierro can proceed to the next phase of his plan. This time, he enters your apartment where Fatui employees are already packing your things. He personally sifts through the items in your bedroom and finds your old singer memorabilia stashed in your closet.

♡ Dusty instruments, crumpled sheet music, awards…and your fanmail. He feels a twinge of warmth upon finding his letters compiled in their own box; the others are burned with his lighter. See, he was truly superior to your other stans. You clearly cherished his every word over their insincere ramblings, and now he can directly profess his undying love for you.

♡ When he returns to his estate, you’re still unconscious. That is when Pierro finally allows himself to smile, caress your face, envision your new life together. He has it all planned out—a shared bed, a new wardrobe fit for a house-spouse, a wedding for when you’re more docile. You belong to him and no one else.

♡ …He does know that to hear you sing again is a wistful delusion. Your passion for music is gone; your voice has been altered by age and unuse; and you’d probably reject such a request from him. But that’s perfectly fine. You already saved him once, so allow him to repay the favor.

♡

If you liked this post, pls consider reading Disjecta Membra and Chess Piece linked above!! And don't ask me wtf I was on to make Pierro, of all characters, a celebrity stan bc idk either. I hope y’all enjoyed this :'>

Tag a Pierro enjoyer!! @frogchiro @kocherry @nicebonescomrades @mnemosyneechan @thescribeoflostmemories @victoria1676 @artiifex @pierroswife @fluffy-koalala @leftdestiny-posts @ansy-tea @oofasleep @elysiasfiance @frostedclementine

#pierro #pierro x reader #yandere pierro x reader #yandere pierro #yandere fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: manipulation #tw: drugging #tw: stalking #tw: kidnapping #g/n reader #jessamine-writing

230 notes · View notes

certainchopshopcheesecake · 2 months

Text

Elles 50 follower event

Tysm for 50 followers, idk how to say how grateful I am to have all my moots but you guys are soo amazing

(Pls ignore the fact i dont have excactly 50 anymore😭)

♡the event ends on march 13th♡

Scroll to the bottom of this post for intro post

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Elles sweets shop

Please put some of these in my ask box! If I don't reply within a day I either haven't seen it, or I'm busy(ill get around to every one unless the request is not appropriate)

Toffee🍬~ tell me a song/movie/TV show/book and I'll make a moodboard

Chocolate🍫~ ask me a question and I'll answer honestly(within reason)

Ie cream🍦~ give me a vibe/aesthetic and ill make a playlist based on it (request spotify or yt music )

Cake🍰~ give me a theme or just based off your blog and I'll make a pintrest board based off it

Cookie🍪~ I'll give you a nickname

Lollipop🍭~ give me a fandom I'm part off. And I'll say which charecters vibes you have

Donut🍩~ I'll make a moodboard based off your blog

Boba🧋~tell me a random fact about yourself / thing you like and I'll recommend a song

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rules

•Don't be creepy

•only followed and mutuals can ask

•like I said up top as long as your request is appropriate I'll get around to. It

•pls spam me I'll take as many requests as you want

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mootss🤍

If your not on here or don't want to be on here please ask <3

@kale-of-the-forbidden-cities @bebopbreakaleg @edaline--ruwen @castledmequeen @pixiedust347 @biomass07 @stop-ur-losing-me @skeelly @bookscorpion73 @depressedraven9 @mushroomcarrotstick @hijabi-desi-bookworm @bamboo1920 @iam1withthepeggy @landstedelesbian @fairytatality @nurture24 @reyna-obsessed @i-love-books-and-the-bible @midnightsmads @halfbloodliz @mxnkeydo @amateur-air-guitarist @nerdy-girl3791 @tam-song-the-shade @sokeefe4evalove @imthatweirdratinthecorner @swans-chirping-in-the-distance @chredded-cheese @lemon-girl-in-devil-town @olivedumdum @awful-amatuer @cheezbot @number1iwywstan @leaskisses444 @eddiethebanished @labaguetteisdabest @violet92959 @queenpiranhadon @essaytime @that-hijabigirl @lookshmichap42 @annotated-catastrophe @percabeths-blue-cookies @calypso-daughter-of-atlas @bookwxrmish @sassyglitterwhispers @pecygrimangry @sunflowerdasies @honestlyteenageruins @underablanketofstars @sassyglitterwhispers @froginthestars

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Again please send multiple and enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Intro post:

#50 followers #50 follower event #elles blue sweets shop

33 notes · View notes

wisteriaawillow · 6 months

Text

"Hello, I'm Wisteria Willow and You're reading my about me!"

(◡◕⏖◕)ᑐ🝐 ⠁⭒*.✩.*⭒⠁˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ヾ( ´･ω･｀)

♫♪♬Do do do doo♫♪♬

●Name: Wistera Willow

●Age: Old enough to rewatch early 2000s commercials just for nostalgia.

●AFAB

●Bi

●Sun: Pisces🐟

●Moon: Leo 🦁

●Rising: pisces ♓

●Year Of The Tiger🐯

●Plus-sized

●SFW INTERACTIONS ONLY!

•Click here to go to my fashion + second blog

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚༘♡ ⋆

💜 This is a blog for reblogging fashion, My passions, thrifting and anything that I find neat. This blog is mostly sfw but every once in a while I will reblog some 18+ stuff.

💜⚠️Still, I don't want minors to interact with me rather this is a sfw blog or not. It just makes me feel uncomfortable and I will block you guys if I have to.⚠️

💜I am open and accepting to anyone and everyone! Just don't be a major dickhead is all I am asking.(fat phobic, bi phobic, racist, etc.)

No unsolicited Dick pics or you will be blocked!!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡

💜I am a lover of Photography, Fashion, books, disney, stuffed animals, Nature, Music and anything that makes me happy.

💜I also love anime, sweets, Wearing cute clothes, trying new things and going on adventures. I also love alternative fashion, and the music too!

💜Just know that all of my blogs are made by me for me. If you don't like the things I reblog or post then I highly encourage you guys to unfollow or block me. I have high respect for myself and won't take Crap from ain't shit people. I am just here to reblog and Post things that express myself.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ｡˚˚ ༘♡

💜I will most likely not post on this blog since this is a reblogging blog so if you like my aesthetic feel free to follow and reblog them as well!

💜Don't be a creep on my profiles. Don't send creepy asks, or comments on my posts because if you do I will block you.

💜The Block Button Will Always Be my friend!!!

💜 My dms are currently closed not sure when I will open them but my anon asks are open though.

💜Although I am open and accepting of everyone keep in mind that no matter the race, sexualty or gender IF you act like a bitch to me then I will act like one to you back. What goes around comes around.

💜 I am also a very blunt and abrasive person so take whatever I say with a grain of salt. Anything I say on here are my opinions and that's it. But if you do get mad at what I say then I don't know what to tell you.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

💜Besides that, enjoy my blog! If you have any questions comments or concerns please contact me via ask box or dms when I have them open. Bye bye for now!

-Wisteria Willow💜

All gifs came from Google images

#me #bloggy things #about me #all about me #this is real this is me #info box #pinned post

3 notes · View notes

pinklemonslices · 1 year

Text

info about me i suppose 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

my name is Lainey or Christine, either one works!!! (+any nickname you want to give me :0)

she/her pronouns!

pansexual <3

im a theatre kid, and by extension, most of my posts are going to be about musicals

my pinterest (@PinkLemonSlices)

my spotify (Lainey!! ♫♪)

my ao3 (cheesesticksatmidnight)

^ if i know you irl do NOT look at my ao3 😾

feel free to talk to me here, on Pinterest, and/or send things in my ask box, i love interaction :0

(if you talk to me about my interests i will love you forever)

this represents me -> click click

i am cringe, but i am free

anyway ily and hello <33

#introductory post #blog intro #intro #about me :0

5 notes · View notes

jimbles-archive · 22 days

Text

FU ┌∩┐(◣_◢)┌∩┐

Seriously, FU (ಠ_ಠ)┌∩┐

I don't care ╭∩╮（︶︿︶）╭∩╮

The Finger And The Ass ┌∩┐(‿|‿)┌∩┐

The Finger And The Boobs ┌∩┐(◟‿◞◟‿◞)┌∩┐

Oh Yeah? WFU ╭∩╮ (òÓ,) ╭∩╮

Table Flip (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

Flip All Dem Tablez ┻━┻︵ (°□°)/ ︵ ┻━┻

Epic Table Flip (˚Õ˚)ر ~~~~╚╩╩╝

Ok. I Put Table Back ┬──┬ ノ( ゜-゜ノ)

Put More Tables Back ┏━┓┏━┓┏━┓ ︵ /(^.^/)

Anon ლ(ಠ益ಠლ)

Punch! O=('-'Q)

Pistols ̿' ̿'\̵͇̿̿\з=(◕_◕)=ε/̵͇̿̿/'̿'̿ ̿

Flex, Don't Mess ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

Peace Yo! (‾⌣‾)♉

Oh Hell Yeah (òÓ,)_\,,/

Right Back At Ya! (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞

Gimme ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

Serious Face (ಠ_ಠ)

Angry Face (⋟﹏⋞)

Happy Square 【ツ】

So Sorry （ﾉ´д｀）

Yes! Success .(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

Meh! Thingies ¯_(ツ)/¯ ヽ(。°)ノヾ(ｏ･ω･)ﾉ

Goofy Faces ಠಠ (•̪●) (॓॔) ٩(͡๏̯͡๏)۶ ٩(-̮̮̃•̃) ۶ ٩(̾●̮̮̃ ̾•̃̾)۶

More Goofy Faces ٩(-̮̮̃- ̃)۶ ◜☋◝ ◭,◭ •ิ.• ๏̯͡๏ ̃๏̯̃๏

More More Goofy Faces ๏̯̃๏ ツ [O.o]

Zombie [¬º-°]¬

Wot? I'm Confused ( •᷄ὤ•᷅)？

Crazy Bastard (⊙_◎)

Crazy Bitch (⊙﹏⊙✿)

Crazy, I Can't Even (｡☉౪ ⊙｡)

Headphones d[-_-]b

Boom Box ♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

Party Time ┏(--)┛┗(-- )┓┗(--)┛┏(--)┓

Sunglasses ( ••) ( ••)>⌐■-■ (⌐■_■)

Help ٩(͡๏̯͡๏)۶

Fuck Off t(-.-t)

Facepalm (>ლ)

Happy ۜ (סּںסּَ` )/ۜ

Pirate ✌(◕‿-)✌

Robber -╤╗(◙◙)╔╤- - - - \o/ \o/ \o/

You Vaporized! ( ●_●)-((⌼===<((() ≍≍≍≍≍ ♒ ✺ ♒ ZAP!

Sleeping (-.-)Zzz…

Sad (╥﹏╥)

Rage t(ಠ益ಠt)

Sunny Day ☁ ▅▒░☼‿☼░▒▅ ☁

Lenny Face ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Smug Bastard •|龴◡龴|•

Sparkling Heart -`ღ´-

Love Note 웃❤유

Boobies (. )( .)

Big Boobies ( o Y o )

Huge Boobies →→ (︶^︶) ←←

Perky Boobies ( ๏ Y ๏ )

Russian Boobies [.][.]

Small D 8=D

Big D 8=============D

A Limp D 8~~~D

Sperm ~~o

Love in my eyes (♥_♥)

In Love (✿ ♥‿♥)

Hugs (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

Hugs And Kisses (づ￣ ³￣)づ

Kisses Thingies ( ˘ ³˘)❤ （*＾3＾） (´ε｀ )♡

In Love, Holding Hands ../(,”)\♥ ♥(“.)

Love Feels Thingies =♥ (♥♥,) ❣ ➳♥

Pretty Feels Thingies ✿◕ ‿ ◕✿ ❀◕ ‿ ◕❀ ❁◕ ‿ ◕❁

Hug Me (っ◕‿◕)っ

Stars in my Eyes ✌⊂(✰‿✰)つ✌

OMG Wat? ◕_◕

Fuckin Man Tears ಥ_ಥ

Atish (| - _ - |)

Shit, Hide! |_・) |･ω･｀)

Happieee ⎦˚◡˚⎣ (｡◝‿◜｡)

Yay! (ˆ˚ˆ)/

OMG! Insane Happy Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

Love You »-(¯·.·´¯)->NAME<-(¯·.·´¯)-«

OMG, Love It! ☜♡☞

Coffee c[_]

Airplane ✈

Flowers ✽ ✾ ✿ ❀ ❁ ❃ ❋

Weather ☼ ☀ ☁ ☂ ☃ ☄ ☾ ☽ ❄ ☇ ☈ ⊙ ☉ ℃ ℉ ° ❅ ✺ ϟ

Sword o()xxxx[{::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>

Band Aid ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅ ̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

Fish Swimming ¸.·´¯·.´¯·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸><(((º>

Polar Bear ˁ˚ᴥ˚ˀ

Koala @( * O * )@

Cat 龴ↀ◡ↀ龴

Mouse ----{,_,">

Butterfly Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Cute Cat ^⨀ᴥ⨀^

Happy Cat <(^.^)>

Snail '-'@

Musical ¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸

Happy Birthday To You ¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸

Decorations ▂▃▅▇█▓▒░۩۞۩ ۩۞۩░▒▓█▇▅▃▂

Play Cards [♥]]] [♦]]] [♣]]] [♠]]]

Play Chess ♚ ♛ ♜ ♝ ♞ ♟ ♔ ♕ ♖ ♗ ♘ ♙

Play Ping Pong ( ••)O*¯·.¸.·´¯°Q(•• )

Multiplayer 웃웃웃vs웃웃웃

Needle [ ]--["""""|"""""|"""""|"""""|]>----------

Cribs Yo! ̡͌l̡̡̡ ̴̡ı̴̴̡ ̡̡͡|̲̲̲͡͡͡ ̲▫̲͡ ̲̲̲͡͡π̲̲͡͡ ̲̲͡▫̲̲͡͡ ̲|̡̡̡ ̡ ̴̡ı̴̡̡ ̡͌l̡̡̡

Crap! They're After Me! ..( ‘_’)……………..☻…HELP!!!!

Gender ♋ ♂ ♀ ☿ 웃 유

Just Music Thingies ♪ ♫ ♩ ♬ ♭ ♮

Skrillex Yo! ϟƘƦƖןןΣx

Me and Ma Boys (-(-(--)_-)-)

Me And Ma Girls (three coz girls cant even) ✿ (◠◡(◠◡◠)◡◠)✿

LOLWUT █▄▄ ███ █▄▄ █▄█▄█ █▄█ ▀█▀

Battery low 5% █ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅ ̲̅]

Rifle ︻デ═一

Creepy bleeding eyes guy ༼;´༎ຶ ༎ຶ༽

Raise your dongers! ส็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็็༼ ຈل͜ຈ༽ส้้้้้้้้้้้้้้้้้้้้้้้

#emoji #copypasta #meme

1 note · View note

ihophashbrowns · 8 months

Text

literally me bcuz my bday is in 2 days ❤︎

#* ₊ ⋆ ♪ music box ♫ ⋆ ₊ ﾟ♥︎

1 note · View note

thyele · 1 year

Text

2023年4月19日

NHKに激震、Googleが世界中の民放をライブ配信すると発表 https://www.thurrott.com/hardware/281887/walmart-onn-google-tv-4k-streaming-box

新型コロナウイルス、最初の感染源ついに判明、やはり武漢の市場から（赤木昭夫） | 現代ビジネス | 講談社（1/4） https://gendai.media/articles/-/109063

ペコリーノ - Wikipedia https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E3%83%9A%E3%82%B3%E3%83%AA%E3%83%BC%E3%83%8E

Twitterが“シャドウBAN”をラベルで明記する方針を発表　表示範囲を制限する投稿に記載（1/2 ページ） - ねとらぼ https://nlab.itmedia.co.jp/nl/articles/2304/18/news136.html

SEX MACHINEGUNSさん「25周年記念ライブ初日で完売しましたビール🍺の通販が決定しました。2本セットでの販売になります。ご予約は4/18〜4/25まで。ご購入はこちらから⬇️　 #SEXMACHINEGUS」 https://twitter.com/smgfire/status/1647932924170502145

パインアメの【パイン株式会社】さん「【本日発売】 🍈『メロ��アメ』🍈！北海道産メロンピューレを使用！香り豊かでジューシーなメロンのおいしさがお口いっぱいに広がりま( ´◎｀)ｽｰキャンディもちゃんとメロンっぽい色に🍈 【ファミリーマート】さんで探してみてくだパイン♪ ※お店によってお取り扱いのない場合もございます」 https://twitter.com/pain_ame/status/1648115736525828096

パインアメの【パイン株式会社】さん「バズったら宣伝してもいいと聞いたので・・・ 4枚目の写真の容器に飾っているのは飴じゃなくてパインアメのグミです。グミコーナーじゃなくて駄菓子コーナーに置いてあることが多いので気になった方はぜひ。」 https://twitter.com/pain_ame/status/1648109526644834304

CROSS PRESS（クロスプレス）さん「25thAnniversary浅井健一率いる”SHERBETS”4月26日（水）リリースのニューアルバム「Midnight Chocolate」より「知らない道」が本日より先行配信！浅井健一とアートディレクター大箭亮二氏によるダブル監督で制作された同曲のMUSIC VIDEOも公開！ #浅井健一 #SHERBETS」 https://twitter.com/choreopress/status/1646398299296104449

CASCADE OFFICIALさん「■CASCADE配信&サブスク情報まとめ CASCADEの楽曲が各種サービスにてDL出来ます。下記URLからお好みのサイトでお楽しみください。」 https://twitter.com/CASCADE_news/status/1647851874736037888

millennium parade × 椎名林檎 - Ｗ●ＲＫ - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYzgZVhiqmU

ヘヴィ・メタルがこれほどまでに熱心なファンを生んでいる理由 https://www.udiscovermusic.jp/stories/metal-bands-inspire-devotion?amp=1

The Brow Beat、シングル「ラブレター」5形態同時リリース決定。「ROCKET DIVE」カバーも収録 | BARKS https://www.barks.jp/news/?id=1000232788

Ako Takedaさん「私がベーシストやってるバンド、chocolate fuzz manics略してチョコファズの音源がYouTubeにアップされましたー😆全曲大好きなので是非聴いてほしいです❤︎因みに「Loo Poo」のサビは私がメインで歌っております♫ メンバーのスケジュールが忙しくて活休になっちゃったけど、またいつか演りたいなー✨」https://twitter.com/ACO_Singer/status/1485616625906688006

Hyakuさん「今度の日曜はコレだ〜 https://t.co/BynZtj7M0z」https://twitter.com/Hyaku_LR/status/1648169848026058752

大島暁美／新アカウントさん「本日、再々発売！監修させていただいた「#hidewordFILE」がカラー版になって、３度目の出版になりました。ミュージシャンへのインタビュー部分がなくなり、お値段も770円と手にとっていただきやすくなりました♪ ＊写真左がカラー版です。 #hide https://t.co/hNFsAyGi5E」https://twitter.com/akemioshima/status/1648214172218568704

SEXX GEORGEさん「6/11(日)大阪梅田ポテトキッド百直 vs HIMA-G 売切れました！激しく烈しく禿げしく感謝🤗 https://t.co/mzBm6dPfsL」https://twitter.com/abikoshinonkai/status/1648142355764228097

SEXX GEORGEさん「アメブロを投稿しました。『おはよう0418ψ(｀∇´)ψ』 #アメブロ https://t.co/3ywIXVOis3 ありがとうございました🥰 https://t.co/BJz3Q86fKL」https://twitter.com/abikoshinonkai/status/1648133464376610816

木村世治さん「久しぶりに出演させていただきます！hide Memorial Day 2023の新たな情報などもお伝えしますのでぜひ。」https://twitter.com/sayzee_hgpg/status/1647938218824994817

SEX MACHINEGUNSさん「Thank you to the all MACHINEGERS. (Directed by @Litchi_LP) https://t.co/SvmPp5geKi」https://twitter.com/smgfire/status/1647918175114362881

茉白かぐやさん「2023.04.16 梅田ポテトキッド【お父さんといっしょ】無事に終わった！！来てくれたみんなありがとう～！！ GEORGEさんが僕に「お前、いい歌詞書くなぁ。」と。ただただ本当に嬉しかった。自分に、自分の音楽に、改めて自信が持てた1日でした。一生忘れない日です��ありがとうございました。 https://t.co/tnGuqT4vsD」https://twitter.com/Mashiro_Kaguya/status/1647931281773305856

@amiblottsさん「数年前から少しずつ弾き語りの練習をしているの本っ当に少しずつだけど。笑自分の歌以外でカバーするとなると唄いたいのは何かな？と考えてみたっけ…。魔女卵のCATCH LOVEだな！初めて聴いた時から歌詞がタマらんのよ❤️ 弾き語りアレンジして唄ってみたいな〜🐷 #そんなことより早く積ませろ https://t.co/KfEfqTbsB7」https://twitter.com/amiblotts/status/1647971469673250818

nowrich vaba☆🐼🍒 kusyayanさん「このライブで初めてグリムの裏方に入ってグリムと一緒に何か造るってのが凄い楽しいっての知った(笑)　思い出深いライブだ(笑)　うちのダンサー姉妹も出てるから是非見てほしいな(笑」https://twitter.com/vaba_Sexer/status/1648162405766303744

nowrich vaba☆🐼🍒 kusyayanさん「前日の夜からライブハウスに入って仕込みしてたんやけどそんときK助が差し入れで肉巻きおにぎり買ってきてくれて初めて肉巻きおにぎり食べておいしかったなぁ(笑)　文化祭の前の日みたいでワクワクして楽しかった(笑)」https://twitter.com/vaba_Sexer/status/1648164325125935106

Deshabillz2023さん「押忍！あたおかからです！ https://t.co/2CEyQ1c0FA」https://twitter.com/Deshabillz2022/status/1648128239938727937

hide officialさん「【ご紹介】昨年の『hide Memorial Day 2022』にも出演してくださった”The Brow Beat”のデビュー５周年を飾るニューシングル「ラブレター」が全５形態で5/31(水)に同時発売決定！ Type-02には #hide with Spread Beaverの名曲「ROCKET DIVE」のカバーが収録されています★https://t.co/bbX7x3u3Rn」https://twitter.com/hideofficial_20/status/1648221573478752256

けい🏀さん「こちらのゆけどんさん、今朝になっても未だ線路から救助されていなかったため、一旦私の方でお預かりしました。持ち主の方へ勝手な判断、どうかお許しください。 DMくださいましたら、お迎えのご相談伺いますので、お気軽にご連絡ください😊 (持ち主さんに届きますように！) #MUCC」https://twitter.com/kob_kei/status/1647910927415799808

kazuyaさん「是非ご覧下さい！ #FANATICCRISIS #FANTASTICCIRCUS」https://twitter.com/kazuya2418/status/1648166423892725760

くいだおれ太郎、ヤマハとエンドースメント契約 | BARKShttps://www.barks.jp/news/?id=1000232798

PABLO モジャからの卒業/成人しましたさん「イケシブ！！！！あざす！！」https://twitter.com/BACK_to_APRIL/status/1648162827969138688

ギルさん「あと一週間でライブだ！！！楽しみだね🎸 チケット情報 https://t.co/wssDHNGXom ツイキャスプレミア配信 https://t.co/xun7ZTxDli https://t.co/IVVHJuzMMP」https://twitter.com/GtGiru_official/status/1648164698473529345

The Brow Beat Officialさん「【CD】 2023年5月31日(水) The Brow Beat 5th Anniversary NEW SINGLE 「ラブレター」全5形態発売決定!!!!! 各CDショップにて予約受付開始!!!!! Type-05 初回限定盤 01.ラブレター 02.な訳ねぇだろ＊香り付トレカ MUCD-5418 ¥1,980(税込) https://t.co/NaMNRj0liE ＃佐藤流司＃HAKUEI https://t.co/905wqKdfVz」https://twitter.com/The_Brow_Beat/status/1648160019924541440

The Brow Beat Officialさん「【CD】 2023年5月31日(水) The Brow Beat 5th Anniversary NEW SINGLE 「ラブレター」全5形態発売決定!!!!! 各CDショップにて予約受付開始!!!!! Type-03 初回限定盤 01.ラブレター 02.な訳ねぇだろ＊スタッフパス(レプリカ) MUCD-5416 ¥1,980(税込) https://t.co/NaMNRj0liE https://t.co/PpQI2Pmqic」https://twitter.com/The_Brow_Beat/status/1648159765837774848

The Brow Beat Officialさん「【CD】 2023年5月31日(水) The Brow Beat 5th Anniversary NEW SINGLE 「ラブレター」全5形態発売決定!!!!! 各CDショップにて予約受付開始!!!!! Type-02 01.ラブレター 02な訳ねぇだろ 03.ROCKET DIVE (The original song by hide with Spread Beaver) MUCD-5415 ¥1,980(税込) ＃TheBrowBeat https://t.co/L1KeoqSA3X」https://twitter.com/The_Brow_Beat/status/1648159652352528385

The Brow Beat Officialさん「【CD】 2023年5月31日(水) The Brow Beat 5th Anniversary NEW SINGLE 「ラブレター」全5形態発売決定!!!!! 各CDショップにて予約受付開始!!!!! Type-04 01.ラブレター 02.な訳ねぇだろ 03.紡ぐ (ブラック・ジャック漫画連載50周年記念テーマソング) MUCD-5417 ¥1,980(税込) ＃TheBrowBeat https://t.co/2K4tp1UNHj」https://twitter.com/The_Brow_Beat/status/1648159918283980800

The Brow Beat Officialさん「【CD】 2023年5月31日(水) The Brow Beat 5th Anniversary NEW SINGLE 「ラブレター」全5形態発売決定!!!!! 各CDショップにて予約受付開始!!!!! Type-01 01.ラブレター 02.な訳ねぇだろ＊16Pブックレット MUCD-5414 ¥1,980(税込) https://t.co/NaMNRj0liE ＃佐藤流司＃HAKUEI https://t.co/dfeJnDXfUG」https://twitter.com/The_Brow_Beat/status/1648159542101053442

ESP CRAFT HOUSE（ESP渋谷）さん「【🌈ご予約受付中🌈】 L'Arc~en~Ciel tetsuya Signature Model LAKLAND U.S.A . / 55-69 tetsuya Signature Bass 【メイプル指板】 https://t.co/WgwllgYpKw 【エボニー指板】 https://t.co/5zu7ZtA6GT #ESP渋谷 #LAKLAND #tetsuya #ラルク #5弦ベース https://t.co/U3lfXY3qTs」https://twitter.com/espcrafthouse/status/1647800631737081856

石月努さん「今更だけどすきなものは好きだし、苦手なものには触れません。 MUCCたつろう氏も同じ種族でした。 #TOKYOFM #JACKINTHEREDIO」https://twitter.com/ishizukitsutomu/status/1647851714358448128

IKUOさん「MORRIEさんのサポートをやらさせていただきます‼️ #MORRIE」https://twitter.com/IKUObass190/status/1647921102122000385

chisato@PENICILLINさん「#新しいプロフィール画像 https://t.co/WHSYl1Q3PP」https://twitter.com/chisatochang666/status/1647892460956454913

MORRIEさん「【Arche 4】 “Dionysius Intersection” 6月24日(土) 高田馬場CLUB PHASE 開場16:30／開演 17:00 vocal & guitar - MORRIE guitar - 黒木真司 bass - IKUO drums - 城戸紘志 https://t.co/7qOTIcv1An」https://twitter.com/nowherenobodygu/status/1647917831776788481

Chanty officialさん「■NACK5「BEAT SHUFFLE」芥電話インタビューにて出演！・FM　NACK5 『BEAT　SHUFFLE』（埼玉　79.5MHｚ）・4月21日（金）　19:00-20:30 生放送・出演メンバー　芥　　　　　　　　　詳しくはHPまで https://t.co/0I2k52hl6k」https://twitter.com/chanty_news/status/1647903869719187456

凛として時雨さん「【TV出演情報】 4/23(日)25:00〜25:25 フジテレビ系「Love music」 https://t.co/phJXk7ftnu 『劇場版 PSYCHO-PASS サイコパス PROVIDENCE』主題歌「アレキシサイミアスペア」をフルサイズ披露！ 🎧https://t.co/rEilNG2JDP」https://twitter.com/sigure_official/status/1647845440237481984

V系☆星の子レシピ/ 星子誠一さん「【seekのニコ生ラジオ放送に、KEKEとSHUN.が出演！】 5月15日(月)20時より、seek(Psycho le Cému/MIMIZUQ)のニコ生ラジオトーク番組「seekのFish Dance Hour」＜17時間目＞がスタート！ゲスト：KEKE、SHUN.(THE MICRO HEAD 4N'S) ～ヴィジュアル系を考察する会～番組[ https://t.co/uKz5HQnRKO ] https://t.co/EMV8IJGOvE」https://twitter.com/visualkei_oyaji/status/1647902857021083648

lynch. OFFICIALさん「【media情報】ニコニコチャンネルプラス「LUNA SEA真矢・工藤晴香晴れた月の夜は」超特別企画「晴れ月限定 “THE BEST OF LUNA SEA 2023 “ナイショのうふふ💓SP.」 2023年5月31日（水）21:00〜生放送にて葉月のゲスト出演が決定！詳しくはこちら https://t.co/phfiteg33m https://t.co/Ww1AScpuww」https://twitter.com/lynch_staff/status/1647873800514711552

Crack6 officialさん「【Crack6】2023年6月6日発売決定🚩 New Album💿 「カナリア最終楽章:CODA (カナリアコーダ)」全10曲入り豪華ブックレット(16ページ)付き SRPM-2007 / ¥3,600(税抜価格3,273円) ※DDJ公式オンラインショップにて別バージョン販売予定 Crack6オフィシャルサイト⏬ https://t.co/SPCd9Ntwvs https://t.co/u3mGbCb5dE」https://twitter.com/Crack6_info/status/1647887633782296578

Daijiro Nozawa a.k.a.DIEさん「✨昨年の思い出のひとコマ✨ 【NO!RED 人間の証明のテーマ/ダイアモンドユカイ】 Vo. ダイアモンドユカイ G. 野村義男 G.solo 田川ヒロアキ B. 寺沢功一 Dr. 五十嵐公太 Key. DIE やっと動画公開に漕ぎつけました🎉🤩 音小さいので音量上げて聴いてくださいね♪ https://t.co/cn5OOhGG3v https://t.co/OceVte1J83」https://twitter.com/Pukapyu/status/1647888062909939719

0 notes

diwawoxoda · 2 years

Text

Mk 2063 bedienungsanleitung samsung

MK 2063 BEDIENUNGSANLEITUNG SAMSUNG >> Herunterladen vk.cc/c7jKeU

MK 2063 BEDIENUNGSANLEITUNG SAMSUNG >> Online Lesen bit.do/fSmfG

BEDIENUNGSANLEITUNG für Mini Komponente System Samsung Max-477 DDR Serviceanleitung UNITRA Kassetten-Recorder MK 122 ♫ ♪ - (Es gibt übliche Gebrauchs- Sie erhalten hier die von Ihnen gesuchte Anleitung. Bei Problemen können Sie das Handbuch per E-Mail anfordern. Unser Support-Team hilft Ihnen gern weiter. lidl.de/p/samsung-galaxy-a33-5g-smartphone-128gb/p100351548 lidl.de/p/elo-basic-m-k-by-elo-topf-set-juwel-4-teilig- mit Bedienungsanleitung,Kartonage,Netzteil und Ständer.Alles gut erhalten. Yamaha HTR-2063 AV Receiver Cinema DSP Digital mit Fernbedienung. Sulzbach (Saar). 09.08.2022 Yamaha CD Player CDX 397 MK ll, inkl Fernbedienung.21.18.2063. a.A.. 21.14.0206 frogKey 02 Transponder mit Lage- und Gestensensor zur Bedienung des frogblue Systems. frogLink Bluetooth®-LE USB-Stick zur 2063 Fostex. DP 8. 300.00. CHF. Digi-Patch 8x8 6 x opt. A 78 MK II. 250.00. CHF. HiFi Amplifier 227 Samsung. BD-P1600. YDXQ6FDS801859E. 187 Sanyo. Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs tagged as #mk's nav with no restrictions, .com/post/694304348250980352/olivetti-fax-lab-128-bedienungsanleitung-samsung, Mk 2063 bedienungsanleitung sony Induktionskochfeld siemens bedienungsanleitung samsung Canton music box m bedienungsanleitung galaxy .de/waschmaschine-samsung-wf8500sfv-weiss-59-bedienungsanleitung .de/waschmaschine-whirlpool-zentrifuge-romo-190-3-r-weiss-2063-bedienungsanleitung Ursa Mini Series Filmkameras Pdf Anleitung Herunterladen. Les Ssd Suivants Sont Recommandés Pour Enregistrer Au Format Prores 444 Xq 4.6K Jusqu'à 30 Im/S. Ursa Mini Series Filmkameras Pdf Anleitung Herunterladen. Les Ssd Suivants Sont Recommandés Pour Enregistrer Au Format Prores 444 Xq 4.6K Jusqu'à 30 Im/S.

https://www.tumblr.com/diwawoxoda/697093550278656000/alde-compact-3010-bedienungsanleitung-cafissimo, https://www.tumblr.com/diwawoxoda/697093305255755776/peugeot-103-mofa-bedienungsanleitung-philips, https://www.tumblr.com/diwawoxoda/697093550278656000/alde-compact-3010-bedienungsanleitung-cafissimo, https://www.tumblr.com/diwawoxoda/697092763344306177/humminbird-smartcast-rf25e-bedienungsanleitung, https://www.tumblr.com/diwawoxoda/697093144519557120/sommer-tx03-868-4-bedienungsanleitung-hd.

0 notes

bleedingthroughteeth · 2 years

Text

List of symbols

Flowers

𑁍 𖣦 ❀ ✿ ❁ ❃ ❊ ✣ ✼ ❉ ꕤ᯽֍❁ ᪥ ❀❁ꕥ𓇬⚘𓆸𓆹𓆼𓇊𓇚

Hearts

♡ ♡ ❥ ❦ ❧ ❤︎ ♥︎ ♡̷ ♡ ྀ =͟͟͞♡ ఌ ꨄ <3 ♡⃕

Stars

✶ 𖤐 ★ 𒀭 ✧ ✦⭒ ✮ ⋆ ꙳ ✧ ⊹ 。°˖ ✰✯ ⊛✺✹✸✷ ✬✫❂✯⍟✪✩ ☾

Arrows

↳ ↱ ⇢ ➯ ↝ ➸ ➹ ↬ ↫ ￫ ➥ ⁀➷ ➠ ⟿ ↺ ↻ ⇘ ⇙ ⇗ ⇖ ➟➠➙➚➛➜☇➔⇪⇩⇨⇧⇦➢➣➥➦➧➪➫➬➯➱➲➳➴➽➼➾⇳⇣⇢⇜⇝⇡⇠

Boxes

□░■☒☐❒▥▤▦▨◧◨◩ ◫◰◱◲▭▯▒▓▢▮⊞⊟⊠⊡ ∎⊞⊟⊠⊡▁■□▢▣▓▥▦▧▨▩▫◪◩◨◧◈◇◆❑❒◫◙◳◲◱◰

Circles

⊖⊘⊙⊚⊛⊜⊝◉○◌◍◎●◐◑◒◓◔◕◖◗◦◯◴◵◶❍⦿⊕⊗

Triangles

⊿▲△▴▵▷▸▹►▻▼▽▾▿◁◂◃◄◅◢◣◤◥◭◮◸◹◺◿∇∆ ⫷ ⫸

Office

☏ ✄ ✎ ✐ ✑ ✁ ✃ ✆

Borders

┊͙write in me ┊͙ ꒰ write in me ꒱ 【 write in me 】「 write in me 」『 write in me 』 ⌠ write in me ⌡〔 write in me 〕〖 write in me〗 « write in me » ‹ write in me › ◣ Write in me ◥ ʚ write in me ɞ ❝ write in me ❞ ˗ˏˋwrite in meˎˊ˗

Swirls

﹏﹏﹏‍ ༄࿓ ؂ 𓏲 𓂅 ࿔ 𖦹 ꩜ 𖣠 ⌇ ᝰ ꕀ ꒰ 𓍲 𓍱 𓍯𖥦𓂃﹏ ๑ ໑ ࿔ ७५୭᠀𑁯 ੭ ৎ ຊ∿ꔵ ຯ ໒೨𖧧Ꮺ 𖡎౾ ౽ ೫

Dice

⚀ ⚁ ⚂ ⚃ ⚄ ⚅

Chess

♔♕♖♗♘♙♞♝♜♛♚

Dividers

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰────. ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

●∘◦❀◦∘●

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

●∘◦❀◦∘●

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

»»——⍟——««

⊹ ⋆ﾟ꒰ఎ ♥︎ ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡

꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷

.·:*¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨*:·.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═╗╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

╚═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═╝╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗ ┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝ └── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

└─── °∘❉∘° ───┘

Music

♫ ♪ ♩♬♭♯𝄞𝄢

» [song name] «

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

┊ ⇄ ◁◁ II ▷▷ ↻ ┊

₀․₀₀◦────────────────◦ ₃․₁₅

ᵐⁱⁿ ────────────○─ ᵐᵃˣ

Animals

𓆉𓆟𓃥𓃠𓃰𓃱𓃯𓃭𓃸𓃵𓃗𓃘𓃙𓃟𓄀𓄁𓄂𓃚𓃛𓃜𓃒𓃓𓃔𓃕𓃖𓃡𓃢𓃦𓃩𓃫𓃬𓃮𓃲𓃶𓃷𓃹𓃻𓃽𓃾𓃿𓄄𓄄𓄅𓄆𓄇𓆈𓆉𓆌𓆏𓆗𓆘𓆙𓆐𓆑𓆊𓆡𓆣𓆤𓄿𓅀𓅁𓅂𓅇𓅄𓅐𓅐𓅏𓅋𓅑𓅕𓅢𓅮𓅺𓅹𓅸𓅽𓆃𓆂𓅸

People

𓀞𓀞𓀟𓀠𓀡𓀢𓀣𓀩𓀨𓀧𓀦𓀤𓀥𓀪𓀫𓀬𓀀𓀁𓀂𓀈𓀇𓀆𓀅𓀃𓀊𓀉𓀋𓀌𓀍𓀎𓀕𓀔𓀓𓀒𓀑𓀏𓀖𓀛𓀙𓀘𓀗𓁅𓀜𓁄𓁃𓁂𓁁𓀝𓁆𓁋𓁇𓁈𓁗𓁖𓁕𓁔𓁓𓁎𓁍𓁐𓁒𓁙𓁘𓀭𓀲𓀱𓀽𓀼𓀾𓀻𓁲𓁀𓀿𓁤𓁵𓁨𓁱𓁰𓁩𓁪𓁫

Faces

☹ ☻ ㋡ ⍨⍢ツ ◡̎ ᙏ̤̫ ꪔ̤̥ ꪔ̤̮ ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ ( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅ ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)٩꒰｡•◡•｡꒱۶ ( o˘◡˘o) (*ฅ́˘ฅ̀*) ٩(๑´3｀๑)۶ ¨̮ (༎ຶ௰༎ຶ ) (๑•͈ᴗ•͈)( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ ) ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾ ॑꒳ ॑ˊᗜˋ (୨୧ᵕ̤ᴗᵕ̤) ꒰･‿･๑꒱ ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡ ꒰˘̩̩̩⌣˘̩̩̩๑꒱♡. (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³ (꜆꜄ ˃ ³ ˂)꜆꜄꜆ ꒰ ¨̮͚ ꒱ ପ(⑅ˊᵕˋ⑅)ଓ ( ੭•͈ω•͈)੭ ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ ₍˄·͈༝·͈˄*₎◞ ̑̑. °ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ° (∩˃o˂∩)♡ ꒰⑅ •̥ ·̮ •̥ ⑅꒱ ♥︎ ̀⁽ᵕ̈⁾ ́ (ू｡∵｡) ♡.̫♡ (╭☞•́⍛•̀)╭☞ ˃̶̤́˘͈ᵕ˘͈˂̶̤̀ ˙ᵕ˙ ᵔદᵔ ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ ˶˙º̬˙˶ ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜ (ꈍᴗꈍ) ꒰｡ › ·̮ ‹ ｡꒱

Extras

☁︎☯︎ ⋆.ೃ࿔* ꧂ ⇲ ࿐ ✞ 𖤍 ۝ ༊ இ 𖥸꒦꒷ᨳ ⚠︎ 𓌉◯𓇋　　𓎩 ᯤ ᯅ 𖤘 � ✓ ✘ ⚡︎ ⌨︎

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

Letters

𝐴 𝐵 𝐶 𝐷 𝐸 𝐹 𝐺 𝐻 𝐼 𝐽 𝐾 𝐿 𝑀 𝑁 𝑂 𝑃 𝑄 𝑅 𝑆 𝑇 𝑈 𝑉 𝑊 𝑋 𝑌 𝑍

𝑎 𝑏 𝑐 𝑑 𝑒 𝑓 𝑔 ℎ 𝑖 𝑗 𝑘 𝑙 𝑚 𝑛 𝑜 𝑝 𝑞 𝑟 𝑠 𝑡 𝑢 𝑣 𝑤 𝑥 𝑦 𝑧

𝐀 𝐁 𝐂 𝐃 𝐄 𝐅 𝐆 𝐇 𝐈 𝐉 𝐊 𝐋 𝐌 𝐍 𝐎 𝐏 𝐐 𝐑 𝐒 𝐓 𝐔 𝐕 𝐖 𝐗 𝐘 𝐙

𝐚 𝐛 𝐜 𝐝 𝐞 𝐟 𝐠 𝐡 𝐢 𝐣 𝐤 𝐥 𝐦 𝐧 𝐨 𝐩 𝐪 𝐫 𝐬 𝐭 𝐮 𝐯 𝐰 𝐱 𝐲 𝐳

𝗔 𝗕 𝗖 𝗗 𝗘 𝗙 𝗚 𝗛 𝗜 𝗝 𝗞 𝗟 𝗠 𝗡 𝗢 𝗣 𝗤 𝗥 𝗦 𝗧 𝗨 𝗩 𝗪 𝗫 𝗬 𝗭

𝗮 𝗯 𝗰 𝗱 𝗲 𝗳 𝗴 𝗵 𝗶 𝗷 𝗸 𝗹 𝗺 𝗻 𝗼 𝗽 𝗾 𝗿 𝘀 𝘁 𝘂 𝘃 𝘄 𝘅 𝘆 𝘇

𝓐 𝓑 𝓒 𝓓 𝓔 𝓕 𝓖 𝓗 𝓘 𝓙 𝓚 𝓛 𝓜 𝓝 𝓞 𝓟 𝓠 𝓡 𝓢 𝓣 𝓤 𝓥 𝓦 𝓧 𝓨 𝓩

𝓪 𝓫 𝓬 𝓭 𝓮 𝓯 𝓰 𝓱 𝓲 𝓳 𝓴 𝓵 𝓶 𝓷 𝓸 𝓹 𝓺 𝓻 𝓼 𝓽 𝓾 𝓿 𝔀 𝔁 𝔂 𝔃

𝐴 𝐵 𝐶 𝐷 𝐸 𝐹 𝐺 𝐻 𝐼 𝐽 𝐾 𝐿 𝑀 𝑁 𝑂 𝑃 𝑄 𝑅 𝑆 𝑇 𝑈 𝑉 𝑊 𝑋 𝑌 𝑍

𝒂 𝒃 𝒄 𝒅 𝒆 𝒇 𝒈 𝒉 𝒊 𝒋 𝒌 𝒍 𝒎 𝒏 𝒐 𝒑 𝒒 𝒓 𝒔 𝒕 𝒖 𝒗 𝒘 𝒙 𝒚 𝒛

𝙰 𝙱 𝙲 𝙳 𝙴 𝙵 𝙶 𝙷 𝙸 𝙹 𝙺 𝙻 𝙼 𝙽 𝙾 𝙿 𝚀 𝚁 𝚂 𝚃 𝚄 𝚅 𝚆 𝚇 𝚈 𝚉

𝚊 𝚋 𝚌 𝚍 𝚎 𝚏 𝚐 𝚑 𝚒 𝚓 𝚔 𝚕 𝚖 𝚗 𝚘 𝚙 𝚚 𝚛 𝚜 𝚝 𝚞 𝚟 𝚠 𝚡 𝚢 𝚣

𝕬 𝕭 𝕮 𝕯 𝕰 𝕱 𝕲 𝕳 𝕴 𝕵 𝕶 𝕷 𝕸 𝕹 𝕺 𝕻 𝕼 𝕽 𝕾 𝕿 𝖀 𝖁 𝖂 𝖃 𝖄 𝖅

𝖆 𝖇 𝖈 𝖉 𝖊 𝖋 𝖌 𝖍 𝖎 𝖏 𝖐 𝖑 𝖒 𝖓 𝖔 𝖕 𝖖 𝖗 𝖘 𝖙 𝖚 𝖛 𝖜 𝖝 𝖞 𝖟

𝔄 𝔅 ℭ 𝔇 𝔈 𝔉 𝔊 ℌ ℑ 𝔍 𝔎 𝔏 𝔐 𝔑 𝔒 𝔓 𝔔 ℜ 𝔖 𝔗 𝔘 𝔙 𝔚 𝔛 𝔜

𝔞 𝔟 𝔠 𝔡 𝔢 𝔣 𝔤 𝔥 𝔦 𝔧 𝔨 𝔩 𝔪 𝔫 𝔬 𝔭 𝔮 𝔯 𝔰 𝔱 𝔲 𝔳 𝔴 𝔵 𝔶 𝔷

𝘼 𝘽 𝘾 𝘿 𝙀 𝙁 𝙂 𝙃 𝙄 𝙅 𝙆 𝙇 𝙈 𝙉 𝙊 𝙋 𝙌 𝙍 𝙎 𝙏 𝙐 𝙑 𝙒 𝙓 𝙔 𝙕

𝙖 𝙗 𝙘 𝙙 𝙚 𝙛 𝙜 𝙝 𝙞 𝙟 𝙠 𝙡 𝙢 𝙣 𝙤 𝙥 𝙦 𝙧 𝙨 𝙩 𝙪 𝙫 𝙬 𝙭 𝙮 𝙯

𝒜 ℬ 𝒞 𝒟 ℰ ℱ 𝒢 ℋ ℐ 𝒥 𝒦 ℒ ℳ 𝒩 𝒪 𝒫 𝒬 ℛ 𝒮 𝒯 𝒰 𝒱 𝒲 𝒳 𝒴 𝒵

𝒶 𝒷 𝒸 𝒹 𝑒 𝒻 𝑔 𝒽 𝒾 𝒿 𝓀 𝓁 𝓂 𝓃 𝑜 𝓅 𝓆 𝓇 𝓈 𝓉 𝓊 𝓋 𝓌 𝓍 𝓎 𝓏

𝔸 𝔹 ℂ 𝔻 𝔼 𝔽 𝔾 ℍ 𝕀 𝕁 𝕂 𝕃 𝕄 ℕ 𝕆 ℙ ℚ ℝ 𝕊 𝕋 𝕌 𝕍 𝕎 𝕏 𝕐 ℤ

𝕒 𝕓 𝕔 𝕕 𝕖 𝕗 𝕘 𝕙 𝕚 𝕛 𝕜 𝕝 𝕞 𝕟 𝕠 𝕡 𝕢 𝕣 𝕤 𝕥 𝕦 𝕧 𝕨 𝕩 𝕪 𝕫

Numbers

①②③④⑤⑥⑦⑧⑨⑩

⑪⑫⑬⑭⑮⑯⑰⑱⑲⑳

₀ ₁ ₂ ₃ ₄ ₅ ₆ ₇ ₈ ₉

➊➋➌➍➎➏➐➑➒➓

#kaomoji #dividers #symbols

11K notes · View notes

disaster-daydreams · 2 years

Text

Light My Love

Lucifer & Mammon x Insecure!reader

A/N - Not me using writing as free therapy. The amount of times I have been told that my voice is ugly and that I should shut up... it got to me tonight. So have this self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic that gives you the first look into how I write Luci. If you’re reading and this hits home with you- do not let anyone stop you singing. If you love it, then just do it. You don’t have all the time on the world, don’t waste the time stifling that part of you. Okay, rant over!

Tw// panic attack.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸

· The brothers had come home early from a meeting

· You were playing loud music since Lucifer wasn’t home

· They all eventually wandered in and found you singing

· It was made worse by the fact that the Purgatory Hall residents as well as Diavolo and Barbatos were there.

· Asmodeus was the one to say something

· “Thank goodness! We thought you were dying!”

· It shouldn’t be much, you know that, but for some reason it hit a chord

· You excuse yourself quickly, abandoning what you had been doing and locking yourself in your room.

The cold snap had left your voice on the fritz, so the singing wasn’t perfect, but if it was you, he didn’t mind. He had never heard you sing, and he thought that once your throat was better you could sing while he played piano. Asmo’s was an innocent comment, really, and Lucifer wouldn’t have thought twice about it had your hands not immediately gone to cover your mouth, shaking with an intensity he rarely saw. You had spun around to face them and jumped. There was most definitely something wrong.

As you shoved past him, he caught your arm, but you yanked free without even looking back. He narrowed his eyes, trying to puzzle out what you could be so upset about. He mumbled a quick ‘stay here’ to his brothers and started after you, his brisk pace catching up to you just in time for you to slam the door shut in his face.

He scoffed, blinking in shock at the audacity. He shook out his keys from his pocket and unlocked he door, stepping in and looking around. He thought for a moment you had found a way to sneak out until he heard a muffled sniffle.

You had shoved the bed away from the wall enough to slip in between the two and had filled the area with pillows and blankets. Under the bed (though no one but you and Beel knew they were there) was a box of snacks and drinks, in case he got hungry or thirsty while hanging out. There, you had shoved yourself and were now crying.

As you heard the footsteps approaching, knowing good and well who it would be, you attempted to wipe the tears off your face. The splotchy red discoloration around your eyes would be a dead giveaway of your current state, so you attempted to hide your face in the stuffed animal Belphie lent you (“Emphasis on lent,” he had said). What you didn’t expect was for Lucifer to sink down in front of you, facing your balled-up self while attempting to get comfortable in the small space without sinking into the pile of pillows.

“I’ll be absolutely no help if you can’t talk to me. Breathe.” His words were a command, but his voice was barely a breeze, a tone he used only when around you- and only at very specific times. It was the voice he used the first time he found you having a near panic attack because of flashbacks. It was the voice he used when you found him, passed out on his desk, completely overworked, and simply brought him tea and sat with him while he finished paperwork. You used that voice, those memories, to remind yourself who it was that was sitting in front of you. This was not someone who would intentionally hurt you or lie to you for your feelings.

“I’m sor-ry. My voice w-was sore. I- I know- I know I can’t si-ng.” You hiccupped through, your chest heaving, the tears flowing despite your efforts to stop them. It was humiliating, and right now you wanted to yell and scream at him to go away, let me be hurt. But that would just make him more determined because where is his pride if he can’t help the person he cares most about?

So, instead, he lets you cry. Neither of you say anything more for a long while, and he doesn’t touch you, but his presence is there and that is what matters right now because he doesn’t rush you to calm down for his sake, he just lets you feel in a way that you’re never allowed to otherwise. A luxury that you both are only afforded around each other.

It takes long enough that you hear doors close and feet hit the floor above and around you, the brothers one by one making their way to their rooms despite Lucifer’s order to stay. And though you don’t know it, each one looks at your door as they pass (and they all pass- even if it is out of their way) and a few go to knock, before thinking better and just passing by, an unspoken trust that their older brother will take good care of you, just like he has done to them.

Their faith is well-placed; eventually, the sobs turn to sniffles, the redness fades, and they uncurl just enough to allow Lucifer to shift closer and put your violently shaking hands against his, as if comparing hand sizes, but it is so much more to you. When his hands were so cramped from holding a pen that he couldn’t open them, you would gently massage his hands until they would open enough for you to do this exact thing. After a few times of this happening, it became a comfort gesture, something quiet and inconspicuous and so intimate in a way that neither of you could express but both acknowledged.

Finally, you looked up, a hesitant but genuine smile on your face. Lucifer interlaced their fingers and pulled them closer, into a semi-awkward hug (Lucifer was definitely not used to tight spaces) and finally spoke.

“I would be proud to sing by your side.”

Mammon had only ever heard you hum once, in art class, while you were painting. Some demon commented, something to the effect of “That’s annoying, I can’t focus!” Mammon had wanted to hit them the moment they had said something but was distracted by the look on your face. You looked mortified, as if you had been caught in a crime. It was that same look on your face now, but worse- more surprise, more horror, almost as if being caught by someone you knew was worse.

It took a moment (and maybe a nudge from Leviathan) after you brushed past him to realize that he should go after you, but once it clicked, he rushed after you. He beat you to the door, even though you began to run as soon as you heard him running behind you.

You almost collide with him as he ducks in front of you, grasping your arms and trying to get you to look at him. This tactic didn’t work for long, and the door flew open into his face. The hand he had left on your arm flew off to catch himself as he fell, and you ducked into your room and locked the door behind you.

You didn’t mean to hurt him, but you were panicking; you didn’t think you could take it if he held this above you. If the others held this above you. There was so, so much that had been said- that you were weak, that you were dumb, that you were a disgrace, but nothing had gotten so personal as this.

The slamming on the door that had ensued as soon as Mammon gave up on the lock finally stopped, the sound of a body sliding down the door catching your attention. Mammon remembered when you had pulled him out of his room by just sitting by the door and waiting for him to come out. You had been patient and kind to him the whole time he had known you. Your quiet devotion had not gone unnoticed, every time you had just sat and run your hands through your hair as he ranted about his brothers, the nights you had held him as he babbled incoherently through his tears until he fell asleep, the hours you had spent unknotting the increasingly intricate knots Lucifer strung him up with. He felt guilty that you had so quietly sworn yourself to him and he hadn’t noticed until you had an iron grip on his heart.

He tapped his legs, mentally debating what he was about to do. He growled and stood up from the door, dashing off to go bother a certain fourth-born.

Your first thought, of course, is that he’s left. He abandoned you here because hearing your voice was so humiliating that he couldn’t stand you anymore. The thought, as irrational as it may have been, clouded your thoughts and sent you spiraling, sobbing harder than ever. Every thought you’ve ever had, that you were nothing but a distraction, that he was so much more than you would ever be, that you were just some lost puppy following on his heels, all these and more came to the forefront of your mind, crushing any reason you once had.

It took longer than Mammon expected to get down what he wanted. Satan had taken more convincing than even Mammon expected to hand over papers and a pen, but Mammon wanted to get down everything he wanted to say but couldn’t because of that stupid lump that stuck in his throat when he tried to talk to you. He had never thought to do this, because he knew that you always read it on his face, but he knew you needed to be told now. That there was nothing you could do that could drive him away. That he could listen to you sing for eternity.

He waited outside your door for the entire time it took you to find and read the letter he slipped under the door. He waited the whole time it took for you to calm down. He waited past the time Lucifer walked by with a candle, and Lucifer just looked at him, sighed, and continued on his patrol. In less than a decade, Lucifer had watched his brother grow in a way that he hadn’t seen in centuries. He would have time to punish his brother for breaking curfew later- this moment wouldn’t happen again.

Mammon waited until his eyes were drooping shut and he had to shift every few seconds to keep awake. He waited until, suddenly, the door swung open, leaving him to scramble to his feet as you stepped up to him, face still twisted from crying and tears still streaming down your face. Your arms wrapped around his waist and your face nestled itself in his chest, tears staining his white shirt. He didn’t care, and tangled his hands in your hair, kissing the top of your head and rocking gently. Together, just standing in the hallway, loving each other in a quiet way that was so incredibly rare and delicate for them.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸

A/N for those who were looking forward to See You Later... I was writing it, I’ve just been frustrated because this thing happened.

265 notes · View notes