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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

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𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 • eddie munson x reader

sequel to 𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗲 and 𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 • another album, another tour, this time with a stop in Indianapolis featuring a local opener that proves to be more familiar than you expected.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 • 5.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 • smut (18+ only), semi-public sex, extreme fluff, jealous reader, cocky eddie, hatefucking (at first), emotions!!

Objectively, Eddie was never the best you ever had. Considering your long and storied history included a lot of very talented people— sometimes multiple at a time— it was hard to compete. He didn't make you come the hardest, or the fastest, or the most.

But for some reason, he was always your favorite.

Even if he wasn't a sex god, he managed to keep up with you and he was just the right balance of everything: sweet but not too grovelling; good-looking but not too self-obsessed; young but not too naive.

Truth be told, every time you thought about it, you wondered if you should've taken him on tour with you. You imagined a life where you had this little boytoy to keep you company, where he held you close at night in that big empty bed while the bus was on its way to the next stop; where you finished your sets and walked just off stage to find him waiting, and he'd give you a big kiss and tell you how amazing you were.

But it was just a fantasy, something to get you through especially lonely nights. You’d been thinking about him leading up to your tour stop in Indiana, wondering if you should find some way to reach out— all you had was an old phone number, and that was nearly a year ago now that you found out he graduated and moved away. After considering looking him up a few times (and realizing you didn’t actually know if Eddie was short for Edward or Edmond or Edgar or… not short for anything), you decided it was best left alone. After all, your presence in Indiana was pretty heavily anticipated, it’s not like he couldn’t figure it out if he wanted to find some way to see you.

Danny nodded at you from behind the drums as you walked onstage for soundcheck.

“Okay, we’re just gonna tune and run the first song on the setlist,” the sound technician announced over the speakers as you put in your earpiece.

“Great,” you answered into the microphone, slinging your guitar on over your shoulder and starting to pick at it to get it perfectly in tune— yes, most big stars have the venue techs or their roadies tune instruments for them, but you preferred doing it yourself. It was like… well, it was sort of like foreplay. You preferred warming up your guitar yourself.

“Hey, you heard of this band that’s opening for us?” Jerome, your second guitarist, asked you as an assistant adjusted his mic stand. “I was talking to the venue manager— he said a ton of people are here to see them. They’re local legends or something.”

“I didn’t even read who’s opening for us,” you admitted. “I haven’t slept since Louisville.”

“They’re called Corroded Coffin,” he said. “Real grungy stuff.”

“Well, it’s a decent name,” you offered. “I’ll have to watch their set and see if they’re any good.”

When soundcheck ended, you retired to the green room for a drink and a rest, the closest thing you had to a pre-show ritual. This venue was nice enough that you had a TV by the vanity, meaning you totally zoned out and lost track of time watching National Geographic; you didn’t even realize the show had started until you heard loud, echoing guitars from outside.

Turning the volume down, you listened to the muffled sound for a couple minutes, nodding to yourself. Hey, they’re not bad.

Deciding to venture out and get a proper listen, you navigated the crowded backstage— roadies, assistants, and for some reason a crowd of kids in matching t-shirts?— so you could peer in from-offstage to see the band. The first thing you saw was the pit; it was full of girls. Screaming, desperate girls. Shit, who is this guy? You figured you weren’t likely to get the same reception from that section of the crowd, unless there was a bisexual convention in town.

Leaning further in, you finally saw the back of the guitarist’s head. Any other context, and that mess of long, curly brown hair would give it away— but this was the metal scene, after all, and most of the guys looked like that.

He took a step back, disappointing the girls who had been climbing over each other to try to touch his ankle, and shook his head to get his hair out of his face. That was when you got a proper glimpse of him for the first time, and your breath caught.

No, it’s not…

He was too far away for you to be sure, and if you leaned forward any more, you’d be visible to the crowd which was not worth the trouble. Spinning around, you saw the group of kids behind you, and narrowed your eyes at their shirts. “Hey,” you yelled over the music to get the attention of one of them, “what do those shirts mean?”

“They’re for our D&D club!” he answered emphatically. “That’s our Dungeon Master!”

As he pointed to the frontman again, you spun around. Fuck.

“EDDIE, WE LOVE YOUUU!!!” a girl with braces screamed from the front row, literally sobbing, and you wondered how you could physically fit in your body every emotion you were feeling in this one moment.

Euphoria, confusion, devastation, excitement, anxiety— he was here, he was opening for you, he really made it. But was he too good for you now? He was the next big thing— you could already tell, hearing him play, that he was the real deal— and you were… well, you were the last big thing. He was Van Halen, you were Black Sabbath; he was video, you were the radio star. He was the nineties, coming around the corner faster than you were ready for— wasn’t it 1979, like, an hour ago?

It didn’t hurt from a stardom standpoint— the record sales didn’t bother you, even when there were less of them. You didn’t need to be famous, half the time you didn’t even like it, you just loved the music whether it was yours or someone else’s.

But it hurt seeing Eddie, because it made you realize how long it had really been. It hurt wondering if tonight was the beginning of the end— but you had hope that you wouldn’t be facing the end alone.

As he focused on playing a complex solo, his tongue curled up over his lip. Be careful, Ed, I dunno if these girls can handle that…

Looking out over his crowd again, your gut burned as you saw the girls fawning over him, even if you couldn’t blame them.

You watched the rest of his set from the best seat in the house, which was actually standing up just behind the curtain, until you heard Eddie speak into the microphone: “You guys have been great! We would stay forever if we could, but this is our last song…”

Heart pumping, you stumbled back and out of the way, retreating to your green room— you weren’t ready for him to walk by, you weren’t ready for him to ignore you, or kiss you, or slap you, or whatever he was going to do.

He was probably over it; he probably didn’t even care, so casually flaunting his one-that-got-away-ness in front of you. You slammed your door shut behind you, pouring yourself a quick drink and tossing it back in a second. It dulled your nerves but only worsened the sickness gathering in your stomach. This was everything you’d been waiting for since 1985, but it was so terrifying now that it was here. Everything could go wrong.

But of course he still wanted you, right? He had to, he was one of your biggest fans just a few years ago. But wow, time can change so much— and you had no idea he could play like that. It only made you more attracted to him, right when you were trying to play it cool.

You heard the crowd going wild, you heard the music come to a halt, and you knew you were supposed to be getting ready for your own set. Right now, you weren’t sure if you could even name one of your own songs…

Well, probably just one— the one about him. In your mind, it was sort of a graduation present from you to Eddie— but you weren’t even a hundred percent sure he ever heard it.

You waited a few minutes, hoping maybe Corroded Coffin would be gone when you stepped out— yet praying that they wouldn’t be— but when you entered the hallway again, you found a typical scene between the opener and headliner: musicians and their most privileged fans everywhere, getting in the way of crew trying desperately to set up between acts, and Eddie right there in the middle of all of it.

He was sitting on an amp, fiddling around on his acoustic, girls hanging off of his arm and sitting in a circle around him. Christ.

Hesitantly, you walked up to the group, crossing your arms and watching for a moment. "Guess you made it out of your garage phase," you smirked.

He looked up at you, his strumming coming to a halt, as he gave you a knowing smile. "Yeah," he offered; his voice was eerily familiar yet different, and you wondered if things were too different now. If you and him were basically strangers, and you'd just have to wave hello and leave all that history behind.

After all, you'd only met once before, technically. But to you, it felt like your story wasn't over yet.

“Oh my god,” one of the girls jumped up to you, “I— I’m such a huge fan!”

“Oh? That’s nice to hear,” you offered her, glancing between her eyes and Eddie’s a few times. “I— do you want me to sign anything?”

“That would be amazing,” she beamed, “I’ve— I’ve got one of your CDs right here.”

“Ah, a CD,” you nodded as she pulled it out of her purse and you got your trusty metallic Sharpie from your back pocket, “that’s how I know you’re one of the new kids.”

“You can make it out to Pearl,” she decided as you took the album from her, “that’s me.”

“Will do,” you agreed, uncapping the pen with your teeth and writing over the cover.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she said.

“Yeah?” you prompted, mostly focused on writing.

“My favorite song of yours is Pretty Boy,” she explained, “from your new album? I wanted to ask you who it’s about.”

You glanced at Eddie again, finding him still smiling at you. Of course he knew, he barely had to listen to the verse to figure it out, it wasn’t exactly cryptic. Can’t take you home when there’s no home to go to, still remember you with all the guys that I go through, it was pretty obvious. “Uh,” you stalled, voice slurred a bit from talking with a pen cap in your mouth, “it’s… not really about anyone. It’s just about the idea of someone.”

You handed her back the CD and put your marker away. “Wow,” she smiled when you gave it back, reading the message to herself. Pearl— don’t be a slut, with your signature across the bottom. Her smile faltered slightly, but she thanked you weakly.

“That’s good advice,” you informed her sternly as she sat back down.

“You know,” Eddie piped up, making your heart beat faster, “I wanted you to sign something of mine, too.”

You smirked at him, summoning some confidence from deep within yourself. “Kid, you’ve already got my name written all over you.”

A few of the girls started whispering to each other, and Eddie glanced down— he didn’t seem too caught off-guard, but his cheeks did flush. “Then maybe you can make my guitar match,” he suggested.

“Sure,” you agreed, and he stood up, lifting the guitar’s strap over his shoulder so he could hold it out for you and your re-uncapped marker.

Your hands were almost shaking, at the worst possible time, as he stood so close, staring at you with those eyes. You thought about what you might write, and decided as you made contact with the glossy wood.

Eddie,

I’m still waiting for you.

As you put your signature at the bottom, you were startled slightly by a flash; you turned to see one of the girls had taken an instant photo, and she pulled it out and shook it as it developed. “Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly, “just a little piece of rock and roll history. Legends meeting for the first time!”

You didn’t correct her; Eddie just nodded. “You’ll have to send that to Rolling Stone,” he decided.

“There you go,” you announced as you finished the signature, watching him read what you’d written.

“Thanks,” he smiled, turning the guitar and holding it forward so he could look at it better before looking at you again. “Any chance I could bum a smoke?”

One of the girls started to reach into her bag, but without even looking at her, Eddie held his hand out and she froze. “Actually, I—” quit, you were about to say, but then you met his gaze. He really was still that boy you found waiting outside the back of a smaller stadium nearly four years ago— his eyes were the same: tender, pleading, hopeful. You knew the feeling well. “I… have a pack in my dressing room,” you offered.

“Great,” he smiled.

“Aw, don’t go!” one of the girls whined, the rest joining in a chorus of moping.

“Uh— hey! There’s Gareth!” Eddie pointed. “Will you girls go cheer him up? He, uh, just broke up with his girlfriend.”

Eddie gave his best sympathetic sigh as the girls’ eyes lit up; and while the cloud of adorers descended on the drummer, you guided Eddie back with you across the backstage tunnel, tumbling through the green room door with him.

When you were both on the other side and the door shut, he didn’t even give you a chance to offer him a drink, now that he was definitely old enough— he just kissed you, with every ounce of passion he’d been saving for you all this time. You whimpered and grabbed his face, holding him close, letting his tongue roam wherever and tasting his smile in return.

He pushed you back against the wall, pulling your hips against his, pressing all of himself against you; he tried to break the kiss to say something, but you pulled his face towards you again, you just needed a little more.

He hummed against your lips, and you let him go so he could kiss your neck instead. Your back was already arching up off the wall, and you felt his hands slide up the back of your shirt, tickling the dip of your spine, finding the clasp of your bra and undoing it in a moment so he could bring his hands around to the front and grope your chest.

You grinned as his fingers toyed with your nipples and squeezed your sensitive skin; there was more experience behind his movements than before, yet the same boyish eagerness under it all.

That said, your grin faded when he pulled your shirt and bra up, exposing you to the air, indulging himself in a glance and a sigh at your breasts before he put his mouth on them. “Fuck,” you whined. “Eddie, fuck.”

Your hands reached up and tangled in his hair, and he moaned around your skin, moving to the other nipple while his fingers gently pinched the first. “Say my name again,” he demanded.

“Make me,” you countered.

He stopped right away, spinning you around as you held your hands against the wall to keep yourself upright. He pressed his back up to yours, letting his hips rock so you could feel his erection against you and you purred. The way his fingers quickly unbuttoned your jeans reminded you a bit of the way he fingered his guitar on stage; the way he pushed your pants and underwear down and grabbed a handful of your ass before giving it a sudden spank reminded you of someone totally different from Eddie. I guess a lot can change in a few years…

“You gonna fuck me or what?” you sighed. “I’ve gotta be on stage any minute now.”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he promised— or maybe it was a warning. "But I'm not your groupie anymore, sweetheart, I'm a star, and I fuck like one. All those girls wanted me to do to them what you did to me— but all I want is to be buried in you."

You hummed proudly turning around and facing him so you could start working on his belt for him. “Did you miss me?” you wondered, taunting with your question, but he wasn’t fazed.

“‘Course I did,” he smiled. "I wasn't a virgin when we met, but I still think you made a man outta me that night. You even let me come in you, you remember that? So dirty," he smirked, a hint of a snarl on his smile as he scrunched up his nose for a second. "You just want this cunt bred, huh?"

"Damn," you sighed, "you’re all grown up— and you got nasty."

He laughed breathlessly, looking down. "Guess I did. You haven't changed, though."

He guided you across the room, to the vanity, where he spun you around and bent you over quickly— not too rough, but definitely hurried— yanking your head up by your hair so you had to look in the mirror.

"Want you to see how pretty you are taking my cock."

He was inside you a moment later, and your eyes rolled back. “Fuck,” you groaned, legs quivering as he started off right away; he gave you long, deep strokes that made your walls clench.

"I remember how you like it," he purred. "Deep, and rough— and you like being in control. But right now, I wanna see you lose control."

Well, that was the plan if he kept talking like that…

“I wanna see you come for me,” he continued, “exactly when I tell you to.”

“Yeah?” you chuckled breathlessly. “If you wanted obedience you should’ve snagged one of those little tarts from the pit.”

“If you wanted me to play nice you should’ve taken me with you when we first met,” he shot back, fucking you harder as anger tinted his voice and his movements. “Back when I was still an impressionable kid.”

“That’s— that’s exactly why I didn’t,” you explained through your teeth. “I was trying to do right by you.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes!” you admitted. “Yes, I wish I wasn’t such a damn good person, okay? Now just fuck me, damn it!”

He laughed a little, but finally did as he was told, taking hold of your hips and setting a brutal pace.

“S’this… this how you fuck your groupies?” you choked out.

He laughed as he shook his head. “No, I take my time with them.”

Fuck. “I liked you better when you were nice.”

He smacked your ass again, making you whimper. “Don’t lie to me.”

Touche… “Did you like me better when I was just your fantasy?” you managed to get out.

“No,” he sighed, leaning down and laying his body over yours, holding you tighter. “No, I like you best like this— here, with me. Real.”

You whined and dropped your head down, hoping to hide your watering eyes, but he cooed as he pet your hair before grabbing it pulling you up again.

“Look, baby,” he insisted, “I want you to see it— god, you’re so beautiful. Look how beautiful you are.”

“Y-you’re beautiful, too,” you blurted out as you watched his face in the reflection, still a bit red as he panted behind you, and he gave you a breathless smile

"Tell me how good it feels,” he instructed.

"So good, Eddie, your cock is so good," you groaned.

“Y’love it, huh?” he taunted, but his eyebrows knitted together when you shook your head.

“No, Ed— I hate this… I hate that I’m the one that made you bitter,” you admitted. “You were so sweet before…”

He slowed down a bit, one hand brushing your hair out of your face as the other held your hips— tight, but not painfully so. “I’m still yours,” he whispered by your ear, making you bite your lip to hold back a sob. “Baby, I’m still yours.”

“Then why are you angry?”

“Because you’re not mine.”

You laughed— you actually laughed, and he hissed as it made you tighten on him. “Damn, you got older, but you didn’t get much smarter, huh?” you noticed. “I was yours from the start, Eddie.”

He fucked you harder— but not exactly in the rough way. In a patient, but needy, way; and you felt him smile as he kissed your neck again. “You’re just saying that,” he presumed teasingly.

“No— god, it’s real, it’s not just ‘cause we’re fucking,” you promised. “I’m yours.”

He pulled out and dropped to his knees, suddenly colliding his mouth with your sopping cunt. You whined as your legs quivered. "Fuck, Ed—!"

He growled as he lapped at you hungrily. "So sweet,” you could barely make out his mumbled groan when it was spoken right against your wet skin.

You were amazed he had the patience to stop fucking you in the middle of that— amazed and slightly pissed. “Fuck me,” you begged, “c’mon, I said I’m yours— I meant it.”

“You’re gonna make me come too fast if you keep saying you’re mine,” he explained. “I don’t want it to end yet.”

“Well, we’re already out of time,” you noticed as you glanced at the clock, “I should be on by now… they’re probably looking for me.”

“Well, let’s help them find you,” he encouraged with one more lick up the seam of your cunt before he stood up and shoved his cock inside you roughly. His pace was faster after that, careless to the way he hit the end of you every time— except it wasn’t careless, it was intentional. "Uh huh, scream for my cock, it'll get your voice warmed up,” he encouraged with a smile.

“God, I’m way too close,” you groaned, toes curling inside your boots, back arching deeper even as he held your hips steady. “Don’t make fun of me for coming so fast… I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“I’m— Christ, I’m not in any place to judge, am I? M’gonna come too,” he promised, “inside you. Gonna let it all drip out of you while you’re playing your set.”

Imagining that was what pushed you over the edge, actually. “Eddie, I’m coming,” you sobbed, “fuck, I— don’t stop, don’t stop—”

“I’ll never stop, I’ll never fucking stop, I swear,” he grunted— and even though he stopped barely ten seconds later as his own orgasm hit him, you knew exactly what he meant.

You both caught your breath, and he held you close as his legs gave out— which meant you both fell onto the floor, but you hardly noticed; you just let him pull you closer as your eyes fluttered shut.

It was a beautiful, peaceful moment for exactly two seconds before someone banged on the door. “WE NEED YOU TO SET UP!!” a crew member bellowed through the wood.

“GIMME A MINUTE!” you screamed back, making Eddie laugh behind you— and you followed suit. “Not so romantic, huh?”

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he assured softly, running his fingers down your back. “I’m sorry I was mean.”

“I deserved it,” you sighed, “I’m sorry I left you in Indiana in 1985.”

He scoffed. “I deserved that, too.”

You relaxed as he pulled your back into his chest, kissing along your neck. “I’ve gotta get up and get myself together,” you reminded him.

“Okay,” he sighed, letting you go so you could awkwardly climb up and start pulling your pants back on.

He just laid on the floor and watched you for a second, before shoving his cock back in his own jeans and standing up to correct his button and fly.

You bent down to look in the vanity again, wiping under your eye to carefully remove the evidence of an eyeliner-stained tear.

"I fell in love with you back then," he said suddenly, and you smiled, though you didn’t turn around.

"When we met?" you assumed.

"Before that," he replied. You stood up this time and faced him, heart beating so hard it made you wonder if he could see your chest moving. "Before you even knew me, before I really knew you, I loved you. I worshiped you. And before you even took me for yourself, I was yours. I still am, baby— I'm still yours, and I always was."

“Do you still love me?” you asked hesitantly— only because you knew you were ready for a no.

“Yes,” he smiled, stepping closer to you, “of course.”

"I never stopped thinking about you," you promised quietly. "I never forgot you."

He grabbed your hands suddenly, holding them up with his between the two of you, and you stared at them before you looked up at his eyes instead, brimming with optimism just like you’d dreamed of him for years. "I'm not letting you leave me again," he insisted. "You know how good we are together. You know I'll always love you. C'mon and let me be yours, angel— I'm gonna love you so much you won't know what to do with yourself."

You smirked. "I think you're always mine, whether I let you or not."

"I think you wanna marry me."

You nearly choked, and you felt your cheeks burn but you tried to keep your cool. "Bold claim."

"What if I ask you now?"

"You got a ring?"

"Do I?" he snorted, pulling a skull off of his right middle finger and getting down on one knee as he brandished it for you. "I don't want anyone else. You don't need anyone else. No more of this ships in the night crap— us, forever."

"A skull? Not the most romantic."

"Oh, but it is," he grinned, "til death do us part, babe. It was almost four years ago I said I'd follow you anywhere, I meant it, and I'll follow you to the grave."

The sound tech banged loudly on the door again. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON TEN MINUTES AGO, THE CROWD'S GONNA REVOLT," he bellowed.

"I need to play my set, Eddie," you reminded the man on his knee before you.

"Then play," he agreed, "and give me your answer after the encore."

You leaned down and kissed him, more gently than you’d allowed yourself before. “I will,” you promised.

You dashed out of the dressing room and towards the stage, a thousand people swarming around you to put your earpiece in, fling your guitar around your shoulder, brush powder over your face— and in a whirlwind of a few seconds, you were right there in front of the crowd, your band surrounding you. The crowd cheered, and your heart swelled; I’ve still got it.

“Good evening, Indianapolis!” you greeted through the microphone, and the roar grew. “Are we having fun tonight?”

It was easy, but it worked, and they applauded and whooped excitedly.

“How was that opener?” you prompted, and they cheered again. “Is it just me or was that frontman kinda cute?”

A more feminine cheer answered as if to say, it’s not just you.

“Hope you like this first song,” was your simple introduction before the drummer counted you off and you all began to play.

All in all, it was a great show. Crowd was good, band killed it (as always), and aside from a moment of feedback from one of the speakers, it all went pretty much perfectly. And that was all in spite of your mind being totally overwhelmed with thoughts of Eddie. Normally, music cleared your head, but nothing could keep your thoughts from everything that had just happened— and not even just that! You were thinking about that first night, about how young he was then; about when you called him and he stayed on with you until you fell asleep so you wouldn’t have to spend another night alone; about when he first looked at you backstage half an hour ago, holding onto his guitar, surrounded by girls but looking at you like you were the only woman in the world.

Shows always went by fast, especially when they went this well, but this one seemed to go by in a moment— and there you were, waiting in the dark, hearing them chant.

Encore, encore, encore!

You were about to go back out, but you smiled to yourself as you grabbed a stage manager by the sleeve. "Get me the lead guitarist for Corroded Coffin— bring him out on stage."

"Now?"

"Now."

He ran off to search for Eddie, and you turned to your bassist, Alex: “Think we’ve made ‘em wait long enough?”

Jerome answered instead. “Everybody knows you like to tease,” he smirked.

True, but not as true as it used to be. “Let’s go back,” you announced, hearing a roar of applause wash onto the stage as the musicians took the stage once more.

"We missed you," you offered into the mic, hearing the crowd cheer. "Want us to play one more?"

They screamed again, almost deafeningly, and you laughed. You glanced over at the side of the stage and felt your heart melt just at the sight of Eddie there, the stage manager getting him ready to go out.

"I've got someone I want you guys to meet first," you explained. "An old friend of mine. You know him best as the guy who rocked the fuck out of this place before I came on…"

As they figured out who you were talking about, their applause restored.

"If you don't mind, I'd like him to come out and play this song with me."

Of course, that only made them more excited. I’ll show you rock and roll history, boys and girls.

You motioned for him to come out, and he walked on with a smile and a wave to the encouraging crowd. "But I want you to know something else about him,” you continued as he grabbed one of your guitars and put it on, fiddling with it for a second to make sure he knew the sound and feel of the instrument. “He's not just the hottest new sound in metal, and he's not just a heartthrob—"

The girls cheered louder at that.

"He's also—" you glanced at him, standing beside you at the other microphone, smiling back at you with slight confusion. You took a deep breath in and out, surprised at how shaky it was. You didn't think you got nervous anymore. "He's also my fiancé."

You expected a huge reaction to that, but there was a pause first— a stillness that said, did we just hear that right?

Time seemed to slow down as you stepped up to him. The crowd was frozen, and silent, and then they were gone. Your band was gone, the crew was gone, it was just you and him in an empty stadium.

When you were in front of him, his eyes blinking at you, his smile soft and patient, you reached up and held his cheek. "I promised I wouldn't forget you, Eddie," you whispered. "Believe it or not, I tried. But I couldn’t— because I love you."

He smiled back wider. "I love you too," he returned. "Wanna get married?"

You laughed a bit. "Okay," you answered flippantly, and he pulled you into a sudden, powerful kiss.

Then the crowd was back, and louder than ever. You felt Eddie's hand take yours, squeezing it before gently slipping the skull ring on your finger. Yes, it was a little big, but it would do for now.

You returned to the mic with a smile as you addressed the crowd again. "We're gonna play a song for you all, it's called Pretty Boy. Do you know that one, Eddie?"

"I think I can keep up," he answered into his own microphone with a smirk.

"Then let's show 'em how good we are together," you decided, turning over your shoulder to make eye contact with the drummer as you counted off: "one, two, three, four!"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you

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buckleysbitch · 5 months

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𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 ⊹˚. ♡

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18+ under the cut

𐙚 “babe what did you get for #4”

𐙚 “okay how about #5”

𐙚 definitely majoring in business or communications with a minor in journalism

𐙚 2 am fast food runs

𐙚 including deliriously listening to queen and trying to sing bohemian rhapsody to no avail

𐙚 despite that he has a knack for the guitar

𐙚 learning your favorite songs on guitar and always whipping them out at the most ridiculous times

𐙚 often during high stress study sessions

𐙚 “♫ and if a double decker bus crashes into us ♫”

𐙚 “I SURE HOPE IT DOES STEVE”

𐙚 eventually moving into an apartment together

𐙚 you load laundry, he folds

𐙚 adventures to the local record store

𐙚 never getting up for those 8 ams

𐙚 board game + wine nights with robin and eddie

𐙚 he always insists on pouring your wine for you

𐙚 falling asleep on the couch and floor respectively face first into your homework

𐙚 eventually he wakes up in the middle of the night and groggily carries you to bed and tucks you in

𐙚 his messy hair when his alarm doesn’t go off so he quickly gets ready for classes

𐙚 going to frat parties and giving the good old irish goodbye after an hour

𐙚 dancing with him at parties bye bye bye GRINDING ON HIM AT PARTIES?? i’m deceased

𐙚 poor baby can’t keep his cock in his pants after that and you’ll have to blow him in the car

𐙚 but it’s okay because he was secretly fingering you an hour ago during the smoke sesh

𐙚 will drive you anywhere you please even though you have your own car

𐙚 grocery trips with steve!! i am so unwell

𐙚 you definitely met bumping into each other (literally) in the library, very very cliche and cute

𐙚 he memorized your coffee order insanely quickly and always brings you one to your library dates

𐙚 drunken open mic nights >>>

𐙚 “holy shit dude i swear i saw a ghost over by the law section”

𐙚 “steve….that’s professor higgins…how many coffees have you had?”

𐙚 “….”

𐙚 weed and wine > beer and liquor

𐙚 getting high off your asses together and laughing at book names in the library

𐙚 cleaning you up and cuddling in bed after accidentally having a tad too much to drink

𐙚 a GIANT rock on your finger by senior year <3

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington #college!steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington au #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington brainrot #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut

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moominbuge · 16 days

Text

27 Dresses

⋆⭒˚.⋆always the bridesmaid, never the bride...⋆⭒˚.⋆

In which you're a chronic bridesmaid and a lover of weddings, and Ellie is a love-repulsed wedding reporter who works for a newspaper.

a/n- hiii guys i wrote up this first part today, i honestly don't know how long it will take me to write more oops but trust i want to! lowkey my first post on tumblr so if this flops </3 this part is around 700 words and is mainly just intro...actual interaction soon to come! love u mean it

You were running so, so late.

On most days, your agenda was booked and followed down to the very seconds of the day.

7AM- wake up

7:05AM- get in shower

7:20AM- exit shower, brush teeth

7:22AM- get dressed

7:27AM- start coffee maker

7:30AM- drink coffee and try not to regret your decisions thus far

You get the idea.

Today, however, you were running late. Your alarm failed to sound at 7, so you were late to the shower, which made you late to have your coffee, and so on.

On top of that, your heavenly, brown-leather-bound agenda was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t the absolute end of the world, since you basically have your schedule memorized for the next year and a half, but it was like losing your security blanket. You felt exposed. Empty, almost.

After throwing on a somewhat-acceptable outfit for your office assistant job, you swallowed your last sip of coffee before bolting out the wooden door of your apartment and down the street towards the bus stop. If you could run fast enough, you would make it just in time-

The bus closes its doors and departs, with you still standing outside.

Fuck.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Ellie woke up on the right side of the bed. Her morning meeting with the editor of her newspaper column was cancelled, allowing her to get an extra 30 minutes of sleep. When she visited her usual coffee shop to get her iced chai, they gave her a croissant on the house. She had not felt this refreshed and energized in years!

And, best of all, she felt the weight of a little leather-bound agenda in her work bag.

The night before, she was attending a friend from college’s wedding. She was surprised when the wedding invite arrived in her mailbox, since she hadn’t spoken to this girl since undergrad, but she RSVP’d nonetheless. What, who was she to turn down an open bar and the opportunity to watch a potential bridezilla/bridesmaid meltdown?

Anyways, she showed up in a nice, collared shirt and some black dress pants that were in the back of her closet. As she sipped on her whiskey and waved at some old friends, she saw something that caught her eye.

Or, rather, someone.

You, in a god-awful bridesmaid dress (seriously, what happened to neutral tones and simple silhouettes? Are bridesmaid dresses that bad to ensure that the bride looks the best?), rushing towards the exit, nearly tripping in your heels. Intrigued, she sets her glass down, and begins to sneak away outside behind you.

“Ok, here is the deal. I’ll pay you $300 to drive me around all night, but if you peak into the backseat, I’ll drop it by $20-“ she overheard you talking to a taxi driver, reaching down to rip off your heels. The driver nods, begins to speak, but you cut him off- “Nope, I’m not changing that rule. I just need you to take me back and forth between these venues.”

You throw yourself into the backseat when the cabbie nods, and Ellie watches, amused. Who is this girl? Aren’t you the maid of honor?

You, in the backseat of the cab, begin pulling out another brightly-colored dress as the cab peels off. Ellie scoffs as she watches, before heading back inside.

You make your return just in time for your maid of honor speech that follows cocktail hour. Ellie, still stanced near the bar, watches you smooth down your dress and take the mic, gushing about how much you love the bride, how you grew up together, how you were so proud to see the woman she had become…it was so perfect, so textbook. You were either extremely genuine in your praises, or you were an amazing actress.

Following the speech, Ellie eyes you as you once again rush outside, back to the cabbie who was waiting. As you run, however, something falls out of your bag…

Squatting, Ellie grabs it from the ground. A small, yet extensively used planner.

Bingo.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie fluff #ellie angst

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lonelyroommp3 · 25 days

Text

*please read the explanations below the poll options before voting*

was thinking about this on my coach home and naturally had to make it into an overcomplicated poll

explanations, disclaimers, etc. under the cut:

until tumblr enables polls with infinite options there is no way for me to account for the entire breadth of human experience here. the categories provided and the examples thereof will not be, and are not intended to be, exhaustive. if you can't find the exact thing you do listed here or you think it falls into more than one category then please use your best judgement to select whatever answer is closest. only choose "something else not covered here" if there is actually nothing even close to what you do listed in the poll (and please elaborate in the tags if this is the case! i'm curious)

i really wanted to include "guy running alongside the moving vehicle you are in" but ran out of options. sorry

if you feel you do two or more of these things in equal measure just pick whatever one answer you want based on vibes

music video: anything you imagine as a standalone, prerecorded visual to accompany the music. this may feature musical performance elements, dance, a narrative, or any combination of the above. if you're imagining your little scene as if it's intended to be viewed on MTV, youtube, etc as the official visual complement to the music, it probably comes under this category

a music video mainly featuring somebody else: this could be you, your blorbos, your self insert OC, another artist you'd like to see cover the song, random actors/celebrities you would cast in the video, etc. whether they are performing the song within the video or not. if the bulk of the "running time" of your daydream is taken up by people who aren't the artist who originally performs the version of the song you're listening to, pick this one

a live performance: this could be in concert (whether a concert version that already exists e.g. imagining taylor swift's eras tour staging when you hear cruel summer, or a version you would like to see), at karaoke, at an open mic night, your acoustic cover that goes viral when you post it on youtube, busking on the street, performing to the other passengers on the bus, etc. could apply to dance as well as singing/music!

a diegetic use in narrative context: imagining the song being performed as a musical number by people in a story that exists beyond the scope of this one song in order to accompany or advance said story. this might be imagining the song being performed as one of many musical numbers in a stage or movie musical, or it could be a performance that takes place in universe (like the performances in glee, or scott pilgrim vs the world)

non diegetic narrative use: imagining the song as the soundtrack to a scene in a story that exists beyond the scope of this one song, but it is not being played/performed/heard by the people within the scene. for example, you imagine a fight scene in a movie taking place to this song, or perhaps it would play in the background during your OTP's first kiss if your favourite fanfiction was adapted into a netflix original tv series.

AMV/edit: a video compilation of existing* scenes from a piece of media, put together by a fan and set to music. (*existing might be taken loosely; e.g. you might be imagining an AMV of scenes from a book with no actual visual media adaptation. the main distinction is that here you are imagining the actual editing process of splicing scenes together as a fan project, as opposed to the music accompanying one continuous scene or sequence of scenes - which would come under "non diegetic narrative use" - or the clips being intended as the official visual accompaniment to a song, which would come under "music video".)

an abstract or lyric based visualiser: 2000s core windows media player visuals, a lyric video, anything that focuses more on objects, scenery, abstract patterns, words moreso than People/Fictional Characters/Animals/etc Doing Things To Music

#for me i'd say it is music video feat. other people very closely followed by diegetic use. i love imagining my blorbos Doing A Musical

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

Note

Why is it so fucking funny that Eddie scares Steve a lot on purpose and Steve scares Gareth just accidentally. Because now I’m imagining Eddie being frustrated because he can never scare Gareth and Steve does it without trying

Gareth’s parents are a stereotype of good parents from a small town. It’s as if you put all the good qualities of sitcom parents into a blender and poured them into two people.

They are supportive and kind. Gareth’s dad coached his little league baseball team (Steve was on this team too, btw) and never yelled at a kid once even when one kid ran the bases in the wrong direction. His mom was the Classroom Mother every year throughout elementary school. Hell, Gareth’s mother was the second adult that Eddie came out to.

Gareth’s parents are also hardcore horror fans.

Gareth has been going to haunted houses and cornfield mazes since he was a toddler, he grew up watching every horror movie they could get on tape, and Eddie could not scare him. It drove him crazy.

And it’s not that Eddie can’t make Gareth flinch. He can! If he raises his voice in the cafeteria or climbed on the table, if he sneered in the face of a bully and the bully hits back, if Eddie tsked at his D&D character’s next move – Gareth flinched.

But if Eddie jumped out to scare him? Nothing. Zilch. Nada.

It was infuriating. Even more so because Steve could jump scare him in his sleep.

It’s a case of bad luck, bad timing, or a terrible sleep schedule because Gareth is always the one awake when Harrington starts being weird on tour.

He woke up once and Steve was just staring at him with this blank empty look on his face. Gareth had the top bunk and slept with his back to the wall. Steve’s face was mere inches away from his when Gareth opened his eyes. He startled back so fast that his head hit the side of the bus hard enough to wake Jeff up.

He went to the bathroom once in the middle of the night and when he opened the door, Steve was standing right there. He wasn’t even sleepwalking this time, just impatient about needing to piss.

Gareth couldn’t sleep one night when he heard Steve get out of bed. All he did was stand in the middle of the little sitting area of the bus, muttering something to himself. It didn’t seem like Eddie was going to wake up any time soon, so Gareth got out of bed and went to get him.

He grabbed Steve’s shoulder to put him back in bed when Steve swung at him, microphone stand in hand. Gareth stumbled back so fast, he tripped over his feet. He watched Steve with an eerily blank face raise the mic stand over his head, but never made contact when he swung down because there was a hand there suddenly.

Eddie’s hand was tight around the stand when Steve tried to pull it back and his eyes were uncharacteristically serious, but his tone was light, “Stevie, baby. It’s me. It’s Eddie. Where are you at in that big head of yours because we’re not there. The gate is closed. You’re on tour with me and Gareth. You’re safe. Everybody is safe.”

Once Gareth woke up, saw that Steve wasn’t with Eddie in the bunk below him and found him standing at the bus’ door. The bus that was currently going sixty miles per hour down the interstate. Gareth’s heart doesn’t stop pounding in his chest for hours after he convinced Steve to get back in bed.

#started out kinda fun and then got sad #I was thinking that being on a bus probably didn’t help the nightmares about being on the bus in the junkyard #anyways gareth is a good bro even if Steve terrifies him #eddie munson tiktok saga #eddie munson #steve harrington

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jakeysbuttsheeks · 5 months

Text

Godfather v111

18+ mdni

Warnings : profanity, mature themes, sexual content, fingering, unprotected sex , asshole Jake , drunk Jake , puking , other shit

Pairings: Jake x fem reader ft. Ethan

You didn't know how you slept last night with your mind running with thoughts , Wondering what Jake's problem was. You had to ask him. He couldn't avoid it and pretend it didn't happen forever .

You went downstairs, finding Jake grabbing his stuff to leave for work.

"Jake" you say as you quickly grabbed your stuff too .

"yeah?" He asks as he opens the door to leave and you run after him. He was your only ride to work . And he didn't even bother to make sure you ate breakfast. You'd didn't care about that right now. You wanted answers.

"can we talk about last n-" you start to talk as he walks out the front door to the car with you following behind him.

"y|n-!" He stops and turns to face you, making you stop and stare at him.

"I told you already. We were drunk. Forget it" he says and you feel anger run through you , your chest rising and falling heavily.

"forget it!? Do you know what that meant to me!? You know we weren't drunk Jake! You're just a fucking asshole!" You scream loud enough for the neighborhood to hear.

"lower your voice" Jake says sternly but you know Jake could do nothing to do even if he tried .

"fuck you" you squint in irritation as you walks past him.

"where are you going?" He asks as you start walking down the street instead of getting in the car.

"I'm leaving" you say as you march down the street , heading to the nearest bus stand.

"leaving where?" Jake yells as he walks after you .

"I'm finding a place to move out. I'm 18 Jake , did you forget?" You snap at him as you walk away. Jake realised you were old enough to do what you wanted to do now , and that he legally had no way to stop you anymore.

He got into his car and drove to work , hoping to forget about it. But he couldn't get his mind off you. As he sat there in the studio with his brothers, mindlessly playing the guitar, all he could think of was you and everything that happened.

"alright Jake what the fuck!?" Josh screams , almost throwing his mic at Jake as Jake braced for impact.

"you've been playing like shit , what the fuck is wrong with you?' Sam asks as the music stops .

"y|n didn't come to work today. What did you do?" Josh asks , making Sam and danny frown in confusion.

"i- nothing-! It's not that simple Josh it's complicated!" Jake defended.

"wait what-? What's going on with y|n ?" Sam asks , equally as lost as danny.

"they like eachother but Jake's a fucking pussy" Josh answers.

"what!?" Sam and danny almost say in sync.

"I'm not a pussy! I just can't betray Mike! We grew up with y|n like she was our baby sister Josh , it's weird!" Jake yells.

"well , not really if you think about it" danny says.

"I've seen people fuck their own siblings" Sam says out of nowhere making everyone yell at him to shut up.

"that's not the point- I can't do this to Mike" Jake says.

"Mike's not here anymore Jake" danny adds .

"exactly" Josh agrees.

"Who's going to think about how Mike left us and what he did to us when he od'd ? He didn't care" Sam shrugs.

"he's got a point" danny nods.

"and the both of you actually like eachother to the point it can't be denied. That's rare Jake" Josh says.

"she's always had a crush on you" danny recollects and Sam y nods at him.

"fuck but I just-" Jake sighs as he wiped his palm over his face .

"stop stressing Jake. She wants you and you want her , stop trying to deny it" Josh points out.

"yeah well she sure as hell doesn't want me anymore" Jake speak with a sigh.

"what do you mean? Why didn't she come to work today?" Josh asks.

"she went to look for a place to move out" Jake answers and Josh burst into laughter.

"what the fuck did you do?" Josh asks , still laughing.

"well , after I spoke to you on the phone I went up to talk to her. And I might've kissed her and then told her to forget it like it never happened" Jake answers.

"oh my god" Josh dramatically holds his head in disappointment.

"kissed her!?" Sam asks in shock .

"yeah. After y'all left last night, we were playing around and then she kissed me out of nowhere. And I didn't kiss her back so she panicked and started apologizing and saying she was drunk. And then I called up Josh to ask him what to do and-" Jake explains .

"oh don't blame this on me you bastard!" Josh points at him.

"I'm not!" Jake snaps back before turning back to Sam and danny to explain everything.

"holy shit. You're stupid Jake" Sam laughs at the whole story but danny seems to sympathise .

"yeah no you really are" danny says sympsthically. And jake groans in frustration. .

"what am I supposed to do? I've made such a mess of the whole thing" Jake asks as he stares at the floor .

"stop making such a big deal out of it . What happened to the Jake that could pick up chick by just looking at them?" Danny smirks.

"she's not just some chick danny" Jake says .

"stop being a drama queen . just grow some and tell her everything. She'll understand" Josh says.

"yeah. I'm sure she will" danny adds.

"now shut the fuck up and play goddamn it" Sam snaps as he starts picking at his bass , danny coming in with his drums to pick up where y'all left off .

You'd called up Ethan to help you and drive you around. And Ethan happily came to help you, thinking you wanted to get back together with him .

He had been sweet and helpful tho . He helped you find a nice apartment that suited your budget, all you had to do was sign some papers and you could move in. Ethan had bough you lunch after and insisted on driving you home.

Ethan was great. But he wasn't Jake. As much as you tired to get comfortable with him, it would never feel as special as what you and Jake have.

"where's your uh...uncle?" Ethan asks as you let him into the house after offering him entry.

"ew not my uncle. Godfather" you say as you take your shoes off.

"he's still at work. He comes back late so don't worry" you say as you turn to him and he smiles at you.

"why would I be worried?" He smirks.

"I know you. You'll bone every chance you get" you say as you lightly punch his shoulder and he giggles slightly, holding your waist as pulling you into a kiss .

"you know me so well" he says against you lips as you feel him push his hard on against your thigh. He'd probably been hard for a very long time . One of the things you realised about Ethan was that he only wanted to fuck , And you were of no use to him otherwise.

You didn't really want to fuck Ethan right now. But you needed to get your mind off Jake. So technically, the both of you were using eachother. You hoped it was what you needed.

You were wrong.

You were barely wet enough for Ethan to be able to do anything , he played with your clit to try and get you in the mood but Jake was the one lingering in your head. You closed your eyes and imagined Jake touching you instead.

"there you go baby" Ethan praises as he feels you start to get soaked.

Once you were wet enough he started fucking you again, his cock hitting you strong and deep as he kissed your neck , the two of you panting as the bed creaked with your movement and you were finally feeling something.

Jake came home , immediately noticing the foreign pair of men's shoes before hearing the creaking and panting that came from your room upstairs , making his blood boil .

"fuck! J-ethan!" You wailed as you reached your high . You almost called out Jake's name but Ethan was too busy in his own world to notice.

Until the door burst open and Ethan grabbed whatever he could to cover himself, leaving you panting and exposed on the bed.

"what the fuck Jake!?" You scream and you grab your sheets to cover yourself as Ethan quickly threw on his clothes.

"I'm sorry uh- mr.-" Ethan stuttered as he tried to get past Jake to go out of your room .

"Get the fuck out of here" Jake yells at Ethan as Ethan makes a run for it down the stairs.

"what the fuck is wrong with you!? You're not my father Jake!" What the fuck is your problem!?" You scream as you pull your tshirt over your head and grab your pants

"my problem is that I don't want some fucking cocksucker fucking the girl I'm responsible for, in my own fucking house! Were y'all even using a condom!?" Jake yells back .

"Fine then I'll move out next week if you want me gone so bad! And since when did you care ? As if you're not some cocksucker that just wants to bang me anyway" you scoff and then immediately regret what you said.

jake visibly looked like he got shot right through the heart. His face turned red as his eyes got glossy with tears before he stormed out your door , you heard the front door slam shut not long after that.

It broke your heart to see Jake like that . He was being a bitch though. You didn't understand what his problem was. One moment he wanted to act like your father and the next moment he wanted to be your boyfriend.

You dressed up and went downstairs to wait for Jake to come back so you could apologize to him . You knew Jake didn't just want to fuck you. He would never. You should've never said that.

Hours had passed and jake was still not back. You were starting to pass out on the couch , but you were worried about him and that kept you up. You called and texted but he didn't respond or pick up.

Jake came home drunk , tripping and staggering into the house .

You'd dropped off with your phone in your hand and Jake's contact open. Jake's heart melted at the sight. He knew you only said what you said because you were mad at him for kissing you and asking you to pretend it didn't happen, but the fact that you said it meant that you felt it too. And he hated that you felt like he was just interested in boning you.

You woke up to the sound of someone gagging. You immediately sat up , remembering you were supposed to stay awake for Jake.

"Jake?" You call as you went into his room , the door was wide open and so was his bathroom door.

"fuck Jake are you okay?!" You gasp when you see him on his knees , puking his guts out while gripping onto the ceramic of the flush. You could smell the alcohol from a mile away.

You immediately run in to help him , holding his hair up in a makeshift pony as you caressed his back but he kept pushing you away . He didn't want you to see him like this . But what did he expect you to do ? Walk away and leave you like this?

You stay with him till there was nothing left for him to puke out and tears brimmed his eyes with the pain of his stomach contracting so much.

"here c'mon" you murmur as you help him off the bathroom floor , and leaned him over the sink to gargle out his mouth.

"I'll get you water okay?" You say and he nods before you scurry out of his bathroom while he continued to rinse out his mouth.

You came back with water and he drank it all, taking in a deep shaky breath after . He wasn't very drunk , but he wasn't quite sober either .

"I feel horrible" Jake breathes as he sets the glass down on the sink counter and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand

"You should lie down till you feel better-" you say as you hold his hand to help him out of the bathroom.

"No I mean I feel horrible about us. About this" Jake pulls his hand out of yours. You feel your face get hot as you look down.

"Maybe we should talk about this when you're more sober" you say.

"The alcohol just gives me courage y|n. It doesn't make up the words for me" Jake speaks sternly.

"Alright" you nod , having confidence that Jake meant what he said .

"what was that up there with Ethan?" He asks , resting his hip on the sink as he turned to you who was mirroring his position next to him while he pulled out a cigarette and lit in his mouth .

"i- I don't know- nothing I guess?" You answer as you watch him breathe in a puff to get rid of the sick puking feeling.

"no because I just want to make sure before I say what I want to say" Jake says, smoke gushing out of his mouth and nose . You found it hard to maintain eye contact with him in moments like this.

"it was nothing. Just casual" you shake your head.

"okay" he says softly , taking another hit before killing the cigarette on the cold tile , shifting the side of his hip against the counter before reaching out to hold your hand. You instinctively let him take it

"i don't know why you kissed me , and I don't know if you regret. But I'm just going to go out and say that I don't regret it." Jake starts and you feel your chest get tight and your stomach erupt with butterflies .

"I didn't wanna say anything because I don't know what you'd feel about it. I was scared you'd think I'm some perverted fuck , but that's exactly what you think of me anyway-" he says , you could hear the hurt in his voice.

"no Jake I didn't mean that. I was rude and horrible. I know that's not what you are. I just said it out of anger. I really don't think that of you, I swear" you interrupt him desperately.

"it doesn't matter. I acted like a dick and I'm sorry. And I'm sorry if I made you feel stupid" Jake spoke , shaking his head slightly as he stared at the bathroom tiles on the floor .

"and I did mean to kiss you , i wasn't fucking around. I just felt too guilty about it so I asked you to forget it. You'd understand why, your dad was my friend" Jake explains and you nod , looking at him with concern.

"i don't regret it either Jake. I think about you all the time it's making me go mad" you confess as his eyes met yours.

"I know it's wrong and I know it feels like betrayal but I just- I can't help what I feel can I?" You ask.

"no sweetie. You can't" Jake says , the nickname unexpectedly giving you chills as his free hand came up to tuck your hair behind your ear as he looked at you in adoration.

"do you know how happy it makes me that you feel the same way?" He asks and you shake your head.

"of course you wouldn't" Jake muttered to himself as he smiled and looked away , his cheeks were clearly tinted pink.

"I'm tired of all the tension and hiding Jake. I don't wanna keep pushing this away anymore" you say as you unintentionally lean in closer.

"are you saying you wanna-" Jake talks but you cut him off .

"Yes" you interrupt , adreline rushing through you, Your heart thumping excitedly in your chest.

"are you sure?" He asks , looking at you in concern and lacing his fingers with your hand that he held.

"what about Ethan?" Jake asks.

"I dont care about Ethan" you tsk in annoyance and look away before a slight shy smile plastered across his face.

"c'mere" he wraps his free hand behind your back and pulls you into him , wrapping both his arms around you as you did the same for him.

You took a deep smell of his cologne from his shirt , although it had a strong liquor smell as well , you still loved it .

You felt him press a kiss on the top of your head and you broke the hug slightly to look up at him , silently begging him to kiss your lips instead.

He knew what you wanted , his eyes falling to your lips before leaning in and pressing a kiss against your lips. You closed your eyes as you melted into the feeling, your hand went up to hold the back of his neck as you tilted your head , moving further into the kiss .

But he fought back into it , kissing you harder as your mouths opened to catch more of eachother lips. You hummed against his mouth as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

His hands went down to your ass making you panic before he picked you up and sat you on the sink counter in a second , standing between your legs and kissing you even harder , hot with hunger and passion, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss.

You could feel his palms burning into your skin through your clothes from the placement he had on your hips as you fell into his lips , feeling his tongue licking at your lip between the kiss.

You slipped your tongue into his mouth when he opened it wide enough. His tongue played with your piercing that was now almost fully healed , he seemed to like it more than you thought.

You'd wrapped your legs around his waist , arching your chest into his as you bunched his hair up in your fists .

You got desperate when you felt him breaking the kiss , only to pepper kissed along your jaw before going behind your ear , sucking on the sensitive skin , making you roll your eyes back and stretch out your neck for him .

You could feel the curve of his lips against your skin and it felt breath taking. You couldn't help the soft gasp that left you as he sucked harder on your skin.

He lifted up and you crashed your lips against his again , his hands came up to cup your face while you tightened your legs around his waist to pull him closer but he kept moving his hips back.

He picked you off the counter and stumbled out of the bathroom, almost tripping and dropping you in his drunk state , making you squeal against his lips but he rested himself on the door frame before he could fall.

The two of you burst into a hearty giggle against eachothers lips , still not willing to break the kiss as he continued out of the bathroom, laying you gently on the bed as he fell on top on you.

You refused to unwrap your legs from around him , never wanting him to seperate from him as he peppered kissed all over your face. But you could feel he wasn't comfortable, he was hesitant.

"Jake" you call softly as he lifts up his head at you.

"i really didn't mean what I said" you cup his face and jake sighs, knowing you'd read his mind and sensed his guilt.

"i don't want you to feel like that's what I want from you y|n" Jake says , his voice heavy.

"i don't Jake. I'm sorry I said that" you lift up and kiss his cheek and he felt goosebumps erupt around the area.

"baby-" he looks at you shaking his head.

"i know you Jake. you're not like that. And I'm sorry I said you were , I just wanted to hurt you because I was hurt. And that was immature of me. Please don't let it get to your head" you say , still cupping his face over yours.

"i would never have intentions to use you like that y|n. I love you" Jake confesses . Your eyes widened and your heart sank.

"so much" Jake continues in a whisper , his eyes fluttering all over your face , studying the way you were turning red .

"I love you too Jake" you admit , almost like it's been too long that you'd kept that to yourself for.

A smile pulls across his face before he pecked your lips and turned to lie on his back next to you , pulling you to lie on his chest .

You kiss him again , your chest pressed over his. You could feel his heart thumping. His soft warm pink lips felt like cloud 9. You would do anything for him .

You wrapped your leg around his waist and lay on his chest , his breathing making you rise and fall along with it as you payed attention to his heartbeat, your face nuzzled into the side of his neck . He smelt so good.

"don't move out" he says , his voice almost begging. Caressing your back with the arm he had wrapped around you .

"I don't want to" you mumble into his neck and he smiles to himself again, holding you tighter.

A\n : I would like to thank you guys for all the love and support on this garbage where the chapters are somehow progressively getting crappier but still, y'all are amazing ily ❤️🥹

Tags:

@mackalah @mindastreamofcolours @jjwasneverhere @themoreyou-love @gvf23 @sarah-gvf01 @thetroublegetssoloud71 @violetstarcatcher @brookekiszkaa @gvfmarge @mulberrimouse @lyndz2names @imdaisyfee @klarxtr @ignite-my-fire @dannywagnerschoppedhair @heckingfrick

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dewdrops-whammy-bar · 22 days

Note

re: the swissrora panty post, may i suggest vibrating panties and rory's got the remote clipped to her mic stand throughout the whole show 👀

FELIX. FELIX OH MY GOD. I AM GRABBING YOU AND SHAKING YOU.

Anyway here’s a horny-fueled something I wrote in my notes app. It’s messy. Enjoy.

Swiss may or may not be regretting this.

He hadn’t thought to test out how strong the vibrator could get before he’d slipped it into his panties on the tour bus. And now he was learning. Aurora was a devious little bastard, he’d give her that.

So now he was stood on stage, vibrator pulsing deliciously against his tdick, trying to act normal. Thankfully, his “normal” was usually quite horny, so it wasn’t too hard. Unlike him, he was very hard.

He could see Rory across the stage, casually clicking buttons on the little remote hidden in her palm. Each setting change sent more shockwaves up his spine. He tried not to let his voice falter or to accidentally moan into the mic.

The opening chords to Watcher in The Sky played and Swiss’s stomach sank. He suddenly realized Rory’s plan.

He usually went quite… feral during Dew’s solo during this song. Rolling around, screaming, contorting his body in odd ways, occasionally humping the stage, the works. If he’d predicted correctly, that was when Rory would pull out all the stops.

The moment came all too soon. The spotlight shone on Dew, he began his solo, and all hell broke loose, contained to a very specific area on Swiss’s body.

The vibrator was strong. Stronger than he’d expected for a toy that had been running constantly for around an hour. Swiss sunk to his knees, thighs trembling slightly. The rapid pulsing of the toy felt like a jackhammer of warmth against his clit.

He gritted his teeth. Satanas, he was so fucking close. He jolted his hips slightly, the seam of his pants pressing the toy harder against his aching clit. It was inevitable, he knew this would be a big one. He just hoped that he’d be able to get his shit together in time for the end of the sol-

Fuck. Fuck fuck shit fuck oh Satan that’s good. I’m gonna kill Rory or maybe suck her off later but unholy fuck unholy shit this is fuck oh fuck ohhhhh

Wait, I need to. Need to get up. Fuck, I’m so sensitive, shit that’s too much-

Swiss hauled himself to his feet on slightly trembling legs, a little dizzy and still shuddering through the last shreds of his orgasm. Mercifully, the vibrator lowered to a more manageable level and Swiss was able to get his trembles and overstimulation under control.

Swiss had never wished for a show to be over like this one before. He was sore and swollen and overstimulated but every movement of his hips just sent more pleasure into the pit of his belly. It was delicious torture.

Finally, finally, the show was over, the band took their bows and filed backstage, and Swiss was able to corner Rory. She just giggled, ramped up the intensity of the vibrator, and slipped away toward the tour bus.

That night in their hotel room Swiss made Rory cum so many times that she was almost sorry. Almost.

#I need to write more panty stuff with Swiss #he strikes me as a panty sniffer/wearer/stuffer/etc #hgggg anyway. I need to go to bed.#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #aurora ghoulette #swissrora #swiss/aurora #wham writes #ask response

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deadboyfriendd · 4 months

Text

In My Hand

This belongs to the Wild Horses universe, a culmination of blurbs between Eddie and Desert Artist!Reader. Based off of the Gutterballs fic by @dr-aculaaa , based in her Sunday Morning universe!

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady

Seamstress for the band

Pretty-eyed, pirate smile

You'll marry a music man

Ballerina, you must've seen her

Dancing in the sand

And now she's in me, always with me

Tiny dancer in my hand

The thing they don’t mention when you hit Interstate 10 heading westward through Tucson is: there is a vast expanse of nothingness you have to clear first. It is mind-numbing. It is beige. It is open for miles and Eddie fears it may all be a mirage– or that he will drive into a painted-on hole in the side of a mountain and flatten himself.

No one warned him about the low desert, the beige-ness is all of his utter disdain for it. He pictured red-rocked Sedona, some girl in a flat-bed pickup waiting for him with tanned skin and a backless top. Not this. Mid-february it it was already warm. He thought he could see the mirage warp on the horizon, even when it was broken by the beginnings of buildings coming into his foresight. It is late after-noon by now, sun burning hot and angry but not yet pushed towards that precipice of cooling. He felt it begin to warm his neck past comfort where the black shirt lay across the flat of his back.

This bar was a dive, for sure. Not unlike his home bar. Reclaimed wood that was probably old fifteen years ago and waxy bar tops that stayed sticky despite the mildewy wetness of the rag that was being passed over it. The bartender was a gruff-looking man, whom Eddie assumed knew how to make two variants of drinks– pulling capped lids off of bottles, or straight liquor, over ice if you were lucky. Eddie took the former, settling himself over a barstool, his guitar in case resting against his knee.

“No open mic night here, ‘m afraid.”

“You know of anyone looking?” He’d asked, solemnly hoping for some semblance of tips to get him to the next town.

“Backtrack the frontage a few miles, you’ll turn back on to a county road that takes you out towards Texas Hill. You’ll know ‘em when you see ‘em. They’re about your type,” He’d said back, taking one last look at him up and down.

He placed a few dollars on the bar top, telling him to keep the change as he headed out.

By now, the sun leaked saturated hues into a nitrate sky. Just as the bartender had said, frontage road, county opening, and right out in the middle of the desert lay a congregation of vans, campers, and RV’S. Desert Hills. He’d said in his mind, smugly. A smattering of old, second-hand cars and the marring of people to match. The irony of this all had been incredible. A bus, painted green, was parked sideways across the front of the congregation, a drop-cloth, hand-painted sign reading, “Howl at the Moon”.

A parable of lepers-by-day, though, by night they would peel back the sore to reveal fresh skin and a strong voice. Here, the day started when the sun went down. There is a fire in the center burning hot with blue flame at the nucleus. A sun in which you orbit as a celestial body.

You are dancing around the fire a liquid dance with no rhyme or reason. It’s fluid in motion and like ribbon in deliverance. You are brilliant, a mass of curls that sway, not as many strands, but a brilliant unit, breaking off into parts that fall over your shoulders and back again. Draped in patched together masses and adorned in turquoise– barefoot in the dune of soft sand with no fear or reverence in what hides beneath.

“What’re you gonna do with that guitar, Mister? Ya gonna be a rockstar?” You ask, all pretty eyes with lashes that kiss at the corners.

He nods, smiling as you take his hand to pull him towards the mass. “That’s the plan.”

“You can be anything you want here.”

The moon peeks out over the east mountain and you howl in punctuation. It’s a wild and unruly thing, almost like you. It pierces his ears and fills him with warmth. Something stirs in his stomach. Like champagne. You deliver a few light-hearted slaps to his chest in the midst of his, encouraging a loud, crackling howl that bellows from deep within him. It fizzles out in laughter.

Something about the pitch of your laugh and the dusting of stars across a gradient purple sky makes something move in slow motion and, somehow, it makes him wonder how soft your hair must be at the roots.

“Well maybe you can play that guitar for me sometime. We’ll make you into a real rockstar.” You tell him, gesturing to the guitar propped against a hay bale. Across the front reads: This Machine Slays Dragons in a hand-lettered font.

It feels stupid to try to shake your hand, he realizes this after he offers it. You take it anyways, “My name’s Eddie, by the way.”

“Well, Eddie.” You pull your culmination of silver squash blossoms from your neck, chiming a lovely song as they move to rest around his neck, “I knight thee. This land is your land.”

You smile at him, all teeth. “Hope we don’t have any dragons come around.”

“Or fascists.” he shrugged

“Or fascist dragons.”

“Then we would really have a problem.”

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie stranger things #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader

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getsojaded · 2 years

Text

pre-show playlist || calum hood

word count: 1.9k+

warnings: swearing

a/n: draft while i write mini series :) not entirely sure why atlanta is the first city that came into my head but it was so if ur from atlanta this one’s for u LOL. also, was actually lol’ing at the fake stan twt tweets i had to make LOLOL

—

“Thank you, Atlanta! I love you!” Are the last words you yell into the mic, heading off the stage before the lights go out.

It had been your first show of your world tour after Covid had put the world at a temporary pause, and needless to say, your adrenaline levels were going through the roof. If there’s one thing you loved most, it was performing for the people that love and appreciate you for what you do.

“You fucking killed it! Congrats Y/N,” one of your team members exclaimed, rushing to give you a hug. “Thank you,” you sighed, leaning into their hug. You missed this, you missed travelling the country by tour bus, soundchecking old songs that made your fans go crazy and answering their question, and you missed having your favourite people standing by your side as you did what you valued and appreciated so deeply.

Things were slightly different though, and you couldn’t help but take notice of them.

Calum was by your side your last tour, engulfing you in a big hug and kissing your forehead the minute you got off stage. He was there to help you choose your outfits for each show, to take you to the best restaurants and coffee shops in each city for the minimal hours you spent there, and to give you those loving and reassuring words whenever you got those last-minute butterflies before performing.

You loved Calum, and Calum loved you — there was no doubt about that. But as much as you loved the tour life, it wasn’t easy. Not only was that complicated, being in the spotlight, along with your love, was one of the hardest things you had ever had to do through.

With fake news articles that drew too much attention towards you two, to scheduling conflicts that led to unsolved arguments, to the fans.. that were just being fans (you know.) — it got too much to handle. For the both of you.

So when you started using Google Maps to find five star cafés, taking a bit too much time to decide what outfit to wear, and breathing in and out for longer periods of time before you hopped on stage, you realized that you’d need some time to adjust to the new aspects of touring. And quite frankly, you hated it. You missed it. You missed him.

You missed the way he’d hold you at night in your shared bunk, telling you “Sleep well, you did an amazing job”. You missed the way he’d drag you out of bed to take a daily mirror selfie in the bus, determined to have a photo from each city you visited, and you missed the way he’d-

“Okay, that’s enough,” you whispered to yourself, shaking out of your thoughts and getting up from the couch you were sitting at, taking a moment to regain your energy.

You walked up to the full body mirror in your dressing room, snapping a quick photo before posting it to your Twitter account.

y/ny/l/n: atlanta i fucking loved u, thank u. excited to see the rest of u on tour. x

Within seconds you were getting likes, retweets and replies on your tweet. You took a quick moment to change into comfy clothes and exit the venue, as it was now time to relax on the tour bus.

You opened up your phone onto the Twitter replies to scroll through the replies, and like and respond to a few.

killedmytime: THIS FIT IS SO FIRE

calumsboba: you did amazing y/n!!

yungy/n: bro i lost my phone at the concert i’m tweeting off my laptop rn

You giggled at the last one, responding with “drop ur venmo i got the next one” before continuing to scroll through your mentions and notifications.

disconnectedvol6: @Y/NY/L/N DID YOU PURPOSELY PUT MOVING ALONG ON THE PRE SHOW PLAYLIST

whywontuluvme: @/disconnectedvol6 BRO I WAS THERE EARLIER AND EVERYBODY IN PIT WAS FUCKING LOSING IT WHEN IT PLAYED

wfttwtafff: i’m going to cry @y/ny/l/n is still so supportive of calum even after they broke up

outofurlimit: i’m fucking SCREAMING SHE HAD THE AUDACITY. MOVING ALONG TOO?

heartbakegirl: i cant believe u put moving along on the playlist omfg divorced parents <;/3

Oh God.

Okay, maybe it was just your fans in your responses that took notice of your ex boyfriend’s band’s song. You quickly searched up “y/n calum” and immediately groaned at the loads of tweets regarding your show, that song and that playlist.

notinthesameways: i almost fucking peed myself when i heard moving along i wonder if calum knows y/n put it on her playlist

y/nswildflower: i miss calum and y/n omg

dontstoppa: bro let’s talk abt the fact that out of every song y/n chose the one that’s literally about a breakup AND calum wrote it girlie knew what she was doing

Contrary to that last tweet, you actually had no idea what you were doing!

You didn’t mean for 5SOS’ song to play before your show started. In fact, you hadn’t even made a specific pre-show playlist — you just decided to use your “currently”. Which… has Moving Along on it and with your luck, of course it came on shuffle.

Yes, you listened to their new album. Yes, you thought it was fucking spectacular. Yes, Moving Along was your favourite song off the album because not only does Calum’s verse get your heart throbbing but it also makes you wonder if you popped up into his mind while he was writing it.

And yes, you added it to your on repeat playlist because you couldn’t stop listening to it.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he had done the same thing with your album: thoroughly listen to it, fall in love with it more and more everytime, and add his favourites into his liked songs.

You also couldn’t help but wonder what he’s up to right now. Was he preparing for touring, just like you? You hadn’t seen any posts in regards to shows from their band account, along with the four boys’.

And now you were wondering why the hell he was giving you a call, your heart skipping a beat once you saw the contact name Hood xo appear on your screen, along with his contact picture of you, him, and Duke.

“What the fuck,” you whispered, letting it ring a couple more times before you picked up the phone. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi, Y/N. Good to talk to you again.”

“You too.”

You were scared. You were scared and you’ve never been put in the position of not knowing what to say to him, except now. As much as you tried to say more in response to him, no words would come out.

“You know why I’m calling you.” He simply stated, sounding a lot more confident than you had expected, which took you by surprise.

“Caught me lacking, huh?” You asked, earning a soft giggle from Calum in response. “Okay look, I didn’t even mean to play it before my show. I gave your album a listen when it first dropped and I was like wow this shit is good so I added one of my favourites onto my playlist and I used that specific playlist so I didn’t even think about it and-“

“I’m really glad you listened to the album.” He simply states, your heart skipping a beat as you bring your hand up to cover your mouth. “And I’m glad you found a few favourites on there.”

“Yeah, you guys did so well on it.” You’re nervous. You’re fucking nervous, and you have no idea how Calum is handling this conversation as well as he is. Despite the pit in your stomach, your curiosity got the best of you. “D-Did you listen to mine too?”

“‘Course I did. Fell in love with it, baby.” Your heart flutters at the sound of the pet name that falls out of his mouth, feeling the nostalgia and intimacy his voice is laced with. “Thank you,” you respond just above a whisper, before the line fills with silence. Slightly awkward silence.

Calum doesn’t want to be the one to bring it up. Especially after such a wholehearted, sweet conversation. But he has some questions, and doesn’t want to end this call with unfinished answers.

“I miss you. I miss us.” He confesses, tears threatening to spill from his eyes and he silently thanks himself for only clicking on an audio call, and not a FaceTime one.

“I know.” You respond as quiet as possible, not risking to hear crack in your voice. “I do too. It’s not the same without you here. Tour’s different. I caught myself thinking about you every time I noticed something was off.” You say to him honestly, unaware of the aching in his chest that you caused. He hated the thought of your emotions shifting negatively because of him, and if he could, he would do everything in his power to reverse it if it meant you were happy.

“What happened to us?”

“Cal…” You sigh. You felt this question coming, but you weren’t prepared to answer it. “You know what happened to us. It was just... circumstances, and time.” Was all you could say, with complete honestly.

“Well, what about now? What do the circumstances and time have for us now?” He asks you in a low voice. You shake your head and laugh at the irony of that follow up question, rubbing your forehead with your hand.

“Well, I’m still on tour, so it looks like not much has changed.” You respond, earning a chuckle from Calum. “Shouldn’t you be heading off on tour too?”

“Taking a break first. Don’t really know why, Ashton suggested that we break first before touring and we all just kinda went with it.” He responds. “When’s your LA show?”

“Last show of the tour. Then it’s me time. Staying in LA for quite some time, then gonna try and go back to hometown for a bit.”

“What would you do if I asked you if you were okay with me going there?” He asks, with the slightest bit of hope. It’s worth a shot, he tells himself. It’s worth a shot if it has anything to do with you.

“Then, I’d tell you that I’d love to have you at my last show. Do you want to be there?” You tell him, with a smile planted across your face, unaware of the smirk forming across his as well. “Nothing else I want more than to be there, love.”

“I guess I’ll be seeing you then?” You ask, trying to sound as confident as possible, but you’re well aware that Calum can see (more like, hear) right through your façade. “Let’s see where the circumstances and time take us this time around.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” “Me too.”

The line falls silent once again, but now it’s comfortable. A silence that warms your heart and calms you down. A silence that eases your mind and relaxes your body.

“Oh, and Cal?” You speak up.

“Yes?”

“Let’s not let the circumstances and time fuck us over again. I’d rather not let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to me a second time around.”

“You are the last thing I’m ever gonna lose again, baby. Mark my words.”

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blaqcats-fics · 1 year

Text

(He’s) Just a Phase — Part 1

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 3.1K

November 1993.

Steve cursed lowly as he tried to light his cigarette. The wind was not on his side today, and he was growing increasingly annoyed with every passing moment.

The day had begun with a literal pile of dog shit. He had woken up, sleeping past his alarm, and his service dog, Bowie, had left him a present. Steve stepped into it and thus set the mood for the rest of the day. From then on, Steve missed the bus, causing having to walk to the music store where he worked out with his guitar case heavy on his back and Bowie at his side. It also didn't help that it had rained the night before and a car passed by without slowing down and drenched him in cold water.

Thankfully he had arrived at work in one piece. He was in break now, letting Bowie take a moment to eat some food and to allow himself a smoke, even though that was becoming a failure itself.

‘Fuck it,’ Steve grunted, running his hand through his hair, grimacing as his hand tangled in his hair. It had grown out far longer than he was used to. It looked like his mother’s hair — long, unruly, and stuck between the questionable state of wavy and curly. He was sure that it rivaled Eddie’s almost, except he didn't have poorly chopped bangs.

He glanced down at Bowie, watching as he finished eating his kibble, before looking up at Steve with big brown eyes. Steve smiled, leaning down, gently petting him as he picked the bowl up. ‘Was it good, boy?’ he asked, chuckling as Bowie’s tail thumped against the ground. ‘Guess so. C’mon, back to work, bubby.’

Steve opened the door to the store, watching as Bowie trotted back inside. Steve followed in after Bowie, going behind the counter. ‘Back from break!’ he called out.

‘Gotcha!’ Sam called back.

Samuel ‘Sam’ Carter was a fifty-year-old retired drummer, and Steve’s boss. He was intimidating to look at, covered in tattoos from head to toe, and fitted into a biker-gang aesthetic, but despite the intimidating exterior, Sam was a sweetheart. He was also one of the few people Steve met in the past month that was helping him understand the current queer culture.

Sam, surprisingly, was an active member of the drag community in Seattle and was more than happy to take Steve under his wing, saying that Steve looked like a lost puppy begging for shelter.

Steve was a lost puppy looking for shelter when he came to Seattle. He had left Indianapolis on a whimand didn't stop to think of the consequences. Luckily, Sam was able to situate Steve with a job and a place to stay.

‘Oh, yeah, kid!’ Sam called, walking out from the back of the store, clipboard in hand from doing inventory. ‘Gale called and said she found something that you might be interested in.’

Steve glanced at him as he opened the cash register to count the cash for the third time. ‘What’d she say?’

‘Anthem, the bar down where Gale works, is having an open mic night. Gale says there may be a producer there, but she can't promise anything,’ Sam said, walking to the counter. He paused and made a scrunched face at Bowie, speaking in a baby voice at him.

Steve rolled his eyes at Sam’s actions, but was otherwise interested. This was an opportunity, even if it could be a failure. ‘She say what time it was?’

‘Around 9 tonight.’

‘Tonight?’ Steve exclaimed. ‘I don't gave anything to play! Fuck!’

Sam scoffed, ‘I’ve seen you scribble in that notebook of yours; you have something.’

Steve chewed on his lip anxiously, glancing down as Bowie nudged his leg. He took a shaky breath, fixing his glasses on his face that had gradually fallen down his face. ‘Those aren't lyrics. They, uh, I don't know, it's just venting.’

‘Sounds close enough to music for me,’ Sam said. ‘How about this, I’ll call Rachael to cover your shift, and you go figure your shit out for tonight. You ain't going to get anywhere without nipping opportunities by the ass. You aren't going to get your man back without working for it.’

Steve hummed, nodding. He didn't bother correcting Sam. This wasn't about getting Eddie back. He was sure Eddie was happier off without him lingering in his shadow. Life had just started to work out in Eddie’s favor. All Steve wanted to do was apologize and make up for hurting Eddie, even if hurting him had never been his intention.

‘Oh, before you head out, Paul can't do their routine Saturday night, do you want to fill in their spot?’ Sam asked. ‘I know you aren't familiar with the scene, but stepping out if your comfort zone can be fun sometimes.’

Paul (Monique on Saturdays and Mondays) was one of Sam’s liners at the club he owned. They were one of the more popular drag queens that worked there. Steve enjoyed their shows, finding them loud and exciting. However, Steve never found himself wondering what it was like to be a queen.

Steve shook his head, ‘If it was Minnie, maybe. Paul is too much of a star to fill in for.’

Sam snorted, ‘Ain’t that the damn truth. You’d make a pretty girl, Stevie.’ He sent Steve a wink.

‘I think I need to finish sorting out my internalized homophobia before I start examining gender and how I want to be perceived. I don't need to give myself a stroke,’ Steve grinned. He picked up his case, adjusting it comfortably on his back. ‘Plus, if I had a pair of tits, I don't think this world would survive.’

‘Christ, kid,’ Sam laughed. ‘Get out of here.’

Steve rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face. He called Bowie and left for home. He knew that if Eddie was still with him, he'd love to meet Sam.

That night, despite practicing for hours, Steve could feel his skin crawling. He was a bundle of nerves and he left as if someone had jump-started his heart with a faulty engine. For a brief moment, Steve wondered if Eddie always felt this way before going on to play a show. Maybe, but Eddie was always a bundle of nerves.

‘You good, ‘Evie?’ Gale asked, handing him a shot. ‘Look like you could use some liquid courage.’

Steve glanced down at the shot and hesitated. He started at it for a moment before shaking his head. ‘Best not. My nerves already make me sick to my stomach,’ he said.

Gale shrugged, taking the shot and downing it herself. ‘More for me,’ she winked. ‘You ready to play your little heart out?’

‘No,’ Steve said, raw honesty in his voice. ‘Performing was never my thing. I don't think it even is my thing. I was good at sports in high school like I was a full-on jock, but this? I wouldn't gave touched this with a twenty-foot pole.’

Gale hummed, her eyes fleeting over him, taking in his appearance. ‘Sure don't look like a jock now with that hair of yours, and that outfit. It screams homeless instead of jock,’ she joked.

‘I got it from Walmart,’ Steve frowned. ‘It was comfy and cheap.’

The woman sighed, ‘Baby, you look like the bastard child of Kurt Cobain, but with Tommy Lee’s stupidly sexy hair.’

Steve stared at her. ‘I know Cobain is from Nirvana, but who the hell is Tommy Lee?’

‘Some pretty boy from Mötley Crüe,’ she explained. ‘They’re either a metal or rock band. Who knows the damn difference?’

Eddie does, Steve’s mind supplied.

He pulled his gaze away from Gale, looking at the stage, listening to, well, something. ‘Is that poetry?’

‘Kind of,’ she said with an uninterested shrug. ‘Spoken word, I think. You like it?’

Steve scrunched his nose, ‘Not my cup of tea.’

‘It’s powerful,’ Gale said. ‘It were louder, maybe I would like it, but eh.’

‘Eh,’ Steve agreed. He glanced around the bar before settling his gaze back on Gale. ‘Sam said something about a producer?’

Gale rose her brows, ‘Is that why're so worked up?’

Steve felt his cheek warm. ‘Possibly.’

‘I don't know kid. Boss told me that there could be one, but didn't give me a name or a face.’

‘Shit,’ Steve grunted. That made his anxiety even worse. Actually, Steve wasn't sure if it did make it worse. The dread had already been lingering, but now it felt more real.

‘You’ll be fine. I'd be more worried if you didn't know how to song,’ Gale joked. She glanced down towards the end of the bar where an older man was flagging her. ‘You’re on next, ‘Evie. Take a breath and focus on the reason you're even out here.’

Steve didn't say anything as she walked away. He glanced back at the stage, swallowing the lump in his throat. He pushed himself off of the stool, moving through the small crowd of people and he suddenly felt as if he was back in Indianapolis, pushing through the crowd, looking for Eddie. It was a familiar, but ghostly feeling that made the hairs on the back of his hair raise.

That had been the year's ago, and Eddie was far from his reach.

‘A round of applause for Kaitlynn and James for their wonderful performance!’ the announcer spoke loudly into the mic. Steve couldn't remember his name. It was Dave, Derek, or something. He knew it started with a D. ‘Next up in tonight’s roster is the mysterious ‘Evie!’

Steve licked at his front teeth, sucking in a breath. He went to the stage, passing by Kaitlynn and James. He took a moment to pull his guitar from his case, checking the tuning before sitting down on a bench in front if the microphone. He coughed slightly, the sound feeling the room. ‘A big thank you for anyone who came out here tonight. My name is ‘Evie and this is my song, uh, enjoy?’

‘Evie was a stage name. Gale and Sam suggested he used one, even if it wasn't far off from his actual name. It helped hide him for now, at least until photographs were involved, and Steve did whatever he could do to avoid his face being anywhere.

There was a small applause of encouragement and a loud whistle that most likely came from Gale. His lip switched and he adjusted the weight of his guitar in his hands.

‘I’m starting at the glass in front of me,’ he sang, voice loud in the room, the microphone and speakers filling the room with his voice. ‘Is it half empty? Have I ruined all you’ve given me?’

He strummed the guitar, his stomach twisting in knots as he sang. He didn't know if it came from the anxiety of performing or from how a giant lump of panic started to form in the back of his throat.

He took a deep breath, pushing the lump away, his eyes stinging. ‘Don’t tell me I will make it on my own. Don't leave me tonight. This heart of stone will sink ‘til it does if you leave me alone,’ he sang, his voice cracking.

Steve remembered the long nights when sleep never plagued him. He remembered sitting up in bed, giving his attention to an unaware and sleeping Eddie. He used to watch him sleep and watched as all the stress lines were even out on his face, making him look younger. Eddie had looked so peaceful, and sometimes Steve would stare and count the light freckles that kissed his face. It was his form of counting sheep.

‘Don’t tell me I will make it on my own. Don't leave me tonight. This heart of stone will sink ‘til it does if you leave me tonight. Don't leave me tonight,’ Steve sang, tears glued to his lashes as he played the last few notes.

He blinked away the tears, moving his eyes to rub them away. He could barely hear the applause over the loudness of his thoughts. He sent the crowd a weak smile before moving and heading off stage, not bothering to stop and put his guitar away. He merely grabbed the case and walked back to Gale.

‘Give me a Long Island,’ he mumbled, taking a moment to put the guitar up and leaning it against the bar.

Gale reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘Baby, you sure you don't want something lighter? We both know you're a lightweight.’

‘That’s the point,’ Steve mumbled. He knew better than to develop a co-dependency on alcohol. That was how you get addicted to it, but addiction runs in his veins and for once, Steve wanted to bury the voices.

The woman sighed, ‘I’ll get you a drink, but it's not going to be a Long Island. Go sit in one of the private rooms, I’ll get Frankie to bring you the drink.’

Steve nodded, getting off the bar and moving through the crowd again, heading towards the back.

‘Hey! Excuse me!’ someone called out. Steve ignored them, figuring that they were just trying to get through the crowd of people like he was. ‘Wait a second! ‘Evie!’

Steve paused, turning around, frowning as a smaller woman made her way to him. She couldn't be much older than he was, but she looked far more foot together then he did. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘What’d you need?’

‘Mind if I join you? I saw you were heading to the private rooms,’ she said.

Steve frowned, ‘Uh, if you're trying to like, um, you know...’

She must have caught on to what he was saying and flushed red. She waved her hands frantically. ‘No! No! Not at all. Happily married with two demons to prove,’ she said, wiggling her hand, showing off the simple silver band.

‘Oh, shit, sorry,’ Steve said, flushing in embarrassment. ‘You call your kids demons?’

The woman merely shrugged, ‘They sure the hell aren't angels. Either way, mind if I join you? Rather not have a conversation in the midst of chaos, ya’ know?’

Steve nodded. ‘Yeah, of course. What’s your name?’ he asked, leading her to the back.

‘Kacey Williams,’ she introduced. ‘I’m a talent agent from Los Angeles.’

Steve stumbled over his feet a bit. His hand froze above the doorknob, turning to look at her with a deer-caught-in-headlights look. ‘You’re a talent agent?’ his voice cracked.

‘Yes, sir,’ she beamed. ‘I’m technically on vacation, but talent waits for no one! Even if you were a bit nervous.’

‘Was it really that noticeable?’ he sighed. ‘I told Gale, the bartender, that I’m new on the scene, or whatever it’s called. Music wasn’t an interest until recently.’

Kacey hummed. ‘First time preforming then?’

Steve shrugged, opening the door and letting her go in first. He closed the door behind him, moving to set his case on one of the sofas. ‘In front of a lot of people, yeah.’

‘Well, it could have gone worse. Like you could have froze up or throw up on the front row,’ she said, sitting in a chair.

‘I doubt I would even have stage fright. I'm used to being looked at all the time. I justed to be on the swim team, and I played basketball for a while.’

‘Reformed jock. Who would have guessed?’ Kacey grinned. ‘Well, there's a bit to work on, but would you be interested in giving stardom a chance? You have something that I think a lot of people need to hear.’

Steve sighed, sitting next to the guitar case. He brushed his hair from his face. ‘I’m going to be honest with you,’ he said. ‘I only came tonight in hopes to meet an agent, and here you are, but what I’m doing with my music — it’s not what you probably want to deal with.’

Kacey hummed, ‘I think I'll decide that for myself. Tell me what I could be working with.’

Steve chewed on the inside of his mouth and picked at the hole in his jeans anxiously. ‘Back in ‘89, my ex and I broke up. Uh, I fucked ruined our relationship. I made a lot of mistakes. They were tired of being second to everything, and they wanted more. So, yeah.’

‘That doesn't tell me why your here, attached to your shitty guitar, looking for an agent.’

Steve snorted. ‘I couldn't get my head out of my ass for a while. At least not until recently. I want to apologize for the damage I did — the relationship I ruined with my unfair opinions. I just can't reach them right now, they're too far out of my reach. If I get my voice out there, then maybe they could hear me.’

‘So you want to get your ex back?’

‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘That’s too selfish and way to much to ask. They have a steady life. They seem happy. I'm not going to fuck it up by trying to win them back. I just want them to know that I'm sorry. Maybe its closure for myself.’

Kacey hummed, ‘And what's going to happen if you go big, get your voice out there? What are you going to do afterwards?’

‘Finish my contract up. Go home and go back to working the same nine-to-five job,’ he said.

‘That’s depressing, ‘Evie,’ she said.

‘It’s life,’ he said back. ‘There’s something else I want to do, if I were to get into the scene. It's my plan that you might not like.’

Kacey leaned back, pausing when Frankie walked in, handing Steve his drink. She spoke up after Frankie left. ‘What’s your plan?’

‘I want to be open about my sexuality,’ Steve said. He swallowed thickly. ‘I don't want to hide the fact that I’m bisexual, and I don't want to hide the fact that every song I have ever written is about a man that I would kill for.’

Kacey stared at him, eyes wide. ‘That’s asking for death threats.’

‘Bowie is out. Elton John is out. Freddie Mercury was out. It may not be accepted still, but why do I have to hide when they didn't?’

‘It’s more complicated than that, I think,’ Kacey breathed. ‘But you doing this, it might ruin your reputation and the offers you receive. It’ll be hard.’

‘I’m prepared to do whatever it takes,’ Steve said seriously.

Kacey nodded. She opened her purse, pulled out a card, handing it to him. ‘This is my business card. I don't give these to many people, so don't go sharing it around. Think about what you want to do, then give me a call Monday morning. If you still want this Monday, with the risk, then I’ll work on getting you a plane out to LA,’ she said.

Steve looked at the car, nodding. He already had his answer. Monday he would call her. That was his only option — risks included.

NOTE: thank you guys for reading and the reblogs! if you want to be on the tag list, just comment that you want to be! i’m not sure how frequent these updates are, but my mind is brewing a lot of ideas. at the top, there's a link to the series masterlist which also has a master list to my other works (which are on ao3)! the song attached is the one Steve sang for open mic :)

TAGLIST: @swimmingbirdrunningrock x @cinnamon-mushroomabomination x

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beesarthur · 1 year

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Somebody Somewhere has everything:

sisters

women who move hay

stoic farmers

genuine religiosity

absolute irreverence

friendship

a poker night

tits

the shits

complex family scenarios

former show choir kids

knick knacks and doodads

a high school voice recital

trying to make a go of it in your home town after being away

a largely queer open mic event called choir practice that initially takes place in a presbyterian church in a dying shopping mall

an agricultural scientist who is a very dapper trans man named Fred Rococo and who uses the word bashful and owns a party bus and probably has other fun secrets up his sleeve

a barn full of memories

#somebody somewhere #tbh this is a 'review' tailored to my sister and cousins #so #me myself und ei #but also you should really watch this i want it to be watched

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sparrowhero · 2 years

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Present Mic Boyfriend Headcanons

The type to fall fast and hard. He originally dates around a lot, and though it's deceptively casual-- He's truly sincere and puts 100% of his heart into it. Unfortunately for him, this means that he's had his heart broken A LOT because the fire burns out a little bit too quickly.

Cries to Aizawa and Midnight every single time he gets dumped. Thankfully, after he cries it out enough, he's pretty normal most of the time unless the relationship gets very very serious. Your first fight-- not even an actual break up-- he was face down on his couch for an hour on speaker with the two of them.

READMORE FOR LENGTH AND MILD SPOILERS

More of a phone boyfriend at first than anything at first. Not by choice, but because he's juggling hero work, his teaching job, and his late night radio gig. It's because of this that a lot of his relationships have fallen through-- he's very much "My work, my music, and you are all equally important to me!" You have to be good about having time apart or your dates being him drowsing off on the couch while listening to your day.

Even if he can't physically be there for you as much as he'd love to, he is still very affectionate and loves to blow up your phone with stuff that he's seen during the day, things that reminded him of you, or even just that he missed you and wanted to hear your voice.

Because he's always on the go, he likes stay at home dates the best. His place is a verified bachelor pad-- lots of vinyls, kind of impractical furniture, big ass entertainment center-- all sorts of things. It's nice when he gets to be able to enjoy these things and maybe make things a bit more lived in. If you leave stuff at his place like a blanket or a jacket, it's his favorite thing to make his house feel like home.

Brags to you to all his friends, family, coworkers. Guy on the bus he just met. Don't be afraid if you get introduced to his friends and they all know much more about you than you probably thought they would. It's a little embarrassing, honestly, but it's also sweet. Aizawa requests you ask him to "shut up about his lovey-dovey-sweetie-honey-pie bullshit during work hours." You half think it's a joke but he is very clearly not laughing.

Gets very quiet when he's being serious and sincere with how he feels about you and where he wants the relationship to go. His signature smile is still there, but it's just a little bit self-consciousness and a sense of true openness to his expressions. He knows he can be a little bit much-- most people have told him so-- but he wants you to know he'll only ever ask for whatever you can give in return. You don't need to do what he does, just keep being you, being his, and that's enough.

"I know I say this about a hundred times a day, but I really am in love with you. I want this to be a forever thing, no curtain calls."

Mic doesn't like to talk about the Shirakumo Incident much more than Aizawa does, but he is much more open to getting it all out and in the open to process it. He blames himself a lot for feeling like he contributed to the blasts, the power that killed Shirakumo...for not getting there in time and he feels a lot of responsibility towards Aizawa to make sure he takes care of himself and not blame himself for Shirakumo's death. It weighs on him more than he can say because it's a trauma that doesn't belong to just him, but Aizawa pretty adamantly refuses to ever bring it up.

After the hospital incident, he panda-clings to you for a good long while and just…is silent. Just breathes and listens to your combined heartbeat and focuses on the feeling of your arms around his shoulders and occasionally combing through his hair.

You being there for him when the Kurogiri reveal is one of the grandest gestures he could have asked for. Mic is always the strong one when it comes to this: he has to smile and be the funny one, the boulder that keeps everyone together now that Shirakumo is gone. You allowing him to simply relax and be makes him love you just so much more. He can finally fully feel and accept that grief, and vows to do the same to support you in whatever comes your way. He's definitely gonna protect you, his students, and his happiness this time.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #present mic x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #present mic headcanons #gender neutral reader

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sprnklersplashes · 8 months

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poly!crows, flufftober day 8: rainy day (ao3)

When October comes to Ketterdam, she announces her presence with smoky grey skies and buckets upon buckets of rain. It’s quite an abrupt announcement too; one minute, Nina gets up and leaves her laptop to go make a cup of tea. Two minutes later, she returns with tea, a generous handful of biscuits and sleets of rain pelting the window. She doesn’t take her eyes off it as she sits back down. First comes disbelief, then comes Kaz’s voice in her head reminding her that she’s in Kerch now and the weather is about as reliable as anything else.

She remembers her partners are all out, and she sighs. Then she cheks the weather app and finds the rain is due to carry on all evening, and she sighs again, harder this time.

After firing a quick message to the group chat, she tries to return to her work emails, though they hold her attention even less than they did before. Her phone lights up, then fades, then lights again, coming alive as the Crows give their various reactions.

wolf boy (but not in a furry way): oh wow! thank djel I have the car :p

wolf boy (but not in a furry way): who changed my nickname again?

Llewellyn: couldn’t have been me!

Llewellyn: who still uses emoticons?

Matthias Helvar changed his nickname to Only Sane Man

wylan van fuck: matthias is never beating the furry allegations

wylan van fuck: but I do second the oh wow!

wylan van fuck: @ matthias since i’m ur favourite ur still picking me up from work right???

Only Sane Man: we don’t have favourites, wy. but yes I will still pick you up.

wylan van fuck: yay!

Llewellyn: gay

Only Sane Man: driving cars is gay now?

Wraith: so does that make jes straight?

Llewellyn: I’M BEING HATE CRIMED?

Llewellyn: BY MY PARTNER?

Llewellyn: IN THE QUEER POLY GROUP CHAT?

Llewellyn: WITH OUR OTHER PARTNERS?

wylan van fuck: how in the fuck did we get here?

Only Sane Man: put two kurge in the swear jar when we get home.

nina beana: well given the weather, mayhaps we use the swear jar money for pizza tonight??? to warm us up????

nina beana: wylan’s treat, apparently.

wylan van fuck: shit yea the weather

Only Sane Man: four kruge.

Llewellyn: I love pizza!

Llewellyn: especially when its paid by wylan’s swearing

Llewellyn: @ wylan, say more cuss words so we have more pizza money

wylan van fuck: *send a voice message* 2:30

Wraith: this would go so hard at an open mic night.

Nina snorts into her tea as she replays Wylan’s message. In her mind’s eye, she can see the others’ reactions, Jesper dancing to it, Inej laughing, Matthias’ silent mortification and prayers to Djel. She presses herself into the couch and carries on with her emails, the rain drumming steadily and relentlessly against the windows.

Twenty minutes later, her phone buzzes again, and this time she finds a picture of a completely drenched Kaz, looking at the camera and managing to be both supremely pissed off and completely unaffected.

kazzlus dazzlus: *sent a picture*

kazzlus dazzlus: its raining.

She spits her tea out at that.

Inej is the first one home, her workplace less than twenty minutes on the bus. Nina opens the door to find her sopping wet on the porch, white coat turned brown and her neatly-styled hair now frizzy and tatted and curling at the bottom. She practically yanks the girl in through the door.

“You okay, love?” Inej’s hands are like ice beneath hers, as is her cheek when she pulls her into an embrace.

“Other than the typhoon outside, I’m good,” she replies, gently returning Nina’s squeeze. She lets out a gasp then, immediately dropping her bag and pulling her sodden coat off her. As Nina shuts the door, Inej pulls the tie from her hair and shakes it out. “Remind me again why I don’t work from home?”

“Because-and I quote- you’d never get anything done with the rest of us running around.”

“Ah, that,” she says with a roll of her eyes. She plants a kiss on Nina’s cheek before darting to the stairs, her movements as nimble as if back on the high wire. “I’m hitting the shower. When are we doing pizza?”

“Not until the rest of them get home,” she replies. Inej nods and carries on two-at-a-time up the stairs. Nina lets her eyes linger on her small frame before turning back towards the living room, a wry grin curling at the corners of her lips.

“Save me a cookie?” Inej’s voice calls from upstairs. Nina chuckles warmly, blows a kiss towards the stairs, and the jar is moved from the cupboard to the coffee table.

Really, Inej didn’t have to ask.

The rest trickle in steadily over the next few hours. Jesper alerts them with a knock at the window, their eyes so wide they take up half their face. They all but barrel into Nina when she opens the door, other hand reaching out to grab the expectant Inej. At first they’re delighted, basking in their partners ever-persistent affection. And then the seconds turn into minutes, and realisation dawns on the pair of them with incredibly precision.

“You’re using our body heat aren’t you?” Inej asks.

“Yep!” The two rolls their eyes, exasperated and slightly shivering against Jesper’s cold hands, and it takes both of them to shove him off.

“Hot shower, “ Inej tells them with a poke to the chest. “And then maybe Nina will share her cookie stash.”

“Uh, they have to earn the cookie stash!”

Jesper comes down ten minutes later, clean, warm, grinning like a madman, and wraps Nina in a tight embrace that sweeps her off the ground. Apparently, it was enough for a cookie.

It’s around half an hour later when the blue blur of Matthias’ car appears at the window, obcusred by the heavy fog covering the glass. Minutes later, a flash of red hair that can only be Wylan emerges and sprints to the door, followed by Matthias rushing up the path. Jesper is at the door and opening it before Wylan can even get his key in the lock, wrapping the two of them in a tight hug that lasts until Nina appears at his shoulder and reminds him gently that cold air travels through open doors.

The smiles don’t fade though. Matthias pecks her cheek before half-jogging up the stairs, making a show of trying to beat Wylan to the shower but moving suspiciously slowly for a guy who runs marathons for fun. The three of them, Nina, Inej and Jesper, can hear Wylan’s laughter reverberate through the bathroom door, answered by a groan that sounds anything but frustrated. Nina grins, initially to herself, but like a flame it jumps to Inej and then to Jesper and they’re chuckling, softly, under their breaths.

Then Matthias is on the stairs, shaking his wet hair over them. Inej delicately steps aside and pulls Jesper into her spot, letting him take the full force of Matthias’s storm. Their reaction is suitably dramatic.

When Kaz finally turns his key in the lock, his coat is so soaked it’s basically a second skin and his dark hair clings to his face like seaweed against a rock. The edges of his coat drip, drip, drip along the floor as he makes his way down the hall, alerting them to his presence with the rap of his cane against the door and a raised eyebrow. The four of them (Matthias now in the shower) have crammed into their small kitchen; Inej and Wylan are sitting on the counter leaning over Nina’s shoulders, while Jesper is atop the table with his feet pushing one of their mismatched chairs outwards. The rumble of the dryer can be felt through the brick and the counter sways like the little boats that dock on the harbour in the summer.

“Brekker, settle a fight,” Nina asks. “We’re ordering pizza. We’re getting a veggie for Inej and Matthias and a plain one for Wy. Do we get a Hawaiian as a third?”

“If you do, that delivery guy will have to step over my corpse to get into this house,” he replies, gasping slightly as he pulls of his wet coat. He hangs it on the back of the door, the black tweet slipping in amongst the other coats of their house.

“Chicken and sweetcorn it is then,” Nina announces. Kaz runs a gloved hand through his hair before stopping beside Jesper, his arms folded over his chest. “Still bad out there?”

“No, Zenik, I just fancied a dip in the canal.” Inej throws Kaz a tea towel and he catches it expertly with one hand. “What sides are we getting?”

“Cheesy bread,” Nina replies. “And wedges. Anything else?”

“Springing for two sides?”

“The swear jar money covered it,” she replies. “Didn’t you listen to Wylan’s voice note?”

“No, on account of the fact I never open that chat unless I get to say something.” His voice is mumbled, half-hidden by the yellow towel over his face. It’s a lie, of course. Kaz Brekker can deny anything to anyone (and he has, many times) but screenshots don’t lie. And Nina’s phone is almost backed up with the amount that show ‘seen by Kaz’ beneath several of their messages. Not to mention the times she’s caught him half-smiling at his phone just seconds after someone put something in it, and all the things he’d only know if he checked it regularly. His ‘Dirtyhands knows all’ act can only go so far.

Still, she doesn’t say anything, and all of them let Kaz’s rickety wall stay where it is for now. In any case, his gloved hand is resting over Jesper’s on his shoulder as the five of them talked in hushed, soft tones about their work days and the storm and what movie to watch tonight.

“May I make a suggestion?” Jesper asks innocently.

“We’re not watching the Bee Movie again,” comes Inej’s reply, her voice soft and her eyes hard and unflinching when Jesper pouts.

“But it’s the greatest movie ever made!” he protests. “It’s a masterpiece. It’s a witty deconstruction of the capitalist system. It challenges us to think about the importance of those in society we brush off. It tackles our preconceived notions of relationships-”

“By that he means, she fucks the bee,” Wylan replies.

“She loved the bee! She and the bee had a consensual adult relationship!”

“Is Jesper debating the merits of the Bee Movie again?” Matthias appears in the doorway, hair tousled, clad in sweatpants and one of his old hoodies. The dark blue brings out his eyes. “Because I am not willing to sit through it for a third time.”

“Insert joke about furries here,” Kaz mutters as Matthias ducks through the doorway. Matthias rolls his eyes, a retort ready on his lips. But then he looks around the room, surveys each of his partners in turn, and Nina can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

“Jesper is that my hoodie?” he turns to Inej, Wylan and Nina, all three of whom stand silently, repressing giggles and burrowing into the impossibly soft fabric enveloping them. “Are these all my hoodies?”

“In our defense,” Jesper begins. Then, he pulls his hands into the sleeves and lets the end flop around, a grin crackling across his face. “They’re comfy.”

“Very comfy,” adds Inej.

“Collosally comfy,” Nina continues.

“Well, shit, I was just going to say ‘really very comfy’,” Wylan adds. A chorus of “swear jar” comes to his reply, and to that he just scrunches up his face and laughs. Even Matthias’ indignance at the hoodie theft seems forgotten as he drags a hand over his face, eyes landing on semi-worridely Kaz.

“Go get out of those wet clothes, Brekker,” he says. “And help yourself to any of my jumpers sicne they’re all free anyway.”

“You’re good, Helvar,” Kaz says before leaving. His gait is slightly stiff with the rain, and Nina doesn’t have to say anything before Jesper flips on the kettle. They’re all too aware of how the cold can affect Kaz’s leg. Wylan will have a hot water bottle down in approximately sixty seconds.

“Matti,” Jesper says as he leans against the table. “Really, you should take the sweater theft as a compliment to your skills. You make them so soft.”

“There’s this magical thing,” he replies. “It’s called fabric softener. You should use it sometime.”

“There’s also the fact that you’re the biggest one here. Ergo, your jumpers fit all of us,” Wylan says. He holds up his arms, completely lost in the cavernous sleeves. “I mean, I offer my collection of jumpers with sheep on them all the time, but they never fit anyone so no-one takes them.”

“Sure,” comes Kaz’s voice from the stairs, slow and stretched out. “That’s the reason.”

Wylan’s reaction comes in three parts. First, he blinks like a deer in headlights, trying to search for Kaz’s meaning. Then realisation dawns on him, slowly, and they all watch as his mouth falls open in the kind of offence usually reserved for when family members are insulted. And for the third part, he looks down in abject horror, and the rest of them alternate by assuring them his sheep jumpers are lovely and also trying not to wet themselves from laughing so hard.

Saints, Nina has never felt so lucky.

In a crushing five-to-one defeat, they don’t watch the Bee Movie. Jesper makes a show of how disappointed he is, insisting that none of them have the same intellectual taste in film that he does. Instead, they go for Labryinth, followed by The Princess Bride and maybe Sharkboy and Lavagirl if there’s time. And for all Jesper’s whining, he is the first to start dramatically quoting each film as they set up. As Nina pulls the warmed blankets from the dryer, she can hear Matthias reluctantly playing the Buttercup to Jesper’s Westley and Kaz chiming in with a quote here and there to keep the scenes moving. She rolls her eyes and sighs “boys”, but the smile on her face is unshakeable.

The smile blossoms when Inej rises her her tiptoes and kisses the back of her head.

Arm in arm, they return to the living room with arms full of blankets just as Jesper is answering the door. As they enter, they’re greeted witha cry of “piggy back time” and the visual of Wylan rocket-launching himself onto Matthias’ back. Their partner gasps, stumbles and just barely rights himself before he bellows out a laugh and adjusts Wylan’s hold on him. Kaz sits on the couch, Wylan’s hot water bottle tucked against his bad leg and funnily enough, Matthias’s sweater over his pyjamas. Between gloved hands, Nina spies the familiar gleam of Kaz’s phone, and underneath Wylan’s giggling she hears the unmistakeable click of the camera. He pulls it back as soon as Jesper returns, face obscured by the mountain of food boxes he carries.

“Gentle reminder that the paper plates on the coffee table are to be used,” Kaz announces. “Because I am not cleaning tomato sauce out off the cushions again”. That comes with a pointed look at Nina, and she just shrugs before dumping the blankets in the middle of the room and announcing that its a free-for-all. Her preferred one, a white fluffy number Kaz got her last year, is already securely wrapped around her shoulders, and so she’s happy and comfy and seated for the night. Ergo, her partners may fight to the death if they please.

Secure in her blanket cocoon, she plops down on the sofa. Matthias descends on the pile, Wylan on his back, who announces their presence by sticking his fists in the air and yelling “blankets!” like his life depends on it. Laughter buzzes in the air as they all watch Matthias lowerself down, Inej punctuating it with a growing ‘ooooooooh’ and a ‘heck yea’ when he makes it without dropping him. Wylan grabs one for himself and one for Matthias as well, pressing the fabric into his free hand before returning his hands to Matthias shoulders and declaring “Onwards my noble Fjerdan!”.

“Here,” Matthias sighs. “Go be Jesper’s problem. I’ve had enough of you.” His words are annoyed but his tone is anything but, and Wylan lands in a giggly heap on Jesper’s lap.

And that’s it. Jesper straightens up against the couch, content for a moment, but then Kaz taps his shoulder and he scoots into the spot between Kaz’s legs. Wylan’s is curled on his side, his head in Jesper’s lap with Matthias next to him, rubbing circles into his back. With a slice of pizza in one hand, Nina runs her hand through Matthias’ hair, enjoying watching how his cheeks grow when he smiles. She presses her finger to one of his dimples and scratches against his cheek, and something warm bubbles in her chest.

Somehow, Inej managed to sneak in and situate herself on the couch without anything noticing. Her hand is intertwined with Kaz’s, and he dips his head and whispers something to make her laugh. When Nina looks, she sees Kaz’s free hand petting Jesper’s hair.

And it’s this. It’s just the six of them, and messy combinations of limbs and pizza and soft words and bad jokes. It carries them through, just like it always has.

The rain keeps pelting the window, unending, determined to be let in. But inside its them, and the movies on the TV, and the soft, fuzzy peace that glows openly between them all. And for Nina, and for all of them, it’s enough. It will always be enough.

#six of crows #six of crows ff #poly!crows #nina zenik #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #wylan van eck #matthias helvar #helnik #kanej #wesper #wylan x matthias #kazper

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