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gglitch1dd · 10 months

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The Contract Pt2

Context: When you broke up with Katsuki, you thought it was the end for you. No marriage. No family. No white picket fence. You had spent so much time on Katsuki and now it all just fell to the wind. But what if a certain green haired hero offered you a contract, offered you the dream life of security and happiness all for the small price of being his wife? Love wasn’t in the plan but maybe it was in the fine print.

Basically: Reader dumps Katsuki and goes for Izuku.

Main Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x Reader

You weren’t sure what to call your relationship with Midoriya. It was something you never thought you could have again. Something with a mixture of giggles and laughter and feel good moment. Neither of you were perfect obviously, he had his workaholic issues that you often had to remind him to take a break with and you were getting back into doing your work. However, you looked forward to your little late night meetings with him that had turned to even seeing each other in the day.

It was a Thursday night, not much happening on television other than a broadcasted interview between ProHero Dynamight and ProHero Deku on a Night Live Show. The two heroes sat in two separated cushioned chairs opposite from the host and both looked seemingly comfortable, however anyone who knew them knew that it wasn’t the case.

Midoriya sat back in a button-down white shirt that had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was seemingly relaxed, his fingers adored with silver rings as he looked over to the host attentively, like he always did when he was being interviewed. “Deku, you’ve spent the five years being the Number One hero,” The studio burst out into applause and shouts of praise making Midoriya smile almost bashfully. He acknowledged the audience with a wave and a grateful nod only making them cheer louder. Bakugou rolled his eyes at the cheers. “And the whole of Japan has seen you save the citizens of the country countless times. You’ve done so much for this country and in your line of work, which we all greatly appreciate.”

“Well, I do hope so.” Midoriya commented jokingly.

“We do! We really do and yet, we can’t seem to help notice… your lack of a future Mrs or Mr in your life.” He motioned towards the green haired hero.

A small red blush sprung up to his face only making the audience giggle and coo at his reaction. No matter how much older he had gotten, the confidence that he had racked up as well as the strength and build he had worked hard for, pushing himselfto be bigger than what he once was, Midoriya would forever stay Midoriya. There were certain traits that would never changer, like how he would blush when he was embarrassed, or how when he did allow himself to cry, it would be big rivers of tears spilling from his eyes. There were somethings about him that would never change.

Midoriya cleared his throat as he adjusted his seating. He tilted his head slightly, allowing a green curl to fall on his forehead, shifting with him. “What makes you think I don’t have a partner?”

Before the host could answer, “Oh please, Deku.” Bakugou began rolling his eyes to the heavens. He sat lounged in his chair with no care in the world, the aura of confidence surrounding him as he sat as if he owned the place. Bakugou adjusted the glistening expensive watch on his wrist as he turned his crimson gaze to Midoriya. “If you had a partner, I would know about it.”

Midoriya let out a disbelieving laugh, eyebrows raised at such a statement. “Why the hell would you know?”

Bakugou motioned with his arms openly, almost as if the reason was obvious. “I’ve been forced to be your friend for years.”

Midoriya scoffed as he looked to the side. “Some friend you are.” He mumbled loud enough for the microphone to catch.

“Oi!” Bakugou sat up, if it wasn’t for the fact that his PR team was screaming in his ear he probably would have stood up and confronted Midoriya. Bakugou motioned back towards the green haired prohero. “It’s just like I said at the gala a two months back, you rarely have a partner on your arm.” He pointed out.

Midoriya sighed. “Not this again.” He rolled his eyes. “Maybe I just don’t want to put my partner in the spotlight, ever think of that?” Midoriya asked with a tilt of his head with a glare.

Before Bakugou could retaliate, the host sought to take back control of the conversation (half-heartedly- he too wanted to see how the conversation would end). “That is very true. With being a hero comes with the unfortunate reality of you and your loved ones being in danger.”

Midoriya motioned to the host with a pointed look angled at the blond. Bakugou softened his expression for a moment, immediately making the hairs at the back of Midoriya’s head stand up. “Deku, it’s okay…” Bakugou nodded his head sympathetically almost as if he was trying to be understanding. “If you don’t have anyone at the moment, no one is going to judge you.” Midoriya’s face fell to one of emotionlessness. Nothing but an empty dead stare that instantly made everyone else uneasy. The blond shook his head with a tsk. “Already just hit the big thirty mark and you’re still alone, but it’s okay. You aren’t the only one. There are plenty of singles out there, just like you.”

The green haired man was silent, unmoving for a hot minute as he just stared at the blond next to him. It was sickeningly silent in the audience as well. Midoriya didn’t move, didn’t blink, it was almost as if he was frozen in time as he stared at Bakugou. The host attempted to open his mouth and say something, however, Midoriya raised his hand, indicating for him not to say anything. And like hell was the host going to say something when the Number One hero of Japan looked just about ready to commit murder.

Bakugou wasn’t wrong. There were many singles out there, and yet the only one that came to Midoriya’s mind was you. The green haired man smiled, finally breaking his emotionless façade. He smiled almost warmly as he released a sigh, leaning back dispelling the tension around him. He scratched the back of his head. “Well, I guess there’s no use in hiding it now.” He let out with a shrug. He looked towards the host. “He’s right, I don’t have just a partner.” Bakugou smirked in satisfaction as he leaned back in his chair, about to let out the biggest laugh in history. “I have a fiancé.” That made Bakugou pause.

The host’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A fiancé?” He asked with a tone of curiosity.

Midoriya nodded with a chuckle. “I know right, I’m surprised too that she said yes. I mean, not to shrug myself off but- I was hesitant because of my work and everything, yet she’s just so understanding. She’s the most beautiful woman to me.” Midoriya looked down into his lap with an almost fond expression. “She… she has the way of instantly relaxing me and just bringing out something in me I didn’t think I had. It’s almost comical how I feel with her, almost as if it isn’t even real. Like I’m in some sort of dream.”

The audience was gushing at his words, eating up everything he had to say on this apparent mystery partner of his- one that he had been keeping hidden for so long. Bakugou looked at Midoriya in pure and utter disbelief. His eyes wide as he stared at Midoriya, not believing a single word that had just come out of his mouth. Midoriya looked to him with an innocent smile and a tilt of his head. He leaned forward, covering the microphone on his shirt as he moved towards the blond.

“Not all of us are attention seekers, Kacchan.” He whispered to the blond. “Some of us just choose to be smart about things.”

You had just ordered yourself takeout for the night, mainly because you were in no mood to cook for yourself. The whole day you had been so busy in meetings and working that you had barely had any time to just relax, check what was on the television, and check your phone for longer than five minutes. You sat the takeout down on the coffee table in front of you. Just as you were about to dig in, there was a knock at your door.

Specifically your balcony door. You chuckled as you stood up. Midoriya came over tonight. How he seemed to have a habit of knowing when you had food at the ready was beyond you, yet you found it funny somehow. With a small sigh, you walked to your balcony and opened the door. “Midoriya, I find it funny how-” You stopped talking when you noticed something very important.

That being Midoriya on one knee with a wedding ring gleaming up at you. Your eyes widened bigger than saucers as you looked down at the green haired hero in front of you in the moonlight. He had a velvet box in hand were the diamond encrusted engagement ring sat gleamingly. He looked up at you nervously with a smile. “Y/N will you make me the happiest man in this world and marry me?”

You looked down at the ring and then to Midoriya. You closed the door in his face, turning around to go eat your take out.

“Y/N!” You heard whining at the door. “Y/N please!” He sounded like pitiful puppy that just got kicked out.

You paused. He was making noise and it was night time. God knows what sort of explanation you would have to give your neighbours if they went onto their balcony and saw the Number One hero standing outside your door. You groaned as you turned back around. You opened the door, making his face light up with a smile. Before you could talk to him, you pulled him back inside with a scowl. “What are you doing, Midoriya?” You asked him as you closed the door. “Have you gone crazy? Are you drunk?” You turned to him in disbelief.

Midoriya walked up to you with a gentle expression. He put his hands on your shoulder and smiled gently. “Listen, I know that this is sudden but I promise you, I’ll take care of you. I’ll support you and we’ll be such a good team together.”

You folded your arms and looked up at him with a pointed look. “What did you do?” You asked him. He hesitated to answer you. You huffed and turned to go put on the TV.

Just as you were about to sit down and ignore the giant green haired man in your living room, the headline shocked you. The reporter had a smile on her face as she covered the story. ProHero Deku’s fiancé. You switched off the TV.

Midoriya didn’t have a fiancé. Or at least not one you knew of. Then you slowly turned to look at him. Midoriya had awkward smile on his face. He let out a nervous chuckle as he scratched the back of his neck looking at you. “My love…”

“No.” You got up and walked to your room.

Midoriya let out an exasperated groan. “Oh come on!” He turned and followed you as you walked to your room. “Please, just marry me.”

You chuckled. “Midoriya, I don’t know what drugs you are on, but I suggest you stop taking them.” You tell him. “I am not going to help you keep up with a lie you told.” You walked into your room with a huff, settling in on the edge of your bed, folding your arms.

Midoriya followed you inside, not giving much thought to the fact that he was in your bedroom. “Please.” He begged. “Kacchan was pressurising me and I felt attacked. I had to do something about it!” He threw his arms open. You only gave him a look that made him sigh. He dropped his shoulders as he tried to think of a proper explanation to give you. “Look…” He crouched down in front of you, putting his arms on his knees as he looked at you. “I know that what I said was irrational and stupid. It was thoughtless and careless, but I didn’t just come over to you because you were the first person that came to mind. I didn’t just come to you cause I thought I could easily persuade you.”

You lifted an eyebrow, having gotten intrigued by his words. You didn’t say anything at first, wanting to see where he would take this. You couldn’t act as though that this wasn’t one of the reasons you thought of him as crazy, nor act as though that wasn’t something you hadn’t stopped to consider. As much as whatever was going on was damn right crazy and shocking, you also knew Midoriya and you knew he didn’t do things without reason.

Midoriya waited for your go ahead. You sighed and motioned with your hand, indicating for him to go on. He smiled and stood up. “Think about it, we could use each other. I need a partner, someone who understands hero work and the hero scene but also someone I get along with.” He was standing in front of you, within arms reach. He motioned towards you, indicating that you were that person. “You could use me to further your career with the commission. You know how the commission is, all connections and influence. What greater influence do you need than being married to me?” He motioned to himself with a somewhat confident smile. You raised an eyebrow with an amused scoff. “Plus, you get all the benefits of marrying me.”

“What benefits?” You asked.

“Well I have great medical and life insurance.” He listed on his fingers. “I am an elitist. I have more money than I know what to do with. I am funny and charismatic, loyal and trustworthy. I have a lovely mother who would be the best mother in law-”

You chuckled as you lowered your demeanour. “Izuku, all those things are great and all but…” You stood up trying to match him (despite being undeniably shorter than him). “We aren’t even dating.”

Midoriya grinned. “We can have our first date at the courthouse?” He asked optimistically which only made you burst out laughing. At the sight of your laughter and much more eased demeanour, he smiled gently. “Hey, we get along great and I know you said you don’t believe in forever when it comes to love. Not anymore at least.”

You looked away from him when he said that last part. He wasn’t wrong. It was hard to believe in love and forever in the same sentence when you had fallen in love with a man you thought you would spend your forever with. You had fallen for him, loved him till death and look where that led you? It led you heartbroken and seemingly forcing yourself on your own for years. It was hard to commit to love when you had put in your whole being into Bakugou Katsuki for years and it all amounted into nothing in the end.

“Hey…” Midoriya pulled you closer towards him, his hands on your shoulders, gentle and yet reassuring. He had a soft and almost adoring look on his face. A mixture of understanding and hope on his face. His green eyes holding nothing but sincerity as he looked down at you. “I’m not asking you to love me, if you think you are unable to do that.” You looked away from him not entirely knowing how you were feeling. “But I do know…” He lifted his hand and gently redirected your gaze up to him. “I do know that we know each other well enough as friends, to make something work. Even if it isn’t forever.”

You sighed. “Midoriya, I’m tired of wasting my time. I’m not getting any younger.” You stepped back for a moment reflecting on what you wanted in life. “I… I wanted to settle down, you know? Have a partner, kids, a pet... the whole nine yards.”

“You can still have that.” Midoriya urged as he took a step forward. His eyes almost pleading with you to try and see it in how he was explaining it to you. “You don’t trust love and that’s fine, but what’s better than a relationship based off of friendship?” He wasn’t wrong. Most relationships that had friendship as the basis and not just love often lasted longer and were better home wise too. “And I want kids too.” He motioned to himself. “It’s a win-win.” He grinned.

You raised an eyebrow but the amused smile on your face never left. “I’m not sure I want my kids to have green hair.”

Midoriya looked taken aback, a hand to his chest as he furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s wrong with green?” He asked, offended. “My mother gave me this hair colour, thank you very much.” He folded his arms.

You chuckled. “No offence to your mother, I’m sure she’s a great person, but you look like a tree!”

“We…” Midoriya was speechless for a moment, before letting out a soft scoff. “We can have saplings together.”

“My God!” You turned around as the both of you started laughing. You shook your head with a pointed look. “You did not just do that.”

“I did and look, we can cross that bridge when we get there if you still want to. However, I don’t see anything wrong with this.” He shrugged. “Besides…” Midoriya carefully turned you to look at yourself in the mirror that you had. He stood behind you, moving to keep you facing to look at the reflection of the both of you. His smile turned into a soft smirk. “See it like a contract, between me and you.” He commented. “A contract that will get revenge on Kacchan and Kirishima.”

You hesitated at that part. The thought of revenge pricking your interest the most and Midoriya could see it on your face as plain as day. His smirk broadening at the sight of it. “I… I don’t know…”

“Come on, I know you’ve been hoping for a chance.” He spoke truthfully. “A chance to show them just how much they hurt you but also just how powerful you are without them. This would be a blow to Kacchan’s pride worse than anything. His ex-girlfriend in the arms of his rival.” The grin on Midoriya’s face and the hint of mischief in his eyes made you pause. It was something that twisted your stomach and made you pause. The look of pure wanting in revenge too. A look that overshadowed everything as the glint of danger and a hint of chaos danced in his green eyes. It was something you never thought to see in his eyes but something you felt addictive to know that it was there. He moved his head closer to yours, his lips to your ear. You watched him, unable to look away. “Just say yes,” He spoke quietly and determined. “And I’ll have the whole of Japan eating out of the palm of your hand.”

You were enchanted. It was something Midoriya was able to do. Most of the time you found him less of a rabbit and more like a snake. His jade eyes enchanting you and pulling you into his tight grip where he would have you right where he wanted you. And with the way he looked down at you, you had no will of your own to say anything otherwise.

You nodded your head, your bottom lip relaxed and out as you turned your head to look at him dead in the eyes. “Yes…” You let out quietly your eyes catching on the way his lips spread into a smirk. “When do I sign?”

Midoriya grinned as he turned you to face him. “Tomorrow.” He answered you. “My lawyers have already written up a contract we can go through and approve of.”

You nodded as you moved to the door of your room. You stopped for a moment, a hand on the doorway. You raised an eyebrow and looked back at him. “How did you know I would say yes?” You asked him amused that he already had the contract written up.

Midoriya was silent only for a moment before shrugging. He smiled gently. “Why would you say no?”

You rolled your eyes at his confidence, turning back to go warm your take out. “Maybe I didn’t want to get married to a tree.” You pointed out. You moved back to grab the take out off the table.

“A very handsome tree!” Midoriya pointed out, which only made you laugh. He moved into the kitchen with you, grabbing plates automatically. “So what’s for dinner?” He asked with an innocent smile.

You shook your head with a chuckle. How he always managed to come in when you were about to eat was unknown to you, once again. But with that dimpled smile on his freckled face, who were you to say no. “Takeout.” You pushed the boxes into the microwave, warming them back up. “I was not gonna cook today, and talking about today,” You turned around as you put your back to the counter. You folded your arms as you faced him. “We need to talk about us and our history. How did we meet? When did we start dating? How did you pop the question?” You listed trying to get him to get the idea.

Midoriya hummed as he copied your body language to stand opposite you. He nodded his head agreement. If the two of you were going to sell the plot of being in love and soon to be wed, you would both need to know everything about each other. More than just the fundamentals but also your whole story together. There couldn’t be single point the both of you weren’t aligned on. “I agree and for an easy starter, I already knew you when you were dating Kacchan, which is true.” You nodded your head, understanding where he was going. “Then after the two of you broke up we stayed in touch.”

“We didn’t do that.” You notified him.

“Yes, but it can be fabricated.” He waved it off as if it wasn’t a big deal. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. He shook his head as he thought more on it, then his eyes lit up as he realised something. He tilted his head and looked to you about to point out something. “When you were in Portugal, during your time abroad, I also went to Portugal for a conference. We were both in the country for three days at the same time.”

You tilted your head. “Really?” You asked in surprise; however, you didn’t really look online to find out whether your friends were out of Japan or not.

Midoriya nodded his head. “We can make up some excuse of how we met up and just couldn’t stop talking since.”

You hummed. “Okay… but how about the fact that we told absolutely no one about this?” You pointed out, putting your hands on your hips as you gave him a pointed look. That’s when the microwave dinged and you took out the takeout. It was steaming hot and already you could smell every spice and flavour dripping from the food you had chosen. You grinned as you made your way back to the sitting room, Midoriya following you with soda cans in hand.

“Oh that one is easy.” He informed you. “We didn’t want anyone to know yet. We wanted to make sure before telling anyone.” He sat you both down on your couch.

You set down the food and he set down the drinks. You both got comfortable thinking this all through. “You know there’s no going back on this.” You reminded him quietly as you looked at the soda can you had put in your hands. “Once it's out there, it’s out there. I... I don’t want you to regret your decision.” You spoke quietly as you fiddled around.

Midoriya could see right through your statement. He could see the insecurities and the fear of being rejected and cast aside yet again. He could see the fear of ridicule and misfortune. He knew you didn’t want to be alone anymore. Who would? But he also knew that you were scared, because at least if you were alone, you wouldn’t get hurt. He smiled gently as he reached forward, taking your smaller hand into his own. You looked up to see his eyes were filled with kindness and sincerity. It was so gentle and comforting, you almost felt emotional looking into them. “I don’t think I could ever regret anything when it comes to you.”

-Glitch1d

Taglist: @cillshot @stxrrielle @doomedengineer @chims-kookies @fabii275

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48492484/chapters/122336080

#mha x y/n #bakugou x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #bnha #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #izuku rizzdoriya

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kookslastbutton · 10 months

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Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) II ch. II

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 5,044

Warnings: 8-year age gap, flashbacks of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, mentions of therapy, kookie trying to be a good husband, cute coupley stuff that idk anyone will like but 🥺 👉👈, jk says cawk , idk why this is a warning

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: Hi guys! I'm back! I thought I'd start off with a little flashback and then diving back into the story. Also, big thing–I decided not to make jk a complete butt. I don't want this story to be about "jk finally coming around after treating oc like garbage for wanting a kid". It's more of a we'll figure-it-out-together kinda thing though there will be bumps in the road. Anyway, enjoy 🥰

<< ch.I ༓ ch. III >> | series masterlist

To say falling in love with Jungkook was an effortless, butterflies-in-your-tummy, love-at-first-sight, you-know-it-when-you-see-it sort of affair is far from the truth. In actuality, you and Jungkook met on a very normal basis and had very normal rapport…well, somewhat normal.

Jungkook was your economics professor in grad school and you were merely one out of eighty of his students during the first semester. Surely you'd be walking out with no more than a barely scrimmaged 'A' and remnants of stupid economics jokes he and his colleagues found slapstick funny.

Jungkook always had an interesting sense of humor.

Bottom line? Your life wasn't a drama and you certainly didn't plan on living like it was–especially when your parents were on your tail, making sure their hard-earned money was well spent.

As if being bonked on the head by something called fate, however, Jungkook sent you away with far more than odd jokes and good grades.

Hey, hindsight is 20/20.

four years ago

“Oh, good morning.” A soft, yet hoarse voice strides past you. You view the man, estimating that he be in his early 30s though could easily pass for 25 by his youthful appearance. His hair is black, a bit shaggy but well-kept nonetheless. Silver piercings dangle from his ears and a pair of rectangular glasses rest on his perfectly symmetrical face. This is your professor?

Undoubtedly, what mesmerizes you the most is the striking arm tattoo partially displayed under the rolled-up sleeves of his dress shirt. You remember temporarily considering tattoo artistry in high school but studio arts appealed to you more.

Not like you got to do either though, seeing as you’ve been stuck in econ for the fifth year in a row. You’re parents insisted you get your master’s immediately after undergrad…how wonderful for you.

But back to the man at the front of the room. You weren’t expecting someone so hip and attractive–very, very attractive.

Your stomach churns but you brush the feeling away.

He's your professor for god sake.

The man, coincidentally your professor, quirks a small smile your way and sets his bag on the podium at the front. “Didn’t expect anyone to be here for another twenty minutes.”

“I just got out of another class a couple of rooms down so I’m here early.” You straighten in your seat and return a smile of your own. “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Jeon. I’m Y/N.” You start bouncing your leg up and down, clicking the pen in your hand. Please be right, please be right, you chant silently, hoping you remembered the name correctly.

Jungkook notices your slightly restless state but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Just to be sure, you are here for ECON 602 right? Macroeconomic Theory?” He unzips his bag and sets his laptop on the podium. Making brief eye contact, he catches sight of the piece of paper directly below your nose. “That’s a beautiful sketch.”

You glance down, moving the paper to the side as if embarrassed. Not many people see your work beyond close friends, and even then you like to keep it to yourself. “Yes, absolutely,” you reply. “ECON 602, 12:15 pm. And thanks, I draw as a hobby.”

Your professor hums, nodding as he connects the HDMI cable to his laptop and lowers the presentation board.“ Dr. Kim is going to be quite jealous when he hears such artistic talent is in my economics class.” He lets out a slight chuckle. “You don’t mind if I tell him, do you? A little competition we have going on.”

You snort at the comment.

Dr. Kim Taehyung was the art department’s most talked about professor. Everyone knew him for his extremely unique perspective, classy personality, as well as his breathtaking artwork. You’ve passed him in the hallways a number of times, wishing you could study under him and dare you say, in more ways than one.

“I don’t mind.” You shake your head. “Are you and Dr. Kim close?” Maybe you shouldn’t be this curious but it was now fifteen minutes until the start of class and no one else had shown. What else were you going to fill time with? Awkward silence while you watch your professor fumble and tap on his keyboard?

“We were colleagues if you can believe that.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Only two years ahead of me in undergrad. When I first started teaching here I had no idea he was here too. But you know what they say __, it’s a small world.”

“Smaller,” you retort. “I feel like everywhere I go I run into someone I’ve known or seen at some point in my life. You just never really know I guess.” When you first entered university, you were counting your lucky stars that most of your high school peers were attending college nearby your hometown. You on the other hand were a good five to six hours from home. Last you checked, however, half of those peers were now getting married or on their second kid. Crazy how some people’s lives change on a dime.

You watch as your professor shuffles a few sheets of paper in his hands, scanning them briefly. “I can relate to that,” he mutters. “Pretty sure we haven’t met before though. Could be a bigger world than we think. Now where’s everyone else? Didn’t all drop last minute did they?” The man lifts his head, flashing a big gorgeous grin. His eyes are playful and dance with mirth.“Not that I would mind if it were just you and I this whole semester.“

“uh–“ is embarrassingly, all you say. He isn’t implying anything by that right? Oh god __, don’t be stupid. As you've established, this isn’t a romance novel and you’re most definitely not the main character.

“You seem attentive is what I mean,” the man says, breaking you out of your daze. “And beyond punctual. Two qualities that I hold in high esteem.” You’d say he had a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth but it was likely an illusion. Your professor has bigger fish to fry than worry about any possible scenarios you’ve concocted in your silly head.

Still, in a moment of sheer thoughtlessness, you say something you regret being unable to retract. “Thank you, I like you too.” As soon as the words fly out you feel the need to run out and bang your head against the wall. Thinking on your feet wasn’t your specialty.

Little to your knowledge, Jungkook finds your mannerisms cute and stifles the temptation to tease. You’re his student, after all, a little professionally please, he repeats to himself.

“So are you from here?” Jungkook asks, choosing to switch the topic before both of you get swallowed into a messy situation.

You shake your head in denial. “I live here temporarily but I grew up about five hours north of here. My parents are still there.”

“Ah, well that’s a bit away. I imagine you miss them?”

You ponder the question for a second, eyes rolling up in contemplation. “From time to time.” Jungkook gives a knowing look. He’s had his share of familial drama and the need for space.

“I understand,” he says. “I grew up ten hours south myself.”

“Wow, that’s…far.” You’re surprised by the distance and can’t imagine it’s an easy commute. You wonder how long he’s been here and more so, if he’s here alone.

“Yeah.” He rests his palms on the edge of the podium, leaning on them gently. The protruding veins in his forearms catch your attention but you pry yourself from lingering. After what you said earlier, the last thing you want is for Dr. Jeon to think you're coming on to him. “Gets a little quiet sometimes but I’ve learned to live with it.”

As if immune to learning from your mistakes you blurt exactly what’s in your head.“So you’re not–“

“Married? Dating? Seeing someone?” Jungkook finishes your sentence like it’s nothing he hasn’t done tenfold times before. “No. I’m not.”

You give a small “Ah,” nodding in understanding before another classmate walks in, putting an abrupt end to the conversation. Jungkook is quick to greet the young man who’s joined but he’s certain he won’t be forgetting your name anytime soon.

present

You tilt your head back, allowing beads of hot water to run down your bare skin. The sound of steady pattering combined with heavy steam relaxes your muscles.

You can't believe you actually told him.

Blurting out to Jungkook that you wanted a baby in the middle of a fight is not how you intended to open up to your husband. But everything escalated so fast that it just came out.

You think back to last night’s events.

Once the movie's credit scenes appear Jungkook feels your eyes burn through him from your lounged position. "You're making that face again," he says.

"There's no face."

"Look," Jungkook cuts shortly. "Will you just tell me so we can deal with it?!"

"Just deal with it? Like it's some kind of nuisance of an issue that needs treatment?" You jump up from the couch and head to your bedroom in a fury, your husband hot on your trail.

"I don't mean to be pissing you off, sweetheart but I know something's up." He follows you into the bathroom, watching you reach for your toothbrush. "Can you please slow down and talk to me?" He grabs the toothpaste before you can, forcing you to stop in your tracks.

"I–I want…I want to be a mom. I want a baby."

"A baby? What do you mean you want a baby?" You see the panic settling in his eyes. Jungkook takes you into his arms, his thumb wipes off some of your tears. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't know. When you came home from the park I didn't realize that little boy meant so much to you."

You try blinking back your tears but they keep running down your face. He's being gentle with you and you appreciate that but his choice of words tells you his answer is no. It's quiet, subtle, and cuts like a knife.

You break away from him to splash cold water on your face. The coolness calms your nerves. “He didn’t. Never–never mind what I said, sorry. I’m tired and I’m probably not thinking straight.”

It was a blatant lie but just look at your situation. Married for two years, still on birth control, and had no plans to change that. Suddenly one party diverts from the plan fully aware that the other is perfectly comfortable with the current plan.

Yes, you hoped he'd have a slightly better reaction but you don't blame him for his stunned look.

Plus, did you even have enough time to realize what you were saying? Feeling? It could easily be written off that you were simply impulsive, emotionally vulnerable, and so on with the track record you had regarding kids and parenting.

You sigh, bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

Not much else happened after the fight. Jungkook apologized again with his arms wrapped around your waist. He snuggled his nose in the crook of your neck and kissed your cheek too.

It was the usual, it felt familiar and warm but the pang in your head put a roadblock to that. No marriage is perfect. You know that. But you have a feeling you and Jungkook are headed for a steep valley, both on opposing sides.

"Hi.” You’re taken out of your thoughts when you hear the shower door pop open. Your husband steps in, with messy hair and half-open lids. Evidently, still sleepy.

You spare him a glance and quickly reach for your body wash on the shelf. “Hi,” you reply back, voice monotone.

Jungkook moves closer behind you and curves an arm around you. He grabs the bottle out of your hand and squirts some of the soap into his palm. “How did you sleep?”

A small shiver runs up your spine when his cool hand rubs circles against your upper back and shoulder. It still feels nice, you admit. You see some of the soap drip down and hit the shower floor.

“I slept okay. You?”

“I’m about the same.” Jungkook moves his hand a little lower, making sure to cover your whole backside. “I’m really sorry about how I handled things last night. What I said and how I said it was inexcusable.”

“Please, Jungkook you don’t have to keep apologizing about it. I know…and I’m sorry I spurred it on you so suddenly. It’s not how I wanted you to find out.” if at all, you add to yourself.

“Is it still true?” he asks, stopping his movements. “Do you really want to start a family?”

You feel queasy all over again. His tone is serious and if you turn around you’ll likely see the fire in his eyes. So you remain in your position, facing towards the shower head.

“I don’t know…” you finally say after thirty seconds of eerie silence. “But I think I do, I really do. Seeing our friends and other people our age have kids makes me wonder if we’d ever have that. I can’t explain why right now. I know it’s unexpected after we’ve been living a sort of way for so long.” After another pause you continue. “But I know it’s not a mutual thing and that’s…okay.”

“Sweetheart, even if we were to have kids…where would we find the time? The school year’s starting soon and I’m gonna be running ragged at the university next week. You know my schedule. I teach Monday through Friday, leaving at 7:15 am and returning around 4 p.m. You leave for work a little later in the morning but get back at 5 p.m. All our week consists of will be eating a quick dinner together, then I have to squirrel away to my office for the night to review class notes and grade stacks of assignments.”

Though you’re aware of how crazy busy Jungkook gets during the school year, you’re not foolish enough to believe that is the root of his argument.

“Maybe you’re right that we don’t have much time now but Jungkook, we can figure it out. You only teach 9 months out of the year and I can–I can stay at home or we can hire a nanny. And we don’t have to do it right away but–“

“__.” Jungkook turns you around so you’re looking eye to eye. He hesitates to say his next words, fearing a replay of yesterday. But he can’t bring himself to pretend with you. Not on something this serious. “I understand and I want more than anything to tell you I want the same, but I can't lie to you. Being a father, and having a kid, I think it’s wonderful but I just never saw that for myself. I’m so sorry I–”

Your heart concaves into your chest. You absolutely want him to be honest but it pains you to hear. Where do you go from here?

Slowly, you wrap your arms around his neck. Jungkook jolts a bit, surprised by your sudden gesture but welcomes the embrace.

“It’s okay Jungkook.” You settle your head into his shoulder, simply wanting to be close. One tear spills out, then another. “It’s okay.”

“No, look at me __. You didn’t let me finish.” You lift your head from his shoulder. Jungkook strokes your back soothingly before continuing. “If this is what you want, then I’m not going to stand here and be the asshole husband that just dismisses it. But this is a big step.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t say what I think you are. Jungkook you don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m not saying I change my mind.” Of course, that would be unrealistic, you talk yourself through, preparing for his next words. “However, I am–I am willing to seriously consider this whole thing, babies, diapers, strollers, all of it. But I need you to be sure that this is what you want. And the only way I think that can happen is if we start this slow. Sounds like I’m making some sappy speech huh?”

Jungkook cracks a faint smile.

You look like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop or for him to yell psyche and flick your forehead or something.

But none of that happens.

Instead, Jungkook unwraps one of your arms from around your neck, places a light kiss on your knuckles, and stares deep into your eyes as if making a promise. “I know this isn’t exactly heaven to your ears but I’m just trying to say, let’s not rush to a decision yet, okay? All of this did just get revealed yesterday and I think it’d be unfair to both of us if we scurry past it without thinking.”

Shocked. You’re utterly shocked. You were expecting him to give you a flat-out no or attempt to cover up the issue somehow. While, this isn’t your ideal outcome, if Jungkook is willing to take this seriously, no bullshit necessary, then so are you.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You smile at him, feeling a tad lighter than you did before. Your heart beats again, slow and steady. “I love you.”

“I love you more than anything __. I married you and I intend to keep it that way.” Jungkook sneaks a wink and you press a kiss to his lips.

“Hey,” you pipe up. “It’s Sunday isn’t it?”

Jungkook nods in confusion. “It is..?”

“You have somewhere to be this morning don’t you?” You wait a moment before an oh-shit expression forms on Jungkook’s face.

As you remember your husband was supposed to be at some fancy gold club today. Like Jimin, a certain Kim Taehyung had his weekly “thing” too. Being close friends, Jungkook was supposed to be there, along with Hoseok.

“‘You're so right. 'M sorry honey I gotta go. They’re gonna kill me." Jungkook gives you one last kiss before slipping out of the shower. "I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Jungkook! Where the fuck have you been? We tried calling you!” Taehyung is the first to speak as soon as he catches sight of the younger man. He has his usual blush pink polo shirt on paired with well-pressed beige shorts.

He looks a little too handsome for golf.

Jungkook’s secretly glad his wife stayed home this time, as he’s fully aware of her mini crush on Taehyung in school. When she first found out they were colleagues he could tell she had borderline stars in her eyes.

“Sorry sorry,” Jungkook says. “I was doing stuff and time escaped me. Plus, I didn’t have my phone near me for a bit. But I’m here now, so let’s get going!” Jungkook walks in front of the two men, heading for the first stage of the golf course. “You guys coming?” He turns around and lifts both arms up.

Taehyung and Hoseok exchange looks before following his lead. It’s unlike Jungkook to be this eager for golf. In fact, he hates golf. And his explanation is a bit…questionable.

As much as Hoseok is a friend, he is also just as much of a psychologist who can't stop himself from practicing his craft when given the chance. “You doing alright?” Hoseok waits for Jungkook to answer, one hand clings around the top of his golf club while the other settles around his hip. "Haven't seen you since Jimin's last dinner.”

"Yeah, I'm good," Jungkook barely replies, watching Taehyung practice and few swings before taking the shot. Like a prodigy, it sinks right in. "Hole in one again man? I thought you painted."

Taehyung glances over his shoulder with a smug expression, cocky smirk, and sunglasses behind his head. "Don't be too jealous of hyung, Jungkookie."

"Fuck off Tae," Jungkook quips back. "I'm not 22 anymore. I have a good job, nice house, and a gorgeous wife waiting for me at home. What do you have? A bunch of golf balls in your pants.”

Hmm, a little more defensive than usual, Hoseok notes. And guarded too, something’s up.

"About that wife of yours Kook," Hoseok drawls. "How she doing?" Jungkook turns towards the man, slight distaste on his face.

“Uh, she’s fine. Thanks for asking. Also, I know what you’re doing and I’m not in the mood.”

"Ah Jungkook, you act like I'm being so malicious.” Smiling, Hoseok continues. “Can't I care about my friend of ten years without such accusations?"

Jungkook sighs and kicks the grass. Hoseok has been one of his closest friends for a long time so if there's anyone worth talking to about his current situation and who'd understand, I'd be him. "Well, I’m not saying much right now but.....__ recently told me she wants a baby. I’m still–I'm having trouble processing it. But I’m trying.”

Hoseok throws a hand behind the younger's shoulder. “That’s big news Jungkook and it’s completely fine that you’re still working through it. Don’t feel like you have to speed up the process either. I’ve known you both long enough to know that parenting hasn’t really been in the cards until now so I’m surprised myself.”

“I think she’s still a little unsure, but something happened the other day and it struck a cord inside her. She wants a family and,” Jungkook steps to the side, and Hoseok's hand slips from his shoulder. “I wish I could tell her I want it too. But I can't lie to her like that. I also don’t want her to bury that desire for my sake, so I told her we could consider it. I don’t know man, I feel like I’m trying to do the right thing but I don’t know if I can do this. Will I ever change my mind? I want to, for her.”

Hoseok looks at his friend with soft eyes, compassion in them. “Unfortunately, this is not something you can foresee nor force. At least not this early. But you’re definitely doing the right thing by not brushing her off. As real as your feelings are about not wanting a child right now, so are __'s feelings. It’s best you listen to both sides.”

Jungkook tousles his hair around. “I just–fuck.”

Hoseok doesn’t need further explanation to understand Jungkook’s predicament. He’s frustrated, blames himself, and is struggling to come to terms with reality. The unknown scares him and he doesn’t want to lose control of what little he has. “I’m sorry, Kook…it’s a heavy load. Why don't you come in for a session sometime? I think this might be something worth talking through."

“You mean therapy? I don't know, I’m about to have a pretty tight with school starting.”

"One hour, forty minutes at least," Hoseok insists. "Why not try it once and if you don't like it, you don't have to do it again. I love you both and as a friend, I want to be here for you. Beats standing around and watching Taehyung kick our ass at golf. Just think about it and let me know. As I said, I'm always here for you bro."

Jungkook nods and reaches a hand out to gently squeeze Hoseok's shoulder. "I'll think about it. Thanks."

"Hey!" Taehyung waves from afar. "What you guys doing still up there? I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes! Don’t forget that last place buys lunch.”

“He’s referring to you Kook.” Hoseok chuckles, slaps Jungkook on the back, and walks down the golf course toward Taehyung. “You suck at golf.”

Jungkook grunts, following close behind. If this were a benching competition he’d be taking home the whole damn meal.

With Jungkook still gone doing who knows what with his buddies you decide to blast your very wide array of music. It’s a good thing you and Jungkook live in your own house or else your poor neighbors would be knocking down the door with the landlord by now. Yes, that may or may not have happened once with you were in college.

Along with the music you stick true to your character and spread your art supplies on your drawing table. You had your own mini studio, thanks to your wonderful relator who helped find you the house. You reach for a pencil, spinning it between your fingers. Maybe you should finish the drawing of the park’s pond.

Mm, you don’t really feel like packing all your supplies and driving over right now.

Deciding to save it for another day, you ponder ideas of what to do instead. Should you try out your new watercolors? You bought them last week and while you weren’t exactly in low supply, if your husband can have a hundred scented candles you can have your paints.

bling–

You snatch your phone hearing the notification bell.

Jungkook: the rest of your morning going well? [sent at 11:03 a.m]

You smile faintly and type out a reply. Sweet to check in you suppose.

__: Fine. How are the guys? [sent at 11:04 a.m]

Jungkook: Whooping my ass but it’s alright. [sent at 11:07 a.m]

Good, you smirk. Jungkook is awful at golf. And he can stand to lose at something like the rest of you.

__: When are you coming home? [sent at 11:10 a.m]

Jungkook: Looking to wrap things up around 4 pm. I think we’re having a late lunch. Miss you. [sent at 11:13 a.m]

__: Okay, sounds good because I was thinking maybe we could go for ice cream when you get back. After dinner? miss you too [sent at 11:14 a.m]

You stare at the screen, waiting for a reply.

One minute goes by…

Two minutes…

Three…

Jungkook: Okay, sounds amazing. But why not before dinner? The place we like closes early on Sundays. I love you! [sent at 11:17 a.m]

Oh shoot, that’s right. You and Junkook have gone to the same ice cream shake since you first started dating. The couple who run it are super sweet, only a decade older. How could you forget?

__: I’m a dummy, yes we’ll go before dinner. I love you too [sent at 11:18 a.m]

Jungkook: Noo, you’re not a dummy! But okay, I’ll see you soon! [sent at 11:19 a.m]

Rejuvenated, you turn off your phone, jump off your art stool and crank the current song up–Runaway by Bon Jovi. Let’s see, you think, tearing a piece of watercolor paper from your drawing pad, what to do.

When the idea strikes you prepare water, paintbrushes, your palette, and anything else you may need for the next five hours give or take. You snatch your phone again and scroll through your photo gallery, hoping to get a good reference photo.

Your best friend’s birthday was two weeks away and she’s been subtly hinting for a painting of her, her fiancee’, and her dog Bear. As her closest friend and well-practiced artist, you think it is best to appease her request.

Jungkook comes home at 4 pm on the dot. Not a minute later. He looks happy, you conclude. Genuinely happy. It looks good on him.

“__!” Jungkook runs through the front door and lifts you up in his arms. He spins you around and you place your hands on his shoulders. This is so unexpected but nice.

“Jungkook,” you struggle to catch your breath. “What’s going on?”

“I just love coming home to you.” He places you back down and grabs your wrist. “Come on, I wanna stuff you full with ice cream.”

“That sounds so weird,” you laugh.

“Why?” Jungkook opens the front door, ushering you to go ahead of him.

“Because…it sounds like you want to stuff me. Like in a weird way.”

“Woman, that cleared nothing up for me.” You hop into the car with stupid grins on your face. You don’t even know what you mean let alone having to explain to your husband. What can you say, Jungkook makes you a little braindead.

“I just mean that you wanting to stuff me with ice cream sounds like the witch from Hanzel and Gretel. You wanna fatten me up to eat me. Or taxidermy,….or Build a Bear.”

“What the fuck honey,” Jungkook curses, backing out of your drive. “Did you get into something funky while I was gone?”

“No what–ugh never mind.” You stare out the window, arms crossed and biting back the need to giggle uncontrollably. Why were you so giddy right now?

Jungkook glances over with amusement. He knows you’re inches away from balling over with laughter. “You know what honey?”

“Hmm?”

“I think instead of stuffing you full of ice cream, I’m gonna stuff you full with something just as good.”

“Don’t say it Kook, don’t. I’m going to bust a gut.” You beg fully aware he’s not about to back down.

“My fucking cawk,” he says, making sure to exaggerate the last part.

You throw a hand over your mouth, tears well up in your eyes and this time, they’re not sad ones.

You pull up at the small, but charming ice cream stand at around 4:20 pm. It’s a decent crowd tonight.

You and Jungkook get out of the car with laced hands. You’ve managed to calm down now, thankfully. As you make your way to the line a small voice catches both your attention.

“Appa!” A little girl with blue ribbons in her hair runs past you. She looks between eight to ten years old. You and Jungkook follow her movement as she leaps up into her father’s arms.

You smile at the interaction. Her father kisses her cheek and chuckles as she shows him her ribbons. She looks like she’s telling a very eventful story.

Beside you, Jungkook stiffens. His eyes set on the pair but you’re unsure what he’s thinking. “Kook?” you say, but he doesn’t respond. You shake his hand, the one laced in yours, but still no response. It’s when you step in front of his view that you get him back.

“Hey,” you say. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook blinks at you and shakes his head a bit. “I’m good, sorry. Not sure what happened there. Must be a bit out of it today. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

A/N: I like this series vv much...thank you to anyone reading :) Lmk your thoughts and if you wanna be tagged comment or send me an ask!

Taglist:

@frieschan @oldermenluverrr @tatamicc @kookswifesblog @llallaaa @sunnybyeol @namtaeh @exactlygreatcoffee @whipwhoops @yoongisducky @ktnj91 @junecat18 @thvlover7 @yoongiworshiper

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

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shadowdaddies · 5 months

Text

Living In Color

Azriel x Reader

based on this ask

Summary: After losing everything in the war, you struggle to find the joy in life - until you start having dreams of scarred hands that inspire you to pursue art again.

Warnings: mentions of war, death, trauma/depression

Days blurred together, the dim sunlight that dared to show through the cracks in your window curtains the only sign that time was passing in the outside world. The faelights never turned on in your apartment, food turning stale as you willed your body to shut down, just as your mind had ever since the war.

Everyone was gone. Your mother, father, brother, friends. All were lost to battle - innocent people, gone from this world, and you were left alone to pick up the pieces.

You were once an artist, your favorite subjects to paint being your family and friends. The paintings of their joyful faces surrounded you in your home before you tore them all down, hiding them away in the dark as you did yourself.

You stared at your hands. Hands that were once consistently covered in the bright colors of your paints, now dry and cracked from lack of care. Hands that once created beautiful art and brought joy to yourself and others, now withering away with your heart.

Tears soaked your pillow as you cried yourself to sleep, as you had every night for months. You braced yourself for your usual dreams, the nightmares that haunted you of your mother’s lifeless eyes, your brother’s last words - but they didn’t come.

That night, you dreamt of hands. They were damaged hands, like your own, but they were covered in scars. You didn’t see who they belonged to, but the hands held yours in their own, a soft, gentle touch despite their appearance.

It was the first night you had slept through in weeks, and you managed that day to take a bath. You looked at your own hands in the tub, holding one in the other as gently as the ones from your dreams held you. It was shocking, to feel that you were still capable of such tenderness. That night, you found oils to rub on your hands, soothing the dry cracks before you fell asleep.

Your dreams were, again, filled with those beautiful scarred hands. Tonight, they offered you a flower - a bright yellow daffodil, vibrant like your favorite sweater.

The dreams continued - those hands sometimes bringing you flowers, holding your hands, brushing softly against your cheek. One night, they handed you a paint brush. You jerked awake, tears streaming down your face as you ran through your apartment, turning on every faelight as you opened the door to your closet. You pulled out every painting, the bright faces of people you loved and missed smiling at you through your memories of them.

Something snapped inside of you as you looked at the picture of your mother. You had missed her face so dearly, having only seen it through your nightmares. By hiding the joyful moments, you had only remembered those that haunted you.

As the sun rose that day, you opened up the curtains and let the light in. Pulling on your favorite yellow sweater, you set off towards the art studio that had opened down the road, ready to live in color.

Thanking the woman at the front counter, you borrowed paints and took a spot at an easel. As you stared at the blank canvas, it occurred to you that the idea of painting the people you missed was much easier in thought. You stared down at your yellow sweater, tears threatening to spill as you felt more and more like an imposter. Someone trying to be who you once were, and as much as you wished to be that person again, you knew you never could. Letting out a shaky sigh, you looked for your bag, ready to leave the studio when a voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Having trouble with inspiration?” a sweet voice, like silver bells sounded from behind you. You turned over your shoulder to see the High Lady of the Night Court behind you. Eyes wide, you fumbled for an answer while she smiled softly at you. “My name is Feyre,” she greeted, a tattooed hand reaching for yours.

You took her hand, feeling its softness against your own as you introduced yourself, and it clicked. “Actually, I think I’ve just found my inspiration.”

You eagerly reached for your paints, mixing the colors together in a vibrant yellow, a golden brown, cobalt blue - and painted the hand that gave you the daffodil.

You returned to the studio, day after day painting the hands from your dreams. Your inspiration. The hands that brought color back into your life. These were hands that were scarred, the hands of someone who had been hurt like you had, yet still reached out, still brought light and softness to the world.

Slowly, you began feeling like yourself again. You saw the bright colors of the rainbow, the twinkle of the stars against the night sky. When a child accidentally flicked paint on your favorite blue dress while you painted, you laughed for the first time in ages.

The small boy apologized, his tiny wings tucking in behind him as he gaped at the paint that covered your dress. Feyre ran up behind him, swooping the little tike into her arms as she took in your appearance. “Oh gods, I am so sorry. Nyx, did you apologize to the nice lady?”

You waved her off, giggling as you stood and twirled in your dress. “Actually, Nyx, I think this dress looks even more beautiful now with this extra splash of color.”

The boy giggled, his mother ruffling his onyx locks as she set him down to run back to his painting station. “I really am sorry. I can fix that for you, or replace the dress,” Feyre insisted.

You smiled at her, a true smile at her kindness - something you hadn’t realized how desperately you needed. Adjusting the ribbon in your hair, you shook your head. “Really, I like the splash of purple against the blue. I could use more color in my life,” you promised.

Feyre seemed genuinely surprised and pleased by your reaction, her gaze flicking to your easel, where the latest portrait of those scarred hands rested. She looked around your station, taking in all of the paintings. Dozens of them were set around, and you suddenly found yourself bashful.

“May I ask about your paintings? They’re beautiful. You seem quite inspired by hands.” She spoke in a casual tone, but you had the sense that there was something more to her question.

Nervously tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you shifted your weight from one foot to another. “I struggled, for a long time... after the war.” You swallowed, a pregnant pause filling the air as she waited for you to continue. “I used to paint a lot, but I couldn’t bring myself to for a long time. Until a few weeks ago, I started dreaming of these hands.”

Your gaze flicked to Feyre’s expecting confusion or judgment, but her gray-blue eyes sparkled as she nodded in understanding. You smiled slightly, continuing. “I felt as though I was too damaged to create like I used to, but these hands... It felt like a message from the Mother, or some other force, maybe. That even though I’ve experienced such darkness, I can still create light. That my darkness might even make my colors brighter.”

A small yelp escaped your lips as the High Lady pulled you in for a hug. “Thank you for sharing your story with me,” she murmured, her head dipped into your shoulder. Shakily, you dared your hands to move, reciprocating Feyre’s hug, and a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “How would you like to join me for some tea?”

You nodded, willing back the tears that threatened at the simple kindness. Feyre led the way out of the studio, Nyx taking your hand as he tugged you towards the tea shop, babbling about the hot chocolate he wanted. You giggled at the little boy, a loose curl falling in your eyes as he pulled you into a chair outside the cafe. “Uncle Azzy!” the child shouted, and you brushed the hair out of your eyes to find the most striking hazel ones staring back at you.

Something tightened in your chest at the sight of the striking Illyrian male in front of you, his golden-brown skin and dark features somehow familiar to you. His eyes fluttered for a moment, seemingly shocked by something before he caught his breath.

“Um, pleased to meet you. I’m Azriel,” the name spilling like a song as he reached out to you in greeting. You looked down at the outstretched hand, a spark flaring in your chest at the sight of his scars.

You gasped, grabbing his hand like a lifeline as you flipped it over, running your fingertips along the beautiful scars. Azriel was frozen in shock, unmoving as you gaped at his beauty, never releasing his hand as a tear fell down your cheek. Your eyes locked with his as you whispered, “you are so beautiful.”

Azriel swallowed thickly, an adorable blush creeping over his cheeks at your comment. A bell sounded from the side, drawing the two of you out of your moment. Eyes flicked to the door where Feyre stood with your drinks, a smirk on her face as she handed Nyx his hot chocolate.

“I thought you two might hit it off,” the High Lady said through a bright smile. “Here, Az. I got you a tea too. Oh, and I forgot - Nyx, we have to go home. But the two of you should enjoy your drinks together!” With that, Feyre winnowed away and left you with the literal male of your dreams in front of you.

Letting out a soft chuckle, Azriel ran a hand through his wavy black hair as he looked down at your bright, paint-splattered dress. “So, you paint?”

You laughed, that golden thread between you pulled taught at the sound. “I used to a lot more.” Glancing down at his hands, you smiled. “I’m just getting back into it.”

No, you would never be the person you were before. But as you stared at the shadows that swirled your mate - the darkness who brought you back to the light - you were proud of the person you were becoming.

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veronicaphoenix · 9 days

Text

the last song | n.s.

With the new album finally completed and a new song dropping in a couple of days, Noah takes his girl to the studio, hoping to show her around without the chaos of past recording days, and maybe, he can get that last song he's been dreaming of.

one shot ✨ | noah sebastian x fem.reader word count: 2.3k tags: established relationship, fluff, fluffy sexual content (it's not too explicit), reader has a slight kink for noah's silver chain (who doesn't, let's be honest), no trigger warnings, just noah being in love and being loved back.

The studio is finally empty.

After weeks of relentless work and dedication, days blurring into nights, headaches, frustration, last-minute changes, and ups and downs not only in the sounddeck, but also in the mood of the whole team, the album was finally ready, and in a matter of days, new music would fill spaces beyond the studio’s confines.

Noah steps aside to let her in. She is enveloped in the grandeur of the space. Never before had she been in a recording studio, and its magnitude overwhelms her. The expanse stretches out before her, a labyrinth of hallways leading into rooms of creativity. There are framed records adorning the walls, a testament to the artistry that thrives within these walls. This feels like the type of place Noah would call home. Too bad she hasn’t fully realized yet that his home is her,no matter how many hours he’s spent away from her locked in this very right place.

While she is fascinated by the array of instruments, cables, and other things she doesn’t know the name of, it’s Noah himself who captivates her the most. His joy is palpable as he gives gently explanations about the use of each room, each instrument. His enthusiasm is infectious. He’s so eager to share his world with her.

This is one of the reasons why she’s so in love with him.

His passion.

And she is lucky enough that he’s equally passionate about music as he is about her.

Taking her hand, he leads her from one room to another, continuing his explanations and sharing curiosities about this and that, mentioning the guys, the places where each one usually sits while they review the recordings, the Starbucks cups that pile up in the corner of a table when they’ve been locked in there for twelve hours and start to suffer the effects of not seeing the sunlight or hearing the sounds of the outside world, anecdotes that ignite her laughter, a sound that makes Noah’s heart flutter.

She asks him about the new music, she pleads to hear at least one song, a piece, ten seconds. Nearly begs him. She knows she just has to utter the word “please” and Noah will give her anything she wants. This evening, she wants to hear the melodic cascade of his voice, get lost in the way Noah turns words into dreamy melodies. It’s not enough to hear him speak; she wants to hear him weave words into a song; she wants to drown in the melodies he has put into lyrics that speak of her, of the moments when they are stripped of all mundanity, of clothes and fear, when they are alone, skin to skin, and when all that can be heard is only the rhythm of their beating hearts and the symphony of their shared passion.

He insists he can’t. He wants it to be a surprise. He has hopes that when she listens to the album, one or two songs will get her on her knees, while others will lead her to beg him to fuck her to the cadence of those.

Embedded within the lyrics of the new songs are a few confessions, but there’s a time for those to reach her ears, and it’s not tonight.

He silences his phone and sets it aside while she occupies herself by tinkering with the buttons on the soundboard. A few minutes later, Noah sneaks up behind her, enveloping her in his warm and slipping his hands beneath the fabric of her white t-shirt.

“There’s actually... one last song missing,” he murmurs against the fragrant scent of her hair.

“One last song?” She asks, her curiosity piqued. She begins to turn round, but Noah holds her in place. He rests his head on her shoulder, and with a trail of his fingers along the curve of her stomach, he elicits a subtle shiver that she tries to ignore. “I thought you said the album was complete, that you had finished...”

“Not quite yet,” he replies, planting a ghostly kiss on her earlobe.

She can sense the cool, minty breath against her neck, and it sends a shiver down her spine. He has been indulging in a mint candy, and her mind wanders to the tantalizing thought of having his mouth between her legs at this moment. The idea of that refreshing sensation sends a rush of desire coursing through her veins, and she can’t help but wonder if it would be enough to push her over the edge.

She smells of jasmine and the promise of spring. He wants to inhale her, breathe her in.

Concerned, she wriggles in his embrace until she can face him, stepping back a few paces as she speaks. She wants him to take her seriously.

“I didn’t know, Noah. I wouldn’t have asked you to bring me here if you were still in the middle of—”

With a single step, he reaches her again, his smile widening at her endearing bewilderment. He captures her lips in a kiss, stealing her breath away. The taste of the candy is still on his lips, and his fresh breath enters her mouth as their lips part.

It’s in the way their mouths fit together that she finds reassurance that they’re perfect for each other. She knows she’s found the boy of her dreams, and the mere thought of being apart from him feels unbearable. She doesn’t know how she will survive next time he goes away on tour. For now, she will live in the way his tender kisses have a way of evolving into passionate bites that ignite a delightful flutter in her stomach.

“You’re adorable,” he says over her lips.

For a moment, she feels dizzy. Then, with a determined frown, she grabs a handful of Noah’s black hoodie, attempting to appear assertive, though to Noah, she resembles nothing more than an adorable kitten.

“You told me the album was complete, that you would only bring me here once the work was done and this was empty so that you could let me explore and touch things and…”

“And record the last song,” Noah interjects calmly, looking into her eyes, smile tugging at his lips.

Her brow furrows even deeper, her head tilting slightly to the side as Noah’s gaze traces the contours of her face, his eyes filled with admiration for every freckle, that little ever so tiny scar earned in a childhood adventure, the faint blush spreading through her cheeks.

“Noah, I don’t understand.”

“Let me show you…”

With her skin already responding to the anticipation, Noah’s hands find their way under her t-shirt, caressing the skin of her sides. It’s always just one touch and she’s already putty in his hands. She can’t help it; the man has that effect on her, that power over her. She would give him the world if she could because no one ever makes her feel as cherished as he does.

So, when he gently lifts her t-shirt, after worshipping her with light, seductive kisses along her neck and jawline, she allows him to undress her. His lips touch her shoulder, his tongue tracing a slow path until it finds the pulsing vein of her neck. A sharp intake of breath escapes her lips as he tenderly sucks at her skin, his fingers expertly finding their way beneath her skirt and underwear, eliciting a low, sweet moan from deep within her.

It’s the first of many moans to come.

Noah smiles against her flushed skin. His cock twitches. His heartbeat races.

The music is playing now.

He showers her with kisses, his hand cradling the side of her face as he traces a line with his finger from between her legs, through the valley of her breasts, up to her clavicle.

Growing impatient, she tugs at his hoodie, and sensing her urgency, he assists her in removing it. Underneath, Noah wears a black tank top, and her eyes immediately gravitate to the silver chain adorning his neck, previously hidden by the hoodie. With a heated spark in her eyes, she hesitates for a moment before seizing the chain and pulling Noah down to her awaiting mouth.

With one hand clutching his chain and the other sliding to the back of his head, she revels in the sensation of his soft hair sliding between her fingers. He emanates the intoxicating scent of masculine perfume and tastes like pure adrenaline—a potent combination that renders him utterly irresistible. He’s as addictive as a man can get. He’s tall, muscular, handsome, and fucking sweet.

And best of all, he is hers.

Noah scoops her up, intending to place her atop the sound deck. It would be a great place to fuck her on, but he quickly realizes it wouldn’t be comfortable at all, and he doesn’t want her to get hurt.

He pivots towards the couch—a place where he had envisioned her countless times before… Sitting there with pen and paper, crafting songs about her, he had often pictured her naked form, her eyes shimmering with anticipation, beckoning him to find his place between her legs, to envelop her with his body, to fill her up with every inch of him.

With care, he lays her down on the couch, positioning one knee on the cushions to remain close to her, determined to prolong their kiss for as long as possible. He doesn’t think he can breathe without her nearby.

She is never shy when it comes to showing how much she wants him, how much she needs him. She’s unapologetically about her desperate desire, and that’s something that drives him to the brink of madness. Her eagerness only serves to make her so fucking attractive that he thinks he could eat her up. He’s consumed by that need, to bite and taste her in a surge of primal instinct, yet he manages to maintain a sweet and seductive demeanor. She brings out both the beast and the tender lover in him, and somehow, it’s a harmonious blend that feels inexplicably beautiful.

With each touch, nibble, and kiss, her passionate responses start escaping from her lips, wet with lust for him. Their clothes disappear in a matter of minutes, and as Noah finds himself —and his skilled tongue— nestled between her legs, savoring her essence, and impregnating her with his fresh minty breath, the symphony of his name being carried through long feminine moans fill the studio walls in ways he could never have imagined.

But it’s when he’s buried deep inside her that the music truly comes alive.

Together, they create a melody of ecstasy, Noah playing her body like a virtuoso, eliciting the perfect notes and sounds with each touch, kiss, thrust. She’s a tangled delicious mess beneath him, but every whimper and sigh and plea for more is a testament to her trust and love for him, a hymn sung in the throes of passion.

Occasionally, a primal growl escapes him, the beast within yearning to be unleashed, but she, the angel, the muse,keeps him grounded, wrapped in her wings, guiding him along the lines of their shared musical score.

As their bodies glisten with sweat, the tempo of their lovemaking begins to slow, descending from its crescendo, their ragged breaths filling the remaining spaces of their song. She smiles against his cheek, nuzzling her nose against his skin. She holds him close, unwilling to let go just yet. Unwilling to ever let go.

“So?” She murmurs, teasingly playing with her teeth on Noah’s earlobe.

He squirms in an attempt to escape her, but her teeth follow him, leaving him with no choice but to retaliate by biting her shoulder and descending to capture on of her nipples in his mouth, coaxing one new sound from her lips.

“So?” he repeats, mumbling between clenched teeth, his tongue teasing her hardened nipple.

“Did you record the song?” she asks playfully, gesturing with her eyes towards the sound deck.

“No. No, I didn’t,” he admits with a laugh, feeling himself softening inside of her.

“Oh, well…” she licks her lips, pretending to think of what to do now. The weight of Noah feels so nice on top of her that it would be enough to just keep on holding him. “What are we going to do about it?” she continues. “Any idea?”

She does have an idea.

Her cheeky tone catches him off guard, and this time, it’s him who frowns as he gazes up at her. His chest and stomach press against hers, and with each laborious breath she takes, he feels the rhythmic rise and fall of her body beneath him. He considers moving, but before he can act, she wraps her leg around his, anchoring him in place.

She bites her lip, tempting him to do the same; to lower his head and kiss her and bite her and leave her breathless.

A second later, she reaches down towards her bag on the carpeted floor beside the couch and retrieves her phone, unlocks it, and opens the voice recording app.

“Maybe we should try again, don’t you think? And perhaps we should try to be… a bit louder?”

His eyes darken.

“Think you can do that?” she asks him, a devilish smile painted on her face.

“I can definitely make you sing louder,” he growls, feeling himself hardening once more while still inside of her. His home.

She has a way of provoking him that never fails to get him hard anywhere, anytime, in no time.

“Do I… press play now?” Her fingertip hovers over the screen.

Noah responds by pulling a few inches out and thrusting hard into her, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization against the worn fabric of the sofa they are laid on. She lets out a scream as her fingertip presses the play button. The phone falls with a thud on the floor.

And with that, they’re making music once again.

One last song.

One more time.

Louder.

#inspiration was kicking in #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens one shot #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian x you #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian one shot #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic

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strangersmunsons · 2 months

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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 8 Prompt: Rom-Coms 🎟️ ~ 2,400 words Watching a romantic comedy on TV brings back some memories for Eddie. (angst, w/ a hopeful ending)

Eddie taps the lit end of his cigarette into an ashtray, staring at the television screen with tired eyes. The bluish light casts an eerie glow about the room; it feels cold, sterile.

This has been his ritual for far too long now: go to work, come home, and watch some mind-numbing program alone until he falls asleep. Wash, rinse, repeat.

He yawns, and rubs his stubbly face with one hand. He should get in bed before he passes out on the couch — save his back the trouble — but instead he picks up the remote again, flicking through channels, waiting in vain for something stimulating.

Coca-Cola ad. Late night talk show interview. Some black and white picture from MGM. Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal. Sitcom rerun.

He pauses, thumb hovering over the button.

Eddie switches back to When Harry Met Sally. He rented it from Family Video once upon a time, but he hasn’t watched it in years. It feels like an eternity has passed since then and yet, he remembers it like it was yesterday.

That’s what every memory with you feels like to him; it’s both an old scar and a fresh wound. He doesn’t know what feels worse — the hot, gut-wrenching ache of longing that pains him now, or the knowledge that those memories, no matter how agonizing they may be, might start to fade one day.

But it seems an impossibility; he can recall every detail. He wets his lips, remembering how you had pleaded with him in line to rent this particular film, even though he’d been hoping to see the new Indiana Jones movie.

“Rob Reiner doesn’t make bad movies, Eddie. He did The Princess Bride, remember? Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

He relented, as he always did. Who was he to deny you anything?

But oh, how things change.

Pipe dreams turned to reality. Demo tapes turned to albums. Dive bar gigs turned to international tours. You, bravely avowing that he had to grab hold of every opportunity he could — you told him that no matter where in the world he went, you would always be here, loving him. All the while, secretly, the small pit of fear planted in your stomach was sprouting and unfurling as the distance between you two grew further, and the silences louder.

He should have tried harder. Came home more. Picked up the Goddamn phone. He’d always had to call you; it was too difficult to get a hold of him yourself, to keep track of where he might be, when he was traveling constantly.

And then that awful night, when he’d lost everything. Everything that mattered, anyway.

It was the last time he ever saw or spoke to you. Hours of arguing, pleading, crying; it was the death rattle of the most important relationship of his life. You finally told him what you were afraid of, what you had been afraid of, and that it had come true.

“I’m just a girl from back home, Eddie.”

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. You were never just a girl to Eddie. Not then, not now. Not ever. But what difference had it made? When the time had come for him to make a choice, he had still walked out the door.

The world was being presented to Eddie Munson on a silver platter. He was young, up-and-coming, successful. A talented musician — gifted, even. He had the right look and the attitude.

Being his partner wasn’t easy. Your support was unwavering, but your lives were going in different directions, it seemed. You both loved each other enough to want the other person to have what they wanted, which were…no longer the same things.

But it was still horrible.

He spent the next few weeks in a near-fugue state, numb and inconsolable. His bandmates whispered to each other in the studio, casting furtive glances over at their supposedly-invincible leader, while the rest of their team offered him pseudo-smiles tinged with impatience, and suggested that he focus on channeling the pain towards his music.

After that, when he had the time, he’d leave LA and come back to the city he’d initially dragged you out to after graduation. He had no idea if you still lived there, but it didn’t matter. It was the last place he knew you to be and so he wandered those familiar streets, looking for you in every person he passed, as though it were likely that he might bump into you at a bus stop, outside the grocery, sitting on a park bench.

It was a luxury he could afford until Corroded Coffin started to fall apart. Disputes between band members, both personal and professional. Declining album sales. Bad management. Once sold-out venues were a struggle to fill. The once-steady flow of cash turned into a trickle, and then the boys were unceremoniously dropped from label, the execs deciding that keeping them around wasn’t worth the expense.

He supposes he could have stayed in the industry if he really wanted to. Formed a new band or begged to join another that was in need of a guitarist, but Corroded Coffin was his baby. The idea of starting all over again or leeching off of another group’s success left a bad taste in his mouth. And the producing gigs and session work somehow felt even worse; he dreaded having to watch others succeed at what he had ended up failing.

Fame had chewed him up, decided it didn’t like the flavor, and promptly spit him back out. His music career felt like a fever dream now. His life before that, with you, was the realest thing he’d ever had.

As he watches Harry and Sally dine together at Katz’s Deli, his mind wanders to the slip of paper stowed carefully away like a sacred jewel, all alone in a drawer of his bedside table.

No, he won’t.

Harry and Sally fall apart.

He won’t dare.

Harry runs through Manhattan to find his girl.

Not after everything he’s done, after all this time.

Harry tells her all the reasons that he loves her…

Eddie abruptly switches the TV off, unable to hear anymore. He sits in the darkness for a moment, aching with bone-weary sadness. What had Dustin told him, as he passed the paper to him across the table over lunch one day?

“It couldn’t hurt to try.”

But Dustin was wrong about that. It could hurt him very, very much.

Eddie stands, and pads through the apartment to his bedroom. He sits on the side of the bed, and pulls open the drawer that holds his very last tie to you — a scrap of old receipt bearing your name and phone number. He picks it up with trembling fingers, then lowers it again, terrified that his clammy hands with smudge the ink. The phone seems to taunt him from where it sits atop the nightstand. As though he’s having an out of body experience, Eddie’s arm reaches out beyond his control and picks it up, the dial tone emitting a low buzz in his ear. He stares down at the number in the drawer, as though he didn’t memorize it the second he got it. He doesn’t even know how Dustin found you; but the geeky little shit has his ways.

He punches in the number, heart racing faster with each digit he puts in.

It rings…and rings…and rings…

“Hello?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open in a low gasp. Your sweet voice is the same, only slightly marred by the bewilderment you must feel at receiving a call this late in the evening. Embarrassingly, his eyes sting with tears; he can’t speak.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Eddie slams the phone back into the receiver, white as a sheet. He gets up, paces a lap around the room, chugs a glass of water, and finally takes his seat again, trying not to hyperventilate.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he picks up the phone again, and re-dials.

His heart is in his throat now, swollen and beating so violently it threatens to choke him.

Your voice again, slightly more annoyed, though you still sound like an angel. “Hello?”

“H-Hi,” Eddie says hoarsely, and tries to swallow his fear.

There’s a brief silence on the other end. “...who is this?”

“It’s me. It’s…it’s Eddie. Munson,” he tacks his surname on at the end, as though he needs to specify.

Muffled noise through the speaker. The seconds tick by, and Eddie waits with dread for you to hang up.

Finally, you whisper, “Eddie?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“H-How did you get this number?”

He has the phone in a vice grip. “Dustin gave it to me.”

“Why…why are you calling?” He wishes he could see your expression. You sound terrified, like he’s going to bite you through the phone.

How can he answer that? What is there to say, after so much time, after so much pain? I miss you. I love you. None of it was worth it, even when I was on top. Losing you was like being cut in half.

“I wanted to see how you were. How you are, I mean.”

“I’m okay.” The response is quick, automatic. But you don’t elaborate any further than that, and awkward silence prevails again.

Eddie deserves that, he supposes. Sweat trickles down his back, under his arms, breaks out on his forehead. He pushes his damp bangs back out of his eyes. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart,” the term of endearment slipping out as though a day hasn’t gone by where you haven’t been his sweetheart.

“Don’t call me that,” you tell him tersely, sounding pained.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, ashamed. He had no right to do this to you. Drudge up old memories that you probably wanted to forget, or had so already.

“What is this about?” you ask him again, voice shaking.

“I told you,” he mumbles, “I want to know how you are. And I guess…I want to apologize.”

“You want to apologize,” you repeat skeptically, with an incredulous huff. “Now? Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes glazed and wet. A dry sob rattles his chest. “I don’t what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have called, I shouldn’t be…I’m sure you hate me and I don’t blame you, because I do too.” He wets his lips and presses on. “But if I can take this time to say one thing to you it’s that I’m sorry. For everything. I am so fucking sorry. For leaving, for hurting you, for every stupid little thing I did. That’s why I really called. To tell you that.”

“Oh God,” you say, almost to yourself, voice suddenly small. “I — I’m not ready for this.”

“You don’t have to say anything back,” he whispers, voice breaking, closing his eyes, letting the tears slip over his lashes.

“Are you crying?”

He wipes furiously at his nose. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

Eddie can’t lie to you, certainly not now. “Yes. I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Your voice…”

“That — that came out sharper than I meant it to —”

“No, I mean it’s beautiful. I missed it.”

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

You start to speak and then falter, struggling to articulate what it is that you’re feeling. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what to say.”

Eddie laughs brokenly. “Funny, because there’s a million things I want to say to you. I just don’t know if I should or not.”

You swallow with an audible click. “I don’t know if you should, either.”

Another silence. Eddie thinks he could pick out the sound of your breathing from a mile away, he’s still so in tune with it. After hundreds of nights spent laying next to you in bed, no other sound could send him to dreaming so quickly or peacefully.

“But why call now? After all this time?”

“I miss you.” The words escape before he has a chance to stop them; he bites his tongue against the rest of them. He considers his next words carefully before continuing.

“I never reached out before, because I made my bed and now I have to lie in it. I didn’t deserve to ask you for another chance, and I don’t think I do now, either, but…I was thinking of you tonight. Even more so than usual.”

Your voice shakes. “Does…does that happen often?”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “All the time.” The floodgates open; all his woe and regret from the past spills forward. “I am always, always thinking of you. Even when you thought I wasn’t. I know I was a shitty partner, but that didn’t mean — that I didn’t love you more than anything.”

“Eddie —”

But he can’t stop now. “I’ve missed you like hell since that very last night. I loved you so much, a-and I threw it away! How could I bring myself to speak to you after that? Especially after I lost it all? I would — God — I would hate for you to think that I was only coming back to you because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I couldn’t do that. I didn’t wanna hurt you again, baby, and I know it would’ve.”

There’s a quiet sniffle on the other line. “It broke me when you left. And now this hurts, too.”

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “I wish I could make it better. I would do anything to make you not hurt anymore. I won’t ask you for a second chance, but just know,” Eddie takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and seals his fate. “I’ve loved you for more than half my life,” he whispers. “I’ll love you until I die.”

And with that, the line goes dead.

Eddie stares at nothing, doesn’t move. He doesn’t know how long he sits there for; eventually, his body moving on autopilot, he hangs up the phone and crawls under the covers. He’s done sobbing, but tears drip down his temples as he lays back in bed, dampening his hair.

Time doesn’t exist anymore, but he hopes he’ll fall asleep soon anyway.

Breathing, quiet and even. Eyelids slightly heavier. He thinks maybe it’s finally within reach.

He’s almost there.

The phone rings.

Eddie blindly feels with one arm, and picks it up from the receiver for the third time tonight.

“Hello?” he asks hoarsely, not daring to believe it.

An angel answers.

“E-Eddie? It’s me again…”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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alansartery · 1 year

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silver floatie! he's dreaming of absolution bros help how do i export transparent animations in animeeffects or clip studio sgdfhsjgdk

#sonic fanart #sth fanart #silver the hedgehog #animation #gif #sth silver

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aclockmaker · 1 year

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more actors au continued from here

Shooting the first season is a fever dream. Creating and playing in a world that no one else gets to see yet—no reviews, no public, just them. The cast is tight, right away. Eddie, like, loves them. He's already made plans to go to Robin's family's house in Joshua Tree this summer.

Eddie and Steve don’t have that many scenes together. Eddie knows, guiltily, exactly when they’re all shooting.

It’s not just what goes on when the cameras are rolling, either. (Which is, like, still insane. Still makes Eddie feel like he's taken club drugs. And maybe he's not the only one, because—)

It's also that Steve is more likely to ask him to hang out, just the two of them, after they shoot together. Eddie could text him or ask him but he has a complex set of rules for how often he's allowed to be the one initiating it, because, well. He's nursing a pretty bad crush here. It's deeply unprofessional.

In the episode before this, Eddie confides in Nancy’s character, their teen journalist-detective, that he has something he thinks he needs to tell her. Something that’s going to blow her mind. But they’re just in the hall at school, the bell ringing, so he can’t do it right now. It’s his own little “I’ve got a secret, Veronica Mars. A good one.” (He’s watched as many dead-girl tv shows as he can to bone up for the role—all the classics going back to Twin Peaks. Veronica Mars is uniquely applicable because Lily does appear in flashbacks, and even though they’re subverting the trope by having a guy get killed, they all know what kind of story they’re telling.)

In the scene they shoot tonight, Steve's character comes to Eddie's house that same night before he can get to Nancy to try to convince him not to tell her. It's not clear what Steve thinks he knows, when he climbs in through Eddie's window, only that he's practically begging Eddie not to do it. He starts off aggressive, like they're yet again about to get into a physical fight. But the fact that Eddie lets him in speaks to the fact that maybe there's a little more to their relationship. And then Steve's character breaks down, cries a little, and it's really—something, to be wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulders in front of the camera and the crew, under the lights. Eddie is a professional, and he's perfectly capable of slotting those feelings into their correct file folders for later perusal, but—it's something. He's given Steve bro hugs. He's pretty sure Steve even hugged him for real the first time he saw him after he was cast (it's a blur). The only time they've hugged like this is on film.

He's not surprised when there's a message waiting for him on his phone when he eventually gets back to it post-short scene with Max, whose character lives next to Eddie's in-story. The message itself is a little surprising. Hey, I'm wrapped so I'm going home but do you want to come by? And then an address in Silver Lake.

It's not so crazy. Steve takes awhile to decompress after filming something emotional; he doesn't like to be alone. Eddie has learned this very quickly and has very quickly come to crave being the one Steve decompresses with. It just typically happens on the studio lot, in Steve's trailer. But this is fine, too. It just makes sense. Steve was done for the day so he went home. But he still wants to see Eddie.

Eddie sends back three thumbs up emojis, bangs his head on his steering wheel, and starts driving. He chews a fingernail, wonders if he should stop somewhere to get something to bring. A bottle of wine. But that’s stupid probably—it’s not a dinner party. It’s just two friends hanging out. (If he thinks it a little defensively, that’s because Mike was leaning heavy on the innuendo when he asked Eddie where he was going tonight. “Oh really, with Steve? Huh. It’s nice you two get along so well.” Eddie had just glared at him and moved on. The kid is such a little shit.)

Steve hugs him when he gets there, which is almost funny—now that he’s acted it out, he’ll do it in real life, like an echo. But it doesn’t seem fake, it just seems like that’s what Steve does when someone comes to his house. He’s a little high strung, maybe, in constant motion while he waves Eddie in and offers him a beer.

They end up on the pool deck, beers in hand, sitting with their legs dangling in the water up to their knees. It’s secluded here, big, old trees blocking them from any neighbors’ view.

“So,” Steve says. “Good scene after I left?” It doesn’t sound like what he really wants to ask.

“Yeah, fine,” Eddie agrees. “You know what Max is like—she’s too cool for school.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Steve laughs.

“Never,” Eddie agrees. The teasing would never end. He glances at Steve, who seems mostly relaxed, maybe a little hunched in on himself.

“Did you ever, um,” Steve starts, looking out at the water. “Date a co-star?”

Eddie’s brain whites out a little, just static. “Uhh. I thought you were going to ask if I thought you looked weird when you cried, or something.”

Steve sputters. “Do I?”

“No, dude, very pretty crier.” Eddie smiles.

“Thanks I guess,” Steve says, frowning a little.

Eddie chews on his lip. “But, uh. No, I haven’t.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah, me either.”

Which is funny, because he’s been linked with a couple of them from previous projects, but Eddie guesses you can’t believe everything you read.

“Is there someone,” Eddie asks carefully, “you want to date?” Steve is close with Robin and Nancy. Eddie can’t see Robin dating a guy, but what does he know.

“I don’t know,” Steve admits. “I feel like. I don’t know if it would be a terrible idea, because we work together.” And then he just stops talking.

“I might be able to respond better if I knew who we were talking about here.”

Steve gives him a look. “You do know. Don’t make me say it.”

“Gonna definitely need you to.” And then, because he can't help trying to make Steve laugh. "It's Joyce, right?"

"Please," Steve says, and does laugh a little. "I wish I thought I had a shot with Joyce." She's a legitimately famous actress who Eddie often can't believe he's going to share an IMDB listing with.

"But, uh," Steve goes on. “I don’t want to mess anything up, though.” Now he sounds careful.

Eddie doesn’t know what Steve thinks he’s messing up—their chemistry, he guesses, if he’s not reading this very wrong. Their friendship maybe. The show. Any remaining semblance of professionalism. Eddie is pretty ready to throw most of that stuff out the window—after all, who says just because they hook up the work will suffer? Maybe it’ll be better because Eddie won’t be crushed under the weight of absurd amounts of sexual tension anymore. Not that it’s been a hardship, but…

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” Eddie tells him. “I mean—personally. Who says anything will get messed up?” I think it might be worth it even if it does, he doesn’t add, because it’s shocking to even think it, and obviously too much for the moment. He doesn’t know if he really means it—this show is, like, the opportunity he’s been waiting his whole life for. But he’s already dead on it; there’s only so many flashback scenes they can film as he ages further out of the high school age bracket for a character who can’t get older.

“Yeah, but.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “The way we are on the show—“ he shoots a worried little glance at Eddie, who tries not to react outwardly to that, which is hard. “Don’t you think some of that’s because—I mean, for me at least, it is, I’m not saying—for you—"

“Me, too,” Eddie assures him before he hurts himself. “But—okay, you brought this up, not me. What do you want, then?”

“Dude, I wish I knew,” Steve says. “I mean—“ he glances at Eddie— “I know what I want, but I don’t know what we should do. But I just felt like I was going crazy, and the only person I really wanted to tell was, well, you.”

Oh. “Steve,” Eddie says, almost a warning. He wants to offer that they can hook up and it won’t mean anything and nothing will change. He wants to offer that they can date and nothing bad will happen. It’s all stupid, impossible to promise.

“I know,” Steve says miserably. “Sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s almost unbearably sweet that Steve is so bent out of shape over him. “Come on, we only have, what, two more weeks of filming? We can make it through two weeks, right?”

“Guess we have to,” Steve agrees, but he moves his hand over a little so their pinkies touch on the edge of the pool.

tagging a few people by request, thank you for being interested <3 @atlas-talks @obsessivlyme @lyriclight @deadflowercollector @thatonebadideapanda @wolfstarlights @eddiemunsonswife @alienace @wishiwasacasualfan

#thank you to everyone for name suggestions instead of taking any of the good ones i've just continued to avoid naming characters lol #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #actors au #stranger things fic #steve x eddie #also i'm not the boss of you but please don't be too invested in the plot of the tv show... for your own sanity... i will Reveal All but #i can't promise it will besatisfying

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beauh · 3 months

Text

I absolutely adore the interactions and writing in these comics, go check out the artists as well as my good friend jsaking11 who provided silver's voice! I hope you enjoy these videos as much as we loved making them!

comics by @siggiedraws and @chippuyon

https://www.tumblr.com/chippuyon/737431850053763072/sonilver-week-day-3-fear?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/chippuyon/737615523641196544/sonilver-week-day-6-7-future-and-dream?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/siggiedraws/737418611472384000/silver-brings-history-books-from-the-future-and?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/siggiedraws/736987198261542912/sharing?source=share

voices:

Sonic The Hedgehog: @beauh

Silver The Hedgehog: @jsaking11

ambience:

Michael Ghefli Studios

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revivemyreverie · 3 months

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“Watch yourself. After all, you may be decent at dancing, but your foul attitude could be easily burnt away.”

Twisted from: The Evil Queen’s Red Iron Shoes

Coppelia Waltz

コッペリア・ウォールス

CV: ???

Technical Info.

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Demisexual

Birthday: 05/25

Age: 18

Height: 5’7 (170)

Hair Color: Charcoal Black

Eye Color: River Grey

Hand Pref.: Left

Homeland: City of Flowers

College Info.

Year: 1st

Class: 1B Set 27

Club: Track and Field

Favorite Subject: Art

Other.

Hobby: Flower Arrangement

Likes: Weddings

Dislikes: Forgiving others

Favorite Food: French Toast

Hated Food: Sunflower Seeds

Specialty: Ballet

UM: Iron Vengeance

The lower part of your body becomes bound to an unseeable fire. Until your begging finds value, you’ll dance in a hot hell forever.

The Dancing Plague

There was once a little girl, in a little village, who was born with no feet. Despite her obvious disability, she still dreamed of dancing in front of a large crowd, with flowers being thrown at her graceful figure. The other ballerinas in her class, however, thought differently.

“All you do is sit on your wheelchair without any legs to stand on, and that’s where you’ll be until you die of old age!” They’d pick on her without fail. “Hurry and give up, us real ballerinas need no stumpy girls like you!”

Brought to tears by their cruelty, the little girl fled the studio and sped into the woods. She wheeled on the mossy grass for hours and hours, losing herself in both the trees and her tears. Suddenly, the girl heard a tune like no other, and drew closer to the sound. That is when she saw it—a fairy dance.

Countless humans danced hand-in-hand, even as their feet were dyed red. But the faeries, oh the faeries, how gracefully they danced! Like flowers in the wind, they scattered and reformed and flew so freely!

It was only until one noticed the child that the music stopped, and they gathered around. And yet, the girl was not met with hostility.

“What is a mortal so young doing in the woods?” One asked.

She cried out her woes to the faeries, describing how terrible the other students were, and how she just wanted to learn to dance. The fae, finding sympathy for the little human, quickly thought up a way to fix her problem.

They lifted her from her wheelchair and flew her to their lair. On the first night of her visit, the ballerina was granted a pair of silver slippers, able to lift her off the ground. She cried and cried that night, so joyous to finally dance.

On the second night, the faeries taught her their peculiar dance. Like the humans she saw in the circle, she twirled and jumped without end. But unlike their tired bodies, she proved herself relentless, refusing to stop unless her steps matched her teachers’. Soon enough, she was dancing just as gracefully.

On the 3rd and final night, the fae taught her a magic spell. Still being the tricksters they always were, they giggled and snickered as they whispered an incantation in her ear.

“But why do I need such a spell?” She curiously asked.

“To punish those naughty children,” one fae answered, “and to give you a sense of retribution.”

So on that night, when she left the forest and came back to the dancehall, she whispered out that little spell, cursing her classmates to a fiery pain. Without any dancers to take their spot, the adults dragged the little girl from her seat and onto the stage.

There, with her classmates wailing backstage as their feet burned the same bloody red as the humans in the forest, the little girl danced. Her iron shoes glistened on the stage, as the crowd stared in awe at her beautiful performance. And even past the thundering applause of the audience, and flowers being thrown to her feet, the little girl could only think of one thing—

That her dream finally came true.

❤️‍🔥…

“Do you have any final thoughts, Miss Waltz?” The reporter pointed the mic in her face, grinning.

The child thought, before looking up to her horrified mother, who had built her metal shoes herself. Then, to her sickened upperclassmen, who taught her the magic of vengeance and the dance that wowed the crowd.

Smiling, she turned back to the camera, concerned parents rushing behind her.

“I’d just like to thank everyone who supported me, and helped me achieve my dream! This really feels like a fairytale come true!”

#twst oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst #coppelia waltz #character profile #pomefiore #twst pomefiore #pomefiore oc

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reasonsmandy · 2 months

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Silver Springs

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by @navia3000 — hi hi hi!!! i’m OBSESSED with your writing and i was wondering if you could write an eddie x reader story for me! i thought of this in the shower, but basically, reader is the bassist of the band and has been in love with eddie for a long time, but eddie is in love with camila. everyone knows she’s madly in love with him, but he doesn’t seem to realize it. after cami and eddie get together that one night at the bar, and then when they’re talking at the party, reader overhears the whole thing and is really upset because camila and her are very close and she knew that reader loved eddie. camila walks back to the party but sees reader standing there and realizes she heard everything. reader gets mad and stops talking to both eddie and cami, just ignoring them every time they’re around. it gets to the point where cami gets fed up and says some mean stuff to reader about eddie not wanting her in front of everyone else. reader packs her stuff and leaves the band without saying anything, basically just pulls a houdini. some time later, the band is at a festival and the band performing before them is the reader’s and she’s the lead singer, and they realize it’s her and are like omg. reader sings her hit song silver springs (og by fleetwood mac but im pretending its reader’s song) and it’s obvi about eddie. she sings it while staring at him just like stevie does lindsey. and you can end it however you want. i know this is really long and im sorry 😭 i just love your writing and wanna see how you do this. thank youuuu :))

✧.* summary — a fic based on Silver Springs by fleetwood mac

✧.* warnings — Camila being a jerk :(((

✧.* word count — 3.2k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — This was soooo fun to write, I'm just obsessed with this song

Love is fucked up, and you were living the worst of it since you fell in love with Eddie Roundtree. Of course, it's not about every type of love, but you knew very well that there is nothing as painful as unreciprocated love. It was like being slowly consumed by a feeling that will always be there, and there's nothing you can do to make it stop.

When you guys decided to move to follow the band's dream, it wasn't an easy decision, you were scared to death that you were making the wrong decision but there was comfort in doing it with those you were close to. Now that you were having the chance to create a new album, you felt like it was time for you to grow up in a big way.

The work had been difficult, you spent a lot of time in the studio recording again and again, and only being done when it was perfect. And despite the regrets, you knew that everything was heading towards what you were going to and were living. There is something that was addictive about work, it made you forget about the disaster surrounding your love life, you felt pathetic for futilely insisting on a feeling that had no direction or departure.

You felt yourself falling in love with Eddie when you guys moved to the new town, despite your time performing gigs and also with other gigs out there, you still spent a lot of time together, something that was enough to make you fall in love with him. He was always very kind and understanding with you, even more so when you missed home a lot, slowly as you became closer to each other you couldn't help your feelings anymore… something you just hated.

Everyone knew that he was deeply in love with Camila, including yourself. You knew that when your heart started beating faster everytime he passed by or talked to you, there were several times you tried to hold every feeling back, knowing that it would only lead to heartbreak.

As everyone knew about Eddie's feelings towards Camila, slowly everyone noticed your feelings towards him. Of course there were jokes and teasing (even more coming from Rojas), but it slowly became an unspoken topic that everyone knew but no one said a thing. And you honestly appreciate it!

You had no idea if Eddie knew about it, and you hoped he never did. Because even if you didn't have any hope, or at least tried not to, you wanted to deprive yourself of the look full of pity coming from someone who doesn't feel the same way. Looking to escape all your thoughts, you spent many more hours than necessary in the studio working late, and today was no different.

“God! You're still here?” Daisy says as she opens the studio door, a cigarette hovering on her lips.

“I have a lot to do.” You say shrugging, while giving her a small smile.

“No she doesn't.” You are startled a little when you hear Karen's voice behind you, turning slightly to see her blonde hair.

“Is this some kind of intervention?” Your laugh came out nervously, they look at each other.

“Well, maybe?” Jones gets closer to you, you can smell the cigarettes on her clothes.

“You're working like a dog, so we thought you could come with us to a party?” Karen suggests, her eyes showing her eager for you to agree.

“I don't know guys…” You scribble some things in your notebook, nothing specific other than lines and circles.

“Come on!” Karen holds one of your hands to help you up. “Just try it, I promise that if you don't like it Daisy will take you home.”

“Oh, I will?” Daisy looks at her, you can't help but laugh when you see Karen giving her a threatening look. “Yeah, of course I will.”

You see no escape, so you soon find yourself among a considerable number of people wearing your favorite dress. Karen had been called by a boy to talk better, you hadn't noticed who it was but you knew where she was in case it took too long and you got worried, Daisy was lying on a sun chair around the pool talking to a group of people you had no idea who they were, and you, as expected, were standing there waiting for something interesting to happen.

With your half-full glass in hand, you approach the chairs looking to sit somewhere, your steps stop when you see a familiar figure you blink a few times to make sure you were right, and after a few blinks you confirm that Eddie was there too. Having been alone for a long time and bearing in mind that you wouldn't have company anytime soon, you decide to go to him.

As you make your way into the crowd you see him getting up, you frown trying to get a look at where the hell he was heading to. After a few attempts, bumping into some people and a couple of "I'm sorry" to those who had been pushed past you, you are amazed at what you find. It was unusual to see Camila leaving the house for a party, especially alone, you were immediately surprised, looking around to see if other band members were around.

Well, it wasn't the worst case scenario! At least now you have more company to spend the night with, you continue but immediately notice a different air between them. Your body weakens and your heart races, he gets closer to her and she doesn't step back, you can't help but wonder what the fuck was going on so you decide to sit near them and try your best to hear them.

“Wow, you chose me over sure thing like that?” You barely hear Camila's voice among the others.

“I'll choose you over everyone.” Your heart hurts on your chest, you felt sad.

The silence between them is all you hear even with the noise around you, you turn to see what was happening and bitterly regret what your eyes found. Camila holds Roundtree's face gently, her shaking hands indicated apparent nervousness and her fingers didn't show firmness, she was kissing him.

You couldn't believe what your eyes were showing you, your friend forever was kissing the man you were in love with. It was more than a pain, it was a deep betrayal. You didn't give a shit about the fact that Billy was also being betrayed, he had already done worse to her, but you... She knew your feelings, nothing could justify what your eyes witnessed.

You quickly grab your bag, not bothering to tell Daisy or Karen that you were leaving, you just wanted to disappear.

Knowing that you would eventually have to see Eddie if you returned home, you decide to go to any 24-hour establishment, any place where you could get your head around work in peace. Maybe it was raw feelings, or just lack of attention, but you didn't care if disappearing caused a fuss among your friends. If it were up to you, a complete song would be created that night out of all your frustrations.

…

When Eddie opened the doors to the house he was surprised to see the lights on, Karen was on the sofa with her hands in her hair and her legs kept moving up and down. He frowns and gives a questioning look to Warren who was eating a banana in the corner of the room, he just takes a deep breath and doesn't give another answer.

“I swear to God, if she's not having sex right she better have a good excuse to just disappear!” Karen utters, Graham puts one of his hands on her back as comfort.

“What the fuck is going on?” Roundtre asks, a little bit worried.

“Y/N, Daisy and I went to a party and she just vanished.” Sirko's blonde locks got messy as she frantically ran her hands through it.

“What?” Eddie widens his eyes, worried. "You left her alone?"

“Are you going to keep throwing things in my face? I know I fucked up, alright.”

“I think we all should take a rest, it's late.” Graham says.

“Yeah, and besides… I'm pretty sure she'll be back tomorrow.” Rojas tries to comfort everyone, and after a while he manages to get them all a little bit more calm.

…

You were a mess, your hair was a mess, your papers spread across the table were a mess and you didn't even want to look at your face. But you had a song made, lyrics complete, rhythm organized and the guitar and bass part was done, and even with a lot of anguish, you were proud of your work.

You quickly stuff the papers into your backpack, and order a taxi to the house you shared with the band, knowing that you would be scolded for disappearing last night. But honestly, all you wanted was to forget what happened.

“I'm gonna kill you.” You hear Karen's voice and Immediately let out a long breath, she stops when she sees your face. “Bloody hell you look horrible.”

“Thank you very much” You roll your eyes, trying to pass by her, he holds your arm.

“What happened?” You can see she was worried, but you felt pathetic just thinking about saying any of this out loud.

“I can't say it.”

“Bullshit!” She crosses her arms and stops in front of you, preventing you from going forward.

“Fine, I don't want to say it.”

“Where were you yesterday?” She tries once more.

“Writing.”

“You left in the middle of the party to write?” Karen arches her eyebrows, in disbelief. “Without any extra reasons?”

You see Camila approaching, and it takes a lot for you not to cry when you see the person you trusted who had broken your heart so easily. You avoid her eyes, wiping away the tears that escaped.

“Look, I don't want to cause any fuss.” Your voice was choked, your gaze fixed on your foot.

“Karen called me worried yesterday, what happened? Where were you?" Camila comes with her calm voice, you feel a disappointment growing in your core.

“I left, alright?” You say louder than you expected, closing your eyes to take a deep breath. “And I'm leaving.”

“Who's leaving?” Warren's voice comes behind you, he joins everyone. “Hey Y/N, you good?”

“Not really, no.” You give him a small smile, he for sure would be one of the things that made this harder. “I'm quitting the band.”

“What?” They all say together, you swallow hard.

“Why?” Karen was shocked, in disbelief.

“I love you guys so much.” You say between tears, taking a while to pull yourself together. “But I only get hurt lately, and I need time to heal.”

“Who's hurting you?” Warren says in defence. “I'll kick their ass!”

You let out a laugh, “I don't want to cause a mess between you guys, I'm just going to pack my things and go.”

“I don't get it.” Karen says, so lost.

“Just be honest with us.” Camila asks.

“Look, it's fine.” You shrug, holding your bag close to you. “Just like I said, I don't want scandal.”

“You're being ridiculous.” Sirko let's out, frustrated.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” Camila asks, nodding towards the balcony, you go with her. “What's happening to you?"

“I saw what you did yesterday." Your voice became more choked, you tried hard not to cry. “How could you?”

“What are you talking about?” You can see that she is taken by surprise.

“I saw you kissing Eddie yesterday.” Your vision is blurry with tears. “Why?”

“Look, let's not over react this…” Her voice is lower now, as if trying her best to avoid any attention.

“How on earth am I overreacting?” Slowly you got mad, trying to hold back all your emotions. “All this years I told you how I felt about him, how I bad I felt and yet you… you still did it.”

“Y/N, that's no reason to leave the band.” She avoids the subject. “They need a bass player, you can't just leave when they're recording an album…”

“No fucking reason?” You were shocked, your heart racing. “You don't even care about me, you're worried about the band.”

“Stop being like that.” She rolls her eyes. “It's been years of this, he doesn't like you. I know I did wrong but not with you, with my husband…”

“You think that what you did with me was not a betrayal?”

“I honestly don't think so.” She laughs, and that sents you. “He doesn't feel a thing about you, maybe it's time for you to get over it.”

You cry, your chest hurts. “I'm leaving.”

You turn to leave, knowing that your conversation has been heard by the others when you are met with pitying eyes.

…

You said you would and you did, you left there and only kept in touch with Karen after a few months of leaving. Little by little you got good opportunities, and over time you joined a band that was having great success.

Your song 'Silver Springs' had been written on one of the most troubled nights of your life and had now become your ticket to glorious days like this one. Festivals were your favorite days, you just loved to feel the audience's energy and sing along with them.

But besides loving all of this, today was being chaotic… You knew you went on stage in a few minutes and your guitar player was extremely drunk, you were furious and extremely nervous.

“Oh my God!” The British accent said each word slowly, you turned to see your ex bandmate with a wide smile heading towards you. “You look amazing! It's been so long.”

You go to her hugging her for a while, after some usual questions like "how have you been?" "How are the others?" "Any news?" She looks into your eyes with her eyebrows showing concern.

“Is everything alright?” She asks.

“Not actually, our guitar player fucked up.” Your voice was filled with nerves. “And we're up soon, I don't know what to do! He is the only one who can actually sing and—

“I could help.” You jump when you hear Eddie's voice behind you, you're body reacting weirdly at the sight of him after so long.

“Hearing our conversations?” You try to hide your small smile. “I see you didn't change, uh.”

“Not a bit.” He gives you a smile and you remember why you fell for him in the first place. “So, what do you say?”

“Do you really know the song?” You wanted to hide the way your body automatically wanted to go to him.

“You kidding me?” He jokes, adjusting his collar. “Everyone knows this song, it's amazing.”

“I'd love your help Eddie, thank you!” Somehow you feel peace between you two.

…

You feel the lights on your skin as you get yourself ready, amidst the expectant hush of the gathered crowd, the first haunting notes of "Silver Springs" begin to weave through the air. You get to the center of the stage, paying attention to the audience as you let the notes lead you, your presence commanding and vulnerable all at once. Opposite you, Eddie Roundtree appears—a silent sentinel, yet a potent source of the tension that fills the space between you.

The audience goes crazy, everyone knew the rumors about your song and what has inspired you. There was a huge controversy about the release of this song right after you left Daisy Jones and The Six, so when they all see Eddie Roundtree by your side to play it was for sure a fact to cheer for.

As your voice rises, imbued with a raw, piercing emotion, the air seems to thicken. Each word you sing, a testament to love lost and the pain of what could have been, hangs heavy in the atmosphere. Somehow you remember ‘Regret Me’ and how Daisy let out her feelings in the lyrics, you felt connected to her even though you left. Eddie's gaze, intense and unwavering, meets yours. It's a look that speaks volumes, a silent dialogue that only those who have loved and lost can fully comprehend.

You feel the audience’s attention, and your heart softens as you hear their voices sing along with you. As the song goes on, its lyrics casting spells of everything you once felt for the man by your side, the connection between you and Eddie becomes palpable, almost a living thing that reaches out and enfolds every heart in the venue.

With every verse, the space between you seems both to widen and to shrink, a paradox that only deepens the allure of your interaction. It's as if the song is a bridge you're both building back to a moment lost in time, laden with all the things left unsaid. The air vibrates with the tension of the unspoken, the weight of history that both separates and binds you two. It's a tension that speaks to the heartache of love's aftermath, the beauty of art born from pain.

You see in Eddie's eyes curiosity and at the same time regret, you consider looking away, but once you connect like that it is impossible for you to look away. It was like letting your souls show, and dance together. You approach him without taking your eyes off at any time, he accompanies you to the music feeling tense.

As the song reaches its crescendo, a silent conversation occurs in the span of a few heartbeats. It's a moment of vulnerability and power, a clash of emotions that spills over into the audience, leaving an indelible mark on the collective consciousness of the crowd. The applause that follows is thunderous, not just for the technical brilliance of the performance, but for the courage it took to bare such raw emotions in the full view of the world.

“Thank you so much ladies and gentlemen! I hope you enjoyed our show and have an amazing time with my friends… everyone, please welcome Daisy Jones and The Six"

You leave the stage accompanied by your band, you imagined that Eddie would stay on stage to save time, but the touch on your shoulder that makes you turn around tells you no.

“Hey, can we talk?” Eddie says, you can sense his tension.

“But, you guys are up next.” You point to the other band members arranging their instruments.

“I just, I wanted to know…” He holds back, trying to figure out what to say. “I just wanted to know if you still… if you still feel the same way about me.”

You swallow hard, “Do we really have to talk about this?”

“You know I didn't mean to hurt you.” You avoid his eyes. “I really didn't.”

“It's okay, we don't have to talk about it.”

“But I do want to, this song is…”

“Eddie, it's the truth.” You didn't know how to say this in another way. “I was hurt, and I guess I did a good job, because I'm sure you'll never forget the sound of me.”

He avoids your eyes, letting out a chuckle. “Do you think we can be friends?”

“I don't think I'm ready for that.” You say honestly, his eyes, despite being sad, seem to show understanding. “But maybe we'll meet again someday.”

“I really hope so.” He whispers.

“Hey brother, we gotta go.” Warren calls out for Eddie, turning to you. “You guys nailed it up there.” You murmur to him a “thank you.”

“Good-bye guys.” You say goodbye, leaving Eddie with just the sound of your love.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

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