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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months

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Eddie Munson's second chance

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 14

Prompt: Angst with a happy ending

Rated: G

CW: referenced child neglect/abuse

Tags: Modern AU, Royalty AU, Royal Steve Harrington, Rockstar Eddie Munson

Notes: Continued from day 11. This was angstier in my head, but Eddie is a silly goose.

Eddie Munson is no stranger to fucking up. He's long accepted that. It's just a thing that happens.

Sometimes, you'll miscalculate a stage dive and have to cancel the rest of the tour.

Sometimes, you'll get so caught up in your stupid rockstar stuff, you'll forget about the youth center you founded to give other kids a better childhood.

Sometimes, you'll meet an adorable guy named Dustin at said youth center, and rant about how useless the monarchy is, only to find out that Dustin isn't Dustin at all, but Crown Prince Steven Harrington, aka the future king, aka owner of the saddest pair of puppy dog eyes that Eddie has ever failed to get out of his goddamn head.

Which brings him to his current predicament, sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for Chrissy to pick up the phone. She does after the second dial tone, which is pretty impressive for three in the morning.

"We must cancel the royal visit," Eddie blurts before she can ask what's wrong.

"Eds," she yawns. "We've been over this. Just because you can't stand the guy-"

"That's not it," Eddie groans. "Listen … I met him yesterday? Only I didn't know it was him? And I flirted with him and he was really cute but I couldn't keep my fucking mouth shut and now I can't ever see him again because I don't wanna rot in some dungeon, understand?"

"No," she says. Damn, it sounded perfectly logical in his head. "But this doesn't seem like something we should discuss on the phone. Stay put, I'm coming over."

They don't cancel the royal visit, but Eddie refuses to make an appearance. Instead, he watches from behind the curtains of the office window like a creep. The Prince looks dashing in his tailored suit, smiling for the cameras, joking with the kids, listening to Chrissy with polite attention as she shows him around the place. Eddie loves her so fucking much, will be forever grateful that she filled in for him.

Even if she tied it to one condition.

He watches how she whispers something into the Prince's ear, how his smile melts into an angry frown. How they both turn to stare at the window. Eddie flinches away from the curtains, heart in his throat.

He wonders if the dungeons have WiFi.

"You have exactly ten minutes," says the bodyguard. It’s the same one from yesterday, the one called Hop. Eddie doesn’t reply, just nods stiffly. Hop looks at him like he's contemplating murder, but then he ducks out of the room with a muttered all clear.

Prince Steven steps in. The door clicks shut. Silence descends.

"Well," Eddie finally mumbles. "I guess this is the part where I bow and grovel."

The Prince snorts. "Please don't, Mr Munson. I'd rather you save us both the embarrassment."

Eddie winces, because ouch. That stings more than it should.

Neither of them says anything for a long while. The clock on the wall keeps ticking.

"So," Eddie rocks awkwardly on the soles of his combat boots. "Who's Dustin?"

Those plush lips twitch into a smile and those pretty eyes light up. For a moment, Eddie glimpses the boy from yesterday.

"My housekeeper's kid. He'd be so mad if he knew I met you and didn't get him an autograph."

He says it with genuine concern, like he's honestly afraid of getting shit from a little kid, and Eddie can't help but grin.

"Don't worry, I won't tell."

This gets him a huffed laugh.

"He'd love this place, it's really cool."

When Eddie looks up, the Prince is looking at the picture frames on the walls, photos of smiling kids and drawings in crayon and watercolors. Eddie sighs and joins him, stares long and hard of a picture of Max on her skateboard.

"Thanks. I, um … grew up around here, and I wanted to give these kids a safe space. Where they can just … be children. I never really had that myself."

A thoughtful hum. Those hazel eyes are soft with an expression that looks weirdly like longing. Eddie remembers watching stories about the royal family on his uncle's rickety TV set. A solemn-faced boy his own age trailing behind his parents outside of private jets, in lush parks and gilded halls. Always in expensive suits. Always well-behaved. Always way too grown-up.

Well, shit.

"Listen, your highness …"

"Steve is fine."

"Listen, Steve …" Eddie lets the name linger on his tongue, finds that he likes the feel of it. "I guess I've been a bit of a dick."

A hint of that bitchy little smile. "You guess correctly."

"Whatever," Eddie huffs. "I'm trying to apologize here, so may I? Or are you throwing me in the dungeons?"

"The …" Steve blinks. Then, his mouth starts to curl. "We, um … don't actually do that anymore. Unless you're into that, then I'm sure it could be arranged."

Eddie sputters and Steve bites back a laugh.

"If you really wanna make up for it," he then says. "I hear your concert next week is all sold out? Dustin would love backstage tickets."

Eddie frowns.

"Dustin as in the kid or …"

"Steve?" Hop cracks the door open. "Time to go, c'mon."

Steve smiles, bright and sunshiny. "On my way."

He turns to Eddie, grabs a pen and a notepad from the chaos on the desk.

"Backstage tickets, two of them. I'll be expecting them by tomorrow."

When Chrissy bustles in not five minutes later, she finds Eddie in the office chair, staring morosely at the still drawn curtains.

"Eds? Everything okay?" Eddie just groans and hides his head in his hands, so she crouches down in front of him, hands on his knees. "He didn't give you shit, did he?"

"Shit? I wish. No, it's far worse than that." Eddie cackles hysterically and unclenches his fist, presenting a crumpled piece of notebook paper. "He gave me his number."

Part 3

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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m1ssunderstanding · 2 months

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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.2

The thing is Paul just physically can't say what he feels. It's just an impossibility for him. So if he says reading a negative article about himself “doesn't help” or “it's not good” but it “doesn't get home” I just assume he means ‘It hurts, but I can't think about that too hard or I'll go into a self-hate suicidal spiral again’.

I always love how Paul says Linda. “Linder is er, nature mad.”

She!!

Hearing Paul talk about watching Mary be born makes me wonder if John was there with Sean? Also I wonder if Linda would talk about the experience so glowingly. Probably. She's tough as nails. I had a lovely experience, personally, after the epidural lol

“Dear friend . . . I'm in love with a friend of mine.” This is such a strange and beautiful song. It's a man who has to apologize to his friend for falling in love with someone else. At least, that's my interpretation. What's everyone else's?

I understand why he's so closed off. I do. But when John is going off every five seconds, we're missing half the picture here and it's turning out warped. They really are such a good study of attachment honestly.

“Nothing will ever break the love we have for each other.” White-knuckling my way through this section with this quote clenched in my fist.

Yoko, talking about John fighting with Paul: any couple will go from swearing to kissing and it's like that. What favors are you doing yourself here, babe? Maybe John's the PR mastermind between the two of them.

I find John's comparison of working with his romantic partner to being ambidextrous very confusing. Does he mean just doing two things at once?

“If I can't have a fight with my best friend, I don't know who I can have a fight with.” -- Intro slutty gender-fluid Wings Paul my beloved -- “Tell me why, why, why do you treat me so bad? So bad? When you're the best friend a man ever had?” I heard on some podcast somewhere. Someone was going on about how forward-thinking the Beatles were to refer to the women in their songs as “friends”. And I was like, nununununu do not give them that credit.

This is just soooo. In this era? 90 minutes in the middle of a recording session?

John: Sorry, my estranged fiance is calling, gotta take a break. Guitarist: again? Drummer: how estranged can they be if they call every three minutes? Yoko: should we just record the other parts or . . . John: (receiver cradled to his cheek, lovesick grin on his face) Hey, how was Heather's school program? Haha, yeah, I bet she was.

Okay, so you've made up with Paul and now you're done being homophobic? *Cardi b voice* well that's suspicious.

The fact that John's asking Paul to play on stage with him in 1972?? Ugh! If it was just about legalities and money and shit I would be genuinely so pissed at Paul for not going. If only because Come Together sounds incredibly lame without his bass and piano. But also for the obvious fix-it reasons. I have to remind myself of how truly awful Klein was. By being the only one to stand firm against him, Paul actually ended up saving them all from a lot of trouble. But gosh would this have been good!

Things normal people say, for sure, for sure.

Okay in my head it went like this. John calls George and bitches about what an egomaniac Paul is because he won't do anything with him as long as Klein is involved. George gets off the phone and calls Ringo and they make a bet as to how long it is until John decides they should get rid of Klein.

“Where's your audience, Paul?” “In the theater, Dave.” As he should. The cuntiness is unparalleled. Yeah, maybe people like to see a family friendly eclectic magic pixie sexy hard rock floor show? Ever thought about that, Dave?

Anyway, he seems genuinely pissed when the interviewer even mentions the other Beatles and he refuses to even admit he still talks to any of them. Why?

John's just so benevolent and selfless. He's completely straight, of course, but he's always offering to do gay shit. You know. To be nice.

I forget that not only was May their literal employee, but she was ten years younger on top of that. And yet, she managed to do so much good in that relationship. I have so much respect for her.

There's obviously a lot going on behind the scenes that they don't say in interviews. Duh. But I wonder what it is that caused Paul to be so open and happy in this interview where he's asked about the other Beatles compared to before. I wonder if he and John had a really lovely talk, or if he's heard a demo of “I know, I know.” Or maybe it's just he's so reassured that they've got rid of Klein that he feels safe acting open to a reunion on record. Who knows, Yoko.

So so smart to pair “In My Life” handwritten lyrics with the matching lyrics of “I know I know” playing at the same time. I forget about that connection (“I love you more”) because it's so overshadowed by the “than yesterday” right after. I seriously wonder if John thought he was being so obvious with this one the way he was with HDYS and half hoped people would ask him if it was about Paul and he could make up for the whole thing. Because it's just so heavy-handed. It's beautiful. I love it. I'm sure Paul loved it. But yeah. John's just beating us over the head with the references here.

I also wonder (very tentatively!!!) if Paul was maybe a bit more emotionally vulnerable with John than we usually think. I would never think this except for the “you know I nearly broke down and cried” “I'm sorry that I made you cry” and “no more crying!” I don't know. What do we think?

His little baby smirk. It's so silly and cute. He's being very positive about getting back together, and the interviewer asks if John would initiate that. Just a very coy, “a, well, I couldn't say.” I wonder if at that point if he'd said on live tv that he wanted to get together again if it would've happened. Seems like it might have, but I understand him being scared.

Elton John taking pictures like a fan and John: I wanna impound all those photos till I get me green card. What a random idea for a commercial. I love it, obviously, it's hilarious. I wonder who thought of it.

This doc is so good at implication. The smirk as “loving in the palm of my hand” plays. That's not a reference to hand jobs, is it? Certainly not talking to someone with beautiful hands?

Everyone go look up Nineteen Hundred Eighty Five on YouTube. The singing sex is something else, yeah, but I'm always so blown away by the piano part. The fact that he's self taught and doesn't read music and this man will go on to compose symphonies.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #linda eastman #yoko ono #understanding lennon mccartney #ulm

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usedtobecooler · 1 year

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smutty stocking stuffers day one - mr quinn x babysitter!reader

Pairing | Mr. Quinn x fem!reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), age gap (early twenties/mid thirties), unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, riding, drooling, breeding kink, bulge kink, glasses kink, and a dumb little fluffy moment at the end.

Word Count | 2.2k

A/N | seeing joe dressed as a literal teacher in his silly glasses did things to me and it resulted in this because i'm a slut!!! happy day one!

Mr. Quinn throws himself down onto the sofa next to you, huffing out a big sigh. He's disheveled, shirt untucked from his pants and rumpled up, dress trousers crinkled where they'd bunched up around his thighs as he sat. Bags under his eyes hidden by his thick rimmed glasses, curly hair as unruly as ever.

"Long day?" You question quietly, pulling your legs up under yourself, elbow propped up on the back of the sofa, hand resting on the side of your neck comfortably. You can't help but think that even like this, tired and worn out, Mr. Quinn is still the most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on.

"You have no idea." Joe groans, pushing up his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes until he's seeing stars, letting his glasses slip back down once he's satisfied, "How were the boys for you? Good, I hope?"

"Henry was a bit sad at bedtime so I popped on his little Superman nightlight," You explain and Joe winces, knowing Henry only ever had his nightlight on when he'd had a hard day and missed dad, "Tommy was fine, said he wanted a chocolate bar at bedtime 'cause mummy's babysitter usually allows it, but he wasn't fooling me."

Joe laughs at that, his smile reaching his eyes and it makes your heart flutter, because that didn't happen often. When he was genuinely happy, he was ethereal, like a completely different person.

"So... I know you said you don't do Christmas presents but," You start, and Joe scrunches his nose up at you, getting ready to protest, "shut up, don't say anything. You've been so good to me this year, Mr. Quinn, you've paid me far too much, always left food for me, even let me stay over when it's been harsh weather and I've been too frightened to drive home. So, there's a gift under the tree for you. You don't have to open it til Christmas, but it's just a token of my appreciation for you."

Joe slaps a hand down on your thigh and rubs it a little, a soft gesture he'd done a million times before when you'd gone out of your way to do something you didn't necessarily need to, unaware of how much it made your heart skip and your mouth run dry. He huffs out a little sigh, "I didn't get you anything, darling. This was very unexpected, thank you."

You lock eyes unexpectedly, and your breath hitches. You realised your relationship was odd for a babysitter and parent, you were close - comfortable. Always respectful, a boundary had never been crossed.

But. Joe had heavy eyes, like he was tired and wound up and like he needed... relief. You wonder when the last time was that he'd ever been pleasured by anything other than his own right hand. Hell, you're not sure he even had dealings with his hand. He was a busy man, no time for anything but work and his kids, surely he was overdue some much needed relaxation.

In your daze you hadn't noticed Joe's hand rising higher, sitting snug in the crease of your thigh where your belly met it, comfortable there in the heat, still not pushing any further than that. Joe's hand was a flame and you were alight.

You don't know who closes the gap first but you don't care, Joe's lips slotting with yours like they're meant to be there. The scruff of his beard tickles your top lip and your chin, tinged slightly with the faint smell of leftover cigarette smoke. It's intoxicating, enough to have you lunging forward and crowding into his space, pushing against him until he's knocked back against the sofa arm and you're mounting him.

You rock your hips down into Joe's, only the thin fabric of your panties and his pants separating your skin. You silently thank yourself for wearing a plaid skirt with knee high socks on this particular day, you never usually dressed up so well for babysitting, but you'd had some spare time in the morning to doll yourself up.

"Tell me what you need, Mr. Quinn, I can be so good for you, please," You beg in between kisses, rucking up his silly little sweater and his crumpled shirt so you can feel at his soft belly, trace your fingers down his happy trail to the waistband of his slacks, until he's moaning against your mouth, gripping at your hips.

"Pretty girl, what're you doing to me," Joe's voice is deep, gruff with want and it makes your cunt quiver, "need to feel that pretty pussy, please?"

And who were you to refuse such a pretty man such a simple request? You would usually draw this out, expect to be touched and taken care of beforehand, but Joe's sleepy eyes filling with lust for you, mixed with his little begs were enough. All the other parts could wait for another time, if you ever got another time.

"I've thought about this for so long," Joe gasps, eyes going wide as your fingers dance along the hem of his pants, working the button and zip with ease as if you'd done it a thousand times before, "what would a darling girl like you want with a man like me, hmm?"

Joe emphasizes his question by tugging at your chin with his thumb and forefinger, pad of his thumb grazing your kiss swollen, plump lips, and you can't help yourself. The tip of your tongue slithers out, engulfing his thumb with the wet heat of your mouth. Joe groans, presses down on your tongue until you're gagging. It's filthy, the way he keeps the pressure until you're drooling from the edges of your lips, keening into him.

You let his thumb slip from your mouth, a string of spit connecting them as you pull away, making hasty work of ridding him of his clothing. He tilts his hips up to allow you to slide the offending material down his thighs, leaving them bunched just below his ass. You had no patience; you couldn't wait any longer.

His cock slaps up against his belly, and the sight before you is enough to make your mouth water. He's uncut and thick, alluringly so, and you should've known if his fingers were anything to go by, you'd caught yourself lingering before, on how big his silver rings were, how his hand would engulf a glass. Your cunt quivers, knowing he's going to be a stretch.

You grasp a hold of his cock with your nimble fingers, sliding the foreskin down until the shiny, pink mushroom head is exposed, a blurt of precum dribbling from the slit. It's so pretty, so fitting to Joe and the rest of his body, it clouds your brain.

You slip the head between your slick folds and bask in the way that Joe watches your bodies connect in awe, brown eyes glassy behind the thick rim of his glasses. He's watching your cunt catch on the head of his cock whilst you watch him staring, until you're sinking down on the length in one fell swoop, causing Joe to squeeze his eyes shut and choke off a moan.

"Young thing like you always this wet?" Joe groans, fingertips digging into your hips as you rock back and forth, using his pubic bone as friction on your clit, making you gasp and shudder as you struggle to adjust to his size, "God, darling, never thought I'd get to see you like this."

You moan quietly at Joe's words, throwing your head back as you use your knees for leverage and start bouncing up and down, slowly and barely even letting a few inches slip out, torturing him, almost, "Didn't think you, fuck, wanted me, Mr. Quinn. I was basically throwing myself at you."

Joe's hands leave your hips to roam up your loose sweater, grasping at every soft line of your body, gentle fingertips running along your belly and pressing down until you're gasping for air, "You feel me there, darling?" He makes a point of pressing down again, until you're crying out and your hips stutter, "Deep, right? You take me so well, such a good little thing."

Of course you can feel him, he's so deep you feel like he's in your throat, so thick your walls can't help but clamp down on him, your whole body hot with a prickly heat, "You're s-so big, can feel you everywhere," you cry, bounces becoming increasingly quicker, Joe's hands rising up further to cup at your tits through the thin material of your bralette, thumbing over your hard nipples, making you gasp.

"You want me to come in you, pretty girl? Would you like that?" Joe's voice is almost cruel, and you nod your head fervently, needing to be filled with his release, you want to feel him leaking out of you, you need it, "Fill you with my come and put a baby in your belly, yeah?"

You cry out, hands grasping at Joe's sweater and tugging, your eyes connecting with his own, blown out underneath the thick rims of his glasses, "You can't - can't say that, Mr. Quinn," You moan, the coil in your belly suddenly tightening unexpectedly, the spongey spot inside of you constantly being assaulted as you ride him, "Please, please. Need it, please."

"Gonna pump you full of my come and make you a mummy, yeah? You'd like it, I know you would," Joe's grin is salacious, he knows what he's doing and you can hardly stand it, your mouth opening in a silent moan, overwhelmed by Joe's dirty words and the filthy sounds coming from your cunt sucking him in, your sweaty skin clapping and echoing into the otherwise quiet room.

"Joe, please, I-" You barely get the words out before the coil in your gut is snapping and you're coming with a loud cry, walls spasming around Joe's thick cock as your vision turns white, your ears ringing. It's earth shattering, the way it just keeps coming, your body going limp under his touch.

"Good girl, that's a good fucking girl," Joe's voice wavers, his arm snaking around your back to hold you there as he pistons his hips up from below you, allowing you to go floppy so he can use you how he likes, fucking you so hard you're wailing, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

He comes with a gruff grunt, cock pulsing and filling your aching walls with his load, one hand digging into your thigh and the other gripping at your back so tight you know he's going to leave bruises. You can't find it in you to care, you hope he leaves his marks behind, as a solid reminder he was ever there to begin with.

You lay on top of him in stunned silence, the only noises being both of your panting breaths as they begin to level out, Joe's spent cock slipping out of you unexpectedly and making you hiss. You're not sure when Joe's grip on your back turns into a soothing rubbing motion, but you keen into the touch, like a cat getting stroked.

"That was... maybe a mistake," Joe's quiet voice startles you, and you can't help the sinking feeling in your chest, but you might've expected this to happen, "I took advantage of you there a little, darling. I'm sorry."

"You didn't," You speak abruptly, looking up at him through hazy eyes, unable to stop the clenching in your chest when you notice how soft and relaxed he looks despite his words, "You didn't take advantage of me, Mr. Quinn. I wanted this to happen, I wouldn't of let it if I didn't."

"I think we're well past Mr. Quinn now, sweetheart," Joe tries at a joke, scrunching his nose up cutely, the bottom rim of his glasses digging into his cheeks. You laugh anyway, an embarrassed flush taking over your features, "And, uh about the... baby stuff-"

"I have an IUD, Joe," You interject before he can even finish his sentence, and you have to bite back a smirk at the way his body sags under your weight with relief, "don't worry about it. But I liked the dirty talk, it was nice."

"'Nice'," Joe bristles, grinning up at the ceiling, "Are you free next Saturday?"

You look at him, puzzled, "Joe, I don't babysit for you on Saturdays."

Joe laughs, "Think it'll have to be my mum for this one, seeing as my babysitter is busy, she's going on a date, you know?"

Your eyes widen momentarily before you regain composure and join in on the little bit of banter, "Really? Is she? Who's she going on a date with, is she going anywhere nice?"

"Ach, nobody really, just some worn out school teacher who's a bit of a loser," Joe looks down at you, wiggling his brows and eliciting a gentle giggle from you in return, "I was thinking SoHo, there's this really nice restaurant that does the most incredible beignets."

"Oof, already talking about deserts? A man after my own heart," You fawn, unable to wipe the stupid grin off of your face, "I think she'll really enjoy that."

"Good, that's what I hoped for. I'm kind of wanting her to stick around."

(the biggest of thank yous to @munsonquinns & @chainsawmunson for being my biggest cheerleaders and spurring me on to write and post this 🖤)

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn x female reader #my fanfic #mine #x reader #smut #candy’s smutty stocking stuffers

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thoseboysinblue · 7 months

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I Kissed Someone New Last Night

Christian Pulisic x reader

You visit your best friend, Christian, in Milan after a break up.

Word count: 4150+

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, mentions of weight loss, mentions of death of parents

Song Inspo: Kelsea Ballerini's Penthouse (Healed Version)

Requested: No

"Come to Milan" he pleads with you through the phone, "I'm worried about you, y/n."

"Christian, you know I can't do that," you frown at him.

"Please," he says quietly, "you've lost too much weight, you're not taking care of yourself, and no offense but you kind of look like shit," he tries to lighten the mood just a bit.

The truth is, there is nothing stopping you from hopping on the next flight to see your best friend and both of you know it. You broke off your engagement a few months ago, after finding out your fiancé was cheating on you. You also recently quit your job because no matter how hard you tried you always were bumping into him and you desperately needed a fresh start.

You had considered moving to Florida to be closer to Christian's family, the only real support system you had left. And even though he was far away, Christian never failed to be there for you through every heartbreak you had endured in your short life.

The night your mom died when the two of you were in high school, he dropped everything to be by your side, staying with you through all of it, holding you when you cried, staying strong for you when you completely fell apart.

He flew home as soon as he heard the news of your father's passing a few years later, and again, he was your rock. As everything in your life seemed to crash down, he was the constant, steady presence.

His family had welcomed you with open arms, including you in their holidays, family vacations, and trips to visit Christian and watch him play. They always made sure you felt like you had a place to call home. In recent years, you had opted to go to Christian for holidays so that he wouldn't have to spend them alone, the two of you setting about creating your own traditions. That was until your ex came along and you felt like you should spend holidays with him, but it broke your heart knowing Christian was spending them alone again.

Christian never really liked your ex, he couldn't put his finger on exactly why, but something about him made his guard go up. And it broke his heart when he found out he was right all along, maybe if he had said something he could have spared you the heartbreak, but you seemed happy and he wasn't going to interfere if that was truly the case.

"Come see me, I'll take care of you, I'll feed you pasta and let you get drunk on Italian wine. We can see the city together, I haven't gotten to do much exploring yet. It will be good for you to get away, take a break, get some fresh air, come on y/n, please?" he continues to plead with you.

"Ok" you whisper and you see his face light up, immediately grabbing his laptop and searching for flights before you have a chance to change your mind.

"How soon can you leave, looks like I can get you on a flight tonight, or tomorrow," he grins into the phone.

"Christian, you don't have to do that, I'll book something," you roll your eyes at him. He never failed to be generous and take care of you, whatever you needed, you didn't even have to ask most of the time.

"Nope. Not happening. Tonight or tomorrow, y/n? You better give me an answer or I'm closing h my eyes and clicking on whatever I land on," he chuckles.

"Fuck it, tonight," you grin at him, the first genuine smile he's seen from you in as long as he can remember.

You have to admit that the thought of landing in Italy tomorrow morning to spend however long you wanted with Christian makes you a little dizzy.

"Ok, pack your bags sweetheart, I'm sending you your boarding pass now," he smiles at you, "fuck I'm so excited to see you, it's been ages since we've gotten to spend time together."

"Christian, I just saw you this summer in Florida," you chuckle at him.

"Yeah, but that was less than 24 hours and you had the dickhead with you so it doesn't really count," he huffs at you.

"Christian this boarding pass says seat 4C, you did not just book me a first class ticket did you, you jackass."

"I sure did, because I can, and because I wanted to, and because there wasn't much left on the flight anyways. Now, get off the phone and start packing. Call me when you leave for the airport. Love you, y/n."

"Love you too, Chris." you shake your head at him before you hang up.

A few hours later, you have taken care of anything that might need your attention in the next few weeks since you were unsure of exactly when you would be back. You had packed and showered, and were set to leave for the airport. Making one final check that you had everything you needed, you call Christian, who answers sleepily, "I'm headed to the airport," you smile, even though he can't see you. "Ok, I'll see you in the morning," he says through a yawn, "safe travels."

"Thank you for this" you whisper but you can hear him snoring through the phone so you quietly end the call, after whispering another "love you."

You phone dings when you turn it off of airplane mode and you look down to see a message from Christian.

Christian: ciao bella 🤌🏻 there will be a car waiting for you to take you to my apartment. I'll be in training when you land, but should be home when you get there. Can't wait to see you 🫶🏻 Love you.

Y/N: oh god, am I going to be subjected to your attempts at learning Italian?

Y/N: thank you for the flight and arranging the car. I'll meet you at home. I can't wait to see you either. Love you, Chris 🫶🏻

Christian: do not insult my Italian, y/n. On my way home now, see you there 😍

When you arrive, he is waiting outside for you, pulling you into a warm embrace. It feels like he might crush you, but being in his arms heals your soul just a tiny bit.

"You've bulked up," you chuckle, your head resting against his chest. "You're skin and bones" he whispers leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

"Come on" he says retrieving your bags from the car and thanking the driver, waving off your attempts to help carry your things.

He leads you inside his new apartment, sitting your bags just inside the door before intertwining his fingers with yours, "let me show you around," he smiles at you adoringly.

He leads you from room to room, letting you know his plans for each of the ones that aren't quiet fully furnished yet. He grabs your bags as you follow him up the stairs opening the door to what you presume is his bedroom.

"Christian, this is gorgeous," you say taking in the room, the view out of his window to die for.

"It is," he smiles, never taking his eyes off of you.

You and Christian always share a bed when you are together so you aren't sure why it makes you slightly nervous to think about staying with him now, but it does. Your stomach flips as he moves your bag into the walk in closet, sitting your toiletry bag on the bathroom counter.

"Are you tired?" he whispers tucking a loose strand of hair around your ear and settling his hand on you jaw, smiling a the way you lean into him and shake your head, your eyes already a little brighter.

"Hungry?" he grins when you nod.

"You feel up to going somewhere, or do you want me to cook here, or we can order in?"

"We can go out, but can I have a few minutes to freshen up? You know I always feel gross after a long flight."

"Of course," he smiles, leading you into the bathroom, grabbing a towel for you and turning on the shower.

"Thank you," you whisper, wrapping your arms around his waist, "for everything," a couple of tears slip from your eyes which you try to hide from him but he definitely notices.

"Always, y/n" he breathes out, kissing you on the forehead.

After your shower, you wrap yourself in a towel, walking into Christian's room so that you can grab some clothes out of your suitcase. Christian is sitting on the bed when you walk out of the bathroom and his heart sinks when he realizes just how thin you've gotten. He knows it's just from the stress, and that you tend to lose weight when you are dealing with heavy emotions, and that you always return to your normal with a little TLC, usually from him.

He doesn't say anything, he knows he doesn't have to, you can read perfectly well the look of concern on his face.

"I'll be fine, Christian," you whisper as he nods.

"I know you will be now," he offers you a weak smile, but the look of concern is still evident.

You quickly get dressed, noticing that Christian has already unpacked your things and placed them on the empty shelves in his closet, your heart fluttering at the kind gesture.

"Come here" he gestures, patting the empty space on the bed beside him.

You waste no time in climbing over him and tucking yourself into his side, your head resting on his chest as he scratches your back.

"You know I'm here for anything you need, right? Forever." he speaks quietly.

You nod, allowing the familiar sound of his heart and his scent to wash over you. You never feel more cared for than you do when you are wrapped in Christian's arms, his warm embrace always soothing you, no matter what is going on in your life.

"You sure you don't want a nap," he asks quietly, a small yawn escaping his lips.

"We can nap if you are tired, Chris," you whisper.

"That's not what I asked," he chuckles.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and he kisses you on the top of the head, "food first, then naps."

He takes you to a small restaurant close to his apartment, filling you with as much pasta as you can hold before you make the short walk back to his place.

Once you arrive back at Christian's, he closes the room darkening shades in his living room and the two of you settle down on the couch to watch a movie.

Before long, you fall asleep wrapped up in Christian's arms and he does the same. You aren't sure how long you've slept when you stir slightly, waking Christian up.

"You ok?" he whispers into the dark, a sigh escaping his lips when you nod and nuzzle your face into his chest. You let out a giggle when his stomach rumbles, "you can't be hungry again, Chris."

"I'm starving, actually" he chuckles when you move slightly allowing him to stand up and pull you to your feet. He makes the two of you a sandwich, both of you eating before heading up to get changed for bed.

You wander out of the en-suite bathroom in Christian's room after finishing your skincare to find Christian sitting in the bed, already under the covers.

You give him a hesitant look, chewing on your bottom lip, "you sure you want me to stay in here, I could stay in the guest room or..." you trail off as he stands up and makes his way over to you wrapping you in a hug.

"Why wouldn't you stay in here, we've been sharing a bed since we were kids, y/n," he says quietly his hand stroking your back.

"I don't know," you whisper, "I just wasn't sure you wanted me in here."

"Of course I do," he says taking your hand and guiding you towards the bed, "but only if you want to be in here. I can definitely get you set up in the guest room if you would feel more comfortable."

"No, this is fine," you offer him a smile, your moment of anxiety passing.

"You know, I think my parents always thought we were up to something when we kept sharing a bed when we got older," he chuckles, "led to me getting the talk from my dad on more than one occasion."

"No, really?" you groan, your cheeks painted with embarrassment as you try to hide your face with your hands.

"Mmmhmmm" he laughs pulling your hands from your face, "I think they were worried that we might figure out that one of us is a boy and the other is a girl when we were younger, but as we got older, I think there were secretly rooting for it."

"I figured they would eventually put a stop to it, but I guess they trusted you far more than the trusted me," he grins.

"Guess we've disappointed them then," you chuckle tucking yourself into his side as he kisses the top of your head.

"Sleep well, y/n, wake me if you need anything," he whispers as he turns off the lights leaving the two of you wrapped up in nothing but the darkness and each other's arms.

The next several days in Milan Christian works to improve your mood as much as he can, enjoying when he catches flickers of you returning to your normal self.

You wake up early with him, enjoying quiet mornings before he has to leave for training. He even asks if he can bring you along for a few sessions giving you a chance to catch up with his old Chelsea teammates. You spend afternoons wandering the city and learning Italian with him. Evenings, which he knows you typically dread, are spent, snuggled up together watching movies or binge watching some of your favorite series.

Being constantly surrounded by Christian's presence is working wonders for you, you can feel yourself healing from everything you've been through the past few months. During a face time with Christian's mom she mentions that she can tell both of you are in a better place mentally and physically and that she's glad you are getting to spend some time together.

You cannot deny how much you enjoy being with him, here in a safe bubble, seemingly protected from the outside world. And Christian, he's enjoying your company more and more each day. Things are seamless and comfortable between the two of you, conversations are easy, and the silences are never awkward.

He has been thrilled to have you with him as he embarks on a new season with Milan. You've been able to travel to away games with him and we're blown away on your first trip to the San Siro.

One particularly warm evening after a match, you walk out of the bathroom in a pair of pajamas that show far more skin than any others you've worn around him. You pretend not to notice the way his breath hitches in his throat when he sees you and the way his eyes follow you as you slip into bed next to him.

"You ok?" you whisper, resting your head on his chest noticing the way his heart is hammering away.

"Couldn't be better," he sighs, trailing his hands over the exposed skin on your back and shoulders noticing when your skin erupts in goosebumps, a reaction he's not used to from you.

"I've got the next couple of days off, I thought we might take a little trip to Lake Como tomorrow, have some lunch, see the area," he says quietly, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"That sounds nice," you whisper, turning to place a kiss to his chest.

"And I have a surprise for you tomorrow night," he smiles as you turn to look him in the eyes, resting your chin on his chest.

"You know I hate surprises," you grin, a glint of playfulness in your eyes.

"I know, but this is a good one, and you're not getting it out of me," he grins back at you, tickling your sides and making you squeal.

"Now, let's get some sleep, we have an early morning tomorrow," he says, reaching to turn off the light and gesturing for you to turn on your side so that he can be the big spoon.

"Good night y/n," he whispers, "love you," as he places a feather light kiss on your shoulder, so light you almost don't notice it.

"Good night, Chris, love you too." You whisper back to him, intertwining your fingers with his.

The next morning, you both wake up early and have a quick breakfast before leaving for the day's adventure. Lake Como is more beautiful than you could imagine and you share a lunch that borderlines on romantic at a small cafe that overlooks the lake.

"I can't believe we are here," you nudge him with your shoulder as you walk down a small path towards the waters edge.

"I'm sure you could sweep some lucky girl off of her feet here," you chuckle at him noticing the way his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"Probably, but that's not what today is about is it," he rolls his eyes at you, "today is about me and you spending time together, not me scoping out potential date spots."

"I know, but what better place to fall in love than Italy, Christian," you say, twirling yourself around in front of him, missing the absolutely smitten look on his face.

"Maybe," he shrugs his shoulders, his eyes never leaving you.

"Are you going to tell me what this surprise is?" you ask him, looping your arm through his and resting your head on his shoulder. Noticing the way his skin reacts to your fingers tracing over his skin.

You like Kelsea Ballerini right?" he asks, as he rests his head on the top of yours as you both of you stare out over the water at the colorful houses dotting the horizon.

"I do, her new album is practically an anthem for my life right now, why?" you breathe out, shuddering as his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

"She's playing at the stadium tonight, and I might have gotten tickets for us," he says lowly, tilting his head up so that he can look you in the eyes and see your reaction.

"Playing at the stadium, as in your stadium? In Milan?" you nearly squeal, turning to fully face him as he nods.

"Thank you," your voice comes out low, barely above a whisper as tears well in your eyes, "for this, and for everything, you've always been the one person I could count on no matter what, and I honestly don't know what I would do without you."

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering a bit longer than normal as you notice him swallow dryly.

Leaning back slightly, you take in his features, suddenly mesmerized by his beauty. You've always known Christian was attractive, that much was obvious to you, but Italy has done him a world of good. His summer tan has lingered a bit longer, freckles dancing over his skin, and his eyes seem a bit brighter and more full of hope than you've seen them in a while. You catch your gaze lingering over his lips, noticing how soft and plump they are and wondering what they might feel like pressed against your own.

Christian has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, there isn't a single core memory of yours that doesn't involve him, being here with him the past couple of weeks, his patience, support and attentiveness have healed parts of you you didn't know needed healing.

Part of you never thought it was possible to develop feelings for him beyond friendship, and yet, when he's looking at you the way he is at this very moment, it makes you wonder if there couldn't be something more there.

"You're staring," he whispers, enjoying the flood of color that rushes to your cheeks.

"Am I not allowed to stare at my best friend? You're kind of beautiful you know?" you say, your eyes never leaving his.

"You're the beautiful one," he whispers, leaning down and glancing at your lips, almost as if he's thinking of kissing them before kissing the tip of your nose.

You turn, facing the horizon again as his arms squeeze your waist. "I love it here," you breathe out, feeling him nod as he rests his chin on your shoulder, but you aren't quite sure if by "here" you mean your actual location, or if you mean in Christian's arms.

"We should go," he gives you a gentle squeeze and slides his hand into yours.

The car ride home is quiet, he can tell you're lost in your own thoughts and he'd give anything to know what you are thinking about as you stare out of the window. Truthfully, he's a bit lost in his on thoughts as well, trying to come to terms with everything he's been feeling over the last few days.

Back at his apartment, you start getting ready for the concert, Christian ordering dinner for the two of you to eat as you get ready. You pick out a flowy dress, something that accentuates your best features, wanting to look pretty for yourself, and you catch yourself thinking that you also want to look pretty for him. You want him to be proud to have you with him, not that he's ever made you feel otherwise.

Once you are finally ready to go, you walk out of his bathroom about the same time as he walks out of his closet, also dressed and ready to go. You both silently stare at each other, soaking one another in before his lips curl slightly at the edges as he makes his way over to you.

"You look beautiful as always," he smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your mouth.

"So do you," you blush slightly at his compliment as he takes your hand and leads you to the car waiting to pick you up.

The concert is amazing, Christian never leaves your side, and most of the night he has one or both arms wrapped around your waist.

As the first notes of "Penthouse" ring out around the stadium he moves so that he is standing behind you, both arms around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he gently sways with you to the music.

Tears well in your eyes at the words that seem so very personal to you, a few spill over as Christian grips onto your hips turns you around. He brings his hands up to cup your face as he brushes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs as the music fades out.

You're staring at each other, both of you knowing exactly what is coming next, as she belts out the healed version of "I kissed someone new last night, and now I don't care where your sleeping baby," Christian presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft and slow, and without a moment's hesitation you grip your fingertips into his t-shirt as you melt into the kiss; his lips slotting perfectly against yours, just as you had imagined they would. Suddenly, it feels like all of the pieces have fallen into place.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, "I love you, y/n" he says quietly, only loud enough for you to hear. A couple of tears fall from your eyes, as you nod and say "I love you too, Christian."

"No, baby, I need you to understand what I'm saying. I'm in love with you, I am desperately in love with you," he says as he bumps his nose against yours.

"I know, and I'm in love with you too," you grin, a squeal escaping your lips as he picks you up and spins you around.

"Stay in Italy with me, I can't bare for you to leave me," he says as he pulls you closer to him, burying his face into your neck, "we can both start over here, and we can start building a life together," he says hesitantly, searching your features for an answer he is hoping will be yes.

You nod and he crashes his lips back to yours in a much heavier yet still reserved kiss considering you are in public.

"So you're staying," he mumbles against your lips.

"I'm staying" you grin, "until you're sick of me."

"That's never going to happen sweetheart," he smiles sweetly, "never."

Tag list:

@chelseagirl98 @neverinadream @masonspulisic @pulisicsgirl @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @nyctophilic0vitnir @lunamelona @tall-tanned-tattoo @lizzypotter14

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic fluff

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bed-of-ashes · 1 month

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sooo I made a whole post about SL cletho and I've just watched all of Cleo’s LL and I'm having Thoughts so you're all gonna suffer for it

They've got this "you're good with me and I'm good with you" thing going on. Every season as I can recall they're never actively hostile toward each other beyond teasing jokes. They default to allying with each other when their main alliances fall apart, and they both just sorta know they won't be hurt by the other. They never discuss this on camera, but it's always true. Cleos always welcome in the white castle and they go there just to chat with Etho sometimes, she didn't want to let him get boogey'd by Pearl, he helped them on red life.

"I know you enjoy that kinda thing" "what, I enjoy rudeness?" "Don't you?" "I mean, don't *you?*"

Also just him betting on their life is so funny 💀

They are The last nonred alliance in the server, despite not being allies the entire season

He tells them AND other people that he's scared of her. Like?? Etho the minecraft man himself genuinely does not want to get on their bad side, to the extent he makes deals with her that are just "here I'll give you potions if you don't go after me for just this episode"

Etho’s panicked "BACK AWAY EVERYBODY IM DANGEROUS- oh, Cleo. Cleo, come with me." Man calms down IMMEDIATELY realizing it's them.

When they're ghosts, Cleo goes "oh Etho! I didn't see you die!" and he says "I got killed Cleo, I didn't survive :(" stuck out to me for some reason

He is the only one she takes compliments from. They don't even accept compliments from Scott or Pearl, but Etho keeps going "ooh that was good Cleo!" and "nice job with that one Cleo!"

bouncing off that he goes so far out of his way to make Cleo feel like a useful member of the team I'm. crying

"I thought I ran into lava but it was Cleo’s hair" I laughed so hard

Theyre just such good friends, like. In general they're very similar people in that they click really easily, they tend to gravitate toward each other in these Life series because they just generally trust each other. they have such a good foundation that you can put them in any situation and they'll still be rock solid. Cleo & Etho, man.

#trafficblr #life series #traffic smp #life series smp #life smp #zombiecleo #ethoslab #cletho #hermitshipping #i gUess.#i dunno this isnt a shippy post its more a their dynamic in general regardless #like i said last time. romantic familial platonic queerplatonic #all works! could be any! just cleo and etho yknow #they make their own type of relationship #last life #amarambles

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thebardisabird · 9 months

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I... actually don't know if I've done something like this before, but I'm just thinking about the little physical contact quirks the guys would have when it comes to you.

With Osomatsu, he enjoys planting kisses on you. Gentle ones, on your forehead, your nose. When he's got an arm around you he'll randomly kiss your head (either at your temple or into your hair). Might squish your cheeks when he's being especially silly goofy, and if it makes you laugh, he ends up laughing that boyish, but charming laugh you came to love so much.

Karamatsu is more romantic in his tiny displays of affection. He often takes up your hand while you two are just enjoying each others company, pressing a delicate kiss to either your palm on your knuckles. In an especially tender moment, his hand tends to find your cheek. There he'll brush his thumb gently across your skin - his way of reminding you that he's there and he loves you dearly.

Choromatsu is simple, but still quite sweet. He'll rest his hand over yours, sometimes locking fingers with you. If you two happen to be walking together or even standing somewhere (say Chibita's cart for example), he takes to putting his hand on your back. Simply to serve as his way of saying 'I'm with you'. That eventually evolves into him rubbing your back there absentmindedly, which you secretly enjoy as he's very gentle about it.

Ichimatsu likes tucking his chin on your head when he holds you from behind. Something about that close proximity and holding your body that close to him brings him comfort. It's especially nice in the winter, as he keeps you plenty warm. Also likes to put his hand in your sleeve or have you put your hand in his sleeve just because.

A big fan of hugs, Jyushimatsu will not only you hold you close, but he has a tendency to rock with you in his arms. He genuinely just loves you so much that it's so hard not to just sway you back and forth in his embrace. He also does this thing where he shuffles his head against you to get comfier while you two are close. Might koala cling to you if you happen to be laying in a relaxed position together.

Todomatsu will hold one (or sometimes both) of your hands and stroke his thumbs over the top of them. It's a gesture that he pairs with one of his cutesy smiles at first, though that melts into this look of admiration that sometimes makes your heart flutter. If you have a birthmark, freckles or anything like that on your body, he will give it a little smooch every once in a while and say something like "My favorite spot 💗".

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nobrashfestivity · 4 months

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Personal rambling on Robert Johnson (don't feel you have to read this)

Since last night's song was a Robert Johnson song, I feel like mentioning that I always find it stomach churning how his musical legacy was talked about a large part of the music community.

His name was the subject of two complexly fabricated stories designed to cast him in a musical light that was comfortable to white musicians and writers.

The first one was silliness about him selling his soul to the devil so he could play guitar. It was such an incredibly popular myth (they made movies about it) and when I was a kid it seemed harmless enough until I realized it was to fuel the idea that white culture had about black artists. To whites, black musicians could never be scholarly and learned, doing the difficult task of mastering a musical instrument. Even though so many back musicians were highly educated the trope of the "natural black musician" that didn't have to learn it because they were part of a primitive culture and they were born into music, is a destructive stereotype that lives on today. It's adjacent to the racist "Black people have rhythm" stereotype.

Black people invented so much of American music but it's always been criticized until it is popular enough to be coopted by white artists. I'm not suggesting that white artists refrain from playing and adapting any sort of music, only that there's a lineage from "Jazz is not music" to "Rock and Roll is not music" to "Hip-Hop is not music." I wonder what all these kinds of music have in common!

Fewer people know the more recent Johnson myth that started on the internet, that his recordings were sped up and that's how he sang so high and played difficult things so fast. This had no basis in fact, it was an internet rumor. I felt it was also based on an ingrained racist idea about blues. White musicians had decided it sounded more "Authentic slower despite the fact that Johnson was only 25 years old when he recorded his first records and had ever right to sound like the young man he was. I have been over the "evidence" of this speed changing conspiracy and it was no basis in fact for about 10 reasons I wont bore you with. I just feel it's a lingering and unfortunate cultural picture of the blues that it's a bunch of uneducated black people getting drunk and singing that their baby left them. It can be extremely sophisticated and lyrical music.

I am not accusing everyone of being a racist. Many white musicians genuinely adored, shared the music of and credited Johnson for his genius. Keith Richards famously said when he first heard a record of Johnson paying solo he asked "Who's the guy playing with him?"

The thing I find unfortunate is that endless parade of Blues Hammer bands (Terry Zwigoff KNEW) that have systematically dismantled the elegance of the early rural music. The culture makes it hard for anyone to listen to Johnson and not think of some white hat mustached bar band who thinks they are covering Eric Clapton. And it's just a shame that, in a sense, he will remain this cliche of the guy selling his soul to the devil (so he could play hot licks!) instead of the graceful writer and musician he really was.

And to the poets and writers out there who analyze song lyrics, for me Johnson has some tremendously wry and dense allusions.

I recall reading Stephen Calt (I think) saying that in Johnson's song "Dead Shrimp Blues" "Shrimp" was a 19th century French slang term for a sex worker, long outmoded when he used it. I find these coded aspects to the music really interesting.

In the song last night "Come on in my kitchen" which is all at once mournful and salacious, there's one of Johnson's references to Hoodoo culture:

"Oh, she's gone, I know she won't come back I've taken the last nickel out of her nation sack You better come on in my kitchen It's goin' to be rainin' outdoors"

ethnographer and folklorist Tony Kail writes:

During the 1930’s Anglican minister Harry Middleton Hyatt traveled the United States performing interviews with numerous devotees of Hoodoo and African-American spiritualism. During his stay in Memphis Tennessee Hyatt encountered an informant who shared about a curious artifact known as the ‘nations sack’. Other local terms used for the sack included ‘nations bag’ and probably the most used term the ‘nation sack’.

Hyatt’s informant shared that the sack was worn by females typically around their waist. The sack contained money and objects considered to be ‘lucky’. One practitioner shared with Hyatt that some nation sack owners would place parts of a chicken egg inside the bag while others spoke of adding objects such as roots, snuffboxes and silver dimes. One informant shared that some women utilize materials such as a dollar bill covered in their mate’s urine inside of their nation sacks. Some were used in conjunction with a string that could be tied to ‘tie’ up a man’s ‘nature’ or sexual prowess. The magical principal that appeared frequently was that the ingredients in the nation sack could keep a man faithful and a woman protected. Hyatt’s informant he nicknames the ‘Nation Sack Woman’ advises the minister that the bag is off limits to men and should never be touched by a man.

But a favorite Johnson lyric for me is positively psychedelic for 1937 and is from "Love in vain" which perhaps is popularly known from being covered by The Rolling Stones .

"When the train, it left the station, with two lights on behind the blue light was my blues, and the red light was my mind."

#personal #robert johnson #Okay I didn't intend to go on like that #this is what happened when i can't sleep

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luveline · 1 year

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rockstar! remus where reader is lost in her mind maybe insecure and she's been a bit cold/distant cause she think this can't last but remus is not going anywhere he will always reach for her

thank you for your request, I love the idea!!! ♥︎ fem!reader

Remus does the weirdest of things. He's always been weird in his charming, awful way. You're rightfully obsessed with him, as are millions of others, but you're privileged to say you're the only one who gets to see him like this.

"Baby, baby," he sings under his breath, playing with your hands held aloft above his face, "let me sleep on it."

"No more Journey," you murmur tiredly.

"It's by Meat Loaf, my love."

You're more embarrassed than you should be for getting it wrong. Remus definitely doesn't care. You wouldn't normally, because everyone messes stuff up like that all the time. Like, every second of the day. But Remus is a rockstar, his band plays arguably some of the best modern rock of the decade, and he's a classic rock nerd. He knows every lyric Jim Steinman's ever written, hence his impromptu yet extremely accurate rendition of Paradise by the Dashboard Light.

And you're getting more and more aware of the differences between you.

"Shall I sing you something else?" he asks.

You love how he's dropped into this properness. "You may."

He sits up and wobbles with the tour bus. He always gives you this apologetic look when it happens, like he's sorry the roads are rough. It's exactly the kind of thing he'd feel sorry for, and it makes you wanna kiss him. "Turbulence," he jokes.

He starts to sing one of his favourites, Smoke on the Water. He's moved your hands to his lap, where he drums his thumbs against your knuckles haphazardly. You don't have a clue what he's up to, why he's decided to distract you like this. Well... maybe you do. You aren't good at hiding your feelings. He's waiting for you to tell him what's wrong. He'll likely wait all night.

"I owe you an apology," you say quietly.

He beams at you. It's disconcerting. "For what?"

Being distant. You can't make yourself say it so you don't say anything, but you do turn your hands in his so you can squeeze the tips of his fingers. His calluses are rough, but his hands are sweet. He spreads his fingers and intertwines them with yours, eyebrows wagging at you.

"Do you want me to guess?"

"No," you say, "I don't want you to guess, baby."

"I love the way you say that." He's being genuine. It's excruciating in its earnestness. "You have a nice voice."

"So you tell me."

"So I tell you."

He doesn't seem particularly worried about his owed apology, tugging you forward so he can steal a kiss, another, firm pecks that don't quite line up with your lips. You don't manage to kiss back the first time, but the second is good. You turn your head into his and your eyes close, your hands vying for his waist even as they're locked with his. He fights back, hands pushing against yours, an impasse of squeezing.

"I yield," you mumble, trying not to giggle in panic as your knuckles twinge.

He laughs into your mouth and follows you backward, smiles squished together, his weight shifting. He moves onto his thigh and you know he's gonna climb on top of you if you let him. You want to let him.

You duck your head. "I really do need to talk to you."

"Sorry," he says, sitting back. "I wasn't trying to- Well, I was trying derail you. Not because I don't want to hear it." He cups your cheek for a split-second. "You're hard not to kiss, you know?"

"Why do you say stuff like that?"

He goes shy, eyes falling to your hands, one pair still clinging. "'Cause I mean it?" he suggests carefully.

"I've been... quiet. And not as nice to you as you deserve."

He livens up. "Dove, I know touring's been hard on you. I'm not expecting you to be happy all the time here. You're here for me, and I know you made a lot of sacrifices to come. None of that is lost on me."

Sacrifices? Had you made sacrifices? Not nearly as many as he seemingly thinks. "Remus," you say. "Don't do that, for a second. Don't be so nice."

"I just don't think you should be sorry. Or feel guilty."

It's very Remus to make excuses for things that aren't his fault, and even more for him to tell you that you shouldn't be sorry. You climb up on your knees and take his face into your hands, head swimming with perspective. Remus could've returned your coldness with his own, but he'd simply laid his head down in your lap and serenaded you, played with your fingers, pressed absent kisses into your torso. And now, when you're trying to say sorry, he's extending an olive branch. He's reaching out for you.

His hands curl around your hips.

"I'm sorry I've been weird," you say, enunciating each word purposefully. "It's- I really- I love you, Remus. And I love that you love me. And I keep waiting for you to realise it won't work, but you don't, and you're so," — his smile grows so wide you can't help but smile in return, joy warping your words and making them all sticky — "lovely. You're lovely. I don't know what to do with you half the time."

"And the other half?" he asks quietly.

"I can't stand you."

"That's not what you were saying at all," he says.

He looks so pretty. Remus doesn't get how fucking pretty he is, his light brown hair, his long eyelashes, his always-tired nonchalance. You follow the scar that strikes through his right eyebrow and over his nose with your eyes, and you kiss the end of it with vigour.

"No," you admit into his skin, giving him a badly placed, damp little kiss. "What I was gonna say is worse. Kind of shit you shouldn't say sober."

"Can I get you something to drink?"

You giggle voraciously and sit back on your haunches, hands falling to his biceps. He folds his arms back to squeeze your hands again. "Scamp."

"What decade is this?" he asks. "'Scamp'. That's done it, actually. Pack your suitcase, I'm leaving you at the next services."

You're so startled you burst into genuine, ugly laughter. You can't make any sense of it, and before you know it you're pressing your face into his chest and gripping his t-shirt.

"Fucker," you say as he laughs the same, his big hands braceleting your elbows. "Fuck you. I'm leaving you at the services."

"In that case, we'll split a room in the Premier? S'fucking extortionate pricing these days."

More awful laughter, keening and high-pitched and stupid happy. Being with someone like him will always be hard and a little bit scary, but Remus makes it worth it.

#marauders era #marauders #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #the marauders fanfic #the marauders imagine #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x reader hurt/comfort #rockstar!au #rockstar!remus #rockstar!remus lupin #bassist!remus #the marauders

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sasageyolevi · 1 year

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Hello can give dating levi ackerman x reader headcanons please 🙏 ☺

hi !!! i've been wanting to do one of these for a while , so here goes :

*p.s. let me know if you want a more nsfw version in the future ;)

content : levi x reader , just fluff !!

levi ackerman dating headcanons :

•••

levi is definitely one of those guys that has a hard shell on the outside but can be very soft on the inside if he finds the right person, and you happen to be that person

he is a man of very few words around those who he isn't very comfortable with, but he tries to be more talkative around you

even though he may not say much at times, he really does love you and means it when he does express it

levi's love language is acts of service, so you'll often find him doing simple tasks for you, from putting the dishes away to dusting every single piece of furniture

he is genuinely a very sweet person who just wants to make you feel comfortable and attended-to at all times

he will always be there for you if you're struggling mentally, physically, or emotionally

he is actually a decent cook, and you love to watch him prepare all of his new recipes

obviously, levi is a major clean freak, so this plays a large role in your relationship, and it can sometimes cause problems if you tend to leave a messy space or not clean up after yourself

however, communication is key with him; as long you talk it out, there shouldn't be many problems

on the more serious side of things, levi - like most of us - struggles with his mental health at times, so he needs someone to talk to and to understand him

he can often get moments of loneliness, depression, and anxiety, so checking up on him every so often is key

personally, i think levi would struggle with symptoms of ocd or ocpd, and they would affect his daily life at times

for example, needing to be in constant control and doing everything in a strict, orderly fashion is important to him

if he has any compulsive behaviors present, those would make him feel very anxious and overwhelmed

he checks the oven, curling iron, light switches, windows, and the doorknobs multiple times before leaving the house or going to bed, which can be very time-consuming, so work with him

speaking of going to bed, levi finds it very difficult to sleep sometimes due to his insomnia

he's been through a lot and has seen some of the worst things imaginable, so his mindset is "if i don't sleep, i won't be able to have nightmares about those awful moments"

he doesn't like telling you about his insomnia, because he wants to make sure that you get adequate sleep

however, a little bit of tea and consolation may get him to open up to you about his issues

when you two are cuddling, levi's arms tentatively wrap around your waist in a spooning position before you curl into him

he hates being little spoon, as it makes him feel like a vulnerable kid, so that only happens once in a blue moon

if you get periods, he is completely understanding of your symptoms and will always be there to rub your stomach, give you a massage, or even just let you cry into his shoulder

he is very worried for your health when you get sick, as he has lost too many of his closest friends ;(

therefore, he can be overprotective of you (regardless of whether you want that or not) but you know that he has good intentions

also, extremely random but i have a personal hc that levi absolutely loves 80s and 90s rock n roll, like he is such a depeche mode fan

levi loves you so incredibly much, and although he may not say it 10 times a day like some other people (i'm looking at you, reiner), he expresses this love in a multitude of other ways, and always makes sure that you both feel loved .

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot levi #levi x y/n #levi #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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operator-report · 28 days

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do you have any ideas about the undersiders music tastes. your other posts are so beautiful and true

aaah i'm so glad you liked my silly music posts! after some thought this is what i've landed on for the undersiders: taylor: in my heart taylor's mom did this to her, which is why taylor has a better-than-average teen girl knowledge of blondie, neil young, and the police. i think taylor's taste is a mix of dad rock and alt-pop rock hits. she likes the strokes and arctic monkeys. maybe a little mgmt. after her mom dies she stops listening to music that reminds her of her mom, so much less 70s/80s rock, but i don't think she switches to sadder music or anything like that, i think her taste just skews more contemporary after that. after the bullying started she tried out heavy metal really early on because she figured angry music might help her vent but it wasn't her thing. taylor does not listen to radiohead but she's the undersider who would like it the best i think. karma police is a taylor song send tweet

brian: there's a post out there somewhere that talks about brian listening to imagine dragons and that is SO real to me. he listens to imagine dragons. he listens to "tough" guy music that sounds like it could be in car commercials. he also listens to dudes rock music he hears at the gym. brian and taylor both like to match their music to their workouts and they have an immensely geeky conversation about matching bpm at one point. taylor matches it to her running brian matches it to boxing they are in nerd-jock heaven

lisa: she's a tricky one, because the music industry is one that both values authenticity and yet is extremely manufactured. i think that means that lisa finds music in which rich musicians make music about how hard their life is immensely grating. i think sarah livsey's taste was influenced by her brother, and much like how taylor does not listen to music that reminds her of her mom, lisa does not listen to music that sarah used to like. another smugbug yuri of absence moment if you ask me. anyway all that means that lisa listens to three kinds of music: downtempo instrumental electronic, classical, and We Are Up Partying In The Club Tonight Ooh Girl Oh Yeah. i think she finds, e.g., pitbull and eurotrance endearing. if you ask lisa what her favorite kind of music is she'll say something obnoxious like IDM or some shit just to see what the reaction is

rachel: i looked up "do dogs listen to music" and google says they will listen to classical sometimes, so! there you go. if worm took place a little later i think taylor could have introduced limited doses of lofi hip hop study beats to rachel and she would be ok with that too but also like. why listen to music when she could be outside listening to her dogs

aisha: the undersider with the best taste! we know that early worm aisha is a bona fide scene teen, and i think she consequently likes blink-182, pierce the veil, 3oh!3, cobra starship, and maybe a little bring me the horizon. in later worm aisha's taste gets less pop, like deftones, odd future, etc. she's a supervillain who would actually listen to madvillainy. aisha is also probably the only undersider who actively seeks to cultivate her own music taste! a good chunk of the undersiders have trauma that separate them from their interests and/or feelings, but aisha is an undersider who i think is both self aware and also true to herself, as well as being genuinely interested in art!

alec: speaking of undersiders who have a difficult time developing a defined music taste due to being cut off from a strong sense of self. alec in early worm is too depressed/apathetic to seek out music for himself, he'd rather be playing video games or watching movies. which is a shame because disassociating to music is one of the depressed activities of all time! alas alec's vision of a person with Taste is like. cherie. rip. however, aisha completely turns his life around into a guy who likes...................... soulja boy

there you go! tried to keep this period typical and also didn't include bands we know for sure didn't exist on earth bet (such as mcr). however i am very sad aisha and alec didn't get to listen to 100 gecs together. can you imagine. i can imagine and that's why i have a beautiful aishalec amv set to doritos and fritos in my mind

#parahumans #the undersiders

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ohbo-ohno · 5 months

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bo, first of all i adore your writing!!

but you've mentioned a few shall we say 'darker themed' books you've read in asks here and there, can you give some recs of your faves?? pretty please??

first of all, i love you! and also yes always, i never mind giving book recs! i sorta ramble under the cut, sorry lol

alright i'll start with the darker romances. these are hard noncon, and depict abusive relationships that aren't always framed as bad. when i say dark i mean dark lmao, always be aware of what you're going itno before you read a dark romance

If you like my fics, I can almost guarantee you'll like Taken by Felicity Brandon. This is about an author who writes dark erotica and gets kidnapped by a fan, who forces her to live out some of her scenes. Includes petplay! I have my issues with the book (and I DNF'd the sequel) but ohhhh the smut is so good

I mentioned them a while back, but Measha Stone's Owned and Protected series is a 6 book series with noncon/dubcon petplay in every single book. Calling these "romance" is a stretch, but god if you like my noncon petplay stuff (and you're alright with reading explicit noncon and forced relationships), you might like these

I haaated the ending of Distorted by Nyla K. but dear fucking god it is a good prison dark romance. Also it is SO Ghoap coded, I would recommend reading the first ~80% of it lmfao

Corrupt Idol by Dinah Harper is the first book in a series that will probably never get finished, but honestly it's pretty good as a standalone. Dark step-brother romance, and I thought the writing (at least in the first half) was so good, I genuinely felt for the FMC at times (even if I was screaming at her)

Ok I'm not confident in this rec because I'm still not suuuuper sure how I feel about this book, but Torment by Dylan Page is a dark step-brother biker romance. The FMC is the MMC's "rock", and the only thing that keeps him from flying off into a violent rage when he's upset, and he develops an unhealthy attachment to her that everyone around them allows because they don't want to deal with him. I never read the second book, but this is another one where you really feel for the FMC

One of my favoriteeee dark A/B/O (specifically the first book) is Born to be Bound by Addison Cane. I would suggest not reading anything past the third book, and I'm not a huuge fan of the side plots, but the stuff with the FMC and MMC is just. God it's the perfect brand of dark A/B/O (in MY head)

I've recommended it before, but for my truly fucked in the head followers - Under His Heel by Adara Wolf is probably the darkest book I've ever read. It's a four book series (and I think the whole thing is worth reading) and it's got every single trigger warning except for (i think) scat, pedophilia, and necrophilia. it has rape, incest that's also rape, extreme body modification (though it's not permanent), severe public humiliation, severe mental torture, and just about 0 aftercare for our MMC. The book follows a man in a far distant future who's working as an indentured servant to pay off his debts & his incredibly sadistic and evil master. These books are far from "for everyone", but if you really want some fucked up romance (with heavy smut) I think these are worth reading!

aaand some softer dark romances. to me, these are books with some lighter kidnapping or soft noncon, abuse in a mental but not physical way, and MMCs who just think they're in the right

Gemma Weir's Montana Mountain Men is like an acid trip and it's kinda crack, but i read all 7 in like a day, so take that as you will. Each book is about a different brother in the same family as they fall in love - except, in this family the men supposedly know who their soulmate is the moment they lay eyes on them. So there's some light kidnapping, some manipulation/unhealthy behavior, and some birth control tampering in these. For what they are, I enjoyed almost all of them lmao

The Darkest Temptation by Danielle Lori is like a kidnapping romance written for non-dark romance readers tbh. It toes the line of noncon/dubcon, and it's definitely a kidnapping romance, but it's really not that dark.

Nicky the Driver by Cate C. Wells is (in my opinion) not as good as the first book in the series, but it's way lighter in terms of darkness level

Shiver by Ella Frank & Brooke Blaine is a stalker romance that fell a little short for me, but was overall enjoyable (iirc lol). It's about a young man who goes into a kink club and attracts the attention of the owner, who then stalks him. I think it just wasn't as dark as I wanted tbh, but if you like lighter dark stuff I think you might like this!

#recs #this got long sorry #asks and answers

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angelsanarchy · 2 months

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Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 04

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka @blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf @kappasbbgirl @luzclarita57 @tempt-ress

Y/n is sitting at the desk inside the garage. It was a fairly quiet day and Leff was sitting in the office with his feet on the desk, talking on the phone to someone making new import deals. Sicky came busting through the door so hard, it hit the wall.

"I've fucking had it! I'm done babysitting this kid. He's been complaining nonstop all fucking day and I'm going to kill him." Sicky threw his hands up and Mike came in behind him shaking his head.

"Did you do all the drop offs?" Y/n looked at her watch and Sicky growled.

"No because princess over here has to stop every ten minutes to piss or get cigarettes or jerk off." Sicky looked back at him.

"I had to piss twice and it's not my fault these places are smoke free. This is fucking New York. That's stupid." Mike argued.

"I can't handle it Y/n. You take over or I'm going to skin the kid." Sicky lowered his voice so only Y/n could hear him knowing that threatening Leff's blood loud enough for him to hear would always be a no no. She stood up from the desk and chuckled.

"You remember this the next time I have to do a shipment at the bar." Y/n put a gun in her ankle holster and grabbed her jacket off the hook.

"Come on loverboy." Y/n grabbed the collar of Mike's leather jacket and he gave Sicky the finger.

"Do you care if I smoke in your car?" Mike asked hopeful.

"You can smoke in my car but to answer your question earlier, you can't smoke at client's establishments unless they offer you a smoke. It's disrespectful. These are business partners and when we enter their home turf, they have the advantage. We must show respect to keep business relations on the up and up." Y/n explained as Mike lit his cigarette.

"I fucking hate this job. Honestly, I almost wish Leff would have left me to figure my own shit out. At least that way I wouldn't be stuck being his little bitch delivery boy." He blew smoke out of the cracked window.

"What would you rather be doing?" Y/n asked honestly and Mike looked over at her to see if she was being serious.

"If I tell you, you can't laugh." Mike said making Y/n smile.

"If you say male stripper or rancher, I'm going to laugh." She warned making him chuckle.

"I want to be a musician. Start a band and get the hell out of here. The music scene in New York is dead unless you're a rapper or making a techno pop set in someone's basement rave." Mike explained.

"Musician? Do you play an instrument or are you a singer?" She asked. Mike could see she was genuinely interested in his answers and he tried to hide his blush.

"I play guitar but I definitely would need a singer. I'm not much of a vocalist." Mike took another puff from his cigarette and ashed it out the window.

"Well you could absolutely find a singer in New York but you'll want to go South if you want to get any sort of band off the ground. Everyone knows Texas is where aspiring musicians go." Y/n pulled up to a stop light and looked at him.

"What's your sound? Despite the cowboy look, the leather daddy that accompanies it gives hard rock or grungey alternative." Mike had to laugh out loud.

"Did you just call me a leather daddy?" He asked furrowing his brows.

"Shut up, don't act like you don't love when I give you pet names." She teased from behind the steering wheel. He noticed something he hadn't really noticed before. She had a tattoo on her neck behind her ear. When she smiled wide, he could see a little black rose etched into the skin.

"If only you would take me up on my offer to use them with less clothing and more privacy." Mike flirted making her shake her head at him, putting her hand out to take his cigarette and take a puff. He watched her suck the smoke into her mouth, let it out of her nose and back out again.

Every thing she did turned him on in the weirdest way.

"Get some furniture first and we'll revisit naked hangouts." She teased. Mike took that as a promise and motivation to get a couch.

"How do you know so much about the music scene in Texas?" Mike asked curiously.

"I used to work at a night club. A lot of guys would come through and tell me their life stories and dreams of making it big but what they don't realize is New York is more for performing arts. Classical musicians and acting are on the rise but places like Austin are where all the big music producers pick and choose people to throw together to make an album. Plus the food is superior." Mike kept his eyes on her.

"The night club...were you a-"

"Yes Mike, I used to be a dancer so if you have any stripper jokes, keep in mind that I'm currently behind the wheel and you aren't wearing a seat belt." She glanced over at him.

"I mean we're literally pushing drugs and weapons. I don't think being a stripper is some sort of classless gig. We're clearly doing a lot worse." He shook the duffel bag.

"You aren't wrong." Y/n pulled up to the drop location and put the car in park.

"Besides, Sicky said you own a bar now so that's cool." Mike added making her grin at him.

"You're talking to Sicky about me huh?" She teases and he rolls his eyes.

"Shut up." He finished off his cigarette before getting out of the car and when Y/n handed him the duffel she held onto it.

"Hey, this shit is only as temporary as you want it to be. You want out, you have to find something that will get you out and keep you straight. All Leff needs is reassurance that you'll be able to take care of yourself. That's all he wants." She said sincerely.

"I'll keep that in mind while I'm peddling this cocaine to a biker gang." Mike said making Y/n scrunch her nose.

"Sicky's right, you're being a princess." Y/n teased making Mike take the bag from her and give her a mocking middle finger. She smiled giving him one back and watched his back as he knocked on the door. She moved her gun from her ankle holster to her lap and watched him carefully.

He didn't know it but Y/n was already willing to kill for him if she had to.

#Mike #Mike x Y/N #5lbs of Pressure #Fever Dreams #One Shot Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult

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wh0refornikolailantsov · 10 months

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could i request a nikolai x reader imagine with a drunken confession from either party that leads to awkwardness the next day and then a real and sober confession?

Y e s. Sorry to keep you waiting, had a busy week.

On The Rocks - Nikolai Lantsov

Content Warnings: Alcohol Consumption. Drunken Confessions. Suggestive Content. Explicit Language. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Nikolai Taglist: @hauntedenthusiasttragedy , @writingmysanity

It was a dumb statement, clearly all ego and no sense and if Nikolai had thought about it even for a moment he would not have pushed his boastful comment into something he needed to prove, but he was already six shots in when the words left his mouth, and they didn't fall on deaf ears.

"I could still drink you under the table, Kir Bataar," he states, that grin of his so foxlike and devious even without the alcohol spurring him on.

Tamar laughs and she is ready to let it go, but he holds her gaze and Tamar wasn't born to back down from a challenge. "Want to test that, Captain?" She asks, raising a glass.

"This I have to see," you whisper into your drink.

Now you know, Tolya knows, and Tamar knows you should have cut him off a while ago. But it is hard to get Nikolai to listen to sense even at the best of times. It's often just rebutted with "I prefer to live on a healthy diet of impulsivity and regret." And you know how much he will regret when his head is hammering in the morning.

Tamar is still able to hustle cards while Nikolai is forcibly being tapped out. "I'm going to make sure he makes it to his bed in one piece," you tell the others.

"Don't let him drag you overboard," Tolya calls after you.

"Or into bed," Tamar adds before knocking back the last of her drink. You laugh at them both before guiding Nikolai out.

The alcohol has reduced his normally expansive vocabulary, and excessive capability to talk to the limit of your name. Like a request, a need, a prayer. Only your name over and over.

You're trying to ignore him, he is always charming, always flirty, but this... This feels specific. "Any port in a storm," you mumble. Nikolai drunk as he might be looks offended.

"You doubt my intention," he asks. His smile is soft and his eyes don't leave you, if you didn't know how much he had drank you'd almost believe it was really you he wanted, and not just because you are here and he is drunk.

"I doubt that you would be looking at me with those eyes if you weren't drunk," you tell him, making sure to keep him a distance from the edge of ship.

"I crave you," he admits, looking up at the sky, "you might notice that I'm in love with you to the point of breathlessness, if you weren't always looking the other way."

Your throat is suddenly sand dry and you think you might forget how to swallow, but then Nikolai is tripping up over the deck and you remember just how much he has had to drink. It would be foolish, you tell yourself, to put any merit to drunken confessions, things he would not otherwise say. But it doesn't stop your heart from begging you to reach out to him. But you've gotten pretty good at ignoring your heart until now, why should tonight be any different?

"If you keep walking like that Captain you won't get to your-" he pulls you in close, keeping you steady and your words fall short.

"See," he smirks and you can smell the bourbon, "perfectly balanced."

"It's cruel you know," you tell him, keeping your voice genuine but not scolding. "To play games with someones feelings just because you've had enough alcohol to not think your actions have consequences."

He frowns, and in the moonlight you can recognise that look of hurt in those eyes of his, all traces of Sturmhond long gone and just the boy prince remains.

"Come on," you remind him, "before you start the rumours going about why it took me so long to get back."

You wake him with a tall glass of water and he scrunches his face. "Couldn't you spare me some whisky?"

"After your performance last night?" You laugh, "no, Captain, I don't think I can. You drank like a fish, I can imagine your head hurts."

You're not incorrect, his head does hurt, but he wakes to the pain in his chest running a close competition to the banging in his skull.

His memories break the fog of the thumping pain and he wants to have words with himself, strong and explicit. That is not how he wanted to do things.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I was out of line."

"You were drunk, besides it isn't like I took you seriously, I know better," you tell him. That stings Nikolai more than he thought it would.

"What do you mean by that?" He asks, sitting up right.

"I just mean to say I know you have no real interest in me Captian, so I didn't take drunken flirting to heart," you explain.

"What makes you say that?" He asks. You look at him with softness and you are met with almost sad eyes- needy, wanting, restless. The ocean of emotions swimming in that gaze nearly knocks you breathless.

"I," you manage a breath, "Nikolai you cannot ask me that, it's unfair, if I think about the possibility of your feelings for me too long, I get dizzy and lightheaded. I cannot let myself get lost in the illusion youd have feelings for me, it's not fair to me."

"Do you have feelings for me?" He asks.

"That is a bold and frankly unfair question," you start.

"I have not said an untrue word, sober or otherwise, so I need ask, do you have feelings for me, because I want nothing more than to be clear and honest about the depths of mine."

You feel the air in your lungs tight in your chest. "You meant it?"

"I meant it," the look he holds you with is stronger than any physical grip you've ever known. "Do you?"

"I like you," you say a little coy.

"You... like me?" He smirks, edging closer.

"I really like you," you try, leaning to lessen the space.

"I was hoping for maybe a different word," Nikolai admits.

"Want?" You offer. Something in his eyes lights up.

"Oh, that word might be even better,l"

"Here, now?"

"Those are my favourites so far."

#shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai x reader #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai x you #nikolai lantsov #nikolai duology #rule of wolves #king of scars

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