#i think it's time i get those lyrics tattooed on my arm

[y-eowang]

"They say spring will come faster than last year, But the cold and frozen winter is still here. Don’t worry about what to do, I’m alright, spring will come to me too." Before our spring, Jonghyun.

#shineeedit #shineenet #dailyshinee #boydolnet #boyidoledit #malegroupsnet #dailybg #jonghyun #kim jonghyun #shinee #gifs #gif:shinee #gif:jonghyun #i think it's time i get those lyrics tattooed on my arm #everyone be okay today

[seths-rogens]

cardboard houses, cardboard hearts | M | 1.9k | ao3

should’ve been finishing my infidelity au, but instead the cardboard joe cutout i was given inspired me to crank this out in one sitting,, anyway, please enjoy :)

—————

Eddie often thanks God that he took the leap and moved to Indianapolis after he finally graduated high school. Not that he really believes in God. Just… figure of speech and all. Though, maybe he’d believe in God if they were a metalhead with tatties and an eyebrow piercing, but he thinks that might ruin their image honestly.

He’s getting off topic.

Eddie often thanks God for Indy in moments like these. Moments where he has a fucking beautiful man pinned to his own front door, strong, thick fingers tangling in his hair as Eddie desperately tries to fit his key into the lock. He shoves his thigh between Pretty Man’s legs - he didn’t catch his name - and presses upwards. Pretty Man whines, grinding down and making it all that more difficult to unlock the goddamn door.

“Hold on, Sweetheart. I just gotta-“ Eddie bites back a groan as Pretty Man kisses down his neck, sucking a bruise over his pulse as the key finally slips into the lock. Chrissy’s never gonna let him live the marks down.

He’s surprised he picked anyone up tonight at all. He’d gone to a concert alone for once, as Chrissy was staying at her new girlfriend’s place, and Gareth and Jeff weren’t the biggest fans of his guilty pleasure artist ‘King S’.

And honestly? In any other world. Eddie wouldn’t be either.

King S isn’t his usual style. Where Eddie usually loves a hard drumline, thrashing guitars and lyrics you can only scream, King S is all soft melodies and crooning vocals set to slow drum beats.

He’d stumbled upon him completely by accident, honestly. It’d been a slow day at the record store Eddie manages. He’d been there for nearly five hours and so far he’d only served maybe three customers - and two of those customers were an old couple shopping for their granddaughter. So he’d picked the first magazine he could reach off the stand by the counter, and flipped it open to a random page.

It’d been an interview with King S, who’d just released his first album at the time. He was talking about his inspiration for making music - his best friend and little brother who, he’s quoted as saying, ‘always ragged on him when he played his pop shit in the car’ - and the meaning behind his stage name - reclaiming an old high school nickname he’d been given after his brief stint as a bit of a mean girl, though now he promises he’s using it for good.

He’d flipped the page to find a double page spread of King S curled up in a bathtub. His eyes were squeezed shut through the lacy masquerade mask that was supposedly his staple (no one knew his real identity after all). His hair was messy and flying all over the place. He was…

He was naked. Or at least that’s how it seemed.

His arms and legs were bare, the black and white photo only emphasising the toned curves of the muscles in his arms and back and the dark hair covering those lush thighs.

Call him obvious but Eddie had been intrigued. He knew they’d received a new shipment of records that morning that weren’t supposed to be hitting the shelves until the next day, so he figured what the hell!

Ten minutes later, elbow deep in a shoddily painted green wooden crate, Eddie emerged victorious with King S’s debut album ‘Robins and Tadpoles’ in his hands.

The album cover was two people’s hands clasped together, matching ice cream cone tattoos on both wrists. There was a little dedication on the back. To R & D.

He took it out to the turntable on the shop floor and dropped the needle. When the soft music started, he was hesitant, but as the album moved on he quickly realised he was hooked.

He’d gone into the shop bright and early the next day - on his day off no less - and bought the album. Only slightly laughing at the look on Mike’s - part time Lit student, part time cashier, full time grump - face.

That had been two years ago, and Eddie had been solidly on the King S train since.

Sure, Gareth and Jeff - and Grant too when he was in town - would tease him about abandoning his people, about betraying the freaks and the weirdos, but really they supported his love for the artist, even if they didn’t quite get it.

So when King S announced a stop in Indy on his second album tour, the guys (and Chrissy) had banded together to get him tickets as an early 26th birthday present. Except when the day came, they were all busy, so he went by himself.

He didn’t mind really, was just happy to be there to appreciate the music. (And the man himself, Eddie has eyes, come on now.)

Elated and feeling just a little self fulfilled after the concert, Eddie had gone to his favourite queer/metal bar, Crash. He’s picked people up there before, sure, but they’ve all been metalheads, just like him, and as many of his friends have said in the past, he’s cursed to have the hots for the preppy jock types.

Usually, that’s not the type of guy he’d find in Crash. Tonight was different.

Eddie had been sat at the bar, thinking about King S’s arms beneath the crimson sweater he wore on stage, when a gorgeous man had stepped up beside him to buy a beer. The man was wearing a dark, charcoal coloured t-shirt under a light grey Members Only jacket, paired with light blue levi’s.

Eddie kinda felt his jaw hit the floor. Could this be the perfect end to the perfect night?

This brings us back to now. Eddie finally pushes the door open, swings Pretty Man around and pushes him back against it.

He drops his keys somewhere. It doesn’t matter. He’ll find them tomorrow.

They’re grinding fast against one another now, only their harsh, panting breaths filling the silence of Eddie’s apartment. Eddie slides his hand into Pretty Man’s hair, tugs on this side of too hard. Pretty Man moans, loud, almost echoing, and tilts his head to the side, baring his neck for Eddie to defile.

Eddie leans in, presses his lips to those two little moles, and—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie pulls back to look at Pretty Man’s face. He’s still, not looking at Eddie, instead staring with wide eyes into the open plan of Eddie’s living room.

Eddie follows his gaze and… Oh. Yeah. He forgot about that.

See the King S tickets hadn’t been Eddie’s only birthday gift. He knew this would come back to bite him in the ass, but his friends thought it was hilarious. Eddie thinks they’re assholes.

Because Pretty Man is staring at a life size cutout of King S, standing by the wall.

Eddie winces, pulls away. This guy might not look like a metalhead, but he was in a metal bar, there’s no way he listens to King S. He’s gotta come up with an explanation for this, and fast.

“Um, yeah… About that… would you believe me if I said I didn’t buy it?” He asks sheepishly, avoiding Pretty Man’s eyes.

“You’re a fan?” Pretty Man asks, except he sounds dejected, which Eddie thinks is weird. And actually? Fuck this guy. He’s allowed to like whatever he wants.

“Yeah, man. What’s wrong with that? Maybe it’s not for everyone but King S actually makes really good music.” He gets more than a little defensive, takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“No, no… that’s not what I meant.” Pretty Man raises his hands placatingly.

“Then what did you mean?”

Pretty Man sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “Don’t you recognise me?”

Eddie furrows his brow in confusion. “Do I like, know you or something?”

Pretty Man raises his eyes to the ceiling like this is difficult. “Really? Nothing?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t…” Pretty man nods, sighs, and then walks past Eddie further into the apartment. “Hey, you can’t just—“

“How about now?” Pretty Man asks, stopping right next to the cardboard cut out.

Eddie flits his eyes between the man and the cut out, trying to understand what Pretty Man is getting at until he sighs again, pulls down the sleeve of his jacket to reveal…

A tattoo of an ice cream cone, and suddenly it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. That’s… oh holy ever loving fuck.

“Holy shit!” Eddie exclaims, pointing frantically between Pretty Man and the cardboard. “You’re King S!”

“Yeah. It’s uh, Steve, actually.” Pretty Man, King S, Steve nods, seeming much more shy than he was ten minutes ago. He’s curled his arms around himself, trying to make himself shrink. Eddie feels bad.

“Did you think I was trying to sleep with you because you’re famous?”

“I mean, weren’t you?” Steve won’t meet his eye. Instead he’s staring around the room, taking in all the little details of Eddie’s life.

Eddie takes a step towards him. “No, man. I just thought you were pretty, that’s all.”

“You really didn’t know who I was?” Though he still looks unsure, Steve finally meets his eye.

Eddie shakes his head, coming to a stop in front of Steve. “I didn’t even buy that thing, dude. My friends thought it would be funny because you’re like, the only non-metal artist I listen to.”

Steve smiles at that. He really is so pretty, Eddie can’t help but think. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. Heard your first album right after it came out and I was hooked!” Eddie laughs softly. “I used to be a little bit narrow minded when it came to music, but I heard yours and it’s like the world of music blasted wide open.”

A pretty pink blush spreads its way across Steve’s cheeks. “Oh, uh… That’s really cool. I’m glad you like it.”

“I was at your show tonight, actually.”

“You were?”

“Yeah!” He shrugs. “I used to play in a band in high school, we were never very good but I liked to think I had good stage presence, right?” Steve nods and Eddie grins, leaning in a little. “I was nothing compared to you. It was fucking electric, I felt like my skin was buzzing.”

Steve’s smile seems to grow even wider. He sways forward into Eddie’s space, almost unconsciously. “This might be crazy, but do you wanna start over? Forgo the one night stand and just, I don’t know, get coffee or something? I know this cute little 24 hour place, Victoria Street, it’s only a couple blocks away.”

Eddie narrows his eyes a little. “Stevie… barely anyone knows Victoria Street. Are you, dare I say it… local?”

Steve’s cheeks darken even further. “Maybe.”

Eddie laughs. “Then, I’d love to start over. I wanna get to know you as Steve, not King S.”

Steve slips his hand into Eddie’s, tugs him

back towards the door. “God, how much do you know..?”

“I may have read a couple interviews.”

Steve groans, embarrassed, as the door clicks shut behind them.

Then, a few moments later. “Shit! My keys!”

The date goes well. As does the second, and the third, and so on, and so on. They’re officially exclusive by date 7.

Steve meets Chrissy and the boys on date 20. Eddie meets Dustin and Robin, right before date 45.

On date 94, Steve presents his third album to Eddie. There’s a different dedication on the back cover this time.

To E, my love.

——————

taglist: @judasofsuburbia @gothbat99 @cheatghost @flowercrowngods @fastcardotmp3 @simplebtromance @gonzofromspace

lemme know if u wanna be added to a permanent taglist for anything i do in the future, i’m thinkin’ that might be funky :)

#zee writes #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #the adventures of cardboard joe #<— starting that tag just in case 👀

[iwanty0uu]

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Can I ~Kehlani

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍ��� : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯ ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

“This shit so good like it should be illegal” you said to yourself after discretely taking a puff out of the pre-rolls connie left for you, feet over the arm of the huge chair that held you inside of the common rooms of your college. Notebooks of all colors displayed messily along the table in front of you, filled with doodles of the brain, and respiratory system. You were trying to prepare yourself for your pre-med exam in two days, but you couldn’t help think about him.. How he made you touch the back-board of his bed like you was a free throw, how he spent so much time with you that you found yourself…“Little Miss Scholar” using all his lingo,how his ex-girlfriend claimed he lied when he told u he was single. The way his hands slid in between your thighs, fitting like a puzzle piece that you never knew was missing. How he always said “a sweet girl like you shouldn’t know how to fuck like this cus you fuck me like a porn star.. u sure that I’m ya only one?” How he intertwined his longer tattooed fingers with your own freshly polished ones, and squeezed tighter as he heard the mumbles of your “friends” asking “how the fuck he know her home-body ass?” How he left you in shambles everytime his tongue grazed against your clit, shutting your mouth with his hand when you got too loud in the dorms.

You felt as if your pen went dry because of your day dreaming, you scribbled on the paper attempting to gain some ink flow, but managed to get lost in your thoughts again..

The thoughts about him making you squirt, leaving the juices on his pretty white tee shirt, the same night he convinced you to make a sex tape cus he strokes himself to the bloopers..How your velvety walls clenched around his pink tip as a reward, almost as if they were saying “you lasted long babe you’re a trooper.” Gripping him, forcing him to cum inside you.. “Don’t pull out my love, make me proud n thug it out” you would whisper in his ear, running butterfly kisses along his temple. How he then massaged your clit, squeezing the fat of your thighs, while pussy drunk, muttering about how you’re a keeper..But not just because of how you fucked him senseless considering you didn’t partake in those activities, but because it was never hard to read him, to understand him. He wasn’t like everyone else, and you realized this when you didn’t automatically dislike him, it makes you feel even more confident in your relationship knowing how he always says “Baby i need ya” and not in sexual ways. He made it known that he cared about you because he changed his ways so you can mold into him, gave you room to grow and de-cluttered himself so you could use him as extra space when you needed it, when you were stressed and the burden was too much. How he always thought of you and made it obvious in everything that he did even when he didn’t realize it.

“Damn…” you thought wrapping up your daydream realizing that an hour more than passed. The suns rays danced through the huge windows, slightly blinding you almost as if it was a punishment for getting yourself distracted. Eyes peering at the still notebooks below you, waiting to be used, basically taking up dust because of your negligence. The red water bottle resting in your lap was snatched up as you took sips, ignoring the obnoxious sound of the doors opening in the comms, but off of instinct, you still looked up and made eye contact with the tall man who stood in front of the sun..As if he became your sun for a second, and as he came closer, you noticed the buzz-cut and relaxed, resting the water bottle on the table, trying to stop the smile that crept onto your face…

“Hey, can I come over? Is it okay if I stop by n see u later?”……….

↺ ᴿᴱᴾᴱᴬᵀ ‖ ᴾᴬᵁˢᴱ ≫ ᴺᴱˣᵀ ˢᴼᴺᴳ

this one if for you pook! i highlighted my fav lyrics🥸 @soulaanshere ~𝓁ℯ𝓁ℯ

#connie x black y/n #connie smut #black coded reader #black reader #attack on titan #iwanty0uu #fem reader #aot x y/n #aot fanfiction #aot x black reader #connie x black reader #aot connie #connie springer #aot x you #aot x reader #aot smut #aot #black y/n #black tumblr #black girl magic

[myahfig4]

My Haitani Brothers NSFW & SFW relationship headcons in different timelines

Ran

Doesn't care if his gf style is emos/alternatives, tomboys or girly girls, although I think he has a preference for girly girls.

Likes someone who probably is a bit more mature

Has to get along with Rindou, if Rindou doesn't like her, ran will end the relationship

Likes cuddling during sleep

Someone who stays calm even when fighting/arguing

Takes him a little longer to commit to someone

Likes compliments from his gf

Let's hs gf braid his hair

Likes someone who Can make him laugh

I can see him as both someone who sleeps around, but also I can kind of not see that, he seems to care about his reputation so I don't think he'd want to be known as a fuckboy

I think hes a boob guy, he would want to lay on his gfs boobs when he sleeps sometimes

Daily naps with him

He would keep his gf hidden from the public because he wouldn't want a riverly gang to target her.

He would spoil her.

Would realize he has feelings pretty quickly just wouldn't commit right away

During sex he's a bit gentler, only once in a while would he be rough

He likes when his gf tops him, he can enjoy the view

He's very charming, very quickly gets his gfs parents approval

Likes affection and is affectionate

Bonten timeline might be a bit more of a player but definitely not 24/7, unless he's married or in a relationship

Is definitely a girl dad in bonten and final timeline

During bonten and final timeline When hes in a relationship he would let other girls try to flirt but then laugh or show his ring to them

That man has a big dick, he is tall an lanky an if y'all know anything about tall and lanky men, they are always packing

His dick may be big, but it's a tiny bit skinnier.

In Bonten and finale timeline, would get his kids names and wife's name tattooed on him.

In Tenjiku he would tell the boys he has a gf

During Tenjiku era parties, he would drag his gf everywhere

Would beat the shit out of anyone with his baton if they make any comments about his gf/wife.

Prefers being in the house then in public during Tenjiku era

He's bold

Likes clingy

He says I love you first

Teases his gf/wife a lot

Rindou

Wants a girl who can be his best friend an girlfriend at the same time

Someone who also likes drinking and partying

He would prob stop drinking as much as he does when hes in a relationship

Doesn't care what his gfs style is, he has no preference for emos/alternatives, tomboys, or girly girls

Likes when his gf goes to the gym with him but he won't pressure her into working out

LOVES when him an his gf have the same music taste

During late night car rides, definitely screaming with his girl the lyrics to the music playing

He loves when his gf hypes him up and compliments him when he's DJing and working out

He makes mixes for his gf

Let's his gf sit on his lap when he's making mixes

Likes clingy but also at times needs some space

At first is in disbelief that a girl confessed to him instead of ran

He would put his glasses on top of his gfs head when there's a fight

He is rougher in bed, although the first few times he'll be gentle and once in a while he'll be gentle

He is flexible, best believe he can use those hips and doing lots of positions

Since he's a bit shorter, his dick is average size but he definitely thicker, since he's buff once again he knows how to use his hips

He's more open and public with his gf, he takes her out

Shopping for music cds and dvds

I think he likes matching clothes with his gf

Let's his gf paint his nails

Ran realizes Rindou has feelings for a girl before Rindou realizes, he teases Rindou a lot

I kind of feel like he likes pda

Always has a arm around his gf during parties

Maybe at first keeps quiet about his gf to Tenjiku but eventually tells them, he may be a little insecure that she'd leave him for one of his friends but that's why he waits a bit to tell them but after they know he'll let her meet them

He's a good listener

He may be a little more aggressive during a argument on accident but then quickly apologizes, he doesn't intend to be aggressive

I feel like he's also a gamer, so he plays video games with his gf

Likes cuddling

I think he's a night owl so probably sneaks over to his gfs place in the middle of the night

I can see him being both very bold, but I can also see him being shy and blushing a lot

Definitely is scared to make a good impression when meeting his gfs parents

Lots of play wrestling with his gf/wife and kids

I feel like he would like couples yoga

He wants kids, a boy and a girl

Lots of movie nights

Is an ass guy, although he may also like boobs

During bonten he definitely djs in their clubs and may sleep around a lot, unless he's in a relationship

During Bonten and Final timeline, don't worry about him having wandering eyes, he only has eyes for his gf/wife, if someone flirts with him he will literally ignore her and roll his eyes or go on his phone

I feel like he would take his gf/wife to a club and then take the microphone and tell everyone it's his girls bday

Gets clingy and whiney when he's drunk

Falls in love quickly and easily

Likes reassurance due to his insecurity to being the shadow, younger, weaker and less picked(with girls) brother, although reassurance isn't needed

Rindou probably ha a goofy side

Definitely likes someone who can make him laugh, he may be surprised if his gf shows him her goofy side the first time, then laughs with her

During bonten and final timeline, has his wife/gf and kids name tattooed on him

Would fight anyone who makes a comment about his gf/wife

When it comes to saying I love you. Since I can see him being both bold, and shy, if he's bold then he says it first, if his gf says it first he says it back. If he's shy, he may use song titles or lyrics to indirectly say I love you, if his gf says it first he blushes and may wait a little bit to say it back

#haitani brothers #haitani ran #haitani rindo #haitani rindou #rindou haitani #rindo haitani #ran haitani #haitani x reader #haitanibrothersheadcons #haitani brothers headcons #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev

[storiesforallfandoms]

more than a song ~ alex turner

word count: 2937

request?: yes!

“hi lovely! i wanted to request an alex turner x reader. just something based off of the song you’re so dark by arctic monkeys. he’s been friends with you for a while but a side comment from his girlfriend (something just like she doesn’t get how they’re just friends) and it’s just snaps into place. ig just him writing the song and moments of them together. maybeeeee him jacking off imagining her on all fours 👀. something like that! thank youuuuu”

description: in which he starts by writing a song about his best friend who is much different than him, and it turns into something more

pairing: alex turner x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (male masturbation), kind of cheating since alex is imagining the reader and not his girlfriend (who will be a made up character, not his real girlfriend louise), also the reader doesn’t really know what alex was doing so idk take that into consideration? idk these warnings are a mess now

masterlist (one, two, three)

It all started with a comment his girlfriend, Cheryl, made.

“She’s so dark. How are you two friends?”

They had just left a night out with Alex’s bandmates and his best friend, (Y/N). It was the first time the two women had met, which Alex was hoping would go well since both of them meant so much to him. They had just barley left the bar when Cheryl made the comment.

It amused him so much that he couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Why do you say that?”

Cheryl gave Alex a look. “Really?”

He stopped walking so he could turn to face her. “I’m serious. What do you mean she’s dark?”

“Alex...she talked for nearly an hour about HP Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe.”

Alex waited, expecting her to explain why that was a bad thing. When she didn’t, he said, “Yeah, those are her favorite authors.”

“They’re very depressing authors.”

Alex shrugged. “I’ve never read any of their stuff.”

Cheryl closed her eyes and sighed. “She’s got a very dark personality, Alex. Like murder of crows follow her around, Addams family’s long lost member dark. It’s just weird to me that you’re her friend when she’s so depressing.”

“Hey, you may think that, but she’s still my best friend. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t insult her like that.”

Cheryl crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe I should be questioning your friendship with her in different ways.”

It was safe to say the night did not go as planned. Alex brought Cheryl home in a tense silence. He gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek before she got out without a word, slamming her door shut behind her.

The night had definitely left a slight strain on their relationship. Cheryl had decided that she hated (Y/N) just because of this idea she had that Alex and (Y/N) had romantic feelings for one another, but Alex refused to end his friendship with her when that wasn’t true at all, and when he had known (Y/N) for so much longer than Cheryl. So, even though they decided to continue their relationship, it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing.

But Cheryl’s comment about (Y/N)’s personality stuck in Alex’s mind. He had never noticed a “darkness” to his best friend. She was just (Y/N), the person Alex had known since they were kids. But now he was thinking about the things she liked, and the way she acted and just her general personality. He found himself humming to himself around his apartment; a melody at first, but eventually lyrics started forming in his mind.

“You got your HP Lovecraft. Your Edgar Allan Poe.”

He quickly rushed to his work desk to scribble down the lyrics as they came to his head.

“You got your unkind ravens, and your murder of crows.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he thought of Cheryl’s comment about (Y/N) being like a murder of crows. What Cheryl didn’t know was that (Y/N) had a tattoo along the backside of her left shoulder that was a flock of black birds. They weren’t distinguishable birds, but she often said it was a murder of crows since they were black birds. Cheryl would probably have lost her mind if (Y/N) was wearing anything that would’ve showed off that tattoo.

Thinking of Cheryl caused his mind to wander to the turmoil of their relationship. He looked down at the verse and chorus he had written about (Y/N) and thought about the fact that he was in the process of writing a song for his best friend when he had never had thought about writing one for Cheryl at all since they started dating. Maybe Cheryl was right to think Alex felt stronger feelings than friendship for (Y/N).

He shook his head. No, that’s not it. She’s my best friend since we were kids, and I’ve only known Cheryl for a few months. That’s all it is.

“I know you’re nothing like mine, cause she’s walking on sunshine. And your love would tear us apart.”

Alex was at his desk for nearly an hour putting the song together. He had two full verses and a rough outline for the chorus, but it still needed something more. He was toying around with more lyrics when he started writing, “You watch Italian horror and you listen to the scores. Leather-clad and spike collar, I want you down on all fours.”

“Whoa,” he muttered to himself. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

But now that he had written it, he couldn’t help but picture (Y/N) doing exactly what he had written: on his bed, down on all fours, her ass in the air.

He shook his head. “No,” he scolded himself. “No, stop. This is wrong.”

But he couldn’t stop. He closed his eyes and the image was embedded into his eyelids. He felt himself straining against his jeans as he imagined himself knelt behind her, looking down at her ass in the wear, wearing only a pair of lacy black underwear.

He groaned as he palmed himself through his jeans. The desire was far too strong to ignore. He had to take care of this, otherwise he knew he’d have a nasty ache between his legs that he would not be able to get rid of.

Just one time, he thought. Then I’ll never think of her like this again.

Alex unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them and his boxers down to his knees. His dick was hard as a rock and angry red. He hissed as the cool air touched the sensitive area. He spit on his hand and wrapped his hand around the base. His head tipped back as a moan erupted from his throat.

He closed his eyes and the image of (Y/N) appeared again. Her face buried into the pillow beneath her, moans muffled by the fabric of the pillow. Alex’s dick plunging in and out of her tight pussy, her ass bouncing every time his hips collided with it. He imagined that her moans were as pretty as her regular voice was. Picturing that pretty voice moaning his name caused his dick to twitch in his hand.

The wet sounds of his hand stroking his dick mixed with his heavy breathing and moans filled the room. His mind drifted from having her bent over in front of him to having her sat on his lap in the very chair where he was sat. He imagined (Y/N), still just in a matching lingerie set, pulling him away from his songwriting so she could climb up onto his lap and straddle him. He imagined her pulling the fabric of her panties to the side, a string of arousal connecting her needy hole and the underwear. He could almost feel the warm, wetness of her walls as she sunk herself down onto him, and her lips on his neck as she started to ride him.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “God, that feels so good.”

His desire to have her grew, even though he knew he never would. She was his best friend. There was no way she felt this way for him, too. And he definitely was not going to risk their friendship by bringing these feelings up to her. More than anything, (Y/N) was his friend and he wasn’t about to lose her all together. For now, the only way he’d have her would be in his imagination, and he was more than okay with that.

Behind his closed eyes he could see (Y/N)’s perfect tits bouncing in his face. He squeezed the base of his dick a little tighter as his jerking motions became quicker, almost more desperate. He could feel his high creeping up on him, and he was desperately trying to chase it.

In his mind, (Y/N) was leaning into his ear. In a sexy, sultry voice, he pictured her whispering, “Cum for me, Alex.”

And that was all he needed to go tumbling over the edge. He called out her name into his empty apartment as his hot cum spilled over his hand, lap, and some on his shirt. He mentally cursed to himself for not preparing more for the mess, but physically he felt incapable of fixing it. He let his head rest on the back of the chair as he breathed heavily. When he opened his eyes to finally face reality, he was looking up at the ceiling instead of at (Y/N)’s beautiful face.

There was a slight ringing in his ears as the blood flow from his brain to his dick finally went down. It was loud enough that he almost didn’t hear his phone vibrating on the desk and took him a moment to realize someone was trying to call him. He reached out with his clean hand to look at the caller ID, and his heart skipped a beat when (Y/N)’s name and face popped up on his screen.

Against his better judgement, Alex answered. “Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” (Y/N) asked, a joking tone in her voice. “I’ve sent you, like, five text messages.”

Alex pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the lockscreen to see that (Y/N) had in fact tried to text him.

“Hey fucker, what are you doing?”

“Hello? Alex?”

“Quick wanking off and answer me.” (That one both made him laugh and made his heart pound harder against his chest.)

“Listen, can I come over? I wanted to talk about something.”

“I really hope the reason you’re not answering is not what I think.”

“Sorry, I was - uh - I was busy writing,” he said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. “I got really into it and had my phone on silent. Didn’t even know you were texting me. What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Well, I’m currently parked outside your place. Can I come in to talk about it?”

He felt his blood run cold. (Y/N) was outside his place right now trying to come in to talk to him, meanwhile he was sat at his work desk with cum over himself after jerking off to the thought of her.

This truly could not be any worse.

“Yeah! Yeah, just give me a second,” he said, quickly trying to figure out a solution to this.

“Alex, I’ve known you for years, you do not have to tidy the place up for me,” (Y/N) said.

“I know, I just need to...I just have to do something before you come in. Give me a second.”

He hung up before (Y/N) could protest any further. He quickly took off his already cum-stained shirt and used it to wipe off his hand and the area around his dick. He threw the shirt with the rest of his dirty clothes, tucked himself back into his jeans, and found a new shirt to put on. Just as he was pulling the shirt over his head, the doorbell started ringing. He quickly raced to his front door and threw it open to reveal (Y/N) stood there.

“Are you done whatever you had to do?” she asked, but pushed past him before he could answer.

“Come on in, make yourself at home,” he teased as he followed her in.

“I always do,” she said with a smirk. “You’re lucky I respect your privacy enough that I didn’t just get that hidden spare key and barge in here before I called.”

Very, very lucky for that, actually.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked her as they reached his living room. “Your texts sounded serious.”

(Y/N) sighed and flopped down onto his couch. Alex sat across from her, leaving a decent amount of space between them. His mind was still reeling from the mental images from earlier that he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself to be so close to (Y/N) right now.

But she seemed very troubled, which was very concerning to him. (Y/N) always talked to him when something was wrong, but very rarely did she physically come over to his place to talk about something. He knew whatever it was had to be very serious for her to show up so suddenly like this.

“I ran into Cheryl at the store just now,” she said, looking down at her lap. “And...well...I know she doesn’t like me. I’m not stupid. I know there’s a reason she doesn’t come out anymore when she knows I’m there, and our brief run ins since we first met always include a glare whenever she sees me. Don’t even try to deny it, Alex.”

He wasn’t going to, but his mouth had been open to speak. He wasn’t even sure what he would’ve said, so he closed his mouth again and allowed her to go on.

“I saw her and decided just to try and avoid her. I expected her to do the same. There was really no reason for her to approach me when it was just her, so I thought. But she came right up to me in the middle of an aisle and she...well, the best way to describe it is she went off on a tirade about not liking me and how she wishes you would just stop being friends with me, and even told me that I should be the one to end our friendship so that she didn’t have to stress about me and you anymore.”

Alex’s hands balled into fists on his lap. He couldn’t believe Cheryl would really go up to (Y/N) like that when he wasn’t around. Like (Y/N), he figured that Cheryl would’ve just walked the other way and left her alone since she disliked her so much. But to go up to his best friend in a public and to go as far as telling her to stop being friends with him for the sake of a relationship that wasn’t even a month in was further than he ever expected her to go.

“I thought you weren’t responding because she got to you first,” (Y/N) continued. “I thought she was going to come to you with some made up bullshit saying that I was the one who attacked her or something.”

“I haven’t heard from her,” Alex said. “I guess she’s waiting till whenever I see her next.”

“Listen, I’m sorry that I’m causing this strain on your relationship - ”

Alex reached out to take (Y/N)’s hand to cut her off. The contact sent a spark through him, but he tried his best to ignore it.

“You’re not the one causing any strain to my relationship. Cheryl is. She’s the one who is feeling so insecure about our relationship that she has to go as far as calling you down to the dirt while I’m not around. I’ve tried everything to assure her there’s nothing to worry about between us, but it’s not enough for her. I think...I don’t think I can continue this relationship with her. Especially not after what you told me.”

(Y/N) looked down at their joined hands. In a soft voice she said, “She’s a fucking bitch.”

Alex smiled and chuckled softly. (Y/N) did as well, and eventually, they were both laughing at her comment.

When the laughter died down silence fell over them. Neither one of them knew how to break it, but they didn’t really feel like they had to. Silence always felt comfortable between the two of them. They never felt like they had to speak if they didn’t want to. They could just sit like this for hours and it would be fine.

But their hands were still joined together. (Y/N) was tracing circles in the back of his hand with her thumb, almost absentmindedly. He liked the feeling of her hand against his. He never wanted to let go of her.

“You said you were writing when I came?” she finally asked, looking up at him. “Anything good?”

“Oh, um, I think so? I haven’t really put it together properly. It’s just a couple verses and a chorus that I have to finish.”

“Can I hear it? Or see what you have written, at least?”

His face burned at the question. He knew he was definitely blushing by the way that a confused look creeped on (Y/N)’s face. How did he show her this song, which was clearly about her and included a line about wanting to fuck her, and not absolutely ruin their friendship in this moment?

“I-I guess, if-if you wanted to,” he stuttered. “But, um...it’s...it’s a little embarrassing because...well, you were my muse for it.”

Her face seemed to brighten. “Really? You were writing about me?”

“Yeah. There’s some lyrics...well, you’d know it was about you the song is released so I guess there’s no getting around it, there’s some lyrics that are a bit...more than friendly.”

And there it was. There was no taking it back.

He watched her face, trying to gauge what her reaction to that revelation would be. She was just looking at him for a moment, as if registering his words, before a smirk crept across her face.

“Then show me,” she told him, her voice low and sultry the exact same way it had been in his imagination.

And Alex swore he had never been more excited than in that moment.

#alex turner #alex turner imagine #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #arctic monkeys #arctic monkeys imagine #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Morning Things (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: It’s another morning in Eddie’s room, just a slice of peace before you have to face the world.

AN: Found an old Eddie fic in my OneDrive back when I still fancied him/liked Stranger Things lmaoo, might as well post it.

Reader is gender neutral, no use of Y/N.

Masterlist

You didn’t realise that you were being greedy when you first woke up. As you rolled over to your back, you found your body was bundled up in the double duvet, which you sent sprawling out as your legs and arms stretched out across the span of the boxspring bed. A distinct dip cradled your head, between the two pillows that assigned sides to you and your boyfriend. Cracking open your eyes revealed the ceiling - the only dull wall in this room. 

It was like rolling to see the posters popping off their paper roused your other senses. You felt the entire duvet around you with no tug of war from Eddie to retrieve his fair share. No contact was made no matter where your hands reached. 

The twang of a beloved electric guitar caught your ears. No amp powering its usual timbre, its strings pinged against Eddie’s calloused fingertips before pausing. The man was down to his boxers, his instrument balanced across a bare thigh, and a sleeveless shirt hung off his shoulders to expose most of his tattoos to the break of dawn. Eddie placed his pick between his lips, swapping it with the pen already in there so he could scribble in his song book in front of him. He hummed the tune as he scribbled. He began mumbling then some semblance of lyrics emerged through half-closed lips before he flipped back to his pick to strum again. Once he’d repeated the tune, he experimented with a new sequence but winced, shaking his head with his mop of hair following behind.

Groggily, you managed to say, “Morning.”

The second Eddie laid his eyes on you, he dropped the pen from between his teeth, threw off his guitar, and dropped his pick onto his open song book. 

“Oh, I was enjoying that,” you complained pathetically.

Completely disregarding what you said as he crawled over you, Eddie’s nose nudged up against yours. 

“Good morning, sweet thing,” he grinned whilst he balanced over you. 

After stretching up, you rested your arms around his neck and anchored Eddie into the bed, half laying atop you. 

“What were you playing?” You sighed against his neck. 

“Just mucking around, throwing some bits I’ve been thinking of together. Seeing if they mesh.”

“And do they?”

“They’re starting to align.” Eddie rolled over onto his back, bringing you with him as he gestured above you, “I gotta encourage them to get their shit together a little more before I can show you.”

“Can’t fucking wait,” you said into the ticklish tips of his curls. 

Eddie kissed the crown of your head, “You gonna get up?”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“You inspire me no matter where you are. From lying here in my bed,” He waved grandly to wear his feet almost hung off the end, “To perched at the end of it.” You let out a close-mouthed giggle, invoking Eddie to do the same and allow those dimples to peep out of his cheeks, his hand crossing behind your back and squeezing you as he said, “So, you got places to be?”

“Nowhere but next to you.” 

“Does that include the bathroom?”

“You wanna shower together again, after what happened last time?”

“I was thinking more like pooping together.”

Hiding in his neck again, you groaned, “Eddie.”

“I feel like we’re at that stage in our relationship.”

“Nothing like communal shitting to inspire your next big hit, I guess,” and you pushed up a little, “Wanna stay here a bit longer first.” To sweeten the deal, you squashed his left cheek with your lips, smacking them loudly when you slumped back down into him. 

Accepting the bribe, Eddie tightened his grip around you and said serenely, “I can make time for that.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #my writing #wc: <1k+ #r: gn

[stcrgazings]

like a tattoo ➳ (c.l)

part two is up and you can read it here

note: sooooo I literally wrote this out of nowhere, but i like how it turned out, it’s nothing like the song really buttt it has some of its lyrics so it only seemed fitting to name it that. thx to my girly @hey-kae who was my beta reader, and convinced me to post this, love ya. happy reading and don’t be a ghost reader!

pairing: charles leclerc x female reader

summary: in which you’re having a very hard time trying not to think about your ex-boyfriend charles, and with his dnf in the first race of the season, everything seems to remind you of him.

warnings: use of alcohol, lots of swearing (mostly fuck), a very heartbroken reader, mentions of a dick-ish charles, smoking ¿?? kinda

word count: 1,5K (it’s a shortie but I promise is soooo good)

“and it’s a Ferrari slowing down guys, and it looks like it’s Leclerc” the commentator in the tv says and your heart immediately drops.

Yes, you hate him, and don’t even wanna look at his face ever again but your heart still aches for him and the way his team is failing him yet again in what is barely the first race of the season.

Your model friend turns to look at you as the stylist sips you up over the black tube dress and fixes your hair in the tight ponytail that adorned you head.

“That’s karma” says the girl besides you, as you inevitably roll your eyes.

“That’s one way to call it” you say and everyone in the room that was starting at you bursts out in laughter.

You wanted to hate him, you really did, but you couldn’t help but wanting to text him after that awful race for him.

But fuck him, right?

He had a championship to win, at least that what he said when he broke up with you cold blooded, so yeah, fuck him and his stupid unreliable little red car.

you look at yourself in the mirror and smile at the reflection, you’re pretty, the most wanted model of every single luxury brand, and you eventually will get over him.

So you say your goodbyes as you exit the Prada building after signing yet another contract to add to your portfolio, your girl best friend hooked in your arm as you both giggled softly about where you both will be partying that nigth.

“But in Monaco right?” She asks as you both enter the limousine waiting for you at the front.

“Yeah I guess” is all you answer as you manager turns to look at you both.

Your hand lingers through your phone and eventually Charles contact, you wanted to text him, but at the end you decide against it, but something in the back of your mind tells you to unblock him and so you do.

Maybe some vodka will give you the courage to text him, or at least to hook up with someone else to forget about those haunting green eyes.

“We’re going to a club” you answer, finally lifting your eyes from the device your managers face quickly going pale.

“You really think that’s a good idea?” He asks serious, you roll your eyes.

“Why?” You play dumb as your friend besides you giggles.

“Bella don’t support her!” He complains.

“I’m actually curious why not?” The model asks again, also playing dumb, the man in front of you squeezing his fists as the both of you gang up on him.

“You going out partying and getting hammered when your ex just got his ass kicked at the race, how do you think the media would react to that?”

you meant this with absolutely every bone of your tiny body, when you say this;

“Do you really think I care what the media thinks? Fuck them for all I care” You spit and Bella besides you claps and cheers and picks a fight with your manager who is clearly unhappy with your plans of the night, he lists all of the cons and the reasons you should stay at home tonight.

“It’s a Sunday y/n, for gods sake!” He says but you didn’t listen and truly did not care a bit.

This is what you’ve been doing for the pasts weeks to try and cope with what he had done to you, and you hated yourself for not just getting over him.

Because it’s not like he was boyfriend of the year when you two were together, in the last months of your relationship he barely even acknowledge you, and he had dump you over call after what it was the biggest fight of your relationship.

Because you had exploded out frustration from his constant indifference, and dick ass attitude, and then ditched the apartment you both shared together.

So naturally when when he called you hours later you thought it was maybe to fix the things between the both of you.

But boy were you wrong.

Somewhere along the lines of “you’re just a model you don’t understand anyway” and “text me when you come get your things” the person you had love the most for the longest time broke your heart and didn’t looked back.

And so you went into self defense and destructive mode and if he didn’t looked back neither did you, blocking him in every social media known to men.

And like that you were strangers with who one was your favorite person in the entire earth.

And so if you wanted to go and get completely hammered after he lost a stupid race you would.

(…)

The Weeknd was playing as you downed another shot with people surrounding you as they cheered you on.

you were pretty wasted, but you still couldn’t get the Ferrari driver out of your mind.

All that you could think about was him, how much you missed him, and how much you wanted him right now.

As you danced with strangers hand all over your body you couldn’t help but remember his.

You remembered his hands, the way you would squirm under his touch, how he would show you how the stars looked like with just his fingers, the way his hands fit practically like they were meant to be holding yours, how good it feel when they were wrap around your neck, and how he would woke you up with them as he tickle you in to his arms, the way he held you at night as you both talk about your days and how much you missed each other.

Suddenly it all feels like too much, you pushed the stranger away from you, his grab in you becoming overwhelming and you need air, a single tear running trough your cheek and you can’t breath and it’s so unfair.

It’s unfair because you’ve had the worse months of your life and he had just moved on, with who used to be one of your best friends.

(Or at least that’s what every single media outlet said)

And you probably shouldn’t believe it but you still remembered the bile coming up your throat as you stared at the pictures of them at the Paris Fashion Week.

So you sit with your head thrown back in on of the sofas of the private booths at the club, and as the air conditioner hit your face, you remembered his hands and the way the mountains looked when you took that trip to the French Alps last Christmas, and you wanted to sob because of how awful it all felt and how much your body ache for him, you close your eyes and take some deep breath, and you can almost feel his lips against yours, you can almost see the life shooting diamonds from his eyes, his beautiful eyes.

The ones that would haunt you at night when you couldn’t sleep because all you did was think of him, how he was doing, if he missed you as much as you did him.

“You want a cig? Looks like you need it” a stranger asks in front of you, you mumble a no as you can, being so lost in your own head.

For the longest time Charles was by far, in your books at least the best person in the world, always so happy and perky, his smile lighting up your days, and nights, always so hungry for life, wanting for you to know the world the same way he did, always so passionate about the things he loved, always so passionate and loving of you.

You can’t help but wonder when it all went wrong, maybe somewhere between France and Abu Dhabi, the last being the last time you remembered being genuinely happy beside Charles, because yes he had come second in the championship but you remembered the way he held you up and kissed you in the hotel room and for a moment you thought you both will be fine.

But when you reach the top, it comes the fall.

And it was all fighting and misunderstandings and misery because you just wanted to be with him but he just wouldn’t let you.

Now you were there, still falling, wanting to forget about those times when you were happy with him.

He moved on, why couldn’t you?

Sitting there you beg for the universe to help you, to give you a sign, anything really, that eventually things would change, that you would stop feeling this way, that the hole inside your chest would disappear and finally the air would feel the way it’s supposed to and breathing and waking up in the morning wouldn’t be as hard as it had been lately and happiness would return your way and things would get better.

Obviously the least that you expect is your phone screen lighting up.

Especially with the name of the one that hadn’t been able to leave your mind in the entire night.

Suddenly and “I miss you” text from Charles hits you out of nowhere like a brick in the face.

Maybe you’ll take that cigarette now.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #f1 oneshot #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc one shot #f1 fic #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc drabble #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x female character #f1 x reader #f1 angst #ferrarri #charles leclerc angst #bahrain gp 2023 #f1 one shot #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x reader

[iiheartstef]

Agora hills

pairing: switch!matt x famous!black!fem

summary: You and matt go to a fancy restaurant and make a really important decision, but end up in the bathroom.

Warnings: Smut, pet names (mama, ma), hair pulling, public sex. i think that’s it..?

word count: 7.7k

Authors note: Guysss my first fic, this is for @annamcdonalds67 song writing challenge😍🩶 if you pay close attention lyrics from the song happen in the fic so that’s cute. but don’t judge this is my first one, feedback is always appreciated🩷🩷 but yea i hope y’all enjoy (:

★·.·´¯`·.·★. Ⓢт𝔢𝔽𝓲𝔼. ★·.·´¯`·.·★

Mattyy🩷😍- hey mama, lemme take you out to dinner to take your mind off everything?

wife🩶- yea really need to clear my mind😭 when u need me to be ready?

Mattyy🩷😍- whenever, i’m not gonna rush you today is for u

wife🩶- thx matty i’ll text u 10 minutes before?

Mattyy🩷😍- bet. love u mama

wife🩶 loved this message

you get up and look in your closet and find the sluttiest black dress you can find and put on your black furry boots. you sit at your vanity mirror and curl your fresh silk press.

as you walk outside you see matt close his door and walk over to the passenger side.

“you look gorgeous mama, i love this dress on you” matt says as he opens his arms to hug you “thank u matty, i love ur jeans and tee” you laugh

matt hugs you then slaps then takes your ass in his big hands “stoppp matt” he laughed lightly then closed your door for you then went and got in the drivers seat.

Fast forwarding to the amazing restaurant matt took you to you guys sit down and order. “princess how are u feeling about the whole situation?” matt shifts in his seat a little “well i had some time to actually think about it and ion really give a fuck what yours or my fans think about us. now, i feel like we should come out about our relationship”

“i feel the same way. i hate that nick can’t post those cute pictures he always takes of us for the photo dumps.” matt reaches his hand to mine and holds it and you look at them because you’ve always loved his tattoos.

“me too matty, you know i value pda so much and it irritates me that i can’t embrace it as much as i want.” you sigh a little. “but if you really wanna do this you gotta understand your name is gonna be in the streets and my fans are gonna be looking at you and judging your every move”

niya looks in matt’s eyes for any type of regret or fear. “i don’t care what anybody has to say about us mama, i love u and we’re gonna make this last.” matt leans over the table to give you a ki-

all of a sudden a blonde waitress slams the plates on the table startling both of you. “aren’t you matt sturniolo? not to sound childish or anything but i love the videos you make. i actually suffer with anxiety and depression.” she claims and messes with her hair

you and matt both share a sideye. “uh thanks i appreciate the support.” she then turns her attention to you.

“oh! hello i didn’t see you there..” she says as she looks you up and down

“can you leave now. we have our food and we don’t need anything else.” matt says keeping an angry expression on his face. “um i was just being nice but ok.” she storms off

“thank you matt, i know how hard it is for you to respond to awkward shit like that.” you smile and walk to his side of the booth. “thanks mama, she was just doing too much and i didn’t like how she was looking at you”

1st pov

i kiss him and slowly lower my hand down to his bulge. “ma cmon we’re in public..” he shifts his legs

“it’s okay matty we’re in the back corner and everyone is in the club section. lemme thank you”

matt lets out a relaxed sigh as i go under the table. i unzip his pants and palm his hardness making it grow a bit in his boxers.

“fuck mama, please” i look up at his pretty face and smile while i pull down his boxers

his shaft pops out of his boxers. tip already leaking precum “you gonna be a good boy and be quiet?”

“yes mommy i’ll be a good boy, just touch me please” just when he said that i slammed my soft hand down his throbbing length hearing some gentle whimpers from matt

when he least expects it i shove all of his dick down my mouth earning a loud moan from him

i slowly take it out your mouth “matt what did i say about being quiet?”

“i’m sorry mommy it felt so good” i pull his boxer up and get from under the table to sit on his lap to straddle him

“mama please can we just go to the bathroom i need to be in you” he pleads looking in your eyes “yea cmon hurry up”

i pull his pants down and trail my tongue by his ear..down his neck..and down his arm and kiss every one of his tattoos.

“mommy please please” just as he says that i shove his dick down my throat and start bobbing up and down “ohhhh fuckkk faster mama”

just as i feel his dick twitch in your mouth he pulls out and bends me over the sink “can i?” he says as i look at him through the mirror and nod my head

then he slams his length in and me moan loudly “you like that mama?” he grunts. i nod my head not wanting to speak because of how good he feels

matt grabs my hair softly but quickly and pulls my head up so i can look in his eyes “you need to use words ma before u regret that shit” he says as he starts to go slower in pace and pulls my dress all the way up so he can cup my titties

“yes baby i love it please go faster” i beg and he smiles and kisses my lips “yes ma’am” just as he speeds up his pace there’s a knock on the door..

matt pulls out slowly and mouths to see who it is. “matt what the fuck i don’t wanna do it you do it!?” he rolls my eyes “the faster u answer it the faster we can finish.” i sigh and open the door and see the waitress from earlier

“yes?” i say opening the door which matt is behind, and not showing my bottom half of my dress which he pulls up and gently grazes my heat with his thumb

“you’ve been in there for almost 10 minutes what are you doing?!” the waitress says trying to peak in the bathroom. right as she says that matt slides in two of his long slender fingers and i sharply inhale.

“well if you don’t leave soon then i’m gonna have to kick you out. not matt tho because he isn’t in here i guess.. where is he by the way?” she smirks at me

matt speeds up his pace and adds in his tongue. “ahh.. matt.. is in the mens. restroom. can you leave him the fuckkk… alone he does NOT want you” i say slurring my words a little but trying my hardest to make it unnoticeable

i can feel matt smirking against my heat but goes faster. “ugh i didn’t want his ass anyway. you guys are both ugly. his dick is probably small too” the waitress smiles and walks off

you take a deep breath and thank god she’s gone and you slam the door shut. “fuckkk matt i’m gonna cum” matt gets up and plops you on the sink and gets back to work…

he turns you around and bends you over the sink again going at a ungodly pace while placing his hands on both sides of your ass. you feel your high just as he says “fuck mama i’m gonna cum” you lift your head making him to kiss you and he sticks his tongue down your throat then you feel him whimper which lets you know he’s close

“cmere mama take it down your throat” matt pushes you to your knees and grabs the back of your head and thrusts his dick in your throat.

“mama i’m cumming fuck fuck fuckkk” he lets out a thick load of warm cum in your mouth “swallow it all baby” he smirks and kisses you after you do.

you too walk out of the bathroom and see the waitress staring you both down “we didn’t even get to eat.” you pout “i’ll buy you chipotle on the way home mama i’m sorry”

#matt sturniolo #black reader #smut #first fic #song challenge #bwwm wmbw

[thatsdemko]

tim mcgraw - d.ricciardo

masterlist

t-swift inspired works list

requested: n

pairings: Daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

warnings: none???

a/n: if you catch the other debut reference you’re a real one!!!👀

And I was right there beside him all summer long

And then the time we woke up to find that summer gone

he never listens to the country stations. not ever since he left you, but he found himself reaching for that button that you pressed to save the station. it’s fuzzy at first, he must’ve been too far out to catch a signal, but finally the song comes to the radio and of all songs that radio station could play it’s that Tim McGraw song, can’t tell me nothin’, the one you’d sing at the top of your lungs.

you’ve infected his life, it spread from his heart to the stereo in his car, now he can’t stand the song. the memories flood to the front of his mind just as he reaches to turn it off. he thinks if he can turn off the radio it’ll stop the memories, but it’s too late.

THEN

“come on, just one more time!” you holler from the bed of the truck watching him unplug his phone from the aux as he shakes his head. the same country song has been on repeat all night, he can hardly get a word in with you as you scream your favorite lyrics over and over again.

he hops out of the drivers seat, moving back towards the bed and climbing in with you. two of you beneath the stars in a field behind his yard.

the august heat in Australia was dying down, it’s the last bits of summer before everything changes. before you have to leave and he has to train. august is like the last goodbye to everything good that ever happen in the summer. you hate to say goodbye to Daniel, the man who’s made your summers feel so short and worth the your trip home.

you sigh moving closer to him, you’re going to miss those tan arms, tattoos that litter his body, his infectious smile, and that beautiful laugh. there’s no way this is the end, it can’t be. you want this night to last forever.

“can we dance?” you whisper, eyes moving upwards towards the sky. the stars are shining extra bright out here, not a cloud or skyscraper in sight. just their light and you both.

“you know I don’t dance.” he lies, the laughter rumbles through the both of you as you move off the bed of the truck and he shuffles through his phone to find a song. of course, the one he lands on is in favor of your pleads. that Tim McGraw song.

“you like me enough to play it so much.” you smile wrapping your arms around his torso, two of you swaying to the music. he just presses a kiss to your head, the lump in his throat is too present for him to say anything, he knows he’ll just get choked up.

“did you know your eyes are brighter than the stars?” he says, your beautiful irises flicker up to his and its a good enough excuse for his lips to crash against yours. you should’ve known that was just an excuse for a kiss, and you don’t mind. you allow his lips to stay longer than they normally do, this might be the last kiss you ever share.

tomorrow, he’ll be just another stranger in your book of life.

When you think Tim McGraw

I hope you think my favorite song

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[killersfool]

You Might Get What You Want | ROBERT KEATING

PAIRING: robert keating x original f!character

GENRE: childhood frenemies to lovers

SUMMARY: lucia (luz), nieve ella’s keyboardist, has an estranged history with inhaler—especially with the band’s bassist, bobby. their fiery hatred for eachother rapidly blossoms into something sweet, especially when she learns that he wrote a song about her.

WORDS: 5.8k

WARNINGS: kissing, swearing, alcohol use, mild sexual content

Being Nieve Ella's keyboardist has completely altered the course of my life. Only eight months ago, I was doing my second year of uni, trying to get through a Music course and completely regretting all of my life choices. My favourite part of the day would be getting home and sitting at my piano, writing songs and posting them on Tiktok. Views racked up, followers kept coming in and I think I realised how well everything was going when Laufey commented on my cover of 'Like The Movies'. Then about two weeks later, an email shot through my phone—literally like a bullet to skin. I dropped the rectangular device to the ground mid-lecture, hand on my mouth, teeth in my lip. 

Nieve Ella had asked me to join her on tour. With Inhaler.

At first I was laughing, then I was bawling with endless tears of happiness and now I'm on my final show still feeling woozy and adrenaline is banging through my brain. The whole band have become my best friends. And, quite shockingly, me and Inhaler have a weird shared history. I've known them since I was really young. I used to watch their first gigs at tiny venues where they'd run around in the crowd and hardly anyone knew the lyrics. I went to the same school as Bobby, Eli and Ryan who were a bunch of madmen. They'd let me hang out with them backstage or at practice and jam before they finally found a 'proper' keyboardist (Louis). To be honest, I'd always been slightly salty that I never got into the band. But I guess we were never close enough and I could be quite horrible to Bobby — but honestly, he deserved it. He was a whiny, teenage nightmare. Still is. Except he's not a teenager anymore.

Thankfully, Nieve Ella and the band take a train separate to Inhaler. I don't have to hear Bobby's jests 24/7.  Today we're heading to Dublin. The final stop of the Cuts and Bruises tour. It's been a long ride but it's all been worth it. I've had the best time ever. I'm listening to the Strokes, a song Bobby recommended to me a few weeks ago. It's been on my mind ever since and I can't stop hearing the same chords and riffs over and over. Even when my headphones leave my ears. The song is 12:51 and funnily enough Bobby has a tattoo right on his bicep with those exact numbers. The lads gave us a rather enjoyable tattoo tour with reasons for each of their inked designs. 

I lay back my head against the cushioned seat.  I like this, I prefer it to what I was doing before. The constant stress, the exams,  the structure. I like the freedom of doing shows and seeing new people and travelling to new places. Never sure what you're in for. Crowd after crowd with all different energies and enthusiasm. The adrenaline rush is the best part of the day but when you wake up the following morning, it's like the life has been sucked out of you. You feel like nothing. Human. A person with legs and arms. Flailing around with no thoughts in your head. A billion times worse than a hangover. Post concert depression.  The lull after such a powerful high. It's nice to go through that hell with a group of friends who all feel the same way. Becomes a strange group therapy.

For the past hour, I've been begging Josh to tell me what is on the set list. I'm praying they'll add some different songs. Older ones. Seeing as it's the last show of the tour. Something to surprise the fans. Maybe 'Falling In' or 'There's No Other Place' or even my favourite 'You Might Get What You Want'. That was one that was written when Rob was the lead singer of the band. When I'd bang the keys in that garage. When we'd sing the lyrics together and sound like an awful church choir. I never got the chance to listen to it live, performed properly by the band. I'm still heartbroken they didn't leave it on the track list for the album. I have to resort to listening to illegal Spotify versions. 

I feel like crying everytime I remember this is the last show I might ever do with Inhaler. The last time I might see the lot of them. They'll surely disappear off into the shadows once tour is over, making their next album, cutting off all contact to focus solely on their music. After spending so much time with a group of people, then completely losing them from your life, you just feel so very empty. Like a swimming pool with no water. Or a mug of tea left hollow after spilling it all by accident. Last night — I would never dare to admit this to anyone — I cried for two hours straight into the pillow of my hotel room. Tour is a glorious thing. Fun, exciting, terrifying all at the same time. But the thought of finality is what split me into pieces, broke me up and squeezed tear after tear from my eyes.

Fran keeps looking at me with raised eyebrows like she's about to ask a question. She's scribbling on her set list, making sure she knows exactly what's happening and when. Her earrings twinkle as she tilts her head, her eyeliner sharp and perfect. Her mouth parts the slightest bit to reveal white teeth, a small smile. "You alright there, Luz?"

God, anytime someone asks me that, it makes me want to cry ten times more. I look down the train compartment, stare at the bathroom and decide whether to make my move. Do I run and hide in there for the duration of the trip, two hours of crying into mouldy train toilet paper? Or do I try to brave it and tell her how I feel? Or just lie through gritted teeth? She's good at reading me. She'll know that I'm not telling the truth.

"Don't tell Nieve this but I feel like absolute shite." There it is. I said it. Fire sinks into my skin, blood rushes up to my head. I squeeze my cheek to make sure I am actually sitting here and that I'm not hallucinating. Lack of sleep had made me seem some weird shit. I need caffeine. Quick.

"We all do." Fran puts her hand on top of mine. "Look, one more show, then we can sleep for as long as we want."

"That's the thing. I don't want this to end."

Fran gets up from her seat and swivels around the table. She sits down beside me, arms opening up and embraces me until I think I see stars. No one has ever hugged me so tightly. My bones seem to audibly shift. 

"Nieve's doing a few shows in February, remember? And I'm sure next time Inhaler tours, they'll be on their hands and knees begging for us to come back." She strokes my hair. "Although, Bobby might be telling us to bugger off instead. You two need to sort out this drama. It's driving us all mad."

"He started it." I sound like a three-year-old irritated at my brother. 

Fran laughs to herself. "Fucking hell. I bet he did." 

—

Arguing. It's happened again. Our last day together has gone to a great start.

First stop of the day—a random restaurant that Ryan dragged us to. Hugs were shared, kind words uttered, teeth glowing under dim lights. I sit down on a wooden chair, peel my jacket from my body and place it on the back. The cool wind is slamming against the windows. I'd forgotten how cold Dublin was. Especially in November. Some Christmas lights adorn the streets and pubs are lively with masses of people. We were stopped a only once on the way there by a group of fans—even our attempt at scuttling through empty alleyways didn't work when five friends with Inhaler-themed cowboy-hats impeded our trail. They were lovely. Photos taken and compliments exchanged. Sadly, Bobby was in a bad mood. When I say a bad mood, I mean a 'I want to kill everyone on this planet and throw myself on a train track' kind of bad mood. He hid away from the fans, behind me and Nieve. His height wasn't particularly helpful in that instant. The blonde, 'Amelie', had said in her thick French accent, "Is that Bobby? I was wondering where he was."

Caught. Found. He thought staying there for a while longer would make them think he wasn't there at all. Amelie was persistent, however, and said softly, "Please could I take a picture with you?" 

Her friends all started whispering. Eli was tapping his friend on the shoulder to get him to move. He was frozen. Eli frowned and shook his head. 

"Sorry but Rob's being a bit weird today," Josh explained. "I don't think he wants any photos."

Amelie nodded, but the sadness in her eyes was apparent. "That's okay."

I felt bad for the girl. I turned around, looked at Bobby. He was on his phone. Scrolling through Tiktok still crouched down. A quick look at his phone screen showed me that he was watching edits — edits of himself. I had to take a double take to actually believe what I'd just seen. He was staring at clips of himself, smiling, and wouldn't even stand for five seconds next to a girl who'd paid to see his band. He continued to swipe his thumb against the screen, blue eyes lit up by his bright phone.

Then his eyes caught mine and he closed the Tiktok tab. "You didn't see that, did you?" He worriedly spoke so unbelievably quickly, I had to scramble my brain to decipher the words. His smile flipped upside down. Shock written all over him. Blush rising right up to the tips of his ears. 

"The hell is wrong with you?" I muttered. Nieve heard. She stepped away. She did not want to be involved in whatever the two of us were plotting. 

"What's wrong with me?" He breathed. It's like he was asking himself the question but there was an unyielding harshness to his voice, raspy and agitated. I was sure that this argument was going to be just as bad as the Sid Vicious incident, or worse. Halloween Bobby was on a different wavelength — bordering on depravity.

"You're watching fucking Tiktok edits of yourself. Didn't think you could be that self-centered—"

"Can we not do this now? Please?" Bobby tried to get me to calm down. Amelie and her friends were still only metres away, asking Josh about the tour, about the next album. Fran was listening in. She was smiling to herself. Part of her definitely enjoyed the beef between us. 

"Show me your Tiktok."

"No."

"Now."

He sighed. I grabbed his phone, opened Tiktok straight away. His whole 'For You' page was edits of himself. The account he was on was a fake user account. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"What the hell..." Was all I could manage to say.

"I can explain."

"Can you? Go on then."

He didn't say anything. Took his phone back and kicked the brick wall beside him. He shook his phone around like he was going to throw it as well. That wouldn't change anything. I'd seen the worst of it — at least I hoped I'd seen the worst of it.

"Take that photo with those girls and I'll shut up about this." I gave him an option. A way to let him get out of the hole he'd dug for himself. 

He was so tall. Sometimes I forgot that. But there, back straight, no longer slouched and his neck craned to meet my eyes. I couldn't hold eye contact. His clenched jaw was making me nervous. 

"Fine." He finally concluded the argument with a single word. His index finger then pointed towards me, just beneath my neck. "But you don't tell anyone about this."

I grinned. "I promise." 

Stepping over towards Amelie, he smiled widely, put an arm over her shoulder and allowed Fran to take the picture of the group. Moments later he was complaining about his shoes. How they were too small. If Robert Keating had a chance to complain about anything, he'd take it and wouldn't shut up about it. I just knew at that point that we'd be hearing about his shoes for the rest of the day.  

Tension is thick in the restaurant. I can almost taste it in my mouth. Rob sits beside me. I don't want to look at him, don't want to hear him talk, don't want to have anything to do with him. He's only the only person I won't miss once this tour is over.

Before anyone can get a word out, Eli taps his fork against his glass. All eyes fall to him. Grace is next to him, she's appeared out of nowhere. 

"I just want to say thank you to Nieve, Fran, Lucia, Finn and Matt for being such great openers on our tour. We're so grateful for all of you. This wouldn't have been the same without you."

"Aw, Eli, I might cry a bit, please stop." Nieve shakes her head, holding her napkin to her eyes. "This has been such a dream. We should be thanking you for giving us this opportunity."

"We need to do this again sometime." Ryan pitches in. "Next time we tour, you're coming with us."

"Yeah. That would be grand," Josh exclaims, pulling up his pint of Guinness and crashing it against everyone else's.

Bobby, after all his hours of complaining, has gone back to silent, angry mode. Playing around with his fork, he stares blankly at the menu, fingers tracing the lettering. I watch him as the others melt into conversation. I just want to know what is going through his head. Why is he acting like this? Last week, he was fun to be around and we had a good time. Especially when he's drunk, he loosens up a bit and stops with the facade. He even kissed me once. As a joke. I think.

It was a mess of alcohol. A 'midnight tour bus party'. We were in London and instead of going to the hotel, we ended up spending the night in the lovely green tour bus. We all got so drunk we could hardly speak. I can't remember all that we got up to but when we were sobering up, Bobby dragged me outside of the bus. He gave me his jacket, placed it over my shoulders. We sat down on a random doorstep, hugging each other to keep warm. Two penguins. Two people who usually hated eachothers guts, finding comfort in the warmth that emanated from our bodies. I'd never thought his hair was nice until that moment. How it grazed over my neck. How the curls twisted perfectly and his overgrown mullet framed his face. Or how pretty his eyes were as they shone under streetlights. Dreamy, long eyelashes, sea-like waves. He'd kissed me. His long fingers over my cheeks. His pink lips slotting between mine. I pulled away, shocked. Electricity had sparked between us, my heart was pounding, my body was a torch. Then I ran away from him. I couldn't understand what If just felt. I had never seen him in that way. We never mentioned it again.

Maybe that's what has made him colder. I still haven't acknowledged what happened that night. I keep thinking that he was too drunk to even remember it, but maybe he does. I'm not going to bring it up. Especially now. Especially in this restaurant with everyone sat with us.

"I'm sorry, Lucia."

My heart drops. Bobby is looking at me. Downcast. Entire state is disjointed. His mouth just said that, his brain just formulated those words. 

"What?" I must've heard him wrong. Imagining it. This time I must be hallucinating.

"I'm sorry about that night."

Mindreader. He knew what I was thinking about. What my mind has been lingering on. The weather reminds me, his scent reminds me, his hands remind me, his jacket reminds me. That night. London. The night after Troxy. The wind — cut-throat, sharp, steely — the rain, and my tear-stained bedsheets. The taste of his mouth and the dejction locked into his eyes as I left him. Like I'd made a terrible mistake. Like running into my hotel room, alone, was the worst possible option I could've chosen. 

I'm wearing the same earrings as I did that night — these ribbon ones that a fan made for me. Bobby had pointed them out — which he shifted between his fingertips and said they suited me. He's eyeing them now, hands curving, resisting any urge to touch them again, to drag us back to that moment. 

The waiter takes my order. Bobby's words properly forage the depths of my mind, the veins and the arteries circling around my body, the aching crevices of my heart. I ask for the first thing I see on the menu and a Fanta. I want to stay sober. I want to savour all that will happen beyond this second. Bobby also doesn't get alcohol. Shockingly. The Bobby I know would never turn down a pint of Guinness. But he gets a 7up instead and takes a long, hard gulp of it when the waiter comes back. I'm counting the cracks on the table, how squeaky the chair is, the coffee stain on the ceiling — trying to guess how they managed to get up there. Musicians like to occupy their brains. They don't like to think too much - just do. 

"I'm sorry..." I whisper. Finally giving him a reponse after a long pause for thought. 

He had been waiting for an answer. He catches it. Twists uneasily in his seat. Wood creaks. Rain patters.

"...It was wrong of me to leave you." The image of his despair still rings through my bones. I swear when my cells divide they keep trying to recreate that look on his face.

"I shouldn't have..." his voice lowers, heat pf his mouth glides by my ear "...kissed you."

I'm trying to drink my Fanta with no reaction. Sugary greatness. Cold, slightly wet fingers. Orangey flavouring. But his voice is so low, trickling, burning, goosebump-inducing. I can't look at him. He's too close to me. It's too hot in the restaurant. Soundcheck is in 20 minutes. I want to run away again. I always want to run away. 

Down my Fanta, smooth my skirt, breathe in deeply. 

"I liked it." I similarly glide my lips over his ear when he's least expecting it, returning the favour.

He coughs. Chokes a bit on his drink. Then he eats his Pesto pasta with the pinkest neck I've ever seen on a person. Jacket off to reveal long, tattoo-covered arms, and the muscles that have progressively been getting bigger over the months. I join Ryan and Matt's drummer conversation to stop staring. It's weird. Being attracted to him feels wrong. Teenage Lucia would be ashamed. She’d slap some sense into me.

Dinner ends quickly. We're thrusted back into Dublin air before we can even adjust to the complete switch in environment. Running to the venue, through alleyways, shooting splashes of water all over the place, we realise how late we are. I feel better than I did in the morning. That dreaded train ride. Bobbys giving me the silent treatment again. I hate it. I hate it more than when he's being downright horrible to me. 

-

Our set was unbelievable. The best show I've ever done. The crowd was unreal, the size of the place was absurd. We had never sounded so great. Everything went according to plan. We're crying now that we're offstage. We need something to uplift us. Nieve's idea is to party in the back. Which is one of the best parts of the night.

We find a spot just before Inhaler goes on. Screams bleed through the room, adoration written in teenage faces, phones held up to capture the moment. The five lads on stage. One final time. I scream like I'm sixteen all over again, dancing as the first song 'These Are The Days' begins to play. Shouting along, throwing my hands in the air. I don't think I've ever been so happy and fulfilled before.

The setlist is the usual. I didn't expect them to change it. Eli gives a little 'thank you' speech, mentioning us at the end. Then suddenly encore starts and I'm met by a mildly unfamiliar song. The crowd seems just as confused as I am. Bobby is wearing that stupid black vest and I swear his bass has been lowered all the more. The next time they perform, it'll surely be grazing the floor. 

Bobby doesn't normally speak to the crowd at shows. It's always Eli. But as they play the intro, he begins to speak, "Hi everyone. Hope you're all having a good time." Commotion, screams, chanting 'Bobby' as if it's a cult gathering, not a concert. His eyes are searching through the crowd. The party in the back turned into moshpits and luckily I got pushed near to the front. His eyes land on mine. I can tell he's looking at when he plays with his earring — like it's a code between us. He keeps playing the same few notes on the bass lazily as he grabs the mic stand. Everyone is silent and listening as he says, "This is 'You Might Get What You Want'.

I recognise it now. I'm sent back to high school. 6 years ago. Practice room at school. Instrument cases strewn all over tha place, broken drumsticks leant against the wall. I'm sat at the piano as Bobby announces, "This is a new song I wrote." He passes me the chords starts singing. My thoughts are quiet. The external world is too loud for me to think. I'm lost in the music. The song is beautiful — lyrics, chords, arrangement, Bobby's voice. That was the day when I wanted to ask to join the band. Then Bobby was horrible to me so I changed my mind. I even asked him what the song was about. He looked at the Jim Morrison poster on the door, hand against his buzzed head as he thought up a response. "A girl," was his final conclusion. I thanked him for his specificity. He told me, quite frustratedly, it was 'none of my business'. Then he was riled up and told me to leave because I was 'playing it all wrong'. One of the last times I ever played with the band. So when I hear the song again — I'm back, sitting at the piano with my school uniform, waiting for cues to play the next chord.

The crowd goes wild at the fact that Bobby is singing alone. This is unusual. The majority of the crowd don't know the song. Reminds me of their first gigs in tiny venues. I sing along, staring at Bobby as he stares back. I wonder which girl the song was actually about. At seventeen, he hung out with every girl in sight - parties, random town meetups, gigs. The way he is looking at me is shattering me down to my core — eyes painted with affection and how he keeps moving his earring. For some reason, I wish the song is about me. Then he sings, 'You Might Get What You Want' whilst pointing right at me. Has anyone else noticed his staring? Nieve and Fran seem clueless. It could all be in my head. His face appears on the screen. I stare. Not ashamed. Appreciating his beauty for as long as we have left. Only tonight. Then nothing. Only the possibility of seeing eachother once again. It won't be set in stone.

I'm a sweaty mess by the end of the show. Last goodbyes, last waves, last shocked stares at the extent of the crowd. I always forget how boiling it gets in the standing area. I'm almost at the point of suffocating. We leave with the crowd, taking a few selfies with fans along the way. I stand in the merch queue. I need something to remember this. Something I can keep and wear and just be brought back to this venue, to this atmosphere. I buy a black tour shirt with the bubbly lettering, slipping it over my tank top. I just know the change in temperature will murder me. The more layers I have on, the better.

We slip through the crowd. Thankfully, it's quieter after my long time in the merch queue. I'd never seen such a long amalgamation of people. 

Back at the hotel, I crash straight down onto my bed. Don't even turn on the lights or take off my clothes. I just close my eyes and stretch out my body like a cat. It all happened too quickly. I left the band early to head back, although I heard the rest of them were going to the tour bus to get drunk. I've already had so much fun. I just need to relax. Alone time. Silence. Comfort.

A knock on the door.

I jump up. Still in my Inhaler shirt and lacy white skirt, I feel like taking a shower. But whoever just knocked has impeded any plans. I could just pretend I didn't hear them. I could fall asleep and they'll just walk away. 

Another knock. I jolt up this time. It's louder.

This time I reach the door. Sliding the keyhole open, I see him. Of course it's him. Of course. Of all the people that could be here right now. His hair is wet, mussed up. He's holding his jacket under his arm as it's completely drenched. Looking from side to side, he seems to contemplate giving up and leaving me solitary.

I open the door. Let my guard down. I want to talk. Rant. Let out all the garble mixing up and stuffing my skull. He'd listen to me. 

"What are you doing here?" I ask. I don't say it rudely. Make sure to keep my tone quiet and curious. The rise of his head to meet my eyes is almost film-like, tracing along my skin, photographic.

"I need to talk to you."

"Come in then." 

Close the door behind him. He drops his jacket onto the floor. Slides off those shoes with a groan. They really are too small on him. He can hardly untie the laces without sucking in a quick breath. He looks at himself in the dodgy mirror, trying to fix any flying pieces of hair. His beard is growing a little — little moustache fading in above his mouth.

He sits down on a chair by the table.  His lengthy legs reach up to the end of the bed where I'm sat. He picks up a tea bag, sniffs it then puts it back. I'm worried about what he's about to say. He looks like he's gone through hell and back to get here. I've never seen him so dishevelled. 

"You were amazing today." I hate the silence. I fill it up. "You all get better every time."

He's been so serious since he came in but the ghost of a smile haunts his lips. They twitch then fall. "So do you."

“Is this about your weird For You page because I’m pretty fucking worried.” I’m trying to forget I saw any of those edits. 

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head. He's hugging his chest, arms shivering. My eyes narrow. Each hair on his arm is stood to attention.

"Do you want a blanket?" I'm about to look for something to warm him up when his hand clasps around my wrist. He's stood up. I'm sat down, looking up at him. His thumb traces the inside of my wrist, over a bracelet I have. One that he gave me when I was sixteen. A friendship bracelet he'd brought to one of the rehearsal sessions. I wore it just to get a reaction out of him. This is the first time he’s noticed it. 

I want to ask him what he's doing. But then he's sat next to me with his arms around my body and I forget what I was going to say. 

"Robert..." I don't normally say his full name. It's the only word that's coming to mind. His wet hair is dripping all over my skirt, his head is against my chest, he won't look up at me.

When I pick up his face, stretch my hands over his cheeks, I find his crystal eyes glossed over. Tears. He's crying. I don't know how to react. He buries his head back into the crook of my neck like he's embarrassed. Then he's breathing heavily. Heaving. Sniffling.

"What is it?" I whisper. I stroke every inch of his hair, the nape of his neck, the thin material of his vest. I trace the tattoos on his arm. Finally landing on the music notation inked into his wrist.

"I don't want you to leave." He holds onto my waist, under my shirt, cold skin. "Stay here. With me. Please."

I wipe the tears from his face. I must look like a beetroot. I'm boiling. 

"Really?" I think I'm crying as well. I can't help it. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him so unguarded, so helpless.

"I only sang that song so you'd hear it." He looks up at the ceiling, cogs turning in his brain. "It's not just about a girl. It's about you."

"You're kidding." I have to laugh. 

"I'm not. I wrote it during the summer holidays before high school. I had some weird thought that you were going to call me and ask me out. I was always a prick to you so I don't know where that idea was coming from exactly. It's just when you want something so badly—I guess your brain manifests it into reality. Like every time I turned around a corner, I thought you'd magically appear. I thought you'd say that you liked me. But then you went off to Uni, the band got big. And now this. You're in fucking Nieve Ella's band. I thought I was going to throw up when I saw you get out of the train. Everything just came back. I didn't put the song on the album because every time I hear it, I just remember what an idiot I am for not treating you well and for not telling you how I feel. Singing it brought me back to the practice room, to that shitty piano with pedals falling off the hinges. How you made such a disgusting piano sound divine. I don't want to make the same mistake. If I let you go now, I'll be regretting it for the rest of my life."

"So you were looking at me? When you were singing?" I tilt my head, thumb below his eye. 

"I might have been." He's not crying anymore. His voice is less rough. He sounds like normal Bobby again.

"I'll stay with you. As long as you want."

"Forever?"

"Bit too long. I can only deal with you for about three hours at a time."

"Then we should make good use of the—" He looks down at his watch. "—Two hours and 43 minutes we have left."

"What do you have planned?" I'm getting closer to him. His nose bumps against mine.

"What do you want to do, Luz?" He's challenging me. Thumb swirling over my lips. 

"This." I kiss him. Lips to lips. Two notes in perfect harmony. Everything we've been through culminating into one simple kiss. It's a peck. A tease. I pull away as I feel him yank me closer. 

His hands find my ears and it's like that night again. His mouth tastes the same. Sweet. Lukewarm. He still grazes my bottom lip with his teeth when he feels me shift back. 

"You're an angel," he says.

At that, I'm kissing him again. This time with more passion. Exploding fireworks. Jumping into the ocean, water floating around you. The ringing in your eyes after an explosion. An earthquake. A tidal wave. So many feelings at once. He's trying to take my shirt off. I let him. Pulled it over my head so quickly I thought he might get my neck off as well. He throws it onto the nearby chair, looking at me, with those glimmering eyes and perfect eyebrows. Beauty spots and smooth skin. I attempt to take off his shirt too, although it's pretty much stuck to his chest. He helps me out, laughing at my stress. 

"It's not that hard." He smirks, tugging at the top as I manage to unstick the bottom. 

"Fuck off." I roll my eyes. 

He pushes me down onto the bedsheets, helping me up until my head is on the pillow. I look over his frame. Long torso, large biceps, chain around his neck. It's too much to deal with. Hooded eyes, smirk on his lips, happy trail leading down to his belt. He knows how he's making me dizzy. He leans down, curling over me, scent hanging, cool skin against mine. I throw my head back. I've never been touched like this. So precise. So gentle. Like I'm his favourite bass guitar. I'd never noticed how long his fingers were until they were splayed over my bra, until the other hand was sliding up my thigh.

He kisses my neck, my shoulders, my collarbones, the valley between my breasts, tongue flat, teeth sharp. I hold onto his hair, then onto his toned shoulders. This morning, I would never have expected that this would happen. That the boy I loathed was admiring me and tasting me with unrelenting adoration. Now, the thought of leaving him makes me sick to my stomach. I pull him a little closer, kiss him a little harder and remember just how red teenage Bobby's face was after he'd sang that song to me. How defensive he was when I asked him about it. Now it all makes sense.

I won't ever leave him again.

#robert keating #bobby skeetz #inhaler dublin #inhaler band #inhaler imagines #inhaler fanfiction #fanfiction #inhaler oneshots #elijah hewson #josh jenkinson #ryan mcmahon #nieve ella #inhaler fanfic #inhaler #eli hewson #robert keating fanfiction #bobby skeetz fanfiction #louis lambo #inhaler imagine #fanfics

[respectthepetty]

Tattoos in BLs

Dean [Until We Meet Again & Between Us] - I do not remember seeing this, but I have the picture, so it must've happened. It’s a compass on his hip because he was lost without Phram and always looking for direction.

Win [Until We Meet Again & Between Us] – We will hopefully find out something next month when the series begins, but even if we don’t, we can still appreciate that these are henna including those angel wings.

Jang JaeYoung [Semantic Error] - Does it have meaning? As he stated in the series, “Not really. I just liked it” but I'm seeing an eclipse thanks to Ayan's hoodie.

Chu SangWoo [Semantic Error] – Hand drawn by JaeYoung, and it is the first image JaeYoung ever drew for him when they first met in the episode one.  

Black/White [Not Me] – White had to get it because Black had it, and Black had it because..no idea, but it could symbolize death or strength.

Yok [Not Me] – Mandarin on the flank means mom, but the birds and the forearm one, no idea.

Tonhon [Tonhon Chonlatee] – “An anchor is what a navigator or sailor uses to hold his vessel to the ocean. Tonhon means a navigator. That’s why I had this anchor tattooed on my left chest to remind me that my heart will not drift away. It will be with the ocean and that is your name, Chonlatee, forever. Every time I look at it, it reminds me that I have you in my heart all the time.”

Kamol [Unforgotten Night] – I didn’t watch this, so I’m guessing that it was because he had pet tigers, and I'm fine believing that.

Mangkorn [Big Dragon] – Mangkorn means dragon, and he is the dragon (Yang) to Yai’s tiger (Yin).

Porsche [KinnPorsche] – A phoenix because that was his underground fighting alias, fire is his friend (he gets the fire started in the woods, he starts a fire in his first week on the job, he smokes), his mom used to tell him stories about the phoenix rising from the ashes, his color in the series is yellow, and he is the phoenix/fire (Yang) to Kinn’s tortoise/water personality (Yin - he's like his mom).

Pete [KinnPorsche] – “No legacy is so rich as honesty” is from Shakespeare’s comedy All’s Well That Ends Well, which is about a woman of lower rank trying to marry the man she loves who is of a higher rank. The quote shows not only to live an honest life (in a play full of dishonesty), but to be honest with oneself, something that Pete does in the end when…you know.

Ram [My Engineer] – Has a dream catcher on his neck to chase away bad dreams, a wolf on his arm, a tribal turtle on his shoulder, and a few others.

Forth [2 Moons 2] – Actor’s actual tattoo. Might be a Sak Yant tattoo for good fortune.

Sarawat [2gether] – Actor’s actual tattoo. I think it was something about remembering who you are.

Gene [Lovely Writer] - Actor's actual tattoo. A family portrait. Thanks @calipigio

Phupha [A Tale of Thousand Stars] - Actor's actual tattoo. It now has a quote above it. He also has two thigh tattoos ("Be somebody nobody thought you could be" and "Every sunset is an opportunity to reset"), "PEACE" on his bicep, and an upper back tattoo. *whispers "I love him"* Thanks @veemark

Ai [Ai Long Nhai] – Actor's actual tattoo. A crescent moon. Thanks @mushiemadarame for letting me know it's his.

Ayan [The Eclipse] – Actor’s actual tattoos. The thigh one is a G-Dragon lyric telling his mother not to worry about him. Hip tattoo is "beautiful" (seen in Only Friends) *A little salty about the hip one*

#tattoos in bl dramas #thai bl #korean bl #until we meet again #between us #semantic error #not me #tonhon chonlatee #unforgotten night #big dragon #kinnporsche #my engineer #2moons2 #Lovely writer #a tale of thousand stars #ai long nhai #the eclipse #this year really said give them all tattoos! #strange that Kinn and Vegas didn't have them #but their boyfriends did #yok is my favorite #win is a strong second

[loving-and-dreaming]

nonsense s.b oneshot

pairing: Sirius black x reader x reader  

a/n loosely based off the song nonsense by Sabrina carpenter <3 I would have highlighted and italicized the lyrics but I didn’t directly use any. But all credit goes to her amazing song because that is literally the basis of this ❤️ huge huge huge thank you to @whoahoney for helping me gain the confidence again and reading it over to make sure I didn’t sound dumb 💛💛💛

-Word count: 2.2K

You and Lily were getting ready for the get together at her boyfriend's place. You were extremely nervous; you know James, but the rest of his friends that will be there, not so much. I mean let's face it, you are not the biggest social butterfly. You love talking and love making friends but sometimes you just want to curl up in bed. But for your friend and her new budding relationship you would go and be your best self.

Arriving at James' house, you were surprised. He was known for throwing his parties back in Hogwarts but there were only two cars in the driveway, now with yours three. There was no booming music. No bright strobing lights. Looking at Lily you grab her hand and let her drag you in. As soon as you step in your first thought is to go hide in a corner with Lily, but that is not the point of this. The point was for her to spend some time with her new boyfriend in a low stakes environment. You push Lily, “Go girl! I will be fine. Go find lover boy and tell him I said hi!”

“Okay you know where the kitchen is, if you need anything just shout. I promise we can leave if you ever feel uncomfortable.” She gives you a look of concern. Maybe you were not hiding your nerves as well as you thought. Giving her a thumbs up and one more push, she goes to find James.

You head to the kitchen to get a drink. To get to the kitchen you need to pass through this hallway, which in your opinion is too long. You don’t normally drink, but tonight might be a cause to break out of that habit. Now you were not sad, but just in your head. Thinking about the phone calls you have to make at work, what you are going to make for lunch tomorrow, when you are going to call your mom, what should you get for Lily's birthday, how surprised you are at the nice decorations in a house full of guys. All these thoughts made you too distracted and miss the person heading in your direction. Only noticing the other person in the hallway when you are wearing a disgusting smelling drink(and now you remember why you don’t drink) and had his strong tattooed arms around your waist.

“Oh my-” you look up and see his beautiful smile before anything else. Embarrassingly so your voice gets higher, “—gosh, I am so sorry! I wasted your drink! What was it? I’ll get you a new one, although it smells gross. Wait I didn’t mean to say that, well I did but to each their own, if you like it that’s all that matters and I will get you a new one!” it took you a moment to realize you were rambling like a mad man, you look anywhere but the beautiful man in front of you.

“Don’t worry about it, Love. Lets get you a new shirt, this one is a little wet and now smells like my beer and like you pointed out it smells gross,” the stranger tells you in a voice filled with laughter. He moves his arms from around your waist and puts one on your back to lead you to a room. “I don't think we have met, Im Sirius, but those hooligans call me Padfoot or Pads. you can call me king though… perhaps you’ll be my queen?” Faltering in your steps you stop and look at him. Had he really just said that? He was probably just a natural flirt, nothing personal. So you simply giggle and roll your eyes.

“Your eyes are so beautiful, I think they are my favorite part of you.”

Okay that's it, you know he must be messing with you. It's probably James' bright idea to get one of his friends to mess with you, since you are the only friend in Lilys group that is single. You don’t know how many times you have reassured them that even though the break up was nasty, it was a year ago and you are over it. Turning to him, “Hi Sirius-”

“I thought I told you to call me king, my queen?”

“As I was saying, sirius, i'm not sure if james put you up to this or maybe lily, but i promise i'm okay being single. I hereby relieve you of your babysitting duty. Just point me in the direction of the bathroom and I will be fine.”

“Babysitting? What are you talking about? Anyways I am not going to let you stay in that beer soaked shirt, so here is my room, I will get you a clean shirt. Just one moment.”

He brings you out a shirt that looks worse for wear. It must be one of his favorite shirts, you can’t help the little blush and skip in your heart that he chose to give you a favorite shirt of his. “I insist you use my room, I mean I’d love to get you naked in my room, but in reality my bathroom is not the cleanest…” he opens the door for you and gives you space to walk in. You look back at him and smile while closing the door. Now you are not a creeper, but like anyone you are naturally curious. So while slowly taking off your beer soaked shirt you look around. The first thing that you notice is for someone that has apparently a messy bathroom. His room is extremely clean. The bed is completely made up, you’re just as clean and even your bed doesn’t look like that. The desk is free of clutter, and there are no clothes on the floor. To say you were shocked, would be an understatement. The next thing you notice is the bookshelves lining the walls from the few moments that you talk to him or more like he flirted with you. He did not strike you as someone that would be this well read. The last thing you notice, and this one stands out, is the fact that he has a candle burning in his room. The candle smells just like you thought he would, a hint of leather and musk. Cynthia reminds you of the words while also something fresh that makes you want to bury your face in the smell. Realizing you spent a good ten minutes just staring at his room you quickly change and without thinking about it so your shirt on his bed.  With a red face, you quietly open the door, ready to endure the teasing of spending a good 10 minutes just to get changed yet When you open the door you find him gone. Although you told him to leave your heart does drop a little bit. But you quickly shake off that feeling you don't need James or Lily trying to make you feel better by asking James’ hot friend to keep you company.

You know the break up was a year ago, and honestly you are NOT still hung up on him. But they swear you are and that you need to find someone new. You’ve told her countless times that you’re just not ready for a relationship right now. And maybe Lily does know your taste, and picked the right guy but still absolutely not.

You walk back to the living room, still on the original mission to find a drink and run into jame and lily making heart eyes at each other in the hallway. Normally you would leave them be, but with sirius fresh on the brain you had to say something.

“Lily, james. I know you just want what is best for me. But I promise I am not hung up on Tyler. I just dont need to have someone in my life right now. So please tell Sirius he no longer needs to babysit me.”

James lets out a snort and lily looks at you with wide eyes. “Y/N hunny, what on earth are you talking about. We never asked Sirius to babysit you, we didn't even tell him about you because he tends to be a lot, which it seems like you are now witnessing.”

You're speechless. “So you're telling me I kinda told him off for no reason??? fan-freaking-tastic. Please excuse me while I go die on the couch with my drink I still have not gotten.” stomping over to the couch you make yourself at home. After you make yourself comfortable on the couch, you realize you still have not gotten your drink. Which may be better because who needs to be drinking when you’re sulking.

Once again lost in your head, you don't see or hear anything until someone sits down next to you and puts a glass full of water in your face. Looking up you see Sirius and are feeling the butterflies doing cartwheels in your stomach. Mouth opening and closing you cannot find the right words to say. All that is in your brain is nonsense, so logically that is what you say, “you… have me thinking nonsense.” not realizing you said that out loud until you hear James snort from the other couch and Sirius’ little laugh. Looking at Lily you mouth “did i really say that out loud?” The look on her face gives you the answer.

“Here, Love. I heard through the grapevine you never got your drink so I came bearing gifts. I was also told that you don’t drink alcohol, so I made sure to get you something that you would drink" Sirius looks at you smirking, “if it makes you feel better when looking at you I lose my chill.”

Giggling and once again rolling your eyes you say “yes Sirius thank you, i feel so much better because of that. Thank you for the drink. I really do appreciate it”

“Wait, I got an even better one! When you get close to me my tongue goes numb, sounds like bleh blah blee!” James once again snorts(you make a mental note to call him pig later), and Remus, Peter(who you just put names to face) and Lily all roll their eyes. This does however make you let out a real laugh, not those cute little giggles us girls do, no this was a whole laugh form your stomach. And hearing it made Sirius want to hear it everyday from now on, he made sure to tell you this too. “ Tell me the word Y/N and I promise I will make you laugh like that for the rest of our life.”

The rest of the night was spent by Sirius' side. He had the young energy of a puppy, which is how he got his nickname, puppy. He said he was offended at the nickname because “Y/N i am a manly man, i need a better nickname than puppy.” But the way he smiles when you say it with the sparkle in your eyes… He would let you do anything.

Eventually it is time to go home, you and Lily promise to come back with donuts in the morning (this lets the boys let you go a bit easier). In the car she gives you a look that says ‘spill’.

“I really like him lily! I want to spend all day talking to him, maybe going to the bedroom and doing not so soft things, my mind is running wild with everything i want to do with him. I think I caught that L-O-V-E…”

“Damn girl… really? After one night?”

“Lily you know me, you know i wouldn't say it if i didn't believe it at least.. 80%. He made me feel things that I can't explain. I don't know how he does this to me, but I cannot help myself.” you pull into the apartment building and look down for your keys in your purse. That's when it dawns on you, you still have his shirt on… Unlocking the door the first thing you do is call James' house.

“Hey it's Y/N, is Sirius there?”

“Wow, ready to talk to him already, huh?” You can hear the smirk in James' voice.

“Says you, who called the apartment before Lily even made it back home…” He scoffs at that and you hear him screaming for ‘Pads’ to get his ‘ass down to the phone’.

“Hello, Love, miss me already?” After spending all night with his flirtatious self, you easily  opened and gave him back some of the sass (you are very proud of yourself if you do say so).

“Of course I miss you, but I kinda miss my shirt more. It was one of my favorites.”

“It will be here all clean for you tomorrow, I'll even learn how to do laundry for you, my queen. Also! before you go, I do have a very important question for you.” Thinking the worst, you lose your smile and look down… His joking and smile filled voice is the only reason your smile comes back, “my question is, how quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz!”

The last thing he hears is your giggle and “you'll find out soon, Puppy.”

#sirius black and reader #sirius x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius #sirius black and you #sirius black imagine #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one shot #sirius black #sirius black scenario #marauders imagine #marauders fic #young sirius x reader #young sirius black #harry potter imagines #harry potter marauders #marauders era

[ariesmusingz]

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ╱ real talk sentence starters pt 1 ( created using lyrics from man overboard's real talk album. feel free to adjust to fit your muse. )

you could say one of two things

call me sometime or let's hang out

maybe i could help you out

stop acting like you'll ever see me again and like i don't have you figured out

i understand how it works

on paper, we're similar people

we're different people

you're tearing down the walls i built

tell your wrecking crew i welcome you

when the days slow down this summer don't forget

i did two years in your silhouette

your jaws of steel never forgave

it's haunting the way silence sounded

if i fucked up long ago, i'm sorry

i didn't realise it counted

it just wouldn't work out

that's what i'm telling myself

we're just two different people

it's eleven thirty at night

you're in your bed nice and tight

maybe you're dreaming of me

i am calling you

i am wishing you were here

i hope i didn't annoy you today

you answered anyway

i am hearing you

wishing i could feel you too

i miss her

i wanted to tell her

i spoke to myself in the mirror for a while tonight

i made a promise that i would never fuck up having you in my life

i think you're my favourite girl i've ever met

i bought a new notebook for the road

covered it with your area code

it's tattooed by the pen and i wish it was my home

i kinda hate everyone i know

lately i've been feeling so low

come get inside my bed

you make me feel dead by being out there in the unknown

just like a dream

she called me kinda late last night

said she knew everything

all those pretty little words came out

just like i planned she fell into my arms again

i could pretend that i would lie right here forever and wait for the end

you're right we should be together

tonight i could make it better if i just gave up on my stupid little fantasy world

you're right, that was a fake smile

you're right i am in denial

i should just go home to my perfect little fantasy girl

you're my fantasy girl

she crept back up inside my bed

said that she missed everything

all those words that made me fall came out

just like a trap, everything just fell right back

we were on tracck

i could lie with her all night now and wait to react

always turning out for the worst

you were always my most consistent curse

i hope this gets you kind of heated or stings a little if you even read it

bringing everyone down

you left this house feeling empty

it's better than feeling like it's burning to the ground

i can't live with you around anymore

you're blocking out the sound outside my door

i found more

i can't remember all the times that i almost had bruises for being on your side

now i hope that someone gets to you

see you around

you were alright back when we were young

you don't compare to anything that i've found

i wrote you down a letter before i went to sleep

it had all the secrets i could no longer keep

i held them in for so long i was going to break

maybe now i can rest and you will lay awake

i've been trying to escape but something keeps calling me

a feeling i can't shake

the darkness has swallowed me

i can't move fast enough to ditch what has followed me

lighting strikes everything that i touch

this is how it feels for me to be on my own

the sadness has cut me down to the bone

it's so bad

i don't think i'll make it home tonight

there's not enough light in your house that you could leave on for me tonight

there's not enough fights i could lose to justify how i feel tonight

if this would come true, i wonder what's really real tonight

if this makes any sense at all then push my back up against the wall

try calling your friends and asking what they have heard

you're looking for the gossip and hanging on every word

i'm not made

it's cute, it's actually absurd

i can't believe someone loves me so much

i've been failing every test and late for the makeup

left alone at your request as you do your make up

i know that i won't make this alright before it's over now tonight

i know that this won't be the last time i walk these streets

i hang my head

i wish i was dead

at my best, i'd suggest i've been weird since she left

it's normal autumn stuff

i guess i never thought enough

look at me

almost free from my crippling disease

shoot bullets through my foot

i think that'd work out real good

call me out

she's calling me out

i guess she didn't know better

she called me out

i guess that's why she's got her own man now

she's doing fine

she's got her own man now

what's she talking about>

at my best, put to test i'd score average or less

i can't apply myself

if i could just untie myself

she wants the yes's

gets the no's

before long there she goes

i guess she dug too deep

now she's just too bugged to sleep

you made yourself the guest of honor

the party got stopped and everybody just went home

#rp memes #rph #content: mine #rpt #rp sentence meme #memes: mine #roleplay memes #rp sentence prompts #rp promts #rp help #rpc

[peter-pantomime]

Stranger Things Fic Recs, Part 5

Part Four | Three | Two | One

Gen

the dreams in which i'm dying

“Well,” Eddie says easily, flopping down onto the bench next to her. “I’ll go with you if you want. Just as friends.” Chrissy closes her eyes. She probably should have seen that coming. Because that’s how it’s supposed to go, right? The prom queen dumps her jock boyfriend and gets together with the sweet guy who’s been right under her nose the whole time. Happily ever after, fade to black, roll credits. Chrissy’s seen plenty of rom-coms. She knows her lines here.

i will lay me down (like a bridge over troubled water)

Eddie is twelve, shot up like a weed, and too big to carry, but Wayne scoops him up anyway. Eddie wraps his arms and legs around Wayne clumsily and lets himself be carried, still crying, back to the trailer. Wayne’s knee clicks the entire way back, but he doesn’t tell Eddie to walk.Wayne is forty-one and clumsy with emotions, doesn’t know what he’s doing but is trying anyway, and Eddie is twelve and crying on Wayne’s kitchen counter.

seriously slipping out of control

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Steve asks, eyes flickering over to the shoebox of materials. “Like, do you have to go over it a bunch of times to make the ink dark enough? We don’t need them that dark.” “It doesn’t even need to be super straight or even or anything.” Robin adds. “Like don’t worry about making them perfect or anything.” “Are you guys sure you want tattoos?” Eddie double-checks. These are just verbal confirmations of what he’s already picked up on from their twitchy body language and constant thrum of nervous energy. They’re scared. Which like, fair. But their nervousness gives him pause, makes him wonder why they’re going with commemorative tattoos of all things to remind themselves of the tragic end of their summer jobs.

and it's a song you know

The lyrics are clever, because they hide under metaphor, apocalyptic imagery and all that stuff, but it clicks when Dustin gets to a verse about a tune echoing through a mall, ‘and it’s a song you know, you’ve known it all your life,’ and he’s suddenly thrown back to when he explained how Steve worked out the location of the Russian code, and Eddie was taking it all in, eyes as round as pennies. Dustin sets down the notebook and says, “It’s about us.” It’s not a question.

Steve/Eddie

the boy in the sweatshirt

It starts with the sweater. Technically, it starts with a broken beer bottle and forty-eight sleepless hours on the run bending the glass into ruby red lace against a pale freckled neck. But that’s a technicality, and those only really work well for campaigns and court cases. For Eddie, for the fucked up little story that is his life, it starts with the sweater. Eddie figuring out Steve (and himself) through the romance of certain old clothes.

the present only

"I'm just saying, I didn't get my reputation for nothing," Steve baits. "What reputation is that?" Eddie asks. Robin looks horrified and Steve can’t actually be sure whether Eddie is trying to embarrass him or her. If it's the former, Eddie is about to be disappointed. This is one department in which Steve is not ashamed of his performance. "Reciprocation," Steve says. The word alone has Robin pulling a face. "I used to have a 100% record," Steve adds a little grumpily to Eddie. Eddie narrows his eyes at him, and Steve can tell he's biting his tongue. Steve would like to bite it for him. Jesus. Get it together, Harrington. Or: Eddie gets a job; Steve wants to give him another; the universe - including Dustin, Robin, and Eddie himself - is against him.

So Newly Charming

Eddie leans against the van to peer over his shoulder as he connects the leads. He’s close enough that Steve can smell him; close enough that he can feel the shift of air on the side of his neck as Eddie breathes. If it were one of the kids, he’d shove them off and reassert his personal space, but it’s never really bothered him when it’s Eddie. It’s distracting, but Eddie is always kind of distracting. Steve doesn’t mind Or: Steve fixes Eddie's van and figures out several things about himself in quick succession.

the chauffeur

"He had intended on a normal drive, really, just cruising at the speed limit to clear his head. But upon passing the last house on the stretch for miles, the long, empty road looks suggestive. Maybe even a little seductive. A bad itch builds from the base of his spine. Swallowing nothing, he presses the gas pedal slowly, eyes continuously flicking down to the speedometer as it climbs exponentially. The drone of the engine changes with it, getting louder, pitch keening, synchronizing with the blood that churns and rushes in and out through his heart, veins, brain. The needle hovers just over 100mph for approximately one minute and fourteen seconds." Steve's attempts to return to normal aren't cutting it. When a casual drive turns into something more risky, he learns that a little rush of adrenaline can help. He learns that a little too well. Around the same time, Eddie starts having car troubles.

someone else's favorite song

“Not sick, not sick,” he slurs, and Eddie wants to see his face, wants to hold it in his hands, wants to look him in the eye when he says, “just sad. Sad. Fuck… fuck, sad.” “Why are you sad, big guy?” Eddie asks. Steve laughs again, but it’s sharper this time, it doesn’t last as long, because as soon as the words slip out of his mouth— “My mom’s dead—” —it walks that treacherous line between the two sounds and morphs straight to a broken sort of sobbing that reaches directly into Eddie’s chest and drags out his heart. A friends-with-benefits relationship goes complicated when who Steve and Eddie are to one another shifts with the coming of a new sort of tragedy.

messing with the beat of my heart

After Vecna nearly tears the world in half, Eddie and Wayne move away from Hawkins for a fresh start. When Dustin calls Eddie up and asks if Hellfire can come visit for one last summer campaign, Eddie agrees—it's not like he has anything better to do. He just doesn't expect Steve Harrington to come, too. (or: eddie deserves love. i love him.) (or: eddie and steve falling for each other, stupid and inevitable.)

i'm keeping you in sight

When there’s no immediate reply, he pauses for a moment, seemingly taking in the situation. “D’you want help with that, Stevie?” Eddie has the gall to get taller.

mister funny, mister cool

He swallows. Sweat trickles along his spine. He knows what he was thinking, what he’s still thinking. The itch of being talked about still irritates him. But—but that’s also not new. He used to be King of Hawkins High—people talked about him all the way up that track and all the way down and with a lot less kindness in their hearts. Even with them, it shouldn’t weigh this heavy because if they want to think he’s crazy that’s fine. Right? It should be fine, because Steve knows who he is. The guy with stupid jokes and free rides. The guy who comes back, who keeps them safe, who’s fine. Steve should be able to shrug this off. God, he’s so stupid. Mister Funny, Mister Cool is always fine. or, Steve Harrington's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad emotional breakdown.

the pre-show ritual

Steve wasn’t really all that surprised to find himself here. He had never seen a gloryhole before. He’d chalked them up to a horny teenager’s pot at the end of the rainbow. Fantasy, and nothing else. A fat old man couldn’t squeeze down a chimney, and a guy couldn’t get his dick sucked in a public bathroom. But here it was, a small circular hole cut into the side of two adjacent stalls, as real and as terrifying as it could be. What surprised Steve about tonight was that he wasn't sticking his dick through the hole. Instead, he found himself sitting on his heels in front of it, hands wringing anxiously in his lap as he licked his lips and waited for someone to shuffle into the other stall.

that's just wasteland, baby!

“Because all any of us get is right now,” he explains as well as he knows how. “It’s just right now, that’s all any of us can promise. Does that make sense? It’s just— it’s only ever right now—” “Yeah,” Eddie proves the closeness, makes it real, with the simple tip of his forehead to touch Steve’s. “What can you promise right now, Steve?” Four days after Upside Down breaches Hawkins, the military arrives and closes off all roads leading out, trapping anyone still within town limits from leaving. Months later, Steve Harrington could really use a good night’s sleep and a new pair of boots.

Like the Hero Who Never Ran

While Steve and Dustin are searching for survivors, they're surprised to find Eddie alive, hiding out in Rick's cabin. Steve takes up the task of caring for him while staying in his trailer.

Rich From Tender Care

Steve leans against the side of the boathouse and lets Eddie fumble with the cheap Bic lighter for a minute before he clears his throat and says, “You want a light?” It's hard to read his tone. There's a bitter, suspicious, self-defensive part of Eddie that wants to lash out, but instead he grips the lighter until the plastic creaks and says, “Sure. If you have one.” “Yeah.” Steve digs in his pocket and comes up with a nice Zippo. He doesn't hand it to Eddie; instead, he flicks the flame on and holds it out for him to lean down, and there's an intimacy to it that Eddie wasn't quite expecting. Like one of those old Leyendecker paintings. He imagines this tableau sketched out in clean art deco lines: the prom king and the freak. A study in contrasts. Or: In which Eddie survives the Upside Down, and Steve Harrington turns out to be nothing like he expects.

My Right Hand Man

In which movie night takes an unexpected turn, and it's surprisingly easy to just let it happen.

it's no better to be safe than sorry

“Do you think you’ll ever want to fuck me?” Steve starts choking and coughing wildly, which alright is Eddie’s fault. He probably shouldn’t have thrown that out there like that right after Steve shoveled an entire spoonful of Honeycombs into his mouth. But his brain’s only been online for thirty minutes tops, Eddie’s obviously not firing on cylinders right now. He just had to get it out before he lost his nerve. Again. He slaps Steve on the back until the worst of the coughing subsides. “Here?” Steve finally manages, gesturing at the kitchen island in front of them. He’s pink and watery eyed from the hacking fit, and maybe a little bit from Eddie’s indecent proposal. “No, not here.” Eddie clarifies. “Why, have you—” He casts his eyes around the kitchen as if the surfaces will answer the question for Steve. “Shit no.” Steve rushes to say, “My parents eat here.” 

Shot Right Through

Steve overhears a conversation between Eddie and Robin, and then spends a few weeks trying to think of anything else.

can't bear it alone

He thinks about the relief in Eddie’s voice when he said he had a hunch about Steve’s whereabouts, like Dustin is the chosen one for understanding what makes Steve tick. Eddie’s joked about it before; he’d called it “sibling telepathy” when Dustin had silently communicated his popcorn order at the movies, and he’d nudged Steve in the ribs when Steve’s nose wrinkled meaning Gross, dude. Then Steve had huffed a laugh, nudging Dustin back. Okay, okay. I’ll pay for it, you little shit. But Eddie gets Steve, too, Dustin thinks; that’s why he called him. And yeah, it’s different than the way Dustin understands Steve, but it’s significant enough for Eddie to make the cut of Steve Harrington Interpreters in Dustin’s mind.

see the luck i've had

Steve, Eddie, and 20 hurt/comfort prompts

no reason

The kiss is brief, only a second or two, not even long enough for Steve to really register what's happening before Eddie pulls away. Steve’s frozen in place, his arms still wrapped around Eddie. [...] Eddie closes his eyes, a weak smile on his lips. "Something to remember me by." [...] "You're literally not dying right now." His whole body is hot. Is he sweating? "You lost some blood but they didn't get deep enough—I looked—you're going to be fine." There's a pause. "I'm going to be fine?" Eddie asks, voice also going high and thin. "You're—sure?" "Yes." "Fascinating. Great. Are you—could you do me a favor, then, and maybe just—leave me here anyway?" "What?" Steve says. The dial tone gets louder. "No. Why?" "No reason," Eddie says, voice tight.

Leomund's Lamentable Belaborment Makes It Hard To Graduate High School

Everyone knows things happen in threes. Three wishes. Three sons of a king. Three notes make a chord. Eddie's third senior year is his last chance to get out. If he fails again, he's in a time loop.

Looks Like You're Hungry, Looks Like You're Drowning

It is almost a relief to see that it's Eddie Munson on the chair and not some huge random guy. That is until Eddie's eyes crinkle open and his face goes from blind terror to bemused, the way he's curled up like a bug at the noise slipping into something languid and easy. It's almost a relief until the prick smiles like a lunatic and Steve has to think of course, this fucking guy, because Eddie Munson may be the weirdest person Steve's ever met. AKA Two Years of Lifeguarding, One Morning of Finding Eddie Munson Asleep on a Deck Chair

keep with me forward

The house that the government buys Eddie is pink.

Car Hangs

Eddie had started walking to Robin’s house in the mornings to hitch a ride when Steve took her to school on his way to Family Video. It was a neat little route from Steve’s place to Robin’s to the high school to the store, and Robin lived halfway between Eddie’s place and the school, so the ride cut his journey in half. Steve wanted to offer to pick Eddie up from his place but, unlike the rest of the carpool arrangement, it didn’t make sense, spatially, and Eddie said he didn’t mind the walk, and Steve was too embarrassed to insist.

heavy is the head

What Steve wants… it’s not as if they’ve never done it. They’ve just never done it like that. And they sure as shit haven’t done it with Wayne Douglas Munson sitting in the very next room, only the low hum of the TV to drown out every deafening pound of Eddie’s heart. He’s still staring, heart going double time. Doesn’t budge an inch. Steve lifts one perfectly arched brow. Goddamn it. So, so stupid.

thursday afternoon

this was supposed to be about cleaning up, but despite the constant stream of water, he feels sweatier than before. his skin is burning, his wrists are cramping and his legs are straining from how tense he’s been. if eddie were here he’d slide to his knees, ignore the resulting twin cracks and swat steve’s thigh to stop him from making any comments. he’d nuzzle against his crotch, hair clinging to his strong neck, his cheeks, and run his hands up and down steve’s trembling thighs. or; it's thursday afternoon, eddie gets home early from work and catches his husband deep in thought. (amongst other things)

Steve/Tommy (past, unrequited, pre/current Steve/Eddie)

stitches and the devouring mouth

tommy wasn't a great person, or even a good person, but he was going to push steve out of hawkins. his one good deed.

every mistake was made purposely

“You are such a fucking asshole.” Steve says, but again there’s no venom behind his words. It comes out like an observational statement, like they’re back in Freshman year biology marking down the anatomy of the frog they dissected. Looks like spaghetti, Steve had said while they stared down at the guts in front of them, and even now Tommy can’t eat spaghetti without thinking of it. “You know, believe it or not, Eddie doesn’t treat people the way you do. He wouldn’t even think to.” Tommy scoffs, does an eye roll of his own. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s real sweet to people before he gouges their eyes out."

#stranger things #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic recs #myficrecs

[yenforfairytales]

Terry Silver has a lot of enemies, being the type of man he is (also: money)…but his Number One Enemy isn’t Kreese. It’s Bruce Springsteen. How dare this skinny punk bitch dad-rock loser have first place in Danny boy’s heart?! Why does Daniel love him so much? Why does he wear t-shirts with his stupid face on it and him along to his corny lyrics??

Daniel:…You need to calm down.

Terry: 🔥 🔥 🔥

Daniel: Omg

Daniel walking around like this and driving Terry crazy

Really, Danny boy? Why don't you just tattoo his face on your ass? No, wait-- don't do that!!!!!

Terry thinks it's cute in the beginning that Daniel has all of Springsteen's records and knows all the words to his songs - Daniel knows all the words to any song - until Terry helps Daniel unpack from moving into his mansion and uncovers a box full of posters and tshirts.

Daniel: Careful with those. Oh, hey! I used to hang that one over my bed.

Terry: Which one--

Daniel:

Terry: ................Trash. TRASH. INTO THE FIRE.

Daniel: Terry, no! Get back here!!

---

From that day forward, a day that will live in infamy, Bruce is Enemy Number One. Enemy of the State. The Silver Estate to be exact. Top of The Shit List. That's right, Terry has one.

He could've never guessed that his most dangerous rival doesn't even know karate.

He can't escape him. It's the 80's. Springsteen is still... The Boss.

Terry's tempted to use his connections to get this greasy wannabe outta the mainstream, maybe cause an accident, but he's above this. Daniel is his. He has no reason to be insecure ha ha

Unless--

No no no. Ridiculous. He's Terry Fucking Silver. He can live with this.

---

They're on the couch one evening, looking through photo albums. Daniel loves to scrapbook and put them together. Terry never cared for this kind of thing, his memories not so fond and his family not so warm.

But Daniel puts them together so lovingly and sweet who wouldn't want to flip through a few. They do look good together.

Terry picks up an older album from Daniel's childhood

Daniel: Aww, man, look at these. I went through such a Springsteen phase. I wanted to be him so bad.

Terry: *schooling his features to keep from seething*

Terry: Just a phase, huh? You never take photos like that for me.

Daniel: Yeah, I realized I'd never be as cool as him, ya know?

Terry: Ah--

Daniel: He's still the best, though. Nobody wears jeans like him.

Daniel: Terry? Are you okay? Babe! Breathe!!!

---

Terry sits with his arms and legs crossed. Somehow simultaneously pouting and glowering.

His sweet, gentle Danny boy has been pacing and ranting for over an hour.

Daniel: Why can't I go to the concert, huh?! What's the big deal?? You can't tell me what to do!!

Terry: Why don't you want to stay home with me??? I can sing too, Daniel! I can sing!

Daniel: ....whAT?

Terry: I could sing better than that prick AND play the piano while I do it!

Daniel: I didn't know you could sing. :D

Terry: *turning pink* Well... you never asked.

Daniel: Okay, let's hear it. Sing me a song. :3

Terry: What, now??

---

Daniel brags at length to anyone who will listen that his multi-talented boyfriend sings to him on the regular.

---

Daniel catches on eventually.

Miss Margaret may or may not have left a certain list out for him to find.

But his Boss tshirts always ending up at the bottom of the laundry would have tipped him off.

---

Terry's at his desk in Dynatox HQ when he gets a large envelope signed from Daniel.

Inside is a photograph of his beautiful boy just for him, according to the note inside.

He pockets the note and keeps the photo on his desk for years.

Okay. So maybe, once in a while, a supervised Springsteen concert can be tolerated. VIP seating.

Maybe.

---

It's always a touchy subject and the grandchildren know not to trigger grandad. But one crisis at a time.

Terry: Please. That was decades ago. I bet he looks like a bloated bald--

Daniel: Have you seen Bruce lately?

Terry: What do you mean.

Daniel:

Terry: MOTHERFUCK--

#and so it goes #i would call this crack but #nothing is too ridiculous for terry tbh #the long standing celebrity fued we deserve #daniel larusso #terry silver #silverusso #asks

[totentnz]

5 songs, 3 outfits

i was tagged by @glitchinginthegarden! thank you, i was lowkey hoping i'd get another tag for this 👁👁 Rules: post 5 songs associated with your OC, followed by 3 outfits they would wear. tagging: @streetkid-named-desire | @bishicat | @wanderingaldecaldo | @kharonion

i'm gonna do this for V AGAIN because... yea

I'M SCUM

I sing at fascists 'til my head comes off I am Dennis Skinner's molotov I'm lefty, I'm soft I'm minimum wage job I am a mongrel dog I'm just another cog I'm scum

This snowflake's an avalanche

this one is just here for the punk sound and message

THE REFLECTING GOD

Each thing I show you is a piece of my death No salvation, no forgiveness [...] I went to God just to see And I was looking at me Saw Heaven and Hell were lies When I'm God, everyone dies

everything that happened to v has led her to this point (her death) AND every time she shares a memory with johnny or gives him control over their body she inches closer to said death PLUS she's resentful a lot so if she was given *real* power she wouldn't be the change in the world she wants to be (also this song just goes hard in general)

PRETTY FLY (FOR A WHITE GUY)

Now he's getting a tattoo yeah, he's getting ink done He asked for a 13, but they drew a 31 Friends say he's trying too hard and he's not quite hip But in his own mind he's the, he's the dopest trip

the offspring is one of those bands that exist in my canon and v is a big fan of them, she has a 31 tattoo'd on her arm!

MARCH OF THE MARTYRS

The devil may care but I don't No masters, no gods, no laws, no soul I'm insignificant, I'm shiny & unique I'm a freak, I'm a fuck-up, I'm suffering [...] My heart starts collapsing My soul starts reacting I'm back in the fire again I'm burning & bleeding The parasites are feeding It's me versus me & all of them I am whore, holy, loved, lonely Murdering the others I have been I am barren, fruitful, bored but really useful A sinner seeking manic martyrdom [...] Bred for the slaughter The march of the martyrs

otep is the band i picked to stand in for v's own band and this song is perhaps the best example as to why she feels like she has been born only to be abused by her parents, that's the reason she wrote those lyrics originally but when the whole relic thing happened another layer was added: a few times during their time together v feels like she was fated to end up with johnny, like no matter her choices she was always gonna end up exactly where she is right now and it frustrates her. (there are a few reasons why she thinks that way but to put it simply: there are too many parallels between them, so much in fact that it cant be a coincidence - i've been meaning to actually write a piece about this but you know how it is LMAO)

no full outfits this time but these are crucial anyway

#sammy says shit #oc:v #if you are into metal you should really listen to otep that band goes so fucking hard #maybe one day i will make a list with all the songs i consider to be rotten songs and then talk about it a bunch #maybe...