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wife-of-all-dilfs · 5 months

Note

Hii! I love love love all of your finnick fics! Could I please request a fic where reader is also a victor from an earlier game and she is in an established relationship with Finnick. They both get reaped (not the same district) for the 75th games and reader gets critically hurt in the part where the cornucopia spins. Like she falls into the water after maybe being injured and she can’t swim, so Finnick has to risk everything to save her life.

I’m really looking for like a hurt/comfort with a seriously injured reader and Finnick going through hell to save her because he cannot imagine a life without her in it.

Thank you so much if you’re willing to write this or something like it, feel free of course to change anything to your liking!

two souls, one heart | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick refuses to lose the love of his life. your inability to swim complicates things, especially when the cornucopia begins spinning.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, heavy angst, drowning, death, bone fracture

notes: thank you so much!!! i really enjoyed writing this, shed a few tears but still enjoyed it lmao. listen to 'beginning of the end movement v' by the newton brothers on repeat for the full experience <3

A quiet nursery rhyme was being sung by the water's edge.

The calm waves around the Cornucopia lapped at the rocks, the blistering sun causing the surface to sparkle. Wiress' voice interrupted Peeta as he mapped out the arena's clock-like wedges in the dirt. Everyone was focused on the map; you should have been too.

Dark blue ripples had your eyes captivated. So tranquil. So hauntingly beautiful. Loving the sea was in your blood, as your District Four was your home. You would think coming from a fishing district would mean your swimming abilities were mastered. In reality, they were practically non-existent. No matter how many times Finnick had attempted to give you lessons, they never stuck.

Neither of you seemed to care though, always too enraptured by simply being in each other's company—feeling Finnick's hands support your body as you floated on the surface...

"Don't you let go of me, Finnick Odair, or I swear to god I'll drown you."

"Will that be before or after you drown first?" he chuckled, though ultimately tightening his grip on your body in an attempt to reassure you.

....hysterically laughing when he got wiped out by a sudden wave...

"No way! I can't—" You broke into a fit of laughter— "I can't believe that just happened!"

"Are you laughing at me, sweetheart?" Finnick asked, trudging through the water towards you, his hair drenched and swept across his forehead.

"Yes!"

You doubled over, knees buckling as you struggled to contain your laughter. Despite trying to put up a serious front, Finnick too let a few chuckles slip at the hysterical sight of you.

"Oh really?"

Just like that, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down into the cold water, earning him a squeal just before you crashed together below the surface.

...and washing up on the sandy shore in each other's arms, salty lips capturing one another.

"I'm covered in sand," you murmured against Finnick's lips.

He gave you another kiss before pulling away. "It's okay," he said, pecking your lips again. "I'll help you wash off in the shower when we get back." And then sent you a stomach-flipping grin.

Even though you wouldn't trade those memories for the world, if you had known your life would soon depend on the ability to swim, you would have paid much more attention to the lessons.

Finnick stood closely beside you, his trident digging into the dirt as he gripped it tightly in case of an attack. He had noticed your drifted attention, observing the way your eyes stared at the rippling water, like death was lurking just beneath the surface waiting to drag you down to the murky depths.

He could protect you from most things in the arena, but fear was something entirely different. A trident couldn't defeat the darkness in your mind.

A hand slid onto your lower back, rubbing gentle strokes to gain your attention. Your gaze tore from the blinding blue and settled onto Finnick's face beside you, watching his mouth curve into a light smile. You knew the silent words he was trying to convey: 'You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you.'

For a fleeting moment, the anxiety had disappeared. How could anything ever go wrong with Finnick by your side? The corners of your mouth quirked, preparing to send him a smile in response. But it never came. Something new had caught your attention. The woman by the water was no longer singing.

Wiress had been murdered.

The second Katniss let her arrow fly into Gloss' chest, everything around you seemed to explode into action. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong—Murphy's Law. And it did.

The Careers had initiated an attack.

Charging forward from the waterside was Cashmere, determined to avenge her brother's death. Instinct quickly kicked in and the spear in your hand was sent barrelling through the air and into her chest. As you watched her body slump to the ground, an enraged yell came from the side.

Finnick was fighting Brutus.

With your only weapon lodged within Cashmere's chest, aiding Finnick was impossible. Enobaria revealed herself beside Brutus, displaying her vicious fangs and throwing a dagger that sliced a small cut across Finnick's shoulder. Though the wound was minor, your heart lurched as he cried out in pain.

Before a single thought in your brain could form, your legs were moving. Not towards Finnick, but after Enobaria. Remember who the real enemy is—screw that. Finnick could have died. Your Finnick. He called out your name, his voice hoarse and frayed, but you continued on, hatred fuelling each step. It seemed Katniss and Johanna had the same idea, following behind you with their weapons bared.

Salt water sprayed onto your face, but you paid it no attention. Nor did you notice as the jungle surrounding the island began to blur into one overwhelming hue of green. Only when your body was thrown to the harsh rocky terrain did you realise what was happening.

The Cornucopia had started to spin.

Nothing could compare to the terror you felt as gravity's merciless force dragged your body toward the violent waves surging against the rocks. Just as your lower legs breached the edge, a hand grabbed onto your own. Katniss. She too was hanging onto Johanna whose only lifeline was an axe buried in the rocks.

A moment—that was all you were given to scan your surroundings. Supplies and sharp-edged weapons were flying everywhere. White water was spraying into the air. Finnick, who was thirty feet away, was gripping onto a rock ledge whilst keeping Beetee from sliding into the furious waves. His head turned to the side and even from a great distance, your eyes met.

It was at that moment you knew, you just knew the odds weren't going to be in your favour. God forbid you lived a simple happy life with the man you loved, days spent together on a calm beach. God forbid the Gamemakers gave you one last chance to be in his arms. God forbid you survived.

And with that sudden realisation, the universe, sick as it was, decided it was time.

Your hand began slipping from Katniss's; an unseen tear fell from your eye, and you smiled. A smile of goodbye sent to the love of your life. His face contorted into one of agony, lips moving but you couldn't hear his voice over the roaring waves. Still, you knew exactly what he was shouting.

"NO! NO!"

There was nothing he could do but watch your body disappear into the waves, repeating over and over "no, no, no," and praying his cruel eyes had deceived him. They hadn't.

Dark blue was in every direction you looked. The undertow tossed and rolled your body like a ragdoll in a washing machine and despite your attempts to swim, the surface only seemed to be slipping further and further out of your reach. Darkness engulfed you, so thick that you couldn't tell which way was up or down. That was when the panic set in.

Your arms and legs thrashed frantically, struggling against the water's force, desperate to reach safety or an air pocket. Cold water flooded your throat as you gasped uncontrollably. You screamed as every attempt at breathing felt like fire burning in your lungs. Finnick. Where was he? Where were you? What was happening? Why wouldn't it stop?

Thoughts submerged your mind in terror, and you were powerless to stop them. All you could do was feel. Pain. Fire. Burning

At some point, the Cornucopia had ceased its spinning and your body came to a rest in the water. An eerie calm suddenly washed over you; a sense of clarity stilled your wild movements. This was the end. There was no future. No hope. The world above wasn't yours to call home anymore. You now belonged to the sea.

Of course, your water-logged mind had forgotten that home was where the heart was, and your heart was still beating... above the surface, in the aching chest of another.

Tendrils of hair floated around your face like fronds of seaweed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the surface, turning the surroundings a vibrant sparkly blue. As you sank further down, the water, now a comfortable lukewarm, cradled you in its embrace. It felt safe, like being in Finnick's arms again. Like home.

You gazed at the sun's rays; they looked beautiful. You felt beautiful. But time was running out and the bright light soon began shrouding your entire vision, though not before you witnessed a dark figure dive beneath the waves.

**********

Finnick loved the ocean. He spent most days in District Four down by the beach, swimming, spearfishing, and watching the sun rise and set on the blue horizon. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have imagined himself to be a lionfish or dolphin in his past life, living in an underwater world, free from tyranny and oppression. He loved the ocean.

But that love was incomparable to what he felt for you. So, when he dove into the rocky waters to save you and felt the currents fighting against him, he determined there was nothing he hated more than the ocean. Not as he watched its strong grip drag your motionless body further down below him.

Your back had just touched the soft seabed when he swam far enough down to envelope you in his embrace. He should have swum you back to the surface immediately, but in his distressed state, he couldn't help but foolishly stare at your lifeless appearance. Your skin was blue. It's just the water's colour, he told himself. Your eyes were closed. She's just asleep. Your neck didn't pulse under his touch. She's... She's...

He had no justification for that. Feet planted firmly on the sandy floor, he propelled both himself and you back up to the surface. As Finnick paddled back to the Cornucopia, the others reached down and helped lift your limp body onto the rocks.

"Is she...?"

"Peeta," Katniss quietly reprimanded him.

Finnick paid them no attention. He said nothing but trauma screamed in his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands were trembling as he frantically checked your pulse again—in both your wrists and your neck; he even pressed his ear to your chest. All he heard was the waves lapping against the rocks.

"No," he whispered again.

It seemed to be all he could say anymore. No. No, this couldn't be happening. You were just standing beside him a few minutes ago; your eyes were just looking into his. However much he tried to deny reality, it didn't seem to make it any less true. You were gone.

He choked out a rough determined breath, interlocked his hands over your chest, and began pressing repeatedly over your heart. Wet strands of tangled hair were strewn across the rocks like dead seaweed. The usual soft pink accompanying your cheeks was nowhere to be seen, devoid of any life.

"Come on, sweetheart," he muttered before pulling down your chin to blow air into your lungs. The kiss of life. And when nothing happened as he pulled away, he restarted the chest compressions. "Oh, don't do this to me," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't do this. Breathe."

Any moment now. Any moment, your eyes would flutter open, the colour would return to your glowing skin, and your heart would beat with life beneath his hands. Your lips would whisper his name and he would pull you into his arms, where he would keep you safe until the end of time.

"Breathe."

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Nothing. He did it again. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Silence. Maybe he should've just ripped his heart out and replaced yours with his own. Death would come for him within seconds but hearing something beating inside your chest would've made the sacrifice worth it.

Life would flash before his eyes and your beaming smile would be the last thing he'd get to see. His last thought would be of relief that you were alive.

Johanna rested a tentative hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Finnick, she's—"

"No, she's not!" he exclaimed, continuing his movements. "She's fine. Aren't you, baby? You're fine." He cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your soft skin before he pressed his lips to yours and blew twice. "You're fine."

The golden bangle around his wrist glimmered in the sunshine as he pressed on your ribcage. All he had to do was keep you alive until Plutarch rescued everyone. One simple task and he failed.

"Finnick, we have to go," someone said. Who? He didn't know nor care.

Leave me, he wanted to say. Leave me here to die. Let the Careers mutilate my body, take my life, my last breath, but let it be by her side.

Something cracked beneath his palms and he knew one of your ribs had fractured. His arms stilled, half-expecting you to cry out in pain but then he remembered. And with that sickening crack came a devastating realisation—you really were gone.

A sob erupted from his throat and his head fell to your chest, drenching your already-soaked wetsuit with hot tears. Everything else seemed to disappear. The arena, the Careers who could attack again at any moment, the spectators who were avidly watching. Everything.

It was just him and you. He didn't care that his screams and deafening sobs could bring unwanted attention or jeopardise the group's safety. Any tribute with half a mind would know crossing him in such a state would be a fatal flaw. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had meaning.

Finnick pulled your lifeless body onto his lap and cradled you protectively in his arms, lightly rocking back and forth. His forehead rested against your own, cold and damp. You always were the cold one, needing his touch to light a fire beneath your skin. He loved having you rely on him for warmth, but not like this.

"Come back to me, baby, please," he begged almost inaudibly. Tears were running down his cheeks as he brushed pieces of hair away from your face. His lips were on yours once more, heartbroken and painfully delicate; not to fill your lungs with air, but to fill your heart with his love in the hopes it would be enough to bring it back to life. "Don't leave me."

Pleas, prayers, begs, and wishes flew past his lips, over and over. And then they stopped and Finnick simply stared. Silence fell across the entire arena. The birds didn't chirp, the other tributes remained quiet, and the trees stood still. Even the water had calmed, resembling a perfectly flat mirror.

Finnick only had three words left on his tongue. Three final words to give you, wherever it was that you were. He slowly leaned down, squeezed his stinging eyes shut, and pressed a long farewell kiss to your forehead. His eyes remained closed as he parted from your skin, unable to take another look as he whispered his final goodbye.

"I love you."

And then, for the first time since he had rescued you from the blue depths, he felt his heart beating again. Just like yours was.

**********

There was a voice, distant yet reassuring—a lifeline to consciousness. Black was all there was. Coldness was all that was felt. It was desolate. But that voice... that voice was so anguished yet so familiar and encouraging that it lit a fire inside your chest, warming you from the inside out.

In the distance of the dark void was a figure, their body made entirely out of a pulsating golden light. Each word the voice spoke enhanced the light's brightness. "Come... me, please..." Brighter. "Don't leave..." And brighter.

The light was warm and comforting, just like the voice attached to it. Whoever's voice it was that brought the light resonated deep in your mind, tugging at the strings within your heart.

Your heart.

The thumping in your chest was weak, almost non-existent, but it was still there. Though it seemed time was running out. Pitch-black darkness outweighed the golden light ten-to-one; you could feel its cold breath creeping onto your back. So, you started running towards the figure. Sprinting. Until all that surrounded you was golden.

"I love you."

Water. At first, it came trickling out in two fluid streams from the sides of your mouth. Then suddenly, it was spraying into the air as choked coughs forced the liquid from your burning lungs. Light flooded your vision—not golden and inviting, but vivid and overwhelming.

There was something warm beneath your legs, against your arm, rubbing at your back, holding you in an upright position. While you heaved, dry-retched, and gasped, that soothing warmth remained.

As your airways began to clear and the expulsion of water ceased, your half-lidded eyes rolled around the area. Still dazed and disoriented, you struggled to make out what surrounded you. There was immense rippling blue, vibrant hues of green in the distance, dark rough grey beneath you, and elongated blobs of colour that stood a few feet away.

"Just–just keep breathing, sweetheart." That voice. The one belonging to the figure of light that brought you back. It was madly repeating the same words over and over. "You're okay", "Deep breaths", and "You're alive."

Shaky fingers brushed the stray wet strands of hair from your face. So warm. With the little energy you had, your head turned to seek out the golden light again. And you found it.

The blinding sun shining down reflected off his bronze hair, turning it a divine golden hue. His brows were raised and scrunched together as though he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. Deep lines were etched into his tear-streaked skin, evidence of his previous turmoil. Those sea-green eyes stared at you, afraid that if he so much as blinked, you would fall lifeless in his arms once more.

"You're here," he whispered.

Finnick. YourFinnick. Your light.

When your eyes met, a splitting grin lit up his face, made up of an inconceivable amount of raw emotion. You weren't sure what to do—smile, laugh, cry, kiss him? Your mind was scrambled, overwhelmed with love for the beautiful golden-haired man in front of you.

Without warning, your face scrunched up and the tears began flowing. You weren't sure why you were crying. Maybe it was because you had just been brought back from the brink of death; maybe it was because you couldn't believe someone actually cared so deeply about you.

Finnick cradled your face in his hand. "It's okay," his voice trembled, tears now cascading down his cheeks. His smile, however, never disappeared. "You're okay. You're safe now. I'm not letting you go."

He took your face into two large hands, brought you to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to each tear that rolled over your skin. One of your hands rested over his; the other was placed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall so you could synchronise your breaths.

His arms moved to pull you tightly against him, almost like he was trying to merge your body with his. Or perhaps, it was your soul. You didn't care about the pain aching in one of your ribs. You wanted to tell him that his soul was already intertwined with your own, but words couldn't describe the sentiment as profoundly as you felt it.

In the simplest of terms your water-logged brain could muster, you whispered, "You're my light, Finnick."

Brows scrunched together, he looked down at you, fighting back the urge to start sobbing in your arms. If he had been anywhere else, if there wasn't an entire country watching, he would've gone on for hours, explaining how stupidly, selfishly, and incredibly in love with you he was.

But he couldn't do that. Not now. So, he placed his hand over the one you had resting on his chest and readjusted its position. He could feel the thumping, even through your palm.

Your eyes were full of emotion as you stared up into his. You already knew what his next words were going to be and for the first time since you were thrown into the water from the Cornucopia, you smiled.

Rhythmically, your hand and his pulsed together. Finnick's gaze flickered across your face and he grinned. "You're my heart."

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propertyofwicked · 1 month

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SECRETS - LN

lando x fewtrell!reader (cos who doesn't love a bit of brother's best friend?). no content warnings for this part. pls lemme know what u think of this pls and thank u.

part 1 -> part 2 -> part 3 -> part 4 -> part 5 -> part 6 -> part 7!

y/n was a bit of an enigma in the fewtrell family. yes, she’d grown up karting with her older brother and his best friend, but it wasn’t a career for her. not like it was for max, who took his love of karting to championships and content creation and especially not like lando, who made it all the way to F1.

no, y/n fewtrell wanted a career, for now at least anyway. which leads us to now, she’s sat in a second year lecture, not listening to a single word as a slew of messages from her brother almost vibrate her phone off the desk.

she didn’t really need to think about it at all, of course she’d be there. whilst she had no interest in her actually involvement, she loved motor sports, and loved supporting lando. the amount of times she’d been recognised in her uni towns sports bar, watching the F1, was getting concerning. not to mention the time she’d finished a 10 hour shift and somehow fell asleep in said sports bar, made worse and more recognisable to lando fans by the quadrant hoodie and LN4 beanie - max had not let her live it down since the moment the photo came on his twitter feed. it just seemed odd that lando all of a sudden wanted, no, needed her presence - after all, he'd had minimal contact with her for almost a year.

but, she weighed up in her head, getting to see lando was somewhat of a reward. yes spending the day with her brother would be good, although she could sense her summer would potentially be spent with him anyway. but lando, what could she say about lando. he was always around growing up, and yes admittedly there had been a few moments shared in her early adulthood that would indicate something more but it always remained unspoken. lingering touches here and there, the night they spent dancing together in a club, though written off as drunk friendliness, and most notably an interrupted moment where he whispered “max would kill me if he knew the truth”. y/n never got to find out what the truth was, as max himself came barrelling into the room, equally as drunk as everyone else at the gathering. from that night on, she barely saw or heard from lando, well, until now supposedly.

ultimately, y/n decided that dwelling on what could’ve been, whilst lando jets off around the world, was simply not worth it. she focused on her studies, and began declining offers to watch lando race on the other side of the world. y/n fewtrell was a strong independent woman who did not need the validation from her brothers best friend.

didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy it.

as predicted, the academic year ended and y/n found herself moving a bag of clothes into max’s spare room. people started spotting her in the background of streams again, fans excited to see the fewtrell’s back together and in full force - y/n now adorning a lovely bruise down the side of her arm from where max had shoved her too hard off a chair and onto the floor. sore losers run in the family.

“MAX! that hurt,” y/n whined from her new found position on the floor.

“oh did it,” max asks mockingly, “sucks to be you i guess” he adds with a shrug, although letting her use his arm to pull herself back up.

he moved back to playing his game when a text popped up on her phone making her giggle.

“what? what are you laughing at?”

“lando said “push him back”. lando,” y/n said, looking at the camera, “if i could, i would - but i quite like having somewhere to live and my own personal chauffeur,” she laughed, max laughing with her.

a month later she was in the passenger seat of max’s car, him pulling in to park outside the silverstone track. it was hours before the public would show up, so she instantly spotted the curly haired man. yes, the bright orange jumper was like a bat signal for lando, but y/n’s eyes were immediately drawn to him naturally. max had just about pulled the handbrake on when lando bounded over to the car, pulled the passenger door open and lunged himself around y/n.

“you came! it’s been too long since ive had my little lucky charm in my garage,” he says, looking directly into her eyes. a red flush runs up her cheeks, hoping that the boys will put it down to the loss of air conditioning. any awkwardness she had anticipated between the two dissolved almost instantly.

“i know, i’m sorry. i should just drop out of uni and follow you around the world, i know. forgive me,” she jokes holding her hands up, and lando quirks an eyebrow up, as if saying “you should”.

“don’t do that, y/n. one of the fewtrell’s needs to be properly educated,” max jokes, ”besides, not having his lucky charm around all the time keeps his ego in check.” lando chuckles in response, finally moving to stand fully out of the car and allowing y/n and max to climb out and join him.

“so, home race in 2 days - how you feelin’ mate?” max asked lando, raising his hand to do one of those bro hand grabs. they continued talking, y/n trailing just behind them as they walked into the building and around to the mclaren area. it was always a spectacle, coming to races. the teams, the drivers, the media, the celebrations - it was somewhat overwhelming. it was weird to see the place so empty, then again, it was 7am on FP1 day so the only people walking around were the odd driver and mechanics.

they continued to walk through the paddock, y/n just listening to the boys discussing an upcoming quadrant project, eventually reaching his drivers room. the sofa looked so inviting, especially to the girl who was dragged kicking and screaming out of bed at 5am. whilst lando distracted max, showing him his helmet for the home race, y/n crawled over to the sofa, curled up in a corner and shut her eyes.

“y/n? you good?” lando asked, after clocking her new found position.

“shut up.”

“ouch.”

“she threatened to rip my eyeballs out and shove them down my throat this morning when i tried to get her up. being told to shut up is nothing,” max laughed, ruffling the top of his sisters head and messing up her hair, “she just likes her sleep.”

“yes, she does, please let her have it,” y/n mumbles bluntly, met with chuckles from the boys.

“we’re gonna get breakfast. ill bring you back something if you want to stay here?” lando asks, her eyes perking up at the thought of food.

“yes please,” she says, with a soft smile directed towards him.

“next time, me and you are getting separate hotel rooms,” y/n groaned, rolling around the sofa of her hotel room trying to get comfortable.

“next time, tell me you want to come with me early enough for me to book you a separate hotel room, y/n,” her brother grumbled back.

“i’m gonna see if there’s a gym here. i need to tire myself out if i’m going to sleep on this…thing,” she said, poking at the solid leather of the sofa.

max didn’t respond to his sister, instead he rolled over to face the door and shut his eyes. y/n grabbed her key card and her shoes, and walked out the door, happy to be away from her brother. she loved him, she really did, but after spending the entire day in lando’s small driver room with him - she really just needed some brother-free air.

she barely reached the lift at the end of the hallway when she got a text, diverting her entire plans for that evening.

i’m bored. come on a drive with me?

going on a late night drive with lando was not out of the ordinary, but usually max was there. had he sent max the same message? either way, she responded with a quick yes and thumbs up.

cool. im outside btw. hurry up.

have you just turned up assuming i was going to say yes?

was i wrong?

shut up im coming down now

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #maxfewtrell #fewtrell!sister

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natigail · 3 months

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"I would like to say thank you to everybody for supporting the comeback of DanAndPhilGAMES. I was going through a beef (*brief) period unemployment because I stopped creating content on my own channel and people are always like: Dan, when are you going to upload again? You think that I- Phil had to drag me! He had to drag me back on the internet and sit me down to play The Sims. But on some level, I've been enjoying it. So you guys are reawakening me. You are de-conditioning me from the dystopia and I'm enjoying my time back. Everyone is just saying 'beef' in the chat. Yeah, cheers. We're going to be beefing. The comeback fixed our timeline. I mean, yeah, it kind of did. There's very few things in this world that gives us hope."

Dan Howell during a YouTube Live with Phil Lester on his 37th birthday (x)

I'm still a sucker for those soft-voiced honest moments that come from Dan when we least expect it. And this livestream was a great excuse to break out this old Dan quotes series of mine. (Also our dork didn't realise he said beef instead of brief <3)

Quotes from Dan (147/?)

#dan quotes #dan howell #dan and phil #phandom #DanAndPhilGAMES #PHIL'S BIRTHDAY CHARITY STREAM #1k

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sleepyhollands · 9 months

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false god

PAIRING harry styles x reader

SUMMARY harry’s having trouble finding enough time to spend with y/n, even after she drops everything and joins him on tour. when they talk, they only seem to argue. when they don’t, they only seem to fuck.

WARNINGS she’s an angsty one— lots of miscommunication, poorly executed arguments, and general couple fighting content. BUT!! there is lots of really cute fluff at the end :> also, beware of smutty content such as soft!dom harry (my favorite), oral (f!receiving, implied m!receiving), unprotected p in v, a brief hesitation to get naked on y/n’s part, an even more brief mention of bondage play, harry leaves like one love bite, and tooth-rotting holding each other while having sex content. lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT 5.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE fun fact this was supposed to be done months ago and then literally everything that could have gotten in my way did just that. but she’s here now!! writing this was a challenge but i feel so good about it now that it’s complete and i can’t wait for you all to read it. please lmk you enjoyed by leaving feedback and/or reblogging!! special thanks to @cherryjuiceblues for beta reading for me <3 ily <3

LOVER SELECTION one-shots here.

“harry, it doesn’t matter if—”

“it does to me!”

“hey, there are two people in this relationship, you know.”

“yeah, an‘ one of ’em feels like right shit on what’s meant to be the greatest tour of his life! doesn’t that mean anythin‘ to you?”

“of course it does, i just—”

“really? ’cause y’could’ve fooled me, love.”

“harry, i swear, if you interrupt me one more time, i’m booking the next flight home.”

… tour had been going really well for harry! he was playing back to back sold out shows in some of the biggest cities in the world, with adoring fans lining up by the thousands, itching to hear him sing live. he’d already had some really sweet interactions on stage, and no crazy mishaps had occurred (he was especially proud of himself for having ensured everyone’s safety so far). just in the last week alone, he’d been nominated for three different awards for his newest album and performances. anyone could see that he was living a dream— the dream, really. the kind that only comes true once in a blue moon.

and yet… tour had been going really poorly for harry. now, he doesn’t like to complain about much; he knows just how fortunate he is, and actively tries to see the bigger picture when frustrated. but it was really hard to zoom out of his particular situation when he was so zeroed in on a particular aspect that had been bugging him for weeks— y/n.

don’t get him wrong! y/n herself wasn’t what was bothering him. it was more so her presence, and his… lack thereof.

if there’s one thing harry prides himself on more than anything, it’s being an attentive lover— even in the most innocent and platonic of ways. he tries his absolute hardest to be a supportive brother, a considerate son, a (hopefully) decent role model to those who look up to him, and especially a present, loving boyfriend. and for the most part, he’s just as successful in those aspects as he is in his career. in fact, y/n regularly speaks of how harry treats her like she hangs the stars in the sky just for him, how he makes her feel like the most special girl in the world.

but this tour was taking its toll, and harry was taking it out on y/n. he’s never been great at communicating everything in the most positive of ways— that’s where he turns to songwriting— and he’d let his emotions get the better of him after letting them build up for the past couple of weeks. he wasn’t proud of himself, but he needed an outlet.

harry didn’t mean to start the fight. but when y/n asked him where he’d been after a last minute management meeting following that night’s show kept him an extra half hour later than he said he’d be, it was like all the frustration just erupted. inadequacy is one of his least favorite feelings (next to loneliness), and being a barely-there or only-sometimes-there boyfriend couldn’t be more of a trigger for that particular emotion.

now here they were, vexation filling the tour bus around them like a fog they could barely see through, inhaling it with every breath and releasing it back into the atmosphere surrounding them. harry huffed out a sigh, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he angrily looked out the window of the tour bus to distract himself for a moment, having to mentally step away from the argument at hand, even if just for a few seconds. watching as the dark streets outside shined with the headlights of other vehicles, he found himself wishing he were in one of them. it would be nice to be in a car alone, nothing but his thoughts and some music to keep him company.

but he had real company. she was standing not six feet away from him, emulating his defensive position with her arms drawn across her own chest, jaw clenching and relaxing every other moment. when he finally turned to look at her again, he exhaled loudly.

“we were crazy to think that this could work,” he mumbled, barely audible to y/n, but she was able to make it out.

even when they fought, the girl seemed to be in sync with him, inhaling deeply, subconsciously countering his previous expulsion of breath. the yin to his yang.

“what are you talking about?”

harry groaned at her words. how didn’t she get this? “y/n, i’m never around! i wake up when you’re still asleep, prepare for the day, go to the venue, help set up the stage, sound check, rehearse a bit, and then ’m off t’go get ready for a show that lasts two hours. almost each night! i come back exhausted and aching to sleep! where d’you see yourself fitting in there?”

when y/n realized it was her turn to speak again, she said, “first off, do you think you could please calm down a little? i can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

his eyes narrowed. “like what?”

“when you’re acting like a child, harry! i mean, for god’s sake, i’m not nine! i can handle hanging out on my own for a few days at a time and just getting to cuddle with you at night until you have a day off. it’s not like i don’t have things to do throughout the day, too.”

while harry tended to say things he didn’t exactly believe in the heat of the moment, y/n meant every word she uttered. she really was content relaxing in the tour bus or a hotel room taking care of work on her laptop, catching up on new episodes of her favorite shows, or even going out to explore whatever new city they were in by herself. harry had breaks between show days once or twice a week, and the thought of having those days to themselves was enough to sate her desire to spend time with him. it annoyed her that he didn’t understand that, as she’d never been the clingy type and was always very self-sufficient.

“oh, i’m acting like a child, am i? right, i didn’t realize that wanting t’be present in my relationship with my girlfriend was childish, but hey, you learn something new every day, i s’pose.”

oh, y/n was really starting to seethe now. letting her arms fall to her sides with a frustrated puff, she began again.

“god, harry, you’re not childish for wanting to spend time together! i’m saying you need to realize that i’m perfectly capable of waiting for your days off to really spend time with you. you’re acting like we can’t function without each other!”

“the whole idea of you comin‘ on tour with me was to have this time together, y/n,” harry fired back. “if we’re barely going to get to see each other anyways, then what’s the bloody point?”

…

harry might have spoken too soon. at least, that’s what he thought as he laid overtop y/n on the tour bus couch, because now the point might very well be getting to just feel her lips on his every now and again.

it was late; harry had just come back from a show. usually, he’s too tired to do anything but crash onto a cloud-like mattress after all the jumping around he does on that stage, but this time all he wanted was his girl. it’d started innocently enough, with harry pulling y/n into his lap on the worn, red leather of the couch. his hands roamed along her hips and down to her waist beneath her soft hoodie (which wasn’t even technically her’s, but is it really theft if harry just leaves his clothes lying around for her to nab?), exploring the soft expanse of her skin, not straying any lower. her own hands were hidden in his curls, lightly scratching at his scalp in what she hoped were soothing motions.

harry knew he was done for once he initiated the kiss. tentative at first, he pressed light pecks along the corner of her mouth, quick and feathery, like he didn’t really care if he got to kiss her so much as he got to hold her, or simply be with her. but soon, the eagerness set in, like he wasn’t sure when the next time he’d get to have her was, and suddenly he was capturing her mouth with his own, barely giving her a chance to breathe as he tasted her. while harry never really believed in a higher power, he could have sworn he found religion in her lips.

things only escalated from there. it wasn’t long before harry was wrapping his muscular arms around y/n, so tight that he accidentally squeezed too hard, earning a squeak from the girl. he muttered a hushed but sincere “’m sorry, darling,” to compensate. one hand supported her head, the other splayed across her back as he laid her against the cushions so that he could keep loving on her on the way down. he relished her little whimpers that she tried so hard to suppress, grinning against her jawbone, her neck, any skin he came across on his journey south to more pressing territory.

harry didn’t bother removing y/n’s hoodie, opting instead to push it up past her naval in favor of gaining access to the waistband of her fluffy sleep shorts. he felt her hands tighten their grip ever so slightly on his shoulders as he hooked his fingers under it, relaxing again when he rubbed the pad of his thumb delicately along her hipbone, reminding her it was only him.

it was a thing with y/n. she loved harry, of course she did, and she trusted him more than anyone. and maybe it was the way she was brought up, or perhaps a few poor experiences with sexual partners in the past, but there was always a fleeting moment of anxiety before shedding the clothing barrier before sex. like dipping a toe into a cold lake and hesitating a little, then ultimately deciding that jumping in wouldn’t be so bad.

harry never pried. the first few times they’d slept together, he noticed her nerves, and asked her if she was sure she wanted to continue. y/n had said yes each time, and after a while, he stopped asking. but still, whenever he noticed that brief nervous shift, harry gave her a chance to change her mind.

this time, he bided his time by sponging tender kisses right above where his fingers were still half hidden under her shorts. he wanted her to feel safe, and taken care of, and he hoped his gentle touches and even breathing could remedy her anxiety. as he waited, harry’s mind drifted…. he was getting lost in the feel of her soft skin, its dips and curves and blemishes. he thought about her waist, how his hands fit so perfectly against its sides; her tummy, and how the muscles there jolted when he tickled them; and her hips… god, if y/n’s body was a church, her hips could be the altar. harry was ready to say a prayer right then, thanking every higher power for blessing him with this gorgeous girl—

“harry?” his love’s melodic voice interrupted his thoughts, and harry’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, his nose continuing to skim just above her navel. “um… you can keep going. please.”

the corner of harry’s mouth quirked upward, and y/n could have sworn she caught a glimpse of mischief in the jade of his irises, but it was gone in an instant, as he wasted no time in stripping her of her bottoms.

…

“god, h-harry,” panted y/n, her grip on his curls constricting with every lick to her core, “’s so good, oh—”

“would feel even better if y’stopped trying t’run away from me, wouldn’t it? don’t wanna have to tie you down.”

y/n couldn’t help it! it wasn’t her fault if harry’s tongue was just too good and her body’s natural reaction was to attempt to escape his grip for a little relief. if anything, he should be happy— they’d been at this for so long y/n lost count of the minutes, and after two toe-curling orgasms, one would think harry’s jaw could use a break.

but that thought flew out the window when y/n remembered who she was metaphorically in bed with.

“’m sorry…,” she whimpered, gripping the side of the couch cushion as her eyes squeezed shut.

“don‘ have to be sorry, darling,” harry mumbled against her folds, chin glistening with her arousal as he placed a soft kiss to y/n’s clit, making her jolt in his hold. he breathed a short laugh, adjusting his arms so that one held her upper thigh next to his head, while the other pinned her hips to the red leather, restricting her ability to move. “jus’ wanna make you feel as good as possible, is all. will y’let me?”

harry turned his head, nipping at the inside of the girl’s thigh, and she gasped at the brief assault on the softest skin of her body, now adorning the mark of his front teeth that she loved so much. she shuddered a breath as best she could, and harry could tell by the way her knuckles were turning white in their grip on the couch that she was trying her best to be good. feeling a twinge of guilt, he figured maybe he should offer her a second to breathe. y/n opened her eyes when she felt harry’s lips retreat from her aching cunt and the weight of his head rest against the love bite.

“hey.”

y/n cast her gaze down upon the boy (who looked far too innocent, considering what they were doing) with his cheek laid on her inner thigh, stray hairs tickling her just a tad. playfulness swam in his eyes, but there was an underlying current of concern.

“doin‘ okay?”

she nodded, gulping. harry noticed.

“because we can take a break if you want to. just say the word, okay?”

“i will, i-i promise. but… can you please keep going?”

that was all he needed to get right back into it, only with even more fervor than before. when y/n reached her third and final peak of the night, her whole body shook, and harry had the pleasure of getting to watch as he helped her ride out her high. he almost came in his pants, rutting his hips into the sofa, moaning against her core, begging her give it t’me, love, that’s it.

harry pulled back when she started pushing at his head, whining for relief as he gave one final lap at her core. he grinned at her fucked-out figure as he wiped his face on his forearm, then took her hand that had been grasping at the cushion in one of his, bringing the back of it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“feel all right, baby?”

“mhm,” she hummed between heaving breaths, glancing at what she assumed could only be a quite painful stiffy between his legs as he sat up, “do you?”

harry followed her line of vision, offering her a chuckle and an i’m fine, using his free hand to smooth his thumb along her brow. before he could even register it, her palm slipped from the grip of his other hand and traveled down to rub against the bulge in his pants, earning a sharp hiss from her boyfriend and a deep groan soon after.

“why don’t you let me repay the favor?”

…

harry was pretty sure y/n was asleep. if she wasn’t, she was definitely on the verge— her breaths were deep and even as she laid in his hold, her head on his chest, ear pressed overtop his steadily beating heart. and who could blame her? the evening’s activities had worn her out, which meant harry had done his job properly. he was more than happy to be wide awake, running his fingertips up and down her arm, inhaling the sweet scent of her fruity body wash while she dreamt if it meant she was rested and content and happy.

moments like these made harry think they could get away with it. the long hours spent apart, the hectic schedules, the fighting. sure, it was tough, and yes, they both had a temper that rivaled one another’s for the ‘least amount of patience award’ on any given day. but every missing ounce of patience was compensated by double its weight in love. they loved one another enough to make it work.

they could make this work.

right?

…

“jesus, harry, how do you think that makes me feel? you’d honestly rather i not be here? are you actually that insecure?”

“c’mon, y/n, you know tha’s not what i meant.”

y/n felt like they were going around in circles, having the same fight over and over again. only this time, the couple found themselves in a beautiful hotel room, with a beautiful view overlooking a beautiful city. and instead of getting to enjoy it, y/n was glaring at harry though the vanity mirror, his back facing her as he tamed his wild curls for tonight’s show… which he had to leave for in just a few short minutes.

the balled up fist on y/n’s hip flew up to her face, fingers flexing to pinch at the bridge of her nose as her eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

“i can’t believe this. i dropped everything to be here with you— to support you on the most incredible tour of your career— and instead of being happy i’m here as opposed to the alternative of thousands of miles away in a different time zone for months, you’re sitting here bitching about being too tired?”

harry sighed deeply, only infuriating y/n more. “you’re missing the point. ’s not that i don’t want you here, or just that ’m too tired. ’s knowing you’re sitting around by yourself, waiting on me while ’m working, when you could be out with friends and family, or sleeping in the comfort of your own bed—”

“that you’re not in!” the girl loudly interjected— how didn’t he get this? “i put all those things aside for us, har. it’s not like i’m leaving my life behind for years. christ’s sake, the tour is over in two months! but somehow, being away from my home and routine is easier than being in the same room as you right now.”

harry contemplated his next words carefully, turning them over in his head a few times and editing any obvious mistakes, leaving the pair of them to marinate in suffocating silence for a good ten or so seconds before he finally spoke.

“y/n… i can’t be a good boyfriend and a serious artist simultaneously, okay? not while ’m on tour. i can’t keep losing sleep over how well i’m balancing—”

“okay, you know what, harry? you know what? maybe you should just leave me, then. wouldn’t that be easier? you’d be able to sleep better at night, right?”

they both knew she didn’t mean it, though harry couldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt to hear. but she was pissed, and harry knew better than to try to reason with her when she was like this.

when she realized he wasn’t going to respond, instead electing to stare brokenly into the mirror, she continued. “you know damn well how hard i work for this relationship. i’ve flown across the oceans that have separated us, driven for hours just to get to see you for, like, one— hell, i’ve skipped some of my most important classes so we could go to shitty dive bars in the middle of the day together! yeah, remember that? i love you, okay? people who love each other are supposed to be grateful for any time they have together at all, no matter if it’s every day or once a year.”

y/n took a breath, finally cooling down after her heated rant. she took a moment to take in the sight of her boyfriend, dressed so vibrantly, feeling anything but.

“they warned us about times like this,” the defeated tone of y/n’s whisper was enough to finally get harry to say something.

“what was that, love?”

the girl swallowed the little saliva in her mouth before speaking up a mere decibel. “remember what my parents said? ‘the road gets hard, and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith,’” she imitated her father’s deep voice, and if not for the circumstances, harry might’ve laughed.

they weren’t lost, were they?

…

if there was such a thing as heaven on earth, y/n is pretty sure she’s been there. in fact, she goes there whenever harry so much as touches her.

when he kisses her shin as they lay watching a movie together on the couch, pulling her leg up off his lap and craning his neck downward to meet it in the middle. when he runs his fingers down the bridge of her nose, making an exaggerated boop! noise once he reaches the tip, gently pressing against it like a doorbell. and especially when he has her like this.

harry’s arms felt secure wrapped around y/n’s torso, her hips moving back and forth atop his own. the feeling of his cock twitching and shifting inside her while her nipples rub deliciously along his chest made her dizzy, like she had just gotten off a loopy rollercoaster. harry’s back arched just slightly off the plush mattress of their hotel suite’s bed when y/n gave a little bounce, arms constricting around her and forcing a pleased sigh to fall from her lips.

the girl hid her face in the crook of his neck, and harry could feel each and every hot breath against his skin. lost in pleasure, he let his large hands migrate from her hips down to her bum, where he gave a small pinch to the flesh, eliciting a yelp and a small jolt from y/n.

“sorry, baby,” he laughed, “couldn’t help m’self.” harry gently flattened his palm against the now tender skin, rubbing there softly in an attempt to soothe the little ache he left. when he felt satisfied, he shifted to rubbing between her shoulder blades instead, his other arm still wrapped around her lower back as she returned to her previous rhythm above him.

y/n could tell harry was enjoying himself. his groans alone were evidence enough, not to mention the little utterances of “shit, darling,” and “so good t’me,” he frequently let slip. but perhaps he just needed a bit more to reach his high, because without warning his hands were on her thighs, gripping tightly as he began to thrust upwards into her at a much quicker pace than she had originally set— it had her seeing stars in a matter of mere seconds.

“oh, god— harry,” y/n gasped out, gripping the edge of the plush pillow by harry’s ear. she could feel him hitting that special spot inside her with every snap of his hips, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back into her head, muscles tightening all throughout her body.

“almost there, angel… just…,” harry’s thrusts began to slow, becoming more deliberate, and now he was moving her hips to grind against his each time they met, sending y/n over the edge.

y/n’s moans were long and drawn out as she came, body spasms making her hold on more tightly to harry for stability. she didn’t even hear him finish, too busy reveling in the euphoric feeling of cumming in his arms, surrounded by warmth and love and feeling the safest she had in a long while.

it was moments like these where y/n couldn’t fathom how she’s ever been upset with harry. he was perfect, lying here under her unsteady body, breathing deeply not only to catch his breath, but to take in the smell of her. she wanted this for eternity. and if this was heaven, then surely hell was when they fought with each other.

…

y/n thought she was dreaming at first, not used to being roused from her slumber by anything other than her well-timed alarm and the occasional bark of a dog on a nearby street. she expected that after blinking the sleep from her eyes a few times, the vague image of her favorite boy would dissipate, and she’d fall back into the comfort of her warm pillow. but when she squeezed them shut once, then twice, and her boyfriend’s face was still a foot away from her’s, brushing his fingertips up her nose and along her brow, she set aside her exhaustion in exchange for confusion.

now, harry knew better than to wake y/n up. in most circumstances, she’d tell him off, or gently kick at him to get him to leave her alone. he found it rather endearing, and it’s one of the reasons he’s so protective of her in her sleep— always holding her close to keep her safe, shielding her eyes from any light intruding on the space she lay, making sure both their phones were set to ‘do not disturb.’ but he had to make an exception, just this once.

“darling,” she barely registered his whisper, “wake up f’me, please?”

a whine fell from y/n’s lips, her eyes scrunching shut as she turned her body away from him, which harry knew was code for let me sleep, for fuck’s sake! a smile graced his lips at the action, jotting down a mental note to make this up to her later.

compensating for the newfound distance between them, harry scooted closer to her. he kneeled on the floor next to the bed, close to the pillows she rested upon. he laid one arm against the mattress, perching his chin on the back of his wrist. using his free hand, he continued to brush his fingertips lightly against his love’s cheek, her jaw— all along her face, really. god, her loves her face so much.

“please, baby?”

harry had just come back from one of his best performances yet— the crowd’s energy was unmatched, the chemistry between him and his band members was palpable, and he’d managed to not get hit with any flying objects all night! but what really did it for him was the fan project he was surprised with at the end of the show. thousands of people in the room wore light-up bracelets that shone pink and blue during one of his favorite songs, ‘love of my life.’ if harry’s heart had been any more full in that moment, it might’ve exploded right there in his chest.

he had been on cloud nine for a moment. but soon, realization washed over him in a way that squeezed at his lungs, stealing his breath for a second. the love of his life was somewhere miles away, probably sitting in their hotel room watching a comfort film, oblivious to anything he was feeling on that stage. he just wanted to go home to her and gush about what had happened, and how he wished she’d been there, and how it made so much sense that it would happen during ‘love of my life’ because it was the perfect representation of the amount of love he had for his, and how if she’d have been there, he would have looked directly at her and smiled the whole time.

it made him realize how bloody stupid he was.

in retrospect, the conversation he’d needlessly just woken y/n up for could have waited until morning. but then harry wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he didn’t tell her he was sorry right away.

a groan sounded through the room, followed by the ruffling of bedsheets as the girl turned back over to glare annoyedly at harry. he let out a soft laugh at her behavior.

“’m sorry, baby. know you jus‘ wanna sleep right now, but ’s it okay if we talk for a mo‘?”

“now?” y/n asked in a gravelly voice.

“now, m‘ love.”

with a soft sigh, she relented, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her knuckles. harry caught the motion, bringing his hands up to pull hers away from her face. he didn’t like when y/n did that, as she always managed to do it too roughly. instead, he held her smaller hands in his own, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her.

“what is it?” y/n asked through a yawn. harry looked at her for a moment— really looked at her— before responding.

“i’m sorry.”

it took her a moment to register his words. “for waking me up?”

harry laughed that dreamy laugh she loved so much, and it almost made up for the fact that she was up at twelve thirty in the morning. “no, y’little minx. not for that. well, yes, for that, but that’s not what i meant.”

“what are you sorry for, then?”

harry looked at her with an expression y/n couldn’t place. it look him a few beats to speak. “i… i’m sorry i was such a prick before. i love that you’re here, an‘ that i get t’see you when i’m off. know you put aside a lot for this, an‘ i ruined it with m’own problems. didn’t mean to.”

y/n’s features softened at the boy’s sincerity, and if it weren’t for the warmth his hands encapsulating hers provided, she’d have reached out and held his face, peppering kisses over every dip and curve.

“i know you didn’t…. i’m sorry, too.”

“for what?”

“i should’ve listened better. you were trying to tell me how you felt and i just disregarded it. that wasn’t very nice of me, either.”

the right corner of harry’s lips tugged upwards, morphing his mouth into that little half-grin y/n adored so much. “think we can get past it, darling?”

the girl scooted forward the tiniest bit, harry’s magnetic pull too hard to resist. though they were the only two in the room, she whispered, “i’ll forgive you if you forgive me.” harry liked how she made something so simple sound like a secret deal between them.

harry’s half-smile quickly quirked up, completing itself, and y/n swooned over his dimples and adorable bunny teeth. a short and quiet breath of a laugh fell past his lips, and for a moment, he just looked at her. but his gaze caught a glimpse of uncertainty in her eyes, and his grin faltered a bit.

y/n was always good at hiding her true emotions when she wanted to. not when it really mattered, don’t get her wrong— she wasn’t one to take anyone’s shit. but at dinner with her parents or meetings at work, she was able to pretend she wasn’t exhausted or annoyed. it never worked with harry, though. he could read and understand her like his own lyrics, and tonight was no exception. he saw through the mask of humor at her uncertainty, and a pang of guilt bloomed in his chest.

he let out a sigh as he beckoned her forward by gently tugging her hands, still in his, toward him. “c’mere, baby,” he said softly, pulling his love into his lap. y/n curled into him, knees tucked upward into her chest as his strong arms found purchase around her frame, holding her tenderly but securely. one of harry’s large hands held the back of her head against him, her ear right over his heart, listening to it beat for her.

“love you like crazy. you’ve no idea.” he peppered light kisses to the top of her head, so softly she might’ve missed one or two. “thank you for comin‘ an‘ s’porting me. means the world, honestly.”

“i’m happy to be anywhere with you, har,” she replied in a voice honey-thick with sleep. “even if it’s just for a few minutes. always so happy to have you.”

harry closed his eyes, laying back into the pillows, bringing y/n down with him so that she was laying overtop his sturdy body, inhaling his every exhale.

“you have me,” he said, though he was almost certain she didn’t hear him, likely already pulled into the void of sleep, drawn in by the comfort of harry’s arms, his smell, him.

“you’ll always have me.”

taglist (final time using the old one, see new link in bio): @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy

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that-ineffable-devil · 9 months

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I'm processing a lot of emotions tonight and I keep being drawn back to Good Omens--not just because it's the new hyperfixation or because it's so good. That's what I thought it was, at first.

But this year--hell, the last 3 or 4 months especially, I finally started taking steps to accepting and being myself. I'm rapidly approaching middle age and I'm only just now beginning to feel like I'm allowed to be me. I came out to the people in my household, a few select friends, and a few select family members--most of whom were wholly supportive. I started testosterone injections. I stopped trying to be someone I'm not. I stopped hiding who I am and who I love.

What does this have to do with Good Omens? Nothing. But also... Everything.

So much queer representation is in characters vastly younger than me--and that's good! I want queer kids to feel safe and loved and accepted in ways I never did. They deserve better than we had. And it gives me hope for their futures. I bawled like a baby when I watched The Owl House with my son and he was totally unphazed by the queerness. It's just how people are to him.

But when something like Good Omens comes along and not only grabs every opportunity to show average, everyday old(er) queer representation... It just. I've never felt more seen. More accepted. More hope for all our futures. And season 2 just knocked that out of the fucking park. And the nonbinary, genderfluid, and genderqueer rep? My God.

And it's not subtext, it's not it's own separate plotline where they're fighting for acceptance or dealing with hateful bigotry... It's just... Accepted. It's normal. No one questions it. No one even comments on it.

It's people of any age (even millions of years old) being unapologetically themselves and loving who they love openly and fully (with one notable uncommunicative group of two ineffable idiots, but they'll get there).

I just.

I can't express how grateful I am to see older queer rep at this time in my life. It's been a rough year, and I expect it'll get rougher before it gets better. But I've never been happier in my own skin, and it means the absolute world to see my literary and media heroes like Neil Gaiman, David Tennant, and Michael Sheen (and Terry Pratchett and everyone who worked on Good Omens, honestly) making this beautiful, messy, adorable, excruciating, wonderful, heartbreaking, ethereal, down-to-earth tale.

There aren't enough words in all the languages of the world to express how I'm feeling. "Thank you" just feels... Insufficient.

I just hope they know how much it means to people like me, especially after a lifetime of buried subtext and overt queerbaiting and media ridicule and general lack of acceptance, to experience this story with them.

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folkwhoredoll · 29 days

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library affections - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: there are two things that you love in this world; rafe and books

word count: 0.9k

warnings/tags: none, just fluff with sweet boyfriend!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! i don't think i can ever thank you all enough for your support in all of my works :< tbh i did not expect to gain so much interaction because this blog is still relatively new but here you all are and i appreciate each and every one of you <3 this fic is another fluff boyfriend!rafe fic (is it obvious that i like fluff so much lmao) and i've written this a while ago. i hope you'll like this one! if you have a request or prompt in mind, feel free to send me a message. happy reading!

masterlist

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Being a regular visitor at the Camerons' estate has familiarized you with every corner of the house. Now, you have memorized every room and decoration, immediately spotting whatever is newly added. The Camerons didn't mind your presence, with your family being a close friend of theirs. Thus, it was no surprise that you ended up dating the one and only son of Ward Cameron.

With his father and stepmother often occupied and his sisters frequently out with friends, you and Rafe usually find yourselves with the house to yourselves, save for the occasional presence of the household staff. Yet, you've never minded.

Today follows a similar pattern. Ward left for a morning meeting, Wheezie went to school, and Sarah departed at noon to join John B's group. Surprisingly, even Rafe isn't home, having agreed to a golf outing with Topper and Kelce. Although he initially invited you to join, you declined, preferring to avoid the "boy talk" and the scorching sun. Thus, you find yourself waiting for Rafe in the living room, idly scrolling through your phone.

It's been around two in the afternoon when you got bored, sighing and deciding to stand up to walk around the house. Your feet already know where you're going when you face the familiar entrance to the Camerons' Library.

This room is your most loved spot in the whole estate, apart from Rafe's room. The vast shelves of bright book covers from different times always amaze you. If you could, you'd live in this room. Rafe has found you exploring this library countless times; even his sisters know it's the first place to check when you're not around the house.

Quickly scanning the shelves for a book, you settled upon a fantasy fiction novel, clutching the book as you made your way to a couch by the window. The first few chapters had you hooked immediately, eyes rapidly passing through every word as you moved chapter by chapter. The book was so good that it blanked your other senses, making you jump when you suddenly heard Rafe's voice.

"I knew you'd be here." He smirked, still in his golfing outfit, as he stood over you.

"Hi, Rafe." You smiled up at him, putting the book down on your lap. "How's golfing?"

Rafe plopped beside you, stretching his legs and putting an arm around your shoulder. "It was good. I got bored with Top's whining about his break-up with Sarah, so I left."

You chuckled when you saw his eyes roll, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. "They were together for a long time. You can't blame him."

"I guess." He shrugged before flashing you a flirty grin. "But I also want to spend time with my girl."

You snorted. "Yeah, okay."

"What? I do! I feel guilty about leaving you here alone." He defended.

"I don't mind, Rafe." You spoke.

"Hm. I bet you don't. But still."

You raised your brows, silently urging him to explain what he meant.

"I just mean that you were too distracted by that book, baby. I could've been an intruder, but you wouldn't even know. What is that about anyway?"

Your eyes lit up at his question; you've always loved speaking about the books you've read. And Rafe loved hearing you talk, even if he's mostly confused.

"I just started reading it, so I don't really know what it's about yet, but there's this girl, and she has electricity powers!" You started excitedly.

Rafe listened intently. He couldn't help but feel affection for you, marveling at how your eyes sparkled with passion for the story. Despite the chaotic world outside, at this moment, it was just the two of you, surrounded by the tranquility of the library.

As you continued to talk, Rafe's mind wandered, reflecting on how much you meant to him. You were the one person who could effortlessly penetrate his tough exterior, revealing the softer, more vulnerable side of him that he often kept hidden from the world. He felt at ease with you, free to be himself without fear of judgment or ridicule.

Lost in his thoughts, Rafe reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You paused mid-sentence, startled by the sudden touch, before leaning into his hand, relishing the warmth of his touch.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, concern lacing your voice as you noticed the distant look in his eyes.

Rafe shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nothing, I'm just... happy. Happy to be here with you."

A soft blush colored your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. At that moment, surrounded by the scent of old books and the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the window, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Leaning in, Rafe pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion as you returned his affectionate gaze.

With a contented sigh, Rafe settled back against the couch, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his side. Together, you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company.

At that moment, surrounded by the familiar comforts of the library, you knew that no matter what the future held, as long as you had each other, everything would be okay.

#drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n

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libraryraccoon · 2 months

Note

Hi, I would like to request Alastor with a reader who is like the Trailblazer from Star rail please

I just like to think that their dynamic would drive everyone up the walls

- Alastor unleashing Trailblazer!Reader on the world

Gender : GN

Pronouns : None

Message of Raccoon : Alastor with a Caelus/Trailblazer!Reader but it's mostly crack.

Alastor

First of all, you look like a raccoon.

I'm not the one who makes the rules.

You were, in fact, an angel.

But you were fallen because you rummaged through people's trash…

So now you're in Hell.

Alastor met you shortly after you arrived, you were beating up demons with an angelic baseball bat when he found you.

He immediately found you interesting, because :

You had an angelic weapon, a baseball bat. It was the first time he had seen a baseball bat as an angelic weapon.

You were a raccoon demon and you were in a fight. Raccoon demons, according to popular belief, were people who flew unnoticed and fled from any type of battle; they didn't like to fight.

You were beautiful.

But, like, the kind of beauty that was misused.

With all these points taken into account, yes he find you interesting.

Alastor came to talk to you before taking you to the Hazbin Hotel.

Over time, he understood that you were the exception who confirmed the rule on raccoon demons.

Why ? Because you were a being of chaos.

Not a day went by without someone seeing you running through hell, angelic baseball bat in hand, creating chaos and destroying everything.

Carmilla brought him to her neighborhood one day at 3AM because you were creating chaos there.

He swears that it's you who create the principle of chaos.

And when you're not creating chaos, you're rummaging through trash…

How Alastor even began to love you is a mystery even he doesn't have the answer to.

When Alastor realized that he love you, he had two reactions :

“Holy shit I can be in love.” Coming off the aromantic 'can't feel romantic feelings at all' spectrum was NOT one of the things he wanted this year.

“HOLY SHIT I FALL FOR THE VIOLENT RACCOON FROM HELL”

Denial. Instantly.

It took him 3 months to come out of the first phase of the grief, the denial.

Not about being able to love, no, he accepted that.

But falling in love with you ?

Hell nah.

It took him 4 months to accept it, finally coming out of his grief.

He complained to Rosie about it, 100%.

“How could I fall for someone like that..” -Alastor, totally done with all this shit.

“Look on the bright side, Y/N is handsome.” -Rosie, not understanding the seriousness of the situation.

He didn't confess, praying that his feelings would go away.

It was you who confess.

He helped you heal some of your wounds, and you just said "Thank you, I love you." Before kissing his forehead and leaving, like if it was normal.

After that, you got the "you can touch me but not too much" pass, which allowed you to touch Alastor.

And you use it too often at Alastor's opinion.

Now, when you're not digging through trash, not doing what you were created for (chaos), you stay with Alastor.

People don't fuck with Alastor anymore, not because they're afraid to be in his radio show, oh no no ! They didn't want to meet the madman that he call his partner.

You two are the most feared duo/couple in Hell.

Even if in truth you are just two people who love each other and love chaos.

Alastor entertained himself by watching the chaos you created. It's canon, I don't make the rules.

The Hazbin Hotel crew judges you so LOUD.

Charlie is the only one to support you two with Niffty.

Angel Dust asks too many questions for his well-being about you and the history of your relationship.

Vaggie is, and always will be, shocked to see you touch Alastor without consequences, or even to see you kiss him.

Husk asked you how you can love Alastor...

You took 3 hours for explaining the why-

No one asked after that.

Sir Pentious was just like "🧍‍♂️ does that mean you're Alastor's weakness ?"

Lucifer give you a lot of side eyes.

No, I won't elaborate.

Vox tried to kidnap you…

…

There was a week without Vox on TV, and every time someone mentioned your name, he flinched.

Let's not even talk about when he sees you after that..

Alastor himself doesn't want to know what you did to him.

You are the more affectionate and touchy one in the relationship.

Alastor always knows what you are thinking by your expressions.

The day you told him you were an angel and why you were sent to Hell, he was shocked.

Because, how on the 7 circles of Hell, a being of chaos was an angel ??

He just asked "How can an angel be so chaotic ?"

And you just shrugged your shoulders.

You yourself didn't know how you got to Heaven in the first place-

I just know that you touch his ears and his deer tail as soon as you are in private, and that even before being a couple.

You're just a 'I need to touch everything' person.

Alastor tried to get you to stop digging through the trash, but he never succeeded.

Alastor loves you, yes, but sometimes (read : often) he wishes he didn't.

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cheolslz · 3 months

Note

and when reader has a thing for cheol’s thick thighs then what????? cus i do and it’s driving me insane help 💔💔

like his thighs are the perfect seat, best seat in the world tbh and omg if reader has to sit on his lap because there’s no space in the car then what????

then what??? then I go insane.

18+(minors dni), car ride and you're on his lap oooo, thigh riding, fem!reader but it's not explicitly mentioned(?)

ignore typos I wrote this at 3am without proofreading

now, you never said this was going to be a good idea.

your monthly meet up with your and seungcheol's friend groups are something you look forward very excitedly. so this month when the plan for going to a place out of the city to stay for the weekend was made, you said yes immediately.

on the day of all of you going you ran into a little problem. there were supposed to be 4 cars in total but mingyus car broke down before he got to your guy's meet up spot.

after a lot of discussions you all decided to fit into 3 cars, not wanting to go through the hassle of renting another car. you were in Joshua's car along with a few other people.

now. “fit into” meant you had to sit on seungcheol's lap. initially none of you thought much about it but once the car started, you knew this was going to be hard for both of you.

going out of the city meant the roads would get worse. roads getting worse would mean a bumpy car ride. bumpy car ride on your boyfriend’s lap…yea.

the first 3 hours were fine. the roads were plain and all of you were distracted by cheerful conversations and music in the car. slowly people started dozzing off until the only people who were awake were you, seungcheol and joshua who was driving.

seungcheol was a man who could maintain his composure very well. he usually never cracked under anything but God you made it so difficult. he was out of his mind hoping for this car ride to get over as soon as possible.

everytime there would be a bump, you'd fall back a bit and clash with his chest. your ass would be rubbing against his clothed member so well that he'd have to take heavy breaths to calm himself down. he hugged your waist tightly trying to reduce your movements.

you couldn't even help it if you tried. his thick and muscular thighs under you felt so nice. all of his workouts were definitely paying off. the way he would tense his thighs everytime you'd rub against him and you'd feel him under you.

“stop moving” he whispers in your ear.

“I'm trying” you whisper back, blushing and clearly flustered by this whole situation.

after 1 (cruel) hour you finally reach your hotel. the minute you get off his lap and out the car, he takes a moment to get his head in his hands and breathe. everyone unloads their luggage from the cars and gets their room keys.

seungcheol was a man who could maintain his composure very well, but he couldn't even wait till you got to your room and started making out with you in the hallway. you thank yourself for booking tickets late and not getting a room in the same floor as your friends.

the minute you enter the room and lock the door, both of you discard all your clothes and end up on the bed. seungcheol has you under him as he trails kisses down your jaw and to your collar bone. your soft whimper and noises are music to his ear.

music. the car ride comes in his mind and he gets an idea.

he immediately flips you over so he's sitting on the bed and you're on his thighs. you look at him confused and he starts flexing his thighs under you and slowly lowers you onto them. he drags your hips up and down his on muscle, the friction making you see stars. you hold his shoulder for support and moan his name, slowly riding his thighs as it gets covered in your arousal. he kisses your neck and groans

“fuck baby you look so pretty like this”

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sunkissed-zegras · 2 months

Note

hi i’ve been loving your celly! can i please request 31. "you're such a softie. why do you hide it?" / "i don't really try to hide it, it's just that nobody has ever cared enough to see it." where luke says the first thing to reader? thank you <3

𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | lh⁴³

♡ ─ word count | 652

♡ ─ warnings | comfort/hurt, kinda angsty but becomes fluffy at the end!

♡ ─ ev's notes | ofc, i hope you enjoy!!

Luke's lips curved up into a smile as you spoke, warmth filling his heart. It was a hard week for Luke, practices were hard and after a particularly bad game, it seems like everyone was against him - even his own brother. But as you spoke, none of it seemed to matter anymore. You made him feel okay again, even after the roughest week he's had in a while.

In that moment, the weight of the difficulties he faced seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of comfort and reassurance. The troubles of the world faded away as he focused on the warmth of your presence.

"It wasn't your fault." You whispered as Luke laid on your chest. "Hockey is a team sport and just because you messed up once doesn't mean you're a shitty player, okay?"

Luke closed his eyes, taking in the gentle rhythm of your heartbeat beneath him. He didn't know he needed to hear that until you had said it.

"It's just... hard, you know?" Luke murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I let everyone down, especially Jack."

"Jack isn't mad at you, he's mad because of how the game turned out. No one knew you guys were gonna get your asses beat."

Luke let out a laugh at your bluntness as he nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

The sound of Luke's laughter was like music to your ears, a sign that the self-doubt were beginning to disperse. You continued to run your fingers through his curls, offering a comforting touch as he opened up.

"Jack's your brother and he won't be angry forever, he had a tough loss, too. Give him time, okay baby?" You spoke gently as he gave you another nod. Luke nestled closer, appreciating your warm voice and the gentle strokes through his hair.

"Yeah, I know. It's just hard, you know?" Luke mumbled, his vulnerability laid bare as he continued. "I hate feeling like I disappointed him."

Your fingers traced calming circles on his back as you replied, "I get it. But people who care about you, like Jack does, will understand that everyone has their off days. What matters is how you pick yourself up and move forward."

"I'll give him some space," Luke said, determination flickering in his eyes. "And I'll make it up to him. Show him I'm not defined by one bad game."

A comfortable silence settled in between you before Luke spoke up again with a smile. "You're such a softie, why'd you try do hide it?"

"I don't really try to hide it. It's just nobody has cared enough to see it." You shrugged. Your words hung in the air, a reminder of the vulnerability that laid beneath the surface. Luke's gaze softened, his heart swelling.

"Well, I see it," Luke murmured, his voice filled with honesty. "And I'm grateful for it, more than you know."

A tender smile graced your lips, the weight of Luke's gratitude warming you from within. In that moment, the walls you had built around your heart began to crumble, replaced by the warmth of Luke's love for you.

"I guess you caught me," you replied in a playful tone. "But only because you're worth it."

His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a silent pledge of mutual support and understanding. Luke felt a sense of belonging wash over him, a feeling he had longed for but never dared to hope would come true. "Thank you," Luke whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "For being you, for being here."

As the world outside faded into insignificance, you allowed yourself to relish in the simple joy of being together, basking in the warmth of Luke's love. In his presence, you felt seen, heard, and cherished, a realization that filled you with a sense of gratitude. With a gentle sigh, you leaned into Luke's touch, savoring the comfort of his presence.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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ghost-proofbaby · 9 months

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY FOUR

in which you and eddie win the bet.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7k+

→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?

thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00

DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up.

BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well?

DINGUS: so it seemed.

ARGYLE 😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them

JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour.

NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe.

JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance?

NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.

NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.

DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon

BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next?

HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM

“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

Steve.

You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference.

“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first.

He’s making no move to get up off the floor.

Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.

“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.”

You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through.

“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.

“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious.

If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you.

Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing.

“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion.

Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.

Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?”

Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.”

You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything.

“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?”

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”

“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.”

Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.

Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.”

“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours.

“Right, must have slipped my mind.”

One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.

Almost.

“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”

“I have.”

Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms.

“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.

He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush?

Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”

Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.

“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“

He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.

“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively.

Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.”

All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.

“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.”

You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”

“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit.

“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?”

You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better.

“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.”

“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.”

“Then consider this your notice.”

Is this what I had always been missing out on?

You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.

It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.

The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning.

Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.

Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever.

“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?”

Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.”

“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”

“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.”

You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you.

“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.

“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.

It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.

“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there.

You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.

—

But then, you actually do have to go home.

You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really.

“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions.

You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.

Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“

“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation.

“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.”

You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?”

“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“

“What have you guys been doing?”

Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.

“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?”

Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?”

“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.”

“What have you guys been doing?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”

“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“

Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.”

“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?”

“You don’t wanna know,” you say.

“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says.

It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.

“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.”

“Am I?”

Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder.

“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.”

“No.”

“You just said you don’t believe-“

“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.”

Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.”

Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.”

You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.

Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet.

“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.”

“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket.

You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.”

Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over.

Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now.

He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around.

“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.

You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”

“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”

“We do.”

Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night.

“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.

Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly.

It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center.

You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well.

You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it.

“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches.

Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now.

It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now.

“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.”

Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”

“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.”

“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.”

Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?”

“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t.

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing.

There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it.

You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to.

Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave.

Eddie’s quick to follow.

“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure.

Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C.

Leaving now is not leaving forever.

But it sure does feel like it.

Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave.

One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you.

“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?”

You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive?”

“Will you look at me, then?”

Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.

You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck.

But you don’t.

“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.”

As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you.

“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.

You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Time. You two needed time apart.

“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet.

You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away.

You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.

—

Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful.

If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went.

But you’re not a good friend.

You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.

The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart.

Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.”

Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.”

“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat.

Because, was it complicated? Was it really?

The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind?

That wasn’t really complicated.

And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.”

“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes.

You wish you would have kissed him.

“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-”

You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.

“I’ll see you later, Steve.”

“Wait-”

You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.

Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend.

And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours.

Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be.

Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems.

“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.

Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted.

“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you.

Rough’s a good way to put it.

“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”

She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it.

Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend.

You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy.

Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress.

You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie.

It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along.

The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless.

The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration.

There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again.

The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two. And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.

The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s.

The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two.

The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him.

Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time.

You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.

Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.

Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to.

You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears.

EDDIE: Make it home okay?

Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now.

YOU: yep. my roommate just left.

EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember?

YOU: like sleeping on a cloud.

You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone.

EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry

EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams.

No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care.

You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.

But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened.

Something about that makes you brave.

YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.

EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?

YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now.

An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds.

EDDIE: Ah. I see.

You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.

But he’d started it. That was on him.

YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over?

EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems.

YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down.

There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours.

Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos.

EDDIE: About that…

You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you.

YOU: About what?

EDDIE: I’m not home right now.

Your heart clenches.

YOU: You’re not?

EDDIE: I’m not.

YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?

Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere.

But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is.

You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step.

The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you.

You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him.

“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues.

You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist.

“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.”

His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.

“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter.

When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool.

“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?”

“Start over?” you question wearily.

He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.”

His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves.

“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.”

“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.”

You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you.

You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss.

He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?”

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home.

“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.”

He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #this feels so surreal to post jesus christ #thank you guys genuinely for all the love #i will be making a sappy post before i post the epilogue on thursday #i just #wow #yeah #i did it #again #i finished a fucking fic

1K notes · View notes

lovingyoulovinme · 11 months

Text

charles leclerc x reader & past!lewis hamilton x reader

in which charles starts to date lewis hamilton's ex girlfriend

this part will focus mostly on y/n and lewis's relationship/break up with following parts focusing on her relationship with charles

lewisupdates

8,847 likes

lewisupdates Lewis and Y/N tonight at their friend's birthday party!

View all 297 comments

user1 mom & dad 🥰

teamhamilton they are GLOWING

user2 the way there were breakup rumors up and down the tl last week...thank god

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user3 they fight break up allegations every 6 months 😭

ynsgf i love them so much 🫶

June 5, 2021

yourinstagram

Liked by lewishamilton and 339,871 others

yourinstagram family 🫶🏽🌅

View all 842 comments

lewishamilton My love ❤️

user4 im crying please get married already

ynfan MOST BEAUTIFUL EVER

user5 lewis looks so happy!!!!!!!! thank you for ur service y/n

yourfriend does he have a brother

— View 54 more replies

yourinstagram @/nicolashamilton

yourfriend I WAS JOKING

mercedesamgf1 You twooooo 😍🥹

June 28, 2021

yourinstagram

Liked by feliciathegoat and 287,792 others

yourinstagram tour officially started last night at msg!!!! it's a long oneeeee but i'm so excited 🥹

View all 1,368 comments

ynstan SEE YOU IN TWO MONTHS BABY

lewishamilton ❤️‍🔥

thegarden Miss you already 🫣

user6 cant believe we're gonna be deprived of y/n and lewis content for so long 💔

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ham44 manifesting he has time in-between races to go to some of the shows

user7 the way i fear we're gonna get breakup rumors once again

August 1, 2021

yourinstagram

Liked by bellahadid and 257,534 others

yourinstagram wrote a song :) what if i told you i'm releasing it on friday :)

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user8 lewis not in the comments or the likes...who else is scared rn

bellahadid got your back forever 🫂💕

yourfriend user, what a loser

ynstan these comments from her friends...im gonna throw up what is going on

user9 YESSSSSSSSSSS

hamiltonyln her and lewis both deleting posts of each other and now she's releasing a song in the middle of tour it's so over

August 31, 2021

yourinstagram

Liked by charles_leclerc and 476,848 others

yourinstagram thank you for all the love you've given to what a lie, the tour, and to me 💌 grateful for everyone in my life that helped me get through the last few months ❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

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yelyahwilliams queen of the world

loriharvey 😍😍😍

cullen_angela Proud of you 🤍

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ynstan angela still supporting her 😭🫶

ham44 as she should

user10 charles leclerc liking this???? wtf is a polar bear doing in arlington texas

yourfriend we are grateful for YOU

user11 no guys fr do her and charles know each other

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ynfan shes been to a million races they've prob crossed paths a few times

November 4, 2021

a/n: i swear i don't have some horrible obsession with having the reader cheated on 😭 the song inspired me with choosing what would be the downfall of their relationship and that's it i SWEAR. not sure how many parts this will have but enjoy for now and thank you for 1.5k followers it means the world 🫶🏽

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #lewis hamilton x reader

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xoxoladyaz · 10 months

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You're My Heaven, Angel (Paramedic Steve x Rockstar Eddie) - Part 2

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 (Coming Soon)

AN: I just wanted to say a quick THANK YOU to everyone who has been so kind and so supportive of Part 1! I hear you and I, too, want to create a whole series based around this idea. It's a lot of pressure following-up something that's so beloved, but I'm going to give it my best!

Robin must secretly hate Steve.

She must be the most incredible actress in the entire world. She must be the most prolific conman that’s in the business of conman-ing people or whatever. She must have made a blood oath with an elder god during a full moon that no matter how many days or weeks or months or years it took, she would one day make Steve Harrington’s life absolutely miserable. There’s no other reasonable explanation for why she insists on taking the scenic route to Eddie’s room - a scenic route which adds on two additional minutes of travel time instead of heading straight down the hallway (which maybe adds forty seconds tops).

A route which means Steve has to bear two additional minutes of Eddie loudly introducing him to every single doctor, nurse, patient or family member that they come across on the way to his suite. Never mind that Steve’s worked with most of these doctors and nurses for years now, never mind that he actually goes to Sharla’s poker group when he has Thursdays off with the other fifty-something moms on staff (which Robin never ceases to find absolutely hilarious); no, Eddie is all smiles and arm flourishes, loudly – too loudly – proclaiming that they are now in the presence of his angel, his baby, his angel baby, the love of his life, the apple of his eye, his amor, his partner, his husband –

“Congratulations, Steve! I didn’t know you got married!” Sue laughs as the entire production passes by.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes. Eddie blows her a noisy kiss before clearing his throat. He takes a deep breath, and –

“I’M GETTING MARRIED IN THE MORNING - ”

“Robin, he’s singing again!”

“I know, dingus, I can hear him.”

“DING DONG, THE BELLS ARE GONNA CHIIIIIMMMEEEEEEEE - ”

Steve turns back, risking a glare at Robin mid-step. “Remind me why we’re going the long way around?”

Robin snorts out a laugh, shit-eating grin firmly in place. “Come on, Stevie, we all need the exercise.”

“ – GET ME TO THE CHURCH ON TIMMMMMEEEE – Stevie? Stevie,” Eddie turns and sighs at Steve and okay, Steve can’t tell if Eddie’s eyes are super dilated because of the probable head trauma or if there’s a weird reflection from the fluorescents, but his eyes are, like, legit sparkling up at him. “Steeeeeevieeeee - ”

“Yep, I’m still here.” Eddie grins, flopping to the side so that their joined hands are resting up against his head. He sighs happily, his feet wiggling under the shock blanket, and it’s not cute Steve stop thinking it’s cute –

“Steve!” He pulls his eyes away just as the gurney comes to a stop in front of Brenda, one of the intake nurses currently on shift. Brenda’s blonde and cute and ethically non-monogamous, but Steve is more of a one and done sort of guy. That doesn’t mean they don’t flirt like crazy anytime they bump into each other, though. (Hey, he’s gotta stay in shape somehow.)

“Looking good today. Is that a new shirt?” She asks with a smirk, her eyes running over his biceps. (It’s not a new shirt, Robin just ran it through the dryer, so it shrunk. Really, he should have gotten rid of it, but it makes his biceps look amazing.)

“Nah, it’s - ”

He has a line. He has a great line. But as soon as he opens his mouth to speak it, he’s cut off by a very loud hissing sound coming from his left and –

Yep, it’s Eddie. Eddie, who’s glaring at Brenda like they’re mortal enemies. Seriously, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have laser eyes like that one superhero guy because if he did, Brenda would be at risk of getting too tan.

“MINE!” Eddie snaps at the end of his hiss and then, all while still maintaining eye contact with Brenda, he yanks Steve’s hand to his mouth and licks it. And not, like, a gentle lick that you’d get from a puppy. No, Eddie licks his hand like he’s trying to give Steve a tongue bath.

(His first instinct should be to pull away, but instead all Steve can think about it Eddie giving him an actual full body tongue bath - )

“Dude!” Steve exclaims when he does finally pull his hand away. (He hears Robin snort under her breath, clearly having caught onto the fact that his brain broke at the whole licking thing and shit, now he’s thinking about it again - )

“No, MINE!” Eddie growls, and Steve barely has a chance to wipe his hand on his pants before Eddie is grabbing it back, clutching it between both of his hands like it’s his special or something. (Special, was that the word that the guy used? The little creepy guy in that one movie? He needs to text Dustin and ask.)

“Aww, I’m glad to see you’ve finally met someone!” Brenda teases.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve replies distractedly, trying (and failing) to shake one of Eddie’s hands off of his hand because now that they’re actually at his suite, he’s going to need them. “Brenda, this is - ”

“The concussion patient from Lollapalooza, Sarah clued me in,” Brenda says, snapping her gum. “Eddie, right?”

Eddie pauses from wrestling with Steve to sniff at Brenda and honestly, as someone who spent way too much time at country clubs as a child because of his parents, Eddie has the whole I’m-better-than-you-you-poor-person-wearing-Adidas expression locked down. “That’s Mister Eddie to you, Briony.”

Briony? “Who’s Briony?”

Robin kicks the gurney forward with an eye roll and suddenly they’re moving into the suite. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, dingus.”

Eddie finally manages to tear his eyes away from Brenda. He perks his head up at Steve and once Steve’s face is in his line of sight his expression softens, the sparkles coming back in full force. “And it’s such a pretty head, baby.”

Such a pretty head SUCH A PRETTY HEAD –

“I’ll show you – ow, Robin, seriously?” Steve yelps at Robin’s pinch.

“Stop being horny and help me get him on the bed.”

“I’m - ”

“Don’t listen to her baby, please, please stay horny, and lose the shirt while you’re at it!” Eddie sits up and starts frantically grasping at Steve’s sleeves. “Christ almighty, these arms, arms of heaven, arms of an angel - ”

“Steve!” Robin barks and shit, he needs to focus. He takes advantage of the fact that Eddie let go of his hand to grab at his shirt and darts down to the other end of the gurney. They lift on a count of three, placing Eddie onto the bed and kicking the wheeled cart out of the way. (Eddie makes a loud WHEEEEEEEEE sound and then immediately goes back to demanding that Steve get naked.) Sarah, who’s followed the procession the entire time, grabs the empty cart and wheels it out of the room just as Brenda steps in.

“Well then, Eddie, let’s get started on intake,” Brenda nods, bringing out her iPad. “Are you ready to answer a few questions?”

“No.”

Robin groans and steps to the side, energetically fluffing and reorganizing Eddie’s pillows so he’s seated up. Somehow Eddie is able to lean around Robin’s wide-armed movements and fix Brenda with yet another piercing glare.

Brenda shoots Steve a look before nodding her head at Eddie.

Right.

“Hey, uh, Eddie, we really need to ask you a few questions - ”

“Hand!” Eddie snaps to look at Steve and sticks his hand towards him. He wiggles his fingers a few times before making a grabby motion. “Hand!”

It’s not cute. It’s totally not cute.

Steve sighs but walks back around from the foot of the bed and places his hand gently in Eddie’s. Eddie links their fingers and squeezes tightly. “Uh, how about now, is now okay to ask a few questions?”

Huffing, Eddie looks at their fingers for a few moments before looking upwards at Steve. Their eyes meet and he grins. “Hi angel,” he lets out a pleased sigh. “I missed you.”

Don’t say it don’t say it DON’T SAY IT -

“I missed you too, Eds.”

FUCK.

“Awwwww, my little schmoopers are being all schmoopy-moopy!” Robin sings in her best baby voice. (That’s it, he’s eating the rest of the Chunky Monkey.)

“I’m eating the rest of the Chunky Monkey.”

“Uh, like fuck you are.”

“I'd rather have you eat me,” he hears Eddie whisper and yeah, okay, that’s one he’s just going to choose to ignore for the sake of what little sanity he has left.

“Right, okay,” he hears Brenda try to get things back on track. “About those intake questions - ”

“Oh, don’t worry Nurse Brenda,” the lilting voice of Dr. Suzie Henderson floats into the room. “I can take it from here.”

Steve turns just in time to see Suzie strut into the emergency suite. She shoots Brenda a grateful nod and Brenda, with one last wink to Steve, hands her iPad off to Suzie and heads out of the room.

“Bye Steve!”

“Bye Brenda.”

“Yeah, bye Brittany!”

Suzie has the best laugh in the world, and she lets it fly on her walk over. “Hey Steve,” Suzie grins at him as she makes her way towards the foot of Eddie’s bed. “How are things going today?”

“Oh, good,” Steve replies quickly before turning to look at Eddie. “Eddie, this is Doctor Suzie Henderson, she’s my sister-in-law.”

Eddie slowly scooches his butt backwards so he’s sitting up more. “No, she’s our sister-in-law,” he huffs before turning and smiling at Suzie. “Hey sis!”

“And you must be Eddie! I heard you were thinking about marrying into the family.” She lets out a quick giggle at those words but then clears her throat and throws her shoulders back. “Well, if you are serious about joining our Steve in holy – or unholy – matrimony - ”

“Fuck yeah,” he hears Eddie whisper.

“ – then I’m going to need you to answer a few questions.”

“Proceed, milady.” Eddie starts gently caressing Steve’s hand with his fingers. Steve shoots a look at Robin, who makes exaggeratedly sappy faces while glancing between Steve and their intertwined fingers.

(Forget the Chunky Monkey, he’s eating all of the ice cream they have left tonight.)

“Full name?”

“Edward Anthony Munson.”

“Age?”

“Thirty-one.”

“Name of your emergency contact?”

“Oh, that would be Uncle Wayne and Chrissy! Baby, you’re going to love Wayne,” Eddie says, turning to gaze lovingly up at Steve. “And he’s going to love you! Not as much as I love you though, that’s impossible.”

(Steve’s pretty sure that Bambi eyes here is the impossible one.)

“Great, is Wayne and Chrissy’s contact information in your medical file?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie replies dreamily, still gazing at Steve.

“Okay, speaking of your file,” Suzie taps at her iPad, “any major events in your medical history that we should know about?”

“Hmmm?”

He can feel it on his face, he can feel his stupid grin on his stupid face, but he chooses to instead focus on helping Eddie pay attention. “She wants to know if there’s major health events in your past that we need to know about, Bambi.”

“Bambi?”

“BAMBI?!” Robin squeaks after Eddie.

Shit shit SHIT -

“I mean - ”

“Bambi,” Eddie hums, blinking rapidly as he slumps back against his pillows. Once he's settled, he tosses his free hand across his forehead and moans happily. “He loves me. He loves me, he loves me, HE LOVES MEEEEEE - ”

Don’t blush DO NOT BLUSH BODY STOP BLUSHING

“Oh my god that was amazing, I have literally never seen you this red, you look like an actual tomato. Oh my god, I have to tell Nance, like, now.”

“Right, yes, okay Bambi,” Suzie interrupts with a snicker, “like Steve said, is there anything we need to know?”

“Well, we’re in love,” Eddie sighs, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Stevie’s hand. “I think I’m still a little high but it’s only weed, I’ve definitely stopped doing cocaine since, like, five months ago. No need to worry about that, angel,” Eddie pats the top of Steve’s hand.

“Yeah, no, I definitely won’t worry about that.” (He’s definitely going to worry about that.)

“Well, thank you for your honesty, Eddie. I’m going to take a closer look at your files once we get them just to get a better picture of your overall health before we run our tests. Now, second set of questions,” Suzie loudly taps and drags a new window on her tablet open. “What is your annual income?”

(Huh. That’s weird. Steve’s doesn't think he's ever heard any of the nurses ask that question before.)

Eddie snorts out a laugh. “God, I make so much money. A fucking stupid amount of money.”

“You have something in way of a retirement plan then?”

“Doc, I could retire for, like, the next five hundred million years.”

Susie hums as she makes a note. “Do you have anything against sharing resources with your romantic partner?”

(Okay, Steve definitely hasn't heard anyone else ask these questions before.)

“Nah!” Eddie scoffs before gently tugging on Steve’s hand to get his attention. “You’ll be the hottest trophy wife, babe. Do you have an apron? I’m going to buy you an apron.”

“And what are your feelings on children?”

“Kids? I love kids. Is he good with kids? I bet he’s good with kids,” Eddie rushes out. “Fuck, you’re going to look so hot pregnant, baby.”

Robin makes a loud barfing noise which Suzie naturally ignores. “What exactly are you looking for in a relationship?”

“Suzie - ”

“Him! My angel,” Eddie slumps to the side so he’s leaning up against Steve’s hip. “I want to wrap him up in a warm towel and keep him forever and make sweet, sweet love to him under the - ”

“OKAY, next question please,” Robin loudly cuts him off.

“So what you’re saying is you’re looking for a committed relationship with Steve,” Suzie ignores Robin's dramatics. “Are you prepared for lifelong monogamy?”

“Absolutely.”

“Suz - ”

“And you’ll work every day to be deserving of Steve?”

“For the rest of my life,” Eddie proclaims and fuck, he actually sounds serious. He actually looks serious too.

Huh.

Suzie quietly observes him for a moment before her face relaxes into a warm smile. “I believe you. Now, dealbreakers. What are your opinions on outdoor weddings? Steve gets scared in churches.”

“What?!” Eddie gasps, snapping back to Steve.

“SUZ – what, no, I’m not afraid of churches - ”

“Uh yeah you are, you said that every time you visit one you get nightmares about being sacrificed on an altar,” Robin chimes in.

“Gee, thanks, Robin.”

“Baby, baby, don’t worry, I’d never let them sacrifice you,” Eddie tries to comfort Steve, but everything that’s happened in the last thirty seconds – hell, the last thirty minutes – is starting to finally sink in and yeah, okay, there’s an obscenely hot and rich and famous rockstar telling Steve that he loves him and sure, he’s partially concussed but the joke isn’t ending, he’s acting like he’s serious and they’ve only exchanged like maybe twenty words total but he’s acting like this is actually happening and what if it actually could –

“Shoot, we’re going to have to wrap it up here, loverboy,” Robin waylays his runaway thoughts as her beeper goes off. “We’ve got a fainter with a broken nose."

“Okay, okay.” Steve shakes his head and tries to gently extract his hand from Eddie’s grasp but Eddie lurches at the feeling of Steve moving his hands and whines, digging his finger into Steve’s hand.

“Eddie, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get back to work.”

“But – no, angel, please,” he blubbers before turning his eyes on Steve and –

Oh.

Oh no.

They’re even bigger and shinier when he’s crying.

“I’m sorry, Bambi,” he replies totally deliberately, “but I’ve got to go finish my shift. I’ll come back when I’m done, okay?”

Eddie sniffles, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay,” he whimpers sadly, and – look, this joke isn't really joking anymore so if Eddie's gonna go all the way, he might as well go all the way too.

He leans forward and presses a quick kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. “Be good for Suzie, okay?” As he draws back, he glances back down at Eddie. Eddie is blinking dazedly at Steve, all glassy-eyed and rosy.

“Wow,” Eddie whispers, and while the smile that appears on his face is small, it’s the warmest one Steve has seen yet. “Whatever you say, baby.”

“Right, right.” Steve nods and then pivots, making a hasty retreat out of the room.

“Later, Bambi,” Robin sings behind him, and then she’s quick on Steve’s heels. The hall’s crowded, though, so they aren’t fast enough to escape the start of Suzie and Eddie’s conversation.

(“So, outdoor wedding? Maybe in spring?”

“Can it be in Hobbiton?”

“Uh, it better be in Hobbiton!”)

“I’m kinda surprised to see you staking your claim already, dingus,” Robin says, thrusting the portable gurney mat into Steve’s arms as they walk. “I was worried I’d have to make you.”

“I shouldn't have done that. I mean, he’s a patient, Robin!”

“Not anymore, he’s not!” Robin gently bumps his hip. “He's not your patient anymore so now we need to start planning your next move. I mean, he’s obviously going to say yes when you ask him out, but it still needs to be smooth.”

“What – I’m Steve Harrington, I’m always smooth.”

Robin is purposely silent.

“Okay, first of all, rude,” he says after giving her plenty of time to politely agree. “Second of all, even if I did decide to make a move, there actually isn’t a guarantee he’d say yes. Even if he wasn't just doing this because he's heavily concussed, I’ve hardly talked to the guy!”

“I know, he has no idea how much of a dork you are, it’s great.”

Steve offers Robin a hand as he climbs into the ambulance. (Not without shooting her a look once they're both seated, of course because again, rude.)

Robin shrugs Steve's frown off. “Look, dingus, I know you think that you have all these great lines or whatever - ”

“Uh, I don’t think, I do have them - ”

“ – but they’re, like, obviously lines. Whatever you say to him has to be more real. He needs to know that if he says yes, he’s going to be going on a date with a guy that has the ooiest, gooiest, squishiest little itty bitty heart!” She squeezes her hands together like she’s holding Steve’s heart in her hands (which definitely isn’t concerning given the fact that she’s technically a medical professional who knows just how vulnerable that particular organ is.)

“Robs - ”

“ITTY BITTY!” She kisses the tips of her fingers. “And that’s why we gotta plan, doinkus. Edward Anthony Munson needs to be constantly conscious of the fact that he’s dating the best guy on the entire planet because you are, Steve, you are the best guy on Earth and you deserve a Prince Charming even though the Prince Charming archetype is totally outdated and part of a patriarchal initiative to establish systematic gender dynamics - ”

Well, shucks. Maybe Robin doesn’t hate him after all.

“ - doesn't exist, its still what you deserve. But more importantly than that, if Eddie does start dating you, then I have a better shot of getting him to introduce me to Chris Hemsworth.”

“Chris Hemsworth?"

“Uh, yeah.”

"Chris Hemsworth - Chris Hemsworth? Out of every famous person Eddie could hypothetically introduce you to, you'd want to meet Chris Hemsworth?"

"Well, yeah," Robin takes a brief sip of her water before shooting Steve a playful smirk. “I mean, as great as you are, I wouldn't be opposed to upgrading my emotional support himbo.”

Never mind, she’s evil incarnate.

(And she’s going to be out of Chunky Monkey in about five hours.)

Tags list: @piratefishmama @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @noxturnallyevermore @little-trash-ghost @justforthedead89 @mmmmwaffles94 @omletlove @lostonceandneverfound @sweetwaterangel @punctualhowell @sapphirecobalt-1 @kedtheduck @lunesispunk @mrs-dr-reid @clockworkballerina @stayonmars @maya-custodios-dionach @kahri1 @renaissan-vvitch @xwildangel @sweetarts116 @musical-theatre-gay @ladylokilaufeyson5 @ellietheasexylibrarian @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @designatedgrape @steddiesoulmates @starlightshadowsworld @inmoonywetrust @hellfire--cult @singmeyoursimpsong @sleepdeprivedflower @loserhotline @m-owo-n @magpiemuseum

#it's me I'm the girl who fainted and broke her nose at work #I told the doctor hey at least I've finally broken a bone and he said it didn't count #which is honestly super rude so fuck you doctor jones #anyways #steddie #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie fic #paramedic Steve harrington #rock star Eddie munson #yes Eddie knows my fair lady #Steve forgetting both Superman and Gollum #trigger warning: brenda #also I took a weed hard candy while I wrote this so if the grammar is weird whoopsie I'll fix it later #Chris Hemsworth is for the lesbians

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