#and then i show up looking like i spilled out of a metal concert and slapped on the she/her sticker it got me some looks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

runninriot · 3 months

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Small Treasures To Keep

inspired by the prompt 'Love is not in the big things but in the small ones' by @sidekick-hero written for @steddielovemonth day 9

wc: 1.472 | rated: G | cw: none | tags: Musician Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington has a crush, just sweet boys being sweet, friends to lovers

“There were like, at least 200 people there! And they were actually enjoying our show! Can you believe that? It was amazing, Steve! They listened to us play, and banged their heads, and they cheered after every song. Some of them even asked if we had any merch with us and obviously we didn’t but we gave out autographs and- Oh! I almost forgot! I got you something! I’ll be right back.” Eddie nearly topples off the couch in excitement.

Steve watches him with a smile on his face, equally amused and charmed by Eddie’s dorky behaviour, and bites back a laugh when Eddie almost stumbles over his own feet as he hurries towards his bedroom.

Eddie is a menace. So strange and irritating at times but in such an endearing way it’s impossible not to like him.

Steve’s been listening to him talk non-stop since he arrived at his trailer about ten minutes ago. Talking himself breathless while recounting the events of Corroded Coffin’s first real gig, as Eddie calls it.

Steve can’t blame Eddie for being so over the moon, so overjoyed and proud. So thrilled to have gotten the chance to play as substitute opener for some Indiana metal band last night.

It must’ve been a blast, by the sounds of what Eddie’s been telling him. And Steve really is happy for him but somewhere deep down he’s still a little sad. Because he was supposed to be there for the show, to watch his friend perform in a venue four times the size of The Hideout, in front of an actual crowd. But Steve had been caught up at work because Keith called in sick last minute, leaving Steve in charge of the closing shift at Family Video which meant he couldn't make it out in time for the gig.

That really sucked.

Steve had been looking forward to the concert ever since Eddie asked him if he wanted to come see them play. When he told him it would mean a lot if he did. That he’d appreciate to have his emotional support there because he’d been so nervous about the whole thing.

It made Steve feel special, in a way. Like he’s important to Eddie, important enough for Eddie to want him there. For wanting Steve to witness the most exciting moment in the band’s history since Gareth’s mom had finally relented and let them use the garage for their rehearsals.

Steve had wanted to be there.

So, not being able to go was utterly frustrating. Not only because he really would’ve loved to watch Eddie play his guitar on a real stage but also because he kind of felt like he let Eddie down.

It was a miracle he even got a hold on him over the phone to tell him the unfortunate news. Eddie was just about to leave and make his way to the venue when Steve called him. (He would've already been out of the house had he not spilled a drink on his shirt and needed to change.)

Steve was gutted when he heard Eddie let out a heavy sigh, felt a pang in his heart at the defeat in Eddie’s voice when he told him that it was okay.

He felt horrible, like a bad friend. Unreliable and disappointing.

But then Eddie told him he understood and not to worry his pretty head about it. Said he wasn't angry, just sad because he wouldn’t be able to look out for Steve in the crowd when his nerves got the better of him.

“Promise you’ll think of me?” Eddie had asked and the promise spilled easily over Steve’s lips because-

Well. When is he not thinking about Eddie?

The guy with the unruly mane and chocolate brown eyes. The guy with the cheeky smile and a passion for teasing words. Whose small flirty gestures get Steve’s blood boiling and make his heart jump.

He’s on Steve’s mind constantly because he’s a constant in his life now. A good friend, a kind soul. Annoying, and loud, and wonderful to be around.

Eddie is-

“Ah, fuck!”

The clattering sound of something takes Steve out of his thoughts and he can’t help but chuckle when he turns towards the noise and his eyes fall on Eddie, helplessly fumbling with the chain hanging from his belt loops that got stuck on the door handle.

When he's finally managed to free himself, he speed walks over to Steve with a big grin on his face. Eddie comes to a stop right in front of him, expectantly looking down at Steve as he triumphantly holds up a crinkled piece of paper, waiting for him to take it.

“What is that?” Steve asks, confused and unable to identify what he’s now holding in his hands.

Upon closer look he realises it’s a flyer, or it had been one before someone decided to tear it in half. Steve can barely make out some dates and half of the name of a venue, thinks it might be one for the show last night.

“Look at the back,” Eddie says and his smile widens even more.

When Steve turns it around, he sees the Corroded Coffin logo scribbled on the backside of the paper. Beneath the band’s name, he immediately recognizes Eddie’s squiggly handwriting, thinks he can make out the names of the other band member’s too.

Steve looks back up at Eddie, returning the smile as he realises what this is.

“You got me an autograph? That’s so cool! Thanks, Eds!”

“Not just any autograph. It’s the first. When people came asking for autographs we panicked a bit because no one had ever wanted us to sign anything. So we practiced. What you have there is the first piece of paper Corroded Coffin have ever signed. Gareth wanted to throw it away but I saved it because I wanted you to have it. Y’know, uh, because you couldn’t come to the show and I, uhm, I still wanted to share the experience with you.”

Eddie’s face turns bright red and he seems nervous all of a sudden.

And Steve just... stares. Lets his eyes drift between Eddie and the small treasure he’s holding in his hands.

It might just be a piece of paper, some might even call it trash. But to Steve this is something precious. Something he’ll hold onto forever because Eddie gave it to him. Eddie thought about him when he should’ve been buzzing with ecstasy over their successful gig.

“That’s-“ Steve doesn’t know what to say.

So instead of talking he stands up and pulls Eddie into a tight embrace, feels his heart beating like crazy when Eddie returns it with his own arms wrapped around Steve.

“I love it,” Steve says, keeps other words hidden inside.

They tentatively let go of each other, still staying close, still standing toe to toe.

“Maybe it’ll be worth some money if me and the guys make it big one day.”

It already is Steve’s most valuable possession.

“When, not if,” Steve says matter-of-factly, holding the paper close to his heart.

“You really think so?” Eddie asks, voice hushed like it’s a secret wish that might come true if he doesn't jinx it.

“Mhm.” Steve nods. “But I would never sell this autograph. I’ll frame it and keep it forever.”

“You will?” Eddie asks, a little disbelieving but also...

Hopeful?

And for a moment they just stand there, looking at each other wide-eyed and red-cheeked, both flustered and shy. Smiling.

“Forever,” Steve says honestly, more meaning to the word than he’s ready to admit.

A few months later Steve finally gets to see Eddie and his band play on a real stage, in front of an actual crowd. He’s there in the front row, cheering for Eddie, buzzing with joy and pride.

And when their eyes meet in the middle of a song Steve doesn’t yet know is about him, he decides he’s going to tell Eddie that he loves him.

And when years later a reporter asks Corroded Coffin’s manager – who’s known to have been close friends with the guys forever (there are even unconfirmed speculations about him and the lead singer being lovers) – at which point in life he knew they had made it, Steve smiles and says “When I held their first autograph in my hands”.

The reporter laughs and the other band members roll their eyes fondly at the cheesy response. But Eddie looks at him and returns the smile, unnoticable for anyone other than Steve. And in that moment it means more to him than the gold ring he's secretly wearing on a chain around his neck. It means more than success and what they've accomplished in life.

It's a small thing, a hidden 'I love you'.

Another small treasure to keep.

#steddielovemonth #tumblr prompt #love is...#steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #friends to lovers

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

Note

For the teacher!Steve trying not to curse I think it’s harder when he becomes a middle school teacher. He definitely will slip into the second grade teacher voice when he is in his civilian state (aka at metal concerts) when he is a second grade teacher, but like as a ninth grade English teacher it becomes much easier to slip back and forth when you’re faced with a bunch of pre/baby teens. It is much harder to not slip up and just go “what the fuck man” when you’re faced with a fourteen year old getting his phone out to play some stupid iPhone game thirty seconds after you told him to put it away, bc there’s something about little kids that makes it easier to not curse around them. So I think the fact that the shenanigans Eddie gets up to are way to similar to the thirteen year olds’ shenanigans makes it super hard to remember which ones he can curse at freely.

Oh man, I love this. And also, absolutely yes to all of it.

Steve really thought that he had it in the bag when he decided to started teaching middle school because he already has experience dealing with the worst kind of middle schoolers. At least none of his students will be adopting monsters as pets or shoving his unconscious body into a car, but no. He was not prepared for pre-teens in the age of the internet.

He was also not prepared for how much he wants to swear at these kids.

He could swear at Dustin. And he did! Often!

When Steve starts teaching middle school, he started to get more creative with his swearing substitutes (i.e. he uses the substitutes that I use at work). So, when one of his students switches out his dry erase marker with a permanent marker and he realizes it halfway through writing an equation on the board, he doesn’t say ‘are you fucking kidding me’ like he wants to. He says instead, “Are you shark-finning me?”

The first time he uses this exact phrase backstage at a CC show, it’s when he accidentally spills coffee on himself. Jeff turns around to look at him so fast that he walks into a wall.

Steve’s been know to drop a ‘frickity-frack’ or a ‘bull shark’ once or twice, and his students think it’s hilarious but it nearly kills Corroded Coffin every time. Eddie once snapped at him for interrupting him in the studio and instead of telling him that he was acting like an asshole, Steve said that he was ‘being a bunch of words’ and ‘not very nice ones at that.’

It honestly was more hurtful than being called an asshole.

Sometimes Steve will tell his students that they’re acting like a real ‘Dustin Henderson’ and they don’t know what exactly that means, but they don’t like it.

The opposite happens too, Steve has accidentally swore in front of his students and they freaking love it. It’s the funniest thing in the world to them.

Once a kid brought a baby squirrel into his classroom (a true thing that happened in my nineth grade Spanish class) and Steve said without thought, “Jeremy, what the fuck.”

#I love all the insight I’m getting from real teachers #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson tiktok saga

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megxplryxb · 5 months

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More Than This Part 2.

Authors Note: I am beyond sorry for the 9 month wait for this. I just lost my motivation for writing but its slowly and surely coming back. Thank you all for being so patient. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: GIF is not mine.

Link for Part 1: More Than This

The last of your salty tears trickle down the bathtub drain as you wrap yourself up in a well-worn motel towel. The shower had done little to improve your mood, switching from hot to cold just as you had been with Steve for the past several weeks. You had been doing so well up until recently, trying to avoid him and your feelings but now that you were sharing a room and bed with him for the night, it was going to be next to impossible to hide the fact that you were hopelessly in love with your best friend.

The rusty faucet dripped little beads of water into the sink despite it being turned off while you carefully applied your make up, hoping Steve and the others wouldn’t notice the slight puffiness under your eyes from crying. Admittedly, you were taking a little longer than usual to get ready, making sure your eyeliner was just right, lips perfectly glossed and kissable and your outfit was showing off all your best features, ‘cause although you felt like utter shit, you didn't want to look like shit too.

As you began to gather up your things, folding the towel back on to the rack, you heard a tap on the bathroom door. “Hey, are you almost done in there? I need to take a piss really bad.” Steve said in a seemingly more relaxed tone than earlier. Unlocking the bathroom door, you find your best friend standing shirtless in his Levi's, leaning against the doorframe and you curse him for looking so damn beautiful.

“I did ask if you needed to use the bathroom before I went in.” You huff, quick to brush past him, clothes and make up bundled in your arms as his eyes follow you around the room, nostrils filling with the scent of your vanilla perfume, jaw a little slack as he scanned your body.

Steve couldn't help but notice the little black dress you were wearing along with your signature converse, how it sparkled and fit perfectly on your body, breasts spilling out over the top ever so slightly. He knows it’s wrong to think of you that way, because you’re his best friend and he's seeing someone else but sometimes he wonders if you know just how pretty you are.

“Uh, the air cons not working in here, the room's like a god damn sauna.” He informs, scratching the back of his neck, trying to avert his gaze from your frame.

“Well if you hadn’t made such a fuss about the sleeping arrangements, at least one of us would have had working air con tonight, Harrington.” You mutter, tucking your things back in to your duffle, pushing by him. Steve presses his tongue to his cheek, realising that whatever the hell was bothering you, wasn’t going to disappear anytime soon. Defeated, he shuts the bathroom door, leaving you to finish getting ready alone.

He emerges fifteen minutes later, freshly showered, smelling great and you hate how good he looks in his tight jeans and white t-shirt, hair perfectly in place, not that it wasn’t always. It wasn't exactly the attire you expected someone to wear to a Metallica concert, but it was Steve after all, he wasn't exactly into Heavy metal.

You can feel the tension rising between you with each passing minute of silence, unspoken words hanging in the air as his hazel eyes burn a hole through your head while you both walk on eggshells around the small room. With one quick look in the mirror and one final spray of perfume, you grab your purse and head for the front door, not being able to stand the awkwardness a second longer. “I’m gonna go see if the others are ready.” You say, reaching for the door handle but you already hear his footsteps behind you.

“Wait, can we just talk for a sec?” Steve pleads, eyes wide with concern when you sigh loudly.

“About what?” You ask as he scoffs at your response. “Seriously? Oh, I don’t know, maybe about why you’ve been acting weird with me all day?” He replies, folding his strong arms and you immediately regret not just walking out of the room to find your friends because you aren't ready to have this conversation with him.

“Steve...”

“Not just today actually, it’s been going on for a while and honestly, I don’t know what I’ve said or done to piss you off and believe me, I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure it out. But I’ve obviously done something because you’re so angry at me and.….”

“I’m not…I’m not angry.” You reply, not really knowing what else to say to him.

“You’re not?” He asks, raising his brows in surprise.

“Look, you haven’t done anything to upset me, alright?” You say, giving him a fake smile but he’s not convinced at all.

“Come on, give me some credit here sweetheart. We’re supposed to be best friends, yeah?” He asks moving closer towards you.

“Mhm” Is all you manage to say when he takes your hand but you’re quick to pull it away again, feeling the heat on your cheeks start to rise, placing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then what's going on huh? Why are you staying at Robin’s? I really miss you.” Steve confesses with such a mixture of sadness and sincerity that you almost consider telling him everything right there and then but you're not ready to hear that he doesn't feel the same way and so instead, you lie.

“There’s no big reason, Steve. Robin mentioned that you were on a couple of dates and I didn’t want to get in the way of anything, I think it’d be a bit awkward with me in the next room, don’t you?” You joke, trying to make an effort with him and you can see the confused expression on his face.

“Robin told you about Tracy?” He asks, surprised by how cool you were being about this, but the minute you hear the name fall from his mouth, he instantly realises Robin never told you who it was he was actually dating.

“Wait, did you say Tracy? As in Tracy Turner from high school, that’s who you’re dating!?” You question, furrowing your brows as Steve takes a step back, sensing the air getting thicker between you again.

“Uh, yeah. Sort of, I mean it’s pretty new and…”

"How....when did...where did you even..."

"She was at the video store a few times and I don't know, we were talking one day and she just sort of asked me out." Steve explained nervously.

“And you said yes?"

"Well, girls haven't exactly been lining up to date me recently if you hadn’t noticed.” He muttered, trying to make a joke out of it but it wasn’t working.

"I can’t believe you’d date her after what she did to me!” You yell, shaking your head in disbelief.

Tracey Turner had been one of your closest friends, once upon a time. That was until you found her in the back seat of a car with your then boyfriend Matt Anderson. It wasn’t that you’d been with Matt for long or even loved him but she was supposed to be your friend and she didn’t even apologise for hurting you. Now here she was, a couple of years later trying to take Steve away from you too. Your Steve. Steve, who you actually loved.

“Come on, that was years ago! She’s changed since then.” Steve says, panic apparent in his voice when he sees the look in your eyes and he knows he’s said the wrong thing again.

“Don’t you dare defend her!” You growl and he’s wincing at how angry you are now. “Can you just calm down for a second?” He begs, hands in the air, surrendering to you immediately, not wanting to fight or upset you anymore than he already had.

“Calm down? My “best friend” is dating a girl who FUCKED my boyfriend and you want me to calm down?” You yell, enraged at the new information you've discovered, seeing nothing but visions of them together in your head. Had he slept with her already? Had she occupied your side of Steve’s bed that you’d sleep on when you watched movies late in to the night? Had she seen pieces of your clothing lying around his house? Had she seen the pictures of you and Steve on his bedside table? Had he told her he loved her? Oh god, you were going to be sick.

“I’m sorry, alright? Shit, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.” He exhales, throwing his head back.

“Oh really, Steve? If it wasn't such a big deal to you then why didn't you tell me about her, huh?” You ask bluntly as Steve's face begins to harden.

"You didn't tell me about Hargrove."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I had to find out from Henderson that you were dating that asshole and that’s only because he caught you making out on the couch while you were supposed to be babysitting!” Steve argues and you can't help but laugh at how immature he was being.

"That's completely different, we were barely even friends back then."

“But we were friends and you knew I hated him but you went out with him anyway!" He fires back, leaning against the old chest of drawers.

"Yeah, only because you were still getting....." You start to say before you stop yourself, realising that you'd almost blown your cover when Steve looks at you confused.

“Because I was still getting what?” He asks with a heightened interest, just as a knock comes to the door.

“What the hell is going on in here, we could hear you yelling outside!” Eddie shouts when you open the door, seeing the distressed look on your face as Steve stood silent, still waiting for your reply.

"Nothing, let's just go." You mutter, moving by your friends to exit the room. "You are SUCH a dingus, dingus." Robin rolls her eyes at Steve before chasing after you, figuring that you've somehow found out about Tracy Turner, praying that you won't be pissed at her for not telling you.

"Yeah, I know Robin, thanks." Steve sighs heavily, trying to follow but Eddie holds him back, placing a hand on his friends chest. "Dude, take it from me, let her cool off for a while."

"Eddie, I need to talk to her man, I need to fix this." He attempts to push by again but the metal head refuses to budge.

"How are you going to fix it Steve, huh? Do you even know what's going on with her?" Eddie questions, as Steve sighs, placing his hands on his hips.

"No, but I guess she told you, yeah? You two looked pretty close in the parking lot earlier." Steve grunts, while Eddie lets out a smug laugh. "Careful big boy, you almost sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous man, I'm just...fuck, I don't know!” He exhales loudly, leaning against the wall of the motel room. “Maybe I am." Steve admits, putting a hand through his hair, slumping to the ground. “I just, I don’t know what’s going on with her y’know? She's always talked to me about everything and now? I can barely get her to look at me.” Steve sighs as Eddie takes a seat beside his friend, patting him on the shoulder.

“Look dude, there’s nothing to be jealous about ok? There’s nothing going on between us, shit I’d be so lucky.” Eddie chuckles and Steve feels a sudden feeling of relief wash over him. “Sadly, she’s only got eyes for one lucky son of a bitch and unfortunately, it isn’t me.” Eddie smirks, as the other boy lifts his head in a panic.

“She’s seeing someone?”

“No dumbass, fuck– do I really need to spell it out for you?" Eddie asks, his eyes rolling back in his head when Steve still hadn't gotten the hint. “Come on man, you’ve gotta know she’s fucking crazy about you?”

“What?” Steve exhales in disbelief as Eddie's words reply in his head. “Did she tell you that?”

“She didn’t have to.” Eddie replies letting out a heavy breath. “Steve man, you didn’t see her that night on the lake. You didn’t see the fear in her eyes when you got pulled under the water. She jumped in after you so fast, she didn't even look back to see if the rest of us were following."

Steve remembered that night vividly, probably better than anyone else. Hell, there were still nights that he woke up in a cold sweat, thinking those bats were feasting on his flesh. Those were the nights that he missed you the most. How you’d wrap your arms around him, pull him close and tell him everything was ok now. That you could finally all move on with your lives. He missed the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, the sound of your heartbeat as his head rested on your chest. You never told anyone about those nights, he’d made you promise. Cause he had to be strong for the kids.

He thought back to that night in the Upside Down, how he feared he'd never see your face again, that he'd never be able to tell you how he really felt about you. Then suddenly, you were there, eliminating the demobats one by one, tears in your eyes as you ran to him in a panic. He should have told you then, should have made it clear that you meant everything to him but then the others appeared and so he decided to choose another time. A time when you weren't in immediate danger. A time when it was just you and him and fuck, he'd tried to tell you so many times after that but every time he got close to saying it, something stopped him.

Fear.

What if he ruined everything?

What if you laughed in his face?

What if you didn't feel the same way?

What if it didn't work out and you left him like Nancy did?

Steve couldn't bare the thought of losing you, so instead of telling you the truth, he decided to bury his feelings deep down inside. Deciding, that he'd rather have you as a friend than not have you in his life at all. So, when Tracy Turner boldly asked him on a date, he begrudgingly accepted, hoping it would stop him from thinking about you.

It didn’t.

“Jesus Eddie, I’ve been such an idiot." Steve sighs angrily. "I’ve been trying so damn hard to pretend that I don’t have feelings for her instead of just..”

“Instead of what?” Eddie asks as Steve moves his head to look at his friend.

“Instead of telling her that I love her. That I’ve been in love with her since the moment she answered Henderson’s door three years ago.” He reveals and Eddie lets out the smallest of laughs.

“Yeah Harrington, you are an idiot and out of all the dumb shit you’ve ever done, pretending you don't love that girl is probably way up there. But from what I can see, she’s always gonna carry a big ol’ torch for you. So come on, go make this right and go get your girl. I’ve got a fuckin’ mosh pit to get to.”

When Steve and Eddie finally get to the entrance gate of the concert, they see Robin pacing back and fourth with a stressed out look on her face and Steve instantly feels a knot forming in his stomach when he realises you’re nowhere in sight.

"What the hell took you both so long?" She yells frantically.

“Had to knock some sense into Harrington here.” Eddie smirks, winking at Robin who offers him a confused glance.

"Where is she?" Steve questions his friend and Robin throws her hands in the air.

"I don’t know Steve! She took off by herself with some guy, went in with him, she didn't want to talk to me. She's pissed with a capital P!" Robin yells, angry at her friend for ever telling her that he'd been seeing Tracy Turner. Angry that she’d been put in the middle of this situation.

"Calm down Robs, we'll find her." Eddie reassures, placing a supportive arm around his friend.

"No, I'll find her, this is all my fault and I’m going to fix it." Steve says adamantly.

“I think you’re the last person she wants to see right now dingus.” Robin grunts but Steve’s already making a beeline for the entrance to the outdoor concert.

"Harrington!" Eddie yells as Steve takes a quick look back to his friends.

"Don't fuck it up." He shouts as the boy nods back before marching through a sea of bodies.

“What the hell is going on?” Robin questions, earning a grin from the metal head standing beside her as he throws a lazy arm over her shoulder.

“Fifty bucks says they’re fucking by the end of the night.”

Thirty minutes later and Steve is no closer to finding you. The darkness beginning to bleed in to the sky, the smell of weed and cheap alcohol lingering in the air as he looks for you in every queue, at every stand but it isn't until he hears the familiar laughter coming from behind him that he finally sees you. You’re sitting on the ground with a beer in hand, looking very cosy with the attractive tattooed stranger that’s much too close to you for Steve’s liking and your smile fades immediately when you see the boy standing in front of you.

"What are you doing? I've been looking everywhere for you." Steve asks, clearly annoyed by the presence of the other male beside you.

"I'm just making some new friends, not that it's any of your business." You mutter, taking a sip of your beer.

"This your boyfriend, sweetheart?" The man sitting next to you asks, grinning at Steve who keeps his eyes solely focused on you.

You shake your head instantly. "Nope. He's just a friend, or at least I thought he was."

“Can you please come with me? We really need to talk.” Steve begs, holding out a hand to you but you refuse to move. “We don’t have anything left to talk about.”

“I think we both know that we do.” Steve says, staring at you and you’re sure you see new determination behind his caramel tinted eyes.

"Don't worry about her pretty boy, I'll take good care of her, you go enjoy the show." The man smirks, placing a hand on your thigh as Steve’s jaw clenches.

"Get your hands off of her." Steve warns and suddenly you feel the tension in the air. Your eyes widen as Steve's fists begin to ball up, finally removing his eyes from you to look at the man sitting beside you.

"Why? She just said you're not her boyfriend and I don’t see her saying no.” The man responds, finally standing up to meet Steve face to face.

“Listen man, she’s coming with me, alright? Now get out of my face.” Steve threatens and you’re quick to jump to your feet now.

“Or what pretty boy?” The stranger smirks, shoving Steve back before you could get between them.

“Steve, don’t!” You warn, as his fist connects with the mans jaw, knocking him to the ground.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” You yell at your best friend but he’s too focused on the impending retaliation to hear you. But just as the tattooed stranger tries to take a swing at Steve, his arm is dragged back by the security guard who had witnessed the whole altercation, deciding enough was enough,

“You three, you’re out of here now!” He demands, getting in the middle of the two males who had been fighting over you.

“He fucking suckered me, dude!” The other boy argues, holding his jaw but the security guard just laughs, ignoring his pleas. “You shoved me first, pal.” Steve replies smugly as you’re all led to the exit.

You don’t even try to defend yourself or make an argument as to why you should be left stay to watch the concert, deciding that going back to the motel was probably for the best, the night had already been ruined for you long ago and you just wanted to be alone.

“Hey, where are you going now?” Steve shouts after you, following you back towards the direction of the motel.

“Just go away Steve, haven’t you already caused enough trouble for one day?” You fire at him.

“Look, I’m sorry, I know I’ve been a jerk but I really need to talk to you.”

“I already told you, I don’t have anything left to say, so just leave me alone.” You beg but Steve shakes his head, catching up to you.

“I can’t do that.” He says as you roll your eyes trying to pass him but he gets in your way again. He was never going to let you walk back to the motel alone in the dark. Not when you were both well aware that things do in fact, go bump in the night.

“Steve, why can’t you just–"

“Look, I know you hate me right now and trust me, I really hate me too. But I just need to know one thing, please? Fuck, I’ll even switch with Robin so you don’t have to share a room with me, alright?” He bargains, as you finally give in. The prospect of not having to share a bed with him being too much to turn down.

What? What do you want to know, Steve?” You question, folding your arms as he takes a deep breath before placing his hands on his hips.

“I want to know what you were going to say before Eddie knocked on the door earlier."

"What are you talking about?" You say, eyes widening in panic as Steve lets out a breath, pleading with you to be honest.

“You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I..."

"When we were arguing and I brought up Hargrove, you said you were only with him because I was still getting–?" He questions softly as you shake your head, looking anywhere but at him.

"I don't remember."

"Honey, please just–"

“I don’t remember Steve! So just drop it, ok?” You interrupt, starting to walk away as you hear his voice calling behind you.

“Because I was still getting over Nancy?” He asks, as your whole body freezes.

How did he know?

When you turn back to face him, he’s still standing there, staring at you, waiting for you to say something. Anything.

“You really are full of yourself, you know that?” You reply, voice trembling as he begins to close the space between you and you're not sure how much longer you can keep this up.

“If that's not what you were going to say, then tell me?" .

"Why does it matter?" You question, raising a frustrated brow at him, not understanding why he couldn't just let it go.

"Because I need to know–"

"Need to know what Steve? If I had a crush on you three years ago? Fine, ok, yes, I had a crush on you. Who fucking didn't? You were the most popular guy in school! And yeah, I did go out with Billy because I knew you were still getting over Nancy but you know what? I actually liked Billy. He was different with me but he just couldn't stand me being friends with you. He kept saying that I had feelings for you, that what I felt for you was more than a friendship and so he made me choose: him or you.…and I picked you.” You reveal, tears beginning to fall from your eyes as you finally decide to be honest with your best friend. “Cause all this time, Billy fucking Hargrove was right. I did have feelings for you, even if it took me almost losing you that night on the lake to figure it out." You cry, finally feeling a huge weight lifting from your chest and for the first time in months, you could breathe again.

Steve was frozen, pink lips pursed as he put a hand through his hair, heart aching at your admission and how much it was killing him to see you so upset. He wishes he hadn't been so stupid, hadn't been so afraid of losing you and just told you the truth when he had the chance. You’d never told him or anyone else why you and Billy broke up, always keeping it to yourself and he was more than a little shocked to realise it was because of him.

Because you chose him.

“I..I didn’t know I was the reason you guys broke up.” He confessed, a sorrowful look on his face. “M’sorry.”

“Forget about it, it was a long time ago.” You shrugged coldly, hoping this would be the end of the conversation.

"I can't believe you picked me." He whispers as you let out a sarcastic huff, lifting your head to look at him.

"And I can't believe you picked Tracy."

You fire back, turning on your heels to walk towards your motel room, heartbroken, tired of arguing with him, tired of wanting him, tired of loving him and just as you were about to close the door, Steve’s hand stops you from shutting it, from shutting him out, a hurt look in his eyes as he stares at you silently for a moment before speaking.

"You think I picked Tracy over you?" Steve asks with sadness and anger in his voice as you wipe your tears, resting your head on the side of the door.

“Steve, I told you what you wanted to know. Please just-”

“No! You can't actually think I'd pick her over you?” Steve quizzes again, brows knitted together, voice more stern than the last time he asked.

“Why not? You wouldn’t be the first one.” You reply, referring to your old High School ex boyfriend Matt and Steve scoffs bitterly, hurt at the comparison.

“I can’t believe you could even think that, after everything we’ve been through, you know me better than that!”

“No Steve, I thought I knew you better than that! I thought we were best friends and that you would never ever hurt me but then you went and slept with her!” You fume, shoving him backwards as he grabs your arms gently but sternly, holding you in place. Finally letting himself inside, closing the door with the back of his foot.

“I didn’t, I didn’t sleep with Tracy!” He growls back at you, frustration apparent in his voice as you sneer at him, well aware of the notches on his bedpost. "Oh please, how stupid do you think I am, Steve?"

"I'm telling you the truth!” He snaps, as you get in his face. "Cause you've been so good at that lately, huh Harrington?" You reply, a harsh tone in your voice, refusing to back down.

"Jesus Christ, will you just listen to me for one god damn minute? I haven’t had sex with her alright? I couldn't."

"And why is that Steve? Did you realise she's a fucking–"

"Because of you!” Steve interrupts loudly, silencing you. "Because I'm in love with you! Because for the past three years since that night you answered Henderson’s door, it’s only been you.” He finally confesses, cupping your face, begging you to believe him as you see the sincerity written all over his face.

“Honey, do you really think if I had known that you had feelings for me– if I thought that me and you being together was even a possibility, that I’d be seeing anybody else?” He questions, as you stare silently at him, heart beating out of your chest as he looks into your eyes. His lips ghosting over your own as you try to catch your breath.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" You manage to ask as he shakes his head and smiles.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He retorts before cupping your face again, taking a deep breath. "I tried to, so many times. But every time I got close to it, I just...got scared." He admits, as you stare at him confused.

"Scared of what?"

"Of you not feeling the same way, of ruining our friendship, of us not working out... I was just scared of losing you." He mutters, lowering his head as you grab his face, forcing him to look at you.

"That would never happen, Steve."

"But it almost did! And it's my fault because I decided to be an asshole and date someone else instead of just telling you that I love–" You cut him off, placing your lips on his to stop him from talking but before Steve could even fathom what was happening, you broke the kiss again, resting your forehead on his.

"I love you too, Steve." You whisper, as he pulls you in for another kiss.

There were no words left to say, you’d said them all.

Two hours later, after the concert, Robin and Eddie decided to head back to the motel, having long given up on their search for you and Steve at the venue.

“What if she’s killed him Eddie? What if they’re fighting so bad that none of us can hang out anymore? What if we have to meet up with them at different times because they can’t stand being around each other? What about the kids?” Robin panics as Eddie laughs, rolling his eyes as he knocks on your motel room door.

After a few seconds, when the door remains unanswered, Robin begins to walk towards her own room, anxiety getting the better of her as Eddie continues to wrap on the door resiliently.

“Will someone open the god damn door before Buckley files a missing persons report?” The metal head pleads for his own sanity as he finally hears shuffling on the other side of the door.

His eyes light up and a shit eating grin spreads across his face as Steve finally answers the door, shirtless flushed and struggling to zip up his Levi’s.

“Sorry Munson, we were just, uh…sleeping.” Steve lies even though he knows it’s pointless. He can hear you giggling under the covers as Eddie notices your underwear on the floor behind Steve.

“Atta boy Harrington, I knew you had it in you.” Eddie winks. “I’ll leave you lovebirds get back to sleep. Don’t snore too loud, we’re in the next room.” He subtly teases as Steve smirks, quickly closing the door to join you in bed again.

“Did I hear Steve? Are they ok?” Robin asks, as Eddie enters their room smiling.

“Oh yeah, they’re fine. By the way, you owe me fifty bucks Buckley.”

Taglist: @freezaz123 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @season4steve @param8re @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @kathieycarrerarosshley @somethingvicked @l0ve-0f-my-life @hotelfohn @iheartjennaaa @whisperingwillowxox @chickenxdrum @eddiesguitarskills @mgchaser @mgmolina2000 @keerysfolklore

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #king steve #steve the hair harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #joe keery

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moodywyrm · 10 months

Note

How does our rockstar!sevika feel about having a plus size wife? <3 Any thoughts?

I have so many thoughts actually thank you baby im gonna kiss you. also my wife @pinknightsinmymind gave me the go ahead to go crazy so if yall get more rockstar sevika and her plus size wife, do not be surprised.

Sevika, in any universe, loves fat women. I've said this before and I'll say it again and again and again.

Rockstar Sevika? Even more ferocious. As a fat woman who loves loves loves rock, the whole culture around it can be pretty bad when it comes to body image. The glorification of drugs and alcohol, the image of the hyper skinny rockstar gf, it's all pretty fucking scary to enter as a fat woman. Sevika would defend her wife from anyone who tries to make her feel bad or unworthy or anything even remotely negative. She always lets you know how beautiful, how worthy, how fucking metal you are. Always lets you know you have a space in this scene, right next to her.

Ya know how JJ and I said she'd bring you out on stage to show you off? 1000% worse if her gf is plus size because she's fucking chomping at the bit, ready to defend her girl because she knows people are assholes! Drags you out in your pretty lil rockstars wife outfits, showing off all those marks she left on you, takes a lil walk with you around the stage to let everyone know you are hers. Keeps one hand gripping your hip, soft fat spilling through her fingers in a way that makes her drool.

Posts pictures of you always. Any shitty comments get immediately deleted by the manager who helps run her account, but she literally can't help but show you off.

On a similar note, literally wants to beat the shit out of anyone who makes weird sexually fetishitic comments towards you, especially ones pertaining to your weight. Both because she's possessive and because you deserve respect, you deserve to exist without being fetishized. Literally finds a way to get their accounts taken down. She knows people. It's totally, maybe, questionably, legal.

Also! This applies to any Sevika au and canon, but whenever you're feeling insecure she's there to remind you how beautiful you are and be there with you as the feeling wanes. She knows her words alone can't erase the hurt, but she can help.

just a lil thought, Sevika makes sure that any and all CoZ merch goes up to a 7x, and bigger if she can. puts the time and effort into finding manufactures and small business to make official merchandise in larger sizes. also tries to make sure that all her venues have accommodations ready for disabled and/or plus size fans. obviously she can't always swing it because unfortunately she doesn't have total control over their gigs, especially not when they're playing larger venues, but she does her best.

onto the sexy stuff because I have ,,, thoughts ,,,,

Rockstar Sevika is a big girl. Sevika is a big girl. She's fucking broad. And she loves getting her button up slutty silk shirts in larger sizes so they don't compress her muscles and are easier to drape. They make for a better look at all her hickies and lipstick marks on stage. They also look absolutely beautiful on you when she's got you writhing on the bed. Her favorite is to drape you in the shirt she wore during the concert, laying you down and sucking your soul out through your pussy.

Also. Sevika! Loves! Fat! Pussy! Loves the squish, loves fat pussy lips pressing against her face, loves seeing how they stretch around her strap. Loves feeling your pussy press against and spread open on her thigh. Uses the mound above your pussy as her personal forehead rest. Certified munch. She's fucking obsessed.

On a similar note, the way tribbing feels with your thick thighs, fat, messy pussy, hell even the press of your tummy against her? Nothing makes her cum faster. If there's a heaven, it feels like that. Truly, it's absolutely unmatched by anything she's ever experienced.

Also fucking obsessed with the way your tummy looks when she folds you in half. Especially after a show, when she's all pumped up and you're still covered in hickies. It makes her dizzy, the plush squish of your tummy.

Also absolutely in love with your thighs. There's nothing she loves more, except for your love and affection, than to feel your thick thighs trembling around her head while she's face first in your pussy, making you fall apart. Loves having you sit on her lap because your thighs? God she fucking loves them so so so so much. Anytime she has an interview where you get to be with her, you're on her lap. There are literal compilations of Sevika being touchy with you, most of the involving her groping your thighs, especially when you wear tiny shorts or skirts.

Less sexy but, there is nothing more soothing to Rockstar Sevika than cuddling with you after a show. When she's tired, sore, fucked out from y'all's after show ritual, she practically melts into your arms. The feel of your soft body pressed against her, clean and tired, makes her feel more alive than any show ever could. She feels safe, warm, loved in your arms, pressed against your body. Your love, your touch, is the only thing she'll ever need. She would never change that, or any part of you, for the world.

#anon #arcane sevika #arcane sevika x reader #sevika #sevika x reader #arcane smut #arcane sevika smut #arcane sevika x reader smut #sevika x reader smut

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britswriting · 7 months

Text

Baking with a toddler H.S

A/N: Quick little dadrry blurb for my friends birthday! Happy birthday jess <3 Summery: Harry and his son bake brownies for his son's mothers birthday I wanted to add more details, but there's only so much you can add with a small recipe lol, blame Jess who chose brownies.

Read on wattpad Masterlist the recipe I used to write this

"Come here, little love" Harry huffed, scooting the toddler's standing highchair to the counter, picking him up and placing him into the highchair, allowing the toddler to be at counter height. "Gonna help me?" He hummed, grabbing an empty mixing bowl, placing it in front of the child.

"Yes! I help!" He cheered, hitting the palms of his hands on the counter.

"Alright bubs. This is the recipe. We don't want to spill on it, kay?" He hummed, setting the printed out directions on the counter, scanning through the ingredients for his wife's favorite brownie recipe.

"Oh-tay!" the boy grinned, ready to help his dad cook.

"We need to crack two eggs and put them in the bowl. Do you want to do it or do you want daddy to do it?" Harry asked, pulling the egg carton out and placing two onto the counter.

"I try!" His son declared, reaching for the egg.

"Hold on!" Harry abruptly grabbed the son's hand, his child frowning.

"But daddy I crack egg"

"I know little one, but we have to be careful, okay? It needs to land in the bowl or else we need to sanitize the counters again, alright?" he reminded, the young one nodding, "Alright, lightly tap it on the bowl, here" Harry pointed to the edge of the mixing bowl, grabbing his own egg to show, allowing the yellow yolk and egg white to fall into the metal bowl before discarding of the shell. "You're turn" he hummed, standing behind the toddler, monitoring him.

"Like dis?" He softly hit the egg, not cracking it.

"A little harder. We have to crack this shell" Harry pointed at the outer shell, his son nodding.

With a quite a fit of force, the toddler hit the egg against the bowl, cracking the shell; the egg white starting to pour out - half in the bowl and partly down the side.

"In the bowl! In the bowl!" Harry rushed, moving his son's hand to hover over the bowl, "Pull the shell a part, put your fingers here, move them a part" Harry directed, letting his son figure it out now that egg wasn't dripping down the counter.

His pride and joy got the egg open, letting the yolk fall in with a grin, "I did it, daddy!"

"You did bub, good job. You see this?" Harry pointed at the small piece of shell in the yolk.

"Mhm"

"We need to pull it out. Do you want to or do you want me?" Harry asked, his son's lips pursing before deciding Harry could do it, not wanting to get his hands all sticky.

With the shell discarded; Harry grabbed a measuring cup, scooping the toddler around the stomach with one arm, lifting him out of the highchair; moving to the sink.

"Turn on the tap; we need a little water" once the faucet was running Harry handed the measuring cup to the child, allowing him to fill it and turn the tap off before being carried over to the counter where the little one poured in the water into the egg mixture, finally being placed back in his chair.

"Daddy has to do this part, okay?" Harry informed, grabbing the oil and measuring spoons.

"Why?"

"Because it's heavy, and oil sucks to clean up. Like butter" Harry said, the child nodding.

With the oil added, Harry grabbed the vanilla extract and let his son measure it out and pour it into the bowl.

"I—" his son motioned stirring over the bowl, "now?" he asked, Harry nodded, handing him a fork.

"side to side to break up the yolk. You see this?" Harry hovered of the yellow yolk, his child nodding, "We don't want to see that. We want it broken up so you just see yellow in the bowl. Does that make sense?" He asked, his son nodding.

Harry watched with pride as his child broke up the egg yolk, a look of complete concertation on his face.

"Now stir. Circular" Harry directed, watching all the ingredients get combined before grabbing another bowl for the dry ingredients. "Alright.. let's see" he hummed, peaking at the recipe. "Coco.. powders surgar"

"CHOCLOATE!" his son yelled in glee, Harry chuckling as he nodded.

"Mhm, gotta make it all yummy for mummy" Harry fetched the dry ingredients, turning around with wide eyes, "Hey! Y/S/N! Careful!" He quickly pulled his son off the counter, placing him back into his spot. "Your mummy will be mean to me if you get hurt. No climbing. Do you want to do the coco? You need to be careful" Harry reminded, handing the box of brown powder to the child.

With a quick hand, his toddler scooped up the powder; small flakes of powder falling onto the counter, leaving a trail as he moved it sifter that was sitting in the dry bowl.

They repeated the process with the powdered sugar; his son stirring the two together which landed in a coughing fit as the toddler got a little wild.

With a quick wash of the counter, Harry helped his son pour the egg, oil and vanilla extract into the coco powder and powdered sugar.

"We need to stir again. Careful, please. The more mixture in the bowl, the more brownies you'll have" Harry snickered, helping his son stir the ingredients together due to the batter being quite thick.

"Mummy like deese?" The little boy asked, trying his best not to spill as he combined the mixture; struggling.

"Mummy loves brownies. You and mummy both love chocolate, don't you" Harry brushed the hair off his sons forehead in an upward motion with the palm of his hand, placing a tender loving kiss on the exposed skin before letting the hair fall again; the little boy giggling.

"Chocolates yummy!" the boy giggled, Harry grabbing his baking pan.

When he turned back around, the younger boy had his fingers in the batter, Harry rolling his eyes as he snuck up on the child, swiping his longer finger through the thick batter and booping his son's nose, listening the complaint followed by giggles as he licked his finger clean; the child wiping the substance off his skin, licking his hand.

"Caught you red handed, mister" Harry teased, running the washcloth over the boys hand and nose.

"What's dat mean?" The boy questioned, Harry grabbing a spatual.

"It means I caught you in the act of being naughty, you batter thief"

"Mummy steals batter!" the toddler defended himself, Harry chuckling with a nod.

"Mhm, you and your mummy are two peas in a bod, love. Alright, let's pour this into the pan. I'll hold it because it's heavy, you scoop it into here, okay?" Harry instructed, picking up the bowl, angling it so his son could scrap it out. "Get as much as you can, then you can lick the spatula" Harry reminded his child; watching some of the batter hit the side of the pan, partly following on the counter. "In the bowl" He chuckled.

"All done!" The little one declared, Harry peeking at the inside of the bowl; nodding.

"Two swipes and that's it, okay?" Harry handed the batter bowl over, grabbing the pan to place it into the oven.

Four sneaky swipes of the batter latter, Harry and Y/N's toddler was sat at the counter, drawing on a folded piece of paper whilst Harry cleaned up the baking mess.

It was tradition that their son hand made the card up until he was over it; the memories it held was more important than anything a store bought card could say.

Before Harry started cleaning, he grabbed a marker and asked what the young one wanted the card to say, reminding him that it was his mothers birthday.

With pencil, Harry wrote down the letters, letting Y/S/N trace them as best as he could with the marker.

Happy Birthday Mummy!

I love you so much!

Hope you like the brownies

and gift!

love Y/S/N

followed by a sticker of a green monster at the end, colorful scribbles all over the blank paper; filling it up to his delight.

With the brownies out and cooling; Harry and the quite independents toddler got to wrapping the gifts.

He let his son mess with the wrapping paper, helping him where he needed it; which was everywhere, but Harry would never admit that.

The wrinkled, crumbled, toddler attempted wrapping paper was just as good as a pristine crease cornered bow tied present.

On the table there was his wife's favorite flowers in a vase, adding more color to their daily lives; the wrapped presents laid next to it as Harry placed the homemade brownies in front; propping up the home made card.

A couple photos later of their only child and all the effort he put into his mothers birthday; his mum finally walked through the door; arriving home from her spa day.

"Happy birthday mummy!" Y/S/N yelled, running over to his mum, wrapping his arms around her legs, happily being scooped up by his mother; giggling as she kissed him all over.

"Thank you baby. Did you have a good day with daddy?" She asked, Harry smiling as the young one nodded.

"We made brownies! See!" he pointed towards the table; Harry's cheeks hueing pink when he met his wife's gaze after she'd noticed the set up, a wide smile spreading across her face.

"You made be brownies?" she asked, her son nodding. "All by yourself?"

"Daddy helped!"

"He did? Why aren't I so lucky! My boys made brownies! Are those gifts I see?" She pretended to peak, the toddler nodding with a grin, wiggling out of his mums grasp.

"I WRAPPED THEM!" He screamed, running over to the table, swiping it off and running back over to show her.

"You're so talented little one. It looks so good Y/S/N" She smiled, grinning as the little holes in the wrapping paper, appearing to be held together by tape.

Y/N and Y/S/N made their way over to the table, Harry greeting her with a side hug and a quick kiss, murmuring "Happy Birthday, love" against her lips; loving the way her eyes sparkled as she stared at hm.

"Thank you" She mouthed, listening to her toddler ramble about his day with his dad.

"Takeaway is on it's way" Harry informed her, scooping up their loud mouth toddler, attacking him with tickles, loving the way his talkative babble turned into screaming giggles.

"Should we open gifts now or after dinner?" Y/N asked, Harry setting the panting toddler back on the ground.

"NOW!" her offspring yelled, attempting to climb onto the table, Harry scooping him off with the dad look.

"It is my birthday" She hummed, watching the way her son's eyes lit up in hope; "I guess we can eat dessert first and open gifts whilst we wait for the takeaway to get here"

* * * *

Written on: October 4th, 5th 2023

Published on: October 5th 2023

Word Count: 1780

tag: @theecollby - happy birthday bestie <3

#harrystyles #dadrry #harrystylesblurb #harrystylesoneshot #harrystylesimagine #harrystylesimagines #harrystylesblurbs #harrystylesoneshots #dad!harry

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themarginalthinker · 7 months

Text

The Band au

(Kinda just what it says on the tin. This intro was jammed about a month ago and thanks to the drabble from yesterday, we decided it needed a little more context lol. The Boys are a modern (2017) punk metal band, and this is the first time Michael meets them :> )

Michael was sure that Sam was just making him drive to this club so that he could get smashed with his boyfriend.

Or handsy, or whatever teenagers did when they went to indie concerts. He'd never even heard of the bands playing tonight, so he's basically doomed to listening to club music sober for the whole night.

It's a normal punky night club (not that Michael is really aware of what those look like), dimly lit with pulsing light and already crowded with people. Sam almost immediately abandoned him to go hang out with his cadet-wannabe boyfriend.

At least they were having fun.

The music is nothing special, two bands he doesn't know play their sets. Basically identical pop-punk nonsense. He's at least 75% sure that one of them was just a cover band. And then the MC steps up to announce the headliners.

"Ladies and gentlemen, how we feeling tonight?"

The crowd roars.

"Excellent! Well, I hope you're ready for the main event! The group of miscreants who will show you their dark Neverland, who will never grow up and never die, please welcome to the stage, The Lost Boys!"

Wild cheers and applause erupt from the audience. Whoever these guys are, they're popular with the crowd. The band appears on stage. Four members, all dressed like they're from different eras of punk. Guitar, bass, keys and drums. It looks.. standard.

And then they start playing.

What begins playing is. Not something Michael expects to come out of this group, not with what the club has been pedaling for the first sets.

The lights go down, and whatever light design they'd come up with for their opener was. A lot more advanced than any other group so far. It started dark, but as the drums kicked in, a low, pulsing beat, the bass plucking a quick, steady hum atop it, the lead starts singing and the lights spill down onto him, dim, but illuminating his and the other's faces as if in a low flame.

He starts singing.

It's...definitely not something Michael expects. Slower, following the beat of the bass and drums, almost like reading the words as poetry rather than singing. The keys send out timed notes, discordant, but always in just the right places to make one feel surprised, startled even. Like being jumped in the dark.

"Last fire will rise, behind those eyes, black house will rock,"

And then, the lights shift, suddenly flooding the stage in a deep, hellish red. The band's clothing casts them in shadow, and they all join in for the final line of the first verse, a single voice.

"Blind boys don't lie!"

The crowd...well. Michael can't really say it’s explosive, but the crowd can’t seem to contain their excitement that they must have been saving up for this. The Boys have their undivided attention.

They’ve certainly captured his.

The song goes on, and Michael watches. Listens. The music itself almost feels like something from a different time. An era just past, just like their clothing. The lead is the guitarist as well, carrying the melody with the wild-haired, tall bassist. The key dude (who looks like a patchwork eclectic nightmare) joins in to the harmonies. It's. Bizzare, but Michael can't help but sway along to the thumping, lulling beat, the lyrics twisted and dark.

Eventually, it ends, and the lead takes his bow, peroxide-white hair flashing under the stage lights letting up. There's more, but Michael is temporarily distracted from his reverie by Sam scooting up to him.

"Hey!" Sam says over the noise.

"Hi," Michael responds. "Where's your guy?"

Sam rolls his eyes. (They're a little dilated. Shit, Michael hopes it's not more than a few drinks...)

"He went to hide in the bathroom for a while. He says he doesn't like this group."

"Mm. I think your boyfriend has bad taste. They're the best ones I've heard tonight."

"If you like metal, I guess."

"Sammy, that was not metal." He's not even sure what to call it, except maybe mesmerizing.

His brother just shrugs.

"Well, whatever it is, they're kind of intense and Alan isn't into it. He says the lights bug his eyes. Also I'm out of cash, can I borrow a twenty?"

"No, you may not. I think you've had enough to drink."

"God Mike, don't be a buzzkill!"

"Yeah, no. You're definitely not getting that twenty. Go sulk with your boyfriend and calm down a little."

Sam grumbled, but ambled off. Michael just shook his head and kept sipping the (overpriced, even for a smaller venue, if he was honest) cola he'd ordered. Sam had gone from a generally okay kid to something of a rowdy older teen. Michael understood, really. Highschool was still just as shitty as he remembered it being, even if it was your senior year, and their mother had been harping juuuust a tad on Sammy to get into a good college.

Michael winces a little as he accidentally swallows a bubble.

…College. Not smart enough for scholarships, too unfocused for a major anyway. Michael mostly stuck around the house these days, writing idly between his few odd jobs.

He hopes that Sam actually did listen to his mother in this respect. Got to get the hell out of their hometown, got out there, saw things, have a fucking life. Hell, he was already ahead of the game - Michael certainly wouldn't have come to a place like this on his own. He should probably thank Sam for convincing him later.

Michael certainly isn't doing anything else productive with his time.

The group eventually, unfortunately, finishes their set, and Michael cheers along with the crowd in seeing them off the stage. Nothing else they played had quite been at the level of the opener, but the sound of each song was buzzing in Michael's brain. So...distinct. It was all their own creation. He wondered if they'd posted any of their stuff online.

Maybe he should ask.

He expects the band to disappear backstage. All the others had.

Except that's not what happens, because he spots the lead singer (dressed down, but that bleach blond hair is a dead giveaway) Leaning against the bar a few feet away. He's got a drink in his hand, a dark red that almost looks black in the dim light.

When his eyes meet Michael’s, they’re the palest blue that Michael has ever seen.

#the lost boys #drabbles #band au

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hypn0sssss · 1 month

Text

This won the poll that I hosted!

---

Words: 905

Fandom: Ensemble Stars!!

Pairings: Mayoi & Everyone

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: Comfort Object

TW: Mayoi-typical self deprecation

I was not expecting this one to be as fun to write as it was! I 🧡 Mayoi!!

You can also read this on AO3!

---

Today wasn't a good day for Mayoi. There were too many people, and he accidentally messed up choreography during one of their shows. He unlocks the door to his dorm, hands shaking as he feels more useless than ever.

He opens the door to complete silence. Tomoya must be doing something with Ra*bits today. He sits down on his bed, sinking into the pillows.

His body starts to shake even more as he feels tears fill his eyes. The mistake he made was something so avoidable. And it was so obvious on stage too. He felt everyone's eyes on him.

He was letting Alkaloid down. They swore that he did fine, but he didn't. He was an inconvenience to them, a burden they had to drag around.

He started to shake even more as the tears spilled over. He needs to calm down. How can he calm down?

He looks over at his bedside table. Sitting there was a collection of pretty silver rings that Hiiro had got him. He grabs them, putting them on. They fit his fingers perfectly, proof that Hiiro really put effort into finding them for him. That thought was sort of grounding, along with the feeling of the metal on his fingers.

He hesitates before opening the drawer of the bedside table. There is his collection of gifts. He picks up a necklace that Tatsumi had given him. It's a cross, a little bulky, but still very pretty. He feels unworthy of something so holy, but is honored that Tatsumi would give it to him. He puts it on, the weight comforting.

Next thing he saw was a collection of photo cards from Aira. It's mostly Chief, which Mayoi appreciates greatly! There's also a couple of un-released photos of Branco that Aira included, and they're just so cute that it brings a smile to Mayoi's face!

Next thing he pulls out is a small scrapbook that Alkaloid gave him on his birthday. There's a bunch of photos from rehearsals and concerts, but also some from personal hangouts as well. Everyone looks so happy, and he can feel his shaking start to calm.

Closing that, he then picks up the throwing stars that Chief gave him. He was so considerate too, making them out of paper so Mayoi wouldn't injure himself with them! He starts to smile wider, placing them to the side as he pulls out another object.

He ended up pulling out the pallet of eyeshadow that Narukami had gotten him. She picked it out for him during that time when she had convinced him to go shopping with her. He remembers her spending a moment thinking about which one to get, which brings a feeling of joy to Mayoi's chest.

Right next to it was a stuffed animal that Kagehira had picked out for him. It was a teddy bear with such big eyes that made it so adorable! It was purple, almost the exact shade of Mayoi's hair! The softness of it was relaxing, calming Mayoi as he ran his fingers through its soft fur.

Next to it was a box of tea that Kohaku had given him during Sweets Fan Club. It's a collection of different flavors that Kohaku thought Mayoi might like. He's been afraid of drinking it, of wasting a precious gift, but he might make a cup later, considering how comforting the smells are.

Placing the tea to the side, he pulls out the cowboy hat that Madara had given him. Madara had given it to him out of nowhere, placing it randomly on his head. The older one had smiled brightly, saying that it suited Mayoi well. The memory makes Mayoi's smile wider.

After that, he pulled out a plushie of a dove from Hibiki. It's very soft, and Mayoi can't help but admire how cute it is. Hibiki had offered it to him with a smile, insisting that he should take it. When Mayoi finally did, his smile got wider, talking about how “amazing ☆” Mayoi was. He gets flustered once more just thinking about it.

After that was an empty bag of freeze dried grapes that Niki had given him. After figuring out his favorite food, Niki had given him a bunch of grape related snacks. The freeze dried ones were his favorite, and he finished them relatively quickly. He kept the bag for moments like these, and the thoughtfulness of Niki still surprised Mayoi even now.

He then pulls out a pair of bunny ears that Mitsuru had gotten him. They're very fluffy and so so cute! He didn't know who had given them to him for a while, but then Mitsuru soon admitted that it was him. The memory brings a giggle from Mayoi's mouth.

The last thing in the drawer is a keychain from Sora. It's from a game that Sora had convinced Mayoi to play. It's a cute, pink, and round mascot that Mayoi became very fond of. Sora had said that his “color seemed brighter” after he had received the keychain. Mayoi doesn't really know what that means, but the compliment made him feel warm.

As he looks at all of the gifts that had been given to him, he realizes that his tears had disappeared and his shaking had stopped. All of these objects and the memories they bring have brought him comfort when he needed it the most.

He's not alone anymore.

#enstars #mayoi ayase #alkaloid #bad things happen bingo #my writing

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foulbearobservation · 11 months

Note

lilith & ava & cam go away for the weekend, ripped through the fabric of space to some concert - ava & cam in the mosh pit while lilith sits up in the maintenance section, hidden in the shadows & basking in the safe noise of it all. bea decides to stay home, in her element cleaning out the refrigerator and reorganizing the bookshelves

it’s late when the trio return, ava sleepily curled against lilith’s arm, making her smile despite herself as ava mouths incoherently into the sweep of her bicep. lilith’s wearing a rumpled band t-shirt, lopsided & happy & bea feels a little shiver of speechless affection.

cam drags ava off to bed & lilith collapses onto the sofa opposite bea’s reading chair, where she’s curled up with a copy of Fahrenheit 451.

cam comes back having tucked ava into bed, gauges the energy in the room & smirks, just a little. crosses in front of bea as a fast shadow & sits next to lilith on the sofa.

lil is still watching bea, breathing slow, lazily arranged with her legs kicked out. bea can’t look away from the shadow of lilith’s mouth, her dark eyes. can’t look away as cam leans in, head tilted up to expose her throat, and whispers something to lilith. who shivers, nods.

bea watches as cam pulls back, flashes a quick look at bea across the room, like she’s measuring something. her hand reaches out, touching the edge of lilith’s leg, the soft pants she’s taken to wearing more and more because they’re a good texture. a small noise falls out of lilith’s mouth as cam’s hand - slow, protracted - travels along her leg, past the hem of the band t-shirt to touch the skin underneath.

bea loses her page in the book, feels it slip shut in her lap. doesn’t care as cam’s hand moves beneath the waistband of lilith pants and there’s a faint noise. familiar, but stunning, somehow.

and then bea finds that she’s watching lilith’s head fall back against the sofa cushions, her hips rolling up, her mouth open as cam leans into her, finger-fucking lilith in the dimness of the living room. there’s something about lilith that feels… freshly fascinating to beatrice. she thinks of her with her face pressed into cam’s thigh, bea standing with a packet of biscuits crinkling in her hands, undone in very simple terms by a very simple thing.

lilith, seeking cam’s hand as it moves under the fabric of her pants, cam saying, low, ‘you’re doing so well. show bea how good you can be.’ lilith with the column of her throat bared to what little light spills across from bea’s reading lamp. she’s limp, her head lolling towards cam, who smirks again, easing in and out of lilith’s cunt, her voice pitched so that bea can hear each word of praise.

‘show bea how good you are, lil.’ cam’s eyes flicker up to bea, ‘and if she wants, she can come over here and fuck you while i go and see if ava needs anything.’

bea as a voyeur,, just watching as camila takes lilith apart slowly. lilith who, years ago, would never be caught dead in a too big metal band tshirt and soft joggers. lilith who carefully cuts the tags off all her shirts because beatrice likes to steal them. lilith, just splayed out on the couch, instructed not to touch but chasing her pleasure nonetheless. yeah. yeah yeah yeah!

#yeah yeah yeah #ot4

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fanfiction-inc · 2 years

Note

What would be Eddie's reaction if he saw you, some kind of preppy or sporty girl from school, at a metal concert (of course, you can choose the band lol)? ☺

Ah, how I loved this! The research behind specific tours in Indiana and especially during 1985 (since it was more feasible than 1986) was wonderful and I hope you enjoy, Anon!

Mesker Amphitheater, Evansville, Indiana.

June 8th, 1985.

This place, this day, it marked one of the best days Eddie “The Freak” Munson has ever lived.

Not only was it because of Accept being the opener for Iron fucking Maiden.

But because there you were, only a few feet away from him in the crowd, singing along with the chorus to Balls to the Wall, and you pulled your gaze away right at the perfect moment to meet his.

And shock was written all over his features, while horror danced on yours.

And then a grin decorated his lips, and suddenly you were intruded by the presence that is Eddie Munson.

“Surprised to see you here, (First name)! Didn’t you have a sports game to cheer for or somethin’?” He shouts over the song, amusement written on his features at how you basically try to sink into the crowd.

Dressed in your best Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast shirt, and drastically away from the colorful pleated skirt and pom-poms you usually were accompanied by.

No pristine makeup.

No high-set ponytail.

This was a whole new you, and he was basking in the fact that little miss perfect wasn’t so perfect after all.

“I swear, Munson, if you tell anyone about this I’m killing you!” You shout back at him, voice quickly dying down as the song stops, swallowing thickly when his shoulder brushes yours and lips brush your ear.

“Didn’t know you liked metal.” He huffed, tone dripping with excitement and the sparkle in his eyes not going unnoticed. “Seems we have more in common that we realized, hm? Your fellow “cheer mates” know you like that kinda music, sweetheart?”

“No, they don’t know,” you whisper in turn, seeing his smile grow, “and I would like to keep it that way then.”

“Our little secret then~” He pulls away when the next song starts up but doesn’t step away from your space.

The intro to Churchill’s famous speech “We shall fight on the beaches” blares over the speakers once Accept was off the stage, air raid sirens and bombs dropping sounding in the air, and your lips move with each word that floods the amphitheater just like the metal head beside you.

And then it goes quiet, and the intro to Aces High starts, and you’re unable to block the squeal of excitement that escapes your lips, especially from the eyes that keep flickering back to you.

Yeah, defiantly a completely different (First name) (Last name).

Eddie admired it.

By the time The Trooper came along, and Revelations, you were singing your heart out to every song the band played, jumping and screaming for more when they transitioned to the next song.

And Eddie was right there with you.

The space was growing warmer, sticky with sweat as you moved among the crowd.

But it all felt so blissful, so exciting. You had failed to notice when you clung to Eddie and squealed in delight when the transition from the guitar solo led into The Number of the Beast.

Nor how he held you back as you both screamed out the lyrics with the crowd.

“Six six six, the number of the beast / Hell and fire was spawned to be released”

Song upon song, you rocked out with the school freak until the end of the show rolled around and you strolled out with a horse voice and tears threatening to spill over form the intensity of the show.

It was exhilarating, but you lost track of where the long-haired lad had gone by the time you exit the doors.

You stand to the side, catching your breath in the cooling night air outside the venue, only to have fabric come and smack you in the face.

“Didn’t know what size you wore, but I figured you could frame it or somethin’.” You blink as you look down at the shirt in your hands, eyes widening at the World Slavery Tour shirt resting there.

“You didn’t have to-“ You began, only to hear Eddie chuckle and interrupt you.

“A memento, just for our little secret, yeah?” He nudges you with his elbow before pulling a shirt over his head and over the one already on his body, the same shirt clad on his body and marking the time he went to one of the best concerts in history.

You look at the shirt again, feeling a smile creep onto your lips.

“You know Dio is playing in Indianapolis in October, right?” Eddie damn near chokes on air at hearing the words spilling from your lips.

“Wait, you know who the fuck Dio is?” Shock was laced in his tone and you damn near snort at his reaction.

“Munson, we just saw Accept and Iron Maiden. You don’t think I know who the fuck Dio is?”

“I don’t know! Maybe?” You laugh at him, shaking your head as he gawks.

“Well, you gonna go or what? I’m already saving up for the tickets because THAT will be a show to live for!” You bounce in place, and a smile makes its way to his lips.

“Yeah, I’ll try to be there…But wait,” he leans in, grinning, “is this like a date or somethin’?”

“In your dreams, Eddie.” You roll your eyes, but the idea of a date with him didn’t sound so bad now having been here with him, enjoying this moment. “But there’ll be no try. I’ll get the tickets if you go.”

“Whoa, whoa, now wait a minute-“ You place a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“Call it paying you back for the shirt.” He blinks in surprise, letting a sigh of defeat leave him as he nods.

“Fine.”

“Good. Now remember, not a word about seeing each other here, Munson!” You drag your finger over your throat, giving a mock ‘I’ll kill you’ gesture.

He drags his fingers across his lips, pretending to lock them. “Our secret is safe with me, Metal Queen.” He pretends to bow and you laugh at his gesture, shaking your head.

And he was good on his word, keeping your name out of the nights events but simply referring to you as “the girl” when his uncle asked about the concert.

And you claiming a night of solitude rather than leaving a banger of a concert to your fellow cheer mates.

Everything was unchanged between you and the school freak.

No talking, no socializing.

Well… There was one thing that did change.

Since that day, when you both locked eyes in the halls, at lunch, there was that silent agreement.

“See you at the next concert.”

#Eddie Munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #Lovely anon #thank you anon #anon ask

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untold90210 · 2 years

Text

The Burning Flames

Relationship: Eddie x Reader

Warning: swearing. violence. Vol 2 spoilers

My Eddie Munson fix it fic because I need it.

Takes place right after the most metal concert ever!

The bats were coming from everywhere. You could hear them slamming themselves against the bedroom door. Dustin was climbing up the sheet rope into the right side world. Eddie had planted himself between you and the door.

Eddie. Oh sweet Eddie. You knew you were screwed from the first time you laid eyes on that man, when Dustin and Max showed up to your door saying they needed help with their friend, and finding him in that boat house. God he was so scared.

You two were inseparable from the moment you awoke to his voice over the walkie talkie one night and ended up talking till the sun started to peak through the windows.

Robin knew the crush you had on him. You think Dustin knew too by the looks he would give you every now and then. Mostly eye rolls as Robin would smirk and try to push you two together. She even tripped you once knowing you would fall straight into Eddies arms. You were a blushing mess but you could have sworn you saw a blush on his cheeks as well.

But here you were in the upside down by his side refusing to leave it.

"Y/N! EDDIE! LETS GO!" Dustin screamed through the gate. You grabbed the sheet rope and started to climb feeling Eddies hands on your hips helping you up.

Once you fell through you watched as Eddie climbed up as well and falling through the gate. You could still hear the bats clawing their way through that bedroom door. Dustin made a run to the front door of Eddies trailer. You were close behind until you noticed Eddie wasn't behind you.

He was staring up at the gate with that look in his eye. His hand reached out for the sheet rope gripping it tightly.

"Eddie! What are you doing?" You asked the fear showing in your voice.

He looked over at you his mouth open like he was trying to speak but nothing was coming out.

"Eddie. Don't you fucking dare." Your words were harsh as you walked over to him with purpose.

"They need us.... I...I have to do this. I have to help them." His voice cracked as he spoke.

You swallowed at the lump in your throat. You could feel tears swelling up in your eyes. He stepped forward his hands cupping your face looking you in the eyes. "Its going to be ok..." He whispered.

"Were not heros Eddie! We run! That's what we do!" Dustin almost screamed from behind you. Eddies eyes didn't leave yours as your tears spilled over and fell down your cheeks. He wiped them away with that smile that always melted your heart.

"Im sorry..." He whispered even softer before leaning in to kiss your lips. He was kissing you. God he was finally kissing you. Your first and God Pease don't be the last kiss.

Before you knew it he was up that rope and into the upside down.

"EDDIE! STOP NO PLEASE!" you screamed up at him grabbing the rope and starting to climb. Dustin on your heels screaming up at him. And there it was. The rope was cut. You fell on your feet holding onto the rope crying looking up as Eddie moved the mattress and ran away from your vision.

"SHIT! FUCKING SHIT!" Dustin swore grabbing his head still screaming at the gate. Nope no. He was not doing this. If he was going to fight he sure as hell is not going to do it alone.

Your eyes searched the room. Chair. You grabbed it setting it under the gate. "Stay here!" You spoke to Dustin. He looked sick at just the thought.

You backed up as far as you could before jumping up onto the chair and up grabbing the side of the gate. You screamed trying to pull yourself through. It took everything you had.

Once you did you fell straight onto your back knocking the wind out of your lungs. You gasped for air grabbing your chest as your eyes came to focus to Dustin trying to jump to the gate.

Pulling yourself up you ran to the open door. "EDDIE!" you looked around not seeing anything. "FUCK!" Your back was screaming at you but you didn't care. You ran towards the sound of the bats. "EDDIE!!"

There he was. In the middle of a swam of bats. You panicked.

Old man Jimmys shed. OLD MAN JIMMYS SHED! There it was. Right infront of you. Why didn't you think of this before?! That old man was always ranting and raving about his flame thrower he swore up and down he had but never wanted to show anyone in fear of it being taken away or stolen.

"IM COMING EDDIE!!" you screamed sprinting to the shed. FUCK a pad lock. 2 pad locks! Shovel! You grabbed the shovel that was leaning against the shed and started smashing it onto the locks. 1 broken. And 2! Yes!

"Please be in here. For everything that is holy be in here!" You threw open the doors. And there it was. Locked and loaded. "Thank God"

Pulling it on you ran. You ran as fast as you could with that thing on your screaming back. Making it to the swam of bats you could see Eddie trying his best to fight them off. He didnt even know you there.

A tail wrapped around his neck slamming him to the ground. "EDDIE!" you screamed as you finally made it close enough.

Heat. Angry heat whipped across your face as the flames came spitting out. You screamed as you aimed it at the swam making sure not to get Eddie. "COME ON YOU BASTARDS!"

They were screeching in pain, in flames. FUCK the gas was running out and the flames were getting smaller. Before you knew it. They all just fell at once. You didn't understand. It was like it was a miracle.

You could hear Eddie gasp for air. You dropped the flame thrower. "EDDIE!"

You ran to him your eyes checking his body making sure he was ok. His eyes were wide in shock as you fell on your knees on either side of his hips. You bent down hands grabbing the sides of his face. Tears steamed down your face. "Are you ok?!"

He nodded still in shock. Your hands ran down his chest making sure he wasn't lying. You gripped his vest pulling him up into a sitting position. You smacked his chest.

"Don't you ever do that again Eddie munson!" You cried hitting his chest again. "I just got you Eddie! You, you cant just" you broke out into a sob unable to keep talking. His hands that were gripping your hips reached up and cupped your face.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" He spoke, You could see the tears in his eyes. You just shook your head. There it was again. That kiss. Those lips you thought you would never be able to feel again. Your arms wrapped around his neck loosely making sure not to hurt him.

When he pulled away he chuckled. "Old man Jimmys flame thrower huh?" You couldn't help but chuckle as well as you nodded.

"EDDIE! Y/N!" You both look into the distance seeing Dustin limp your way.

Eddie grabbed your chin turning your head towards him again. He shook his head with that smile before kissing you again and whispered against your lips.

"Lets go home..."

#eddie munson #fix it fic #stranger things #jospeh quinn #still crying #just ugh

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moemammon · 3 years

Note

Hi there! I finally snapped and walked out of my shitty job after being there for almost 3 years, so could I please request the brothers reacting to the MC finally quitting their horrible job that they've been encouraging them to for months? Thank you!!! <3

Congrats on Quitting! (Feat. the Demon Bros)

(There's nothing like the sweet sweet release of leaving a shitty job, but it ain't an easy task. Good for you! 😤💪)

Lucifer

He's seen the way your job has been affecting you. The weary look in your eyes, the way your joints constantly ache, the dread on your face when you'd soon have to go into work. Trust him, he knows the feeling all too well.

Naturally he tried giving you that push to leave, but he knew he couldn't make the decision for you (as much as he wanted to). He’d just have to wait until you made the move yourself.

So when you DID? Oh, he was so relieved. He never doubted that you had it in you. Extremely proud of you for taking that leap of faith, and he won't let you regret it.

You're 👏 getting 👏 spoiled 👏

"Where would you like to have dinner? I'll make reservations at once." "...Why are you giving me that look? Obviously this calls for celebration. I won't be taking no for an answer."

Mammon

Even Mr. Money Bags himself knows that no amount of money is worth suffering over (uh, at least not suffering for three years straight)

He's been bugging you to quit for forever now. "If it's money ya need, I can introduce ya to way better jobs! There's this guy I know that can set ya up with something real nice-"

When you announce you've finally quit, he literally sweeps you off your feet and shouts for joy. Fucking FINALLY! He was getting worried, always seeing that gloomy look on your face.

And now? You're not gonna be spending much money. He's spending for you, buying whatever you need (and everything you don't need). You're unemployed, so let him spoil you!

"Nuh uh! Don't even THINK about bringin' your wallet with ya! Didn't I say I'd be payin' today?? Just worry about relaxing a little, and let The Great Mammon take care of everything' else!"

Levi

Working irl was never something that interested Levi, unless he was doing volunteer stuff at concerts and conventions. But seeing what you're going through? Yeah, that's exactly why he stays home.

He's tried to ease your nerves by inviting you over for games and tv, but there's only so much that Ruri-chan can do for an overworked human.

So the moment you announced leaving your dead-end job, he was over the moon! This obviously calls for a movie marathon night! He's got plenty of recommendations, but it's probably best if you pick, right?

Trying his best not to overwhelm you with his excitement, but he can't wait to start spending more time with you!

"Seriously? You finally quit?! That's... that's great! That means you'll be home all the time, and-! Er... if you wanna come over, my door's always open for you!"

Satan

Literally told you right away that you should quit. He's not so oblivious that he doesn't notice how you're being exploited.

You're a hard worker, and your worth was being taken advantage of. Why would he want to sit around and watch you wither away? It annoyed him to no end.

So he did all he could to convince you to leave, suggesting alternative career paths, mentioning he could help you find something, but only you could make that important decision.

And BOY was he thrilled when you decided to leave. He congratulated you immediately, then proceeded to let out every insult aimed toward your job that he’d been holding in this entire time.

"They weren't good enough for you, so I'm glad you've finally realized that. If you want, I could leave them with a 'parting gift' to show them just how much you loved your job? I can even whip up something special for your boss."

Asmo

All the days you had to suffer working at a place like that.. You always looked HAGGARD coming home, and he hated it!

But now that you've quit working at that terrible place? Asmo's gonna make up ever single day that you could've spent pampering yourself. Also tried convincing you to start an OnlyFans-

He'll make sure you're so relaxed and cared for, you'll completely forget about all the grief your job put you through. Work? Who's she??

Massages your shoulders while you tell him stories of all the shitty customers and coworkers you've had to deal with. Spill the tea, hun. Speaking of tea, do you want him to top off your glass for you?

"Ive been worried sick about you, you know! Instead of working, you ought to just stay home with me instead! I know plenty of ways to make money without having to leave the house, after all~"

Beel

He always tried making sure you ate well before you left for work, but it didn't seem to be enough to keep you from being worn out when you got back.

He even tried suggesting that you workout with him to relieve stress. But after a hard day at work, it's understandable that you didn't want to move much.

Beel wasn't the type to outright urge you to quit, since it's nice to have a way to earn money, but after seeing the metal toll it was taking....

He couldn't have been happier when you announced you'd finally quit. Like Lucifer, he immediately wants to celebrate! This calls for eating until you're about to burst! Do you want Madam Scream's? He'll get you a lifetime supply of blackberry cheesecake, too!

"Since you're finally free from that place, we'll be able to spend more time together. It's been lonely, not seeing you as often. The food tastes better when I enjoy it with you, so let's eat together from now on, okay?"

Belphie

Sometimes, you were such a hard worker that it exhausted Belphie to even look at you. But he knew you were only human, and your stamina wasn't as limitless as you tried to make it out to be.

You were growing weary, both physically and mentally, and he could tell from a mile away. Was it really worth all this hassle just to make a buck or two?

He certainly didn't think so, and tried to get you to see it from his point of view. Just find something easier to do that wouldn't wear you out, you know? Or be unemployed. You know his brothers won't let you stay broke-

You tell him that you've finally quit, and Belphie can't help but smile. He won't admit that he was getting worried for your health, but you can tell from the way his expression relaxes.

"The hard worker had finally joined the lazy side, huh? That means you'll be able to make up for all the lost sleep, and I think we should get started right away. No objections, no objections. Come here." ".....I missed holding you like this."

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charlie-rulerofhell · 3 years

Text

For they know exactly what they do

Today there was a pretty long article published in the German newspaper FAZ, written by Julia Schaaf. Since there were quite a few interesting topics raised in it and Måneskin talked about some new aspects (or in more detail), I translated the whole thing (it might also have helped me to procrastinate).

Full interview in English under the cut.

For they know exactly what they do

June 22, 2021

Four young rock musicians from Rome are today's hottest band. Måneskin are enchanting Europe. Why? We met them for an interview.

Every romance needs its founding myth, an anecdote from the beginning, something you can tell later in more difficult times for self-assurance.

In the case of the band Måneskin, who first had Italy and now half of Europe wrapped around their fingers, and who are now trying to conquer the rest of the world with their rock music, there is the story of the shoe box. Rome, around five years ago: Four teenagers who are meeting every day after school in their rehearsal room to make music together, and sometimes they play their songs on the Via del Corso in the city centre in front of a changing audience. One day they want to record their own stuff. They find a studio that they can actually afford and as they go there they bring a shoe box, with the name of the band written on it, 'moonshine' in Danish, the bassist's mother is Danish. In the box: around seven kilogram of coins. The things you get from playing music on the streets. Everyone searching through Instagram for photos from that time can find four hippies with children's faces, three boys in batik, the girl is wearing a straw hat.

As they have to pay [for the recording], frontman Damiano David, 22, says that there was this guy, Angelo, and his bandmate Victoria De Angelis, 21, is interrupting: “No, Andrea, not Angelo”, and all of them have to laugh because a rigid studio manager with the Italian name 'angel' would be even funnier for a founding myth. David continues his story: “The guy was completely dumbfounded. 'We can't do that.' We went: 'Sure we can, that's worth the same even if it's just 20 cent coins, it's still 300 euros.” Thomas Raggi, 20, the guitarist of the band, is gasping for air as he laughs, while drummer Ethan Torchio, 20, is smiling dreamily. David finishes: “And then we snuck off before he was able to count it.” [the German text says 'verdrücken' here which is just a colloquial way of saying 'we left', but it entails some sort of a dramatic exit, so yeah, let your thoughts get creative how they left exactly :D].

Four young musicians on the verge of global fame are sitting on a white interview sofa in Berlin, completely styled, babbling across each other like overeager teenagers.

Ever since the Roman band first won the music festival Sanremo and then also the Eurovision Song Contest, carried by the enthusiasm of European viewers, you could say Måneskin has become a phenomenon. “Rock 'n' Roll never dies!”, Damiano David yelled fueled by the adrenaline of winning, and the insinuation that circulated on social media of the singer snorting during the counting of votes in front of a live camera – including their strict denial followed by a negative drug test result – might have given an additional boost to their public interest, their exploding album, ticket and merch sales, and their outstanding success on Spotify.

“We think it's a shit prejudice against rock music that there always have to be drugs involved. We fully threw ourselves into our participation with the utmost professionalism. We give everything for the music. So of course we don't want people to think that we can only do that because we take drugs.” – Victoria De Angelis

Prior to Eurovision, Måneskin was more of an insider's tip outside of Italy. Handmade rock music, not creating something entirely new but paying homage to the good old times with classic guitar riffs and cracking drum beats, being a lot of fun but also quite fragile and vulnerable at times and, first and foremost, conveying a captivating energy. Finally, on the stage of Rotterdam, live after so many months of isolation and renunciation, this wave of energy spilled straight over into European living rooms. It seemed easy to (mistakenly) interpret the winning song “Zitti e buoni” (Shut up and behave) as a declaration of frustration of our youth in times of a pandemic. In fact, singer Damiano David is singing about the favourite topic of the band: the unrelenting need to, against all odds, be yourself, despite or perhaps because you are different. The message fits their provocative sex appeal, which the band uses to demonstrate their independence of gender norms at any given time. But the core essence of rock music has always been the promise of unlimited freedom.

Thus at the first moment, the meeting with Måneskin is kind of startling. It's Wednesday, we are in the top floor of the new Sony head quarters in Berlin. The four Italians have just started their two-week long promotion tour through Europe. In the afternoon there will be a live concert in a queer club [the SchwuZ, but that's not mentioned here] in Neukölln, which will be streamed via TikTok. Around one million viewers will watch the show, some of them even from Brazil, so people at Sony are pretty excited [for Måneskin to come here]. But at first, these stunningly gorgeous creatures [yes, that's the exact wording :D] are standing surrounded by an entourage of people – their management, PR team, a stylist, a photographer, people who can hold a smartphone or a cigarette if needed [this paragraph is worded a little weirdly, especially taking into account that basically their whole team / 'entourage' is just friends of them, but it seems like the journalist didn't know that or maybe they just wanted to describe their first impression]. They seem like fictional / artificial characters out of a Hollywood movie. Transparent frill blouses with blazers and flared leather trousers, even the platform boots, everything brand-new, the makeup makes their faces look like a glossy magazine cover even in person. The smokey eyes of De Angelis and Raggi make them look smug and bored. Later, on the pictures it will probably look cool.

So of course your first impression might be: This band is under contract to industry giant Sony ever since their success on an Italian casting show [X Factor] in Winter 2017. The music industry must have its hand in the game when a band is photographed half-naked by Oliviero Toscani and styled by Etro. Also, one does not simply rent a villa with a pool in Rome to produce new music there, isolated from the rest of the world. And who else went to London for two whole months, shortly before the winter lockdown, just for inspiration? After the TikTok concert in Berlin – De Angelis and David are now wearing fishnet shirts that sparkle with every move, their bare nipples covered with an X of black tape – the band is posing with a few influencers. In the world of social media you would call that 'producing content'. But what does that mean for a band who are preaching their hosanna of authenticity? How authentic is Måneskin? And is their pointedly casual approach to sexuality and gender cliches in today's pop-cultural spirit more than a marketing strategy?

We're in the interview, the recording device is running for not even five minutes, when Victoria De Angelis says: “Actually, we just try to be ourselves and do what we really want to do.” And really: The more you listen to those four how they speak about the early days of the band in their slurred Roman dialect, about the shoe box and their own experiences with being different, but most importantly about their shared obsession [with music], the more you realise that [De Angelis] is very serious. Ethan Torchio, who got his first drum kit at the age of six or seven from his father because he was beating everything he could reach, says: “For me, music is like food. I cannot live without it.” The bassist next to him laughs at his pathos. Singer Damiano David applauds the otherwise more reserved friend for his truthfulness [it says 'klarer Punkt', meaning 'for the point he makes', but it makes it seem like Damiano is agreeing with Ethan here, although it doesn't indicate whether he agrees that yes, music is everything for Ethan or that he understands and feels the same].

De Angelis and guitarist Raggi already knew each other from middle school and they were the ones who tried to form a band at the age of only 13, a band that actually took music seriously.

De Angelis: “It's just difficult at that age to find other people who really put everything into music and who truly commit themselves and are willing to invest a lot of their time.”

Raggi: “We set strict rules and scheduled fixed times for the rehearsals, for every day.”

David: “Fever, stomach ache, there was no excuse. Even if you were feeling sick in the rehearsal room. At least you were in the rehearsal room.”

The way the four of them talk across each other, completing each other's sentences, taking turns in talking and sometimes joking about each other, seems intimate and playful. Singer David remembers how at first bassist [De Angelis] was merciless towards him when it came to her first metal band project, as she told him that he wasn't committed enough [to the music]: “Back then I was still playing Basketball. I was one of the people that Vic absolutely didn't want [in her band].” Drummer Torchio was later discovered through Facebook, even though there had already been a drummer, a close friend, but he was not good enough. It seems as if even back then music was everything for them. Even if it meant that only Raggi managed to graduate.

And why rock, why rock music of all things? Because it's great, the four of them say in unison. David adds: “Actually, it's a genre that allows you to do everything you want to do.”

When they played on the street, they were laughed at by their classmates. But not only there. De Angelis explains that she never wanted to be a typical girl: “I was always deterred by those stupid boxes that people put you in, and that are just restricting and constraining you, because something is only regarded as male or female. I always rejected that. Instead, I just wanted to do the things I enjoyed doing, I went skating and played football.” Torchio says: “Friends who are not friends anymore were already telling me at the age of ten that those“ – he grabs his long, silky black hair – “were wrong. Because I'm a boy and boys are meant to have short hair, long hair is only for girls. I was bullied a lot for that.”

“Compared to the past, people in our age became much more open-minded. It gets better.” – Thomas Raggi

Frontman David on the other hand, for whom eye shadow, jingling earrings and nail polish as well as his bare torso with the tattoos have become trademarks by now, says: “I was actually more of the average boy.” De Angelis convinced him to try out some eyeliner, which he describes as a spiritual awakening: “I liked myself much more [with makeup]. I saw myself more as myself. As if it had been a suppressed desire of mine.” On a trip to Copenhagen with the others, when he realised that it really didn't matter what people were thinking about him, he got his first fake fur [coat? the article doesn't specify that] in a second-hand shop and let his clothing style be guided by his own love to experiment: “I realised that my whole life I was just going at half speed.” When it comes to diversity all four of them are becoming almost missionary.

At the same time, their success is not only opening doors for them. Back home in Rome they are barely able to go out on the street due to all the paparazzi. “[You need a] hoodie and huge sunglasses”, David says, “the mask is quite helpful, too.” And still, none of them is complaining, and Torchio explains why: “Even if those experiences right now may have sides that are not so pleasant, we still know that for us a dream is coming true. We experience something that we always had in our minds, so we are willing to face every consequence that this entails.”

So is the band facing difficult times, is Måneskin going to change with all the success? Again, all of them answer at the same time.

David: “I'm not worried about that.”

Raggi: “No way!”

De Angelis: “On the contrary. Everything that happened to us happened because we are who we are, so we want to continue the exact same way and stay ourselves.”

Just a few hours later, they are at the stage in Neukölln, bouncing around like pinballs, hammering at their instruments, flirting with each other. “We are out of our minds, but different from the others”, David sings their winning hymn against conformism, and: “The people talk, unfortunately they talk.” Here on stage, the four paradise birds [a German word describing someone with a flamboyant personality] with their half-nude-glittering outfits are radiating an incredible energy with the utmost sincerity, and you begin to wish there was a live audience instead of the TikTok cameras, absorbing and spreading this energy. Måneskin. A cry for a life after the pandemic, a cry for freedom and a better world.

“We do what we wished for all our lives.” – Ethan Torchio

#måneskin #maneskin #måneskin interview #my stuff #i'm sorry if someone already translated it but i was working on this for the past 3 hours now so i'm still gonna share it #i know most of it is not very new but there were some quite interesting details in there #and it's just always great to read about those four dorks so i wanted to share it with all of you who wanted to read it but couldn't #enjoy and please ignore any possible mistakes i didn't have the time to proof-check everything

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heliads · 3 years

Text

A Pretty Thief

After Race stumbles upon what has to be the most charming pickpocket in the entire city of New York, he’s sure he has to get to know her. It’s a good thing he’ll soon get his chance.

masterlist

Race is almost sure he didn’t see it at all.

Had he moved a foot to the left, had he blinked, he probably wouldn’t have seen anything. It was quick, hands moving with the grace of a trained pianist. Not that Race would know- he’s not exactly known for hanging around establishments with a caliber high enough to warrant a pianist. No, the Sheepshead Races are his kind of entertainment, not the top level businessmen who choose to frequent the orchestra and concert halls.

It is precisely this kind of man that Race has just seen pick-pocketed. The theft was probably the smoothest he’s ever seen- a quick slide of the hand across a back pocket and it was like watching the man’s wallet leap into the awaiting palm of the thief. The thief, as it happens, not the usual scruffy boy but a girl. That’s probably why she caught Race’s attention even before she liberated the man’s wallet- she’s pretty. Far prettier than the usual thieves Race has seen on the streets.

She glanced up once at him, as if she could sense his thoughts on her. She looked startled for a second, as if not used to being caught in the middle of a theft, then quickly regained her momentum. She flashed Race a cocky grin, tossing a wink like a penny to an awaiting newsie. Then she disappeared back into the crowd, gone in an instant despite the fact that there actually aren’t that many people on the street. Race is fascinated.

This, however, proves to be a mistake. In the time it takes for Race to linger in place, watching the pretty thief go, the man has discovered that his wallet is missing. He looks around frantically, searching for a possible suspect, and his eyes land on Race. Race watches as the man points a finger at him, the words shouting from his lips: “Thief! Stop him!”

Race pauses a moment. Surely he doesn’t mean Race himself, who’s just been standing here selling papes? But it does make sense, as few things on the streets ever make sense to bankers and street rats alike- who would steal a wallet, the couple of well-dressed shoppers or the boy dressed in worn clothes and hand-me-downs, selling papes at a couple of cents each in the hopes of not starving to death?

It’s practically obvious that the man would turn to him. It’s also obvious what Race has to do now- it’s what he’s been doing for almost all of his life. He turns and runs, sprinting down the narrow cobblestoned streets in an attempt to get away from the banker and the crowds now turning to face him. A couple of cops attempt to chase him, but Race has always been able to outrun them. No competition.

His feet feel lighter than air, his legs a blur as he darts between couples walking on the streets and around corners. He pauses for a second, noticing the cops now in front and behind him, then makes a split-second decision and ducks into a nearby alleyway. He follows the brick walls through a few twists and turns, then curses softly. He’s hit a dead end, and there’s no way he can go back. The cops have already blocked the exit.

Just when Race is trying to figure out what his next move could be, a voice sounds from above him. Race cranes his head, trying to spot the speaker, and then he sees the arm pointing to a twisting metal ladder mostly hidden by crumbling brick. Race nods his gratitude, rushing up the ladder before the cops can spot him. He’s just managed to throw himself onto the roof of a low building before the men spill into the alleyway, but even from here Race can see their frustration. There’s no way they can find him, not now.

Race watches until they turn around and head back to the street, then lets out a quiet sigh of relief. He turns to thank his mysterious aide, but freezes slightly with surprise when he recognizes her. It’s the girl from before, the girl who stole the banker’s wallet and got him landed in this mess in the first place. Race scratches the back of his head, adjusting his newsie cap. “Thanks for the tip. I wouldn’t have found that ladder if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

The girl flashes him that same dazzling grin. “No problem. I felt kind of bad that they started chasing you. I wasn’t trying to pin the theft on you.” Race returns her smirk. “And they says there’s no honor among thieves.” The girl laughs, glancing over the edge of the roof to make sure nobody can see them. “You’re the first person to see me steal something in a while. Usually I’m too fast.”

Race raises an eyebrow. “You’se that confident in yourself?” The girl shrugs. “You tell me.” She pulls a cigar from her pocket, starting to lift it to her lips. Race’s eyes widen when he realizes it’s his. It had been in his shirt pocket, but now- His hand flies to his breast pocket. Sure enough, it’s empty. Race gapes at her. “That’s my cigar!”

The girl hands it back after a second. “Just proving a point.” Race pretends to glare at her. “Better be. Cigars are off limits.” The girl folds her arms across her chest, expectant. “Then how did you get them? I didn’t know newsies had such wide access to the best cigars.” Race leans against a nearby wall, a grin rising to his lips despite himself. “I guess we all have our secrets.”

Then he straightens up. “Where are my manners? Honestly, you meet a goil who steals your cigars and you forget everything. I’m Race.” He extends his hand, mocking formality like he’s one of the bankers this girl just stole from, and the pretty thief copies his stance. “Y/N. Nice to meet you, Race.” Race flashes her a wink. “Nice to meet you too, as long as you stop stealing my cigars.” “No promises.”

They part ways soon after that. Whoever this Y/N is, she’s not a newsie, and Race needs to finish selling the rest of the day’s papes if he wants to have enough to eat tonight. Still, he can’t pretend he wasn’t disappointed to leave her on that roof. There was something about her that he hadn’t seen in a while. She was like a breath of fresh air in the middle of this smoke-clogged city. Honestly, that should tell Race that this girl is special. She’s practically driving him to poetry.

He doesn’t expect to see her again. Something about Y/N tells Race that she’ll only be found if she wants to be found. Yet a couple of days later, Race is walking back to the newsie Lodging House when he sees a familiar silhouette. It’s late in the day, the sun already slipping back into dusk, but he could recognize her in the middle of a dark and stormy night if need be. She’s walking quietly, arms wrapped around herself as if hoping that the press of her forearms alone could keep her warm. Race has lived in Manhattan long enough to know that it never will.

Race jogs to catch up to her, shouting a greeting from down the block. Y/N turns around, a somber expression instantly glittering into a smile when she sees him. Race slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close like he’s known her his entire life. “You want to tell me why the best goil in ‘Hattan is walking around like she’s been living a funeral?”

Y/N glances at him over her shoulder. “You think I’se the best goil in ‘Hattan?” Race shrugs. “Maybe all of New York. Maybe the entire world. But that’s not the point. What’s got you feeling blue?” Y/N’s smile slips from her face. It’s strange how she looks without it- older, maybe. More used to the stresses of being a teenager who has to work day in and day out to survive the city.

“I usually have a job in one of the factories, stitching clothes and whatnot. I’se had it for a while. It’s not the easiest or the safest, but at least it’s indoors.” Race winces at that. He’s heard a lot about the factories, about dozens of girls crammed together in small rooms, eyes strained over tiny stitches for hours and hours until they practically couldn’t see or move their hands at all. For some reason, the thought of the flighty, high-spirited Y/N stuck inside that dim and darkened room makes his heart clench in his chest.

Y/N is continuing now, and Race puts aside his pride to listen to her. “Or at least, I had the job for a while. Today, the bosses came out and said that they was going to fire a bunch of us to make sure they had enough profits. I was one of the people they selected at random, because I’se one of the youngest and they don’t trust us kids to do the best work. They’ve done stuff like this before, but they always hire us back. It’s been a couple of days now, and I’ve showed up every day. They should have hired me back, but they haven’t. I think they’re serious about this.”

She flops her head into her hands. “I’m worried, Race. The factories are already stuffed to the gills with new workers as it is. I don’t know that I’ll be able to find a place to work so quickly. Besides, my landlord’s going to kick me out if I don’t have a way to pay my rent. It’s the smallest apartment on this side of Manhattan, but it’s all I’ve got.” Race feels his spirits sink as he listens to Y/N talk. It isn’t fair that she should have to go through this, that any of them should have to work this hard just to live. But New York has always run at double speed, and the city that never sleeps has rarely cared about the welfare of the kids it relies on to function.

Race pulls Y/N closer, pressing a kiss against the top of her head despite his head screaming at him that this is not something he should be doing with a girl he’s just met. “You can stay with me. Us newsies have our lodging house, you know. It’s not much, just a bunch of troublemakers stuck together in a mess of bunks, but it’s home. If you need a place to stay, it’s here for you.”

Y/N looks up at him through a mess of lashes, and Race feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. “You mean it?” Race tries to force indifference, but he doesn’t think he could do it if he tried. “Of course I mean it. We look out for each other, right? Now I’m looking out for you.” Y/N beams at him, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re the best, Racer. Honestly.” Race feels like a giddy schoolboy. “Hey, it’s no problem. Want to go now?” “Absolutely.”

They make their way back to the lodging house, trading jokes and smiles as they go. Now that Y/N’s got a place to stay and at least start to stay on her feet, she’s decidedly happier. This in turn makes Race happier. He’s not sure why, but every time she looks over at him with that beaming smile Race feels like he could run a hundred miles and never stop, or jump right up to the moon and make her a place to stay. The other newsies would laugh at him and call him starstruck, but it doesn’t matter. Y/N’s curling her fingers around his, and he can’t think about anything else.

They pause in the doorway of the lodging house. Y/N looks back to Race as if double checking that he’s serious about this, and he gives her a reassuring smile. Race steps forward, opening the door and guiding Y/N into the main room of the house. From the second they enter, Race can feel all eyes shift to them. Great. It’s not often that the newsies bring a goil into the lodging house, and certainly not one as pretty as Y/N. Race can already hear the questions they’re dying to ask, and sense the stares from Albert, Elmer, and the others.

Luckily, Jack is the first one to step forward. Honestly, of all the newsies to first talk to Y/N, Race is glad it’s Jack. Jack happens to already have a girl to hang about with, and such a vibrant, fearless girl is Katherine that Race knows Jack would never think twice about another girl. It’s kind of like how Race feels about Y/N.

Jack looks between the two of them, a grin settling decidedly onto his face. “So, Racer, you want to tell us about your, uh, friend?” Race gives Jack a look. “This is Y/N, she’s a good friend of mine. She needed a place to stay so I offered up a bunk over here.” Jack grins. “I bet she’s a very good friend.” Race makes to hit him with his cap, and Jack dances away. “Alright, alright. Just teasing. Y/N, we’d love to have you. If you can stand Racer, you can stand any of us. Stay as long as you like.”

Y/N laughs, the sound echoing around the room like a bell. “That sounds great. Thank you.” Race repeats the thank-you before practically pulling Y/N away, desperate to get a chance to talk before the other newsies try their hand at stealing away his goil. Race wants to shake himself at the thought. Y/N isn’t his girl, remember? He would do well to keep it in mind, although the thought keeps slipping from his head the second she looks back at him.

At first, Race doesn’t know what he was thinking, bringing Y/N to the lodging house. Would she get annoyed by all the other newsboys? Would she like it at all? Luckily, he doesn’t have to worry. She seems so happy to have a place to stay, somewhere with a ton of new friends that she doesn’t complain at all. In fact, she seems to be enjoying herself.

When it’s time to go to sleep, Race isn’t sure what to do. They offer Y/N one of the spare bunks, and she takes it, but he can tell that Y/N is still awake even long after the other boys fall asleep. Quietly, so as to not wake anyone else, he whispers over to her. “You can come over here. If you want. You know, if you can’t sleep.” For a second, he thinks Y/N is going to laugh at him, but then she whispers a quick thank-you, hurrying across the room on footsteps almost too light to hear.

Y/N settles into the bunk next to him, wrapping the few threadbare blankets around her. Y/N lays her head down on his chest, and Race pulls her close to him. He can already feel himself starting to drift off to sleep, but he can still hear her whisper something in the quiet of the night. “Thank you, Race. For everything. You didn’t have to do all of this, you know.” Race smiles, the expression slow in the night air. “Of course I did. I care about you, you know. Couldn’t leave you there on the street.”

The words hang in the air for a second, and then Y/N’s voice comes again, sweetened with a smile. “I care about you too, Race. More than I should.” Race raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?” Y/N grins. “Yes. But now I’m going to sleep.” She pulls the blanket higher, closing her eyes despite the look on Race’s face. He considers this for a moment, what it means, what he can’t believe she just said. Then sleep threatens to drown him whole once more, so he presses one last kiss to her cheek before finally letting himself drift off to sleep at last. If the other newsies can see the two of them, holding each other close together in the quiet of the lodging house, they don’t say a word until morning.

#race imagines #race x reader #race oneshot #newsies #newsies imagines #newsies x reader #newsies oneshot #race higgins #race higgins imagines #race higgins x reader #race higgins oneshot #newsies race #newsies race imagines #newsies race x reader #newsies race oneshot #newsies live #newsies live imagines #newsies live oneshot

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dontshootmespence · 4 years

Text

Secrets of the Bullpen

Summary: One night, while working late at the BAU, the team decides to keep themselves amused by reveling stupid secrets to each other.

Words: 1,112

Warnings: Some cursing.

A/N: This came from an anonymous request I was intrigued by, so I kept it. However, requests are ‘officially’ closed.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Emily tapped her pen against the desk in rhythm with the clock without even thinking about it. “Okay, is it just me or is the ticking of a clock like Chinese water torture?��

Chuckling, Derek smiled and leaned back in his chair. Just as he was about to respond, Spencer looked up from his paperwork.

“Actually, Chinese water torture is more than the drip of the water. People frequently equate it with repetitive sound, but it’s actually a painful process where cold water is slowly dripped onto the scalp, forehead or face for a prolonged period of time, which allegedly makes the restrained victim go insane. It was first described by Hippolytus De Marsillis in Italy during the 15th or 16th century. What?” He asked when he felt all eyes on him.

“Alright, kid,” Rossi said. “Is there a study that shows that just repetitive noise can drive you crazy?”

JJ, Hotch and Garcia moseyed out into the bullpen, needing some kind of a break from their never-ending piles of paperwork.

“Actually, yes. There’s a disorder called misophonia where certain sounds trigger an emotion or physiological response that many people describe as ‘driving them crazy.’”

Rossi laughed and excused himself for a moment, returning with a bottle of scotch from his desk. An unopened bottle. The kind he’d open in case of a celebration. “Alright, we all need a break and a laugh. So, everyone give me a glass, have a sip of scotch and let’s do something.”

“Play a game?!” Penelope screeched excitedly, clapping her hands together. “I’ve got an idea. Everyone has to revel a secret about themselves, but nothing big. Just something stupid that the rest of us wouldn’t know.”

For a moment, everyone pondered, glancing between their paperwork and the sweet freedom of a sip of scotch. “Screw it,” Emily said, holding a cup out to Rossi. “I’m in. I’ll go first.” She took a sip from her cup. “So, something about me that you guys wouldn’t know is...” She went through the Rolodex in her head. Hotch could tell she had a whole load of secrets up there and was searching for a good one. “Oh, okay, so I read all the lesbian fiction and fanfiction I can find. My favorite published book is The Sea of Light by Jenifer Levin and my favorite fanfiction is this one about two badass bitches from a hospital procedural I watch.”

No one said anything and then Hotch smiled. “I thought Garcia said we had to confess a secret.”

“Shut up.”

Rossi finished pouring and Derek was the last one. “Alright, your turn, Morgan.”

“And remember we’ll know if you lie,” JJ added.

“Okay, I’m not about to tell you what name it’s under,” he said, taking two big sips of his drink. “But I’m going to piggyback off of Emily. I am on a social media site and, in my spare time, I might...write, what some would call fanfiction about a show that I watched when I was a kid that was cancelled way too soon. My brain was constantly thinking up ways the story could’ve continued so I started writing them down. I have a...decent following.” He hated that he was blushing. “This leaves the room I will kill you all.”

Penelope’s eyes lit up. “I don’t profile that frequently, but I’ll be damned if I don’t find out what blog’s yours.”

“Baby girl, I swear. I have no doubt that you’re gonna find it. When you do, you keep your little mouth shut.”

“Our little secret.”

Quickly enough, they all finished their first drinks and had Rossi pour a second. “You guys are gonna drink me out of house and home.”

“You can afford it,” Hotch laughed. “I’ll go. Like Morgan, I will kill anyone who speaks this outside this room. But my guilty pleasure, whenever I have the time, is taking bubble baths and listening to Frank Sinatra.”

Despite it only being the seven of them in the bullpen, the raucous laughter bounced off the walls. “You know that whenever you’re tense, we’re all gonna tell you to go take a bubble bath now, right?” Spencer said, smirking as he took a drink.

“Watch it, Reid.” When the baby of the team couldn’t stop laughing, Hotch singled him out. “Okay, smart ass. You go.”

Spencer’s smile immediately dissolved as he combed through every facet of himself. There wasn’t a whole lot that the team didn’t know about him. Oh, I’ve got one. I talk all the time about classical music and how much I like it, but it’s not my favorite kind.”

“What is?” JJ asked, her eyebrow raised.

“Metal. I’m obsessed with metal. Specifically Metallica, Judas Priest, Anthrax and Nightwish. I’ve been to more than 20 concerts between the four of them.”

“That screaming stuff? You like that?” Morgan asked incredulously.

“No, no, metal isn’t actually a lot of screaming despite what people think. What you’re referencing is called screamo and I’m not into that. Makes me anxious.”

While the rest of the team asked Spencer about the different types of metal, a few of them got their drinks topped off and Spencer put Amaranth by Nightwish on in the background. “JJ, you next.”

“I don’t get to do it too often because when do we have the time, but I like cross stitching and I specifically cross-stitch inappropriate sayings like ‘eat a dick’ and ‘because fuck you, that’s why.’”

Emily begged for the ‘because fuck you, that’s why’ one and Garcia called ‘eat a dick.’ Spencer commissioned one that with the phrase, ‘try not to murder anyone today.’

“Okay, Garcia and Rossi. You’re the only two left. Your turn.” JJ said.

Rossi calmly sipped at his drink, leaving Garcia to spill the penultimate secret. “I’ve been thinking. Something stupid that you guys don’t know about me is that I’ve always been obsessed with dinosaurs. I mean ask me anything. When it comes to dinosaurs, I am Reid.”

Without missing a beat, Spencer asked, “When was the first dinosaur fossil discovered?”

“1822. Easy. And it was an Iguandon fossil. Give me a harder one.”

“What dinosaur looks like a cross between a parrot and porcupine?”

“Oh good one,” she laughed. “Can’t stump me though. That would be the Pegomastax. It’s teeth rubbing back and forth is what sharpened them.”

“Correct.”

“Damn right, I am!”

The entire team stared at their exchange in awe. “You’re both dorks,” Morgan said matter of factly.

“Well, this leads pretty effortlessly into my secret,” Rossi interjected. “I have a book draft where I roast every, single, one of you.”

Every head snapped in his direction. “What?!”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #spencer reid #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #dontshootmespence #secrets of the bullpen

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