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can we talk about braiding eddie’s hair bc I feel like he would melt into a puddle at someone playing with his hair. mean metal man goes from >:( to :)

of course we can because i absolutely believe eddie relishes in you playing with his hair and running your nails against his scalp, massaging gently.

it starts while he sits on your bedroom floor, sifting through your mess of records and cassettes. you are as much a music junkie as he is, making dates at the record store long and very expensive.

you make your way to the edge of your bed, legs dangling on either side of his shoulders. your hands subconsciously land on the crown of his head, fingers slotting through the wavy strands and combing down to the ends.

he hums at your touch, rolling his neck to the side and bumping your calf. you begin raking his hair back, pulling it all off of his shoulders. eddie closes his eyes and forgets about finding the perfect album to put on- just wants to feel your hands in his hair.

“can i braid it, baby?”

“hmm?” eddie’s unfocused, distracted by the way the gentle pull against his roots stirs something inside of him he’s unfamiliar with.

“your hair,” you say gently. “can i braid it?”

“yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. “anything you want, princess.”

you opt for two french braids, cascading down the sides of his head. eddie finds it soothing to have his hair played with and styled in a way he could never manage on his own. you absently hum “my love, my life” by abba (a band you’ve yet to sway eddie onto) but he pays no mind to it. he just relaxes beneath your touch, warmth spreading from his chest down to the very tips of his toes as he realizes he’s never felt more safe in his entire life.

you are indeed his love and his life.

Learning to Love Again

Steve Harrington x reader

Inspired by this post @forevermoreharrington

Steve had always been the life of the party. With his charming smile and quick wit, he could make anyone feel at ease. But behind that confident exterior, he was hiding a deep insecurity that he had never quite been able to shake.

Steve had always been a romantic at heart. He loved the idea of being in a relationship, of sharing his life with someone special. But every time he tried to get close to someone, it always seemed to backfire.

In his early relationships, Steve would try to be affectionate and attentive, showering his partner with compliments and gifts. But he quickly learned that not everyone appreciated his brand of romance. Some of his partners would pull away, telling him that he was being too intense or that he needed to give them space.

This rejection hurt Steve deeply. He couldn't understand why his efforts to show his love were being met with such resistance. As a result, he began to hold back, to keep his feelings to himself for fear of scaring his partner away.

But even that didn't work. His partners would accuse him of being distant, of not being emotionally available. Steve couldn't win. It seemed like no matter what he did, he always managed to push his partners away.

But then he met you.

From the moment you first smiled at him, Steve felt something shift inside of him. It was a small gesture, just a quick flash of teeth, but for Steve, it was like a bolt of lightning had struck him. He couldn't explain why, but he felt an instant connection to you. Maybe it was the way your eyes crinkled at the corners, or the way your hair fell in soft waves around your face. Whatever it was, Steve was hooked. It was as if all of his insecurities melted away in your presence. You were so warm and open, so eager to be close to him, that he couldn't help but be drawn to you.

At first, it was scary for Steve. In the early days of your relationship, Steve was almost overwhelmed by the sheer amount of affection you showed him. It was like a dam had burst, and suddenly he was being showered with love and attention in a way that he had never experienced before.

At first, he was a little unsure of how to respond. He would feel himself tense up when you reached for his hand or leaned in for a kiss. He wasn't used to this level of physical intimacy, and it took him some time to get comfortable with it.

But you were patient with him. You could tell that he was struggling, and you didn't want to push him too hard too fast. So you started small, with gentle touches and soft kisses. You let Steve set the pace, always waiting for him to take the lead. But as time went on, he began to relax into your touch, to let himself be vulnerable with you in a way that he never had before. He found himself craving your touch, yearning for the warmth of your body next to his. He loved the way you would run your fingers through his hair, tracing lazy patterns on his scalp. It was like all of the walls he had built up around himself were starting to crumble.

And then there were the kisses. Steve had never been much of a public display of affection kind of guy, but with you, he couldn't resist. He loved the way you would pull him in for a kiss in the middle of the street, not caring who saw you. It was like you were telling the world that he was yours, and he loved the possessiveness of it.

You would stay up late talking, laughing at each other's jokes and sharing stories about your lives. You would hold hands as you walked down the street, fingers intertwined in a way that felt like you were meant to be together.

And whenever Steve would start to feel that old familiar pang of insecurity, you were always there to reassure him. You would tell him how much you adored him, how much you loved being close to him, how you could never imagine being with anyone else.

It was one of those nights, lying in bed together, that you finally said the words that Steve had been waiting to hear.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice soft and sweet.

Steve's heart skipped a beat. He had wanted to say those words to you for so long, but he had been too afraid of scaring you away. Now, as he looked into your eyes, he knew that he had nothing to fear.

"I love you too," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I've loved you since the moment I met you, but I was too scared to say it. I didn't want to mess things up."

You reached out to stroke his hair, your fingers trailing softly over his scalp.

"You could never mess things up with me," you said, your voice filled with sincerity. "I'm here for you, always."

And as Steve held you close, he knew that he had finally found the person who could chase away his insecurities, who could make him feel loved and cherished in a way that he had never thought possible. With you by his side, he knew that he could face anything that life threw his way.

omg. y/n doing an interview and they ask who their celebrity crush is and y/n’s like.

‘Joseph Quinn.’

Leaning against chair, ‘I mean have you seen him in Make Up? Or Les Miserables? everytime I see a picture of him I get butterflies in my stomach.’

‘Really?’

‘What if we said Joseph Quinn was here today?’

*Y/n.exe has stopped working*

‘What?’

‘Everybody Joseph Quinn’

*joseph Quinn walks out*

*y/n trying to keep themselves from fainting*

Stealth suit appreciation post.

“I like the stealth suit from Cap 2. The dark, navy blue suit from the opening of Winter Soldier when I’m on the Lemurian Star, messing people up on that ship. And in the elevator! That’s my favourite. I have requested it every movie, but the people at Marvel really like a little red. They like a little red in there. Which is fine. It’s Cap; I get it.” - Chris Evans

I Love…

Summary: A request from @rororo06: “Chris Evans x reader where something is really bothering her and she says she’s fine but Chris doesn’t buy it.“

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~900

a/n: As always, let me know what you think, and feel free to send me requests :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You thought you were concealing it well, but he noticed.

He noticed when you went to sleep three hours earlier than normal.

He noticed when you didn’t sing along to your favorite song in the car.

He noticed when you stared off into space during breakfast and barely ate before leaving for work.

Now you’re sitting together watching a movie like you do most Friday nights when you’re both home. Admittedly, you’re having a hard time focusing. You can feel Chris stare in your direction all of a sudden, though.

“I can feel that,” you mumble.

Keep reading

Y/N: I’m not lazy, I just find it hard to put effort into things I’m not passionate about.

Steve: What are you passionate about?

Y/N: Sleeping.

panic attack

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summary: When you have a panic attack at one of your movie nights with the party, you ask them to call the one person who can help.

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

Warnings: panic attack, soft,protective!Billy, concerned!party, fluff

a/n: okay, so this one is another from the old account. i wasn’t really sure if i was going to repost this one, just because i’m not as fond of billy as i used to be, but a lovely anon asked me to repost this one so here it is! i made a few edits and billy is definitely very ooc but i hope you enjoy nevertheless <3

NOT MY GIF! CREDIT TO THE OWNER!

You let out an amused snort at something Steve had said as you sat on one of the couches in Mike’s living room. Max and El were tucked under each of your arms, snuggled into your side as they shook against you with laughter. 

You were having your bi-weekly movie night with the party, Steve and Robin. You were currently on your third movie and, surprisingly, everyone was seated and watching the movie instead of running around or arguing like usual. 

You looked around the room, smiling at the people you got to call family, however your smile faltered slightly as you wished your boyfriend could be here too. You and Billy had been dating for a few months, secretly, and contrary to popular belief, he was a real gentleman. He treated you like a princess and he’s been there for you through tough times, especially your frequent panic attacks.

Keep reading

I love you Joe Keery. Thank you.

Can I request a fluffy Joseph Quinn x fem. reader long oneshot where it’s Joseph’s Birthday and reader surprises Joseph with a present and inside the wrapped present is a sonagram picture and a baby onesie that has a special message on it?

( I know exactly what I want the onesie to say, so I will send you a picture of what I want it to say.) ☺️❤️

ofc! sorry I got back to you so late

here's the onesie

happy birthday - j.q. x fem!reader

You looked down at your stomach and beamed. Anxiety filled your body but you knew deep down that Joseph would be elated. 

You grinned as you heard footsteps, casting a few last minute glances at the table.

“Happy Birthday, Joey!” you exclaimed, as Joseph stepped down the stairs groggily.

“Aw, thank you, love,” he croaked, he gave you a lopsided grin as he wrapped his arms around you. “Wow, you did not have to do all this. It’s five am, baby, why were you up so early?”

“Shut up and eat,” you laughed, guiding him to the table.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, nodding. He sat down and began eating. “I should just fake sick. Stay home all day with you.”

“No, Joe, you have to go today. I still have some things to set up!” you exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder. You looked down once more before sitting down next to Joe.

+++

It was late. About nine pm. You heard the garage open. You quickly put out the couple boxes of gifts, putting the most important one in the certain. You were practically shaking with nerves.

“Hellooo!” exclaimed Joseph, walking into the living room nonchalantly. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’re shaking. What’s going on? Are you cold?” he asked, rubbing your arms.

“No, no, I’m fine!” you insisted. “Are you ready to open presents?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, beaming. He sat down.

One by one, you handed him the presents.

“One left, okay?” you said, handing him the present.

“Okay,” he said, smiling eagerly. He gently pulled the wrapping paper off the gift to reveal a box. He grabbed the pocket knife that you had brought over and cut open the box and pulled out the small cloth that was inside. His face scrunched up and he unfolded it. He read it and dropped it almost a second later. His eyes were impossibly wide and his jaw was hanging open.

Your eyes filled with tears – happy tears – and you nodded. He jumped up, beaming widely. 

“Oh my god,” he whispered, his throat and eyes stinging from the tears. “Oh my god, Y/N! We’re going to– we’re parents!”

“Yeah!” you exclaimed, crying happily into his arms. He picked you up and spun you around.

“We’re parents!” he repeated, some tears falling down his cheeks as he beamed widely.

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 | 𝐣𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: at london comic con, naptime for joe’s son interferes with joe’s panel. luckily, joe has a fix for the situation. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dad!joseph quinn x um!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: fluff fluff fluff ab dad joe bc lcc is giving so much kid content it’s driving me wild, joe’s son’s name is anthony 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: listen, @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown and i have this longstanding au going where you and joe have a son and i NEEDED to write it, especially with all the pictures of babies and kids that we’re getting this weekend :)

By now, everyone on Twitter knew that Joe had brought you and his son to London Comic Con. You and Joe had been spotted entering the convention center on Saturday, tiny 4-year old Anthony in tow, and everyone was waiting for some sort of content with the three of you. Joe didn’t share too much about Anthony online, only the spare picture to his new Instagram every so often, updating his eight million followers on Anthony’s antics, but little Anthony was known and beloved. 

So far, the day had gone well. You stood off to the side and entertained Anthony as Joe took pictures with fans, stopping during every break to get the snuggles and kisses in— Anthony required many Daddy snuggles and kisses, and every twenty minutes, two minutes were allotted for Joe to kiss Anthony’s head, inquire about what he was watching (the answer was always Bluey), and promise more time in the future. You hated how hectic the convention was and how quickly-paced it was, but that was the nature of the event. It was fun to watch your husband interact with all of his fans, and some even spotted you and sent waves and coos towards you and Anthony. 

Eventually, time for Joe’s lunch break came, and he held Anthony in his lap as they both ate their sandwiches that you had made (the upside of a con in London meant no hotel rooms, and your boys got to sleep in their own beds), peanut butter dotted on Anthony’s little mouth as he babbled away at Joe. “So big, Dada!” he exclaimed, stretching his hands wide. 

“Yeah, lots of people, aren’t there?” Joe chuckled, smoothing down Anthony’s thin curls. Anthony resembled Joe to a tee, some baby photos that Joe’s mother had showed you a dead ringer for your son, and Anthony’s big brown eyes widened as he nodded. 

“And they’re all here to see you,” you told him, and Joe scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t know about that,” he said. “I think they’re here to see you.” 

“Me?” you asked. 

“Yeah, my fans love you,” Joe told you. “Everybody today has told me to say hello to you and Anthony. And some people asked about Wes too, actually.” 

You smiled and leaned forward to kiss Joe’s cheek, and your husband blushed under your lips. “I’m so proud of you, Joey,” you told him softly. “You’ve worked so hard for so long, and now… It’s all happening.” 

“And I get to do it with you,” Joe said with a watery smile, and he looked down at Anthony in his lap, still watching Bluey on your phone. “Both of you.” He ruffled up Anthony’s hair and smoothed them down again, an anxious habit that he had picked up recently, and Anthony looked up from your phone and smiled a big, toothy grin at his father. 

“It’s almost naptime,” you said, looking down at your watch, and both of your boys whined and grumbled in protest. Anthony usually didn’t make a fuss over naptime and gladly settled in bed with his blankie and fell asleep for at least an hour, but you knew that the energy and excitement from the con would interrupt his schedule. You had anticipated this, and you pouted as you tugged your son up into your arms. “I know, baby, I know,” you told him. “But you’ll get all sleepy and cranky later if you don’t nap.” 

“B-But Dada!” Anthony said, and he wriggled in your arms, reaching out for Joe. You willingly transferred your son into his father’s arms, and Joe kissed Anthony’s wiggly little head as Anthony added, “Wanna stay with ‘ou, Dada.” 

“I want you to stay with me too,” Joe said, his bottom lip pouting out. “But you need to nap, and I have stuff I’ve gotta do.”

“What?” Anthony asked. 

“Well, I have a panel in a few minutes,” Joe told Anthony. “People ask me all sorts of things, and I answer them. It’s usually very fun. But I can’t bring you, bud.” 

“I mean…” you started slowly. “You could. Just hold him in your lap and let him sleep while you answer the questions. If you want, that is. Or I can just take him back home to nap and we can come get you at the end of the day.” 

“I can hold him,” Joe said, rubbing Anthony’s back. “We’re just gonna cuddle while you nap, aren’t we?”

“Cuddle?” Anthony asked, and Joe nodded. “Okay. Blankie?” 

You nodded carefully and slung off your backpack, opening it and searching through all of your stuff, Joe’s phone and wallet and keys and snacks and all of Anthony’s various accessories, and you finally extracted his fluffy blue blankie. It certainly had been fluffy at one point but, after four years, the fluff had been matted down and it was a little off-color, no matter how many times you washed it. But it was Anthony’s favorite blankie, the only one he slept with, and Anthony cuddled it up to his chest instantly as soon as he got it in his hands. “Thank you, Mummy,” Anthony mumbled, nestling his head under Joe’s chin, and your heart skipped. 

“Of course, baby,” you told him. “Are my boys ready for the panel?” 

“Anthony’s first panel,” Joe chuckled. “We’re ready.” 

Joe carried Anthony (and his blankie) to the stage, smiling and waving at fans as he passed them, and he seemed calm and cool. It was only once you got backstage, in the wings of the stage, that he started to seem nervous. “Is this a bad idea?” Joe asked. Anthony had his head rested on Joe’s shoulder, his brown eyes flagging with after-lunch sleepiness, and he yawned and cuddled up closer into Joe’s chest. “I-I mean, is it unprofessional?” 

“He’s your son, darling,” you told him, adjusting Joe’s jacket to lay right and settling his curls right. “Everyone will understand. And anyway, it’s super cute, and nobody will care if it's unprofessional if it’s cute.” 

Joe nodded, and he rubbed Anthony’s back as his name was announced by the moderator, and you watched Joe walk out onstage, holding his microphone in one hand as he held Anthony in his arms. Instantly, the auditorium was met with coos and aws and cheers, and Joe waved at everyone before he sat down on the small sofa that was provided for him. He mumbled something to Anthony and kissed his head, and your son turned to look at everyone. He waved for a moment, just long enough for everyone to cheer back at him, and he turned back and buried himself in Joe’s chest. 

The crowd died down, and Joe brought the microphone to his mouth. “It’s naptime,” he said, his voice echoing around the room, and he added, “We’ve got our blankie, I think Ant’s gonna suck his thumb, and he’ll be asleep in no time. But I’m excited, let’s begin.” 

Everything Anthony did was met with applause and aws, every moment and wiggle and cuddle into Joe’s warm chest. Joe answered every question with poise and humility, laughing when someone said to say hi to Wes, and Anthony mumbled something that was half-caught by the mic. “Unca Wes?” he mumbled, and Joe frowned, shaking his head. 

“No, no, Uncle Wes isn’t here right now,” he said softly. “But we can see him when we’re done here... It cracks me up that you guys know who Wes is.” 

True to his word, Anthony popped his thumb in his mouth and was asleep within twenty minutes, and Joe noticed it. “Oh, bless him,” he said. “And we’re asleep here. If we’re very quiet… maybe he’ll stay asleep…” Joe paused for a second and kissed Anthony’s head, and the boy didn’t stir, and Joe said, “Yeah, and he’s knocked out. He can sleep through anything at this point. He gets that from me.” Joe laughed a little, making sure that Anthony stayed asleep, and he said, “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

That happened often. Joe would be too distracted watching Anthony sleep and have to have the question asked again, and he flushed and mumbled, “I’m sorry, you guys, he’s just… Parents will understand, he’s only this little for so long. Sorry, I’m sorry, what was the question again?” 

Finally, the time for the end of the panel came, and the last question took Joe a second to respond: “What are you most proud of in your life?” 

“Well,” he started. “I’m proud of myself for a lot, if I can say that without coming off as a douchebag. But my own accomplishments pale in comparison to my wife, she… She’s amazing. I’m constantly in awe of her and all that she’s done for me, all of the late nights she spends with our son while I work, supporting me and loving me and… But this little guy. He blows my mind every day. Even as he’s sitting here, napping, he’s so much more than I ever could have imagined my son to be. I never anticipated being a father, and now I am, and even though it’s been four years, I’m still not used to him and I don’t think I ever will be. He is so smart and beautiful and… Yeah. I’m proud of Anthony. He’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

You smiled and, as soon as Joe came offstage, you pulled him into a kiss. You felt Joe’s hands twitch underneath Anthony, obviously wanting to embrace you as he kissed you, and you pulled Anthony into your arms to allow Joe to hold you tenderly as he kissed your lips. He sighed into the kiss and touched his forehead to yours, and he mumbled, “I love you so much. Thank you for sticking around.” 

“Of course,” you told him. “I love you too, darling.” 

“I wonder if my mum can take Ant tonight,” Joe mumbled, pulling you back into another kiss. “I need some time with you.” 

“You have more con tomorrow,” you said. “Is tonight good for that?” 

“Any night is a good night for that,” Joe chuckled, and you smiled at his naughty cheek. “I think it’s time Ant has a little sister.” 

“You think so?” you asked. “Whatever you say, Mr. Quinn.” 

“And I do say, Mrs. Quinn,” Joe said. “Let me call Mum and see if she can take the little monster. He was so good for me, he just slept the whole time.” 

“He’s not a monster,” you said with a smile, bouncing Anthony as he yawned and started to wake up. His thumb was popped in his mouth and you carefully pulled it out, and Anthony whined and sucked the corner of his blankie into his mouth. “He’s the most special little boy in the world.”

“He sure is,” Joe said, and his big eyes were full of love as he looked at the two of you, his wife and son. “The best boy ever.”