#anyway I also think he’d smoke for anxiety

[sen-ya]

I am generally Nervous and Embarrassed abt posting my lawlu comics but I simply love shachi and it feels like my duty to share every piece of shachi content I have

[cagesofgold]

eren jaeger headcanons <3

🎵teenage fever - Drake 🎧

His favorite way to unwind is to play with your hair. Due to having longer hair himself he’s grown accustomed to the different skill sets required to craft different hair styles, and actually, is really good at it. His fingers are lithe and nimble and are able to weave through strands with ease.

He drives an all black car with tinted windows, and has a polaroid of you in a photo booth with him on your first date in a plastic case hanging from his rear view mirror.

he also always makes sure to keep your favorite snacks in the car, as he’s a guy who’s bound to text you at 2am asking bout some “you up for a drive?” 💀

in terms of tattoos despite popular belief, i personally think he’d keep it on the minimal side. He’d maybe have some on his arms - or a sleeve, but he likes to keep them tidy. Although, he is one of those guys that would have that tiktok thirst trap spider on his chest or adjacent to his v line…..

this mf smells gooooood, he’s so paranoid about smelling bad because of Jean saying he smelt like a burning pile of bodies in high school and hasn’t been able to shake the fear since.

despite not being overly adorned in tattoos he does like piercings. He’s got about five on his ears and has a nose piercing but he always forgets about it.

loves reality shows. A few months into your relationship he noticed you watching them and acted with his full chest that he had no interest, yet as the weeks rolled by he somehow got closer and closer to the couch and before you knew it he was fully shouting over Lisa Rinna. (You’ve also seen him following over 30 housewives from the different shows on instagram…)

cannot stand metal music because he spent his entire childhood covering his ears from where it bled from under Mikasa’s door. (Otherwise he’d probably enjoy it)

he’d dress quite simply, mainly with blacks and whites and would sometimes mix and match with some red or green, but i don’t think he’s as ambitious as some of his friends fashion wise, but he still looks good as hell.

his favorite holiday is with out a doubt halloween, is some of this because he spent so long as a child building the most elaborate scares for the kids on his street? maybe. but he also likes autumn as a season so that has something to do with it.

doesn’t get along with his dad too well but is a total mamas boy. He visits her at least twice a month considering they live in different cities.

is a cat person, but when he was younger he liked dogs more as according to him they were “much radder” - his own words 💀, but as he got older and became more subdued he developed a preference for cats.

has anxiety that he manages to hide, he wasn’t used to being comforted and it took a while for him to fully open up to you.

despite smoking weed with Jean and connie almost every other day he still makes a dramatic scene any time Zeke lights a cigarette around him, i’m talking coughing and clutching his chest, Zeke’s standing there like this 🧍‍♀️waiting for him to stop his fucking shenanigans.

if you want to go out with Eren Jaeger prepare to be a victim of the sassy man apocalypse, because my god, this man is relentless, and the SIDE EYE on this mf is ridiculous. He could knock down an army with his sass alone.

takes good care of his hair, oils it twice a week and does hair masks in order to keep it soft and shiny. He can’t have his gorgeous girl going out with some guy with brittle, greasy ass hair…

goes to the gym but doesn’t like it very much. he goes most days for at least an hour but never posts gym pics on his instagram or anything, he just has no interest apart from maintaining his body.

cannot sleep without you. he can try, sure, but he’ll never be successful. Before you both decided to move in together he was at your house every night, nuzzled against your body with light breaths slipping from his lips, which sparked the conversation, why not just move in, you’re here everyday anyway?

tends to bottle things up, and if something is bothering him you will have to work it out of him slowly…but he’s trying, for you he’s trying.

his lock screen is a photo of you asleep against his chest, he just thought you looked so peaceful.

gets embarrassingly competitive in just dance, threw a Wii at Connie once because he made him lose a perfect score on timber.

finally, he loves stargazing, especially with you. He’ll take you out to a deserted street, a bag full of snacks and a joint as you both lay on the hood of his car, chatting about whatever comes to mind, and it’s at those moments, when his eyes focus on the slope of your nose and the shape of your mouth, that he feels a warmth inside him he’s never felt before. <3

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 8.4 - Flesh of My Flesh

VLAD

Vlad talks over pancakes. He explains the pointy-eared man. He explains the light and the smoke and the way he’s noticed a glimmer popping up in the corner of his eye. He explains his theories, his anxieties, and the worst part of the whole thing—his attraction because it was inconvenient to be turned on by someone who might be imaginary.

They don’t dismiss him. They don’t argue.

“The world is a complicated place,” Nikolas says.

“You have systems,” Josef says, “You need to use them. You need to be tethered, or else you’ll float away.”

It’s the same thing he’s been told since he was a child. Vlad finishes his plate and curls up with his father on the couch while Nikolas gets a fire going. “I’m tired.”

“Of course you are,” Josef rustles Vlad’s hair, “Since you was a baby you never slept. You been riding all day and thinking non-stop. You need rest. You get cranky if not, hell, we all do.”

“But it’s not just sleep,” Vlad insists. “I feel on the cusp of something big. Like something is about to shift and I’ve just been waiting my whole life for it. But now I’m tired of prowling and pacing and waiting for it to come.”

“Soon,” Nikolas soothes when he sits down. “You just be patient. World is complicated, but things become clear when they’re meant to. In the meantime, I ever told you about the time I was chasing a target, and they ducked down a mine shaft?”

He has, but Vlad lets his grandfather tell it anyway because it's a good story.

---

It takes a few more days before Vlad feels like he’s back to himself. They’re strange days. He sleeps a lot. He hears his parents argue, not the usual shouting obscenities and making idle threats, but the hushed whispers that tell him it's about something real.

He meets William for that barley bale.

He manages to turn in the bare minimum of his assignments—mostly perfunctory since he intends to cheat his grades, but it’s a good exercise. 

And he does catch up with Alice. He wishes he’d done it sooner. Yes, he’s still seeing an attractive pointy-eared man who might possibly be imaginary, but keeping track of her requires his undivided attention. 

Like now when she was supposed to meet him at the Commons over an hour ago. Vlad can tell she was here because she’s forgotten her headphones.

It was something other sims noticed, too.

—To their detriment.

He finally locates Alice in the graduate dorm study room. “Greetings, Magpie. I’m sorry I was away for so long. I wasn’t feeling well.”

She whirls around, “Oh shit! What time is it? How late am I? I’m sorry! Are those my headphones?”

“Yes,” Vlad says, handing them over. "And don’t worry; I entertained myself. What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” She groans. “Well, not really nothing. I need to research that secret society I’ve been tracking, but I don’t read or do books. I mean, I can, but it’s hard.“ Her head dips, and she tries to avoid his gaze. “I usually use a voice reader for anything long or listen to audiobooks, but for whatever Watcher-forsaken reason, the research machine doesn’t have a headphone jack or even Bluetooth. So now I’m stuck.”

“Would you like help?”

“I’m not stupid,” she replies fiercely.

“And you like books,” he adds, arching a brow. “You simply use an alternate method to read. I think you need an assistant. And as it turns out, I love traipsing through endless reams of text and boring books.”

Immediately, her eyes light up. “So, I’m the boss of you?”

The delight etched across Alice’s face at the idea of being in charge of him is enough to send Vlad into the stratosphere. It also spawns a fantasy that makes his pulse race. Something inside him unwinds and stretches. It wraps fingers around his rib cage and peers out past his heart, pleased and bound. 

“Yes, I do very well with specific instructions. Feel free to demand whatever you want.”

PREV | NEXT

(Part 4 of 4)

[justanamesstuff]

Chapter 5

Seasons

Matty Healy x f!reader A/N: And one day she uploaded the fifth chapter! I'm very happy to bring you guys this new chapter I had fun writing and editing...it's full of emotions but so am I. I also want to thank you all for patience and understanding while I'm going through this difficult time of my life, i really dont know where i will be without your unconditional love and support!! Please let me know what you think and what you expect for this tangled story <333 love you lots! Warnings: ANGST, anxiety, so many feelings...fluff, cuteness, surprises, typos. Word count: 8.2 K

MASTERLIST TAGLIST

< Chapter 4

Few weeks later, LA

Matty felt the mild temperature on the air caressing his cheeks as he opened the door of his rented car at the airport. Denise and some of her friends were supposed to step out of the big doors in only minutes. Trying to be a good son, he offered himself without being asked. One because he wanted to see his mother and, two, because staying at home with Hann’s eyes following around all the time was driving the frontman insane. They had been going through a weird phase after the talk involving Matty’s feelings and problems. They were good but, at the same time, they weren’t. Just as Matty with Y/N. Why that kept happening to him? No clear answer.

While he waited, Matty walked around the rented car, his hood up and trying to wake up massaging his face harder than intended. He was trying to keep his mind at ease. He couldn’t think about his issues. Quickly, Matty’s hands reached quickly for his pack of cigarettes. 

Matty deliberated a hundred of times if asking his mom about the situation would help, even though it was complicated. He would put her in a sketchy situation, and he was against it. At the same time, he knew very well –deep down– his mother would see through his eyes with her x-ray vision and say exactly what he had to do but was avoiding. 

Matty didn’t feel ready.

He had to decide. To accept what was really going on with his feelings, say those out loud and risk a lot in the middle. Or keep the same behaviour, not only the one he maintained for the past months, for the past years. Either way, he’d continue  hurting himself.

Lies -no matter how suited they could be- at the end are lies anyway. Denying feelings you have, don’t make them disappear…you only sweep them under the carpet and wait for them to explode in your face sooner or later.

The process of accepting is painful most of the time, but isn’t more painful to believe something that is not? Isn’t it worse to maintain a relationship that deep down you knew you don’t want?

Matty was protecting his heart. He was getting himself ready for the next part…for the inevitable. 

After a couple of more minutes, the singer spotted his mother looking for him. At the same moment, his phone rang.

“’Ello?” he answered, throwing away the butt of his smoked cigarette. 

“Hi Matty, where are you?” his mother asked. He gave her the directions, as he waved his free arm in the air. The whole group approached him. “Hi, love!” Denise greeted him, embracing him on a hug.

“Hi, mom.” Matty muttered, feeling the warmth of her arms. He didn’t realize how much he had needed that hug. “How was the flight?” the singer asked politely while greeting his mother’s friends.

“It was good.” one of them responded.

“Where are the others?” Denise asked.

“At the house, I volunteered to pick you up.”

“Aw, my son.” Denise took his face between her hands. 

Matty laughed feeling the tight squeeze. “Mom, stop!” he moved away, feeling like he was a teenager all over again.

“Oh, shush!!” she protested making the rest laugh.

Shortly after, Matty and the group of women got on the car. He started driving, chatting a little with Denise’s friends and her mom. He made jokes, trying to be the nicest he could be.

“So, how’s the record going?” Denise inquired.

Matty didn’t give her much information, “Good, good.”

“You look tired.” she noticed.

“I am.”

“Are you sleeping well?”

“Mom!” Matty whined, stopping at a red light. 

“What? I want to know if my son is alright.” 

“I’m sleeping just right, okay?”

Denise scoffed. “What that even means?” her accent thickened warming Matty’s heart thinking about home. 

“Oh god, I was missing you but…now I don’t know-” Matty teased her. He felt the urge to divert the attention.

“Excuse me, boy? First, I know you missed me- “

Matty smiled wide, “I did.”

“-and secondly, you can’t get fussy. I’m angry with you.” she folded her arms, emphasizing her sayings which was answered with a frown from Matty.

“What are you on about now?” Matty asked her.

“And you dare to ask!”

“Denise…” Matty warned her.

“Y/n? Ireland?“ Matty’s mother started counting, Matty’s face dropping. “Does that ring any bells?” 

Matty scratched the back of his head. “No? I mean- Yes, she’s working over there.”

“Not that! I know that!” Denise shouted. “Well, I’ve already known that.”

Denise’s son turned for a split of a second, staring at her puzzled. “What else then?”

“She’s dating someone! Don’t fake like you don’t know…” she continued rambling, but Matty’s ears closed. His mind was foggy while he imagined Y/n and a boy with no face doing a ton of shit he couldn’t do with her. 

“Like actually dating?” Matty’s voice came out strangled. He didn’t dare to look at her mother.

Denise hide her mouth behind her right hand, gasping, “Oh, you don’t know! She’s going to kill me!”

“Mom…”

“Do you remember Tom?” she exhaled.

“Tom?”

“Tom Blyth.”

“Yes, I do. I saw him at an even, I reckon? Not sure.” Matty’s mind desperately trying to remember how this Tom looked like. 

“Well, they… I don’t know how much I can tell you. I shouldn’t say a thing.” Denise explained, worried. Y/n never told her not to tell, but still.

“Don’t worry, I knew she was dating someone.” Matty lied. Y/n told him about a boy she fancied, not this. Why didn’t she? They talked a week prior, why hide this?

“Oh, okay. I’m really happy for her.” Denise felt a wave of relief washing over her.

“Yeah, me too.” Matty said through gritted teeth.

“It’s lovely she’s dating someone! He sounds like a good lad.” Denise continued ranting, unaware of Matty’s emotions.

“Yes, it is.” Matty couldn’t say more. His heart was aching. 

“Anyway, how’s Nadia?” his mother changed the topic.

“Ah?” Matty snapped out of his daydreaming. “Oh, Nadia- She- Yeah, she is alright. I guess, she’s in Italy right now.” Matty responded. Hoping his mother didn’t ask more. Luckily she didn’t.

Matty drove the group of women to the hotel they were going to stay at. He promised to come back later for dinner, and then he continued his driving.

His mind was nowhere to be found. His heart was hurt. Matty’s body was on pilot mode, he only wanted to arrive at the house and sleep. Just forget the news.

This Tom and Y/n? This new dude and his best friend? He couldn’t picture it. He didn’t want to. Why Y/n never said his name?

Matty was sure that the last conversation they had had was a fully sincerely one. He knew they didn’t talk about many important parts but…why she didn’t tell him?

…………………………………………

Hours later

Matty woke up suddenly. He sat on his bed, trying to calm his breathing. His heart beating so fast, he could perfectly sense it and hear it in his ears. 

After dropping her mother at the hotel, he came back home to sleep for a couple of hours before leaving to set. His life was hectic right now. His mind was troubled. And now his body was showing it more than before. He had to decide sooner than later. This thing was going to drive him insane.

His mother told him a lot of information he hadn’t considered. In fact, he forgot about this guy Y/n talked about. Matty was so focused on his relationship with her. On his relationship with his girlfriend. With maintaining both alive and going. But in the end: one, he wasn’t fulfilling the task, and secondly, he was only focusing on him.

The guy, well, Tom…never was in the equation for him. He kept Y/n in a place, in his head, where she was single and no seeking for a relationship right now. Did she tell him that or he believed it? She did tell him about this guy she had a crush on…but Matty knew that Y/n never took the lead. Probably Tom made a move. 

Matty ripped the blankets from his body, irritated.

He had to be happy for Y/n. He wanted to be happy. Matty couldn’t. He was more than screwed, he realized. The singer couldn’t say it out loud, not even to himself only. But he knew why this bothered him so much.

For a while he sat on his bed, running his hands –desperately– through his curls, trying to find the answer to his sorrows. 

Nothing helpful came to mind, but his breathing settled a little. His mind kept running. 

And then he remembered his dream.

He could picture it so vividly. It wasn’t fully a dream. It was more a memory with Y/n.

The dream took place months after they became friends. That time the rest of the gang wasn’t there, just Y/n and Matty. They had this kind of tradition, like a movie night but different. Instead of films they watched series. Sitcoms in particular. One of them picked two numbers, one for the episode and another for the season.

This time they were watching the office. They loved it. And Y/n particularly loved Pam and Jim’s relationship. Every time they appeared on the screen doing something remotely cute she screamed or remarked it for Matty in case he missed it.

He couldn’t care less about the episode. He was focused on her. How beautiful she got cheering for some random characters. Matty tried to look at her without her noticing. Y/n made him feel so many things back then. 

“Omg, he’s going to propose. Matthew!!” Y/n screamed turning to look at him, and then again to the screen.

“He’s not.”

“He totally is!”

“You already know what happens!” Matty accused her, chuckling. 

“Shh, I want to pretend that I don’t know.” the singer remembered how she snuggled closer to him. “Let…” she pointed a finger on his chest. “me…” again. “be, Healy.” Y/n looked up at his brown eyes, so close and yet so far. Matty’s heart was going to explode on his chest. He stayed there, just looking at Y/n. “Stop.” she looked away after a few minutes without a real reply from him. 

“I’m not doing anything, darling.” he smiled.

“You are.”

“What am I doing?”

“Looking at me.”Y/n said, drawing patterns on his clothed chest around his heart where his tattoo was imprinted. The girl wasn’t aware of the power she had upon him.

“Well, yeah, I’m not blind.” Matty was so surprised about how well he was faking being unbothered. “What’s wrong?”

“You are looking me like that night…” he made a puzzled face. “The night we met.” Y/n clarified. 

“Ohh.” he cooed.

“So- yeah- stop.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he asked cheekily. Matty touched the redness of her cheeks gaining her attention again.

“Dunno.”

“You’re beau-” Matty couldn’t help to start saying. Y/n moved her head forward hiding her face on his shoulder.

“Shh. Don’t. Let’s continue watching.” she made herself comfortable on his left side. Using his shoulder as a pillow this time. Matty couldn’t complain. He was happy there, with her, even when the words got stacked on his throat.

Y/n was everything he wanted back then. Why did he stop trying? Yes, they were friends. That was the most important part of this mess. Although he hated himself for not trying enough, for not waiting enough, for being an idiot, to realize late all of this when she was apparently starting a relationship with someone else, and he was in a former one already.

Nadia. He kind of used Nadia. He loved her, but not in that way…or not any more as the beginning. Matty couldn’t keep with that. He was going to hurt her so much..if he wasn’t already. Why he convinced himself he was ready for a formal relationship with someone else when in fact he wanted her? 

 If he broke the relationship, both of them would get hurt. Nadia doesn’t deserve that, in fact, she deserved better than a half love. It was the best, in the way that he had to let her have a better opportunity.

Matty ran his hands through his hair anxiously for a million time. He needed to know about this Y/n and Tom thing. He had to be sure if it was a real thing. Not because it would help. It would hurt in fact, even though he had the urged to know. He couldn’t ask Y/n though. Matty was sure that George knew something. He had to ask him.

Matty walked the short distance from his room to the studio downstairs where he knew George would be. 

He opened the door without announcing his presence. 

“Everything okay, mate?” George said in a calm tone without turning, his eyes still on the board in font of his eyes. 

“Do you know Y/n is with a Tom?” Matty didn’t wait a second. 

His best friend’s body stiffened visibly. “Tom? What Tom?” G tried playing dumb, although Matty saw right through him.

“George, I’m not in the mood for this. I know you know. So fuckin’ start talking.” he stated.

“Mat-“ 

The singer cut him short, “Don’t use that stupid tone with me.” Matty pointed his finger even though George couldn’t see him. He sat down on the couch behind G set up. “Please, I need to know.” Matty almost begged. “Can you tell me what you know?”

“Mate, you know I can’t tell you- “ George turned around on his chair. 

“So, she’s…mom’s right- Fuck!” Matty said more for himself, resting his entire body on the couch. 

“What’s going on? Why is making you so anxious?” G asked, with a patience he only had for Matty.

“I- I’m not in a good place right now…everything is- I don’t even know what to say.” Matty chuckled dryly.

“What do you mean?”

“George.“ he hissed.

“C’mon…say it.”

“I’m not ready to talk about this. I can’t- “

“This has something to do about the same feelings you had a while back?”

“Yes.”

“I know.”

George let the silence linger for a second, feeling like a pause between topics. 

“And Nadia?” the drummer asked.

“I don’t know.” Matty closed his eyes, cringing.

“Matty- “ G said in a worried tone.

“I know, okay? I’m going to talk to her…”

“Okay, it’s not going to be nice- “

“Believe me, I know.”

“I think it’s the best.”

“Yes.”

“And… Matty?”

“Yeah?”

George got serious after stating clearly, “You can’t say this to Y/n.“

“I know that too.” Matty responded defeated, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hands rhythmically.

“Mate- “

“I have things to figure it out, but I’m okay.” Matty lied to G and to himself.

G knew he was far from that state, but he wasn’t to push Matty more during that moment. “Okay…” 

“I’ve to go now.” Matty exited the room as fast as he came in.

G moved his face from side to side, praying silently that none of his best friend got hurt after all. 

………………………………………………

A week later

End of March

“What else could go wrong in this story?” Hann thought on the flight from LA to New York. He had no idea what he somehow manifested to happen after that without even knowing.

The first few days were fine, but when the fifth came everything changed. Hann and Matty didn’t talk much, they were still in this particular position since they had the talk. Hann decided to leave Matty alone for a while, but keeping his eyes close in case something happened. 

Strangely, Hann was left alone in the posh studio while the rest of the guys, the producer, and people he couldn’t retain their names even five minutes after meeting went out to get food. It would be easier ordering from an app or something even though all of them needed a break. 

The line connecting the front desk with the private area they had been working in rang startling Adam out of the zone. He left his guitar to the side, running to answer the thing.

The guitarist cleared his throat before asking, “Yeah?”

“Hello, I have a woman here that says he knows you.” the woman’s voice was tinted with suspiciousness. 

“Name?” 

Adam waited for longer than expected, listening quietly while the woman at the front desk asked the other person waiting.

“Nadia Parton.” she finally gave Adam a name.

‘Shit, what was she doing there?’

The receptionist did a strange sound urging Adam to inform her what he wanted to do with Nadia.  “Do you know her?” Hann rolled his eyes at the question and her urgency when she took longer than him asking Nadia only her name.

“Yes, I do. Let her pass, please.” he was short and polite, although he didn't give her much information. 

Adam hang up begging for a moment of peace that didn’t arrive.

…………………………………………….

Matty entered the room first, agitated as well since he played a bet with George that we would get up there before them and proceed to run upstairs. The run didn’t take his breath as much as witnessing Nadia talking calmly with Hann. 

Nadia was there.

To say that Matty didn’t expect her was to highlight the obvious. Matty had been trying to push the conversation as far as he could, and she was there, three meters away from him. He believed he had more time. The universe works differently.

“Hi, baby.” she approached him excited. “Surprise!” Nadia said while hugging him. Matty didn’t know what to do really. He hugged her back and looked at his best friend. Adam moved his shoulder as a sign he knew nothing about this, he even didn’t dear to ask the girl in the half hour they shared.

“I wasn’t expecting you…” the words fell from his mouth.

Nadia took a step back still with her arms around his neck. “That was my intention. I wanted to surprise you, as you did for our anniversary.” she said sweetly. Matty felt a little bit more miserable with each word she dropped. 

“Oh, right. I forgot some special occasion?” he inquired, lost.

She gifted him a big smile. “No, silly! I was missing you so much.” Nadia said, leaving a peak on his lips. A move that made Hann much more uncomfortable, sitting there just watching the scene as in a film. The studio’s phone rang once more, and he hadn’t been happier to hear that sound in his life. 

Adam spoke with the secretary once more informing him that Jack was in his way up.  

After he hung up, Adam tried to gain his friend’s attention at the same time he heard the guys approaching the studio. 

“Matty.“ he said between his bandmate’s name and a cough, getting the attention of the couple, not only Matty’s.

The frontman looked at him for a second time in only minutes, “What?” his face expressionless. 

“Jack is coming, and I think I hear the guys in the kitchen. ” Matty looked at him as if a second hand were growing beside the one holding the phone.

“Alright?”

Adam didn’t dare to look at Nadia. It wasn't rare that friends or family stay during the record sessions, but he was aware that Matty didn’t want her there right at that moment. Hann was trying to gain time and Matty wasn’t taking the hint.

Something must’ve clicked inside the singer’s brain because he continued saying, “Ah- Yes…I mean, top secret.” Matty moved far from Nadia’s embrace one because they were blocking the door and two because he was feeling guilty receiving so much caring he couldn't reciprocate. “Nad, would you give us a time alone? We won’t be long…just Jack checking some stuff about this-”

“Yes, yes…I knew I’ll have to when I planned the surprise.” she said, walking towards him. Matty couldn’t help feeling cornered, although he let her kiss him shortly before heading out of the studio.

When she was out of sight, and they were sure she wasn’t listening, Matty dared to ask, “Did you-?”

“Tell her something? Hell, no!” Hann said.

“Alright, alright…good.” Matty said, under his breath, passing around.

Neither of them continued the conversations. Adam looked how Matty walking in circles before turning around with his eye full of certainty. 

“What?”

“I- “ Matty mumbled the words making it impossible for Adam to hear.

“Come again?”

Matty stood in the middle of the studio, opening his chest, “I’m going to break up with her.” Matty admitted and Adam doubt it.

“Right now?”

The singer chew on his upper lip, “It wasn’t in my plans she was going to- “

“Yeah, I can tell.” Hann said sarcastically.

“This is not funny!” Matty looked at him with a stern look.

“Yes, sorry. And then…?”

“I can’t focus on that now. I have to work”

“Yes, you have to.” neither of them knew if he was speaking about work or something else.

Adam grabbed the collar of his forgotten guitar, leaving his friend with his own thoughts. 

……………………………………………….

Few hours later

Nadia wasn’t an idiot. She knew from a long time up to that moment the fact that Matty was dealing with something. She was confused though. Matty kept sending her way a lot of mixed signals. One day, she was everything to him, he followed her around, being the attended boyfriend or travelling for their anniversary, even though the next day, he was cold and doesn’t seem happy to see her in NY.

She continued dismissing it, thinking it was part of being with a rock star, or ‘Matty is Matty’, or ‘the album is stressing him’; everything instead of thinking he didn’t want her any more. 

The woman was deeply in love with him, Nadia was sure of that. She was head over heels for him. But, was he? ‘Yes’. Why would he be with her if he wasn’t? Matty wasn’t that type of guy, and Matty had shown her that he loved her. Still, something was wrong. Nadia didn’t want to think about it. She was happy with him. Matty was everything she sought in a man. She could deal with this bad moment of their relationship because it would past…or she wanted to think.

After they wrapped for the day, Matty and the rest of the group returned to the hotel. Matty was drained, very tired, so he decided to wait for the next day to talk with Nadia. That’s why she stayed with him in his hotel room, and he was in peace with his thoughts for just a moment.

“Finally, alone.” she said, smiling at him.

“Yeah. I’m going to take a shower.” he said, going to his suitcase.

“Can I join you?” Nadia said cheekily.

“Nad, I’m not in the mood.” he responded, searching for his clothes.

“Oh, okay…” she said feeling slightly embarrassed. “I’m going to call room service, what do you want to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” Matty replied without looking at her, meanwhile he stood up walking slowly towards the bathroom.

Nadia left the phone on the side table, turning her body to face her boyfriend. Before Matty closed the door behind him, she exclaimed, “Fine, what’s going on?” 

“What?” he didn’t turn around.

“Matty.“

The singer quickly got defensive, “I’m not hungry that’s all.”

“I’m not talking about the food and you know that.” she kept glancing at him. She could tell he was nervous, his back muscles were tight.

“I don’t- “

Nadia left the comfort of the mattress, standing in the middle of the room. “I know you, tell me what is going on.” with a courage she didn’t feel, Nadia approached him, placing a hand on his back and sensing Matty got stiff felt like a dagger ripping her heart.

“I’m knackered, okay? Can we not do this right now? “

“I’m tired of this, Matty. I need you to speak to me if you are going through something. We’re a couple!” she let her hand dropped to her side.

“I- “

Nadia felt desperate. “Please, tell me!”

“Okay.” he turned around. “Please, take a seat.” she obeyed, returning to her previous position.

“I wasn’t expecting you to show up- “ he started to say.

She couldn’t stay silent, her anxiety making her interrupt his rambling, “That’s everything? Me surprising you?”

“Please, let me finish.” Matty scrubbed his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t expect you to show up in fuckin’ New York, at the studio. I was waiting to fly back home and talk with you properly.” Matty continued, starting to gain power on his words. “I know my behaviour during the last months weren’t the best- In fact, they were the worst. I’m being a horrible boyfriend, and you don’t deserve this. Don’t- “ Matty stopped Nadia with a signal of his hand when she moved and before a single word fell from her lips. “Please, let me finish. I wasn’t expecting you, but when you showed I decided the best would be talking tomorrow when I’ll be more awake than now. I guess this can’t wait any longer. I know this is going to hurt you, and me too. You’ll hate me for this- “

“You’re scaring me, Matty.” Nadia said worriedly.

“I- I’m struggling a lot with myself. And I don’t think you should…you have to deal with it too.”

Nadia’s eyes stung with tears.“What are you suggesting?” 

“I think we should break up.” ‘I said it, I finally did it’, Matty thought.

“What?” she asked surprised. “If it’s because I didn’t tell you or any of the guys that I was thinking on coming- I’m so sorry.” Nadia tried explaining quickly.

“That’s not why.”

“Then what? You don’t love me?”

“I- I do love you.”

“Then?” she moved on the bed anxiously.

“I love you, but there are things I can’t tell you that I’m dealing with…and you don’t deserve this.”

“There’s someone else?” Nadia hatred herself for asking that. She sounded so cliché.

“It’s not- It’s not exactly about that- “ he said sitting on the bed, reaching for her hand.

“Then what?” she asked again, looking down.

“I can’t- “

“Don’t you trust me?” she inquired, this time crying. She wanted to seem strong, she couldn’t.

“I do. I do. This is- I can’t even think about it without going insane.” he admitted.

They stay for a moment in complete silence. Both of them were hurt. Nadia’s heart was shattered in hundreds of pieces. Matty suffered watching her in that state. Fully knowing that he caused it.

“I’m so sorry.” Matty said verily out loud.

Nadia chocked on a sob, saying, “I love you, Matty.”

“I love you too, Nad.” he reached for her cheek, while she continued crying. “Please, don’t hate me. I mean, I understand if you want to punch me or kick me in the nuts.” she chuckled. “Please know that I’m doing this because you deserve so much better.”

“I don’t know.”

“I know it. It seems like the most horrible excuse, but I mean it. You’re an incredible person, women, and you deserve someone that loves you and treat you better than I do.” Matty admitted.

“I want you…”

“I know- “ Matty sadly said.

After a while Nadia tried to dry the tears that never stopped falling. She told Matty, “I better go.” 

“You can stay till tomorrow.” He offered.

“I preferred not to.” she took out her hand from Matty’s grip. 

“I’m so sorry.” Matty apologized again, staring at her form while she moved around the bed grabbing her stuff.

“I’m too. I wish you the best, Matty.” 

“I don’t deserve it.”

Nadia titled her head, staring for a last time into his soft brown eyes, “You do. I hate you right now, and I don’t want to see you for a while.” she stated, meanwhile Matty answered with a nod. “Don’t reach for me when you are sad, well, you stop doing that a couple of months ago. I don’t understand why this happened but above all, I love you and I know you’re a good guy. You gave me a lot of beautiful moments to remember, you’re a kind soul. I know I don’t deserve this, although you have to know that I stay because you're worth the wait…and if you tell me there is a little part of you that wants me to wait I’ll probably wait. I know you don’t have that part.” she said when Matty opened his mouth to speak. “It hurts so..so much, because I know, I’m sure, that in your own way you love me, you said it too. Sadly, not as much I love you. Because I love you fully. When I love I do it that way.” Nadia stopped and dried her tears once more. “For all we shared and how much I cherish you…I wish you the best. Goodbye, Matty.” she finally said, turning around, graving her suitcase and then left the room.

When the click of the door made a loud noise in the silent room, Matty started to cry. He hurt one of the most important people in his life. Nadia was gone. Matty knew it was the best, and he also knew it was going to hurt. Not that much. He couldn’t complain though.

She didn’t shout, Nadia didn’t even raise her voice. Which, made it more difficult to deal with. Sometimes, it is easier to hate the other and shout. Not the best, or healthiest, just easier. That time was the opposite

Why does he keep hurting the people that love him deeply?

………………………………………………..

The next morning Hann found an obviously tired Matty. The guitarist wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask or not. Something clearly happened, the singer’s face showed it.

They had a free day, luckily for everybody. A couple of days ago, they decided to be the typical tourist and walk around town. Matty wasn’t in the mood for that even though it might help.

Adam knocked on Matty’s door two hours before the activity started. The frontman took his time to prepare even though he ended up showing with a simple shirt and jeans combo. Hann was expecting to encounter Nadia, but she was nowhere to be found. That gave him the first hint. He also remembers what Matty told him the day before. He wasn’t expecting his friend to be so quick about it. Although, he couldn’t assume anything. Adam didn’t want to. He was going to wait for Matty to come around and speak about it.

They stayed in silence for a good amount of time. Matty plopped himself on the bed and rest his head on his hands after opening the room’s door for his friend.

“Nadia left.” he informed Adam when the eyes of the guitarist scanned the room.

“When?”

“Last night.”

“Mhm.” Hann only dared to express. 

“We- I broke up with her.” Matty looked at his best friend, waiting for a reaction.

Adam showed nothing, “Okay.” 

“It was the correct thing…right?” he hesitated.

“I’m not going to tell you what it’s or what it isn’t right, Matty.” Adam clarified. 

“Damn it!” Matty projected himself out of the bed.

“Take it easy, mate.” the guitarist said with a calm Matty envied. 

“How? I mean, HOW? She hates me now. I’m an asshole!”

“Okay, no. Yes, you did pretty fuck up things…although you can’t beat yourself up like at. Everybody makes mistakes, you’re trying to solve them. Focus on that. It’s not nice, because you realize big things, feelings and I understand you’re hurt- “

“I can’t make myself the victim. I know.”

“No, you can’t. Although this is not a Disney film, there’s not a good guy and a bad one.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Matty let a big breath out. “What I do now? I broke up with Nadia, and Y/n is…” the singer started to tell him, and then stop.

“Y/n what?”

“Nothin’.” Matty muttered.

“Oh, no. You’re going to tell me.” the frontman was satisfied with Adam’s nervousness. 

“Don’t you know?” Matty inquired. 

“About what?”

“Y/n is in a relationship.” just saying the words hurt as if someone was ripping his heart out of his body.

“Oh, shit. Did she tell you?”

“No, mom did.”

“Your mother told you?!” 

“And then George quite of confirmed it.”

“Fuckin’ hell.”

“Yeah, exactly. I hate my life right now.”

“Don’t..”

“Let me be miserable for a minute, okay?”

“No.”

“Please.” Matty begged without caring.

“No.”

“Hann!”

“You said it…you’re not the victim. Suck it up, mate!”

Matty scoffed, “Very kind of you.”

“I’m trying to help!”

“Well, you’re not helping…at all.” Matty snapped at him. And quickly regretted it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” the frontman took a sit on the bed once more and Adam copied him. 

“I understand.”

“Why didn’t she tell me? Or you? Instead, she told George and mom…”

“I don’t know.” Hann lied. He perfectly knew why. He wasn’t even hurt. Hann knew the reasons why Y/n tend to skip talking to him about this stuff. He couldn’t tell Matty though, it wasn’t his thing to tell.

“Should I call her?”

“What? Are you insane?” Adam exclaimed.

“Fine. Yeah, I’m not going to…” Matty hesitated even when the urge to do it was big.

“Please promise me you’ll not.” Hann begged, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“I promise.” No matter how hard it will be, Matty had to stop hurting the people he loved. The first one was Y/n. Somehow, he hurt her. He doesn’t understand why quite well, but he knew it. He can ask her about how was she doing and all of that, although if she didn’t want to tell him about Tom…he had to stay out of that.

Matty had to focus on work again and work only. When he returned home in a month or so he could think what to do. For the time being, he had to fix himself and stay out of more problems.

————————————————————————————–

On the other side of the ocean

Spring was one of her favourite seasons. Y/n loved all of it. From the flowers starting to blossom to the mild temperatures and all in the middle it was a lovely season. Or maybe this year she was looking at it with other eyes.

The woman was happy beyond the imagination. Finally, after many months she was in fact and without a doubt happy. She longed for that moment and now she had it. The positivity she irradiated was amazing. Y/n was giving so much, and the universe responded or herself in a state of pure happiness wanted to believe that.

Y/n was euphoric for all the work she had done in the previously few months with herself, how much she grew. She took a step aside from the horrible place where she was, Y/n took a place aside from being the cliché girl in love with her best friend. But it wasn’t all her merit, she had a big helper. She had a handsome helper: Tom.

Y/n never felt what she felt with Tom.

Tom was everything she ever dreamed of: he was always attentive with her, but not overwhelming her, he understood her reserves and didn’t complain; they talked about everything and nothing, every conversation was perfect. Sometimes, they fought about their strong beliefs, but they also end up kissing and hugging. Y/n was happy with Tom.

She didn’t tell Tom about Matty. Y/n didn’t see why. She wasn’t thinking about that as well. Tom and her talked by text and she was okay with that. After all, he was her friend, and she promised not to disappear. She still had affection for him of course.

Anyway, Y/n was living in a dream. Work was going well, she was kind of sad because they had only one week left of filming, and then she would be back home. This time with Tom. They talked about it fully, feeling extremely happy that both of them were in the same page about continuing dating. Tom lived closer to the centre of London, and she was only 20 minutes away by car from there. They could make it work out.

Since they were in the last week of shooting, Y/n had a lot of work in hand. They had to leave everything perfectly done, and she had pressure about helping Lily accomplish all of what was expected from her.

“Please, could you leave those papers and hung out with me?” Lily begged, sitting in her trailer’s couch.

“You know I really want that, but I can’t.” Y/n continue going through the schedule.

“Agh!” Lily scoffed. “You’re not fun any more.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at her, “We see each other every day! Don’t overreact.”

“That’s exactly why…we have only a handful of days to be together and then- “

“And then, we’ll see each other as well.” Y/n turned around, looking at her.

“You’ll be so busy with your prince charming!”

“Omg, don’t call him that!”

“Being all happy and loving each other.” Lily continued with her rant, making weird sounds that tried to emulate kissing.

“You’re impossible.” Y/n returned to her papers.

“Talking about Romeo!” Lily exclaimed. Y/n didn’t understand until she heard a voice.

“Were you talking about me? I’m flattered.” Tom looked at Y/n, approaching her and the woman couldn’t help noticing her stomach sprung to life with excitement. 

“She was talking about you.” Lily pointed like a little girl.

“Oh, really?” Tom crocked an eyebrow while placing his arms around Y/n.

“Yes, about how she’s going to ignore me- like right now- and be all lovely jolly with you.” 

“I don’t want to brag but- I’m pretty cool so- “ Tom joked. Leaving a kiss at the back of Y/n’s head.

“Oh, you shut up!” Lily said standing up. “I’m going to leave you two to it…” and then she left without waiting for an answer.

“Lily!” Y/n exclaimed, shaking her head disappointed but laughing before turning to face Tom. “Hi”

“Hi.”  Tom looked down at her eyes. His height always amused her, Y/n felt secured with him being so tall, she didn’t know exactly with, but she did.

“Did you need something?” she inquired, placing her hands on his chest.

“Yes.”

“Oh, what?”

“You.”

“Cheesy, way too cheesy, Tom.” she laughed.

“It’s the truth.” he replied, kneeling down to meet her lips. 

…………………………………………………

Sad day, last day

The last day of shooting and the day before that one with the big wrap party, Y/n felt really emotional. This production gave her more than she could ever ask for: a lot of experience and work, of course, but also friendships and a lovely boy. She was more than grateful with it.

Y/n was leaving that day with Tom and Lily. He brought his stuff a couple of days before so when they had to leave, they went straight from the Airbnb that Lily and Y/n shared towards the airport. It was more practical and that let Tom and Y/n spend nights together.

Y/n woke pretty early sensing the warmth that Tom’s body spread. Her head was in his chest, and his arms were around her form. She let a sigh out in pure bliss. Tom moved a little, waking up as well.

“Morning.” he said in a raspy voice.

“Morning.” she smiled, propping herself up staring down at him. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. After that intense activity- “

“Tom! Stop that!” she whined.

“Okay, okay. Now you’re shy but last night- “

“Omg, shh!” she shushed him, trying to leave his side.

“No, come back here.” he begged.

“Such a baby.” she teased.

“Thanks.” he answered laughing after she was only centimetres away from his face. “I need my morning kiss, y’know.”

“Oh, really? I don’t know.” she played dumb.

“Please? I’ll stop saying how hot last night was.” he chuckled.

“Exactly, no. You lost your opportunity.” she tried to stand up, but quickly Tom pulled her into the mattress.

“Why so shy so suddenly, darling?” Tom asked. The nickname made her think about Matty, making her instantly felt bad. Now she was fully aware they were coming home. “Hey.” he tried to get her attention when Y/n’s sight fell elsewhere, lost. “If it’s so bad to kiss me and think about us having- “

“Stop!” she placed her hands on his mouth, laughing at the same time. “I just- I don’t want to get back home.”

“Why?”

Her hands found his curls quickly, “I’m not going to see you every day.”

“And then I’m clingy?” he inquired, leaning down to caress her throat with his nose, taking her in.

“Oh, forget it!”

“No. I’m sad about that too, believe me. But, we don’t live that far from each other.”

“I know, but…”

“Stop with the but’s. I want my kiss.” he said, reaching her face to finally kissed her.

Tom’s kisses were like no other ones in her life. Y/n didn’t kiss many boys but she was sure none of them kissed like him. He made her feel inexplicable feelings. He was tender and kind, but hot and torrid at the same time. Tom treated her as if Y/n was made of porcelain, with so much love and caring. She was getting addicted to him.

Tom was like her favourite season. Tom felt like spring. 

………………………..

After the three of them left for the airport, Tom acknowledged quickly how clingy Y/n was being. In fact, he was making most of it because she was rarely like that around other people. Neither of them was. He kept her close. Hugging her or taking her hand. Subtle forms of ‘I’m here, we’re okay’. Y/n was glad he noticed. It amazed her how well he understood her when they had only known each other for nearly 10 months. He was going to miss him, no matter if he was close, and they already had plans to meet in London.

Y/n was trying to avoid overthinking her behaviour. She succeeded until they took the plane home, and Tom fell asleep. 

For a while, she admired his face and features. She didn’t want to appear creepy, so she turned her sight to the clouds. The sky was almost black. She could still picture the lights of the city, of Ireland. Then, the sea came into her view. Y/n always felt a big connection with the water no matter how much she loved the earth, the land. There was something so deep and meaningful about water that amazed her. Maybe, it was the fact that you can reflect yourself on water. At that moment she couldn’t picture her figure from so afar even though the colour and the depends on the Irish Sea made her look inside herself.

The inner talk was something she avoided a little since her relationship with Tom started. On the other hand, you can’t stop yourself from thinking. You have to, if you don’t talk with yourself how would you know what you want and what you have to do to get better?

Y/n felt that she failed to herself in that part. Yes, she wanted to be happy. She was happy. But she repeated something she acknowledges a way back. She avoided Matty. Well, she didn’t, they talked even though she avoided her feelings or not feelings for him. She avoided thinking about which position she was in about him. And that was a little bit wrong. Not because she was happy with Tom she could keep avoiding her problems, avoid Matty. 

Y/n wanted to solve her situation. She wanted to get back to her friendship with Matty as it was. Without knowing, she drifted more apart after she repeated that to herself.

She didn’t tell her best friend about the amazing relationship she was in now. Of course, Y/n had her reasons. Although, if she wanted to get back to be just friends…didn’t friend tell each other things like this? Matty told her about him and Nadia back then.

She wanted to tell him, but after two months or so Y/n wanted to do it in person. Matty was in New York at the moment, which made that quite difficult. Maybe when he returned. She knew he would get angry, that’s why she wanted to somehow explain it to him. She would have to lie a little bit longer…for the last time. 

Y/n had to admit to herself, she missed him. She missed the whole gang. She missed her English family. That was why she was also happy to be back. Not everything was awful.

Y/n came back to real life once the plane started the descended and Tom woke up. She tried to enjoy those last minutes. Yeah, she knew she was kind of overreacting, but she couldn’t avoid it. As well as oceans, she was restless…to many feelings. As well as oceans, she was going to settle. The calm was here. Or that was what she liked to think.

………………………………….

Two weeks after

Two more weeks went by during which Matty was still unhappy and troubled. That time not only due to Y/n and his feelings, this time because of the coronavirus. They had to return home. Sadly, the cases were rasing in so little time, that the government was closing down everything again.

For the album, Matty wasn’t preoccupied because with the rumours of this happening they managed to do most of the works left, and they wrapped a day before the announcement. And they could always continue from home. 

Staying in New York was an option, although they had been gone for a long while. George was missing his girlfriend, Adam his child, Ross his family and Matty the comfort of home. They preferred to return home. Back in England, the situation wasn’t bad but also not good. The government was considering closing everything again, they didn’t have news about it.

A part of Matty wasn’t sure if he wanted to get back. Part of him wanted, he missed his family, his shared house with the boys, and everything. Another part, didn’t want to get back though. Too many things to deal with. Being out of the country, wherever work took him, he was available to stay far from his normal problems, or he had that illusion. 

Anyway, coming home was exhausting. More during the corona time. Having to use the face mask and all the protocols. He wasn’t complaining, he supports taking care of the rest and his wealth. It just adds a lot on his shoulders and made him more tired.

Once he returned, Matty spent a lot of time inside his room playing games or writing, he even went on a walk with Denise for a short time. 

He knew Y/n was also back home, and she sometimes met up with George and the rest. Although, he wasn’t ready to see her. They still talk by message, they avoid the topic. Even when Y/n knew very well he was at home, she mentioned nothing. She didn’t want to push him, and at the same time, she was spending time in London for a good amount of time with Tom.

So, yeah, Matty wasn’t ready for what life, the universe or God had under her/his sleeve this time.

……………………………….

Sunny Sunday

A week prior to the dinner, Denise started begging and bugging him to get all together. She said, ‘let’s share a nice meal at this place closer to you guys now that we’re allowed before everything closes again, Matty!’ and no matter how much he tried she won. The boys were excited to see new faces after weeks of only seeing each other working to get the record ready to publish.

Matty and Hann arrived at the restaurant first but they waited at the car park for the rest to arrive. They did minutes after.

“Hi, boys!” Denise said, very happily.

“Hi, mom.” Matty was the first greeting her.

“Hello.”

“Why so happy?” George inquired.

“Can’t I be happy for seein’ you handsome boys?” she asked, innocently.

“Mom…” Matty knew better.

“Okay, okay. I have a surprise for you all!”

Ross got all excited like a little kid during Christmas, “What?” 

“Patience, dear. We have to wait a little longer before it arrives. Well, it’s not a thing, is a person.” Denise’s smile was wide. 

“I’m not following.” Adam interrupted.

Louis interfered,  “Me neither. But, you get used to it.” and the rest chuckled.

“Wait and see. She is arriving!”

“Oh, she?” George inquired.

“Yes, she. Not whatever you’re thinking- I don’t want to- “

“Mom, could you just tell us!” Matty was growing anxious.

“Oh, she is here!!” Denise cheered so loud.

The whole family looked at how a very familiar car parked beside theirs. Shortly after, Y/n came out smiling nervously at them.

“Hi, guys.” she greeted the group.

Matty’s heart stopped beating right there.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @hollybrislen @sinarainbows @eaglestar31 @sugarkane1001 @brittluvs1975

Chapter 7 >

[deceptive-daydreams]

Eddie x reader with social anxiety below the cut…just a little self indulgent blurb cause for real this is all I need 😪

also-would LOVE to talk about this concept with someone cause I think about it a lot

Masterlist

Eddie being so good with you if you have social anxiety and never once making you feel bad about it.  You’re walking around the mall trying to enjoy a nice Saturday with your boyfriend and low and behold that sinking feeling hits and you’re suddenly so uncomfortable and overstimulated like EVERYTHING is bothering you from the chatter of people throughout the mall to the bright lighting, even down to the feeling of your clothes on your body suffocating you.  

You’re getting itchy and your heart rate is picking up faster and faster with each passing second, mouth going dry and sweat forming in the most odd places.  Everything is too vivid for you and there’s no way to turn it off.  Eddie starts talking beside you about how ugly some shirt is and while you hear him you just nod and let out a forced giggle as the world around you seems to crumble.  He senses you’re a little off but can’t be too sure because sometimes you’re quiet anyway and he doesn’t wanna point anything out just to make you feel insecure.  

It’s when you’re walking out of the store and through the mall that he definitely knows, when he’s trying to talk to you about a gig he booked for Corroded Coffin next month and your eyes are just blank as he talks.  Your responses are just small nods and fake closed mouth smiles, almost as if you can’t actually smile even if your life depended on it.  That’s the point that he knows he has to intervene and force you to stop conforming to the world around you and to do what you need to feel human again.  

His hand would graze yours gently and then interlock your fingers, pulling you toward an empty bench nearby saying “Okayyy, let’s sit down for a minute, alright baby?”  His eyes would be so kind and caring and he’d just sit with you.  He knew you’d almost always go mute in this kind of situation so he would be patient and try to say things that didn’t require a verbal answer.  “Things are kinda loud in here aren’t they?” He would ask softly, his full attention on you as your eyes dart around your surroundings nervously.  You’d nod your head, tears brimming at your eyes, you just couldn’t control it.  “Hey, look at me.” He’d tilt his head down to catch your focus, big chocolatey button eyes captivating you.  “I’ve got you.”  His hand gives yours a light squeeze.  

You still feel paralyzed, there’s nothing you could do, you couldn’t even ask if you could leave and maybe just go home to enjoy the rest of the day.  Every time you tried it just felt like your throat closed up.  And you couldn’t stand up either, feeling glued to the bench as the voices among the mall rang through your ears.  You felt like everyone was staring at you and how pathetic you are when in reality not a soul looked over at you.  But you swear it felt like millions of eyes were on you watching your every move, waiting for you to do something stupid so they could laugh.  

Your breathing was shallow, Eddie could see it in the way your chest moved up and down quicker than normal.  To the average person it wouldn’t look like you were having a meltdown but Eddie could see it in your body language and your slightest movements that you were going through hell.  He knew he had to get you out of there or you would just let yourself suffer in silence. 

“Let’s go outside, okay?  Need a smoke break.” He would tell you.  He didn’t need a smoke break, was actually doing really well and not relying on cigarettes as often.  But he would do anything to alleviate the feeling that you were burdening him by wanting to leave so he would make it sound like his idea.  You would nod and finally stand up and he’d lead you out of the mall where it was quiet and you could potentially find some calm.  

Finally being away from all those people, your voice returns and you’re able to speak up, sniffling as you did so.  “M’ sorry, Eddie, I-I dunno what happened.  I thought I was doing so well and this hasn’t happened in a while—“ he’d interrupt you by bringing you close to his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head.  His other hand would sneak under your jaw and his thumb would gently caress the apple of your cheek, catching a stray tear that had escaped.  He would speak so softly in your ear because he knows you have trouble with eye contact and sometimes it overwhelms you “Don’t ever apologize, do you hear me?”  You’d whimper, trying not to cry and he’d continue.  “You feeling comfortable means more to me than anything.  We could sit at home all day staring at the floor and I would have the best time because I’m with you.”  You would still protest, always a people pleaser and never putting your own comfort first.  “I-I wish I could be normal and go out in public without freaking out, w-we could do normal couple things and do date nights but I always ruin it.” Your voice would be wobbly.  

He’d nudge his nose ever so slightly against your cheek and you’d find the courage to look up at him, his lashes dusting shadows over his cheeks as he smiles sweetly.  “In case you haven’t realized, baby, I don’t do normal.”  At this you wouldn’t be able to hide the small smile pulling at your lips.  “And I think a blanket-fort movie night with takeout has your name on it.”  He would be looking at you so gooey and in love, only ever wanting to make you feel happy and cared for.  

Wow I’m projecting.  

Masterlist

[undead-supernova]

This Love is a Shrouded Mystery / Masterlist

Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10

plot: welcome to your well-anticipated album release party! you couldn't be happier...right?

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: bro there's so much angst I'm sorry, mention of smoking & alcohol

wc: 5k

note: I made the album cover/tracklist and wrote all of the lyrics mentioned in this chapter and I'm super proud of it! Thank you for reading my hard work hehhehehehee

ALSO DO NOT REPOST THESE LYRICS ANYWHERE ! Thank yew

He hated all the tiny things.

The way you crinkled your nose every time The Beatles came on. How you held your acoustic guitar like it was a delicate creature. The nights he would be up late practicing, only to find you passed out with your mouth slightly ajar and snoring. The mornings he spent listening to you making little sounds in your sleep, as if you were so close to saying something but didn’t know how. Your poetry and your music and your scent and your stupid smile you got whenever you looked at him and how grateful he’d been when he first noticed. 

And he really didn’t hate it at all.

He just missed you.

It was fucking torture, being away from you. He sat up, night after night, wondering what you were doing. How you felt now. If you wanted him back. If he was better off without you. If you could ever speak cordially and what that would cost.

As if he truly cared about the answer or the consequences.

Eddie just missed you.

You stared at yourself in the floor-length mirror, looking over your outfit for tonight. Trying not to suck in your stomach, trying to let yourself be the person that you wanted to be. 

A spaghetti-strapped crop top with Madonna-Whore Complex stitched in white across the breasts. Short shorts just to say Fuck You. Block-heeled boots laced up to your knees. All dolled up with a diamond necklace and thin rings. A velvet choker with a broken heart pendant in the middle.

There you were, a vision in pink. 

There you were, a shell of the person you used to be.

Maybe it would be better to play a role tonight.

But nothing was able to halt the worry, halt the anxiety that coursed through your veins. 

That last night, with your eyes glistening with grief, you’d told him you had to go into hiding. That you needed to get away from the public eye. That he couldn’t come with you. But he’d seen pictures of you since, albeit a bit blurry, running in and out of the recording studio in New York City.

There was an edge to your outfits now, with a touch more lipstick and heavier eye shadow. Changed your hair and painted your nails anything but your usual pink. Your face, the one that once held a permanent smile for the press, now hardened. Blank expressions. No smile, no feigned light in your eyes.

It was like you were wearing some kind of armor.

It was like watching someone trying to adapt to their surroundings.

Flailing, slipping.

Trying to prove to everyone else they can do it without thinking about the consequences of their actions.

Eddie could only hope you wouldn’t let yourself drown in the process.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said for the third time in the last ten minutes.

If anyone had a goddamn braincell, they could see that you weren’t good. But this had been the last few months for you. Doing whatever anyone asked. Staying busy. In and out of the studio so often that it became your second home. You honestly couldn’t count how many times you’d fallen asleep—you got more there than when you were home anyways.

How could you when the only thing you saw behind your eyes were crashing waves, the roar of the boat as it pulled you further and further away from the life you desperately wished you were still living? You wrote and wrote and wrote, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to figure out how to apologize. How to profess your love. How to feel any semblance of desire to say goodbye.

Your label had been shocked when you’d gotten the album done so quickly after months of producing nothing—especially calling around and getting Halsey, Lucy Dacus, and Janelle Monaé to feature. Not to mention Maisie Peters who’d actually reached out to you. It was a match made in heaven, an album stitched and woven together by the bitterest fate. 

The label gladly rolled everything into production, insisting that you do as much promotion as you could. So, you were a little money machine, doing bland Instagram reels and Tiktoks, practicing your smile in between takes. You were fine to be a puppet. You’d done everything they wanted you to, right? What’s a little bit more?

What’s better than tightening the collar on your losing dog?

            “Can you get that done for me, sweetie?”

            “It would be so nice if you could just do this one thing.”

            “You know, the fans would love it if…”

            “We’d be grateful if you just…”

“You look tired.”

You turned to Este, noticing her raised eyebrow and crossed arms. The past few minutes had been spent zoning out, trying to keep yourself from thinking too hard. But it only made things worse because all you could do was remember why you were trying so hard not to think. Your friends knew better, but you hated admitting to it. 

“Just trying to wake up the excitement,” you lied.

“For yourself or for the label?” Becky asked.

You glanced over at the door before back at her. “Yes.”

“You got this, okay?” Mary encouraged, rubbing your back. “You’ll feel better once you get there. You know you will.”

“Yeah, you’re right. At least you guys are here.”

“We’d never miss it.”

A pang of grief washed through you at the reminder of someone who would most definitely miss tonight.

Eddie knew what tonight was—and he could’ve sworn it was going to kill him. Nothing hurt him more than not celebrating your album release with you. He was planning to show up and support you the best he could. Show you off. Make sure you felt as celebrated as you could be because you were so amazing.

But here he was, back in Wayne’s house for the weekend. Laying low, talking to the walls as if Wayne could hear him. Screaming at the ceiling for someone to give him a reason to make sense as to why his wounds were still bleeding. Even after five months.

Bouncing his knees on the edge of the guest bed, growing more and more anxious as the night fell. Going in and out of the back porch, cigarette after cigarette. Hoping and praying that Wayne was a ghost and was able to talk to him through the windchimes hanging by the front door. Feeling sick when they hadn’t moved. Not even once.

Fuck, Eddie should be there with you. He should be by your side.

Instead, he was ashing another cigarette and reaching for the Garfield mug hanging on the wall. Poured the last few sips of Jack Daniels left on the kitchen counter. Trudged back into the guest room.

Tried not to cry.

You were trying not to cry.

The party was spectacular, with all your favorite foods laid out and cake and your favorite music and your friends and, and, and…

It was everything you could ask for from tonight, but nothing you’d actually asked for. Clara had been sneaky, making sure that you assumed the livestream started two hours before it actually did. Brought you to this fancy restaurant, all decked out in themed balloons and pictures of you. A Congratulations banner and a big bottle of champagne for you to pop.

And you were happy, you really were. But there was just something that overwhelmed you about it all, something weighing on you. Something eating at your stomach, making it nearly impossible to eat or even talk correctly.

Scott kept you grounded the most, always giving you a word or two of encouragement. For the last five months, he’d been cautious of you. You knew it even if he never said it. Him and his wife, Rebecca, made sure to offer you a place to stay when New York started to feel like a stranger. And hiding out in Tennessee was never a bad idea, ending up getting a third home near him, just outside of Nashville.  

Tonight was no different. It was in the way he offered you food, asked if you needed some more water. If you looked even remotely uncomfortable, Scott was there to direct you somewhere else. Kept whispering that you were doing great. Kept reassuring you that your album was amazing. That you were amazing. That it was all going to be okay.

And it was a daydream, a surreal experience you were still getting used to after five years slowly rising into the public eye. Now here you were releasing your third album, knowing in your bones that this was your best work yet. 

And everyone was being so nice.

And the party was beautiful.

And you looked beautiful.

And…

And Eddie wasn’t there. 

He wasn’t anywhere these days, actually. It was like he had vanished entirely. There were no paparazzi pictures, no fan sightings. Even People Magazine had him on the front cover literally saying, “Bad Boy Eddie Munson Mysteriously Disappears from Public Eye.” You were uncertain if he’d ever be seen again. And you knew it was your fault. All of it was.

What felt the strangest was how the internet was still speculating whether or not you and Eddie broke up. It had been five months and you hadn’t told your publicist to confirm it. Didn’t even speak of it. 

The most peculiar thing was…neither had Eddie. There was nothing for anyone to do but question why the two of you hadn’t been spotted in public together even once.

Maybe one day you’d feel strong enough to bury this relationship.

Today definitely wasn’t that day.

And tonight definitely wasn’t it either.

But your album was all was about Eddie.

Everyone would know it.

And you just had to hope that one person out there would listen to it for the music and not for your real-life experiences.

But you guessed that was just how things would have to be.

So, you put on a smile and told yourself to get over it.

Smile for the cameras.

Come up with every way to deflect.

Since you’d broken up, it seemed that your label had set up a livestream for the fans to listen to the album with you at the same time. Experience it together. Get to send in questions. Get to connect. Eddie thought that was sweet, knowing how much you enjoyed talking to your fans. 

And he knew he shouldn’t, but he really considered hopping on.

Was it a little weird for him to tune into the listening party? 

Maybe.

But he wanted to hear the album, wanted to hear the songs you’d barely shown him when you were together. You were always so shy with your music you wrote for him—which was fair. He did the same thing, keeping any and all projects about you a secret. Hell, the new record set to drop next month was done in the last five, his fingers unable to do anything other than race up and down the neck. Stuffing his pick between his lips as he wrote and wrote and wrote. Tried to write himself out of whatever this black hole was that was starting to swallow him. 

And now here he was, ready to hear what you had to say.

Sighing, he grabbed his laptop.

But maybe you were better off without him.

Maybe this was all for a reason and everything just had to happen this way. It would be a nice thought, right? A nice explanation for the twisting of your gut as you set up for the livestream. Standing on a pink stage, practicing your smile one last time before the cameras got the shot juuust right. Took a step to the right to show off a poster with the album cover on it.

All you could think as they counted down from five was, I hope Eddie is watching.

When Eddie saw you, he knew he’d fucked up already.

You were radiant, always a vision in pink. Always a vision, period.

The album cover had the name “Madonna-Whore Complex” with a picture in the center of bunched up silk—pink, of course. The same color you were wearing. The same color Eddie had yearned to wrap in his arms and make breakfast for. 

And when Eddie heard your voice, his stomach flipped.

“So,” you started. “Before we even get to the tracks, I wanted to kinda explain the album title. I know people got a little weird about it, which is fair.”

Eddie could tell that you absolutely did not find that fair.

“But I think that we live in a society that is so obsessed with a woman’s place. If she’s happy with herself and comfortable with her sexuality, she must be seen as a villain or a whore. There’s no room for her to be a good person or even able to truly be in love.”

Something tugged at Eddie’s chest at the sound of you mentioning being in love. If only you’d said that to him five months ago. If only those words had left your lips, he’d have gotten on his hands and knees to make you stay.

But you hadn’t.

“It seems that you cannot be one or the other. Either you’re this harlot who runs through people like it’s nothing or you must be this chaste woman who is only allowed to be idle in the corner. I think that I’ve always been put in this position, and, with the content of this album, I feel like I’m able to both be satirical about those accusations and show the vulnerability of, um.” He watched your eyes dart away nervously before coming back. “The vulnerability of how that has affected my personal life and my personal relationships.”

“Oh, and I really love the back cover,” you said with a wide grin, shifting the subject. “Especially the track list and the font and, oh my god, the people I collaborated with? Incredible artists, right? I just feel really excited for you guys to hear it in a few minutes.”

It was then that he remembered he hadn’t looked at the track list, too anxious at the thought of you referencing anything about him on there. But of course, you did. What else would this album be about? Some other guy? He knew better than to speculate anything like that.

His heart began to race as he found it all laid out for him already, his words being spat back out at him. Something True. Could You Say the Same? Acceptance Speech. Trade You for the World. Could’ve Fooled Me.

Eddie’s stomach twisted, queasy with the exact anxiety that he’d spent the last few months trying to prevent. But he couldn’t run away from this. He was already here, watching you nearly trip over your heels in real time. Reading the titles out, each one feeling like a prison cell built just for him.

Shakily, you stated, “Okay, everyone. Let’s start the album.”

Took a deep breath.

Closed your eyes.

Eddie took a deep breath.

Closed his eyes.

And listened.

         “Okay, my pretty boy…now move!”

Eddie felt like he was losing his ability to breathe. Track after track, jumbled with lyrics all meant for him. All written for him. Words upon words of poetry that told him how much you missed him and how guilty you fucking felt and how you just went ahead and chose the world over him and, dear god, it was all too much for him.

Grief settled in his chest at every line that he called his favorite.

Okay, Now Stop!

          “Okay, now stop!

         We're dancing dirty to The Beatles and the Stones.

         Okay, now stop!

         You're dancing pretty asking me to lead you home."

The Bisexual Slut (featuring Halsey)

         “This one boy whimpers on his knees

         Twenty girls beg to finally taste me 

         If I’m so greedy, so damn needy

         Then why does their love come so easy?”

My Body, Your Choice

         “Should I base my worth off your fickle insecurities?

         Take a scalpel to my skin to justify your animosity? 

         If I’d known my body was stained with impurity

          I would’ve begged my mother to deliver me with modesty

         But I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing

         Fuck you, I’ll never change a thing.”

Something True

         “Tell me a story, one where love always dies

         Say it with finality in your glassy brown eyes

         Thread the needle to weave through our fate

         Knowing the outcome, you still beg me to stay.”

Madonna-Whore Complex

         “My halo slipped, and my limbs are sore

         But his head seems to stay in between my legs

         I’m wrapped around his fingers as they choke my neck

         I’m his sweetheart, his princess, his saccharine whore.”

The Mess (You Once Called Yours)

         “And your fingerprints stain this house

         Baby, I’m haunted by your phantom touch

         Oh, now I’m screaming and pleading, growling and howling,

         ‘Please end this agony, my love, it’s all too much.’”

Your Residential Coward

         “Guess she’ll never really let me live that down

         Throwing daggers at my portrait now that I’m gone 

         And now that I finally see my tilted crown 

         It turns out I was the jester all along.”

Could You Say the Same?

         “Simple questions come with simple answers

         That’s why I sew my mouth shut

         The moment I saw you, wild necromancer

         Devotion gnawed at my gut.”

Synonymous (featuring Lucy Dacus)

         “Sucking in my stomach in attempt to survive

         It’s like I’m fifteen again

         All crooked teeth, low self-esteem, and love-deprived

         Only coping with a wilted pen.”

My Gentleman

         “You’ll never let me look away, that is the cerulean dream

         Could be your future wife if we let our consciousness stream

         And I confess I don’t think that would be too much to hope for

         So keep talking like that, let the wine pour, pour, pour.”

Acceptance Speech (featuring Janelle Monáe)

         “In the modern age, a sacrifice is already made

         The moment that you’ve made a choice

         But, baby, the problem always chooses herself

         And suddenly she has lost her voice.”

Trade You for the World

         “I stood in sepia tones while you bled electric crimson 

         Built the motivation before I built the scene

         Led the poets astray, bathed them in patient indecision

         Now I sit in vignettes of truth, desire what was in between.”

Back to the Beginning

         “City after city, glazed in momentary dignity, 

         I chased the prophecy of my becoming

         And, dear god, if I could tuck my tail between my legs

         I’d run us right back to the beginning.”

Could’ve Fooled Me (featuring Maisie Peters)

         “And we’re dancing around each other tonight

         Elevators built like confessionals

         Desperate to blanket myself in transparency

         I wanna say, ‘Pretty boy, you’re sensational.

         We weren’t the only freaks anyhow

         But how could anyone not love you then?

         And how could they not love you now?’”

Eddie watched you dance and party. Vaguely answer the questions about what certain lyrics meant. Focused on the sound more than the overall meanings. Thanked everyone for giving you this celebration and how you were very grateful for this opportunity.

And, peculiarly, you were handed a new acoustic guitar, soft pink and sparkling. Your name written in calligraphy down the neck.

“Um, so since this is a special night,” you said while trying to move your white capo down to the third fret. “I wanted to play a special song that didn’t make the album. It just didn’t fit the rest of the album’s vibe, so I cut it.” 

You laughed and Eddie knew he was the only one who could notice it was out of nerves. You tested the strings, making sure everything was in tune. 

“But I wanted to play it for you guys if that’s okay?” Laughing again, you shook your head. “I hope everyone said yes, otherwise this would be so embarrassing.”

You leaned into the microphone, glancing up at the camera as if you were making direct eye contact with Eddie and Eddie alone.

“It’s called Questionnaire.”

The chords were simple. 

C, Em, Am.

F, G, C.

It rang out soft, sweet. Albeit a bit sad.

         He noticed the way you chewed on your lip before you started, finding your groove.

         “Do you think about the way we live without sanctuary?

         How the fates wrap their hands around our throats, cutting off our breath?

         Do you think about the way we live without sanctuary?

         How there’s no guarantee when it’s over there’ll be anything left?”

Eddie felt a sickness wash over him as he heard you sing directly to him. You were right. It was different from the rest of the album.

He tried to gauge how you were feeling, knowing damn well the only way he could was through the music itself. How the change in chords matched the change in your emotions. 

G, Am, F.

         “Oh, oh, oh.”

Am, G, F.

         “Oh, oh, oh.”

The camera pulled in closer to your face, as if they knew that Eddie was watching. Waiting. Pathetically desperate to hear what you had to say to him. 

         “Do you wonder if there’s any chance that this was all just a dream?

         But there’s no fucking way you can’t hear me calling your name.

         Do you wonder if there’s any chance we could wipe ourselves clean?

         But there’s no fucking way to explain the way I’ve been claimed.”

You repeated the Ohs, belting out the last set before you changed the sound completely. 

New chord patterns. New set of emotions. Harsh strumming, the sound growing louder and louder as frustration filled your voice.

         “Do you know the clouds darken whenever you’re away?

         Convinced myself that my storm would worsen if I’d stayed.

         God, I need you now to answer my revelation.

         Is there any dignity in self-preservation?”

You repeated the line again, sounding angrier than before.

         “Is there any dignity in self-preservation?”

The buildup faded away, the rough strumming turning light again as the chords of the verses returned. There was a small instrumental as the camera pulled out to show you on your pink throne, surrounded by the pink balloons and holographic streamers.

You were alone.

Eddie could just barely make out the tears trickling down your face as you began to strum each chord once.

         “Do you think about the way we lived without sanctuary?

         How we fought and you fought for me until I gave it all up?

         I think about the way I live without your sanctuary.

         How there’s no guarantee I’ll ever fall in love again.”

You sighed and sniffled softly before repeating it. 

         “How there’s no guarantee I’ll ever fall in love again.”

Despite no one being in the shot, he could hear applause coming from around the room. He could even hear Becky, Este, and Mary individually, all cheering you on.

He watched you stand, laughing off the emotions as you blotted the wetness around your eyes. “Okay, Now Stop!” started playing over the screen as people scrambled to disassemble the makeshift stage. 

It occurred to Eddie then that there…had been no chorus. No hook. It was just a list of questions for him and statements for yourself. A bout of self-loathing and the guilt that he was only now starting to grasp.

And he realized that he too was crying, trying desperately to cease them with the back of his hand. And then his sleeve. And then the tissues he scrambled around the bedroom to find. 

As soon as the livestream ended, Eddie pulled out his phone.

“You’re so brave for doing that,” Becky said, crushing you in a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

A broken smile met your lips. “God, everyone’s going to talk about it.”

“Let them,” Mary said with a scoff. “Who cares?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, knowing full well who you really wanted to talk about it. To hear it. To think about it.

Your phone began to vibrate in your pocket. As you pulled it out, something resembling belief in fate rushed through you.

Eddie.

You couldn’t suppress an audible gasp, taking a step back from the conversation.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” you mumbled before walking away quickly. Pressed that green button. Whispered, “Hello?”

“Oh, hey.”

His voice crawled over you in a rush of relief, an ease that had been missing for so fucking long. “Eddie, hey,” you said nervously, shocked by your own ability to say his name out loud.

“Hey, is this an okay time?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re good. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he lied, fiddling with blanket. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the album. It’s really incredible. Your best work yet.”

“Oh, thank you, Eddie. Um, you think?”

“Hm?”

“That it’s my best work?”

“Of course it is,” he answered with a breathy chuckle. “Are you kidding me? You took your individual sound and expanded on it and made it into a high-quality concept album. And the lyrics are incredible. It’s beautiful.”

“That’s really kind of you to say. I’m really proud of it.”

“You should be.”

“Are you working on anything new?”

“Yeah, we’re actually finishing up the album now. Should be out next month if everything goes right.”

“I bet, um. I bet it’s incredible.”

Eddie’s chest tightened at your hesitation. “Each song transitions into one another. You’d think it was cool.”

“I’ll have to listen to it. If, um, if you think I should.”

Swallowing a sigh, Eddie closed his eyes and tried to focus on keeping his voice level. Keep from cracking. Keep from begging for you to come back.

“It’s only if you want to,” he replied, trying to stay neutral before moving on. “Are you doing okay? I know you get really anxious after being, like, out in the open for a while.”

“Yeah, sure I am.” He knew you were lying. “It’s just work.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay in case you weren’t,” he admitted.

“You know…” you trailed, pausing.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. “You didn’t have to call if you didn’t want to…”

“Ah, come on,” he said with a chuckle. “I wanted to call you, so I called. Promise.”

Anxiety began to wash over you as you bit the bullet. 

“Is that everything you wanted to say?”

Why hasn’t your publicist confirmed the breakup?

Is this killing you like it’s killing me?

“Well, uh, I don’t know.”

Did you really mean what you said about never falling in love again?

Does that mean there’s a chance?

“What does that mean?” you asked. “I’m confused.”

Is this over?

Are we over?

“I think… I think that’s all I had to say.”

And there was the disappointment.

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah, I hope you have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“Oh, hey, one last thing.”

You couldn’t help that ugly surge of hope. “Yeah?” 

“Remember to take care of yourself. You matter more than anyone else does.”

“Oh,” you responded, deflating. “Yeah, I’ll try, Eddie. Take care.”

“Bye.”

“Bye,” you whispered before ending the call.

There’s nothing to say once the phone call ends. No one mentioned the breakup. No one mentioned how the album he called incredible was about him. About the love. The crash and burn. How your love still glowed inside you, bright enough for him to touch if he’d just stretch his fingertips a little further.

And yet, neither of you said a thing.

And neither of you admitted to what you knew was coming in his own album.

You found yourself mute as you shuffled into the back of the black SUV and got out of the city. Left your buzzing phone next to you, knowing that Eddie wouldn’t call you again. Knowing that everything must be over now.

If this was closure, it sure didn’t feel like it.

When you walked into your house, still empty and swirling with dust, you let the grating silence whisk you towards the wine cabinet. Got yourself the shiniest glass you had, poured the cheapest bottle you found. Sat on the back porch and looked out at the moon. 

If things were different, Eddie would be here right now instead of a voice in a fucking phone. His voice, a tiny shard of glass that was surely going to rip you open and never mend itself again. 

He’d sit next to you with his own glass. Comment on how nice it was to just drink the cheap stuff. Roll you a celebratory joint with dried rose petals, the way you liked it. Ask if it was okay if you spent the night out here, just looking up at the moon together.

It’d been a full year since you’d met. Five months since you last spoke. And now you were starting to fold, starting to maneuver yourselves into strangers. Even if that was the last thing Eddie wanted. Even if the mere thought of never talking again made nausea pool in his stomach.

Eddie desperately wished you were looking at the moon together.

And maybe you would feel different than you did tonight. Maybe you would’ve had a perfect night with all your accomplishments and the perfect man beside you to experience it all with.

But he wasn’t there. 

And you felt so alone.

So fucking alone.

Tears streamed down your face, a burning in your chest growing with each What If that you conjured. 

You were not better off without him. 

He knew it the moment you told him goodbye on the island. He knew it the moment he returned to California, shutting himself off from the world. He knew it the second he called you and the second he heard you say goodbye one last time.

Eddie was not better off without you.

once again thanks to the lovely @strangergraphics for making beautiful dividers for me. it is an honor!

[pascalispretty]

arrangement

Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings/Tags: 1950s AU/Golden Age of Hollywood AU, arranged marriage, implied bisexuality, brief references to period typical homophobia

Summary: Tabloid gossip threatens to derail your promising film career. Luckily the studio has a solution; they've arranged for you to marry their Academy Award-winning screenwriter, Javi.

A/N: written for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event for @wardenparker! Arranged marriage and period drama from your prompt list really inspired me, as did rereading the Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo. Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year! (ao3)

“You’re not serious.” Your glass is raised halfway to your mouth; it’s only when the beads of condensation start to soak through your gloves that you remember it at all. You set it down on the desk and concentrate on peeling the soaked silk off your hands. It’s late and it’s New Year’s Eve – nobody is going to be looking at your hands anyway.

“I know it’s not ideal, kiddo-” Jack starts. As producers go, he’s pretty good. Or rather, he knows how to make a picture and he’s never bargained blowjobs for better parts, which makes him a damned saint by Hollywood standards.

“Not ideal?” You snap, abruptly cutting him off. “You know the rumours are horseshit. As soon as they see me as Cathy-”

“You’ll never play Cathy if you don’t wise up and listen to what I’m telling you. The studio isn’t pleased, kiddo.” Jack stubs the end of his cigarette out aggressively in the ashtray, grinding it against the glass with rather more force than is necessary.

You wait as he flicks his cigarette case open and lights another. The tension in the room is almost as thick as the smoke hanging hazy in the air. Jack sighs deeply, and pushes his hair back from his forehead.

“Look. I love you. The studio loves you. The studio spent a lot of money turning you into a bona fide movie star. And you playing Cathy, well. That’s Oscar potential right there, baby. But-”

You open your mouth to argue, and he cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“But the studio will drop you faster than you can blink if people think you’re a lesbian.”

You’re glad you put the champagne down; you might have dropped it otherwise to hear that word fall from his mouth. The knot of anxiety in your stomach that’s been there since the photos were splashed on the cover of Hush Hush feels like it grows three sizes.

It had been innocent enough. Her hand on your back, where your dress dipped low and left your shoulderblades exposed. It’d hadn’t stopped the tabloids from running with it, running any photo of the two of you they could find and writing articles full of thinly-veiled innuendo.

“I’m not. The rumours are-”

“Not going away. I’m sorry, kiddo, really. I know you’re not so hot on getting married again after Marcus died.” It’s an understatement. You never used your married name at work, but you found yourself signing a cheque only yesterday with ‘Mrs M. Pike’. You force yourself to smile.

“So does the studio have a candidate in mind? Some prized stud?”

“Yes, actually. You know Javi? He adapted the script for Agamemnon, and he won the Oscar last year for that comedy with the Coppola kid?” You do know Javi. You’d met him when Agamemnon was in production, your first serious role. He’s handsome, you can’t deny that. You’d seen his soft brown curls and big dark eyes at the table read and wondered which part he was playing, before he’d been introduced as the writer.

And kind, too. When Marcus had died ten days into filming for Agamemnon, he’d sent flowers with everyone else. He’d also written you a letter, short but kind, offering to bog the director down with rewrites if you wanted more than a weekend off to grieve. You hadn’t taken him up on it, but the gesture had stayed with you.

“And he agreed to this? Or are you springing an arranged marriage on him tonight too?”

“He agreed. He’s ah- he’s in a similar predicament to you, kiddo. Tabloid trouble, rumour mill keeps on churning. It’s not the worst thing in the world, is it? This way, you can help each other out for a year or so, stop the rumours, and quietly split once they’ve moved onto their next target.”

You hate that Jack sounds pretty convincing right now. When he’d sat you down and told you the studio wanted you to get married again, you’d imagined some portly producer older than your father, or another actor who was only interested in women because he hadn’t figured out how to fuck his own reflection.

“I wanna talk to him about all of this. And if we’re on the same page…” you let yourself trail off as Jack’s grin gets wider.

“You’re a star, baby. A bona fide star. Just you wait, you’re gonna have your pick of projects.” He picks up the phone on the desk and waves you away. “Go, go have fun at the party. Javi’s down there somewhere if you wanna talk to him.”

You give him a wave back, and let yourself out of the office before you can change your mind. Half of Hollywood seems to be ringing in the new year at Jack’s sprawling house in the hills. You descend the stairs into the press of bodies, a fresh glass of champagne appearing in your hand as if by magic.

The party has spilled out onto the deck, guests hanging in clusters around the pool. A few brave souls have even shed their party clothes and dived in, splashing about in their underwear. You ignore their urging for more people to join them, focusing on picking Javi out of the crowd.

It takes you two laps of the party before you find him.

He’s standing over by the bar, deep in conversation with a man you recognise as one of the composers at the studio. You take a long moment just to observe him. Your future husband.

There could be worse husbands, you suppose.

He really is quite handsome. He’s wearing a dark green suit tonight that screams understated wealth, and his curls have been tamed and combed back for the night. Whatever he’s talking about, he’s passionate about it, gesturing with his hands and smiling broadly whenever he isn’t speaking.

You wish you’d thought to glance in a mirror before coming to find him. You’re wearing Dior, a dress that had made you feel like a goddess when you’d put it on earlier. Now, after hours of drinking, and your time spent fretting in Jack’s office, you’re no longer certain you look quite so regal.

Before you can dash off to find a mirror somewhere, Javi spots you.

He flashes you one of those lovely smiles, seeming entirely genuinely pleased to see you. When he waves you over, you go. The composer rolls his eyes fondly and melts back into the crowd, leaving the two of you alone.

“Hello.” It feels like an inadequate way to greet your future husband, but you can’t think of anything else. Javi’s the one who’s good with words; you’re just good at repeating them.

He beams at you, completely unbothered by your unoriginal introduction.

“Hello yourself! It’s been a hot minute.” He leans in to kiss your cheeks in greeting. Even though his skin barely brushes yours, it still makes your face feel warm as you imagine other kinds of kisses from him. He smells wonderful too, an expensive cologne that’s present without being overwhelming.

“I hear you’re up for Wuthering Heights. It’s a great part,” Javi says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The way Jack tells it, you’ll be a shoo-in for the Oscar again.”

“Ah, well, I think you’re the expert on those now. You’re the one who actually won the damned thing.” Most men in Hollywood would take the opportunity to springboard into a monologue about their work; Javi waves you off bashfully.

“I got lucky. Nicky was a great guy to build the story around.” It seems to come from a place of real humility. You’ve seen him at table reads, filling in for uncast parts; you don’t think much of his acting ability. He might just be the genuine article. It’s impossible enough to find in this business, but you find that you want badly to believe it’s true; that he really is as humble and genuine as he seems.

“I’m glad I found you. I was looking for you,” you tell him, stepping in closer. Your heads are bowed conspiratorially together; if nothing else, it’ll give the other partygoers something to talk about, you suppose.

“Oh,” he says, his eyes softening. “Jack spoke to you?”

You dive in headfirst, not knowing how else to proceed.

“He did. I said- I told him I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Well I’d hope that the fact you haven’t thrown your drink in my face means you don’t hate the idea entirely.” There’s that smile again. It really is a shame he’s more comfortable behind the camera.

“I don’t. Jack mentioned you were in a similar…situation. And that we might come to an arrangement.” With no specifics from Jack, you don’t want to push. He could be in the closet; he could also have just been caught with a joint at the exact wrong moment by the exact wrong person.

“I’m not as flawless as the studio would like me to be, no. But it doesn’t- we don’t have to go so far as marriage, if you don’t want to. It was just an idea.”

“Come and dance with me.” When he looks at you blankly, you laugh. “Come dance. Unless you can’t. I’m not sure I wanna be talking marriage with a man who can’t dance.” You keep your tone light, teasing. With an affectionate roll of his eyes, he sets your drinks down on the side before taking your hand, guiding you towards the dancing couples.

It’s the first time you’ve held his hand, and you’re struck by just how large it is compared to your own. He’s soft and warm here too, though you can’t help but notice a nick on one of his fingers.

“That’s pretty nasty for a papercut,” you say, tapping the skin just below the cut.

“Ah, I was wrestling with my typewriter earlier. One of the keys jammed.” The two of you find yourselves on the outskirts of the dancefloor, far enough away from the press of other couples to carry on speaking. Javi brings his free hand to rest on your waist, and yours finds his shoulder as you begin to sway in time to the beat.

“I know you might not be so wild about marriage after Marcus,” he says softly. The tender look he’s giving you makes you want to weep; in a strange way, it reminds you of Marcus.

“It’s been nearly two years. I’m not…completely opposed.” After all, it’s not like Marcus would want you miserable and moping for the rest of your life, you are certain about that. And you like Javi, in spite of yourself. He’s handsome and kind and warm. Any girl would be lucky to marry him.  

“We wouldn’t be the first couple in this business to get married because the studio said so.” Javi looks around the room, glancing at the other couples moving around the dancefloor. “There’s probably more than one…arrangement just in this room.”

“It’d help to really sell it, if we got married. You can move in with me, if you like,” you say impulsively. “But I’d prefer if you were in the guest bedroom at first.”

“That’s absolutely fine.” The song changes, but the two of you keep swaying aimlessly. There’s a long pause as Javi looks searchingly at you.

“Can I be honest?” Javi says, adjusting his grip on your hand. “I was – I’m glad it was you, that Jack suggested.”

“Oh?” You can’t help leaning in. His other hand slides a little higher up your back, between your shoulder blades.

“I think you’re the cat’s pyjamas,” he says, smiling softly. “You always noticed me, on set. Asked me questions. The lead of the whole damned picture, just lost your husband, and you think to ask me how my day is going. And that’s not even getting into how talented you are, how beautiful-”

You feel lightheaded, like you’ve drunk a bottle of champagne all in one go again.

“Oh Javi, baby. Do you like me?” You tease, a smile spreading across your face. He seems flustered again, and you take your hand off his shoulder to cup his face.

“I quite like you too. You’re handsome and kind and you know how to put a sentence together. Women have married men for a lot less.”

Before you can overthink it, you kiss him.

A lot has been written about your kisses. The kiss you shared with Don Adler in Agamemnon won some sort of award, and you have an article framed on your vanity about your lipstick choice at the Oscars.

This is different though.

After the smallest moment of uncertainty, Javi kisses you back. Any hesitance you might have melts away as you lean into the embrace. You kiss him more firmly, more boldly. His hand on your back presses harder, holding you closer against his body. A feeling of warmth blooms through you, like settling into a perfectly warm bath after a long day.

More than anything, it just feels right.

You’re not sure how long you kiss before you break away. Javi cradles your jaw in his hands, the pad of his thumb resting lightly against your lower lip.

“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

“You didn’t write that one,” you say with a smile. He laughs, a sound so lovely and warm that you immediately want to make him laugh again.

“Give me time. I’ll write your next leading man a hell of a monologue about the shape of your lips alone.”

“You promise?” You catch at the lapel of his blazer, running your fingertips against the fine fabric. Based on everything you know about him, Javi seems like a man who keeps his word.

“I do.”  

Taglist:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots

@its-nebuleuse @totallynotastanacc

[thunder-shadow]

It’s really fascinating when you think about how much Earth has been through.  He went through a lot of phases and exprerinced a lot of stuff since he was created. The impact Hypothesis from being a hot ball of lava and magma to gaining his first life form and being a pale orange dot, the first ice age covered in complete ice and snow, Pangea and the dino era, the asteroid that killed the dinos- that made the Earth hot and covered in smoke and gas thus blocking the Sun rays from entering the Atmosphere and being covered in eternal darkness, the second ice age and then finally the Earth we know Today. But in spite of going through mass extinctions and Catastrophic/Apocalyptic disasters, Earth still manages to retain life. Life didn’t just manage to survive but thrives as well. Being the only planet that got to not only attain life but sustain it for this long in the face of all the challenges and adversity is magnificent. Not to mention the diverse habitats and ecosystems. Earth is just so beautiful and cool. Not to mention all the secrets we haven’t discovered yet, years f history yet to be uncovered, too bad we humans have the habit of destroying everything that’s good. 

Anyway, this is mostly a rant about why Earth is my fav character, with Luna being my second- ofc can’t have Earth without Luna they’re a package deal. I saw the ask from your twitter and thought I’d say my reason, maybe you might resonate with it. Ofc the Solarballs Earth character despite being a jerk has a lot of layers and complexity. He isn’t just a black or white character, which makes him so great. It also being our home planet, also plays a factor. He also just has a lot of angst potential, coupled with his depression, BPD, suicidal thoughts/tendency, the constant pain from earthlings, abandonment issues, etc.

And I love how you characterise Earth in your fic, although it may not always be in line with his canon personality, it’s still close enough to how he’d act. Also the earthlings interactions in you Ghe fic, need more of that. Love you fics,  infinite kudos <3

(Ignore me always sending you long asks, it wasn’t supposed to be this long. I always get carried away when I’m excited)

lol ur fine with the long asks

i never feel like im characterizing any of the characters right no matter how hard i try 🤷🏼‍♀️ but i still try and write them despite the anxiety it gives me 😭😭

and yess he's been through sm..... i love him sm 😭😭

[lokai-fi]

Cotton Candy

Seonghwa doesn’t do parties, and after this experience he’s pretty sure he’s never going to leave his house again

Seonghwa 

Genre: Hongjoong’s terrible comfort?? meetcute if you stand 100ft back and squint

w/c: 700

c/w: general feelings of anxiety/unwellness

aka: my husband got an elf bar and i got curious and also died because no one warned me???? how strong those things are???? so i had to focus on literally anything so my heart didn’t explode :3c

dont smoke dont do it i sweartogoddontyoufuckingdare

Seonghwa’s sure he wants to vomit. He can feel it in his cheeks as he takes another shaky breath. He doesn’t want to be here. Wherever here is, at this point his mind is too filled with static to remember. It feels like his whole body is vibrating as he sits on the couch. Fists clenching and unclenching on his thighs, hoping he’ll ground himself. 

It doesn’t work. His eyes feel dizzy and he just wants home. He lets his tongue dart out to wet his lips, wincing at just how dry and cracked they had become. He wants to vomit. He doesn't want to taste the artificial cotton candy nicotine that coats the back of his throat. He’d rather let it burn with bile than deal with the pins and needles dancing in his brain. Seonghwa should get up, he realizes that when his heart starts to pound a little harder. He should get some fresh air, stop panicking and maybe go home. But he knows he won’t make it one step. 

Seonghwa’s convinced someone has a firm hold on his heart and it only tightens with each breath he takes. That phrase, he thinks, should be romantic. But the tears prickling his eyes aren’t so he forces them open only to grunt in surprise. 

“You okay man?”

Hardly. 

He’s sure his heart is about to burst. 

“Let’s… get you some fresh air?”

He keeps his eyes closed as he’s led through the crowd. Every brush of skin feels gross, sticky and hot and god he just wants out of here. Out of this house, out of this party, fuck he doesn’t even want to be in his own body. 

He can only gasp when the cold air hits him.

It does nothing to calm the static in his brain or the shake in his hands but his chest feels a little less tight. He cracks his eyes open, still too afraid to open his mouth, too afraid that his lips might crack and bleed when he speaks. That he’ll vomit and the sting will make his eyes water. Then what?

“You should sit.”

He does. He still doesn’t know who’s talking to him but he finally sees him. Tucked in a hoodie two sizes too large, eyes just as empty as he feels. He swears he’s seen him somewhere before but he can’t place it. He just looks back towards his shoes as the stranger looks at him for a second longer. 

“Are your friends here?”

His stomach feels like a brick.

“No one hurt you… did they?”

Seonghwa feels his body convulse at his words. He doesn’t think so, not intentionally anyway. He takes in a shuddered breath and parts his lips just enough to let out a soft no. 

“Good.”

It is good, he supposes, that the only thing tormenting him is the nicotine coursing through his body.  

“You probably shouldn’t smoke any more.”

Seonghwa opens his mouth a little wider this time, pleading eyes snapping back to boy in the hoodie in a second.

He stares a little bit longer, desperately trying to piece together where he’s seen this man before. The boy’s nose twitches and suddenly Seonghwa knows. The convenient store right on campus, no wonder he couldn’t place him. Hongjoong looks different when he’s not under florescent lights.   

“I didn’t know-” his tongue felt heavy as he forced the words out, “it smelt so sweet.”

He snorted.

Seonghwa frowned.

Hongjoong apologizes and Seonghwa’s back to staring down his shoes. 

“It stops... it stops feeling like this... right?”

His voice is hardly a whisper and he’s amazed that Hongjoong even heard him. 

“I think so, you’ll be okay.”

Seonghwa thinks that Hongjoong is kind of terrible at comforting him, he clenches his fists when another wave of something hits him. He’s stopped trying to figure out what it is but Hongjoong sees the grimace on his face. 

“You should eat, come on.”

Seonghwa shakes his head, he doesn’t want to move. Not until he can feel his hands again. 

“Not even for a burger? My treat.”

He cracks an eye open, the corners of his mouth twitching up into an involuntary smile.

Now that does sound nice. 

[lightningandfireinmybones]

I am in a mood and ever since I have read those fan notes Ewan relied to with “ I will be in your corner and thinking of you” (and I am paraphrasing) I go back to it a lot.

I love the idea of someone being in one’s corner unapologetically, no questions asked, will bury a dead body for you, every-tongue-that-rises-shall-fall kind of reverence.

So I am thinking of an extremely overwhelmed stripper-Valeana after putting down a particularly mouthy customer in their corner, she is used to it and takes no shit but it gives her mad anxiety afterwards (because she is a protector always?) and Aemond catches her twisting her hands later because she is so shaky and then she proceeds to make a quiet exit to have a smoke and try and put it behind and not fall a victim to the rage ONLY for sugar daddy Aemond to jump in caveman style. Outside the club he walks up to that said customer, crowbar in hand, calm but menacing and with no expressions on his face and it would appear to onlookers that he is about to ANNIHILATE the wee man but he just absolutely totals the chads red sports car. With satisfying and sure hits, he just makes sure it will cost him a pretty penny in repairs and then he just walks towards the guy and very cooly put his hands inside the man’s pockets, opens his wallet and takes a visiting card and tosses it back.

Anyway I am in a mood #thistooshallpass and other #ridiculously #tritestuff

P.S: chapter 8 was magique and I have read it six times already.🤫

I LOVE COOL COLLECTED AEMOND WREAKING HAVOK YESSSS

Aemond has been spending enough time with Valaena to realize 2 things:

1) she really can handle things herself (Valaena grew up with 5 brothers that she routinely thrashed) she throws a MEAN right hook and knows how to make high heels deadly weapons if she so chooses

2) she doesn’t LIKE handling things herself something’s ,,, baby girl has anxiety, and can absolutely handle the people who think they are entitled to her body because she strips, but hates the shaky hands after, the crash of adrenaline and the pitying looks, the fact that she has to handle her own business

So when he sees it go down, he stays in his chair, cracking his crystal tumbler of scotch with the force of his rage, watching as she breaks the wrist of the man who dares grab her before the bouncer pulls the man away, but he also sees the way her body just seems to deflate after, the way her nails tap rapidly, and he just knows that the broken wrist isn’t enough, that Valaena has enough rage to fill all the seas but sometimes needs help letting it out

Calm as can be, he’d grab a golf club from his car while the man argues with the bouncers outside the club, a crowd convening to watch the spectacle as he refuses to get in his ostentatious sports car (Valaena huddled in the shadows, looking so small and half drowning in the huge coat she’s wearing)

Aemond would walk past the crowd, past the man (he’ll kill him later, right now Valaena needs this more), and just OBLITERATES the man’s car

When he’s done and sees the little smile on Valaena’s face, he just pulls out a business card, thousands of pounds fluttering to the ground (he doesn’t give a shit about chump change) and tells the flabbergasted man still nursing a broken wrist that he can call his office to talk damages if he dares

this is when Valaena decides to climb aemond like a tree

[vbee-miya]

Loved the matchups now can I have a normal one for haikyuu and demon slayer

A male one btw

I'm a straight short girl use she/her pronouns, im around 5'2 with long brown hair and eyes and a leo also a infp,im also ace as for which one im not too sure atm as i just found out not ling ago. I'm 21. I like anime,dragons,reptiles,drawing but I'm not good,tarantulas,sweets,video games, memes,dark humor. I am very kind but I care more about others than I do myself. I have bad anxiety. I tend to overthink about everything. I love to sing especially country music but I am tone deaf. I have trouble standing up for myself because I was bullied alot. I can be very blunt. I also love to swear. I can be very loud. I love a good mystery and cop shows. I love dad jokes and puns.I am terrified of bees and heights. I am very lazy but I can be good at doing stuff if motivated. , unless I know it will happen or if I touch someone. I accidentally snap at people and I find people's pain hilarious so if someone gets hurt there is a good chance I will laugh at them. I sound meaner than intended sometimes. I can have trouble showing that im thankful at times. I pick at scabs as a nervous habit. I love to add alot of lemon juice to my tea to where it's more lemon than tea. When I'm woken up early with low sleep I am very mean and grumpy. I cant tell when people are joking and take it seriously. I do have asphergers which is a form of autism. Becuase of it I am a very picky person with foods and such.

I am very kind but people take advantage of it and I don't usually fight back. I also have adhd and I can go on forever about something but I don't know when to stop and should be told to if it's getting annoying. I have self esteem issues at times as well.

I am a bit overweight it isn't shown well I have thick thighs and am just a but chubby around the stomach it isn't noticeable unless I wear somethign small I usually wear large t-shirts.I have a few weird talents. I can put my foot behind my head while standing and both while sitting down. I can burp for 14 seconds. I have been told I have resting bitch face. When someone stops talking to me my attention goes to something else so I won't be able to hear what they said if they say something again so I end up saying what alot cause I loose focus easily. I am incredibly stubborn if I want something done.

For dislikes I don't like people who don't understand that I'm different and ignore my sensitivities. I also don't like smoking it bothers me. For my love languages im not too sure probably gift giving or quality time as I love to just laze around in bed and play games.

༺❀༻ matchup ༺❀༻

haikyuu one

honestly i was going to match you with issei.

but daichi is definitely a better fit. he’s a sexy cop man that’s all I can say. but listen issei is also just as sexy and working in a funeral is sexy.

anyways daichi. he’d think your adoration for dragons and reptiles are pretty damn cool just like your drawings. because headcanon he can’t draw for shit and even if he did try it still wouldn’t look like what he’d want.

i also can’t keep thinking about how daichi low key looks like thomas crusader. if not by looks then definitely the vibes. idk that’s just my random take.

anyways your humor and his humor certainly don’t fit like puzzle pieces. but he’d try to understand dark humor which honestly he still wouldn’t find funny. though if it’s a funny meme then what the hell. he’ll give a good deep of a laughter. but he can’t resist a good dad joke and actually would be clever enough to come up with new ones when you guys are taking a stroke in some place.

he’d be weary of you about not fully putting yourself first than others, and he’ll remind you that. he’d make sure you’re taking care of yourself and even if it’s difficult he’ll be there to motivate you. after all you are talking to a former volleyball captain. it’s only natural he’s good with words and motivations of that sorts.

when you overthink he’ll hear you out but pull you back into reality. and tell you to take everything one step at a time. no matter how much you’re thinking about something, the moment you start getting ahead of yourself daichi would pull you out of the loop hole and take time to live in the moment and critically think about things one step at a time and make sure those steps aren’t just empty words but actions as well.

you’re bluntness might scare him, but honestly it’s more of the fact that he appreciates you for it. not many people who say they’re blunt are blunt. he’d also completely ignore you swearing. not that he’s got a problem he just wouldn’t care for it unless if it’s around his parents then he’ll have a word with you elsewhere. really playing that cop fantasy.

as mean as you may portray or perceive yourself daichi knows you’ve got a good heart. and even though it’ll take time for him to actually understand everything about you, just know in those times of being together he’s got insane patience and will never ignore you sensitivities. and like any decent human being will always accept you for who you are and will help you get better because you make them feel like they can also better themselves.

daichi even as great of a motivator as he is sucks at getting motivated. that’s only a joke though but if you give him something in exchange or even a simple talk in quality time he’ll forever be grateful to you. and also i will like to add quality time with you and daichi is watching action acclaimed shows and movies especially ones with cops and he’d play judge and see how well thought out and played the roles of the law are.

[pascalssbabyy]

The Slip Up, Part One

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Virgin Reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI

Word Count: 9.3k

Summary: Two years you had worked with Javier Peña, and it had been two years since your attraction to him started. What happens when at a work party you accidentally slip your secret to the man himself?

Warnings: 18+ SMUT mdni, no use of Y/N, age gap (25/40), plot, Javier and reader are friends and work together, smoking, alcohol consumption, reader has long hair and wears makeup, cheeky confessions, pet names, virgin!reader, innocent reader, Javier is a ladies man (obvs), kissing, F!oral, fingering, kinda public shenanigans?

Well well well what have we got here?? I’m so excited to share with you my first ever fic of the Javier Peña. I haven’t wrote about Javier before so please be easy on me 😰 (And it definitely won’t be the last 👀) This is going to be a two parter as it was getting so long 😭 Anyway, I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍🫶🏼 Part Two

Taglist: @millercontracting @harriedandharassed @mumma-moonchild @chyannealaniz

Also a little shoutout to @schnarfer 🤍 for helping me with my tiny little breakdown I had whist writing this 🤣 so appreciative of you 🫶🏼

You’ve been working for the DEA in Bogotá, Colombia, for nearly two years, and you have known Javier Peña, your colleague, for the same amount of time, working with and for him as his former secretary. You would answer his calls that he’d regularly miss, whether out or in the office, too preoccupied with gathering and processing substantial evidence for cases. You’d file any primary documents that he’d lay on your desk and assign meetings to fit into his busy schedule. 

You were the one who’d keep his feet firmly on the ground when the office would stir and shake. You were the one who’d alleviate that pressure off his shoulders. You were the one who’d stop him from crumbling when things got too harsh.

Working for the DEA was a massive part of your life, and right now, with the underlying issues and risks, it had to be. It was a demanding workplace, and the office held a lot of tension: the buzzing of printers, the constant ringing of telephones, and people rummaging and rushing around one another. The office held immense pressure and enormous responsibility, with everyone performing their duty with focus and determination. 

But behind all the stress came the reward, the pride. You knew people wanted justice for anything they’d set their mind and body to. To help make the world a better place where people shouldn’t worry. 

And if you hadn’t accepted the offer two years ago, you wouldn’t have had the experience of working in this sort of environment, and you wouldn’t have met the man who would eventually change everything for you.

Whether it was for good or bad, you hadn’t quite figured that out just yet. 

🖤🖤 Two Years Ago 🖤🖤

Anxiety. That was the first emotion you detected when the words fell from your boss's lips. You were apprehensive and too anxious about being offered an open secretary position at the US Embassy in Bogotá. Having to move across the country and live for however long you needed to in Columbia. You’d never been to a place that wouldn’t have taken your interest if it wasn’t for the job. And to fly out there all on your own.

Your hometown was all you had ever known: walking past the same streets, chatting with the same people and indulging in the same conversations. Your life had become this ongoing routine. It was repetitive, and deep down, you knew things had to change. 

You had been keen to move out of the US for a while, and your family and friends had come to notice it, too. From an early age, you were independent, eager to live a life without setbacks, a life you could be proud of, where you worked hard to get where you wanted to be.

So no longer than two weeks later, you said your last goodbyes to the people you loved and cared for the most, with your suitcase packed and your passport ready in hand, all set to bring on the new life waiting for you.

Walking into the Webb County Sheriff's Office for the first time was nerve-racking. You could hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears, a deafening sound, sweaty palms imprinting your visible anxiousness on the entrance door when you walked into the main office, seeing so many unknown faces. People you’d soon be close to, accompanied by, and surrounded by a workplace that was so foreign to you. You can feel the pressure, the twisting of your stomach as you hold tightly to your bag that hangs across your shoulder, nameless eyes and limbs ceasing to a standstill as people watch you walk past.

And in just a moment, you’re about to be introduced to your brand new co-worker.

Who in fact, took you completely by surprise.

He was much younger than you thought he’d be; you were guessing his late thirties or early forties. He seemed charming, and his stance was very open and welcoming. You noticed that he had the softest brown eyes, his skin tanned in colour, a moustache, and an intense nose that fitted his facial structure. 

Your breath hitches when you eye his figure; his shoulders are broad and covered in a black leather jacket with a white buttoned-up shirt underneath and washed-out blue jeans that were incredibly snug on his thighs and waist area. 

Wait, what were you doing? Have you just checked out your work colleague? 

“Javier Peña. I’d like you to meet your new secretary.” 

You give him a warm smile and gently introduce yourself, praying your nervousness and instant attraction to him were unseen as you kindly shake his open and outstretched hand. You grasp him with a firm, confident grip, and the tingle left behind when he pulls back travels across and up your arm and down your spine. His touch feels homely, his hands large and enveloped in your own. 

His tone breaks the silence between you both with words that mean to comfort. “It’s nice to meet you darlin. And welcome to Bogotá.”

“Thank you, sir,” you muster up. “I’m excited to be working alongside you.”

Javier smiles widely at you. A smile that makes your stomach churn, and your cheeks blush a crimson red.

“I’ll leave you both to it. If you need anything, Javi, just let her know. She’ll be outside there and ready for you.”

Javier nods at the receptionist, giving her a thank you as she walks out of his office, closes the door on her way out, and leaves you alone. 

“Please. Sit down,” Javier says, pointing to the chair opposite his own. “I just wanna start by going through a few things with you. To get you up to date with what’s going on around here. Get you used to everything.”

“Thank you, sir,” you repeat, settling yourself on the chair and resting your bag alongside it.

Javier looks at you with a teasing expression. “Okay, first things first. You don’t have to call me sir, darlin. Please, call me Javi.”

From your minor introduction, you immediately felt something you couldn’t quite put your finger on with Javier. Something remote and unexplored, and you didn’t know if it excited or scared you. How your brain had turned into mush, your throat swallowing all self-possession and thighs subconsciously clenching together.

Even after two years, you still felt it, and it was something that Javier would never come to be acquainted with.

Well, that’s what you think.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Being Javier’s secretary for as long as you had, you’d come to know him very well. He probably didn’t know it himself; being a persistent and overly busy man, you saw everything he got up to when he was here at the Embassy. You’d taken your time to watch him, to observe and understand parts of him and his personality, and that was both inside and outside of work.

Javier was good-hearted. He was bounteous and made you feel like you were part of the team from the beginning. He was a hard worker, and the two of you had gotten close from all the time you shared with one another. Being around each other for a long time, you had become good friends.

But with Javiers overall kindness, he was also flirtatious, smooth in personality and someone you’d call a ‘ladies' man’. Everyone knew Javier had made his way around certain women in the department. Whether the woman was new to the job or had been in the embassy a while, or even if he had only known them thirty minutes when you’d go out together for a few drinks after work. You knew he paid women generously to get secretive information out of them to help with his cases, and obviously because he wanted a quick and easy fuck. This had become a pattern and was Javier's strategy; he had been this way before you had even started.

A girl like you could never change him, could you?

He would sometimes arrive late at work with a lipstick mark on his collar and a purplish bruise on the crevice on his neck. The indistinct linger of cheap women’s perfume clinging tightly to his shirt. Possibly vanilla-scented? No, it definitely smells fruity this time. But whatever it is, it makes your head spin, it’s overpowering, and it makes bile fill up your throat, threatening to spew over.

You’d happen to notice it all, and you couldn’t help yourself, already held down deep by him. All of him.

What made it worse was he was never like this with you. Not romantic and never flirty, never using his charm to add you to his list of women he’d fucked in the department, only asking if you wanted to join him for a drink to extend the night when you both wouldn’t need to worry about work the next day. He’d always have you questioning yourself: Why wasn’t he like that with you? What was it about you that he maybe didn’t like? Why had he fucked most women and leave you with wondering thoughts? Yeah, you technically ‘worked‘ for him, but he wasn’t a boss in the department. And his role hadn’t stopped him from trying it on with women higher in rank than him.

You couldn’t help but feel envious of the woman he’d talk to, the woman who’d sit in the passenger seat of his jeep as he drove off, the desks he’d perched his full weight one as he’d compliment their nails, their hair and clothes. The way he’d brush a loose strand of hair behind their ears. You’d hear what they’d say behind closed doors. How incredible he was in bed, how he was the best fuck they’d ever had. How sweet and gentle he could be or rougher if intended.

You wanted him. Indefinitely more than he’d ever want you. And it hurts you more than the last.

You knew his coffee order and how he wouldn’t even take a sip if it had too much cream. You knew that on Thursdays, he wore that pink button-up shirt that you secretly adored on him so much. You knew he’d get a little line across his forehead when he was stressed, how he’d pick at his bottom lip and fiddle with the curls on the nape of his neck when he couldn’t quite figure something out.

Sometimes, you’d even wonder if it was love that you felt for him. No, it couldn’t be. How could you be in love with a man who wouldn’t love you? Who wouldn’t look at you the way you looked at him? Whose hands you wouldn’t ever feel glide across your naked skin. Who’s lips, which you’d never have, faintly brushed along your own, his voice singing delicate praises in your ear, telling you that he did like you back and that he finally wanted something. Something with you.

No man had made you feel this way. That’s why you knew your feelings differed from anything you’d ever experienced. Javier had shown you kindness when life was tough and days were new and scary. You appreciated him thoroughly, and simply knowing him was an experience in itself.

At 25, you’d never known what it was like to be with someone so intimately, what it would be like to have someone sexually. Someone so bare. You wanted to, of course, but life, work, and Javier had got in the way. So for now, you’d reel in your imagination, picturing yourself in a moment of intimacy and how every time you did, Javier was the man who was giving it to you, experiencing it with you for the first time. 

Your fingers would pull an orgasm from you so easily when Javier was the only man on your mind—racing you to that peak where your back would arch off creased bedding, thighs clamping and shivering, your breath cut off and replaced with only his name.

Javier Javier Javier. 

You felt stupid. You knew you were giving yourself false hope and wasted time. It had been two years, and so far, your feelings were kept closed and hidden, too afraid of the rejection you knew would come soon after.

Because you knew that Javier would never be like that, Javier wasn’t a man who settled down with someone and added feelings to an already hectic life. Javier ran away from emotions the second they crept up on him, cutting people off when they got too close.

So you just watched. Taking a moment to yourself to admire him. He’s sat at his desk with piles of paper and files stacking higher and higher. His fingertips rub the tenderness of his temples as thick, heavy smoke puffs cover the air while he smokes his third cigarette of the day. Steve’s sat opposite him, both deep in conversation, with Steve pointing to the pinboard that displays evidence and connections to possible outcomes. 

You cherish these moments, spying on him from afar. Those soft hazel eyes furrowed in concentration, his plush lips wrapped around the cigarette's tip. You can hear his laugh when his mouth perks upwards, and every so often, he’d lick his thumb, revealing that subtle glimpse of his tongue, the calloused digit shiny from his saliva as he turns the file pages over. Turning them over and over and over. Thinking what it would be like to feel his tongue on your—

“You coming to the work party tomorrow?” Melissa asks casually. 

Your body jumps in your chair as she breaks you out of your trance, plopping herself on the corner of your desk with a hand flat on the wood to keep herself secure, legs crossed as she peers down at you. 

“Oh, don’t mind me,” she adds, wiping her finger across your bottom lip, “just gonna remove that drool pooling from your mouth.” 

You groan at her teasing and pull your head away, “Really, Melissa? I wasn’t even staring, so don’t start.” 

Melissa was the only woman, well, as you know of, who knew about your infatuation and crush on Javier. After you’d confessed it to her on a very drunken night at a bar one weekend, stomach full and head wavy from an overly sweetened gin and tonic. You remember how she looked at you with widened eyes and revelation. The one thing she never did from your confession was judge you, which you appreciated. She knew of Javi's tendencies, and she had said very honestly that you shouldn’t go near him, that he was only going to break your heart if you delved into your feelings too much, even though it hurt you. You knew she was right.

But then she wanted you to enjoy yourself, get yourself out there, and be more open. What could possibly go wrong with a feelings-free hookup?

“So?” she waits, “you gonna come?”

“I don’t know Melissa,” you reply back.

She gives you a sly smirk, “Well, I think you should come. Go on, enjoy yourself for once. You can wear that dress we brought at the mall last week.” 

Your mind goes back to that day. Melissa had pushed and pushed and practically begged you to buy this dress until moments later, you left the store with a bag in hand and a damaged purse.

She leans her weight down so her face is close to yours, “Javi’s gonna be there.”

You’re fiddling with your pen, twirling it around your fingers and thinking. Of course Javier was going to be there, he’d never miss an opportunity to drink at the job. And if he was going, you were.

“Fine,” you ultimately give in. “I’ll be there.”

“Atta girl.” Melissa praises. “I’ll see you tomorrow, hun.” She gives you a wink before walking back to her desk, leaving you with tomorrow's public gathering pondering through your mind.

🖤🖤 The Next Day 🖤🖤

Today was a day free from work life and you had spent the majority of your time locked away in your apartment, gathering yourself and getting things prepped and ready for the works party that was only a couple hours away; you started off by having a deep cleansing shower, then blow drying your hair and styling it in soft bouncy curls that rested against your back, then adding a light layer of makeup and finishing off with some perfume and your outfit of choice. A long black tight fitting dress with black stiletto heels.

You look at yourself in the mirror, head tilting to the side, glancing at your attire as you patiently wait for your taxi to arrive. The material you wore accentuated you curves and brought out the colour in your skin. You stare at your back in the reflection and your eyes are met with bare skin, the fabric low cut and finishing just at your lower back.

The dress was beautiful, and you wonder if a certain someone tonight might think the same way.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You arrive back at work a hour later, the sound of your heels clacks across marble flooring as you walk through the entrance of the Embassy and down the hall. The vibration of music is loud and the chatter of people gets closer and closer, your anxiety about what the evening will entail already settling in.

You can see people drinking, how they’re laughing and bickering to one another. Your co-workers are dressed in formal attire, there’s woman in dresses and men in blazers, and there are people everywhere. They’re everywhere you turn, and there’s some faces you’ve never seen before. Probably parters or dates that have been invited as plus ones.

You stand there with that same well known anxiousness. It continues to pour out and you’re desperate for someone to come save you, to pull you into the swing of things and make you feel not so abandoned. So lost in the familiarity of it all.

Melissa’s across the room and her eyes brighten up when she sees you, skipping and scooting around the crowds of people to get to you, giving you a quick smile and a peck on the cheek. 

“Knew that dress was a good idea. You look fucking ravenous hun.”

That apprehension you felt ceases and you actually laugh, trying to hide the radiance that flutters across your features from her remark. 

“And you don’t look too bad yourself,” you say, eyes observing her own outfit.

“I know,” she teases and gives you a wink, her hands bringing you further into the room and handing you an alcoholic drink. Well needed.

You and Melissa chat to one another for a while. You’re both a few glasses into the night and the conversation between you goes smoothly, talking about life outside work and everything general. Melissa goes silent for moment and her eyes clock to the side of your shoulder so quickly you don’t immediately catch on, but whatever she saw has her grinning back at you.

Her lips pull up and ghost near your ear, voice vamped over the speakers. “I think someone’s liking this dress a little bit more than me.”

A faltering expression falls over your face and your own eyes avert and follow her stare, twisting your head around until you lock eyes with the person in question.

And of course, it had to be Javier Peña.

He’s already looking right at you. His shoulder perched on the wall over and across the room from where you’re standing. He was accompanied by the new receptionist. Of course. Who had started a couple weeks back. His legs were crossed over and he had a cigarette settled in his one hand and a beer bottle held firmly in the other.

Javier would usually be quick with it, with his tendencies. Winning her over with his slick charm and confidence. But this time he was ignoring anything she had to say, his eyes occupied with something more to his liking.

You.

You match his open attraction and give him that same look back because, why the fuck not? Your gaze following his face and peering down lower at his body.

He looked incredible; he wore a smart white button up shirt that was rolled halfway up his arms, showing his gorgeous golden brown tanned skin. He had tucked his shirt into dark navy jeans and paired them with a black belt, matching it with his typical black leather jacket perched over his one shoulder.

Javier had been eyeing you up for a while, and right now he doesn’t seem to want to keep his desirability for you hidden. His stare is fully distinct and you yourself can’t look away. It makes your body feel giddy, your skin hot as you dig your fingers into your palms. The girl he’s talking to is clearly getting aggravated as she knocks his shoulder, regaining his attention on her once again.

You pull your focus back onto Melissa and she tells you that she’s grabbing another drink and that she’ll be back soon. You give her a small nod, watching her walk away.

What was that moment you and Javier just shared together? You couldn’t be overthinking, could you? You know that intimate look from Javier anywhere, but seeing it on you, targeting you makes every hair on your body stand up.

A voice beside you breaks you out of your withering conscience, and you swiftly turn your head to the interruption.

“How’s your night going so far sweetheart?” Steve questions, his voice strident and raised so he could be heard above the music and gossip.

You show him a tender smile. “Yeah it’s going okay,” you simply reply back, “it’s fine. You enjoying yourself?”

“Going alright,” he says, washing down his words with the remains of his warm and flat beer, lifting the bottle up to his lips and eyeing the busy crowd.

“What y’doing stood over here all on your lonesome?” Steve adds.

You don’t reply. Fuck you must look so sad and lonely if Steve’s come over here to ask you how you are. You look down at your champagne glass, bubbles spreading across the surface before finishing off the rest of the orangey zest flavour in one full swig. Your face winces.

“Was talking to Melissa just a bit ago,” you reply back. “Said she’s just grabbing another drink.”

Unconscious to you, your attention is averted back to Javiers, eyes glazing and clouded over from the intense stare. Steven narrows his eyes and follows your observation, until he leans down to you, his tone low and soft. “Why don’t you get your ass over there and talk to him.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shoulder stiffening in interrogation, “talk to who?”

He looks at you dumbfounded, pointing with his pinky finger into the opposite direction, trying not to make his motions too obvious. “Javi,” he simply says, like it’s a completely clear conclusion. “Come on. Don’t tell me your little crush on him wasn’t noticeable.”

Well shit.

“W-what do you mean?” You stutter, a tense chuckle mixing in with your intonation. “No I don’t. We’re just friends Steve. Why would you think—”

“Sweetheart. You don’t think I see the way you look at him. You ain’t very good at hiding it. It’s written all over your face.”

Your chest feels tight, needle like thorns prickling at your throat and cheeks swelling. You’re panicking from the inside out. If Steve knew, how many others did? Fuck what about Javi?

There’s no point in hiding it from Steve now, so instead of arguing you accept defeat, asking him the question you don’t even know you want the answer to.

“Does Javier know?”

Steve’s eyes dart down at you, “I think we both know Peña’s not the best at seeing things like that. So, I’m afraid that’s a definite no.”

Does his statement give you that sense of relief? Do you feel your heart race decrease to a normal pace knowing that even through Steve knew, nothing would change on Javiers end.

Steve saw the way you looked at his partner, to your unascertained eye. He’d see how your stance would stall whenever he was near, how your gaze would linger on him for far too long, how you’d become a nervous wreck when he’d complement you. And how every time, devastation would rush over you when he’d walk out the bar, with a woman hugged under his shoulder. A women he barely knew. A women who’s name would be forgotten the next morning he woke.

Steve was a good man, and he was good to you, being there for you just like Javier had been. But unlike Javier, Steve was capable of attempting to fix people emotions, so when his arm wraps snug over your shoulder, you know that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

“You think you’ll ever say anything to him?” Steve inquires, “maybe tell him how you’re feeling?”

You stare at Javier again but only briefly this time. Seeing how he’s back to giving the girl next to him his full attention, and that motion right there, is why you will never say anything.

“No. I don’t think so Steve. I think we can both see how’s he’s pretty occupied right now.” 

Steve let’s out a huff, yeah you were right. Typical Peña. Steve tugs at your arm. “Alright then. Come with me. Don’t want you sulking the whole night. We’re gonna have a few drinks.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You’d definitely had a few drinks. Eyelids heavy, body swaying to the song playing and you can feel the alcohol run through you. It’s relaxing, it’s stress free as it heats you up, unravelling the nerves that clutched tightly to your skin since you first walked through the doors, and ever since Javier had looked at you the way that he did.

You actually began to feel…good. Great. Energised. And it was just what you needed to get Javier out of your thoughts, to think about something else entirely, to end your night on a positive.

Steve talks to you about how him and Connie are getting on. He mentions how life is outside work, how his family is back home and the enthusiasm in his voice makes your chest pull, but this time in a happy way. It’s nice to see how well he’s doing, watching how his face lights up when he says that him and Connie have officially settled down. 

He talks about how certain cases are going, that him and Javi are getting closer to something big. You don’t mention anything about him bringing Javier into the conversation, because you know how passionate and devoted Steve is to his job, how much effort he puts into his time here.

With all the good Steve gives you, your time together is about to end.

“Uh honey. He’s coming over.” Steve says abruptly, adverting his gaze so his eyes look down as he fiddles with the head of his beer bottle. Steve’s easily able to communicate back to you with just his stance, and it’s not long until someone else joins in on your conversation.

“Nice to see you enjoying yourself,” Javier says to you. 

You give him a confident smile as your stare falls down to his lips. You can see the ends of his moustache are slightly wet from the alcohol he’s been drinking. Fuck what are you doing? Your eyes quickly look away as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I am,” you comment truthfully. “Thank you Javi.”

His eyes follow down your body. Now that he’s close to you he can fully admire your dress in all its glory. “And this dress…”, he proclaims, looking up at you again with a smirk, “you do look really beautiful tonight hermosa.”

It’s right there, those words, virtually hanging right on the tip of your tongue. ‘And it’s all for you Javi, it’s always been for you’ you want to say. But instead, you reply back with another thank you Javi.

Javier opens his mouth to talk to Steve, but Steve’s already once step ahead, “I’m gonna go and grab another beer,” he buts, “don’t have too much fun while I’m gone.”

Steve’s off before you can react, his body disappearing into the flurry of people. Leaving you and Javier alone. Great.

“It’s nice to see you let loose cariño,” Javier says, “always working too hard for me aren’t you. I like seeing you like this. Enjoying yourself.”

Javiers cockiness always finds a way to shine through, his dark brown eyes sparkling whimsically.

“Well I have to Javi,” you retort, sarcasm hidden behind your words. “It’s my job to work hard.”

“Yeah I know I know,” he teases. “Still. You’re too good to me.”

You subconsciously clench your thighs together, his words having a massive effect on you, palms flattening out the creases in your dress that rested across your stomach.

“So…,” Javier continues, “come on your own tonight cariño?”

“I did indeed,” you say, and the words leave your lips more bluntly as you would have intended, pairing it with an over exaggerated smile.

His eyebrows furrow together as his hand falls into his front pocket, “you had any boyfriends while you’ve been here?”

You’ve endeavoured around conversations like this with Javier before, whether it was late at night when you’d both stay late in the office or after hours, and every single time you’d shrug off anything to do with your romantic life. 

Because there was no romantic life.

“I hope that ain’t coming across as rude darlin. I just never see you with anyone when we’re all out. Give me an update with how you’re settling in.”

You brush aside the hesitation in your voice, showing Javier that his question hadn’t bothered you. “Not really Javi. I mean, there’s been moments with some guys but work takes up a lot of my time. And I’m not really interested in anyone at the moment.” 

Big. Fat. Lie.

Javier’s stance shifts, watching you swallow that dishonesty, his eyes glistening and lips curling up, shooting you that too familiar look. “There is someone. Isn’t there?”

“No Javi,” you’re quick to protest. “There isn’t I promise. Just give it up please—”

Javiers quick to nudge in. “I knew it! Is it someone in the office? Go on, who’s the lucky fella?”

You laugh at him awkwardly, “Javi stop it. It’s…it’s nothing serious so just drop it.”

He’s chuckles back at you, adoring the way you always fluster and get agitated when he questions anything about you. Quietness falls between the two of you for a moment, and your body jumps forward when his hand rests on your lower back, touching your bare skin, softly stroking you with his thumb.

“Why are you like that?” He asks, and you can hear how genuine he’s trying to be, the care flowing from each syllable.

Your brains working on multiple tasks; Javiers just asked you a question but how the fuck are you supposed to answer with his hands on you. With nothing in the way. Skin to skin.

“W-why am I like what?” That’s what he said, wasn’t it?

“Always so jumpy around me. Cariño we’ve known each other long enough that you should feel comfortable when you’re around me.”

He’s right, where had your confidence gone? You can still feel the alcohol lingering and buzzing through your system, buts it’s unhelpful. It must be Javier himself, his presence. You turn your body to him, huffing of your honesty, “you…you just make me nervous sometimes Javi.”

“Come on,” he sounds shocked, “what do I do that makes you so nervous.”

“I don’t really know why. You just do.” You know why. “Why are you asking me this anyway.”

He shrugs, “wanna know why so we can get past it. Can’t keep having you on edge around me can we. So go on, enlighten me,” he challenges.

Well maybe it’s because I like you Javier. That every single time I look at you I wish you’d look at me the same way. And even though I’ll never have you, it doesn’t stop me from wanting you as badly as I do right now.

He’s looking at you like you’ve told him something so unforgiving, his body frozen and his eyes widened in a state of surprise. You’re suddenly confused, and why is he looking at you like that? You haven’t even said anything—

“Fuck,” you spurt out, “did I—shit did I just said that out loud.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah you did.”

A cold wave of dread washed over your body and you pray that the ground would just swallow you whole. You want to run away and never look at his face again. You’re embarrassed, you’re dumb. And so fucking stupid. Your confessions just fallen so easily from your lips that you haven’t even registered it. 

Javi’s voice is weak, “Cariño. I…listen. You—,”

You palm meets his chest, stopping anything else that was threatening to spew over the two of you. “Don’t say anything Javier. Just…I’ve had a lot to drink okay so… please ignore anything I’ve just said. I don’t. None of it was true so don’t worry.”

Javier tries to carry on this mess that’s unraveling, but you’re too overcome with emotion you turn yourself away from him.

“I’m gonna head off,” you say, foggy eyes looking at the clock on the wall, “my taxis probably outside waiting for me.”

You place your empty wine glass on a table closest to you and move towards the entrance door. You can hear Javier call out your name but you can’t stop your feet as you try not to trip over yourself, the alcohol in your system not helping your situation. You don’t even look back, too afraid that if you look into Javier’s eyes, that look of rejection will have your life crumbling to a stop.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It’s been exactly one week since you’d woken up with that raging headache, body aching and stomached weakened from acidic liquid, that sickening feeling gradually pooling up your throat, ready to spill over. How much did you drink? Surely it wasn’t a lot? The morning after the party you were grateful that your shift was later in the day, because the second you woke up, you felt like shit. It wasn’t until you pulled your body out of bed to swallow a whole glass of water with some aspirin, and forcing a few slices of toast down with it that last night’s happening would creep back into your memory. 

And holy fucking shit.

It had to be a dream. A dream that you could erase and never be reminded of again. There was no way in hell you had confessed how you truly felt about Javier to the man himself. That after two long years, your secret had finally come climbing to the surface. 

It hurt, and what made things worse was that you knew it going to come out eventually. But in a hazily and drunken confrontation was the last way you pictured it going. Javier was your friend, you worked for him and you had stepped way over the line. You had ruined that strictly professional relationship, that friendship between you both and now you had to work along side him. To see him everyday.

Yeah, you were well and truly fucked.

And that’s why you avoid Javier as much as possible, which for you was going to be a difficult task, as you were his god damn secretary. If he was coming your way you’re going the opposite direction soon after. You hadn’t gotten him his usual coffee you’d get on the way to work for him alongside your own. You hadn’t been out with work colleagues for a drink, knowing indefinitely that he’d be tagging along. If you had received new information, you’d tell Steve, not him. The minute the clock ticks at five, you wouldn’t stay back like you would usually do, you’d head for the door and straight home. You know this embarrassment will come around sooner or later, but if you can avoid it for now, fuck you’re going to do your best to.

You can tell Javier wants to talk to you. You know he wants to go back to that conversation that you left so abruptly. But right you just can’t. You can’t go back to knowing that his dismissal is waiting around the corner, yourself feeling ashamed of your petty and drunken words.

You make your way into the filing room and start by sorting out new documents that had been placed on your desk early this morning. You rip off the post it note that hanged loosely on the top of the pile, the neon note saying ‘please section in order’ ogling back at you. You can make out that writing anywhere. Everywhere you turn he’s always one step ahead, inhabiting all aspects of work life.

Your memory takes you back to the hours you’d spend in here with him, just enjoying the quiet and serenity and simply just…each other.

“I come in here when I need a minute,” Javier says, placing a file in it’s designated spot, “just to get away from it sometimes. Just to be on my own. You know, when shit in this place gets too much.”

You’d treasure that day. Just you and him, having him all to yourself while the world was running wild and crazy around your heads, having him talk about things and stuff he wouldn’t usually talk about, and just being so open with you. Only you.

You brush the memory off, back to regaining attention on the task in hand, with eyes averted down when suddenly the door opens and softly closes behind you. The sound so discreet and barely above a whisper.

Without warning, a sense of heat radiates on your back, a delicate warmth and you turn yourself around, a startled yelp leaving your now parted lips, hands forcefully clutching onto your heavily banging chest.

The face you’re met with breaks your heart.

Javier looked tired, his face was flushed and parts of his hair were hanging out of place, like he’d ran his fingers through it, frustrated. His eyes could paint a thousand pictures, the brown in them becoming lost, unrecognisable, looking at you with an apologetic expression.

Your voice quavers, “fucking hell Javi. Don’t sneak up on me like that. You scared the shit out of me.”

He always finds a way to make you jump and a tight smile pulls on his face from your reaction, a smile that you can see holds more than amusement.

“Sorry darlin,” he apologises, “didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You nod at him in forgiveness, twisting your body around so you’re now facing away from him. Again.

“Anything y’need in here Javi? Thought it was your day off today.”

You can’t bear to look over your shoulder, you can already feel your eyes welling up, how pathetic. The salty tears threatening to pour down your cheeks, leaving a mark of pity on your skin, the wavering sound in your voice prominently giving you away. 

“I am off,” he says, “just needed to pop in and collect a few things.”

You hum at his words, don’t you dare give yourself away. You move stacks and files of paper around to keep yourself occupied, anything to stop your emotions getting the better of you.

Javier doesn’t leave. “I came here looking for you too actually,” he adds. “Wanted to have a chat.”

Fuck, here it comes.

By the way you haven’t replied and the way the room is surrounded by silence, Javier carries on. “I know you’ve been avoiding me darlin. And about the other night last week I—“

“Please Javier,” you intervene. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“Well I wanna,” he states, “we can’t keep going on like this, it’s awkward and uncomfortable and I don’t like it.”

And all because of you. You’ve made it awkward. You’ve made it uncomfortable.

He lightly rests his hand on your upper back, “cariño—“

“What d’you want me to say Javi?” You interrupt him, turning back around so you’re both parallel, “you want me to say that everything I said was true? Huh? Is that what you want? Well it was true. And yes, I’m fucking embarrassed about it.”

He shuffles himself away, unexpected from your hurried outburst, “let me speak. Please.” 

How have you become so breathless? You can feel your nails digging into your palms, leaving marks and indents in your skin. A remembrance. Your chest is pounding and hands shaking with adrenaline.

Javier huffs out a sigh, “why didn’t… fuck why didn’t you say anything? I may of looked or acted surprised and it’s because I was. I had no fucking idea and that’s the honest truth. I never expected…”

Gathering enough courage in yourself, you look up at him, praying that he’ll carry on with whatever he’s about to say, to rip this two year old bandaid right off and give you air to breath, to put an end to your ongoing misery.

Instead, he cups your face in his palm, fingers dancing across your jaw. Javier’s never touched you like this, and the warmth you instantly feel sparks all over your skin.

He follows your gaze with a guilt-ridden stare. “Hermosa,” he utters quietly. “Why didn’t you say anything.”

Your lips part in delay, ready to explain yourself. “I-I couldn’t handle the rejection Javi. And we work together it’s so inappropriate, and well…you’re you and I’m me. I’ve liked you for a while and I just knew if I said anything that you’d say no.”

His eyes look deeper into you, like he’s thinking or perhaps, contemplating.

“It’s not a case of no cariño. This isn’t how I do things. Shit—I ain’t a good man. You’re too good for me and I can’t mess things up with you.”

You bow your head at him in understanding, head falling further into his palm. Wait, what does he mean by his first statement?

“You wouldn’t have said no?”

Javier pauses as his feet move closer, his body towering above you. He’s visibly much taller than you and the courage you have to muster up to look up at him is formidable.

“No, I wouldn’t have,” he states.

“But the other women,” you look across to the door, “you’re always…you’ve never been like that with me.”

There it is. That admission. Having confessed how you’d noticed how Javier acted with other women, and how after so long you’d wanted it to be you.

“I know. But you’re not those other women querida. You never were.”

The both of you stay silent, gazing at each other, inhaling in one another’s air, chests so near that if you move an inch closer, just ever so slightly…your body would be pushed up and touching his.

His thumb moves from your cheek and across your face, landing on your bottom lip. Your mouth parts in surprise, your heavy breath coating his finger that starts to slowly rub side to side.

His eyes drop down to your lips, his eyelids becoming hooded, lustful.

“And after all this time, I thought you were just shy.” 

You whimper at his words, and Javier can sense the tension drifting away, his comment and touch becoming affective. Having dreamt of his digits against your skin and face, his fingertips gliding over the plushness of your mouth. It’s close, so so close that you could take it into your mouth, to taste him, to swirl your tongue around him and suck.

“But instead it was the complete opposite…,” his tone lower in octave, “wasn’t it hermosa.”

You can’t speak, voice lost and unforgivable as he gives you a subtle glimpse of divulged seduction.

“Tell me querida,” he whispers in a soft command, “is that what you want? You want me all to yourself?”

With thighs clenched together you give in, a rising pressure felt yearning in your core. “Fuck Javi…” you whine, “yes. Yes I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

He leans his face down, his mouth now level with yours and pulls your face just a smidge with his thumb and index finger on your chin, until finally his mouth touches yours. Yourself instantly embracing him.

You’ve kissed a few men, and that had been a long time ago. They had been rushed, forceful holds and overall disappointing, but you knew the second Javiers lips landed on top of yours, that it would never be like those other times. 

He starts off with gentle pecks, each one lasting longer than the previous, and only when Javier senses no hesitation on your behalf, he pulls your mouth in deeper, his tongue licking across your lips as an invitation, and you grant him access so willingly.

His arm wraps around your frame, hugging your waist as his other hand grips the shelf behind you, pushing your back flushed and up against it while still keeping your lips glued to his.

His tongue maps out the inside of your mouth. He taste like cigarettes and minty toothpaste, and the taste is overwhelmingly addictive. Like your own personal drug. You want more. You begin to copy his actions until the both of your tongues are dancing with one another, a small but noticeable moan swimming down his throat.

Javier draws back and kisses the skin on your jaw and the dip of your neck, his voice mumbled. “Christ querida you taste so fuckin’ sweet. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do that.”

You peer up at him with lustful eyes, fingers tugging on his shirt to keep yourself upright. “Me too Javi. I want—”

You don’t particularly know what you’re asking for. You know you want to continue kissing him, but if that throbbing that you feel in between your legs isn’t released, you think you’ll pass out.

“What is it cariño?” He asks, “you want me to show you what I’ve wanted to give you after all this time?”

In response you clash his lips back down onto yours and Javier sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. His one hand threads though your hair and the others at the seam of your skirt, fingers ruffling the tight material up your hips, and only until your own tries to stop his motions.

You’re panting, fighting against the lifting of your skirt, trying to keep it down and in place. “Fuck Javier wait. Jus’—just stop for a second.“

Which his does, stopping his greedy movements immediately, pulling both his mouth and hands away. His lips are swollen and hold a reddish hue, shining with the mixture of saliva, and the image only makes your situation worse.

“You okay? What is it? You don’t want—“

“No,” you’re active to protest. “Wait not no as in— yes I do. I’ve wanted this. I want this. It’s just…well, I’ve never actually…”

His eyebrows raise, “you’ve never?”

Please don’t make me say it, you think. Please don’t make me say it. Can he see how his questions made the hairs on your arms prick up? Can he recognise that innocence shine in your pupils?

And by the way his eyes widen, he may of just got it.

“Like at all?”

Your eyes shut in embarrassment, cheeks hot and humid as your stand small and hopeless in front of him. You inch your skirt that was creased on your thighs lower, wishing your clothes would hide the inexperience and bashfulness. Javier, the man’s who’s known around the embassy as being a womaniser, who’s fucked more woman than he can count on both hands, is stood over you. A woman, who has no knowledge about intimacy.

What could be more embarrassing than that.

“Hey,” Javiers speaks. “Cariño, look at me.”

Your eyes flood when you stare back, his features covered in empathy and compassion. “You know that’s okay, don’t you,” he says truthfully. “No need to feel embarrassed by it. We all gotta start somewhere.”

“I know Javi, “you agree, “but I’m 25 and I should have—.”

“Shhh,” Javier interrupts, “none of that hermosa.”

His voice is calm, reassuring and earnest. Mind analysing your own words. “Do you want it to be me?” He interjects, “is that what you’re trying to say?”

You nod your head at him, yes. God yes.

Javier tucks a loose strand of hair over your ear, “we don’t have to do anything right now. Not if you don’t want to.”

You’re quick to assure him. “I-I do Javi. I really do. I want it to be you. It’s just, I’m not really…I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Visible to you, that sets a fire in Javier. He likes your purity, your innocence, and you can see by the way his pupils dilate to black, hiding that chocolatey brown that would usually flourish through them.

“So say it,” Javier directs, “what is it you want right now. You’re in charge cariño. We’ll go at your pace.”

And again, you don’t really know. “I want anything.”

Javiers grin is pure sin. “Anything?” He interrogates. “Well what would you say if I wanted to get down on my knees right now and eat that pretty pussy of yours. Would you like that hermosa?”

Holy. Shit.

Your back arches in anticipation, your cunt clenching from his filthy mouth and suggestion. “Fuck Javi. Yes please. Yes I want that.”

Javier kisses you again with fervor, trailing his marks down your covered body until his knees hit the carpet floor, shuffling your pencil skirt up so it rests comfortably on your hips, his face now level with your clothed core, shielded by your tights and panties.

“Mmm so pretty querida. Tell me, has anyone ever kissed you here?”

You lick you lips, hands resting on top his shoulders, whimpering out a simple no. No one’s ever touched me or kissed me there.

Javiers quick to soothe. “You just relax for me cariño. If anything I do doesn’t feel good or pleasant you let me know. This is for you, okay?”

You bow your head at him as he drags the last remains of material off, the fabric now pooling at your feet. This is the first time a man’s seen you so openly, and you can feel a tingle when the breeze hits your swollen clit. You know you’re already wet, very wet. Your neglected folds covered in your arousal and evident and right in front of him, glistening and eager, ready for whatever he wants to give you.

Javier can see how your panties are completely ruined, bringing them up to inspect before popping them in his back pocket. “This may be your first time doing this cariño. But fuck your pussy’s so ready for it. You’re so fucking wet for me.” 

Javi brings his middle finger up to your wet folds and your knees instantly buckle underneath you, your hands reaching out to the shelves at the sides to keep you up.

“H-holy fuck. Javi—”

Javier hoists your one leg over his shoulder, hands gripping the flesh of your bare thigh to hold you steady.

He pulls on your hood, your clit pulsing and he pokes his tongue out, flicking the muscle on your needy bundle of nerves, giving you soft and delicate stokes as he gets you used to the new sensation.

“You still with me baby?” Javier checks in, “feeling alright?”

“Yes Javi just—please don’t stop. Fuck it feels so good.”

Javier contradicts, “I ain’t planning on stopping querida. Not until I feel this pussy come on my tongue.”

He gets back to it, moving his licks lower and lower into your folds, his nose catching your clit with each pull of his mouth, and the gesture has your fingers gripping into his hair and pulling at the base, causing Javier to hiss against your cunt.

It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before. You knew that it would feel good but this good? It’s feels fucking amazing. His tongues so warm, finding his way around your sensitivity, changing his motion when a certain spot has you whining out for him.

“Oh my god, Javi—,” you moan loudly.

“Shhh,” he mumbles, “gonna have to be quiet hermosa, don’t want anyone hearing or catching us do we?”

Through all the kissed and the touches and everything else, you had blatantly forgot that the door was open, and anyone could walk in. “Fuck Javier wait, someone could walk—“

“Already sorted that out doll,” he interrupts, “locked the door after I got in here.” This fucker.

You relax after his words, knowing nobody is going to walk in, to disrupt your inappropriate affair. But somehow you do like that excitement, that feeling of being caught, of being seen.

For someone’s who never done this before, the moment that ounce of pleasure flows through your body you do like to show it. The way you moan out for him, how you’re so confidently whimpering and pleading him. 

Javier starts to get hungry with it, lapping at your folds and clit with eager flicks and sucks and kisses as he brings his index finger up and teases your entrance, before slowly easing it into you.

Your walls clench around his finger tightly. You weren’t new to masturbation and had used your own to get yourself off, but Javiers finger was already becoming a slight stretch compared to yours.

“It’s okay,” he soothes. “Just breathe for me cariño. Need to open you up. Make sure you’re ready for when it’s time to take my cock.”

“Fuck o-okay. Just… go slow,” you whine, bringing your hand up to cover your open mouth with the back of your hand, muffling your vocal and desperate moans.

He slowly eases his finger in and out, just like you asked, and then switches to curving his digit in an upwards motion, hitting that spot inside that’s so euphoric and you whine into the air.

“You just can’t keep quiet can you.” And he fucking loves it. “Pussy feels too good you have to tell the whole office, don’t you hermosa.”

“I can’t—fuck I’m sorry Javi. It feels…god you feel amazing.”

At a slow pace he inserts another finger, his tongue mapping fixed circles on your bundle of nerves while he pushes in, the pleasure he’s giving you overcoming the stretch his fingers are pulling from you.

You look down at him. His hand squeezes the flesh of your thigh, his eyes fluttering closed and concentrated. You can feel his lips vibrate when he moans into your cunt, and it turns you on beyond belief that he’s enjoying this as much as you are.

You can feel it; your core starts to tingle, your lip quivers as Javiers name falls seamlessly from it, oh fuck Javi. yes Javi I’m so close. please don’t stop Javi. He pulls his mouth even closer to your cunt, swirling your hips to help hit your orgasm that’s threatening to spill over.

Javier barely removes his mouth from you, “that’s it querida. Tan buena chica. I can feel you’re close. Go on, let go for me.”

“Oh my god, Javi—”

His words tip you over the edge, your pussy let’s go and your orgasm ripples through you, your walls clenching down hard on his fingers as he continues his movements, your release dripping and drooling down his fingers and knuckles as he continues to play and flick your pulsating clit, making sure you experience every single part of it.

Once Javi knows that you’ve come down from your high, he removes his mouth and digits from your sensitive cunt, pulling himself up so he’s stood in front of you.

You look at him, his moustache and chin are covered in your orgasm as well as his fingers. He brings them up to his face and plops them into his mouth, keeping his eyes locked on yours as you watch him clean the remains of your taste off of them.

“You taste fucking sweet hermosa. If I knew this is what you were hiding from me, I would’ve done this a long time ago.”

Your mouth finds his lips again, and it shocks him. You can just taste yourself as you kiss your way into his mouth, and you can feel your pussy become needy again. Wanting his cock inside you.

With a shaky hand you cup his bulge, and fuck he’s so hard. He feels thick and his jeans become even tighter and restrained. You squeeze his length and he moans into your mouth. 

Oh how the tables have turned.

You pull at his belt loops, fiddling with the buckle until Javier is quick to put a stop to your wondering hands.

You pout at him and he lets out a chuckle. “I ain’t gonna take your virginity in the filing room baby.”

No of course he isn’t. Even though you desperately want him to.

“When Javier? I don’t want to wait any longer.” You skin your fingertips over his crotch, “really really want you inside me.”

“Fuck querida,” Javier says, wrapping his hand around your wrist, “so needy now aren’t you. You want my cock inside you that bad? Want me to fill you up?”

“Mmm,” is all you can say, rubbing your bare pussy on his jeans.

“And I’ll give it to you baby,” he promises, “but not right now. Let me do this right, okay? Let me take my time with you.”

You smile at him. You’re not disappointed, because how could you be? Impatient? Definitely. Now you’ve become exposed to the newness of your shared sexual desires, you want it all. You want to learn everything. And you know it’ll come, but right now as he said, he wants to take his time with you.

And right now, you have all the time in the world.

Tysm for reading!🤍

���� Tan buena chica - such a good girl 🦋

[capricioussun]

I’ve been thinking about ways to differentiate my outer boys from their standard counterparts since…there canonically aren’t really any differences personality wise?

Of course this largely involves changing the worlds a bit, since that has the greatest impact on a Papyrus’s characterization.

And I think I’ve decided on a few things for them

🌙✨💫

Pictoris

Little bit of a neat freak. Cares a little more about his appearance (as far as seeming clean and neat comes across, though he isn’t exactly a stickler about it).

Floats/flies/uses gravity manip more often than Rus as it’s seen as more normal given. Space.

Tries (and mostly fails) to come across as more regal, more knightly than Rus. His priorities with getting into the guard are a little more focused on playing the part of a royal guard more, a little less on just using it for popularity (or so he says)

Loves the dogs truly but their fur gets *all* over his clothes and it kills him a little bit inside

Likes sweets a little less, a tiny (and I mean tiny) bit better at cooking

Still as sassy but sometimes does slip and comes across a little mean, usually reels it back quick but doesn’t apologize so much as changes the subject and tries to be more positive/nice

Overall, like Rus but if he was a little more uptight? Still very friendly and goofy though!!

.

Antares

A little more outwardly aggressive, bad attitude type, but conversely, quicker to lighten up and emote than Edge. Quicker to fluster, quicker to lose his temperature, but he maintains Edge’s hard-to-actually-make-mad quality.

One could say he’s kind of naive, takes things even more at face value than Edge (Boötes is the only one allowed to take advantage of this, otherwise you’re getting yourself in his black book if you mess with and genuinely embarrass Antares)

Less resigned, more uneasy, errs more on the paranoid side than Edge.

Values the quiet a lot. Doesn’t have as difficult a time with derealization as Edge.

Loves animals, loves them a *lot, loves learning about any living creature, even fictional!

Reads more too, a big fan of fantasy and adventure books (with a guilty pleasure of preferring the aforementioned two if they have daring romance in them as well).

Overall sort of if Edge was more emotive/expressive, and a little sillier (just a little).

.

Aurigae

Brattier and sassier than Stretch, but still a sweetheart all the same. He’d feel really bad if he genuinely hurt someone’s feelings, so he tends to click better with people who have a similar sense of humor.

Conversely also has a harder time with anxiety. Hides it just as well, but generally experiences more panic attacks (in secret) than Stretch.

Way more sensory inclined. Doesn’t like being touched, by anyone in anyway unless he’s very familiar/comfortable with them, and usually has something to fidget/stim with in his pockets (which I plan on adding more to the design, his jacket should have more pockets). Also floats/flies/etc more often, as this is also a good way to avoid unwanted contact.

Vapes instead of smokes but still does it super rarely.

Distraction is important, he works better if he has music or something else making sound, even if very quietly, nearby. Otherwise he’s probably sleeping because the quiet agitates his nerves.

A little more intense than Stretch, but comes across more social confident, would still prefer hanging out at home or with a couple of close friends.

.

Their personalities are still works in progress, so they may change over time as I figure them/their AUs out better, but I feel like this is a good starting point!

[kaileedraws]

Answering the reblog:

Hey! Just wanted to explain some of the choices that I made for this AU so that it makes a little more sense’

To your first point about modeling, I couldn’t say whether or not all models experience some sort of sexual harassment, but I have done research and it seems like a very common occurrence - especially for high level celebrities. Although I think for the Agreste brand, since it’s his father, initially he wouldn’t experience maltreatment, but as his father becomes more and more famous, Gabriel would have less and less control over his son’s photographers and magazine campaign.

As for the traumas — Ladybug and Chat noir remember every loss and mass-catastrophe event that happens to them. They would experience gore, death, and possibly the loss of each other before everything is restored. Cue the survivor guilt and PTSD! Additionally, everyone makes mistakes, especially teenagers, so yeah definitely a lot of their choices would give them guilt and trauma, but I think that’s just everyone, no? Just me?

Also yes I’m giving Chloe the redemption arc she deserves but Lila is going to be far worse oof

The reason why I mention “the boys” and “invincible” is because I like how they took away the glitter of superheroes. Not that DC and Marvel comics also aren’t messed up in their own ways, but I like how in ‘the Boys’ heroes are treated like celebrities and their behavior reflects such. Also I love how they make fun of DC and Marvel. They are pretty cynical tho, yeah, and most of the show I had to fast forward through but anyway —

Still working out the kinks with the sentimonsters — I can’t seem to find a concept that really clicks with me yet, but I’d love to hear everyone’s ideas/feedback on how it could be improved!

I mean yeah, I guess Luka being a drug user is sort of a stereotype, but my headcanon is that he smokes weed for anxiety. Also, a lot of musicians use substances for creativity, and for some reason he gives me a hippy stoner vibe — he’s just like way too chill. I feel like he’d get it from his mother. Drugs are also a way that the people of Paris keep themselves from being akumatized buuuuttt that’s just another theory! Don’t worry, I’m not singling out Luka, we love him I promise! He’s one of the least mentally unhealthy people I’m writing, he’s all vibes and chill. For instability, I think Marinette is top of the list for going to a mental asylum, Alya is the most in-danger of dying, and Adrien just doesn’t know who he is (he mimics other’s personalities to fit in) or what the fuck is going on (cue the disassociation).

Let me know if that makes more sense and if I should elaborate any more!!

Tell me, why did you want to turn Miraculous into a dark adult-themed story even though you thought Adrien being a senti was too much?

Long story short: I love psychologically dissecting stories and Miraculous is the perfect target for my madness. The characters have so much potential and I want to explore that.

I started this journey before I even connected the dots about Adrien’s origins. Actually, what started this was when I started to realize how many dark alleys were glossed over in the show. For example: Ladybug’s PTSD, Marinette’s panic attacks, bullying, lack of gore, grief, literal abuse, stalkers, relationship trauma, the fear that everyone has so they must regulate their emotions properly or they will turn into a supervillain, etcetera etcetera. Also, watching the show Invincible and (part) of The Boys gave me the idea to try and create the Miraculous world if it actually took place in real life. Heroes would be just like celebrities - and the world of celebrities is actually messed up. For example, as a celebrity and a model, Adrien would be exposed to copious amounts of peer pressure to do drugs, be sexually exploited, and a bunch of other fun stuff that no one talks about. It also bothered me that people are so blind in the show and the amount of plot holes I just — ok.

The miraculous world was all too sunshine and rainbows (I mean, it has to be for a kids show but) for what was beneath the surface, and I wanted to expose the truth. I want to show what life is really like underneath all the frosting. It’s all just so interesting.

It’s a super twisted and dark story but it’s also bringing awareness to the world because people actually experience some of the things these characters go through, and I believe it deserves to be brought to the light instead of hidden under the rug. Many of the miraculous characters have the start of these concepts, I just want to explore them a little bit more. (The coming-of-age and sexualization stuff is also why I needed to age them up — cause its a topic that deserves the limelight, but inappropriate for an adult to explore in the context of 14 year olds— even if it does happen (me lolololo)).

To answer the second part of your question, Adrien being a sentimonster isn’t too much dark-wise, it just doesn’t make sense plot-wise. Plus, it just seems sort of irrelevant and almost like a half-assed plot point that was just thrown in carelessly at the last moment - and it’s just such an obscure detail that I didn’t even catch it the first time watching the show. I dunno, it just seems too convenient? And the fact that there are so many plot holes that doesn’t support him being a sentimonster? (Chat blanc destroying everything and still existing).

I’m going to play with ideas surrounding sentimonsters but I’m probably going to dumb the power down a little bit - like creating little guys that are built for one task and then upon fulfillment of that task, can’t endure the pain existence causes. I mean these are creatures created from a single powerful emotion - existence must be painful.

Also, also, I’d love the help from the community with this!! Please exercise my brain muscles and asks me questions you have about the show/my au so we can psychologically dissect miraculous!

[blooming-violets]

Eddie Munson - Fluff Alphabet

Eddie Munson x Reader (only referred to as “you” throughout)

A/N: Fluff Alphabet today, Smut Alphabet tomorrow. Apologies if these have been done a million times before. I’m not really in the Stranger Things fandom scene on tumblr but I am a simp for Eddie and needed to do one of these for myself. This is how I see the character of Eddie, feel free to agree or disagree. Character interpretation is entirely up the viewer. This is my take. (and just because I’m posting some Eddie stuff doesn’t mean I’m still not Peter Parker trash/writing for him. i can do both.)

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

When Eddie is with you, he doesn’t want to do anything except be with you. That’s it. He doesn’t need the added stimuli to distract him. All he wants is you. He loves to kick his feet up, light a joint, and enjoy doing nothing but admiring you. He’s typically very hyperactive so, when he gets a moment to chill, he likes to cherish it. 

He would love laying his head in your lap while he smokes. His eyes would close as you run your fingers through his hair and massage his scalp. He’d let out a little sigh of happiness with a lazy smile on his face. His fingers would entwine with yours. Eventually he’d start to doze off and you’d pluck the joint from between his lips before it falls out and stick it in your mouth instead.  

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

The man is all personality based. He falls in love with a person’s soul first. The more beautiful they are on the inside, the more beautiful they become on the outside. He doesn’t care what you look like, what crowds you run with, what you identify as, as long as he can connect with you. 

Not many people outside of Eddie’s group of friend’s ever take the time to actually know him. All it would take is for you to show a little interest and he’d be head over heels in love with you. He’s also a sucker for shy smiles and bashful giggles in response to one of his jokes or over the top personality. He’d think everything you do is absolutely adorable and he’d melt into a pile of goo every time you laughed.  

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Eddie Munson would be the king of trying to fix all your problems. If you were upset, he would overdo it by trying to make you laugh. His first reaction would be to get you to smile again even if it’s through your tears.

His second reaction would be to take a step back, calm himself, and go into cuddle mode. He’d gather you in his arms and let you cry it out. When you were ready, he would sit and listen to you rant about whatever it was that upset you. If it was another person who made you upset, he would absolutely threaten to kill them for you. You both know he would never actually do that but, hearing him threaten it, is enough to get a giggle out of you anyway. “There’s that smile I love.” With a little kiss on the tip of your nose. 

If you were having a panic attack, I don’t think he would know what to do if it was the first time he witnessed it. Mental health and anxiety wasn’t generally discussed in the 80’s (as far I know, I wasn’t alive then, but I can only assume). Things like anxiety were probably very stigmatized, especially in a small Indiana town. If you had anxiety, I guarantee it was something you tried to keep very quiet and hide from everyone else. Having a panic attack in front of Eddie, you’d be terrified that he was going to think you were insane or think less of you. While it was happening, he would be freaking out, not knowing what to do. I feel like he’d grab a brown paper bag and try to make you breathe into it or something. Once it passed, he would just sit there and hold you in silence. 

“Don’t do that again. I thought you were dying.” 

And then he’d reassure you that whatever you’re going through he won’t ever think less of you. 

“I already think you’re a freak. A little psychotic break won’t change that.”

Date - What was the first date with them like? What is their go-to date? What is their dream date?

First date: 

Eddie asked you out on a date but pretended that it wasn’t. 

“Want to hang out tonight? We can go to Lover's Lake and get stoned? I won’t make you pay for the drugs. It’s on the house.”

 Eddie never made you pay for drugs which should have been a huge sign that he was secretly in love with you but you were oblivious. 

When you get to the lake side, the two of you sit up against a fallen log and stare out at the dark water. The moon light reflects off the water and casts an eerie, watery glow across his face. For the first time ever you really get a good look at him. You’ve looked at Eddie a million times before but never like this. You start to realize all the soft features of his face and how beautiful his eyes are. He catches you looking at him and you quickly turn away in embarrassment. 

“This isn’t a date,” he quickly shouts to ease your panic. 

“I know,” you reply. “No dates here. Just two friends hanging out. Nothing more.” 

“Nope...nothing more. Just a couple of friends.” 

The façade of two friends hanging out unravels at lightning speed and somehow you end up straddling his lap while you kiss under the stars. But it’s definitely not a date! ;)

Go-To Date: 

The two of you really don’t go on dates. You more so hang out alone with each other with no hard set plans. Neither of you have money to go out to eat very often. Sometimes you might sneak in to see a movie but, really, it mostly consists of finding a spot away from watchful eyes and making out. 

Dream Date:

Eddie dreams of dragging you along to every single metal concert that passes through.  

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Passive. Eddie’s like a little puppy that follows you around and willingly does whatever you say. That’s not to say that he doesn’t have a mind of his own or pick things to do for the both of you, but, overall, he likes you to take control. He’s just happy to be there. 

 Flight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Eddie can be very opinionated and has a tendency to get into arguments sometimes just for the sake of arguing. No one can push your buttons quite like Eddie Munson. When he’s annoyed he’ll often mock you or repeat the things that you’re saying in a snarky voice like a bratty child.

He’s very dramatic when he fights with you (imagine a lot of exaggerated hand gestures and pacing around) but never goes for the deep cuts. You’re very aware that he knows all your secrets and could easily play vicious if he wanted to hurt you but he never does. He doesn’t sink to that level. Usually. 

The rare time he might cross a line, he immediately sees the look of hurt in your eyes and his entire temper dissipates in seconds and he instantly starts groveling for your forgiveness. He’s the kind of person who would get down on his knees in front of you and throw his arms around your waist, hiding his face in your stomach, as he apologizes. 

On the opposite end, he’s easy to forgive and forget if you hurt him. He quickly tires of any drama and just wants things to go back to normal as quickly as possible. He’s a lover not a fighter. 

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He’s not shy about showering you with compliments and praise. He thinks it’s really cool that you’re willing to stay up late with him while he plans his next big DnD campaign. He loves when you sit in the garage and watch his band play. He likes showing off for you and knows that not a lot of people would willingly put up with “the freak” and his antics so he takes the time to express his thanks through kisses and shared smiles from across the room. 

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Eddie tends to be very open and honest about most parts of his life apart from his feelings. He keeps those very guarded. It took him long enough to admit that he liked you and that’s what he considers a “good” emotion.

The “bad” emotions are well guarded. He doesn’t want to feel weak or be a burden if he admits that he’s struggling. 

He hides those feelings by throwing himself into fantasy worlds. You can always tell when something is wrong based on how grounded in reality he is. If he’s done nothing but talk about DnD for the past week or had his nose lost in a Lord of the Rings book every time you see him then you know something is up. He’s trying to hide away in far off lands. 

Even if you prod for information, he’ll only sink further away and stand his ground that he’s perfectly fine. Usually what it will take is dropping the subject, taking him for a long walk late at night (one where he complains that he’s tired the whole time), and finally finding a quiet spot where you can break out some cigarettes and cheap beer, indulge in the vices, and eventually his walls will start to break down. Those nights often end in him quietly crying in your lap while you gently stroke his hair. He’ll let it all out and then pretend like it never happened the next morning.  

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around?

Like most relationships, each person changes the other in some way. It doesn’t have to be huge or mind opening. It could be something as little as gaining a new music interest or picking up a few new phrases you never used to say before. Sometimes you find that the facial expressions you make are now freakishly similar to Eddie. Sometimes he finds that he’s eating fries dipped in his milkshake more than he ever has before because he knows it’s your favorite combination. It’s the little things that subtly change a person that stick with you the most.  

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He’s a secret jealous type. He’s very observant and notices little things that you might not even pick up on. 

He’ll silently stew in jealousy from across the room while the guy at the cash register flirts with you as you order food. When you return back to him, he’ll be silent and huffy until you finally give in and ask why he has a giant stick up his ass. Eddie will snarkily reply that the asshole at the counter was flirting with you and was staring at your butt as you walked away. It’ll only make you roll your eyes, grab his hand, and drag him over to a table as a silent way to tell him to shut up and stop being dramatic.  

Neither of you take the jealousy very seriously though. 

Kiss - What was the first kiss like?

Shaky. Nervous. Overly excited. 

I am fully under the impression that Eddie Munson has never kissed someone in his life. His heart would be racing, his breath labored, and his eyes wide with a nervous excitement. He’d have no idea what to do with his hands, he wouldn’t know if it would be okay to touch you, so he’d just leave them awkwardly hanging at his side until you grab his wrists and place them on your hips. 

Given the okay to touch you, he’d quickly pull you closer to him and wrap you up in his arms as you kissed. 

Immediately after he’d ask how he did. When you say it was very nice, he’ll ask if he can do that again. The answer is always yes. 

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He’d know he loved you long before he ever said it. He’d become obsessed with wanting to tell you but terrified of actually saying it out loud so he just silently screams it in his head for a bit. 

It finally comes out in the most nonchalant way by accident. It’s when you stop by one afternoon with a bag full of junk food. He looks through it, noticing all his favorite munchies, and gives you a big smile and passively says, “This is great. All my favorites. Fuck, I love you.” You both freeze at the confession. His cheeks turn red, takes a quick second to think about it, and then he shrugs, “It’s true though. I do love you…like…a lot…”  

With a quick peck on his lips, you whisper back, “I love you too, Eddie.” 

“....Wait, what? Really?” 

You have to laugh at his shock and roll your eyes, “Yes, Eddie. I love you. Shocker, I know.” 

“Whoa. That’s metal as fuck.” 

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? 

I can’t see Eddie as the marriage type. I think he has a bad perception of marriage. He’d be terrified that if he ever married you then you two would be destined to eventually despise each other. Every adult he knows who is married hates each other and he never wants that to be you two. You’re fine with not pushing it. Marriage isn’t on your list of life goals either. As long as you can be with Eddie, you don’t care what the label is.  

He will insist on buying you a ring though. Something simple, small, and delicate but inexpensive. It would have been something he saved up for and he presents it to you while your laying in bed together by struggling to pull it out of his tight jean pocket. When he finally manages to get it out, he gives you a big, sheepish smiles and grabs your hand in his. 

“I’m not asking you to marry me because I don’t want us to fall into that trap. But I am asking you to spend the rest of your life with me. Because I don’t want anyone else but you. Ever.” 

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

I don’t know but, if you’re short, he 100% calls you his “little hobbit” much to your dislike.  

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? 

It’s obvious because he drags you around with him everywhere like you’re one of his many accessories. He also introduces you to everyone as, “Hi, this is my girlfriend.” Just to make sure everyone is aware that you’re taken. 

When Eddie is in love, he becomes a giant marshmallow of a man. The mere sight of you brings a huge smile to his face. He looks at you with hearts in his eyes. He starts dedicating songs to you. He wants to be with you all the time. He finds himself humming happily and has a little skip in his step when he walks. 

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag about their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Very upfront and not afraid of PDA. He has no concept of personal space. He loves to have his hands on you at all times. Holding your hand, around your waist, tucked into your back jeans pocket, he doesn’t care as long as he can feel you. He’ll kiss you in front of anyone and brag about you to everyone who will listen. 

So much so that his friends now roll their eyes any time you’re mentioned which results in them getting smacked in the back of head and Eddie declaring that they're all just jealous of his success at love…which cues more eye rolls and groans.  

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

His art for dramatics never fails to make you laugh. He’ll willingly fling himself to the ground if it would make you smile. He climbs on everything, loves to make a scene, and is always giving you a run for your money. Eddie doesn’t know the meaning of the word “boring”. He’ll find a way to make any situation entertaining for you. 

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Eddie would go to whatever length he needed to make you happy. If you wanted the roses and teddy bears and cheesy Valentine’s Day cards, then he’d do it, but it wouldn’t really be his style. Luckily for him, that’s not your jam. You prefer more low key ways to show love. 

Eddie’s idea of romance is buying you fast food, smoking a bowl, and staring at the stars while you contemplate the universe together. 

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Of course! Whatever you’re into, he’s right there with you, even if he doesn’t understand what’s going on at all. 

Though sometimes he thinks that he won’t ever be enough for the kind of dreams that you may have. He’s afraid of weighing you down. In his mind, he’s destined to amount to nothing in life. He’s so scared of dragging you down with him. He needs a lot of reassurance and pep talks from you that he is, in fact, capable of achieving more than he thinks. 

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Eddie and routine are not a thing that mesh together. Every day is different for him, therefore, every day is different for you. He knows every inch of Hawkins and intends to drag you along on all his adventures.   

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

You tell Eddie everything. Even when you overshare, he loves it. It only makes you more real to him. 

His empathy is something that not many others get the privilege of seeing but it oozes out of him regardless. He’s very in tune with your emotions and can pick up on the little things from knowing you so well. He remembers little details about you that you don’t even remember telling him.

One time you briefly mentioned that you used to collect rocks you thought looked cool when you were younger. Now, whenever you seem stressed out, he’ll present you will little rocks that he found that he thinks you might like. 

“I thought this one looked like a crow skull so I got it for you.” “This one kind of looked like a dick so I scooped it up for you.” “You see this one? I almost threw it through the car windshield of some asshole who almost ran me over but I decided to give it to you instead.” 

It always makes you smile. 

Vanity - How concerned are they with their looks?

He tries to come off like he doesn’t care but he absolutely does. You often find him in the morning cutting his bangs and fluffing out his hair. He spends more time than you picking out an outfit and adding his accessories. You’ve watched him run back in the house and switch out his rings for something else because he “didn’t like the vibe”. He loves to sew on patches and replace buttons on his jackets. He tugs out the tongues of his shoes to be just so. His entire appearance is made to look like it was thrown together in seconds by someone who doesn’t care but you know the truth.  

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Eddie likes to doodle on you. Your sneakers are filled with little drawings, the thighs of your jeans have little skulls all over them, and the back of your hand almost permanently has a heart doodled onto it. He uses you like a sketchbook when he’s bored. It’s a secret way to make sure that you think of him even when he’s not with you.  

 Xtra- A random headcanon about their relationship.

The guitar pick that he wears around his neck was a gift you gave him once. You wrote “I pick you every time” on the back of it with a little heart. He claimed it was too precious to use so he turned it into a necklace instead.  

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

A sad, mopey boy. He has a polaroid of you that he keeps in his back pocket. He pulls it out from time to time to stare at you and smiles sadly at it. He hugs a pillow and pretends it’s you at night. 

The second he gets to see you again, though, he bounds over to you and spins you around while shouting your name really loudly. Then he’d be attached to your side for the rest of the day.  

Zzzz- How are they when they sleep? 

Sleeping in the same bed with you for the first time was eye opening for him. He slept his whole life alone and suddenly he now has his own personal snuggle buddy. It’s a dream come true for him. 

He likes to sleep face to face with you with your arms wrapped around each other, your face buried against his chest, and your legs entwined. That way he gets the benefit of holding you and being held in return. 

He also never say no to being the little spoon. 

Eddie’s a heavy sleeper and loud snorer. His snoring used to keep you up but now it’s become nothing but a comforting background noise. 

[veritable-trash]

You Know The Rules

look at that stupid slutty mustache... god please answer my prayers just this once

Pairing: Finnegan(Everybody Wants Some!!) x Fem!Reader

Summary: God you hate him.

Word Count: 2K

Rating: M - mainly for drugs babayyyyy, weed, that good, otherwise it's pretty clean in these sheets(this time around)

A/N: haha. no one asked for this. but listen! all my glen powell sloots we need to remember the original. sweet daddy finnegan. mustached, shaggy haired, 80s baseball player i mean i couldn't have written a sluttier man if i tried. this movie isn't the greatest, but the music is dope, the outfits are cute, and it serves as a public service announcement that men need to start wearing crop tops IMMEDIATELY. this is a petition for men to start dressing like sluts again so i can finally be at peace. anyways this is completely and utterly self serving but the glen powell top gun resurgence just kept reminding me that this is peak glen to me. give me mustaches or give me death!

sorry that i haven't written... or literally done anything of value in an eon. my brain has given up and also i moved and am currently unemployed and am about to go travel for three months and want to write but have zero inspiration and tumblr makes me sad because everyone is so good at writing and i am a troll under a bridge. this is me trying to release the need to produce things of "value" because does that even mean anymore? i hope someone finds this a little fun because honestly i kinda did :) hugs and kisses <;33333

tell me what you think! i'm literally begging! on my hands and knees! the desperation is palpable yeesh

masterlist yay yay!!!

~~~~~

College.

What a fucking heinous place. Filled with suffocating expectations, the constant need to pretend you’re someone you’re not because of everyone else’s supposed opinions of you. 

It made you want to vomit. 

And yet here you were, cowering in the corner of the kitchen at this stupid, lame, awful college party. A baseball party no less. Those absolute heathens. Probably the worst category of men on this campus by about 20 miles and you were definitely counting. 

The joint you haphazardly rolled in the absolutely disgusting bathroom crackles between your lips as you try to tune out every single person here and catch the steady baseline of the song playing hoping that that will somehow lull you into a state of calm.

This new weed sucked shit. All stems, all seeds, and got you high for about 30 seconds. You were going to kill Willoughby when you saw him. Honestly the only baseball player in this house you liked and even he was about to get moved right onto the shit list with the rest of the men of this house. 

Your friends had badgered you endlessly all week to ask Willoughby for the invite, not that you really need to even ask him. Girls? More than one? The baseball boys were already salivating like it was their last meal on death row.

The standards in this place were in the fucking basement. 

Some would call you a pessimist. Angry, bitchy, snippy, negative, the whole gambit and they might be right. But college was a fucking weird ass place that made your skin crawl and your anxiety spike and all you wanted to do was smoke your green, pass your classes, and watch your cartoons in peace, please and thank you. 

And then his voice cut through your slow building haze like a serrated knife on a chalkboard. Made of sandpaper.

“Sweetheart! I thought Willoughby mentioned you’d be here, and why am I not surprised you’re toking it up alone in our kitchen, my favorite little stoner weirdo.”

Finnegan.

The absolute ultimate fuck. 

Mustached, wide shoulders, shaggy blonde, crisp baby blues, he was everything your vagina yearned for until he opened his stupid mouth. And of course that was just as pretty as the rest of him too. 

You’d met him for the first time freshman year. Fresh faced and thinking the world was truly your oyster, he’d popped into your life in intro to philosophy and swept you away with his silky, fancy words and the fact that he looked like that. 

He’d invited you to the first baseball party you’d ever gone to and made you a special promise that he would be your knight in shining armor for the night. That he’d be waiting for your arrival, was counting down the minutes till you showed up at his door and he could dance the night away with you.

That was until you saw him sucking face with Tracy. Who was also in your intro to philosophy class. 

Obviously, you’d hated him to his core ever since. 

But for some reason he’d stuck around. Always kept tabs on you, always had a class with you, always found you at any party, bar, disco, literally fucking anywhere and it made you want to tear your hair out. 

He was your pretty boy kryptonite and you needed him to leave you the fuck alone.

“Oh Finny. Finny, Finnegan, fuckhead. You know I thought I’d somehow be able to avoid you tonight but it seems like my stalker persists no matter the obstacles.”

Smoke trickles from between your clenched teeth and he has the audacity to stare at your lips and grin.

Fucking grin!!!

“You wound me princess. Ain’t even gonna share that little pinner of yours, I mean the absolute cruelty of it all.”

The grins still blazing on his lips but in Finn fashion he has to play up his part. 

Clutching at his pearls, leaning against the kitchen counter like you’d just stabbed him straight through. Your eyes roll so far back in your head they almost launch themselves out of your skull. 

“No Finn, I’m not gonna share with the likes of you. Go find Will and get him to roll you one, he’s the one I got the weed from anyways. Or maybe go find some other poor unsuspecting girl to do the deed for you, but you ain’t getting shit from me. You know the rules sweet Finny: ass, cash, or grass and god only knows I ain’t taking any of those three from you.” 

You regret those last few words the second they enter the air between you.

Because Finnegan’s eyes drop straight to your mouth again and now he’s crowding you into the corner of the counter. 

“Oh sweetheart if you just let me show you what this ass can do I think you would be singing quite a different tune. You think I’m all bravado and show but you and I both know the two of us could be quite a duo. I just know you’re absolutely unreal beneath that veneer of hatred you slap on.”

He’s still staring at your lips, the joint hanging limply between them as you try and control your breath and not cough up a lung. 

Two can play this fucking game.

You take a thick drag, the tip burning bright orange and crackling like cinders and his eyes only deepen in shade. The smoke curls out and up into your nose and he stares at you his jaw dropping a little slack as you play him like the fucking fiddle he is. 

“Finn.” Your index finger trails up his arm as you ash the joint in the sink, and you can feel the muscles of his bicep twitch with the contact. “If you think I’m gonna let you touch me you’ve lost your god damn mind. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go find some peace and quiet. Away from you.”

Your voice is sticky sweet and he barely registers that you’re telling him off for the millionth time tonight until you’re traipsing out of the kitchen at lightning speed before you do something else you’ll regret. 

He got too fucking close this time around. You let him get too fucking close. 

Your feet stomp quick up the stairs to the only safe place you’d ever been able to find in this house. 

The roof. That blissful open space, like the crispest breath of fresh air it tasted almost minty. Your hands dig into your pockets looking for your weed, your lighter, and your rolling papers-

Fuck.

Of course you’d forgotten papers, predicable as always and fucking annoying as hell and you’re about to turn back down the stairs when your eyes land on something sitting on the windowsill. 

Finn’s wood pipe. 

You loved to hate it but it was his calling card. Stupid and quirky and so perfectly him that the sight of it made you heart twist just a little. 

Not that you would ever fucking admit that. 

Well beggars can’t be chooser as they say. 

It’s deceptively crisp out on the roof as you shuffle around other groups till you get to your super secret corner on the far side of the house. No one ever seems to want to venture this far and you could smoke in peace and tranquility as the rest of the party raged somewhere far, far away. 

The bowls packed, green just catching a smolder and you have to admit the stupid Sherlock Holmes pipe is kinda fun. Maybe you’d leave a fresh bowl packed for sweet Finn as a secret thank you gift. 

Maybe this weed was stronger than you thought. 

“Alrighty first you don’t share your joint, then you verbally assault me in my own house, and now you’re smoking out of my pipe? You really are trying to start a fight with me this evening now aren’t ya?”

Your eyes are red rimmed and your brain has that pleasant haze coating every synapse and you can’t find it in you anymore to really fight Finn right now. The stars look too damn good and the tree has hit too damn deep to let your hackles rise.

“You know maybe I’ve been giving you a bit of a hard time, but you damn well deserve it.” You smile around the pipe as you take another drag, but this time you pass it to Finn as he sits down just a little closer than usual. 

His fingers snag against yours as you pass it and you both flinch a bit at the contact, sparkles zipping up your arms.

He stays quiet this time around, pulling puffs as you both watch people flit around the grass below you, the party continuing into this seemingly never ending night. 

Friday’s, they really were something.

Your knees knock, fingers catching again as he passes the pipe back to you. Another pull fills your lungs and you lean back, back, back until your back presses down on the cool paneling of the roof and you let the smoke drift up and away among those pretty little stars. 

“Finn you can just be so fucking annoying sometimes, I just wanna shut you up for like five seconds so we can all take a fucking breather.”

He laughs at that. Real and deep, curling around the base of your spine as he turns to stare down at you and the feeling spreads all the way to your fingertips. All the way to your toes.

“I’m well aware, but it’s sorta a part of my charm. I’m just waiting for it to final start charming you.”

Your eyes click to his, haze lifting for a split moment, and his eyes twinkle almost brighter than the stars. 

“That’s such a fucking line and you know that shit doesn’t work on me. Fool me once and all of that jazz.” But you can’t stop staring at him and now his eyes color puzzled, a little hazy as he tries to decipher your words. “Oh come on, freshman year? You invited me to the party with all your fancy little words that you love to spin for me to only find you eating Tracy’s lips straight off her face? Honestly she still talks about that night to this day so I guess in a weird way kudos to you but man that did sting a bit.”

You chuckle around another pull and you go to pass it back but he’s clearly no longer interested in that. He seems very intent on memorizing every detail of your face under the stars and you can’t help but wiggle a little under his hyper focused gaze. 

“I-I didn’t know that you were there that night. McReynolds told me you’d left with some dude and Tracy was more than willing to fill in that blank.”

Oh fuck.

You’re both just staring at each other as moment after moment click like puzzles pieces. Every snippy comment, every lingering glance, every class, every time you just happened to run into each other all no longer strange coincidences and some secret hatred. Every little moment stitching itself together till it left just you and Finn. 

And there’s that fucking grin again.

But it’s softer this time, a little less sleazy and a little more lovely and now you’re sure his eyes are brighter than any star. 

Your own lips tick up with a soft, nervous smile.

His fingers card between yours and he brings your knuckles up to his lips, stupid mustache tickling your skin in ways that make you shiver. 

“I feel like nows the time to return to my earlier question since you finally shared some of that green with me, so what do I owe ya? Ass, cash, or more grass?”

You snort into the air between you and his grin splits into a megawatt smile and you finally let yourself tumble head first into kissing stupid, idiot, fuckhead Finnegan.

“Ass, 100%.”

~~~~~

tell me what you think if anyone is actually reading this because i'm bored and this site is lonely and i just want some weirdo friends who also think mustaches are peak sexiness. alright i need to go to sleep the psychosis is taking over :P