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seeingivy · 9 months

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Heyy Ronnie! It's my birthday today. I was wondering if you could do a reader x gojo fic where reader is kinda sad on her bday? Like people are showing her love but due to bad previous bdays she feels low sometimes during the day? And she feels like she isn't worthy of the love she's getting now after these years (from friends and parents)? Ofc satoru is by her side telling her good things hehe🥹

birthday pick me up

satoru x f!reader

content: good ol birthday fluff, dad gojo w megs + tsumiki, no evil suguru bc idagf this my fake world we are all happy in it

an: MY BELOVED BABIE!!! I SPEED RAN THIS SO I COULD MAKE SURE IT GOT TO YOU ON YOUR BIRTHDAY. as a fellow emo birthday sharer (the stories in this fic are literally taken from my own birthdays that were horrible lol), i hope you find a way to make this day wonderful. spoiler non spoiler for the fic, another year you fight on is always something to celebrate!!! I wish a wonderful year of happiness and love ahead for you sweetie pie, I hope you have a wonderful, wonderful day <3

as you write up the mission report, your fingers splayed right against your temples trying to soothe the tension, the root cause of all problems in your life - your very ridiculous boyfriend - sets something down on your desk.

you look up to find a very cheeky grin on his face, teetering on that fine line that he toes between bothersome and endearing as he waits for your response.

“satoru.”

“yes, my love?”

“why did you just give me a muffin with wax on it?”

he frowns, his upper lip jutting out into a soft pout.

“it’s a cupcake, baby.”

“where’s the frosting, master chef?”

he yanks his blindfold down, a guilty smile pressed on his face.

“in my stomach. you just took so long on your mission and i got so hungry that i just ate some. just a teeny tiny bite.”

you lift the sad excuse of a cupcake into the air between you two, glaring at him with your eyes narrowed. he gives you a sheepish smile in response, as he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead in apology.

“what’s with the wax in the middle?”

“that’s a candle.”

“why is there a candle in my non-cupcake?”

“it’s august first, sweet thing! it’s the start of y/n month!” he responds, so matter of factly like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

you now realize what’s happening. and you’re going to stop it in your tracks.

back in december, you surprised satoru and megumi - deeming the entire month of december their month and giving them little surprises and gifts for the entire thirty one days. it was more for megumi than satoru at first.

“megs.”

“yes, y/n?”

“what flavor birthday cake do you want, kid? we’ll order it soon so it’s all nice and ready to be picked up on friday, okay?”

you turn around to find him sitting there with a blank face. you walk up to his side, leaning over so your eyes can be level with his.

“are you one of those kids who hates cake? we can do ice cream, muffins, even vegetables if that’s what tickles your fancy. whatever you want, okay?”

and when he mutters out those six words, it stops you in your tracks all together.

“i’ve never had birthday cake before. i don’t know which one i like.”

after he admitted that to you, you made sure that you and satoru went the entire six miles for him, so that he’d love his birthday, so he could feel special. because of course that asshole toji never did it for him.

you ordered every flavor of cake so he could pick a favorite (vanilla won) and got piles and piles of gifts with the gojo clan money. and since satoru is satoru, you had to make sure he had his fair share of celebration that month too since they were both born in december.

you never expected them to do it back. and you didn’t want him to either. and it’s not that you don’t appreciate it or don’t love him for wanting to go the extra mile for you because you do, it’s just that…

you hate birthdays.

after a string of misfortunes year after year, of counting down the days just to be kicked down, has turned you off from the holiday all together.

after inviting everyone to your fifteenth birthday at the bowling alley, just to have no one show up. to sit there in embarrassment, convincing your parents for hours on end that people will show up, that they’ll eat the cake your mom spent hours making just to take the entire thing home and get an embarrassing reminder every time you opened the fridge.

or your nineteenth birthday. when your parents had an important graduation party to go to and your siblings were out of town, when you spent the entire day wallowing in your room, your phone absent of notifications. because no one remembered and those who did didn’t care enough to stay.

year after year, a cruel reminder that a day that’s supposed to be special, that’s supposed to be about you, is anything but.

you can make sure that megumi, tsumiki, and satoru don’t feel the same. that their special days aren’t tainted. but yours is already far beyond repair and you’d like to keep it where it is. deep in your mind, where no one can touch it.

“satoru. can we not do y/n month? i-i don’t want to celebrate my birthday.”

satoru, for all intents and purposes, looks like a kicked dog.

“what do you mean? you love birthdays!”

“i love your birthday, ‘toru. and miki and megs too but i don’t want all that for mine. it’s- let’s just pretend its a normal day. i’ll go to work, we’ll eat dinner, and then you can be nice to me and i can get some at the end of the night, if you know what i mean.” you say, giving him a cheeky grin.

he brings his hands up to your cheeks, cupping your face in his hands.

“but it’s your birthday, silly. i’ll let you get some, obviously, but we have to do more than that.” he responds, frowning.

you lean into his touch, his hands moving to snake around your waist as you sigh into his chest.

“toru. the best present you can give me is if we do nothing. i-i don’t like to think about my birthday because it makes me sad and i just want to have a normal day with the three of you. i-i don’t expect you to understand but can you just do that for me? is that okay?” you ask, looking up at his sparkly blue eyes, in the few moments they’re free from his blindfold.

he leans forward, to press the softest kiss to your lips, before pulling back.

“okay. no birthday.”

you should have known better that satoru gojo does not take no for an answer.

you wake up in the morning to two very smiley faces and one teeny tiny smile staring at you. satoru, tsumiki, and megumi are all wearing matching purple birthday hats, surrounded in a plethora of streamers in your bedroom. the second you flicker your eyes open, they all pop confetti into the air, the sound catching you off guard.

“oh my-”

“happy birthday, my love!” satoru responds, excitedly leaning over to kiss you. he leans too hard because then he’s knocked you over, the two of you tangled up in the sheets and the confetti falling on your bed.

you sit up as megumi and tsumki climb onto the bed with you, tsumki pressing a wet kiss to your cheek while megumi tucks himself into your arm to give you a hug.

“how did you even do this while i was still in the room?”

satoru props himself up to pull one of the matching party hats onto your head and press a kiss to your forehead as he explains.

“you sleep like the walking dead, babe. we literally popped the confetti once before and it didn’t even wake you up.”

you take in the room in earnest this time, the three of them intently watching you. there are sparkly gold streamers hanging from the wall, a little handmade sign that has tsumiki and megumi written all over it taped to the wall, and a sweet little tray of your favorite breakfast on the side.

you turn to your left to find satoru looking at you, that stupid, stupid lovestruck grin on his face as he stares you down.

“you like it, babe?”

“satoru, you didn’t have to, i just-”

he clamps his hand over your mouth, feigning his best serious look.

“i held off for the other twenty four days of august babe. i had so much planned and i threw it all out for you. but you’re going to let me have this one day and do everything i say because it’s your birthday.”

“shouldn’t you listen to me because i’m the birthday girl?”

“i only accept that rule when the birthday girl isn’t being stupid.”

“hey, you just-”

“did you like it, y/n?”

you place one of your hands in megumi’s hair, who's still tucked into your side, as you crush satoru’s hand in your other hand.

“it really is sweet. thank you. i’ve never had anyone do something like this for me before.”

satoru gives you a satisfied smile as he leans forward, pressing another kiss to your face.

“get used to it. you’ve got like fifty more birthdays with me.” he responds, hopping off the bed as he sets the tray in front of you.

satoru wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to go all out. because after breakfast, he takes the three of you out on the town, to go bowling. which is something you were originally against, because in all honestly, you haven’t returned to an alley since your fifteenth birthday.

but he drags you in by the wrist and you have so much fun that you forget about the entire thing. satoru’s cheater ass runs down the alley when his ball went into the gutter, tsumiki spends the entire time looking for a pink bowling ball and can’t find one, and megumi gets way too excited about the all you can eat nachos that he accidentally ate too many and almost threw up.

the entire thing is so silly and so genuinely fun that you don’t think about sitting in the alley alone as a kid even once. you’re laughing too hard to even remember.

and when you get home, your entire apartment is decked out this time and all your friends are jumping out at you the second you walk in, pressing warm kisses to your cheek and wishing you a happy birthday.

of course he did a surprise party. satoru rents out a karaoke machine, makes them all play a game about who knew you best (nanami won, satoru was pissed), made you open gifts, and brought you a real cake with frosting and candles on it.

and the entire thing makes you so happy, you could cry.

you stand by the half eaten cake as everyone winds down in the foyer, stuck in their own conversations. and the entire day, the entire ordeal that satoru went to plan this makes your heart squelch as you watch it in front of you.

but there’s some part of you. thirteen, fifteen, nineteen year old you that still sits in your head. that remembers that pitiful feeling of being alone on your birthday and convinces you that this is a one time thing.

that it’s the exception, not the rule. that your birthday is nothing to celebrate, still.

you feel a hand snake around your waist and a pair of lips on your neck as satoru wraps himself around you, his voice warm on your neck.

“did you enjoy today, birthday girl?”

“yeah. I love you, ‘toru. thank you.”

you lean to the side to press a kiss to his cheek, before you focus back in on megumi and nanami’s very intense chess game that’s going on.

“princess.”

“hm?”

“i know you. tell me what’s going on in that head. you wanted chocolate instead of red velvet, didn’t you?”

“well, when you put it like that-”

“red velvet and chocolate are the same. it’s just dyed a different color!”

you laugh as you turn around in his arms, knotting your knuckles together around his neck.

“no, satoru. you made it perfect and i loved every second.”

“then?”

“it’s just weird, love. i’m not sure how to explain.”

satoru leans down to put his hands around your waist and lift you up onto the counter. you’re both level height now, your face a few inches from him as you try your best to explain the block in your chest.

“i love that you did this for me, please don’t think i didn’t. but some part of me can’t help but feel less than right now.” you whisper, his eyes washing over in concern.

“less than what?”

“i just mean- this is the first time someone has done this for me and i-” you respond, your voice cracking as those hot tears fall out of your eyes.

he brings his hand up to your cheek, his touch warm.

“sweetheart. you know you deserve this right? big fancy birthday parties? breakfast in bed and handmade decorations and birthday cards?”

you can feel the tears pouring out of your eyes even harder at his words, his voice so soft that it makes every untouched wound in your mind hurt.

“i-i know everyone deserves it logically but it’s just been so many years and no-no one ever wanted to do it for me that i just-no one even cared and i still feel like they don’t-”

satoru brings his hands around your waist as he leans the majority of his frame into yours, his mouth hovering right by your ear. he’s whispering soft words into your ear as he tells you to calm down, his hands rubbing small circles into your back.

“y/n. your birthday is very special to me.”

you bring your hands up to your eyes as you wipe your tears away, pouting at him through the redness on your face.

“why’s that?”

“everyday, i’m grateful you were born. that you’re in my life, that you’re with me, that you’re in this world.”

he brings your knuckles up to his mouth as he presses a soft kiss, a beaming, warm smile on his face.

“the day you were born should always be celebrated. with this intensity, if not more. it’s another day that you, another year that you’re on this earth here with me. with us, living and breathing.”

he presses a kiss to your cheek before whispering the final words in your ear, that shatter your resolve completely.

“what is there not to celebrate, sweetheart? it’s just another year i got to spend with you. another year i get to watch you push on past what bothers you, to stay soft when everything around you is hard. another year you keep fighting. that is always, always something to celebrate.”

you wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you into his hug, the hold so tight that you can physically feel the pressure in your chest. you must have stirred up some commotion with your crying because they’re all standing at your side now, irritated looks on all of their faces.

“you made her cry, asshole.” shoko says, rolling her eyes at him.

“you give us a whole lecture about how this day needs to be treated like a national holiday and then your dumbass made her cry?” suguru says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

you pull away from your hug, laughing at their insistence as satoru starts defending himself, and you can’t help but feel it.

excited for your birthday next year.

because you know satoru and you know he’s already planning out the ten miles for y/n month for the next year.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

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missmaywemeetagain · 6 months

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A Pink Scarf Thanksgiving 💗🧣🦃

A very happy Thanksgiving weekend to those who celebrate! ❤️

This blurb came out of nowhere, in a fit of Thanksgiving inspiration (and a special thanks to Norah for inadvertently nudging me towards a Thanksgiving prompt)! Because of this, it is not overly edited or revised. I will say, I'm not sure yet just how canon I want this to be in terms of the PS Universe, but I figure it came out of me for a reason, so I decided to go with it for now.

I think my current moody headspace influenced the vibe for this--for us fans, it's a slightly indulgent "what could have been" scenario. But that's PS in a nutshell, isn't it? 🥹

Anyhoo, I hope this hits you in the feels! And I hope you know just how much you matter to me, even though I've been a bit MIA recently.

Much love xoxoxox, Madi 💗

TW: It's 1977, so...medical issues/trauma/strife. Panic attack. Thanksgiving stress. A little hint of sexy at the end bc I couldn't leave you on a melancholy note! 💋

A Pink Scarf Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving 1977

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. P, but the oven is out. Lamar took a peek, but the thing is as cold as ice and don’t look like it’s gonna be warm any time soon,” Mary says, looking as distraught as you feel. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch it sooner.”

The naked, trussed, and cold turkey on the counter mocks you.

“No, no, it’s not your fault, Mary. We’ll…figure something out,” you try and reassure her, but it feels like a weight has just been placed on your chest. You pinch the bridge of your nose to stave off the massive headache that began early this morning when Nicky barged into your room at the crack of dawn sobbing because he’d had a nightmare that Mr. Gobble Gobble, a monster turkey, had eaten Daddy instead of the other way around.

This was one of many nightmares that your poor little boy had suffered since August, but certainly the first starring a murderous Thanksgiving turkey. He’d barely been consolable and neither of you had gotten back to sleep.

You take a deep breath, holding back the tears that threaten your vision.

Today needs to be perfect. It was supposed to be perfect.

But you should have known. After all, this year has been far from perfect.

You force yourself away from the wave of despair trying to overcome you. No, we’ve been lucky, you think. It could be so much worse.

Unfortunately, your nerves are shot, which makes sense considering the last few months you’ve had. You’ve kept it together so well. You’ve had to. For Nicky. For Elvis. But that tried resolve begins to crumble with the pressure of it all, as though everything that has happened is hitting you all at once.

Now you have a house full of hungry people, Elvis will be home any minute, and your usual quick-footed problem-solving skills have flown out the window. Your hands begin to tremble.

The panic swells as the kitchen swarms with people looking to you for direction, and in that moment, Nicky runs through the adults, chased by one of the other kids. It happens so fast—you barely have time to register the commotion before disaster strikes.

You watch in horror as the kids fly into the sideboard, knocking the precious side dishes and desserts onto the floor with a resounding crash.

The collective gasp of the adults in the room sends your panic into overdrive.

Thanksgiving is officially ruined.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you shout. The entire room goes silent. It’s not everyday Elvis Presley’s calm and collected wife loses her shit. No, that is something usually reserved for the man himself.

“Well, that’s not quite the welcome home I was expecting,” a familiar baritone chuckles from behind you.

You whip around, your bottom lip quivering. “Elvis?” you whisper.

He’s standing right here—standing! On his own!—leaning on his cane for support, a twinkle in his eye that you haven’t seen in ages. One you weren’t sure you’d ever see again. And the sight of him finally being home again after so many months in the hospital is more than you can bear. After standing tall and strong for him for so long, you crumble into a thousand pieces. An uncontrollable sob chokes out of you, your tears overflowing.

“Aw, honey,” he says quietly, slowly making his way to you, waving everyone else out of the room with the commanding flick of his hand. They exit in a flash with their concerned and pitied looks. Not that you care, because the second you can, you are falling into your husband’s open arms.

“I’m so sorry…your homecoming…it’s all ruined,” you sob into his chest, being mindful of the long scar down the center. Feeling the warmth of him engulfing you is overwhelming. His scent, untainted by antiseptic and hospital smells for the first time in a long time, swirls around you, caressing your senses.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay. Let it all out, Satnin,” he coos, stroking your hair with his free hand. “Hers has been so strong for hims, but hims is home now.”

The tenderness of his baby talk in your ear sends a fresh wave of tears to your eyes, staining the silk of his blue dress shirt. He’s dressed up, you think absently, knowing this is a huge thing. Even before that fateful August morning, he’d been mostly wearing his tracksuits when he wasn’t performing. He’d been so uncomfortable and in pain, you’d understood why.

You bury your head into his neck, pent up emotions violently shuddering through your body as you let your tears fall freely for the first time in months. You can barely breathe with how you wedge yourself into him, with how he holds you tight. He’s so much slimmer now that the edema is gone and his colon has been tended to, you realize, but he’s still soft in all the right places. You still fit against him perfectly, and his grip on you makes you realize he understands just how raw you are.

You cry more, thinking about how the last time he was here was when you’d found him unresponsive on the bathroom floor. How you’d never been so scared in your entire life, not even when you yourself had brushes with death.

It's a miracle he’s here at all. None of you, doctors included, were sure if he’d ever step through the doors of Graceland again. Not after the heart attack, or the coma, or the complications from his various surgeries. It had been one blow after another, for weeks, months. But somehow, in true stubborn Elvis fashion, he’d pulled through.

He’d gritted his way through healing, through physical therapy, through weaning off so many of the meds he’d been on before and during his hospital stay, and he hated every second of it. He’d been livid about the colostomy, but you’d had no care for his vanity when you’d had to make the decision to save his life. You didn’t care if he hated you because at least he’d be alive to tell you so. He’d gotten past it, mostly, especially once he was feeling better.

The entire ordeal had terrified him. Something had changed in him in those weeks he’d lingered between life and death, something he wasn’t ready to talk about just yet, but even with all the setbacks, his determination to come home was intensely motivating.

Which is why you’d wanted it to be special, and why it being Thanksgiving had so much meaning. Elvis was finally coming home. Then everything had gone to hell in a handbasket.

“I wanted everything to be perfect for you. You deserve it,” you say quietly, sniffling, holding him as tight as you dare without wanting to hurt him.

“Darlin’, just bein’ back home with you and Nicky is more than I ever dreamed of. I don’t need no big fancy dinner or welcome home committee. I jus’ need you.”

You pull back then, your heart about ready to burst, and look at him. He looks downright debonair with his silvery hair (which you’d convinced him not to dye back after it had grown out during his illness), freshly cut and shorter than it had been in years, fluffy but brushed back off his face in a style reminiscent to when he was younger. His apple cheeks are full and have more color than they’ve had in months.

“What?” he asks looking down at you, almost bashful under your gaze.

You reach up and cup his freshly shaven cheek, smooth and soft under your palm. Those deep ocean blue eyes of his threaten to swallow you whole. Staring into their depths, you don’t want to imagine a world without him in it anymore.

“I just love you,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out without choking up again. “So much.”

Eyes shining, Elvis pulls you up and into him. His lips are as sweet and as soft as you remember when they press into yours. The kiss is full of yearning, of love, and of everything you two have been through the past twenty years. It’s truly like coming home.

The kiss turns hungry then, more so than you expect. It’s been so very long since you’ve had each other in this way and it surprises you how readily your body remembers, despite all the pain and trauma you both have experienced. You open for him, and he moans when his tongue brushes against yours. A fiery wave of heat blisters through you then, hastily banishing away your tears.

Despite all the challenges you’ve faced over the years, you’ve always felt the pull of him in your soul. You’ve always wanted him, neededhim, even when you convinced yourself to forget because you thought you couldn’t have him. And now, after almost losing him for good, you can think of nothing else but him. The warmth of his body pressed against yours causes you to melt. The way his lips and hands roam over the curves of your body sends you soaring.

You thought you’d never have this again. It had almost broken you.

“I’m here, baby. I’m home, I promise,” he mutters into your skin, as if reading your mind.

You kiss him deeply, yanking him into you by his pretty shirt, taking his breath away.

He pulls away and presses his forehead to yours, and you can feel him sway on his feet, a little unbalanced.

“Good news—looks like Little Elvis is back in working order,” he says breathlessly, pressing his thickening erection into your belly. He seems pleasantly surprised.

Honestly, with everything dire that happened, it hadn’t even crossed your mind as a concern, but it makes sense that it could be an issue. You grin up at him with the knowledge that it isn’t, then roll your hips against him.

He groans. “Bad news—not sure I have the energy to do all the things I wanna to ya, and we got a house full of people.” Doesn’t stop him from grabbing a handful of your bottom, however.

“Oh, that’s never stopped us before, now has it?” you muse, walking your fingers gently down his chest and over his belly to palm his length.

“Lord have mercy, woman,” he moans, his eyes fluttering closed. You notice him lean more heavily on his cane and instantly ease up. One blue eye opens with a quirked brow. “Hey now, I din’t say stop.”

You laugh. “Well, it seems dinner is ruined anyhow,” you say, surveying the disaster of broken dishes and scattered food all over the floor, and the cold, raw turkey on the counter. “Maybe we better get you upstairs to rest.”

Rest is, of course, the furthest thing from your mind now, which you let him know with a little squeeze to his butt.

“Mmhmm, yes, I definitely need to lie down,” he mumbles as he peppers you with kisses. Suddenly, he freezes against you. “But, honey, I-I-I’m not sure how much I can do,” he whispers, a wave of uncertainty washing over him.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll take it slow. Real slow. One step at a time, like fumbling teenagers,” you say lightly, cupping his face and looking up into his eyes. “Or we can just kiss and hold each other. I’m just happy you’re here, baby.”

He nods, seemingly reassured by this. “I know I don’t say it as much as I should, but I thank God every day for you and for what we have together, Satnin,” he says quietly, brushing your hair behind your ear, kissing you gently. “I love you.”

Your heart and body ache for him. “We better get you upstairs to “rest”before I start crying again,” you snuffle, laughing, slowly walking with him toward the stairs.

“Well, tears aren’t entirely off the table…I can think of a couple good ways I can make you cry,” he teases, nibbling at your ear.

“Elvis Aaron, you did not just…” you gasp.

“What??” he says innocently. “Am I wrong?”

A shiver runs down your spine and settles in the heat of your belly.

You’ve missed him. Terribly.

But you do have so much to be thankful for this year, namely for the infuriatingly talented, generous, and stubborn man you married and are gingerly leading up the stairs for the first time in months.

In fact, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#a pink scarf thanksgiving #pink scarf universe #elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis 1977 #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis fic #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis imagine #big daddy elvis #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction

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strictlyfavorites · 5 months

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Jimmy Stewart & Post-Traumatic Stress-Months after winning his 1941 Academy Award for best actor in “The Philadelphia Story,” Jimmy Stewart, left Hollywood and joined the US Army. He was the first big-name movie star to enlist in World War II. An accomplished private pilot, the 33-year-old Hollywood icon became a US Army Air Force aviator, earning his 2nd Lieutenant commission in early 1942. With his celebrity status, he was assigned to attending rallies and training younger pilots. Stewart, however, wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to fly combat missions. By 1944, frustrated and feeling the war was passing him by, he asked his commanding officer to transfer him to a unit deploying to Europe. His request was reluctantly granted. Stewart, now a Captain, was sent to England, where he spent the next 18 months flying B-24 Liberator bombers over Germany. Top brass tried to keep the popular movie star from flying over enemy territory. But Stewart would hear nothing of it. Determined to lead by example, he assigned himself to every combat mission he could. By the end of the war he was one of the most respected and decorated pilots in his unit. But his wartime service came at a high personal price. In the final months of WWII he was grounded for being “flak happy,” today called Post Traumatic Stress (PTS). When he returned to the US in August 1945, Stewart was a changed man. He had lost so much weight that he looked sickly. He rarely slept, and when he did he had nightmares of planes exploding and men falling through the air screaming (in one mission alone his unit had lost 13 planes and 130 men, most of whom he knew personally). He was depressed, couldn’t focus, and refused to talk to anyone about his war experiences. His acting career was all but over. As one of Stewart’s biographers put it, “Every decision he made [during the war] was going to preserve life or cost lives. He took back to Hollywood all the stress that he had built up.” In 1946 he got his break. He took the role of George Bailey, the suicidal father in “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Actors and crew of the set realized that in many of the disturbing scenes of George Bailey unraveling in front of his family, Stewart wasn’t acting. His PTSD was being captured on film for millions to see. But despite Stewart’s inner turmoil, making the movie was therapeutic for the combat veteran. He would go on to become one of the most accomplished and loved actors in American history. When asked in 1941 why he wanted to leave his acting career to fly combat missions over Nazi Germany, he said, “This country’s conscience is bigger than all the studios in Hollywood put together, and the time will come when we’ll have to fight.” This holiday season, as many of us watch the classic Christmas film, “It’s A Wonderful Life,” it’s also a fitting time to remember the sacrifices of those who gave up so much to serve their country during wartime.

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sombrashe · 3 months

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COD Characters & Their Favorite Holidays

Gaz: Easter Holiday

He absolutely adores all the bright colored flowers that his church sets out every Easter Sunday

He may be a grown adult, but you will catch him absolutely demolishing some little kids at an Easter egg hunt

Ghost: Boxing Day

It's one of the only times where he can exchange his unwanted gifts he got from other holidays

He'll spend hours, sometimes days, going to the shops and trading out unwanted shaving creams (he can't even grow a beard ??) for things he actually needs like new socks

Price: The months of August-May

This man does not miss a single game, it doesn't matter if he's on active deployment or not he will not miss a football game

His team is always going to be Manchester United (he actually has a cousin that plays, but no one has to know that)

Soap: First Footing

Not sure if this is a real holiday but come on a holiday dedicated to being the first person in a house where the goal is to be seen as good fortune and he gets to bring a bottle of whiskey? Automatic winner

His dark locks and boisterous attitude always brings good luck for the year to his family, even baby Johnny would be forced to stand outside with his mama holding a much to large bottle of whiskey as he waits for midnight to strike

Alejandro: Benito Juárez Day

A day dedicated to a high ranking man who did so much for his country? Count him in

It's one of the few public holidays he actively participates in (even though he's usually armed and in uniform) and will take the time to honor the former president by participating in tournaments and winning each one

Rudy: Día del Niño

Rudy love's children, has always wanted a few of his own one day and 100% celebrates all the children that bring light and happiness to the country

He showers his nephews and nieces in toys, sweets, and shopping sprees and doesn't stop once they turn 18 he only stops once they're seen as a "high ranking member of society" according to him (they have to have a job and can support themselves without help)

Valeria: El Día de Muertos

It's not so much that it's a favorite holiday more so it's the only holiday she feels is worth celebrating

No matter what she is in the middle of doing, she will always stop and excuse herself for those two days and dedicate them to adding offerings to her ancestors ofrenda

Graves: INDEPENDENCE DAY RAHHHHHH 🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸 (Christmas Eve/Day)

THROWING TEA INTO THE HARBOR RAHHHHHH 🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅

(He's a family man, so a holiday dedicated to seeing family and spending time with them is right up his alley)

(He spends months saving up for this holiday so he can buy exactly what everyone wants so that he can make the holiday that much more special)

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#call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john price #john soap mactavish #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #valeria garza #phillip graves #operator writes

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cacoetheswriting · 1 year

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celebrity skin. (part four)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 4.7k summary: as the relationship progresses, strong feelings develop.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, use of pet names, mutual pining, oblivious idiots in love, talk of bullying & past trauma related to bullying, mentions alcohol consumption, family issues / family drama— if i missed anything, pls let me know!

a/n: this is a little filler chapter, but there’s details here that will be important later. also, it’s just a little happiness and fluff in the lives of eddie and his favourite popstar ;)

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

Eddie is used to dealing with bullies.

His entire life consisted of people — mostly strangers — hating on him for one reason or the other. No matter the setting he found himself in, someone always had an opinion and they were never afraid to voice it.

Whether it was to gossip about the way he was raised, his family situation, (which frankly wasn’t anybody’s business, not like they cared). Or to voice their distaste about the trailer park Eddie grew up in, unsafe and unclean. Then there were the folks that had a never ending issue with his personality, the shit he found interesting that differed slightly to most, and the music he was into, heavier than the charts. And for the more shallow crowd, his physical appearance always caused a wave of upset since how he chose to dress was a clear indicator of who he was on the inside.

The high school bullies, like Jason Carver and his gang of dipshits, well, they never let Eddie forget he was less than. On most days, he didn’t let that bother him. He had thick skin, Uncle Wayne made sure he knew from an age arguably too young that people were assholes and Eddie should never let anyone get into his head. Hence the provocations with Hawkins’ finest, that often led to fights he knew he could easily win, but never did since Uncle Wayne also said, “be the bigger man”.

The music industry jackasses who wouldn’t give him a chance ‘cause Eddie and his band didn’t fit whatever image was considered hot at the time. Rejection after rejection. Bullshit reasons that made him angry, if not for himself, than for his friends that followed him out to Los Angeles, chasing a dream he’s had for years.

Then there were the critics: “who told these guys they’re good enough to try?”, “poor quality of lyrics and an even poorer performance”, “listening to the latest Corroded Coffin record is time I will never get back. sadly.”, “and for the next group of friends who think they have what it takes, let this be a lesson, you really do not”. To Eddie, these were empty words by people that hid behind a pen and paper, never bold enough to say it to his face. Although, it definitely hurt more when it was a fan gone rogue. Displeased by whatever shenanigan the band got up to and lashing out in the only way they knew how — cruel words.

Yes, Eddie was used to dealing with nonsense and he thought by now, at this stage in his life, he’d faced all of the bullies the world had to offer.

That is until he got involved with you.

Associating himself with someone of your stature was not a mistake by any means. In fact, Eddie would say the only mistake in his relationship with you was the time between your first meeting in August of ‘92 and your reconciliation all those months later. Time lost, wasted.

And Eddie was not an idiot. He knew that once people found out that ‘Corroded Coffin frontman and America’s sweetest popstar’ were some sort of an item, they’d voice their opinion, warranted or not. He was prepared for that, just like he was prepared to protect you from the usual bullshit he normally endured in the tabloids since he could take it, but you were pure and didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.

Granted, he didn’t expect he’d have to stand up for you so soon. He also didn’t expect the one person really rooting against your relationship with him, the one person he’d have to look out for amongst the group of usual suspects, would be your very own grandmother.

Yet here you all were.

Pacific Dining Car was exactly the type of restaurant Eddie usually avoided. Too much history in a place like this, attracting too many tourists who wanted to snap photos of the building featured in that one Chinatown scene. Privacy didn’t exist in a public setting like this one and Eddie knew to be careful with his reactions, after being burned once too many times in the past: ‘Eddie Munson, guest from hell.’.

The dinner location, chosen by your grandmother, also clearly bothered you. Knee bouncing, brushing erratically against the rockstar’s own leg, as you looked around to every misplaced sound, anxious of who could be listening in on the conversation with the matriarch of your family.

It didn’t help that the line of questioning offered by your grandmother was nothing short of hostile and with every passing second, you felt increasingly upset because you never got a chance to warn Eddie about her clear bias and obvious distaste towards him.

But on the outside, Eddie seems calm. His large, ring-clad hand is spread across your bouncing thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your covered skin. He holds eye contact with your Nana from across the table, unafraid of her words and how downright rude she is being. He even makes a joke at his own expense, earning himself a brow raise, as if to say “I didn’t know you had it in you”.

Even if it’s all a charade. Eddie knows not to let the bullies see him sweat, and at the end of the day, the longer he’s sat at this horrendous dinner with your grandmother, the more he’s convinced that’s exactly what she is: a big bully.

“And tell me about your parents, Edward?”

The hold he has on your leg gets a little tighter, so you glance at him, witnessing how his features shift just for half-a-second from composure to an expression you haven’t seen on him before. A certain melancholy behind his brown eyes that’s reminiscent of when your mom thinks about the father she’s never met.

Suddenly, you’re feeling protective and a confidence that’s failed you all night resurfaces. You turn back to look at your Nana. Placing one forearm on the table between you, then lift your index finger, which she notices immediately, and in a voice quite stern, you warn her to stop.

“I think that’s enough of the third degree,” you say to your Nana, unafraid to hold her gaze for the first time all night. “Eddie’s been very gracious, answering all of your questions very honestly when he really didn’t have to.”

Eddie says your name ‘cause he doesn’t need you fighting his battles, but you don’t pay attention to the murmur that’s escaped his lips.

“Can we just finish our meal in congenial silence, please? You’ve flown across the country, for what exactly, I still don’t know. Since you’re here and you invited us out for dinner, let us at least enjoy dessert,” you snap and retrieve your arm, wrapping it instead around Eddie’s bicep.

There’s a moment of silence. Your Nana’s scrutinising gaze falls on where you’re now visibly holding the rockstar sitting beside you. She’s not the only one looking. The sea of murmurs and glances engulfs you whole, yet right this moment, it’s not bothering you in any way. In fact, you welcome it.

Eddie tilts his head in your direction, a small smile circling his lips as you lean into him further, resting your head on his shoulder. He’s not really thinking of the people staring either. In that moment, as the emotions from the evening slowly die down, the only thing on his mind is how strongly he feels about you.

Even though Eddie has never needed anyone to stand up for him, anyone to fight off the bullies he’s often encountered, watching you put yourself in the line of fire, protect him from your own grandmother, further ignited these feelings inside of him. Fondness, care, and something much stronger than the sexual attraction that’s clearly been there from day one.

He places a kiss on top of your head, lingering a little longer to inhale the scent of your undoubtedly expensive perfume. The corners of your lips twitch upward at the contact. This morning, you were a nervous wreck about the world knowing you and Eddie were some sort of item. Now, mere hours later, you might as well have been holding up the middle finger and calling the paparazzi yourself. If anything, it was a liberating experience.

“I guess it doesn’t matter what I say,” your Nana says with an exaggerated sigh. She picks up her wine glass, taking a slow sip of the maroon liquid.

“Is that really so bad?” You question.

The shrug she offers is answer enough. It makes you roll your eyes, though the reaction isn’t appreciated by your grandmother. She tuts her tongue, shaking your finger at you as she takes another sip of the wine.

“That’s not very lady-like,” she says in a displeasing tone while leaning slightly forward.

You match her movement, letting your arm fall into your lap as Eddie places his on the back of your chair, fingers reaching out for you, softly grazing your back through your blouse.

“Oh, and how you’ve been behaving all night, is?”

“Honey, I’m just looking out for you. Why can’t you see that?”

It’s condescending, the way she says it, so it makes it all the harder to believe. And that’s the way it’s been your entire life. Her word was gospel. There was no fighting it. She was a manipulative woman and what she wanted to happen, always got done.

That didn’t bother you growing up. Mainly because her strong opinions and calculating hold on the world around her got you where you currently were: America’s favourite starlet. Selfish? Yes. But you’ve been called worse in the press.

There was someone else involved now. Someone you cared about arguably more than you cared about your career or pristine image. Eddie didn’t judge you like everyone else in your life did, and even though the two of you didn’t have the best start, being around him these last two days was nothing short of heavenly. So he didn’t deserve the treatment he’s so far received from your Nana.

“I’ve said this many times before, but anything I’ve ever done since you were a little girl was to get you where you needed to be. Get you where you belong. Now that you’ve made it, a little appreciation would be nice.”

Her words sting. Tears burn in the corners of your eyes as you tell her you’ve always appreciated her. She just shrugs again. Now Eddie’s the one being protective. He straightens his posture and before you realise what is happening, the rockstar is chiming into the conversation.

“With all due respect, there’s no reason to treat her the way you do.”

Your Nana’s eyes shift to Eddie, a smug frown circling her lips.

“Edward, please don’t get involved in business you know nothing about.”

The rockstar smirks. “The fact you’re calling this business, instead of a moment between family, tells me all I need to know about you,” he states and before your Nana gets a chance for rebuttal, he turns to you.

“Let’s get out of here, okay?”

All you do is nod, pushing down the tears and smiling at him with appreciation.

Time in Los Angeles moved differently than in New York.

The pace was slower, more relaxed. There was no urgency with anything. People took their sweet damn time, no matter how hectic their schedule was. None of this go, go, go, that you would find on the streets of New York. You appreciated that about California, which is perhaps why you ended up staying longer than intended.

That and the curly-haired boy you got to wake up with, every morning for the past three months.

The Corroded Coffin frontman had opened his home to you entirely following the dinner with your Nana. He had his assistant contact Holly that very same night and the following morning, your belongings were brought from the hotel to his Hidden Hills property. A week later, you arranged with Val to ship some of your clothes from your New York apartment.

In the months that passed, Eddie’s home had quickly become your favourite place on the planet, and despite not being a couple in the official terms, your relationship with the rockstar grew stronger with every hug, kiss, and every single time he put his strong hands on you, touched you in a way that made you see stars.

Tabloids were eating it up too. Every outing you and Eddie had graced the front page of every shitty magazine this country had to offer — which your labels were genuinely thrilled by ‘cause it helped create a buzz about your upcoming single with the band.

Obviously there were the people like your Nana who hated the relationship and made their unwanted opinions quite clear, or the people who doubted and thought it was some sort of PR stunt to boost sales. However, in your bubble with Eddie, you simply stopped caring. He made all of your anxieties disappear with nothing but a sweet smile.

And during this time, between spending hours by the pool, hanging out in the kitchen that before you came along was never used, or pulling orgasms from one another for hours on end, the two of you also had time to work on new music together.

There was honestly enough material for an entire album, if not two. Lyrics to songs that would never actually see the light of day, which made the whole writing process all the more special. Just you, Eddie, and his guitar. Scribbling rhymes on napkins, magazines, anything that was within reach once inspiration struck.

The songs were quite good too. You both knew it. Perhaps the best music either of you have ever come up with, but it was also vastly different from both of your usual styles. One song together, a guaranteed hit. An entire album? That’s a sell out.

So there’s a box underneath the bed you now share together filled with all the written lyrics and maybe, one day in the very distant future, they would get published in a memoir about your lives. Until then…

“Serious question,” the boy that’s constantly on your mind asks while stepping out of the bathroom, a loose towel hanging around his hips, water drops trailing down his toned and tattooed torso. “What are you wearing tonight to the party, sweetheart? Marianne said we should be somewhat matching, but I’ve got no fucking clue what that means.”

“Never attended an event as a Hollywood it couple, huh?” You tease, sitting up.

“Never really dated anyone, and you know that, baby.”

He stops at the foot of the bed and leans down to peck your lips, wet curls patting your cheeks. You hum against him, satisfied at the contact, and he smiles, wide, teeth grazing your mouth.

“Well, we’re not really dating either,” you murmur.

“So I guess we’re not actually attending this party as a couple, huh?” Eddie bites back playfully before kissing your cheek. He stands straight and you watch, eyes trailing along his multiple tattoos, as he wanders towards his closet.

There’s a happy expression on your face, one that’s only ever present around Eddie. How he makes you feel is not affected by any label the two of you have on your relationship, so do you really care that he hasn’t officially asked you to be his girlfriend?

Perhaps.

Actually, not really.

He's told you many times that he has difficulty processing emotions correctly, “like a normal person would, sweetheart”. Given the stories he’s told you about his upbringing, it’s completely understandable. And it’s not like you offered any guidance in this department as your idea of love was fairly skewered too. Idealistic, since your parents had it so good from the moment they met, but also messy because your Nana presented the other side of the coin with how she led her life.

To this day, your mother doesn’t know who her father is. She’s not entirely sure if he even knows she exists, if he’s even still alive. She’s asked many times, but as far as you were aware, she was never given a straight answer. Then there was the man your Nana eventually married. Rich and handsome, the only two consistencies in her string of stories about the lavish life they had during the brief time they were together. From what your mom remembers of those days, the man was kind. “And honey, at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters when it comes to love,” she’d say whenever she’d talk about him.

Eddie is kind.

Taking your mothers advice, that’s all that matters.

You hop off the bed and follow the rockstar. He’s rifling through some shirts when you walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. He relaxes into you. It’s minute, but you notice it immediately and it makes your heart flutter ever so slightly.

“I like that black one,” you say after resting your chin on his bare shoulder. “And if Marianne says she wants us to match, that will go with the dress Versace made for me. Especially if you wear it with those leather pants you have and pair it all with a chain or two.”

Eddie takes the shirt you pointed out off the hanger without question.

“If only I had you before last year's Grammys,” he huffs out a lighthearted laugh, “My outfit was so bad. I know you definitely wouldn’t have let me leave the house wearing what I did.”

You chuckle delicately while letting your arms fall.

“Well, now I wanna see a picture,” you tease, then take a step back to lean against the set of custom-built drawers in the middle of the space.

“No way,” Eddie protests and spins to look at you, a wide grin gracing his features. He places the shirt to the side and stands in front of you, knee bumping against your own. “Sometimes I’m glad you actually didn’t know who I was before we met,” he says, taking your face in his hands, “This is one of those times.”

You roll your eyes. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Think Grace Jones with that gold cape-thing,” Eddie cites, “They had me wear something similar over my outfit, but instead of a plain one, it had all these random embroideries. I looked like I had just gotten out of bed.”

The picture he’s painted appears in front of your eyes and you throw your head back in an array of soft giggles.

“I was at last year’s Grammys,” you say in between those chuckles, “Can’t believe I didn’t see you, especially if you say your outfit was that atrocious.”

Eddie ponders your words for a moment, licking his lips. His thumbs graze along your cheekbones, almost as if he’s fighting himself, fighting whether he should say what he thinks to say: “I deliberately avoided you.”.

The Corroded Coffin frontman has made it clear since day one that he’s known exactly who you are. Shit, that wasn’t hard. The entire world knew you.

While Eddie was trying to graduate high school for the third time, you were gracing covers of magazines all the girls in Hawkins bought. And although he’d never admit it, he was guilty of buying some of said magazines too, though for different reasons than his female peers…

The printed images fueled his fantasies. After all, he’s just a dude and you have always been drop-dead gorgeous. Though, at risk of sounding like the perv he can sometimes be, he’ll keep that part to himself.

Honestly, that’s why he’s never really said much other than simply knowing who you are.

It’s why he’s never said anything about seeing you at different events you both attended over the years, once he’s made it big with the band. Or why he’s never said about wanting to talk to you then, only because he wanted to get into your pants, not because he was a fan since he really didn’t care for the music you produced — yeah, perv.

He definitely feels guilty about it. Especially now that he’s succeeded. Especially now that he does get to have you, kiss you, pleasure you. And aside from that, he’s gotten to know you on a much deeper level than what you presented to the world. Jesus, especially now that he’s fallen for you. Harder than he intended.

“I-I saw you,” he eventually admits in a murmur so quiet, he has to clear his throat and say it again, only louder. “I-I thought about walking up to you and using my usual charm, you know. Flirting with you a little, making you weak in the knees.”

“Why didn’t you?” You ask, stringing your brows together.

Eddie smirks. “‘Cause you’re you. Hot and honestly a little intimidating,” he answers honestly. “Baby, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but the second you enter a room, all eyes are constantly on you. There’s this aura about you, it attracts a lot of attention, wanted or not, and that scared me.”

He pauses. “I saw you, thought you looked smoking and I think I even said that to the guys,” he laughs, “But when I downed a drink for a little liquid courage, it did the complete opposite. I couldn’t move.”

You nod at his words, taking them in.

Then you wonder what the last year would’ve looked like if you officially met Eddie a few months before you actually did. If he came up to you at the Grammys, what would you have said? Would you have landed in bed with him the way you did anyway? Would you be here right now, feeling all that you’re feeling for him? Or would it have been a random hook up in the bathrooms of Radio City Music Hall, only to be forgotten before they announced Album of the Year.

Shaking the thoughts away, since at the end of the day, it doesn’t really fucking matter, you push yourself into Eddie even more, chest pressed against his, hands on his neck.

“Does it still scare you?”

It’s a whisper. Loud enough to hear, especially as you incline towards him, lips now mere inches apart.

He shakes his head ever so slightly. “Wouldn’t have followed you into my home last August if it did.”

“Good.”

When your lips connect in an ardent kiss, one of Eddie’s hands moves to your waist. He squeezes, fingers slowly making their way up your tank top, caressing your skin. He’s slow with his movements, deliberate ‘cause each of your pressure points is engraved in his memory — and no matter what happens between you, he’s convinced how your body reacts to his touch, will remain in his thoughts forever.

Shit. Is this what love is?

The nerves kick in then. He pulls back slightly, scrunching his nose for a brief moment, before letting his arms fall and taking a step to the side. Tilting your head in his direction, you poke his arm.

You’re a little flustered by his sudden departure, missing his touch instantly. When you go to question what just happened, Eddie’s avoiding your gaze, fidgeting with the shirt he placed to the side.

There’s a slight sting in your chest, but you push it down because his mood tends to change depending on what the two of you are doing, or where the conversation is heading — just like yours often does. This was clearly one of those situations. Something crossed his mind and whatever it was, must have startled him a little.

“Where did you just go?”

He doesn’t immediately answer your question. Taking the time instead to slide on a pair of clean boxers, the wet towel disregarded on the wooden floor. He then works to unbutton the shirt you picked out for him, and you give him the time he needs ‘cause he’s often done the same for you.

And Eddie’s head is spinning. He knew his feelings for you were strong, he just didn’t realise that they were this strong. He didn’t realise they were love strong.

Love is a big word. It’s a big deal. Falling in love with someone is an even bigger deal and yes, he’s imagined falling in love with you over the last few months you two spent living together, but that doesn’t mean he was prepared for it to happen.

Gareth would tell him he should’ve been prepared.

Eddie recounts the stories his bandmate shared about meeting his “better half”, and how the two of them fell in love, eventually starting their beautiful family. Eddie then thinks about how beautiful you look in the morning, bare-faced and peaceful. He thinks about how you make breakfast in the morning and dinner in the evening, both meals which you eat together at the kitchen island you first met by, and a smile circles his lips at the memory.

He then thinks about how much more you’ve opened up since then, telling him about your childhood in New York and the woman that really didn’t like you being with him. All those stories only affirmed this belief he’s had that you grew up in completely different worlds, yet you never let those differences get between you. If anything, for someone who grew up richer than the richest of Hawkins, you were more down to earth than every single one of them.

Jesus H. Christ.

“I-I… Fuck,” the rockstar clears his throat before finally looking back at you. “Wanna skip this thing? Watch MTV or somethin’ instead?”

You chuckle. “You want to bail on our own release party to watch MTV? The guys will kill us. Not to mention Marianne, she’d definitely have our heads.”

“But, we have fun watching MTV,” he whines, reaching for you once again. He guides your arms around him before resting his hands on your hips and pushing himself into you. “Plus, I think there will be other parties we’ll get to go to as a couple.”

You arch a brow, smirk circling your lips.

“A couple, huh?”

He smiles down at you. “Yeah, sweetheart. A couple.”

Heat rushes to your face. You’re unsure as to why you’re suddenly feeling embarrassed, but your hands move to your face, barely covering your eyes. And Eddie is smiling wide, definitely pleased by the reaction he’s gotten. So he places a tender kiss on each of your fingers, before reaching for them, intertwining with his own.

“Would you like that?” Eddie asks quietly, leaning closer as he does.

A nod of the head and a peck on the corner of his mouth is your response. It’s all Eddie needs for his heart to soar inside his chest.

“Then I think we should attend our own party as a couple,” you say quietly against his lips. “And I promise, the second it starts getting boring, we’re leaving to watch MTV in nothing but our underwear.” You draw out the last syllable, voice fading into nothing.

Eddie groans, low tone, then nods his head rather reluctantly. You kiss him gently once, then a second time only deeper, before freeing yourself from his grasp, also rather reluctantly, and walking back into the bedroom.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you call out.

The rockstar is behind you within seconds of the sentence leaving your lips. He attaches himself back to you, like a magnet, mouth to the crook of your neck, trailing sloppy kisses upwards towards your jawline. And you squeal in his embrace, laughing as he pushes you forward, stumbling towards the bathroom.

“I’m gonna help,” Eddie quips.

“But you literally just showered,” you giggle.

“Didn’t you hear me,” he stunts, nibbling on your earlobe. “I’m gonna help you, baby, ‘cause what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

And you’re on cloud nine when he labels himself as such. You tell him you like the sound of that, even though it’s such a miniscule thing in the grand scheme of things, after all, you’ve been acting like a couple for months.

But he says it again, “I’m your boyfriend now, sweetheart.”, and you’re shaking with excitement. Eddie fucking Munson, your boyfriend.

Let’s really hope it ends well.

as always, thank you for reading! reblog & tell me what you think

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @papillonoirsworld

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #celebrity skin.

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twopoppies · 5 months

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Gina did you see this? Though it has nothing to do with Harry or Louis, and you could probably care less. i just think it’s great because to ALL those people who say PR stunts are real where there you go. Like people need to open their eyes and see that it’s fake. It’s a win for those called crazy or delusional for suggesting that media and Hollywood are fake and would do PR for anything.

https://www.usmagazine.com/celebrity-news/news/glen-powell-gives-sydney-sweeney-credit-for-dating-rumors/

Oh, that’s really interesting that he’s talking about it so candidly.

While Powell noted that he had “a wonderful journey” with Sweeney when making the film, heightening their real-life relationship to promote the movie proved to be challenging for the actor.

“The only reason it made things harder for me to lean into that stuff was that I was going through a very real breakup amidst a promotional tour,” he explained. “I was with someone that I really loved and cared about and was trying to kind of make sense of a lot of stuff.”

He continued, “It was a lot easier for Sydney to lean into something like that because she’s in a very committed and wonderful relationship and she’s very happy. So it was a little harder for me.”

Powell was referring to his split from girlfriend of three years Gigi Paris. As photos of Powell and Sweeney cozying up on set were shared online, Us Weekly confirmed that Paris, 31, unfollowed him on Instagram. Later that month, multiple outlets confirmed that Powell and Paris had split.

Sweeney, for her part, has been in a relationship with Jonathan Davino since 2018. Us confirmed in March 2022 that the two were engaged. Davino produced Anyone But You alongside Sweeney.

Anyone But You was released earlier this month, but it feels like Powell and Sweeney have been dodging real-life dating rumors for the better part of a year.

“It’s a rom-com, that’s what people want!” Sweeney told Variety in August, breaking her silence on the speculation about her status with Powell.

It took months for Powell to first address the “alleged affair.” He spoke candidly about the aftermath of the rumors in his November Men’s Health cover story.

“When all that stuff happened, you know, publicly, it felt disorienting and unfair,” he explained. “But what I’m realizing is that’s just a part of this gig now.”

#stunts #pr and marketing #yes even straight people do PR relationships to promote things

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freshlyrage · 5 months

Text

Running Like Water

The Holiday Special and Homecoming

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I’m bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5.2k

a/n:

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. Happy Holidays to all. Here's my little gift of a few short stories about the holidays in RLW. And yes... finally I have wrapped up the Homecoming story.

I listened to an awful lot of christmas songs while writing this, if anyone is interested I could attach a playlist (The Christmas Song by Nat "King" Cole is a must listen for this).

This is for you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine merry christmas beloved!

Thanksgiving 1977

By the time Andrea begins zipping up her sweater while walking home from school she realizes that perhaps her oh so thrilling friendship with Javier Peña was only a summer thing. On the last sticky day of august he ruffled her hair and joked about her sun freckles. Sitting at the lake’s dock, shoulder to shoulder a thirteen year old Andrea shares an orange with fifteen year old Javier. He tells her, her nose looked like a chocolate chip cookie, god forbid Javier even slightly throws a compliment her way. Andrea balls her hands in fists with a grin when she says thank you, her brother scoffing from the other edge of their lake dock, “He wasn’t complimenting you, you idiot.” He calls with a snort, Genie pinches his arm and he yelps. Javi looks over his tan shoulder at his best friend and laughs along. Her face falls when Javier doesn’t correct Frankie but instead pushes off away from her and runs to the other end and pushes her brother into the murky water with a voice crack laced scream. Andrea and Genie flinch from the splash. She flinches from the weather dropping below sixty, eyes narrow as she walk uphill after being dismissed for thanksgiving break.

That was the last time she saw Javi. He stopped coming to the house to pick her and Frankie up. Two weeks into seventh grade she noticed how strange it was to not be with him. Everyone in the halls at school were strangers, shit, they hadn't even known she spent the summer crushing on Laredo’s cutest freshman. Andrea tries to practice self control by not bugging Frankie about where the hell his so-called best friend was. That was until of course October when Frankie snatched a piece of gum from Andrea’s bookbag.

“Where are you going?” She asks, her head lifting from her damn geometry work. Frankie pops the gum in his mouth and shrugs.

“Homecoming game with Javi.” He says it like its nothing. Her eyes go all needy and in the most little sister voice she begs to come with. Frankie screws up his face, “No. Absolutely not.”

Andrea slams her pencil down feeling betrayed by her brother who just two months ago let her tag along, every time!

“Have you been hanging out, like just you guys?” She asks, sounding more whiny than she wanted.

“Yeah, we hang out every day.” He bends down and tightens the laces to his chucks, his Laredo high school pull string hoodie flopping over his head in the same movement. She remembers her heart sinking at that moment, How dare they leave her out! She stands from the chair, it screeches loud.

“What!”

Frankie laughs and heads out the door with a slam.

So Andrea learns that, yeah, it's a summer thing.

She rewires her brain to believe it stays that way just because she was the only one still in middle school. But she still finds it beyond strange that she doesn't bump into him, not even once–not until thanksgiving. The Diaz household only celebrated christian holidays and occasionally birthdays, so thanksgiving was just another day. Andrea rolls over in bed after a good late afternoon nap, her eyes falling to her year wide calendar. 49 days until she’s fourteen. She prays she grows some boobs, blurry eyes staring down at the mosquito bites under the t-shirt.

A knock at her room door has her sat up straight, patting down the wrinkles in her shirt. “Yes!” She calls, eyes wide and cheeks flush.

“It’s Javi.”

Andrea nearly shrieks at the sound of his voice from behind the door and from the position she had just been in. Up on her feet she hurries to the mirror, “Give me a moment I’m-um-I’m naked.” She blurts, her cheeks heating at her brain's stupid stupid stupid self. Patting her hair in place and slipping on socks, her freckles are long gone. No longer is there a trace of summer on her, what if she was just prettier under the sun.

He chuckles behind the door, “Uh-um okay.”

“Come in.” She shouts instead of opening the door for him. She wonders if maybe she looks more grown, her eyes dance to the mirror and polka dot fluffy shorts that stopped mid thigh, nope definitely not. He opens the door and the sight is absolutely delightful. Javier clad in a flannel and jeans, his brows furrowing at her. Lips quirking into a smile and at that moment Andrea realizes this is Javier’s first time in her room. Her cheeks set a blaze, his eyes scan the place, he smiles lazily at a picture of the summer crew taped onto her vanity mirror. “Sorry, I was just changing after a nap.” Half true. Her eyes bounce anywhere but his own, god Andrea could be so obvious sometimes. Have I no shame?

He frowns, lifting a tin foil plate up, suddenly the smell of Peña fresh pork and rice, and tamales. Andrea’s stomach grumbles cartoonishly and Javier splits into a chuckle. Andrea is utterly gobsmacked at how badly she likes the boy. Is this what love feels like? Like the sound of their makes her ache, was she too young to feel that hard? She giggles anyway, “Sorry I’m so hungry, let's go to the kitchen.” She tilts her head toward the door and he nods, leading himself out. Shamelessly staring at the nape of his neck as she trails him down the stairs. She has a dangerous thought of her lips pressing right there, that thought freaks her out and she feels her stomach flip.

“Why are you alone?” Javier asks as he sets down the plate on the kitchen island. Andrea slept off the annoyance she developed from her mother and brothers yearly antics. Each thanksgiving, the two of them, just the two of them, go out to eat. They call it their mother son day of the year, when Andrea was young she was left with her nanny who took it upon herself to take little Andrea to a movie each thanksgiving. But Andrea was no longer little and the tradition continued, so the past 3 thanksgivings had been spent alone. It was routine to her, she wasn't sure if she was ready to understand her mothers ways just yet.

This Thanksgiving fell on Andrea’s fathers birthday, it's all she knew about him. His birthday and name. Lucas, November 24th. One complicated parent a time, she didn’t dwell this thanksgiving but she’d be a liar if she said she hadn't felt like she was on the verge of tears the entire day.

Andrea peels open the wet aluminum, oh lordy I am thankful, thank you Chucho… for this food, Andrea looks up at Javier who had been staring at her with such contentment, and thank you for making the adonis that watches me now. Grabbing a fork Andrea answers, “My mom does something with Frankie every thanksgiving so I’m left here! God this looks amazing.” She drags her fork at the slab of pork, and it pulls so beautifully she could cry. Javier pulls the plate away from her. “Hey!”

“Is this every thanksgiving?” He asks, shielding the plate with his arm to get her to answer.

She didn't care, “Yes, now move.” Andrea pinches his wrist and he slowly pulls his hand back to his side. Shoveling the pernil in her mouth with an excited mumble. Javi stays silent for her first few bites, just watching Andrea stuff herself. She was so hungry she couldn't bother looking at him. But then he sits next to her and gets a fork for himself and begins eating off the plate with her.

Cheeks bulging with arroz con gandules, her eyes brighten and she smiles. “Happy Thanksgiving.” She says with a full mouth, to anyone it would be a gross act but Javier had thought it was the most endearing sight ever.

“Happy thanksgiving Andrea.”

They eat together in silence.

Javier leaves with his heart beating fast in his chest, his stomach turning in the worst way. He looks at his father in the driver's seat, Chucho rolls down the window. “What took you so long!?”

Javier shook his head, not wanting to risk shouting what he discovered at the lawn of Andrea’s home. He shoots his head over his shoulder to take one more look at the house that contained just Andrea inside.

Running a hand through his hair, Javier opens his fathers truck door and settles in. That feeling, that hole in his chest still in full effect. “Andrea spends every thanksgiving alone.” He says it, his chest rises and falls. Andrea spends every thanksgiving alone.

Thanksgiving 1979

Andrea spends it alone again. Javier sat with his uncle, and dad in Houston, feeling awful homesick. Javier filled out the scholarship to the High School of Law and Justice in March and got free tuition for the upcoming year in late August, he had no time to really tell Andrea. Chucho traveled north for the holidays. Cooking for his helpless little brother who had Javier living off cafeteria lunch and ramen. The house smelled delightful and it truly felt like the holidays, even if he wasn't really home. During grace, with his hand resting on his fathers shoulder, in a warm room filled with home cooked food and love, he realizes she’s likely napping again. Probably sleeping to fizzle out hunger and loneliness.

Javi struggles to enjoy his food.

Homecoming 1979

Homecoming sure felt like a holiday in Laredo, at least within the halls of the school. The week had been full of underage drinking each night, pranks, and defacing the rival schools flag. Andrea couldn’t be bothered with the festivities, she just cared that senior Brian Flores who asked her to the dance. Now she could use this as an excuse to be pretty and maybe, maybe get her first kiss. She attended the game, and met Lorraine face to face for the very first time. Andrea attempted to bite back the jealousy buttering her tongue, and she surely took it out on Javier when he asked to talk after the game. Asking her all these questions that made her feel, for just a second, that he wants to be near her as much as she wants to be near him.

Then he called her kid, and Andrea felt winded at the blow.

“Next time I’ll think twice before I invite my best friend's kid sister to hang out. I apologize for trying to be polite and include you, god knows you used to whine about being left out.”

Javi had distracted her from the handsome boy clad in shoulder pads who asked if she was okay, she couldn't even bask in the feeling because immediately Javier switched to protector mode. With a furrowed brow his eyes darted from Andrea to the grown man attempting to court her, and oh it settled something deep in his stomach he was unprepared to talk about.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What do you mean?”

After a mini tangent and a few curses about him being far too old for her, Javi in a fit of protectiveness asked Andrea just to go with him. His brain completely abandons the thought of his unofficial girlfriend Lorraine. When he watches Andrea’s eyes twinkle for one second, he is reminded of the girl he had spent the last few weeks witj and the feelings he truly felt for the Lor. He wanted to be Lorraine’s boyfriend, he was tired of sneaking around–homecoming would have been his perfect opportunity to just go steady with the girl he had a crush on.

“Please stop acting like you care, I don't feel left out anymore. I have my own friends and life now. You guys only had me around because my mom made you, cus’ i couldn't make friends but obviously-Obviously I’m doing better now, so just please leave me alone” With that all thoughts of anyone but Andrea clears, only panic fills his chest when he watches someone who had never been upset with him, someone who had always been eager to spend time with, reminds him that things have changed and she becomes someone who wants to be left alone.

Andrea heads home and sleeps well, she glances over at the dress she picked out and strangely the twisting jealousy and betrayal she felt from Javier fizzled at the thought of being appreciated by someone who actually likes her. Not so bad for a freshman, she thinks. She dozes off and dreams of Javier. She dreams she accepts his invite–even if it was offered in a white hot moment. In her brain she wears something entirely different and dances with him in their school gym. It’s decorated much more beautifully than she anticipated, but her brain paints it perfect just for them. Javier doesn’t make a move on her the entire night of the dance, it wasn’t his style. When the two decide it’s time to go, he kisses her gently and slowly against the brick walls of the gymnasium. Heart in her throat, she grips to the lapels of his blazer, pointing her foot in a beautiful disney first kiss. What a lovely dream it was, maybe that’s why she feels well rested the next day.

She gets ready with an empty house, Frankie spent the night at Genie’s, again, a photo of Sharon Tate taped to her mirror. Eyes squinted as she messes up with powdered eyeliner for the… eighth time. The guitar riff in Marmalade’s I See the Rain bouncing off the walls of her bedroom. She pats down the wrinkles on the pale yellow dress. Her chest still not quite filling the thing but the built in lace shawl like jacket covers her modestly. Melissa had found too many of the short dresses too grown for a freshman. Andrea’s eyes flick up to her own, then down to her lips. She liked those, pinching her lips together her eyes narrow attempting to give her reflection a sexy pre kiss smolder. Her nose turns up in a cringe. Stomach flipping, will Brian kiss with tongue? He’s seventeen, god, he will for sure. Her eyes survey the room, she is alone… her mom got out of work at 9 pm. Frankie had no intention of coming home until tomorrow.

Screw it.

Andrea bunches her hand, her thumb lapping her pointer. She brings her hand to her lips and attempts to emulate what she thinks a kiss should look like. Her eyes close for just a moment when she feels a rhythm that feels right, hmm this doesn't seem too bad. Hopefully his breath doesn't smell like punch–

“Andrea-what the fu-”

She squeals at the top of her lungs when her eyes fall on a hurried suit clad Javier. Her wet hand is covered in Avon’s ripe cherry lipstick. “Ah! Oh my god.” It's her worst nightmare, her none kissed hand wiping the other while Javier stares with confusion and a hint of amusement. “What-how-why–how did you get in here?!” She yells, jumping to her feet. Javier tugs at his bow tie and stares at her hand for a moment, eliciting an ahem from her throat. His cheeks hint a blush.

“Door was unlocked.” He stated flatly. Andrea blinks a few times, her lashes still wet with mascara, was he really here or had she kept dreaming.

He was just as nervous, as he got ready in the morning he wavered his options. He goes to homecoming and tells her while she’s there with her prick of a date, he tells her everything. He shook his head at that, he knew that could be a mess, it could create a scene. Javier crossed that off the list, he thought of just calling, he let that idea go too. As he crouched down to tighten his dress shoes his eyes caught a glimpse of the dusty space below his dresser, a white border poking out into view.

Javier leaned forward and pulled the thing out from under his dresser. There Andrea is, her hair long and braided, her classic teal bike to her left. To her right is Javi with his arm slung over her shoulders. With a sting in his eye and heart beating in his throat, Javier ran all the way to her, to Andrea.

So without warning to Lorraine, Javier lays it all out.

“You can't go to homecoming.”

Andrea rolls her eyes, “Javi I’m tired of this weird protector complex you’ve developed, but I’m fifteen now I-”

“I won't let you go because that douchebag is being paid to take you, being paid double if he kisses you and triple if he fucks you.” He says it so rushed, just to get her to zip it. He saves Andrea in a sense, she was ready to spill some cliche lines that will have her cringing in t-minus six hours. The urgency was useful only in that facet, because then it hist Andrea all at once. Her eyes fall to the floor, heart dancing in her chest. How could I have been so blind. She knew of the senior bucket list, she knew, yet–

“Oh.” Her eyes screw shut for a moment, really hoping this was a dream. My god was she humiliated. She bought a dress, taped magazine clippings, painted her nails, kissed her hand and pushed Javier away for nothing. For someone to plan to use her for a checkmark on a list, she felt like a total idiot. Javi must think I look so stupid, Andrea thinks. Here in the middle of her room practicing kissing in an over priced dress. And despite her efforts to prove to Javi that she is in fact mature and strong and no longer in need of acceptance, her chin begins to quiver in the same way it did when she was just a kid. Her eyes blurry, she doesn’t even realize Javier is walking over to her with a soft pleading voice. Makeup ruined already, his hand grips her shoulder and instinctively she reaches out to grip his wrist. He’s frantically trying to get her stop crying but she just felt so embarrassed, crying is the only thing distracting from that pain in her chest. He’s whispering promises,

Andrea please stop crying

I’ll stay here or-or we can go together

We can stay in—watch something

We can egg his car—please stop crying.

Shaking her head, her fingers dig into his wrist and he takes it as a sign to gather her up. Pulling Andrea into his chest, she knows her mascara tears must be staining his tux yet he couldn’t seem to care. The ache in his own chest settling the second he flattens a hand on the back of her head. Cheek resting on the top of her head. Andrea leans her entire body weight into the embrace, absolutely exhausted of being the joke, of being a pawn. Tired of being behind and naive. Javier tucks her head below his chin, resting on the top of her head. Ans oh boy is he in trouble because he hadn't thought of Lorraine, not even once.

Despite the circles she’s talked herself into about her need to be self reliant—god did it feel good to just be hugged.

With a squeeze to Andrea’s hip she pulls back, her eyes in all their raccoon glory, somehow she was still so beautiful. "Let’s go downstairs and watch something. Then we can flip through the yellow pages and sign the bastard up for the most incessant and embarrassing subscription with his home phone. How does Cat Scratch sex line sound?” Javier suggests. Just there, she feels it again, Am I too young to feel this much?

Through tears and smudged makeup, her lips quirk at its corners.

“Okay.”

Christmas 1979

Christmas at the Diaz house wasn’t actually so bad. On the eve of christmas Melissa sets out all of the presents she’s bought her kids, then in the corner of her room lays a second pile of gifts for the people of Laredo that she’s made her family. Then she dresses her children, yes, even at their old age, in outfits she bought. The three take a drive to their church’s party and it goes the same way each year. The Smithfield’s lead a prayer, they play their mix of american christmas classics and spanish ones, then they regret serving alcohol at their christmas party.

Two days before the party half of their christmas lights fall and in a fit of anger Melissa calls over Chucho to bring his latter and fix the damn thing. It must be genetic because when the Diaz women call, the Peña men come running. To Andrea’s surprise Javier shows up with his father. The group of friends watch the disaster that is Melissa Diaz with Holiday anxiety.

Melissa stands at the foot of a ladder while Chucho puts up her lights. “A la derecha!” She yells from below, Frankie, Javier and Andrea sit on the lawn watching in amusement. It was chillier, a low fifty, it became Andreas' excuse to wear her lacrosse sweatshirt. Her brother and Javier joke about something that happened in school, something she didn’t witness. So she picks at the grass surrounding her and looks off at the two geezers arguing with each other in Spanish. Nat King Cole and Celia Cruz blasting from inside their house, windows open and in the December sunset their christmas tree twinkles beyond the window.

Andrea decides maybe she likes Christmas with her family, with this family.

She decides to take that statement back when her mother forces her to run the boutique from opening till closing on Christmas eve. Andrea stands behind the cash register wearing a headband with twirly attachments that jingled with each slight movement. If she hears happy holidays one more time she’ll kill Santa Claus herself. So it’s safe to say that when she locks up shop with a daily sale of five thousand dollars, she couldn’t be bothered with seeing half of Laredo in the church basement.

Somehow Andrea finds herself in a stockings and a puffy green dress. She is half asleep by the time she spots the black leather couch at the farthest corner of the large basement. The basement of Los Tres Reyes church was the home of many parties. Many that could be considered non-fitting for a church but to most it was simply just a venue. Considering Lorraine’s father was the english mass pastor and his daughter was the most admired girl at the school, Mr. Smithfield held the Laredo Christmas party-invite only. Contrary to most parties at Los Tres Reyes, the Smithfield Christmas extravaganza (nice dresses and day drinking) was exclusive in Laredo terms.

Lorraine was suited in the prettiest outfit in the room. Too fashionable for this town, plaid flared pants and a cashmere turtleneck. Andrea wants to groan at the silly dress her mom forced her into… and she was so tired. The party began to fill with the most prestigious faces of town, mostly store owners and Lorraine’s friends. Flashes fake smiles at each wave and struggling to stay awake the second she sits down. The familiar crunch of the couch with the sound of the tool of her skirt created a new strange ear splitting sound that has Andrea cringing. Legs crossed she wondered how many feet of tinsel they used for the ceiling.

Fleshy nylon rubbing together with each leg-crossed readjustment. God she wished she had a magazine or something to not look so socially awkward in a setting like this. Deep inside Andrea was praying for Monica or Liandra to show up and save the day. She knew Javier was on his way, she knew she couldn’t bear the sight of the couple, especially how romantic it is to spend Christmas with your girlfriend’s family. Frankie was talking off Genie’s dad’s ear while nursing a beer.

With the Ronetts playing on speaker and the bustling chatter, Andrea finds it awfully easy to drift off. Head falling back against the rest of the sofa.

“My god she’s really sleeping.” Melissa whispers to Chucho about nearly four hours into the party. Eleven pm, nearly Christmas day. “Señor dame fuerza…” Her head falls into her hands while Chucho watches Andreas' fully laid out body in amusement. Her flats fully kicked off and her cheek squished to the leather.

The Peñas arrive quite late to the party. Lorraine dragged Javier to the church bathroom to scold him for embarrassing her. He kissed her hoping it’ll soften her up but she slapped his arm instead. “Don’t be mad please.” He pleads as she opens the restroom door. Lorraine looks over her shoulder with a frown.

With a snapping attitude and sarcasm, “Nice sweater.”

Javier looks down at the thing, his face softening at the sight of his own sweater that his uncle knitted himself. It’s a thick gray cable knit sweater. For a moment Javier wonders why he lets these things slide from Lorraine, just a few weeks before he nearly broke it off after her intrusive suggestion on how to get over his mothers absence.

Javi decides he’ll just drink tonight.

With his hands shoved in his nice jeans, the pants Chucho bought two years ago for him to be forced into every holiday. His keys in his back pocket jangling as he walks down the stairs to a slowly dying party as the night closes. The lights around twinkling and the smell of clove and cinnamon filling his nose. He passes two girls in Lorraine’s friend group, Hilda and Diana. “Do you think she’s drunk?”

“I don’t know, but it’s tragic.” Hilda giggles, sipping her beer. Both their eyes planted on Andrea, in all her Christmas tree glory. Surrounded by her large green dress, socked feet curled and the most peaceful face he’s ever seen. His brows knit together, it was unlike her to fall asleep in a place like this. He shoots a glare over at the two girls and walks straight past them, straight to her. He grabs a cracker crown from one of the tables. Ignoring Lorraine’s call as he makes his way next to Andrea.

For a moment he feels watched, a bit insecure as he surveys the room as people pretend to not stare at the two. He frowns before wrapping his hand around her ankle and shaking her awake. She stirs slightly but just furthers herself into comfortability. He drops his head in an endearing smile. ��Andrea.” He calls to her and she jolts at the sound of his voice.

Her smooth nylon clad feet brushing over his lap, causing a flip in his stomach. Something stranger happens in his christmas jeans. “Oh!” She chirped, wiping her mouth clean of drool. “Javi!”

“Andrea.” He laughs moving her small feet from his lap. Leaning forward and placing the gold crown on her disheveled hair. She giggles slightly, and blinks her eyes into full awareness.

“Did I really fall asleep? What time is it?” She flattens her shimmery skirt. He just knows Melissa picked out the dress. He remembers the second summer they spent together, when her style changed completely. He knew she got her mother to back off on the kids catalogs, it seemed she still held higher ground when it came to christmas attire. Despite the forest pooling her body, to him she might have been the prettiest girl in the room, he should ask Santa Claus for a smack upside his head because the selfish thought came quickly and stuck like glue. Her shimmering eyes glance at the clock, fifteen to twelve. “Jesus!” She slaps her hand over her mouth at the decision to call the man out on his name, on his birthday and in a church. “I slept for so long.”

Javier chuckles a hearty laugh, “Yeah, decided to save you some embarrassment, you got quite comfortable.” His eyes fall to her feet. She burns mistletoe bow red and shoves them back into her flats. Still sitting up straight tenser than ever, and it aches his chest. He had her over just a week before, they joked around together in his house over dinner–he invited her to New Years at the bar. Two months before that the two sat awfully close on her couch watching Star Wars: A New Hope and signing up her one time homecoming date to awfully embarrassing subscriptions, using different personas and voices on the phone. Yet here, under everyone's surveillance she sat uptight and all frowning like she was afraid of being under the gaze of others. That drove him a bit crazy, she was his best friend too, hadn't she known?

Silence falls between them for a moment as he nurses his beer and she looks off, her mind running wild.

“You treat me differently when it’s not summer.” He blurts, bringing his drink to his lips. He knows why, he knows deep inside. Their summers together were organic, devoid of outside influences. She could just exist as Andrea, his Andrea. In summer she could just fall asleep on a couch and not have to worry about judging eyes. She could crush on Javier without guilt and restraint. He could call her pretty and not feel like the entire world is watching, prepared to scrutinize him. It was warm, it was easy to be close to one another, easy to ignore what others felt about them. Summers were just for them. It stirred something devastating in the cavity of his chest at the sight of her in a sweaty dress, with her hair done up and perfect posture. It wasn't her, it wasn't like her to be so afraid of him.

Her lips quirk in a polite fake smile, as her eyes survey the room. She’s extremely aware of the eyes on the two of them. Javier’s jaw clenched at the sight of Andrea of all people being fake to him. She clears her throat like he asked her a scandalous question. Then she turns to him all at once and he swears under her makeup he sees a hint of the freckles that deepen under the Texas sun, and her features fall all sincere, like he’s the only person in the room.

And she whispers, “Well maybe I don’t know how to be your friend in the winter.” Her eyes drop and her forehead forms that tiny crease of worry between painted brows. Javier’s stomach pits and maybe the holidays made him feel sentimental, maybe he’s afraid that being in the same school will somehow create a wedge in something he cherishes so deeply, maybe he feels like strangely time is running out. Perhaps he regrets meeting Lorraine at this time. It’s something about being surrounded by love, warmth and home cooked meals. Something about the sounds of chimes, organs and jingle bells in the music filling the air. Something about spending Christmas eve next to Andrea Diaz, something about not being able to kiss her under the mistletoe. Maybe because it actually snowed in Texas this Christmas, small flurries that didn’t stick–but snow nonetheless. He’s never had the urge to before but her, in front of him, at this time, with those eyes–he wonders what he’s doing wrong.

With his heart in his throat he can only muster out one thing.

“Merry Christmas.”

Christmas 1980-85

Houston isn't home. The holidays become a brain splitting headache he ignores for years to come. He's no longer seventeen. He had one holiday with her, and it wasn’t really with her, yet he can't imagine having one without her.

What a scary feeling.

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

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pillow-anime-talk · 9 months

Note

idk if u write for male reader but i would love to read 3 + royalty tpn ray

# tags: scenario; friendship and also current secret relationship; light romance; mostly fluff; also a bit of angst; royalty!au; prince!reader and prince!ray; staring at the stars together; imaginary world; sfw

includes: male reader ft. ray {tpn}

author’s note: yes! i am writing for male readers and thank you very much for this. this is my first tpn request!

3. “Are we gonna fight? Like fist to fist or rather… lips to lips?”

A warm August night, and the day – and at the same time the feast – of Saint Aure’guen was a time when animals spoke with human voices, flowers changed their places and arranged themselves in beautiful patterns, and the stars showed the future to those who dared to look at them. It was a magical moment, celebrated only once a year on the fourth Tuesday of the month mentioned above.

“... It’s beautiful today, isn’t it?” You asked quietly, squeezing your lover’s hand tighter, who timidly nodded his head, looking at the stars arranged in various figures or signs. The moon was obscured by dark clouds giving the opportunity to shine that night to its smaller brothers. “Do you see anything interesting? Has heaven told you a secret or something?”

The Prince of Aquemering looked into your shining eyes for a brief moment, then turned his full attention back to the dark and the flashing dots. He was observant, intelligent, and loved anything to do with space. He was the opposite of you – a boy boy who loved music, painting and fencing. You loved the mundane things, while Rey loved history, the mysteries of the world, the cosmos and the depths of all the oceans that surround the earth, and all the fossils and ancestors of your families.

“The stars warn of a battle between the two of us. We must beware of third parties who will seek to destroy our happiness.” He said quietly, closing his tired eyelids.

As the future king, and also the current prince of Ignitesu, you will certainly be forced to marry a woman whose name you will hear on the occasion of your wedding ceremony in a few years. You will surely become the father of several children, a respected ruler and beloved man of the whole kingdom. But it wasn’t what you wanted. You just wanted to spend your next years, until the day of your death, with a person with whom you share not only love, but also mutual respect, sincere friendship and much more important values than the desire to start a family or exercise power over the entire country. These feelings were stronger than life and more certain than death.

“Ohh, I see. So... Are we gonna fight? Like fist to fist or rather… lips to lips?” You joked, wanting to lighten the atmosphere between the two of you, but Ray just rolled his eyes, pinching your warm right cheek.

The stars never lie; perhaps your fight will be symbolic – for a piece of baked potato with pepper on a plate – or perhaps it will have a second bottom that will end your relationship once and for all. The stars were never wrong, but they also never said when it would happen; tomorrow, in five months, in eight years, on your seventieth birthday. Or maybe posthumously? Nobody knows that.

Now, however, you wanted to enjoy the Night of Truth and each other’s presence. You didn’t want to think about superfluous things, you didn’t want to talk about the future. Now, in this moment, you valued the present and your current feelings. What will be tomorrow will be tomorrow.

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cheolhub · 10 months

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UR INVITED 2 CHEOLHUB'S 1ST BDAY BASH!

ABOUT THE EVENT ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

HELLOOOOO! ok first of all, no one comment on my header (unless ur complimenting it 😊), i dropped my art minor after 3 months bc i lack artistic skill and i’ve made it very clear here. NEXT, it’s not MY birthday but cheolhub will officially be a YEAR old on the 26th of august & i wanted to celebrate with a lil sleepover event :> i've had so many ups and downs while running this blog and have almost abandoned it more times than i can count, so i just want to say CHEERS to cheolhub (aka sar aka me) for making it this far <3 i am eternally grateful for every kind message, every piece of feedback, and everyone who has been supporting me and my silly lil blog. i love u guys sm and would’ve been long gone without you T^T <3 i hope you'll join the celebration!! -3- and if this flops, you’ll never hear from me again /j /j /j

i knowww it’s early, but i start uni classes again next week (my last semester, yay 😻) and i wanna have time to do an event T-T

SLEEPOVER DATES ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

this event runs for about two weeks! from sunday, august 13th to sunday, august 27th. any asks sent after august 27th will be deleted!

please note that i’ll still be working on asks (if i have any left) even after the event is closed.

EVENTS ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

！★﹕ᶻ﹐LET'S EAT﹒

☆︎ who's hungry? 👹🍽 request a short (less than 1k) drabble and you shall receive. i will be writing the first 5-10 requests due to my busy uni schedule :3 — choose a prompt (or two) from this prompt list + a member from seventeen, txt or the boyz! [closed] (ik the list isnt numbered, so just copy + paste ur preferred prompt(s) ><)

★︎ mtl for seventeen and txt! [open]

☆︎ hard hours for any group i write for! [refer to my guidelines to see who i write for] [open]

！★﹕ᶻ﹐ TIME 4 SELF CARE﹒[open]

★︎ let's do the things that make us happy! what makes us happier than being delusional and horny? you guessed it! being shipped with a hottie 😻 — this is the SHIP GAME + i’ll give you a silly little trope to kickstart ur epic romance

☆︎ OR opt for a personalized moodboards or playlists based off the vibes you give off! (mutuals can get both a moodboard and playlist if they’d like bc i would diy for all of u -3- just say u want both so i know<3333)

note: anonymous senders, please send me a few bits of info like your mbti, ult group and/or bias (does not have to be a group i stan!), star sign (big three if you know it), favorite color, etc. basically anything you want to share + one of the options above. mutuals can ask for any of the above, but providing info is totally optional!!

！★﹕ᶻ﹐WANNA PLAY A GAME?﹒[open]

☆︎ q&a!

ask me anything! favorite movie, how i got into writing, what i do when i’m not writing, why i only ult leaders etc. but please nothing too personal!

★︎ my opinions on literally ANYTHING!

☆︎ ask me for fic recs or give me fic recs!

★︎ fuck, marry, kiss (not kill bc i do not condone violence… not on here at least /lh)

☆︎ would you rather

note: you can send as many of these as you’d like :p i like answering them <3

RULES ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

everything for this event will be tagged under #[ birthday bash ! ] you can block the tag to avoid seeing the posts!

please make sure to get your ask in within the time frame (aug 13th-27th)

minors, please please please do not interact!

be respectful and patient! — the drabbles, mtls & hard hours may take longer for me to get through, but i’ll try my absolute hardest to get them done in a timely manner <3

when sending an ask, be sure to mention the event so i can differentiate between those and my regular asks :)

have fun! ⭐️⭐️

#[ birthday bash ! ]#vernon and the cat r literally twins #send an ask 🤬 (non-threatening)

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ava-taylors-version · 10 months

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Happy August to those who celebrate!! May your air be salty and your doors be rusty all month long<3

#taylor swift

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platonic-qpr-selfshipping · 1 year

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Interest Check for an Aspec Selfshippers Digital Zine!

YES YOU READ IT WELL

I wanted to celebrate Pride in this blog somehow and what's better than doing so with other aspec people of this beautiful community by building something with our own works! I am excited to organise this but for now I'm just sharing this Interest Check Form with you to have an idea of everyone's interests, know your opinions and think about how it would work the best according to them. If enough people want to participate, the form to actually do so will be posted in Pride Month as the project is expected to start there. It would be a summer-long thing that will be available to download for free by August or so.

Here is the link to the Interest Check and also some other information that you can already find in it:

"Hello and welcome to the Interest Check of this future zine! The project is planned to start in pride month and be finished by the end of summer, so it's a summer-long project for all aspec selfshippers to enjoy and celebrate! Here are some main ideas about how it will be organised to give you a bit more of information in case you want to ask something related to these:

- I don't plan to choose a specific topic apart from Aspec selfshippers. I'd like this to be a zine for us all to freely contribute with whatever makes us happy, especially since it's our first time organising this. Maybe in the future we could choose something else for other similar projects, but for now I'd like this one to be like a welcoming white canvas for us all!

- Proshippers cannot participate. Please refrain from answering this form if you are one of them.

- NSFW content will be welcomed as long as it's tagged properly! It would be great to dedicate a part of the zine for these works if enough participants would like to contribute with NSFW pieces.

- Participants will need to have Discord as it is easier to organise something like this there than in Tumblr itself.

- I am planning on adding info of what characters' each piece is about so those who are uncomfortable sharing f/os can easily avoid other selfships with them. As it will be easier to do this at the beginning of fics and not so much in illustrations, I thought of adding these in the index, too. If you've read until here, I would appreciate to know your opinion on this and any other ideas you think would be great to add/change!

- Also this will be a free zine!!"

I also wanna thank @lost-in-azalea-forest and @wurufuluv for supporting my idea and already helping me with these first steps in organising it all, I really hope we all can enjoy this!

#f/o community #self ship community #self shipping #self ship #f/o #selfship #self shipping events #zine #fanzine #aspec community #lgbtq #self shipping community #self shipper #self shipping zine

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gyumibear · 9 months

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✂️ three's a crowd — 00: my clematis

synopsis — being an ex-obsessive fan is hard, but you've been doing well so far. that is until your rival is revealed to be dating choi soobin, the idol you've been dreaming of for years! so, now your road to recovery is detoured because you're not going to let that slide. you're going to break them apart at all costs. doesn't she know three's a crowd?

taglist — open! send an ask or comment on the main masterlist to be added! @imsiriuslyreal

warnings — violation of hippa laws 😭, mentions of mental illness (codependency, obsession, parasocial relationships), allusions to suicidal thoughts and mentions of violence.

(wc — 1.5k)

It is our intention to include a transcript of the therapeutic sessions run by Dr. [REDACTED] with his client [REDACTED]. These transcripts are protected by doctor-client confidentiality laws (HIPPA) and should only be accessed by the verified person(s). Please call [xxx-xxx-xxxx] if you are in fear of those laws being violated.

August 24, 2019 / #Session 1

Note: C refers to client [REDACTED] while T refers to Dr. [REDACTED].

T: Hello, [REDACTED], it’s nice to see you today.

C: I’m only here because [REDACTED] wants me to be.

T: And might I ask who that is? Is he your father?

C: He’s my cousin, in a way. He’s more like a brother though.

T: Is he your legal guardian?

C: Yes, but only for a few more days. I’m about to turn 18 soon.

T: I’ll note that down. Well, thanks for coming, and I’m happy to help you. First, I want to go over a few things with you. I just want you to know that everything we talk about here is confidential.

C: Obviously. You’d get sued if you didn’t keep things between us.

T: *Dry laugh* You’re correct. Let’s start talking, what happened today that brought you here?

C: Hm.

T: Feel free to start whenever you’re comfortable, [REDACTED].

C: I pushed a girl down a flight of stairs.

T: Did she do something to anger you? Why did you push her?

C: She said that [REDACTED] is the weakest member of [REDACTED].

T: Can you enlighten me as to who that is? Is he a celebrity?

C: Yes, my favorite! He’s the leader of [REDACTED] which is a K-Pop group.

T: Ah, right. Why did her comment about him upset you so much?

C: Because he’s the love of my life? She was spewing absolute bullshit and she doesn’t even know him. Not like I do. I know how hard [REDACTED] works, how much he does for the group and the other members. She deserved to get put in her place.

T: Hold on, [REDACTED]. You said he’s the love of your life? Can you explain that?

C: He is. We’re gonna get married one day. I know it.

T: Let’s dig deeper into this, okay? Tell me more about [REDACTED].

September 28, 2019 / Session 3

C: So, I doxxed her, and I got her expelled.

T: All because she said she preferred [REDACTED] to [REDACTED]?

C: Yeah! I like [REDACTED] and all, but the best member will forever be my [REDACTED]. He’s not the leader for no reason, Dr. [REDACTED].

T: I understand how you feel, but [REDACTED], she is allowed to have her own opinion. You can understand that, correct?

C: She can. That doesn’t mean she won’t face the consequences for them.

T: Hm.

January 4, 2020 / Session #10

T: Welcome back, [REDACTED]. How was your Christmas?

C: It was pretty good, [REDACTED] bought me two [REDACTED] albums. I pulled [REDACTED] of course. It’s because he loves me. He made sure I got his PCs.

T: Hm. Have you been taking your medication regularly?

C: …

T: [REDACTED]?

C: No. I just… forgot. [REDACTED] got really mad at me over the break and I felt like he was gonna leave me and I- I just couldn’t focus on anything else.

T: Why did he get upset with you?

C: I spent the rent money on some [REDACTED] merch cause his birthday was coming up. December 5. He had to call [REDACTED] and ask him to pay this month. They both were really pissed at me, [REDACTED] was the angriest though. I felt bad, like genuinely bad about it.

T: When you say bad, do you really mean sad?

C: Yeah… I just, I don’t ever want him to be mad at me. He’s all I have… But, it’s like… When it comes to [REDACTED] I just can’t control myself. It’s like I’d [REDACTED] if he asked me to.

T: Do you want to [REDACTED]?

C: Sometimes.

March 4, 2020 / Session #14

C: Lately, I’ve just been feeling… Empty? Today’s supposed to be a happy one, cause it’s their one-year anniversary, but I just… Don’t feel anything?

T: Why do you think that is? Did something happen?

C: My classmate recently started biasing him and she actually met him. She ran into him at the convenience store or something and he… talked to her.

T: Continue.

C: At first I thought she was lying, just to piss me off, but… She pulled out her phone and she showed a whole group of us. He took a picture with her and she said he even called her pretty…

T: How did that make you feel when you heard that?

C: Pretty upset. I didn’t do anything to her though, I just walked away.

T: That’s good, [REDACTED]. I’m glad nobody got hurt.

C: Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to hurt her.

T: I understand, but we’re working on that, now aren’t we?

C: Yes. Yes, we are.

August 5, 2020 / Session #25

T: Woah, [REDACTED] you seem very upset today.

C: I’m not in the mood Doc.

T: Would you mind telling me why?

C: [REDACTED] has dating rumors. With this random bitch [REDACTED]. Literally, just because they’re working together as emcees does not mean they’re dating! He wouldn’t do that. He knows that would crush me.

T: [REDACTED], you remember [REDACTED] doesn’t know you, right?

C: That’s not true! He responded to my message on [REDACTED]. Twice. He knows me.

T: Oh dear. [REDACTED], I’m sorry. That was out of line on my part.

C: It’s fine, just don’t say that again. I’m already in a bad mood.

April 16, 2022 / Session #x

Note: C stopped seeing T for a few years due to her time in [REDACTED] after an incident in which she [REDACTED] after an altercation with her classmate. A few of her files were lost, these were the earliest we could find.

C: I’m going to [REDACTED] for University. It took a lot of hard work, but I’m gonna study fashion! [REDACTED] is paying my tuition, but I’m gonna work so I can pay him back.

T: That’s a good idea, [REDACTED]. I’m proud of you.

C: It is a little scary though…

T: What’s scary?

C: Being away from [REDACTED] and [REDACTED]. Cause I have to move into a dorm, I’m not going to see them every day like usual… I’m a bit nervous. I think it’s my separation anxiety.

T: That could be it. Let’s talk more about this.

May 31, 2022 / Session #x

T: This is the last time I’m going to be seeing you regularly, [REDACTED]!

C: Yeah, it feels like it was just yesterday when I met you for the first time.

T: How are you feeling? Been keeping up with your meds?

C: Yep! I’ve been feeling pretty okay! When I start feeling bad I just remember the exercises and the practices you taught me and I work around them. I’m healed, basically.

T: You were never broken, [REDACTED]. You just needed some guidance. You are doing exceptionally well, but don’t start slacking off. We don’t want you to relapse.

C: Yeah, I got you Doc. I’m gonna be on my best behavior!

T: I believe as much. So, what music do you have to share with me this week?

C: I’ve been listening to [REDACTED]! She’s so cool, she makes me wanna learn how to play an instrument.

T: That’d be a good hobby, don’t you think?

C: Yep. Also, Doc..?

T: Yes, [REDACTED]? You look concerned?

C: I, um… I saw some photos of [REDACTED] online… I blocked all the tags that I could, but I guess they just slipped through.

T: That’s alright. these things happen. How did you feel about that?

C: I felt like screaming. I don’t know how to describe it, but it wasn’t a good feeling. So I turned my phone off and I went to go talk to [REDACTED] about it.

T: Is that fully true?

C: …

T: [REDACTED], please tell me the truth.

C: Hm… No.

T: What did you really do?

C: I binge-watched all the fancams I could find of him…

T: Is that all?

C: I also argued with some people online… But then [REDACTED] came and he distracted me.

T: *Sighs* Let’s have another session tomorrow, I want to investigate something.

C: Okay…

August 1, 2023 / Session #x

T: You’re going back to school soon. How do you feel?

C: Fine. It’s just school, you know?

T: Mhm. How’ve you been feeling?

C: Fine. I spent the weekend at [REDACTED]’s so I’m pretty out of it, haha.

T: I see. Did you keep up with your medicine?

C: Do you even need to ask? Of course. I haven’t missed a day in months.

T: I’m very proud of you. Why did you schedule this meeting though, might I ask?

C: I dunno… I just felt like I should.

T: That’s okay! I’m here for you for that very reason. So, tell me what’s on your mind?

C: There’s this girl who’s supposed to be my roommate… I don’t like her.

T: What’s her name?

C: [REDACTED]. She’s a music major.

T: What don’t you like about her?

C: She just… Seems fake? There’s something off and it makes me feel weird.

T: Hm… When was the first time you two interacted?

C: Well… Let’s see…

Note: End of recovered transcripts.

a/n — this was just a simple prologue/teaser to show what yn's mental state is like! i've never done therapy transcripts so i'm sorry if they're an inaccurate portrayal? let me know if there's something that needs to be tagged or changed.

playlist / masterlist / next

#k-labels #kflixnet #kbookshelf #kpop smau #soobin x reader #soobin smau #choi soobin x reader #txt x reader #txt smau #soobin angst #soobin fluff

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