#it is like half of the same playlist i would have made in high school about anything

[cherrycolored-punk]

still frames - bestfriend! e.m. x fem! reader

author’s note: reminiscing about the friend I had in high school, the one who I’d create playlists with and who’d call to play his guitar for me every night. and you can’t tell me that Eddie isn’t the same type of dude. the sweet bits are based on the reminiscing. the rest is pure fiction with our favorite goof. anyways, enjoy!🧡

w/c: 5k

warnings: angst, pining, smut (oral - reader receiving, protected p in v), spanking, teasing, uhhhh let me know if I forgot anything

‼️ THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI ‼️

Raindrops race down your living room window in lines, and you watch them from your spot on the floor. It’s fall, and the lush greens of summer have begun to change color; their leaves now varying hues of orange and yellow. They create a coziness in your apartment, a warmth that feels like it envelops you and is amplified by the scent of your favorite candle; crisp apple, nectar, and warm clove spice fill your lungs with each breath you take.

Eddie lays beside you on his stomach, focusing on his phone and the playlist you created for him.

The playlists were a tradition since middle-school, a way to introduce each other to a new sound or a band the other might not have heard of. For some time, though, you’d been using it to send cryptic messages, and he hadn’t caught on. 

Your crush on Eddie came suddenly but was felt all at once. 

It was a spring morning nearly two years ago, and you’d laid dying in bed, except not really. You just had the flu, but you felt close to death and had texted him as much.

Eddie: what do you need?

You: hit me with your van, stab me in the face…please end my suffering.

He, of course, didn’t grant your wish, but he’d shown up at your apartment after work with a grocery bag full of supplies. Eddie was still wearing his navy coveralls covered in oil and smelled like grease. From what you could smell, anyway. You could barely breathe through your nose.

“I got you theraflu tea, and I don’t want to hear you complain about the taste. You just need to drink it,” he scolded before you could even complain. 

Your jaw snapped shut.

“Also got your favorite soup, four cans,” he held his fingers up, “orange juice, Vicks, popsicles in case your throat hurts, those saltines you like, and,” he turned, “I brought Scream for us to watch since I know it’s your favorite.”

It hit you like a ton of bricks, made your heart stutter, and nearly stop. 

It was the way he was smiling, the familiar excited gleam in his eye as he looked at you. It was the fact that he’d shown up after a twelve-hour shift with all your favorite sick foods in tow. 

Your eyes traced over his face like you were seeing him for the first time. The sharp edge of his jaw, the plump of his lips, the freckles that dotted the slope of his nose, and when did Eddie become so beautiful?

You’d tried blaming it on the fact that less oxygen was getting to your brain and a virus was wrecking your immune system, but now you didn’t have the same excuse. Now you couldn’t look at Eddie without noticing the pinks of his cheeks or the different smiles he had. Couldn’t be around him without yearning to hug him or hold him in a way that didn’t scream just friends.

The past year and a half had been overwhelming, the yearning making you feel hollow. Like if you didn’t say something, it would continue to eat you alive, but telling him ran the risk of ruining the friendship and that was a fate worse than being alone.

You glance over to the playlist he’s listening to, at the song playing, and clench your eyes shut.

Despite the music in your ears, you can hear the song reverberating off the walls of your skull. The one you heard that made you think of him. It plays in your head, having memorized every lyric and the way the singer’s voice influxes with certain words.

Bet you never knew it

Think you’d suit me just fine

And you know he’ll never get it, never know you’re hopelessly in love with him.

You close your eyes and focus on the song, one he chose specifically for you. 

Good Riddance plays soft, a break from the heavy metal he always added but not a song you hadn’t heard before. It brings a sense of nostalgia in the form of a lump in your throat, and you swallow hard, images of high school flashing through your mind like a retro view-master. It feels like yesterday and another lifetime all at once. The plays you were in, the various games you cheered at, going to Corroded Coffin’s shows, staying over at Eddie’s house, the first time he’d convinced you to join a campaign…the face of “I told you so” when you told him you had actually enjoyed it.

Eddie pulls the earbud from your ear, auburn hair tickling you where it meets your bare shoulder and interrupting your reminiscing. You turn to him, curious eyes meeting his steady gaze. 

“What is it?” you question with a quirk of your brow, unable to decipher the expression that colored his features. 

“Curious choice of songs here,” his voice carries a teasing lilt as he turns onto his side, facing you. 

You could feel his gaze on you, searching your features for the answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet. 

“How do you figure?” you turn, matching his pose, and rest your chin on your palm.

Eddie thought for a moment, his eyes turning up and to the left as he searched for the words. 

He looks handsome as ever, pale skin glowing from the light of your candle. Cinnamon eyes lit with a hint of mischief and something you couldn’t name. 

His eyes shift down and meet yours, a broad dimpled smile slotting into place. 

“Something tells me you have a crush on someone,” and your heart practically drops into your ass at his words.

“A crush?” You ask, half-laughing at his accusation in an attempt not to vomit.

“Oh, don’t play coy. Every song on here drones on about love,” he points to his phone, his eyebrows pushed into his bangs. 

“They’re just good songs, Edward,” you shove his head and lay flat on your back, but he follows your movements, hovering over you. Close enough that you can smell the spearmint of his gum and the cologne he wears; musk and smoked suede. It makes your mouth water, his proximity making your heart lurch in your ribcage. 

“I never said they weren’t good, Princess.” 

Your hand reaches out to push his face away at the nickname, but he catches your wrist in his grasp, a cocky smile spreading wide on his lips. 

“What happened to us not questioning the playlist, Munson? Isn’t that rule number one since day one?” You attempt to fight your wrist out of his grasp, but it remains firm. 

“Let go,” you grumble, and he shakes his head.

“Not until you tell me,” he counters.

“Tell you what?” you stop fighting, and your arm falls back near your head, his fingers still wrapped around it as though he were pinning you there. 

“Who is it?” he shrugs, but you don’t miss how his adam’s apple bobs as he asks. 

You wonder if Eddie can hear how your heart hammers, your senses overwhelmed by his sudden inquisition. 

“There isn’t anyone,” but your gaze turns from him, and he knows you’re lying. 

“Not good enough,” he shakes his head.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I need to know,” you look back at him. The need you’d felt for the past year reflected in his gaze.

Time slows.

“Why?” your voice is softer, barely above a whisper. Breath held as you wait for his answer. 

He lets go of your wrist and settles back at your side, reaching for his phone as you watch him. The anticipation of his response pushing you closer to cardiac arrest. 

Eddie pulls out your other earbud and places one of his own in your ear. 

I Want You plays, and you recognize the familiar sound of Mitski’s voice. One that is full of yearning and a palpable sorrow. You look at him with a curious upturn of your brow, a silent question, and he turns the screen of his phone towards you. 

It’s a new playlist, one you hadn’t seen, and it bears a simple title: your name. 

A million thoughts race through your head, but you can’t find the words or the right question. 

“Mitski?” You decide to tease, your cheeks warm as the feelings rush through you. The realization that maybe, just maybe, he loved you too. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but it’s full of affection, and his face leans closer—his gaze darts between your eyes and the swell of your lips. 

Your mouth parts in anticipation, eyes fluttering shut as your head lifts to meet him halfway. 

A small gasp escapes your lips at the first contact, his lips softer than you’d ever imagined. Slotting perfectly together with yours. He tasted like the gum he chewed and the soda he’d had; sweeter than you thought he’d be.

Eddie’s hand cups your face, gently holding your jaw as his thumb rubs the apple of your cheek. Holding you almost reverently. 

The kiss deepens as he pulls you on top of him, his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom lip, asking for permission. Your tongue swipes against his in response, and you swallow the moan he feeds you - fingers tangling in the fabric of his black t-shirt as he holds you to him. 

His large hand wanders down your back and over the curve of your ass, gripping the dough of it. You can’t help the circle of your hips as you grind against his thigh. Chasing the friction you so desperately need. 

Your lungs begin to ache as the kiss deepens, desperate for oxygen but more so for his touch, and you roll over, pulling his weight on top of you. Enjoying the feel of his body pressed into yours, and his knee slotted between your legs. 

Eddie pulls away, taking a deep breath to fill his burning lungs, and you chase his fleeting lips - eyes still closed. He chuckles, rubbing your cheek affectionately - memorizing the softness of your skin and the warmth of your body underneath him.

You breathe in deeply, gaze finally meeting his, and the first thing you notice is the flush of his cheeks. Then the way his brown eyes are almost obsidian; darkened with need. His nose brushes yours as he leans in for another kiss, just as soft as the first but quick so he can look at you again. 

“Are you finally going to tell me who it is?” He questions, lips hovering over your jaw, and you can barely breathe. Anticipating his touch. 

You shrug your shoulder, not ready to admit to defeat. 

“Couldn’t tell you, just some guy,” you play with the collar of his shirt, acting aloof. 

“Just some guy,” he repeats with a shake of his head, pressing a kiss to the space between your jaw and your ear. 

Your breath comes out shaky, and you can only nod.

“Was hoping it was me, Princess,” he kisses down your neck causing goosebumps to sprout along your arms.

His lips press against the skin of your shoulder, pushing at the strap of your dress with his mouth to nudge it out of the way. 

The curve of his lips is a whisper above your skin, his head dipping down and tracing the tops of your breasts. You arch into his touch, desperate to feel his mouth over every inch of your body. 

He stops abruptly, his head lifting back to hover over yours with a mocking grin. Enjoying how he already affects you, the way you whine when you don’t get what you want. 

“As if you don’t know the answer,” you gruff, and he leans in, shaking his head. 

“I want to hear you say it,” he whispers, face inches from yours—a dare. 

The stubborn part of you wants to deny it, wants to keep the secret close in case this was all in jest, but there’s another part that yearns to hear him say it too. To hear him say it back. For it to be more than a private playlist with your name attached.

“It’s you,” and you almost want to disappear. To sink into the floor or to be swallowed whole. Despite the kiss, despite the way his body presses closer to yours when he finally hears you say the quiet part out loud. Saying it out loud made it real, the threat of losing him as a friend more imminent. 

But his mouth is back on yours, more fervent than before. His hand traces up your thigh and grips the soft flesh. Pressing himself against you. 

You kiss him back with just as much need, an eager hand pushing at the hem of his shirt until you feel his skin. The curve of your nails drags lightly down his abdomen, stopping just above his belt. Enjoying the way the coarse hairs that lead into his pants feels against your fingers. Your other hand curls in his hair, holding his face to yours. 

Eddie shudders at the sensation, a small gasp spilling from his lips as they leave yours. You look at him through hooded eyes, a slight grin slotting into place when you notice his flushed cheeks and hair slightly disheveled. 

Energy thrums through you, making your heart pound. God, you want to make him gasp like that again.

“Was that so hard?” He questions, his expression a little cocky despite his breathlessness, and if you weren’t so eager to kiss him again you might just push his face from yours. 

“Shut up,” you say affectionately and kiss him again. 

Soft, sweet. Relishing in the feel of his lips until it isn’t enough. Until the carnal hunger can’t be ignored. 

Your tongue swipes against his lower lip, and you suck it between your own. Swallowing his low moan. The palm of your hand trails lower, small fingers wrapping around his handcuff belt. Breath caught in your throat until it makes your lungs burn, and you pull away. 

Eddie watches you, your slow, languid movements causing him to hold his breath in anticipation. His long, callused fingers push up, up, up until you feel them beneath your panties, matching your pace, creating a line of fire wherever they meet your skin. 

His belt falls open with a rumble of metal, and he presses his forehead to yours; hand gripping your ass, fingers spreading you apart, and edging closer to your center. 

Your palm rubs against his coarse pubic hairs as you slide your hand further into his boxers, a small gasp escaping your lips when your fingers rub against the warm length of his arousal. Eddie is bigger than you had imagined, and you’d spent plenty of time picturing him while in bed. Legs spread and fingers working you over the edge. But this is better than a daydream. 

His cock jumps against your palm as you wrap your fingers along his shaft, exploring the soft skin and the thick vein that lines his length. Your thumb brushes against his tip, collecting the pre-cum that leaks from it. 

Dark eyes watch as you remove your hand and bring your thumb to your mouth, tongue swirling against your digit before sucking it clean. 

A groan escapes Eddie’s lips, his jaw slack. Eyes hooded with need. 

His next movements are fast, quicker than your mind can keep up with.

He flips you onto your stomach, mouth racing down your back eagerly; needy hands pushing the fabric of your dress up until your ass is exposed. 

“This okay,” he questions, fingers hooked on the lace of your panties, and you whine, ass wiggling eagerly beneath him in response. He slaps the fat of it, a cocky laugh falling from his lips, but he wastes no time.

Eddie tosses your panties over his head absently; gaze focused on the swell of your butt. He hooks an arm around your waist and drags you up on all fours until you’re bared to him. His hands are on your ass like an anchor as he dips his head closer. 

The scruff of his beard scrapes against your soft skin, his warm breath felt against your spine. Each kiss is slow and deliberate, felt in your core as his lips trail down the small of your back and over the valley of your ass. He grips your cheeks and spreads them, revealing the rim of your ass and your glistening cunt. 

“So fucking pretty,” and he practically whimpers at the sight, grabbing his cock to adjust the strain against his jeans. 

He traces his middle finger over your slit and to your bundle of nerves, creating a circle around the bud; a sensation that makes your hips jolt, a soft moan escaping your lips. 

You breathe in sharply when you feel the nudge of his nose against your sex, his tongue swiping along your folds. Savoring the way you taste. 

He teases you, tongue flicking against your clit before swiping towards your aching center and stretching you over his tongue. A guttural moan escapes your lips, your nails digging into the plush of your carpet at the sensation. 

Eddie buries his face deeper, pushing his tongue further into you with a groan that vibrates through you. 

“Oh my god,” you keen, reaching behind and knotting your hands into his hair. You grind against his face, eyes rolling as his tongue darts in and out of your sopping cunt. Fingers pressing into your clit. 

“Fuck,” he moans, voice gruff. 

His tongue laps at your arousal, middle finger prodding your entrance. You release his head, bracing against the carpet. He stretches you inch by inch before adding another, his digits curling inside you. Slowly, he begins to pump them into you, hitting a spot that makes your breath catch in your throat. You clench around him, the orgasm already building.

“Eddie,” you whine, spurring his movements to quicken. For his mouth to wrap around your clit and flick his tongue against it, eager for you to come undone.

You ride his fingers, desperate for the release and out of your mind with need. Body humming, warmed over from the intensity of your arousal.

“Gonna come for me, Princess?” 

You nod your head, pushing your pussy back against him. Desperate for his tongue on your sensitive bud. 

“S-so close,” you stammer. 

Every muscle in your body tenses, and you bury your face in the carpet as the feeling crashes over you. For a moment, you can’t breathe. The moan trapped in your throat and eyes clenched shut until, finally, your center unfurls. 

Your cunt flutters around Eddie’s fingers, and you moan his name as your legs begin to shake, but he doesn’t stop. He continues to pump his fingers into you, groaning at the noise it makes and the way your pussy grips him. His tongue flicks wildly against your clit, eliciting a loud groan to escape from your lips. Your legs shake more intensely as tears spring to your eyes. Bordering overstimulation. 

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you beg, and suddenly, he pulls his fingers from you. Fat tongue dragging against your wet heat and savoring every drop of your essence. 

He slaps your ass once. Twice. Leaving kisses where his hands were before and trailing them up your back, pushing the fabric of your dress up with him until he pushes it off entirely. 

He’s bent over you, torso pressed to your back. Hard arousal pressed to your sopping center. Warm breath felt against your neck as he whispers.

“Sound so fucking pretty, want to hear you again. Want to watch you.” 

He presses closer to you so you can feel just how badly he wants you, and you shudder. You match his movements, pushing your ass back against him, turning to watch the way his eyes close and his jaw clenches. 

“Do you have a condom?” You whisper, and his eyes open abruptly, searching yours.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, nodding his head late as though his body was just catching up with his thoughts. 

But he doesn’t move, and it makes you feel shy. A little unsure of yourself. You squirm beneath him and flip over so that you’re face-to-face. 

“We don’t have to,” you rub an absent hand against his face, trying not to think about the fact that you were mostly naked and he was hovering inches from you, fully clothed. 

Eddie shakes his head and leans closer.

“I want to,” he says with more conviction and kisses your cheek, brushing his lips along your jaw. 

“You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to,” he whispers against your neck. 

His tongue swipes along your neck and nips at your soft flesh. A free hand wanders down your side, creating goosebumps in their path. 

“Have you thought of me?” You ask, dragging a hand down his sternum to the top of his still-open jeans. Your voice is teasing, heavy with a flirtation he’d never heard before, and he nods. No longer cocky, hovering above you but entirely at your mercy. 

“What have you thought about?” You push your hand back into his boxers and begin to stroke him, jaw going slack as you watch his eyes flutter shut. 

Eddie groans, the fingers at your side digging into your skin.

“Y-you in my bed,” he stammers, mind occupied by the feeling of your hand wrapped around his dick. Your grip tightens around him, your grasp firm as you pump his cock faster.

“Is that it?” You whisper against his mouth, nipping at the pout of his bottom lip. He follows your mouth as you pull away, and he shakes his head.

“Thought about how good you’d look as I fuck you,” his words are a little breathless, but they cause your thighs to clench. 

The movement isn’t lost on him. It spurs him on, the familiar cocky grin slotting into place—a glint of mischief in his eye. 

“You’ve thought of it too, haven’t you?” His nose brushes yours, lips hovering over your mouth as he waits for your response.

The shudder that runs through your body gives you away, and you nod. Hand still pumping his cock.

Eddie kisses you more tenderly than you expected. His lips soft against your own, relishing the feel of you. 

“How often?” He questions, mouth still hovering over yours. Hand tracing down your thigh and up again.

You try to concentrate, hand still working him but your rhythm unsteady as you debate to tell him the truth. 

“Every day,” you stroke him again, “sometimes twice a day.”

His mouth crashes against yours, all teeth and tongue. Your hand reaches from his boxers and begins to push at his jeans. He helps you, one hand next to your head, holding his weight above you, and the other helping push his jeans until he kicks them off. Eddie sits up and tugs off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his torso—the dark lines against his alabaster skin. You trace your fingertips over them, lips pressing against his chest as he reaches behind you and unclasps your bra. Eddie tosses the fabric aside, eyes fixated on the curve of your tits. 

“Fucking hell,” his voice is low, appreciative, and he reaches out to trace his fingers along your newly exposed skin. Your back arches into his touch, watching his thumb roll against your nipple and pinch the sensitive flesh between his fingers. A moan falls from your lips, and your head rolls back, legs closing around him.

His head dips to your neck, and he kisses down your chest, over the slopes of your breasts. 

Eddie’s tongue flicks and sucks, pulling your nipple between his teeth. One hand gripping your hip and leading you back down until you’re lying beneath him.

He reaches for his jeans and grabs his wallet, pulling a condom out. 

You stop him before he can unwrap it, “Wait.”

“Are you okay?” He stops and watches you with worry.

“Can we,” you pause, “can we go to my room? To the bed?”  

“Afraid of a little carpet burn, Princess?” He teases, and you swat his bicep, pushing at his chest so you can move past him. 

“Shut up, Munson,” you push his face, but he grabs your hand, standing and pulling you along with him. 

You turn from him to walk to your room, and he slaps your ass, causing you to yelp as you run away from him, your giggles filling the apartment. Eddie chases you, hand reaching out to slap your butt cheeks every so often until you reach the room and suddenly turn to face him.

His chest crashes against yours, and your chuckle dies when you look at him again. The desire in his eyes, the blush that’d crept into his cheeks, and the state of his hair. You reach between your bodies and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him as he leads you to the bed.

Your back plops against the soft mattress, and he drags your ass to the edge, legs spread wide for him. 

He unwraps the condom and rolls the rubber down his shaft, one thumb drawing circles against your clit. Gathering your slick. 

You pant as he works you up, whining when he stops, only to jolt when his wrapped length rubs against your slick folds. Your fingers wrap around his wrist as he inches into you, his eyebrows pushing together as your cunt wraps around his cock.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, gripping your hip with his free hand. 

Eddie is a stretch, but the feel of him pushing into you is delicious - every inch making your toes curl. 

“Oh,” you moan, and it’s all you can manage. Words turning to nonsense once he’s fully seated inside of you. 

He leans down and kisses you, lips hard against yours as his hips roll into you. His rhythm starts slow, pumping into you at a languid pace. Savoring the way you feel, the way your moans sound, and your naked chest feels pressed to his. 

His movements quicken, the snap of his hips growing louder as he juts into you. You pull away from his lips and dig your nails into his bicep. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes focused on where your bodies are connected. Watching the way your pussy sucks him in, clenches perfecting around his shaft, and the image of you draws him closer to the edge. 

Eddie pushes off the mattress, straightening your legs until they’re pressed against his torso, one foot resting on either side of his head. He has the perfect view of you; the bounce of your tits as he ruts into you, the way your mouth hangs open, and your eyes are entirely focused on him. 

He pounds his dick into you, one hand moving between your legs and drawing circles against your bud. 

“Eddie, ahh, oh fuck-” you grip his forearm as he continues to thrust every inch of his cock in and out of your sensitive cunt. 

“You like that, baby?” and you nod.

“Say it,” he groans, hips stuttering as he nears his pinnacle. 

“Feel so good, Eddie,” you moan, and the way you say his name makes him clench his jaw. Trying his best to maintain composure until you come.

“Going to come for me, sweetheart?” and it sounds like a demand. Your nails dig into his skin as you nod. 

Your eyes trace down his body, watching the movement of his hips and the way your ass reverberates with each movement. The image of him, the erotic sound of skin on skin, bringing you closer.

“Please,” you beg, back arching off the bed as you get closer. The rubber band at your center stretching thin and ready to snap.

Your legs fall from his shoulders and hook around his waist, pulling him closer. Deeper. Exactly where you need him. The tip of his cock nudges your spongy center, the orgasm building with each rock of his hips until it’s enough.

His name is on your lips like a prayer, vision white as the intensity of the orgasm pulses through you. 

“Baby,” he groans, the grip your pussy has on him causing his hips to stutter and the muscles in his abdomen to tighten as he reaches his peak. His hands grip your thighs, his dick twitching inside you as he spills into the condom.

You come down for your orgasm and watch him through hooded eyes—the flush of his pale skin, the sharp edge of his jaw.

So fucking pretty.

He releases his grip on your thighs and slowly inches out of you. 

You whine at the loss, already needy for more, and he gives you a cocky smirk. Eddie presses a quick kiss to your lips before disappearing down the hall, and you listen as the faucet squeaks, then off before he returns. 

He approaches you with a warm washcloth, and wipes your center before discarding it into your nearby hamper. 

You pull him forward, resting his weight against your body. For a moment, the two of you sit in silence. The only sound filling the room is your heavy breaths and the faint thrums of your hearts. 

“That was-,” and he can’t finish the sentence. Unable to find the right string of words.

Eddie pushes his weight off you, balancing on his hands and meeting your gaze. He leans closer, his nose tracing yours, and he kisses you softly—a hum vibrating against your lips when he releases your mouth.

“Decent,” you shrug and roll your eyes affectionately. Falling into your usual teasing.

“That was some of my best work, babe,” he gasps, feigning shock. Hand to his chest as he stands straight. 

Your heart skips at the nickname, but you try to hide it. Babe. 

“Guess you’ll have to show me again,” you shrug and push yourself further onto the bed. 

Eddie raises a devious brow and follows your movements, his body inching forward as yours inches back. 

“I can show you again,” he kisses you, “and again,” he kisses you once more, “as many times as it takes to convince you,” he promises.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Melodic Memories | JTK | Prologue

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: breakups, feelings of sadness, crying, high school relationships, angst, fluff, sorry if i miss any!

welcome to the show, everyone 😁 glad to be back with another Jake fic. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! (this has been sitting in my drafts for SO long)

August, 2014

“Eight songs, Y/N. I sat there for hours, listening to as much music as I could. I sorted through my dad’s old vinyl records, and all of the CD’s Josh and I could find in the house. I searched for lyrics on the internet, I even asked my mom if she had any ideas.” Jake explained, taking a step closer to you. There was a small plastic case in one of his hands, a bushel of hand picked wildflowers in his other, and a look in his eyes that made your heart ache with all of the pain you had been holding back. “This is it; eight songs that tell you exactly how I feel about you. Four that tell you how much I love you, and four that tell you everything you need to know about how I feel about you leaving.”

“Jake,” you whispered, your lips pressed together tightly as the corners of your mouth dipped down into a frown. Your eyes were shining under the warm yellow hue of the ceiling light, the threat of unshed tears growing more imminent with each second that passed. The walls of your childhood bedroom were familiar, but completely different all at the same time. Years worth of cherished memories flashed before your eyes as the boy stood before you amongst half-filled boxes and your torn-apart closet.

“No,” he cut you off, shaking his head so you could not speak any further.

His hair was long, moving against his skin with each turn of his head. It reached the middle of his neck now, and it would only get longer as he continued to grow it out. You couldn’t help but feel that the long hair suited him best, that it brought out the beauty of his face even more than it already did on its own. He’d been talking about it for so long that you could already picture what it would look like on him. You were sad that you would not be able to see it when his mission was complete and the ends of his hair tickled the underside of his shoulder blades.

No, you were sad that you would miss any stage of Jake’s life, devastated that there would be any version of him you were unfamiliar with.

The sweatshirt he was wearing was heartbreaking all on its own; you bought it for him months prior on your three day trip to tour the university you were now preparing to attend. There were bags under his eyes, showing his exhaustion and discomfort with the current arrangement the two of you found yourselves in. His eyes themselves were bloodshot, and worse than that, they were sad. You hated seeing anything less than joy written in his features, because he was a boy deserving of things that were only ever good.

Right now, you knew that what you were doing to him was anything but good, and it was fucking killing you.

You only ever wanted to be the reason for the smile on his face, and now you were the source of his misery; you loved him so utterly and deeply that you turned into the very thing that hurt him.

“You said you didn’t want to make this harder than it needed to be, but it’s going to fucking suck no matter how we do things. I can’t let you leave without telling you—“ he cut himself off, clearing his throat as his gaze flickered to the floor. There were tears glistening in his eyes, too, but he was much more afraid to show them than you were. “I can’t let you go unless I know that you know how much you mean to me.”

“It is hard, Jake. This is the hardest thing I have ever done.” You confessed, sniffling away your sadness as you tried to cement the memory of his face in your brain forever. He was beautiful, and he always had been. His warm eyes spoke love without him ever opening his mouth, and his smile was the only thing that could brighten the darkest of days.

“The whole distance thing is stupid, and I don’t like it. We’ve been together for three years, and I can’t sit at home and act like you don’t mean anything to me.” His words were equal to a stab in the stomach.

You did not intend to hurt him when you suggested taking some time away from each other. You thought it would be easier, that it would make your departure less painful as you both came to terms with the fact you would be leaving him behind, but so far it had been nothing but horrendous. You stayed up every night, staring at the ceiling as you remembered what it felt like to lay next to him. You listened to new music, hoping it would make you feel something other than sadness, but the emotion that plagued you grew tenfold when you realized you had no one to share it with. You checked your phone constantly, hoping to see his name grace your screen, only to find that he was too good at respecting your wishes.

Jake was your boyfriend, and it had been that way for a long time, but he was so much more than just that. He was your best friend, your confidant and the very thing you knew you could lean on in times that were tougher than usual. He was your light in darkness, and he was everything you ever needed all at once. Jake was the whole world, and in that moment, he was yours. As of late, you felt more stupid than ever before, unable to forgive yourself for letting him go. He loved you through the awkwardness of growing into a teenager, and he loved you through the usual triumphs and disasters of high school. He loved you when you thought no one else could, and he did it so well that you had no idea what to expect now that he was not going to be yours anymore.

He stood before you, freshly eighteen with a new found freedom in life. You were just shy of the same age, but the freedom you found did not feel very special at all. You expected your high school graduation to be sweet, exciting and fun, but so far it brought you nothing but turmoil. You scored top of your class and had people throwing scholarships in your face. As much as you wanted to enjoy it, you couldn’t seem to find any joy in the experience. You tried to blame it on your nerves as you spent the summer preparing to drive states away to attend a university that you had only visited once, but you knew it had nothing to do with that. You were thrilled to continue your studies, to pursue something that you had spent your life dreaming about. You were excited to meet people, to grow into the person you were always meant to be.

It was not the school that made your stomach twist with nerves, but the knowledge Jake would not be coming with you. It was the knowledge that after three years, you would have to learn to live without him by your side, and worst of all, you had to digest the fact that he would move on. In due time, his heart and the love he once gave to you would be someone else’s, and he would be happy again, without ever having a second thought about you.

No matter where Jake went, you knew he would flourish, that he would find someone that would love him just as much, if not more, than you loved him.

That thought was comforting as much as it was gut wrenching. Jake deserved to be loved, but you wished you were the person who could love him the way he deserved.

What hurt just a little worse than that was the passing thought that you would never find someone who would love you the way Jake loved you.

You had done everything with him up until two weeks prior, when you pleaded with him to give you some space so you could grieve the fact your relationship would be coming to an end. You did not cut off contact completely, and in that time, you had called him almost daily and payed short visits to his house every now and again. You wanted it to make you feel better, but all it did was make the ache of missing him grow even larger despite him still being there when you needed him. You knew that when you got in your car the next morning, it would be the definite end of the two of you, but it did not mean you were happy, and you were certainly not okay with it.

If missing him while he was still beside you hurt achingly bad, you could not imagine the pain that would come as you drove away from the only thing you ever wanted to have.

The two of you discussed the topic heavily over the last few months, finding yourselves in a great debate of whether long distance would work for the two of you. Eventually, after many tears and lots of sad, sleepless nights, the two of you decided that it would be best to let the loving relationship you had created remain a memory. He didn’t want you worrying about him while you were focusing on your studies, and you didn’t want to tie him down while he tried to make his own life at home.

Although the two of you agreed on the terms, it hurt like a bitch.

“I’m sorry, Jake.” You whispered, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to express your remorse. “I didn’t know how else to deal with it.”

“Just listen to what I have to say, and then you can deal with it however you want.” He tried again, still staying strong despite the pain growing larger in his heart.

“Okay.” You whispered, giving a slight nod as you stepped back and took a seat on the edge of your bed. He followed suit, stopping by your dresser to place the sparse bushel of wildflowers down as he approached you.

He took a seat beside you, extending his arm for you to take the CD. Slowly, you grabbed it from his hands, a slight shake to your fingers as they clasped around the cool, hard plastic. You looked down at the white surface through the clear cover, feeling the first tear fall from your eye. In the familiar, scribbled handwriting, a love note more romantic than any other littered the surface of the CD.

‘I can’t tell you how I feel, so I’ll let the songs say it instead. All my love, Jake ���᭡’

“Wild Horses, Rolling Stones.” He started, watching your face as he spoke. “You told me when we started dating that your dad used to sing it to your mom, and you thought it was the most romantic song in the world until they got divorced. You said that you hated it, and you would never be able to listen to it again, and I could tell that you were so sad about it. So, I sang it to you. I wanted to turn it back into a good memory. I learned the chords and I used my dads old acoustic guitar, and I was fucking terrified, Y/N. It was the first song I ever played for you, and you told me that nobody had ever done anything so nice for you before.”

“‘Cause nobody ever had.” You said, the sentiment still remaining true to this day.

“Wonderful Tonight, by Eric Clapton.” He continued, knowing his time was running short. The evening was darkening into night, and he wasn’t keen on spending your last bit of time together solely talking. “We slow danced in the kitchen to that song, ‘cause I told you I didn’t know how to dance and I didn’t want to embarrass myself at prom. You let me pick the song and then you taught me how, and I think of you every time I hear it.”

The memory was as beautiful as the song was, and you felt another tear fall at the explanation. You had no idea how you were going to let him go, and no desire to do it, anyway, even if you knew it was for the best.

“I need you, Lynyrd Skynyrd. Pretty self explanatory.” He let out a small chuckle, which you joined in on. “The Air That I Breathe, The Hollies.” He jumped straight to the next track. “Listen to the words, and you’ll get it.”

“Jake, this is too much.” You took in a shaky breath, swiping tears away from your cheeks.

“No, Y/N. It’s not enough.” He corrected. “You deserve the whole world, and I wish I could give it to you.”

“You’re not making this any easier.” You forced a smile on your face, your cheeks damp with your own misery. He reached out, swiping away the tears as they fell, hoping that by some stroke of luck, he would still be yours even long after you had gone.

“It was never going to be easy, beautiful.” He finally said the words he’d been holding back the whole time. He had tried his hardest to convince you that it would be okay, hoping that in turn, he would convince himself, too. Now that he was sitting beside you, still just as sad, he knew easy was subject, and only time would heal the wounds that were created that night. “If You Gotta Go, Go Now, by Dylan.”

“Or Else You Gotta Stay All Night.” Your lips turned upwards into a small smile. It wouldn’t be from Jake had there not been at least one Dylan song on the track.

“Exactly.” He nodded. “Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers, cause I know it’s gonna be pretty dark for a while after you leave, Sunshine.”

“Don’t say that.” You said, feeling your stomach twist with remorse.

“It’s true.” He argued. “Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits, ‘cause maybe it’s just the time that’s not right for us.” His voice was quiet, cracking as he forced the words out, like he was fearful to get an unwanted answer to his rhetoric. “Maybe in the future, the time will be right, and we can try again.”

“God, I hope so.” You confessed, the tears making a rapid return. The more he spoke, the more real the entire thing felt. For years, you had brushed the topic off, forcing yourself to believe that senior year and university was so far away, but now that it was staring you in the face, making it impossible to see past it, you realized the time had flew by like nothing at all. You didn’t want to leave him, because he was the only thing you ever wanted. The idea of having him again in the future made the ache ease ever so slightly, but knowing that the whole middle part would suck made the relief insignificant.

“And the last one is We’ve Got Tonight by Bob Segar, ‘cause we do, sunshine. We have one more night to love each other, and I’ll be damned if I waste it. So here I am, with eight songs and some flowers that I found in my backyard, asking you if you’ll let me love you until you leave tomorrow. It doesn’t have to hurt right now, and we don’t have to let it hurt worse than it has to.”

“Okay,” you breathed, little argument left in you. If he wanted to love you, you weren’t stupid enough to turn him away. Tomorrow, when the sun rose in the sky, illuminating the mistakes you made and highlighting your successes, you would deal with the inevitable disappointment that came along with losing him, but you didn’t have to start yet. At that moment, you still had him, and you wanted to savour the feeling of Jake Kiszka being yours for as long as you could.

“Okay?” He asked, almost shocked at your lack of rebuttal.

“Okay, Jake. We’ve got tonight, so let’s make it last.”

[matty-bear]

“But I’m Not Yours.” [M.S] 

Type: fic! 

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: sfw, angst 

summary: You realize you have developed very strong feelings for Matt but you never expect the pain and heartbreak that would come with it. 

notes: based on what i’m going through right now with a crush/friend I’ve had since September 🔥 I made a playlist to try to cope with my feelings for him earlier and it’s nearly 10 hours long 😭 I need serious help guys… Anyways, hope you enjoy reading this! :D

WC: 3725

.・.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I’m somebody you call when you’re alone 

I’m somebody you use, but never own 

You and Matt have been attached to the hip ever since y’all met in high school. You were very lucky to become friends with the boy considering how he skipped the majority of school due to his anxiety. When he did come, you tried your best to keep him grounded when his anxiety got too overwhelming for him and prevented him from partaking in anything. 

At the beginning of y’all’s friendship, you were both very affectionate with each other and it wasn’t unusual for someone to see the two of you hugging or clinging onto one another. The two of you found so much comfort in each other in such a short amount of time so all of this came very naturally and quickly for y’all. 

Around a year into your friendship, you realized something that would soon become an issue after getting rejected by a crush. The day you got turned down, you texted Matt telling him what happened the moment you got home. As he was comforting you and giving you advice, one thing that he said stuck to you.

“I feel like it’s a lot easier to have a crush on your friend. You won’t have to worry about befriending your crush since you already know them!”

Matt’s words replayed over and over in your head for the next few days. And the more you thought about what he said, you soon came to the realization that you had a crush on him. The moment you realized, it all became so clear to you. How could you ignore the multiple signs that were in front of your face? 

Every time y’all hung out together, you felt extra giddy inside and when you looked at each other, your heart beat so loudly in your chest that you were surprised it didn’t jump out of your skin. Not to mention how nervous you got when you caught him looking at you! Another factor that played into you liking the boy was how much he genuinely cared for you. He was one of the only few people that really understood you and was constantly there for you. You’ve opened up to him about so many things and he’s remembered all of it.

And when I mean all of it, I mean all of it. 

He remembered every little detail about you and it made you so happy that someone actually cared. How could you not like a boy like Matt? Sure he was very attractive, but he has such amazing qualities that make him a great person to be around. You enjoyed every little moment you had with him. Even if it was a short conversation that the two of you had during passing period at school, you cherished every single moment you had with him. 

When you came to terms with your feelings, you found yourself falling for him. And you fell hard. Nick would even say that you were “whipped for him.” (Which wasn’t far from the truth. The boy had you wrapped around his finger without even knowing it himself.) The more y’all hung out, the more your feelings grew and you soon couldn’t take it anymore. After about a month and a half of discovering your feelings for Matt, you confessed to him. You were an anxious and shaking wreck when you opened up to him. 

You feared that he wouldn’t feel the same and possibly cut off your friendship. And you couldn’t bear losing Matt over some stupid feelings that you couldn’t control. But after you confessed and heard Matt say “Y/N, I like you too” and the boy proceeded to go into his own little confession where he gushed about you, you felt like you were over the moon. 

However, due to some of his relationship trauma, the boy wasn’t very keen on getting into a relationship with you at the moment. He was still healing from an old relationship from about two years ago that left him heavily scarred. He told you that he would absolutely love to be in a relationship with you but not at the moment since he needed to heal. So, like any good person would, you heard him out and agreed to put a hold on getting together. 

Ever since you two confessed to each other, the physical touch increased significantly. There was more hugging and y’all even started holding hands secretly in class since neither of you were big fans of PDA. Matt would even write you notes on small stickys telling you how much he loved and appreciated you. It always made your heart flutter when you read those notes and you always kept them in a notebook along with other small things he wrote for you. 

As y’all’s feelings for each other grew, you both got more open in terms of relationships. As in calling each other subtle pet names like ‘Love’ or telling each other what you’d want in a relationship. Every time you told Matt about what you’d want to do with a guy, he always told you that he’d be willing to complete your wishes. This always made you so happy because he actually wanted to make you happy when y’all got together. 

However as weeks passed, you noticed Matt started to get distant and less affectionate. 

There was no more hand holding, notes, hugs, and your goodnight messages were getting left on seen or delivered. He even asked you to stop with the pet names, which you obviously did because you didn’t wanna make him uncomfortable. All of this made you very upset because he was all over you one moment and really distant the next. You were very confused and hurt. 

So you decided to text him. 

When you messaged him confronting him on why he’s been getting distant, you felt your entire world crumble to your feet when he told you that he no longer had feelings for you and the entire time it was just mutual feelings. He went on and said that he apologizes and that his past relationship is getting him confused on being able to differentiate between crushes and a strong friendship. Feeling very hurt and upset, you told Matt that you understand and that you’d wait for him because of how strong your feelings were for him. After y’all’s conversation, you sobbed for hours. 

You thought you actually had a chance with him and went through all of that together just for him to tell you that the feelings were mutual all this time?.. 

You were absolutely crushed. 

As time passed, y’all began to grow distant and you felt that things were starting to become awkward. And this made you panic. The mere thought of you getting distant from Matt was starting to frighten you a little because you relied on him so much and he was one of the only few people you had. You opened up to him countless times about how you’ve felt and the same response that he gave you was “you’re just not talking to me as much as you used to. I try to talk to you but it’s like you’re not even trying to engage in a simple conversation with me anymore.” 

This response obviously made you feel like you were the issue and made you feel absolutely horrible. You began to think that your strong feelings for the boy were getting in the way of y’all’s friendship and you didn’t want that. So you tried your best to get rid of these feelings as best as you could just so things could go back to normal. It seemed to work for a little while but your feelings were always there, no matter how hard you tried to push them away. 

I’m somebody you touch, but never hold 

And you’re somebody I’ll never really know 

Time skip to about three months later, you and Matt are somewhat back to normal and you managed to get rid of your feelings. 

Or so you thought. 

The main thing you missed the most about yalls friendship was the physical touch. You missed his hugs; his warm, comforting hugs that never failed to keep you at bay. Matt also seemed to miss this part of y'all's friendship and agreed to take the physical touch slowly to get back into the old rhythm of things. Soon enough, you both eased back into the hugs, which you were wanting and wishing for the most. You still felt awkward engaging in them sometimes and you just didn’t know why. 

Despite you thinking that you two were back to normal, you continuously felt like you were losing him. Matt, knowing you better than anyone, immediately picked up on your off behavior and asked you how you were doing in private. It took you a minute, but you soon told him how you felt about the current situation. After the boy let you rant, he gave you nothing but sweet reassurance about how he would never leave you and that he treasured very much. This made you feel a lot better and you both shared a hug. One that felt nostalgic to you. It was warm, and very comforting and didn’t hold any awkwardness or tension. 

But as the days passed, you couldn’t help the aching feeling in your chest each time you saw him laughing with his other friends as you were left off to the side. Was it jealousy? You really didn’t know. He just seemed to want to hang out with other people besides you and he seemed a lot happier. You obviously didn’t confront him about it because you felt selfish thinking about it. Sure you hinted about the fact that he kept leaving you for other people but never told him straight up in fear that you would ruin y’all’s already rocky friendship. 

This caused you to take a rather large step back and distance yourself due to feeling that he no longer had any interest in y’all’s friendship. Him leaving you for other people multiple times was a sign of him losing interest, right? Sure, he could have other friends. You would never hold him back from that. But he kept leaving you in the dust. Despite this, you always found yourself drifting back to him. You couldn’t help but to drift back because you missed him so much. 

Every time you watched him interact and have fun with his other friends, you always had an aching feeling in your chest because that’s how you two used to be. Laughing over stupid shit and not caring about a single thing around you. You just focused on each other. 

You missed it. 

The two of you were getting distant. You knew it deep down. But the two of you always pushed the thought of it away and acted like y’all were fine. 

When it obviously wasn’t.

There was something holding yall back. 

And you knew that that something was your strong feelings for him. It had to be. It was ruining everything. 

I know I’m not the one you really love

I guess that’s why I’m never given up

You tried so hard to get rid of your feelings for Matt. And you actually thought you succeeded at some point. But when he told you about a crush that he developed on a girl, you couldn’t help but feel upset. Sure, y’all’s situation-ship happened a while ago but he seemed to have very strong feelings for this crush of his. He moved on and you were still longing for him deep down. You were very happy for the boy and gave him advice on how he should approach this crush of his because that’s what friends do but you always felt this aching in your chest afterwards. 

This feeling only worsened when he told you that he asked the girl out. It made you think back to how y’all used to be. He was so hesitant to get into a relationship with you and told you that he didn't want to get into one anytime soon but he didn’t hesitate to jump into a relationship with this girl who he only knew for about a month. It made you feel really hurt. It made you feel like he led you on. 

‘Cause I could give you all you want, the stars and the sun

But I’m, I’m not enough 

As weeks passed and you watched Matt get deeper into his relationship, you felt your heart twist and turn. You wished that was you. You thought it was going to be you in a happy relationship with him but it was clear that it wasn’t. He was all over his newly found girlfriend and hung out with her nearly every single day. When you two talked, he was always texting her and didn’t pay much attention to you despite you being right next to him. When you texted him, he always gushed about her.

It was always about her. 

You knew he was deeply in love with this girl. It was clear. And you knew you couldn’t do anything to make him change his feelings for her. As deeply as you wanted to get together with him, you didn’t dare to get between his relationship. What kind of person would you be if you did? A horrible one that’s what. And you didn’t want that.

So you stood by the side, watching him be happy with his girlfriend. You never told Matt that you still had feelings for him. Why would you bother? He would immediately reject you. You tried to find new crushes but each time you drifted back to him. Even though you genuinely thought you were deep in a crush with someone else, your heart prevented you from doing anything with them because it knew you were still not over Matt. 

You missed him. He was so caught up with his girlfriend that he started talking to you less. Yes, he did text you here and there but it was mainly about his girlfriend. You didn’t say anything about it because he was actually talking to you. And you took everything that you could get because you missed him. 

All I really wanted was that look in your eyes

Like you already know that I’m the love of your life

As much as you missed y’all’s friendship, you missed the intimate moments the most. As much as you tried to ignore the fact, you knew you did. You missed how he looked at you as if you were the love of his life. You missed the love-sick notes he wrote you every day. Hell, you still had them in your notebook! You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of them. As much as it hurt you each time you flipped to the page, you didn’t have it in you to throw it all away. It reminded you of what y’all had. And you missed what y’all had. You missed the subtle hand holding, the back hugs during class, the small gifts y’all gave each other, the late night calls where you often fell asleep with each other on FaceTime. You missed everything y’all did. 

Like you already know you’re never sayin’ goodbye 

But I’m not yours 

Matt would never know the things you would do for him. Hell, you would do anything and everything for him. Everytime he asked you to do him a favor, you didn’t hesitate to do it for him. You dropped everything for him. Which sounds very unhealthy but you couldn’t help it. You missed him and loved him. You were whipped. You were wrapped around his pinkie finger. 

And he was oblivious about all of it. 

You wanted all of it back. You wanted to be all over him and be able to gush about him openly. And you missed how he would gush about you as well and how he seemed so obsessed with you. However you knew you would never get it back because he was so in love with someone else. 

You clinged and held onto every moment y’all had with each other. Even if y'all were simply standing next to each other, you cherished it. At least you were with him. At least you saw him. It made you feel desperate but you just missed him. You tried so hard to try to spark up a conversation but your stupid feelings just made you feel awkward. 

You had no idea what to do and you blamed it on your undeniable feelings for the boy. Your heart prevented you from acting like how you usually would with him and you didn’t know how to fix it. 

I want more, I want more

But I’m not yours 

All you wanted was to get together with him. Yes, you did miss how y’all’s friendship used to be but all you really wanted was to be happy with him. That's what your heart longed for. To show him how madly in love you were with him. But you couldn’t because he was dating someone else and had no plans on breaking up with his girlfriend. You knew how happy he was with her. She always boosted his mood when he was down (You used to boost his mood when he was down.) and just made him so happy in general. She was the perfect girlfriend for him. She never hesitated to show her love for him or post him on her story. They were practically made for each other and everyone knew it. You had to admit you were a little jealous. I mean, how could you not be? You were watching the love of your life be happy with someone else. 

And I can’t change your mind

But you’re still mine

As much as you tried to discard your feelings, they never went away. You tried everything in the book; giving him icks, distancing yourself, picturing him doing embarrassing things, you tried everything and none of it worked. Your feelings were going to permanently stick with you and you had no choice but to accept it. 

Eventually you did accept it and just allowed your feelings to swallow you whole. Which was a very horrible mistake on your part because the urge to be as affectionate as possible and urge to gush over the boy grew stronger. You wanted to tell him how you felt about him so badly but you knew that it would ruin everything and cause him to drift even farther away from you. 

Matt was the number one person in your heart. The boy that you cared the most about. Your favorite person. You would do anything for him. But you knew that he didn't feel the same about you. You probably weren't even on the list of people he cared for. You were most like an extra in his life. A person who he doesn't speak much to unless it was necessary. (Or if he wanted to talk about his girlfriend) You were perfectly fine with being an extra. (You really weren't deep down.) As long as he was still in your life, you were happy.

I should’ve known that it was dumb love 

15 dozen roses 

All the things that I’ve done for you not to notice 

The reason why this whole situation hurt so badly was because Matt was your first genuine crush. You did have quite a few crushes and even dated a few people in grade school but the outcome never turned out well. Two years prior to your realizing that you had feelings for Matt, you were in a relationship that you had to end yourself because you were highly uncomfortable and didn't want to lead the person on. (Ending it was very difficult for you because you never initiated the break ups. The person you were with usually did.)

Matt was your first love. People say first loves hurt the most because it's the first experience of a deep emotional connection with someone. Some people are lucky to have a successful first love where they get married and even potentially have a family, but the vast majority experience severe heartbreak. And that's exactly what you were going through. And you continued to allow yourself to get hurt by the boy because you couldn't bear to lose him. He was just too important to you. 

Can’t believe I chose you over all my best friends 

What the fuck did I do?

In the end? 

You were willing to give up anyone and everyone for him. If he told you to drop someone because they weren’t “good enough for you,” you would do it in a heartbeat. He knows you better than everyone else so he had to be right! Right? And he wouldn’t lie like that to you either right?

…right? 

You would choose Matt over anyone. All your friends knew you favorited him. (They also continuously told you how unhealthy this situation had become) They knew how head over heels you were for him. Hell, they often brought up his name randomly in a conversation that you weren’t a part of just to see how quickly you would turn around. They found it funny how much you loved him. 

But you didn’t find it funny whatsoever because he was causing you so much pain. 

And he didn’t know it. 

And he never will. 

Just to not be yours 

As you continued to hold onto the few remaining threads of y’all’s relationship, you watched him be happy with his girlfriend. You watched and wished that it was you and wished that you could be happy with him. 

To this day, you still struggle with your feelings. You kept going into denial about them but they always hit you with full force when you thought you finally got rid of them. 

You will continue to wait for him. For however long it takes. Even if you have to watch him get into a hundred more relationships, you will continue to stay by his side; waiting for when you have a chance to finally capture his heart like he did to yours. 

But for now, you will continue to watch on the sidelines and wait. 

[spideyanakin]

let me be your harley (e.m)

requested by - @chloefrl // cheerleader!popular!reader and eddie are friends, he always makes her laugh and smile 24/7 , and Eddie is in love with her (let’s say since first year of high school) when he was about to confess his feelings for her, he saw her talking to a jock and that made him realize he wasn’t enough for her so he backed off. Reader noticed this, and confronted him. And he confessed his feelings about her and with something along the lines “your a queen, and I’m just your joker.” Then obv reader says she also likes him and they date :D

warnings - smoking, angst but ends fluff <3, friends to lovers

back to main masterlist

eddie munson masterlist

the playlist

Eddie Munson never thought he could have a friend like you.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined being best friends with the prettiest girl in school, let alone someone who also happens to be a cheerleader and crowned princess of Hawkins.

But there he was, on a random Tuesday evening, sitting on his bed with a joint dancing back and forth between his fingers and your own, babbling about your favorite lord of the Rings characters.

"What do you mean Legolas is an asshole?" You chuckled as you took a new puff, Eddie watching as your cheeks hallowed and half of your exhale passed through your nose before the rest of the smoke came out of your mouth. You stole a new drag before handing it to Eddie.

"You don't remember that moment in the two towers where he let Aragorn bend down to listen to the earth and struggle and shit and waited for him to come to the conclusion that indeed a whole ass army was headed towards them, and Legolas was just 'oh yeah I spotted them like an hour ago."

"Oh yeah, I remember," you giggled, "but he's not an asshole for this. Legolas is one of my favorite characters," you frowned, turning your head to face Eddie.

You smiled, finding his big brown eyes already staring at you. He smiled back, blowing smoke in your face to make you laugh--and it worked, because you swatted the smoke with a giggle, playfully slapping his chest before leaning on his shoulder.

Eddie wrapped his arm around you, letting you melt at his side.

You hummed in comfort, feeling safe in the warmth of Eddie's arms. Your eyes closing by themselves as you felt your high seep through you.

Eddie broke the silence, cheek leaning against the crown of your head, "he's a good character, but elves can be assholes in general in lord of the Rings."

"Don't shit on the elves, Munson," you hit his chest with the back of your hand, leaning away from his shoulder to meet his eyes again.

A new fit of laughter escaped you both the second your eyes met.

At this moment Eddie couldn't help but stare at you. You had this giddy high smile on your lips and shiny eyes. Hair poking all over the place, your cheer uniform wrinkled from laying down, sleeve falling off one shoulder. You made eye contact again and Eddie thought he was going to pass out.

His heart leaped in his chest and somehow he knew, he knew that he couldn't keep his feelings to himself for much longer.

He had already been head over heels for you since the first time he saw you in that high school cafeteria, and he knew he was ready to lay his life for you the second you exchanged words for the first time.

He had struggled to let the words 'thanks' and 'bye' in the same sentence, causing him to mumble something in between, you had given him the sweetest smile in return and waved your perfectly manicured hand goodbye.

He had to pinch himself every day since the moment Mrs. Smith had paired the two of you for a school project and you had, since then, somehow decided Eddie was a worthy friend: because you stuck around ever since.

He didn't even know how in the world you had anything in common in the first place.

But from the first time you had worked together outside of school, you took him by surprise.

He didn't even think it was possible for someone like you to feel so comfortable in his room, but he thought his eyes were going to pop out of his skill as he watched you graze your fingers excitedly over his Metallica poster, commenting about how much you loved them.

Eddie thought he was going to die right there.

But then, he ascended to heaven when you excitedly pointed to his music tapes your voice feeling like an angel's as you asked him the most obvious question: 'oh my god you listen to that too?'. He blinked, the question taking him by surprise. Wasn't it obvious? With the way he dressed and his reputation.

He barely nodded, too dumbfounded to form a proper sentence.

His eyes scanned you as you wrapped your fingers around another tape you hadn't noticed before, cheering as you showed it to Eddie. 'Oh my god, this is one of my favorites!' his breath caught in his throat as you asked permission to put said tape in his player. You turned up the volume and Eddie knew he was a goner when you started singing over Ozzy Osbourn's voice.

Needless to say, Eddie knew you had been a gift sent from heaven right this moment.

Or maybe you were sent from hell, destined to torment him. For him to fall helplessly in love with you just to never get a chance.

But you liked him back, right?

right.

"God, I wish I could join hellfire." You blinked and turned to him. "I wish I could play an elf too. I have so many ideas for my character..."

"I wish you could too, princess."

And that marked the end of a perfect evening with you.

You would go back to your house, take a shower and wash your uniform in a poor attempt to hide that you had been smoking. You would make yourself something to eat and finish up your homework, reminiscing about how off being in the cheer squad started to feel.

Your friends felt faker and faker by the second, and dancing in a green skirt accompanied with fluffy pom poms didn't feel right anymore, it didn't feel like you.

~

That morning, Eddie came to school with his intention set. A poorly written speech of what he wanted to tell you crumpled in the pocket of his leather jacket, keywords written in blue on his wrist, but the ink was already smudged by second period.

He felt nervous and jittery since he opened his eyes this morning, sunlight creeping in his poorly closed curtains. The light filtered in and lit up the space where he stuck all his best polaroid photos on his wall.

His eye caught his favorite one, and then it was all a reminder of what he promised himself today was going to be.

This was it.

He was going to muster all the courage he could and ask you ask on a date, jump into the potential abyss of ruining your picture-perfect friendship, with the potential of being able to call you his by the end of the day.

It took him some serious pep talk in the mirror and maybe even half of an old joint he found, hidden in the corner of his room by his guitar.

He was determined to meet with you in the woods, at your usual meeting spot. To sit at the mossy table, share a blunt and a pack of cookies as you gossiped on the latest Hawkins High news. He'd offer if you wanted to share his pack Twix bar, 'how romantic' he thought, and maybe once a comfortable silence had fallen, he would slide in the idea.

If his mouth would let him let the words out.

He knew it wasn't perfect, he knew it was far from the grand romantic gestures you deserved--but it was the best he could offer you in these conditions.

Knowing the fact that your time together always ran short, that you had to hide in between the trees or the comfort of your own homes to just be together--romantic of platonic.

And also knowing that if he didn't let his heart out today, he would probably burst into flames.

So he let out a deep breath, rearranging his bangs in the rearview mirror, fixing his jacket one last time, and making sure there wasn't anything stuck in between his teeth.

He looked around, spying on the crowd through the safe haven of his windshield. He spotted your car, but you were nowhere near it. You were probably already inside, fishing books from your locker or chatting with which ever of your cheerleader bimbo ‘friends’ had caught your attention.

He focused on not making his hand shake as he opened the door of his van, hands immediately finding shelter in his pockets as he made his way inside the school building.

It felt like everyone was staring at him as he made his way through the crowded hallway to reach his own locker. The random eyes that he would normally pay no attention too seemed to be staring right into his soul, judging him and telling him ‘you don’t stand a chance’

But he knew that was far from the truth. No one was reading into his mind, and no one had a laser vision that could see through leather and into his pocket, where they’re be able to read the rehearsed words Eddie had thrown together as if he was writing a new song for his band.

He felt like he was going crazy. Every little noise, every squeaking of a shoe, every locker closing: he could hear. A hyper awareness that made the hair of his arms spike despite his fight to keep himself calm and collected.

He reached his own locker. Easily doing the combination before opening it.

Crumpled papers over crumpled papers. Two stray markers and one ball pen sat in the middle of it all. A stash of weed hidden beneath the pile of scribbled pages, and a stray D and D dice, to which Eddie didn’t even know which set it belonged to. He thinks maybe it use to be Jeff’s old set, he vaguely remembered him using brownish dice for a while.

But he didn’t bother much longer with the question, because it had been weeks since it found itself on the bottom of Eddie’s locker and it would probably stay there until he graduated.

Out of the pile he picked out a virgin page, ripping it in half. He grabbed the first marker that his hands fell upon. An orange color with a thick tip to write, making his letters big and bulky as he scribbled

'meet me in the woods at lunch -E’

He folded the paper as neatly as he could, stuffing it in the back pocket of his jeans.

He waited until the hallway of your locker was a minimal emptied out, students filtering out and heading to their classrooms. He fumbled with his favorite ring, eyes scanning for any potential sneaky glances,

Your locker was almost there, he was halfway to victory, hand already reaching for his back pocket.

But then he saw you.

His face fell.

Your hair was tied up with its usual green ribbon, a bright smile plastered on your face as you spoke with one of the popular jocks; Chad.

He closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose, realization hitting him. He felt the floor crumble under him, ready for the world to swallow him whole.

Chad was the real-life version of a Ken doll. Perfect, shiny blonde hair that would make Steve jealous if he was still in school, a pearly white grin that made Eddie's stomach twist, and crystal blue eyes accompanied with the most charming aura.

He was a jock, with perfect grades, a fuck load of money, and everything else Eddie lacked. Popularity dripped from him. Everything Chad possessed that Eddie missed. You deserved someone who could grant you the moon if you wished--and Eddie could barely afford a diner date.

He watched as you slightly leaned against him: Chad flashing you his best smile as he spoke. He ran his hand through his perfect short curls, watching as they bounced back perfectly on his forehead.

He was bluntly flirting with you and Eddie saw his hopes fly out the window quicker than he found the courage to gather them.

The way you smiled as your conversation went on was enough for him to back away. Fist closing upon itself. He grabbed the piece of paper in his pocket, his 'poorly' written speech, and dumped it in the first trash that caught his eye.

He blinked, head falling down as he tried to burn the image of you with another guy out of his mind. He walked in the opposite direction, the realization that he didn't deserve you burning down his throat.

You were far too high in the Hawkins High food chain to even consider dating a guy like him. How could he have been so stupid?

You made him high on love. High on the hope that you could be an item. The way you were so comfortable around him, and how you made his head spin by doing the simplest of action.

But deep down he always knew this was a dream that he was going to have to snap out of. You needed someone like Chad. Someone with a good reputation and who doesn't take rides in the back of the sheriff's cars on a regular basis.

You might have similar tastes in music and common interests, but that was about it. Your social circles weren't compatible and he felt like a fool to even think he could have a chance.

~

He felt enough like a fool after that morning, he didn't need the pain in his heart to become worse by having you around.

Three weeks into his poor cover-ups and attempts to push you away, he only felt himself sink deep into his misery. No amount of Ozzy or Dio was enough to help him crawl out of this pit of pain he out himself into.

And as if things couldn't get worse, the pained look on your face every time you tried to comfort Eddie and he'd lay out yet again a poor excuse for his distance was now engraved in his mind--a reminder that not only was he destroying himself but he was bringing you down with him in the process.

But you'd heal, and faster than he ever could.

He knew you would.

He watched from the far end of the hellfire table, head hung in mystery as he looked down at the pretzels he didn't have an appetite for.

Gareth and Jeff were sharing a look, wondering if they should just go into a conversation of their own and pretend like Eddie wasn't moping right in front of their eyes. Lately, ignoring him seemed to be the only way to keep the party safe from his mood.

Eddie looked up once he had enough of staring at the dry food on his plate. He scanned the cafeteria and it didn't take him long to find you--looking perfect as always.

But in his staring, he was oblivious to the way your eyes didn't hold the same brightness as they usually did, and that the excited tone when you spoke to your friends was gone--blown with the harsh storm that had been Eddie's ignorance.

Of course, Eddie couldn't see the sleepless nights and the way your diner plates had remained full for the past few days. He couldn't truly see the inner turmoil that was rumbling inside your bones and keeping you from sanity.

But how could he? It was all hidden behind your perfect practiced cheerleader smile.

And when Eddie spotted that perfect smile from a distance, he didn't think twice before jumping to conclusions: you had finally moved on.

As Eddie looked back down to his poor lunch, he knew one thing to be clear: he was simply a useless passing villager in your game of life. He thought of himself to be like one of those useless NPCs he invented for his campaigns.

Boy if only he knew how wrong he was.

~

On the second day of the third week, you had enough.

If Eddie was going to ignore you, you at least needed a reason, something to justify the pang in your heart each time your eyes landed on him from a distance.

So you held your books a little tighter in your hand, your pink nails gripping your sticker-filled yellow spiral notebook tighter as you made your way out of the cafeteria. You watched like a hawk, keeping a certain distance so as to not raise suspicion. Eddie was speaking with one of his fellow Hellfire members; Jeff. The boy was nodding at whatever his dungeon master was telling him, and Eddie was fiddling with his rings: something you knew he did when he was nervous.

What did he have to be nervous about?

Eddie was soaked to the bone with confidence, that was the whole armor he wore so your so-called friends wouldn't eat him alive.

Did this have something to do with you?--There was no way of knowing, but you were growing suspicious of Eddie's change of behavior; towards both yourself and his faltering confidence.

The bell rang and as per usual, Eddie didn't budge from his spot. His friend had already scurried off to class but despite the rush happening around him, he took his time, stuffing his drug-filled lunch box into his locker and attempting to sort out the mess of misused books and stray notes he might need for the afternoon.

You closed your own locker, mumbling something to your friend, shooting her a smile as she left you alone.

The corridor fell empty, apart from you and Eddie; but didn't have seem to notice your presence, or at least if he did he did not make a move to talk to you or run away like he had usually done these past few weeks.

If he hadn't been ignoring you, maybe you would have smiled at the way he was figuring out what his own handwriting meant. Smiled at the way he was placing the paper in every angle possible to try and decipher if this was a useful piece of information for the hours to come. But when he finally cracked it, like an ancient code meant to keep safe the best of treasures, he mumbled something you didn't catch from the distance and stuffed it back in between the unorganized line of notebooks.

This wasn't the paper he was searching for.

"You need help finding something?" Your voice made him jump, making you crack a smile at the startled look on his face.

"Jesus, don't scare me like that," he mumbled before fishing for a bright blue notebook. He opened it to make sure it was the right one, and when he read Math, sloppily written in big letters across the front page, he tucked the book under his arm. He didn't share another word with you, probably waiting for you to make your purpose by his side known.

He tucked a 4 colored pen behind his ear and closed his locker, not bothering to close the lock.

"Can we talk?"

"Not, now I have to get to class, and so do you," he pointed to the clock behind you and you crossed your arms.

But your stance didn't seem to bother him much, because he turned on his heel and started walking away.

It took you a second to remember why you were here, you had enough of whatever was going on with him--and you wouldn't let him run away on you again.

So you caught up with him and stood your grown in front of him, trying to take as much space as possible--but probably failing to look an ounce more intimidating than nature allowed you to be.

But nonetheless, you still spoke, words slashing the air; "You're ignoring me." It was a statement--a firm one that almost made him flinch.

You saw his expression falter from shock to something else. A color you didn't recognize in Eddie, maybe pain, hurt? Your heart sunk down to your feet as réalisation hit you.

Did you really do something that bad?

He was staring right at you, big brown eyes intently staring your face, maybe trying to decipher your emotions, trying to read your mind so he could make a decision on his next move.

"No I haven't," but instead of doing anything remotely productive to help the conversation like you’d hope; he lied.

"Yes, you have," he watched as your face fell, more pieces of his heart shattering in the process. "Have I done something wrong?" The way you frowned was overwhelming. "I promise I didn't mean to, Eddie we can talk this out."

Eddie felt like he was about to burst, all of the predicaments he tried to convince himself were true falling to the ground and breaking with the last of his heart.

He had to close his eyes to stop himself from wanting to rip his hair out or cry.

You were blaming yourself, for something that was all him.

His fears came true, he had dragged you down into misery with him.

"Y/n, of course not-" you watched him stumble with his words.

"Then why are you ignoring me," Your tone might have seemed firm but he could tell the way your voice wavered.

You were hurt.

And it was all his fault.

He sighed, barely managing to meet your eyes again.

"Because I'm not good enough for you."

You blinked, trying to make sense of his words.

"What?"

"I'm not good enough for you!" He lifted his voice a bit, but not enough to make you flinch. "You're- you're perfect. It's as if god had taken everything that's perfect and made you—and then there's me, who is everything but perfect. A freak who was apparently meant to fall for someone he cannot have," he went on, too busy going on a rampage to notice the way your breath caught in your throat.

"Because," he looked into your eyes, a look so intense it almost gave you chills. "You're a queen, and I’m just your joker. And The Joker cannot fall in love with the queen of Gotham, she deserves Batman, the handsome Bruce Wayne. Not the madman."

You swallowed as you realized this was a love confession. Eddie’s eyes were wide, almost hectic, and the more you stared at him the more you realised this was him rambling on about how, he reciprocated your feelings but thought you could never.

Your ached when you registered the way he had just talked about himself, but quickly it was replaced by anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach for anyone in this damn town that made him feel this way.

Because your Eddie deserved the world, and he most definitely deserved someone like you. He even deserved the entire of Gotham to be at his feet.

You took a step closer, mustering bits of courage you still held, "Harley Quinn and the Joker made a pretty good pair the last time I checked."

Eddie felt the air pull out of his lungs as you spoke, his brain working overtime as it attempted to comprehend the coded message.

"What do you mean?" He breathed out, watching you get even closer to him.

"Let me be your Harley," you brushed his hand, making goosebumps travel up his arm. His fingers slowly interlacing with yours, eyes getting glossy. "I might be the Queen of Gotham, but I'm far from wanting Batman," you giggled, continuing to close the distance between you.

Before he could blink again, you were already on your tip toes leaning in for a kiss. You were already lowering yourself back to your normal height before Eddie registered what happened.

But when he did, his lips were on yours again—chasing for the feeling he had dreamed about for months now.

Eddie thought his brain was going to overheat.

Not even ten minutes ago, he thought every chance he had with you had been long gone, sunk deep into lovers lake with the other broken romances and unrequited loves.

But there he was, kissing the girl of his dreams in the middle of a school hallway.

And it was everything he had ever dreamt it would be.

"So, I'm really perfect?" You smirked as you pulled away from the kiss just for Eddie to chase your lips again, muttering 'Yes' in between kisses.

Eddie finally pulled away when the information had fully registered.

"How in the world do you like me back?" He blinked in disbelief.

"Because you're perfect?" He shook his head no, but you persisted, "you’re perfect for me, Eddie."

find the archived version here

[lostloveletters]

Little Wing (John Brady x OC)

Summary: Kate "Woody" Woodward and John Brady have it bad for each other, except Woody's convinced he doesn't care for her and Brady's convinced he messed up his shot with her. They prove each other wrong.

Note: Woody and Brady’s first kiss fic yay🤭 Title comes from the Jimi Hendrix song (which is on Woody’s playlist).  I know I keep saying this, but I’m so overwhelmed with the response to Woody/Brady, I didn’t expect it at all, and it means so much to me🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Inevitable historical and technical inaccuracies. Suggestive to a point, but not explicit. Light miscommunication plotline.

Darla had been the one who pointed it out. The Texan wasn’t one for biting her tongue, and expressed earlier that day while they were eating lunch with Meg that John Brady wasn’t making himself scarce around the hardstand, or the hangar. Wherever that downed plane of his was while they were working on it, he’d inevitably show up at some point. 

“‘S like he don’t think we can fix a damn plane,” Darla said through a mouthful of toast, stale from that morning’s breakfast. The guys in the kitchen knew the three of them weren’t ones to pass up food just because it was a few hours old.

“I got the same thing at my pop’s shop back home. These fellas would bring in their cars and tell ‘im they didn’t want me workin’ on them. Half of ‘em didn’t even know how to change a tire,” Meg agreed, her thick Boston accent making Woody have to strain to understand what she was saying sometimes.

Darla shook her head. “Some ‘a these flyboys, I swear to god they got more swagger than sense.”

Woody didn’t want to tell them that Brady’s frequenting their work area might have coincided with the one day he showed up to check on how things were going, and she apparently struck a nerve by trying to be nice—something she was rusty at despite her best efforts. So he’d hang around and watch, sometimes not saying very much at all while puffing away at his pipe. Made her feel tantalizingly scrutinized beneath his stormy gaze.

His crew were all nice enough guys. A little rowdy sometimes, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Still, their pilot’s recent behavior made it tough for her to shake the feeling that he wasn’t all that fond of her. A damn shame, because she had it bad for him. Figured it was the first time she was into a guy who was decent.

Earlier that week, Hambone waited out the English rain in the hangar with her, telling her what he and the rest of them did before the war. Mostly recent high school graduates or everyday working guys. She didn’t find it surprising that the pilot had a degree, but almost couldn’t believe her ears when Hambone told her that Brady was a musician before the war. If anyone deserved to walk around with the swagger most of the pilots did, it was Brady, in her opinion, yet to her, he seemed level-headed and reserved. 

She had left lunch with Darla and Meg that afternoon with a newfound resolve to win Brady over somehow. If not for her own sake, then to at least not make her own faux pas the other girls’ problem.

Her quip to Holly about John Brady and his cockpit was mostly for her best friend’s amusement. Anything in her past she’d remotely consider a relationship boiled down to little more than sex. Never exclusive, and never all that satisfying, either. 

Woody nearly scoffed at herself. As if he’d want anything to do with a woman like her.

“Evening, Lieutenant,” she said as he walked up.

He sighed, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “You don’t have to be so formal, Woody. It’s just us out here.”

“Bucky and Holly are listening to the Yankees at the Nationals.” She nodded in the direction of the jeep in the distance. “They made some bet on it.”

“I hardly think that counts considering how far they are.”

She hesitated. “If you say so.” Stopped herself from adding ‘sir’ at the end. 

The following ten or so minutes were all hers. Pointed out every inch of the plane that’d been worked on since he last came by. Had an answer for all of his questions or concerns. She didn’t miss a single detail, wanting him to know yes, she was serious, and yes, she could fix a damn plane. Got the same thrill she did when she’d tell people how she souped up their cars to race, watching the appreciation and at times disbelief for her work on their face.

“Still got some kinks to work out, but it should be coming along a lot quicker now,” she said.

“You did all of that since yesterday?”

“I can’t take all the credit. Darla and Meg helped out, too.”

He cracked a grin, his pipe between his teeth. “You’re pretty damn good, Woody.”

She smiled. Her heart might’ve skipped a beat or two. “Thank you.”

“You must’ve been a mechanic before this, huh?”

“Here and there,” she said. Eager to steer the conversation away from herself, she quickly added, “You’re a musician, aren’t you?”

“I am. I got my degree in music, too.”

“Let me guess what you play…” She folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t strike me as a tuba man.”

The slightest smile worked its way onto his face. “No, I’m not.”

“Way too smart to be playing the triangle.”

“Hey, don’t count out the triangle.”

“You’re pulling my leg!” She laughed, silently proud of herself for not saying 'You're fucking with me' which otherwise would've been her reflexive response. “Alright, I’m gonna make my real guess now.” She pursed her lips as she considered her options. “Clarinet?”

He nodded. “And saxophone.”

“Both? Oh, I’d love to hear you play sometime,” she said. “Either. Whichever one you like best.”

“I play with the band in the officer’s club once in a while. You should come by. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there.”

“I’m not an officer.”

“I’ll make sure no one kicks you out.”

“Are you offering to be my personal muscle?” she half-joked. 

He shook his head, smiling. “I don’t think you need it, but sure.”

“Thanks, John,” she said. “Unless you prefer Jack? Or just John?”

“What do you think suits me?” he asked.

“Well, I like Johnny, if you’re really asking.” She smiled like she was letting him in on a secret, like she knew all along he’d be Johnny to her. 

It was her eyes that got him, though. The same green he saw when someone else made her laugh or how just about everyone seemed to have some anecdote about Woody—how she helped them out or told a joke that was just the thing to lift their spirits.  But for all of the stories about Woody, the undertones of admiration or outright expressions of desire within them, nobody had one like his. Kissed his cheek without hesitation. Looked at him with those forest green eyes he could lose a hundred years in. Just when he was sure he had his chance and missed it, he was Johnny, and instead of getting lost in that forest, he knew exactly where he was going, how to push his way through and find her.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she muttered, staring above them and shaking her head. 

Woody grabbed a screwdriver and kicked over a wooden milk crate that had seen better days. She tentatively placed her boot on it, pressing down a moment before stepping up.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t reach otherwise.”

“That thing’s about as flimsy as cardboard,” he said, setting his pipe aside. “You’ll break your neck.” His strong hands were on her hips before he finished speaking. Held her steady as she stood on top of the crate.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. 

She worked in silence until she stood on her toes, and the crate wobbled ominously beneath her. “I can’t see. Can you get me a flashlight and—”

He squeezed her hips in frustration. “Woody, just do it tomorrow. It’s not worth getting hurt over.”

“Help me down, Johnny?” she asked, turning slightly in his hold, her eyes flashed an unmistakable desire that nearly sent him to his knees.

He kept one hand on her waist, the other holding her free hand as she stepped down from the crate. A flash of red spread across her cheeks, and he was drawn in closer like a moth to flame, following her to the nearby toolbox where she put the screwdriver back in place, double-checking the contents before locking it up for the night.

“You got something…” His thumb brushed just below her lip. They stared at each other in silence, voice caught in his throat before he closed the gap between them, cradling her chin in his hand as he kissed her. 

A shock to her system, there was something uniquely vulgar in his tenderness. Past lips on her own had been rough and selfish, part of a song and dance she grew tired of by the time she was nineteen. To be kissed with such care at twenty-three made her skin burn for more. 

She grabbed his collar, pulling him closer. Threatened to lose herself in the embrace, almost unsure of where Woody ended and John began. 

He caught her bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. She shuddered when he released it and pressed a hungry kiss to his lips, her want betraying her with a soft whimper. 

She felt him pulling away and thought her heart was going to beat out of her chest. “Johnny, don’t go. Not yet,” she whispered pleadingly, raking her fingers through his hair.

It didn’t take much else for him to give in, losing himself in that forest in her eyes. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“Being good,” she answered, “and I was getting better at that until you got here not even an hour ago.”

He smiled, eyes glistening almost mischievously. “Well, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Am I your sweetheart?”

“If you want to be.”

She smiled. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else’s,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“Me either.”

[hergrandplan]

Wille's Month 2024 Day 4 ( @youngroyals-events) : Revolution

In cleaning up their home, Simon and Wille find something from their past.

Read below the cut or on ao3 (warning: tooth-rotting fluff. You may want to call your dentist)(1.4k, T)

Their living room is filled with half-empty boxes. Soft pop music plays in the background as they work through the piles of stuff they gathered, both softly humming along, sometimes singing. Sometimes, they chuck something in them without asking the other for a second opinion. Other times, Simon holds something up to get Wille’s approval to throw it out – or (less often) vice versa, when they’re not sure if it should go or not.

In packing for their trip to visit Simon’s family they realized they had a lot of stuff. Like, a lot.

Though their suitcases are barely packed, they decided that now, a few days before their trip, was the perfect time to start decluttering their home (they have a few days left anyways). It turns out two people can accumulate a lot of stuff in five years of living together.

The do realize quickly that Wille is the culprit of why they have so much – Simon has long ago learned to live with the fact that his boyfriend likes to keep everything, like the receipt from the first time they went to the movies together).

It’s a slow but steady process. They have a rhythm, they crack jokes and laugh. They remember too. Now and then they find something that makes them drop everything, letting another 10 or 15 minutes slip by as they flip through another photo album, or they find a notebook from their high school years.

It doesn’t matter that they’re going slow though. They’re happy to reminisce. `

“Oh my god,” Simon suddenly exclaims loudly.

Wille looks up from an old book he’s found to see him holding up a cassette tape.

He thinks he recognizes it instantly, but he still asks to be sure, “is that…?”

Simon nods, giggling almost. “I think so.”

They scramble to find cassette player – another thing they maybe should have got rid of earlier, but now Wille’s all the more glad that they still have it. Maybe, an hour from now when Simon insists on throwing something out Wille wants to keep, he’ll use this as leverage. You never know when we might need it.

Simon puts the cassette in the player. It’s old, it crackles a bit, which is unsurprising. It was already old when Wille gave it to him for his birthday, years ago.

Most people would have made a Spotify playlist, but Wille finds there’s something more romantic about giving an actual physical copy. And so, for his boyfriend’s 17th birthday, he’d given him a mix tape, filled with songs that reminded him of him, but most importantly of them. Of Wille and Simon.

The first song plays – Aaliyah, “At Your Best (You Are Love)”, smooth R&B filling their messy living room, the notes falling and landing and staying in between the boxes.

Wille, filled with the need to take in every little detail of Simon’s being, turns to look at Simon only to find that Simon is already giving all of his attention to him. His gaze so full of love it’s almost overwhelming. Wille doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it, the way Simon just looks at him. Giving Wille his full attention, his utter devotion.

Then again, he looks at Simon, the exact same way. Even after all these years.

Wille is no longer afraid he’s going to lose any of this, he refuses for that to ever happen, not again, but he still savors every single moment with him, his beautiful boy. He looks and touches and feels, he knows the map of Simon’s body even better than the back of his own hand. The phantom memory of Simon is always at his fingertips when they’re apart, always quick to get back home as soon as possible.

And once again, Wille is filled with the need to take in every little detail of Simon’s being, with the need to never take his eyes off of Simon again.

Wille stands up, offers his hand out to Simon, who takes it without hesitation.

Wille pulls him to his feet, slowly, eyes never leaving Simon’s face. He sees the same question that’s been spinning around his mind reflected in Simon’s eyes – how did they ever get this lucky?

He places his hands on Simon’s hips, pulling him just a bit closer. Simon wraps his arms around Wille’s shoulders and gazes up at him, so lovingly, and Wille stares right back. This, he realizes with a flash, is it. This is the man he’s going to marry.

As Aaliyah sings that there’s no need for make-believe (and Wille, in this moment couldn’t agree more), Simon decides that they are not close enough. He pulls himself closer to Wille, burying his face in the crook of his neck, nosing at the soft skin there. Wille hums, moves his arms up, finds a home for them on Simon’s back, holding him tight.

Their dance turns into a shuffle, both men too tangled in each other to be able to move any more. There, between the boxes and the suitcases and all the evidence of a lifetime spent together, the promise of many more years to come, they hold each other.

The song finishes, the music softly fading away. Wille tilts Simon’s chin up, stares into those dark eyes that he will never get enough of. His heart so full of love that he can’t do anything but catch his lips with his, to feel his body flush against him, ever part touching and connecting, souls intertwined. Right now, he’s sure that their hearts even beat in the same rhythm.

There’s a moment of rest in between songs, as the cassette rolls until it lands on the next one. Wille has forgotten what songs he put on there – it’s been, after all, 10 years since he’s made it.

Then the tape hits the next song. A soft piano sounds. Wille feels Simon go still in his arms, as he too tries to figure out what song is playing. Then, all of a sudden, it’s Simon’s voice that fills up their living room. But the sound doesn’t come from the man standing in his arms – it’s coming from the cassette player.

They look at each other for one, long second as realization sinks in. Then, they break out into a fit of giggles, Simon burying his head again in the crook of Wille’s neck.

The song that’s playing is one very near and dear to Wille’s heart – after all, it’s literally named after him. Well, Simon actually never gave it a name, but he’d titled the file Wille. ‘Wille’s song’ is as close to a title as it gets.

Neither of them has heard this song in years – there was a time when Wille played it to death. When he first received it, and he thought this was the final piece of Simon he’d ever get, the only way he would be able to hear his voice.

Simon’s shoulders shake with laughter as the first chorus start, and Wille only pulls him tighter against him.

“I still can’t believe you put this on there,” Simon groans into his shoulder, his voice muffled. Wille’s sure that if he were to look at him now, he’d see Simon’s cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“I think it’s sweet,” Wille says, barely able to contain his laughter, which only makes Simon groan more.

“It’s so cringe.”

“You were sixteen, of course it’s cringe.” Wille brushes a soft hand through Simon’s curls. “And it convinced me to abdicate so…”

Simon finally looks up at him, indeed with cheeks flushing, but he’s grinning too.

“I guess I did spark a little revolution, huh?”

“At least in my heart.”

Wille leans down to press his forehead against Simon’s. His lips find Simon’s again, soft and warm and right. He smiles with Simon’s lips still on his. Simon moves his hands up to the nape of Wille’s neck, fingers buried in the soft hairs there.

Then Wille says the words he’s said a million times already, words he never tires of saying. That he never tires of hearing either. Because no matter how many times he says them, he never feels like it’s enough to convey what he feels for Simon.

“I love you,” he says softly in the space between them. They stay there, linger there, as Simon’s eyes open to gaze at him.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, and pulls him into another kiss.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

5 for your spotify playlist fic pls ❤️

This is one of my favorite KoL songs. The lore is that Caleb wrote this whole thing rather intoxicated and so it was done in one recording initially. There’s this shiny, hopeless quality to the song which led me to…vampires.

Pierre drinks at the same bar.

It doesn’t matter that there’s only the one.

He’s here every Friday night, seated in the corner, nursing a half dozen beers until they kick him out.

It’s a habit he doesn’t particularly enjoy, but one he’ll continue until - well, he doesn’t like to consider just how long he might be doing this.

But, he supposes, this is the madness of a lovesick man. One who has seen all that life has to offer and still chooses this. Still chooses to wait.

Because Pierre had been all over. He’d photographed sunsets over mountains in countries that forced the FBI to detain and question him. He had photographs in magazines and exhibits and coffee table books.

Pierre was well traveled.

- is well traveled.

But somehow he’s always back here at this bar on a Friday night, waiting in the same corner as he was five years ago.

Because that is when Pierre’s life really changed.

When he was sat in the bar of his dying hometown - visiting with his brother, listening to his high school friends tell him about the state diverting the highway around them and how it was going to cost the town millions.

And then Charles had walked in.

Pierre knew who and what he had been immediately - had met a vampire in Portugal of all places, but no one else had known what he was.

Pierre had.

And maybe that’s why Charles picked him.

Maybe it was the fact that when Charles smiled, his eyes crinkled up on the sides and Pierre hadn’t been able to help himself when he lifted his fingertips to his skin.

Maybe it was the photos that Pierre had of sunrises plastered on his tiny apartment walls.

Pierre had taken him home that night, tipsy on well whiskey his brother insisted on buying him and the way Charles muscles underneath his hands had felt like marble.

It doesn’t matter what it was.

Not anymore.

It was beautiful and all encompassing and Charles had sworn to Pierre that he wouldn’t be alone. That Charles would love him until the end of time and beyond.

And Pierre still believes it.

Because Charles didn’t take the photographs when he left.

And to Pierre.

To Pierre that means Charles still trusts him - that he still loves him.

Pierre knows that Charles meant it because he would have taken the photographs with him when he went. He wouldn’t have allowed Pierre to keep those blurry, overexposed photos the two of them had taken with a timer in the desert. Or the ones of Charles in Pierre’s kitchen, making Pierre spinach and egg omelets to keep Pierre’s iron up.

He wouldn’t have allowed Pierre to keep the photographs of the two of them, curled up in the moonlight - Charles looking every bit of the ethereal creature he is.

Pierre waits for him to come back because Charles had made him promises about taking him home to France.

Showing him his home there - ancient and lifeless he had called it.

Pierre waits because Charles had loved him and made him feel alive and he knows - he knows - what they had together transcends everything.

What they HAVE.

Pierre sips his beer and he half listens to some story David tells him until David mentions Pierre’s niece - something about smashing mailboxes out on 239.

And that’s why Pierre misses it.

The door opening.

The door opening and the whole place going into that hushed quiet whisper.

Pierre might miss the door opening, but he feels it in his blood - like his body knew and alerted him immediately to -

“Sorry,” Charles’ voice is soft as he slips into the chair beside Pierre, scooting it closer to his silently, “I got held up at a festival in Italy, but -“

Pierre reaches over and takes his hand and the whole bar goes back to normal volume. Like they’ve accepted Pierre’s forgiveness for Charles leaving him heartbroken here for two years. Or maybe they think the two of them have been seeing each other this whole time - Pierre flying off to see him.

“Cha,” Pierre says. Quiet and low, but it still sounds too loud for this place. “Want to go back to mine?”

Charles eyes shine as he nods and Pierre brings Charles hand up to his chest, splaying his hand over Pierre’s beating heart.

“Let’s go home.”

They have shit to work out, but they have forever to do it.

Here or France or Thailand or Uruguay.

It doesn’t matter to him. Not when Charles repeats it back to him.

“Let’s go home.”

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/14/2023

twenty-nine, please be kinder than twenty-eight and the tail end of twenty-seven. phil update: unauthorized access

listening

Maisie Peters’ Guy on a Horse (previously featured with song Not Another Rockstar). headbanging indie rock off the spotify recced playlist. i would have liked this song much more in my worst misandrist period from high school-early college but the lines “Got this far and I’m Joan of Arc/And you’re just a guy on a horse” made me laugh. spotify

also off the spotify recced playlist (many bangers on last week’s) The Last Dinner Party’s My Lady of Mercy. all-girl baroque british indie rock, a dizzy quality i like very much in this small dose but would never be in the mood for a full album’s worth. spotify.

OH this feels like it’s probably on every griddlehawk playlist. one day i will read those things

-

reading

fallow week

-

watching

Sirocco (1951, dir. Bernhardt). it was on tubi and i wanted to watch a Bogart noir without hooking up my laptop and finagling The Big Sleep with the good subtitles off the dvd. Sirocco has…hm. aged poorly is an understatement. it is not internally consistent with character motivations (a truly fucking baffling ending) and the leads have zero chemistry. the leading lady didn’t have anything to fucking do to create chemistry. the hottest moment was when she absentmindedly gave him back a cigarette with a lipstick print, and he finishes smoking it with a thousand-yard stare. comparing this in marketing to Casablanca was criminal. stop fucking comparing everything to Casablanca it’s never going to be as good!!!

third most unforgivably, below the brownface and script that was once in the same room as fun dialogue, it could have been a singular half-hour episode of television instead of a feature length film.

-

playing

genuinely cried at the conclusion of the mainline Fontaine quest in g/enshin. this was a beefy fuckin update my god. i think the last act in the five-act quest was like two hours of cutscenes. i know how the fuck are they funding this (gacha) but still. any other company this would be hysterically cost prohibitive.

in other games: Luna Story Picross I, i am having fun but i think my brain has not yet picked up on the internal logic of picross yet. if there was a Good Picross paid app like the Good Sudoku paid app that teaches you sudoku strategy i would get that in a shot. this is a very millennial app, lovely gradients and extra chunky pixel art. very crossstitchable . ik pixel art is already crossstitchable but this lands somewhere between whimsigoth and every astronomy-themed gift on the marketplace and i find that compelling

-

making

horseshoe knife from the Dragon Forging Experience!!! at the ren faire. unrelated half pound block of beeswax for scale. i did not have enough upper body strength and got a blister :( but any excuse to swing a medium-sized hammer with malice aforethought. my initials are somewhat indifferently stamped on the other side bc again, upper body strength, but those don’t need to be on the internet

hung up all the cat wand toys. this is extremely not very hashtag aesthetic but hopefully seeing them every day will remind me to actually play with my fucking cats, bc they were in a horrible pile behind the futon and were a right bitch to detangle every time. we’ll see how this goes. mack has not ripped them all down yet bc she doesn’t want to stretch over the little samsonite train case i yoinked off the side of the road in mass. strongly recommend a big makeup case or train case like this one to hold all the cat bits and bobs like flea treatment and brushes and extra toys and the filters for the water fountain et al.

[bluestarjay]

Guys ik I've made so many posts recently, but I'm sick and stayed home from school today, so it's not my fault I'm bored!! Anyways, so I have a hc Hinata really likes American music or just like English music in general. I said in a previous post that I think he'd be really interested in linguistics and languages in general, so to follow up with that, I could totally see him listening to American 1980s music in high-school, and being sad that he isn't able to understand it, cause he sucked at English in hs lmao. Like, I lowkey fw him listening to Goth music 👀👀 Hinata is the type of person who genuinely listens to ALL music types. My personal playlist? 29 and a half hours. It ranges from Taylor Swift to MCR, Gacha classics to Linkin Park, like name an artist, and there's probably at least one song of theirs on my playlist. Hinata is the same way!! He'd fs love Taylor Swift, even though she'd only have been up to Red by the time Haikyuu actually takes place. But tell me he wouldn't love The Cure or Tears For Fear!! Omg and even though he's literally a Japanese high schooler, and it wouldn't come out until after he'd graduated, ik he'd love the Hamilton soundtrack (bc be honest, who doesn't?? 🤨🤨) Lana? Yes. Samba music (an older genre of Brazilian music,, I actually started listening to it when I found out he'd gone to Brazil haha its soooo good 😩)? Obviously. Rap? YES. He would like Childish Gambino (I'm just projecting, sorry). HE WOULD LOVEEE THE LIVING TOMBSTONE FNAF SONGS. IK HE HAD THEM ALL MEMORIZED. I lowkey hc he can rap certain songs, and the fnaf one is one of them. OOOO AND I JUST KNOWWW HE WAS LISTENING TO PANIC! AT THE DISCO IN HIS FREE TIME 💀💀 Bitch he was listening to all the 2010s American club songs not having a clue what they were saying but then finding out years later once he knew English and laughing his ass off. He was out in his backyard playing some solo volleyball listening to Kesha to hype him up yk LMAO also he's had the same spotify playlist since high school, so even now when he's like 27-28 he's listening to all the shit he did when he was like 14-16 bc he's too lazy to make another playlist and everyone finds it appalling like ik Bokuto and Atsumu have playlists for working out, driving, sad, happy, everything, but Hinata just has the one 💀💀

[givengoddess]

So, I never really posted much on here but I did used to scroll through these tags daily. I'd get lost in these photos, these wishes and fantasies. I had this ed playlist, label 10.8 . It was called that because one day I saw on that weight on the scale (10.8 stones) and decided that if I ever went above that, that I would kill myself.

That was a few years ago now. I had a bad night, and was looking for music to match my mood and remembered that playlist. I haven't played it in almost two years. It took a while to find it, a good way down in my spotify profile. I made it through about a song and a half, before I found the strength to do something I wouldn't have before and said enough. I stopped it. I refused to go down this rabbit hole and to do this to myself again. Because I don't hate my body anymore.

I don't know what change did it. I got pretty into a martial art and maybe started seeing my body different, as something that worked for me, not I for it. I also finished school and my social environment really changed. Maybe it was just the time passing. I'm not sure, but in these last few years, I have healed.

I don't hate my body anymore. I fought to love the things I used to hate. That little bump of extra fat at the bottom of my stomach that i could never get rid of now makes me feel like a woman. I wouldn't feel right without it. (I decided to believe that, and eventually it worked) I still have the same big upper arms, but now i want them to be strong and functional, not like twigs, that could so easily snap. My legs look like legs to me now, not globs of wobbly fat, even though they are shaped the same. Hell, I'm planning on switching from high waisted jeans to regular. Not because my stomach disappeared, but because I know that it's just a goddammit normal human stomach. It looks fine on other people, why not me?

I used to look at my skinnier sister eating bowls full of buttery cheesy foods and not understand how it worked. But eating full satisfying meals made my body happy, so it didn't beg me to binge whenever my willpower dipped. That urge simply went away. I now eat those same nourishing meals and can enjoy them. I moved out and yet my fridge is not apples and water, because if it was I would not be able to live my life to the fullest. I wouldn't have energy to study, to play sport and to dance and laugh with my friends.

There's this song, on the playlist. Its called "honey and glass" and in it the girl admires the girls capable of dancing in the rain and living life to its fullest, not focusing on how their bodies looked, just existing and knowing they are okay. It ends by promising that one day, you too will be honey and glass .

That line is what inspired me to write this. Because it came true for me. So, I just wanted to promise you it can be true for you too. Someday, your insecurities won't be the most important thing. Someday, you'll be free to dance in the rain, to be honey and glass.

- someone who's been through all this shit, and made it to today, happy and proud at 10.9 stone.

[fragilecapric0rnn]

🔁 ronance please and thank you 😌

anything for you my louseph friend <3

FINALLY a song that is not sad!!!

relistening to this one and am reminded how fun and chaotic it is and was, once again, metaphorically hit over the head with an idea:

Ronance workplace rivals to friends to lovers AU! if i'm remembering correctly i used this song on a playlist many moons ago for a rivals to friends to lovers au i wrote (and have since orphaned oops)

Set in the political sphere, both working as staffers for the same US Congresswoman, a prolific, controversial member of the House of Representatives. An office known for being nearly impossible to infiltrate.

Nancy, cut-throat workaholic. Constantly burning the candle at both ends, her desk should be considered her first home rather than her actual home. She worked her ass off.

Starting in high school, piloting the high school Democratic club for her high school and then rocketing it up to the most productive high school chapter in the region, regardless of none of the members could vote. Taking undergrad by the balls and squeezing as hard as she possibly could. Scoring internships the summer after her Freshman year and bypassing incoming Seniors that by the time SHE was a Senior she had a better resume than most seasoned political staffers. Three internships on The Hill, two years of being president of her colleges Dem club chapter, staffed over a dozen political campaigns for various Dems across the political spectrum. All while maintaining a 4.0 GPA and writing guest articles for the University's school paper. Nancy Wheeler made name for herself, stepping into her glory as one of the youngest staffers in DC at just 22 years old. Younger than some interns. But carrying herself with the confidence of someone with decades of experience under the belt.

Robin, on the other hand, kinda fell into politics. It was the summer right before her Senior year of high school. An election year. She never paid much attention to politics before this, her parents were hippies, they were obviously liberal. Naturally smart, never having to try that hard to keep her GPA high, but also knowing that they didn't have enough money to send her to college, but made too much money to qualify for a lot of assistance, and she never excelled so well that she earned a full-ride anywhere, community college was the only reasonable option for her. One day, she's packing up her trumpet at the end of band practice, one of the few stragglers in the gym, when people in suits start setting up the gym. In walks the Democratic candidate for her district. Curious, especially when she noticed the line forming outside to hear her speak, she decided to hang around and see what the big deal was.

She was captivated. Big promises fighting for people like her, really like her. Multiple references to her partner, another woman, Robin felt this itch in the back of her skull, spread to the rest of her body. Something more than curiosity, something that motivates her to wait even longer and approach this candidate, arguing with staffers and whoever she needs to, just to get a word in with the candidate.

She ends up fighting with half of her staff, making some sort of impression on the future Congresswoman, who makes time to talk to her. Robin leaves that night with a new passion, and a new (unpaid) position working on the campaign.

Once the election was won, Robin spent most of her time in community college working for the Congresswoman in her district office. Taking night classes and getting involved in the community college's Dem club, but her first priority was to this office.

Politics was a natural arena for Robin. A schmooze by nature, witty and personable, she made the job look easy. No one would know that she spends most of her time in her car, working two jobs to save money and trying to maintain a good GPA to get into the local State College. The Congresswoman made her promise to finish her degree, not get wrapped up in the career path that politics has to offer. And in exchange, she had a position waiting for her in the DC office as soon as she graduated.

Nancy and Robin start in the Congresswoman's office on the same day. Nancy see's Robin as competition. Robin see's Nancy as a stuck-up rich kid with no loyalty. They're at each other's throats. Nancy constantly trying to one up Robin, Robin easily charming the pants off of anyone in her path.

Robin taking work home with her, but Nancy thinking that she's a slacker. Nancy living at her desk, making Robin view her as a show-off.

It all comes to a head during the first campaign event of the election cycle. And it starts and ends at the open bar.

send me a 🔀 and a pairing, and i’ll shuffle my playlist and make an au based on the first song that comes up

[sarahshot1st]

"Do you want to go see a movie on Saturday?"

Diana frowned, pulling out one earbud, arm resting lazily against the library table.

"A movie?"

Leona stuttered. "Yeah, I mean - it's just, there's a lot of good ones showing right now, you know?"

Diana huffed. "I guess."

"I was planning on going alone, but it's nicer when you have someone to go with." Leona forced a smile, which completely failed to cover up the nervousness she was obviously feeling. Diana had the distinct impression the red-headed jock had planned this interaction out, and that it wasn't going how she had planned.

She decided to be merciful. "Yeah, I know what you mean. At least if the movie sucks, you have someone to shit-talk it with afterwards."

"Right! And if it's good, you can talk about what made you like it."

Diana gave a faint smile. Based on what she knew of Leona, she could likely talk someone's ear off for thirty minutes about a movie she enjoyed. When the brawny athlete got excited about something, it became her entire universe. She reminded Diana of how her History of Religion professor gave lectures, jumping from topic to topic, making connections with whatever else was currently on his mind; only instead it was about Taylor Swift's latest album, or the plot of some anime Leoma had been watching. Diana honestly found it amusing to see that same level of hyperfocus applied to much more light-hearted subjects than the heavy things Dr. Terris discussed - topics like ethnic displacement and conflicts between rival sects.

"I suppose that's a fair point," Diana said, closing her notebook. She had finished studying an hour ago, and had been passing the time doodling on blank pages and listening to her mellow playlist. She could have left, but Leona studied better when she had someone with her. It didn't matter if they talked about the homework or not, having another body present helped Leona stay focused.

"...So? Do you wanna?" Leona's tone was so full of innocent pleading, she might as well have been pointing her index fingers together.

Did she? They had been study partners for two weeks now, and Diana was honestly coming to enjoy Leona's company. Goodness knew she could stand to expand the size of her friend circle. She had become something of a loner at Targon University, with most of the people she knew from high school going off to different schools or starting careers. Having someone to consistently spend time with had proven good for her. But going from "study partners" to "actual hang-out friends" was a big leap. Is that what she wanted?

"Fine," Diana said, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "What do you want to see? I hear the new Scream movie's supposed to be halfway decent."

Leona paled. "I'd … I'd rather not see a horror film. They're not really my thing."

Interesting, Diana thought. The big, tough, jock-girl is squeamish. She filed that information away for later use.

"Well, I'm not that picky. Pick something out and let me know. But Leona?"

"Yes?"

"Let's do Sunday instead of Saturday."

"Okay…" Leona's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Monday's your off-day for practice. I don't have work, and our classes aren't until the afternoon. We can stay out late and sleep in. Thar way, we can dodge the Saturday evening crowd."

Leona nodded. "Good thinking."

Diana shrugged. "I worked at a movie theater during high school. The employees would always fight each other over who got the Sunday shifts because the place was practically dead. The less people going out on dates, the less popcorn there is to clean up afterwards."

She kept her tone of voice completely neutral, avoiding Leona's face by taking a sip of water. When she lowered her Nalgene, however, she saw that the girl's face had turned nearly as red as her hair.

So Leona did consider this to be a date.

Did Diana mind that?

"I'll … I'll pick you up at 7?" Leona asked, hastily packing up her things. Her homework, Diana noted, was only half-finished.

Well, this could prove interesting.

"Sounds like a plan."

[cuoredimuschio]

15 people, 15 questions

tagged by @patchworkgargoyle!! 💚💚

1. are you named after anyone?

my dead name was possibly in honor of my grandmother and great-grandmother, but i 100% named myself after noah czerny (trc) when i was 17 👻

2. when was the last time you cried?

probably yesterday? idk, it happens a lot and my memory's terrible

3. do you have kids?

no. probably never will, whether i want them or not. i'm a little too scared of how easy it is screw up in parenthood

4. what sports do you play/have played?

i played softball from kindergarten through eighth grade, but that last year, i had a coach who benched me for over half of our games and screamed at me during practice in front of the whole team and made me sick to my stomach at just the thought of playing, so i decided i was done with the sport and didn't try out in high school lol

5. do you use sarcasm?

constantly. too much probably. but like, not with strangers usually, and i try to make it pretty obvious if i am being sarcastic

6. what's the first thing you notice about people?

the way they look at me/their expression, maybe? i'm just like. constantly on edge in public and i don't pass super well and also i'm just like. wildly self-conscious, so i'm always like 'okay, let's see, does this random stranger already hate me? 🤔'

7. what's your eye color?

i guess hazel would be most accurate answer. i've always said brown (dishwater brown to quote the midwife who helped deliver me), but it turns out there's actually green in there too and it's just brown around my pupil (a fact i genuinely did not realize until i was like. 17) so....yeah, hazel

8. scary movies or happy endings?

you know i always say i don't like scary movies because i'm very easily spooked, but i'm currently back on my chucky shit (sorry followers, but tis the season) and honestly, i wanna cop out and say both, scary movie with a happy ending.

9. any talents?

the sad thing is, no, i genuinely can't think of a single one. like, all i've got is that i can make a star with a rubber band, but i don't think that's a talent lol

10. where were you born?

ohio, unfortunately :/

11. what are your hobbies?

writing, reading, playing way too much zelda/stardew valley, occasionally knitting, taking walks, crosswords, making niche playlists, listening to the same song on repeat for hours

12. do you have any pets?

i am the proud proprietor of the cutest dog this side of the mississippi, miss ellie rose. (seasonally-appropriate evidence of said cuteness below)

13. how tall are you?

5'4" (and three quarters) #shortkingnation 😔✊

14. favorite subject in school?

english and math!!

15. dream job?

honestly, i have no idea. i've never had very lofty ambitions; when i was a kid, i wanted to be a bus driver or a mail man, and i never really found anything that stoked my soul in the past two decades. trite english major answer here, but i guess maybe working in a library or a bookstore would be nice (i'd say author but girlie, i could never) 🤷‍♂️

no-pressure, zero-obligation tags: @hellfiredemon, @starryeyedjanai, @pizzaqueen, @thefreakandthehair, @cheatghost, @vecnuthy andddd that's about everyone i know, sorry if i double-tagged anyone!!

[eusuntgratie]

Look. I know you just did tknp but. More?🔀

Nolan’s hiding in his bed desperate for some quiet after meeting his very loud, very exuberant new roommate and every single member of his extended family. Kevin is nice, super nice, and he’s sure they’ll get along great, but moving across the country and starting college was overwhelming enough without becoming immediately adopted by the world’s loudest family all in the same day. Mrs. Hayes had looked a little heartbroken when he’d turned down going to dinner with them, but Kevin had seemed to get it, giving him a smile and bustling his mom out of the room with promises to take him to breakfast in the morning.

He wants to ignore it when a guy from high school that he’s sort of friends with texts him and invites him to a party, but Madison had made him promise to make an effort to meet people here and lectured him about how the easiest way to do that was to just…say yes to things even when he wanted to say no.

He sighs dramatically and texts back, ‘sure man send the address. can I invite my roommate?’

He texts the info over to Kevin just in case he wants to come out after his family crashes and pulls up his phone to see how far he’ll have to walk.

Nolan finally gets to the little house, set just far enough outside of town to make him consider turning back. He’d texted with Maddie most of the way there, though, and he’d promised he’d go, so he would.

He can hear the music, loud and thumping, as soon as he starts down the driveway. Someone’s puking in a bush by the front door and there’s a half undressed couple making out in the yard. He sighs, and forces himself through the door.

He spends a few minutes trying to find someone he knows before giving up and asking around for a beer. He figures he’ll drink one and head back unless Kevin decides to show up.

The song changes to something filthy he vaguely recognizes, and a couple of girls hop up on a counter to dance. Suddenly, a tiny, dark-haired, shirtless man skids into the kitchen in socks and basketball shorts and a backwards hat, singing the lyrics at the top of his lungs. His gaze catches on Nolan, who feels like a bug being pulled steadily toward a bug zapper. The guy sings the words like he’s a stripper Nolan’s paid too much money for, gyrating and jumping around, too confident for anyone to notice that he can’t really dance.

He’s small but he’s built, and he’s tan and he’s beautiful and Nolan freezes once he gets close, not sure what to do with his hands or his mouth. Well, he’s got some ideas, but he doesn’t think leading with those will earn him any new friends.

The song finishes and the guy wraps an arm around Nolan’s neck like they’re old friends.

“You alright, buddy?”

Nolan’s brain cycles through several helpful responses: who the fuck are you?, how are you so hot?, I can see your dick through your shorts, would you like a blowjob?

He swallows hard and just says, “yeah.”

“You want a beer?”

Nolan nods and follows helplessly as the guy drags him out of the kitchen and out a door into the backyard.

It’s sticky and hot outside, but the guy doesn’t move away, stays plastered to Nolan’s side until they find the keg. He digs around for a cup and fills it with foamy, cheap beer, handing it to Nolan with a smile.

“I’m TK.”

“Pat,” he says.

TK grins and slings his arm around his neck again.

“Nice to meet you, Pat. You new here?”

“Yeah.”

“Anybody show you around yet?”

“The house? Or campus?”

“I meant the house. But either, I guess.”

“No.”

“Want me to?”

“You can show me anything you want.”

Nolan swallows and stares at the floor. He’s never forward. He can usually barely string three words together in front of anyone he finds attractive, but this guy’s so hot he can’t seem to help it.

TK’s smiles out of one side of his mouth and tugs on his arm.

“C’mon, baby. I’ve got plenty to show you.”

send me a ship and 🔀 and i'll shuffle my playlist and make an au

[loserboyfriendrjl]

interview music tag game!

thank you for everyone who tagged me in this! i'm sorry i didn't answer till now, i usually like and save the tag games for later but i forget about them </3

RULES: put your playlist on shuffle. for each of the 10 interview questions, select a lyric from the random song that comes up. (skip if there aren't any lyrics and make sure to drop the name of the song in the interview answer!) <3

i used my liked songs for this, given the fact that that's the playlist i have with the most (diverse) songs

1. first off, how would you describe yourself in one sentence?

the bathroom tiles were cold against my head // i pressed my forehead to the floor and i prayed for a trapdoor — ethel cain, florence + the machine, morning elvis

2. what kind of [cancer] are you?

as... as long as we still can my love // we both know the string is always ready — lebanon hanover, gallowdance

3. you're visiting your favorite spot, what are you thinking about?

gimme summertime, gimme rain // i got a lover with a ball and chain — vista kicks, alice

4. if your life was a movie, what do you think the first review would say about it?

it made me feel so strange, wonder if you're the same — chrissy, devil on my back

5. say you get a book deal, what are you titling your memoir?

there's not a soul out there // no one to hear my prayer — abba, gimme! gimme! gimme! (a man after midnight)

6. what would you say about your best friends?

i hope you come back soon — japanese breakfast, posing in bondage

7. think back to when you had everything all figured out in high school, what was your life motto as a teenager?

i saw angels dancing to music i could not recognize — voice coils, you in a place for a while by yourself

8. describe your aesthetic now:

to remind you how i still love you (i still love you) — queen, love of my life

9. what's a lyric that they'll quote in your euology?

i love it when you hold me — mel bryant & the mercy makers, ilyis part 2

10. and for our final question, say we believe in soulmates, what do you think their first impression of meeting you will be?

if it isn't love then why do, i feel that i'm split in half? — everything everything, warm healer

tagging (no pressure): @imagineacoolusername, @enbysiriusblack, @iheartmoons, @nefeliibata, @quillkiller, @coldnerdnacho, @mvnvgedmischief, @everyone else who wants to join!

[rebuke-me]

my deere playlist and the lyrics that made me put them on there (but half my music taste is incredibly obscure)

you belong with me - taylor swift

but she wears short skirts, i wear t-shirts // she’s cheer captain and i’m on the bleachers!

boy who has everything - annika bennett

sometimes i’m so cynical and self-conscious // and sometimes i see that i’m bringing him down // i stand in the mirror, hands in empty pockets // and wonder why he even wants me around 

bishounen - cepheid & ethan song

it’s funny when you’re nervous and you look away // you stutter when i laugh and give yourself away 

dream - tessa violet

you saw me clear as glass // i thought you bold as brass // never knew how lovely love could be

wish you were gay - claud

i wish you were gay so you could just hold me // call me your babe instead of your homie

heather - conan gray

why would you ever kiss me // i’m not even half as pretty // you gave her sweater, it’s just polyester // but you like her better // i wish i were heather 

jason - bonnie parker

jason, i’ll be cheering for you as you win the big game // i look to you with glassy eyes as you rejoice in the fame // jason, why so sad? it’s as if we are one in the same // watch those pretty eyes roll back, i left after you came

i kissed a boy - jupither

i kissed a boy just to try it // i hope my girlfriend don’t mind it

first time he kissed a boy - kadie elder

feeling stuck // set him free // out of luck // on his knees // first time he kissed a boy

i don’t dance - high school musical 2

i just. i dont have lyrics for this one just watch the scene again and tell me i’m wrong. i dare you.

something after all - starry

i’ve spent years building up walls, playing it safe // standing in line when i should run // run for my life // before it’s gone // you’ve turned my world around // and no, it wasn’t a mistake

get this right (outtake) - frozen 

i wanna make you swoon, baby // i wanna rock you with my righteous romance

get used to it - ricky montgomery

used to go to university // used to be the head of varsity // used to be inside this box with everyone noticin’ me // i used to leave the evenin’ feelin’ right // i’ll be with you each and every night

ordinary - joriah kwame & allie grace

and what’s the point of falling when i know i’m only stalling // cause i have to go back home // where i’m just one in the herd, tripping over my words // trying hard to go with the grain

honeydew - small talks

you’re an endless summer and i’m a winter you don’t like // you see my early sunsets and i see your shine // but every time we get too close

stupid for you - waterparks 

the best is hard to grip when everybody wants you // and everybody wants you // you’re playin’ ring round my head // i’ll wear you like a halo // you’re a symphony, i’m just a sour note 

teenager in love - neon trees 

there was a point of no return // and i never looked back til i was holding your hand // and i’m socially absurd // but who cares

god in jeans - ryan beatty

god is real, he was sleeping in my bed last night // we were naked with the radio on // played him my favourite song 

venus as a boy - bjork

he believes in a beauty // he’s venus as a boy

house a habit - we are the guests 

and tell me all your secrets // i’ll tell you what i know // just bare with me tomorrow

washing machine heart - mitski

baby, though i’ve closed my eyes // i know who you pretend i am

kissaphobic - make out monday 

 your fingers are quivering // except when you’re shivering // i wanna hold your hand

hot - avril lavigne

and i can make you say everything // that you’ve never said // and i will let you do anything // that you’ve never said

still into you - paramore

it’s not a walk in the park to love each other // but when our fingers interlock // can’t deny, can’t deny you’re worth it

backseat serenade - all time low 

backseat serenade, dizzy hurricane // god, i’m sick of sleeping alone // you’re salty like a summer day