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starrystevie · 11 months

Text

it was all supposed to be a dumb joke.

the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.

it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. "what if were to get in there and take some celebrity's name for a user name? like paris hilton or something."

then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. "dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that..."

then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. "yeah, it'd be funnier if it was eddie's pop prince loverboy instead."

that got everyone's attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn't want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.

"loverboy?! you know i can't stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that..."

but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.

'steveharrington', eddie's account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.

if it hadn't been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn't been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of 'oh steve' in the background. if it hadn't been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.

if it hadn't been for all of that he wouldn't have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.

"good morning!" the message says simply enough. eddie stares at the words, trying to process what they mean, looking at the verified username of 'steveharrington1' next to an icon of his most recent album along with it. his inbox is flooded with people all asking him random things, thinking he's the real steve harrington, but this one verified account has him shaking.

for all that eddie is, all big hair and black jeans and skull rings and leather, he's still a man. a man who can look at a pop star, annoying as their music may be, and see charm. he can see attractiveness. he can see that smile that steve harrington has perfected behind his eyelids and he can see them strolling off into the sunset together hand in hand and he can see steve all flushed and breathing heavily underneath him on a mountain of plush pillows and he can see-

the message pings again with a new addition. "i know this seems weird and my team advised against it but i'd really like your user name of... well, my name."

eddie blinks slowly. he pictures steve maybe laying in bed, maybe sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, with his phone in his hand as he types out a message to him. to think that steve has any idea about him existing on any sort of level is doing his head in. his heartbeat races a little faster as he types back with shaky hands and a pit in his stomach.

"is this real?" is all he can type out, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for his coffee to brew.

three dots pull up on the app screen before disappearing and eddie pulls his lip in between his teeth to focus his energy elsewhere. he tears his eyes away from his phone and looks out the window to watch the people out for their morning walks. he's just about to the point where he thinks about maybe taking up walking if nothing else to get all the pent up energy out of him when the app dings again. as he looks back, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

it's a photo of steve that can't have been released before. he's sitting outside in bright sunshine with sunglasses on, tousled hair and grin on his face. he's holding his hand up in a thumbs up and eddie can see the remnants of cream cheese on the side of his index finger.

he sucks in a stuttering breath through his teeth, trying to force his lungs to breath again. the dots pop up on screen once more and the message that comes through is instantaneous.

"real enough for you?" it reads. and then an additional message is tacked on. "need me to hold up a newspaper with the date on it?"

there's a winky face that follows and it feels fake even though it's very real. this whole morning feels wrong, unreal. he's just eddie munson, some singer in some halfway popular band in some kind of shitty neighborhood in los angeles that just happens to have not just some pop star in his dms. this doesn't happen to him.

"why did your team tell you not to message me? does my reputation precede me?"

eddie pulls his hand up to his mouth to bite at the side of his fingernail, watching the screen with rapt attention and waiting for the typing dots to disappear.

"according to this account your name is steve harrington and yes, i'd say his reputation does precede him."

eddie barks out a laugh, not exactly expecting that.

he didn't know what he was expecting out of any of this. he thought that it might help get the corroded coffin name out more if he got tangled up somehow with the steve harrington name. spark a little bit of drama to boost their visibility. but now here he is, talking to the man himself, cracking jokes and trying not to hyperventilate.

"how were you able to get this name so fast anyway? my team was on it right when the app dropped last night."

"i had the power of bandmates and weed on my side," he types back, side of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"oh so you're a musician? maybe i should be looking into your reputation then, mystery person."

eddie pauses and thinks about every option. he is semi-known in the metal scene, his outlandish stunts on stage and political speeches at shows that garner them becoming an almost brand for him. if he tells steve who he is, would he know? care? run away from the scary guy who may or may not use stage blood in every music video?

but the thing is, he's not a scary guy and he never has been. he might be a little intimidating and he guesses that's the armor he puts on everyday after being bullied in school but it's not an accurate showing of who he is. eddie is sweet, funny, kind of smart in that has random fun facts about dungeons and dragons kind of way.

and he wants the steve harrington to know that guy.

eddie flips over at his middle so his head is nearly touching the floor and ruffles his hair, giving it volume and calming down the frizz that comes from sleep. he shakes it out of his face once he's upright and grabs his garfield coffee mug if only to have something to do with his hands. grabbing his phone off the counter, he opens the camera option in their message thread and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, mug next to his face with a matching cat-like smirk. he nervously presses send before he can even think about all the flaws with it.

"eddie munson at your service," is what he types out with a saluting emoji and a muttered prayer to whoever would listen to him that things don't end horribly.

it's not like he's expecting to sweep steve off his feet. he knows that steve has picture perfect partners, he sees enough internet news to know that gruff and dark isn't the kind of guy he normally goes for. but he looks back at the photo he sent and hopes that steve sees the kindness in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline that makes it look just the smallest bit chiseled, the whimsy and life that he embodies that comes from a tacky coffee cup.

there isn't an automatic answer and it makes whatever hope eddie has floating around his system falter. ''at this point you've probably searched me and i can reassure you, i'm not actually a vampire like google seems to think i am."

"holy shit."

it's short, two words followed by typing dots that disappear, reappear, disappear once more before reappearing for the last time.

"would you believe me if i told you that i am huge fan??"

choking on coffee hurts, eddie finds out. he coughs as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe and concentrates on the messages once he gets his bearings back. steve, the steve harrington, a fan of his? it's a prank, it has to be, there is no way that steve harrington-

"one of my exes took me to your show at the bowl and it quite possibly changed my life. you gave that speech about the pipeline before the encore and i went home and bought every single one of your albums that same night."

he's dead. the papers will read 'eddie munson found dead in his home in a ratty metallica shirt holding onto a garfield coffee mug and cellphone open to a chat where steve harrington tells him he's a fan of his work'. it's the only way that this is possibly happening. he's died and gone to whatever fucked up version of heaven has him still living in his shitty la apartment.

"are you fucking kidding me?" is what he types back, slamming his coffee mug onto the counter to have access to both hands. "you've heard my stuff?"

and then it happens, like out of a shitty teenage rom-com, his phone is lighting up with an in-app call from steve harrington. the steve harrington. careful not to drop his phone in his hurried movements, he presses accept faster than he thinks his fingers have every worked.

"hello?" he questions into the phone and there's no hello back, just steve apparently freaking out as much as he is.

"i hope this is okay," he says and god, does his voice sound wonderful over the phone like this. "but it's faster and i have too many things to say that typing it all out would be stupid."

eddie grins and his feet tap against the ground like an excited kid. "it's fine, i uhm... i get it. god, this is weird."

steve hums in agreement before laughing. and oh, that laugh. it has eddie floating up to cloud nine, heart thumping painfully in his chest, butterflies beating their wings wildly in his stomach.

"yeah, it's definitely not how i expected this morning to go. talking to eddie munson, wow."

"sure," eddie snorts, "you talk to celebrities all the time, i'm sure this is small fish for you."

he hears steve laugh again, soft and gentle, like it's meant just for eddie. "i might talk to celebrities all the times but not ones that i have posters on my wall of like a pre-teen. i'm properly geeking out right now."

eddie short circuits. that's the only way to explain the way his body shuts down as he slumps into an armchair in the living room.

"you, steve harrington, have posters of me on your bedroom wall?" eddie's mouth feels dry as he talks and regrets making coffee at all because he's wide awake now and feels jittery.

"well okay, to be fair, it's of the whole band and it's in my studio but you are shirtless so i contemplated putting it in my bedroom." something shifts on the other end of the line and it sounds like steve sitting down. there's birds chirping in the background and eddie closes his eyes to picture himself sitting with steve on a patio instead of in his dingy apartment.

"you're gonna give me big head, pretty boy." the pet name slips out before he can stop it and the pitch of his voice lowering is out of his control. eddie can't be held responsible for his actions at 8am especially when he's flirting over the phone with his celebrity crush.

"pretty boy, hmm?" steve murmurs back. "so does that mean you have posters of me too?"

the timbre of his voice shoots from eddie's ears all the way down to his toes, lighting his veins on fire as it travels down his body. the hopeful part of his brain supplies an image of steve smirking, relaxing in a pool chair outside of what must be a mansion, phone in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. it could be domestic, if eddie thinks about it hard enough. if he wants it enough.

and god, does he want that. domestic bliss with steve harrington.

"well i wouldn't exactly call picturing you in my dreams every night posters, but it's close enough i guess."

it's gutsy, it's brash, it's too forward for a tuesday morning but steve started it. he hears a shaky exhale on the other end of the line and lets out a chuckle. it feels like they're playing chess and there's no clear cut winner quite yet but if the match ends in a tie, eddie can't exactly say he'd be upset about it.

"i tell you what," steve says in an almost airy voice. "in exchange for giving me my user name, i'll give you my number and you can use it to see me in something other than your dreams tonight."

"...are you bribing me, harrington?"

"is it working?"

eddie takes in a deep breath and thinks about what possible plans he could have with the username 'steveharrington' that would amount to something better than taking the man himself out on a date with his phone number saved as a contact in his phone. he'd put a heart next to it and everything.

"of course it is."

the call drops away and it's quick enough for eddie to think everything that happened in the last 30 minutes could have been a fever dream but then there's three dots on the message thread and his hopeful heart starts to kick back into gear.

"213-555-5469. let me know when you've given up that username and i'll let you know when to pick me up. it's a win-win all around. turns out we each get to go a date with our celebrity crushes, how lucky is that?"

it's signed with a kissing face emoji and eddie's glad that he's sitting down when the last picture steve sends comes through. he's grinning in a way eddie's never seen before, blush high on his cheeks, sweaty shoulders and collarbones and pecs glinting in the early morning sun, and eddie thinks it's probably too early to be in love with someone but he's well on his way.

he texts the number he's sent without hesitation and without shaking hands this time. he signs the message with a black heart like it's a signature of it's own.

"lucky indeed."

#wow this got SO much longer than intended why does this always happen why can i not just shut up #anyway i've been trying to figure out how to write this for a week so enjoy #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #steddie headcanon #popstar steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #modern au

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vivian-pascal · 1 month

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But Daddy I Love Him

dbf!joel x f!reader

summary: You've been seeing Joel for a while now, when your dad first introduced you to him, you knew you both could never get enough. But when your dad finds out, things take a turn.

warnings: piv (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, fluff, description of what reader wears, angst

authors note: hey folks! when i first heard this song on Taylor's new album I just KNEW I had to write about it! and this is the idea I had in mind, I hope you all enjoy!

(I definitely recommend listening to the song while reading!)

now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned

screaming "but daddy I love him!"

"I'm having his baby"

no I'm not but you should see your faces.

The warm, tingly feeling of his rough calloused hands sliding along the inside of your thigh making you whimper as his hand slowly makes it way between your legs.

The rough pull of his hair as he collides his drooling mouth with your clit. Licking and sucking like a feral animal devouring its meal.

"Joel." You moan when he inserts his tongue into your seeping cunt. Pushing deeper and deeper until your back arches off the bed.

"Yeah, just like that baby." The deep rumble of his voice vibrates along your pussy and only makes the sensation better. Licking and sucking your cunt until you simply can't hold it any longer and let go. The rush of your orgasm makes him physically eat up your whole pussy. Making sure there are no drops wasted.

Your back finally hitting the bed, he rises from between your legs and he already looks fucked. The dampness from your arousal has drenched his beard and face. His messy hair from all the pulling and tugging you've done only seems to have gotten worse.

He crawls up your body with a big grin and instantly meets your face with his lips. You moan into his mouth as he begins to undo his jeans. You giggle as the zipper gets stuck and decide to help him out.

You pull sharply on the zipper and it instantly goes down. He smiles at you as he removes his pants and his boxers. Your eyes widen at the size of him. You've imagined this moment for years and you've know that he'd be big, but you never knew that he'd be this big.

He crawls back up your body as your back hits the bed once more.

When you first met Joel, you were only a teenager with a wide range of imagination. He was handsome, had the sexiest voice you've ever heard, he was kind, etc. But one thing about him just didn't seem right.

Sometimes you would casually flirt with him because it was funny and only a joke. Well, not for you. He would laugh it off and tell you to stop and then you would. The amount of control he had over you was insane. More than your dad. You would physically do anything for Joel. Sometimes you noticed that some of your flirting did actually bother him.

Once, you two were in a store and the cashier had thought that Joel was your father. He laughed it off and told the lady that you weren't and you both left the store. But you couldn't leave it at that of course, so when you walked out, Joel asked you to wait in the car while he threw something out and you simply replied with "Yes, daddy."

That seemed to do a number for him. He stopped in his tracks as he watched you walk toward his truck. The car ride home was silent. You tried to make small talk with him but he'd only grunt in return.

Ever since that day, he's been off. So earlier today, you decided that should change. And now here you are, ass naked with Joel Miller.

His nose brushes against yours as he slowly pushes in. You both gasp at the intrusion. "You're so gorgeous darlin'." You moan as he slowly begins to move.

You run your nails alone his back as he kissed you along your jawline. His movements hit each spot inside you just right. Stretching you out perfectly.

His grunts only spur you on as he begins to speed up his thrusts. You moan as his tongue collides with yours. His hands moving down your fragile frame as he begins to circle your clit.

Running your hands along his arms, back, neck. You can feel every strong muscle working its hardest. You pull and tug his hair until he's grunting and panting in your mouth.

His fingers push down on your clit harder and you arch your back and moan aloud when your orgasm washes over you. His thrusts begin to go faster as his hips come to a stutter. You grin when you feel his hot seed seeping into you.

He lays his head on your shoulder as you look down at his exhausted state and kiss his forehead. He smiles softly and kisses your lips. You wrap your small arms along his head as he wraps his strong arms around your small body.

You both cuddle up and stay like that for a while. Yearning for each others love as the time passes by slowly.

Your rudely awaken to a slam of your bedroom door. You quickly sit up and cover yourself with your blanket. When you see who it is, your eyes begin to water as your heart stops. It's your dad.

Joel sits up and his eyes squint at the bright light. When he sees your father standing there, he freezes.

"What the fuck?" Your dad roars as he walks in. Joel begins to pick up his boxers as he quickly puts them on.

"Joel?" He looks up at your dad as he tries to grab his jeans. "You fucked my daughter?" He quickly puts on his pants, leaving them unbuttoned. Joel looks at you. His eyes softening when he sees that your crying.

"Fucking answer me!" He looks back at your dad and quickly nods. Your dad throws his hands in the air and grabs onto Joel's arm. Yanking him out of your room.

You quickly get out of bed and grab your dress, putting it on but not buttoning it up. "Dad! Where the fuck are you taking him?" You scream as you run after them. He throws Joel outside and pushes him.

"Joel, care to explain what the fuck you were doing?" Joel only puts his hands in front of him. "You can't even talk to your best bud huh? U wonder why that is, oh maybe because you were messing with my very young daughter." Joel shakes his head as he backs up.

"Now, we both had consent for this. I didn't force her into doin somethin she didn't wanna do." Your dad begins to laugh.

"As if that makes this any better Joel." Tears flood your face.

"Dad stop! He didn't do anything wrong. Please."

Your dad looks furious. He shakes his head and looks back at Joel. He looks at you with sad eyes and only nods to you as a reassurance that it's going to be okay.

"Go." You turn to face your dad as he looks at Joel." "What? Dad no. He can't just leave"

"Well that's what I'm telling him to do isn't it." You look at Joel as he slowly backs away to his truck. "Dad?" You begin to panic. You hear the truck door open and close.

He begins to back away and looks at your dad. His truck backs off the driveway and that's when you start to sprint after him. Holding your dress up as you begin running. Your bare feet hitting the rough pavement. Tears flying from your eyes. Screaming and crying as you see your Joel leaving you. Forever.

Your pace begins to slow as you realize that he's not coming back. Just disappearing into nothing. You stare at his truck as you hear your dads pants coming up behind you. He puts his hand on your back but your too distraught to take it off.

"But Daddy, I loved him."

tags!!

@morallyinept @mermaidgirl30 @rav3n-pascal22 @mountainsandmayhem @amyispxnk @pinkcrystal44 @guelyury @iamsherloocked @itsokbbygrl @heartpascalispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @brittmb115 @kotourasan123 @simplewanderer @tupelomiss @heartramen @sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #dbf!joel #pedropascal #joel miller fanfiction

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piastri-lover · 10 months

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nonsense; oscar piastri

summary: in which oscar is so whipped for his singer girlfriend and fans are soft over their interactions

pairing: oscar piastri x singer!reader

author's note: loved this prompt, juding by my username i think u can tell by my user that oscar's my fave f1 driver so having an excuse to do this was so fun xx

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, dualipa and 6294650 others yourusername been working hard in the studio lately x view comments

user1 ahhh so excited

user2 it's always a good day when y/n posts

oscarpiastri ❤️❤️❤️ -yourusername mwah mwah

user3 oscar is always here within seconds -user4 bro has his notifs on

user5 icl after how depressing the last album was i need some more upbeat music y/n -user6 she's dating oscar now so i'm sure it won't be like last time -user7 yeah emails i can't send ruined me

landonorris it's a bop y'all -logansargeant @/yourusername how come u let him listen and not me :((( --yourusername come round later this week and u can have a listen <3

user8 the number of f1 drivers in y/n's comments has slowly been increasing and i'm very happy about it -user9 oscar's been good for her --user8 love to see my girl happy

~~~

TWITTER

~~~

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri

tagged: yourusername liked by pierregasly, landonorris and 2137027 oscarpiastri the prettiest girl in the world released a song today, stream nonsense by y/n view comments

user10 no bc they're so in love wtf -user11 i need an oscar in my life tomorrow

yourusername words can't describe how much i love u -oscarpiastri the song seemed to get the message across

yourusername ily ily ily -user12 i hope oscar can fight bc i need that energy in my life

user13 no idea how random boy who drives fast cars in wonky circles pulled the actual queen -user14 the way u know neither of them are golddiggers and they genuinely love each other

user15 the romeo and juliet of our time -yourusername don't they both die at the end? --user15 yeah lol ---yourusername yeah no thanks

logansargeant love it y/n -yourusername thank u mr logan

~~~

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, pierregasly and 6193603 yourusername nonsense out now, inspired by my favourite person ever xxx view comments

user16 y/n come home the kids miss u

user17 can't believe my wife has a new boyfriend

oscarpiastri looking at u got me thinking nonsense -yourusername cartwheels in my stomach when u walk in --landonorris when u got ur arms around me ---logansargeant it feels so good i had to jump the octave

user18 pretty

dualipa song slaps -yourusername best friend

user19 don't know whether i want to be her or be with her -oscarpiastri be with her. trust me

user20 oscars replying to her comments boy is whipped -user21 if someone else had to date my wife i would want it to be him

~~~

TWITTER

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bratzforchris · 2 months

Text

Five Love Languages, M. Sturniolo

Summary: The five love languages look a little different for Matt and his girlfriend, but that's always okay<3

Pairing: Matt x neurodivergent fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of autistic burnout, this is entirely self indulgent

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I think we need more representation around here, especially for different neurotypes and disabilities <3 This fic is based off of this Instagram post :) I am autistic and have ADHD, and this was so much fun to write--if you'd like to see the same thing but for another boy, drop a request in my inbox!

Infodumping༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

“Matt, come here! Now!” You squealed from your shared bedroom, your joy infectious as you bounced up and down on the bed happily.

You could hear the sound of your boyfriend running up the stairs, followed by him bursting through the door, slightly out of breath. “What’s up, honey?” he asked with a smile, noting your happy stims and luminous grin.

“Taylor’s going on tour!” You giggled, shaking your hands in small fists as a way to release all the happy, all-consuming energy that came with engaging in a special interest.

“Oh really?” Matt asked genuinely, sitting beside you on the bed. “Tell me more, hun!” he encouraged you, kissing your cheek gently so as not to get in the way of your movements.

“It’s going to be a tour where she goes through every era,” You smiled, happily bouncing on the bed. “We have to go.”

“We will,” Matt rubbed your knee softly. “As many dates as you want.”

“Really?” Your eyes lit up at the thought of getting to experience your special interest with your favorite person.

“Really, honey. What album are you most excited to hear?”

Matt looked at you kindly, his eyes shining with love. He absolutely loved watching how excited you got over your special interests. You had been a huge Taylor Swift fan for over ten years now, and the brunette wished that he could bottle up your happiness whenever you engaged with her music. He would almost equate your joy to that of sunshine, baby animals, and glitter. Where some people thought you were “just a fangirl” or “too obsessed”, Matt loved listening when you infodumped about Taylor Swift. The sheer dedication someone could have to a singular topic was beyond impressive and adorable to him.

“That’s really hard, Matt,” You whined playfully, still happily stimming and flapping your hands. “I really like Lover a lot because it reminds me of you, but I also want to hear reputation because it’s just so iconic. Like the whole snake aesthetic after the Kim and Kayne thing was just perfect. But then I also love folklore because of the love triangle thing and also because it’s just so experimental. Did you know that there was only eleven months between Lover and folklore?” You asked your boyfriend, becoming more animated as you spoke.

“I didn’t know that!” Matt responded, clearly very invested in the conversation. “Here hun, why don’t you play with this instead? I don’t want you to hurt your wrists, sweetie.” he explained softly, passing you a fidget toy that was laying on your nightstand.

You blushed as you took the toy from him, not even realizing just how bad your wrists were hurting. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, do you know that?” You asked him, slowly crawling across the bed and into his lap.

“I think I had an idea or two.” Matt smirked.

You began to play with the fidget toy with one hand and Matt’s hair with the other. You still felt the need to stim, your nervous system buzzing with happiness. Whenever you felt the need to fidget, you loved to mess with your boyfriend’s hair, and he always let you. The way his soft, brown curls slid through your fingers and the way his natural highlights hit the light gave you such good sensory feelings.

“Thank you for listening to me…I know it’s a lot sometimes.” You whispered shyly, hiding your face against his hoodie.

Matt rubbed circles on your back as you played with his hair. “I love listening to you talk Taylor, baby. I think it’s interesting.” he grinned.

“You do?”

“I do,” he booped your nose. “I think it’s cute too.”

“Do you think she’s gonna go era by era?” You asked, still too excited to focus on much else besides your special interest. “I hope so. That would be so much fun.”

“You’re gonna have to teach me everything,” Matt giggled. “I can’t be one of those boyfriends who goes and looks miserable.”

You squealed, untangling your hands from his hair and planting a kiss on his lips. “Oh hun, you’re gonna be the most educated boy in the stadium. You’ll know more Taylor lore than Taylor

Parallel Play ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You sighed happily, pulling your blanket closer around yourself and taking a sip of your coffee. Thankfully, Matt had a completely free day with nothing to film, which meant you could just enjoy each other’s company. These days were few and far between, but you treasured every one because of how unmasked and free they allowed you to be.

You sat your mug down on the coffee table and picked up the yarn and crochet hook you had set out earlier. Matt sat at the other end of the couch, feet in your lap as he focused intently on his book. You felt your heart swell with love as you took a peek at the cover, and noted that it was a memoir about understanding and aiding your partner in their unmasking journey.

Matt was by far the best boyfriend you had ever had when it came to accepting and loving you, neurodivergence and all. Finding a man who didn’t fetishize or infantilize being an autistic woman was hard, but the brunette was a diamond in the rough. Like right now for example, when he was spending his Saturday morning that he had off learning about how to understand the way your brain worked.

You blushed and picked up your crocheting, beginning to work on the blanket you had started earlier in the week. You had picked a chenille yarn in pretty pastel colors, and the rainbow of yarn, as well as its soft feel made you smile. You began to crochet, taking a peek at Matt every so often. Occasionally, your boyfriend would look up at the same time and catch your eye, sending you a soft smile before going back to reading.

The silence wasn’t awkward, nor was it uncomfortable. Matt had a way of making you feel loved and safe, even without speaking the words out loud. Having grown up with his own mental health struggles around anxiety, your boyfriend understood the importance of “being alone together” and just existing in each other's orbit, without the need for words.

“Thank you.” You whispered shyly after about thirty minutes of silence.

“For what?” Matt asked you, closing the book and setting it on the pillow next to him.

You sat down your craft as well and moved to snuggle into his arms, angling yourself so that you could hear the beat of his heart. “For just letting me be me.”

The brunette buried his nose in your hair, speaking softly against his head. “I love you.”

“You just let me be and we can do our own things without feeling awkward or weird,” You explained. “It’s comforting…and it makes me fall more in love with you.” You giggled softly, a blush creeping up your neck.

Matt held you closer to his body, arms wrapped around you protectively. “You’re perfect, baby. All of you.”

As you snuggled further into his hold, the two of you fell into companionable silence again, enjoying each other’s company. It really was the little moments like these that made you realize just how lucky you were to be in such an accepting, caring relationship.

Support Swapping ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Over the past year of dating Matt, you had fallen into a wonderful routine with your boyfriend, one that allowed you to distribute your spoons more easily and allowed him a slight break from his anxiety, especially socially.

“Support Swapping” as you two called it was great help and was arguably one of the best parts of your relationship. Being autistic and having ADHD, you tended to struggle with executive functioning, always focusing on the wrong things instead of doing what you needed to maintain a healthy lifestyle. If you were hyperfixated on something, your mind could block out all reminders and signals from your body to eat, drink, rest, and use the bathroom. Once you finally realized how depleted you were, it would inevitably lead to an autistic meltdown because of the overwhelming sensory urges of hunger, exhaustion, and thirst.

Matt, on the other hand, oftentimes struggled with parts of his job that came along with being a content creator. As much as he loved being in front of the camera and giving the fans funny content, he despised writing and sending emails. Nick could edit out anything that made him seem a little too weird or awkward; he couldn’t control how the recipient would take his email. You however, had loved writing ever since you were a little girl and actually took great pride in being able to communicate effectively through the written word.

When you had voiced these concerns with each other and how they made both of you feel emotionally, it was clear there was only one option, and that was to support each other, just like you were on this particular day. It was nearing dinnertime by this point, the sun setting over the LA skyline as you tapped at the computer in Matt’s office. You had been hunched over the computer all day, filling out paperwork and emails for collabs that Matt had to do. You typed up all the notes for him, pasting them into a document, where he could then sign his name and send them off. Between your love of the written word and routine, writing the same thing over and over again was like a weird therapy for you.

“Sweetheart?” You heard a soft knock at the door before Matt entered the room.

“One sec.” You hummed, eyes still trained on the screen. “I’m almost done.”

“Babe,” Matt spun you around in the office chair so that you were facing him. “I love you and I adore you for doing this for me, but it’s almost seven. Time for dinner.” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your lips.

“Oh,” You blushed, not realizing how much time had gone by. Just then, your stomach rumbled, making Matt give you a knowing look. “This is why we help each other and remind each other.” You snorted, facepalming yourself softly.

Matt kissed your forehead gently, helping you out of the chair and guiding you towards the kitchen with a soft hand on the small of your back. Before you two left the office, though, he sneakily closed out your computer, making sure you would spend the rest of the evening resting. Your heart swelled when you walked into the kitchen and saw your and Matt’s small dining table completely laid with dinner and drinks.

“You didn’t.” You smiled, turning towards your boyfriend.

“I did,” Matt picked you up and kissed you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “I know how distracted you can get when you’re working, sweetheart.”

You blushed as Matt sat you down at the table, knowing he was absolutely right. “You take care of me so well.”

Matt rubbed your knuckles softly as he sat down in his own chair. “That’s what a partnership is for,” he smiled, the adorable crinkles around his eyes that you loved oh-so-much on full display. “We take care of each other.”

"Please Crush My Soul Back Into My Body" ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You sighed, growing restless as you shifted around in the backseat of the van. The triplets were filming their weekly Friday car video, and you had decided to join on this particular day. You absolutely loved playing Over/Under, but the effects of the evening were beginning to wear on you. Between Chris frequently changing topics to almost anything that wasn’t Over/Under and Nick’s yelling, you were starting to become overstimulated.

You shifted, trying to pull your hoodie off since it was starting to irritate you, only to loudly smack your arm on the hard, plastic door of the car. All three boys looked your way, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked with a chuckle, but his eyes held a concerned look.

“Mhm,” You nodded, trying not to let your frustration show. “Just a little too hot.”

“We should finish up. Nick’s second timer has already gone off.” Matt turned in his seat and stretched, trying to discreetly end the video.

Matt knew you almost as well, if not better than you knew yourself, and he could tell that you weren’t super comfortable, despite your best efforts to hide it. Even he had to admit that Chris’s frequent change of topics and Nick’s yelling was getting to be a lot, so he couldn’t even imagine how you were feeling. Luckily, his brothers seemed to take the hint, and the boys swiftly ended the video, with you whispering a little ‘bye’ in the background.

As your boyfriend began to try towards the triplets' LA home, you shoved your earbuds into your ears, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the window. You were overstimulated and exhausted, and the next person to add to sensory overload was going to catch it if you didn’t try to calm yourself. You were so caught up in the awful feelings taking over your body and your anxiety that you didn't even notice that Matt had pulled into the garage and Nick and Chris had vacated the car until your boyfriend turned in his seat, patting your knee.

“You okay, baby?” he asked softly.

“No…” You mumbled, trying not to choke on tears. “Too much.”

Matt understood what you meant and gently helped you out of the car and into the house without another word. On the way to your shared bedroom, he quietly shushed Nick and Chris, mumbling a little ‘overstimulated’. Both brothers were aware of you being autistic and immediately piped down, silently feeling terrible for you.

Your boyfriend sat you down on the edge of the bed, handing you a fidget toy from off your nightstand. Despite the discomfort you were experiencing, you felt your heart swell as you watched Matt gently take off your socks and shoes, before standing up and looking at you.

“Do you want your headphones?” he asked you in sign language.

You could’ve cried right then and there because of your sheer love for Matt. Ever since you two had started dating and you had explained that you used ASL to communicate when you were feeling overstimulated, the brunette had taken it upon himself to learn as much of the language as possible. He was still rather beginner level, but it was the thought behind it that made you want to squeeze him and pepper his face with kisses.

You nodded to his question, and Matt swiftly replaced your earbuds with better quality, noise canceling headphones. You sighed softly at the relief, standing up and wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's waist. “Thank you,” You signed against his chest. “I love you.”

Matt hugged you back gently, almost like he was scared you would break. “Pajamas?” he asked again.

You nodded once more, and your boyfriend gently helped you into soft, sensory approved pajama pants and one of his faded, soft shirts. You quietly got curled up under your weighted blanket as Matt bustled around the room, getting himself ready for bed, but the pressure wasn’t enough. You needed something more. As your boyfriend crawled into bed, you rolled over onto your side, tapping his shoulder gently.

“Will you lay on me?” You signed.

Matt smiled, kissing your forehead gently. He grabbed the remote and turned on your comfort show on the television, before laying his head softly on your stomach. You smiled and sighed contently at the feeling, running your fingers through his soft, brown curls. That was one of your favorite stims, and the feeling of Matt’s pressure, combined with stimming and noise canceling headphones, was slowly calming you down.

Over the hour that followed, Matt softly laid more and more of his body weight over top of you. He knew that deep pressure therapy helped you regulate your nervous system, especially when you were overstimulated. If some extra love and cuddles would help, he wasn’t going to be the one to complain. Sure enough, by the time he looked up at you, you were fast asleep, a happy little smile on your lips.

Penguin Pebbling ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Matt looked over at you from his position on the couch as you giggled, happily kicking your feet. “What’s so funny?” “Check your Tiktok.” You laughed, a happy little smile taking up residence on your face as you stimmed.

Your boyfriend smiled at whatever antics you had going on, migrating to his phone. You let out a little giggle as you watched Matt’s facial expressions change, from that of confusion, to that of happiness.

“You really sent me one hundred and fifty different cat videos?” he asked, though his tone was playful.

“They reminded me of you,” You whined, throwing a stuffed animal at him. “You’re the one who always sends people images of sleeping kittens and says ‘that’s me’.”

Matt chuckled as he sat watching every single video. He knew how important sharing was to you, especially when it had to do with the people you cared about. “Penguin pebbling” as it was called, was the act of unconventional gift giving as a sign of affection. Your boyfriend absolutely loved when you did this, because it was pure love. It wasn’t big, expensive gifts or luxury vacations. It was the smallest, most accessible thing in the world, yet you took time out of your day to do it.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” the brunette asked, sliding onto the floor beside you and kissing your cheek.

“Maybe once or twice.” You grinned.

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @mbsbaby @herxyz @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @bunny-cotton @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniee @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @mggcult @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @not-phone-guy @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @aemrsy @billsslutt

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

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finelinefae · 9 days

Note

Bestie I literally just read flower and I’m OBSESSED and I can imagine y/n trying to turn tattooh into a swiftie whilst he tries to explain the rap beef to y/n 😭

no bc this was such a good and unique idea i had to write a little something for it !!

wordcount: 1.3k

. . .

“Okay, so what was it again?” Y/N asked, a dip between her brows as she fastened the bow on a bouquet of flowers she was completing for a baby shower they had been invited to next weekend.

“So Kendrick-”

“The guy who featured on Bad Blood?” Y/N double-checked.

Harry chuckles, “I mean he’s also a Pulitzer Prize winner but that too.” She nods, waiting for him to continue, “So he featured on a song with a bunch of other artists basically taking aim at J Cole and Drake-”

“Oh I know him, he posted a picture of him and Taylor on his Instagram that one time two years ago,” Y/N says.

Harry nods, desperate to finish explaining to her the current online events he had been obsessively keeping track of over the past twenty-four hours, “Right, right. So anyway,” Harry continued to explain the ongoing tension in the world of rap circling the internet with Y/N nodding a long, nothing but confusion on her face.

Amongst many things, Y/N and Harry’s music tastes were polar opposites. Whilst Y/N loved pop - Taylor Swift, Chappell Roan, Olivia Rodrigo - Harry tended to lean more towards alternate music, genres like rap and grunge or anything before the 2000’s. He loved rock bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam. On their first New Year’s Eve together, they’d spent the entire night at a karaoke bar in the city, four Shania Twain sons deep by the time the clock hit midnight.

Although they were at opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to their music tastes, they loved talking to each other about what they were listening to. They would share their weekly Spotify stats over dinner at the end of each week and make playlists for each other to listen to whenever they were taking the train somewhere.

As Harry finished explaining, Y/N picked up the bouquet and carried it over to where he was sitting, placing it on the table in front of him.

Even as he was speaking, Harry automatically reached out to slide an arm around her waist beneath her fuzzy, pink cardigan rubbing circles with his thumb over the exposed bit of skin on her hip.

“That sounds… really complicated, H.” Y/N sighed, “I’d hate to get into an argument like that.”

Harry smiled at how adorable she looked with pouty lips and concern on her face, “Lucky for you flower, y’ much too difficult to get into any kind of argument with.”

Harry and Y/N rarely had major arguments. Typically, their disagreements were over minor or unimportant matters, often ending with Harry showering her with kisses as an apology or Y/N clinging to him until he forgave her.

“And he wants Drake to die?” Y/N gasps, “That’s awful.”

Harry nods, watching her hands carefully move around the flowers in the bouquet to get them in the perfect place. “Hmm, ‘s not the nicest thing to say to a person,”

Y/N sighed, sitting on his thigh when her legs got too tired from standing. His lips puckered against the base of her exposed neck from where she had tied her curls up with a scrunchie. He inhaled the floral perfume he had bought her for Valentine’s Day. She was obsessed with it, dousing herself in it every morning and before she went to bed.

“Have you listened to Taylor’s new album by the way?” Y/N wondered, turning to hook her leg over his other thigh so she was straddling him. She was pressed between him and the worktop, her arms moving around his neck and fingers fiddling with the curly baby hairs by his neck.

Harry winced, “Ummm…”

“Harry,” Y/N huffed, “You said you would listen to it so I could talk you through it track by track.”

“I know! I’m getting to it, y’know I’ve jus’ been busy this week.” Harry stated, which was true. It had been the school holidays and a lot more customers had visited both their shops than usual.

“The album came out weeks ago,” Y/N said, pushing herself off of him to start putting everything away for tomorrow.

Before she could take one step, Harry grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him, “I will, baby - promise, I’ll get to it and then y’ can talk for as long as y’ want all about it. Y’ can even put your pj’s on and show me y’ little dance y’ used to do when I heard y’ havin’ y’ little solo parties before we met,” He smirked against her neck.

Y/N blushed, clearing her throat and moving away. Her eyes narrowed, “You better.” She walked back to the front desk, “And they weren’t solo parties! Marsh was there too,” She said, referring to her little cat.

. . .

During her lunch break, Y/N reached for her bag to eat the pasta salad Harry had prepared for her that morning before they left for work. When she unzipped the bag, she found his Star Wars lunchbox inside instead of her own.

She slid off her seat and walked straight to his tattoo shop next door, knowing he had probably mixed up their lunches and ended up with her Cinnamoroll one.

She pushed the door open, expecting to hear the strums of an electric guitar or the low grovel of an indie rock band playing over the Bluetooth speakers. But instead, she was shocked to hear the voice of her favourite singer.

Her heart soared even before she saw him as she walked past the front desk. "Hey Mike, what's with the music?" She asked as if she didn’t know already.

“Harry insisted he put it on this morning. You have to go in there and tell him it’s killing the vibe.” Mike grumbled, taking a puff of the vape in his hand.

Y/N smiled, “I quite like it.”

“Of course you do,” He rolled his eyes.

Y/N walked through to the back rooms where she heard the steady sounds of a tattoo gun. Her eyes found Harry, deeply focused on the design he was tattooing on someone’s wrist.

Y/N stood to one side and waited patiently, “Okay that’s all done,” Harry clicked his tongue, pushing his chair away and wrapping up the tattoo for the customer.

After the customer had left, she stepped into the room, “Hi Harry,” She beamed, floating over to him. He looked so cute and cuddly today, wearing a grey sweatshirt and black trousers with his usual Doc Martens and a navy-coloured beanie to cover his curls.

A smile carved onto Harry’s face, “Hi flower,” He removed his gloves and met her halfway, pulling her into a hug and kissing her softly.

“Missed you,” She murmured against his lips.

“Miss you always, flower.” He brushed a loose curl behind her ear, “Thought I wasn’t meeting y’ ‘til later?”

“Oh,” She pulled out the lunchbox and handed it to him, “I think we got our lunches mixed up,”

Harry furrowed his brows, grabbing the plastic bag with his lunch inside only to find her pink lunchbox instead. He chuckles, “Ah, must have been the early morning getting to me.”

“S okay,” Y/N grins, “I like your music choice by the way.”

Harry smirked, “Promised a girl something,”

“Oh really?” Y/N’s grin deepened, “Well I’m sure she’ll be very happy you kept your promise.”

“I’ve been thinking about her all morning, getting to hear her talk non-stop later about her favourite songs.” He says, her arms sliding up his torso to meet at the back of his back.

She stood on her toes, his head dropping and their noses brushing together, “All morning?”

“All the time,” He breathes, “Can’t seem to stop thinking about her since I met her.”

“Hmm, well she’s a very lucky girl.” Y/N murmurs.

His lips met hers, the low light above shining down on them as the Tortured Poets Department came to an end and ‘Lover’ played on shuffle over the speakers of his tattoo parlour.

#harry styles fic rec #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #asks #fic rec #harry edward styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #flower series #tattooartist x innocent reader

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songsbygumi · 7 days

Text

Stuck in the puzzle

| Megumi x reader

Summary- There's something about your magnetism that makes Fushiguro Megumi weak at the knees, compelling him to give you all of himself, even if it means exposing his most vulnerable side.

Warnings - angst? to comfort, english is not my first language, no mentions of readers gender or name.

A/N- A/N- This is part of the universe of 'Suck It and See' inspired by Arctic Monkeys' album and Alex Turner's 'Submarine' EP but can be read as a standalone.

It's late when you arrive at Jujutsu High. Your eyes threaten to close at any moment, but you still drag your feet lazily through the dorm hallways, trying to reach your room after one of the most exhausting missions you've ever encountered. Handling missions alone isn't unusual for you, given the constant shortage of sorcerers, but this time even your eyelashes hurt.

You're about to turn the knob on your door when Itadori and Kugisaki come running up to you, shouting something about Fushiguro not leaving his room for two days. You try to catch as much information as you can, but once they finish, you look at them with furrowed eyebrows.

"What?" is all you can manage, watching them hyperventilate. They're about to start talking over each other again, but you quickly intercept. "Please, just one of you explain."

“Fushiguro won’t leave his room after our mission; I don’t think he's eaten since Tuesday night,” Itadori says, his voice full of worry and his mouth twisted into a grimace.

“Can you talk to him or something?” Kugisaki asks you.

You're not entirely sure why they're asking you this. You've only been talking to Fushiguro Megumi for about a month or so. Sure, the nights you spend together watching silly videos are your favorites, and listening to him ramble about things that bother him is always fun, but that doesn't mean the feelings are reciprocated.

“Uhm, I don’t think I am the right person to talk to him. Have you asked Gojo-sensei?” Kugisaki snorts, and you can't help but feel a little foolish after suggesting it.

“Have you met Gojo-sensei?” You can't help but agree with Kugisaki, trying to think of another adult but failing in the process.

“Fine, just let me change,” you say, and they both cheer, relieved that you're willing to help.

You feel uneasy on your feet, your hands fidgeting with the corners of the food box you're holding. Fushiguro’s door stands intimidatingly before you. You glance back at Kugisaki and Itadori, who give you a thumbs up before returning your gaze to the door. Your eyes remain fixed, unable to move.

Kugisaki has had enough. Before Itadori can stop her, she knocks on the door for you and then dashes away, dragging Itadori along with her.

Frozen in terror, you wait for a reaction from the other side of the door, still unconvinced that this is a good idea at all. You like Fushiguro Megumi a little too much to trust yourself around him. There’s one thing about talking to him about bad movies but discussing feelings with him will probably kill you from awkwardness.

“I already told you both to fuck off,” Fushiguro's voice is raspy and angry from the other side, causing you to gulp nervously before speaking.

“Well, you haven’t told me to fuck off, actually,” you reply, raising your voice slightly so he can hear you, gripping the box a little tighter than before.

Inside the room, you hear the sound of movement - closet doors opening and closing a couple of times. You're left waiting, unsure whether to speak again or wait for him to break the silence. Regardless, you can't help but feel uncertain until the door finally opens, revealing Fushiguro standing before you.

For a moment, you admire him, your cheeks flushing as he meets your gaze. But this time, your heart squeezes instead of racing. He looks tired, with dark circles under his eyes, and his skin appears paler. You could swear he even looks skinnier.

“Fushiguro” your voice betrays you, breaking a little.

“Get in” he says, stepping aside to let you enter. You follow him into his room, taking in the impressive collection of vinyl records and books lining the walls, along with a couple of band posters.

He stops in the middle of the room, and you both stand there, exchanging awkward glances. Finally, you extend your arms, offering the box of sushi you ordered an hour ago.

“Itadori mentioned you haven’t eaten,” you say softly, your eyes still scanning him for any signs of wounds.

He takes the box from your hands and settles at his desk. As he opens it, the scent of fish fills the room. You wander around, running your hands over the vinyl collection in silence, while Fushiguro watches you from across the room, slowly eating a sushi roll.

You're unsure how to begin the conversation. Despite the progress you've made lately, Fushiguro Megumi still remains somewhat of a mystery to you. There are times when it feels like there's a distance between you, no matter how close you've become.

“Fushiguro—” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“You can call me Megumi, you know?” he interjects.

You try to maintain your composure, but your attempt fails miserably. He chuckles at your flushed face before returning his attention to his sushi rolls.

“Megumi,” you repeat softly. This time, he's the one caught off guard, choking on a sushi roll. The way his name felt on your lips surprises him; your voice carries such care. You've only said it once, but he's already become addicted to the sound of your voice saying his name.

He's lost in his thoughts for a moment too long, and now you're sitting on the bed in front of him, peering at him with a concerned expression engrave on your face. He can't help but extend his hand, tracing his finger over the furrowed lines between your eyebrows.

“Talk to me,” you urge gently. His heart squeezes a bit, thinking back to the last time someone really cared about him. He can almost see his older sister in his mind, lying in bed helpless. He pulls his hand back from your face, staring down at the floor.

“It's nothing,” he mumbles, picking up his chopsticks and poking at his food absentmindedly before meeting your gaze again.

You gotta stop looking at him like that, because you're totally disarming him, and he's not yet prepared to surrender to you. But you keep staring at him with those mesmerizing eyes of yours, like he's the only one in the room, like nothing else even matters. You hang onto his every word, like he's got the whole universe figured out. And yet, he can't shake the feeling that he doesn't deserve it. He's just a messed-up guy who couldn’t even protect his own sister.

“It’s not nothing when it bothers you, Megumi,” you assert gently.

His eyes betray him, tears spilling down his cheeks. He can't help it when you're being this unfair to him, acting all soft and worried. In the next moment, you're right beside him, wrapping your arms around him as best as you can while he's still in the desk chair. Megumi buries his head in your abdomen, and you gently stroke his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice strained as he rubs his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, but you're uncertain if he's addressing you. “I failed her.” His tears flow harder.

You're utterly perplexed, unsure of what to do. Witnessing Megumi in such a vulnerable state breaks your heart; you never imagined seeing him like this, and the inability to alleviate his pain weighs heavily on you.

“Oh, Gumi,” you murmur softly, continuing to stroke his hair. You swallow the lump in your throat, resisting the urge to let your own emotions overwhelm you.

You remain in that position for an hour, until your legs start to ache and Megumi's tears cease. Neither of you speaks, but he follows you as you move to sit on his bed, leaning against the headboard. He rests his head in your lap, encouraging you to continue playing with his hair.

Outside, the raindrops begin to patter against the windows, filling the room with their soothing sound, lulling you towards sleep.

“You feeling better, Megs?” you inquire, leaning back and closing your eyes, the fatigue from earlier creeping back over you.

"Don't call me that," he states, reverting to his usual demeanor, bringing out a smile from you.

"Why not?" you playfully retort, though your attempt to suppress a yawn is evident. Your hand momentarily halts its movement as the yawn escapes, prompting you to cover your mouth.

Megumi takes the chance to look at you, admiring your face. You're so beautiful and kind to him that he can hardly believe you're real.

"Sounds too girly," he concedes, to which you respond with a soft chuckle.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but it's actually quite a common name for girls," you explain, resuming the gentle strokes with your fingers.

"Yeah, I know. My dad gave me that name for some dumb reason; screw him, wherever he is."

Your eyes meet his, making sure he knows you mean what you're about to say. "I actually love your name," you confess.

"Really?" he queries, his cheeks tinted with surprise.

"Guess it’s not such a bad name after all."

You are the first to fall asleep, fingers tangled in Megumi's hair. Not long after, he too slips into a peaceful rest, silently hoping you'll still be there when he wakes.

#Suck it and see series #moonswrites #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #reader x jjk #jjk drabbles #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #megumi fushiguro imagine #megumi fushiguro #megumi x you #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu megumi #megumi fluff #fushiguro

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gardenschedule · 2 months

Text

just insane mclennon things

John playing his and Yoko's sex tape in a band meeting

As the meeting was drawing to a weary close, John, not this day with Yoko, who hadn’t seemed particularly connected with what was going on, said he wanted to play us a tape he and Yoko had made. He got up and put the cassette into the tape machine and stood beside it as we listened. The soft murmuring voices did not at first signal their purpose. It was a man and a woman but hard to hear, the microphone having been at a distance. I wondered if the lack of clarity was the point. Were we even meant to understand what was going on, was it a kind of artwork where we would not be able to put the voices into a context, and was context important? I felt perhaps this was something John and Yoko were examining. But then, after a few minutes, it became clear. John and Yoko were making love, with endearments, giggles, heavy breathing, both real and satirical, and the occasional more direct sounds of pleasure reaching for climax, all recorded by the faraway microphone. But there was something innocent about it too, as though they were engaged in a sweet serious game. John clicked the off button and turned again to look toward the table, his eyebrows quizzical above his round glasses, seemingly genuinely curious about what reaction his little tape would elicit. However often they’d shared small rooms in Hamburg, whatever they knew of each other’s love and sex lives, this tape seemed to have stopped the other three cold. Perhaps it touched a reserve of residual Northern reticence. After a palpable silence, Paul said, “Well, that’s an interesting one.” The others muttered something and the meeting was over. It occured to me as I was walking down the stairs that what we’d heard could have been an expression of 1960s freedom and openness but was it more likely that it was as if a gauntlet had been thrown down? “You need to understand that this is where she and I are now. I don’t want to hold your hand anymore.”

Paul putting beetles fucking on his album artwork

John hiring a pig and posing with it solely to mock Ram even though he was scared of it

At the end of the day a farmer delivered a huge hog to the mansion [Tittenhurst Park]. It was John’s notion to parody the album jacket photograph of Paul McCartney’s Ram, which showed Paul wrestling with a ram; John would wrestle with a pig. We all went outside and stared at the large surly animal. It was much bigger than any of us had expected. John circled the animal warily. He liked the idea, but he didn’t like the hog. Dan stood poised to snap the picture. “Climb on its back, John, and grab its ears,” he said. John looked doubtful. He stepped closer to the animal. It let out a shrill, strange, sound. John stepped back, but we all urged him on. “You can do it, John,” I said. John approached the animal once again. “I can’t hold the friggin’ pig for too long. You get one shot and one shot alone,” he told Dan.

Loving John: The Untold Story, May Pang

John & Yoko attempting to get revenge married in Paris 2 days after Paul & Linda

“On March 12, Paul married Linda Eastman at Marylebone Register Office in London, amid scenes of hysterical grief from his female fans. None of the other Beatles was present. The news reached John as he and Yoko were driving down to visit Aunt Mimi in Poole. Yoko’s divorce decree had become final a few weeks earlier, and, in a resurgence of Beatle copycat, John told her they, too, must get married as soon as possible”

Philip Norman, John Lennon: The life

We chose Gibraltar because it is quiet, British and friendly. We tried everywhere else first. I set out to get married on the car ferry and we would have arrived in France married, but they wouldn’t do it. We were no more successful with cruise ships. We tried embassies, but three weeks’ residence in Germany or two weeks’ in France were required.

John Lennon

SALEWICZ: Well, I always found it interesting the fact that he got – I mean, it seemed too much like coincidence to me, the fact that he got married a week or month after you. You know what I mean? PAUL: Yeah. I think we spurred each other into marriage. I mean, you know. They were very strong together, which left me out of the picture. So I got together with Linda and then we got strong with our own kind of thing. And I used to listen to a lot of what they said. I remember him saying to me, “You’ve got to work at marriage,” which is something I still remember as a bit of advice. I still remember that. Um… And then yeah, I think they were a little bit peeved that we got married first. Probably. In a little way, you know, just minor jealousies. And so they got married. I don’t know if that’s – I mean, who knows… [inaudible] making it up, anyway.

September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London): journalist Chris Salewicz

Their belief in telepathy & shared dreams

NEIL: I’d just rather not say anything. It’s one of those situations. PAUL: Yeah. [pause] Well, that’s – that’s the trouble you see, there, ‘cause that’s it. It’s like, with our – heightened awareness, the answer is not to say anything, you know. But it isn’t. ‘Cause I mean, we screw each other up totally if we don’t do that. ‘Cause we’re not ready for your heightened… vows of silence. [laughs; hapless] We’re really not! Like, we don’t know what the fuck each other’s talking about, when that – we all just sort of get— NEIL: I think it’s just between the four of you, that get it. That’s what I’d pretend. PAUL: Oh yeah, right, yeah. But you see, that’s it, that’s why John doesn’t say anything. ‘Cause he, you know, he just… There was something the other day, when I said, “Well, what do you think?” And he just stood there and didn’t say anything. And then – and I know exactly why, you know. I mean, I wouldn’t, if… [long pause] Somehow. You know, there’s nothing really much to be said about it. You just – we all just have to do it, and all that, instead of like talking about it. But – but if one of us is talking about it, it’s a drag if the other three aren’t. Because then it sort of throws you off. [inaudible; voice marking tape slate] I mean, we’ve just been talking about it now for a few years, you know. Like this…

From the Get Back sessions (13 January 1969).

HINDLE: What do you think about language? JOHN: I think it’s a bit crummy, you know? It is a drag form of communication, really. We’ll get – we’ll get telepathy. I believe that. HINDLE: You believe that? JOHN: Yeah, sure. Sure. Sure as anything I believe. It’s too… Because now we need it so much. [...] There are – there’s people everywhere of the same mind and it’s just… even amongst ourselves we can’t communicate. Which is the hard bit, you know. HINDLE: Yeah. JOHN: Amongst the people that sort of really agree. HINDLE: Just ’cause of words? JOHN: Just ’cause of words, and upbringing, and attitude, and how you express your… Well, it’s just some – you’ve got to find a mutual sort of language to express yourself, you know? And my language is that— HINDLE: Unless you fall in love it’s impossible to communicate like that. JOHN: I mean, I wasn’t in love last year, but I was communicating quite well with people. Not as well, or maybe not as powerfully. ’Cause now there’s two of us, doing that, brrmmm, whatever it is. Sending out a vibration or whatever. But before it was me and… or me and George, alright, or whatever it was; we weren’t in love, but. You know. There’s enough in you to shove it out. It is just that bit. If you – if somebody comes in a room and he’s uptight and that, he can make the whole room uptight.

John Lennon, interviewed by Maurice Hindle (December 1968).

PAUL: I remember when John and I were first hanging out together, I had a dream about digging in the garden with my hands. I’d dreamt that before but I’d never found anything other than an old tin can. But in this dream I found a gold coin. I kept digging and I found another. And another. The next day I told John about this amazing dream I’d had and he said, ‘That’s funny, I had the same dream’. So both of us had this dream of finding this treasure. And I suppose you could say it came true. I remember years later talking about it – ‘Remember that dream we had?’; ‘Yeah, that was far out’. So the message of that dream was: keep digging lads.

PAUL MCCARTNEY TO THE BIG ISSUE. FEBRUARY 2012.

John climbing the wall to Paul's house because Paul skipped a session for his & Linda's anniversary

(Not confirmed but supposedly)

Paul being utterly convinced that John can't be gay because he didn't try it on when they slept in the same bed

I mean, if John was–the trouble is, see, is he’s not here to fend for himself, and we can’t ask him, “‘Scuse me, John, are you–have you ever been gay?” I mean, he’s the kind— I remember people used to ask that. There were lots of people asking cheeky questions, and they were always saying, “Well, why–have you ever tried homosexuality, John?” You know, they always used to ask all that kind of stuff. I remember John saying to them, “No, I’ve never met a fella I fancy enough.” And that was his kind of opinion. You know, “I may go–I may be gay one day, if some fella really turns me on.” He was–he was that open about it. But as far as I was concerned, I slept in a million hotel rooms–as we all did–slept in a million places with John, and there was never any hint of it.

December 24th, 1983: interview with DJ Roger Scott

“And I say, if he’s homosexual, I thought he’d have made a pass at me in 20 years, darling.”

Paul McCartney talking about John Lennon.

“Brian Epstein, the Beatles’ manager, was a known homosexual. Epstein was always polite and charming. It has been insinuated that John was drawn to Epstein. I believe there was no such relationship between them. John was macho. But if John was a homosexual, it would have made no difference to me. I’ve asked Paul McCartney, who laughed and said: ‘Why not me? I’m handsome.’ Then he said: ‘I was holed up with John in hotel rooms everywhere. There was never a suggestion of anything like that.’ I believe him.”

Julia Baird, in Boston Globe: Lennon’s half-sister remembers… (2 October 1988).

“All I can ever say about it is that I slept with John a lot because you had to, you didn’t have more than one bed - and to my knowledge John was never gay.”

Paul McCartney, The Brian Epstein Story

And maybe he's right to be offended?

Did Lennon have sex with other men? “I think he had a desire to, but I think he was too inhibited,” says Ono. “No, not inhibited. He said, ‘I don’t mind if there’s an incredibly attractive guy.’ It’s very difficult: They would have to be not just physically attractive, but mentally very advanced too. And you can’t find people like that.” So did Lennon ever have sex with men? “No, I don’t think so,” says Ono. “The beginning of the year he was killed, he said to me, ‘I could have done it, but I can’t because I just never found somebody that was that attractive.’ Both John and I were into attractiveness—you know—beauty.”

Yoko Ono: I Still Fear John’s Killer by Tim Teeman for the Daily Beast (13 October 2015).

There was even some discussion, albeit not very serious, of whether he should stick to his own gender. “John said ‘It would hurt you like crazy if I made it with a girl. With a guy, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt, because that’s not competition. But I can’t make it with a guy because I love women too much, and I’d have to fall in love with the guy and I don’t think I can.’”

Yoko on her and John discussing the terms of an open marriage in 1973 (John Lennon: The Life)

On that note, Paul's obsession with sleeping in the same bed as John

Paul McCartney answers questions for Q magazine, 1998

John and I used to hitch-hike places together, it was something that we did together quite a lot; cementing our friendship, getting to know our feelings, our dreams, our ambitions together. It was a very wonderful period. I look back on it with great fondness. I particularly remember John and I would be squeezed in our little single bed, and Mike Robbins, who was a real nice guy, would come in late at night to say good night to us, switching off the lights as we were all going to bed.

Many Years From Now

John and I always liked wordplay. So, the phrase ‘She’s got a ticket to ride’ of course referred to riding on a bus or train, but – if you really want to know – it also referred to Ryde on the Isle of Wight, where my cousin Betty and her husband Mike were running a pub. That’s what they did; they ran pubs. He ended up as an entertainment manager at a Butlin’s holiday resort. Betty and Mike were very showbiz. It was great fun to visit them, so John and I hitchhiked down to Ryde, and when we wrote the song we were referring to the memory of this trip. It’s very cute now to think of me and John in a little single bed, top and tail, and Betty and Mike coming to tuck us in.

Paul McCartney, on ‘Ticket To Ride’. In The Lyrics (2021).

“John and I grew up like twins although he was a year and a half older than me. We grew up literally in the same bed because when we were on holiday, hitchhiking or whatever, we would share a bed. Or when we were writing songs as kids he’d be in my bedroom or I’d be in his. Or he’d be in my front parlour or I’d be in his, although his Aunt Mimi sometimes kicked us out into the vestibule!”

New Statesman, “Paul McCartney - Meet The Beatle,” September 26, 1997

“I wrote all those songs with him so…. what can I say to people?? We were kids! I mean… we slept together, topped and tailed in beds and hitch-hiking and stuff, so,…. I mean, we were just totally you know,….. mates.”

Paul McCartney

John taking matters into his own hand to start rumours about him and Paul

The consensus among John, Paul and Yoko that if J&P could have been together, they would have

“. . . I mean, I think really what it was, really all that happened was that John fell in love. With Yoko. And so, with such a powerful alliance like that, it was difficult for him to still be seeing me. It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship, he had to put this other one away. And I understood that. I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, “Who’s this?” You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and… But you know I mean in this case I just sort of said, right – I mean, I didn’t say anything, but I could see that was the way it was going to go, and that Yoko would be very sort of powerful for him. So um, we all had to get out the way.”

Paul McCartney, interview with German tv program Exclusiv, April 1985.

JOHN: It’s a plus, it’s not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists. [faltering] An artist – it’s more – it’s much better to be working with another artist of the same energy, and that’s why there’s always been Beatles or Marx Brothers or men, together. Because it’s alright for them to work together or whatever it is. It’s the same except that we sleep together, you know? I mean, not counting love and all the things on the side, just as a working relationship with her, it has all the benefits of working with another male artist and all the joint inspiration, and then we can hold hands too, right?

John Lennon, interview w/ Sandra Shevey. (Mid-June?, 1972)

Y: After the initial embarrassment, that how Paul is being very nice to me, he’s nice and a very, str- on the level, straight, sense, like wherever there’s something like happening at the Apple, he explains to me, as if I should know. And also whenever there’s something like they need a light man, or something like that he asks me if I know of anybody, things like that. And like I can see that he’s just now suddenly changing his attitude, like his being, he’s treating me with respect, not because it’s me, but because I belong to John. I hope that’s what it is because that would be nice. And I feel like he’s my younger brother or something like that. I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat, because there’s something definitely very strong with me, John, and Paul.

Yoko Ono, Revolution Tape, June 4th 1968

"We thought we'd do a number of an old estranged fiancé of mine called Paul.""

youtube

As a second choice from the Lennon- McCartney songbook, Elton suggested 'I Saw Her Standing There'. This appealed to John for its antiquity, and because its lead vocal always was sung by Paul. (...) There was a whisper of Royal Variety Show mischief when he announced "a number by an old estranged fiancé of mine called Paul" - no one yet knowing the estranged fiancés were long reconciled.

John Lennon: The Life, Philip Norman

You know, John loved Paul. No doubt about it. I remember once he said to me, “I’m the only person who’s allowed to say things like that about Paul. I don’t like it when other people do.” He didn’t like if other people said nasty things about Paul. And he always referred to Paul as his estranged fiancé and things like that, like he did on that [live] record ‘I Saw Her Standing There’ with Elton in Madison Square Garden.

1990: Former Beatles publicist Tony King

Married couple signatures

(and the reverse of that postcard...)

John publicly predicting Paul & Linda's divorce

You were right about New York! I do love it; it's the ONLY PLACE TO BE. (Apart from anything else, they leave you alone too!) I see you prefer Scotland! (MM) -- I'll bet you your piece of Apple you'll be living in New York by 1974 (two years is the usual time it takes you right?)

John's letter to Paul in Melody Maker, 1971 Finally, about not telling anyone that I left the Beatles—PAUL and Klein both spent the day persuading me it was better not to say anything—asking me not to say anything because it would 'hurt the Beatles'—and 'let's just let it petre out'—remember? So get that into your petty little perversion of a mind, Mrs. McCartney—the cunts asked me to keep quiet about it. Of course, the money angle is important—to all of us—especially after all the petty shit that came from your insane family/in laws—and GOD HELP YOU OUT, PAUL—see you in two years—I reckon you'll be out then—inspite of it all, love to you both, from us two.

John's personal letter to Linda & Paul, 1971

JOHN: Oh, [Klein]’d love it if Paul would come back. I think he was hoping he would for years and years. He thought that if he did something, to show Paul that he could do it, Paul would come around. But no chance. I mean, I want him to come out of it, too, you know. He will one day. I give him five years, I’ve said that. In five years he’ll wake up. YOKO: And people don’t understand, you know. There’s so many groups that constantly announce they’re going to split, they’re going to split, and they can announce it every year, and it doesn’t mean they’re going to split. But people don’t understand what an extraordinary position the Beatles are in, you know. In every way. They’re in such an extraordinary position that they’re more insecure than other people. And so Klein thinks he’ll give Paul two years Linda-wise, you know. And John said, “No, Paul treasures things like children, things like that. It will be longer.” And of course, John was right.

John Lennon and Yoko Ono, interview w/ Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld. (September, 1971)

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #only a tiny fraction of insane things #they have such chaotic lore

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cooliestghouliest · 5 months

Text

PUTTY, chapter two

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve got a thing for Eddie. Eddie’s got a thing for you. You both just continue to use Olly as an excuse to spend more time stealing glances at each other, until you realize you’re the one who’s gonna need to do something about it.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.1k+

TAG LIST: @emma77645

—

The night ended with Eddie sprawled out on his back against the hard ground, dark curls wet with sweat and face tinged pink from exertion. His little brother’s foot was on his chest, the heel of his tiny biker boot digging deep enough for Eddie to feel the weight of an indentation being made.

Although it would have been very easy to maneuver out of the hold Olly had him under, Eddie decided to call it a night and admit defeat. He was tired and hungry, but he knew the younger boy could probably last another hour or so out here, running off his endless childhood energy.

Eddie could not.

Eddie needed time to recuperate. He needed sustenance. Cold beer and concoctions of leftovers sitting in the fridge were calling his name.

Back in realtime, Olly raised his dull stick high in the air above his brother, ready to strike.

You, who’d disappeared into the trailer twenty or so minutes prior, came to Eddie’s rescue just as the makeshift weapon was about to make contact.

“Wait!” you called out, fingers moving to wrap around the bark, halting the boy. Olly looked nothing short of offended, mouth dropping at the audacity of his supposed Princess’ actions. You had to stifle a laugh at his expression.

“My dutiful nobleman, you’ve more than proved yourself to be a true warrior tonight. Buuuuut,” you sing-songed, brows lifting in suggestion. “Maybe we don’t slay the dragon. Maybe we keep him...” you paused for dramatic effect, dropping your attention to Eddie, “... as a pet.”

He probably shouldn’t have, and he didn’t know why he did, but Eddie really liked the sound of that.

“And we can make him do stuff for us?!” Olly exclaimed, his stick dropping to the ground immediately. The little boy loved the idea of having some sort of semblance of control over his older brother, even if it was all pretend.

“Sure,” you grinned, cheeks dimpling in amusement. You offered your hand out to Eddie to help him up as Olly ran around in circles, punching the air in celebration. Your tone was playful as you asked, “Right, Eddie? You’ll do stuff for us?”

Eddie thought he’d probably do just about anything you asked of him.

Jump off the highest cliff at Lover’s Lake? Right away. Run stark naked in the daylight down Maple Street? In a heartbeat. Never listen to another Dio album again for as long as he lived? Dio, who?

Play it cool, play it cool, Eddie thought.

He grabbed your hand, accepting the help, happy to have an excuse for any skin-to-skin contact he could get, and pulled himself back up into a standing position.

Making a show of clearing his throat, Eddie gave a deep bow, one hand pressed to his back as the other swirled in front of him. “Of course, my lieges,” he professed. “You’ve spared my life, and I am forever indebted to you.” Still dipped down, he rose his gaze to you, lips upturning. “Anything you want, my Princess.”

You bit the corner of your bottom lip, trying to stop your smile from growing too wide. You indulged yourself in a few more moments of silent eye contact before clapping your hands together and turning your attention to Olly. “Great!” you declared. “Now, Sir Olly, inside is a grand feast of garlic bread and spaghetti. I’ll be right in to help you wash your hands.”

The little boy let out an elated cheer and hurried around the side of the trailer, eager to eat a home-cooked meal for once. With Wayne working odd hours and Eddie not very skilled in the culinary arts, Olly was used to a cuisine of fast food or lunch meat sandwiches to fill his belly.

Aside from the yearly Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, that’s what Eddie had been used to as well. All his life.

His face softened at the realization that you’d actually cooked for Olly, and had cooked something of substance, nonetheless. You didn’t just throw a frozen dinner in the microwave or boil some Kraft mac and cheese, but you instead made a meal that required more than the most minimal of efforts.

Preoccupied by his thoughts, it took Eddie a few moments to realize you hadn’t yet followed Olly inside.

“You too, pet,” you said, curving your pointer and middle fingers at him in a ‘come-hither’ motion.

“You made some for me?” he asked, too shocked he was included in his little brother’s dinnertime to even register how you’d deferred to him. Pet. Had he realized, he would have had to grab Olly’s discarded cape to station directly in front of the zipper of his pants.

You weren’t Eddie’s nanny. There was no obligation to dote on his needs. Yet still, you had.

A distantly familiar warmth was beginning to spread throughout Eddie’s chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time bubbling right under the surface.

He didn’t have a chance to register just exactly what this feeling was before you answered. “You said anything I want, remember?” you reminded him. “And I want you to eat. Now come inside.”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You liked to follow a schedule and routine.

If you were left to your own devices 24/7 with ample free time, your lifelong nasty habit of overthinking would rear its ugly, judgmental head.

You aren’t doing enough, you’re doing too much, you should be back in school, you should be thinking about when you want to start a family, you should really try to put yourself out there more, you should try to stop coming on too strong, you should have more hobbies, you don’t make enough time for your family, you’ve changed, you shouldn’t be so stuck in your ways.

If you were being honest, the voice of your inner monologue sounded an awful lot like your mother’s.

Because of your adamant strife against letting your spiteful subconscious dialogue win, you made sure you were on the go or at least always had something to do to look forward to.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday mornings were for Olly, while the nights were for PiYo, animal shelter volunteering, and secondhand store browsing. You coached two different cheerleading groups on Thursdays at the local YMCA, a morning class and an evening one. All day and night Friday were for Olly as well.

Saturdays were on-call for nannying, but Wayne typically had the day off, so you would often spend the afternoon hanging out with your sisters and then would spend the night suffering through dinner with your parents.

Sundays were the only day you allowed yourself to stay cooped up in your small apartment, usually with the distraction of a sci-fi or fantasy book, the genre intentional so you could get lost in a new universe for hours at a time.

You mostly looked forward to Fridays, because you knew Eddie would be home after three.

Technically, per Wayne’s initial briefing on your nannying schedule, you were able to go your own way whenever the older Munson brother got home. You suspected Eddie wasn’t aware of this, as he never mentioned it or asked why you always stuck around, so you’d continue to forego that bit of information in order to stay with no questions asked.

Eddie was none the wiser. He thought you were doing it to stretch out the hours you got to spend with Olly. It never occurred to Eddie you could also be trying to stretch out the hours you got to spend with him.

You would have lunch made for the three of you by the time Eddie got home from school. Then dinner would be served by six, the portion size enough so that there’d be leftovers for all the Munson’s later in the week.

Cooking was one of your favorite things to do. It was something you’d enjoyed since you were a child, when you’d spend the summer months in Turks and Caicos with your restaurant-mogul of a grandmother.

This is why, when Wayne lightheartedly mentioned to you once that you didn’t need to continue to spoil the Munson men with all of these different meals, you brushed it off and didn’t even for a second consider scaling back.

After dinner, you and Olly would typically watch reruns of Garfield or He-Man or one of his favorite three movies, whether it was Benji, The Muppet Movie, or Escape to Witch Mountain. Eddie would pretend to be busy with homework in the kitchen or would tune his guitar in Olly’s room with the door open, but really, he’d be watching you.

No matter how many times you’d seen the same episode or the same movie, Olly being a creature of habit and liking what he liked, you would be just as engrossed as the first time, eyes unwavering from the story unfolding before you on the small television screen.

Luckily for Eddie, this meant he didn’t have to worry about your attention diverting from the living room and finding him almost hypnotized by your every move.

He couldn’t help it, and in the secrecy of the shadowed kitchen or hidden halfway behind Olly’s bedroom door, he didn’t even want to try to hide it. He wanted to indulge himself.

Just like you, Fridays had also become his favorite day of the week, and not only because school was out for the following two days.

Friday was Eddie’s day to study the curve of your neck as you pulled your hair up in a messy bun while cooking dinner. It was his day to store to memory the high-pitched giggle that came from you at a funny joke in The Muppet Movie (one you’d had to have heard at least a hundred times by now). It was Eddie’s day to watch as your eyes grew heavy, blinking closed for minutes at a time here and there, head lolling gently against the armrest of the couch you were spread out on, surely exhausted from a long week of chasing his rambunctious little brother around.

Yeah, Eddie loved Fridays.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie frequently took smoke breaks outside on the small porch of the trailer. You, typically busy keeping his energetic brother happy, had never followed him out before. That didn’t stop Eddie from sometimes imagining you sitting next to him on the loveseat in the front yard, talking late into the night about serious shit and stupid shit and all the other shit in between.

In his head, he’d tell you about Hellfire’s newest campaign, and you’d listen intently, chin in your palm, head tilted toward him to take in every word he was saying. He’d tell you about what a hard-on Higgins had for him this year. Then you’d tell him about the Pilates classes that he’s seen you in at Starcourt, and maybe you’d teach him a move or two. You’d vent about some asshole you’d run into during your day, which would cause Eddie to simmer with rage when thinking someone in this world would be anything but gentle with you.

Eddie wanted those conversations. He’d get so lost in those imaginary scenarios sometimes that the cherry of his cigarette would start to burn his fingertips because he’d smoked it down past the filter, distracted, mind off somewhere in another reality.

And then one night, as if he’d finally manifested it, you did follow him out.

He’d been leaned against the side of the trailer with the roach of a joint between his lips, flicking a lighter absentmindedly.

“Ed?”

Surprised at your voice, the lighter flung from his fingers and his body jolted up off the paneled surface of the mobile home.

You stifled a laugh at his reaction, taking a few steps closer as Eddie bent over and began scrambling in search of the Zippo he’d flung. “Olly ditched me for bedtime. Want some company?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, definitely. Totally don’t... I don’t mind. I would, um, I’d very much like it...”

So smooth, Munson, he thought to himself, fingers finally finding the lighter. Modern day wordsmith you are. Beyond charming.

You smiled, finding each and every one of Eddie’s mannerisms as endearing as the rest. You liked how sometimes he’d stumble over his words when you spoke to him, and you especially liked how flustered it made him when your attention was fully on him and nothing else.

Didn’t that have to mean something?

You’d seen Eddie in action in public before. He wasn’t shy or timid, so there had to be a reason he acted that way with you, right? Maybe the feelings you’d had for him for years now were reciprocated.

Tonight, you decided you were tired of only hoping this was the case, and you were on a secret mission to finally find out for sure.

You made your way to the loveseat a few feet away. You sat crisscross, the weathered fabric lightly scratching at the skin of your legs. “Sit with me.” You patted the empty space next to you.

Eddie breathed in deep and forced his legs to move toward you before he could second-guess himself, plopping his full weight down on the sofa beside you.

Much to his surprise, without a word, you plucked the small remnants of the joint from his lips and grabbed the lighter from his hand. He watched in awe as you lit it and breathed in. You let the smoke billow in your lungs before you leaned your back against the cushioning of the loveseat, relaxing into it with an exhale.

When you glanced back at him, Eddie looked incredulous.

“Wait, wait, wait -- you smoke weed?”

You laughed and inhaled another smaller hit before passing it over to him. Eddie took it and matched your hit, a quick in and out, eager for your answer.

“I’m full of surprises, Eddie,” you informed, matter-of-factly. “You know, I’d always sit inside and wonder if you’d ever invite me out here with you. But,” you offered a pout and Eddie wanted to bite your lips, “you never did.”

He took a moment to study your face. It was dark outside, probably nearing nine-thirty by now, but the glow from the streetlamp near the trailer was a golden halo around you, illuminating the shape of your face, the softness of your hair, the warmth in your eyes.

“I didn’t know you’d wanna come out here with me,” he defended.

You made a ‘psh-ing’ noise with your mouth. “Come on, Munson. I practically fawn after you whenever you leave the room. Always waiting for you to turn around and see me.”

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He laughed, the noise sounding more like a scoff. “Yeah, right.” He took one more hit off the joint before leaning over to stamp it out in the ground, pocketing the paper to toss later.

Eddie Munson was not a litterer.

“I’m not lying!” you exclaimed, bringing your hand out to playfully shove at his shoulder. “I really like spending time around you.”

He felt like all the air was forced from his lungs at your admission. “You’re really serious?” he asked, voice quiet. Not that he necessarily thought you were fucking with him -- you’d never given him a reason to believe you were mean-spirited like that -- but Eddie was so used to things he wanted not working out for him, or things that seemed too good to be true actually being too good to be true. In this instance, he fleetingly and insecurely thought maybe he was the butt of some joke. Have the Princess fake fall for him only to break his Freak heart for fun.

You were very serious, but you chose not to answer him directly. You had a feeling offering only words wasn’t going to cut it. “Wanna come to a party with me when Wayne gets home? I told Chrissy I’d stop by. I’d like it if you came with.”

Eddie balked at her. A party? A party that popular, real-life Barbie doll Chrissy Cunningham would be hosting? That did not sound like a place for the likes of himself, unless he was invited to sell. He liked Chrissy, she was nice to him, but her friends, which also unfortunately happened to be your friends from high school, were not.

“I don’t know... Parties aren't really my kind of thing...”

“Please, Eddie,” you asked, eyes going round and voice beseeching. He had to stifle a groan at the soft solicit coming from you. You sounded so desperate for your wish to be granted. Your wish for him to spend time with you. Eddie loved hearing your voice in general, but hearing it like that? Music to his ears. Like a Sabbath song if sung by a super smokin’, staunchly sweet angel.

He chewed on his lower lip, weighing his options.

This could all be a rouse to embarrass him in front of the masses at some jock-packed party, further pinning him as a lovesick, gullible idiot — a laughable loser who thinks he’s got the girl in the bag.

But he really, really didn’t think you would do that.

You cooked for him. You cleaned his rings once with baking soda that time Olly had taken them and buried them in the mud as a prank. You sometimes helped him with calculus. You’d play with his hair if he sat in front of you while watching sitcoms. He thought you did that last one absently. You did it very much intentionally.

What fun was life if you weren’t taking chances?

Eddie was typically more of the adventurous type anyway. Maybe he would have a good time. Doubtful, knowing where the party was, but begrudgingly possible, knowing he’d have you by his side.

He mentally rolled a die in his head for courage.

Eddie Munson was not afraid of what people thought about him. Deep down inside him, sure, yeah, it didn’t feel great that his neighbors thought he ritually sacrificed goats or kept body parts hidden under his bed. But to the public, Eddie knew people thought he was confident and unbothered, if also insanely eccentric.

He needed to be that Eddie right now.

Eddie imagined the die bouncing on the long wooden table in the drama room at school, where Hellfire commenced. Hellfire. Those guys thought the world of him. Dustin would be smacking him in the back of the head right now for even hesitating to go to a party with a pretty lady.

The die stopped rolling.

Henderson’s face was there in lieu of numbers.

Good enough.

“Party it is, Princess.”

The grin that spread across your face made him forget all about everything in the entire world. He’d waited months now for you to look at him like that. All wide-eyed and deeply dimpled cheeks

When you threw your arms around his neck in a feat of success, Eddie felt invincible.

If you were hanging on him like this, how could this night possibly go wrong?

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson

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cobaltperun · 4 months

Note

i have a request if possible ? for a tara carpenter x reader , or any jo character as you see fit , but in my head , it’s always been tara and no gf au-

so basically , if you’re familiar with 5 seconds of summer , every time i listen to them (their self titled album, specifically heartbreak girl) i always come up with like scenarios of r, mindy, amber and wes being 5sos basically and having r write that song about tara and how she’s always calling/texting r about the problems she’s having with chad without realizing that r is in love with her

which ofc leads r to go to amber, mindy and wes to write that song together and having them preform at a local bar/club or something because they’re locally known and tara, sam, chad and the rest of the friend group is in the crowd, being supportive- but once they hear the song , they immediately know who it’s about and just look at tara awkwardly , and- that’s as far as i’ve gotten

Heartbreak Girl

Tara Carpenter x gn!Reader (Request)

First of all, thank you for the request, it kind of just flowed out and here it is. I went with gender-neutral Reader since you didn't specify the gender. I hope you'll enjoy reading this.

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k

It was happening again, your only saving grace being the fact you weren't there with Tara as she sobbed. You could almost see her, sobbing into her pillow to make sure Sam couldn't hear her.

And it broke your heart to hear you cry. It shattered it even more that she kept putting you through it again and again. Always for the same reason.

"I know I should have seen it coming, but it still hurts, you know? I still love Chad, I just can't get over him," she sobbed and you stopped pacing your room to lean back and rest your head against the wall. You knew the story, you heard it from Tara countless times. Tara and Chad were in a relationship, they worked the summer job together and met Liv. Chad fell in love and broke up with Tara. The rest was history, and Tara, sharing Chad's circle of friends, and still being in love with him, couldn't move on.

One time Tara told you she figured it would be easier if he cheated on her. He didn't. He just sat down with her one day and said how he felt. Two weeks later Chad and Liv went on their first date and the circumstances kept Tara and Chad as somewhat friends.

"I'm sorry for being a bother, Y/N," she must have noticed your silence.

"You're not being a bother, Tara, I just don't know what to say that I already didn't tell you before," you bit your bottom lip, knowing full well you were lying. You knew what you wanted to say. You wanted to tell her you loved her, that in her heartbreak she kept breaking your heart too. Another sob made you speak before you could think things through. "Let's go out, just the two of us," you suggest, realizing too late what you were saying. "As friends, of course, just to get your mind off of everything," you quickly backtracked, hoping the explanation was sufficient enough, hoping she couldn't hear the nervous tapping of your foot against the floor, or the crack in your voice when you said 'friends' or anything else that could give you away.

Because, as much as you loved her, as much as you wanted to be with her, you didn't want to push her into another relationship when she was vulnerable and still heartbroken. You also didn't want to be her way of getting over Chad and nothing more.

"I'd love to, Y/N," it sounded like she stopped crying. "Thanks for being my friend and always being there to cheer me up," her words, even if you just encouraged them yourself, still hurt you.

"Don't mention it, I'm here for you," you brush it off, subconsciously hoping maybe, just maybe, she'd realize how you feel on her own. You had no idea how mixed the signals you were sending her looked every now and then. In less than a minute you went from proclaiming friendly hanging out to promising to be there for her. "When do you want to meet up?"

Tara paused for a moment. "I'll call you tomorrow at ten to figure that out. Is that okay?"

You nodded and then frowned when you realized a moment later you were on the phone with her. "Of course."

And so you said your goodbyes, and you just slumped into the chair and dropped your head down to the table. A bit recklessly you tossed the phone to the bed on your side and silently expressed gratitude that it didn't hit the wall or drop to the floor. You sighed and placed your hands over your head, feeling like you were stuck in a never-ending cycle with Tara Carpenter.

Against your better judgment, you grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and began writing.

~X~

The friend date went well, better than you imagined it would and you and Tara hung out an hour longer than either of you anticipated. It was a nice change of pace and for a moment you actually convinced yourself you didn't feel anything romantic for her. For a moment, you were reminded of simpler times, when Tara really was just a friend in your eyes.

The paper waiting for you at your table broke that illusion and you grabbed your guitar, maybe you had something here after all. As you sat down to try different tunes you sent a message to the band, Mindy, Wes, and Amber, asking to meet up tomorrow for an additional practice.

~X~

The four of you met up in your garage where you kept your instruments, the guitars, and drums, anything else you needed you would just rent out for a couple of days. You were still a local band, so renting still saved you money.

"Let me see if I got everything right. You," Amber pointed at you, almost accusingly. "wrote this song about Tara and you don't want to confess how you feel?" she asked incredulously.

"Come on, it's not that obvious," you defended yourself and pointed at a line in the song. "See? Chad didn't exactly treat her bad, he just broke up with her."

"Yeah, sure, one line is going to convince everyone it isn't about Tara," Mindy added sarcastically and threw her arms up. "It's there for the dramatic effect, Y/N! Remember?"

"She got you there," Wes wasn't helping.

You picked up your guitar and began playing the tune you thought would work well with the song. "Listen, I think we got something good here," you tried to focus on the song itself. "Regardless of who it was written for," you muttered.

"You're kidding, right? A sad tune? You're making this a ballad? No way," Mindy went to her drums. "This needs more energy," judging by the tone of her voice she wasn't budging on this. Well, at least she was on board.

"We are totally adding 'Thanks for being a friend' to the lyrics," Amber teased and you just groaned and buried your face in your hands.

"Don't forget being a sucker for anything Tara does," Wes joined in, causing all three of them to laugh at you.

"You're the worst," you muttered, too embarrassed to look at them.

~X~

Over the next month and a half, you and Tara fell into a bit of a habit. The first two weeks she continued sobbing, and you'd ask her to hang out. The week after that she just complained and you still asked her to hang out. The past few weeks she rarely even mentioned Chad during your calls, but she still insisted you were friends.

Honestly, just the fact that she seemed to be moving on as weeks went by mended your own heart. Somewhere along the line, you found out you were fine with the way things were.

You walked her to her house, the backs of your hands occasionally brushing as you walked. The accidental touches became something both of you were comfortable with, as neither of you moved away from each other.

"You'll be performing tomorrow night, right?" Tara asked out of the blue.

You glanced at her and your eyes met. "Yeah. Are you going to come?" it wouldn't be the first time Tara would be in the crowd. Tara, Sam, Chad, Danny, Anika, and Liv were all supportive of your band, so they regularly came to your performances.

"You're not really asking that, are you? Of course, I'm going to come," she lightly jabbed your arm. "Besides, Mindy might have told me you guys have a new song you'll be performing for the first time in front of a crowd."

That little traitor.

With the way things were going between you and Tara, you were almost tempted to scrap the song, but the other three voted against it. "No pressure then, it's not like we haven't had a new song in almost four months now," what could you say, it was a bit of a drought period as far as creativity went.

Tara laughed and just for a moment you thought you saw something else in her eyes, something similar to the way you would so often look at her. "You'll do great," she offered a much-needed encouragement as the two of you stopped in front of her house.

"Guess this is it for tonight," you smiled at her.

"Mhm, I'm glad I was the one to ask you out tonight, as friends, of course," she took a step closer and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. And then you froze when she got on her tiptoes and kissed your cheek. "Thank you, for always being there for me," somehow, this time she omitted the friend part.

"I," you cleared your throat. "did say I'd be here for you, didn't I?" you tried to brush it off as you usually did for months now.

The intensity of Tara's gaze captured all of your attention and for a moment you even considered leaning in. You didn't though, you weren't sure she felt the same, or that she actually moved on.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then?" she asked, lowering her gaze to your lips before quickly looking away.

You noticed it, and you wondered if Tara could hear how loud your heart was drumming in your chest. "Y-yeah," you finally stepped back from her, and the tension you were trying so hard to ignore began fading.

~X~

Tara pretty much threw herself on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. What was wrong with her? Falling in love with you so quickly and almost out of nowhere. Especially when you so explicitly insisted on hanging out as friends. Perhaps you were insisting too hard to cover your own feelings? A girl could hope, right?

She turned her playlist on, hoping to find some peace in music. As if to spite her, the first song that played was Brian Fallon's You Have Stolen My Heart and she nearly chucked her phone into a wall. Groaning she turned around and tucked herself into a blanket. It was entirely your fault. With your charming smile and clumsy mixed signals, she could never entirely get a good read on them.

~X~

You were amazing on that improvised stage, just mesmerizing to watch and listen to and Tara found herself falling even harder. She also found herself ignoring Sam's teasing smile.

"Thank you, thank you! You are too kind! We'll wrap up the night with a premiere of our new song!" Wes yelled, hyping up the crowd.

"Let's hear an applause for Heartbreak Girl!" Mindy demanded, encouraging the crowd to interact with the four of you.

Tara was pulled to her feet by Anika and they both cheered. The name of the song, however, made Tara's heart skip a beat. Or was it the way you looked at her from the stage?

"You call me up, it's like a broken record, saying that your heart hurts. That you'll never get over him getting over you, and you end up crying. And I end up lying, 'cause I'm just a sucker for anything that you do," you sang, your eyes never leaving Tara's. It felt like there was no one else in the club but the two of you. But you weren't alone and Tara felt the awkward stares directed at the back of her head.

Did you actually write a song for her?

"And when then phone call finally ends, you say "Thanks for being a friend" and I'm going in circles again and again," now she had no doubt, that the song really was about her. She stopped cheering and just stood there, taking the lyrics in.

She saw you hesitating, probably since you noticed her reaction, and she just smiled. You smiled back and continued.

"I dedicate this song to you, the one who never sees the truth, that I can take away you hurt, Heartbreak girl. Hold you tight straight through the daylight, I'm right here, when you gonna realize that I'm your cure, Heartbreak girl?" did you...? Were you saying what she thought you were saying?

She wasn't reading this wrong, was she?

"I bite my tongue, but I wanna scream out, you could be with me now. But I end up telling you what you wanna hear, but you're not ready. And it's so frustrating, he treats you so bad and I'm so good to you, it's not fair," her heart skips a beat as you continue, quoting the promise to call you tomorrow at ten and once again singing the chorus.

"I know someday it's gonna happen, and you'll finally forget the day you met him. Sometimes I'm so close to confession, I gotta get it through your head, that you belong with me instead," the look in your eyes, the eyes that told her 'This is it, I can't take it back now' it vanquished any doubt she may have had about how you felt.

She just wondered how long you felt that way about her without saying anything? Definitely before you first asked her to hang out as friends, but how long before that?

~X~

The moment you ended the song and without any idea where the sudden boldness was coming from you jumped down from the stage and went over to Tara. You took a few deep breaths as you closed the distance and offered her your hand, the guitar still in your other hand.

Yeah, you didn't quite think that through.

Tara raised an eyebrow, clearly looking at the guitar, but then shrugged and took your hand.

"Uh, what now?" you asked sheepishly.

"Isn't that something you were supposed to figure out? Before you jumped down and came over?" she gave you a cheeky, teasing smile.

"I didn't think I'd get this far," you admitted, causing Tara to laugh.

"Just go behind the stage dumbass!" Mindy yelled, with the microphone still on. "And leave the guitar there while you're at it!"

You lowered your head and winced, trying to hide the blush on your face. Tara wasn't doing much better as she quickly pulled you behind the stage to escape the teasing.

You packed the guitar as both of you took time to compose yourself and catch a breath. "I really didn't think this through, did I?" you asked.

"No," Tara sat down on the chair near you. "You really didn't," she was fiddling with the loose thread on her shirt.

"I meant it, the song. Well, at least when I wrote it a month and a half ago," you decided to just be honest with her.

Tara raised her head to look at you, you could see hopefulness and uncertainty in her gaze. "What changed?"

You approached and sat down next to her. "I don't think you are still heartbroken," you took her hand.

Tara smiled. "I'm not. I'm in love with a clumsy musician that sucks at flirting," she leaned closer to you.

"Hey, it worked," you closed the distance, capturing her lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

"Mhm, how about we go on a proper date then?" she asked when the kiss ended and you couldn't think of any better idea.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x gn!reader #scream #no ghostface au #band au #jenna ortega x reader

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angelofsmalldeaath · 5 days

Note

If i could be extremely indulgent i’d love to request a fic.

Reader in in the last few weeks of her internship (nursing) and also graduating. Mentally and physically so tired but a lot left to do. Andrew starts making her food to take with her, when she falls asleep on the couch in the evening takes her upstairs or just listens to her rant about the horrible assignments left.

ps. I love your stories they bring me such joy

okay so i'll be really honest, i have no idea how nursing internships work. i've tried my best to look it up but i'm sure this is riddled with factual errors. regardless... i hope you enjoy ♡︎

cw: nothing i can think of apart from brief mentions of food, fem!reader

“can i come in, darling?” he knocks on the door softly, peeking in first to make sure she’s awake. she is. barely. trying to shield herself from the sunlight streaming in by hiding her face in the pillow. the sight makes him smile. “i got you something to eat.”

a lump shuffles under the blanket, a head peeks out followed by a soft hmph.

“come on, darling, it’s four already,” he closes the door behind him and walks up to her. then he sets the bowl on the table and sits on the bed.

“fuck, already?!” she grumbles, and moves away from the pillow only to squish her face in the side of his thigh.

“can i have five more minutes?”

“are you sure you can afford that?”

she groans again, louder than the last time. “i hate this internship!”

“no, you don’t.” he laughs and slides some of her hair off her face until he can see at least a bit of it. “come on, now. if you get up now you can eat in peace before you have to leave.”

with great effort, she peels an eye open and looks at him, blinking against the sunlight. “what did you get me?”

“why don’t you get up and see?”

“ugh,” she pouts, “traitor.”

he waits patiently after that, stifling a giggle when she hisses against the direct sunlight on her face and stretches like a cat before propping herself up against the pillows. his heart aches a little too—there are bags under her eyes and tired lines etched onto her face. the last few weeks really have been the hardest on her.

“gorgeous,” he smiles, and kisses her head softly.

she grins at him, toothy and infections and looks to the nightstand for food. her eyes fall on the bowl, a gasp echoes in the room.

“you peeled me a pomegranate?!”

“two pomegranates,” he corrects proudly. “they were quite small.”

“awww,” she grabs his face, kissing him sweetly, “you’re a mother hen!”

he watches her when she pops a few seeds in her mouth—six, just like persephone. even though it’s not enough to make her stay. “good?”

“delicious…”

for a while, she’s quiet, eating spoonfuls of the pomegranate seeds. he declines when she offers him some. these are for her, he’s just content watching.

“when will you be back?” he traces a circle on her knee and takes the bowl from her once she’s done eating.

she pouts again, this time in earnest. “not until tomorrow. 8 am i think.”

“oh…”

“you have to sleep alone tonight. and…what was that? the birds—”

“don’t chirp,” he finishes for her, laughing. “the colours dim. it’s a proper tundra.”

in the quiet of the room she buries her face in his chest. he can even hear a little sniff, but he doesn’t tease her about it—for one he’s busy burying his nose in her hair until all the air in his lungs smells like her shampoo.

“thank you,” she whispers.

“for the fruit?”

she snorts and nods. “sure. and everything else. for carrying me to bed when i fell asleep on the settee, for letting my cry out my frustrations.” she pulls back a little and cradles his cheek. “for taking care of everything in the house so i’d have time to rest. seriously—”

he tuts when she chokes a little and swallows roughly. “you’d do the same for me. you have done the same for me. when i’m so close to album deadlines i don’t even have the time to breathe, when i’m so tired from being on the road i can’t even lift my head. we are a team, sweet girl.”

she nods, lets him steal a kiss. her skin is sun-warmed by now, gorgeous and glowing in the golden light. she need to get up and start getting ready if she has to leave on time. but the thought of letting her out of this bed breaks his heart.

“a few more weeks,” he whispers in her hair and kisses her head again. a few more weeks. it’s for him just as much as it is for her.

“and then it’s over.”

“you’ll miss it when it’s done,” he teases. “i know you.”

“i can still complain about it now though!”

he laughs at that, kissing her knuckles one last time when she finally gets out of bed, groaning and stretching, on her way to get ready. “as much as you want,” he smiles. “i’ll sit here and listen.”

#requests #hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #writblr #writeblr #writers on tumblr #andrew hozier byrne x reader

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chosetherose · 25 days

Text

Two Graves One Gun

So Long London continues the saga of celebrity versus soul. The only way to cure Taylor’s sadness is for her to bid farewell to bearding, and perhaps the closet.

If you can look past the red herrings in this song, you will find a deeply layered masterpiece that illuminates Taylor's battle with herself; how past plans made to maintain her celebrity have marred her soul. She doesn't want to live life like this anymore and is willing to burn her brand down to the ground to free her soul.

As always, the analysis I've written here is only one interpretation of this song. I'm not claiming it is "correct" but I encourage you to plow through (this is a very long post) and consider what I've laid out.

For context, I believe London is a metaphor for bearding. Here is some background for the new folks:

For most of her career, Taylor’s beards have been from the UK. Specifically, from 2012-2023 her beards were Harry Styles then Calvin Harris then Tom Hiddleston then Joe Alwyn.

The beginning of this stage was right around the time she started crossing over into pop music. Red is her first real leap into pop music and to do this successfully she needs to expand both domestically (to pop audiences that don't listen to country music) and internationally (her first opportunity for this since the rest of the world doesn't listen to much country music).

She started bearding with Harry Styles in late 2012, within weeks of Red's release then milks that short lived stunt for 1989 as well. What a way to capture a new pop audience made up of fans abroad and at home. Rinse and repeat until her priority changes to long-term privacy and she finds that aided by an unknown actor named Toe. Even though Taylor's current beard is American, suffice to say one can look at London as a metaphor for bearding given history.

[Intro]

So (So) long (Long), London (London) [repeated]

Pay attention to how she sings this...She breaks "London" into "Lon" and "Don".

So SO / Long LONG / Lon LON / Don DON

This is a sneakily beautiful way to emphasize: So! Long! Don(e)! ...Like "I've been bearding for so long and I'm done with it" or "So long, bearding! I'm done!" Yes, this is a reach but read the rest of this post and circle back. As this intro closes the final "Don(e)!" fades into the upticked beat.

[Verse 1]

I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist

I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift

Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away

My spine split from carrying us up the hill

Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill

I stopped trying to make him laugh, stopped trying to drill the safe

Taylor seeing fairy lights through the mist sounds like she sees daylight at the end of a tunnel opaque from lavender haze. She keeps focused on this goal, carrying on with all these beards over the years. Although she's able to appear calm during these stunts, living life like this has forged a rift within herself. She beards because it's advantageous for her brand but her soul despises the ruse.

Side note: “Keep Calm and Carry On was a motivational poster produced by the Government of the United Kingdom in 1939 in preparation for World War II.” -Wikipedia. A bit of history that I think furthers the idea that Taylor was battling to keep going.

Tayor has to balance these aspects of herself continually - Too much stunting? Her soul needs a break. Had a good break from stunting? She needs to feed the grocery line Swifties to keep them at bay. It's an idea that got me thinking about yin and yang, "an opposite but interconnected, self-perpetuating cycle." (Wiki). I am not an expert on this concept but I know I've noticed it has come up throughout conversations about TTPD. If yin and yang is relevant for this album, as I believe it is in multiple songs, in the context of this verse it feels related to Taylor's constant need to find balance between the celebrity version of herself we see on our screens and the true version of herself only she can see in the mirror.

This cycle wears on Taylor so much that her spine splits from the weight. She has been slogging through stunts, dreaming of freedom, for years. It's been storming so long her clothes are soaked and she feels the chill down in her bones.

Because of the pain she decides to change strategy. Theres no more attempts to make her situation lighter or find ways to deal with it. And think about this - if you're trying to drill the safe open it means either A) you feel like you've tried all the codes and are resorting to brute force, and/or B) you're running out of time and growing desperate. Taylor is past even those points and is giving up entirely.

[Chorus]

Thinking how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

Oh, the tragedy

So long, London

You’ll find someone

The chorus reminds me of talking to a past version of yourself that made plans for a future you. We know Taylor must plan her life years in advance so perhaps she is asking her past self something like, “Why did you think I could handle continued bearding? Did you really think I could handle all the sadness I'm feeling today?”

Then I think the second half of this chorus is saying goodbye to bearding, symbolized by London, because she can’t bear the sadness anymore. Maybe the "you'll find someone" line is aimed at the fans a la "you should find another guiding light" like you guys will find someone else to fawn over in the tabloids.

Side note: I love the double entendre here. Because so long means goodbye but it has also been so long that she’s been bearding (largely with British men).

[Verse 2]

I didn't opt in to be your odd man out

I founded the club she's heard great things about

I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath

I stopped CPR, after all, it's no use

The spirit was gone, we would never come to

And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free

I don't have a strong opinion on the first two lines of this version. What comes to mind is she didn't opt in to be an openly LGBTQIA+ artist, she chose to closet and beard. Then other younger closeted celebrities have looked to her as a blueprint.

In the process of bearding for stardom, her soul abandoned all she knew. I think there is a red herring here as Heath could reference Hampstead Heath (which has connections to Toe) but it’s also continuing on the house theme that Taylor sings about. Here, it doesn’t sound like this house is a home. She’s not singing about chandeliers flickering inside, it’s “the” house by a heath -- “Heathland is characterized by plants such as heather, bilberry, gorse and bracken, which occur on infertile and well-drained soils. Open heaths have been highly modified by humans for centuries and are maintained by grazing or cutting.” She’s stuck somewhere that’s by drained her via death by a thousand cuts lol.

Again, it's weighed on her. So she's decided to stop trying to revive the disconnect between her soul and her celebrity, it’s no use trying anymore. She’s realized they could never fully come together.

And she’s pissed off she let her celebrity rob her of an open, free, youth where she could live truthfully. Recall that in Peace she sings, “a coming of age has come and gone” which to me means she feels she can’t explain a coming out via a youthful awakening angle. She’s at the age where people will understand she’s known this for years but hasn’t shared with the world. This will raise questions she won’t be able to answer because it’s all too tangled (NDAs, outing beards, etc.).

[Chorus]

For so long, London/ Stitches undone

Two graves, one gun

I'll find someone

For so long, she’s been bearding, stunting, hiding her true self to reach and/or maintain celebrity. It’s caused her stitches to come undone. This wording is interesting because it implies she had a wound from living this life hiding her truth, they tried to fix her up as her celebrity status soared, but it didn’t work because the sadness was too great.

Perhaps there's two graves and one gun because on the path to daylight she will kill both her celebrity and the sadness of her closeted self. Not how she switches from "you" will find someone to "I" will find someone. This is because she will destroy every version of herself that she's ever known if she comes out one day. She will rise like a Phoenix through the ashes to discover a new version of herself in the daylight.

Note that the Spotify clip for this song, from the Fortnight video, feels significant. First, Taylor looks up toward the daylight. Then, with heavy breaths and a concerned face, she rifles through her art (words written out on a typewriter). We know in the rest of this scene she is lighting her art on fire. Two graves one gun on a path to daylight.

[Bridge Part 1]

And you say I abandoned the ship

But I was going down with it

My white-knuckle dying grip

Holding tight to your quiet resentment

I imagine these first lines of the bridge to be aimed toward those in her life, on her team, etc. that steered her toward closeting to gain/keep fame. Maybe she has plans and they are saying by coming out she is abandoning the ship (her celebrity) they've all worked hard to build. In Miss Americana we heard her team tell her that coming out as a Democrat would halve the numbers of her next tour. Can you imagine what would be said about a coming out?

But what they don’t understand is that living this life is killing her. She’s been holding on to all the subtle ways they’ve told her over the years that her career will sink if she comes out of the closet.

[Bridge Part 2]

And my friends said it isn't right to be scared

Every day of a love affair

Every breath feels like rarest air

When you're not sure if he wants to be there

When she confides with her friends about it all they tell her she shouldn’t be afraid to take steps toward the daylight because look where she is now. She’s been stunting for years (love affairs in the tabloids) and it's awful for her. So terrible that she's grasping for breaths, unsure if she can still survive in this atmosphere (thin/rare air means its not a hospitable environment for Taylor).

[Chorus]

So how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

How much tragedy?

Just how low did you think I'd go

Before I'd self-implode?

Before I'd have to go be free?

Again, I think she’s talking to her past self here. “How could I have thought I’d survive sinking this low? How could I not realize I’d reach a point where I’d self-implode?” Which here, self-implosion is telling a similar story as I think the two graves one gun lyrics do — the result of the self implosion is being free. If she blows up her celebrity and she will be free to live her truth, curing the sadness that has been ruling her life for years.

[Verse 3]

You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

I died on the altar waiting for the proof

You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days

And I'm just getting color back into my face

I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place

I imagine this verse is aimed at her fans, the grocery line Swifties who believe her beards are real boyfriends. I read “you swore that you loved me but where were the clues?” as a sarcastic jab because she’s been screaming 🌈 for whoever is willing to listen. The fans claim to love Taylor but they aren’t willing to really listen to her.

Most people here “altar” and think of a wedding but the definition is much broader, “In religion, a raised structure or place that is used for sacrifice, worship, or prayer” (Wiki). So Taylor was up on the altar, a place of worship, waiting for clues that these fans actually loved her. But what started as worship became sacrifice as these fans never found love for who Taylor really is all the while the bearding and hiding were causing Taylor deep sadness.

Despite all this, she loves her job and her fans. The sadness is too much though. She is about to self implode and feels its time to take steps toward a brighter future. It’s maddening as hell to metaphorically blow up your life just as your fame is escalating to new heights you’ve reached for your whole career.

[Chorus]

For so long, London (So long, London)

Had a good run A moment of warm sun But I'm not the one So long, London Stitches undone Two graves, one gun You'll find someone

For so long, she bearded. She had a good run, getting away with it all, reaching levels of fame she always dreamed of. But she's not the one to keep the charade going (as opposed to her heroes who unfortunately 'died' closeted). Goodbye, bearding. The wound was too big to fix. With one action, I will kill the version of myself you (the fans) know and the version of myself I know. You (the fans) will find someone else to worship.

...

I could keep tweaking this theory for weeks but these are my initial thoughts on this song about two weeks out from TTPD's release. This album is incredible complex but for me the signs we keep getting are all pointing toward significant change. There is a momentum going right now that I haven't felt since the early Lover era. No matter what happens or how long it takes, I hope our fearless Chairman gets the chance to bask in the sun shiniest daylight. She deserves the warmth.

💕 CTR

#forgive me there are probably minor edits needed #but #I can’t proofread this again I just need to press post

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weirdkpopgirl · 1 year

Text

Stay | Dream Reaction #7

Reaction: To the First Time their GF Stays at their Place

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Warnings: mentions of stress, subtle mental health stuff in Renjun's, making out in Haechan's (but nothing explicit), oh, and mentions of fighting in Jaemin's part?

Word Count: 2780k

Author's Note: Hii, this was requested by a lovely anon. It's been a while since someone requested something, which made me really happy. To the person who messaged me, this may not be exactly what you had in mind. I did go a slightly darker route with some of the members. But I still hope you like it. Thank you for reading ^ - ^

Also, no one probably cares. But I've been listening to Dream's mini album nonstop XD

~ ~ ~

MARK

The corners of your lips downturned into a frown at the sight of your boyfriend’s workaholic state. Honestly, you weren’t surprised. But it didn’t make you any less angry.

Taeyong had sent you a text, relaying his concerns about the boy overworking again. He already had enough on his plate with hectic schedules for both 127 and Dream. Yet there he was, hunched over his computer and surrounded by crumpled balls of paper.

“Baby, it’s so late,” You said quietly, walking up from behind,

Alerted by your voice, Mark lifted his head. “(Y/n)-ah? When did you get here?”

“Just now,” You replied quickly. “I was worried about you.”

You gently lifted his chin, to get a better look at him. Despite his room's dimmed lights, you could still see the dark circles under his eyes.

Mark brushed you off. “Babe, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”

He always told you that, and it always lit this flame of anger in you. Usually, you refrained from saying anything for fear of causing him more stress. But you cared too much to hold it that night.

“How can you tell me that when you've been working nonstop this past month without a break?” Your voice wavered. “You probably haven’t gotten any sleep, have you?”

Mark looked down, unable to respond. So you took matters into your own hands and started by shutting his computer off. You ignored his poor attempts to protest and brought him to his bed.

“I’m going to stay here to make sure you get some actual rest,” You asserted before laying down beside him.

Even though Mark knew you were being serious, he couldn’t help but smile. This stern side of you was refreshing, and a reminder that there were people who cared about his well-being.

“Will you stay the whole night then?” Mark asked softly, reaching for your hand.

You didn’t expect him to say that, as you've never slept over at his dorm before. Honestly, you didn’t hate the idea. And if it meant getting your boyfriend’s mind off work for the rest of the night, then you’d say yes.

When you nodded, the two of you moved closer to get more comfortable. And for the first time in weeks, Mark finally got some sleep.

✎__________________________________________________________

RENJUN

It was one of those days when Renjun had a small gray cloud of rain over him. Maybe because work has been hectic lately, or maybe he was suffering from a lack of confidence. Whatever it was, sometimes Renjun just felt down. Fortunately for him, you were determined to cheer him up.

Before going to his dorm, you stopped by the grocery store and picked up a few things for hot pot. Renjun’s eyes immediately lit up when he saw you even bought his favorite shrimp balls. Since some of his members were there, you guys all ate together.

Aside from dinner, Renjun locked the two of you inside his bedroom. Then he would vent to you about what’s been bothering him lately. Sitting beside him on the bed, you would hold his hand in yours and listen the whole time. When it came to responding, you gave the best encouragement you could and reassured him that his feelings were valid.

8:30 p.m. was when you usually left to go back home. But this time, Renjun tugged on your wrist when you made a move to get up.

“Stay, please?” He spoke in a tiny voice.

You were a bit taken aback because this was the first time he’s asked you to stay over. The two of you could get pretty shy about these things. But there was none of that from Renjun tonight.

So you nodded and let him pull you back into the bed to lay down next to each other. He hummed as your fingers stroked his hair.

“Thank you. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you,” He’d say a few moments later. In response, you smiled and kissed him on the forehead.

“Of course. I’ll be here for as long as you need.”

✎__________________________________________________________

JENO

He and the Dreamies had just returned from their tour in Japan. Even though he was gone for a few days, the time was too long for Jeno. So when you came over to cook a welcome-home meal for him and the Dreamies, the boy refused to leave your side.

Throughout dinner, you were practically glued to Jeno’s lap. His arms remained securely wrapped around your stomach, as his chin rested atop your shoulder. Any teasing from his members went largely ignored. Even when it was late, Jeno didn’t want you to go home.

“I spent all week missing you. Can’t you stay a little longer?” He avoided the stern look you were giving him.

The sensible part of you said to just go home like you usually did. Jeno’s slept over at your apartment a few times. But you’ve never stayed in his dorm, afraid that it’d be weird with his members also being there. However, they had all retired to their rooms by now. And it wasn’t like you had any plans the next day.

Your eyes dropped down to the boy who was playing with your fingers with a pout. Though you had a hard time expressing it, you had missed him just as much as he did. There was no harm in staying over one night, right?

You let out a pretend sigh, “Okay…I guess I can stay.”

“Really?” The boy’s eyes lit up, surprised that you said yes.

Since you didn’t have any clothes to wear to sleep, Jeno happily lent you one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants. His eye smile appeared when you waddled out of the bathroom.

“I look ridiculous, Jeno-ssi.”

“No, you look cute,” He stood up to take you in his arms. “I should just have you wear my clothes from now on.”

You shook your head with a smile, and let him carry you to his bed. From there, you guys would lay in each other’s arms, talking about miscellaneous things until you guys fell asleep.

After the first time, Jeno knew that he wanted to sleep with you in his arms for the rest of his life. This was where he belonged.

✎__________________________________________________________

HAECHAN

A smile crept on his lips when he heard you yawn beside him. Since the holiday season was busy for both of you this year, you took this single free night to have an at-home movie date. And by at-home date, you were at the 127 dorm, cuddled up with your boyfriend in the living room.

As the ending credits of the movie you just watched played on the screen, you sat up to check your phone. It was pretty late. You then glanced out the window and gasped when you saw how much snow was flying everywhere. The storm had just started when you arrived, but you didn’t expect it to be still going on. And you didn’t have a car, which meant you’d have to walk home because the buses were most likely done for the day.

You then glanced at Haechan who already read your mind. “Well, it looks like you’re snowed in. I guess you won’t be leaving tonight,” He cutely shrugged.

“Of course, you’re happy about that.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

He pouted in response, “Whyyy? This means we can spend more time together!”

If anyone else saw how clingy and cute Haechan was around you, the boy would never hear the end of it. You shook your head at the boy and reached for the remote.

“Should we watch another movie then?” You suggested.

The male smirked and looked at you with a teasing glint. “I was thinking we should try something else.”

Before any suspecting questions could be asked, Haechan grabbed you by the neck and pulled you into a passion-filled kiss. You let out a gasp, only to be swallowed by the pressing of his lips on yours. The initial shock quickly faded as you felt yourself melting into his touch. However, your eyes opened as soon as they closed. You forced yourself to pull away, earning a whine from the boy.

“You do realize any of your Hyungs can walk out this very second, right?” You pointed out while trying to catch your breath.

There have been too many embarrassing times when someone caught the two of you in moments like this. All thanks to Lee Haechan, of course.

“Don’t worry about them. They’re all sleeping.”

He kept his hand on the nape of your neck, ready to kiss you again. But just as your noses touched, the sound of shuffling footsteps disrupted the two of you.

“Hey, Donghyuck are you still up?”

You instantly motioned for the boy to get off you and sat up to see Mark coming from the hallway.

“Oh (Y/n), I was wondering if you had gone home yet. It’s pretty messy outside,” He scratched his head.

You nodded in agreement, “Yeah, it is.”

“What were you guys doing?” He asked. Haechan rolled his eyes, annoyed by the rapper.

“Before you interrupted us, (Y/n) and I were—”

“Deciding on what movie to watch next!” You cut in, afraid of what he was going to say.

Haechan shot you a “why did you do that?” look. You sent him a glare in response. Mark, on the other hand, remained clueless as ever.

“Really? Has (Y/n) seen Elf yet? You should totally watch that,” The elder walked around to sit at the end of the couch. “Do you mind if I join you guys?”

Before you could answer, Johnny and Jaehyun came into the room.

“Yah, are you watching Christmas movies without us?”

You laughed nervously and turned to your boyfriend who was dumbfounded by this turn of events. Things certainly didn’t go as he had wanted them to. You mouthed a “sorry,” as the other members started to join you guys. He sighed in defeat and rested his head on your shoulder.

And that’s how the first time you stayed at Haechan’s dorm ended up turning into a Christmas movie marathon with the 127 members. Not as romantic as he would’ve liked. But it was certainly memorable.

✎__________________________________________________________

JAEMIN

Over the past week, your roommates have been at each other’s throats. As someone who was a little afraid of conflict, you chose to stay out of the situation. But their screaming at each other nonstop prevented you from getting any sleep. They remind you of when you lived with your parents who fought all the time. You tried to hold it together, repeatedly telling yourself that you should be used to this by now. Yet no matter how strong you pretended to be, it wasn’t enough.

One night, you decided that you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew it was late, but you were so desperate right now. After grabbing your phone and wallet, you snuck out of your home. Not that you think they would’ve noticed if you had left in front of them. They probably wouldn’t care and continue blaming each other for things.

Jaemin would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised when you showed up at his apartment at 11:30 p.m. But he was more concerned when he saw the clear distress on your face.

“I-I’m sorry.” You huffed out cold air. “But can I stay here for the night?”

It only took him one look at your watery eyes to tell you were on the verge of breaking down. Of course, he welcomed you with open arms. Not many words were exchanged as you guys settled in his living room.

“Sunji and Juran haven’t made up yet?” He asked in his usual low voice, as he sat beside you on the couch. You noticed that he sounded deeper in the nighttime.

You shook your head despondently. “At this point, I’m waiting for one of them to move out.”

A short silence followed your words. Jaemin watched as your eyes fixated on the mug of green tea he gave you.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” You mumbled, before finally taking a sip of the warm beverage.

A small smile stretched across his lips. You always kept up this wall around your friends and family. Part of him was grateful because he was the only person who saw your vulnerable side.

“You did well (Y/n)-ah,” He cooed, reaching his hand to pet your head. “Thank you for coming to me.”

Calmed by his touch, you glanced up at those adorable eyes of his that were overflowing with admiration. In the next second, you let him take you into his embrace. The two of you stayed cuddled on the couch, watching some k-dramas to get your mind off things. Every so often he’d press kisses into your hair, which made you snuggle into him further.

You guys only started dating two months ago, and have never spent the night at each other’s places before. He was probably tired from work, and yet he let you in without question. If this wasn’t love, what was it?

✎__________________________________________________________

CHENLE

It was just another one of those days where you were at Chenle’s house keeping him company. His mother and aunt weren’t in Korea at the moment, so you guys had the whole place to yourself. The both of you agreed it was nice, after not seeing each other for the past few days.

Currently, you guys were napping on the couch. Napping was a more recent thing for the two of you. Mainly because he was always tired from work, and for you it was school. Though you were hesitant about the idea at first, you started to love these moments with your boyfriend. They were those few chances you got to relax and recharge.

Chenle secretly loved when you guys did this as well. Especially when you nestled your head into the crook of his arm, while your arm rested on his chest. Often he found himself staring down at you, admiring your features. It was always the hardest when you guys had to break out of such a comfortable position. And today, he really didn’t want to.

You had woken up first, realizing you had slept much longer than you intended. But when you began to sit up, Chenle brought you back down.

“Don’t go,” He said with his eyes still closed. “It’ll be too dangerous to walk home when it’s so late.”

“It’s only nine,” You murmured. “And I have university tomorrow.”

His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you closer to him. “Your class isn’t until noon, and you have your school bag here.”

You weren’t sure how he could speak so coherently when he was half asleep. But he was right. His place was also closer to the college you went to.

“Just stay.”

His words were simple but persuasive. So you returned to your previous place in his arms and closed your eyes.

“Okay.”

Chenle would smile, pleased to have won you over. He placed a small kiss on your knuckles before letting sleep consume him.

✎__________________________________________________________

JISUNG

For the first time, Jisung bought an apartment and was able to move out of the dorm. It took some convincing from his manager and the members. But Jisung was ready for this. After all, he wasn’t a 14-year-old kid anymore.

With that said, Jisung and you decided to take the next level into your relationship. By “next level,” that meant spending an entire night together. Jisung was quite excited because he would get to spend some quality time with you. However, things didn’t go quite as he expected.

Everything was normal up until you finished your third movie and it was time to sleep. Despite being together for almost two years, you guys were as awkward as you were when you started dating.

“I can sleep on the couch…” You suggested.

Jisung instantly turned down that idea. “What? No, we can just sleep on my bed!”

So after some anxious rambling between the two of you, you eventually ended up in his room. The two of you would lay face to face on his bed, with his comforter covering you up to your necks.

“Not too bad, right?” Jisung chuckled nervously.

You nodded, “Yeah, we’re okay.”

The two of you would spend the rest of the night giggling like little kids and exchanging kisses under the covers. Overall, 10/10 experience!

✎__________________________________________________________

#nct dream reactions #nct dream #nct 127 #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #mark #renjun #jeno #haechan #jaemin #chenle #jisung #nctzen #czennie

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peterswonderland · 1 month

Text

Introduction

By now, we all have our opinions of The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology. It has received mixed reviews from critics to fans alike.

In the Gaylor community, many have dubbed it her “straightest album,” which I am inclined to agree with. BUT.

If you do not like Gaylor or Swiftgron content, feel free to block and/or keep scrolling!

I’ve seen and read theories for years. In this post I will be referencing the Swiftgron Masterpost. I’m also an avid listener of the What I Will Say podcast. (No one affiliated with the podcast is involved with this post, and for all I know might disagree with it entirely. However, I will be referencing the masterpost at points, and it is only fair to give credit where credit is due.)

This is celebrity gossip, and everything is alleged. I do not know Taylor or Dianna. This is alleged (don't sue me, tysm!)

Peter is…Dianna?

Halfway through my first listen of “Peter,” I was fully convinced this song was about Dianna. That Peter was Dianna.

First, I will go through the lyrics that most pointedly seem Dianna-coded to me.

Forgive me, Peter My lost fearless leader In closets like cedar Preserved from when we were just kids Is it somethin' I did?

Taylor references closets in “seven” on folklore:

And I've been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted Your dad is always mad and that must be why And I think you should come live with Me and we can be pirates Then you won't have to cry Or hide in the closet

Cedar closets are used as a "safe haven" to put valuable items in. The closet has preserved everything from when Taylor and the muse were "just kids" (likely meaning their early twenties.) Shoutout to Kristin in the WIWS Discord for mentioning this!

Credit

Another interpretation I found on Genius mentioned that the closet line in “Peter” could also be a reference to another fantasy story, The Chronicles of Narnia, wherein stepping into a closet revealed a new fantasy world. This fantasy narrative ties in with “Peter”/Peter Pan and “Wonderland”/Alice in Wonderland, which we’ll get to in a second.

The line “And I think you should come live with/Me and we can be pirates” can also be connected to Peter Pan. Peter Pan and the Lost Boys often have to fight off Captain Hook and his pirates. There are also theories that pirates/Captain Hook are old Lost Boys. TL/DR: Old lost boys are either killed by Peter Pan or can choose to become Lost Boys…at least by these fans’ interpretations. A weak link I know, but still an interesting one.

“We can be pirates” because you’ve been forced to grow up too quickly…? Hm.

Further connecting “seven” to “Peter” is the idea of being just kids, although in “seven” it seems to be more literal, while in “Peter” she might be referring to when she and Dianna actually met: Taylor was ~20 years old, and Dianna was ~24.

From “Peter”:

Are you still a mind reader? A natural scene stealer? I've heard great things, Peter But life was always easier on you Than it was on me

Dianna is stunning, and has often been referred to as a scene stealer.

Credit

“When we cast Dianna as Quinn, she ruined the part for me,” Murphy says. “She was supposed to be the Cybill Shepherd, Last Picture Show cunt, so to speak, but she humanized it. She can cry at the drop of a hat. So now her character has a conscience, a soul and great vulnerability.” Ryan Murphy, Rolling Stone. Credit

Credit (Shoutout to ellie from the WIWS Discord server for bringing the TCA nominations for "Female Scene Stealer" to my attention!)

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