#i picked pink in the night by mitski | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dayasusays · 2 months

Text

“loneliness as love” partly 18+

bruce wayne x fem!reader

words : 1315

tw / cw : partly sexual content, hard sex, angst, “i know who you pretend i am” stuff, reader is wearing lipstick, mention of exes

for better experience :

you’re just two lonely people trying to pretend to love each other.

as bruce fucks you, gripping your hair you moan muffledly, biting your lip; he's rough tonight, his thrusts fast and precise, hitting the sensitive spots inside. you whimper as wayne puts his fingers to your mouth and smudges your lipstick, making you lick a couple of phalanges: another fetish you don't even know where it came from.

as bruce gives you one last kiss, you close your eyes for a second and imagine that you are loved. imagine that you are not in bed with someone who comes just to fuck, but with someone you love and who loves you back.

you stare at the ceiling, trying to realize what just happened. you promised yourself last time that the next time he came over, you'd say no and tell him like it is: you don't just want sex anymore. but for some reason, you couldn't get a word out of yourself when wayne came close to you and asked how your day was, how work was today and what you had for dinner. smell him and gasp with desire in the same second; feel his hands on your waist and sigh quietly, trying to be closer; feel him inside you and almost cry at how good it felt.

you promise yourself again that you'll stop; that you'll tell him to stop when strong arms pick you up to carry you to bed.

but now, with bruce towering over you, you realize again that you can't say anything.

"i love you," you hear him say as he snuggles closer to you.

"love". wayne always whispered that worthless "love" as if he needed an excuse for all of this; when he fucked you so deep and rough, he kept whispering "love", making you moan wildly; when bruce got up, got dressed, and left, he just kept quiet. and there was no hidden "love" in his silence.

"you don't," you squeeze out, pulling away from his lips, "stop saying that. please," you sigh, your fingers lightly pulling back the material of his suit and going over it.

"you always liked it."

"and i don't like it anymore," you bite back, covering your eyes, "just stop."

and wayne nods slowly, pulling you back into the kiss.

when you open your eyes, all you see in front of you is bruce's face. beautiful, with half closed eyes and a little bit of blood; but it's bruce.

bruce wayne who comes to your house every three days to fuck you good. bruce wayne who whispers that goddamn "i love you" and it doesn't mean anything. bruce wayne you wish you could see someone else in.

you cling to his shoulders and reach for him. kissing so desperately, as if you'd suffocate without his kisses; as if he were a lifeline that would finally help you get rid of these stupid feelings. finally save you from these eternal thoughts and give you peace.

"are you okay?" bruce asks, pulling away and looking into his eyes.

you're not okay.

you know it, but you don't dare answer the question; because wayne was nothing to you. he's nothing now, he was a friend years ago, he was your first boyfriend a little earlier.

but now he's nothing. he's just a sex partner.

"what about you? are you okay?" you answer a question with a question and notice his blue eyes sparkle in the moonlight.

bruce doesn't answer either.

it all makes sense now.

you're not okay and neither is he, which is why you're here now.

in the bedroom of your apartment, kissing and trying to pretend to love each other so that this endless emptiness will just go away; no matter what ways, because it's just unbearable.

feeling unloved hurts. thinking that it will be like that for the rest of your life hurts even more.

so here you are, clinging desperately at wayne and feeling the same desperation in return as he leans closer to seal a kiss on your lips.

when you pull away, you stare again into his soft blue eyes, which are also staring into yours.

you find yourself wanting to cry as you look at bruce: the bat emblem on his suit, the bloodstains on his face, the three-day stubble, the pressed lips.

you see bruce wayne in front of you. batman. gotham hero.

you bury your forehead into his chest, squeezing him in a hug and whispering something inaudible; all he can make out is an apology.

"are you okay?" he repeats his question again, but a little softer.

"no," you say softly, pressing your cheek against his, "and you?"

he doesn't say anything.

and he has absolutely no idea how it started.

you were his friend. then you were his girlfriend. then you were his sex partner.

you broke up peacefully when you realized that love just ran out. and there was nothing wrong with that; it seemed so normal that you just decided to stay friends.

you were there for him when he was going through the most difficult moments of his life, you comforted him and you always knew when and what to say.

at one point you just slept together. and it happened again and again and again until you were distant from each other.

and bruce is sorry.

he's been sorry so many times, and he's wanted your friendship back, but it just seemed impossible.

"are you okay, bruce?"

"no," he feels like he's confessing to the worst crime in human history. "i'm not okay. we're not okay."

he's putting some of his truth into this conversation, and you can't help but agree.

you see bruce wayne in front of you, he sees you in front of him.

and it pains him to admit that when he opens his eyes, he wishes he saw someone else.

you're not her.

you're not the woman who made him feel that flutter in his chest; who kissed him on the rooftops at night; who, at one point, was everything.

"i'm sorry," you whisper, hugging him again.

"what are you apologizing for?"

"i dunno... for all of it," you chuckle bitterly, nervously running your fingers over his.

you're apologizing because you realize you want anyone but him in front of you.

"don't," bruce whispers back, leaving a kiss on the top of your head that means it's okay, "it's not your fault."

he wraps his arms around you, squeezing you as tightly as he can, and says a name that doesn't even remotely sound like yours.

"i miss her," wayne confessed.

"i know," you parry back, pulling away and kissing him again, as if that's supposed to help, "i wish i was her."

he looks into your eyes and swallows when he sees tears in them.

and you both face the ugly truth when you realize how alone you are.

so much so that you call each other when it's completely unbearable; when you need at least someone around to hug, kiss, and eventually make love have sex with.

you almost feel sick at the thought.

"i love you," he says so quietly that only you can hear; so quietly, as if he doesn't want the world to hear it, as if it's almost a secret. and from his lips it sounds like a release.

"i love you," you repeat after bruce, pulling him in for another kiss that feels like salvation.

"i love you" is like "i'll save you" as you throw life preservers to each other and don't notice you're drowning yourself.

"you" and "him" as the "we" you might have become when you bump noses before kissing and apologizing to each other.

"loneliness" as "love" as he looks into your eyes and cries for the first time in over a year.

you're two lonely people trying to pretend to love each other.

ty for reading !! 💌

#Spotify #dc comics #dc universe #writing #angst #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #batman x you #y/n #smut #star

75 notes · View notes

fluloa · 1 year

Text

my headcanons for the sully family

JAKE:

- has an apron that says ‘kiss the chef’

- has thought about getting an ear piercing and would like to

- always itchy, like will be constantly scratching at a random part of his body during a casual conversation

- had a loner phase when he was in middle school

- doesn’t like fuzzy things, he hates the texture and the way it feels on his skin, gives him a bad type of goosebumps

- adhd. said what i said

- flexes his big dad muscles every chance he can get (good for him tbh)

- finds it so relaxing when neytiri plays with his hair

- is a big purrer, to the point where it’s embarassing and he HATES it but he can’t help it

- cries every single time he watches the start of finding nemo

- hates watching reality tv

NEYTIRI:

- loves watching reality tv

- bites off her toenails (sorry not sorry)

- really likes apple juice

- loves the song cover me in sunshine by pink, every time she plays it, lo’ak screams out in agony

- a sad beige baby mom

- makes weird faces when feeding babies and does the sound ‘nom nom nom’

- loves cats. jake got one for her for her birthday and he doesn’t think she’s ever seen her happier

- wine lover and proud (especially with these little shit of a kids)

- has a collection of perfumes and jewellery that she only touched like once or twice. poor girl just forgets about them bc of all the stress she’s holdin

- the type of mom to demand every kid’s room is clean when somebody is going to be over. lo’ak is always the one to say “they won’t even be coming into our room!”

- lo’ak gets a whooping for that

NETEYAM:

- asks jake for his old band t-shirts

- loves water parks and will say weeee when going down the slides

- lets tuk put makeup on his face. but that stopped after she used some cheap shop makeup on him and he got an allergic reaction from it

- sometimes he wears belt with his jeans and it is funny

- always forgets to knock before opening doors. once caught jake butt naked and has never been the same again

- his favourite color is purple but he says it’s blue so that people don’t make fun of him

- loves playing laser tag even though he sucks ass at it

- he’s a fan of marvel and he’s always first at the cinemas when a movie comes out

- likes to skateboard. surprisingly very good at it since he’s only used it like ten times since he got it for 12th birthday

- for some odd reason, he really likes helping neytiri out with grocery shopping? also a guilty pleasure to pick out some of his favorite snacks and being the perfect little son that he is, neytiri always says yes

- brushes his teeth DAY AND NIGHT without a skip

KIRI:

- definitely plays my singing monsters

- had a monster can collection phase (will not admit to it although)

- that being said, had an ‘indie kid’ phase and begged norm for a couple of unused cds so she could paint them

- listens to mitski and lana del ray and flexes it to people and attacks them if they say they don’t know who they are or they don’t like their music

- wants her septum pierced but by neytiri’s words, “i’d rather die.”

- does her own hair, hence why it’s so messily beautiful

- neytiri cuts her hair though, as much as she doesn’t like to admit it

- would really like a tattoo, but neytiri has said no obviously

- tried asking jake for the tattoo, but jake was terrified of neytiri’s expression so he said no

- then tried to do a stick and poke and it failed miserably (rejected from her skin a week later)

- weirdly insecure of her nose, sometimes she likes it, sometimes she doesn’t

- jumps on the trampoline with tuk until she’s passed out from exhaustion

- plant lover. like seriously has a dozen in her room and will panic if she hasn’t gotten the time to water them for a day

LO’AK:

- plays mortal kombat and has an addiction to it. will yell out fatality when putting neteyam in a headlock

- begs neytiri for waves (she always says no, thank god)

- has got led lights in his room that are stuck to the wall with shitty sticky tape. you can easily see it, too

- always facetiming tsiyera but half of the time she doesn’t answer

- the type to lick chip dust off of his fingers until the last speck is demolished

- SATURDAYS ARE FOR THE BOYS

- has a pet fish and secretly adores her, her name’s shelly and will go into deep detail if you ask about her

- favorite food is doritos and takis

- was a ‘all girls are the same’ type before he met tsiyera

- wears his worn ass jordans religiously

TUK:

- has a pink ipad

- makes her own fake youtube tutorials on said ipad. kiri sneakily watches them when she’s sleeping

- can do an impressive amount of tricks on the trampoline and each time she learns a new one she yells out, “DAD!!! DAD, DAD, DAD, COME WATCH THIS!!!! DAD!! DAD!! DAD!!!!”

- her heart broke when jake with a few drinks in his system decided to jump on the trampoline on a party night and ended up tearing a massive hole in the middle of it

- has a CRIPPLING obsession with slime and neytiri absolutely hates it. always searching up ‘how to make slime no borax no glue’ and always makes a mess of wherever she makes it

- SHE LOVES DISNEY and her favorite princess is moana

- begged neytiri to let her dye the ends of her hair purple. neytiri used one of those ten washes dyes in a box and didn’t bleach her hair before because “no way am i putting bleach in my daughter’s hair” when it didn’t work because tuk’s hair is literally pitch black, she cried

- she literally loves the low space buns hairstyle and will forever ask neytiri to do it for her. but will end up crying because of how hard neytiri pulls her hair (it’s not even that hard)

- has a huge collection of squishmallows (jake got her them all)

- doesn’t actually like chocolate but loves candy

- the type to bounce on neytiri and jake’s bed to wake them up

522 notes · View notes

flurry-bace · 1 month

Text

ROTTMNT music headcanons (because I said so)

Donnie:

favourite genre is electric (canon)

also likes techno, hyperpop, and lo-fi

listens to Lemon Demon, Jack Stauber, The Living Tombstone, Bo Burnham, and Will Wood

won't let Raph pick music in the Turtle Tank

vibes with Leo to meme songs in the middle of the night (insomniac twins)

shares a playlist with Mikey that contains songs they both enjoy

plays Friday Night Funkin' music while working in the lab

can sing in-key for the most part

despises it when people talk to him while he's listening to music

Raph:

favourite genre is soul (canon)

also likes R&B, jazz, and funk

listens to The Beatles, Earth Wind and Fire, Rex Orange County, Girl in Red, and ABBA

genuinely doesn't understand Donnie's music, but can get by it

jams out to songs with Leo on shared missions

lets Mikey choose up-beat songs for workouts (the "hypeman," if you will)

blasts Dancing Queen frequently

can't sing in-key, doesn't care (and neither do the others)

doesn't memorize the words to songs, except the course

will play elevator music when absolutely bored

Leo:

favourite genre is glamrock (canon)

also likes White Girl™ music, 80's rock, and orchestra

listens to Mitski, Tom Cardy, Radiohead, Pink Floyd, and Arctic Monkeys

vibes with Donnie to meme songs in the middle of the night (insomniac twins)

tolerates Raph's music choices

uses his songs to annoy Mikey

sings loudly in the shower (he cries too)

could sing in-key if he tried, which he doesn't

music is basically constantly playing in his head (likely the Mii theme, or Maxwell Cat)

has a record player

Mikey:

favourite genre is rap (canon)

also likes pop, hiphop, and jpop

listens to AJR, Laufey, Tyler The Creator, Kikuo, and Katy Perry

shares a playlist with Donnie that contains songs they both enjoy

lets Raph pick songs while he's cooking/baking

gets driven out of Leo's room by his orchestra music

can't help but move to the songs (if he can't boogie, it's not worth listening to)

plays high-tempo music to get work done (it works half the time)

has amazing vocal range and perfect pitch

gets so many voice cracks (like so many)

is randomly inspired to draw by songs and artists

All:

know every single word to Breakin' Dishes by Rihanna, the Ghostbusters theme, and the Pokémon intro

take turns picking songs on road trips

can't stand Splinter's singing

38 notes · View notes

pearlescent-waters · 1 month

Text

Hualian x mitski truthers. Choose a song you think resonates best with them

#tgcf #hob #hualian #xie lian #hua cheng #mitski #pearl talks

29 notes · View notes

gravedigginbbydoll · 10 months

Text

His Best Girl

Eddie Munson x Latina! OC

AN: Hi. So this lil blurb is very personal to me and my own experiences (and a few of those of loved ones) as the daughter of a latina immigrant. This is heavily based on Your Best American Girl by Mitski. Also I'm sorry for making Steve an ass at the beginning, I just think pre-upside down and Nancy, he was a bit misguided. And to all my immigrant daughters out there: please know that you are not out of place or just pieces and not a whole. You are a human with multiple facets and pieces and parts to make up something amazing. Anyways, like and reblog if you enjoy as per usual. Love y'all ❤️

CW: Xenophobia, stereotypes, internalized xenophobia and anti-latinidad, pressure of fitting in, strenuous relationship with mother, toxic motherly relationship at times, anxiety, bullying. Fear of not being accepted, etc. Mentions of food. Slightly suggestive thoughts.

I stuck out like a sore thumb in Hawkins. It didn't matter that we had lived there for longer than Billy Hargrove, we got more sneers than he ever did. Teased for lunches homemade by my mother, now rotting in a garbage can behind school. Teased for the poncho I wore in grade school, chubby cheeks wet with tears as I sobbed over the laughter. Teased for my mother’s pronunciation of words like Illinois, too many syllables crowded into her mouth for the english language.

It didn’t matter how far I distanced myself. I stopped speaking my mother’s native tongue, pushing down the hurt I saw in her eyes that now her own daughter was pitted against her. I stayed silent at my father’s snide comments about her heritage and pretended to be busy when her family called. I tried to get involved in cheerleading and dance, trying to show that I too could be part of the American Dream. Yet still, like a birthmark unable to be scrubbed away, Hawkins remembered me as a stranger.

It seemed like the effort finally paid off when Steve Harrington got interested in me. I wasn’t ugly, but I wasn't Molly Ringwall. He flirted with me after basketball practice, messing with my scrunchy, stealing my pom poms. I felt my heart soar. I’d finally made it. I’d finally been made a resident in my own community. When he finally asked me out, I felt my chest burst with pride, my sense of belonging almost fulfilled. Yes, my home was tense and sad. But now I could exist outside our little bubble without fear of being ostracized.

Then came the roadblocks.

Steve liked my hair straight, down and perfected with hairspray. Liked me clean shaven and bare. Wanted me to do makeup like Carol, simple. Wanted me dressed in pinks and perfect baby blues, the style as All-American and feminine as possible. Wanted me to stop carrying around the small rosary and evil eye bracelet I’d hidden from the rest of the world. I obliged, sugary smiles and gut wrenching nerves, just wanting to stay enough, be enough.

Then it went deeper. Steve wanted to hear me speak Spanish in private, words hushed and filthy, pushing limits I knew I’d be thinking of later in confession. But in public, he only wanted English, urged me to take French at school instead. He never asked to meet my mother, who had showered me in affection despite my cold shoulder. Who only spoke in proud words over me on the phone whether it be about my latest test, my excelling in dance classes, or just my part on the cheer team. And as we went further, he’d scrutinize little things, like the way I looked, the little superstitions I picked up from my mother, the small bits and pieces of her folded into me.

It all bubbled over the night I met his family. He warned me that they were tough but his mother was sweet. I sat, makeup perfect, smile shining, and careful to seem like the picture perfect girl they’d approve of. I nibbled at the meal his mother prepared, my heart longing for the familiar comfort of my mamá’s cooking wafting in the kitchen, the laughter in the kitchen as she made milanesa or empanadas. Steve’s mother’s cooking felt cold, lifeless. The casserole was lightly salted, and the energy at the table stale and somehow tense all at once.

“So, what’s your mother do? Stay at home?,” Steve’s father asked nonchalantly.

I felt my stomach sink. Wealthy mothers in Hawkins didn’t work. They stayed home while their husbands hopped around their business meetings and towns nearby. My smile faltered, but I decided to be honest. After all, they’d know sooner or later.

“No, sir. She works at an Italian restaurant downtown.”

“Well, I suppose Italian isn’t all that different from speaking Spanish,” He offered, shrugging.

My stomach sank to the floor, my heart squeezed. Something about his inflection, something about his writing off my mother speaking English, stirred something in me.

Steve stayed silent, his eyes begging me to let it go.

“My mamá speaks English, sir. As well as Spanish,” My voice shook softly, my hands clenched under the table.

“Ah, okay. Wasn’t sure. Seems a lot of Hispanics nowadays can’t just try to learn the language when they come into our country, for god's sake. But I should have known. You’re such a…well-adjusted girl.”

I felt the small thread holding together my façade crack. I breathed in, trying to stop myself from screaming. How could such wealthy and lucky people be so small minded? I gritted my teeth.

“English is surprisingly a hard language. My mother still struggles with it even after living here longer than she did in her home country.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Well, I’m not struggling. Just don’t understand why they can’t come here and assimilate. I mean, when Steve told us he was dating an ethnic girl, I questioned-”

Steve paled at the mention of this, turning to me and trying to explain himself through his eyes but staying silent.

I held up a hand, trying to keep my composure, my words cold and my anger boiling. “We try. Plenty. We try to squeeze into your boxes and norms and bend to your will and it’s never good enough. I still get notes taped to my back that say ‘river crossing’ or slurs that aren’t even correct for my heritage. I still get called ‘gorilla arms’ despite waxing and shaving daily since 6th grade. I get spit on daily and if I even look at some of the people in this town, I worry one day that I’ll be dead in a ditch. And I’m one of the lucky ones. My father is American, and I am fairly pale. I was born two towns over, for christ’s sake. I am just as American as you. My mother and any latino who steps foot in this country deserves to be here as much as you, if not more.”

I felt my hands shake and my cheeks wet as I wiped at them, the mascara I had been wearing smearing a streaky black as I stood, brushing my hands off on my dress, my heart feeling freed, my chest tempted to break open to allow me to let go more.

“Now if you excuse me, I must go home.”

I turned and walked out, leaving behind the big house full of dreams of all-star American athletes and nuclear households, tired mothers and fathers obsessed with infidelity. Part of my heart hoped Steve would run after me, apologize, kiss my cheeks and promise to love all the pieces and intricacies of me, promise to stand up next time.

But he never did.

Steve never called back, stopped speaking to me after practice, stopped trying to squeeze himself into my life. Maybe it was me embracing the soft curls of my hair and not shaving day in and out. Maybe it was me wearing what I wanted and quitting cheer to join the newspaper, and finding more people who accepted me for myself.

I won’t deny that it stung how he found Nancy Wheeler, perfectly American girl without any question. Straight A’s, beautiful, sweet, well-off family. I was happy for him. But I couldn’t deny that my chest stung with the idea that no matter what I did, I’d never be her.

My mother and I started mending our relationship, and while it always had that complicated knot of trauma and things she wouldn’t discuss, it was better than the frayed edges I’d left. She still pushed me hard, she still was stubborn and said things that would sting for a lifetime. I still cried alone when we fought, guilt over her giving up a life and home to make one mine, and yet I still got upset when she would refuse to budge and claim I'd ‘regret saying these things when (she) was dead and gone.’

But I felt less like a broken piece of glass trying to fit into a puzzle.

I met Eddie while eating lunch outside, still sensitive to classmates upturned noses and sniggering laughs behind their hands. I was at the bleachers, enjoying the fresh air and the empanadas I had reheated secretly in the front office. My mom had made the monthly trek to the latin supermarket to get ingredients and stock up on comforts. I was relishing in the flaky dough and savory inside when a voice startled me.

“What is that smell?”

I felt shame and embarrassment sink into my bones, knowing some of the kids at Hawkins hated the smell of the food I brought from home, claiming it was ‘too weird’. I turned to look at the voice, feeling my voice caught in my throat at the sight.

Eddie Munson.

I recognized the outgoing and loud metalhead anywhere. He was what I tried to distance myself from for so many years, trying to squeeze into Hawkins small sect of acceptable behavior and praised individuals. He always scared me, his clear and blatant middle finger to the idea of blending in, his behavior and interests always villainized in this town. But I also respected him immensely and was almost envious that he could do that, not consumed by thoughts of others mistreating him.

And yet now here he was, about to join the flock of Hawkins xenophobes, it seemed.

He scrambled to sit down next to me, his lean legs climbing over the seats easily as he sat by me. He had a pack of cigarettes in hand along with what seemed to be Twinkie. He smiled down on me, his wide grin causing my cheeks to heat quickly. Eddie was more attractive than the town of Hawkins gave him credit for, his smile dazzling and his eyes a warm brown. He white Reeboks rested against the bleachers in front of us as he leaned back on his hands, smiling over at me. His bangs came over his eyes a little with the wind, causing him to squint.

“I’ll trade you one of whatever that delicious thing is for my Twinkie. I forgot to pack a lunch,” he joked, dimples popping out.

I felt my hands clam up as I fidgeted nervously.

“I mean, sure, but are you sure you’ll like-”

“Princess, trust me. I love food. And that little doughy pocket you are currently munching on smells heavenly…Please?”

I nodded, feeling my stomach twist with nerves as I handed him the food, smiling at him sheepishly. He took it with eager hands, his own nimble fingers brushing mine and swiftly handing me the slightly squashed Twinkie.

“Sorry, it got a little beat up.”

I shook my head, shrugging. I had pocketed the twinkie, instead focused on his face while he took an eager bite into the dough, his moan coming soon after, his eyes rolling back into his head, his head thrown back.

I felt my skin heat up to blazing temperatures, my thighs squirming.

Who knew Eddie Munson’s moans sounded so… sinful?

He turned to me after chewing and swallowing, his eyes sparkling with interest as he sat up and faced me, scooting closer to me.

“You’ve got to tell me what that was. That was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I need like fifty. Seriously. I’ll give you a free stash if you just bring me one like everyday.”

I laughed, my cheeks still heated and my heart squeezed at the excitement.

He liked it. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t spit it out.

“It’s an empanada. My mom makes them.”

“Em-pan-ahd-a,” He sounded out, stumbling over his words a bit and then grinning at me, his dimples popping up.

“Seriously though, I’ll pay you to get more of these.”

Eddie and I formed a bond tighter than anyone I’d ever known. After that meeting, we’d exchanged names and he offered to bring me one sweet each day in exchange for half of my mother’s cooking.

I was terrified at first, scared he’d turn away a dish or gag at the things she made. But as it turned out, that fear was short-lived.

Eddie Munson scarfed down empanadas, milanesa, cassava, rice, and soup. He acted as if each meal was worthy of a restaurant, praising my mother's cooking over and over again. I watched with swelling pride as he asked about the dishes and ingredients, how to cook them, and what my favorites were. He took extra care to express his love for the dishes I had assisted with the night before, his sweet words imprinted on my heart like ink.

We grew from that to more and more hanging out, me being an honorary member of Hellfire, and Corroded Coffin’s number 1 fan. I learned Eddie never got to learn how to ride a bike but could fix cars up pretty well due to working at an auto shop. I learned how Eddie sometimes would visit his dad at the jail but always came out of it bitter. I knew Eddie liked his eggs over medium, not scrambled (‘it looks like brains’), and how he had a tiny chip in his tooth from eating shit at a little league game when he was about 11 (‘I was never athletic, okay?’). And with each small piece of Eddie I got to know more and more, I felt a stronger tug at my heart. A pull to know all the parts of him, to familiarize myself with the calluses on his fingers and the dip in his collarbone. I wanted to consume all the pieces of him and feel our bones lock together.

One night, I had invited him over to help my mamá and I cook dinner, her over the top doting and affection causing us both to have heated cheeks, his a bright red. She was showing him how to make milanesa, her fingers already coated in eggy breadcrumbs. He listened intently, still joking around and making her laugh. She doted on him despite my fear, affectionately reprimanding him for not wearing socks on the cold floor and having his hair a mess. We laughed and sang along to old traditional love songs wafting in from the record spinning in the living room, Eddie taking my hand and swaying with me in the kitchen. My mother looked over at me with warm eyes, her smile soft and sad.

I never felt freer than that moment, all the small pieces that made me me visible to Eddie. He looked at me with warm and caring eyes, his smile soft but still bringing out his dimples. He liked me. He liked who I was. He didn’t mind that my mother had an accent or that she was overbearing sometimes, or that she burned palo santo to repel bad spirits and insects alike. He didn’t let Jason stick xenophobic notes to my back without a fight, and never made me feel like I needed to push down my heritage.

After dinner, I helped my mother wash the dishes while she urged Eddie to talk with my Dad and tour our home. I stayed in the kitchen speaking in hushed tones in Spanish with her, feeling frustration bubble up at her listing of all of Eddie’s flaws.

He’s too rebellious.

Ya se, mamá. Pero-

He has too many tattoos.

Sí, pero-

His hair is too long.

Mamá-

I had just about accepted defeat when she stayed silent for a beat before turning over to me.

“But does he make you happy, mijita?

I felt my heart skip a bit and a glimmer of hope shine through as I nodded my head and her expression softened. She turned back to her plate that she was scrubbing, looking into the suds rather than me.

“Good.”

We sat out on my porch hours after that dinner, our pinkies brushing as we sipped on water, Eddie smoking a cigarette but careful to not let the smoke come my direction. We had slipped into a comfortable silence that was familiar to us. Eddie dropped the cigarette, stomping out the smoke before turning to me and smiling.

“This was nice. I want more of this. More of us. What do you say, princesa? Be my girl?”

I felt my heart swell as my cheeks burned from my grin, my eyes watering over as I nodded enthusiastically. He pulled my hand closer to him with our connecting pinkies, interlacing the fingers and smiling as I answered.

“Yes. Always.”

I was on a date with Eddie when I finally saw Steve again. I mean, I had seen him in the hallways in passing, his arm usually wrapped around Nancy. However, I’d heard a rumor that the two had broken up. Steve wasn’t as popular as before and seemed to stop hanging around his group of usual assholes that included Carol and Tommy. But I had never expected to see him at the local mall working at Scoops Ahoy, serving me and Eddie.

Eddie had a protective arm wrapped around me, his expression guarded as he ordered some ice cream for the both of us. Eddie actively hated the mall, but this was the only place in town that really served ice cream and the two of us combined had a dangerous sweet tooth. He also was aware of me and Steve’s past, and our sour ending. He had soothed and comforted me when I felt afraid he would react the same way to my home and family.

While Steve rang us up, his expression was pained, which would have been laughable in his uniform if I wasn’t still stung by his behavior. He looked up at me, his eyes sincere as he sighed, his expression guilty.

“Look…I’m sorry I was such an ass while we were dating. I shouldn’t have let anyone talk to you like that. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I’m really sorry.”

Eddie’s arm wrapped tighter around me, ready to defend me if needed, his gaze on my face.

But strangely, I felt a sense of closure. A sense of forgiveness. I didn’t need approval from Steve or Hawkins or even Eddie. I could be all the little pieces of myself and my mother, all the parts of Midwest America and Latin America by myself. I deserved to be whole.

“Thank you. I deserve to be myself and feel proud of where I come from. I appreciate that you know that now.”

Eddie smiled softly down at me, kissing my forehead as his expression was filled with pride. He paid and tugged me away from the counter, his smile soft as he handed me my ice cream and held my hand with his free one, the other clutching his own.

“Sweet treat for my favorite girl.”

I smiled down at the cone, the phrase not lost on me. Maybe I wasn’t the All-American Girl. But I was Eddie’s girl. And that was more than enough.

103 notes · View notes

comehomet0myheart · 3 months

Text

stealing this from the lovely @jakeperalta

#polls #music #txt.

22 notes · View notes

sgt-morgan · 6 months

Text

Mine all mine. 🌙🦋

Joel Miller x OC

Summary: late night ramblings.

Warnings: angst, pure unadulterated angst. Death of a character. Illusion to illness or cancer. The unnamed OC is AFAB and female identifying.

A/N: This is so fucking sad. It’s depressing. Do not be mad at me if you read it and are sad, I cried while writing it. I was listening to Mitski and Neil Young and I accidentally made this. I’m so sorry. Read at your own risk. I’ve been going through it so I needed this outlet.

Joel senses it before it happens. He knows all her little tricks and tells. Hell, he should, after about four years of sleeping next to her every night. Her every tick is tattooed on his brain, he can practically read her every movement behind his eyelids. She shifts a bit, and curls up on his chest and then he can feel the weight of her eyes on him, her chin digging into his chest. She’s staring at his face, and here any moment now, she’d run her fingertips down the bridge of his nose, over his lips, down his cheek, then she’d rest her hand on the side of his neck. She can’t sleep, or she won’t, doesn’t matter, if she wants him awake, he’ll be awake.

She traces her favorite path with ease, and he sighs into the calm feeling of sweet contact. Her little sweet, familiar, touches as she debates whether or not to bother him. She, of course, is not a bother, but she wouldn’t believe it. So he just waits as she plucks up the courage to start speaking. He gets impatient though, always wanting more of her, as much of her as he can get, so he decides to cave.

“Baby, can I help you?” He cracks an eye open to see her staring up at him with tired yet adoring eyes and he grins.

“No, I just love you.” She shakes her head and keeps staring. He stares right back, wanting to keep every bit of her he can locked away in his heart. He’s been trying to do that more, he knows he needs it he guesses, he still thinks there are pieces of her his memory will never properly replicate. He hopes he’s wrong.

“Ok,” he nods, running a hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. “You’re still awake?” It’s a rhetorical question, he knows she’s awake obviously, he just hasn’t picked up on the why yet.

“Yeah,” she nods, gently rubbing her cheek on his chest and inhaling his scent. “I’m tired, but I’m not sleepy.”

Joel peeks at the alarm clock to see its 11:50. Not terrible, it’s not 3 am, he figures she’s probably in pain, so she’s not sleeping well. He forgets the clock, it doesn’t matter, he’d never sleep again if he thought she needed him.

“Ok,” he nods again, pressing a kiss to her hair. “ whatcha thinking about?” He runs a hand through her hair and scratches the base of her scalp. If she could purr he thinks, she’d be as content as a cat, she loves when he plays with her hair, always has.

“When we get married, I wanna do it on the beach.” She mumbles, lightly biting his arm before kissing him in the same spot. “I wanna go out of the way of a lot of people so people who I’m obligated to invite won’t come to my destination wedding.” She starts running a finger up and down his face again and he just nods and listens to her start talking about everything and nothing. “I also think it would be really funny to make Ellie and Sarah the flower girl and ring barer. I want my sister to officiate, and I think that we should make my brother an usher, just to piss him off. June can be the made of honor. Also? I don’t wanna wear shoes under the dress. I just think they’re uncomfortable.” He hums in approval.

“Yeah, that way I can wear boots and it won’t seem weird.” He nods.

“Exactly,” she shifts again, laying flat in his arm next to him and stares up at the ceiling, silent for a moment. “I think pink would look really ugly on me, so we can’t use that as the wedding color.”

“Yeah, we should do green, looks good on you.” Joel nods.

“Yeah, sold,” she nods. “Harvest moon by Neil young is out first dance.” She says, wrapping an arm around Joel’s again from this new position on her back. He turns his face over to look at her, her eyes are a puffy purple color, and her lips are cracked. A cough wrenches from her chest, and he doesn’t say anything, just watches her. Soaks up the tone of her voice and the color of her eyes, even though they’re bloodshot and exhausted.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll make Bill play it on the piano. He’s got the talent.” He nods, listening to her breath rattle in her chest. He breathes in the smell of her, it’s muffled by sweat and sickness, but he wants it imprinted in his skin and on his brain.

“We should do a bonfire instead of an actual afterparty or reception or whatever.” Her breathes keep getting shallower and shallower, her words are slurring. He can feel the tears press behind his eyes, but he won’t acknowledge them, and he damn sure won’t let her see them. “Couple coolers of beer and someone’s car radio. That kinda thing.”

“I like it, casual but fun.” He nods, pulling her closer and burying his nose in her hair.

“Do you think she’ll like me?” She wonders, the words are getting spacey and unintelligible, but he doesn’t mind, he knows what she’s asking.

“Oh sure, she’s gonna love you.” Joel nods, running a hand up and down her arm. Then everything is quiet and he just lays there, soaking her in, he wants to scream for Ellie, but she saw her this morning, Ellie already knows everything she needs to hear from her, so he decides to be selfish, wants her to relax into this. Her eyes drift around seeing things he can’t, but god does he wish he could.

“My sister, she looks so much like my mom now.” She mumbles. “And my brother is tall, I didn’t think he would be tall.” She laughs. “My mom always fussed with his clothes, I wonder if she’s gonna fuss with mine, think my dress is gonna fit?”

“Course, it’s gonna be great, you’re gonna be the prettiest bride out there.” He nods, letting a tear soak into his pillow. He pulls her that much closer, trying to memorize the press of her against his skin.

“Oh wow, my June is so pretty.” She says breathless. “She doesn’t look a thing like her daddy thank god, she’s gonna love you.” She laughs, but it’s a wet,rattling thing. It hurts his chest. “I bet she and Sarah are gonna be best friends.” There’s that silence again, he lets her think. He would t dare interrupt whatever she’s seeing right now. Then she gasps.

“She’s got your eyes.” She says with such conviction, and he looses his last bits of restraint. He knows who she’s talking about. “Joel, she’s beautiful. You were right, she’s sweet.” Joel can’t help the sobs that wrack his body now, but he knows she doesn’t notice them, he wouldn’t be crying if he thought she could. She turns to him suddenly, and it would be startling if her eyes weren’t so radiant and happy.

“Oh hey there cowboy, I love you.” she grins as if meeting him that first time all over again and he beams at her and mouths it back through his tears. “What’s a girl gotta do to get a kiss?” She teases and he can’t help but grin.

“All you ever have to to is ask.” He sniffles and kisses her with every ounce of love he can find in his body. He breathes every last piece of his soul he has left in him into that kiss. It’s a wretched thing, torn up and sad, but it’s her’s. He wants her to have it, to take it with her. She’ll know what to do with the pieces, she’ll mend it and give it back when he sees her again. When he pulls back her eyes are closed, she looks peaceful, he won’t try and wake her. He’ll spare himself the false hope. He doesn’t want to disturb her anyway.

“You just get ready up there, you hear?” He whispers, tucking her hair behind her ears. “You get all dressed up, and you practice your dancing. I’ll see you on the beach. I’ll wear my boots, and my tie for you ok? You just stand at the end of the aisle and look pretty. I’ll see you as soon as I get there.” He looks miserably at the window where the breeze floats into the room, casting moonlight over the sill. A little butterfly is on the sill, he smiles when he sees it.

“Thanks for coming to get her Sarah.” He huffs a laugh and lays there holding her a while longer. It’s the last chance he’ll get after all.

When morning breaks, Tommy finds Joel sitting under the tree behind his house. He’s got her jacket across his lap and her locket curled in his fist. The dirt is piled up neatly and a little wooden cross is on top of it, her name neatly carved into it as well as a little moon. Tommy knew this was coming. Knew it from the moment Joel came barreling out of the doctors after you inexplicably collapsed on a patrol. It was awful, watching her suffer like that. It nearly killed them all, but she was a trooper. Through all of the pain, and sickness, and loss of function, she stood strong. She smiled and laughed and reminded them all they would be ok. Hell, she was so damn cheerful throughout the whole thing he almost believed they would be. He didn’t believe it now.

“She had to go get ready, we’re getting married yah know?” Joel sniffs and raises to dust himself off. He pats Tommy on the shoulder. Tommy knew about this, the planned wedding in the spring. She talked about it when she felt her worst, planning a wedding that would never happen, but if it made her smile they would plan her a wedding on mars. It was whatever got them through it, that was the rule, whatever made the day go by.

Tommy doesn’t know what to say, what to do to make it better, so he doesn’t say anything. He just sheds a tear and nods, patting his brother on the back. “I put the stuff that’s useable in a box on the porch, get em to who needs em. That’s what she wanted. Hope you don’t mind me keeping this though.” He runs his hands over the fabric of her coat and shakes his head.

“Of course not Joel, that’s fine. Keep whatever you want. I’ll take- um.” Tommy clears his throat and sniffs. “I’ll take the box to Maria.”

Joel nods. “I’ll uh, I’ll just go give this to Ellie.” He runs a thumb over the locket he’s holding. “She’s got her other jacket.” Tommy nods and his eyes are suddenly drawn to a set of rings on a new chain around Joel’s neck.

“She told me to hold onto em till the wedding. Says she would loose them.” Joel sniffs. “I’ll just. I’ll just go see Ellie.” Tommy hopes Ellie doesn’t give him a hard time, they may not be on speaking terms, but she is their only level ground. They don’t fight when she’s involved. He hopes that the kid lets him back in, he looks bitterly at the grave and presses and hand to his lips. Joel whistles a tune as he walks away, and Tommy’s eyes press closed when he recognizes it. He can’t help the bitter sob that wracks through him, heartbroken once again for his big brother, unable to fathom how one person can keep loosing so much and still keep going. Still, Joel’s tune wraps around him like a hug. It’s their song.

“Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #joel miller x oc #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller angst #joel miller #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedrostories #Spotify

25 notes · View notes

w3ath3r-0f-sw34t3rz · 7 months

Text

forcing myself to pick a top ten (no particular order) for my favorite artists

why? because!

cavetown

this is home

boys will be bugs

smoke signals

devil town

it's u

poison

pyjama pants

empty bed

guilty

a kind thing to do

conan gray

best friend

summer child

footnote

the exit

comfort crowd

affluenza

jigsaw

heather

fight or flight

winner

chloe moriondo

take your time

killbot!

cdbaby<3

hotel for clowns

hearteyes

plastic purse

hell hounds

silly girl

girl on tv

i want to be with you

melanie martinez

milk of the siren

nymphology

evil

teacher's pet

numbers

field trip

cry baby

leeches

pacify her

mad hatter

boywithuke

so cold

kind of sick of life

falling for you

zoning out

heart of ice

out of tune

migraine

problematic

lucid (interlude)

bad things

penelope scott

cigarette ahegao

lotta true crime

moonsickness

rät

sweet hibiscus tea

mommy fwiend

you should know

soap

warm regards

born2run

mitski

geyser

old friend

pink in the night

washing machine heart

your best american girl

first love/late spring

francis forever

strawberry blond

liquid smooth

bag of bones

tv girl

better in the dark

pretty boy

blue hair

taking what's not yours

song about me

not allowed

loving machine

heaven is a bedroom

louise

lovers rock

the neighborhood

the shining

softcore

you get me so high

reflections

daddy issues

greetings from califournia

ferrari

sweather weather

flawless

honest

frankie cosmos

i'm it

being alive

fool

embody

on the lips

is it possible / sleep song

outside with the cuties

sappho

my i love you

rings on a tree

girl in red

serotonin

did you come?

body and mind

hornylovesickmess

apartment 402

watch you sleep.

dead girl in the pool.

we fell in love in october

forget her

say anything

arctic monkeys

r u mine?

arabella

why'd you only call me when you're high?

i wanna be yours

one for the road

secret door

d is for dangerous

fluorescent adolescent

the bad thing

505

#uhhh yeah #cavetown #conan gray #chloe moriondo #melanie martinez #boywithuke #penelope scott #mitski #tv girl #the neighborhood #frankie cosmos #girl in red #arctic monkeys #music #music lover #music listener #song recs #music recs

49 notes · View notes

braimrotting · 7 months

Text

My playlist as QSMP

(warning im shit at english lang so my interpretation of songs may be way off... im also ace and often miss romantic implication so.. yeah if a song has lyrics which are like about an s/o and i havent specified i probably dont mean for it to be shipping)

songs included: tongues & teeth (the crane wives), pink in the night (mitski), gb eating gb whilst listening to gb (crywank), going to brighton (fresh)

TONGUES & TEETH - The Crane Wives hideduo fit pov fit as a self serving survivalist from a wasteland experiencing love in this cursed fuckin island • "ive grown a mouth so sharp and cruel its all that i can give to you my dear" habits from 2b2t even little things like his lack of trust, hasnt confided his true intentions to anyone - constant lies by omission - hes flawed and hes recognised it • "if you're fine with that you can be mine like that" theres very much something going on with hideduo but fit is insistent on his baby steps bc he doesnt want to hurt pac. 'are you fine with that?' • "you gotta know that this wont last" this is soooo fit coded bffr. i adored the conversations fit n ramon had but one thing that stuck out to me was that he would always specify that only he and ramon would escape. never mentioned anyone else. selfish in the most understandable way • "i will ruin you, its a habit i cant help it" again 2b2t ingrained habits that never leave. linked w above point, hes selfish and that isnt necessarily a bad thing just not great for a blossoming relationship • "i will love u like the ashes in my cigarette box" hc 2b2t!fit smoked - ramon told him off once but now that the baby's gone hes picked it up again, a headcanon bc i cannot imagine ccfit smoking since hes such a health buff - feels so out of character lmao strong thoughts about qfit no one even try to fight me - his entire character occupies a space in my brain PINK IN THE NIGHT - Mitski phissa missa pov devotion easy • "i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you" • "can i try again and again and again" i dont think i need to say more - tbh this could go for guapoduo too but the "can i try again" made me think of missa + how he wants to live up to phils expectations

GB EATING GB WHILST LISTENING TO GB - Crywank phissa still missa pov

"in a busy room youre all i see" literally THEM sorry during the mexican independence event they were literally all they could see.. them doing the dance together - it may as well have just been the 2 of them + phil jumping in front of missa to take pics of him alone w/o him noticing

"calm down dont let her see how fast your heart is beating" missa saying "im speaking weird so the translator doesnt pick up, i love you" THIS GUYYYYYYYY

"i think about you but i know im not good enough" bffr mr missa "ill come back when im a good enough father" sinfonia

"and I built you up to much, now I can't say what's on my mind in case I go and scare you away" missa doesnt want to burden phil because he feels like hes been such a bad father compared to phils dedication - now that hes back he doesnt want to disappoint him anymore

"and how could i compete with the world at your feet" missa coming back to like 3 men at phils whim LMAO

"i wouldn't want to hurt you by letting you hurt me you don't deserve to feel guilty"

"i just want you in my life"

sorry im so obsessed with their puppy love GOING TO BRIGHTON - Fresh tubbo coded, i mean with the name i had to give it to him in my mind hes talkin to phil • "things i care the most about dont seem to ever get old" his excitement over everything even the simplest things is so refreshing • "i feel the fire inside me trains passing over head" his determination posing a unique threat to the feds and i feel like its such an important part of his character. also he likes trains :) • "there are things i learnt inside my head that they cant ever take away from me" lil bugs and just knowledge of the game make him a great bug tester for the admins lmao. this guy takes any chance to glitch his way through life

"starting over is a sign of strength"

also honorary mention to that one person who said the garden was codebreakerduo coded because you are so right and true and based and i think of that post everytime i listen to that song. being so normal by peach pit was very celltw (is that what pac and cellbit are called?) to me but i didnt really have much reasoning

#qsmp #qsmp philza #qsmp fitmc #qsmp tubbo #qsmp missa #qsmp cellbit #im so qsmp brained i cant even listen to my music without thinking of these cubitos #hekp

31 notes · View notes