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lithium80writer · 7 months

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Bad Things (Eddie Munson Short Story)

⚠️Warnings: Explicit sexual content. MINORS DNI. Toxic relationship. Drugs. Angst.⚠️

Summary: Modern AU. Rockstar Eddie. Nova Gray is a pop star and the on again/off again girlfriend of rockstar Eddie Munson. Both of them are at the height of their career. Fame and trouble follow these two everywhere they go. They both know they are no good for each other but can they stay away? Just a heads up that this will not be typical sweet Eddie. He's kind of an asshole. But a hot one.

Characters and intro, Chapter one

Chapter Two: Eddie Fucking Munson

****Don't matter what you say. Don't matter what you do. I only wanna do bad things to you..****

Nova's POV

You had an interview today which you were dreading already. Rebecca White was one of the most nosy people in the industry and you already knew her questions would consist of nothing but Eddie Munson.

"You're gonna do great, babe." Max says gently as he kisses your cheek. You give him a half smile as you grab your purse and sling it over your shoulder. "Fuck.. where's my phone? I'm gonna be late." you groan as you flip the blanket on your bed searching for it.

You hear it ringing in the distance and Max makes it there before you. You see Eddie's face on the screen and Max's turns to you, his eyes full of questions.

"The performance at the VMA's is soon. I'm sure that's what it's about." you lie as you take your phone. Though broken up, you and Eddie still had to perform your duet together in a few days. That should be fun.

"Yeah, I'm sure... Call me when you're done with the interview. Maybe we can grab lunch somewhere?" Max calls as you head for the door.

"Sure!" you call back slamming the door behind you. You run to the elevator as your phone continues to ring. "Hello?" you answer the phone in a rush.

"Hey Princess."

God, his voice makes me melt.

"I don't have time to talk, Eddie. I'm in a hurry." you say quickly as push open the doors to the outside world. You see your driver parked and waiting for you.

"How's my favorite girl?" he continues anyways as you slide in the backseat of the car.

"When did I become your favorite over Stacie, or Jessica, or what was the bendy one's name... oh yeah... Trixie?" you snap.

"You're stressed. What's going on... hey, no teeth.." he mumbles.

"Are you seriously getting your dick sucked while you're calling me? Fuck you, Eddie!"

"Oh come on, you're the only one I let use teeth..."

You hang up the phone and lean back against the seat with a sigh. He's literally impossible.

Why does everything in me want to tell the driver to head there instead? Why am I always craving him?

You grab your phone again flipping through your contacts.

"I fucking hate him." you say as soon as she picks up and Chloe snorts.

"No you don't. But I've told you a thousand times, come to the dark side, baby. We have so much fun." she teases.

Chloe Monroe. My only true friend in this industry. Proud lesbian and hater of most of the male species.

"I do. He's such an asshole." you groan and she sighs deeply.

"So you're trying to decide if you should go fuck him or not." she states bluntly.

"What? No!" you protest. "Shit... maybe. I miss him." you mumble.

"Suck it up, baby. You need to go to this interview and then you need to go home to your sweet hunk of a man." Chloe says sternly.

"You're right. I know you're right."

"I'm always right. But if you do go, tell me all the filthy details later." she giggles and you just roll your eyes.

"I love you. Gotta go."

"Love you!"

Your driver meets your eyes through the mirror and shakes his head with a laugh.

"You do keep an old man like me entertained." Sal laughs and you can't help but give him a smile. He pulls up in front of the building and you take a deep breath before slipping out of the car.

I can do this. Just talk about my music. Stay focused.

The fact that it's filmed in front of a live audience wasn't helping your stress level. This was your first interview since your breakup six months ago. People wanted to know what happened. Everyone wanted to know the dirty details of your life as if it wasn't breaking your heart into pieces.

These people didn't care about you. They just wanted information. It was just the business.

You made your way to hair and makeup. The guy who tended to you was a sweetheart. He kept the conversation light and focused on getting you perfect for the camera.

And then came Rebecca.

"Nova! You look incredible!" she gushes as you stand up from the chair. You give her the fakest of smiles as she pulls you in for a hug.

"Thank you. So do you." you reply sweetly. "So I just wanted to make sure we were clear on the topics..."

"I know, dear. No talk of that handsome boy of yours... is he still yours?"

Fuck this shit.

"Rebecca, with all due respect, I don't have to do this interview."

"I'm only kidding. I received a list of all the off-topic things before the show. No Munson. No diets. No Max? Such a shame.. he's a cutie." she chatters.

"Are we clear?" you say shortly.

"I'll see you soon." she disappears swiftly and you feel even more nervous than before.

You quickly dial your manager and she answers immediately.

"You can't back out."

"She's gonna spend the entire interview talking about the breakup. I can already tell." you argue.

"Nova, you need this. You need to get back out there. You need to talk about your new album. You need to show them he didn't destroy you." Lisa pushes back.

You pause for a second weighing your options. She's gonna eat me alive.

"Put your big girl panties on. Those sexy ones, with the little bow." Lisa chuckles.

You exhale deeply and tell her you'll call her after.

Here we fucking go.

You walk out on the stage and the crowd begins with their clapping and cheers. You look out and give them all a wave as you plaster a smile on your face.

You see Rebecca seated in her chair as you make your way across the stage. She stands and greets you before you take your place across from her.

The questions start simple. "How have you been?" "What new projects are you working on?"

She lets you talk about your new album which makes you feel excited and a little more relaxed. Maybe she won't bring him up.

"Nova will be performing a song from her upcoming album for the first time for all of you!" Rebecca cheers. The crowd is filled with excitement as you make your way to the side of the stage.

The lights dim and you take the mic in your hand.

"Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the Lord my soul to keep

If I shall die before I 'wake

I pray the Lord my soul to take."

You speak the first verse slowly. You close your eyes and shut out the people around you. You feel the music running through your veins as you begin to sing.

"I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life.

I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind.

They talk shit, but I love it every time.

And I realize..

I've tasted blood and it is sweet.

I've had the rug pulled beneath my feet.

I've trusted lies and trusted men.

Broke down and put myself back together again.

Stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters.

Collected the pieces and picked out a dagger.

I've pinched my skin in between my two fingers

And wished I could cut some parts off with some scissors.

"Come on, little lady, give us a smile"

No, I ain't got nothin' to smile about.

I got no one to smile for, I waited a while for

A moment to say I don't owe you a goddamn thing.

I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life

I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind

They talk shit, but I love it every time

And I realize..

I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night.

That I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night.

No, I won't smile, but I'll show you my teeth.

And Imma let you speak if you just let me breathe.

I've been polite, but won't be caught dead.

Lettin' a man tell me what I should do in my bed.

Keep my exes in check in my basement,

'Cause kindness is weakness, or worse, you're complacent.

I could play nice or I could be a bully.

I'm tired and angry, but somebody should be.."

You lose yourself in your song as you perform. Fuck, I missed this.

"Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware.

But I'd rather be a real nightmare than die unaware, yeah.

Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware.

But I'm glad to be a real nightmare, so save me your prayers..."

You finish the song softly.

"I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night.

That I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night."

The crowd cheers wildly as the lights brighten. You smile and give your lip a little bite. They liked it.

You start to feel a new confidence. One that's been missing these past few months. Maybe Lisa was right. This was needed.

You take your seat again across from Rebecca who praises you dramatically. She's so fake. Her personality and her entire face. It's not my business.. I'm just saying. You wouldn't recognize her if you had met her 5 years ago.

"Dark and dramatic and sexy all at once. I love it!" she purrs.

You give her a smile and thank her before glancing at the clock. It's almost over.

"Now.. a question we've all been wondering.."

Don't do it.

Your smile immediately fades.

"What happened between you and Eddie Munson? Everyone thought the two of you would be together forever. Well maybe not forever.. this is the fourth time you guys have split? The last one was pretty nasty." she flings the words out before you can even process.

This bitch. I can't overreact. It's a taping but there are people here, fans. She knows what she's doing.

There are murmurs throughout the crowd.

Calm down, Nova. Breathe.

"I like to keep some things private. My romantic life being one of them. I hope everyone here can understand that." you repeat the rehearsed lines Lisa fed to you before the show.

"Well I wouldn't call getting into a fight in a bar in front of one hundred people very private... what started that? Did he cheat?" she lowers her voice on the last word as if everyone in the room can't hear your conversation.

"Rebecca, I was in this industry before Eddie. I am an artist. My entire life doesn't revolve around Eddie fucking Munson." you spit the last words and Rebecca does a dramatic gasp.

Shit.

"I think this interview is done." you quickly make your way off the stage.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You call Sal and rush down the stairs. The paparazzi is waiting for you as you open the doors.

"Nova! Over here!" Shouts and screams surround you as the flashes blind your eyes. Sal quickly makes his way to you and helps you into the car.

He pulls off quickly as your tears begin to fall.

"Home, Ms. Gray?"

"No... I.. can you take me to see him?" you sniffle.

Sal nods and turns down the familiar street. He slowly comes to a stop in front of the apartment building.

"Want me to wait?" Sal asks as you open the door to leave.

"No. Thank you, Sal." you say before shutting the door behind you.

You walk in and the security guard gives you a nod as he lets you past him. You slip in the elevator and chew your lip as you watch the floor numbers rise.

You reach his floor and stand in front of his door. Your phone goes off in your pocket.

Max: Any requests for lunch or you want me to pick?

Fuck.

The door opens and you look up to see his dark brown eyes. A shit eating grin on his face.

"Hello, sweetheart."

*A/N: lyrics from Halsey's song Nightmare

Masterlist to follow along 🖤

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hbyrde36 · 1 year

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Steddie Week (late) Day 1!

Sorry for my late submission. I wasn't planning to participate as I was hard at work on my wips but I got an idea in my head last night that could span the whole week of prompts so....

Thank God we didn't peak in High School - Part 1

Promt: Pining

Modern AU - No Upside Down etc...

Eddie couldn’t believe he was back here in Hawkins. High school had been hell and his home life was ever worse so he took off the second he graduated. By some miracle he got himself accepted to a college a few states away. Trouble was, school work is school work and he sucked at it just as much in college as he had at Hawkins high.

He failed his very first semester and dropped out.

He tried to make it work. It made sense to stay in the college town, there were plenty of jobs to be had at the various shops and restaurants. He even worked at a small music venue for a few weeks as a bouncer, that one might have been his favorite.

After a few years of jumping from job to job and running through more roommates than he wished to count, Eddie had to throw in the towel. He was out of money and although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he was depressed and lonely.

Hard as he tried he couldn’t seem to make friends there. Sure he was friendly enough with coworkers and such at the various jobs he had but he didn’t have any real friends. He hadn’t had many back in Hawkins either but at least then he hadn’t had to worry about making rent on top of it.

One day he worked up his courage to call home, planning to beg his mom to let him come back for a while. Just until he could get back on his feet. He dialed the number, waiting with bated breath for it to ring and praying she would answer.

“Your call cannot be completed as dialed, please hang up and try again”

Fuuuuuuuck

Wayne Munson answered on the second ring. Eddie had always loved his uncle though he didn’t get to see him that much as a child. It was bullshit too because not only did he live in the same town as he and his parents, they lived in the same trailer park! Wayne and Eddie’s father, Al, had some big falling out right after Eddie was born and so the brothers avoided each other as much as possible.

“Hey boy! It’s good to hear from you. How’re things?”

“Not great Wayne, that’s actually why I’m calling. I hate to ask but, I tried calling my folks place and it seems like the phone might be disconnected. They probably just forgot to pay a bill or something. Do you think you could walk over and ask one of them to call me?”

“Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Your dads been in jail for about 6 months. Got picked up for selling.”

“Figures. What about mom?”

“Well, i'm sorry to be the one to tell you this but, I went to check in on her a while back and she was gone. House packed up and empty. I’m so sorry Ed, I never dreamed… if anything I thought maybe she was moving to where you were.”

“Shit. No she never said anything. We didn’t talk all that much after I left so I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“You said things weren’t great, what’s going on, Son? How can I help?”

“It’s alright, I’ll figure it out. I’m not your problem.”

“Nonsense. You're family, we gotta stick together. Now tell me what’s going on.”

The very next weekend Wayne had showed up to help Eddie move out of his apartment and he’d been living in the trailer with him ever since.

Though he hated the place, even Eddie could admit it wasn’t so bad being back in Hawkins. Living with Wayne was nothing like living with his parents. He never had to be afraid of what mood his uncle might be in or if he’d be sober or not. There was no fighting or yelling and there was always food in the fridge. He was alone a lot, a product of Wayne working nights and sleeping during the day, but that was ok.

Eddie got a job quickly, working in the kitchen at a local burger joint, Benny’s. He was there almost two years when the owner passed away and the place closed.

Options were limited and so Eddie was forced to get a job at the last place he would have ever chosen, a big box store.

The place was a bit of a nightmare to be perfectly honest. It was like high school all over again and not just because the majority of the people working there had in fact gone to high school with Eddie. They had all been out of school for 4 or 5 years now yet the people were still clique-ey and catty and honestly it made Eddie sick. There were only two bright spots.

One was Robin Buckley. They hadn't exactly been friends back in school but they had been friendly enough, talking to each other when they shared classes and they'd had more than a few mutual acquaintances. Eddie loved the days he got to work with Robin and they quickly became thick as thieves.

The other bright spot came in the form of an old crush.

Steve Harrington was still the prettiest boy Eddie had ever seen up close. Eddie had almost asked him out once back in high school. It had been big news when Steve's long-time girlfriend Linda had broken up with him right before prom. The school was abuzz wondering what the king would do. Surely he had already paid for tickets and booked a limo. Would he ask another girl to go with him? Would he go alone?

To everyone's surprise and one of the saddest displays Eddie had seen to date, Steve had still escorted Linda to prom, as friends. They arrived in the limo together and stood for pictures but the moment they entered the dance she had ditched him for her friends.

Eddie wasn't sure why he had even gone to prom, just to say he had, he guessed. He wound up spending most of the evening watching Steve pretend not to be sad and wishing he was brave enough to go over and offer the other boy some comfort.

He would get the chance to do just that a few weeks later.

Eddie didn’t usually go to parties but since he was graduating in a few weeks and wouldn’t have to see most of these people again so he figured, why not. He was thrilled with his decision when he wound up spending almost the entire night chatting away on a couch with none other than Steve Harrington!

Steve was still a little sad in the aftermath of the prom incident, but Eddie had him smiling and laughing in no time. He could feel the crush developing as the hours went on and Steve stayed with him, seemingly riveted by his crazy anecdotes.

Eventually Eddie had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom and he asked Steve to save his seat. He was a little more flirty about it than he would usually have been but he’d been getting ~vibes~ from Steve all night so he was feeling bold.

So bold in fact that he was fully intending on asking Steve out when he got back to him. He was in the midst of hyping himself up in the mirror while washing his hands when the conversation happening just outside the door caught his attention.

“Her and Steve make such a cute couple, don’t you think?”

“They do! Though, are they even official yet?”

“I’m not sure but I know they slept together at least once. Nancy told me he was incredible.”

Eddie’s heart sank. He knew instantly that it was his Steve they were talking about. No, not his Steve, Nancy’s Steve apparently. He had seen the two of them together earlier in the evening but thought nothing of it. Of course they were friendly, Steve often babysat her younger brother and his friends.

He left the party quickly after that, not even looking to see if Steve was still waiting for him on their couch. There was no point in trying now, even if they weren’t officially a couple yet, he couldn’t compete with someone like Nancy.

It was easy to convince himself that he didn't care, that it didn’t matter. He was leaving town in a matter of weeks anyway and if he had his way he wouldn’t ever be back.

So what if he felt a pang of sadness everytime he thought about the guy. And it certainly didn’t mean anything that whenever he was drunk and alone he would stalk Steve’s social media, following the other boy’s life through pictures. At least he looked happy now, with Nancy.

Eddie loved the days he got to work with Steve. He was in a different department from Eddie and Robin, so they didn’t cross paths a lot but when they did Steve was always up for a good conversation. It didn’t take long for them to become friends. They weren’t as close as Eddie was with Robin but he was happy to have the guy in his life in whatever capacity he could.

@steddie-week

#steddie week 2023 #steddie week #steddie #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #fanfic #steddie modern au

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welcometogrouchland · 1 year

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luz noceda for the ask game

Anon you caught me right before I was Abt to go to sleep but I can't not do this. It's for my girl (feel free to send me more while I sleep btw these r fun)

favorite thing about them: LITERALLY WHERE DO I EVEN START. She's one of my top ten protagonists of all times. I love the lessons she learns, the way she learns them, I love watching her grow and struggle and thrive. I love her so so so much. To keep things simple(ish) I will say that my favorite thing about Luz (which I've mentioned once or twonce before) is that she's an objectively cringey, very ND coded kid who's still given the utmost love and respect from the narrative. She gets to be objectively fucking uncool and this story still loves her. And it's nice it makes me feel loved by proxy

least favorite thing about them: I mean, I'd say in season 1 it's the tendency to flatten the boiling isles and it's people into 2 dimensional tropes for easily comprehension, but that's also one of my favorite flaws of Luz and the narrative always makes an interesting point out of this attitude. Maybe it's the suicidal ideation bc it really scared me the first time I watched thanks to them. I knew nothing bad was gonna happen (within reason), this is Disney, but I was like DAMN THEY'RE GOING THERE!!!

favorite line: okay I actually cannot in good conscious choose one bc my friend once informed me that me and Luz just. Talk the same. Same silly idioms and phrases same whimsical expressions and syntax same humour, etc etc. It's a chicken egg situation and do not know who started it but I know that it's frighteningly accurate. So I'll just go for the safe classic "the only thing I've ever really wanted was to be understood" bc. Y'know. Best moment in the whole show and everything

brOTP: LUZ AND HUNTER DREAM TEAM I LOVE THEM SO SO MUCH!!!! OH MY GOD. Close second is Willow tho

OTP: you guys already know I'm here for lumity but I will let you guys in on the fact that when I first watched the show and was still on the early episodes of season 1 where Amity is a dick I was firmly on team willuz. I still love them <3

nOTP: Luz and Hunter. It's just really not for me, even if I can see why it appeals to others. I'm too attached to the familial reading of their dynamic and the doors that opens up analysis wise. Also my irl brother is a hunter kinnie and I just outlined my credentials for being a Luz kinnie so /j

random headcanon: she played guitar when she was younger! The one in the basement belonged to Manny and he'd sit her on his lap and show her simple chords and riffs. She got a ukulele so she could practice. Then when Manny died she fell off playing it bc it felt wrong doing it without him, even though she still played uke sometimes. She picks it back up though during the season 3 timeskip and post canon! Also she was born in New York and lived there til she was 2/3, at which point she moved around a few states until landing in Connecticut at the age we see in the thanks to them video diaries (I wanna say 7 or 8?)

unpopular opinion: I also think Luz gets characterized as more bitter/vengeful/surly than she really is, especially in fics set around season 3. She wants to be happy, to have fun with her friends, she just feels like doesn't deserve it. Also I low-key think Luz is like. A genius. Just in an unconventional way. She rediscovered a lost form of magic and then taught herself it all on her own. She probably struggles with long division but I mean it when I say she is literally a genius imo

song i associate with them: TOO MANY TO NAME MAN!!!! LITERALLY!!!!! The ones on my brain rn are sweet hibiscus tea by penelope scott, underground and life on mars by david bowie, people pleaser by yet to bloom, towards crescent park by bad moves and fine, great by modern baseball

favorite picture of them

Tie between the iconic "to be understood" frame (boarded by Emmie Cicierga) or like. Literally any Dana art of her but specifically the "see you in 2023" gif cycling through all of luzs most iconic fits. I love both of those sm

#ramblings of a lunatic #asks #toh #thanks for the ask anon!#again feel free to send more these are fun they make the gears in my brain turn

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courtforshort15 · 2 years

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Ooooooooo time to give away all of my deepest, darkest secrets. Thanks @your-not-invisible-to-me for the tag!!

1. Favorite time of year - definitely fall! I absolutely live for cooler weather because it means boots, scarves, beanies and leggings. I was born for this weather.

2. Comfort food - I will eat mac n cheese 5 days in a row, don’t tempt me. I don’t care if it’s boxed, home made, or picked up from KFC - give me all the mac n cheese and I will die a happy camper

3. Favorite dessert - cookie dough ice cream.

4. Thing you collect - I guess nerd artwork from comic conventions? I've been to a decent amount and have a bit of a collection. I made a nerd wall in my apartment that just has a random display of all books, TV shows, movies, etc. that I like.

5. Favorite drink - I have a Pepsi problem, it’s true. I tell myself there are way worse things to be addicted to than soda.

6.Favorite musician/band - So my favorite artist of all time is Pink. I think she’s fantastic and she is AMAZING live. But I need to give major credit to Linkin Park, too. They’re the ones who brought me into the alternative rock genre back in 2002.

7. Last song I listened to - I was totally jamming out to some Florence and the Machine last night on my way home from a bar, so it was Dog Days Are Over

8. Last movie watched - I honestly can’t remember - I’ve been caught up in watching new shows. BUT tonight I am going to watch Thor now that it’s on Disney+, so I’ll just lump that in

9. Last series watched - The class complete series I watched was The Sandman. But the shows I am watching currently are She-Hulk (obvi), Rings of Power, and House of the Dragon. What a wonderful nerdy time to be alive right now.

10. Current obsession - I am still heavily invested in the resurgence of my Daredevil obsession, to be honest. But other than that, maybe writing again? I feel like I have so much coming out of my head right now and I’ve got like 10 pieces in progress. I guess the writing obsession and Daredevil obsession go hand in hand right now.

11. Dream place to visit - I reallllllly want to go to Italy and Greece. So much history!

12. Place you want to go back to - I went to Washington (the state) over the summer and I have a feeling I’m going to end up moving there next year. It was so beautiful and green.

13. Something you want - Matt Murdock in my bed. A job that pays well enough so that I can travel way more than I currently do. I’ve been trying to do one international trip a year, but I’d love to do way more than that.

14. Currently working on - God, this is so stupid, because I was planning on writing in some super introspective answer about where I’m at in my life, but really what I’m working on is finishing this fucking Hogwarts puzzle that has been killing my brain for the past week.

------

I honestly have no idea who has completed this, but here are some no-pressure tags anyway: @hellskitchens-whore @abbyhaslongshorts @mindidjarin @itwasthereaminuteago @thoughts-of-a-scoundrel

#tag games

#tags

#shower thoughts with court

#this was so random and I loved it

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freckleslikestars · 1 year

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Oh, I thought you'd reblogged @wheres-mulder 's X-Files list (coulda sworn it was on your timeline, whoops!) I'll clarify: 8. David or Gillian?// 13. Favorite season(s)? Why?// 39. When do you think Mulder and Scully first started dating?// 40. How do you feel about the direction Chris Carter takes as the series progresses?// and 50. Any X-File blogs you would recommend? :D Thanks for taking the time!

Hmmm I don’t remember reblogging it but also there’s a (high) chance I did it whilst incredibly drunk and just don’t remember. (I have just found and reblogged it now though)

8. Gillian. Every time.

13. Season 1 cos they’re babies and season…I like season 6 actually because I think they’re facing so much adversity and yet they still manage to be them. (But also don’t like season 6 because the aesthetic suddenly changes from dark forests to light deserts and my heart lives amongst the trees so boo California move I guess)

39. Oho, what a question. Essays have been written upon such things. Also like…how do we class dating cause like? Sleeping together occasionally definitely isn’t dating, but I like to think they probably slept together around memento mori time and then never spoke of it again. And then probably again towards the end of season 4. But then nothing for ages so that’s not dating. And then I like to think they started casually sleeping together around millennium time. But is sleeping together without naming it and without talking about it but it’s regular enough that you’re spending most nights together, despite not actually, y’know, going out on dates or telling one’s parents or explicitly stating that you’re exclusive despite neither of you intending to sleep with anyone else dating? He takes her out for dinner after all things. She wears the blouse her mother bought her for Christmas that’s just a little bit too flirty for work and they share tiramisu for desert because ‘Mulder, I can’t eat a whole one, do you know how much cream they put in those things’ and he waggles his eyebrows and takes two bites before declaring he’s full because he loves the look of pleasure on her face as she delicately licks cream from the fork. Sorry, what was the question?

40. I’m gonna fist fight crisp cracker in a car park one of these days

50. Oh my god so many and I’m terrified of missing people so please please please don’t feel offended if I miss you, I’m bad with…everything, but names especially:

@baronessblixen for the amazing fic and generally being lovely

@enigmaticxbee for an incredible series of episode reviews and season breakdowns (god I love a spreadsheet)

@jewish-mulder for the gifs and the fics and the insights

@frogsmulder for the art and the fic and everything

@gaycrouton for the fic

@wexler-mcgill for the gifs

@wexleresque for the fic

Ummm oh god I feel like I’m missing so many people here but my brains dead so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#getting to know me

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septembersghost · 1 year

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Hello my love, I don't think I've ever asked - what is your FAVORITE song from each ts album? You can add why but it's not necessary.

hello darling! oooh i love this question and some are harder than others!

debut: cold as you. for every reason, but when i really got into and then clung to taylor in 2009, i was going through a horrible situation that was...damaging...and it felt like she was writing specifically for me. you put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray, and i stood there loving you, and wished them all away, and you come away with a great little story of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you...you never did give a damn thing, honey, but i cried, cried for you, and i know you wouldn't have told nobody if i died, died for you...she was the only one who understood and one of the only things in the world that made me feel less alone and kept me from. a far worse outcome.

fearless: unexpectedly, this is the HARDEST?! how do i choose? love story? perfect. you belong with me? perfect. forever and always, you're not sorry, the way i loved you, white horse, breathe? literally all helped save my life. even though red is My Album, i am so emotionally attached to fearless and i talk about it less due to some of the visceral reasons. but my favorite may be the title track. it just makes me so happy. there's somethin' 'bout the way the street looks when it's just rained, there's a glow off the pavement, you walk me to the car, and you know i wanna ask you to dance right there, in the middle of the parking lot. pure. joyfulness. also because the driving parts of the song, and run your hand through your hair, absent-mindedly makin' me want you will always be about my fave fictional boy to me.

speak now: long live. i love a lot of speak now, but there's just. nothing like long live. it is a song that makes me cry EVERY TIME i hear it, without fail. hold on, to spinnin' around, confetti falls to the ground, may these memories break our fall. will you take a moment? promise me this: that you'll stand by me forever, but if god forbid, fate should step in, and force us into a goodbye, if you have children some day, when they point to the pictures, please tell 'em my name. meli, simply typing this makes me cry, i'm serious. it's the beauty of a moment, it's the nostalgic sadness knowing no moment ever lasts. it's the love she poured into it when it became a song for us.

red: holy ground. it's hard with red because it's so special to me as a whole. it's state of grace and all too well and treacherous and begin again and everything has changed and i almost do and sad beautiful tragic and red and...it's the entire record. but. holy ground is my taylor song in so many ways. the "would save me from vecna" song. the fact that you can ache so much and lose so much, and yet still feel this profound love and gratitude, still look back and say, this was painful to experience, but it was also beautiful and blessed. as a terribly reminiscent girlie, who thinks too often of the past and the story and the paths taken (and not), it hits me where i live. the fact that the dust on the page still sparkles. that even heartbreak can still be holy. tonight, i'm gonna dance, for all that we've been through.

1989: also a bit difficult because i'm inclined to say clean or wildest dreams or style (her most perfect pop song), but it's this love. the poetry of this love, the longing of this love, the almost lullaby melody, the crashing and returning of the waves. a ghost lyric! the lantern flickering in the night. the tremulous hope. this love left a permanent mark, this love is glowing in the dark, these hands had to let it go free and this love came back to me. romanticism, baby.

reputation: i could say delicate or call it what you want or new year's day or dancing with our hands tied, but i'm basic and it's getaway car. the ties were black, the lies were white, in shades of gray and candelight? come on. that slinky synth. the sirens. the bonnie and clyde of it all. the light of freedom on my face. the knowing it's wrong and wanting something anyway. the guilt-laced escape. yes.

lover: I LOVE LOVER!!! my sweet. so many incredible tracks here, like. what am i supposed to choose? cruel summer? lover? cornelia street, daylight, afterglow? but it's the archer. the archer was another one that just...resonated indelibly and it felt like she particularly delivered it to me, like a prayer. i was grieving so inconsolably at the time, and she reached out with, i wake in the night, i pace like a ghost, the room is on fire, invisible smoke, and all of my heroes die all alone, help me hold onto you. and, i never grew up, it's getting so old. they see right through me, can you see right through me? that song is an eternal part of my soul and gave me an anchor in the night.

folklore: linked to the above, mirrorball. mirrorball came out as my #1 taylor song the last time i did the song ranker, and i went, yeah, that's correct. that tracks. it's so shimmery. it has such an embrace, and yet it's still filled with such a sense of yearning and self-criticism, of confusion and (calamitous) love. as a fellow mirrorball, it too resonates to the core of my heart. and yet again, as if she was plucking this from the constellations to give to me: i'm still a believer, but i don't know why. i've never been a natural, all i do is try, try, try.

evermore: it was gold rush for a long time, and then ivy, cowboy like me, 'tis the damn season, but as time has passed, i have settled more and more on that title track. the sharp cut of the grief in it. the slow, ponderous catharsis. that feeling of thinking you're going to catch your death, and then continuing to live. pain lingering but transforming. the indescribable sliver of hope in, and when i was shipwrecked, i thought of you. in the cracks of light, i dreamed of you. it was real enough to get me through.

midnights: so my lyric on midnights is obviously, i'm just too soft for all of it, but overall song? i've been captivated by maroon and midnight rain, but my initial favorite was snow on the beach (the clean version, because it works better for me), for being dreamy and soft and suffused with stardust, and i think that holds. stars by the pocketful.

ilyyyyyy, thank you for asking this! 🥺🥰💖💖💖

#bcyoureallthatmakessense #letterbox #taylor swift #thrown out speeches #bubble wrap around my heart #*#posting this at 1 am no one is here but <3 <3 <3

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mr880fan · 8 months

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Are the Rocks Crying Out? – Godspacelight

1.3K by Catherine Lawton When I was a young child growing up in small towns, my preacher dad would take breaks from ministry pressures by going fishing. My sister and I happily followed him down trout streams as he sought the perfect fishing hole. We jumped from boulder to boulder or waded in the clear, cold water and delighted in discovering colorful, shiny rocks on the creek bottom. I saved some pretty pebbles and was disappointed when they dried and lost their shine. But a few came home in my pocket, nevertheless. Now, my children and grandchildren know I’m likely to pick up rocks anywhere I go. I examine special ones that catch my eye as I dig in the garden, walk in the neighborhood, hike in the mountains, and comb the beaches. I’m likely to have rocks in my pockets as well as a few rocks in the car, interesting rocks lining shelves and filling jars and boxes here and there in my home.

Microphotograph of design in a rock A few years ago, my son gave me a rock tumbler for Christmas. Then I felt more like a serious collector. When my first batch of stones came out of the tumbling process smooth, glowing, and glassy—much like the creek-bottom pebbles of my childhood—I was hooked on collecting, learning about, creating with, and even meditating on rocks.

A few of my favorites I have learned more about rocks in the process, and my children and grandchildren admire the polished rocks with me. Sometimes we look for pictures in their designs. I’ve even made a few Christmas gifts with polished stones.

A fun collage I made with beach rocks My favorite stones to polish are beach agates and jasper.

Here I am searching (in a relaxed way at the time) for the semi-precious stones on Agate Beach at Patrick’s Point State Park in Northern California. Looking for agates on the beach is what it’s like for me, as a poet, to be present to the thoughts, emotions, winds, and waves of gritty life… to dig into my heart at the moment and find metaphors that seem to reveal themselves to me: reflecting light, shaped by experiences and observations, by forces of the environment, by the workings of Love Rocks appeal to us for many reasons: - The joy of discovering treasures. - Rocks tell a story, often an ancient story, about where they have come from where we have come from, and where we are headed. And we sing, “On Christ, the solid rock I stand.” - Rocks feel solid and permanent when so much in life and in the world is fleeting and fragile. One of the prayers attributed to St. Patrick begins, “I arise today through the strength of heaven; the light of the sun, the splendor of fire, speed of lightning, swiftness of the wind, depth of the sea, stability of the earth, firmness of the rock….” Similarly, the prophet Isaiah exclaimed, “He will be the stability of your times” (Is. 33:6). - Rocks remind us of things hidden. We try to clear our vegetable garden of rocks, but every spring we find more rocks that have worked their way up from the deep. Small rocks seem to appear out of nowhere, but they remind me that rock makes up much of our earth’s outer layers, and rocks have a constant cycle of breaking down and being re-formed. - Rocks can speak to us. Even as a child, the famed Jesuit geologist and mystic theologian, Teilhard de Chardin delighted in the hardness and stability of translucent and glittering stones. He later wrote and taught how to see God everywhere, to “see him in all that is most hidden, most solid, and most ultimate in the world” (from Teilhard’s The Divine Milieu). - Rocks preserve, encapsulate, and speak of history (for instance, fossilized rocks, moss agates, picture rocks, volcanic rocks, and precious gems). - Rocks are sometimes symbols of difficulties and trials. We might say, “I’ve been traveling a rocky road lately.” But rocks can remind us that while constant change is a given in nature and in our lives, God who is everywhere, including in the cycles and changes of seasons, is also unchanging in essence. God’s love will always endure and keep rising getting our attention and sending us reminders. Though God’s loving reminders may sometimes feel like obstacles when we want an easy path … If we give heed, the very rocks in our path will speak and have the potential to help form us. Beautiful rocks and fine gemstones were formed by extreme pressures over long periods of time. These gems uniquely encapsulate the effects of pressures and changes in the formation of our earth home. Examine the depth and design of many stones and you’ll see exemplified the beauty and creativity of God.

We respond to heart-shaped rocks found along our way as if they are valentines placed by God for us to discover. September 17 is “Collect Rocks Day.” So, take a walk and look for Beauty in beautiful rocks, Stability in solid, hard rocks, and Creativity in interesting rocks, and maybe even listen to what the rocks might say if you could hear them “crying out.”

Join Christine Sine on October 14 or watch the recording later. October and November, the season between Canadian Thanksgiving and American Thanksgiving, is the gratitude season on Godspacelight. Christine Sine will encourage you to enter into the practice of gratitude in this interactive retreat that will help us enter this season of gratitude with joy and delight in our hearts. Related Source link Read the full article

#are #crying #faith #godspacelight #gratitude #out #rocks #the #uncategorized

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walkonpooh · 8 months

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Friday the 13th: Church of the Divine Psychopath - Scott S. Phillips Review

Friday the 13th: Church of the Divine Psychopath by Scott S. Phillips is a rare book now, but was a series of books that publisher Black Frame did, along with their A Nightmare on Elm Street series they published. In Church, there is a cult that worships Jason Voorhees as the vessel of God, punishing sex & drug crazed teens for their sins. The cult, The Ministry of the Heavenly Vessel, moves into the "hallowed grounds" of Camp Crystal Lake and awakens Jason. Meanwhile, a strike team, put together by "The Agency" is on it's way to Camp Crystal Lake to hunt and take out Jason once and for all.

So I'll start with the positives first in that I think the concept is a brilliant idea, because it fits like a glove. Jason *does* exactly what the cult says that he does, he punishes sinners. Having a church then worship Jason as a vessel of God, I was just completely on board with the idea. I think this book has everything you could want from a story in the Friday the 13th franchise, maybe with a X rating versus R, because it does tend to get a little more graphic in the sexual descriptions and includes some sexual assault, something I can't think of offhand being in the movie franchise. But if what you're looking for is Jason running around Camp Crystal Lake with his machete killing people, you'll be satisfied.

I think me, if this was a movie in the series, I think it's like sort of middling entry. I think the idea is great and it never really lives up to the concept. I wanted more from it. I kept waiting for the cult leader, Father Eric Long, to be super charismatic or something, ala Michael Parks from the movie Red State and he's just sort of a typical cult leader who wants to bed the women of his congregation at the first available opportunity.

One thing I love about the Friday franchise is how creative with the kills Jason will get, one of my favorites being Jason X, where he really gets creative (and that movie is a clever commentary on the franchise I think in a way this book fails at) and Jason here is just kinda, blah. Like he runs and kills people with his machete after the initial kill and doesn't do much beyond that.

So I don't think there was anything bad here, the writing was solid, but there just wasn't anything to really make me love the book. The characters are fine I suppose, but save for two specific people in the cult, you're not really rooting for Jason to get any of them, which is some of the fun of the movies. Yes, you should have *some* sympathy for the various teens, but the movies know why we're watching and it's for Jason. So yeah, if you want to read this one, then there's a YouTube group who is putting audiobook versions of Black Frame's books, just search for this book and you'll find it on there. I'm not in any way affiliated with them, but that's how I listened to this and I think it's cool that they're preserving a harder to find book series for a wider audience.

3/5

#halloween reading 2023 #horror #horror fiction #friday the 13th #church of the divine psychopath #black frame #a nightmare on elm street #jason voorhees #the agency #camp crystal lake #father eric long #michael parks #red state #jason x

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lord-of-the-demons · 10 months

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Sometimes America seems like a really fucked up place and I assure you it can get like that sometimes but I like to remember that we have some pretty cool stuff too. This is not to say that you should ignore the bad stuff because it definitely needs improving but taking a second to look at some cool stuff we have here is nice too.

The first one I think of is those soft drink dispensers with like +100 drinks to choose from. After some research they’re not exclusively in the US anymore but they’re still cool.

Secondly I want to mention our Nature Parks because holy shit we have a lot of them. I say Nature Parks because there’s National Parks and State Parks and there’s like thousands (Wikipedia says 6792 state park units and 424 national park units). They make up an incredible variety of environments and are home to many millions of animals and plants that are maintained by the parks. Some parks are purely for historical purposes too which is also cool.

Here’s a picture of Zion National Park from Wikipedia, one of my personal favorites. Definitely worth the trip if you’re interested.

A third thing I love about this country is just how weird it is. We don’t have as much of an easily recognizable history as other countries when it comes to culture, since from what I’ve read a lot of Native American culture was either destroyed outright or orally transferred only. There’s still some architectural elements that remain like the cities carved into the walls of cliffs or the snake mounds, but you don’t have massive castles like Europe or ancient palaces like Asia.

This is not to say, of course, that Native American culture is inferior. The effects of colonization and imperial domination of the continent have irreversibly impacted the lives and culture of the people living here when Europe came plundering and so much of their history is scattered and fractured. If anyone has a good resource for learning more about what we do know I’m all ears, I’d love to learn more.

I’m more referring to the weird thing Americans do in terms of how we treat mythologies. A majority of the American population is currently or descended from immigrants from all over the world and with that comes a mash of cultures blending together in some interesting ways. Forgive me for rehashing the melting pot thing with the US but the large immigrant population combined with the massive size of this continent produces some really interesting cultural influences in a distinctly “American” way.

You can’t have one defining American mythos because of the incredibly varied amount of cultures all in the same country, so you make something new. You create a Moth Man, a Sasquatch, a Jersey Devil, and you keep creating new things with the new people you live nearby because there is no way in hell that people should be going in that part of the woods.

There’s a lot of fear baked in to the American identity, isn’t there? But that makes perfect sense if you know where American people come from. Fear of the unknown, fear of what’s outside your perception, outside your control, fear of the Other that treats you like a friend but there’s always something Off about them that you can’t quite understand. These new people seem to be your friend, come from a different land and want nothing else but to trade valuables until your friends begin dying mysteriously, one by one, until the mask of diplomacy is off and you’re being hunted down because you don’t worship their god, your skin color isn’t theirs, your language, culture, identity isn’t a part of their view.

Colonization is one hell of a traumatizing process.

All that fear and hatred and grief and malice towards human beings that are being treated like something less than livestock, like a pest to be pried from the land sold for pennies, or ripped from your home and dragged in chains thousands of miles from home to be forced into labor until you’re told you’re allowed to die. Out of all of that, we can still come together afterwards and say, “let’s make a community.” Let us live together. We can’t fix the past but we can sure as hell try not to make the same mistakes as we try to help you up from when our ancestors beat yours to the ground.

That’s beautiful, I think.

America gets it wrong sometimes. Well, a lot, and “getting it wrong” is a gross simplification of “some of the most disgustingly vile things you could ever think of doing to someone or thing,” but at least we’re still here, trying. The people that make up this country, and the majority of the world for that matter, are good people. The governments that they think they live under are much less so and must routinely be reminded who they serve.

In America, the government is supposed to be run by its people. It’s supposed to act out the will of it’s people and not a single thing different. The government is not a faceless entity, though, and is entirely made up people. Crazy, right? But people run the government and make up the government, so where does that disconnect come in?

I don’t have an answer for that. It might be that having power over others affects a person’s thought process, it might be that the type of people who work administrative government jobs are not the type of people you actually want there, whatever.

In any case, I’m a big fan of America as it should be. That glittering dream of freedom and opportunity sounds great. Less so the boat and picket fence and all that junk. I mean what you think of when someone says to think of all the good things that make up the good ol US of A. I acknowledge that this could be the American media propaganda roots in me somewhere that’s doing this talking, but I really love this country.

Whenever the government does something right I applaud it and think about how great it is that we can make progress like this, and when it royally fucks up I’m equally disappointed and angry because we could be doing so much better and helping so many more people if it weren’t for some people’s insistence on holding onto their hatred of those outside their culture sphere they don’t yet (and thus don’t want to) understand.

That’s what this post is about. I started out just making a post about stuff I liked about America but I thought it pertinent to disclaim that holy shit do we have some issues. It’s just that we have and do good stuff too though.

#textpost #america #USA #mini rant #thoughts #analysis #love #nature #national park

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verbo-s-e · 10 months

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july 4, 2023 2:43 pm

entry #whateverthehell it is in this grief diary. a month though. that feels like something. well since i started this.

but it’s been a year. happy birthday, america. it’s a low mumble i can barely whisper out of my mouth. a year of what would’ve been us being back in each others lives. a year of starting over. a year since that afternoon in the smoke shop.

a year since i woke up from the most outrageously real dream. i felt you in my bed. under the covers like kids in a fort. 365 days.

and yet, here we are.

can’t say i’m surprised. it’s kind of our thing. the back and forth i mean. i’ve been watching too much sex and the city as a means to keep me mentally in nyc as much as possible. little did i know that life would imitate art for the billionth time between us. you, my mr. big. me, the wild haired, verbose carrie bradshaw. the irony is sweeter than a magnolia cupcake. big and carrie share our thing. but they got married. this doesn’t give me hope. no thank you. he did leave her at the alter after all.

it’s independence day or whatever. (don’t even get me started on the lack of freedoms this country has) but i’m celebrating my own independence today. cornier than a hot dog on a stick at the state fair, i know. but you really did set me free that afternoon in the park.

so why do i feel like i’m still in a gilded cage? it’s this proximity that will do me in. i swear it will.

last night — last night! it was such a shit show on so many levels (thanks full moon). i was going to go out at 11 pm on a monday for an emotional booty call. ended up backing into someone’s car. cried to taylor swift on the way to the gas station and went home after instead. but i was willing to make one stop.

any guesses? of course not!

i won’t fill in those blanks as my attempt to be coy.

——

5:42 p.m.

not even an hour later, just after 3:30 coming home, there you were. pulling out of your driveway and i, almost to my street. i pulled over so you could pass. you did the same thinking i’d move first.

i didn’t.

rooted in those old oak floorboards, i stood my ground. re-enacting my dream into the waking hours today feels way too cosmically aligned for even me. no accidents, after all.

and like my dream, when our eyes finally met along with awkward and small hands waving near the safety of our drivers windows, was the same look you gave me. haunted and desperate for answers, broken almost. pained. with how close we were, our hands could’ve touched if we let them.

how ironic.

the moons magic is sparing no one this full moon, us included.

nothing feels real, including me.

—-

7:48 pm

i keep thinking of the drive by. i really shouldn’t. a million questions burst through the door of an already extremely overcrowded room that is my mind. they’re amped up on speed (the sighting of you) and the loudest and flashiest of them all: why?

why this? why that? why everything?!

i can write you a letter explaining everything? right? slip it in your mailbox again? right? that’s ok? right right right!? i suppose you can read all these one day, but that’s not the point of these entries.

what is the point of these? a grief diary i suppose is what it’s become. ‘that’s the thing about pain. it demands to be felt.’ a memorable line from one of my favorite books. another winner: ‘we accept the love we think we deserve.’ i won’t tell you the title — you don’t get that kind of access anymore. but i will say, that like me, it’s a story about wallflowers.

that was me. a wallflower to your life, begging to be seen or noticed or included. part of me is coming to learn that you’re, just not that kind of guy. but i know different; i’ve held the letter in my hands. read the words you could never write. (for me.) you just weren’t that kind of guy to me. the (painfully) self aware part of me knows that’s not your fault. but the rest of me? god does it wish it was your fault. and maybe some of it is. some of mine. we’re so entangled and in such a mess! cuz that’s what this is: a mess.

i’m giving myself to the end of the summer to grieve.

i just want this to be over.

#verbo-s-e #verbo-s-e blog #eternal sunshine of the spotless mind #joel and clementine #Spotify

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suckitsurveys · 11 months

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1.) What did you do last Friday night? Do you have any plans for the upcoming Friday night? Last Friday night my friends and I danced on table tops and took too many shots and I think I kissed someone but I forgot. We also maxed out all our cards and got kicked out of the bar so then we hit the boulevard. Then we went streaking in the park followed by skinny dipping in the dark, and then had a ménage à trois. And I think we broke the law. We always say we’re gunna stop, but this Friday night, we’ll do it all again. 😂😂😂

2.) When does spring break start for you? I’m not in school or anything that has spring break.

3.) Do you have anything planned for June so far? June is literally half over. I have a few things planned here and there.

4.) What is the weather like right now? It’s 62F and kinda cloudy and hazy.

5.) What song are you listening to? I’m not listening to music.

6.) Name all the people that you talked to today. Online, through texts and in person. My husband and a handful of coworkers.

7.) Do you know anyone who self-harms? Yes.

8.) If you have a science class, who did you last talk to in that class? –

9.) What did you eat for lunch today? I haven’t even had breakfast yet, but I brought a salad.

10.) If you were president, which one would you legalize first: abortion, gay marriage or marijuana? These are all pretty much legal depending on what state you are in, so I would make them all legal throughout the US, with no way for an individual state to ban or deny any of them.

11.) What are your parents’ names and what do they do for a living? My dad, Rick, is retired and my mom, Janet, is no longer with us.

12.) Do you have any siblings? What are their names, age and grade they are in? I have an older sister, Corrina.

13.) Do you know a schizophrenic person? I did.

14.) Do you have a threewords.me account? I don’t even know what that is.

15.) Who were you last in a car with and where did you go? One of my coworkers. We went to a reception for one of the graduations that happened at the college I work with.

16.) Aren’t you excited for the 4th season of Jersey Shore?! Oh wow.

17.) Did you ever watch Sailor Moon? If so, who is your favourite? I haven’t really watched it.

18.) Have you seen the game show “Baggage”? OMG I forgot about that show. I don’t want to pay for cable but god do I miss The Game Show Network.

19.) Name the last 3 people you kissed and list one nice thing about each one. Mark is the only one who matters. He’s my favorite person on this planet and he’s so funny and sweet and loving.

20.) Have you ever had cranberry vodka? Probably.

21.) When was the last time you felt EXTREMELY depressed? Why is that? Blah.

22.) Don’t you just want to move out of your parents’ home already? I did that.

23.) Are you friends with a Conner? Nope.

24.) Would you ever dye your hair pink? I have and I am going to again soon.

25.) Who was the last person to kiss your forehead? Mark.

#surveys

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junisfics · 3 years

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All This Time — Armin Arlert (1)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Part Summary: After Armin receives a disturbingly vague message from his best friend, he shows up to her house only to find her drunk and needy

Content: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Content Warnings: Sexual Content, Mentions of Masturbation, Sexual Fantasies

You met Armin in your freshman year of high school. You had gone to separate middle schools, but those two schools fed into your then high school and you became classmates. You shared a band class together, Armin played clarinet and you played the piano. The entire band was split between two periods, you and Armin’s seventh period consisted of woodwinds while the other period held brass… percussion was split evenly between the two periods.

That was the first game of chance.

The second one was after-school practice sessions with Mr. Steunberg. Apparently, Armin was struggling with sight-reading just as much as you were, so you were paired together for practice lessons on Mondays. And every Monday for the second semester of freshman year, you and Armin played your instruments in that little sound booth while your music teacher corrected you from outside.

Eventually, the twenty minutes between the end of school and the beginning of lessons was being shared between the two of you rather than each of you hiding off down some hallway. You had decided to come down the band hall early, conveniently at the same time Armin had as well.

It started with one of you asking if the other had a certain teacher, followed by asking if they had completed the night’s assignment for that class. Over time, the floor distance between you two closed and you’d sit cross-legged on the carpeted floor just outside the booth, knee to knee, sharing snacks before Mr. Steunberg made his way from his History class and down to the band hall. You’d work on homework together and laugh over the squeaking mistakes from the neighboring booths.

Just around the time when you and Armin began to grow comfortable with each other, your organized lessons had stopped and your blooming friendship had been put on pause. Neither of you missed it too much, you barely knew each other, but you still smiled at each other in the halls and occasionally talked before your shared class if there was time, but there really wasn’t.

It was like that for a while; little waves, sentence-long conversations, awkward silences followed by equally as awkward good-byes. It was months before you ever talked the same way you had in that little hallway.

It wasn’t like you craved his presence. Christ, you would completely forget about him if you didn’t see him every day in class. But when he came up to you at the end of the day one day while you were sitting on the piano bench, waiting for the final bell to ring, you couldn’t help but smile.

You still remember the shirt he was wearing, how he pushed those thin-rimmed glasses he still wore up his nose as he talked with you, “Can you help me with sight-reading? I don’t wanna tell my mom I need lessons again and I’m embarrassed to ask anyone else.”

Of course, you had said yes to him, you wouldn’t be pulling your phone out in the middle of the night in the peak of summer to text him while you’re shit-faced to text him if you hadn’t.

Your practicing together turned into practicing and doing homework together, which turned into getting off track and watching YouTube videos together. Then came the hanging out outside of homework and lessons; goofing off at either of your neighborhood parks, walking down the road to get fast-food, running around in a grocery store because there was nothing else to do in the suburbs.

There wasn’t an exact moment where you agreed that you were best friends, it just happened. You were always there for him whenever he got pushed around by the baseball boys, when his parents got divorced and his grandfather moved in, when he got his acceptance letter to the college of his choice; and he was there for you for your first boyfriend and your first heartbreak, he was there when your dog was lost for five days… he being the one that found her, and when you got your acceptance letter, he was the one sitting next to you with open arms.

There were moments when you found yourselves distancing; when you got into little arguments. But at the end of the day, the love that each of you had for each other was stronger than anything. You always came back to him, and he to you.

No matter how many times you broke his heart by flirting with him just to hook up with some random guy at a party the same day, told him that he was your ‘best friend’, talking about how he was ‘like a brother’ to you, he couldn't leave you and he couldn’t stop loving you.

Armin would do anything for you and you would do anything for Armin. This is why when he got your messages in the dead of the night, he was over to your apartment before he could even text back.

‘armin’ ‘come over’ ‘help’ ‘need help’

Every second between the moment he got your messages until he reached your door, he was mortified. His heart was pounding out of his chest, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering while swerving around corners recklessly, eyes flitting over your parking lot to try and find anything out of the ordinary.

He almost tripped on the curb of the sidewalk while running up to your building. He was whipping open doors and frantically pressing elevator buttons as his keys still jangled in his hands, he didn’t even think to shove them into his pockets. His eyes bore into the red, electric lettering at the frame of the elevator, watching the numbers increase with his hand pressing against the metal doors like it’ll somehow make it go faster.

Once he reaches your door, he knocks frantically, jolts of pain shooting through his knuckles as he does so.

And you’re right at the door waiting for him. You tug it open the second you hear him outside of it, a giant smile of relief on your face.

“Oh my god! Thank god you’re here! I was going to pass out from waiting so long,” You giggle, grabbing ahold of his forearm that was still outstretched from knocking and pulling him inside.

It took him a moment to realize that you’re alright, that you’re standing right there in front of him, unharmed and unscathed, with his sweatshirt pulled over you, the one he gave you before leaving for university. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet as you grab at his arms to bring him forward, stumbling back over your own feet in the process which just sends you into another fit of giggles.

You had a slight sheen of sweat over your face and neck, not a lot, just enough so when your head turned to look behind you the kitchen lights bounced against the gloss on your skin. You didn’t have pants on as well, just these light grey boy-short panties that completely exposed the length of your legs.

It wasn’t like Armin hasn’t seen you in a swimsuit before. Many times your parents had taken you on trips to a lake where you would go tubing and swimming for hours on end until you were both drained of all your energy. But seeing you in, presumably, nothing but his sweatshirt and panties that bared your thighs and bottom curves of your ass had him far more flabbergasted than a swimsuit ever could.

“You’re — you’re okay?” He asks, voice still wavering with concern as you continue to drag him towards the kitchen.

“Absolutely not!” You sound serious, “I need help… with making my dessert.” Your faux serious tone falls apart and you’re choking back another wave of laughter.

Armin watches you incredulously but intently as you slide your hands down his forearms until both of your hands meet his own, giving them a squeeze before spinning around and gripping the kitchen island’s counter.

You have an array of stainless steel bowls crowded beside each other while a mixture of dry baking goods sits unstirred in one of the bowls. You shuffle through the measuring cups and spoons before picking up a large wooden spoon and holding it up to Armin, presenting it to him, like you’ve found a block of gold.

When you turn away from him, he looks over the state of the kitchen. Sugar and flour remnants cover the countertops, series of baking instruments litter them as well, and on the kitchen table is a bottle of vodka.

And then it hits him; you’re playful nature, unpredictability, clumsiness, and intimacy.

“Are you drunk?” He asks you. He isn’t disappointed, or angry, just slightly taken aback.

You bring your head up from the bowl and tilt your head side to side like you were thinking over his question, “A little.”

It was much more than ‘a little’. Before you had even started drinking you were in a playful mood. You had just gotten the offer for a summer job for lifeguarding at the apartment complex’s pool and you thought to celebrate by binging your favorite television show and having a few shots. Then, a few shots turned to many and you were dancing around your living room while having the time of your life before you had settled on making yourself some food. ‘Another celebration’ you had convinced yourself.

But the measuring and the mixing were too hard and who else was there to call other than your best friend?

“Oh my god.” Armin smiles, shaking his head at you and making his way towards you as you continue to mix at god-knows-what you’ve put into that bowl, “You need actual food, not whatever you’re making here.”

You let go of the spoon, letting out a little huff of frustration at his words, scrunching your nose real cutely as you turn towards him. You take the front of his tee-shirt in your hands, gently fiddling with the fabric as you pout.

“I want dessert, Armin.” You whine, bringing your head forward to rest your cheek on his chest. Your chest was pressing against his torso, bare legs knocking against his own.

“’Tomorrow-You’ is going to thank me for not letting you have dessert.” He awkwardly brings one of his hands to your back, patting it a few times before letting his hand rest between your shoulder blades.

“Please?” You whisper, tilting your head up until he can feel your tiny breaths against his chin. Armin hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat begins to pick up in his chest at your close proximity.

“No… No, I’ll — I’ll make you toast or something, how does that sound?” He suggests, snaking his hands between the two of you to gently nudge you off him.

But the space between the two of you is quickly closed when your slide your hands up his chest and around his neck, “Don’t want toast.” You murmur, standing up on the tips of your toes to get in his eye-line. Your nose was only a breath away from his.

Armin carefully takes your wrists in his hands, taking your arms off him as he stammers out, “Well, you’re going to have toast.”

You let out another noise of frustration as you pull yourself away from him, your hands balling into fists at your sides while he pulls open your fridge for the loaf of bread on the top shelf. You watch him with your head tilted in fascination like you’ve never seen bread before, admiring the way his hair falls into his eyes as his pretty hands unwrap the plastic sleeve of the loaf then tug the toaster away from the counter backsplash.

He truly was so beautiful. You always contained your attraction towards him so well, but now your restraint was slipping.

You prance over to him, slipping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his back as he slides two slices of bread from the loaf. His skin is so warm beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders and back flex as he moves his arms, his abdominal muscles twitching as well in reaction to your fingertips skimming over them.

God, he’s so fucking nervous.

Why is he so nervous?

Because you’re all over him in just panties and his shirt when he’s had a crush on you for as long as he can remember. You’re being so touchy, so intimate with him, he’s afraid he might explode.

“Go sit down. Can’t — can’t help you if you’re in my way.” He says. Oh but he could help you, he could help you even if you were hanging on him like a spider monkey, he’s just afraid you’ll realize your effect on him if you do so.

“I just wanna be close to you. You’re so cute.” You nuzzle your head under his left arm until you and slip your whole body under it and stand ever so slightly in front of him, wedged between his torso and the countertop.

Your hands play with the hem of his shirt as you look up to him, your eyes glossy, and your pupils were blown. Armin tries his best to keep himself subtly distanced from you, but it’s no use. Every time he inches away, you’re just back on him.

You’re sliding your hands up his chest, fingers tracing over his jaw and cheekbones as you cling to his side. He can feel your hips knocking against his, your thighs rubbing against his as you shift around to try and get closer. Your fingers follow along the curves of his neck, tracing down his throat then skimming over his collarbones.

“Sit here then. Sit on the counter.” Armin grabs ahold of your torso and pushes you against the counter, the edge of it rutting into the small of your back. You grab ahold of his biceps and let out a flirty little giggle at what his actions could be insinuating.

Your fingers press into the plush muscle of his arms as he strains to lift you, your heels grappling at the cabinets below you to try and aid him. His waist ends up slipped between your knees when you’re finally seated, and you can feel your body flush hot with arousal.

You were already sweating from the exertion you had put forward before he had arrived, but the added closeness with Armin was just driving you crazy.

“Now sit, and stay.” Armin places his hands in front of you to enforce his directions.

You giggle a few times, smiling at the fact that he’s treating you like a dog, “Woof.”

Armin slips his waist out from your knees to come to your left slide, plucking the now toasted bread from the toaster and setting it on a napkin. He pulls open the drawer to his right for a butter knife, then snatches the butter from the island and brings it to your toast.

His hands shake as he pulls the glass top of the butter dish, they shake as he dips the knife into the butter, and continues to shake as he spreads the butter over the first piece of toast. He can feel your thigh brushing against his hip as you swing your legs.

You begin to breathe heavier, the heat of exhaustion and heat of arousal begin to grow overwhelming. You fan your face a few times, pushing your hair off your neck, before grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt and pulling it up and over your head.

“What — what are you doing?” Armin stammers, taking a tiny step away from you.

You absentmindedly fold the sweatshirt before setting it aside to fan your face again, “It’s so hot… I think it’s you, Armin.”

You can see his face flush red this time, his ears as well, turning his cheeks and nose a pretty pink shade that doesn’t help your problem.

Armin tries to ignore you, he really does, but it’s so difficult because now you’re in this skimpy little tank top with spaghetti straps. And the straps are slipping off your shoulders and Jesus fucking christ you’re not wearing a bra. He can’t stop his eyes from flitting over your scantily clad figure, drinking in the way your thighs squish against the counter, the curve of your ass as it’s pressed to the granite, the way your nipples tease the thin fabric of your skin.

“Have I ever told you that? That you’re so fine?” You giggle, running a finger down his bicep as he finishes buttering your toast. You’re so grateful that he’s got that stupid white tee shirt on, the one that keeps your gaze lingering over the lean muscle in his chest and back.

“Um, n — no. Toast is done, hop down.” He refuses to make eye contact because if he does, he’s scared he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you.

“Help.” You pout, reaching out your hands and grabbing for his shoulders.

Armin listens to your plea, setting the toast back down and grabbing ahold of your waist to slide you off the counter. But instead of bringing your feet to the floor, you wrap your legs around his waist and hook your arms around his neck. You have to tilt your head down to look into his eyes, only to see his pupils blown and lashes fluttering as he blinks. He doesn’t push you off him. Instead, he uses his left hand to snatch the food off the counter while his right hand comes to brace your lower back.

He’s afraid he’s going to have a heart attack now; feeling your thighs wrapped around him, your cunt hovering just right over his growing cock, your back arching your chest so close to his face that he swears if he looked down he would get a perfect view of your tits, your parted lips all glossy, breath fanning over the bridge of his nose as you run your fingers over the curves of his pretty pink lips.

Fuck. He was definitely getting off to this later.

You’re giggling all the while, and to an extent, you know exactly the effect you have on him. It’s cute, the way he stumbles around your house and trying to keep his footing as he brings you to your bedroom.

“C’mon, Armin. At least take me on a date first,” You tease as he kneels down to bring your backside to the foot of the bed. Once your legs release his waist, he stands again.

“I’m — I’m not trying — we’re not —” He stutters, bringing his hands forward again like he’s scared you’ll pounce on him.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. Armin wants nothing more in the entire world than to have you beneath him, to have his cock sheathed inside you, to have you moan out his name as you cum around his cock…

But he couldn’t let it happen like this.

You were drunk, so so drunk. And you probably didn’t even know what you were saying.

“We can if you want to.” You speak softly, your knees knocking together as you settle into your seat, fiddling with your hands in your lap as if you got all shy all of a sudden.

And when you look up to him through your lashes, brows furrowed slightly in a pout, Armin almost caves. But he catches himself just as fast, shoving your toast in front of you like it’s a shield.

Your eyes shift down to the food that’s presented before you, and your pout turns into a cute little smile as you daintily take it from his hands. You let the napkin rest in your left palm as you hold the food in your right, immediately taking a little bite out of it.

“You want some water?” Armin asks, still standing in front of you.

You give him a nod without looking up, taking another bite out of the toast while he fills up the cup that he knew rested beside your bathroom sink. As he stands in front of the mirror he takes a moment to breathe in and out deeply as the water fills the cup.

You were going to be the death of him.

“You know, I mean it when I say you’re attractive,” He hears you say, still sitting all obediently on your bed and waiting for him to return, “Everyone’s like, ‘oh Armin got so hot!’, but I always thought you were cute… you just got so — nnghh — in the past year.”

He returns with your glass of water, holding it out to you as you finish chewing. You take it from him gently, holding it in both your hands, careful not to drop it, as you take little sips.

He knew you were being irrational, but he truly hopes you mean what you say.

When you finish drinking, you pat your hand against the mattress as you set your cup to the floor. You want him close again, want the warmth he radiates both physically and spiritually. Armin listens to your ask and sits beside you carefully, running his hands over his thighs as you pull your legs up on the mattress and cross them under you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You ask, voice getting tiny again.

That was real… that question… he’s so sure of it. You were always insecure about your looks when you had no reason to be, but he had no idea that you cared what he thought about you.

“I — um… I — I don’t think my — my opinion matt —” He tries to get it to come out sounding right, but the moment he opens his mouth he already knows he’s failed terribly.

“Do… do you not think I’m pretty?” He can hear the feeling of betrayal in your voice, you turn your head away from him.

“No! No, y/n, I think you’re really pretty —”

You grab ahold of his shirt collar and tug him towards you as you let your back fall to the mattress. His torso comes over you and his hand shoots out beside your head to keep him from falling atop you. He can’t even bring himself to pull off of you, because your noses are touching and he can feel your knees knocking against the left side of his waist.

“I — you’re — God, y/n you’re so pretty. Don’t ever think I don’t think that.” He breathes, trying so hard to your lips from touching, for his own sake.

Your mouth splits into a smile and a little laugh escapes your lips. Your free hand grabs ahold of his shirt as well, assuring both you and him that he isn’t going anywhere. You look down to his lips, slightly parted as he pants heavily to keep his composure.

“No, but you don’t understand,” You keep your eyes on his lips, fighting the desire to kiss him, “You’re so fucking hot.”

Armin’s breath gets caught in his throat because you had spoken that in a borderline whimper. Your bottom lip had been taken between your teeth after you finished speaking, and he swears he could see your back arch slightly.

It was completely visible now, how much you needed him. You were holding onto him for dear life, your thighs were squeezing together and your arched back had your stomach brushing against his. You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, irises filled with lust and hunger.

Armin’s so grateful that your legs are to his side and now wrapped around his waist again because he would not have been able to stop himself from grinding down against you… it would have been completely involuntary.

“And — and don’t tell anyone this but sometimes… sometimes I get off to you,” You bring your voice to a whisper as you reveal your secret, lifting your head to move closer to him. He can feel your lips brush against his as you speak, “Actually... like all the time.”

Armin lets out an audible exhale, his jaw slacking at your revelation, he has to shut his eyes again.

“Do you get off to me too?” You ask. And you speak like you didn’t just reveal that to him, bringing your head back down to the mattress and smiling.

Of course he does. Of course he does.

Junior year of high school you offered to be his first kiss, just for fun, ‘cause you were friends, right? And you wanted to help him get it over with.

But every night since then, Armin has gotten off to you; laid back in his bed with his cock in his fist, and whispering your name as he cums.

“I — we’re best friends — y/n, I —”

“Best friends don’t wanna fuck each other, Armin.” You say, your voice losing all its playfulness and growing serious like you had suddenly become sober.

You stare into his pretty blue eyes for a moment, letting your own flit between the two of his. You were watching for any change in his expression, any look of disgust or repulsion, but you don’t find any. He just keeps that same incredulous, lust-filled look on his face.

He looks over you as well. Your eyes were still so droopy and hazy, your lips parted like you’re manually breathing. You were so drunk that it almost hurt him. You weren’t going to remember a single thing in the morning, and the two of you would be back to square one because Armin would never be able to repeat to you what you said to him or admit his searing desire for you.

Armin can feel your grip on his shirt tighten once more, and instead of lifting your head to him, you pull him down to you.

“I need you,” You whisper, voice shaking with arousal, “Fuck me... please.”

Armin swallows hard, his arms beginning to shake under his weight. He was going to fucking explode. He needed a break, just a moment, anything so he can catch his breath and regain some of his composure.

Christ, he was so fucking hard. If you were sober, he wouldn’t hesitate for a single second to rip off both of your clothes and push his cock inside you.

“I can’t — you’re drunk,” He murmurs, and you can hear the hurt in his voice. You can hear the fact that he truly wanted to do what you begged him for.

“No, Armin, I want it. I need it. I mean it, I swear.” You plead, your hands pawing at his shirt like he was attempting to get away from you and you wanted him to stay. But Armin was set put, he wasn’t moving, he couldn’t move even if he wanted.

“I need your cock.”

“Not — not now. You need to sleep this off. You’re… you’re not yourself right now,” He takes his eyes off yours, closing them once more and squeezing them shut.

“I’ve — I’ve always wanted you though. Always, I promise.” You continue, hoping that somehow you’ll convince him.

It was true. You wish he could understand how true it was. All the guys you had gotten with after-parties, after football games… they were all just replacements, they were fill-ins for him. You would pretend that it was him that was filling you up, gripping your hips and whispering dirty things against your ear. And for seconds at a time, it would work and you would convince yourself that Armin was right there with you.

And every time you would see him helping another girl with school work, see them flirting with him and getting touchy with him, playing with his glasses or drawing shapes on his hands with a pen… this disgusting feeling would churn around in your stomach and bubble up into your throat. And although Armin was oblivious to their flirting, it still hurt so fucking bad.

“I’ve always wanted you too… just — just not like this. Just sleep it off, okay? And — and then we’ll talk.” His left hand wraps around your waist while his right switches to brace beside your head. He grabs ahold of your torso and shimmies you up the bed until your head meets the pillow.

He sits back on his calves, his left arm sliding out from under you while his right hand brushes your messy hair out of your face before petting your head.

“And, and you’ll fuck me in the morning?” You ask, completely genuine.

Armin swallows hard again, pulling himself away from you and helping you slide your body under your sheets, “If — if you still want me to.”

You look up to him with your eyes full of admiration as he smoothes the sheets over your body, “I’ll always want you to.”

It comes out sounding much more intimate than it actually is to say that ‘you’ll always want Armin to fuck you’. And Armin lets his eyes meet yours again, matching the love that’s filled them.

He smiles to hide the doubt he has inside his chest. In the morning, you’ll either regret every word and ghost him or you’ll forget everything you’ve admitted. Both options made Armin’s heart hurt, but he decides that you leaving him would be the worst of the two. He wouldn’t know what to do if you’d never talk to him again. So for now, he truly hopes you forget.

Armin pulls his hands away from you, shuffling his knees on the bed to get off of it. But before he can bring his feet to the ground, you grab ahold of his wrist.

“Stay, please.” You ask, your eyes struggling to stay open. He wonders if you even know that you’re talking.

He listens to you anyway, bringing his hand down to the mattress as he slips himself under the sheets and next to you. And if he wasn’t sure about staying before, he sure was now because you were so warm and so soft as you shimmied back against him. You take his arm and sling it over your waist, letting his palm splay out over your stomach. You can feel every rise of his chest against your back.

You were going to doze off so easily, he was so warm, he was so comforting. You could feel sleep beginning to creep up on you quickly. But before you let it take over, you slide your hand back and between your bodies to grab the source of the hard thing poking into your ass.

“You’re so hard,” You giggle.

Armin chokes on his breath again and grabs your wrist to pull your hand off his dick, “Stop. Go — go to bed.”

You listen this time, retracting your hand to slip it over his that rests on your stomach, interlacing your fingers as you succumb to your exhaustion.

#armin arlert smut #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert x reader smut #armin smut #armin x reader smut #armin x reader #all this time #2k

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itsallyscorner · 3 years

Text

Sour

Pairing: Previous Tom Holland x singer!reader (fem)

Summary: You reflect on your past relationship and thus sour is born. Kinda social media fic.

Warnings: angst? Has a hint of heartbreak, no dialogue, this is me word vomiting.

A/n: Honestly just wrote this to get it out of my system. I might be writing more Sour related fics because I’m obsessed with the album, also you guys can always send in requests :) I hope you guys like it💜

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People do stupid things for love. Though the phrase is overused, it’s true. That’s why it’s called Crazy, Stupid, Love. Love can be defined as both crazy and stupid. It’s a thrilling adventure that has its ups and downs. Where you’ll end up? You’ll never know, as the conclusions of love can be unpredictable. Some people end up happily living their lives with their special person. While others are left heartbroken, searching every lonely place and corner for a lover that’ll last forever.

You were stupidly and embarrassingly in love with the boy from Kingston. You poured your heart and soul to show him how much you loved him. You were willing to bend over backwards and hand him the world on a silver platter. But now you and your heart were just victims of his journey to get to her.

The pictures weren’t a shock to you. Though you carried a heavy heart, you weren’t surprised to see them so happily together. As much as it hurt you to admit it, they belonged together and she always had his heart. Even when you were in a relationship with Tom, he was never fully yours. Instead, you were just a replacement to fill in the emptiness she left on his heart. You didn’t exactly fit, but you were willing to love him with every ounce of your being, that he decided to make it work.

Tom would never intentionally hurt you, there wasn’t a single bad bone in that man’s body. It might be foolish of you to continue defending his actions towards you and your feelings, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say a bad thing about him. You could have called him a traitor and a liar. You could have screamed at him about how he betrayed you and played with your feelings. But you couldn’t. You could never say those things to his face and all those unspoken words would be kept inside.

Though unspoken words are a dangerous thing. They took over your brain until they were the only things you thought about and piled above each other until you couldn’t take it anymore. All the things you wanted to say and ask Tom were building up inside you, waiting for you to combust.

Then you exploded.

As an artist, you wanted to be a role model for your fans. A way you did that was through your music. Through the lyrics of your songs you showed your fans the importance of self love and being true to themselves. Part of being a good role model for your fans was honesty. With the state of your mind, you didn’t have the willpower to write anything empowering or upbeat. The words your wrote consisted of heartache, Tom’s faults, and all the things you did to call him yours. If this was your way of teaching your fans to embrace their feelings and understanding closure, then this album was it.

This wasn’t a love letter to Tom confessing how much you wanted him back. No, this was your goodbye.

(Cover art made by yours truly)

🖤 Liked by taylorswift, oliviarodrigo, harryholland64, and 4,607,879 others

(y/n)(l/n) SOUR is out EVERYWHERE now💜 this album is my most personal one yet and to be able to share this with all of you is very special to me. each song means so much to me and have a special place in my heart. thank you to everyone involved for making this album a reality, i love you all so much x

oliviarodrigo: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE☝🏻

taylorswift: I am beyond proud of you! Everything about this is beautiful, you’re an absolute poet♥️

(y/n)scloset: OH MY GOD SHE RELEASED AN ALBUM??!!!

vancityreynolds: I hope you learn to parallel park🥰

harryholland64: congrats busy bee 🐝🥳🥳

tomholland_world: I 🗣HOPE 🗣I 🗣WAS 🗣YOUR🗣FAVORITE 🗣 CRIME🗣

daily(y/n): WOW THIS ALBUM HURTS

daily(y/n): I DIDNT NEED TO CRY TODAY BUT THANK YOU (Y/N)

tomhvideos: SHE’S PULLING A TAYLOR AND IM HERE FOR IT AGHHHHHHH YESS

arianagrande: i love you so much wow🥺🤍

tuwaine: THE GOAT. Excited for this👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿

tomdayasstan: imagine writing an album for attention🙄✋

selenagomez: my heart!! You deserve the world❤️❤️❤️✨

(y/n/n)videos: imagine hating on such talent🙄 If you don’t have anything nice to say GET OFF her page.

(l/n)swiftgrande: THIS ALBUM IS GOING TO BREAK RECORDS!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU🥺💜

bretmanrock: BITCH GO OFF THE FUCKKKKK

hazosterfield: Will be listening to this all day, congrats (y/n/n)🥳🥳💜

tomholland2013: proud of you❤️

wandas_vision: EYE— 👁 👄 👁

tomsholland: wait a damn minute☝️

sour(l/n): lmao the AUDACITY

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🏷 Tags

*if there’s a line through your url, tumblr won’t let me tag you :(*

Tom Holland x reader Tags ↴

↪︎ @lovableparker @aprettyfleur @sunwardsss @dummiesshort @thotforcriminalminds @cuddlykoala101 @itstaskeen @whoslili @white-wolf1940 @tomsirishgirlx @roseke @kaylans-imagines @spideyspeaches @slut-for-steve-rogers

General Tags (besties) ↴

↪︎ @my-divine-death @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary @agustdowney @bi-lmg @rqmanoff @sesamepancakes @stardustofreading @dracoswhore007 @alyssathesoftie @amourtentiaa @ifyouknewhowmiserylovedme @kaitieskidmore1 @6r4cie

#Tom Holland #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland imagines #tom holland drabble #tom holland headcanon #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfiction #sour album #olivia rodrigo #thomas stanley holland #marvel #mcu #avengers #Peter Parker #peter parker x reader

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