This Actually Made Me Cry And I Love It

Respectfully, I want to tug on his hair.

Everyone tag me in angsty stories🙏🏼🙏🏼

me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

Harry at Ariana Grande’s show in London - 17/08

i love being sad

Can you do an Eddie x reader angst where reader is a cheerleader that has a MASSIVE crush on Eddie. She asked him out but because she’s a cheerleader he thinks it a joke and mocks her etc

a/n: hey sweetheartss- thank you so fkn much for all the love on my last Eddie post. This is sorta similar but a different scenario- hope you enjoy <3

warnings: kinda mean!eddie in the beginning obv, reader feeling humiliated, super mega fluffy cute ending!!!!

Nice fucking try - e. m.

—☕️

He was never at any of the games- which fair enough, why would he be?

Yet you couldn’t help the disappointment when you scanned the crowd for a specific mop of curls with no luck. You had practiced the fuck out of this routine and yet no one would probably be looking at you- they’d all look at chrissy instead.

It was like this often. You’d search for Eddie, and when you finally caught him, you’d sit and watch his sporadic movements and tales, admiring him from afar. He had sent a couple of sweet smiles your way; that was your only lifeline to him and you being a possibility. You were a cheerleader after all, and you knew how the basket team treated people like Eddie. You knew he probably thought the same of you but you were aching to prove him otherwise.

You had to do something about the way your heart was on fire for him, a bird beating itself to death in a cage, a moth around a lamppost- you couldn’t keep letting it burn until there was only ashes left.

You knew he had his usual hellfire club meeting today, and suddenly the routine you were doing was the least of your concerns- you even stepped on someone’s toes in the process but it didn’t matter. You were going for it. You were gonna give him the sweetest smile and the most sincere smile and ask Eddie Munson on a date, no matter what any of your friends thought. No matter to what depths your social status would go. You would risk it for him, you were head over heels after all.

After changing quickly while ignoring the annoyed look from your friends ‘cause of your routine slip up, you hurried to the hellfire club room.

Rocking back and forth in your converse, you leaned against a locker while fiddling with the strap of your gym bag. No sooner did the door fling open and several members left the room, mainly ignoring you or giving you a suspicious side-eye, except Mike who waved to you, since you knew Nancy. She was one of the few people who you trusted with your feelings about Eddie. When all had left, you stepped inside to see Eddie packing up from the campaign.

You didn’t say anything, heart suddenly in your throat and palms sweaty. The fabric of his white t-shirt was stretching over his back and he reached over the table, not yet noticing your presence.

“Eddie?” You asked softly, but he still jumped at your voice, a few dices clattering to the ground. The room was ominously lit, casting amber shadows over his pretty face.

“Uh, yes?” He asked slightly confused- suspicion already bleeding from his tone. He picked the dice off of the floor and continued to pack everything away while you stood.

“I uhm- well I don’t know if you know my name-“

“- y/n, yeah. I know.” He grumbled, not seeming particularly interested in what you had to say. You tried not to let it defeat the courage that had etched into your skin, dripping on your tongue.

“Was it a good… campaign?” You asked with a weary voice. You had secretly picked up a little starter guide to the dice game Eddie seemed so passionate about, to try and understand him better.

He scoffed. What kind of fucking foolery was the jocks up to now?

He didn’t even bother replying, knowing that wasn’t the reason you were here, was probably a fucking trick question already. You cheerleaders were like little heathens.

When he didn’t reply you felt your face flush in embarrassment- had you said something wrong?

“Okay well uh- I was wondering if,” you stuttered, fumbled over all your words as you kept fidgeting with your bag. The bird in the cage surely almost done for. The moth was growing tired.

“- if you’d like to do something with me sometime? Like hangout? On- on a date or something like that?” You asked. Your voice was breathy and the words came out a lot faster and unsure than you would’ve liked.

Finally he diverted his attention to you, his figure turning torturously slow, a finger raised in the air in front of him. “You’re asking me out?” He asked incredulously. He didn’t believe they would try such an old trick on him.

“Nice fucking tryyyy Princess,” he said loudly, voice dragging out the words- in case any of your friends were on the other side of the door laughing their asses off.

“What, you’d take me out to a nice dinner, laugh at my jokes and let me take you home to my scrappy little trailer? Is that what you want?” He laughed humourlessly, tongue rolling around his cheek while he stalked towards you.

“I- I mean that sounds fine to me?” You tried, voice more unsteady than ever. You couldn’t tell what was happening but the bird and the moth were lying helplessly in your heart and hot tears tickled the corners of your eyes.

“That sounds fine to you? I’m not falling for this shit, little witch. Run back to your friends, will ya?” He didn’t even spare you another glance as he finished cleaning the table and flung his leather jacket on.

You stood motionless, throat bobbing in an effort not to cry. He hadn’t just rejected you, he had completely misjudged you with no after thought- discarded you because of prejudices. You stormed out of the room with a horrible mix of rage and shame washing over you.

—☕️

“Something sick happened when all you little sheep left hellfire yesterday,” Eddie began as he placed his lunch tray drown dramatically. He glared over to the jocks table, surprised to instead find you sitting alone, sulking.

“What’s up?” Dustin asked curiously, biting into his apple.

“Little miss y/l/n tried to ask me out yesterday. Tried to humiliate me- but this mighty fucking game master didn’t fall for it,” he said almost proudly, digging into his lunch.

“Woah she asked you out? Was that why she was outside hellfire?” Mike said, voice borderline serious in a way that caught both Dustin and Eddies attention.

“Yes, so? Was expecting me to waltz right into that little trap,” he scoffed.

“Y/n asked you out? Dude she likes you! Seriously- I heard Nance and her talking about it a couple weeks ago in the car. She’s like over the moon for you, man.” Mike gestured around wildly to punctuate his words and their meaning.

Eddie stopped eating instantly, whatever was in his hand clattering to the tray as he looked over to your hunched figure again- head down, not eating, not talking.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- please tell me you’re joking kid.” He tried desperately, looking between Mike and Dustin who didn’t waver at all. “Nope. No joke. Can’t stop talking about you I swear.”

Eddie buried his head in his hands.

A pretty, nice cheerleader had asked him out- had a fucking crush on him and he mocked her like that? Scared her away? The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks as he dragged his palms over his face and through his hair, reliving the whole experience yesterday; how nervous you had been, how you asked him about this campaign.

Before his mind could prepare him more, he jumped from his seat and ran through the cafeteria, nearly stumbling and drawing all eyes to him as usual.

You looked up, throat twisting into knots as you saw Eddie sit, literally, on his knees on the floor next to the bench where you sat in your solitude.

“Y/n-“ he said, almost out of breath. His eyes were so big and soft, so pleading and glossy, it touched your heart despite the way he broke it yesterday.

“Y/n I’m so sorry. I thought you were messing with me yesterday. Thought it was some kind of joke from your friends or- I didn’t- I didn’t know you meant it but Mike-“ he breathed again, pausing. Everyone was looking at the two of you, your eyes wide at his hasty, guilty confessions.

“Hey, hey-“ you said, placing a hand on his shoulder “-lets uh- go somewhere else, hm?” You tried, standing from the bench. He swallowed loudly before looking around.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” he breathed. When he looked at you then, he swore there was a gleam of something in your eyes.

It was hope.

You took his warm hand and dragged him out into the hall, ignoring the mocking from where your former friends sat. Where you used to be.

Eddie stuck his tongue out devilishly as you passed them before disappearing into the silent hall with you.

“Hi,” you said then, a soft smile splaying on your lips. It made Eddie’s insides flutter, knowing you were being genuine.

“Hey,” he replied with a huff, a broad grin adorning his features now too.

“I’m sorry-“ he began again but you cut him off quickly; his dramatic cafeteria gesture was enough of an apology to you, and you couldn’t even blame him for thinking like that with you being a part of the cheer squad.

“It’s okay, Eddie. I know I don’t seem like the type, but I promise you I- I think I really like you,” you confessed nervously, eyes darting around the tile floor “and I’m not friends with those dickheads anymore. Swear.”

The bird was beating around the cage, wilder and wilder and the moth dances excitedly around the bright burning lamppost.

“So the offers still- its still on?” He asked hopefully. You couldn’t possibly resist those puppy dog eyes he flashed you, the way his hands fidgeted with the rings adorning his slender fingers.

You nodded eagerly, not daring to believe any of this was really happening. “I’m not much for dinners, though” you added. He laughed. A warm sound you could see yourself getting very used to.

“Me neither. We’ll figure something out, hm?” He asked rhetorically, head tilting to the side to peer down at your hopeful face. Your expression made the guilt from yesterday wash away from his conscience, albeit slowly. God you were gorgeous, and he had half a mind to believe he was dreaming in this moment.

“It’s a date, then.” You stated. Before he could reply, you raised to your tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently.

A furious red blush crept up on his cheek and neck, his lips parted in surprise.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s uh- it’s a date,” he smiled, flustered as he squeezed your hand.

So damn gorgeous, he thought.

brb. i have to reevaluate my life.

HELLO???

okay i know u were a in a hiatus just some days ago so feel free to ignore this but, i thought of this and for some odd reason it reminded of u and your writing? idk anyway i just thought it would be cute to do something like matching bracelets, or that change your painting every 5 minutes challenge from tiktok or any crafty romantic activities with timothée? it just gives me tiny apartment in paris smoking a cigarette naked in the morning vibes and in my head that’s literally him lol. love ur writing, hope youre doing well beb! <333

Mon Amour || Timothée Chalamet

a/n: i adore this request, u are creative as fuck and allowed in my inbox at anytime lovely :) psa, not my art! those two pics just sort of fit the vibe and the sketch is a reference, i switched up the request just a bit <3 also i listened to la vie en rose by edith piaf while writing, so i feel like it sort of fits the vibe :))

cw: nudity, language, suggestiveness

The white casement windows were slightly ajar, only a few inches above the floor with a bit of space before hitting the ceiling at the top. Through the space you could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance, a light breeze filtering through the small Parisian apartment.

Timothée had purchased it before you’d began dating, but it soon became a home away from home. Between traveling so much and several much needed breaks, you’d both spent a lot of time within the tiny space. It was like a step away from the outside, decorated in a way that could have been easily mistaken for a 90s interior.

Paintings were strung up on the wall, a white blanket skewed over the back of the sage green couch at the forefront of the room. There was no television, only a radio on the windowsill beside the balcony. It was old, lulling the tune to a French theme. The hardwood floor was always like ice in the mornings, clothes thrown all over the ground from the night before.

“Mon doux, mon tendre, mon merveilleux amour—bonjour.”

What a way to wake up, you thought.

Timothée’s voice rasped into your hair, his French accent thick when he fell into it carelessly. It was a good morning you’d never grow tired of, his curls tickling the apples of your cheeks as he leaned into you from his side of the bed. His arm was wrapped around your waist, tightening as you shifted to look at him.

Fortunately, you’d picked up on a bit of the language while staying in France so frequently. Timmy had helped tremendously, teaching you the basics and continuing to show you everyday. You listened to several podcasts in French now, retaining the intricacy of the dialect and articulation.

“Good morning,” you smiled at him.

The white duvet was nearly hanging off the bed, legs intertwined within the milky sheets. You were topless, all but a pair of light pink cotton underwear remaining on your person. He wore a simple pair of grey boxers, hanging low on his hips.

His head was laid on the pillow beside yours, hair spilled across the silk in a mess of dark brown curls. You took a handful of his hair in your hand gently, pushing it out of his face and leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. It was a look you’d never get tired of, his pink cheeks and cluster of small constellations peppering his nose.

The air smelled of sex and vanilla, the hum of music only adding to the ambience. Leaning over to the side table, you planned to pick up your cellphone and snap a quick picture of Timothée. You caught a glimpse of your open sketchbook, though. The tan sheets of paper were littered in drawings, some truly very good.

“Can I draw you?” You asked him, grinning incessantly as he yawned and nodded.

“Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack,” he murmured, referencing the Titanic humorously.

Giggling terribly, you picked up the book and flipped to a clean space. He sat up, leaning back against the headboard and reaching to his own side table. He plucked a cigarette up and stuck it between his lips, lighting the end and inhaling dazedly as you sat up in bed as well.

Going to pluck his white button down off the floor, planning to cover your bare chest, he pulled you back up to him with a shake of the head. You rolled your eyes, leaving your breasts uncovered and maneuvering yourself to straddle his waist.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me,” you smirked, beginning to sketch out the curve of his jaw.

“You’re sitting on top of me naked, of course I’m trying to fucking seduce you,” he chuckled, taking another drag of the cigarette.

A rush of cold air left a shiver down your spine, his hands rubbing up and down your unclothed torso. You shaded around his nose with a charcoal pencil, it was hard to capture just the right angle of his fluttering eyelashes. In the sketch, his eyes were shut and a look of euphoria was dawning on his features.

He cupped your breasts, running the tip of his index finger along the perky bud of your nipple. This earned a slap in the arm from you, shaping his eyebrows and beginning that mess of wild curls. The song had changed, the buzz of another French melody filling the small space.

You leaned forward, letting him stick the cigarette between your lips and taking in a deep breath. With your non-dominant hand, you pulled it from your lips and flicked the ashes into the tray Timothée held out to you. Handing back the remainder of the stick, you finished shading his Adam’s apple and couldn’t help sitting forward a bit.

Bringing your lips to his bobbing throat, you kissed up his jaw and landed on his lips gently. Sitting up, you finished the last of the sketch and initialed the bottom corner to claim the piece of art. Spinning the pad of paper, you put it on display for his to see.

“I love it, mon amour,” he flushed. “But I can guarantee that my view is a lot better. Can I draw you this time?”

“I can think of at least ten other things we could do,” you whispered, setting the sketchbook back down onto the side table.

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Manifesting academic success and an unlimited supply of cute stationery for the person whom you reblogged this from

LOVERRRR If this actually happened I will be so happy. I need a good relationship

It's this is me trying 🥲

new obsession

no words.

YAYAYAYAY

Harry has reached a new peak on Top Artists Global at #8!