𝐒𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚 — Nineteen-year-old fanfic writer for the one and only, Eddie Munson. I, too, thought the obsession would be over by now…
Majority of my work will contain explicit sexual content, so if stated: 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭. A content warnings list will always accompany my work, so please read, and understand what is suitable for yourself.
⤷ Other links or platforms: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐎𝐰𝐧
Christ, I’m so sorry! I swear I miss being on here, too!
I’ve just severely lost my motivation to write, and with university starting, and I have a whole dissertation to write (😭🔫)! I do terribly apologize, I feel awful about it!
But just know, I do linger on here every once in a while, because it brings me back to my roots, lol. I love you all, I hope everything is going well! <3
reader who’s got her life figured out— married a nice, well-rounded man who loves you, bought you a nice home to raise those 3 kids you always talk about (that he wants mostly). your family likes him, mostly everyone likes him— he’s perfect. you live a good life, steady-paced and just what every little girl dreams of.
he tells you his sister is coming into town with her fiancé, so you make your home nice and clean for them. set up the guest bedroom, make sure they have everything they’ll need for the weekend.
your husband is happy to see his sister, finally meet whoever it was that stole her heart, and you’re happy for her— she’s always treated you kind, like a sister.
but then the night of their arrival comes and walking in behind her is eddie munson, your ex-husband, and everything comes rushing back to you in seconds.
the impromptu marriage, going to the courthouse running on nothing but thrill and young love. every kiss, every ‘i love you’, every fight, every angry jab that led to the final blow of your relationship, the final slamming of the door when he walked out. it was short lived but it was everything.
it crashes down on you like a crumbling tower.
because over the years, you had finally been able to forget eddie munson. you didn’t search for him in every kiss your husband gave you, every hug, every caress, every smile— you let eddie munson go.
yet here he is, 10 years later standing in your living room, reminding you that even though you forgot about him, you sure as hell never stopped loving him.
eddie munson still holds the key to your heart, and dear god you were not prepared to face that ever again.
You are such a kind soul and I wish the best for you. You seem to genuinely be such a nice person and the fact that ur there for others says a lot and I love you for that. I hope that you become so rich you never have to work another day in your life, you find the love of your life and have the best relationship, you get to travel the world, have no stress, and only good things happen for you.
Stop! 😭 You’re the sweetest person ever!
But I understand what it’s like not having anyone to talk to—mostly because I’m too insecure to speak to people, but that’s a conversation for another day, lol—so I enjoy being that person to others, even if I suck at it!
You’re literally making me tear up right now. I’ve just moved countries for school again, so I’m entirely tense with stress and anxiety, but it’s very lovely reading your kind words. They really mean a lot.
I hope the same for you, my friend! <3
Good things will surely happen to us :) I can feel it. Things just have to feel a little shitty at first, but nothing we can’t conquer, right?! But all will be good.
Are you good at giving advice? Last year I moved across the country and 2 really good friends of mine became distant from me. It’s understandable bc of the time zone difference and everything, I wasn’t mad at them. However whenever they were going through something I was still there for them and helping them whenever even when I had my own problems. There was a time where I had gotten injured and got into a bad mental state along with family drama and when I turned to them I got shut down cus they only wanted to talk abt guys. We’ve had a talk abt everything last summer but I’m having a hard time forgiving them cus I’m scared they’re gonna do the same thing. With that being said I unadded them from all of my social media and left the gc and now one of them keeps asking why I unfollowed her. What should I do? Also you don’t have to respond. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this I’m sorry. Have a nice day/night. I hope everything is going good for you
Please don’t ever apologize! Although, admittedly, I am awful at giving advice, but that won’t stop me from trying, so don’t ever feel bad at all for reaching out! <3
That being said, forgiveness is earned! If you truly feel it in your soul that you’re not ready to forgive, don’t feel bad about it! No one, especially not after how they treated you, is entitled to your forgiveness, that is solely on your terms of when you feel securely comfortable. If you’re not noticing changed behaviors in their treatment towards you, don’t forgive!
It’s great that you were all able to communicate the issues at hand, though, I must admit it’s quite jarring how much more interested they were in your unfollow than their well-being. I hope you can see that, and it makes it easier to decided how to move forward.
But please remember you know your friends better than I ever will, and if your can truly attest to this simply being a misunderstanding/bump in the road, then please continue on working this out with your friends. Long distance can always put a strain on relationships, and perhaps things aren’t communicated well through messaging.
But as blunt as I can put it: distance is healthy. If unfollowing and distancing yourself is what feels comfortable at the moment, take the time to do so. And if their response is resentful and defensive, then that answers a lot as to how much they respect you.
Don’t ever be friends with people who don’t respect you.
I hope to be of, at least, a little help! I understand it’s not much, but I truly hope your situation improves, or opens up a new opportunity to remove harmful people from your life!
okay so what if for once joe was the drama queen cos he’s Big Mad over some stuff…how would that play out
this guy's a whole idiot, im not sure i like him all that much...
Wordcount: 2.3K
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I Prefer The Moon Anyway
“I’m sorry...”
If someone asked you without Joe in the room, you’d tell them Joe was being an unreasonable little bitch boy.
“I said I’m sorry.”
But Joe is right there, ignoring you, and you’re apologising just to apologise. You know he wants to hear it, so you’re giving him the words, even if they’re empty.
“I heard you.” Joe’s remark is cold. He can tell you don’t mean it. That you are just avoiding a fight. He doesn’t blame you, he wants a fight even less than you, but you’re annoying him in a way he doesn’t have the words for.
If someone was to ask him without you in the room, he’d tell them this is the exact point of a relationship at which he’d usually turn into stone. This is where he grows numb. Cares less. Starts to protect himself in silence and prepares for the inevitable break up that’s coming.
The beginning of the end.
“But what do you want me to do?” you ask, sounding a little more desperate and helpless than you want, but you can’t help it. Joe’s asking something ridiculously unreasonable. Something you can’t give him. Don’t want to give him. It doesn’t help that you think he’s actually being a dramatic baby who feels like he’s not gotten enough attention. A coddled man who wants the whole world to bend to his needs.
Joe just shrugs. Knows exactly what he wants you to do.
And to be fair, the world has bent to his needs for ages, so who is to blame him for expecting you to do the same?
Joe’s pouting.
He looks like a child who’s overdoing a sad face to get a little empathy from his classmates. Like the kids all across the playground need to see that he’s hurt. Like he needs to guilt-trip them into giving him the toy that he allegedly saw first so he stops crying and they can all be friends again.
You fucking hate it.
“Can you hear yourself, though?” you try for some logic. For some critical thinking skills. Does he see, in the grand scheme of things, how utterly ridiculous he’s being?
Joe shrugs again, but this time it’s conspicuously uninvolved. Like he doesn’t give a single shit about how unreasonable he’s being. He’s gone from acting like you’re burning down the whole world to suddenly acting like he’d rather live on the moon anyway. Burn it, bitch. Whatever. He couldn’t care less.
He won’t reach out to touch you tonight. He’s going to break your one rule if you keep this up. All because of schedules that never seem to coordinate – something that’s neither his fault or yours.
“I sure can. Can you?” Joe bites back, wants to hear a sincere apology from you. He wants to hear in your voice that he’s right and that he’s not selfish for wanting what he wants. For feeling the way he feels. Not his fault he loves you.
That’s what he’ll bring it back to – always.
He just loves you a lot.
How can you hate him for that, Big Wet Brown Sad Eyes™? Hmm?
Which... it’s so unfair.
And selfish.
He wants you to drop everything at a moment’s notice because he needs you right now. Doesn’t give a shit about what you need.
It’s fucking selfish, is what it is.
And the problem is that Joe’s selfishness is exactly what’s put you where you are now, in his living room, in a weird fight that you would both rather not be a part of.
“Please repeat what you’re asking of me.” You narrow your eyes at him as you look over your shoulder, convinced that he knows he’s wrong and that he should be the one apologising to you.
“Is it too much to ask of my girlfriend to spend time with me?”
You sigh. You’re so frustrated. That’s not what he’s asking of you - that’s what he’s dressing it up as, which is unfair. What Joe’s asking is for you to drop your work at a moment’s notice because he’s suddenly found an evening off in his schedule and he decided he wants to spend it with you. But he hasn’t actually checked to see if you have the time. Just assumed that you did.
A risky assumption to make.
Because you don’t.
“You know I barely get any time to myself, I don’t know when I’ll have a night off next... could be weeks.” Joe places both hands on your shoulders to give you a little squeeze there. Massages the muscles in places he knows are tight just from the look of you. Gets his mouth close to your ear and lowly says, “Come on, baby. It’s just one night.”
You need to finish work.
There’s a deadline tomorrow you need to make, no questions asked.
Your evening plans surround you and your laptop and a wifi connection, and you were hoping you’d maybe get to sit in the same room as Joe as he would do some work of his own. Some prep for next day’s scenes. Some reading, some rehearsing.
Not this.
Not Joe trying to coax you into a bad performance review just because he felt bored that one night he suddenly found himself with a hole in his agenda.
“I’m here,” you say dryly, but you know that’s not what he means. “You can spend time with me whilst I finish all of this up.”
Joe communicates it with a look. A drop of his face and shoulders, letting you go and stepping away. Eyes rolling because, that’s not fair. He wants to take you out. Go some place nice. Talk and laugh and spend some actual time with you. See if some of his other current colleagues want to join, so he can introduce you.
And it’s awful because that’s what you want too. But you feel like you’ve wanted that a million times, and every time you’ve tried to plan something, Joe’s been busy. Always so busy. Table reads, night shoots, long hours, long commutes, a party here, an event there. And it’s always, “Babe, it’s for work, I can’t just cancel.”
Yet, that’s exactly what he’s asking of you now.
“I don’t know why you assume that your time is more valuable than mine.”
“I don’t think that at all! When have I ever said that?”
It’s how he’s acting. It says enough.
“Listen to what you’re saying; you’ve got a bit of free time. You do. You. Not me though. Not tonight. Does that sound familiar? At all?”
The tables have turned, just this once. He can just fucking deal with it like you have all those times before.
“Don’t. You know that’s not–”
“So your job is more important than mine?”
It pays more, Joe thinks immediately, but refrains from speaking the words into the room. Knows that won’t help, but it’s definitely telling how quick the comeback came to him.
“Hmm? Your time more important than mine?” You push.
Joe needs to realise that, if that’s actually how he feels, how outrageous the thought is. Just by your face, he needs to feel how those thoughts need reevaluating.
“You’re putting words in my mouth.”
You’re not. You’re just reading his body-language.
“Your priority is you. You have a free minute and so I’m supposed to just work my way around your schedule and– mind you, you didn’t even know about this until this afternoon! This deadline at work has been there for months!”
You should’ve stayed at the office.
Finished up there.
Joe is pacing now. Walking around his own living room with flared nostrils, taking in your words until you leave enough room for him to say anything.
Which, when he finally gets a chance, he drops an insane bombshell.
“Well, if you hadn’t procrastinated everything until the night before, maybe we wouldn’t be where we are right now.”
Oh, what the fuck?
Did it take too long for you to set the world alight? Did Joe think it necessary to douse it in petrol and hold a lit match between two fingers a little too loosely? One small move from you could be used as an excuse to drop it, and full blame could be placed with you.
Clever.
But so are you.
You don’t make a move.
Not a single fucking muscle.
You just stare at him over your laptop screen.
Frozen in place.
And Joe stares right back.
It’s like a fucking duel.
You remember a time where you were in Joe’s shoes. The ones he’s wearing right now. The difference being that, back then, there were actual plans made that you’d been looking forward to, and then two days before, Joe complained about having to cancel on seeing family. He added that it’d be the third time he had to dip out on something, and how that made him feel like an awful person, but his job was just too demanding right now. People wanted him everywhere, all of the time, and whilst he typed away at his phone to apologise to his mum, he didn’t see how your face fell too, because you knew if he was telling family members he couldn’t make it to something, he was also going to have to cancel on you.
Again.
You’d cried, then. Only silently. Wiped a tear away quickly and masked a sniff as a deep breath, because you didn’t want him to feel worse.
Trust Joe to feel guilty for having to cancel on family for the third time and forget about the person in the room with him.
You then wondered if he ever kept count with you.
“You okay?” he had asked when you’d fallen silent, and you’d smiled and nodded. “Yea, just tired.” which wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the full truth that Joe accepted it as.
Idiot.
It was fine. It wasn’t his fault.
You’d taken your frustration out on him later that night, when he left your toothpaste uncapped on the side, and you’d grumbled until the lights in the bedroom got turned off, and Joe reached out to you under the covers.
The one rule.
Even if you were upset, or angry, or wanted to fully murder each other, you had to at least still touch each other in bed. To let the other know that, yea I’d rather fucking shout at you until I go hoarse right now, but I still love you.
It could be a big toe touching a shin, or an elbow digging into a bicep – a touch was a touch. An I love you hidden in the dark.
And you had accepted it easily then.
Yea, it was annoying that Joe’s work dictated so much of what your relationship could even be, but it wasn’t his fault, so there was no use blaming him for it.
That was then.
You don’t know when you’d grown past the point of simply accepting all the bullshit. When you decided to maybe not brush things off and be the cool girlfriend who was there for her boyfriend wherever and whenever, especially in all the moments he wouldn’t have been there for you had the tables been reversed.
Like right fucking now.
You are still staring at Joe across the room when you see how suddenly, he starts to blink his eyes rapidly. See how suddenly, his jaw starts working. You know he’s biting back tears and, no – you won’t fucking have that. This motherfucker can cry on command and you don’t doubt for a single second he’d use that to get his own way.
“Don’t fucking guilt-trip me into losing my job.”
Joe’s immediately offended.
He drops the match.
“Well, I’m sorry for being disappointed.”
World on fire.
“Do you want me to leave?” you spit out, louder than you initially thought you’d make your voice go.
“No, no,” Joe immediately says, but it sounds patronising, even though he’s on the verge of tears. Like he actually means yes, please leave, because what good are you going to be to him having to sit at his kitchen table and do work all night.
“Stay. Make your deadline.”
You ignore the sarcastic bite and take a second to sit back in your chair and assess what needs doing. How long it’ll take you all. What time you’ll likely be finished. You conclude that, if Joe’s gonna be moping around, giving big sighs from across the room, that it will likely take twice as long.
You should leave.
“No, I should go. Get this done and then see you after.”
It’s the last thing Joe expected. For you to go on your own merit. Because of your work that needs doing, and not because you’ve gotten into a huge fight. You’re not storming off and screaming how you never want to see him again. You have work to do and want to see him after you’ve finished it.
It’s stupid how fast everything inside of him flips.
He doesn’t actually want you to leave.
He wants you to shut your laptop and sigh lovingly and mutter, “How could I ever resist you?” through a smile before you kiss him silly and follow him out into the night.
But instead you shut your laptop and bend to pick up your bag from the floor to stick it into and, no, that’s not what he wants.
“No, wait... wait. I’m sorry.” he says he before he even realises what he’s doing. Unsure if he really means it. He just doesn’t want you to get up and leave. If anything, he’d like to talk more and get you to eventually prioritise him over everything else. “Stay. We can... you can finish work and then we could do something after.”
You drop your head all the way back and take a moment to let your eyes dart to all corners of his ceiling.
What if you don’t finish this until after 11? After midnight? Is he just going to watch you work from the sofa and ask you how much longer every three minutes because he thinks you’re taking too long?
You should leave.
“I should go. I’m probably better off at the office, actually. It’s where I’ll get it done faster, I think.” You say all of it kindly. Stick your laptop into your bag calmly, no jerky annoyance in your limbs. But you don’t make eye-contact so he can’t use the Big Browns on you, and instead of trying to stomp on the flames to make the fire go out, he wafts a fresh gust of wind right over them, making them climb much higher.
“All right, fuck off then. See if I give a shit.”
If someone asked you without Joe in the room, you’d tell them Joe needed a moment to calm down and you’d talk to him in the morning after you’d made this deadline.
You didn’t start the fire.
Joe did.
And he’d figure that out eventually.
If someone was to ask Joe without you in the room, he’d tell them fuck her, apparently she doesn’t give a shit about him, and actually, that’s totally not a problem at all, because he prefers the moon anyway.
One desperate cry away from posting my birth chart, and forcing one of you sexy astrology bitches to read me to filth to figure out what the hell is going on with my life,
The British are holding me hostage in shackles! HELP ME (just kidding, please don’t take my student visa away, I love you)!
Well, I grew up in a small, rural town in the south of ‘Merica! 🫡🇺🇸 So, adjusting to London was pretty jarring. I cried. A lot.
But, it’s pretty dank, otherwise! Both, literal and slang wise! I see why people are depressed here, lol, I’ve gotten so pale :( but it’s a nice ol’ city, I enjoy it! Lots to do. Lots to get overwhelmed with.
But I guess I like it enough to pay thousands of dollars for another student visa and tuition for postgrad… 🥲
