#I have story ideas on my phone on paper in note books and on my laptop

[rapunzelbro]

The Act of Stealing a Loved One |2| (Stanley Pines x Reader)

This chapter is a flashback. So are the others. Enjoy! It's super long lmao

Story Guide

It was the Summer of 1972 when you first met Stanford. You remember it almost all too well. You went to a college for the arts, majoring in music composition. Oh! And you were in a band! It was not good by any means, you all were figuring this out as you went but you were all having fun so it didn’t really matter to you. It’s kinda funny looking back on how the two of you somehow became a couple considering how different the two of you were.

You two only met after you accidentally stumbled in his room one night after you partied too hard at someone else's dorm. You thought his room was your friend's room. His dorm had books scattered around, posters of some scientists on the wall and an absolute mess of notes on his desk. Stanford did not want to spend his night with some random drunk girl in his dorm, but he knew he had to let you in, not trusting what any of the other men on the campus would do if they saw you like this. He didn’t know why you made him so flustered, maybe it was your vulnerable state, or just because you were a girl, talking to him.

It was probably both.

“You know, I never wanted to go to this, it was some promotional stuff for my band. Did I tell you I was in a band? We are amazing!” You were laying on the floor staring at the ceiling smiling goofily, flipping onto your stomach to look at the flustered man whose dorm you broke into. He took a glance over his shoulder to look at you, trying to tell you he was listening, even if you didnt care if he was or not. “Okay so that might be a lie, Gabs is super pitchy, Jamie is still figuring out the drums but that's besides the point..I met you by going to this!” you finally sat up running a hand through your hair “You're so dorky it's kinda cute” you let off a soft giggle pointing at him.

This made Stanford physically freeze, his breath hitching slightly “Thank you I suppose, Are your friends looking for you?” He quickly changed the subject, turning around in his chair, looking at you “I think, I dunno… I kinda wanna stay here with you” you smirked. “Well I-” he started before he heard a female voice yelling in the hallway “Y/N! We gotta go!” “Oh that's Gabs! She’s my friend!” You stumbled up before heading towards the door, pausing before going back over to the man kissing his check with a giggle, causing Stanford's face to turn bright red “Thank you for saving me! I’m Y/n by the way!” “Um… It's Stanford, Call me Ford..” he managed to get out, quickly writing the phone number to the telephone that was in his room, down on a piece of notebook paper. “Just.. Call me when you get to your dorm safe..” he quickly turned back to face his textbooks he had his nose buried in hours ago “Aw you care about me… Okay loverboy. Seeya around!” you poked his shoulder before leaving, yelling at your friend ‘Gabs’ to get her attention

Ford had no idea why he did that, he never had the balls to do this sort of thing. Especially with someone as beauti- No why the hell was he having these thoughts? You weren't going to call him. He has to forget about this encounter, he concluded, going back to his uneventful night.

He got a call the next day, it was you. There was some sort of music in the background, he couldn't place what it was, some pop music maybe. “Oh my gosh is this Ford? I kinda crashed at your dorm last night, I am sooo sorry I am super embarrassed.” you rambled on before Ford let off a slight chuckle “No it's fine. I’m glad you're safe, you seemed very out of it last night” he leaned back in his chair slightly as he spoke “Ugh don't get me started about the hangover” you groaned causing him to laugh.

After that was the beginning of a relationship, you spent your off time together, he helped you with classes and you expanded his music taste, well tried to at least.

It's been 4 months since you two started dating. Ford even told his brother about this, and to say Stanley was shocked was an understatement, he rushed over surprising Ford “So you finally found a girl who doesn’t run off screaming? Tell me all about her” Stanley smirked looking at his twin brother, noticing a photo of you on his desk in a frame, you had a microphone in your hand giving a peace sign to the camera with your other hand. How the hell did his brother score you? Ford went off to ramble about you, he was a love sick mess, but the way his eyes kept shifting to the photo of you when explaining you made Stan confused, why did he have to keep looking at it to talk about you?

He noticed a few flyers to some music festivals, they looked untouched. “Who gave you these?” he picked one up, the show was for tonight, in a few hours. “Oh Y/n did. She’s in a band” Ford looked at the flier before directing his attention back to the textbook that was in front of him “You plan on seeing her right?” Stan raised an eyebrow looking at his brother “Too busy, I have an exam tomorrow” Ford shrugged it off flipping to the next page in his book “You’re joking right? Have you been to any of her shows?” Stan narrowed his eyes in disapproval, Ford didn't say anything “Some boyfriend you are” He muttered looking down at the flier in his hands. He knew what he had to do, he wasn’t going to let Ford ruin the only potential relationship he would probably ever have.

Taglist: @bluepanda08 @slay-thou-pookie @karmaisacatluzi @fries11 @marvelous-maniac @cherryblom @leo4242564 @zuzzybakaemperiment

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

Royal News

quinn hughes x royal!reader

note: these two. i just-

November 22, 2023

Written by TMZ team

Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/n of Cambridge as well as the Duke and Duchess of Sussex made a surprise appearance at the Vancouver Canucks game last night.

The Princess has been on quite the anticipated tour, starting in Ottawa this past spring, heading east then ending in Victoria where she'll leave for later today.

Before the game the prince and princess had dropped the puck at the ceremonial puck drop, or rather not dropped the puck as Prince Harry had to be told to.

But it wasn't the prince's embarrassing story that's making headlines today, it's the Princess of Cambridge leaving with the Canucks captain, Quinn Hughes.

Hughes is an American hockey player, a couple years younger than our princess, but nonetheless we would love this couple together.

We know King Charles is never one to come become his children and love, we can only assume the King will be even more supportive than he was with the Duchess of Sussex. Hughes has never been married and on paper would make a great fit for our outgoing and adventures princess.

-

Quinn was on FaceTime with his brothers, they were in a hotel room in Michigan just having come back from their morning skate. Luke happened to go on his phone and see articles about his brother and the princess.

"Were you ever gonna tell us your dating a princess?!"

"We're not dating. That was my first time meeting her." The oldest said, rolling his eyes slightly, though his brothers ignored his obvious annoyance and continued their questions.

"And she came home with you?!" "Damn, Quinny!"

Rubbing his hand over his face, Quinn defends himself, "Shut up. It wasn't like that. We just talked, and got to know each other."

“Yeah? ‘Got to know each other’ how?” Jack said in his usual teasing voice with a smirk on his face.

“I don’t know, just talked- she’s coming out to Seattle in a couple days and-” “Shit! No way, dude.” Luke came into frame now, sitting next to Jack on the hotel bed. Jack elbowed Luke slightly, telling the boy to give him space before he looked back at Quinn on the screen, “And how exactly did you pull this off?”

“I have no idea, she was just waiting outside the dressing room after the game and asked me out. It was a little awkward ‘cause her security guys were right there the whole time.”

“In your apartment?” “No Lukey, outside the dressing room. They were outside the apartment the whole night though.” Jack’s head shot up at this, “She stayed the night?!”

“Yeah, but nothing happened. I’m not you.” “Fuck off.” “We talked all night and we watched a couple movies.”

Jack and Luke seemed to have got, maybe not exactly what they wanted, but got out all the questions they wanted to ask out.

-

Abby

@/abby_hughes43

Quinn is with a LITERAL PRINCESS????

Elaine @/rowdy8643 replying to @/abby_hughes43 if this is who beats me to him? i respect it

maddy @/speaknoww replying to @/abby_hughes43 Y/n 😍😍😍

georgia @/i.love.ur.son replying to @/abby_hughes43 she's a princess??

jenny @/dysdale_hughes11 replying to @/i.love.ur.son she's apart of the british royal family

Jay @/colefeeling22 replying to @/abby_hughes43 we don't know if they're together

emma @/87_crosbysgf replying to @/colefeeling22 girl...

~taglist~

@inejghafawifesblog @ghostwritermia @shallow678 @definitly-creative-words @caro8409 @anotherfan07 @books-hlmc @reminiscentyearn @bunbunbl0gs @flairupdatess

[ukrfeminism]

One morning in 2007, Frances Harper was taking a bath and listening to the local news on BBC Radio Suffolk when one story caught her attention. A young woman, Louise, was being interviewed about her life as a sex worker in Ipswich. “I couldn’t see how this interview was helping her situation at all,” says Harper, who was 60 at the time. “I got out of the bath and made some notes. I realised she needed a documentary to tell her story properly and I thought perhaps I could try to make it.”

Harper had never owned a video camera and had no idea how to shoot a film. She had spent the past four decades working in secretarial jobs, as well as raising her son and supporting her husband in his construction business. “I was busy but something was always missing,” she says. “Something I could do for myself.”

Armed with a sudden sense of purpose and without a current job to keep her occupied, Harper rushed out to buy a basic camera, read the manual and began looking up ways to contact Louise. The police wouldn’t share her details, but after finding the name of her solicitor in the local paper, she left a letter with the firm to be passed on. “Soon after, Louise phoned me and we decided to meet in a cafe in Ipswich,” Harper says. “I told her I’d like to make a documentary to share her story and help her. She agreed, and that was my entry into an entirely new world.”

Following Louise most days for weeks, Harper documented her life on the streets, her drug addiction and sex work, all while learning how to shoot and interview. “She told me that no one had motivated her or really cared about her life,” she says. “She was interested in art and history, so we went to galleries together and I even took her to an afternoon tea – all things she’d never done before. We spent a lot of time together because I had the time to spare.”

The more Harper got to know Louise, the more concerned she became about her life and especially her living situation. “She was basically sleeping in an electrical cupboard on the streets of Ipswich,” she says. “I started booking her into bed and breakfasts to keep her off the streets. It really showed me how lucky I had been. It’s changed my thinking ever since.”

Once she had enough footage, Harper put together a taster of the film and contacted the local BBC News office in Norwich. The idea of an older Ipswich resident befriending a young sex worker and producing a film was so unusual that Harper was invited to a meeting and commissioned to shoot a half-hour special for BBC East, which aired in February 2008. “I couldn’t believe that Louise’s story would be out there,” she says. “I hadn’t told too many people about it so my friends were shocked when it came out. Once it did, I also managed to battle with the council to finally get Louise a proper flat.”

Sixteen years later, Harper, 76, is fully immersed in film-making. After her experience with Louise, she became interested in the world of drug addiction and produced a film for Sky, which was narrated by Davina McCall and followed two mothers coping with the impact of their sons’ drug abuse. She has also completed a commercial film for the seaside town of Southwold and a charity short for an emergency response service. She is now working on a series about women in horticulture as well as a film about the life of female fighter pilots.

“I just can’t stop,” she says. “It really feels like I’ve found my calling. I get ideas all the time, although I can’t make all of them because I fund my own projects and it’s hard to come by funding for older people.”

But age does have some advantages. “I think people are more inclined to be polite around me because I’m older,” she says. “I’ve also gained newfound confidence through this work. I didn’t know whether I’d achieve anything but I just kept going. I weaved around the obstacles in my way.”

As well as changing her life, Harper has recently learned how her films have had a profound impact on other people too. “Louise contacted me last year and we just carried on talking as if no time had passed,” she says. “She told me: ‘You were the only person who believed in me.’ It made that decision to pick up the camera completely worth it.”

You can watch Harper’s films via the link below:

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-Twenty One

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: This entire chapter will be in Angel's POV! Hence the gif! Now before any of y'all ask, no! This isn't a love triangle chapter. Its about a girl who meets someone that has gone through the same thing she has and they have a moment together where they help each other over come those evil parts of their pasts (Platonically) Two people finding their "friendship" soulmates, if ya will.

FUCK YOU. EAT SHIT. KILL GOD. DETHRONE.

We are Fallenvvitch. Goodnight.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic @collapsedglasshouses

READER

I sat on my bed with the notebook perched on my lap with papers and discarded pens all over my bedroom. Salem curled up on my pillow next to me, his purring an eerily calm background noise as it combined with the scratching of my pen on paper. 

“I know it’s colder where I’m at,” I muttered in a soft tune. 

Ew, no not that. 

I scratched through the words with such force it ripped through the paper. 

“Fuck,” I cursed while tossing the book onto the floor then rubbed ink-stained hands over my face. 

I went through four different pens by now and changed the paper from my spiral notebook to printer paper. I had been held up in my room all night writing, not wanting to be bothered. With our tour starting in a few days, we needed to leave tomorrow which meant I spent most of my day and afternoon packing and getting things in order. 

For the last few days, Hollow Souls had been working tirelessly to practice our setlist and make sure all of our visuals were spot on. It was our first tour of just the three of us and my nerves were taking over every aspect of my life. I couldn’t even enjoy the fact that I was about to spend the next two weeks with my favorite artist. 

nothing, nowhere. 

Joe’s music had been a huge part of my healing process for years so when he reached out with the idea of opening up for Hollow Souls, immediately we agreed. Even though the nerves were still there, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I couldn’t count how many times I picked up my phone, wanting to text Noah, but always backed out. I told him I needed some time, truthfully I think I needed it to remind myself I could be my own person and succeed with this band for a little while. 

Maybe I needed to prove to myself that I was able to take the lead of this band without anyone pointing the finger, thinking it was someone else behind the curtain. There wasn’t someone else. It was me.

My heart began to stutter in my chest, blood running cold, so I took a deep breath while counting to four; exactly like Dr. Poulos told me to do. Soon, I felt heat spread within me as the image of Noah danced behind my eyelids. I missed him and yearned for his presence. My stomach was in knots since the second I left his house a few days ago. 

“I know it’s warmer where you are,” my eyes snapped open as the words fell from my lips. 

Fuck, that's good. 

We confessed, we told the truth. A weight was lifted off me. Noah loves me. 

He fucking loves me back. 

“I know it’s warmer where you are, and it’s safer by your side,” I sang while quickly writing it down on a fresh piece of paper.  “Right now I can’t be what you want, just give it time.”  

I began to ache at times, my stomach was sore, and my head would pound. It was often like this that I began to think I’d caught a cold. I wasn’t- it was just me feeling empty. I knew whatever this moment of self-reflection was, it was worth it. I love Noah and he loved me back.

We’d be together; soon. I had to believe that. I knew in my gut. I trusted it but I hope he trusted me.

“Cause if you and I can make it through the night,” my voice was loud now as I felt comfortable with how the lyrics were now pouring out of me. 

But there was this nagging feeling inside of me that I couldn't ignore. We last texted each other at 10 p.m. that night saying we loved each other. The invisible string that always seemed to connect us was urging me to text him. This was something else I couldn’t ignore. 

It was important to me that with this new love, the love for Noah, we have made the effort to fully heal first so we do the inner work that is required to become a whole person once more. All born into our era, our family, our body. We can only be ourselves and accountable for ourselves. He needed to know I loved him, and that I’d come to him. 

Was it selfish of me to walk away after we confessed our love? I wasn’t sure. I just knew it was important for us both to grow from our experiences. So be that rare kind of true love and this bond will be eternal. That I promise him.

With a deep breath, I shifted my attention to my phone and decided to send the message before I doubted myself again. 

Me: I love you, mochi. 

Before I could even set my phone down, it buzzed in my hand with a new message. 

Mochi 🍡: I love you, angel.

The crushing weight that I felt gripping around my heart lifted as I read Noah’s message over and over again. Although we were apart for the time being, we would be alright because we loved each other. I lay here in deep thought and my mind wandered back to my primal need for intimacy.  There is that feeling of maturity, the admittance of being in love with Noah. It arrived without fanfare. Our souls were humble travelers and I could feel the bruise begin to form on my shoulder, so desperate to feel him again.

Salem rubbed his head against my arm and I brought him into my chest, peppering his face in kisses. 

“We can meet in the middle, body and souls collide. Dance in the moonlight,” I muttered to myself. 

Noah and I have a long road together, and it’s one I wanted to last. 

A knock sounded on my door before it opened slowly, Chase's stern smile on his lips. 

Uh oh. 

He leaned against the door frame. "Sweets, I love you. You know I do. But you're fucking killing me with the paint on the carpet in the dining room." 

I knew it. 

"I'm sorry! I know, I know.” I nodded with a long sigh. “It's just the lighting in my bedroom sucks compared to the light in the dining room. I'll put down a drop next time."

Malcolm came into my room, laying a kiss on Chase’s cheek before falling onto the end of my bed somehow missing the mess I created with my writing. 

“Don’t be so hard on her, Chase,” Malcolm said before motioning to my bed. “How’s the writing going?” 

I shrugged. “It’s going, I guess. I think my mind is so preoccupied with the next few weeks that it’s hard to focus.” 

“Excited?” Chase questioned. 

“Excited?” I scoffed. “I’m fucking ecstatic. In less than twenty-four hours I’m going to meet one of my idols and tour with him for two weeks.” 

Malcolm spoke next. “Feeling confident with the setlist?” 

“Yeah! I think we’ve got a good amount of songs and I’m stoked to perform Eyelids live. I think it will be a great way to tease the new album.” 

I’d been very apprehensive to put one of the newer songs on the set list only because some fans weren’t supportive of Eyelids or St. Patrick when they first came out. But Hollow Souls were evolving into a new era and we couldn’t continue to be stuck in the past. 

“Ethan said the bus will be here to pick us up by noon tomorrow,” Chase informed. “Are you all packed and ready?” 

I pointed to the three suitcases at the other end of my room but as Salem jumped off my lap to go lay with Malcolm, I realized something important. 

"Oh, shit. I forgot to see if someone can take care of Salem,” I chastised myself. 

I didn’t miss the glance the two of them shared and raised a brow as Malcolm spoke up.  "Already taken care of."

“You asked Noah, didn’t you?” I couldn’t help the smile that crept on my face. 

“Maybe,” he shrugged while giving Salem some belly rubs. 

Chase rolled his eyes before pushing himself off the door frame and sitting next to Malcolm. “Of course we did. Who else would you ask?” 

“I could have asked Jolly or Jesse. I didn’t want to put this on Noah,” I admitted with a shaky breath. 

“Well, he’s basically Salem’s dad now,” 

“Malcom!” I smacked his shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” he chuckled while rubbing his arm. 

“We’re not official yet, guys,” I ran a hand through my hair before pulling my knees to my chest. “Please don’t do that.” 

“No way,” Chase shook his hand as Malcolm rested a hand on his thigh. “We’re not doing that. You need to think of the positives. You two said you love each other. Soon you will find your way back to one another.” 

“I love your optimism,” I said while playfully rolling my eyes. 

“Hey, smart ass. We know these things,” Malcolm snorted while still playing with Salem. 

“You do, huh? Do you have connections to the other side?” I teased. 

“We were watching a show last week about alternate universes and shit. It made me think that maybe there’s more of us out there, ya know?” he squeezed Chase’s knee. “Who the hell knows, maybe you and Noah fucked one night, magically fell in love, and went on the road with him. By the end of it, you moved into an apartment that’s right across the street from his house because you couldn’t fathom being away from him,” Chase spoke with a smirk.

My face reddened as I shifted my gaze downwards. “Wow, that’s-uh-you really thought about that.”

Malcolm laughed. “Or what if in another life, Noah walked through literal flames for you.” 

I snorted at that thought because there was no way Noah would risk his life to walk through a fire to save my life, even if I was hanging from a building. 

“Now you’re talking about shit people read in romance novels. Did my long-lost brother start the fire as well?” 

Malcolm narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m just saying, the two of you will find your way. We’re proud of you and how far you’ve come. You and Noah will grow together.”  

My heart jumped in my throat at how sincere Malcolm sounded and the way Chase’s eyes danced as he stared at me. 

“Thank you guys. That means a lot to me,” I smiled. 

“Always sweets, always,” Chase kissed my forehead. “You’re the miracle Noah needed, you know?” 

“I think he was the miracle I needed as well,” I admitted. 

READER

“Wow, Dallas. You are all such beautiful souls tonight. I cannot express our gratitude for all the support we’ve been getting this tour. We’re only four shows in and we’re having the best fucking time. Thank you,” I smiled into the microphone while tucking a long strand of blonde hair behind my ear. 

The crowd cheered wildly as Chase pounded the foot pedal of his drum, the beat making my heart thump hard in my chest. It was night four of the tour and even though it was straight show after show and I was exhausted, I let the energy from the crowd up me hype to finish tonight strong. 

The support of this tour had been fucking outstanding. Every show was sold out and we even had to move our last show into a bigger arena due to high demand. The three of us were so unbelievably proud of the direction we were headed and we didn’t want to look back. 

“Before we play our last song, I think we need to show our opener some love!” I said into the microphone. 

The crowd clapped and screamed but I frowned while shifting my weight on one foot while shaking my head. 

“That’s pretty weak. I want the fucking roof to blow off of here. Let’s hear it for nothing, nowhere!” 

Chase and Malcolm played an in-sync beat as the crowd screamed, cheered, clapped, and jumped up and down. 

“That’s better.” I nodded with a smile while adjusting my guitar. “Not many know this but I’m such a huge fan of nothing, nowhere so to be here touring with him has me fangirling pretty hard right now.” 

I peered over to the side stage where Joe was leaning, watching our set with a smile. We met a few days ago and even though I did my best to keep my composure, I was a giddy girl on the inside. He and Malcolm had a lot in common which made them click almost immediately which made tour life easy for all of us. 

“So,” I cleared my throat while staring back out toward the crowd. “Our final song is a new one and I’m so excited to perform it in front of all of you. Our new album White Noise will be released in a few months. It’s different than our first three but we promise that it’ll be worth it.” 

As the crowd clapped and cheered, I smiled. “My friends, thank you. This song is   called Eyelids.” 

As we began the song over the loud cheers of excitement, I let my eyes flutter shut as yet again, memories of mine and Noah’s night flashed in my mind. 

"Noah," I breathed while breaking apart from the kiss.

He buried his face into the crook of my neck to breathe me in. "Say it again."

I did, over and over like a mantra, as he left a mark on the skin of my neck while his hand switched to the other breast, mimicking his actions from before. The wetness that pooled between my legs was almost a new feeling, never been this turned on.

With one touch I could have sworn he entered my soul. As if my body was his key. He entered me and it fit, pun not intended. Not a thing of metal nor gold, Yet a sensation of love that came.

"I want to hear you," he left a gentle bit on the inside of my thigh

I used the small break-in lyrics to let out a deep breath, doing my best to remain centered so I could finish the rest of the song strong

Noah was in every aspect of my mind, no matter how hard I tried to focus on the song. 

His fingertips, his eyes, his lips on every inch of skin, or the way Noah steadied our breaths. “Breathe through it with me.” 

I did as he said, both of us breathing out my orgasm as our eyes locked intently with each other. I writhed against him, my arousal soaking the condom and parts of his hips. It was such a simple action but the way it set my body on fire intensified the aftershocks to something I'd never experienced. Noah stared down to the place where we met and with a noisy moan, he wrapped an arm tighter around me to pull me flush against his chest as his hips stilled for a second before he emptied himself inside the condom.

Through his sweet words and the resolution of my survival self to never let anyone else sit at my core. He was already there.

As the song ended and I thanked the crowd with a bow, I thought how relieved I was to discover my pure self. That this with Noah could be real love. There was no temptation to change because it was our real selves that bonded us. It is our real selves that each other loves.

That night, I walked away from him without listening to his pleas but now, we were different. We had grown together, for each other.  

Tonight, I vowed then and there under the bright lights of this stage that I’d stay.

I would always stay with Noah. 

“Kick ass show tonight, guys!” Joe cheered while giving us a round of high-fives. 

I smirked while whipping out my phone. “Thanks, Joe! Give me a few minutes and we can head to karaoke.” 

Malcolm rolled his eyes. “Whose time zone is it tonight?” 

“Mine” I smirked into my phone while I quickly typed out a message. 

 Me: I love you, mochi.

“Oh,” a hand with a rose tattoo waved in front of my face. “Who has you smiling like that?” 

Playfully narrowing my eyes at Joe, I stuck out my tongue at him. “Someone is nosy.” 

Just then a new message popped up and my heart fluttered when I saw Noah’s response. It was the same response for the last week but every time, my smile spread wide on my face. 

Mochi 🍡: I love you too, angel.

When I went to put my phone back into my pocket, it vibrated with a new message, this time it was a video from Noah of Salem lying on a couch, one I hadn’t seen before. 

“Salem, say hi to your mom. She misses you,” Noah’s voice came from the background. 

I broke out in an even bigger smile and giggled when my cat did not move, didn't even bat an eye as Noah scratched behind his ears. But the music playing in the background suddenly caught my attention. 

The lyrics sounded so familiar. 

“Gave you way too many chances but it wasn't enough.” 

I replayed the video a few more times to make sure. 

“No way,” I muttered, not paying attention to the conversation behind me with Joe, Malcolm, and Chase. 

I quickly sent a text to Noah. 

Me: Hi Salem baby! Mom misses you! Also, I hear something in the background. Is it..?

Mochi 🍡: He’s napping. He had a long day of playing outside. 

My brow peaked. 

Me: You took him outside?

Mochi 🍡: Don’t worry, angel. We had him on a harness and leash. He loved laying in the sun on the back patio. 

“Sweets, let’s go!” Chase called from behind. “The karaoke place closes in like an hour!” 

I waved him off before texting Noah back. 

Me: I trust you with him, Noah. But what’s that playing in the background of your video? 

He responded with another video and when his face graced my screen, my heart jumped into my throat. 

Fuck. Me. 

Mochi ���: I can’t wait for you to hear the final version. 

“Well, who’s that?” 

Joe peered over my shoulder causing me to jump slightly while clutching the phone close to my chest. 

“Geez, can’t a girl get some privacy?” I asked with flushed cheeks. 

The image of Noah in that video played in my mind on a fucking loop and I suddenly did not want to go out with the guys tonight. 

Joe raised a brow. “Oh, that’s him?” 

Malcolm looked between Joe and me, noticing how red my face was. “What the hell did Noah send you?” 

“No-nothing. Just a video of Salem,” I stammered at first but was quick to recover.  

Chase’s mouth parted to speak but soon his eyes turned dark, jaw clenching as he stared past me. 

“What’s wr-,” I didn’t get a chance to ask because an all too familiar voice crept deep into my bones, ripping me apart from the inside out.

“You still have that fucking cat?” 

My heart sunk low to the depths of my stomach and I let my eyes flutter shut, all the breath leaving my lungs. 

No. No. No. Please, not here. Not now.

“He can’t be,” I shook my head while keeping my eyes trained hard on Chase, doing my best to stay centered. 

Do as Dr. Poulos says; deep breath in for three seconds, long breath out for four seconds.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Malcolm spat while stepping in front of me. 

“I needed to come to check out the new Hollow Souls,” the deep voice chuckled darkly. 

I didn’t miss the venom in his words. 

But I never turned around, simply kept my gaze straight on Chase who still refused to look at me; his own hard gaze was trained on the man behind me. Joe noticed the sudden tension and rested a gentle hand on my elbow. 

“Y/N?” His words were white noise. 

I’m imagining this. He’s not here right now. There’s no way. 

“You looked good on that stage, baby. Although, I bet you’d look even better in the back of it.” 

No. No. No. 

A sharp whistle. “I know you hear me.” 

“What the hell are you doing here? Why are you here?” Chase’s voice was thick with anger. 

The voice that I spent so many days in therapy talking about let out a low scoff. 

“What? I came to see my protégé.” 

Malcolm pushed me towards Joe. “Can you take her back to our bus? We’ll be there soon.” 

I shook my head feverishly with tears brimming in my eyes, my back still to the one I refused to look at. 

“No. It’s not worth it. Please guys,” I begged while Joe wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Please come with me.” 

Chase’s eyes softened when he finally peered down at me. “It’ll be okay, sweets. We’re just going to talk; promise.” 

“Come on,” Joe urged my frozen state a few steps. 

Until that darkness pulled me back into the place I spent many days dragging myself out of. 

“Oh, it seems as if you’re back to your old ways. Fucking the opening act, huh? How does good ‘ol Noah feel about that?” Trey did the jerking-off gesture at Noah’s name.

“FUCK YOU!” I screamed as I spun on my heels, Joe’s arm falling away from me. “Don’t you dare say his name. You haven’t earned the right to talk about him!” 

Those cold eyes that I swore at one point I’d have a future with bore into my soul as he ran a hand through the curly locks on his head. Trey smirked wickedly at me. 

“I should call him up. Better yet,” He stuck a cigarette on his lips. “Maybe I’ll send him the video I took of you two ogling each other while you were on stage.” 

I took a step towards Trey but Malcolm held out his arm to stop me, only for me to push it away. 

“Go ahead! You have absolutely no fucking idea what you’re talking about. We should have had you fucking blacklisted,” my upper lip curled, barring my teeth. 

“Good luck, baby. My name gets me places, I can’t help it. Plus, I needed to come see my protege. Since I fucking made you,” Trey twirled his hand towards me with a snide smirk. 

“MADE ME?!” My eyes doubled as my voice roared through the dwindling venue as fans slowly took their time leaving. 

The stagehands and crew members paused their work to watch my outburst. 

I took a deep breath to center myself again, not wanting to create a scene right now when there were still so many prying eyes.  “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed the show. We’re doing fine without you.” 

Turning my back to him yet again, I allowed Joe to lead me away with a hand ghosting over my lower back; until Trey’s voice stopped me. 

“You’re so broken you don’t even trust yourself.”  

“Y/N,” Joe’s voice was soft as he shook his head. “It’s not worth it. Come-.” 

“Excuse me?!” I turned swiftly on my heels, hair whipping over my shoulder. 

Trey shrugged while reaching for a strand of my hair, twirling it between his fingers. “You heard me.” 

I smacked his hand away, the noise echoing loudly backstage. “No. No, I don’t think I did. Say it again.” 

“You’re broken.” Now his hands were in his pocket, a lit cigarette hanging loosely on his lips. “That uh- that new song? That's about him, isn’t it? Where is he?”

Trey made a show of looking around backstage. “I don’t see him anywhere. Oh, let me guess. You demolished it right? ‘Cause we all know you can’t have a perfect thing without doing that.” 

My hands curled at my side, knuckles turning white from how hard my nails dug crescent moon shapes into my palm.  

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me, Trey! You never did and you don’t know a fucking thing about Noah, okay?”

“I don’t need to. I know enough,” Trey blew the smoke towards Malcolm. 

Before he could take a step towards him, Chase wrapped an arm around his chest to pull him away. 

“You know he has asthma, you piece of shit!” I pushed Trey hard in the chest. “No. No! No! You’re not going to do this.” 

“Do what? We both get off on hurting other people,” Trey snickered while taking a step toward me. “I tell you the fucking truth. You’re on the stage singing your pretty little lullabies and maladaptive daydreams because I let you! And you know what else? That little Sykes wanna be?” 

When he made the gesture of sucking a dick, I nearly gagged in my mouth at how disgusting and vulgar Trey actually was. 

Anger filled my veins as he continued to spew his venom. Every single thing Trey said was meant for one thing; to hurt and destroy. He’d spent years perfecting it and before, I’d swim in it. 

Now? Now I was different and I wasn’t afraid of standing up to him. 

“No! Shut the fuck up!” I ran a wild hand through my hair before pointing a finger at him. “You were such a poison that I should have avoided. Every single part of you. I thought you wanted to save me but in the end, all you did was break me!” 

Tears fell from my eyes and I was quick to wipe them away. I refused to cry in front of everyone; especially Trey. He didn’t get the privilege to break me. Not again. 

“How dare you reach out your hand? You said you loved me but acted like you hated me,” I choked on a sob. “I should have run but I didn’t.” 

Trey flicked the ashes on the ground at my feet with a fake pout on his lips but before he could say anything I pointed another finger into his chest causing him to stumble back.

“No! I have to get this off my chest! There’s more shit I have to say!” 

I could feel the proud smiles of Chase, Malcolm, and even Joe as they all flanked behind me. Not stepping in but still wanting to be close in case they needed to. 

“You’re not half the man you think you are! You’re not! You’re abusive, an addict, and I hated the way you would make me feel. Everything I did was under a constant microscope with you.” 

I began to list things on my fingers. “I couldn’t dress the way I wanted. I couldn’t talk to who I wanted. I couldn’t even fucking talk about things that I enjoyed because if it didn’t involve you, it wasn’t important. In the beginning, you needed to know my every single fucking move. But the one night you went out with your friends and I asked where you were going, you thought it would be funny to choke me!” 

“What the fuck?!” Chase roared while stepping up next to me. 

I placed a hand on his chest but kept my eyes on Trey. “I’ve outgrown you, I fell out of every trace of love and respect for you, Trey. I’ve moved fucking past you. Yes, in the beginning, I thought that maybe there might have been a chance for us. But you found yourself on drugs and nicotine. A hollow body like a figurine and I always felt like an accessory.” 

Joe turned his head towards me with a small smile on his lips. 

“Looking back now, I can see it. You always tried to put me in the background. I wasted so much fucking time on you and you wasted so much Hollow Souls time. You held us back for so long because you thought you knew what was best for us.”

A muscle in Trey’s jaw ticked. “I fucking made you. I made this band.” 

I rolled my eyes while crossing my arms over my chest. “Oh, please. Everyone knows that Hollow Souls was my idea. I was the one who asked Chase and Malcolm to join. I wrote the songs. I wanted to produce our songs but you immediately shot that idea down claiming it was too much work and not worth it.” 

Thankfully, it was long after our show ended and the main part of the venue had cleared out but there were still workers backstage as they tore down our equipment. They acted like they weren’t listening to our fight but I knew that with the glances our way every so often, they heard everything. 

“You always wanted to change shit that didn’t need to be changed,” he snarled. 

I held my arms out wide. “And look where I’m at? Every show on this tour is sold out. We had to upgrade to a bigger venue because of high demand.” 

“What?” Trey tossed his cigarette to the ground. “Do you want a fucking medal for that?” 

I stepped on the bud of the cigarette, stepping right up into Trey’s space. “You fucked with my head knowing that I couldn't take it and for that, I can't forgive you. I’ll never forgive you.” 

Chase waved over security as my final words relieved the weight that I didn’t know was on my shoulders. I thought that the last time I saw Trey I wouldn’t need to say my peace but saying it now, I felt as if I could breathe easier. 

“I don’t need you to forgive me, Y/N.” He scoffed. “Noah will never love you and that you won’t blame me for.” 

My lips twitched in a smile as I breathed through the last of my stray tears. “You’re wrong, Trey. He does love me, and I love him. You won’t disturb my peace anymore, never again. I’m moving on, and I’m happy. You should be sad, and truly I feel sorry for you.” 

I took a step back to stand in between Chase and Malcolm just as security snuck up behind Trey. 

“I hope you choke in your sleep while you're dreaming of me. I fucking hope when you suffocate in your sheets that I'll be the last thing you see. Goodbye, Trey,” 

My hands shook at my side, something that Joe noticed so he gave them a reassuring squeeze. 

One of the security guards grasped Trey’s elbow to drag him out but he ripped it from the guy's grasp. Trey eyed all four of us, his gaze lingering on me a few seconds longer than the others before he spat on the ground at my feet. 

The old me would have let that bother her. But the new me simply smirked as I watched security escort Trey out of the building. 

Ethan came up to us in haste as he looked back towards Trey. “What the fuck was he doing here?!” 

Malcolm made sure that Trey was out of sight then turned towards Ethan, pointing a stern finger at him. “Do whatever you can to get that piece of shit blacklisted from any Hollow Souls shows in the future.” 

“Bad Omens too,” I nodded firmly. 

Chase cupped my cheek. “Sweet, are you alright?” 

Through tears, I nodded. “I’m okay. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that.”

“How do you feel?” He had a faint smile on his lips.

I gnawed on my bottom lip, really thinking about Chase’s question. 

Relief. 

This felt like a new wave of freedom. Something I’ve yet to experience in a long while. A new form. 

I looked back at my new friend and then at my brothers; my family.  Those who bring a sense of love into my life. We can make choices to care for the self and still be kind. I had so much to say to him. It felt good to release it- yet; still I killed him with kindness. Something he’d never dare show me.

You can care better for others from strength than weakness. 

At the expense of my own comfort. It’s a prudence with integrity that awaits the right moment to be brave. I felt brave. 

I was ready for my new beginnings.

Joe motioned behind me. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your bus.” 

While Malcolm and Chase hung back to talk more with Ethan about what happened I allowed Joe to lead me outside. The cool night air danced around me with a comforting touch and I let it ease my heated skin. As I made the walk towards where the bus was, Joe had other plans and dragged me to a bench at the back of the venue. 

“What?” I asked. 

“Sit.” When I didn’t move, Joe nodded to the bench behind me. “Sit down, Y/N. Take a breather. I can see the rage in your eyes and the vein in your neck is doing a weird twitch thing.” 

Instinctively, my hand went to my neck, rubbing at it, before sitting on the bench with a long breath; Joe doing the same. 

We let a long beat of silence fall between us and with the sudden breeze of cold air, I shivered and covered my bare arms suddenly wishing I didn’t wear the dress with skinny straps. 

“Cold?” Joe wondered. 

When I nodded, he handed over his jacket which I took gratefully. “I’ll make sure to give it back to you.” 

“Good,” he snorted playfully. “Because it’s my favorite.”

I chuckled while easing onto the bench, now warm. “About what happened inside with Trey-.”

Joe bumped his shoulder with mine. “Don’t even worry about it. I’ve been through something similar. I did love how you threw in lyrics from Clarity in Kerosene. ”

I rubbed my hands on my thighs, suddenly nervous. “Uh, yeah. Your album Reaper means a lot to me so it felt therapeutic in a way.” 

We sat for another long while, enjoying the quiet that shocked us for being in the middle of the city. It was in the middle of the night but neither of us was complaining. 

“It’s an honor doing this tour with you, Joe. I’ve been a fan for so long.” I smiled at him.

“Hey, the honor is all mine,” he ran a hand through his hair with a sheepish smile. “Hollow Souls has been on my playlist for a long time.”

A familiar memory of long ago crept into my mind of someone saying the same thing. 

“We're huge fans of Hollow Souls. Noah has your music on the playlist we play during the wait time for our shows.”

 “Ya know, someone else told me the same thing the first time I met him,” I said with a warm smile. 

Joe’s brow peaked. “Yeah? Seems like I’ll have to meet this someone.” 

Noah flashed in my mind now; his infectious smile, his bright almond eyes, and the sound of his laughter made my heart flutter. Even though he was hundreds of miles away, our souls were always connected. It was as if he was sitting right here with me. I could feel the ghost of his hand on my thigh and his lips on mine. 

“I love you, angel,” those eyes glimmered as he watched me. 

“Hm,” I hummed while bumping my shoulder with Joe’s again. “Maybe someday.” 

READER

As I stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying my long locks, I sighed in content and made work of getting ready. It was an off day but I had no plans, something I intended to keep so much so that I was dressed in a pair of Bad Omens joggers and a black crop top tank. My typical stay-home outfit. 

Just when I was about to load up my laptop to continue writing, there was a persistent knock on my hotel room door. It wasn’t Chase or Malcolm since they mentioned to me earlier that they were spending the day doing a joint interview and then getting something to eat. 

Some would think it was weird that I wasn’t going to an interview with them but Hollow Souls were all for doing our own separate interviews or joint. I did my fair share of solo ones, the same with Chase and Malcolm. I actually had one planned in a few days so I wasn’t too upset about skipping out on this one today. 

“Joe?” I asked while leaning against the open door. “What’s up?” 

He smiled while giving me a once-over. “Good, you’re dressed. Grab your things and let’s go.” 

“Go where?” My brows furrowed. 

“We’re not going to waste the day away inside. I have our whole afternoon planned,” Joe adjusted his hat. 

“You do, huh?” I chuckled while leaving him on the threshold of the open door so I could grab my things, not wanting to forget the small camera I brought along for this tour, and slipped on a pair of white Converse.

With the door closed behind me, I let Joe lead me toward the elevator where we waited for it. 

“There’s this sunflower field I was thinking we could check out,” Joe said. 

“That sounds nice,” I smiled while we both stepped into the elevator. 

“Hilary sent it to me this morning and said it would be a great place to clear your head with what happened last night,” he informed. 

“Did you tell her-?” I chewed on the inside of my cheek as the elevator descended. 

Joe quickly shook his head. “Nope. I only mentioned how you needed to clear your head.” 

“Thank you,” I breathed when the doors opened. 

For the next few hours, Joe and I enjoyed the peacefulness of the sunflower field. We laughed, we joked, and he told me about his life growing up as I did the same. He also told me about an ex of his that messed him up mentally causing him to hide away for a year. 

“I had to cancel shows because the depression and panic attacks were so bad I had to seek treatment,” Joe said as we neared the end of the sunflower maze. “I went to hospitals, sat with monks in Buddhist temples, and went to therapy. I was so mad that someone took years out of my life.” 

I smiled solemnly. “I understand what that’s like.”

“Therapy told me that I need to stop hating the world and hating myself. I found someone who showed me what love is and I’ll forever be grateful for her,” Joe said. 

“She sounds like a lovely person, Joe. I’m glad you were able to find your happy ending.”

We came to a stop in front of a large patch of sunflowers with him a few spaces in front of me. 

“Hey,” I called after him, beckoning him to turn around so I could take a picture of him. 

His black hood was pulled over his hat and a small bag crossed over his chest. Although he didn’t smile on his lips, I could see it in his eyes. 

“It seems like you found your own happy ending,” Joe noted. 

My cheeks burned as I waved him off. “Oh, no. Not yet. We’re not official.” 

“But you text each other every night at 10 o'clock to say I love you?” 

“It’s-,” I pursed my lips while looking around the field. “Complicated”. 

Being in an open field like this, the breeze blowing through my hair, made me remember the last time I was in a place of solace like this. 

Earlier that day. 

"Noah?" I asked while looking up at him through lashes.

"Yes, angel?"

"You have a cute nose," my voice was quiet. 

Noah tilted his head to the side. "My nose?"

"Yeah. It's just the perfect size for your facial structure," I booped his nose. 

"Did-did you just boop my nose?" Noah chuckled with a scrunched face.

"See!" I pointed to him. "You look so fucking cute; it's insane."

"Angel, literally.” 

"Mochi, literally," I mocked while sticking out my tongue. 

Joe’s soft voice brought me out of the memory and I blinked at me. “Hm, I’m sorry. Did you say something?” 

“Do you want to be with Noah?” He asked his question again while gripping the strap of his bag. 

“More than anything,” I answered without missing a beat. 

He shrugged. “Then what’s holding you back?” 

I licked my lips while shifting on my feet. “It’s not as easy as you think. After that party, so much happened and things were said that I can’t exactly forget. I was hurt and needed time away.” 

“So you just left?” 

Hearing the reality of what I did from someone else made the guilt eat away at my insides and my heart sunk low. 

“I needed to get my head together,” I defended while adjusting the black beanie on my head. 

“Do you guys even talk? Besides the usual 10 p.m. texts?” Joe asked. 

Not wanting to speak, I shook my head with a long breath. 

“Y/N, this might not be my place, but that wasn’t very fair of you to do that.”

I bit my lip, not trying to snap at Joe because all he was doing was being a good friend; something I needed. 

“My therapy session is tomorrow. I didn’t need it today,” I sighed while running my hands up and down my thighs. 

“My friend, you do,” Joe snorted. “Why are you so afraid of committing to this?” 

I played with the string of my joggers, really mewling over his question. Noah and I moved past all the bullshit and we’re ready to finally be together. So what was I so afraid of?

With a wobbly lip, I let out a shaky breath and met Joe’s eyes. “I just don’t want to disappoint him, I don’t want him to ever feel like I don’t support him or something.”

He squeezed my arm. “I don’t think you can. If you’re both more than aware that you’re human beings, Y/N.” 

“Understandable,” I nodded. “But I don’t want him to know how flawed I can be.” 

“It’s vital to face hard facts and choose to be present, honest, and mindful of what’s happening in the life of your relationship. You guys aren’t even official yet and you’re worrying about shit that you don’t need to.”

Birds chirping were muted by the sudden commotion of a group of people arriving at the sunflower patch but neither Joe nor I moved from the end of the maze we finished a while ago.

“You’re not robots, Y/N.” He began. “Erase any confusion or doubt surrounding your needs so you can learn to powerfully communicate your needs. You both need to talk. Get it out of yourselves, don’t curl up with shit alone. Don’t do that to him. Don’t assume the worst about him, especially when you haven’t even discussed things properly.” 

I crossed my arms over my chest while shifting all of my weight to one foot. “I never even noticed. In hindsight, I thought I was doing something validating. Turns out I hurt him numerous times, and he still did nothing but try to love me. Even when I wasn’t perfect. I left him alone in that hotel room because things became to real. I left him the night of the party because we both admitted we love each other. And I do. I love him, Joe. I love him so much. I want us to work. But I don’t understand why I keep leaving him. I don’t want it; I just do.” 

Joe gave me a warm smile. “I know, Y/N. You should talk to your therapist about this. I think she can give you more insight than I can offer but just know I understand. You need to approach Noah and this relationship with a loving spirit, believing that he will love you and we want to satisfy you in every way. That he is deserving of your love and kindness even if things feel too good to be true. Feel it out, you’re probably that good of a fit.”

I playfully rolled my eyes. “Joe, I don’t need another therapist.”

He snorted. “No, you don’t, but I’d like to think I’m your friend and I’m telling you, that doing this to someone you love isn’t fair. Noah deserves to communicate with you too. I haven’t met the guy or seen the two of you together but from what you told me I already know.  He fucking loves you, Y/N.”

“I love him too, so fucking much, okay? I do,” I admitted with tears in my eyes. 

“I’m not saying you don’t/. I don’t know everything but, from my experience and what I’ve learned, shit like this can ruin a perfectly good relationship because we simply don’t tell ourselves the truth.”

I cocked my head to the side confused. “Truth about what?” 

“About why you’re subconsciously running,” Joe said. “You’re scared shitless and this avoidance can lead to procrastination that delays dealing with damaging stressors on or within your relationship. It did until the pipe finally burst at the birthday party.” 

“Should I be paying you by the hour?” I joked with a small chuckle.

“If you want to,” he snorts. “No, but come on. If you want him to be there for you, to be your everything, then you have to give half as well.” 

“I know. I want to. I’ve been feeling so sick lately without him.” 

It was true. 

Noah and I seemed to have been brought together by this unknown force. The universe? Maybe: we didn’t believe in high powers, yet also knew we weren’t alone. 

Staggered over weeks, months, or years. In this time the pain of our separation was an act as a focusing lens. The point was to give each other time to see the purity of our love, to be sure that there can be only one lover for this lifetime. 

Seems silly, especially in this era. Yet, it’s how I feel. I just know.

I get almost neurotic to my knees. I know that I must get enough sleep. He made a sham of my pain. I feel like I blew a hole in my heart with an ice-cold magnum. 

Why, when he’s not around I feel lonely when there’s company around. I’m not lost, but I have been found. That level of emotional indifference is not a mark of superiority, but the reverse. I was always worth more, I just needed to educate myself as to how and why.

It hit me. My body yearned for the other half of me.  The lovers who are right for one another take away the other pain naturally, by virtue of who they are the strength of their loving bond.

I couldn’t wait to embrace him again.

Joe peered over his shoulder, noticing a group of people slowly reaching us so he motioned for me to start walking in step with him. “Of course you do. It’s like half of your entire body is ripped apart and begging for the other half back.”

I smacked his arm. “Yes, exactly like that! Even though we’re far apart from each other right now, I still know subconsciously what he’s doing without actually knowing.”

“Exactly. So you two need to talk together about what you’re facing. Discuss the realities and your key concerns. Listen to each other and reflect on what you hear for optimal understanding. Be curious and open-minded concerning each other’s ideas and solutions for relief and change. If you love him, meet him in the middle like you’re saying in the song, Y/N. Don’t just use words, act too.”

We reached the rental car and Joe leaned against the driver's door. “What do you want this song to do; to say?” 

My forehead creased as I put deep thought into Joe’s question. “I think I want to expose the vulnerability. I’m kind of like star light. Maybe it can guide the way to the ones who must travel by night. The ones who don’t know that there is something special waiting for you if you keep pushing forward.” 

Joe bumped his fist with mine. “I love that, a reminder for people. However, it’s not just about that.”

“No, no it isn’t,” I chuckled. “It’s special that we aren't so different, him and I. Somehow together we are balanced. As yin and yang, but a perfect match. All I want is for him to ask me to stay again, and I’ll always say yes.”

JOE

The conversation between Malcolm and Chase was muted as we sat at the hotel restaurant, my food going cold a while ago. After my afternoon with Y/N at the sunflower field with our conversation and everything that happened last night, something was weighing heavy on my mind. 

Malcolm must have sensed it because he waved a hand in front of my face. “Everything alright?” 

My eyes snapped up towards him and I nodded. “Oh yeah, yeah I’m good. I’m just reflecting on that whole interaction last night. 

Chase hummed while resting an arm over the back of Malcolm’s chair. “We’re sorry Trey pulled you in the middle of it.”

“It’s fine but he’s a fucking piece of work,” I said. 

Malcolm took a long drink of his beer. “Yeah. He’s always been a piece of shit. It was like that for fucking years. Trey tried to dictate everything she did. What the band did. He was off doing what he wanted when he wanted. Y/N would fall into it time after time until-.” 

“Til Noah?” I asked with a hint of a smile. 

“Yeah,” Chase spoke next. “Have you  ever heard of Bad Omens?”

“I’ve heard their name and listened to a couple of their songs. But I’ve never seen his face until recently,” I said. 

“Did he send her a dirty photo?!” Malcolm’s eyes widened. 

“No!” I shook my head with a chuckle. “Y/N showed me a picture of him in braids.” 

“Oh, that picture,” Chase snorted. 

I continued again. “Noah has a great range and a good ear; talented guy. He seems crazy about Y/N from what she said.”

“Oh, he is. Shit, he’s over the fucking moon and back and everything fucking else. They have some otherworldly shit going on.” 

“Oh yeah? Think so?” I asked Malcolm. 

He shared a look with Chase, both of them smiling. “We know so. Noah made her fucking smile again. Laugh in a way we hadn’t heard in so long. He gave her confidence when she desperately needed it. Y/N became herself again. It’s been so beautiful to watch her hatch from the sick cocoon she was in. Last night was a terrific example. We’re so proud of her.”

“Yeah, that was something; the way she stood up to him. She kicked his ass. I may not have been around or anything for long, but that was awesome to see. I’d like to talk to Noah about it.”

Chase and Malcolm shared yet another look, the former's brows raised as he looked at me.

“You want Noah’s number? That’s a bit random, no?” 

“I just want to formally introduce myself,” I assured them. “To let him know how Y/N was last night and how awesome your record is.” 

“Is that all you want to let him know? Or do you want to make sure Noah knows that you’re not a threat? Because he knows you aren’t. And he also knows that Trey hasn’t come near her,” Malcolm reassured me. 

“No, it’s not even about that,” I leaned forward on the table to rest my arms on it. “I want to keep him in the loop, I have a feeling they’re still working out this what do I say or not say phase. Y/N’s become a friend now, and I’d like to also reach out my hand so he knows things are cool on our end.” 

I shrugged. “Plus, Noah deserves to know how badass she is and that she can take care of herself.”

After dinner, on my way back up to my hotel room, I had my phone in my hand as I worked out the message to Noah. 

Me: Hey Noah, this is Joe. I got your number from Chase and Malcolm. This is a little awkward but I wanted to introduce myself. I’ve actually listened to your band- you’re really talented! The acoustic version of If I’m There was killer, seriously. 

Now in my room, I sat on the edge of my bed to send another text. 

Me: I’m texting you because I’m sure you saw the video of what happened with Trey and Y/N. I will firstly say, she’s fucking awesome! And I’m honored to be on this tour with her and the guys. Incredible musicians and incredible people. Gearing back to the whole Trey situation, he showed up out of nowhere; but I feel it’s important to let you know, at least from my side, that Y/N kicked ass. She stood up for herself and I could see she felt a world of relief.

Only a few minutes went by when Noah texted back. 

Noah Sebastian: Hey Joe, it’s Noah. I’ve heard a lot about you as well. Y/N has been a huge fan of yours for a long time. She was stoked about this tour, and yes she is awesome. Y/N’s special to a lot of us. She’s a genuine person and has a heart of gold; Chase and Malcolm as well. I appreciate your kind words. That means a lot. You know how it is- especially in this industry. And I did see the video, unfortunately. You were there?

I quickly responded to Hilary’s text before typing out my reply to Noah. 

Me: In case she needed support.

Noah Sebastian: Right, thank you for that. I hated what Trey said, I wish I could have stopped it myself but I also know how important it was for Y/N to have closure. I’m so fucking proud of her. 

I let out a loud laugh when I saw the meme Y/N sent me but swiped away the message for right now, continuing to text Noah. 

Me: You should be proud. She’s awesome and she’s over the moon about you. From what I’m told you really lit a fire inside her, and that seems to be shining through. My partner did that for me when I found her and I’m sure it’s the same for you as well. So I just wanted to pass this along and formally introduce myself. I’m sure Y/N will bring this up to you but I wanted to show you how I saw it on my end. I hope we can meet soon.

Me: Oh, also. Hollow Souls new record is going to be sick. What they’ve been working on is sounding great.

I busied myself the next long while getting myself packed since we were planning on leaving in a few hours to head to the next city. Once finished, I realized that Noah texted me back almost instantly after I sent the last text. 

Noah Sebastian: For sure! Thank you so much. I wish I could be there. But, I understand it’s not the right time. I do hope soon we can chill at my place to shoot the shit. Thank you again for sending me a text. Very kind of you and I’m sure we’ll talk soon. I can’t wait to hear her new album. We’re all very stoked about it. We’re also close to releasing our record, I’d love for you to check it out! 

Me: Hell yes!

READER

“And if you and I can make it through the night,” I hummed while sitting in my bunk on the tour bus. 

My laptop was perched in my lap as I loaded up Zoom, clicking on Dr. Poulos’ contact. It wasn’t our usual appointment day or time but with what happened the other day, I felt as if I needed an emergency session. It wasn’t because of the negative parts but for the first time in a long while, I felt good. My spirits were high and nothing could wipe the smile from my face. 

“Well someone seems like they’re in good spirits today.” Dr. Poulos’ voice sang through my speakers. 

Her graying hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she had black glasses perched high on her nose. 

“I am actually,” I smiled, the kind of smile that made the corner of your eyes crinkle. 

She tilted her head. “Care to elaborate?”

I began telling her the entire story of Trey and my afternoon with Joe from top to bottom; from that night up until now. 

“I’m very proud of you, Y/N for standing up for yourself and closing that chapter in your life. And Joe seems like he’s becoming a great friend in the aspect of telling you things you need to hear.” 

“Yeah, he is.” I nodded. 

Although I was in high spirits before this meeting, something shifted in my brain and I began to stare at the keyboard of my laptop. 

“What’s the matter Y/N? You’re slipping into disassociating thought,” Dr. Poulos’ voice brought me back.  

“Nothing,” I had a tight lip smile. 

“Y/N,” she warned. “We’ve talked about this; you need to be open and transparent.”

Reluctantly, I nodded with a sigh. “Okay, well-.” 

When she motioned me on with a nod, I continued. “How- fuck this is embarrassing. How do I stop running away?” 

“Do you grasp that’s what you’ve been doing to Noah?” 

“I do,” I admitted. “But it hasn’t been intentional. I love him, I’m- I just don’t want to become my parents.”

Dr. Poulos’ gave me a small smile. “It’s great that you’re seeking to address this pattern. Building healthy relationships often involves understanding and addressing the root causes of our behaviors.” 

“I’m trying.” 

“It might be helpful to reflect on past experiences and identify any underlying fears or insecurities that may be contributing to your tendency to run away from relationships,” she adjusted her glasses. 

“I know it’s my mother, I know it is. Noah seemed to know it too since he was there that day she reamed into me,” I said. 

Her eyes lit up. “Yes, I remember that day. You were very grateful for him being there weren’t you?” 

“More than anything. He’s my safety when I feel like I have none,” I answered. 

“That’s wonderful Y/N. In Addition, I suggest practicing self-care, setting boundaries, and communicating openly with Noah as your partner, rather than your friend, which can help build a foundation for more fulfilling and lasting connections. I remember you telling me you finally admitted your love for each other,” Dr. Poulos couldn’t hold back the wide smile on her face now. 

“Yes. I do, I do love him and I don’t want to do anything to hurt him. Noah’s already so hard on himself with everything.  I don’t want to be one more thing he’s hard on himself about. I want to help, be his escape, and his safe haven. I want him to trust I’ll stay because I want to; I will always stay.” 

She wrote something down in her journal before resting her chin in her hand as she looked back at me through her screen. “I know, Y/N. You’ve spoken about this often.  Seeking support in this form can also provide valuable insights and strategies for breaking this pattern. I believe the two of you can and you won’t run.”

I ran a hand through my hair, the length becoming a big annoyance lately. “You know so much about this, Dr. Poulos. I don’t know the first thing. I want to be able to communicate with him. Not do what I have been doing.” 

“Y/N, it’s normal. It’s critical that before you speak to Noah, you suspend any assumptions or conclusions that put you at odds with him. You absolutely need to approach him by making a generous assumption; and by giving him the benefit of the doubt. This is what it means to be a team, even when you’re feeling distant. You keep loving even when you are feeling as if you are unloveable. You’re not going to do what you did with Trey.”

“Trey.” 

His name still tasted bitter on my tongue. 

“Yes,” Dr. Poulos nodded. “You got your closure on that chapter. Now this is a new one.

“I can’t shake the fear sometimes. The fear of the feeling coming at me all at once and messing it up,” I shifted in my bunk. 

“What I suggest doing when you are feeling upset or angry is to own your emotions and realize that they stem from your interpretation of the situation, not from the facts of the situation. Your fears and deep-seated beliefs about your own sense of inadequacy, unworthiness, or unlovability often lie at the root of all those negative stories you tell yourself about why life is happening the way that it is.”

“Woah,” I blinked. “That’s-uh-a great observation.”

Dr. Poulos narrowed her eyes at me while steepling her fingers under her chin. “I have an assignment for you.”

“Oh, come on! You know how busy I already am,” I joked with a wave of my hand.

She let out a soft giggle. “Yes, well, this will be fairly simple.”

“Take a moment to challenge your assumptions, and allow the possibility that something completely different could be true. Like that, you are loved! And that with patience and respectful communication, you can experience something exceptional with Noah. You said his album is coming out soon, this party could be a great way to try this. Have you thought about going?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said without missing a beat. 

“Wonderful Y/N, see this as an opportunity to vulnerably share something about yourself with Noah, be curious so that you, through this experience, can learn something with him, too.”

I’d be the first one to admit that at first, therapy wasn’t something I thought I needed. It was a waste of time to talk about my feelings with someone who didn’t understand. But right now, I was eating my words. 

“Joe was right,” I said after a few beats of silence. 

“About?” Dr. Poulos shook her head with confusion. 

“Discussing this further with you, thank you it helps,” I ended our session with a large smile. 

READER

“Not to be overly dramatic. I just think it's best. 'Cause you can't miss what you forget.” Joe sang into the microphone. 

I sat in my spot on the couch in the interview space, watching and singing along with a bright smile. 

“So, let's just pretend everything and anything between you and me was never meant,” he finished the song with a long breath. 

I, along with the interviewer, Jackson, clapped as Joe took a seat next to me on the couch. 

“That was phenomenal. We appreciate you being here with us,” Jackson beamed. 

My phone buzzed in my lap and with a glance downward, I felt my face warm at the name. 

Mochi 🍡: You look phenomenal, angel. 

“Thank you,” Joe nodded with a faint smile. “I’m sure I can speak for Y/N that we’re both glad to be here.” 

“It seems like the tour is going pretty well. Every show is sold out. How does that feel for you, Joe? I know Hollow Souls are used to this feeling,” Jackson said while fixing his notes, not looking at me. 

I tilted my head to the side, tongue brushing over my bottom lip. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He finally looked my way and shrugged. “It's just that Hollow Souls is already pretty popular. You guys are used to playing in front of a sold-out crowd.”

“Are you saying that nothing, nowhere isn’t? Or did you forget that his last headlining tour had three back-to-back sold-out shows?” I questioned with a raised brow.  

“Well,” Jackson shifted in his chair across from us and looked at Joe. 

He merely ran a hand through his hair. “Number one fan.” 

“So,” Jackson cleared his throat. “Everyone online is begging me to ask you two this but what’s the dating situation? There’s so much chemistry between the two of you in the behind-the-scenes clips you guys post on Instagram. Everyone wants to know; are you two dating?” 

Joe and I shared a look then I made a show of rolling my eyes while crossing my legs. “Just because a male and female artist tour together, doesn't mean they’re dating.”

My phone buzzed again but this time, I opened the message to read it fully. 

Mochi 🍡: Tell him who’s boss, angel. You know who you belong to.

I cleared my throat while setting my phone screen down in my lap just in time for Joe to speak. 

“No, no. I’m spoken for.”

Jackson looked at me. “Y/N?”

“That’s my name, yes. Do you have a question about Hollow Souls or the tour?” I said with slight venom in my voice. 

Typically I didn’t mind interviews but every once in a while, I’d get an asshole of an interviewer that asked all the wrong kinds of questions. 

“Video surfaced online that Trey was at the show a few nights ago and it looked like the two of you were having an intense conversation. Is there a chance he’s joining Hollow Souls again?” 

My face twitched as something inside of me burned. I leaned towards Jackson with narrowed eyes. 

“Here’s what we’re not going to do; we’re not gonna focus on my love life, or personal life. I make art, not headlines. I’m cool because I'm me, and my band is cool. The art is what’s the focus, not anything else. I do feel as if people need to understand that having a private life is my right. I don’t feel comfortable sharing every aspect. Like I said, I make art, not headlines.” 

“That’s a bold statement to make. It comes with the whole fame territory,” Jackson tried to joke. 

“I refuse to allow this time in my life to be touched, tainted, or bastardized by anyone,” I finished while crossing my arms over my chest. 

While Jackson changed his direction and tone of questions towards Joe for the next couple of minutes, I bounced my knee as the anger continued to fest low in my gut until another text came in. 

Mochi 🍡: Fuck I love when you put douchebags in their place. You’re so sexy, angel. Fuck. I’m going to think about you bossing me around all night.

A hot flash of arousal took over every inch of me as I shifted in my spot on the couch, clenching my thighs together to curb the itch that burned there. 

“Everything alright?” Joe wondered when he saw the warmth on my cheeks. 

I cleared my throat. “Yep. Totally fine.” 

It would be so easy to call Noah to have our first phone sex but the thought of messing with him later sounded more fun.

“So, Y/N. I’d love to know what the future of Hollow Souls looks like?” Jackson questioned with a different tone. 

“See? It’s not that hard to ask questions that actually matter,” I teased with a smile. “But I don’t think we found ourselves because we always knew we wanted this style and this direction but we never really had the confidence to do that.” 

“With this record though, we finally have the assurance to know that we can make it work.”

“Is there inspiration behind this new album?” Jackson wondered. 

“I've always been really inspired by dark things and the supernatural for some reason. Ghosts, paranormal stuff, death, anger, sadness.” 

I gave pause when I realized that this wasn’t exactly a happy inspiration. 

“Well, anything that’s not happy basically inspires me, which sounds kinda messed up,” I admit with a laugh. 

“A lot of the new record, I wrote when I was having a really bad time mentally. I don’t like calling it depression but it seemed like that and I couldn’t pinpoint what my issues were, or what was wrong with me but I knew there was something wrong.” 

Joe watched with a proud smile and I knew that there were a few others back home watching with their own proud smile; my heart could feel it. 

“My problems weren’t tangible things, they weren’t things I could see or explain to people so in a way it was like they were ghosts or spirits that were haunting me,” I continued. 

Jackson rubbed his chin. “Why do you think that is?” 

I pursed my lips, thinking about my answer deeply. “I think a lot of people are afraid to put it out there and talk about it but we weren’t. I think that might be a big reason people have connected to the songs that have been released so far. I feel like for anyone who’s sharing feelings of topics like that, it’s a little bit scary but I feel it's more therapeutic and cathartic to write about that stuff, to talk about that stuff and put it out there. You feel better about it. To know that other people can connect to that makes you feel even better. As scary as it at first, it eventually just pays off and turns out to be good in the end.”

“Why do you think people can relate to it?” 

I shrugged. “I guess because our new album is pretty raw and honest. There’s a lot of topics people can relate to and I think it sounds pretty great, if I do say so myself. We’re pretty proud of it.”

Jackson leaned into his chair. “I would like to jump back to the haunting aspect of this album. Can you elaborate on what exactly is haunting you, if you don’t mind.” 

We’d be here all day if I did and frankly, it wasn’t his or anyone who was watching business. 

“I’m becoming a very private person as of late so I don’t need to go into the personal aspects of my life. Just know I’m moving past things, and I’m very content. Dare I say happy with where the future will be.”

Jackson nodded. “Fair enough. Would you say you’re hopeful for what the future will bring?” 

With a bright smile, I looked directly at the camera that had been pointed at us the entire time and winked. 

“Oh yes, more than hopeful.” 

Later on that night, when I was in the solace of the bathroom of the tour bus, I wore the skimpy red lace teddy I bought earlier. The necklace and bracelet glinted under the dim light as I extended my arm to take a variety of pictures; the sly smirk never leaving my lips. 

With four different pictures attached, I quickly typed out a message to Noah right on the dot at 10 p.m. 

Me: You were bold to text me earlier like that, mochi, I could barely contain myself. Here’s a little payback. Hope you’re all flustered and bothered, whatever you’re doing I suppose will have to wait. Dream of me. I love you.

Almost instantly, Noah texted back as I was swiftly changing into my pajamas for the evening. What I thought was one text became four right after the other. 

Mochi 🍡: Matt’s right next to me, angel. What if he saw this?

Mochi 🍡: fuck, my dick is throbbing right now but I can’t do shit about it. Consider this my karma.

Mochi 🍡: I can’t stop staring at the picture. Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Beautiful. A true definition of an angel. 

Mochi 🍡: I’m going to call you in a little bit. I need to hear your voice. I need it. 

Switching off the bathroom light, I walked across the narrow hallway to climb into my bunk and under the covers

Me:  I’m going to bed early tonight. Maybe we can talk on the phone tomorrow. I love you.

By the time Noah responded, I was already in a peaceful, dark slumber.

Mochi 🍡: Fuck, I love you too angel. So fucking much. 

READER

"Wait," Joe shook his head at us. "You guys do this after every tour?" 

Malcolm nodded as he held the door open for all of us. "Every tour. It's become a Hollow Souls tradition."

As we all crowded into the small tattoo shop’s lobby, Joe's eyes brightened with the realization. 

“Oh, so that's why you got the tattoo of the anime character on your ankle.” 

"Yep, I smiled brightly. "Noah and I got them together on my birthday." 

The buzzing was loud in the tattoo shop as I waved at the owner who had no problem staying open late for us tonight. We finished the tour strong tonight with a hype crowd and with the adrenaline still buzzing through us, we decided to get the tattoos as soon as we left the venue. 

Joe shifted on his feet while running a hand through his hair. “You’re positive you want to get the Reaper album art tattooed?”

"This album helped me through some dark times in my life. I need to do it, especially with what happened last week. It’ll be a great way to remember a great tour and the new friend I made,” I answered while bumping his shoulder with mine. 

After we all checked in and waited, Chase ruffled my hair. “It’s almost 10 p.m LA time, sweets.”

"Shit!" I cursed while quickly whipping out my phone from my pocket. "I can't believe I almost missed it!"

Me: I love you, Mochi. Last night of tour went off without a hitch. Currently getting our typical tattoos. I can’t wait to show you what I get. 

I sat on the bed, exposing my left thigh to the artist after she laid down the stencil, and struck up a conversation with everyone as I waited for Noah to respond. Surprisingly, tonight it took him a long while to text back which made my mind wander to what he was up to. My heart didn’t ache and my stomach wasn’t filled with nerves which meant it wasn’t anything terrible. 

After my risque picture I sent him the other day, we never had the chance to talk on the phone, but I knew that it still affected him because any chance he could, Noah would send me risque texts throughout the day.

“Thank fuck,” I breathed when my phone buzzed next to me. 

Mochi 🍡: I can’t wait to see it, angel. Also, sorry it took me so long to respond. I may have taken Salem to the pet store to spoil him with a few things. I hope you know I plan on keeping him for a bit once you’re back home. Mal said you guys will be busy in the studio so no need for Salem to be home alone. I love you too, angel. 

“I would ask who has you smiling like that but it’s pointless. There’s only one person who can do that,” Malcolm snorted while his artist wrapped up his tattoo. 

I stuck out my tongue at him. “Noah told me he took Salem shopping.” 

Chase rolled his eyes playfully. “And you say he’s not Salem’s dad yet.” 

Before I could set my phone down, another message came through; one I read with a fast beating heart. 

Nick R : February 23, 2022. 929 Angelus Street. Turn Right on Luna Ave. Overnight valet is already handled. No, Noah doesn’t know when to expect you. Don’t be late, Cinderella.

Nick R: The theme is red. I think you know why. Do with that what you will.

Oh shit, that was in just over two weeks. Which meant I needed a dress. And new shoes. A new hairstyle wouldn’t hurt either. 

With a smile, I responded back to Nick. 

Me: We will be there! Unlike Cinderella, I have no intention of losing my shoe and missing my Prince Charming.

Nick R: Oh good! We are merely the mice. 

CHASE

I grumbled under my breath as I scrubbed out the fresh red paint out of the dining room carpet. How many times have I told her to put a damn drop down? Y/N’s lucky I know my way around cleaning supplies and know how to get a stain out. 

Malcolm clicked his tongue against his teeth as he leaned against the wall, staring down at me as I continued to scrub on my hands and knees. 

“I must say, I love this sight of you. On your knees.” 

I snapped my eyes up at him. “Not fucking funny, Mal.” 

“I think she’ll be really excited for what Noah has planned,” he noted. 

“Oh she’s gonna lose it! In the best way,” I agreed while continuing to scrub. 

 “I think so too.” Malcolm placed a kiss on my lips before sauntering into the kitchen to get things ready for dinner. “How long do you think Y/N will be?” 

“Not sure,” I ran a hand over my buzzed head then threw in the towel; literally. 

“You know how she is when she’s let loose in the art supply store. I’d be shocked if she made it back before dinner,” I continued while hopping up on the counter. 

Malcolm began setting out the variety of ingredients and I reached for my phone next to me. 

Me: Noah, beware of paint all over the carpet.

Noah S: Already taken care of.

I showed Malcolm the text to which he smirked. “Did we expect anything less from him?”

Me: Good. Because even though I love her to the ends of the earth, paint is a fucking bitch to clean. 

Malcolm handed me a beer, one I took with a kiss of thanks, and slowly nursed it as Noah texted me back. 

Noah S: Here’s the address. I would love it if you and Malcolm come check it out. 

Me: Definitely. Let's plan for Friday?

READER

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, eyes locked on the things scattered all over the counter, I found myself dissociating into thoughts of earlier today when we were in the studio. We had one last song to record before we started the final touches but this song was the most important. It needed to be perfect. 

I needed to be perfect. 

Which is why 

“Sweets you’ve gone over the verse we can meet in the middle at least ten times now. I think it’s good.”

Chase reassured me as I came out of the vocal booth with a scrunched up face. I did not like how my voice sounded which prompted me to do vocal take after vocal take. 

I fell to the couch in between him and Malcolm. “I need this to be perfect. I hate how my voice is sounding. It can’t sound like this. It can’t.” 

“It sounds amazing, Y/N! I promise,” Malcolm said. 

“I just-,” I ran a hand through my long hair and groaned. “This is so important to me. I want him to know I’m here. And I’m not going to leave him.”

“Noah knows sweets, he knows. He’s so stoked for this record. You know he’ll love it.”

I tossed my hair on top of my head in a messy bun, exhausted with the length. I needed my neck to breathe. It felt as if I was suffocating under the weight of it. 

“Fucking hormones,” I eventually chuckled while wiping tears from my eyes. 

Malcolm gave me a weak smile while rubbing my back. “Any pain today?” 

“A little but not much. It’s bearable.” I informed them. 

Chase nodded while squeezing my knee. “Ok, if you need a break let us know. Don’t push yourself too much. You sound beautiful.”

Salem jumped on the counter, breaking me from my thoughts, and immediately I brought him up in my chest. His green eyes stared up at me in wonder and maybe a little bit of confusion with what he saw.

“Did you have fun with Noah?” I missed you so much,” I cooed. 

Noah dropped him off while we were in the studio, us just missing each other by mere minutes. 

My fingers scratched at Salem’s neck, now realizing the bright red collar and new tag. 

“Oh, dad did in fact spoil you while I was gone. New collar, new tag, a bunch of new sushi toys. Not to mention the bed that can fit a 20 pound dog,” I chuckled. 

My shoulders went rigid when I realized what I just said. 

Dad. 

I just called Noah Salem’s dad. 

Swallowing thickly at the acceptance, I then looked at the new tag and felt my heart jump into my throat; heat spreading from the tips of my toes to my scalp.

Oh my heart. 

Salem Sebastian-L/N. 

And on the front of the tag were symbols I’d never seen before. “Huh, that's weird. What’s with the yin yang and eye symbol?” 

Biting my lip, I set Salem down on the counter and picked up my phone instead, quickly dialing the number I had memorized so long ago. 

Noah picked up after the second ring. “Hi, angel.” 

I twirled a piece of fresh hair around my finger while leaning against the counter. 

“Salem Sebastian-L/N huh?” 

A quick beat of silence. “Yeah. Figured he needed a collar with his full name. I think he likes me, he was quite needy. Is that alright?”

“Definitely alright, mochi,” I smiled into the phone. “Do the symbols have any meaning?

“You’ll know soon, angel.”

“Okay then. Keep your secrets,” I groaned. 

Noah’s infectious laughter made my stomach flip. “Will do, Frodo.” 

“I think we are due for a Lord of the Rings marathon soon. You down?” I bit the inside of my cheek, hopeful for his answer. 

“Always down, especially with you.”

I did my best to hide my excitement and was thankful Noah wasn’t here to see the way I jumped on the soles of my feet. “Wonderful.” 

There was a long comfortable silence before his rich voice came through the speaker. 

“I miss you. I love you.” 

I played with my necklace. “I miss you too, Noah. I love you.” 

“We’ll talk later?”

It was now him who had the hopeful tone. 

“Always,” I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. 

“Okay.”

I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Goodnight mochi”.

“Good night angel.”

As I hung up the phone, Chase and Malcolm both popped their heads into the bathroom. They had an approving smile on their face. 

“Does it look bad?” I asked self-consciously. 

Malcolm was the first to speak. “It looks really good, sweets. We’re proud of you.” 

“New Era coming, huh?” Chase asked. 

“Yeah,” I nodded with a smile. “Yeah I think so. I’m ready for it.”

“Well good. Because we are too,” he knocked on the wall before the two of them disappeared in their bedroom. 

Hooking up the blow dryer, I began to dry my now darker and shorter hair, humming along to a song that had been stuck in my head all day. 

“I was lost but now I’m found.” 

Salem jumped up onto the closed toilet seat, watching me with bright eyes.

“We’re not perfect but we’re proud of who we are,” my voice echoed in the confines of the bathroom.

[zerobaselove]

calling zb1 by their full names

pairing: zb1 x reader

genre: fluff

warning: hanbin calls reader m'lady jokingly, nothing else that i can think of? lowercase intended, not proofread.

notes: i've been in a bit of a slump recently but this was just so cute i couldn't not write it (even if it took some time) so i hope it's okay!

members under the cut!

jiwoong ;

it wasn't often that your boyfriend jiwoong got overly clingy, but it was even less often that it happened while you were trying to work. like usual, you had left your paper until the last day and you were trying to get it done at a timely pace, not wanting to spend your night hunched over your laptop with a cup of coffee to keep you company throughout the night.

but jiwoong insisted on having your attention; he was just trying to get you to take a much needed break. he could tell you were getting restless in the same spot, and that couldn't be good for your quality of work. "c'mon darling, just a five minute break." he suggested, tugging on your arm lightly as he took note of your bouncing leg.

"kim jiwoong." you deadpanned, not upset or anything, just frustrated with your paper and lack of time management skills. you didn't mean to come off harsh so you considered quickly apologizing, until you saw your boyfriend with a playful grin on his face, and before you could ask why, his mouth was opening.

"might as well get used to saying my last name," he grabbed your hand with his, playing with your fingers momentarily, "especially since one day it'll be yours too." you couldn't help the blush that creeped up on your face as you finally shut your laptop for a moment, turning to face the bold boy you had grown to love.

"kim jiwoong, you really are something else."

zhang hao ;

you and zhang hao often found yourselves sitting in a comfortable silence; sometimes accompanied by the faint hum of the tv or a quiet melody playing from the speakers as you each did your own things. zhang hao had found himself a comfy spot in the corner of the couch, glasses perched on his nose with a blanket wrapped over his legs and a book in hand, and you were scrolling through whatever interested you on your phone.

you had seen some sort of trend going on— people calling their partners by their full names as opposed to the usual go-to pet names, and you couldn't help yourself. you had to try.

"hey zhang hao," you started, looking up at the boy who immediately pulled his eyes from the story in front of him, a look of concern on his face. he couldn't help it though; that was out of character for you, and he knew if he had done something you'd just tell him. you two were good like that. so he immediately assumed something was up with you, "everything okay, my love?"

his concern was cute, you couldn't lie. his caring nature always made your heart flutter, especially in times like this where he is just being overly cautious. in your moment of silence he had gotten up, bringing his blanket with you as he sat beside you and draped it over both your legs, asking if you wanted to talk about anything.

"oh lovely," you started, a smile pulling at your lips, "i just wanted to see how you'd react, it's a trend of some sort." he only laughed and shook his head, "well now you're stuck with me here, i'm not moving back over there."

hanbin ;

in an attempt to have a cute couple bonding moment, you and your boyfriend hanbin had decided it would be a good idea to try and bake something together. he insisted it would go great, but now that he had flicked flour at you, you were seeing his real motive.

"sung hanbin," you put your hands on your hips, voice stern yet still playful; you weren't sure how seriously he could take you when you had a white handprint on your cheek and flour dusting your shirt. "y/n," he teased, standing up straight and giving you a small bow. the two of you stood there for a moment exchanging mischievous looks before hanbin extended his hand out, "may i have this dance, m'lady." it was only then that you took note of the slow song fading in over the speakers.

deciding to drop your act, and opt in on his, you took his hand graciously, "i'd be honored."

it was times like this that you were thankful for your boyfriend's extensive dance training as he took the lead with ease, slowly dancing around the kitchen with you in his arms, breaking into fits of laughter every once in a while. with little to no warning hanbin had spun you, resulting in a less than gracious whip around from you before he dipped you slightly with his arm on the small of your back.

the two of you pulled away giggling as he brought his hand up to caress your cheek, "you have something here," he laughed, lightly wiping the flour off your cheek, "hmm, i wonder who did that."

matthew ;

"hi baby," matthew smiled, pulling you into a hug as he walked through the door. you quickly were enveloped by his scent and warmth as you relaxed into his touch, "hi matthew," you said simply.

you hadn't thought much about your words, but it seems the lack of a pet name really caught your boyfriend off guard, a pout quickly replacing his bright smile. "matthew? just matthew?" he questioned, almost in disbelief. sure he was being a little dramatic, but he thought he had every reason to be. "hmph," he crossed his arms, turning away from you, "i see how it is."

you couldn't help but laugh at your boyfriend's childish, yet endearing antics. it was one of the many things you loved about him. "how what is?" you tried to coax a confession out of him, just to see if he was feeling stubborn or not. your question was quickly answered as you were met with silence. as much as you thought this side of matthew was entertaining, you really just wanted to see his smile again.

you placed a quick peck on his cheek and he immediately softened at the gesture; his arms fell to his sides before wrapped around your waist, preventing you from escaping too far which caused you to smile. "all better?" you questioned, looking up at the boy.

"depends," he hummed, playing with the hem of your shirt, "are you gonna call me matthew again?" as much as you wanted to play along a bit longer, you really missed your boyfriend and just wanted to spend time with him, "you're so cute baby," you cooed, watching his face heat up at the nickname.

"better."

taerae ;

you had been looking forward to today all week— you and taerae had planned a picnic date now that the weather was warming up and you were thrilled. you couldn't think of a better way to spend the afternoon; sat on a blanket with your boyfriend eating snacks and chatting and watching people pass by as you made conversation.

you had told taerae to meet you there, giving you the perfect opportunity to set everything up before you watched him walk across the field of your local park. "hi my sunshine," he beamed as you got up to hug his taller frame

"hi taerae~" you dragged out the last syllable which caused him to smile at the cute mannerism. he brought his hand up to ruffle your hair, "i like the way you say my name," it was your turn to smile, a blush rising to your cheeks as you repeated his name a few more times.

this time he took your hand in his as you both walked back to the nicely laid out blanket in the grass, "c'mon now, don't wear it out."

the two of you got comfortable on the ground, enjoying the sunny day and slight breeze that went by. at some point you found yourself with your head in taerae's lap as his hands carded through your hair, and there is nowhere you'd rather be.

ricky ;

you were always impressed with your boyfriend's language capabilities; his fluency in multiple languages always stunned you, but even more so now that you were trying to learn a language yourself. you felt bad that ricky was always accommodating to you, and so, behind his back, you had begun learning chinese a little while ago. and it was not an easy task, to say the least.

you spent all your free time studying, and while you hadn't gotten far in conversational skills, you had figured out one thing— how to confess to the boy. sure, you had professed your love for him on multiple occasions, but this would be special, a sign of your affection in his mother tongue. and so as you sat there next to your boyfriend one evening, you thought it would be a good time to practice.

taking a deep breath and trying to remember the correct tones, you attempted the confession, "shen quanrui, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ," you managed to stutter your way through, much less smoothly than you had practiced, but you managed. you tried to read the expression on your face to see if you had said it correctly, but before you knew it he was cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your lips.

"so you understood me?" you questioned, a small smile tugging at your lips. soon enough the boy was spewing back responses in chinese, faster than you could keep up with at your very basic skill level. "woah woah, slow down, i'm not that good yet." you chuckled.

"well you've got yourself a new tutor then," he smiled, pulling you into his side, "god i love you." he mumbled, more so to himself than you. but you were just glad he got the message.

gyuvin ;

"kim gyuvin," you sighed, shaking your head at the state you had found your boyfriend in. you had only left him alone for a few minutes, but by the time you had come back he had somehow managed to cover himself in the paints spread out on the palette; at this point he had more paint on him than you had gotten on the canvas.

you had run to the other room for just a moment, needing to grab your bag with a couple extra paint brushes to finish up your painting for your art class. gyuvin had insisted earlier in the day to keep you company while you painted, and it was appreciated. but you could tell he was getting antsy just sitting there, and you supposed that's how he ended up looking like a kindergartener's finger painting.

"y/n," he mocked back, a playful tone accompanying his hands on his hips as he looked at you with a smlie. "i'd like to think i'm much prettier than your painting." he gestured to his frame, highlighting the paint that he had seemed to trip into. "maybe if you gave me attention i wouldn't have run around and tripped." his matter-of-fact tone made a laugh escape your lips.

"is that what the problem is?" you paused as he made his way closer to you, "you're covered in paint don't you dare," your threat was empty, but you tried reasoning with him regardless. "call me a cute name again then, my name isn't as fun."

you sighed, attempting to hold him at an arms length as his lips were comically puckered up. "yeah yeah, my cutie lovely sweet boyfriend, if you come near me with your wet paint covered body, we are gonna have problems." he carefully placed a kiss on your cheek, managing to not get you covered, "good enough for now."

gunwook ;

"gunwook c'mere," you called your boyfriend over to the couch that you had gotten quite comfy on, wanting to spend some time with your boyfriend. you didn't see the pout plastered on his face until he sat down next to you, his eyes looking like that of a lost puppy.

"not even wook?" it took you a few moments to realize what he meant by the question before connecting the dots— you hadn't called him a cute nickname like normal, and now he was sat next to you sulking as if it were the end of the world. and god was it ever cute.

you cleared your throat for a moment as you shook your head, "silly me," you started, catching his attention, "i forgot the most important part," you grabbed his hand, giving it a tight squeeze, "my gunwook!" you enthused, watching the smile spread across his cheek wider than you had ever seen.

that seemed to make everything better in his world as his cheeks flushed a light pink and he brought his free hand up to cover his mouth for a moment before composing himself enough to respond.

"my y/n!" he matched your energy, pulling you impossibly closer into his side, as if to claim you as his own. but you were his, and he was yours. and you wouldn't have it any other way, at least not when he's as cute as he is.

yujin ;

you and your best friend yujin had a tradition; it might not seem like much, but it had become routine for the two of you to spend your nights in the summer laid out in his backyard, watching the stars and chatting about whatever came to your mind. random thoughts or worries, really whatever plagued your mind.

you hadn't thought much about the words leaving your mouth, that was the joy about being with your best friend. you wrapped up your aimless question, "but i mean, who cares right? i have you yujin." you said simply, turning to the boy, only to see a sad look in his eyes. "what's wrong?" you reached out, resting your hand on top of his.

"you called me yujin," he mumbled, barely audible past the pout across his lips. you couldn't hide the confusion on your face, so you had to press a little more, "but, that's your name?" you were simply thinking aloud at this point, not quite grasping the boy's point yet.

the pout didn't leave his lips despite your obvious remark, "am i not your jinnie anymore?" you couldn't help but smile at the boy's innocent confession, "oh yujin," you started, turning to prop yourself on your arm and face him, "you'll always be my jinnie."

"okay good," he let out a sigh of relief, feeling the quickly approaching weight on his chest subside, "and you'll always be my y/n, right?" you simply nodded, giving the boy the confirmation he needed before turning back to admire the stars in the sky— he'd always be your jinnie, as long as the stars shined in the sky.

[vintagevict0ria]

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞

“You brush past me in the hallway…”

chapter 1

pairing: Adam Driver x f!reader

content: n/a

a/n: omg i am soooooo excited for this you have no idea. Its been so long since i posted and this idea has been stuck in my drafts since july and since im back in my Adam driver era- id thought id finish this. This is mostly inspired by Taylor Swifts song "I can see you" and each chapter will be based on a lyric! So i am no expert on how film/actor/movie stuff works so bear with me. Hopeful as this goes on, it will get better. Im planning on finishing this by the new year (who knows if that will happen) but since im on break i should take advantage of my free time. Ok long story short I will be writing this shit non stop since im on a writing high so who knows if the next chapter will come out tommorow! Hope you enjoy! Notes are greatly appreciated!!

Y/n, a famous actress known for her beautiful face and captivating personality but also her incredible acting skills. You had been nominated for over 50 awards and won 5 oscars. It had been a while since you were on a set nor a movie. The last film was a roaring success and the critics were crazy about it! The media begged for another film starring Y/N Y/L/N.

The first thing you heard when you woke up was the sound of your phone ringing. Your agent- Carolina, was calling. You quickly answered- yawning and hoping she wouldn’t hear it. “Y/n! Great news!” You sighed, not really understanding what was happening. “You got the job!” The job? what is she talking about? “huh?” You rubbed your eyes, laying back down. “The movie!! Adam Driver is in it too! Oh my gosh i can hear them now! ‘Y/n y/l/n and Adam Driver are co-stars in the biggest hit of the year!” Once you heard his name, you sprung up “Wait what?” “Yeah! They want you here in LA by tomorrow morning. I’ve already booked you a flight to leave in..5 hours! Bye!” She hung up before you could say another word. You glanced over at the clock- 9:35. The flight was at 2:15 and it would take a while to pack and get ready. So, being the smart woman you are, you got up and started the day. Showering, packing, and of course- stopping to get starbucks.

Once you arrived in LA, you headed to the condo where you would be staying for a majority of filming. That morning you woke up and started getting ready for the day. Showering, and making a coffee before you headed out to the table read. You threw on a pair of leggings and a tshirt. It was late autumn so you took a jacket on the way out. At the studio you said hello to the crew and a huge thank you to the casting director. “Y/n!” It was Carolina- she ran up to you and embraced you in a tight hug. “How was the flight?” You smiled at the redhead girl “Great.” Carolina jumped up and down with excitement and handed you sheets of paper. On the cover was the name of the film, the name of the director-JJ Abrams- and your name. “Heres your script. You need to go ahead and head in there! Bye!” She walked away, the sound of her heals clicked across the floor. You quickly skimmed through the pages while walking and not paying attention. You soon enough ran into someone, your coffee spilling over you and the floor along with your script- which was on the floor…covered in coffee. “Oh gosh Im so sorry!” You apologized while picking up your script, wincing at the wet paper. “You might want to watch where you are going next time.” The voice was soft but stern. You looked up and realized it was Adam Driver.

He was wearing all black and his hair was messy. He glanced at you with a subtle stare. “Im so sorry!” You stood up, brushing yourself off. “No worries, happens to the best of us.” He rolled his shoulders back and popped his neck, closing his eyes. Damn he was attractive. ”You headed in?” You asked, trying to keep your composure together. Adam simply just nodded.

The first day of the read consisted of going over the aspects of the film and the time line of production. After the read through, filming would start, then the movie premiere would take place after filming and production in Hollywood, but that was a whiles away. When the read was over you walked out with another co star. Heading to your condo, you received a text from Carolina. "Girl, just talked to JJ and he just gave me word that there is a sex scene between you and Adam 😁" The stupid emoji at the end made you cringe. Carolina giving you this news shot your nerves through the roof. As if you weren't already nervous enough about working with Adam, having to film a intimate scene made it far worse. Kicking your shoes off and falling onto your bed, you opened instagram, an attempt to get your mind of the situation at hand, it didn't work.

[ken-dom]

Lingered Lips

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

7.2k words

∘₊✧ Summary: When you move from a warmer climate into the house next door to Gus and Karin during winter, Lars helps you to keep warm, and to feel a little more at home in the process.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: This is for my pal @webbo0 who deserves all the warmth and comfort Lars would be able to give (that's a lot). I hope this is something close to what you imagined ! Thank you to my wonderful K (@heresthestorymorningglory) for beta reading and encouraging endlessly! Title from Holding Your Hand by Yung Bae.

∘₊✧ Please note: The story has two possible endings. If you want fluff and kissing with some suggestive bits only, stop when you reach the break in the text (indicated with a photo set), 5.5k. If you want to end on a spicy note, there is an optional NSFW scene after, 1.6k.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: Fluff, homesickness, kissing, heated making out, lots of touching, nervous Lars. In the additional scene; NSFW, dry humping, touching over clothes, cumming in pants.

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

To say there’s a chill in the air is an understatement. Somehow, it seems the inside of the house is colder than the outside. It had been left empty for a good few days before you arrived today with a moving truck full of your worldly belongings, but even so, feeling your fingertips turn numb, you never imagined you’d feel the chill this much.

An uncomfortable question flashes through your mind; Have you done the right thing?, but, already engaged in an internal battle to keep homesickness at bay, you force yourself to think about how you’d not had much of a need for thick duvets and firewood before, reminding yourself that you will adapt. That it will all be worth it. That the cold will soon feel like home.

The house is nice, and you know that once it warms through properly it will feel cosy and homely, even if right now it’s an empty shell of a building waiting for your stamp. But it’s getting there. You can already picture yourself settling down in front of a roaring fire with a blanket and a slice of pie.

You sigh at the fireplace. You have no means to build a fire, and even if you did, where do you begin? Instead, you settle with lighting a few candles you found with a book of matches in the box marked ‘KITCHEN’ in a futile attempt to create a feeling of warmth.

Once you begin the process of dragging furniture around and unpacking boxes that, despite being labelled perfectly well before the move seem to be all out of order again, you generate a little heat as the rooms begin to take shape.

After a while (you’ve no idea how long; you’ve misplaced your phone in the bubblewrap and the clocks are currently hidden in an unopened box, but it’s long since been dark out) you grow tired of organising your things and decide rest is in order. If only that fireplace was roaring and there was a freshly baked pie on the kitchen counter…

You reluctantly blow the candles out, wolf down a couple of the cookies you’d packed for the road, and shiver yourself to sleep under a couple of thin blankets, planning to venture into the town tomorrow and purchase a few items to help you adapt to your new climate a little more comfortably.

****

You’d not yet had time to hang drapes, so when morning arrives, with it comes the sharp winter sun flooding your bedroom, disturbing your dreams and pulling you back to the cold reality you’d fallen asleep in.

You stretch, gradually taking in your new surroundings, and start your day by finding some warmer clothes and a pair of boots packed into one of your overflowing suitcases. 

You step outside to appreciate the crisp covering of snow. It crunches beneath your feet, and you think you could get used to that.

There’s a little parcel a few feet from your doorstep, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string. Looking around for a sign of who might have left it and seeing no one, you pick it up to carry inside. It’s heavier than you anticipate and has a label attached to the string which you read the moment you drop the package onto the kitchen table.

‘Welcome neighbour! Don’t be a stranger! Karin and Gus x’

It must’ve come from the big, white house just a short walk from your own; your closest neighbours, the others being at least a couple of minutes walk away.

You pick at the knot in the parcel string, the paper beneath falling away as the string loosens, and you see a huge tray of pasta bake. It’s homemade and makes your stomach growl just looking at it. The homesick churn in your stomach relaxes in turn, and a smile pulls at your lips.

You should introduce yourself to this Karin and Gus before you venture into town today. That would be the neighbourly thing to do, right?

Rifling through the bag of snacks you’d packed for the road, you found the large tupperware of homemade hamantaschen cookies you’d raided the night before, and, removing just one more cookie to eat immediately, you tuck the tub under your arm, shove your hands into your pockets (adding gloves to your mental shopping list) and set off to greet your new neighbours.

Rounding the corner at the end of your driveway, you see the figure of someone swinging what looked like an axe outside that big, white house.

Gus, you remind yourself of the names on the parcels tag. Karin and Gus.

As you step closer, you can’t help but notice that this Gus guy is kind of…

No. Stop. You cannot find your neighbour attractive. You can’t.

Can you?

‘Hey, Gus?’ you call with a wave, and the man, frankly oozing sexual energy with his brawny arms and that big axe held in an exceptionally strong grip, turns around.

Oh shit. He’s handsome too.

Your gaze drops from his sparkling blue eyes to his handsome mustache, perfectly groomed and sort of dashing…

‘Hi… I uh… I just moved in next door,’ you gesture over your shoulder whilst trying to snap yourself out of whatever this is, and focus on the steamy breath you can see in the air every time you breathe out instead. ‘Gus, isn’t it?’

He doesn’t answer. He bites his lips together and averts his gaze, shoulders hunched.

‘I wanted to thank you and Karin for my welcome gift. It looks so delicious.’

Dropping the axe, the handsome Gus straightens up and your eyes widen at his height.

He steps back, blinking excessively, cheeks blazing hot and hands clenching into tight fists as his sides.

‘Hey, are you alright?’ you try. A whisper.

‘Y-yeah, I-’ he stutters, swallowing hard and thrusting a hand out to you with his eyes closed tight, as though he’s bracing himself for some sort of terrifying impact.

Carefully, you take it, feeling the way his arm tenses when your flesh meets his. He’s warm and clammy and you want to pull him close.

‘I- I’m Lars,’ he breathes, his hand dropping back to his side. ‘Gus is my brother.’

Lars. Your heart skips a beat.

‘Ah… Lars. Nice to meet you. I didn’t mean to startle you,’ you say softly, ‘I just wanted to bring some cookies over for Gus and Karin.’

Lars clocked the container under your arm and visibly settled. ‘Oh… oh, they’re not in right now. I could look after those cookies for you until they’re back though? I promise not to eat them.’

‘Ok, sure! I’ll maybe stop by tomorrow to introduce myself properly, but if you could tell them I said thank you for the warm welcome, I’d appreciate it?’

‘Sure,’ Lars nods, a little skittish.

‘And you can have a cookie,’ you joke, pushing the tub toward him.

Lars huffs out an awkward little chuckle and instead of taking the tub from you, whips what you thought was a thick blue scarf from around his neck.

‘Y-you look cold. Here-’

He shuffles toward you, averting his gaze as he fumbles with wrapping the little handmade blanket around your shoulders, his fingers delicate but shaky.

The fresh scent of laundry detergent mixed with light musk hits you and you all but swoon at the combination. It’s not just a swoon; it’s homely, too. Lars is homely.

‘Thank you,’ you breathe, smiling. Is everyone so kind and polite here?

‘It’s alright. I’m getting a bit hot from chopping wood anyway.’ Lars steps backward, staring at the ground as he creates a more comfortable distance between the two of you. Is it comfortable though? He feels an urge to go back to you. ‘You can bring it over when you’re warmed up and all unpacked.’

He’s so sweet you feel like your heart is on the verge of exploding.

‘I don’t have many winter clothes, actually. That’s where I’m heading now – into town to introduce some wool and a decent coat to my wardrobe, and a nice big duvet to my bed. I knew it’d be cold here but I didn’t think it would be this cold.’

Lars looks down, biting his lips together again, bracing himself to say something. You wait patiently.

‘W-where did you move from?’

‘Somewhere much warmer than this,’ you shiver, sucking in a sharp breath of cool air. ‘For a fresh start.’

Lars’s brow furrows and he lets out a small, ‘Ok!’ He isn’t sure whether it would be too much to question any further, so he drops the subject, reaching a hand out to you.

For a moment, you freeze, a whole movie playing out in your mind of what might await you in the future if you take his hand right now and just… kiss him.

Lars clears his throat. ‘The um… the cookies?’

‘Oh- yes.’ You push the box toward his outstretched hand. ‘Take a couple for yourself too.’

You see a crimson blush dust flare up on his cheeks again.

‘Th-thanks.’

The air thickens then as your gazes lock, until  Lars turns away, and you wonder if you’ve overdone it. He did seem a painfully shy. Maybe he could read your mind and was horrified of what he’d witnessed… or the offer of a cookie was just too much.

Just as you open your mouth to ease the tension and singsong a, Well, see you around, Lars!, he sets down the tupperware full of cookies, gathers a few logs in those burly arms and turns back to you. His cheeks are positively glowing now.

‘Th-these are for you.’

There goes that lightheaded swooning feeling again. ‘Oh, Lars, are you sure?’

‘Of course! I’m really good at it. I chop the wood for Gus and Karin’s house all the time, so it’s really no problem to spare a few… for my neighbour.’

‘Oh! You live here too?’

Lars turns sheepish, nodding toward the garage behind you. ‘I live… there.’ He remembers the time he spent in his home with Bianca. Moments far and few between, but usually tender. He remembers dancing with her by firelight, a jazz record playing softly. He clears his throat. ‘Do you know how to build a fire?’ he asks, much more confidently.

You get the feeling he would take great pride in teaching you, but still feel a little silly admitting the truth to him. How could you accept these logs in all good conscience when you’ve never built a log fire in your life and have no idea where to begin other than… setting them on fire?

Embarrassment creeps onto your cheeks and you hold your breath, scrunching your nose up. ‘Nope. You got me. Something else for me to learn now that I live here.’

‘I could show you some time,’ Lars mutters, so quiet you almost don’t hear him. His voice cracks as he backtracks, ‘if- if you like?’

You nod, and both of you are blushing so hard you’re barely able to look at one another aside from surreptitious stolen glances.

You hug the firewood close to your chest and take a deep, steadying breath. ‘Thank you, Lars. For everything.’

As you trudge back over the undisturbed snow to store the logs in your porch, you chuckle to yourself. You needn’t have worried about the cold, all you have to do is talk to Lars for a few minutes and you’ll soon warm up.

****

Wrapped in the same paper and tied with the same string, another parcel appears on your doorstep the very next morning. 

Your head tilts as you bend to collect it, wondering what else Gus and Karin could possibly have sent you when you haven’t even met them yet. Would this turn into a never-ending exchange of reheatable meals and cookies?

It feels lighter, soft in your hands.

You tear the paper open right there and then, too curious to wait. Two thick sweaters spill into your hands, a small sheet of note paper floating to your feet.

They smell like Lars, and you know instantly that they’re his. It’s the same scent you caught from his blanket yesterday; the same one that lingered on his skin when he had leaned in close to wrap it around your shoulders – fresh and soft with a hint of musk. Comforting. Homely.

Butterflies soar in your stomach and for a moment, you forget that you’re standing in the frosty air in just your pyjamas and socks.

You collect the note up and shut out the cold, heart beating a little faster as you sit down to read it and learn what his handwriting looks like. It’s neat, large letters, cursive. Romantic.

You shake your head, still in denial that you’d ever dare to think of him that way, pretending you hadn’t fallen asleep wondering what his soft lips might feel like against yours and dreamed about him teaching you to chop wood, his strong arms braced around yours to guide you as you swung the axe.

You tried to focus on the words rather than the style of the handwriting or your own wandering mind, almost nervous to begin reading, wondering what he wants to say to you.

I hope you don’t mind me leaving these for you – I don’t wear them so much any more and thought they would be put to better use building up your winter wardrobe. 

One has a hole in the sleeve. I’m sorry about that. I would have fixed it but I never learned how to sew. It’s ok if you don’t like them.

Hope you’re keeping warm! 

Lars (your neighbour)(the one from the garage)

You bite your lips together to keep a whine from escaping. Your neighbour? The one from the garage? As if you could possibly forget him.

‘Could you be any cuter?’ you grin, and fold the letter, standing to head right back to your bedroom and dress immediately throwing on the new puffer coat you bought in the town yesterday over a Lars scented sweater, grab your last tub of cookies and head out, marching straight up to the door of the garage next door.

****

‘Hi.’ Lars swallows the word, opening his door just enough to poke his face through the gap. 

He’s just as handsome as you remember. Maybe more. The way the bright winter sun hits his eyes and sets the deep blue sparkling, the coy little smile he can’t quite hide beneath that impeccably groomed mustache…

‘Hi,’ you sigh. You might feel a twinge of embarrassment, but Lars seems so taken aback to see you, you don’t think he’ll notice your indiscreet little swoon.

You clear your throat. ‘Thank you so much for the sweaters, Lars. You really didn’t have to.’

‘Oh it’s nothing,’ he protests, struggling to meet your gaze and chewing his lips as though he’s scared of what he might say if he doesn’t bite them together.

‘I brought more cookies. Just for you this time.’

Lars squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep steadying breath.

‘Are you ok?’

He blinks his eyes open again and finally looks into yours. ‘Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m ok.’

Even so, his fingers fiddle with the slightly chipped paint around the edge of the door he’s holding ajar.

‘Alright, well…’

‘Did you use the firewood yet?’ he blurts, eyes closed again but voice much louder.

‘No, I never got the chance to look up how to build a proper fire last night, so-’

‘Would you like me to show you? Now?’ His face scrunches up in what looks like pain.

‘Yes! That would be great.’

Lars nods, smiling, and opens the door. ‘Please, come in,’ he breathes, and you notice his hand gripping so tight onto the door now that his knuckles have turned white.

You step inside the little garage apartment, immediately so at ease that you almost feel at home here.

There’s a jazz record playing softly, and you sway a little as you glance around, clocking the log burner in the corner. His bed is neatly made with two or three blankets layered on the top, warm and cosy. You wonder what he wears to bed.

The kitchen is sparse and clean, a small double hob occupying a whistling kettle and a pan. There are a few cupboards you imagine are mostly bare. 

A door to the left looks like it must lead to the bathroom, because aside from a small closet and a couple of shelves on the wall, that’s all of it. Lars’s entire home.

He doesn’t appear to have many worldly belongings, but what he does have, he appreciates and takes good care of. You smile at that. Maybe he would take good care of you, too.

In many ways, you think, perhaps without even knowing it, he already has.

Lars closes the front door, but doesn’t move from his spot beside it, staring down at his feet.

‘W-we might as well enjoy the fire after I show you how to get it going. Would you like to stay for a drink? We could share the cookies? If you like?’

He glances toward you with that pained look again, but it quickly softens when you answer simply with a gentle; ‘Yes. I’d love to.’

Lars grins, incredulous, and springs into action, preparing to start work on building the fire, dropping to his knees before the log burner.

‘Alright, the first thing we need to do is make sure the firewood is in good condition. I know mine is, of course, but it’s always worth checking, because…’

You sit beside him, fully intending to learn a valuable lesson that will no doubt serve you for many winters to come, but Lars picks up a log with such care the mere sight of it makes you shiver.

Carefully, he runs the tips of his long, thick fingers over the smooth edge of the wood, treating it so delicately that every word out of his mouth blurs into barely perceptible background noise and all you can manage to do is watch those elegant fingers tracing over the contours and try not to imagine how they’d feel on your skin instead.

Startlingly, he stops the demonstration short and turns to you. It’s far from abrupt, but it drags you out of your reverie nonetheless.

‘Got that?’ he asks eagerly.

‘Hmm?’

‘Ready for the next step?’ Lars beams at you. He’s been talking nonstop, completely lost in the world of firewood while you were lost in the world of… Lars.

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ you lie, hoping the next part won’t be as difficult to take in and that you can piece together whatever you’ve missed.

Lars opens up what he calls the damper, leaning forward to place kindling into the centre of the stove, his sweater rides up a little at the back, and although you try with all your might not to look, you can’t quite avoid it. Beneath those three layers, his exposed skin looks so soft and pale and… warm.

There are a few small beauty marks dotted close to his hip and you get the urge to trace them with your finger tips, follow them like a constellation and connect the stars with your tongue…

But you’re not supposed to be thinking about the flesh of Lars’s lower back under your fingers and lips. You’re supposed to be listening to his instructions.

You close your eyes and try to focus.

Good logs. Damper open. Something about kindling.

You can do this. You can.

Oblivious, Lars continues, arranging dry wood around the kindling and placing the logs gently on top, taking as much care as if he was creating a work of art.

He’s so passionate and thorough in the way he describes the process, the way he’s handling the equipment, that this in itself is making you come over too hot.

Is he this passionate and thorough with a lover? 

Stop.

You shake the thought from your head and wonder if you will manage to actually sit in front of a blazing fire with him at all if he carries on like this. Carries on being so… so…

‘Would you like to do the honours?’ he grins, sitting back on his heels.

You swallow hard. ‘Sure!’ 

Lars hands you a half empty box of matches. His hands are no longer trembling, you notice, but yours have certainly begun to shake as you select and strike a match.

Lars’s palm slides over the back of your hand, warm and soft, to guide your flame to the kindling. Your head spins and you lean forward together, bodies pressing close as you hold the match still and wait.

Both of you watch with delight as the fire takes hold and bursts to life before you.

You smile at Lars, who beams back. There’s but an inch between you and you can’t help but lick your lips and you glance down at his.

‘We did it,’ he breathes. ‘Next time, you can try arranging the kindling-’ He stops himself. 

Next time.

Suddenly his face is burning, his forehead is damp and his chest is tight, and a voice in his head is firmly telling him to run in the opposite direction.

‘How about that drink?’ you remind him, hoping it’ll ease the tension.

Lars is more grateful than you could ever know for that simple suggestion. It gives him a reason not to completely consume you, which is both his greatest fear and his strongest urge with you so close. He isn’t sure whether the heat he feels is from the fire or from his burning attraction to you, but thinking about it is making him dizzy.

He snaps up to stride into the kitchen and start the kettle boiling, and you try to focus on breathing.

As you feel comforting warmth radiating from the glow of the fireplace and listen to him pottering in the kitchen, your eyes slip closed.

This is home.

‘Is hot chocolate ok?’ Lars calls over.

‘No lactose for me, please, Lars.’

‘No problem! I can work around that. See, if you mix the cocoa powder into a paste with a small amount of the water first, you can make it smooth and thick without the need for milk! Neat little trick, huh? And I can skip the cream topping, just for you.’ 

Lars is once again in his element. He seems so happy to share his habits with someone – with you – that it eradicates the overwhelming nerves he was fighting moments ago. 

‘That sounds wonderful. Thank you.’

‘Uhm- do you… do you mind if I have a little cream on mine?’ he asks, cautious. ‘I’ll only have a little bit.’

‘Of course I don’t mind!’

He chuckles quietly with a shaky exhale of nervous energy. ‘Ok!’

You watch as he finishes up and joins you again placing two big mugs of hot chocolate on the little rug in front of the fire.

‘You know, I used to treat myself to a hot chocolate now and then before I moved here, even though it was much warmer. I wonder if it’ll hit different now that I actually need heating up,’ you laugh, blowing out a steady breath to ripple over the surface of the steaming liquid before taking a careful sip.

Lars watches the way your lips move, snapping his eyes shut when he realises where his thoughts are going – the same place they went last night when he was trying to fall asleep but you kept appearing in his semi-unconscious state, asking if you could hold his hand and kiss him.

He clears his throat. ‘So, how are you adjusting? Have you seen the doctor yet?’

Your brow furrowed. Did you need to see a doctor just for moving here?

‘No, I mean, it has felt a little strange, but I thought it was just a touch of homesickness…’

‘I think that’s normal,’ Lars nods, face turning serious and voice lowering like he was keeping a secret from prying ears. ‘I had a girlfriend who came from a much warmer climate, you see. She was half Brazilian and half Danish, and she’d been used to warmer temperatures before she came here. So, I’m used to it.’

Lars shrugs and sips his drink, casually sure of himself.

‘Girlfriend?’ you blurt before you can stop yourself. You try to at least sound easygoing, but it comes off more strained than anything thanks to curiosity getting the better of you.

‘Oh, wait, I’m not suggesting that we’re uhm… friends of any sort- I mean-’

‘No… no, it’s ok.’ Another easy smile. ‘I just wondered about her, that’s all.’

You move to place your mug back down as Lars makes the same motion, and as you reach forward, your skin brushes his.

Time stops. Lars almost flinches, but he lingers instead, seeking you out once again, grazing the back of his fingers against the back of your hand, witnessing the connection, awe pulling at his features.

It’s different from when he guided your flame to the kindling, and he realises that then as much as now, your flesh against his feels almost… tolerable. More than tolerable. It feels good.

You hold your breath, needing to be closer again. Needing to feel heat from him and not just the fire, inhale that comforting scent that you’ve already come to associate with your new home, the one laced on his hand knitted blue blanket that you forgot to return today in your rush to get back to him. You don’t plan to tell him you’d slept clutching it for comfort, or that it remained beneath the covers on your unmade bed.

‘It’s getting a bit hot,’ you breathe shakily, eyes locking on his. ‘May I take off my coat?’

Lars doesn’t answer, he just helps you with removing the coat from your shoulders like a true gentleman, folding it neatly and placing it on the bed for you.

‘Better?’

‘Much.’

‘You’re wearing one of my old sweaters,’ he says quietly, staring at you as he takes in how it fits your form compared to his, how good it looks on you and how he wants to help take the sweater off your body, too…

His fingers wander to the collar, where he drags a fingertip gently over the familiar wool before dropping back to his lap.

The air between you grows thicker again and all at once you’re breathless.

‘Lars…’

‘Hmm?’

‘You have some, uh…  cream… just-’

His gaze is intense on your lips as your fingers move to wipe the cream from his perfect mustache. It’s tender. Loving, almost. His breath is hot and ragged against your fingers and for a wild moment, you think about slowly pushing a finger between his plump, shiny lips.

Instead you come to your senses and bring it back down, coated in a light covering of the cream.

‘You know, lactose intolderance doesn’t always stop me,’ you smirk, licking the cream from your finger. ‘If it’s just a little bit. Perhaps… a little bit more?’

Lars doesn’t move as you press forward, closing the gap between you and leaving enough pause for him to move away. But he doesn’t. He presses his lips to yours and elicits contented hum that makes him simply melt into you.

There’s more cream on his mustache that smears onto your upper lip and you pull back, licking yourself clean and pushing forward to lick the last of it from him, too.

Lars parts his lips to allow your tongue inside. It feels natural yet unusual, not at all how he imagined kissing would feel. But it’s just as thrilling as he’d hoped it would be, and the butterflies in his stomach that he’d been trying hard to control begin to explode into something wonderful, a new sensation that he had the overwhelming urge to chase.

Your lips against his are so soft and wet, and his head is swimming with what all of this means.  The feeling growing somewhere deep inside him pushes through to the forefront. It’s something he can’t seem to control. It’s too new, too exciting, so he follows his gut.

With a shaky hand, he reaches forward to touch you. He’s not sure where, or how, but he’s overcome with that sudden urge to consume you entirely again, and he can’t stop the hand hesitating midair from grabbing your shoulder and pushing you down onto the rug.

He’s strong, and that sets your nerves alight. You knew when you saw the perfect control with which he wielded his axe. Your hands slide up over his biceps and squeeze the firm muscles, and Lars whines.

Even with this newfound dominance, he’s unsure, hesitant — but eager. Your tongue guides his, gently leading him into a steady rhythm with slow flicks and languid slides, each one setting his desire aflame until he’s breathless.

Your guidance doesn’t falter when he positions himself on top of you. If anything, the kiss turns hungrier and Lars moans, muffled in your mouth, and he wants more despite the nerves bubbling up in his stomach. Worries creep in that he’ll do something wrong, that he shouldn’t be doing this at all. 

There’s a nagging thought in the back of his mind that making out like this isn’t something he should be doing. It feels far too exciting to be allowed. Far too naughty, and that seems to spur on the excitement, and it all feels so good how could it be wrong?

His pants are getting tighter and he knows he can control himself if he just manages to get back outside and pick up his axe and burn it off, but he doesn’t want to this time. Not with you here, kissing him, touching him, making him feel good.

But what will Gus and Karin think when they find out he kissed their new neighbour with such fierce passion less than forty-eight hours after you arrived in town? Somewhere within his muddle of thoughts, he hears Gus muttering an impressed, ‘It’s always the quiet ones…’ and his cheeks burn a little hotter.

He feels you pushing at his shoulders then, a signal to stop, and he scrambles back to sit up, covering his face with his hands.

He was on another plane of existence just a moment ago and now everything was crashing down around him. He had gone too far, been selfish with his affections. What had he done?

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-’ he sobs into his palms, muffled and desperate.

‘Don’t be,’ you soothe, sitting up to join him as you fight off the haze of pleasant lightheadedness his kiss had caused. ‘I liked it.’

You grab the half-full mugs of chocolate and pass him his. He accepts with a nervous smile and you sip the remaining drinks together in comfortable silence, enjoying the crackle of the fire, the kiss having broken the tension.

You lay your head on his shoulder and sigh, content. You hadn’t felt so at home since you’d arrived, and you didn’t want to leave. You also didn’t want to admit that you’d not really listened when he’d been kind enough to show you how to use the logs he’d gifted to you.

Meanwhile, Lars’s head is buzzing. He thinks over how he’s already shared his first kiss with you (first kiss with tongues, anyway — he’d kissed Bianca once or twice in moments of madness, but never with tongue). He thinks about how far he’s come since Bianca, and how if it weren’t for her he probably wouldn’t have had the courage to finish a conversation with you yet, let alone push you onto the floor and dare to let desire consume him for a short while.

And he can’t just leave it there now, not now he’s tasted you, shared a part of himself with you; he needs more. He decides he needs to act now or he will think about it so much he’ll scare himself away from the idea.

So before he can even formulate an actual plan to ask you out, he blurts;

‘You want me to show you around sometime? There’s the lake, and- oh, I have a treehouse there!- and we could go into the town together, too, maybe to the mall? Gus and Karin would love to have you over for dinner, I bet. They’re always asking me, so I could bring you as my guest! Do you bowl? I’m not very good, but I’m getting better and-’

‘I’m absolutely shit at bowling,’ you laugh, and Lars laughs too, relieved you’d stopped him talking himself into a certain hole he’d never climb out of. ‘But I still like to play. I’d actually really like to go with you sometime.’

You feel Lars holding all his breath in his lungs, and smile to yourself. He’s so easy to fluster. You could have fun with that, you muse, but stop yourself thinking on it for too long.

‘C-can we still… kiss?’ Lars stutters, trailing off, ‘I liked it, too.’

You chuckle to yourself, giddy at how nice this all feels. ‘Do you make a habit of kissing your neighbours, Lars?’

It’s a playful question, and although you can’t see his face you can sense that he’s blushing profusely, blinking hard again.

‘No! No, I’ve never-’

‘Good. But, how about… you do it again? Just for me?’

∘₊✧─────────NSFW─────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Lars throws his coat and hat on so haphazardly to get out of work at the earliest possible moment, his hair is sticking out at every angle.

He rushes home, wheels spinning against the gravel before his car screeches to a halt outside the garage. He grabs his briefcase and the little plastic bag he carries his good shoes to work in, and darts out of the car to his front door.

Gus and Karin don’t know about you yet. Or rather, they know about you, but not about the way you’d touched and kissed Lars. Or the way you occupied his thoughts every second since. When they’d mentioned you to Lars over breakfast this morning, he made his excuses and ran, worried he’d give himself away with blushing cheeks or breathlessness.

He may as well have not gone into work today. He might have been physically present, but his mind was very firmly elsewhere. All he could think about was the way your lips felt when they had slid so sensually against his. Not burning or uncomfortable in the least. It’s almost jarring, how good it made him feel. He’d only ever been that comfortable with Bianca before, and the thought sets his teeth on edge and his heart racing.

His stomach churns every time he replays the kiss you’d shared. And the second kiss. And the third. Except it’s not churning exactly. It’s more like fluttering, low and unsettled in his belly. Is that what people mean when they say they have butterflies? He’s never felt that before.

Right now he needs to focus on getting inside before he’s stopped by Karin. His chest heaves when he finally unlocks his door and slams it shut behind him. Luckily Karin doesn’t see him, or has decided against chasing him for dinner tonight. She’d been better at that since Bianca, leaving Lars to mind his own business much more often than she used to. Lars thanks his lucky stars that tonight is one of those nights.

He’s trembling, he realises, as he hangs up his coat and sets his bags down. His stomach is in knots with these mysterious butterflies again, and his heart is thudding in his ears.

He braces himself against the wall by his coat pegs, resting his forehead to the back of his hand as he tries to force his breathing slow, and to focus on organising his thoughts.

All he has to do is choose a sweater, brush his teeth and comb his hair. Simple, easy steps. One thing at a time. Sweater. Let’s start there.

Within twenty minutes, there are six discarded sweaters scattered on his bed and Lars is staring himself out in the bathroom mirror, hair perfectly combed back, breath minty and teeth shiny. He runs his tongue over them, wishing he was running it over your teeth instead.

****

You settle down for dinner with a successfully built fire crackling and hissing in the hearth. You were a bit distracted as you spent far too long adjusting the kindling and remembering the order of the steps to take, piecing together the scraps of information you’d somehow retained from your lesson with Lars. But you did it, and now your house is the glowing, cosy home you’d hoped it would be.

Before you can take a bite of your delicious looking dinner, courtesy of Karin and Gus, an urgent banging at the door makes your heart jump in your chest.

Please be Lars, please be Lars, please be Lars, you hope, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror as you head for the front door, trying your very best to appear casual, and as though you haven’t been thinking about him nonstop since you left his place yesterday.

‘Lars!’ you exclaim, far more excited than you intend it to come out, and your cheeks prickle with heat.

Lars is leaning with one hand up against the door frame, mock confidence oozing from him, and he looks so handsome it makes your head spin. He’s wearing a gorgeous sweater which you gather he must save for special occasions. His hair is combed back perfectly, and a warm smile graces his lips.

Your eyes lock with his when you’re done checking him out so obviously his cheeks are crimson now too, and you simply can’t say another word. The gaze between you is so intense, so filled with intention, the cold air turns thick and you can barely breathe.

Lars lunges forward and presses himself to you. Your lips crash, then his chest is flush with yours and you realise his arms are snaking around your waist, but it’s all so fast and so frenzied you can’t quite keep up. You just need each other and in that moment, knowing he’s close is enough.

With a shaky sigh, he rolls his hips into you. He’s rock hard. You gasp, and he whines into your mouth as the frictions tingles through his core.

He’s fighting to control himself but it’s so difficult when you want this as much as he does and he knows he can chase the thrill with you.

He didn’t even mean to get hard, but after thinking about you for twenty four solid hours and trying not to think about how you’d feel touching him there, it truly was a task not to succumb to the natural pull of arousal before now. He’d done well to last this long.

Only, what if you’d changed your mind since yesterday? He should have asked. He shouldn’t have assumed from your dilated pupils and the way you bit your lip as your eyes grazed over his lips. 

He pulls away, mortified. His body had betrayed him, he lost control, he-

But you push forward, reaching between your flush bodies to stroke the hard bulge tenting in his smartest pants. The fabric is soft against the flesh of your palm and you sigh into his mouth, rubbing needily over his length.

You’re ok with it, he thinks somewhere from within the haze of incredible pleasure and fading embarrassment, a prickly combination that falls away as he kisses you back and it all just becomes you and him. I can be ok with it, too. 

You pause for breath and Lars hisses from between gritted teeth, feeling the overwhelming urge to moan and to chase the coiling sensation tightening in his gut.

He needs more, but it’s already too much. He’s not sure how these things work exactly. He doesn’t know if you would consider him a… what are they called? A one night stand. Or if you’d expect something in return, or for him to make a move before he-

‘Ohhhmmnn…’ he groans. It’s low and primal for such a small sound and it makes your core ache.

His head falls to the crook of your neck while his fingers grip at your arms with a strength that makes your breathing catch in your throat, and just as you’re considering unfastening those smart, grey pants to get your hand inside and really feel him, Lars’s whole body shudders and you wrap your free arm around his lower back to steady him as he turns weak and flops against you, hips bucking as he spills, hot and thick, inside his pants.

A string of ragged, breathless moans and weak little whimpers slowly tear from his throat as he tries to regain composure.

Weak, he keeps his face buried against you for now, his eyes shut tight as you slide a hand up to stroke through his hair, bringing him back to you.

He needed that release, and with it came a sense of clarity that he only wants more of you. He wants to see you, feel you, kiss you every single day. Is that unreasonable?

The real reason he’d knocked on your door swells within his stomach, butterflies returning swiftly to replace the heated coil that had wound up and finally sprung free at your touch.

Desire – in particular, sexual desire – is not the original reason Lars came over tonight. He never dreamed he would make such a mess in his trousers or that you’d kiss like that again, even though he’s kinds of glad both of those things did happen. Glad but… embarrassed.

His underwear is sticky against his skin, and he knows his release is soaking through the front of his pants. Along with the uncomfortable sensations he wants to soothe away with a refreshing shower and a clean pair of underwear, shame consumes him as he struggles to peel himself off you. 

But you come to the rescue as you so often seem to do, guiding him over to your sofa and flopping down onto it with him. Your hand finds his, lacing your fingers together as you settle comfortably.

It feels like home. Lars feels like home, and once again you get that feeling in your gut that tells you never to leave his side.

‘Lars…’ you start, voice barely a whisper, and he turns to you, finally meeting your eyes, and you notice how wet his are. Had he cried when he came? 

‘Was there… a reason you came over tonight? You know, other than-’

Lars clears his throat before you can say any more. There’s still a pang of shame, and he knows what he did, he doesn’t need to hear it too. ‘Yes, I… I wanted to ask you something.’

As you prepare to hear it, he presses his lips together into a tight smile.

‘What is it?’ you ask gently. ‘Whatever it is, I’m ready.’

‘I wanted to ask you… well, I thought- maybe- I could be your boyfriend? I-if you’d like…’

Your answer comes as another bruising kiss, head spinning at the question until you pull back, panting, and rest your forehead against his. He nuzzles against it, never having found such comfort in anything but his blanket before now.

Lars smiles, ‘I think you mean yes.’

‘Yes,’ you confirm, your own lips curling upwards. ‘Take me bowling?’

[brabblesblog]

Writer Interview Game

Thank you for the tag, @kittenintheden <3

When did you start writing?

So I've written short stories as a kid, maybe once in second grade. Then it was a lot of essays and thesis papers. I've done a bit of RP in my younger days as well. I officially began writing around September 2023 right after finishing BG3!

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I love horror. Stephen King is one of my favorite writers, and I absolutely devour his books, but I have no desire in writing for that!

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I don't think I've ever been compared to another writer. I don't think I'm anywhere near good enough to actually be compared to anyone of note!

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

My side of the bed. Right by a window, with my phone in hand, bundled up in sheets. That, or my desktop, which has a mousepad with corgis and a pink keyboard and mouse set.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

For me, inspiration comes and goes. A good lift can get me there sometimes. There's also music. But sometimes even if it isn't there, I push on.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I suppose as someone who tried. That's all I can really ask for. Someone who put their heart into a story they wanted told.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I don't know, honestly. I know what I enjoy, though. I like writing dialog, and painting a more nuanced characterization than what was given in canon, using it as a launching pad for more.

How do you feel about your own writing?

To be completely honest I don't think of my writing much, or at all. I try not to, or the impostor syndrome hits. I try to take it day by day.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I write for me. Whither was written with an ending for my self-insert in mind. With @editing-by-night's help I also now am able to write ideas that expand further and make it more entertaining and far more cohesive a story, but at heart, it's always been for me.

no pressure tags: @astarioffsimpmain @vixstarria @carmsgarms

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

At what point did you actually start writing stories? Like when did the idea become an actual thing? Because I’ve got several story plots written out, some like in detail. But I’m not a story writer. Do you just like, do it and see what happens?

Also I’m sorry if I’m sending too many asks, I’ve just got lots of thoughts about lots of things.

Never apologize for the asks! I love getting and answering them! 😊

I honestly can't remember 😅 I started writing when I was 18, which was 5-6 years ago, and I don't actually remember when or how I actually decided to sit down and write something? I know it was after I saw Captain Marvel, because that was the first book I uploaded. And I started easy because I followed the movie.

But I have such a strong imagination and I daydream a lot, so I put down the story I had created in my head. It was too much to all keep into my head. I wanted to get it down on paper.

And no I don't plan anything out. Not very far into the future anyway. I do have a general idea of events I want to happen, and I do have a note in my phone with some points, but I have the urge to throw in a million other plotpoints that pop up in my head 😂😂

For the prequel tho, I will have to write out the whole plot beforehand because I want it to have tension and a real plot yk?

[soleilceirinen]

Renaissance | teacher!Cillian Murphy x fem!Reader - Part 6

Summary: you are an Art History student in your last year at university. Cillian is your teacher. A/N: in this story Cillian is about 20 years older than the reader. Everything happens in an alternative universe where he is not an actor or famous, he doesn't have a wife or kids like in real life. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistake! Part 5 - Cillian Murphy Masterlist - Part 7

Unlike most people, you liked Mondays. To you, it meant the beginning of a new week, a reset. But this Monday was different and so far, you hated every second of it. 

After your kiss with Cillian last Friday, you decided not to go further that night so he drove you to your flat. Once there, you said goodbye with a bunch of tiny kisses and the promise to talk later but it never happened.

You had spent the weekend staring at your phone, waiting for a reply to the text you had sent him. It just said “Good morning!” and a flushed emoji but he never answered. So, considering his lack of response, you sent him an email with your project progress, to which he didn’t reply either. 

And now, you had been sitting in the classroom for forty minutes while listening to him talk about Margaret of Austria’s portrait collection. Forty minutes in which he didn’t look at your direction at all, as if you were invisible. 

You continued taking notes until the end of the lecture, breaking the paper sheet a couple times due to the pressure with which you were writing. When the other students had left the classroom, you walked to his desk to confront him. 

“Good morning, Cillian.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the papers and books scattered around his desk when he answered you.

“Mr. Murphy is the proper way to address me, miss Y/L/N. Can I help you with something?” 

You looked at him in disbelief. 

“Well, I texted you and you never said anything back, I was worried,” you admitted. He just shrugged dismissively.  

“There’s nothing to worry about. Do you need anything else?”

“Yes, Mr. Murphy,” you said bitterly, “I also sent you a few new pages of the project so you could review them and give me some feedback.”

Cillian sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“I looked over it, it’s okay but be careful with the paragraphs and the structure. If you need something else, my tutoring sessions are Tuesdays at 11 a.m. and Thursdays at 18 p.m., you can find me at my office.” He looked at you briefly, before saying “Have a nice day, miss Y/L/N.” 

You didn't know how to react to his sudden coldness so you frowned and left the classroom with the ghost of tears stinging your eyes.

The rest of the week went by the same way, with Cillian ignoring you and only addressing you to make a comment about your project. As far as you were concerned, you had no idea what could have caused that change in his attitude but it made you feel quite miserable, just to think of what could have been and wasn’t. 

After a long morning of lectures you were finally free to go and have lunch. You and Olivia had met to eat at a Japanese restaurant near the university. Once seated at your table, you noticed that she was quieter than usual. 

“So, how is everything going for you?” you asked. “Are you still seeing that guy, the artist?”

She frowned and shook her head. “No way. At least not after he painted my pussy on a 120 x 160 canvas and displayed it for everyone to see.”

“Well, I can tell you something, it was sold” you comforted her. “By the way, I thought you knew which part of you he was painting.”

Olivia groaned and hid her face in her arms. 

“He never told me, said it was a surprise. His favourite part of me, you know” she added, rolling her big eyes. “But let’s talk about something else, what about you? You look sad.”

You shrugged. “It’s nothing, I’m a bit overwhelmed with my final project but…” You stopped talking when you saw a group of people sit a couple of tables away. 

They were teachers, you realised since some of them had taught you in recent years, plus Cillian was among them. He also noticed your presence, you caught him looking at you but he immediately looked away. Olivia looked at you with half closed eyes and then she turned around to look at the teacher’s table. You grabbed her arm to make her stop.

“Don’t do that!”

“Why not?” she asked suspiciously while you tried to hide the fact that you were starting to blush. 

“That’s my final project tutor” you whispered. “Don’t look!”

Olivia made a face of annoyance at you. “If I can’t look, how am I supposed to know which one is your tutor? I’ll just take a little look, they won’t notice, I promise Y/N”, she assured. 

You nodded slightly, accepting the fact that they would notice anyway. “Okay. It’s the guy with blue eyes.”

After a failed, as expected, attempt to be subtle, Olivia focused again on you leaning on the table so that nobody else but you could hear her. “He’s handsome but he looks like he’s sucking on a lemon.”

You couldn't help but burst out laughing, narrowly avoiding choking on your soda. 

“Olivia!”

She giggled with you, satisfied with herself. 

“At least I made you smile.” 

The rest of the meal was uneventful, just you and Olivia catching up. It had been a long time since you had such a good time with your friend like this but sadly, it had to end. Otherwise, you wouldn’t get on time to work. Olivia led the way to the door, taking the opportunity to look closely at Cillian as she passed their table. You followed her, nodding in his direction as you walked past him. 

“Y/N”

You turned around slowly. Cillian was about to get up from the table, some of the teachers looked at you with curiosity and others with recognition. You smiled at them politely. 

“What is it, Mr. Murphy?”

“I need to talk to you”, he said. You wanted to slap him in the face, right on his stupidly perfect cheekbones. You felt your blood boiling with his audacity after ignoring you for a whole week 

“I’m sure it can wait until Monday, or you can send me an email. It’s very simple but I guess it’s up to you. Goodbye Mr. Murphy, have a nice weekend everyone.”

Later, you were sitting at the art gallery office with your final project opened on your laptop. On calm days like that, you used to take the opportunity and study. Maureen and Laura didn’t care about it. 

A knock on the door made you take your eyes away from the laptop screen. There was Maureen, with her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun while holding a plastic bag. 

“Good afternoon, Y/N. How are you?” 

“I’m fine, everything is quiet here. I was trying to write some more of my research but I think I’ll give up for today. What about you?”

She took a seat next to you and started searching for something in the bag while talking. 

“Don't get saturated, sometimes it is better to let a few days pass and return to the project with more energy and inspiration.”

You nodded in agreement. Then, Maureen took out a small photo album and started flipping through all the pages. 

“We want to make a video for the wedding with photos of us from when we were children and teenagers, you know, until we met. So yesterday I spent all day going through photo albums and came across this, I thought you might like to see it.”

She held a polaroid in front of you. Carefully, you took it and examined it in detail. In a handwriting that you recognised as Maureen’s, it said Summer ‘99. It wasn’t difficult to tell who they were since they looked the same, but younger.

“It’s you and Cillian” you stated. 

“We took that picture the summer after we graduated from university, we were about your age there.”

“So, you and him know each other really well or just as former classmates?” you wondered, still looking at the polaroid. She sighed. 

“We are very close, even though he likes to disappear from time to time.” She took out another picture and gave it to you, putting the other one back in the album. “You can keep that one, since you see Cill more than I do, you should have a chance to give it to him. It could bring back good memories, right?” 

You stared at the polaroid and nodded absentminded. From the corner of your eyes you saw Maureen get up after hearing Laura call her from the gallery, she gave you a little squeeze in the shoulder before disappearing. 

In the photograph was a young Cillian smiling from ear to ear, with messy hair and a sunburnt face, which surely would explain the amount of freckles he had now. Also, the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners was still the same, although more accentuated with the years. 

Despite all that had happened, you couldn’t help but feel a certain nostalgia. 

A sound coming from your laptop made you look, there was a new message from Cillian. He wanted to meet you in his office on Monday afternoon. Your answer was concise, just to let him know that you would be there.

Only then you were aware of the knot that had formed in your stomach. You were hoping for things to develop smoothly and go back to normal, as they were before that week. But just like it happened with your roommate Brad, deep inside you had the suspicion that what Cillian had to say wasn't good news.

[orchidyoonkook]

Do you have any tips for new writers/accounts to get popular???

Hello!!!!!

SO:

I was a shit writer for a very long time cuz I never wrote. But one day I wanted to change that so at 19 I made up a story and wrote down all my plot points and then did a DEEP DIVE on Pinterest of all things collecting every bit of advice I could. I’m talking ideas, how to do this, how to not use the word said, how to start sentences. How sentences should flow and their lengths, big uncommon words. EVERYTHING.

Anything and everything I could get my hands on. 

And on top of that I’ve been a reader for forever. I have so many books I don’t even know how many I have. And so I use that knowledge when editing. I don’t read it from a writing POV after I write it. I turn into a reader and think about how I would feel about it from a readers POV and if something doesn’t work. I fix it.

I have a small background in script writing from my college days which definitely helped a bit. But if you’ve ever studied script writing you know it doesn’t really help creative writing outside of structure.

And when I write I’m someone who writes until I think the story is done. Not the arc. Not the characters. But the overall story of what I’m trying to portray. I don’t actively think about putting the climax of the story here or some foreshadowing there. I write intuitively if that makes sense. I try to sense out what feels right. And some of that comes naturally, some of it doesn’t and I have to work on it.

Me and @violetsiren90 were actually talking roughly about this last night. Our differences in how we write and how my advice from her last fic that I edited had already helped her with her new one cuz she can now see all of the little things that I pick up on from my style of writing versus the times where she tells me why she writes in that specific way and why she will be keeping it as is. Vi if you wanna add anything in the comments I’m forgetting, by all means feel free.

Most writers will tell you to practice. To tell you to write something even if it’s just a sentence everyday. But that didn’t help me. The stuff on my blog are the very first things I’ve written for myself ever. I didn’t write in highschool or college outside of what I was forced to write and my one story that the Pinterest board was initially for.

For me it was about researching style and reading posts like these from other writers, being confident in your style and learning what rules to break and when to break them. It was about reading over your work a hundred times and to be impartial when you read so you can fix the mistakes that won’t work.

The benefit of writing is you can go over something you’ve written a hundred times until you think it’s ready. A thousand times. I can go back and rewrite that first story if I want too. Nothing can stop me.

But don’t get me wrong. I go back and read all my works on here from time to time and I still constantly find things I would change now. Word changes. Phrasing changes. Everything. But that’s just another sign of improvement. Writing is a constantly improving art form. There is no limit. Only growth.

And the last thing I do is write down everything. I have a TERRIBLE memory. So I write down every single idea. On a scrap piece of paper. In my phone. On a computer. In a notebook. Cuz you never know when you’ll use it.

My most recent story, The Devil Wears Valentino, I got the idea for that name sometime in the immediate aftermath of Valentino Yoongi. I was in the shower after watching the devil wears Prada and my mind just connected the two. And then it sat unused in my notes all until the week before Halloween 2023. I would’ve forgotten had I not written it down. But there it was right when I needed it, a gift from past me. And here we are.

As for popularity, dude I have no goddamn idea. I don’t even think I count as a popular/big blog. I utilize the HELL out of aesthetics, formatting and tags and I’m nice. That’s my spiel on that. Aesthetic. Format. Tag. Kindness. Talent, sure. I guess. But writing is one of those things, ESPECIALLY in fic, where it doesn’t have to be the best cuz folks just wanna read their comfort character or person in the same scenarios over and over again. Source: I do that. And I’ve read stories that don’t have the best writing. But the story was good, or vice versa. People are way more forgiving on here.

I didn’t come on here(tumblr) with the intention of writing let alone giving writing and popularity advice. I just wanted to read and support people and then the community I’ve built for myself has just grown and grown and I’ve been so incredibly fortunate, which is where kindness comes in.

Leave reviews and like and reblog stuff. Tell people how much you love their work. Let them know you write too. Create friendships with people who wanna support you. And people who you wanna support. Community is the base of everything.

[britt-kageryuu]

Donnie is messing with something off screen, they haven't said anything since the waiting screen switched over.

The background switches to an animated library scene, their model switches to be wearing a graphic tshirt that has a science pun, a purple zip up hoodie, a black beanie over braided hair colored multiple different shades of purple.

They hold up their hand in a 'give me a minute' type gesture, as they mess with the settings. When they finally starts talking the tone of their voice is a bit different, but quite pleasing to hear.

"Annoyed huff, good you're here. Now remember we're here to work on our parts of the group project, and pray those dum dums actually do their part. Hmm, why are you looking at me like that?" They tilt their head with a confused look, "Were you expecting something else to happen? Because rest assured this is in no way, shape, or form, a date. Let alone any kind of romantic situation. Now do you have your notes, and research findings? Good."

They stop to take a quick drink of water, and look at some notes.

"Now let me look over your work, and you may look over mine. Then we can find how to more seamlessly transition from part A into part B." They make some paper rustling noice, and picks up a note book with 'Group Project' written on the cover. "Okay, looks like you have found a good amount of information we need. Oh and you cited your sources! You are amazing! If the other members of our group pull their weight, there is no way this won't be a perfect project!" They pretend to read over the notes, with slightly exaggerated sounds of interest, including them actually saying 'sound of interest'. "Now that I've looked over your notes, I have a good idea of how we can write out your part so that it flows perfectly with mine. Puts book on table..."

They pause, reread what is apparently a script and realize they verbalized an action written in the script. They shrug and continue. Shelldon pops in from below like a curious pet wondering what is going on. Donnie subconsciously starts to scratch his head.

"So if you read over my part properly, you will find that we can just take these parts from the research and combine it with these Notes, and we can finish both our parts fairly quickly, and just need to account for using these points here and here so that it makes much more sense when transitioning between our parts."

Before they continue, his phone rings loudly, startling Shelldon who leaves the area. In their frustration about someone calling, they forgot to mute the mic.

"What do you want K? I'm in the middle of something! What? No! Why in the Pizza Supreme would I let you have my notes for your project?!... As wonderful of an idea as that is. He says with much sarcasm. No, I will still not let you have access to those particular notes. Let alone let you, air quotes 'take inspiration from' my work! Now don't bother me. I have to get back to work... shut up you pathetic excuse for a dragon." They hang up with a verbalized 'Annoyed Huff', clears their throat and turn back to the camera.

"Sorry for the Interruption, just an annoying person from a different department. Now where were we?"

The chat would half believe that was staged if it weren't for the fact that Donnie was visibly annoyed with whoever 'K' was. They went a bit nuts with emojis, but many just sat and listened to Donnie apparently do an attempt at ASMR.

-----------------

Masterpost

I have no idea what asmr story videos sound like, let alone how they are formatted. So this is just me winging it.

The colored parts are the 'scripted' parts if it isn't obvious.

[embyrinitalics]

Hi 😍

Hap hap new year!

How is the novel going? Are you enjoying the process?

This is so sweet! Thank you for asking!

Since this is the first original novel I'm actually approaching seriously and my process is totally different from normal, I'm going to use this ask as an excuse to journal about it. So, fair warning, you're probably about to get way more info than you bargained for. 😁 ONWARD!

I think first and foremost the process has been weird because I don't KNOW these characters. I've been writing Link and Zelda for 20+ years and even when I throw them into alternate universes or give them personality transplants I still can just dive right in. Starting this from scratch has been a lot of world building and a lot of taking my characters out on "dates" which aren't so much dates as they are writing excursions into the emotionally tormented unknown to see how they react. 😂

I jot down all the ideas that randomly strike me in this handy dandy notebook that I carry around everywhere just in case:

And that's a bit of a funny story. I love having notebooks to write stuff down in, but I recently discovered thanks to the course I took that I place very low value on my writing (and by extension myself in general I guess oops) so I never bought myself a nice notebook just for story notes because that would've been a waste of 5 dollars.

But between Emma Dhesi's course pushing me to assign appropriate value to myself and Ellen Brock's Intuitive Pantser video assuring me that my urges to compile all my notes into a notebook was good for my brain and not just a waste of time and paper, I eventually went out and spent that 5 bucks (actually $20—three notebooks for future endeavors!). And I LOVE MY NOTEBOOK! 🥰

Another thing I wouldn't have spent the money on in the past but took the plunge on is the Atticus program.

It's a project organizer, word processor, and book formatting software. I'm really enjoying it! It has a toggle window on the side where you can see how your book will look on various devices or in print, and easy buttons for things like writing sprints, word count goals, deadlines, and the like. It also makes me feel fancier than google docs ever did, so there's that. 😎

Emma Dhesi is also a big proponent of Goal Anchors—small things you accomplish and surround yourself with that cyclically trains your brain to believe that your dream is possible, and you are in the process of achieving it. (It also gives you goals you can do that move you closer to finishing your book that isn't actual writing, in case that feels intimidating.)

So I made an image of the title page the background on my phone, to remind myself that it's real and it's happening. I decluttered my writing room and started finding items to make it a comfortable creative space for myself. I went to the store for the express purpose of purchasing a special tea to drink while I write. I spent time making a playlist of songs with just the right vibes.

I also found the best candle scent ever, only wear these super comfy slippers in there, and just got myself this slammin t-shirt from Gideon's Bakehouse to wear. (Her name is Poppy. She's on a new path of self-discovery and adventure, just like me.)

But most of all, Emma insists that confidence comes from doing, and that the best way to write a book is to make a routine of it. She suggested starting with 20 minutes three times a week. I was up to between 1-2 hours a day starting at 7am, 5-6 days a week before I went on vacation and upended everything. 😂

So I guess that means I'm enjoying it! It's still scary and frustrating and directionless sometimes but more than anything it's just happening, which is the coolest thing ever.

[anticidic]

I was looking into writing fanfics do you got any advice for that?

👀👀 hi there!! sure!!

The number one tip I have for getting into writing just in general, not even fanfiction, is to read. A LOT. And I don't mean only reading fanfictions. Reading published novels is really important to picking up general writing elements like pacing, story beats, characterization and character development, and how to set a mood if there's something in particular you like writing.

I just so happen to love writing angst and suspense, so I read a lot of detective noirs and horror books to learn how to pick up on conveying tension and inner turmoil, doubt, etc. etc. It also exposes you to a wider vocabulary, helps with describing senses, how to write good dialogue, all of that fun stuff.

Getting the words down in the first place is the hardest part. Editing can always come later. Some of my rough drafts for fics are ROUGH. And I mean ROUGH. Like, I have stupid placeholders all over the place, but I leave them when I'm feeling stumped and just need to move on to the next scene because I've spent too long trying to come up with something. You can always come back to a certain part later. Just get words down. Even if you think it sounds bad or makes no sense. I've sometimes written endings before I even wrote the beginning to a fic. I've written fun parts first as preparation for writing something boring or angsty.

With that out of the way, a big roadblock to writing can be motivation/inspiration. There are so many days where I come home from work wanting to write but I'm just dead to the world and don't feel like it. But sometimes the motivation to write won't always come to you. It can take days, weeks, months for that motivation to hit, so you can't always rely on it. Sometimes if you want to write, you just have to sit down and push yourself. For me, at least, getting those first few words/sentences down is always the hardest, then when I get in the groove, I can knock out like 5k words in a few hours.

But if you're REALLY not in the mood, like if you can tell you're stressed or really have things on your mind, it's best to not push it. Pushing it is more so if you're in the mindset of 'ehhh I WANNA write but I don't reaaaally feel like it' and not when you're genuinely in a bad mood or something. When I really don't want to write, I just chill out and don't push it because that can make things worse. Always take care of yourself!! It's a hobby meant to be fun!!

For inspiration or "getting in the mood" I like to listen to certain songs or playlists that fit a particular mood or fit something that I'm currently working on. I also like to scroll for hours looking at fanart, and many times has that given me the inspiration to either come up with an idea or to get back to what I was doing. Then I like reading and coming up with my own headcanons! I think that's the most fun part of fanfic, tbh. I have headcanons for my fanfics and they'll vary from one story to another depending on the setting and the characters.

Like, one story I have Dazai set in a universe where he loves sweets. Peaches, in particular. In another, he likes bitter things and drinks his coffee black. Just those tiny things.

And sometimes inspiration has hit me when I've just gotten up to get some air or gone to do dishes, or something. It's WILD when and where the muse can strike. I've had things come to me while I was showering, and sometimes while driving. So if you're struggling to get anything down on paper, sometimes walking away for a bit is the best you can do and come back later.

I also like to have my phone on me at all times with the Note app because I've had snippets come to mind that I thought would be really cool to include in my long fics or for a new oneshot, so having something you can conveniently jot your ideas down before you forget them also helps!! Any little bit counts in the long term, whether it's one word or whatever.

But yeah, fanfiction is plenty of fun, and at times it can be taxing. There may be times you have to write a boring scene for the sake of plot advancement, and other times where you just wanna throw your hands up and scream because you've been staring at a blank page for hours. But it's important to remember about having fun in the end, and taking breaks as needed for yourself. 😊 Writing fanfic has been a really rewarding experience to me, and it's been eye-opening reading stuff back from when I first started writing to now and seeing how I've improved!

[sometimesanalice]

I hope I’m not too late for the ask game but I was wondering how do you think sweet girl reacted when she first found out that Bradley and Mav reconciled after the mission? Did she warm up to him immediately since she trusted Bradley’s judgement or did it take long for her to fully trust Maverick after seeing how much it hurt Bradley when his papers got pulled? 

Love all of your stories and thank you for sharing them <3 

You’re never too late! My inbox is literally always open to chat about fics or to share thirsty thoughts or if you want to send pictures of your cute pets!

Sweet Girl was very shocked when Bradley called her and casually mentioned that he was getting dinner with Mav during one of their phone calls after the Uranium Mission. During that time she was still living in a different city, so their chats were usually just the highlight cliff notes of things going on. But for as low key as he tried to slip it in and not make it seem like a big deal, she knew it was a giant step for him.

SG is a couple years younger than him, and really only knew Mav as the Bradshaw’s longtime family friend. He would be there for birthdays and holidays when he could work it out between deployments and being sent from base to base. But she knew how much Bradley had loved and looked up to Mav, and had been there to see all the hurt from the fall out of him pulling his papers.

More under the cut!

Over the years, there had been a couple times where she’d tentatively floated the idea of him reaching out to Mav, especially when he was beginning his career in the Navy. But he would shut those occasional attempts down very quickly, and she knew better than to press it because of how tender of a subject it was.

SG’s mom would also keep in touch with Mav, and give him the updates that he wasn’t privy to during those years (after SG’s parents divorced there was a time where Carole suggested SG’s mom going on a date with Mav 😂 which was met with like a “girl be serious” look lol)

She always liked Mav though, and I think she knew from her mom and just how things went down that there must have been more to the story. Especially because Mav always talked about Bradley flying like him one day (especially after he got his first speeding ticket in the Montero that Mav bought him for his birthday).

By the time she moved to San Diego, Mav and Bradley had had a little more time to start repairing their relationship, and in the early days she did take her cues from Bradley because he was her best friend and she was always going to side with him. But she really did have a soft spot for Mav because she could see how much effort he was putting in to make amends, and she could see how much lighter Bradley was having Mav (that’s his dad!) back in his life. The hurt was so big because the love had been so big, and she saw that.

So she warmed to him pretty quickly because Bradley is her favorite person, and anyone who cares about him as much as she does is alright in her books 💖

I adored this question! Thank you for sending it in!!

come chat!

[thearcaneuniversity]

04.03.2024 | 20/100 days of productivity

It's 8:39 pm, I just got home and can finally sit down to actually do something...

it has been a rather peaceful day at work today, which allowed me to do some stuff I wouldn't otherwise have the time for later on.

I managed to write down some more french vocab/basic expressions. most of them I already know, but I decided to make more handwritten notes, to practice my penmanship. so re-writing some of the stuff I'm already familar with serves the dual purpose of revision mixed with practise.

[I also decided to write any original or fanfic ideas down on paper as well, to give my eyes some rest from all of the computer and phone screens]

in terms of spanish, I decided to start translating some short stories [1, 2, 3, 4]. it's actually really fun. definitely a nice change of pace.

(then I looked up some short stories for beginners in other languages, and found some for french [1, 2, 3, 4], turkish [1, 2, 3], and arabic - though I was already aware of this one from another tumblr post - [1, 2]; do recommend, though I haven't checked all of the resources yet.)

the two books I'm focusing on this month are: pride and prejudice and silence of the lambs. I felt like catching up on the latter today (it has been a week since I started reading them, and I'm finally moving past my 'burn-out/block')

the visit to my therapist today has been a bit... heavy. emotionally draining. but in the end I feel a bit more at peace with myself.

in order to reward myself for my latest accomplishment (getting full marks on my latest assignments) me and my brother decided to eat some fast food on our way back home. it has been some time since I ate anything like that, and it has felt good to indulge myself. (even better to actually accept the good grade as an accomplishment, without making excuses for myself or downplaying it yet again)

all in all, a very nice day.