#and then i was listening to christmas music and yearning and yeah

[omni-scient-pan-da]

A scarf is one of the most... Romantic isn't quite the right word? But I think a scarf is one of the most caring things you can gift someone I think

Like... Here, take this, stay warm, think of me while you wear it, I don't want you to get cold outside so please take this as a sign that I care about you and your well being

It's not something you really need to measure in order to see if it'll fit someone, and it's easy enough to find a scarf that matches someone's aesthetic I think and... Idk

I feel like it says a lot, but maybe I'm just sentimental

[ficthots]

About You

A/N: Go listen to "About You" by the 1975 before reading this. Go do it. That's what it's based on. Go. It hurts, it yearns, it aches, it burns. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT. DNI if you are under 18. 18+ Only.

Word Count: 6.6k+

I know a place

It’s somewhere I go when I need to remember your face

We get married in our heads

Something to do while we try to recall how we met

Everyone talks about soulmates. Mainly in a fashion that describes the utter yearning and passion one desires theirs. We’ve been told about them since we were children. How when you meet the person, you just know they are the one meant to partner with you through the hellscape that is life. They hold your hand and make it better, enjoyable, excitable. Your soulmate is who you crave. Spending most of your life dreaming of them and patiently waiting for them to make their grand appearance. 

What no one does talk about is when you have your soulmate and lose them. 

It’s far more common than people realize. Many errors that become irreparable over time, fearing the next big steps that accompany life long partnerships, not being able to communicate well enough with one another. Perfectly reasonable and common mishaps that can cause you to lose your soulmate. 

But those weren’t any of the reasons why you lost yours. 

A year long tour, a brand new album, another impending tour meant he was happy to be home for the prolonged break they had been anticipating. The last year of their lives had been upside down and thrilling, but left him numb in a sense he did not entirely understand. Plus, he had never wanted to sleep in his own bed more. 

Quick pitstop to his own dwelling in Nashville to ensure his house hadn’t burnt down since he had last laid eyes on it a few months prior was not as comforting as he had been hoping. Jet lag, pure exhaustion, and looming seasonal depression that never failed to take him in his grasp had him eyeing the darkened rooms with contempt. 

He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but the disappointment that sat low in his stomach and burned the back of his throat as his eyes wandered over the belongings in his home weighed heavier than ever before. Maybe it was because it was only a week until Christmas and he hadn’t seen his parents for too long. 

Yeah, that’s what it was. 

Turning on every light as he moved through the space, quickly turning on music to drown out the silence that screamed at him, and moving to the laundry room to throw his suitcases contents in the wash. A monotonous night. 

Over the following days it didn’t change. He found himself checking his phone to see when his flight was to get back to his hometown for Christmas. After being surrounded by people everyday all day for as long as he had, he grew bored unbelievably fast. TV didn’t interest him, no good books sat on his light wood shelves, and mediation seemed ridiculous with how high energy he was. 

It all seemed pointless. 

As the plane's wheels skidded across the tarmac and he saw the flurries continuously falling outside, his excitement stirred in him again. Some sense of home was going to be offered to him to enjoy the holiday with his family that he hadn’t had since it happened. 

He baked with his mom, watched every movie he could with his siblings, wrapped the presents he had picked for everyone meticulously as he traveled around the world, was so busy that for the first time, his mind didn’t wander to where it normally did. 

When he laid in his childhood bed that night, he realized it had been almost a full forty-eight hours since he had thought about what he swore to everyone he didn’t anymore. He quietly sobbed, guilt wracking him as he battled within himself.

It was what he was supposed to be doing. Healing and regaining pieces of his soul that he had lost along the way. Letting joy seep into aspects of his days that hadn’t peeked out for so long. Continuing on with the motions of life. Forgetting. 

Yet he felt nauseous, sick to his stomach with anger. Feeling like he had betrayed a section of his life that was over that he wasn’t ready to let go of. Furious that those he loved the most seemed to have moved on without him. 

Staring at the poster covered ceiling, face hurting from the tears shed that had dried in the warm room, he made a decision. Slipping into warmer clothes, grabbing the bag of supplies that he had hidden in the back of his closet like a shameful secret, he made his way to the place. 

The warm glow of Christmas lights hugged the living room, parents opting to leave the tree on for Christmas Eve. He walked. He walked all the way to it. He could’ve driven, should’ve driven. It wasn’t safe to walk this far at night in the snow, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

He had never felt such misery as he did in the moment when his eyes set sight on it for the first time. He had to stop his movements, body hunching over, forcing him to take a breath and calm his breathing down. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but disappointment sat low in his stomach as he approached it. Pulling out the dollar store garland and beginning to wrap it around the wood, he hummed to Darlene Love.

“Stay here, honey. I’ll grab you a hot chocolate,” you plopped onto the chair as your mom wandered off. You knew you wouldn’t see her for the rest of the night until it was time to go home. You hated these events.

Christmas work parties that your parents forced you to tag along to, feeling bad for leaving you at home during the holiday season. Your mom loved to say how this time of year was for families and that meant you sitting in the corner of the ballroom your dad's company had rented from some swanky hotel for its employees to get so drunk they couldn’t remember the new year. 

“Which of your parents works here?” You startled lightly at the random voice that appeared next to you. His brown hair almost sat in his eyes, the most perfect smile you had ever seen graced his features. Dimples. 

“Uh, my dad,” he perked up, eyes going wide. “Mine too!” You giggled at how easily excitable he was. Nerves sat in your chest, not knowing how to carry a regular conversation with a boy your age. “I’m Josh,” he nudged your side, elbow slightly poking into you as he did. 

You gave your name and before you knew it, the two of you were fast friends, giggling as you pointed out the train wrecks of the holiday party together. Christmas music blasted through the room and you two watched as coworkers writhed around on one another, even though this was supposed to be a family friendly work social, they never were. 

Eyeing the refreshments table, you grabbed his arm and nodded over in the direction of the table. “Want some eggnog?” You wagged your eyebrows suggestively and despite how obvious you were being, Josh didn’t realize what you were getting at and agreed. 

He followed you over and when you grabbed the ladle of the adult eggnog, he grabbed your wrist. “That has alcohol in it!” He whisper screamed to you. You rolled your eyes, looking around to see if any of the adults near the table noticed and handed him a cup, forcing him to walk away with it. 

“Be cool!” Your hand landed between his shoulder blades, turning him back towards your seats. His hands trembled as he held the small plastic cup in between them. You sipped it and laughed at the burn that went down your throat as you swallowed. 

Cheersing his cup as he watched you with the biggest doe eyes you had ever seen, you offered him a soft smile. “I like you, Joshua. Think I’ll keep you around.” 

He had never heard anything better in his life. 

Snowflakes fell heavy and landed on your hair and eyelashes as you dragged Josh through the field to get to the secret hiding place. It was where you two went when everyone else became too much and you needed to be sequestered from them for just a little bit. 

A small glimpse of heaven reserved for just the two of you. 

The gazebo was already decorated for Christmas despite Thanksgiving still being just a few days away. You halted as you took in the sight before you, tears welling as you saw the decorations littering the space. His arms wrapped around you from behind, icy cheek squished against yours as he laughed at your reaction.

“Figured you had been talking about Christmas for so long that I would surprise you,” you broke from his grasp in a full blown sprint to get to the covered deck. A small Christmas tree sat illuminated on the far side, the railings were wrapped in garland with bright warm lights tangled in them, bows took up the posts. 

A burrow of blankets and pillows were along the center of the floor, waiting for its visitors to wrap themselves in. When you turned and saw him approaching you, cheeks a dusty rose, tip of his nose like Rudolph’s, the beanie sitting low on his brow doing little to keep him warm, you fell in love all over again. 

Josh had a way of doing that. Forcing new feelings of love to bubble up every time you saw him. You couldn’t even remember how many times you had fallen for him, far too many reasons now to pinpoint what they all were.

He pulled you to him, reclaiming his personal space heater since he was always freezing unlike you who constantly radiated heat. Your arms wrapped around his neck, locking wind chapped lips together as you pulled him to lay down with you. The fuzzy blankets encompassed you, sheltering you from the outside as you felt him shaking from the cold despite your attempts to keep him warm. 

Giggles mixing as your mitten clad hands cradled his cheeks. He laid flush on top of you, breath coming out in puffs between you both as you beamed at him. 

He was in awe, entirely mesmerized as he looked at you. The soft glow of the Christmas lights danced on the glassy irises that peered up at him with enamored love. Beanie nearly falling off the messy locks that rested below it. Heavy breaths escaping your aching lips as you pulled him to you. 

Moaning in utter relief, your lips a safe haven that embraces him with warmth and desire upon each meeting, eyes instantly shutting as he savored the feeling. Nothing in the world would offer him the same semblance of safety than you did when you merged and became one with him. 

It was dark out, the only light that held the area was from the small lights he had put up just for you earlier that week. Your hands escaped your mittens, finding his pressing hard on and palming him through the sweats that covered his ice-like legs. 

His breath stuttered in his throat, eyes shooting open as he looked at you like you were insane for even suggesting what you were. That mischievous grin that set his stomach alight with nerves that he had grown far too accustomed to spread across your face. 

“You little gremlin, we are outside!” His worried tone mixed with laughter as you undid the tie of his pants, nodding eagerly at his words. “Oh I know, snowflake, but I need you so bad. You can’t wear these pants and not expect me to pounce on you.” 

His eyes widened as you pulled his dick from the confines of his briefs, but quickly shut as you pumped him. “Make it quick for me, okay?” He nodded in response, hastily removing his hands from his gloves and immediately tucking into the waistband of your own sweats, subtly telling you to lift your hips so he could pull them down.

Lips colliding in a messy kiss, teeth clacking together, freezing tips of noses pushing against each other, clawing at one another to get as close as possible. Josh whimpered out as his tip slipped in, nudging against your walls, savoring the superior warmth that wrapped around him. 

As he started moving, you encouraged him, legs spread, uttering praises to shower over him. Head rolling to the side, fighting the urge to let your eyes shut because watching him perform for you like this was captivating. His brow would furrow in focus, tongue constantly swiping across his plump lips, chest rising and falling rapidly as he grew closer and closer to his climax. 

Your hand moved to the spot between his unruly eyebrows, smoothing out the skin that bundled together in thought. He stopped his movements as you did and couldn’t fight the large smile that took over his face, the miniscule gap in his front teeth displayed for you. 

“What are you doing, flake?” Your teeth sank into your lip as your smile grew, feeling him nestled deep in you, tip brushing your g spot. “Admiring my beautiful man,” his cheeks flushed even deeper at your words, unable to hold eye contact as embarrassment coursed through him. 

Fingers dipping under his chin to pull his attention back to you, you pulled him to you, murmuring out against his lips. “I love you,” as he said it back, complete euphoria took you over, all muscles in your body momentarily tensing before relaxing as bliss circled around you. 

He finished seconds after, covering your entire face in kisses as he pulled your sweats back up, adjusting himself back and pulled you into him, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“What do you want for Christmas?” He finally spoke out after you two laid entangled in silence, watching the snowfall together. You smiled at him and sighed, shrugging. “I don’t think you’re ready for this,” his fingers dug into your sides, a laugh flowing from him as he did. 

“Oh yeah? Gonna bleed me dry this season?” You sat up, straddling his lap and laughing out loud. “Absolutely. You’re a huge rockstar now. I want a whole lot,” his arm tucked behind his head, a smile taking over his features, eyebrows shooting up as one hand held your hip. 

“And what is a whole lot? What do you want, mama? I’ll get you anything you want.” Your hands rested on his chest and looked out to the snow blanketing the grass, your footsteps from earlier long since covered, eyes looking around the gazebo at the decorations.  

You spoke quieter, not wanting anyone else in the world to hear what you were going to say. It was meant for Josh and Josh only. That’s how it was supposed to be. “Well for starters I want a new sweater because you ruined mine last month when we were getting our Halloween makeup on,” he laughed and nodded wanting you to continue your list. 

“Then, I want a new pair of earrings. I lost my hoops that I got from Target so I need another pair,” you leaned down, lips pressing against his as you spoke, “Can’t forget the car. I want that Mercedes that I saw in town in Nashville last summer,” his body shook with laughter at your words. 

“That’s quite a jump. Sweater, earrings, and a car,” you nodded, sitting back up with a jolting force. “Oh, that’s not even it, baby.” You jumped off his lap and went to the snow despite his attempts at keeping you with him. 

His eyes lit up as he watched you move back to the covered space, moving to the far side of the deck where the Christmas tree sat. “I want a winter wedding,” his arms propped himself up, gaze softening as he listened intently. 

“I want a big poofy dress that makes me look like a pastry,” his head tipped back, laughing as he nodded. “I want Christmas lights everywhere. Maybe even a big Christmas tree,” his hand grabbed your own as you moved around the space, mind wandering into a dream state as you pictured it. 

He pulled you back down to him as he let you finish. “And I want it right here. I want my big winter Christmas wedding right here,” Josh nodded, nose brushing yours as both your fingers tangled together. “Anything you want. Just tell me when and I’ll give it to you.” 

You giggled, resting your forehead against his. “It’ll have to live in our heads for a little while longer. I still have too many details to figure out about it first, like how the hell we’re going to get ten ice cream cakes out here.” 

The tangled Christmas lights had his frozen hands struggling to undo the heaped mess that laid before him. He cursed himself for not wearing a thicker beanie, tips of his ears like ice. It wasn’t meant to be decorated this late in the year. 

Every year it was supposed to be done three days before Thanksgiving. When it was still cold, the chance of snow was present, but not near as blizzard-like as what he was sitting in. He was upset with himself for not doing this sooner. 

He should’ve been here a month ago to do it. Why the hell had he not been out here to do it? Because it wasn’t his responsibility anymore, he spoke to himself, but breathed out in frustration. He hated himself for caring so much.

Even after all this time, he still cared. Cared to decorate this shitty gazebo that no one was going to see but himself in the middle of a freezing night. Cared because he promised to do this. He couldn’t not do it. He promised to. 

No matter what, he was going to do this. Even though it was late. Because he hoped he wouldn’t be the only one to see it. 

You and I

We’re alive

With nothing to do I could lay and just look in your eyes

Wait

And pretend

Hold on and hope that we’ll find our way back in the end

You hated summer. Despised it. What was so great about sweating buckets every time you stepped outside? It made everyone irritable, ruining any and all plans because heat exhaustion was such a large risk. You just hated it. 

You used to feel the same way about spring. Until Josh made you fall in love with it. 

The random rain showers that would tamp down the rising temperatures. The gorgeous flowers that were blooming for the first time that he would place at your front door every Sunday without fail. The soft breezes that would make the grass wave in the afternoons. 

Spring was Josh. That’s why you loved spring. 

He had found a park that you two had never been to, planning an entire afternoon for it, to drink a farewell to the spring season. That’s how you found yourself laying on a blanket after one of the most delicious lunches you had ever had, hand playing with the curls of your partner's hair as his head rested on your lap, feeling the breeze cascade against your skin.

When you looked down at him, his dimples were deep as he smiled at you. His deep brown eyes stared at you, gold flecks only visible from this close. You felt your heart skip a beat as you realized what you saw. 

Your entire future with him. It was everything that was going to happen for you two. Spending the rest of your days with him by your side. What you didn’t anticipate was that future not happening. 

There was no realm of possibility for you that did not include Josh as your person. That’s why when that became reality it sent you into some sense of purgatory. 

Staring at the offer letter in your inbox, you felt like you were on cloud nine. All of the hard work that you had put in was being recognized. It wasn’t what you had been expecting, a raise and new job offer wasn’t even on your radar, but now as you looked at it, you were thrilled. 

Josh wasn’t due home for two more days, allowing you plenty of time to figure out the most exciting way to tell him your news. Until he told you his.

It had been a week since he had told you. A year long world tour, a new album to follow immediately after, and another impending tour afterwards. Josh wanted you there for it all. 

A week of trying to make a decision. A week of playing the overjoyed tone he had as he told you, grabbing your face and hearing the information tumble out of his lips in rapid speed. A week since he assumed you would be going with him. 

He didn’t ask. He just told you. Told you when the first concert date was and when you all needed to be there by. He had an entire itinerary planned for every country they were scheduled to be in. It was going to be the time of your lives, he said. 

Which was why you weren’t going to go. 

Josh had gotten home from a meeting with their managers that encompassed planning out as much of the tour and responsibilities as possible, practically floating into the house and you sat on the couch waiting for him. His eyes lit up as he took you in and you offered as genuine of a smile as you could. 

“Can we talk?” You spoke out as he leaned in to kiss you, letting him, but seeing the confused look take over his features as you spoke. “Of course, my little gremlin,” he chuckled as he sat on the coffee table, knees hitting as he tried to keep the situation light. 

“Josh, I can’t go.” You forced out, eyes staring straight ahead, trying to gauge his reaction. “Go to what?” His smile never faltered, not understanding what you were saying. “The shows. The tour. All of it,” you could feel tears welling in your eyes, throat going tight as you spoke. 

“What do you mean, baby? Of course you can. Don’t worry about the money part, I got that covered,” you cut him off as he tried to wave off your statement, pulling his wrist back as he tried to stand, shaking your head. 

“I’m not going.” You sounded as sure as possible, voice still cracking as you said it. His face morphed into a look of bewilderment at you. “What do you mean you’re not going?” He was getting angry, emotion overpowering any logical thoughts that could have happened. 

“I got offered a new job and I took it,” your chin wobbled as you watched his jaw set, ripping his wrist from your grasp and standing as he rubbed his eyes. It was quiet for far too long as he tried to figure out what to start with. “How long have you known about this?” His voice was even, unwavering. 

“Since before you got back. I wanted to tell you, but you were so excited about the tour and I didn’t want to make it about me and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier,” your words were tumbling as tears made tracks down your cheeks, hiccuping as guilt pummeled you. 

He sighed, moving back towards you and taking your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Baby, I’m not mad at you for taking the job. I’m mad that you didn’t tell me before I started planning all of this out,” his hands moved to his hips, seeing your reaction before sitting back down where he had been just moments before, “We’ll figure this out, okay?” His gaze had relaxed as he took in your wrecked state, trying to reassure you that it would be okay. 

You shook your head at his words, eyes darting down to look at where the skin of your knee rubbed against his, feeling the scratchy hair brush against your leg. “I don’t think so,” you mumbled, but it was like you had just burned him. His hands moved from his hips, landing on your forearms.

His words were hastened, tripping over themselves as they rushed out like if he spoke quicker it would change what he knew was happening before his eyes. “What are you talking about? Of course we’ll figure this out. I’m going to have breaks during this, you can come see me on weekends, we’ll make it work,” your eyes locked with his and more tears flooded your vision as you sniffled. 

“For how long? You’re gonna be gone for how long? I can’t do this for the foreseeable future until you’re back in a year and with me working a new job. It’s too much,” a sob wracked your body as he pulled away from you, moving to the other side of the living room, hands landing in his hair, eyes wild with shock and fear as it dawned on him what you were saying. 

He scoffed, shaking hands landing on either bicep as he crossed his arms and faced you. “So, what? This is it? Are you saying we’re done?” Your head fell and rested on your knees as you heard his voice crack for the first time, knowing he was fighting the tears until he heard what your response was going to be.

You calmed your breathing down, wiping at your eyes and taking in the gorgeous boy before you. He was supposed to be your future. Your everything. He’s your soulmate. You were losing your soulmate and you felt like you were slowly ending yourself as you did.

“I think for now. We both have things we need to do. You need to go do this tour with your brothers and I need to go do my job. I don’t think that while we’re doing this we can manage our relationship, too.” His eyes shut, not able to look at you anymore. Despising you for saying what you were. Giving up so easily on what you two had. Hating you for making this happen. 

But he knew you were right. 

Deep down he knew that you two living apart for the better part of a year and some odd months was going to be too much to handle. Not with you taking a new job, him traveling and working, and just trying to manage life. It was too much. 

He didn’t say anything else as he crossed the room to you, taking you in his arms, and letting you both cry until you just couldn’t anymore. You let Josh comfort you as you attempted to envision some semblance of a future that didn’t include him. You comforted Josh as he tried to understand what his life was going to be like without the tornado of a person you were. 

When the sun rose that morning it was like a timer going off, telling you both that it was over. You clung to him, hands tangled in his hair as he crushed you to him, breathing each other in, trying to memorize the features that were going to be gone in the blink of an eye. 

As you left that morning, Josh stood and watched as you waved to him as you drove off. He wanted to scream and chase after your car, begging you not to leave. Do anything he could to not let this course of actions happen. 

But he didn’t. 

Instead you both hold on to the hope that you would find your way back to each other in the end. 

There was something about you that now I can’t remember

It’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender

And I’ll miss you on the train

I’ll miss you in the morning

I never know what to think about 

I think about you

It’s hard to pinpoint when you truly fall in love with someone. When all of their little quirks become your favorite aspects of them. Too many memories to recant when it could have been. 

You, however, knew what it was that made you fall in love with him. There wasn’t an exact moment that you could think back on that you would be able to tell someone else. It was a plethora of memories. 

How everyone despised game night with you two because you were so incredibly in sync that it was borderline unfair to the other teams. You could draw a circle during pictionary, nothing more, and he would know exactly what you had drawn. 

“Beanbag chair!” Josh would scream the answer out before you could even finish. You would turn, dropping the marker and jumping into his lap as another point was marked down for you two. His brother would yell over everyone, “There’s no way they’re not cheating! How the hell did he get a beanbag chair from that?” Pointing at the drawing you would give a shit eating grin, planting a huge kiss on Josh as you cackled. 

“Sorry, Jakey, we’re just too damn good. I know it can be frustrating losing so damn bad time and time again,” you teased him, feeling Josh’s hands tighten on you, prideful in how true it was. He would kiss the underside of your jaw as you sat on his lap until it was your team's turn again. 

You two had so many inside jokes that it was downright annoying to everyone else around you two. Sitting at a dinner with friends, you and Josh would burst into a fit of laughter that had you gasping for breath as the waiter did something that no one else caught. 

Shooting a look to each other, you snickered out, “At least he didn’t have the can opener,” and within seconds you were wiping tears from your eyes as Josh clutched at his side that ached from laughing so hard. Danny would roll his eyes at you both. “You’re so weird.” 

No one got it, but it didn’t matter because he did. 

That was what had you falling in love with Josh. How insanely paired you two were. It wasn’t uncommon for one of you to pick up what the other was saying, finishing the thought for them and giggling as you did. 

He was your true person. Your soulmate. 

Even months after it had happened you found yourself thinking of him far too often. It had been a horrible day at work. You had to fire your first person today and it had you rethinking every decision you had made in the past that led you to that position. 

As you sat on the train home, you cried. People eyed you like you were absolutely crazy and maybe you were, but you didn’t know how to deal with it. His contact stared at you, daring you to make a move and do it. 

This new responsibility was a lot to handle and you knew he would offer comfort. You exited out of that screen, going to Twitter and typing in his name. Immediately, pictures flooded the timeline of him being out at bars with friends. 

One person talked about having just met him within the last few minutes. Your heart clenched, the decision ultimately being made for you. Josh didn’t need to be bugged tonight. Not while he was out having a good time with friends. You could deal with this. 

Instead, you quietly cried to yourself the entire ride home. 

Being told that time heals all wounds was an utter lie. It wasn’t true because with how much time had passed since you and Josh had last seen each other you should’ve been completely healed by now. Not the same as you were the morning you left. 

It was an early Sunday morning and you were up with the sun. You didn’t know when it had changed that you were waking up so early, but you hated it. It made you think of him. The sun was starting to stream in through the curtains, coffee in hand, as you looked at the quiet and foreign space. Despite having lived in this apartment for as long as you had, it still wasn’t home. Nothing would be home. 

When you put the record on that you did, you silently cried in your kitchen at your island. All you wanted to do was spend the morning like you always did with him.

Josh would have been up long before you, wanting to meditate and take in the energy of the morning as early as possible to replenish for the upcoming week. He would have fresh flowers sitting on the kitchen counter with your coffee right next to it. 

Of course he knew you were not a morning person so he would let you slowly wake up as you went to the common space, steely demeanor changing as he would wrap an arm around you, singing to whatever he had playing through the house and forcing you to dance with him. 

All you wanted was that back. 

Your mind would drift off while doing mundane tasks and they would almost always go to him. Wondering what he was doing at that moment. If he was as bored as you were. Of course, he wasn’t. He was traveling the world while you sat in an office. 

Despite all efforts to eliminate him it was no use. You couldn’t.

Do you think I have forgotten?

Do you think I have forgotten?

Do you think I have forgotten

About You

Christmas came far too quickly. What had once been your favorite time of year had you now feeling like a complete grinch. Your mom had begged you to fly out to spend the holiday at home with them. It was going to be good for you, you knew that. 

It didn’t stop the pain though. Seeing the world having carried on with the glamor of the holiday season, not caring that it hurt you like it did. It was quiet at your parents house, only them and you. Your dad kept your spirits high, having bought gingerbread houses for you both to make a village out of. He had movies on deck for you. Had you help wrap presents. 

It didn’t work.

That’s why on Christmas Eve you found yourself trudging out to the spot that you swore you weren’t going to go to no matter how much you wanted to. Bag of decorations in tow to do what you promised yourself you wouldn’t. 

Your jaw fell slack as you saw the lights already wrapped on the railings, garland paired with it, but it was missing the bows and tree. Then you saw him. He stood behind it, finishing with the lights, but had come back around afterwards. 

You both froze as you took each other in for the first time in over a year. He spoke first, dumbfounded that you were actually standing in front of him. Honestly, a bit worried that he was hallucinating from the freezing temperatures he had been in for so long. 

“Hi.” You didn’t know what to say, worried your voice wouldn’t work even if you tried, so you offered a small wave back to him. He had cut his hair and it was the first time you had seen it in person. You had seen it online, unable to break that tie, but now that you were seeing it in real life, you saw how mature he looked. 

You let your head fall, not wanting to let him in your vision, not sure what to do. “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” you finally choked out and it was like Josh had reached heaven. There had been nothing he missed more than the comfort the sound of your voice brought. 

He cleared his throat, eyes darting around to remember what he was doing, how to talk to you again. “Yeah, my mom wanted us all together for Christmas,” you nodded, letting yourself move to the covered deck, wanting to get out of the snow. 

“Of course,” you awkwardly laughed, feeling stupid for saying what you did. He chuckled with you, seeing you had the bag he had been missing. “Ah, you have the other stuff. Thought I lost it,” he scratched the back of his neck, cheeks burning crimson. 

“Oh, yeah no. I had the other bag.” Neither of you said anything as you took the contents out, getting down on your knees to decorate the small tree. “So, why are you out here?” You finally spoke out, brow furrowing out of curiosity as to why he was here too, not wanting to overthink the possibilities that could have resembled yours. 

“I always decorate it.” You hummed in response, eyes looking out of your peripheral and seeing his sharp features so close to yours, putting a small ornament on the tree branch. Awkward small talk was hard to force out between you two, but as you finished decorating, you didn’t want it to end. 

Didn’t want to lose his presence. Didn’t want him to leave again. 

You both stood back, taking in the gazebo, and smiling triumphantly at it. “Thank you for helping,” he spoke out, eyes taking you in as he tried to figure out how to end this encounter and leave despite every instinct in him telling him to stay. 

“I gotta get back. Everyone will be up soon,” you nodded, throat closing and trying to fight the tears that were welling as you realized he was trying to get away. He was getting away again. “Yeah, for sure. I’ll-um, see you around.” He turned on his heel, walking in the direction he came in, but you couldn’t do it. 

Couldn’t watch him walk away again. 

“Josh!” You yelled it out, voice meak and screamed in desperation. He stopped, turning back towards you. “Please don’t go,” your hand was held out, like you were trying to grab him and still his motions, “I miss you.”

He didn’t know what to do. He took you in and couldn’t believe you were actually there. He felt like he was dreaming, like he was going to wake up from a nightmare that he had more than he’d like to admit. He didn’t want to ruin this. But he didn’t know what to do. 

“I fucked it up. I was scared. So much was changing and I was scared. You were going to be gone for over a year, I was starting a new job, and I didn’t want to ruin your time while you were traveling, but it was stupid. I was stupid. I wanted you to have space so you could forget about the responsibility of me. But, I can’t do it without you, Josh. I can’t,” you were trying to catch your breath, but he had crossed the space so fast that you had no reaction time. 

His lips collided with yours, hands pawing at you to get you as close to him as possible, and you were returning the urgency, terrified that this was all in your head. Desperate to keep him and do whatever you could to keep him. 

Your kiss was the safe haven he had remembered and dreamed about. The all enveloping love and warmth that he had missed and craved for the entire time you had been apart. What he craved and needed.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested on yours, eyes squeezed shut, hands gripping yours. “Do you really think I could forget about you? I have spent the last year of my life miserable. I have missed you more than you could ever understand. I need my gremlin,” a wet laugh bubbled from you as he sniffled, chuckling with you. 

“We can figure this out. We’ll figure this out.” 

[crushed-starlight]

ok !! yall need so many updates from me aaa i'll try to speedrun them n not give u too much junk to read hehe

the main thing is, today i took a huuuge train ride home from uni !! i was on the road for a super long time but i got tons of reading done :3 but for about a month , i won't be seein any of my uni lore people in person ;; it's gonna be weird for sure since i've spent so much time around them recently, but i think in some cases (ie meadow lol) the distance will be good to help me rly evaluate what i'm getting out of that closeness n whether it's worth it.

plus, i'll get to hang out with my friends from here more too !! theres TONS of interesting stuff goin on with them too, so i'm sure there'll b more of that !!

anyway, here's a mini recap of some stuff that's happened since my last entry !!

i had a big night out with a bunch of people !! my first stop was an indie music night with odie and jiji, then after that down to a queer club night where we met meadow and one of their friends !! we also ran into another classmate who we didn't know was even queer, n he ended up joining us for the night :D

i also ran into a bunch more people i know !! specifically winter and (new character time) wave, who i'll add to the masterlist sooon :3

overall it was super fun n they played a bunch of my favorite songs :3 i love gay people <3

remember how i said 'as per jiji's advice i'm gonna try n keep some distance from meadow'? yeah i for sure did not do that. we explored a retail park n saw a movie on one day, did field work in the city another, n kept walking to class together almost every day !! i am ,, so tired !!

honestly, the crush might be beginning to fade, or just shapeshift into a friendship. i'm becoming more n more aware of potential red flags or just reasons i might not personally want to date them.. mainly, we're just really different in terms of personality. compared to when i'm hanging out with jiji and odie, i just mask around meadow a lot more. i overthink a lot, they tease me over my silly cringe interests n traits (of which there are a lot lol) instead of hyping me up , and i know they don't mean anything of it but i'm tired of being constantly reminded of how Different i am from them ,, and by extension from most people.. ok but wait there was last night .......

we went to a candlelight concert !! to any pair of people other than us, it probably would've been super romantic. what a waste of a perfect night, right? but it was still nice. we dressed up extra pretty, the music was nice, we sat right at the back of a beautiful church and listened to basically a classical music concert. i drank mulled wine in the intermission, there were about 20 christmas trees all decorated and themed after different charities and local organisations. crush thoughts aside, it was a really magical experience for what it cost (15 pounds yippee) :3

but , of course , since i knew that if i got home after that i'd have the most miserable yearning-filled night, i helped set up a pizza party with my flatmates (and odie) instead !! so jiji, comet, and our fourth roommate chipi !! i'm surprised i haven't mentioned him yet, at some point he should get a loredump post of his own since there's a lot to unpack with him lol

anyway the pizza party went great , save for the worlds worst phonecall with the pizza place which i foolishly volunteered to have. that pizza place employee in particular encompasses all the reasons i get anxious about phone calls.. yikes!

ok i think that's everything interesting that's happened so far !! here's to hoping i can have a nice relaxing (but still productive !!) month off. well , aside from the 6 giant essays i need to research and write >< but it's fine, i'll cope :,) bye for now !!

[sundaysundaes]

My Words, Your Thoughts (Teaser)

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut | Soulmate AU, Friends-to-Lovers AU

Part of the beautiful ‘Aubade’ collaboration hosted by @hyucksie​

Synopsis: As an introvert, you are familiar with the silence. Drowning yourself deep in your thoughts has been a habit you’ve become addicted to. Your life begins to change, however, ever since the day you turned twenty. Suddenly, there’s this song that’s stuck in your head, and no matter how much you yearn to hear your thoughts or be comforted by the silence, it keeps on playing. You only get to find the answer to your problem when a young, cute barista hands you a cup of coffee one day, with that song’s lyrics written on the side. And you realize that you’re not the only one who’s been hearing voices in your head.

Warnings: explicit sex, expletives, mentions of physical abuse and astraphobia (not for the main characters)

WC (Teaser): 4k

Release Date: June 27, 2021, 10 AM KST

It’s weird. It’s so weird.

It’s weird that you’ve been hearing this song replaying over and over again in your head when you’re sure you’ve never listened to it before. It’s also weird because sometimes the song sounds like the ones you often hear about on the radio—complete with instrumental accompaniment and everything—but most of the time, it just sounds like someone is humming to it. Sometimes quietly, but more often than not, vehemently like they’re having a concert in the shower, not caring if the neighbors might hear.

As someone who rarely listens to mainstream music, you don’t keep up with the trend these days but the tunes are catchy enough that you think, maybe, it’s one of those Justin Bieber’s songs people always talk about. You’re not fond of it, though, so even if you’ve heard it somewhere in a cafe or a mall, there’s very little chance you’ll be humming it in your head.

And yet, it keeps on playing.

It gets worse when it goes on for a whole day—a whole fucking day—that your brain feels like it’s seconds away from bursting into pieces. It doesn’t even sound like your voice. It seems like it belongs to a male, a bit light and a pitch higher than most. Though it sounds pleasant, the voice is unfamiliar to your ears and that’s what bothers you the most. 

Trying your best to escape, you plug in your AirPods to your earholes, choosing one of the most beloved tracks from your playlist—today, it’s Bloom by The Paper Kites—to help you relax as you lie down on your bed. But no matter how many times you turn up the volume—it’s practically turning you deaf, ironically—you can still hear that one goddamn song playing.

“Oh my God,” you groan, projecting a murderous glare at the ceiling of your room before you shriek all of your heart’s content to your pillow. “Make it stop!”

This has been going on ever since your twentieth birthday and it’s been three months since then—three months of suffering, to be exact. Fortunately for you, you haven’t been listening to the same song for those amount of time—God, you would’ve killed yourself if that was the case. The song changes without warning. It can change ten times within a day, or stay the same for ten days. You have never heard of these songs except for the popular ones, and even then, you only ever listened to snippets as they don’t suit your taste. 

So… It doesn’t make sense that you could recite the whole lyrics, does it? 

And yet, you can. 

Somehow, you already know every word, every tune, even every ad-lib in these songs and it both amazes and creeps you out. It’s as if somebody else is singing about it in their mind, and you, somehow, are mentally connected to them.

But that’s surely not the case, right?

With more days passing by, as your brain deteriorates little by little, you start to think that maybe that is the case.

Or maybe you’re just going crazy.

It’s nine in the morning and your eyes are bleary from how you involuntarily skipped sleep last night. With the loudest sigh and your half-charged MacBook sitting still in your backpack, you let your wobbly legs carry you to the nearest coffee shop. There’s a new Starbucks store opening just a couple of blocks away from your apartment and it’s perfect since you’re going to pass it every day on your way to college. 

You’re not excited though, not when you have Michael Jackson’s Man in The Mirror playing in your head for the, approximately, thirty-fifth time that day. And it’s only nine in the fucking morning.

When you enter the coffee shop, greeted by a cute Christmas tree and festive decorations spreading all over the place even when it’s still three weeks away from the holiday, you almost weep in joy when the song stops playing in your head. It does happen from time-to-time, sometimes it stops for a few hours before it starts again with the same song or an entirely different one. But in most cases, it only pauses for a few minutes which just doubles the torture whenever you’re trying to concentrate on your paperwork.

“Hi.” You display a timid smile at a female barista, slightly wincing when the song in your head starts blaring again, as expected. It’s still the same song this time—so that thirty-sixth by now, Jesus Christ—but instead of someone humming it, it’s the original version that plays. You’re having trouble focusing on her greeting when the sound of a synthesizer echoes through your ear, stridently so. “I would like a tall skinny latte with a double shot, please.”

“Would you like anything else to accompany your drink?”

Perhaps a gun to blow my head off? “No, thanks. That’d be all for me.”

“Is that for here or to go?”

You take a quick scan of your surroundings. You still have an hour before your first class starts and since the place isn’t that crowded, you figure you might as well just spend some time here. “For here.”

You tell her your name and slide down your card to complete the payment. “All right. We will call your name once your order is ready.”

“Fantastic. Thanks.” As the female barista takes an order from another customer, you drag yourself to an empty seat in the corner of the room, next to the glassy window where you can glance at passersby. You lay your head down on the table, cheek pressed against the wooden surface, lower lip jutting out in weariness. You’re drowsy and you want to think about the snow that’s probably gonna fall sometimes near Christmas’ Day and maybe the sight of a warm fireplace where you can cozy up with your imaginary boyfriend (also known as Jung Jaehyun—that one perfect boy who lives just across of your hallway), but no, unfortunately for you, you no longer have any space left in your brain since Michael Jackson is performing a damn concert and it doesn’t seem like he’s gonna stop anytime soon.

“I’m starting with the man in the mirror…” Great, now you’re singing it. “I’m asking him to change his ways…”

The music in your head abruptly stops again but before you can close your eyes to finally enjoy your silence, a familiar voice chimes in.

“It’s a great song, isn’t it?”

Shocked, you quickly lift your head to identify a male barista placing down a cup of your ordered latte on your table. You swear you recognize his voice but his face doesn’t ring a bell.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling a bit sheepishly. “I don’t usually bring orders directly to the table but I think I misheard your name so I couldn’t call you out from there.”

“That’s, umm, that’s okay…” You hide the bottom half of your face behind your scarf as you’re not used to talking to a stranger, especially one that looks overwhelmingly pretty. “What did you think my name was?”

“Umm…” He rubs the back of his nape awkwardly. “I don’t think you want to know. It was a bit… inappropriate.”

“R-right…” You glance at the cup. “It says ‘Michael.’”

He chuckles but with only a slight hint of amusement in it. “Yeah, sorry about that. I had to come up with something and it was the first thing that came to mind.”

“And it has…” Your eyes widen when you notice the words he’s written on the side of your cup. It’s not a greeting, it’s not a motivational sentence, it’s the fucking lyrics to Michael Jackson’s Man in The Mirror.

“Yeah, okay, so—” Noticing the appalled look on your face, he hurriedly tries to reason out. “I’ve had this song stuck in my head all day long—I just listened to it a minute ago while making your order—and the lyrics are just so inspirational so I decided to write that down. I hope that’s not too weird.” Then he laughs a little, a tad more genuinely this time. “But I heard you singing that song just now. What are the chances, right?”

You swallow hard. He’s been thinking about that song too? Listened to it a minute ago? What are the chances of this is happening? Is he the one whose voices I’ve been hearing in my head—

The male barista abruptly takes a step back, his tray nearly slipping out of his hold. He has a hand pressed against his ear, eyes blinking several times in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You—” He splutters, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“What?” The way he seems like he’s looking at a ghost sends goosebumps all over your skin. “What is it?”

“Think about something.” 

“Umm—” What is he talking about?

This time he gapes, his jaw dropping low. “Holy shit, I can really hear you. Think about something else—think about me.”

“Look, I don’t know you and you’re being weird.” The sudden change of conversation baffles you but when his words sink in, you can’t stop yourself from thinking about him as he orders. He’s cute, his entire features are cute—you’ve noticed that from the first second you laid your eyes on him, but what catches your eyes the most is his lips—the way they’re shaped so beautifully, like a cupid’s bow—

“You’re thinking about my lips? Seriously?” He asks, but might as well splash cold water to your face. “If you said something about my eyes, sure, I mean, they are attractive. One might even say that God Himself took the stars from the sky and put them in my eyes—but my lips? Huh, that’s new.”

You loudly gasp when you’re finally aware of the situation, hands flying to your face to cover your gaping mouth. “You can hear my thoughts!”

“And you can hear mine too!” He points out, and as startled as you are from the previous realization, you instantly frown upon his words. 

“I don’t think so,” you reply. “I can only hear—”

“Donghyuck-ah!” Another barista comes to interrupt from the other side of the room. “We didn’t pay you to flirt, come back here!”

“I wasn’t flirting!” He shouts back, tips of his ears reddening. When he turns to you again, he has a prominent scowl on his face which makes you squirm on your feet. “We need to talk about this. My break is in an hour, do you think you can wait?”

It sounds more like an order than a request. “B-but I have a class in an hour.”

“Skip it.”

It takes all the strength in your body to be brave enough to retort back with, “Why don’t you skip your work?”

“I’m already half-done with my work, I can’t bail out now.” He rolls his eyes. Suddenly, his courteousness just vanishes without a trace. “Look, I’ve been hearing your thoughts for months now and I have a lot to complain to you about.”

You grimace. “It’s not like I can control my thoughts—”

“I know, I’m not blaming you.” He picks up the tray, his gaze softening but only slightly. “I just want to complain. You’ve been driving me crazy these past few months.”

You glance away, pouting. Wow, he surely knows how to befriend a stranger.

“I can hear you, you know.” He sighs as if talking to you is exhausting, when it should be the other way around. “Look, I’m sure you’ve been going through the same thing. Don’t you want this to stop?”

You’re not wasting any second. “Yes, please.”

“Then wait for me. We’ll talk this through.” He pivots on his heels, his tray glued to his side. When you can finally breathe properly, exhausted from the social interaction as you sink back to your seat, the barista—Donghyuck—adds, “Oh, as you wait. Can you please stop thinking about my lips? Or just how cute I am in general? It’s sweet but I gotta concentrate so I won’t write another Michael on my next order.”

You slam your forehead down the table, face aflame. “I-I’ll try.”

“Thanks.”

***

“You just can’t stop thinking about my lips, can you?” Is the first thing Donghyuck states out as soon as he’s approached your table. He runs a hand through his brown hair, which looks out-worldly fluffy that you begin to wonder what kind of hair product he’s been using. “Or my hair.”

Mortified, you mumble out, “I’m sorry,” with half of your face covered by your hands. The more I try not to think about his lips, the more I do—shit, is he hearing this too—

“Yes,” Donghyuck says, but this time with an amused smile. “Man, I didn’t know my lips were that appealing to ladies. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Well, he’s making you blush for sure. “Would it be too much to ask for you to stop listening to my thoughts?”

“Believe me, woman, I’ve tried.” He groans, taking his apron off before he sits in front of you. He loosens up his collar, unbuttoning two buttons of his white shirt—which is two more than necessary to your liking—and you have to gaze away before another thought forms inside your head about a certain part of his body. 

“Sorry if I came on too strong before. I’m Lee Donghyuck,” he introduces formally, offering you his hand. You reply with your name but you’re reluctant to shake his hand since you’re sure you’re breaking into a cold sweat, and an overly sweaty palm doesn’t really scream attractive—

“It’s literally just a handshake,” he says, stifling down a laugh. “I’m not gonna start judging you about it. You’re cute, sweaty palms or not.”

You nearly choke. “If I can’t ask you to stop listening to my thoughts, can you please be quiet about them?”

“That’s also impossible since talking is an integral part of my charm.” He leans back to his chair. “I’m pretty good with my mouth.”

That was… a poor choice of words, you think, as you stare at his lips and can’t help but wonder what can that mouth do other than talking. You take a bite of the bagel you just ordered, desperately trying to avert your attention.

“It wasn’t a poor choice of words.” He winks. “I did mean that in every way possible.”

This time, you really are choking.

“Okay, so what’s happening to us?” Donghyuck questions, after you manage to shed a tear or two during your attempt in relieving your throat. “Why have I been hearing your thoughts? I don’t even know you.”

“Same here.” You’re still going through a hard time keeping eye contact with him, but with more seconds passing by—and him pronouncing every bit of your thoughts out in the open—the knots inside your chest begin to loosen. “Ever since I turned twenty, I’ve been hearing these songs playing in my head that I’d never even heard of.”

“Never heard of?” Donghyuck snorts. “What, you never listen to Billboard’s top forty?”

You weakly shrug. “I prefer indie music better. Or instrumentals.”

“I would say that you have a soul of an old lady but the way you’ve been thinking about my lips reminds me of my sister who’s going through puberty.”

“Okay, this isn’t fair.” You shake your head, ashamed and tired of being humiliated over something you can’t fix. “Why can you hear my thoughts but I can’t hear yours?”

“Believe me, you’re much better off this way.” His face contorts in pain which makes you feel somewhat sorry if he’s not constantly being an ass about it. Hearing your insult, he notes, “Also, I’d prefer to be called with terms of endearment in the future, if that’s okay with you. Something like Babe or Darling.” The way he raises his eyebrow is just strictly illegal. “And in return, I’ll call you Sweetheart.” But before you can say anything—or run toward a running bus to put an end to this endless humiliation—he questions, “Wait, when you hear the songs I’ve been thinking in my head, does it sound like the original version of the song, or like me singing it?”

Finally, a proper conversation. “If you’re listening to the actual music, I can hear the original song as if I’m hearing it through my headphones. But when you’re just thinking about it, well, I‘ve never heard you sing, but,” you decide to tease him back—which startles you from how blatant you’re being. “From how amateur and pitchy this voice sounded in my head, I think I’ve been hearing yours.”

“Cute.” He scrunches up his nose. “Okay, let’s try again. Can you hear what song running through my head now?”

You stiffen, sitting in silence. After a few seconds pass by with only you exchanging stern stares at each other, your eyes gleam with a spark of hope. “Wait, I can’t hear you. Does this mean it stops? Because we’ve met in person?”

“Sadly no, because I was just thinking about how silly you looked when you choked over your food earlier.” He chuckles to himself and sends you another wink when you degrade him in your head. “Okay, let’s try again.”

“For real this time?”

“For real this time, Sweetheart.” He closes his eyes, holding back a smile when he catches how you flinch a little at his pet name for you. This time, you really do hear him humming inside your mind. “Don’t tell me by words,” he immediately adds, “Just think about them.”

Heaving a sigh, you close your eyes too. I’ve heard this song somewhere.

“If you’ve never heard about this song, I will literally cry and apologize to the world on your behalf.”

Be quiet, please, I’m trying to concentrate.

“Worried that you’d be thinking about my lips again?”

You almost fall from your seat. Almost. Okay, you’re singing to… You knit your eyebrows together as you provide your best effort to remember the tunes. You’re singing to Super Mario Bros theme song?

“Correct.” He taps his fingers to the table, simpering. “This is actually pretty cool. We can be, like, partners in crime or something.”

You shudder. “Please don’t tell me you’re an actual criminal.”

“If looking this handsome is a crime then I am, yes. Guilty as charged.” He makes a kissy face when you think about throwing the rest of your bagel to his head. “You look like someone who writes fan-fiction about their idols having sappy first kisses in your spare time but you’re actually pretty wild in your head, aren’t you?” He loves seeing your reactions, you know that, so you give your all in trying to act nonchalant. “Now, let’s try again. Did you bring your headphones with you?”

You check your coat’s pocket. “I got my AirPods.”

“Perfect. Put them on and play something from your phone.” As someone who’s pretty carefree, he can get serious at times. “Play as loud as you can until you feel like you’re going deaf.”

“I’ve tried that many times.” You nearly wail at the memory. “But it’s hard to drown your voice since it comes from inside my head.”

“Yeah, I know that. I’ve been hearing your thoughts too, remember? Don’t you think I would at least try something like that?” You narrow your eyes menacingly at him but he simply waves you off. “Anyway, that’s not what I’m trying to do. Put them on and you’ll see.”

He’s ordering you around. He just met you and he’s ordering you around. Socializing with people in general already zaps your energy pretty quickly, so socializing with a brat—

“I’ll grow on you, don’t worry.” He smirks and you take a mental note to really learn how to control your thoughts this time.

You follow his lead, as requested, connecting your AirPods to your phone and play something relaxing—because God knows how desperately you need it—as loudly as you can bear. Okay, go try… whatever it is that you want to try.

He smiles and shifts slightly on his seat, facing the window. His eyes glimmer under the light when he parts his lips, mouthing some words—no, singing something that you can’t hear.

Wait. I can’t hear?

Donghyuck glances at you, a grin breaking further on his lips upon hearing your thought. He gestures to you to take your AirPods away and you nod. Vacation Manor’s You promptly fades as his voice enters, and it’s weird because you’ve heard him sing in your head so many times yet it doesn’t do justice to how beautiful he sounds in real life.

It’s almost angelic, the sound he makes, which is kind of ironic for a little devil that he is. His honeyed voice is soothing, almost like the patter of rain on your window at dawn, lulling you back to sleep. You’re no expert in music but to you, he sounds impeccable that you run out of words to describe how pleasant his voice is to your ears. It’s so distinct, soulful—

Donghyuck giggles. “Thanks.”

—and annoying. “Okay, so what happened?” You try to divert the topic. “I can’t hear you when you’re singing out loud, but I can hear it when you’re thinking about a song?”

“I guess so.” He furrows his eyebrows, deep within his thoughts. “I figured it out when I couldn’t hear your thoughts whenever you spoke out loud. I think we can work from this?”

“So instead of thinking about what I have to say, I should focus more on saying what I want to say?” You shake in horror. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“What, you don’t like talking?”

“I’m…” You swallow your breath. “I’m not really good at that.”

“You’re talking to me just fine now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, because you make it so easy.”

“Aaw,” he purrs, a lopsided smile painting his face. “Thanks, Sweetheart.”

“No.” You hold up a hand. “I mean, since you can hear my thoughts, I have no other choice but to speak. Also, you seem like you’re the type who just says whatever that comes to mind without worrying too much about my feelings—”

“Hey, now you’re just making me sound rude—”

“You are rude,” You emphasize. “But it works well with me because then I don’t have to hold myself back and pretend to be somebody else.”

“Why do you have to pretend?” He frowns. “Because you’re afraid people are gonna hate you? Judge you on your words?”

“It’s…” You look away, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I just… I’m trying to be a good person so people will like me—”

“I like you,” he says casually as if he was talking about having a cute Pomeranian as a pet, and there you are, almost fainting in your seat. “I mean, in the last forty minutes I’ve known you, I think you’re great the way you are. You don’t have to be good, you just have to be you.” He shifts closer, crossing his arms on the table, and lays his chin on them, gazing up at you with a soft smile that doesn’t match well with his previous attitude. “Don’t you think it’s great if people accept you the way you are?”

You hurriedly take a sip of your coffee, pretending to swallow even if it’s already empty. “You’re… not so bad yourself.”

“What was that?”

“Okay, well I think I should go.” There’s no way you’re gonna repeat that. Donghyuck titters, taking a hold of your wrist when you’re about to stand up from your seat.

“We still have loads to talk about.” You observe the way his fingers linger around your arm, his sun-kissed skin feels silky smooth against your own. “Why don’t we have lunch together? My treat?”

“D-don’t you have work to do?”

“I’ll make an excuse.” 

A barista with the word Jeno written on his name tag walks by and slaps Donghyuck on the back of his head as if it’s something he’s done on a daily basis—probably is. “You’re not going anywhere, asswipe, get back to work.”

When the brunette boy turns to you, he winces. “Or maybe you can give me your number so we can meet up later?”

***

A/N: I’m both nervous and excited for this as this is my first collaboration. Thank you so much, Denise, for having me on this wonderful collab!

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 7)

Chapter Summary: How you and Bucky feel about the presence of your ex-boyfriend.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings:+18 only, mention to smut, overdrinking, embarrassing behavior due alcohol consumption, Natasha knows stuff, ex-boyfriend, minor jealousy, minor angst, floof, Bucky has a somewhat creep confession, but give him a break, he’s never been in love.

A/N: Another smutless one, I hope you don’t mind. Thank you to my sweet Les for having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.  

Previously:

Your shoulder brushes against him as you walk past Bucky and he turns his body around, following you with his gaze. He takes a long sip of his drink and places a hand inside his pocket, watching as you approach your ex-boyfriend.  

He tries hard to bury deep down inside him the tug on his chest.

“Oh, fuck…”

Natasha’s curse makes him turn to her and he realizes she’s been watching him, with a dumbfounded expression he’s not used to see on her face.

“What?”

She scoffs and shakes her head, seeming in an estate of disbelief, “This whole time I’d been worried with the wrong person.”

No point. Bucky sees absolutely no point in trying to make it like there isn’t  turmoil twisting inside of him. Not for Natasha, anyway, it would be to no avail. Also, he’s pretty sure there’s a kicked puppy look on his face to make it harder for him to put on any kind of façade.

“Fuck,” he sighs and run his hand harshly over his face, “What the hell is this, Natasha?” He whines, failing at trying to not sound as helpless as he does.

“You tell me, buddy.” She points at him with her glass of vodka, tilting her head with interest.

“Shit,” he exhales, looking down, before his face snaps up at her, “I’m … just weird, I’m not myself these days.” Bucky bites his lower lip as if trying to somehow refrain from spilling the words, but he just can’t, he’s dying to let it all out. He steps closer to her and lowers his voice as much as he can with the loud music beating around them, “I’ve spent almost every day of the last month with her. I have absolutely no desire to see or think of another woman and I have to restrain myself constantly, cause if I had it my way I would call her every five minutes to check in on her, and… and when I’m thinking about her - which is all the time, I fucking swear - I wonder if she’s thinking of me, and now? I mean, right now? I feel like snatching the blade right now on my ankle and shooting it right on that fella’s throat.” Finally taking a breath after his rambling, he points in your direction, before turning to see you right when you’re letting out a small laugh at something the punk has said.

“Wow…” Natasha lets out a whistle.

“A few days ago,” he turns back to his friend, “I snuck into her closet to find out the name of her perfume. And you know what I did next?  I bought a large bottle for myself, like a fucking creep,” sheer frustration plasters on his tone.     

“Oh my…,” Natasha snorts at the same time a mix of incredulity and amusement shines on her eyes, “That’s definitely creepy and it’s even worse than I imagined. The almighty Bucky Barnes, the I’m a whore and proud,” she thickens her voice playfully, moving her arms in a mimicking way, “The I don’t do romance and attachments king is a tiny lost puppy with big blue heart eyes, aww,” she inclines her head as if she’s thinking of him as exactly how she’s just described him.

Bucky tries but he can’t actually find the amusement in all of that. The fact one single woman is making him feel that way is entirely new, unpredictable and… scary as hell. He has no clue where to go from there.

Natasha seems to swiftly catch on his little inner self torment and, after letting out a deep sigh, she puts on a small smile and shakes her head, “Don’t worry Bucky, it’s probably a crush. A big one. But only a crush,” she places her hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze, “Y/n is one of my best friends and I know how delightful it is to be beside her. Maybe you’re just infatuated…”

“Maybe…” he exhales and shrugs, “I wouldn’t know… all I know is I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Not that I remember…. but I’m pretty sure I would.” He looks at you again while you’re still talking to the Eddie guy.  

“They have history,” Natasha says in a kind voice, following your gaze.

“I know.”

“He was her first and only boyfriend.”

“I know.”

“She thought she was going to marry him.”

“Damn Nat…” he breathes out his frustration, dropping his head for a moment, before raising his downcast gaze at her again, “Yeah, I know that, too.”

“But you’re Bucky fucking Barnes,” she snaps in a more cheerful voice shaking his arm with a enthusiastic force, “Don’t forget that, buddy,” she shoots him a warning glare, “Also, I’ve never seen a brighter smile on that woman than when she’s talking about you,” she beams.   

Bucky’s heart jumps and a quick breathy smile surges on his lips before he takes in a shuddering breath, “I’m not sure what I should do, though.”

“Well, figure it out,” she lets go of his arm and taps on it, “My advice for the night if you should accept it is let it flow,” she shrugs. “Go on with your thing and see what happens. Just try not to hurt you or her on your way, though,” Nat warns.

“I’m not even sure I-Wait,” he frowns after his gaze is drawn to the spot where you are again, “Did that fucker just leave her alone?”

He instantly struts towards you, ignoring Nat’s snicker.

~~~

“Hey,” you smile, gulping down the nervousness down your throat as you approach your ex-boyfriend. The one you haven’t seen ever since he broke up with you months ago.

“Hey,” he offers you a tight but kind smile back.

You halt on your way, the awkwardness building up a barrier on your way as you’re not sure what to do next. Should you give him your hand to shake? Hug him? Do nothing at all? Not once before you had thought that moment would play out between you and Eddie.

But he seems a bit more resolved than you and shrugs, leaning forward and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Congratulations again,” he says, still holding you, “You’re the best and most hard working person I know, you deserve it.”

The small smile in your lips grows wider and you accept the compliment, relieved that the awkwardness seems to be tamed. While you’re so close to him after all that time, you notice he’s wearing the same perfume he’s been wearing for years, the one which would make you sneeze all the time, but you never really said anything.

“Thank you,” you lean back, sniffing discreetly to suppress the sneeze threatening to come out, “I’m happy you could make it,” you add. The fact he’s arrived all by himself grasps your interest, considering how everyone around you would tell you he was probably seeing someone else… however, if he did have someone, he wouldn’t bring them to your party, would he?

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he says with a gentle tone, but the formality is still there, you notice.  

You two engage in some small conversation and you can’t help but to take him in and realize that, just like the perfume, Eddie looks exactly the same with everything else. The same hairstyle, same grey t-shirt you gifted him on your last Christmas together, the same constant half smile while he talks… he still speaks quietly, letting out just a few small words, which has always forced you to be the one to push on the conversations…

It’s… familiar… even comfortable, you dare say. But if you’re going to be honest with your own feelings, ever since he walked away, you thought you would be yearning to feel that familiarity again, that it would lead you to a sense of… home.

Why it isn’t quite like that, though?

“You look different,” he says as the subjects of small talk seem to come to an ending point.  

You put your previous thoughts aside for later consideration.

“Oh…Different good or bad?” you ask, tilting your head with a small pull in the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know... just…different, I guess,” he frowns and quickly puts on that half smile of his.

“Oh, well… it’s been a while…“

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” he says, regarding you with a wondering look in his eyes that makes you shift on your knees, “Listen,” he clears his throat, “I was wondering if we could meet to talk one of these days.”

“Oh,” you draw in a breath. Talking to him, having a real conversation, is something you’ve been wanting to do for a long time. It still feels like you don’t fully understand why you’re broken-up. Regardless the time it’s passed, you still feel attached to him somehow, like, no matter how exciting and new, you’re now living someone else’s life and not the one you had planned for you years ago.

“I mean,” he adds before you can give him a proper answer, “We still need to figure out what to do about the condo.”

The words are like cold water thrown at your face. There you are, thinking he wanted to talk about your relationship, but what’s really on his mind is the condo you’ve bought together. Swiftly, you work on putting a small smile on your face, “Yeah… sure, you’re right,” you nod.

“Hey! Eddie!”

Both of you look towards the female voice and your eyes fall upon a beautiful young woman you recognize as one of the members of SHIELD’s tech team. You’ve worked with her on a joined project of the two organizations before. Chloe… you believe her name is Chloe.

She’s waving at Eddie excitedly, calling him over the little group she’s with. She doesn’t seem to notice you’re standing next to him until her gaze meets yours. The wide grin on her face drops into a quick cringe before she nods in a respectful manner and shifts her look away, whispering something at one of the guys in the group.

When you set your attention back on Eddie, you tighten your lips just as you notice how the bone on his throat bobs right before his flustered eyes meet yours again.

“I-I, ahm, gotta go,” he runs his hand on the nape of his neck, “Can I call you later?”

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice comes out calm and controlled.

“It was good to see you,” he says, before placing his hand on your shoulder, “Congratulations again.”

After you give him a small nod as a thank you, keeping the tight smile on your face matching his, he walks away towards the group and the woman. The one your friends kept warning you about, apparently, given how uncomfortable he seemed to be in front of you after you saw her. As soon as he gets there, you see the two of them talking in hushed words. He keeps a safe distance from her, but his hand on her arm is where your gaze sticks on. 

You don’t have the slightest idea of what’s happening with your feelings right now. Minutes ago you were realizing the familiarity of Eddie wasn’t what you expected it to be anymore, but now, seeing him so close to someone else… a beautiful woman, to be more specific, with her long black straightened hair and fancy blue dress holding each one of her beautiful curves…It just crushes you.  A lump grows in your throat and while your gaze flicks around, you feel small… lost… picturing ways you could flee away from your own party at the same time ten years of your life flash in your mind.

The cold, yet gentle touch of metal in your elbow is what takes you out of your own head, “Hey, everything alright?” says the silky and soothing voice.

Your gaze meets Bucky’s while he stares at you with concerned eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his…There’s already a bit less  turbulence inside your chest and mind. You think nothing of it, though.

“Yeah, yeah…” you smile, “He, ahm… Some friends called him. He had to go.”

Bucky just lets out a hum – which sounds more like a groan – staring over your shoulder to where the little group stands.

“He said he wants to talk…“ you start, and don’t see when Bucky’s breath hatches catches on his throat, his eyes back on you, “About the condo,” you press your lips, “He said he’ll call me.”

While your gaze gets lost ahead, you have no idea that the sadness in them pinches deep inside Bucky’s chest. If you could read Bucky’s mind at that moment, you would find out that the fact your reencounter with your ex-boyfriend hadn’t ended up in some sort of hope for reconciliation hasn’t left him sad at all, but the lost look in your eyes… makes him wanna hold you in his arms and never let go. Not before punching a douche in the face, of course.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” he wraps his arm around your shoulder, side hugging and pulling you closer to him, “You’re the fucking boss now and, look around, ” he gestures with his glass of whiskey to the crowded and jazzing place, ”You have a damn Stark party just for you. We’re all here to celebrate the badass motherfucker you are. You’re not just going to let anything ruin your night, will you?” The corner of his eyes crinkle as he grins at you.

You let out a small laugh, the heaviness inside you slowly slipping out of your body as you allow yourself to synchronize with Bucky’s vibe. You can always trust  the upbeat way he presents the world to you to lift whatever mood of yours up.  You look down at your empty glass and shrugs, “I might need a refill, though…or two,” you shoot him a warning look.  

Bucky’s smile stretches even wider and he lets go of your shoulders to offer his arm, nodding towards the bar, “Shall we?”

You gladly accept his suggestion by wrapping your hand around his elbow and walking with him, not even noticing that Eddie’s gaze follows you with piqued interest.

~~~

Quite a few more drinks later and after listening to Tony’s very nice and very Tony speech on his toast to honor you, you’re already fully invested in your party again. Bucky stays by your side most of the time, but you also come across with a lot of your friends from work and a few others, who are all more than happy to put you high on a pedestal for your promotion and party with you. It stings a bit when Camilla, your friend from work, tells you she heard Eddie and Chole are really together, but two or three more drinks after, you end up hitting the dance floor with a few friends by your side, not even seeing when Eddie leaves the party early, right before Chloe.

You’re happy to see that Amanda, one of Bucky’s friends you met that night in the club, has made it to the party, but you’re already too tipsy and it slips from your attention when she comments on how Bucky has been quite distant from her and the other girls for almost a month now.

If you’re going to be honest, you end up not truly noticing a lot of stuff since you’ve been drinking a great deal more than you’re used to, probably due the drill of having a kickass party thrown for you mixed with the unexpected sight of Eddie with a potential new girl - after months without seeing him. As the alcohol does its thing in your senses, you don’t notice the way Bucky looks at you, the way he holds you a little bit stronger when you’re dancing together, how he glares at the guys who tries to approach you or the fact he only leaves your side when he knows you’re comfortable and safe.

All you see and feel now is the music and the lights as you sway your hips to the beats. The party is almost coming to an end, but there’s still a small crowd of people enjoying their last moments there. The alcohol, the music and your friends, more precisely Camilla, Olivia, Amanda and Nat – the last two in the middle of a flirting contest you fail to notice, as well – are the ones around you. The buzz clouds your mind in a delicious way until your back bumps into a hard wall. Your weakened knees give in but before you hit the floor the wall wraps around you and holds you still.

Oh, you know that hard wall of muscles… You know it pretty well.

“Hey, there.” A foolish smile plasters on your lips at the same time the back of your head leans against the wall so you can see his face. His gorgeous and ungodly sexy face, “Your face is sexy,” you decide it is a very good idea to tell him that now.

“That right?” Bucky smirks, holding your gaze.

“Oh, yeah,” you clumsily turn around to face him, prompting him to grab you tighter since you stumble a bit on your toes. You curl the hand holding your glass around his neck, “And you’re big, too,” you don’t even notice but you’re a slurring mess as you speak and look to see your running hand down his broad chest, roughly probing his muscles, “Very, very big,” you exaggerate a sultry tone, the alcohol erasing any kind of subtleness or refinement in you or the notion that there are people around you, while your hand explores further down his body to say it’s not just about his muscles you’re talking about.

“Sweetheart.” Not making a big fuss about it, he gently grabs your wrist over his lower stomach to place it around his neck along with the other one, ”I’m very flattered to hear that, you’re one very nice piece of ass yourself, too,” he engages with you, keeping the playful tone.

You let out a girlish giggle, turning your face towards your friends, the trio now whispering and laughing among themselves as they watch the both of you, “He said I have a nice ass,” you shout, not realizing how loud you actually are as you lift and shake your hips, making your friends laugh harder and causing you to trip on your toes once again. But of course Bucky catches you before you fall.

“How many drinks, so far, huh?” Bucky chuckles, keeping the hold of his arms and eyes on you.

“Three or four,” you answer with nonchalance, bringing the glass to your lips as you hold yourself on his neck, only to pout when you notice it’s empty.

Your friends scoff at your lie behind you, “You can add at least ten more to that count, sweetheart,” Natasha shouts from behind you, punctuating the word sweetheart with a teasing pull on her mouth. 

You make a dismissive face only Bucky can see, “Nonsense, check out what I can do,“ You step back from Bucky with the intention to put on a yoga pose you’re sure will convince your friends of how ok and steady you are and as soon as you lift your leg, you trip again and this time Bucky is not fast enough to catch you before your ass hit the floor.

The four of them rush to help you out as tears fall down from your eyes at how much you’re laughing, holding your glass up. It’s Bucky who ends up picking you up, though.

He and your friends shower you with questions to check if you’re ok but it all falls like a blur sound to your years.

“Ok, I guess it was a bit more than three or five,” ignoring the curious eyes around your group, you laugh making an ok sign with your hands before your stomach churns and you grimace, placing your hand over it, “Oh…” your face drops.

 “Alright, come one, let’s go,” Bucky supports you with his hands and urges you to walk with him.

“Where are you taking me?” You frown, sounding almost offended as he takes your glass from you and hands it to Natasha, gently pulling you along.

“My place… let’s freshen up, come on,” Bucky patiently says, nodding at the girls to say goodbye, who just nod back, knowing you would be in good hands.  

“Ooooo, bye girls, we’re going to his place to freshen up,” you wink exaggeratedly and make air quotations with your fingers, addressing your friends as you clumsily walk away with Bucky.

~~~

“Bridal style,” you loudly announce stretching your hands and legs to the air as soon as he steps inside his living room with you in his arms.

Bucky can’t help but laugh as a snorting giggle follows your words. If he had his way he would’ve carried you from the party, but he didn’t want to attract even more attention to your state. So, on the second trip on your own feet inside the elevator he picked you up. It would be easier that way.

Bucky carefully puts you standing on the floor and, as soon as he’s convinced you can stand on your feet without stumbling or falling, he turns to shut the door, only to have you jumping on him as soon as he faces you.

“Hey, hey,” he manages to say softly, placing his hands on your hips as you shower his mouth and face with sloppy kisses which taste strongly like fancy champagne.

“What? Let’s freshen up,” you answer in a log slur, dragging your lips on anything of him you can reach.

Bucky laughs, pushing you away with a gentle yet steady touch, looking deep into your eyes, “That’s not what I meant… not when you had so much to drink, sweetheart.” He flicks his thumb on your chin.

It takes a moment or two, but realization – and disappointment- finally dawns on your face, “Oh… you meant freshen up for real…” You shut your eyes and tap your hand on your forehead.

Bucky thinks you’re too damn cute for your own good.

You focus on him again, “Are you sure, though?” You insist, shoving a finger in your mouth and tilting your hips, putting on before him the unsexist pose Bucky has ever seen.

Yet, it’s the most adorable thing and his annoying heart swells inside his chest for you as you keep your attempts of seducing him, “Yeah, I’m sure,” he nods unrelentingly, holding back a laugh and waiting to see the follow up of your shenanigans.

“But I’m horny and I wanted to suck your big dick,” you pout, crossing your arms and thumping your foot against the floor.

Bucky takes in a deep breath. He is only human and can’t help that his poor cock twitches at your bratty whine. But your glossy half open eyes and dragged voice reminds him he’s the only one sober enough to make decisions in the room and therefore, his buddy down there needs to chill, “I’ll be more than happy to allow you to do so,” he’s amused when your face light up, “But not tonight, sweetheart,” he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you towards the kitchen, not without spotting the dirty look you give him.

“You’re no fun,” you complain, barely able to put one foot in front of the other before you stop and swirl around, trusting on his strong hold to not let you fall wearing a devilish little smirk on your face.  

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, waiting for whatever mischievous pearl will come out of your lips now.

“What if…” you start before a hiccup interrupts you, “I show you my boobies?” You offer, leaning over and pressing your breasts together through your dress, “You looove my boobies,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively even if your eyelids can’t even remain wide open.

“I do love your boobies,” Bucky can’t deny, not hiding his amusement.  

Apparently, that’s all you need to hear before you throw yourself on him again. Bucky swiftly catches you with a huff, but you can’t do much more than circle your arms around his neck and rest your head on him.

“Love your muscles,” you mumble quietly against him, “There are so many of them.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bucky tries, “As much as I love your boobies and you love my muscles, now it’s not the time. Now it’s time to get you some water, maybe a sandwich, huh? Then I can prepare you a shower and you can rest a bit and… Y/N?” Bucky calls when you’re too quiet- not even making a sex innuendo when he mentions a shower.

He listens a not so soft snore as a response and looks down to see you completely dozed, with your mouth agape against his chest. He sighs… still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, goddammit.

“Guess we can skip right to the resting, then,” he whispers through a fond smile.

Taking you in his arms he walks towards his bedroom and places you on his bed. You only stir a bit when he gently removes your shimmery and apparently uncomfortable dress and unties your heels. He dresses you in a t-shirt of his so you can rest comfortably. He manages to make you drink a little bit of water, to which you whine graciously enough, and, after covering you with a thin blanket – because he knows you’re never really that cold at night, no matter the temperature in the room –  he moves to get up and maybe take a shower for himself.

“Bucky,” you mumble and, without opening your eyes, you move yourself to nuzzle against his metal hand sprawled on the mattress, “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

Bucky is absolutely sure you have no idea of what that question really means to him, how it falls upon the rising tangle of feelings inside him… which is all for you. Wonderful and beautiful and special you, who came unannounced and stirred up something in him he never thought possible. Something he just doesn’t know what to do with.

Moving meticulously slowly not to pull his hand and wake you up again now that you’re deep back into slumber, he lays down beside you. For your question… he doesn’t say anything. Simply because he doesn’t know the right answer yet.

~~~

To be continued. 

[radiantroope]

Passed Around || JJ Maybank

pairing: jj x reader

mentions: john b, pope, kiara

requested: no

summary: everyone in the outer banks has their opinions of you. a touron with a smart mouth learns just how quick jj will come to your defense.

warnings: underage consumption of drugs/alcohol, swearing, violence, blood

author’s note: i just started writing randomly and this was the product, enjoy.

masterlist | add yourself to my tag list

* i do not own this gif! if it’s yours, please let me know so i can properly credit you! *

Of course, there was another party at The Boneyard. No surprise there. Summer or Winter, there was always a party. The amount of people that filled the beach always somehow managed to surprise you, especially when it was off season for the tourists. Sometimes you’d still get a couple; people visiting family who lived on the island for Thanksgiving or Christmas.

It was the beginning of December and you’d just arrived at the beach, already hearing thumping music and loud laughter. The brisk ocean air was much colder than you preferred as it came off the ocean. You were yearning for those hot Summer nights again.

You pulled the jacket you were wearing tighter around yourself and continued on your way down to your friends. Just as you hopped over one of the dead and forgotten trees, you heard a shout of your name. You looked to the kegs and smiled when you saw Kiara waving her arm.

As you approached her, you raised an eyebrow at the three kegs set up. Three, how did they manage to score three? You didn’t ask, sometimes you were just better off not knowing. You gratefully took the plastic cup John B passed you and quickly drank some of the bitter liquid.

“Rough day?” the curly haired boy raised an eyebrow at you.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes but ranted anyway, “My grandma is still here. She was supposed to leave after Thanksgiving and now my parents tell me she’s staying all the way through Christmas! If I have to listen to her talk about what college I should go to or about boys any longer, I’m gonna go insane!”

“Does- she doesn’t know about JJ?” Kiara asked with her brows furrowed.

“Oh, she does, but she’s in some alternate reality where she thinks I’ll marry a Kook and be a trophy wife,” you retorted with a sarcastic smile on your face, “My mom’s told her a hundred times that JJ and I are together and nothing will change that.”

You looked over your shoulder at the said blonde who was sitting in a circle with some other teenagers. You saw smoke pillowing through the air and were hit with the faint smell of weed. JJ’s cerulean eyes caught yours and he smiled, waving for you to join him.

“Go, we’ll catch up about your crazy grandma later,” Kiara said, smiling at you.

You smiled back at the girl and turned to walk towards your boyfriend, calling over your shoulder, “Love you, Kie!”

You and JJ had gotten together about nine months ago. Years of longing looks and lingering touches were driving your friends insane. How could two people be so oblivious? Everyone knew your hearts were set on each other, but the two of you were always too stubborn to admit it. Plus, you didn’t want to be the one to break the no macking rule.

One day at the Chateau it boiled over when one of your hookups over stayed his welcome. JJ woke up for the third morning in a row to find the guy helping himself to his stash. He lost it. He wailed on the poor boy and literally kicked him out the door. This resulted in you insisting you liked him and the blonde calling bullshit.

“How do you know how I feel, JJ? You don’t!” you’d screamed, stomping your foot like an angry toddler who’d just been told no as you tried to get your point across.

“Yes I do! Pope told me you’re in love with me!”

Yeah, Pope spilled the beans after you made the drunken confession one night. You swore him to secrecy, but that boy couldn’t keep secrets to save his life most of the time. You still to this day would never let him live that down. But how could you stay mad at him when it resulted in the best possible outcome? JJ was yours, and you were his, finally.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” you flirted as you walked over to the blonde boy.

JJ smiled and laughed, shaking his head at you, “You’re rediculous.”

“But you love me,” you stated as you plopped yourself on his lap, sitting most of your weight on his thigh. His arm wrapped around your waist tightly and he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“Damn right I do.”

You watched as a blunt was passed around the group and listened in on the conversation, chimming in now and again. You took a few puffs yourself when JJ held it up to your lips. You weren’t a big smoker though. Half of the time it made you more anxious than it calmed your down.

JJ had gone to get you both refills on your beers but got distracted talking to Pope and John B. You took his seat and turned to watch him, smiling when he laughed and his eyes crinkled at the corners. His bright white teeth sparkled in the glow of a fire that was going. You watched as the breeze blew his cut off tank and you caught his muscles tense at the cold hair.

“So you and Maybank, huh?” a voice caught your attention and you whipped around.

A Touron, Dominic, who frequented the island this time of year sat in front of you. He had shaggy dark brown hair that was straight and fell around his face, barely touching his jaw. His eyes were a beautiful mossy shade of green. You probably would have hooked up with him in the past is he wasn’t known to be such an ass. He ran around with Rafe and his goons during the day and spent his nights on The Cut causing trouble. He was nicknamed “girlfriend stealer” after many-a-hookups that resulted in ended relationships.

“Yeah,” you responded blandly. There was no way in hell you were going to entertain this kid. He took pride in stealing people’s girls; you would not be one of them.

“You could do better,” Dominic remarked, an infuriating smirk growing on his face. You resisted the urge to slap it right off.

“Like you?” you scoffed, eyebrow raised. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t act like you don’t want to. I remember the way you used to look at me.”

You clenched your jaw and pressed your lips into a line. You stared at him with a blank expression, the smirk on his face growing. He opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off.

“Everything okay over here?” JJ asked from behind you.

He’d seen the way Dominic was looking at you. He knew the game the little shit was playing, and it was a dangerous one. The group of teenagers in the circle you were sitting in looked between the three of you nervously. They all knew better than to push JJ, especially when it came to you. He was quick to fight - even quicker when it was over you.

“Yeah man! Just telling Y/N here she used to be a lot more fun before she got a boyfriend,” Dominic replied casually, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

You stood up and turned to face JJ, seeing that he’d handed your drink refills off to John B and Pope who stood behind him. He’d been anticipating this the moment he saw you two talking. You put your hands on the blonde’s chest and stared up at him.

“Let’s just go, J. It’s not a big deal.”

“Nah, I want to hear what he has to say,” JJ pushed your hands off his chest, eyes never leaving the brunette who was now standing.

Dominic snickered and pushed his hair back off his forehead, saying, “I heard she got passed around quite a bit. Rafe sure had a lot to say about her. Was hoping I could find out for myself.”

Low blow, asshole, you thought to yourself, feeling your stomach sink at the mention of the oldest Cameron sibling. You’d messed around with him long before you and JJ got together, Topper too. It put a rift between you and the Pogues for a while. They didn’t care who you slept with, as long as they weren’t Kooks, but you did what you wanted. JJ was the most upset. You were sleeping with the enemy.

JJ went to walk around you, ready to pummel Dominic into the sand. You grabbed the front of JJ’s shirt and pushed him back with all of your strength. You hated when he got in fights. You couldn’t watch. Most of the time he won, but when he didn’t, you had to clean him up. You tried to keep him out of them the best you could.

“Don’t, JJ, please,” you begged, pushing against his abs, “It’s not worth it.”

JJ’s eyes flickered down to yours, his cold gaze softening a bit when he looked at your pleading face.

“Wow, they weren’t kidding. You really are her bitch,” Dominic said through a laugh when he realized you were convincing JJ not to fight him.

“Shut the fuck up!” you yelled over your shoulder, pushing your boyfriend back once again.

It was useless, JJ managed to get past you, your hands grabbing onto his arms and shirt - whatever you could get ahold of to keep him back. John B grabbed your arm the second the blonde’s fist hit Dominic’s face. You looked back at your curly haired friend and he simply shook his head. Not even Pope moved, they were going to let the guy get his assbeat for talking about you like that. No one talked about you like that.

“Don’t ever talk about her like that again!” JJ yelled, arms swinging, “I’ll kill you, you hear me?! I’ll fucking kill you!”

You tried to shout your boyfriend’s name over the cheering from people watching the fight. He couldn’t hear you, still standing over Dominic who’d been knocked down. He landed blow after blow against the Touron’s face.

“Alright, JJ!” John B yelled, stepping forward.

“He’s had enough, man!” Pope added.

You breathed in deeply through your nose and closed your eyes for a second. As you opened your eyes, you screamed JJ’s name as loud as you could. It was so loud, everyone went quiet and their eyes turned to you.

The blonde froze, fist still pulled back mid swing. His anger fueled frenzy was over and he was brought back to Earth by your voice. He dropped Dominic, who was groaning in pain, into the sand by his shirt. His arm fell to his side and he turned to face you. He had blood trickling down from his nose but other than that, he seemed to be perfectly unharmed.

“Are you done?” you questioned, arms crossing over your chest with a raised brow.

JJ simply nodded in response and walked away from the boy he’d just seriously beaten. He approached you with slumped shoulders and sheepish expression, knowing you were going to scold him for getting in yet another fight. But how could he just stand there and let someone degrade you like that?

“Sorry,” he muttered softly and reached for you, slipping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you back towards the kegs. Kiara stood there, shaking her head as she had watched the altercation from afar.

“If he presses charges, you’re thouroughly fucked, you know that?” you asked him seriously. Though you brought your hand up and intertwined your fingers with his that was hanging off your shoulder.

The blonde boy nodded and took a cup of beer from Kie with his free hand. He downed it all in one go, grunting as he pulled the cup away from his lips. He gave it back for her to refill.

“I know you’re trying to defend me, J, but sometimes I wish you could just walk away,” you sighed and leaned into him, feeling a kiss against the top of your head.

“I’ll try to be better, promise,” he mumbled into your hair and when he pulled his head back you heard him laugh softly. He wiped his hand against your hair and when you looked up at him, he gave you an innocent smile. You saw the trail of blood leaving his nose was smeared and narrowed your eyes.

“You got blood in my hair, didn’t you?”

“Yup.”

[archerdaryl]

London in Your Eyes.

After pulling your name for Secret Santa, Daryl comes and finds you at the Christmas fair. Inspired by Last December by Nina Nesbitt.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Tags: cute christmas vibes, sfw, a lil sad a lil fluffy a lil slow burn?? Word Count: around 3k Notes: This is my very first fanfiction I’ve written in literal years -- I’d love to hear what you guys think as I’m a little nervous but I hope you enjoy it!!

Against the soft blankets of snow that had long settled since the beginning of December, flashes of red and green could be seen wherever you looked from the guard tower. Amongst them were shadows you recognised, the figures of the people weaving themselves in and out of various stalls that had been set up for the Christmas fair.

You wanted to object to it the first time The King brought it up, especially after the events that occurred at the original. It seemed futile, you weren’t sure you could take another massacre, and it was too God damn cold to be lingering outside. And yet, you folded.

You couldn’t argue with hope. And if Ezekial was good at anything, it was inspiring just that.

Snowflakes had begun to dance in the evening air once more as you diverted your attention back towards the forest that surrounded the walls. You could hear Luke sing what sounded like a song you used to know but couldn’t quite make out as he made his way to his stall where he had wooden instruments up for trade. Down the same lane were various baked goods and crafts made by different members of the community. The kids even had their own art stall, endearingly decorated with looped paper covered in paint and cotton wool shaped into snowmen.

Ezekiel had asked if you wanted to contribute anything. You declined, not because you didn’t want to help but because playing pretend had never been something you were good at -- even as a kid yourself. And especially at Christmas time.

Of course, you played it off a lot more casually than that. You weren’t one to divulge the details of traumas that no longer mattered in the grand scheme of things. After making fun of your lack of artistic talent you insisted on keeping watch for the majority of the evening so that everyone else could enjoy what the fair had to offer. You knew where you stood in that tower. You couldn’t feel the tip of your nose and you had to keep bouncing your knees to maintain circulation, but you felt secure.

You brought your gloved hands up to your mouth and huffed, allowing the warmth to wash over your fingers. You had been up there for several hours now and the most exciting thing to happened was a walker in a hard hat causing a scene by clanging its head against the metal walls. Someone else manning the perimeter had dealt with it, taking what little entertainment you could have had away from you, but at least no one had to worry about an oncoming herd.

“Hey.”

You turned swiftly towards a voice drenched in a Southern drawl, eyebrows raised in surprise knitting themselves together.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“Doin’ wha’?”

“Sneaking up on me.”

Daryl Dixon was one of few people who got the jump on you and it was equal parts annoying and endearing. You stood upright from the post you had been leaning on and took a couple of steps towards him, eyes adjusting to his height as you did so.

“Didn’ mean to.” He confessed, “Thought you might be bored.”

“Maybe a little.” You sighed, “I’m mostly just cold.”

He watched you carefully, one hand fiddling with something in his jacket pocket while the other swung at his side holding a large flask. Your cheeks and nose were pink and he found himself indebted to the harsh winds that were to blame.

“Is that-”

“Mulled wine.” He interrupted, “Whatever tha’ is.”

The pair of you had been dancing around something unspoken for the past year, aware but unwilling to cross a line that could ruin the comfort you found in each other. That and you had both seen what happened to people who got attached to others. It was uncharted territory neither of you had ventured into with anyone for a long long time, and though he often daydreamed of you like a teenager and you were constantly worrying about him, the risk seemed too much.

“You’ve never had mulled wine?” You asked curiously, taking the flask he handed to you and shivering slightly as you wrapped your palms around it, “It’s really good actually. And hot.”

The question may as well have been rhetorical. The pair of you hadn’t shared a great deal about your lives before the dead took over, but he had told you enough that you knew Daryl was raised on beer and moonshine. You cared for neither, admittedly. Gin had always been your vice.

“Besides, I thought you liked to drink alone Dixon.”

He exhaled in amusement but didn’t offer a retort. Instead he stepped towards the cabinet at the back of the watch tower and retrieved a large blanket. Your mouth practically dropped to the floor and he fought a smile from creeping onto his lips.

You hadn’t even thought to check. Your cheeks grew even pinker.

“C’mon. Ain’t’ nothin’ happenin’ in the next ten minutes.”

With furrowed brows you looked back out onto the forest, studying its movement and mystery. Chances are, he was right. Nothing had happened so far and nothing likely would, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Don’ make me take back tha’ wine.”

“No! Don’t you dare.” You whipped your head back towards him and narrowed your eyes. “It’s warm.”

“So’s this blanket. Come on.”

You made a point of rolling your eyes as you followed Daryl out onto the deck. Before you could complain about the cold (which honestly wasn’t that much worse than inside the tower) Daryl had shook out the blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders. You mumbled a thank you as he lowered himself to the ground and allowed his legs to swing free over the edge of the deck. You followed suit, the flask of hot mulled wine still between your hands acting like your own personal furnace.

It was darker now and hundreds of lights had been switched on so that people could still find their way around the fair. Even you couldn’t deny the wonder and whimsy of it all. Kids were throwing snowballs, families were laughing and making memories that were worth something. There was makeshift tinsel and decorations all over the place and the rich scent of pig and apple sauce hung in the air. In the sweet silence you shared with the archer, there was a moment you forgot where you were. The world you now lived in was an afterthought, and the Christmas fair was an almost perfect picture of somewhere you yearned to be.  

Daryl noticed the unmistakable twinkle of mourning in your eyes before you could even try to force a smile. He reached for the flask and took it from you, unscrewing its lid and pouring you a cup of mulled wine. He took a swig straight from the bottle and though he furrowed his brows and smelled the contents immediately afterwards, he didn���t complain.

“Ain’t ever seen nothin’ like this.” He offered.

You took a large sip and closed your eyes, savouring every note that swam across your tongue.

“I have. A long time ago.”

“Yeah?”

Your eyes flit open and you looked right at him. In what little light was left you could see his lips were already slightly stained red. You didn’t doubt your own were the same. He watched your mouth as you took another sip.

“My family was close. Always saved up their holidays so we could get a long Christmas together.” You found yourself lowering your gaze as you spoke, soon returning it to the hustle and bustle before you,  “Spent a couple years in London. They had markets just like these. Winter Wonderland I think they called it. Never thought I’d see anything like it again.”

It was abundantly clear from the very beginning that the pair of you had led very different lives before the world went to waste. He liked talking about his past even less than you did and for very different reasons too. You never pushed like some of the other’s did. In the end that was likely what pushed you both together.

“It’s funny how shit like that sneaks up on you.” You continued, “Every time I think I’ve moved on or let something go it just… I don’t know. None of this should even matter anymore.”

“You got a past worth rememberin’.” You felt a large hand tug at the blanket hanging around you, pulling it to make sure it didn’t fall, “Ain’t no shame in that.”

In truth, Daryl enjoyed listening to you reminisce. It was a rare gift you offered him, one that he would have found annoying from anyone else considering the stark differences in your upbringing. But you spoke about your past like you were telling a story, keeping that little bit of distance so it didn’t wash over you all at once. Whether you knew it or not, you handed him another puzzle piece every time you let him in. He could sit there and listen to you for hours. He wanted to.

A calloused hand found its way into his jacket once again, fiddling with a small object wrapped in aluminium foil. Now didn’t seem appropriate. They still had time.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Nah.” His cheeks said otherwise, “Wines doing the trick.”

You pulled your legs up and shimmied a little closer to him to him anyways before forcing your arm through his. He didn’t object, not even when you leaned on him a little.

“What other shit did they have in London?” He pushed.

“Mulled cider. That’s probably more up your street” You took your last sip before nudging him to top the cup up, “I used to love these little pancake balls covered in Nutella, strawberries, and icing sugar. Wasn’t Winter Wonderland unless I was covered in chocolate by the end of it.”

Daryl slowly lowered the side of his head down onto yours. It didn’t feel like too much, like you’d suddenly catch yourself and make excuses to go back on watch. Instead, you kept talking, and Daryl kept fiddling with the gift in his pocket.

“I remember it being loud. Music and people everywhere. And it was cold, but never as cold as this. Didn’t really snow there, which I always thought was weird.”

“If you wan’ loud I heard Luke and Jerry were gon’ go carollin’ later.”

A chuckle escaped you as you took another gulp of wine, “You know what, I think I’ll stay up here.”

Comfortable silence took over as you both watched the fair. It had barely quietened down, even though a lot of people had begun their ride back to Hilltop or Alexandria. It was the first time in a long time that there wasn’t a human threat to worry about, so why wouldn’t people make the most of a time like this? You only wished you could let go like others could.

“Oh, shit.” You sat up suddenly, “I forgot about that Secret Santa thing Jerry made us do.”

“Who’s name d’ya pull?”

“It’s supposed to be Secret Santa.” You paused and sighed, “I pulled Jesus. Is this irony? It feels ironic. I’ll figure it out.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Daryl’s lips as he leaned forward onto the wooden barrier keeping them from falling if either of them were to take a wrong step. He felt something gnawing at him in the pit of his stomach, and he swallowed hard in a futile attempt to get rid of it before clearing his throat.

“Who’s name did you pull?”

“Like ya’ said, it’s Secret Santa.” He grumbled.

You rotated yourself slightly to face him, allowing just one leg to hang free from the deck whilst the other was bent at the knee. 

“Don’t be an asshole, Dixon.” You pleaded, “Tell me!”

“Mind ya’ business.”

“Unless it’s me I don’t see why you can’t tell me.”

Daryl stayed quiet and you couldn’t help but laugh in both amusement and disbelief.

“You’re kidding. Did you really get me something?”

“Will you shut up? You ain’t even s’posed t’ know.”

He finally turned his head to find you unable to suppress the grin spreading across your face. Your eyes were twinkling again, but not with the sadness of earlier. That paired with the blush on your nose and cheeks from the cold and your little hands clinging desperately to the blanket around you made it impossible to say no. That gnawing feeling grew and he took a large breath before retrieving his hand from his pocket.

“Don’ tell Jerry.”

He passed you an strangely shaped object covered in aluminium foil. You took it from him and beamed. You weren’t sure why you were surprised he actually got you something. Maybe it was the fact he thought to wrap it at all, or that he was trying to follow the rules so it really would be a surprise. Would you have ever known it was him if you hadn’t pestered him in this moment? You held the gift in your hands as if it could break at any second whilst your heart was attempting to beat itself out of your chest.

“Do you want me to wait?” You asked, just in case, “I can open it later.”

Daryl shook his head and grabbed the flask again, taking several gulps to warm up his insides. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, studying your features carefully waiting for a sign of repulsion or embarrassment. It never came and without realising it his own features softened.

“It’s yours. Sorry I couldn’ find any paper.”

“It’s shiny and it serves its purpose.” You responded without hesitation, “It’s perfect.”

You carefully unfolded the foil in a futile attempt not to tear it and destroy the fantasy Daryl had created for you. The intricate motions felt painfully slow, and with every layer you tore away the nastier the self-deprecation in his head got. He felt stupid for trying. Was it too much? Was it not enough? He had no fuckin’ idea. Even before the world went to shit he didn’t come from the kind of family that exchanged gifts. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t. All he could do was drink and bite at the skin of his lips until they bled.

“Oh my god.”

He swallowed hard and braced himself for the worst. Your eyebrows were drawn together as you studied the object in all its detail. Eventually you shook it, and you grinned again.

“Where the hell did you find something like this?”

It was a snowglobe, somehow perfectly intact despite the number of years it had been collecting dust in a world full of violence and filth. Daryl had stumbled upon it on a run where he had found a strip of houses to loot. It was sat on a mantelpiece, and though Daryl didn’t know much about England or even London, he knew about Big Ben.

You shook it again and laughed. He watched you gaze at it in wonder, eyeing the details on the clock tower as plastic snow danced around it. Most of his anxieties melted away at the sight of that alone, but he still felt uneasy, as if he had done something wrong.

“I love it, Daryl. I didn’t even realise I’d spoken about London before.”

He nodded, his words stuck in the back of his throat. You had only mentioned London once before, something in passing, but he remembered. He remembered everything you said to him over the years. Maybe that was why this felt so wrong, as if he had taken this -- whatever this is -- too far.

Your heart was still thumping. Daryl had never been a talker, but he’d also never failed to show you that he cared. Even just by doing little things like making sure you ate properly or were sleeping okay. This was a different kind of show and tell and you weren’t sure what to do with it. 

Your affection for the archer had snuck up on you a long time ago and you usually found it quite easy to push it down and away. There were other things to concern yourself with, things to do to make sure not just you but your community could survive. But right now you were stuck in a loop. Behind his grouchy disposition was a warmth you desperately wanted to wrap yourself in.

The blanket wasn’t enough. Not right now. 

“It’s nothin’.” He finally responded, and this time you were lost for words.

You turned back towards the fair, avoiding his blue gaze as you thought to yourself. Neither of you knew what the hell this was or what the hell you were doing. You had spent so much time ignoring or rejecting the possibility of something more that now it had slapped you both across the face you were dumbfounded.

Was it supposed to be this complicated? This confusing? Or was it actually not at all and you were both just useless at all of this?

Tomorrow things would likely carry on as normal but right now, things were different. Something had shifted and it was entirely possibly you had been forced into the uncharted territory you were both so scared of. 

You swallowed hard shimmied closer to him again. Using your free arm, you tried to fling half of the blanket around his broad shoulders. It fell off of him immediately, but he didn’t question it. He picked it up, nudged closer to you, and wrapped it around himself.

A sigh of relief escaped you. Not just because he took the blanket but because he was practically a radiator. 

“I knew you were cold.” Your words were soft, almost hesitant despite being teasing.

Daryl looked down at you, his tongue flitting across his bottom lip as he watched you watch the world go by at the Christmas fair. He carefully sought out your hand with his own, and without even thinking about it you allowed your fingers to intertwine with his.

“You’re the one wi’ blue fingers.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder again with a smile and allowed whatever excuses he made to comfort him. The fact you didn’t pull away was enough, and though he always knew you wouldn’t be as rough and calloused as he was, he couldn’t quite get over how soft your fingers were.

“Did you want to look around the fair?”

He allowed his thumb to glide across the back of your hand.

“Nah. I like it up here.”

[shawn-mendes-post]

Late Late with Harry Styles

A/N: Hello! I have been inactive for a while. I think I am going to split this into two parts depending on what I want to write. Hope you like this chapter. I used Olivia Rodrigo’s deja vu lyrics in this chapter. I am almost at the end of the first album, which means the Shawn Mendes chapter is coming to a close for a while. I think it is time for her to focus on the relationship with Sebastian and the trauma with Tristan. 

Hello again! It has been a while, and I hope you missed me. I know I missed every one of my readers.

So much has happened that I need to catch everyone up. In October, (Y/n) comes out with her new boyfriend, Sebastian Stan. There has been controversy due to their age difference, but who cares? I mean, if in her position, I would date him too. He is hot for his age and acted in Marvel movies. He has amazing eyes and hair that I want to know if soft.

No Shawn. And I mean at all. When asked, he did not comment and moved on to the next question. Harsh. Is there trouble in paradise between the two friends? If so, when did this start? I have a theory but must wait till next time; loves.

Then in November, Shawn Mendes and girlfriend Camila Cabello sang Senorita at the AMA's, where (Y/n) would perform as well. During the couple's performance, the camera was on (Y/n) face, which seemed a little grim. It is a good thing her man was next to her, dancing along to the beat. I wish I had someone.

She would perform, and Shawn was under the magnifying glass next. A lot is written across his face, and we can't wait to dig deeper into next time. (Y/n)'s performance consists of her songs that were already released and added her new single, Starving. Wonder who the muse is?

(Y/n) has a lot of projects coming up that will lead to her being busy. What to expect? She will appear in a Netflix original series, The Umbrella Academy, season two; not much is known about her character. She is also resuming her role in Stranger Things. However, we do know she is not in this season of American Horror Story. Hopefully, next season if she has the time. Also, she was in The Devil All the Time. Starring with Tom Holand, Robert Patterson, and current boo, Sebastian Stan (rumor where they met). She also hinted at a full album realize in the coming days.

I am excited and can not wait! I hope the album comes out before Christmas. There are rumors the album will be about Sebastian, while there are rumors it is about her dearest friend, Shawn Mendes. Wonder what Shawn will think about the album. Get it? Oh, well, Shawn Mendes is also dropping his album soon called Wonder. So much is happening in December, and I am ready for it. I do have questions on what (Y/N) will do for Christmas? She has not been close to her family or Shawn. Will this be the first Christmas for Sebastian and (Y/N) to celebrate as a couple?

Time will tell. XOXO Dawnn S.

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It was December now. Shawn was becoming more intimate with Camila and becoming open about the relationship. He seemed happy. Was he? A part of him was okay, but there was a part of him sad. He still hasn't contacted his best friend (Y/N). He never went five days without any contact, and this is something new that he did not like. He always told her everything because of their strong bond, but he ruined things.

She has been busy writing and producing new music. Shawn knew because he would get recommendations to watch new videos of her songs on YouTube. Shawn wanted to deny that he did not listen to every song, trying to decode any messages. He would deny that he spent countless sleepless nights watching her videos, trying to see if she was affected by their loss as he felt. She also was a part of numerous movies and TV shows that haunted Shawn. He would make sure to go to the theaters alone, without being seen to get a glimpse of her.

Shawn forgot how busy she likes to keep herself. She would starve herself due to not having time, but he would always bring her food. Shawn would take her out for her to have fun and relax. Shawn could see how much she was working due to the various works and the album she is about to release. Her mind was always thinking whether an idea for a song or a Christmas gift for someone. Shawn fiddles with his phone, debating on if he should call her.

"Hello?" Her voice said, having a calming effect on Shawn. He felt this made him stronger to speak up. He realizes he wanted to reach out before he lost the courage.

"(Nickname)?" He asked, hesitantly, thinking she would hang upon him. He silently prayed she would talk to him and not hang up.

"Shawny, good to hear from you. " She admitted, glancing at her boyfriend, smiling brightly at him. Sebastian shoots her a look, curious about the fact she answered. Sebastian smirks, moving closer to her, placing a hand on her knee.

"How have you been?" He asked, really enjoying hearing her voice. He missed smelling the scent of pumpkin spice and cinnamon when he hugged her.

" I've been well...you?" (Y/N) asked, raising an eyebrow at her boyfriend, knowing he is up to something. She is trying to pay attention to the phone call, trying to hide how much she missed hearing Shawn's voice.  

" G-good," he stuttered out, blushing at how lame he must have sounded. Shawn felt like an idiot. He should be apologizing to her, but all he could say is," I miss you," breathless, waiting for her response.

Silence.

He started to panic, thinking he made a mistake in telling her. He starts to run a hand through his hair. Shawn bites his lower lip nervously as his eyes shift around the room. Silently,  he was glad that he was alone and did not have to worry about being embarrassed in front of his friends.

" I miss you too, Shawny," she finally replied, hating how weak she gave in to her feelings. Her boyfriend moves his hand higher up her thigh, fingers moving closer to her panties. She closes her eyes, knowing she should stop Sebastian, but loved how crazy he makes her; yearning for him to touch her, she spreads her legs. She silently thanked that she picked a skirt to wear as she bites back a moan when he teases her with his finger.

There is so much she has to tell Shawn. Tell him how much she loves him. How much he broke her heart when she found out he was dating Camila Cabello. However, nothing comes out as she lets out a soft gasp, watching Sebastian getting on his knees, pulling down her panties. She could only watch the smirk on his face as he lifts her skirt, seeing how wet she became from his touch.

" I would like that very much," Shawn replied happily, not having a clue about what is happening on the other side. Shawn felt like he was on his way to get his best friend back. Shawn couldn't believe how simple it was for him to talk to her. Yeah, he still had feelings for her, but that didn't matter. He was with Camila, and that is who he loves.

(Y/N)'s eyes shut as she tilts her head back, enjoying the sensation of Sebastian's tongue not being able to hide her moans anymore; she says a rush goodbye to Shawn, a promise to call him another time before hanging up. Quickly, she pushes Sebastian off her, grabbing his arm and leading him to the bedroom.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) lets out a snicker, reading the text messages between Sebastian and her. He loved to tease her about her crush on Harry Styles and the fact she told him if she had the chance, she would get with Harry. Sebastian was surprised to find out he was not her celeb crush, but he did become close. She did not count Shawn as a celeb crush because he liked him before he got famous. She thought he was the one for her, and they would get married when they were 20. However, things did not turn out as planned, and she is `moving on. Currently, she is in the blue room, watching from the screen as it plays the show.

"Hi, mate. I am just by your place, and I was wondering if you could help me get to work," Harry says on the phone, "great, thanks." Hanging up the phone, James appears, smiling and saying, "hey."

Harry starts to drive as the two converse with each other. "How are you feeling about hosting?"

"It will be fine," Harry said, smiling as he nods his head. He then asks for advice, listening to every single word James says, finding it amusing. After faking laughing practice and clothing advice, Harry turns on the radio. Watermelon Sugar comes on, they both begin to sing to the song, jamming out as drive.

Harry's phone begins to ring, which makes them stop for a moment. Harry picks up the phone, "ello?" James shoots a confused look at Harry, wondering who is on the phone. "Yeah, I am close near you. I would not mind, yes. No worries, love," Harry said before hanging up. He turns to James, "I need to make a quick stop."

The next thing James can see is (Y/N) outside, with multiple shopping bags, smiling apologetically. "No way!" James exclaimed, not having to know the two had this planned for the segment. The two men get out of the car, grabbing some of the bags and placing them in the trunk.

"Sorry about this. I was Christmas shopping, but my car broke down. I did not need my manager to know I left the studio to shop. I also knew Harry was going to the studio soon, and it was fate that he was close."

The three make their way into the car as the car drives off towards the studio. "I thought you were busy?" James said in a questioning tone, not understanding what is going on.

" I was, but I knew I just had to appear. I just made sure to finish getting everything ready for the album to drop in a couple of days."

Harry looks in the review mirror, meeting (Y/N)'s eyes, "should we listen to music?" Laughing, (Y/N) nods her head, watching Harry turns on the radio once again, the sound of Starving. The three sing-alongs, jamming to the song before there is a new song that comes on. James and Harry stay silent, not knowing the words to the song. (Y/N) smiles, hearing her newest song that dropped out a few hours ago.

Car rides to Malibu Strawberry ice cream, one spoon for two And trading jackets Laughing 'bout how small it looks on you (Ah-ha-ha-ha) Watching reruns of Glee Bein’ annoying, singing in harmony I bet she's braggin' to all her friends, saying you’re so unique (Hm)

(Y/n) sings, stoping to let the pre-chorus play, feeling proud she is almost done with her album. She can move on to the next chapter of her life soon and begin to forget about Shawn.

So when you gonna tell her that we did that too? She thinks it's special, but it's all re-used That was our place, I found it first I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you

(Y/N) resumes singing, feeling she is giving a major hint on who the album is about. She initially did not want to drop the song because of the hints of heartbreak and the concept of him moving on. There are already people trying to connect each song to her friendship with Shawn.

Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu, hmm? (Ha) Do you get déjà vu, huh?

Do you call her, almost say my name? 'Cause let's be honest, we kinda do sound the same Another actress I hate to think that I was just your type And I bet that she knows Billy Joel 'Cause you played her "Uptown Girl" You’re singing it together Now I bet you even tell her how you love her In between the chorus and the verse

(Y/N) stops, as she only wanted to perform a snippet of the new song. James raises his hands, not believing what happened. "Is that a new song of yours?" He asked, turning to look at (Y/N), not stopping from smiling. (Y/N) nods, a flush on her cheeks as she ducks down a little. "Yes, I want people to hear more of my new songs. My album is dropping tomorrow, and it seems like a good time. I need to move on with my life, and releasing my music is the change I need." The next thing the three know is that they arrived at the studio.

(Need to let me know if you want to be tagged.)

@hxneybee-uwu

@shawn-youth

@sspidermanss

@turtoix​

@unpredictabledinosaur

[captainsjack]

the first time shawn gives gus a mixtape is gus’s 16th birthday.

they’re hanging out on the beach, the sun just slipping below the horizon, a soft pink glow illuminating the sky, and shawn just kinda shoves it at him.

“here, happy birthday.”

gus’s face lights up, and shawn can’t help but wonder why everyone makes such a fuss about sunsets or oceans or whatever, when gus is right here.

“thanks shawn!” gus flips the tape over, carefully scanning the list of songs.

shawn spent almost two months on it (not that he’s gonna tell gus that), carefully choosing each song, writing and rewriting the title and playlist until it was perfect.

“now you have something to listen to in your car.”

when gus looks back up and smiles at him, shawn swears his heart skips a beat.

-

that christmas, shawn gives gus another mixtape.

he spends almost three months on it this time - each song specially chosen just for gus. some are new songs that he thinks gus will like, others are songs they had listened to together long ago. many are songs that just remind him of gus.

sometimes when shawn comes over, gus will have one of the tapes playing in his room. it always warms shawn’s heart to know that gus listens to the things he made him. there’s this feeling of contentment, bliss, when they hang out and shawn hears his - their - music playing in the background.

-

by the middle of junior year, shawn starts giving gus mixtapes randomly - not just for holidays and birthdays.

he just puts together tapes of all of the songs he knows gus likes, or he thinks gus will like, or songs that remind him of gus.

at first, shawn was kind of iffy about giving gus mixtapes when it wasn’t for a special occasion. but each time shawn had given him one, gus had this shine in his eyes and this huge smile on his face, and shawn found himself wanting to see it again and again and again. of course, he always wants to see gus smile and hear him laugh, but there was something special about gus’s expression both times shawn gave him a tape. so shawn decides to make more and more and more.

most of the songs are about best friends or they have no hidden meaning - just really cool songs. but over time, shawn finds himself putting more and more of his feelings into the mixtape he’s making. by senior year, the tapes are pretty much declarations of love. and shawn figures that either gus can’t tell what he’s doing - saying, or he’s just ignoring it to let him down easy. either way, shawn doesn’t let it stop him.

by the end of senior year, gus has almost fifteen mixtapes.

-

shawn leaves two days after graduation. there’s no note, no phone call - nothing. he doesn’t even tell gus why or where he’s going.

gus spends that summer listening to all of shawn’s tapes, over and over. whether he’s at the beach, at home packing for college, or laying in his yard soaking in the sun, one of shawn’s mixtapes is always in the background.

he doesn’t know what else to do, really. what are you supposed to do when your best friend of almost thirteen years, up and leaves without warning? gus uses the tapes as a distraction - so he’s not alone with his thoughts, wondering why he left, where he is, convincing himself over and over that there was something he could’ve done to get him to stay. but he also listens to them… because, well, they’re shawn’s. if he can’t have shawn in person anymore, then at least he can have the tapes he made for him. he can have their memories, hear him, see him, through the songs. it’s as close as he can get to the real thing.

-

at the end of autumn, gus gets a little package in the mail. he recognizes shawn’s handwriting right away. there’s no return address.

inside is a mixtape and a postcard. the tape is titled “miss you buddy.” the postcard is long and packed with words, and gus can barely read it because it’s all squished. but shawn apologizes (if somewhat vaguely) for not saying goodbye, and tells him where he is and what he’s been doing.

when gus listens to the new tape that night, something deep inside him finally begins to release. things are gonna be okay.

after the initial package sent freshman year, shawn continues to send gus mixtapes. there’s a lot less than during high school, and they pretty much default back to birthday presents the eleven years he’s away. but he still does it. and they’re still filled with loving songs - some happy, some sad, some yearning.

gus, of course, loves them. there’s a lighter bounce in his step, and even if he doesn’t hear from shawn all that often, every time he gets a new tape and a postcard, it’s a reassurance that shawn is still a part of his life. gus writes back as often as he can, and he grows accustomed to their new normal.

-

shawn moved back to santa barbara about a month ago. gus hasn’t gotten a tape in over a year.

they’re hanging out in gus’s apartment one night, and shawn sees a section on gus’s bookshelf next to his cassette player. all of shawn’s tapes are organized by date and carefully taken care of.

shawn just kinda laughs, because he gets this weird feeling in his stomach, and he’s like “dude, i can’t believe you still have all of that.”

and gus just looks at him and says (maybe a bit too serious), “yeah, why wouldn’t i?”

shawn doesn’t really know what to say, so he just smiles softly at him and switches the topic.

that’s when he realizes how important those tapes were. during high school yes, but also when he was away. they were a reminder to gus of how important he was to shawn, and they eased the feeling of gus being scared shawn wouldn’t come back. he realizes how much gus really loved and needed those.

and shawn also knows that they haven’t yet had a conversation about him moving back. gus still thinks that shawn’s going to leave any second - that psych (and gus) are just a temporary adventure before he moves on again. but gus hasn’t brought it up, so shawn hasn’t either, but he knows it’s still a thing between them.

when he realizes the importance of the tapes and what they mean, he makes gus another one. he spends a couple of weeks on it - getting it perfect, and gives it to gus.

they’re at the office, hanging around, waiting for a case, and shawn’s just like “here, i made you something,” and hands gus a mixtape.

it’s his way of telling gus he isn’t leaving. that he’s always going to be here, because - it’s gus.

this tape is full of soft, loving songs. there are a few regular songs thrown in there, ones that are more recent and popular, that shawn just thought gus would like (mostly to distract from the quite honestly way too cheesy and emotional vibes of the other songs). but, mostly, the songs are about love and lifelong friendships and soulmates.

when gus listens to it that night, he finally feels at peace.

-

when shawn gives gus the tape that month, it’s the first time he sees gus’s reaction since high school. the glint in his eyes, the way his face softens around the edges, the almost indescribable vibrance and light to him - somewhat familiar, but just out of reach. he’s filled with that feeling again, of wanting to - needing to - always see gus like that. and so, shawn starts making more and more mixtapes.

shawn gives gus almost two tapes per month. they listen to them together - in the car driving around for cases, at gus’s apartment cooking dinner, and at the office waiting for clients.

a part of shawn knows that gus is only listening to the music. he’s not listening for the meaning behind the lyrics. he’s not listening to shawn. and it’s a truth shawn had accepted a while ago. gus is being respectful enough to not mention what shawn is trying to tell him. because if gus has to say, “hey, look man, i know what you’re telling me, and i don’t feel that way about you, but we’re still gonna be friends! also, i still like the tapes regardless of if they’re love songs, so actually keep making them please,” things are never going to be the same.

and shawn’s okay with it. mostly. somewhat. okay, not really. but he can still pretend. he can tell gus how much he loves him through songs and pretend that gus understands and that he feels the same way. he can imagine gus is saying the lyrics to him too. and, also, shawn doesn’t want to stop seeing gus’s smile when he gives him a tape. because he has yet to figure out how else to see it, and how else to make gus feel that way (a way he can’t really explain but is so unique and perfect to these moments). so, shawn keeps making gus mixtapes.

-

now, since they’re both idiots, of course gus doesn’t actually know what shawn is saying with the tapes. shawn just assumes the worst.

but there’s a part in the back of gus’s mind that thinks maybe. maybe there’s some deeper meaning here, maybe there’s a personal connection to the songs shawn chose - a connection to gus, and to shawn’s feelings. but gus always squishes that thought down.

more months pass, and quickly enough, it almost feels like shawn had never left. and the longer shawn stays, the closer they grow.

and if it weren’t for shawn’s mixtapes, gus would probably keep ignoring every moment that stirs something in the back of his mind, makes him question things he’d shoved deep down for almost twenty years. but, soon enough, he gives in to the nagging at his heart, at his mind, telling him that there’s something different, something more - that it’s not just gus feeling these things, but shawn too.

gus notices that when he flirts with someone, and shawn’s around, shawn’s instinct is to make a snide comment or roll his eyes to himself - and after that split second, he’s overly supportive. gus notices that when shawn flirts with people, nothing really comes of it. he hasn’t been in a serious relationship since he moved back. gus notices how shawn’s been hanging out at gus’s apartment later and later, and how some weeks, he just doesn’t go home. gus notices how shawn steals his clothes, buys him food, cooks them dinner. how he stands just a bit too close to gus when some attractive person talks to him. and how shawn will lean against him when they’re watching movies. gus will catch shawn looking at him when they’re at the office - a far off, distant, and somewhat guilty, longing look in his eyes. how he quickly flashes one of his cheesy grins that doesn’t meet his eyes when gus looks back. sometimes, and gus tries to convince himself he’s making this up, but sometimes he thinks shawn will lean in a bit when they’re talking, that his eyes flick down to his lips, and he moves closer - like a magnet is pulling him closer and closer to gus.

one day, shawn gives gus another mixtape. it’s random, not out of the ordinary for shawn though, just another tape. but when gus listens to it, it seems a lot different than the others. there aren’t any randomly out of place songs that are just fun to listen to. they’re all, like, love songs. every single one. each song is about being in love and not knowing how to tell somebody. about loving someone so much, that it’s all you think about. how this person is your soulmate, and you’ll never stop loving them.

it makes everything click for gus. he listens to all of shawn’s previous tapes - all the way from the beginning, fifteen years ago. and he realizes that shawn’s been trying to tell him something for so long.

he takes another day just to be sure - to finally convince himself that he’s not making it all up. that day, he pays extra attention to shawn, and after careful deliberation and consideration, he decides he’s right.

-

gus spends the next week making his own mixtape. he writes the title and list of songs with perfect penmanship, and each song is specially chosen. the songs are about childhood love, soulmates always tied together, how this person is ‘the one.’ about missed chances and second-guessing. the final song is happy and bright and hopeful. it’s about two people so in love and so connected, that they’re each intrinsic to the other’s soul.

that morning, gus gives shawn the tape. he’s a bit awkward about it, just hands it to shawn while they’re at the office and stutters out, “here, uh, i figured it was time i gave you something back, ya know?”

shawn is speechless, but then he catches himself and brushes it off with an, “oh, thanks buddy!”

he flips the tape over and looks at the songs listed on the back. when he reads them through, and then through again, he’s surprised. it makes sense. it all makes sense.

gus can see his eyebrows raise and then frown while he puts everything together. gus is pretty sure his heart stopped beating for a solid minute.

shawn looks up at him. “dude,” he says. “oh my god.”

“yeah?” gus breathes.

shawn’s face breaks into a blinding grin. “i get it.”

“really?” gus starts to smile back.

“the chef!” shawn exclaims.

gus jolts back. “huh?”

“it’s the chef! he must’ve poisoned the guy’s food!”

gus’s heart sinks. oh.

“come on! we gotta call the chief!” shawn tosses the tape on his desk and grabs the keys.

gus glances at the mixtape half-heartedly discarded on the desk, and follows shawn.

he starts to hate that he titled the tape “me too” with a little heart.

apparently, there wasn’t a deeper meaning to begin with.

-

they’re in the car, driving to the restaurant, and gus’s stomach is twisted in a huge knot, his chest is tight, and he can’t stop thinking about how stupid he was. he’d made it all up. the songs shawn gave him were just that - songs.

he doesn’t think he’ll be able to play it cool if he looks at shawn. so, he stares out the windshield and tries like hell to keep his voice steady. he asks shawn how he figured it out, and as shawn explains the whole case, he mentions how one of the songs on gus’s tape reminded him of the chef and the waitress. 

during shawn’s explanation, it’s clear to gus that shawn knows the meaning of the song. he knows gus gave him a song about being secretly in love. and that solidifies all of gus’s thoughts. shawn knows how he feels about him. he’s choosing to ignore it. gus made a mistake by telling shawn how he feels, and shawn’s being nice enough not to mention it.

gus wants to go home.

-

the rest of the day, gus works like hell to act normal. but every time shawn looks at him, every time he absentmindedly touches gus’s shoulder or waist or hand, every time he makes some comment that only gus can understand, gus swears his heart stops beating. his mind keeps yelling, “he doesn’t love you, he doesn’t love you, he doesn’t love you.”

it really shouldn’t be this hard. afterall, he’s spent the better part of his life resigning to the fact that shawn does not, and will not, feel the same way. it’s nothing new. but… the sliver of hope he’d gained, convincing himself that these mixtapes meant something, that he had been wrong all of these years… it was like starting all over, only much, much worse.

they finish the case, and gus goes home, and maybe he cries, but that’s it - he’s going to force himself to be perfectly fine tomorrow. he has to get over this.

shawn’s at home too, and he finally listens to the playlist. he’s an idiot. he just thinks they’re neat songs. gus is a sap, always has been, of course this is the kind of music he listens to. (shawn thinks it’s cute). but he doesn’t think gus means anything by the mixtape. shawn smiles to himself as he listens to the end of the tape, and texts gus another thank you.

-

morning comes, they meet at psych. gus got the text last night and is now certain shawn’s been able to listen to the whole tape. and since he’s not mentioning it, it’s just more proof that he doesn’t feel the same way.

that day, shawn notices how gus is a bit off. he’s a bit distant, his smiles are too forced - something’s… different. 

and when he listens to the tape again that night, he starts thinking. it’s kind of the same process gus went through before he made shawn the tape - the lyrics have more meaning, shawn starts to think about all of the little things gus has done before that shawn had brushed off because he didn’t want to get his hopes up. and he starts thinking about gus’s response to what he said when gus gave him the tape - the hope in his eyes that vanished the moment shawn mentioned the case. he looks at the title of the tape and the little heart, and feels the wind knocked out of him because oh my god how could he be so fucking stupid.

it’s pouring rain, so shawn doesn’t bring the tape with him, because he doesn’t want it to get ruined, but he jumps on his bike and speeds over to gus’s apartment.

it’s almost 10:30, and gus is in his pjs, and he’s getting a pillowcase out of the closet. shawn barges in (he’d made a copy of gus’s key months ago), hope and relief flooding through him, and walks down the hall over to gus.

gus is, of course, startled, because what the hell are you doing, i’m supposed to be in bed by now, and shawn, you’re tracking mud and rain all over my freshly mopped floor, please stop walking. but then shawn’s in front of him and he cuts him off in the middle of a sentence and kisses him - hard. he holds gus close to him and cradles his face and savors the warmth of his lips and body.

gus is, of course, in shock (again) (that’s never new with shawn). but after his brain catches up, he kisses shawn back and his hands flutter to shawn’s waist. and shawn is soaking wet and the water is seeping through gus’s pjs and he’s a bit cold, but he doesn’t really care, because shawn is kissing him.

and then shawn breaks away (reluctantly), because he needs to breathe, and he rests his forehead against gus’s and presses soft little kisses all over his face and lips.

“i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry. i didn’t figure it out until just now,” he says against gus’s skin.

it takes a second for gus to figure out what he’s talking about, but when he does, he relaxes against shawn and laughs softly. “it’s okay. i mean, it took me fifteen years, so.”

shawn laughs quietly too and gently punches his shoulder. “yeah, i know.”

as he leans in to kiss him, gus moves away. shawn frowns. “wh-”

gus backs up and reaches for a towel.

“really?” shawn sighs. “that’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

gus clicks his tongue and shoves the towel at him. “these are nice floors shawn.”

“you’re annoying,” shawn says, and he rolls his eyes as gus pushes him to the bathroom.

“yeah, but you love me,” gus smiles at him.

shawn laughs a bit and grins back. “yeah. i do.”

gus’s smile widens, and it’s blinding like sunlight, and he has that same look on his face and in his eyes that shawn has spent the past fifteen years seeking out when giving him the mixtapes.

and he finally figures out, that it’s love.

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

12:45 AM | Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings: major character death, angst 

Time/Era: Marauders era, Age 20 (and a smidge of 18)

Word Count:  2.8k 

Summary: Sirius will never forget that one night when he looked at the clock and saw 12:45 am. 

Request: yo, can I request a story where Sirius is dating Lily’s sister (twin/younger) and he realizes he likes her and they start dating and eventually get married and they’re both in the order but she dies on a mission and at the funeral Lily tells Sirius that she was expecting? Wow I’m kinda evil.

A/N: Thank you for the request and patience! Enjoy!

masterlist | sirius black playlist | read on ao3

“Evans!” James yelled, running towards Y/N. Y/N sighed, holding her books tightly to her chest and turning around. His Gryffindor tie flew across his chest as he came to a sudden stop. 

“I’m not Lily, Potter. Honestly, if you’re going to date my twin you need to be able to tell us apart.” 

James throws his head back with a loud laugh before shaking his head. “No, no, I know you’re not Lily. I just needed to talk to you,” He leans his hands on his knees as he struggles to catch his breath. “It’s insulting you think I can’t tell you apart. No offense, Y/N, but you don’t have the same….oopla that Lily has.” 

“Oopla? What is oopla?” Y/N asks, amused. Even after seven years of being friends with James, she never quite got over some of his strange analogies. 

“Something Lily has, don’t you listen?” James straightens his back and twists, cracking his spine. “It’s not that you don’t have oopla, it’s just different oopla.” 

Y/N shakes her head. “You know what, I don’t even want to know. Why do you need to talk to me?” 

“Talk to you? Why do I need to-” A lightbulb goes off in James’ head. “Oh! I know why I need to talk to you! Sirius was looking for you. Something about after graduation plans or something. I’m not quite sure, I didn’t ask.” 

“Do you know where he is?” 

“That’s another thing I don’t know,” A goofy grin filled his features as he spoke. 

“You don’t make for a very good owl, Jamesy.”

“Good thing I’m not an owl then,” James said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Do you know where Lily is?” 

“No clue, you would know better than me seeing as you have a map and all,” Y/N’s grin matched James’ and she started to walk down the hall. 

“Don’t you have twin telepathy or something?! Just use that and tell me where she is!” 

“Bye, Potter!” Y/N called over her shoulder while walking towards McGonagall’s office. She remembered vaguely that Sirius had a career counseling session with her today, so she figured that the small chance of bumping into him there would be worth her while. 

Y/N pattered across the floor as quickly as possible without running. Thoughts swirled in her mind about what Sirius may need her for; they weren’t the closest of friends, nothing like him and the other marauders, but recently their relationship has grown rather flirty. Her stomach fumbled over itself as she thought of Sirius, but her feet only sped up towards the classroom. As Y/N rounded the corner, Sirius walked out of his meeting with his pearly white smile blinding all who could see it. 

“Oh, just the lady I’ve been looking for! Hello, darling,” Sirius said, walking down the hall with various papers clutched in his fingers. 

“Hello, Sirius. Career meeting?” Y/N asks with a subtle gesture to the papers. He waved the papers in the air with a dramatic flourish. Each paper held some grand title about being an Auror and going to the Auror Academy. 

“Good! Apparently Dumbledore put in a good word for me, so the Order is recruiting me!” Sirius seemed to bounce on his heels, the rubber souls of his shoes squeaking on the wooden floors. 

“I’m so happy for you! Oh my god! Congratulations!!!” 

The grin on his face grew exponentially, “You know what would make my day even better?” 

Y/N hummed. 

“If you snuck into Hogsmede for a drink with me,” Sirius leans in to whisper in her ear. “Unless you’re too scared, of course.” 

Y/N sucked in a harsh breath through her nose in an attempt not to focus on his hair tickling her cheek, or how his lips almost brushed her ear. She cleared her throat and nodded. 

“Not scared if you’re not, I suppose,” Y/N croaked. “I’ve done it, like, a million times.” 

Sirius pulled his head away, making Y/N yearn for the smell of his shampoo. “I can think of one time, and you were latched onto my wrist the entire time, rambling about how we could get expelled for skipping class.” 

A harsh red stained Y/N’s chest, cheeks, and ears, which only made Sirius’ smirk grow. 

“I was a different person then,” Y/N countered lamely. 

“Yeah? That was four months ago, love.” Sirius’ hands worked on his papers, folding them four times before shoving them into the pockets of his skinny jeans. Y/N’s eyes followed his teasing fingers, her gaze accidentally lingering on his pants. “Eyes up here, Y/N.” 

The boy made a small tsk noise, wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, and his hips swayed slightly as he started leading Y/N to the entrance to the Honeyduke’s cellar. His fingers found the bottom of her hair and started twirling it in and out of his middle and pointer fingers as if it were a cigarette. 

“I’m a different person than I was 4 months ago, aren’t you?” Y/N hesitantly snaked her arm under his leather jacket and wrapped around his waist. This was definitely further than they had ever gone in terms of flirting, and Y/N couldn’t wait for more. 

“Perfect four months ago, and perfect now.” Sirius laughed playfully placing a big kiss on Y/N’s temple. “I’m just taking the piss, love.” He turned to the statue blocking the tunnel and said the secret password. “Ladies first, darling.” 

Y/N hesitantly walked into the dark tunnel and cast a simple lumos charm; the damp pathway illuminated in front of the two teens before twisting into the darkness. Sirius returned to his spot next to Y/N and began to lead her down the path. 

“So, I was wondering,” Sirius began, kicking a rock into the wall. Y/N noticed this was a habit of his. “We’ve been friends for a long time,” 

Y/N snuggled into his side, the warm cotton of the inside of his leather jacket brushing her soft skin. 

“And we’re graduating soon…” Sirius let his voice trail before pulling lightly on Y/N’s hair so she would meet his gaze. “And I was wondering if you wanted to spend some special one on one time with me after we graduate?” 

“Special one on one time? Like,” Y/N took a deep breath and took a leap into the unknown. “Hooking up? Is that what you mean?” 

Sirius chuckled lightly, “Not exactly, but I guess that would be a part of it,” Sirius’s cheeky smile was illuminated by the light of Y/N’s wand. “I mean becoming official. I know there’s something between us, and I know you feel the same way, so it makes sense.”

“So, you’re asking me to be your girlfriend?” 

“Precisely. Will you be my girlfriend?” Sirius stopped walking and looked at the girl under his arm. She smiled happily and lightly punched his stomach. 

“I can’t believe you asked me out in the middle of a dark tunnel!” She laughed happily and brought her arms up to his neck to hug him. 

“Hey! I thought it was a good place! Is that a yes, babygirl?”  

“Yes, you idiot, I’ll go out with you!” 

~

Sirius and Y/N’s relationship blossomed quickly after the tunnel; after graduation, they moved into a small flat right in the middle of London’s hustle and bustle. Sirius loved to go out and explore every inch of the city with his girl, which usually resulted in a lot of adventures and long nights. During these times, the couple really took the time to grow their relationship and become closer as a pair. 

Sirius proposed to Y/N in the middle of an ice skating rink on December 13th, 1978. It was perfect; the snow was floating down, gracefully sticking to Sirius’ hair and eyelashes, soft Christmas music was playing in the background and the entire atmosphere of the event was magical. It was a rather simple proposal, but it was more than enough for Y/N. The couple then had a stunning double Summer wedding with the Potters. 

Sirius did amazing in the Order, which Y/N later found out all the marauders had joined. Y/N grew used to Sirius being gone during the nights and coming back injured; this was something she would never wish on her worst enemy. The anxiety-ridden nights and the unbearably silent flat took a toll on Y/N’s mental health. The only thing that got her through these was her twin sister, who was in the same situation. 

The two girls often spent these lonely nights together in attempts to share the burden. The two waited into the early morning nights for something, anything, to ease their tired minds and let them know their boys were safe. Usually, one would send a patronus message or Remus would reach out with cryptic plans and whereabouts. Still, this didn’t completely resolve the paranoia in their minds. 

Sirius and James noticed this early on in their new careers. Sirius suggested they invite the two to join the Order, as you didn’t need to be an Auror to join. But, James disagreed with this idea because Lily was his world and he didn’t want her to get hurt. Without Lily, there was no James and he couldn’t risk losing her. Sirius countered that he felt that way about Y/N too, but keeping the two women in the dark was just harming their relationships and causing a mental decline in all four. It took some convincing, but James finally agreed. Thus, Lily and Y/N joined the Order. 

The two were brilliant additions to the group; both were extremely talented witches and they were beyond smart. They quickly grew to be vital members and went on increasingly more dangerous missions as time went on. The two were an unstoppable pair, and their near-identical looks only proved to be an advantage. That was until Lily got hurt. 

Lily and Y/N were on a mission to stop a group of death eaters from invading a small muggle village just outside of Cardiff. Lily got caught between the crossfire of two wizards and had a huge chunk of flesh taken out of her leg. Y/N had to make an emergency backup call and the two were apperated back to headquarters. That’s when James and Lily decided as a couple that Lily was not going to go on any more missions. 

Y/N, however, only increased the amounts of missions she went on. Specifically, she was after one person in particular.

“I don’t care, Y/N, you can’t go,” Sirius pleaded angrily from the couch. “You can’t go on a mission every day of the week. Just one night, love. Stay with me for one night.” Sirius stood and walked to Y/N, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Babe, I am so close to capturing Bellatrix and putting her in Azkaban. Please, I have to go.” Against her better judgment, Y/N placed her head on his chest. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her husband’s arms and let his soft voice lure her cramped body to sleep. Y/N noticed she seemed to be more fatigued lately, but she placed blame on her heavy work schedule.

 “I need you here, with me, baby. Between your schedule and mine, I barely see you. I miss you.” Sirius’ hands massaged her hips as they talked, all anger and annoyance disappearing from his voice. 

“How about this, we both take the next two or three days off and lounge around here together.” Y/N pulled away from Sirius’ warm, inviting body and began to gather her things. “Please try to get some sleep tonight, I’ll be home by dawn.” 

“I promise, my dear. I love you so much.” 

A ghost of a smile played on Y/N’s lips. “I love you more.” 

~

Sirius was awoken by James’ magnificent stag patronus entering the flat to find him. Rubbing his eyes and sitting up, unable to distinguish what words James’ voice was repeating. Sirius looked at the clock: 12:45 am.

“Can you repeat that?” Sirius’ voice was gruff with sleep.

“Pads, there’s been an accident. You need to get to headquarters immediately, it doesn’t look good. We need you to make some calls.” James’ voice was filled with more panic than Sirius had ever heard in his life, and there was the faint sound of a woman crying in the background. The patronus disappeared as Sirius jumped up and magically changed into some clothes. 

“Thank merlin you’re here,” James pulled Sirius’ arm into the next room once he appeared. He had blood splattered on his face. 

Upon entering the room, everything started to fade. Y/N was laid on the floor, a large gash in her shoulder and head, with healers all around her preforming different spells and CPR.  To her left sat Lily, her fingers coated in the red substance and gripping Y/N’s cold hand. She was crying, more like sobbing, while she watched the healers work on her sister. Sirius didn’t know whether he wanted to cry, puke or faint. All three, his body screamed.

 On the outside, no emotion covered Sirius’ face and he stood frozen near the door. He felt as if he was watching the situation happen from outside his body, almost like he was playing a video game or watching a movie. 

“She’s not going to make it!” One of the healers yelled, preforming compressions on her chest. The healer to his right, who was working on the head gash, cursed loudly and punched the floor. 

“She’s going to make it, god damn it! I’ll be damned if she doesn’t!” 

James nudged Sirius with his elbow, and his soul felt as though it returned to his body. Jumping to her side, he grabbed Y/N’s hand and squeezed. 

“Y/N, I love you so much,” Sirius said through his suffering. 

Her gorgeous green eyes that were focused on Lily rolled to see him and her lips mouthed, “I love you too, Sirius.” 

Sirius swore a smile ghosted her lips as her eyes closed and a final gasp exited her lips. 

~

Sirius stood in front Y/N’s grave in a slightly wrinkled black suit.

 The funeral service had been beautiful; all of Y/N’s friends, family, and casual acquaintances had been in attendance. Her close friends spoke of her adventures and funny stories, her family spoke of her character and strong will, and her professors spoke of her intelligence and quick wit. It didn’t click for Sirius that she was really gone until Minerva McGonagall had asked him how he was holding up, and if there was anything she could do to help. Sirius had responded that no, there was nothing she could do and that he was currently staying at the Potters’ for company. 

Sirius looked at the grave in front of him; it was littered with flowers, chocolate, and everything in between. He looked to his side and found Lily, staring down at Y/N next to him. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, and her nose was rubbed raw. 

“I could have saved her, you know. I was trying to talk her out of going. I should have tried harder.” Sirius mumbled, his voice cracking every other word. 

“This isn’t your fault, Sirius. You couldn’t have done anything,” Lily sniffled. She had no tears left, but if she did, she would be crying. 

Sirius takes in a big gulp of air and stares down at the grave in silence. 

“This might not be the right time,” Lily took a deep breath and looked at her friend. His eyes were dry and his nose wasn’t red, but Lily knew how hard he cries at night when he thought James and Lily were asleep. “But you need to know.” 

“Need to know what?” 

Lily paused for a moment before reaching in her bag and pulling something out. 

“When James went to your flat to grab your clothes, um, he found this in the bathroom.” 

Sirius reaches out his hand for Lily to hand him the mysterious object. 

It was a muggle pregnancy test. A positive muggle pregnancy test.  ~~~

General Taglist: @petalevans @modern-m-a-g-i-c​ Harry Potter x Reader Taglist: @strangerpilot011 join my taglist!

[blondsauduun-reads]

The Revolution That’s Been Singing In The Rain (JATP Reggie X Reader)

Pairing: 1995!Reggie x Reader

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: some swearing?

Plot: Ok so, it’s a pride parade/riot/demo, in 1995 (or so), and the boys go to support Alex, but surprise! There’s music there too! And Reggie likes the person playing the electric violin at the march. But like it starts to rain and they gotta stop with the instruments and get off the stage but they don’t stop singing. So anyway Reggie is in first row and the band was singing a cover of We Will Rock You and Reg of course knows the lyrics as does everyone. So they start singing and dancing very energetically and passionately in the rain. At the end the violin person gives Reggie their number

A/N: nonbinary reader (they/them pronouns) The link to the electric violin cover of we will rock you without the lyrics. Also. This is the first one-shot I’ve ever written and stuff so please be nice :) yes I accept constructive criticism too.

After practice, Alex had finally mustered up the strength to ask his best friends/bandmates,

“So, there’s this gay thing, on Saturday, and I wanted to ask if it you guys wanted to come with me?” The three other guys were listening closely to him, while fiddling around a bit with their instruments.

“It’s okay though, if you don’t.” Hadn’t even given them time to react, let alone answer. “If you don’t wanna come, I mean.”

A second of silence, the three of them surprised, exchanging looks, the blond one dreading the answer.

“No, yeah, dude.” Luke finally said, leaving his guitar on the stand. “We’ll totally go with you!”

“Yeah! We were just shocked that you’d wanna go.” Bobby said, because he and the two other guys had heard about it but weren’t going to bring it up if Alex wasn’t.

“We’re really proud of you, bro,” Reggie said, hugging his neck from behind. Kinda looked awkward. “I wish I was half as brave as you.”

With the whole AIDs thing, the President, his parents, and you know, the anxiety he lived with, Alex couldn’t really live his whole truth most of the time without fearing for his life, so yes, going to a Pride thing was no small feat for the boy.

“Yep, you can let me go now, Reg.” He chuckled, or coughed, because Reggie wasn’t exactly a spaghetti build person, and was hugging his neck rather tightly.

“So when’s the date bro?” Luke sat down on the couch, spreading himself out like pancake batter on a pan.

It was Saturday. Somehow, Reggie convinced them all to paint lil rainbows on either their cheeks or hands. They all looked adorable, sitting in the metro pressed together like anchovies, all with backpacks loaded with water, their respective lunches, and whatever the hell more fitted in the backpack.

Once they got to the station, they went out, following another group of people dressed for a parade, and in a bit more than five minutes, they were smack in the middle of the parade, chanting something in favor of LGBTQ+ rights.

“Do you hear that?” Reggie asked Alex, but like, screaming.

“Yeah, its about to storm, or something.” He said, looking at the sky, which was getting grayer by the minute.

“Not thunder, it’s like,” The black haired squinted in thought. “it’s like, music, I think. Queen.” He said. “Imma go, be right back!”

Reg disappeared in between the queers at the parade, following that sound.

“Reg, no! Shi…” Alex opened and closed his eyes in disapproval and desperation. “Luke! Bobby! We got a rogue bassist!” Bobby and Luke’s reactions to that were similar to Alex’s.

Meanwhile, Reggie had successfully found the source of the music. At a nearby park, was a stage, like those kinds of stages that can be built in like a day, and on top of it, a rock band.

Said like that, it probably doesn’t sound too special, but the thing was, they were playing a We Will Rock You cover, with an electric violin, or that’s what he could tell from a hundred feet distance from the actual stage, so, continuing squishing himself through the crowd, feeling some droplets of rain on his face, he got closer to the band, until he reached a six feet distance.

Shit, the violin was so incredibly pretty, like, it looked like some sort of futuristic weapon. The guy was loving it. The person playing it though, divine; the way they moved their arms and feet and carried themself. Also, yeah, probably the prettiest person Reg had seen to date.

The band, apart from having the violinist, who also was the backup singer, had a drummer, a bassist, and a guitarist, also the lead singer.

Anyway, the scene, everyone stomping their feet on the ground, singing the song with the band, remembering the now dead Freddie Mercury and how iconic he was, the energy of all those people, together in the fight for freedom and equality. The revolution. And the fucking rain.

Droplets were suddenly drops, which then started falling faster, and suddenly the band started panicking a bit, they couldn’t break up these vibes, these people.

So, the three with the string instruments put away the instruments, amps, cables and everything as fast as they could, and the drummer rushing his music cylinders into safety, the only ones carrying the music were the people, among which was Reggie, tearing out his vocal chords singing along the various hundreds of people singing too.

Once all the electric shtick on stage was cleared up, the whole band jumped down from the stage, joining the crowd, singing and stomping.

Buddy you’re an old man poor man

Pleadin’ with your eyes gonna make you some peace some day

The violinist, which had seen Reggie look starstruck at them and later on give his all to the music, joined him to sing (and stomp).

They were almost dancing, doing a duet, smiling like children on Christmas morning, being completely soaked through with the rain, and looking at each other with a feeling I can only describe as electricity (and if they looked at each other more electricly, they would have electrocuted themselves along the way.)

You got mud on your face You big disgrace Somebody better put you back in your place

The violinist shot him a wink, he tried to not get flustered, and in return winked back.

We will we will rock you

One last verse to the song, everyone still as excited as they were at the beginning. And yet, this one was sung with intention, with motive, as if they were shouting at the world that they’d rock it to achieve their goal.

We will we will rock you

And that was it. After a couple of seconds, the crowd calmed down and scattered.

“Hey, what are your pronouns?” The violinist asked.

Reggie remembered both the dictionary meaning of pronoun and the context in which it was asked (which Alex so kindly explained to them earlier), “He/Him, I’m Reggie.” He smiled.

“You’re in that band, right? Sunset Curve?” They asked.

“Tell your friends!” I’m pretty sure you can imagine how exactly he said this quote. “I’m the bassist.” Ah yes, and now the important question, “What about you, pronouns and name, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah, that.” They thought for one second before blurting it out, “They/Them, the name’s Y/n.” Y/n stretched out a hand, he seized it and made a mental note to ask Alex about those pronouns after, “So, what brings you here today?”

“Oh, well, my best friend’s gay, but,” He leaned closer to their ear, “I’m like, 90% sure I’m bi.”

“Damn boy, same!” They laughed.

“Anyway, I gotta go now, the instruments are only safe from the rain, not from people,” Y/n scratched the back of their neck. “But, in case I’m not only bi and yearning,” They whipped out a marker from their pocket and scribbled their number on Reggie’s forearm, “give me a call. Maybe we can try to rock out again together.” Wow, so full of confidence, must be the adrenaline that implied losing their instrument over getting a cute bassist as a date.

“Uh, yeah sure,” Y/n was already walking away, smiling at him.” I’ll def give you a call!” There was no answer to that. Only a distant holler.

“Yo! Reggie!” Luke.

“Coming!”

And he did walk over, fishing from his backpack a piece of dry paper and a pen to write down the number on something a bit more permanent. Anyway, he found the guys.

“Remember when I told you I might be bisexual?” He asked, copying the number.

“Yeah, when we were watching Indiana Jones, why?” Alex remembered. Indiana Jones is hot, that’s so not up for discussion.

“Yeah, well” He ripped the page with the number out and stuffed it in his pocket. “now I know, I’m bi.”

“Yeah man, no shit.” Luke teased him. Joke’s on you bitch you’re too.

[innuendostyles]

Umm maybe Ben exploring his ‘feminine’ side more????? How bout him asking u to paint his nails? Or him asking if he can wear your makeup? Idk thought it would be cute hahah

ben wants to try something different

2.8k -> masterlist

waking up next to ben was one of her favourite things on the planet. something about the way his hand would rest underneath her shirt (if she had one on) and rub small circles under her breast settled her like nothing else could. she normally woke up to ben cooing to her, usually murmurs of how beautiful she was when she slept, or if she’d overslept it would be gentle reminders of where she had to be - which was why she was surprised to wake up to dead silence.

she yearned to feel his hands on her skin, as she was so used to, but instead, her hand simply rested in ben’s. her palm face down on ben’s larger hand while he traced one pointer finger over her freshly manicured nails. they were painted a pastel blue colour, completely matte except for a shimmery top coat applied to her ring finger. she’d been on the phone ben while she was getting her nails done, asking him what he thought she should get done when the nail lady asked her what colour she’d like. he asked her what clothes she had on at that moment, to which she replied a light blue jumper that had a sparkly carebear printed on the front of it. he simply gave a ‘well then…’ and told her he’d ring her back when she was done. so to see him admiring her fresh set wasn’t surprising.

his eyes flashed to hers as she roused herself from sleep, carefully removing her hand from his to wipe the drool from her chin. he gave her a light chuckle as her body strung completely taught before laying entirely limp back on the bed and stretching her arms across his chest. she clung to him like a koala, pressing a couple of kisses to his neck when she had enough energy.

“you like my nails?” she whispered, pressing one final kiss to his neck before sitting up.

“yeah.” he chuckled, resting his hand on her hip as she reached to the bedside table to retrieve her phone.

“i’ll make some breakfast.” she said, leaning down to place her hand on ben’s cheek before leaving the bedroom.

she walked down the stairs, calling for frankie as she reached the bottom step, happy to receive many sloppy kisses to her face when she bent down to give the dog her favourite behind the ear scratches.

there was a pink bottle stuck in her mouth, which y/n speedily removed and wiped on her t-shirt to get rid of all the dog spit. it was her nail polish, a cheaper dupe of some dior varnish she’d seen on instagram. the colour, effectively called ‘cha-ching cherry’ was a hot pink, and she’d bought it purely because it was on sale at the drugstore and reminded her of the dior version.

“how’d ya get this, silly girl?” she cooed to the dog, stamping kisses on the top of her head. she wondered how she even reached and opened the polish in the first place, she was sure it had still been in the plastic wrap it came in when she went to bed last night… no, it definitely was. she remembers placing it on the shelf next to the tv when she emptied her bag after she came home. so how had a three year old dog opened protective packaging? it was a mystery to her. instead of going full sherlock mode, she cracked some eggs into a pan and discarded the thought to the back of her mind.

she had to shout ben downstairs, which was unusual, because normally he’s downstairs as soon as she is, offering to help her make breakfast and playing whatever music he was in the mood for over the apartment speakers. he came down the stairs looking rather sweaty and she wondered what he’d been up to. looked like he’d just run a fucking marathon, but he was still dressed in his pyjamas (a pair of calvin kleins couldn’t be classed as pyjamas, surely?) so she knew that answer was out of the equation. maybe he’d been brushing his teeth super violently. she knows that’s not true when he goes to kiss her cheek as a good morning and she shies away from him with a ”morning breath!” and a playful grimace. he chuckles at her, bending down to pat frankie on the head.

he got frankie’s food ready before even realising he had a plate of eggs and fruit waiting in front of him. he sat at the rather small dining table, pouring them some orange juice and handing her the glass once he’d finished. even gave her a little more than he had, because he always complains she doesn’t get her 5 a day.

he just wants her to feel happy and healthy! can he complain, when she treats him so well and even leaves his eggs on for a whole minute longer than hers because she knows he doesn’t like it when the yellow is all runny? when she takes care of a dog that originally was the shared pup of him and his ex?

he has no time to think before she’s giggling a little, pointing to frankie in the corner of the kitchen who had somehow managed to eat all her food and drink all her water in the space of 2 minutes. he giggled as well, taking a bite of his eggs and calling out a ”good girl” to the beagle.

“yeah, well our ‘good girl’ somehow managed to open my new nail polish and came to me this morning with it in her mouth like it was some sort of present she bought! might have to start calling her father christmas!” she jokes, taking a bite of banana before breaking some off and making a kissy sound to garner frankie’s attention before placing some on the floor next to her for the dog. she did love her banana.

ben places his hand quickly onto his thigh beneath the table after he caught sight of it on top of the tablecloth, hoping she hadn’t noticed how quickly he made the movement. she simply furrows her brows at him, tilting her head as she asked if he was okay.

“yeah, ‘m fine just got a cramp.” he lies straight through his teeth, not being able to look her in the eyes and instead offering frankie a piece of watermelon to frankie, which was unusual for him as he never gave his food to her, claiming it ‘only gives her a bad tummy and then i’m the one who has to clean up all the sick she leaves on the bathroom floor!’, which y/n notices and gives a sigh.

“ben.” she deadpans, setting the banana peel down.

he removes his hand from his leg and sets it upon the table, in a fist originally, before he unclenches his hand and then she sees it. his ring and middle finger nails are painted pink. he looks carefully at her reaction, even though there isn’t much to go off, just a look back to his eyes after she’s seen his hand.

“are you… angry?” he questions, eyes still avoiding hers.

“i’m not angry at you for using my nail polish without telling me ben…” she says with a slight chuckle, her face looking awfully confused, “...what’s mine is yours, and all that.”

his eyes flit to her’s at this, a brow raising as he asks, “so you’re not… weirded out?”

she can’t actually tell if he’s joking or not until she looks at his hands, where he’s nervously pulling at his knuckles in hopes to make them crack. it was one of his worst habits, something he only did when he was really going through it. she realises he must have been embarrassed or feel ashamed when she tells him she wasn’t, if the way his shoulders fell from near enough above his head showed her anything.

she decides he wants to leave the conversation at that when he picks up his fork and begins eating his eggs, looking a hell of a lot less stressed than he did before.

“why were you so sweaty when you came down before?” she questions, though she’s careful to make her tone sound as least judgemental as she possibly can, offering an inquisitive smile at the end.

“i um- wanted to get it off. before you saw it.” he purses his lips before he speaks again. “i couldn’t find any of that horrid-smelling remover stuff so i was trying to scrub it off with that lemon exfoliating shit you’ve got in the shower. worked up quite a sweat.” he chuckled, and she smiled at his first genuine laugh this morning.

“ben, why did you think i’d care so much?” she asks, and she can actually feel a pain in her chest as she realises it must have been eating away at him all night after his reaction to her seeing it. the pain in her chest only deepens when she hears a muttered, “i thought you’d think it was … really weird and like… not normal.” he continues, his voice getting louder and louder as he carried on, “cause it’s like… a girls thing. and i’m not a girl. and i know you’d never think that i was stupid or weird so i don’t even know why it ran through my head cause i did it last night when you went to bed and i was still downstairs… i saw it and i just wanted to put it on me like… for fun. and then i thought you might be angry at me for opening it so i just went to bed but i couldn’t sleep cause i was worried you’d be annoyed at me so i just… spent all night looking at yours. your nails, i mean.” once he’d finished rambling, she reached a hand out to his, pulling him along until they’d settled onto the sofa in the living room.

her on her back against the arm rest, with him on his stomach laying between her legs. maybe not the most flattering position on her part, but she felt closest to him this way. she reached a hand up to his hair, running her fingers through the golden locks before sighing.

“ben, i need you to listen to what im gonna say really closely, yeah?” she whispered.

he nods, and she takes that as her cue to continue.

“it isn’t ‘a girls thing’. and i’m not angry at you, and you’re right, i’d never think you’re weird for doing anything ever. i love you, and i’m in this for the long haul, so speak to me. tell me when you wanna try new things. ‘cause you know i won’t be angry, or annoyed, or weirded out… because it’s you.” she could see his eyes softening as he stared directly into hers.

it felt like he was reaching deep inside her mind and pulling out every honest word he could find. he laid his head down on her stomach, before giving a simple, “i love you.”

“do you want me to paint the rest of them?” she asked after a couple of minutes of stroking through his hair.

“please.” he replied, and she felt his smile on her stomach as he heard frankie pattering through the doorway and coming to lie on ben’s back to join them both. he lifted his head up and formed his lips into a kissy shape, to which she leant down and pecked him.

he followed her into the kitchen to retrieve the nail polish, clapping like an excited kid as she led him upstairs. she walked into the bathroom and sat on the countertop, ben bringing a chair from the bedroom to sit in front of her. she spread her legs and placed his hand flat on the surface of the counter, protected by an old sheet of newspaper in case of a polish accident.

once she’d painted one hand, he rested it on her thigh, only beginning to stroke it once she told him his nails were dry enough. she’d finished his other hand, commending her own painting skills as she skipped the two nails he’d already done the night before, he kissed her thigh, just below where his dry hand sat, before lifting himself off the chair to press a kiss to her forehead, then her left cheek, and finally her lips. she pulled her head back as soon as she felt how dry his lips were, telling him he needed some vaseline.

he looked behind her, seeing her collection of lip products before picking up a familiar tube. it was one she used constantly, which meant it must have been good, which was the reason why he asked her to put some on him a couple of seconds later.

“vaseline isn’t the same as lipgloss, but i’ll let this one slide, my dear.” she chuckles, opening the tube of clear, strawberry scented lipgloss. it had a slight shimmer to it, especially when in the sun, and she was unbelievably excited to see it on him.

“i only picked it cause it tastes nice.” he mentions before she has the chance to apply it.

“ben! you’re not meant to eat it!” she scolds, pulling back and taking the applicator with her.

“i know! i don’t do it purposefully, i just get a mouthful sometimes after you snog me.” he says,

smiling when she laughs.

“yeah, well i think i might have to see just how it tastes the next time we snog, which i have a feeling might be in just a second.” she smirks before applying the gloss.

[callmemythicalminx]

❄️4th of December❄️

❄️ Snowman ~ Sam Trapani x Reader ❄️

Fandom: Mafia Definitive Edition

Warnings: Mentions of trauma but it’s not explicit.

Summary: Sam’s stressed and closed off from you. Knowing your singing helps calm him down, you play the piano for him in the hopes he’ll open up.

A/N: This a music themed fic I’ve wanted to do for a while as this song always reminds me of Sam. It’s Snowman by Sia if you’d like to listen to it while reading. It’s a short but sweet fic so please enjoy!

Dedicated to:  @kaiiiiiiparkerismyhusband @lolita-wolfson @xxsamanthaxx @kneelingforvillains @loutino20 @levitate-gengar @dorothynerding ​ @blackbladevika ​ @my-blog-for-me ​ @rammstein-obsession ​ @octorebel @demonsouthere ​@mayday1284

---

The bed is cold. Too cold. Your hand reaches out for Sam, seeking his warmth, but all you can feel is the cool, soft sheets. Sleepily, you raise your head, peering around in the darkness. The only light that acts as your guide is the moonlight streaming in through the gaps in the blinds. Instead of the usual telltale lump of Sam visible underneath the duvet, his side of the bed is empty, the covers thrown aside over you. You call out for him gently, your voice rough and dry from sleep, thinking he might be in the bathroom. There’s no reply. 

You sigh and turn onto your back, rising after debating with yourself whether it’s worth leaving the cold bed to find your incredibly warm husband. The sudden thought that Sam might be awake because of his stress or worries has you moving more quickly, throwing on a nightgown and your slippers as you leave the bedroom. Your husband has always been one to bottle up his feelings, never wanting to burden you with his problems. It’s always been this way, ever since you two met when he first joined the Salieri family when you were a teenager. You still don’t fully understand who he was before he arrived in Lost Heaven and the family he used to know, but you can tell it’s had an effect on him. As you grew up and your feelings for Sam began to turn to those of the romantic kind, you could begin to see cracks beneath his hard, sometimes shielded exterior. You yearned to heal him from his demons. Eventually, your feelings reached boiling point and the two of you finally embraced your love for one another. 

As you turn into the living room of your top floor apartment, your eyes immediately focus on the open bottle of whisky next to the couch, last night full now half empty. You release a worried sigh. If Sam is drinking, then something is definitely plaguing his mind. He’s always preferred cigarettes over booze, the nicotine providing a quicker, more relaxing relief. When he turns to booze to give him that added buzz, you know it’s bad. 

You can see his shadow on the floor, highlighted by the moonlight as he stands outside. He leans bent slightly over the railing, a cigarette in one hand, a glass of whisky in the other. You can see from the already empty packet on the couch that he’s smoking more than he usually does too. Your body is moving forward before you can stop it, reaching for the balcony door handle in record speed. Just before touching the cool metal, your hand freezes. 

You look up at Sam’s tense back. He won’t speak to you like this. Calm him down first. Your gaze moves to your piano in the corner of the room, a present from Sam on Christmas Day the first year after you were married. Ever since you were a teenager, he’s loved hearing you sing, finding solace and peace in the whispered, dulcet verses of your music. As you move towards the instrument and take a seat after slightly opening the balcony door, you hope the music will seep through the small cracks in his outer shell and allow him to open his heart to yours. 

Slowly, your cold fingers uncurl over the keys, slowly pressing down and playing the starting notes of a melody. You see Sam react to the sudden noise out of the corner of your eye, his shoulders jumping slightly as his head turns an inch towards the windows. You don’t see his tense position suddenly go slack as you begin singing softly, looking at the keys. 

“Don't cry snowman, not in front of me, 

Who will catch your tears if you can't catch me, darlin'?

If you can't catch me, darlin'?”

Your ears pick up the movement of Sam’s feet against the stone outside as they turn slightly. You can feel his piercing stare, feel the rush of emotions running rampant through his body seeping into invisible waves passing between you. Those steel grey eyes you love so much focus only on you, like your own beckon of moonlight. 

“Don't cry, snowman, don't leave me this way

A puddle of water can't hold me close, baby

Can't hold me close, baby.”

Still, you don’t look at him. You need him to come to you. Follow your singing to the embrace and safety of your arms. At this moment, you feel more like a siren trying to entice a sailor, offering solace and warmth instead of secret desires. 

“I want you to know that I'm never leaving

Cause I'm Mrs. Snow, 'till death we'll be freezing

Yeah, you are my home, my home for all seasons

So come on let's go.” 

Your ears pick up movement again, the balcony door slowly swinging fully open. A breath of wind rushes into the room, making you shiver slightly. Your body warms though when you catch the scent of smoke and the spice of whisky, sailing with the wind under your nose with gentle kisses.

“Let's go below zero and hide from the sun

I'll love you forever where we'll have some fun

Yes, let's hit the North Pole and live happily

Please don't cry no tears now, it's Christmas baby.”

In the corner of your eyes, you can see Sam slowly approaching. You hear the slight thud of the whisky glass being left behind him, his hands instead running along the sleek top of the piano. 

“My snowman and me

My snowman and me

Baby.”

Sam sits down beside you on the bench, his warmth enveloping you like a cosy blanket, even after being outside in the cold. He moves close, his leg against yours, slightly rubbing. 

“Don't cry, snowman, don't you fear the sun

Who'll carry me without legs to run, honey?

Without legs to run, honey?”

You can feel his eyes on you, following the movements of your fingers across the keys, watching your lips form the words. 

“Don't cry, snowman, don't you shed a tear

Who'll hear my secrets if you don't have ears, baby?

If you don't have ears, baby?”

It’s slightly cold in the room now, recognisable by the slight fog that leaves your lips with each whisper. Sam’s hand presses gently against the curve of your back, slightly wrapping around your waist. He rubs gently and your breath shudders slightly. You know even without looking that he’s smiling at your reaction.

“I want you to know that I'm never leaving

'Cause I'm Mrs. Snow, 'till death we'll be freezing

Yeah, you are my home, my home for all seasons

So come on let's go.”

His hand at your back moves up, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear. It slips around your face, gently cupping your cheek. You curl into it like a cat as your eyes slip shut, the final chorus leaving your lips like a well-versed prayer.

“Let's go below zero and hide from the sun

I'll love you forever where we'll have some fun

Yes, let's hit the North Pole and live happily

Please don't cry no tears now, it's Christmas baby.”

Finally, you turn your head, your eyes slipping open like velvet curtains to meet his own. My god, you could cry at the beauty of this man. He smiles at you with warmth, his eyes tired and slightly glazed from the whiskey. In those clear, crystal pools, you can see a raging battle, the weight of a thousand worries and stresses. But then he blinks and the war is over, only an ocean of tranquillity in its wake. You smile. He leans forward, placing a sweet lasting kiss on your lips. When you break apart, you whisper the final verse against his cold, slightly spiced lips. 

“My snowman and me

My snowman and me

Baby.”

---

Thanks for reading minxies! 💕

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-eight: alex’s nineteenth birthday

It took Sam a few moments to realize that she was no longer back in her apartment, but at the new place in Hell's Kitchen. But she had found her way back to that safe place, even if the surroundings had changed to of great extent. She shook her head to rid of her dream world and she placed the journal down on the table before her.

Marla had slept through the throes of jet lag for what felt like forever, and swift phone call back to Jon and Marsha's place allowed her to figure things out from then onward as the summer days dwindled down to autumn there in New York. Indeed, Anthrax themselves would make their grandiose return to the United States in no time once another trio of dates wrapped up for them. A full four weeks off and they would make the flight back to Europe for a fuller stint of the tour, and albeit one that would last them all the way to Christmas. It almost felt as though Jon was making it up as he went along but she had to take his word for it, especially given the shakiness of the music world, and especially since Aurora and Emile hadn't returned to New York City themselves.

Her best friend had gone off with her new groom and in turn left her there at the altar herself. She sat there on a stool next to the phone on the wall and she listened to Jon talk about things there at the label. Marla still hadn't woken up and Zelda had long left the apartment to deal with her own affairs with the Cherry Suicides: the latter of whom did, however, leave her duct taped boots there at the apartment, right next to the coffee table. There was that vase there at the far end, right where Sam had been laying, and she yearned for those yellow tulips once again. Sam cleared her throat but she never said anything while she listened and hung onto every word.

She had to do so: she was the most important person there at the label at the moment next to Jon.

“Besides, Alex's birthday is coming up here in a few weeks time,” he added at one point, and that coaxed a smile out of Sam.

“He'll be nineteen now! Still just a hatchling.”

Jon chuckled at that, but Sam was serious upon saying that. Alex still was a young boy about to make his transition into manhood. A nineteen year old kid who had already put out an album and yet she still struggled to make her way through the art world. There had to be an opening of sorts, something that could potentially free her from the whole tedium of going to school and going back home. It wasn't just the change in surroundings, but rather there had to be an escape out of there somehow.

Something to move her away from it all, even if it was just for a little bit, even as she and Jon bode their goodbyes and she hung up the phone.

The thrill and rush of being on tour had something to do with it. Being out in the world at large. All the world was a stage after all. She had that itch she couldn't seem to scratch once again, and the first day of school had to prove to be something more for her lest she find herself bounding off of the walls of Hell's Kitchen once more.

She strode back out of the kitchen so as to fetch her journal. So much drawing in such a short amount of time, and she remembered that school was about to start off a brand new quarter and ultimately a brand new year within a few days time.

She returned to those three drawings that happened as if they each were a hallucination. Something that came forth from another part of her mind, a place that no one knew about before. But she had to keep it under wraps for the time being, for the time in which she had right there at that very moment, that precise moment in time, the very present. At some point, Joey needed to know how she felt about him, and if it had to take her utmost intimate pieces of art to do such a thing then she was willing to undertake that task.

Marla needn’t know about them, not until there came a time in which she had to talk about them for real. But then again, she had her privacy at her fingertips, the precious bit of privacy all to herself. She had her mind’s eye fixed on the three men among the pages of that journal, the three men whom everyone knew but also didn’t know at the same time.

A knock at the door caught her attention and thus jarred her back down to earth once again. She closed the journal and clambered to her feet. Lucky for her, Genie had curled up with Marla in the bed down the hall. Sam recognized that head of blonde hair down past the shoulders now tied up tight in a snug ponytail upon her head coupled with the doll-like features.

“Oh, hi, Bel,” she greeted her.

“Hey! Is Marla up?”

“Nah, she's been out like a light for the last day and a half. I think she got up once after you left the morning after. What’s going on?”

“A little bird told me that it’s about to be someone’s birthday soon,” she replied in singsong voice. “A certain boy who happens to play guitar in the only five piece band for miles.”

“Let me guess,” Sam started as she let her into the apartment, “Jon told you.”

“I won’t tell,” Belinda giggled, and then she shut the door behind her, and she turned towards Sam with her eyebrows knitted together.

“She got up once after I left,” Belinda echoed her. “Only once.”

“Yeah, Marla’s just been wiped out lately because of the damn jet lag,” Sam answered, and she tucked her hands into her shorts pockets. “I've been sleeping well, though.”

“I have, too—wow.”

“So what'd you have in mind for little Mr. Alexander?” Sam took her seat on the arm of the couch closest to the door.

“Well, I was thinking that—since he's a guitar player—maybe you and I can look into playing around with leather and make him a new strap?”

“Ooh, yeah! Like you can craft out the leather and I can paint on designs and whatnot on there. That's a great idea, Bel!”

“We'll have to do some reading, of course, but it's definitely something I've thought about in the past. Getting into leather work. It's just something that fascinates me.”

“It sounds fascinating—like glass work.”

“Well, since Marla isn't up, I'm thinking maybe you and I can go over to the book shop up the block here and find something about that.”

“I'll take it,” said Sam as she reached for her purse on the hook behind her. “Totally nice day for a walk, anyways.”

“Right?”

Without another word, the two of them headed outside to the hazy gray afternoon and they made their way up the block to the book shop in question. Sam thought about that one place that she and Cliff had gone to down by L'Amour all the while, even as she and Belinda looked up the books in the crafting section, tucked back in the far corner of that main room. She gazed on at the beading books and the paper crafts, and she thought about Joey all the while: on the front covers, those beads arranged in all those arrows and points made her think of Native American baskets.

And then she remembered that Joey's birthday was coming up as well, exactly two weeks after Alex.

“Hey, Bel, you wanna do something for Joey's birthday?” she asked her.

“Sure!” Belinda then turned her attention to her from a book she had swiped from the shelves. “What'd you have in mind?”

“Something Native American related. You know, the whole leather work guitar strap thing but with something that's faithful to his heritage, though.”

“Okay—well, I'm reading this here and it's rather easy to figure out. It's getting my paws on a leather work kit is the real bitch about it, though. This thing here says a single hundred piece kit is almost fifty bucks.”

“It's worth it, though,” Sam pointed out.

“Absolutely. I think there is in fact a place for that—up the block here. Where I can get a couple of strips of nice leather for those two boys and just buckle down with the tools. I think you can get paints there, too.”

Indeed, the two of them headed back out, complete with Belinda buying that craft book as well, and then they further headed up the street to that craft shop in question. Just a walk along that sidewalk made Sam wonder about her own desires to break free of it all in favor of a change of pace. She peered up at the buildings that lined the streets and the hazy sun overhead. It was in fact home to her after all.

“I literally love how we can go just about anywhere here in New York,” Sam remarked as Belinda held the door for her.

“Right? Everything we want and need—right nearby. We can either walk there, or hitch a ride on the bus or the subway. We can give it all what for even if we can't find what we're looking for with these two boys.”

“I'm gonna give you what for if you don't wrap it up in paper,” Sam teased her, and Belinda chuckled at that as they stepped inside the craft shop: rows of shelves stood before them, underneath a series of soft fluorescent lights, and Sam was greeted by the fresh smell of new tools right there in their face.

“How 'bout you wrap the whole entire thing up in paper with a little bow on top?” she retorted back. Sam then stopped right in her tracks, and she took a glimpse over at Belinda and the mischievous look on her face.

“When you say 'entire thing',” Sam began in a soft voice even with no one else in that shop there with them, “do you mean his dick or his guitar?”

“Both,” Belinda replied without a shred of irony or hesitation.

“So you want me to wrap up his dick and his guitar in paper?” Sam asked her with a straight face.

“Yes? Yes.”

“Who're we talkin' about?”

Belinda nibbled on her bottom lip, but she never said anything. Instead, she lunged forward to the row of metal shelves right in front of them.

“Bel, who're we talking about?” Sam asked her again as she adjusted the strap of her purse, but Belinda paid more attention to the leather kits in front of her face.

“We's talkin' 'bout leather, baby,” she said as she took off the first one right over her head. She then turned to the spools of leather on the far side of the room.

“What color do you think they'd like?” she asked Sam.

“I'm feeling black with Joey and—creamy white for Alex. By the way, you didn't answer my question.”

“What question's that?”

“Who were we talking about back there?”

Belinda pursed her lips together and she never said anything as she picked up two small spools of black and white leather for the guitar straps in question. She then led Sam back to the front of the shop, past the single file of paints for the leather in question.

“We's talkin' 'bout leather,” she repeated again. “By the way, that book said that black can hold just about any color while off white leather looks best with jewel tones.”

“Yes, but—who are we talking about?” Sam corrected her as she picked out a quartet of bottles, one scarlet red, one solid black, one pure white, and one sapphire blue. And Belinda still never replied to her as she doubled back to the register and she paid for it right there. Sam shook her head the whole entire time she put down the money and tucked her wallet back into her purse.

Belinda carried the leather kit and the pieces of leather under her left arm, and Sam volunteered to carry something for her.

“I got it, I got it—by the way, I was talking about both of them.” She raised her eyebrows at Sam, who then looked on at her with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Talking about both of them,” she echoed her over the noise of the street.

“Yeah. Sam, Alex is of age now. You can do whatever the hell you want with him now.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what?”

“I do not like the way you said the word 'but' just now.”

“Thinking about Alex's butt?” Belinda teased her as she adjusted the kit and the bag of leather with her free arm, and she gave her blonde ponytail a little toss back.

“Pfff, you wish,” Sam scoffed; she felt her face growing warm with embarrassment, or the warmth of the late summer sun.

“What, you don't think he has a cute butt?”

“I haven't looked.”

“Well, next time you see him—like at the party that they're throwing for him—you oughta have a look. Libra boys have nice rear ends—at least so I'm told.”

“Nice and round, I assume?”

“Maybe,” Belinda replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

Within time, they returned to the apartment and Marla still hadn't woken up yet.

“Well, let's see,” Belinda started once she had set everything down on the kitchen table. Sam took her seat next to her, and she gave her blonde hair another toss back even though she had no need to do so from the tautness of her ponytail. “—the leather has already been treated... I'm gonna have to cut these so they resemble to guitar straps. I'm gonna need you to help me. Even though it's gonna be a bit before their birthdays, and Joey's birthday in particular, I'm glad we're getting a head start on this.”

“I am, too!” Sam declared.

“Lucky for us, we have these special scissors just for cutting leather—do you know how tall they are?”

“Joey and Alex? Joey is about middle height, like I can look at him right in the eye.”

“How tall are you?”

“Five foot seven. I'm thinking he's five foot nine?”

“Okay. What about Alex?”

“He's a big boy, I know that much. I kinda have to look up at him. And I've seen him next to Chuck, who's pretty tall in his own rite—and I've seen him next to Joey, too.”

“And how tall is he in comparison to Joey?”

“He's taller. By how much, I don't really know, to be honest. But I know he's taller.”

“Okay—I'll see what I can do.”

Indeed, Sam watched her go forth with the leather scissors and the measuring tape and the pencil for two guitar straps.

“If nothing, I can make Alex's a two piece and I can find a buckle,” Belinda told her.

“Hmmm...” But Sam never went any further than that. Instead, she watched Belinda spread out the leather, twin black and white stripes before them on the wood. She picked up the pencil yet again, that time to sketch out the designs on the upside of the leather.

“Okay, so let's figure this part here will be on Joey's shoulder... and this part here will be on Alex's shoulder...”

She sketched out the ever so faint sketch of a bouquet of roses for Joey's strap, and then a cluster of something that resembled to tulips on Alex's strap. Sam looked over at the bottles of paint next to her: on one hand, she was glad that she hadn't picked out yellow for Alex's white leather. But then again, the very sight of those tulips made her think back to those drawings in her journal. Two pieces for a strap for Alex, which meant one of them had to find a buckle for it: Belinda sewed the ends of those off in place for a buckle, and then with the pick, she poked three holes into the larger part for the adjustment.

And within time, she took the awl and the hammer and began work inside of those lines.

She took her time in engraving into the black leather and then the white leather, but Sam didn't mind in the least. They were making something together for the two birthday boys. She propped up her chin inside of the palm of her hand as she watched Belinda ever so gingerly carve into the leather with that fine chisel tip, complete with a tap of the hammer head. The little continuous clink! that came out of the hammer's head didn't bother her in the least. The petals of the flowers all came to fruition even without a full color scheme: indeed, Belinda added a few more spirals and dots on Joey's leather for a more of a Native American look. She also added something that resembled to a Day of the Dead skull on both of their straps: the skull on Alex's strap had a flower tucked right behind it.

It took her most of the afternoon to completely fill out the engraving on the sketches on both straps of leather, but she managed to do it right there, right before Sam's eyes. A bit of work, for sure, but she could make it work.

“Gonna have to run a thread through these first,” Belinda said once she set the awl and the hammer down. “So they don't come unraveled and whatnot...”

The big fat needle and the thick thread. Even more time and at that point, the straps were stitched and engraved, and lay there in anticipation for the head of a paint brush.

“Okay, you ready?” Belinda asked her.

“Lemme get my fine tipped brush...” Sam doubled back to her room for that fine tipped paint brush in question, and she returned with that plus a wash basin for the paints. Careful not to get any extraneous paint on the nice leather, she kept her hand right over the engravings for Joey's guitar strap.

“Red and white roses,” Belinda muttered as the paint collected at the deepest parts of the engravings.

“And red and white roses,” Sam added as she added a kiss of white on the otherwise red petals in the center piece of the bouquet. The colors bled for a second before they dried out right there. “Red and black tulips for Mr. Skolnick—”

“And white and blue sugar skulls, too, I presume,” said Belinda.

“White and blue for Mr. Belladonna—black and blue for Mr. Skolnick—”

Within time, Sam had painted the leather and the sun had set over Hell's Kitchen. It made sense that the flowers would be in bloom and the sugar skulls would have their full color right there. Sam held the leather back on the table so they could have a better look at them.

“Beautiful,” Belinda remarked. “They're just... they're gonna love these.”

“Too bad we don't have a leather working class at the school,” Sam said, “I actually kinda like this.”

“I do, too! We can suggest it when school starts, though.”

The two of them leaned back in their seats and looked on at the leather before them.

“I'm kinda hungry, you want something to eat?” Belinda asked her.

“Yes please. I gotta feed Genie, anyways.”

 * * * * *

 School had started for the two of them as well as Marla in what felt like no time, and Sam wondered what exactly Bill had in store for her as she signed up for an appointment with him at one point in the future. Just so long as it didn't involve her working with something tedious like any of those general education classes: she was already taking three of those that term, and in turn less time to focus on the crux of her art degree. Marla assured her that it wouldn't be anything too serious, but then again, she herself had her focus firmly on her own senior project.

Meanwhile, Sam and Belinda had the leather straps placed in boxes and then wrapped up for Alex and Joey's birthdays in the coming days. For the first week of school, she had her eye on the daunting task of junior year of college and preparing for her even more daunting senior year, but she also had those two young men on her mind. She hoped that Joey would love his new guitar strap in particular: indeed, she thought of Alex's words about how he held his guitar during the shows of that North American stint. She knew that she kept it just between herself and him, but something in the back of her mind made her consider if Joey would question the length of it.

In the meantime, for the first two weeks of school and before Alex's birthday, Sam put in her final hours at the label before they were bought out. She had no idea what Aurora was going to do afterwards, and she sure as anything had no idea what she was to do with it, especially when school finished out for her. She and Belinda came to their spot up the street after school the last Friday afternoon of the month, and Aurora greeted them both a smile on her face, much to their surprise.

“What's going on?” Sam asked her as she put her arms around her.

“I'm pregnant for real now,” Aurora told her, to which the two of them gaped at her.

“Seriously,” the former blurted out. “Like, you're not messing with us right now.” And Aurora shook her head.

“Osegueda can relax now, I s'pose?” Belinda joked.

“Yes, he can!” Aurora proclaimed.

“When did you find out?” Sam asked her.

“Just a couple of nights ago. I was gonna call you, Sam, but I guess you and Marla have your work cut out for you this year.”

“Hell yeah, we do—especially me.”

“Anyways, I felt weird, like internally, and so I went out for a test.” Aurora set her hand on the lower part of her belly. “Bun in the oven, ladies.”

“Please don't drink at Alex's party next week,” Sam pleaded her.

“He'll be nineteen, so there's not going to be any alcohol there,” Aurora assured her, “and even if there was, I've got Emile to check on me for that.”

“By the way, where's his party even gonna be?” Belinda asked.

“The Zazulas' place. I'll come get you guys if you wish.”

Given Alex's nineteenth birthday took place on a Tuesday, Sam, Marla, and Belinda all had to hustle out of school following their last classes of that day. But Aurora and Emile waited them there at the curb in their car: a packed caravan en route to the Zazulas' house at the far side of town. At one point, Belinda turned to Sam with a twinkle in her eye.

“You got the—” Sam then took out the square package enveloped in pearly white wrapping paper and with a black bow on top from her hand bag.

“Right here.”

“You guys found a buckle for that thing?” Marla asked them.

“Beautiful platinum buckle—brand new, never been used,” Belinda told her, and she never went any further than that, which led Sam to assume that she found it in the garbage somewhere. The guys from Testament were all there, as were Scott and Charlie, and James and Kirk. Sam chuckled at the memory of Lars in the kitchen the first time she and Joey went there together as she held her and Belinda's gift to Alex underneath her arm.

Aurora and Emile made their way to the other side of the house, while Sam and Belinda took to that kitchen door. Alex himself stood at the far edge of the house with a brown glass bottle in one hand: he and Greg were talking about something.

He almost didn't look the same with those tight leather pants. The black curls dangled about his shoulders like the ears of a dog: his hands pressed to his slender but shapely hips didn't help matters, either. She pictured Alex strutting along like he meant it, with that black hair splayed all around his head, and that plume of silver strong and high like a lightning bolt.

It was right there that Sam wanted him, and she wanted to see him naked for real. To see him and Joey both naked.

He had passed the right age after all: she could dream about him the way in which Belinda had joked about before.

A teenage kid about to bid his teen years farewell, and he stared back at her from across the room. Even though he was still underage, he held that empty brown bottle in one hand.

She nibbled on her bottom lip at the sight of him but then she and Belinda bowed into the house together.

They were greeted by the warm aroma of freshly baked cake in the kitchen and a small cluster of presents on the table.

“Aw, just a little party,” Marla was saying as she signed the birthday card to him with a bright red pen.

“That's really all he wanted,” Chuck told her. “Party with us, and then he's going upstate with his parents and his brother tonight. Gonna be up there for the rest of the week after this.”

“Quick little party with us and then his parents are taking him out to dinner right afterwards,” Eric called from the next room over.

“Yeah, that's it.”

Sam then turned her head and she realized that Alex and Greg were a few feet away from there. She could walk past the back door and have a better look at them, but there had to be a reason behind it. Chuck handed Belinda the card for a signing; the aroma of the cake was almost intoxicating, as if it was right there and ready to slice into for all of them. Sam then had an idea.

“I'll be right back,” she told Belinda with a raise of her finger, and she nodded in response to that. She bowed out of the kitchen and towards the back door, which hung right open for the stubborn warmth of the Indian summer.

She could walk by and make it look as though she was going to the bathroom or going to ask Marsha a question. Indeed, Sam strode on by so she could have a better look at the bottle in Alex's hand; he had turned to the side so it hung there right by his hip. It was sarsaparilla.

That also gave her a chance to look at the curvature of his thighs, albeit for a few seconds. She couldn't believe she had done that, either, given she already had a boyfriend. She had a boyfriend and he couldn't be there, and she couldn't tell him about it, either. She shook her head as she doubled back in the next room over and back to the kitchen to sign the card and to speak to Belinda. Lucky for her, Chuck had left the room so she stood there alone with her eye on the tags on each of the presents upon the table. Sam strode up to her with the warmth still fresh in her face.

“I need you to slap me across the face,” she said to her.

“Why?” Belinda laughed.

“I’m having—thoughts,” she stammered, even though they were alone in the room.

“Having what?”

“Thoughts. About… both Joey and Alex.”

“Like… what do you mean?”

Sam leaned in closer to her face and hunched her shoulders a bit.

“Thoughts,” she breathed right into her ear. Belinda looked on at her with a bewildered expression plastered on her face, and then her eyes lit up.

“Really? Sam, you little vixen! I knew you had it in you!”

“Yeah, but—Joey's kinda my boyfriend, though.”

“So? Just 'cause you got a boyfriend doesn't mean you have to restrain yourself to him. Live and let live a little.”

She sighed through her nose. Maybe Belinda had a point as she wrote “happy 19th birthday, Alex—with love, Samantha” at the bottom right corner of the card. Nothing fancy, nothing more, nothing less. She hoped that something would in fact happen that evening as she made her way back towards the front door for a bit of fresh air.

She recognized Frank's lush dark hair as he all but stumbled in through the front door.

“Easy there, big fella!” she declared to him, and he burst out laughing at that. She turned to the side and she almost ran into something slender but soft.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted Joey, much to her surprise.

“Hi,” he returned the favor and showed her a grin all the while.

“I didn't think you'd be here,” she confessed.

“I ain't turning down free food, y'know,” he told her.

“Okay, that makes sense.”

Joey peered over his shoulder for a second, and then he returned to her.

“I've been thinking of your lips lately,” he confessed to her in a husky voice.

“It's funny, I, uh—I have been, too,” she said. He lowered his gaze to her mouth and he moved in closer to her.

“Um—Bel and I made something for you—for your birthday coming up here,” she sputtered.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, you just—you just might like it.”

He showed her a little smirk: and she brought her eyes back down to those dark lips. She needed to kiss them. She needed to do something right there lest something happen there in the house that would wedge them apart. She closed her eyes and she leaned in closer to his face.

“Sam?” Marla called her. She opened her eyes and she stared on at Joey's face: his brown eyes gazed back at her, as rich and full as the earth underneath them.

“You're being paged,” he whispered to her. She turned around right as Marla emerged from the kitchen.

“Could you get Marsha, please? She's in the back of the house.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sam returned to Joey, who still showed her that smirk on his face.

“I'll be right back,” she vowed to him.

“I'll be waitin' for ya,” he vowed back to her, complete with a wink. She rounded him and headed towards the back of the house. She was about to head into that corridor there when the back door swung open before her. Greg bowed in first, and then Alex followed suit. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted him.

“Hi—what're you doing?” he asked her with a grave look on his face.

“Oh, just—talking with Joey and now I'm getting Marsha.”

“Oh, I see.” He never changed his expression for a second, but she knew what he was thinking. She dropped her gaze to those lips and then to his neck and that prominent Adam's apple. She brought her attention only to his face instead and the puzzled expression there.

“Are—you alright?” he stammered.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just—I just—'scuse me—”

“Yeah, of course,” he assured her with a puzzled look on his face. She bowed into the back room there, where Marsha looked over something on the desk. She raised her gaze to Sam.

“Marla wants you in the kitchen,” she told Marsha.

“Cake's probably ready,” she replied to her with a twinkle in her eye.

Sam nodded and then she returned to the hallway, where Alex had gone off to somewhere else in the house. Indeed, she headed over to the back door, where Aurora was about to take her seat on the step there. It was almost too much to bear right there. She needed to get out of that house because the thought of Joey and Alex getting into it at the latter's birthday party was almost too much to bear for her.

“I need you to cover me,” Sam quipped, and Aurora looked on at her, stunned.

“Cover you in what?”

“No, cover for me,” she corrected her.

“Yeah, cover you in what?”

“Aurora!”

“What?”

“Cover for me. Keep people busy. If they ask about me, tell them that I had to run next door real quick.”

“Why would I say that?”

“Because you’re my best friend.”

“Well, yeah, but really why would I lie to people about where you went?”

“I thought you were only a few weeks pregnant?”

“I am! But what’s that got to do with it?”

“Ugh, never mind.” But before Sam could do anything more, Marsha surfaced from the room there and she gestured for Sam to follow her into the kitchen. Indeed, she helped Marsha decorate the long rectangular sheet cake, in particular the “happy 19th birthday, Alex” right in the middle with the royal blue icing.

“Dunno if Zelda's going to be here,” Marsha confessed to her as she finished the piping of the roses at each of the corners, “she said she probably won't make it because I guess the girls are hard at work right now in the studio—but let's get this sweet little party started, though.”

Sam struck the match and lit the wicks of the candles.

Alex had taken his seat at the head of the dining room table with a small white party hat atop his head: the little sliver of gray poked out from underneath the edge, and his face turned a soft pink with being put on the spot as Marsha set the cake down before him.

“What do you wish for more than anything in the world?” Louie asked him, and Alex turned his gaze to Sam at his right. He squinted his eyes at her, but he never said anything. He then leaned forward and blew out the candles in a single breath. The wisps of smoke faded into nothing before their faces as Belinda and Scott both clapped their hands in unison. He offered to slice the cake but Marsha insisted.

She handed him the first slice of vanilla and raspberry cake, and then everyone else followed suit.

“Wanna open your presents, young man?” Jon called from the far side of the room.

“Yes please,” Alex called back, “my parents are gonna wanna know what they got themselves into here...” His voice trailed off. Sam watched him dig into his cake, small bite after small bite. He ate slowly: indeed, she found herself doing the same thing. It was delicious cake after all. But she wondered what he had wished for before he blew out the candles.

Granted, if he talked about it, then it wouldn't come true. But it still made her curious nonetheless.

Jon handed him Chuck, Eric, and Frankie's gifts first, followed by that small square black and white box. The first thing he did before opening each of them was put the bows on his chest. He read the labels carefully right before hand as well, and he was careful to unwrap them as well with a sliding of his fingers under where the paper ended and the tape started, and so he peeled the paper off as opposed to tearing it apart. A new tuner from Chuck and Eric both, a Gary Moore shirt from Greg and Louie both which warranted a look of surprise from him.

“Wow, where'd you guys get this?” he asked Greg.

“Thrift shop. Lou found it when he and I were looking for new boots for ourselves, and I was like, 'dude, yes! He loves Moore!' So I got that for a nickel.” He neatly folded the shirt and placed it on the table next to him, and then he turned to that square box.

“From Samantha and Belinda,” he stated, and he opened the box.

“Miss Shelley and Miss Grimes,” Jon followed up as he headed back into the kitchen once more.

And Alex's face lit up at the sight before him there.

“Oh, wow!” He held it out from the box, and he looked on at that clean creamy white leather with his mouth agape.

“What is it, a belt?” Scott asked them.

“A guitar strap!” Sam corrected him. “A little bit of leather work from both me and Bel here.”

“This is gorgeous!” he declared as he held the strap before him and his eyes caressed over the design of the tulips and the sugar skulls. “Oh, and it's adjustable, too! This is absolutely beautiful, ladies—thank you!” Sam put her arms around him first, and then Belinda followed suit. He had a slender little body and yet he was as soft as childhood.

“Got our work cut out for us now,” Charlie confessed to Scott in a not so low voice.

“I know, right?” Scott retorted with his eyes squinted.

But Alex was more than happy to have it all around him for the time being, especially by the time Aurora took a step next to him.

“Now, I hate to draw the spotlight away from the birthday boy here,” she began, “but I wanted to tell you all that Emile and I are pregnant.”

“Aw!” Marsha called from the kitchen.

“We thought we were when we were over in England last month, but—it's official now!”

“Start of a new chapter in life and the start of a new life,” Scott declared as he raised his glass to them, but then again, Alex bowed his head a bit at that. Today was his day after all, and for Sam, that was oddly selfish of Aurora to do that to him. This was the second thing she had done that seemed so unlike her, at least for as long as Sam had known her. Thus she reached her hand towards him, just as Aurora began conversing with Marsha, Emile, and Scott about something.

“Happy birthday, though, Alex,” she told him as he took a sip of his sarsaparilla.

“Thank you,” he replied to her with a serious look on his face, “and yeah, thank you, everyone!” That warm blush returned upon his saying that. “When I'm done with my cake and my drink, I'm gonna call my dad and tell him that life is good right now.”

Indeed, he turned his attention back to Sam for a moment.

“And I go upstate for a whole week.” When he said that, he glanced across the table for a second. She followed his gaze and there was Joey at the far end. She sat closer to Alex than she was her own boyfriend; she then climbed to her feet and she strode on over to him as he finished the rest of his cake.

“Hi,” she greeted him, and he brought a napkin to his lips. Chuck burst out laughing at something and thus he moved his head in closer to her.

“Wanna do sump'n this weekend?” he offered her in a low voice.

“Up by your place?” she asked him.

“Your place and then mine,” he corrected her.

“I'd love to,” she replied in a low voice.

“I'll pick ya up after school,” he told her as he finished the last few bites of cake. Sam wondered exactly what he had in mind as she made her way back to her spot in between Belinda and Alex for the time being.

[darlingsdevil]

The Ballads of Rebirth (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Chapter 17: Epilogue

Masterlist

Tag list: @rollyjogerjones

A/N: This is it. This is the end. I wrote a little message for all of you to read, it would mean a lot if you did.

When I began this story a few days after Christmas, I wrote it on a whim. The story brewed in my mind for perhaps a max week before I began writing it. The original idea was inspired a lot by Big Fish the Musical, the musical I was in, in early December. I remember I used to write day after day and could get a chapter up daily, until around the sixth or seventh chapter. I can’t quite tell you how I did it, but I know if I hadn’t gotten that far so quickly, I would have never finished this story, it would have been added to my never ending pile of unfinished WIP’s. The Ballads of Rebirth was supposed to go in an entirely different direction that I had planned, Lee and Arthur’s feud was supposed to be way worse and bitter, and would have ended up with Arthur beating up Lee. Lee was supposed to be much more of an antagonist in the final chapters, a way worse of a person, but I couldn’t do it to him. In many ways, he was flawed, he was selfish at times and quick to judge, but he was still loving and goofy. I know people were not going to like him, they were rooting for Arthur after all. But I still love Lee, he was my first official rdr2 oc, my first fully fleshed out character. Quite frankly, I didn’t really ‘know’ who he was until I continued writing it, I had no personality built out for him until I began writing, and I just chose what felt right. That’s what happens with a lot of my stories, I write what feels right (which usually leads to plot holes because I don’t write shit down). But regardless, I love Lee, and I hope you’re satisfied with the ending I gave him.

There were a few times that I thought about giving up, that my story was absolute shit, that my plot holes were too confusing and my narrative was weak, and I was close to quitting. Until people began asking me when the new chapters would be out, what would happen next. While the numbers may be small, the dedication is what kept me going. And yeah, maybe my story isn’t the biggest rdr2 fic, maybe it’s not talked about in discord servers, but I don’t care, all that matters is that the fans that have stayed have shown me that I should continue writing, that there are people rooting for this story. I know, my story is full of plot holes, I know people don’t like Lee (which I’ll forever be bitter about), I know my story has grammatical errors, I know maybe I shouldn’t have killed off Mahala, I know there’s a lot I could have done, but there’s a lot I still did. As much as I think my story is weak, I’m still proud of the fact that I made it, that it is my own, that I created it and stuck through.

Sometimes, it’s not about what you could have done, it’s what you did. And that’s more valuable in many ways. Creating anything is powerful, and The Ballads of Rebirth taught me that.

So thank you, to every commentator, every person who left a like or kudo, every person who left an ask in my inbox, and especially everyone who complimented my writing style (which is apparently unique? and also these comments are a huge ego boost to me so if I’m cocky, it’s those peoples fault). Thank you for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoyed what I made.

I know I did.

••

Here Are Some Songs That Inspired This Story

1. Setting Sun - Lord Huron (Main inspiration)

2. Prologue - Starry (What I consider to be the main theme)

3. Sunlight and Storms - Starry (Inspiration for Lee and Reader’s relationship)

4. The Road - Starry (yeah.. I know there’s lots of Starry, but regardless, Arthur’s arc inspiration)

5. After The War - Stars (wow lots of star-esque things, Epilogue inspiration, I recommend listening to it while reading this)

•••

PS. The AU ending will be posted with the main story, as I realized many of you may not see it otherwise.

•••

Time passed quickly and solemnly. Life was peaceful and quiet. And you loved every second of it. After you and Arthur had left Richfield in search of the life you had lost, you and your husband had found it with Charles, in a small cottage down the road from him. Charles was happy to see you and Arthur returned to him.

And life was quiet, for a long time it was. You heard nothing of Micah and Dutch, the Pinkerton’s had stopped searching, it seemed the outlaw way had died out long ago too. You were scared Arthur or you would somehow slip back into it. you would blink and suddenly be pulled back into the life you so desperately tried to avoid, but the pull never came. The older you got, the lesser and lesser that percentage became.

The people of Wapiti had long since moved. You visited Mahala’s grave frequently, and thanked her for bringing Arthur back to you. You were sure you would have liked her.

You thanked Charles too, for being quick to find him. It was strange to think that without Charles’ swift action, Arthur would not be here today. Instead, you would be visiting his grave instead of Mahala’s.

John was exceptionally pleased to hear Arthur was still alive. Abigail wrote frequently to you for many years, you missed her dearly, but you had faith you would be reunited once more.

“Honey?” You called out to the doorway behind you.

“G’morning. I got what you asked me to pick up,” Arthur replied. You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. He placed the box down at the table.

“Thank you. Breakfast is almost ready,” You said, scrambling some eggs on top of the stove. Arthur came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Someone’s touchy today,” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Missed you.” He nuzzled his face into your neck.

“You were gone for a day.”

“I’m not allowed to miss my dear wife?” He pretended to sound hurt.

“Not when you’re distracting me,” You replied nonchalantly, continuing to prepare the omelettes.

Arthur laughed heartily in your ear. “I give up then,” he said, removing his hold from your waist and putting his hands up in defeat.

“It’s almost ready, sit down.” You put the finishing touches on the omelettes and put them on plates. Arthur sat down at the small table while you fetched some forks. You stared through the window while your hands grabbed two forks, seeing the daffodils on the window, Arthur had bought for you a few days earlier.

You walked over to the table and set down the two plates, taking a seat across from Arthur. He grabbed at the plate hungrily and began to eat.

“You sure are hungry.”

“Starvin’. Been a day since I’ve had your lovely cooking,” Arthur smiled at you. You picked up your fork as well and began to eat.

“I forgot the coffee, hold on.” You realized after a few moments and walked over to the countertop to fetch the pot of coffee, pouring two cups for Arthur and you. You made yours how you liked it, and brought cream and sugar over to Arthur.

“Thank you,” He replied to the gesture, grabbing his cup. He put in a few spoonfuls of sugar and some cream, always the one with the sweet tooth.

You sipped your coffee while you ate your breakfast, glancing out towards the front windows. It was a nice day out, clear of clouds with a nice breeze. The garden still needed tending to, but at least later you could sit on the porch with Arthur.

“I invited Charles over for dinner tonight, by the way. I’m making roast beef and potatoes, and maybe an apple pie, I haven’t decided yet,” You shrugged.

“Make blueberry.” Arthur replied, picking up a newspaper from yesterday that was on the table.

“Blueberries aren’t in season.”

“Okay, then raspberry.”

“Not in season either.”

“Really? Well shit. Apple will have to do then.”

“You don’t like my apple pies?”

“What? No, I do! You just make them a lot. I feel like we’re having them every week,” Arthur laughed nervously.

You pretended to glare at him, “Then I’ll never make another apple pie again. You’re getting pie with no filling in all of them now.”

“Now I didn’t say that! I’m just saying, you make apple pies a lot, I like variety sometimes.”

“You lived with the gang for 20 years and ate the same stew for every meal but you’re complaining about me making apple pie once a week?” You raised your eyebrow at him.

“That’s why I like variety now. Couldn’t have it for so long, that once I get it I’ll never go back to eating the same thing.”

“Mhm.” You dragged out the sound, nodding sarcastically.

You stared at Arthur, he stared at you, a slight smile on his lips. “Just admit you don’t like my apple pies.”

“Would it make you happy if I said that?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know!”

“Listen, I like your apple pies, honestly. I just like some variety, that’s all,” He said, attempting to quell your fake anger.

“I’m never making an apple pie ever again,” You replied dramatically, slumping onto the table, reaching your hands out to hold his.

Arthur chucked at your dramatics.

“Just eat your omelette.”

•••

You thought of Lee frequently. Not that you yearned for him, or missed him, you simply wondered how he was doing. And in a way, he had heard your thoughts, after about two years of silence from him, Lee sent a letter.

“You have a letter,” Arthur had said one night when he came back from town, placing the letter on the table in front of you.

“Who’s it from?”

“Lee.”

“Lee sent me a letter?” You asked in disbelief, grabbing the envelope and examining the name on the front. Leroy Rinascita. Clear as day.

(Y/N),

It’s been quite some time since you left Richfield. I hope this letter finds you well. I took a chance and sent a letter to Valentine, a city Arthur had mentioned to me before, so if I don’t hear from you, I assume you’re somewhere else off in the country.

I hope you’re pleased with the choices you made. How is Arthur, by the way? I know we started off on the wrong foot (for good reason) but overall I found him to be a good, kind man. I can tell Arthur makes a good husband. I pray he’s not too angry with how I acted earlier towards him, water under the bridge, right?

I apologize for not sending a letter sooner, or perhaps I’m sorry for even writing this, in case you find this letter strange. I just wanted to know how you are doing. I’m doing well too. I’ve found someone as well who I enjoy very much, they live with me now. I guess you can say we got married, about two months ago actually. It wasn’t a conventional marriage of course. You actually already met them. I’m not sure you would expect who, but for the sake of prying eyes, I won’t reveal who they are in this letter. Other than marriage, life’s been pretty normal. The general store is doing well, there’s some new projects in the city too. A new candy store opened by the pier after the old one unfortunately burned down a few months after you had left. Richfield is bigger now, I feel like it’ll never stop growing. More and more people show up everyday. I barely even know the neighbors names these days.

As for my father, I’m pleased to say he’s still kicking. Somehow, the cancer went away, I couldn’t tell you how, the doctors can’t either. I’m really grateful for you convincing him to stay alive, to stay for me.

Your locket is still with me, I found an old family photo of my father, my mother and Anastasia as a newborn. It was strange to see my mother’s face after so many years, I had nearly forgotten it. I have an older photo of Anastasia too on the other side, my partner isn’t in the locket, only because I see them daily. I don’t need to be reminded that I love them.

But enough talk of me, how are you doing? I know it’s been a while, but I still care about you, and hope to know you’re doing well. Give Arthur a hello for me as well.

Regards,

Lee

You were happy to know Lee still cared, in some horrible nightmare you imagined that he despised you, that you were simply a dark phase in his life. And you were even happier that Lee had found someone and was truly living the life he had wanted. In a way, you were the same as him, both yearning for peace and quiet.

“Lee’s been doing well. I’m glad he sent this letter, he says hello to you, Arthur,” You told him, setting the letter down on the table.

“Good. I’m glad Lee’s doing okay.”

“Yeah, me too.”

•••

Even though Beecher’s Hope had many people living off its land, it did not feel crowded. Perhaps it was the sky that made it feel that way, the sky was endless, and when you and your family worked underneath it, it did not feel so small. The sky was infinite.

“Jack, will you go get Anne for me? She’s out by the chicken coop,” You had told the teenager.

“Sure thing, Aunt (Y/N),” He replied, walking towards the front door to fetch Anne for dinner. Although the Marston and Morgan houses were separate, the two families had practically lived in both. Jack was eating over for dinner, John and Abigail claiming you as his babysitter. Not that he needed one — or perhaps Uncle did.

“Arthur? Will you set the table for me, please? I have to go get Anne washed up once Jack brings her in,” You called out to Arthur behind you.

“Sure.” Arthur responded, he picked up the dishes next to you and began placing them on the table.

As you finished up cooking, you heard the shrill voice of Anne calling out to you. You immediately swiveled around as her tiny legs bounced up to you.

“There’s my little one!” You said joyously, she wrapped her arms around your leg and giggled. She was a near carbon copy of Arthur. She had his nose, his eyes, his mouth shape, but she had your hair and complexion. Regardless of who she looked more like — she was yours.

“Mama! I brought you a feather from the chicken coop!” She reached into her tiny dress pocket and pulled out a white feather. It was bigger and heavier than a chicken feather, you wondered what type of bird it was.

“Sorry, Uncle Arthur, she kind of made a mess in the chicken coop,” You heard Jack say to Arthur.

“You did? Oh thank you, sweetie.” You beamed at her, she watched you take it with big proud eyes. You placed the feather in your pocket, it’s long feathers sticking out.

“You’re welcome, mama.” You noticed the dirt on her face and on her knees as she said that. You scooped her up in your arms and took her into the bathroom to wash up.

You set her down next to the sink and began washing her knees with a wet washcloth.

“Mommy?”

“Yes?” You hummed, continuing to scrub the dirt off her knees.

“When is the baby coming?”

“Not for a couple more months.”

“Daddy thinks it’ll be a boy,” She told you matter of factly.

“Daddy thinks lots of things.”

“He told me he’s sure about this one.”

“When did daddy say that?” You asked, dipping the washcloth under the water, beginning to wipe the dirt off her cute face.

“Today. He told me while we were looking for flowers for you.”

“Okay, well, what else did he say?”

“He said he wants to name the baby Henry Hosea.”

You blinked at the name. Henry Hosea did sound nice. After all, Hosea was technically your adoptive father, as well as Arthur’s. Neither of you had really ever brought him up, avoiding that painful topic entirely. And Anne knew nothing of your past occupations, it was a story for another time, when she was older.

“I like the name Hosea,” Anne responded after being met by your silence.

“It’s a nice name,” Your voice nearly breaking. You subdued the tears in your eyes, after all that conversation was for another time.

When you finished cleaning Anne up, you brought her to dinner and sat her down next to Jack. You brought the food out to the table, making sure to put the apple pie right in front of Arthur.

•••

In many ways, time had been kind to you. It had been patient and nurturing, time allowed you a second chance at life.

It had given you the life you had wanted, one full of peace, love and family. Your life was quiet at Beecher’s Hope, filled with no revenge story. Time had dragged out your lesson for many years, but now you were reaping the fruits of your labor.

So now, as you cradle your newborn son, watching Anne and Arthur play in the field, her giggles dancing over the grass. You thank time for being there for you. For giving you what you wanted, for letting you learn to grow. For giving you a family. For returning Arthur to you.

In many ways you were thankful, thankful for the lessons you had learned, thankful for the house you lived in, thankful for the food on your table. Thankful for Mahala, thankful for Lee, thankful for Anne, thankful for Arthur and thankful for your son, Henry Hosea.

A cool breeze swept over the field, causing the grass and flowers to dance in the wind. Anne began to pretend she was a bird and Arthur raced around trying to catch her, both laughing in unison.

You looked down at your newborn son, his eyes closed over his resting face.

“One day I’ll tell you where your name comes from. I’ll tell you all about the life your daddy and I lived. And I’ll tell you about the life I had after that, and I’ll tell you about why I’ll never go back to either. One day I’ll tell you all about it,” You said quietly to your son, a promise to him and time, and no one else.

And in the end there was a man and a woman, and a daughter and a son, living to the world, thankful for every moment they get to spend with each other.

And Mother Nature rejoiced, for the man on the mountain and the woman in the city had found each other.

••• The End •••

[backoftheroomandnotbelonging]

What more can you give? (YUNGBLUD x reader)

A/N: A little something for the Black Hearts Club this Christmas, hope y’all have a good one!

Dom has been working on a new album, to the detriment of his health. You force him to take Christmas off.

You knew Dom was passionate. It was one of the attributes that drew you to him initially; but seeing everything else he cared about fall to the side so that he could finish his latest album was something you knew Dom would want intervention for. Remembering his excitement whenever he makes a breakthrough made you smile. Your smile falls just as quickly when you think about how he’s so easily immersed and sucked into his music. He has tunnel vision; you’d unconditionally support him but even you had to admit it was difficult to, especially so close to the holidays.

The holidays had always been a controversial time for you. Growing up despite always having ‘good’ Christmases, they always feel a little off, a little fake, to you. You dreaded your first Christmas with Dom. It was your second Christmas after leaving home and you’d quite enjoyed that first year of just you alone. Maybe ‘dreaded’ was the wrong word, you cherished every moment with Dom and loved spending secluded winter moments with him but this hyperactive puppy on Christmas Day may be too much for your lack of enthusiasm. You really didn’t want to ruin his holiday, especially right now. No matter what you felt, you wanted to make this Christmas as laid back and ecstatic for him as possible. He needed some time, an excuse, to let loose and be silly and not have to think so much. He needed to lose the furrowed brow.

--------------------

As the season progressed it became more and more evident that drastic measures were going to have to be taken.

The morning after your work Christmas party (an event you had managed to get Dom to spare some time and headspace for) you woke intending to perform your traditional lazy morning in bed routine. You say tradition but for the last two months it had fallen by the wayside but, since you and Dom had purposely scheduled the day to be free, there was no better time to recommence it. You stretched under the pale frosty sunrays that spread across your duvet, humming with satisfaction as a cold chill tingled against your upper arms and elevated the warmth of the rest of your body. The lazy grin stretching upon your face was yearning to be nuzzled between Dom’s shoulder blades but as you wriggled around to find his body, your ankle met the brisk chill of the bedsheet. The duvet had been cast aside and the bed was empty. Now you didn’t feel quite so blissful because sat on the pillow, his pillow, was a pink post-it note reading:

Darlin

Gone to the studio

Luv ya!

You smiled at the sentiment before reminding yourself that this was now a common occurrence. Therefore, you rolled your eyes and flopped back down onto your pillow.

--------------------

A week later and you’d come down with the flu. For the best part of three days you were practically comatose on the couch: wrapped in a duvet, high on paracetamol and binge watching American Horror Story. You had hives blotching your body, moments when your vision would blackout and extreme skin sensitivity, as well as the usual symptoms. Dom had given in to your demands that he not see you until you were over the worst and you suppose, in some sense, he was grateful you were holed up at home because it meant he could burn himself out at the studio without your physical interference. Not that he didn’t care, he maintained constant contact and care for you…just from a distance. He’d given you what you asked for and you were especially thankful as it gave you the perfect opportunity to discuss a family visit with Sam.

--------------------

“Love? You home?”

“Yeah, just in the bedroom.”

“Whatcha doin?”

“Dominic. Baby, you know I love a cuddle but I’m trying to pack…”

“What we packing for? Are you leaving?”

“Oh, stop it, if I was leaving would I pack your boxers? I’ll tell you right now the answer is no. We are packing to spend a couple days with your parents.”

“But I got studio-“

“Uh- no, you don’t. That studio time never got booked. You can be as angry as you want but this is an intervention. You’re taking Christmas off. And it’s your mother’s birthday so…”

“Why? You understand how much this means to me.”

“Does it mean more to you than family? You’ve got to remember that everyone celebrates Christmas. Maybe Yungblud wants to be in the studio but don’t you think Adam, Tom and Michael might want to be home for the holidays?”

“I just…”

“I know, darling. I do. It means everything to you; we all know how dedicated you are and how much the fans mean to you. But take a second: close your eyes, breathe and look inside yourself. Dom, baby, you’re burning out. Please, please, just take a few days out with me.”

“I will, love.”

--------------------

By late Christmas Eve you were back at Dom’s apartment. He’d enjoyed catching up with his parents and messing about with his sisters but had declined the opportunity to stay for actual Christmas Day because he wanted your first Christmas together to be alone and shamelessly romantic, or so his mother told you after the New Year. The entire journey to London was spent with Dom’s USB in the radio and him trying to find the lyrics to match the earworm he’d already recorded.

He then proceeded to spend the night on his laptop with headphones and composition software, only moving to sleep when you hauled him up and claimed that his present would be replaced with coal. He was out like a light. The second that boy sunk into the mattress he was gone. It made you frustrated because it proved that you were right. You loved him dearly, of course, but he was a stubborn bugger – absolute in the belief that he wasn’t too tired and too overworked so could continue his new routine. Idiot. Wouldn’t listen to reason or accept help and now he’s passing out to sleep instead of just sleeping like a log.

--------------------

You were jarred awake to the tones of ‘Last Christmas’ by WHAM. You smiled beneath the blanket covering your face; it was Christmas. The mattress was empty next to you, again, but you knew Dom wasn’t far. And that he wasn’t working. With that reassurance in mind you burrowed deeper into the covers and allowed the gentle beat of the music drift you into a state between awake and sleep.

The floorboards began to groan but you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes fully. A gentle thud sounded as something was placed on the stack of books by your bed. A kiss was planted on the crown of your head. The floorboards creaked and the door squeaked as it was left ajar.

You prised your eyes open and saw a steaming mug of tea atop your battered copy of ‘the Help’. A warm fuzz filled you as a sleepy smile emerged. Shuffling to sit by your pillow you reach for you tea, cradling it in your hands and resting it against your chest. The smell and warmth bringing immediate comfort to you; the steam felt therapeutic against the dry skin of your face – the English winter wind is brutal. You stayed curled up with your drink for the next half hour. Dom had evidently unearthed the Christmas album from where you’d hidden it and you had to admit the stream of festivity in your ears was making you light up. The children in the flat above yours were scampering about, letting out excited yells and being shushed by their parents; it made you think of how your future Christmases may one day be…

--------------------

Once the dregs of your tea had been drunk, you made a move. Swinging your legs out of bed you hissed at the cold floor and reached for the oversized pink socks you’d smuggled out of the latest Yungblud merch collection. Deciding already that you’d need another layer, you found your favourite cardigan strewn across the foot of the bed. Now amply protected from the elements you ventured out of your bedroom towards the source of the noise.

You’d intended to make Dom aware that you were awake immediately but the serenity of the scene you walked in on made you freeze. Dom was filling the coffee machine, unloading the dishwasher and clearing surfaces for the midday bomb that would be two young adults pretending to adult and cook an entire Christmas lunch. The domesticity and thoughtfulness in his actions warmed your heart. What made you tear up, however, was the sight of his shoulders.

(And not just because his unzipped hoodie was sliding off his shoulder giving you a…view.)

As he bopped around the kitchen, all bent knees and dramatic wrists, the swaying flow of his shoulders was effortless. For months they had gathered tension and rigidity, and now it seemed he no longer held the weight of the entire world there. Dom suddenly began to spin, arms out and laughing. Your stomach swooped causing a bubble of laughter to escape. As ‘Christmas (Baby Come Home)’ played out he stared at you. Up and down. You got shy in the doorway. His boyish grin returned, with the full force of his teeth behind it.

The opening chord of ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’ began and you could tell from the twitch of his lip that your moment of silent reflection was over. He swung the mug from your hand, while twirling you, to place it on the side before bringing you close. For the next couple of minutes, the pair of you jumped and dropped and lively slow danced until you were breathless, sweaty and giggling.

--------------------

Dom collapsed over you: arms flung over your shoulders like dead weight, head resting beside yours and legs each side of one of your own.

“I’ve been in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Dom-“

“No, love. I went too far. Balance is hard for me cus I just wanna throw myself into everything 100% always but I neglected you and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Dom. I understand that about you; not just that, I love that about you.”

“The thing is, you might want to take that apology because it’s all I have to offer you today…”

You chuckled, “What more can you give me? These past few days you’ve given me the trust to make judgements for you. That means everything to me.”

“Well…you’re my favourite. And I’m going to keep you forever.”