#it was the second best!! i could not put the original lyrics that belong there for... Reasons. maybe if this gets redone sometime!

[starflungwaddledee]

Regarding the ask with starstruck’s star spears and Galacta,I’m guessing they have some sort of beef? Maybe they’ve met in the past?

[x] i'm not sure if i'd call it beef so much as the whole entire herd of cattle

[luchicm04]

Pride

Masterlist

Summary: When hatred and pride speak louder, even a childhood love can fall apart.

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Fem!Uchiha, Uchiha Madara/Fem!Uchiha

Word count: 2.6k

Overall warnings: angst, bittersweet ending

All characters belong to Naruto, and all rights are reserved to the original work whose author allowed me to translate it.

A/N: The lyrics come from this song. Whoever cried, raise your hand. Please, leave your opinions and criticism in the comments.

posted on ao3

I was there, standing on top of that mountain where I could see the sunset that covered the village below with golden light. After so many battles, Konoha finally flourished in peace. 

Peace that hadn’t existed in my heart for a long time since I met her: Alexia. 

──

In the heart of the war between Senju and Uchiha, in the small moments when there was a truce, I, Tobirama, youngest son of the general of the Senju clan liked to get away from all that suffering for a while. During the day, I found a way to escape to the river, just to be able to see and hear the current that followed its path without caring about what happened on its banks. It just flowed.  

And it was there, on one of those days, that I saw a little paper boat with a yellow flower inside going down through the crystal-clear water, and then one more and another. Like the curious child that I was, I went up the river in the opposite direction of the boats, until I saw her.  

A little girl with long, black hair messed up by the wind. She was kneeling on the riverbank and placing paper boats with colorful flowers in the water one by one, while her black eyes watched them move away. Until her eyes fell on me, and we stood staring without saying anything on either side of the river. Then, she got up, smiled at me and disappeared into the forest.  

──

Without realizing it, a soft smile curved my lips as I remembered that day. How the silent meeting of two children could change so much. 

──

After that meeting, I went to the river more often, wanting to see her again. But it was weeks before I saw the little boats go down the current once again. I found her in the same place and this time, I walked over and crouched down next to her.  

“Why do you do it?” I asked.  

She looked at me with those dark orbs, smiled and responded as if it were the simplest thing in the world.  

“Because I think it’s beautiful.”  

I saw her pick up another little boat with a red flower and place it in my hand. I quickly put it in the water and saw it go away down the river. I smiled without realizing it.  

“See? It’s so pretty,” she said and looked at me again. “I’m Alexia. And you?”  

“Tobirama,” I replied, hiding my surname, because during the war it wasn’t wise to say it to strangers and apparently, she knew that as she didn’t say hers either.  

We stayed there talking for hours, without ever saying where we came from, until I heard my brother Hashirama calling me from inside the forest. I went home but not before making her promise that we would see each other again, right there.  

The months passed and as the war worsened, our meetings began to become rarer, until she never appeared again.  

──

I felt a lonely tear run down my face. Even though we were just children, the loss of my first love hurt a lot. 

But I moved on with my life, and during the following years, thanks to the war, I didn’t have much time to rummage through the past. Until... 

──

Until, at the peak of my 21 st year, I became the second-best ninja in my clan, second only to my older brother.  

Even though the years passed, and I became a man, I still had the childhood habit of going to the river.  

That day, I bent down to wash my face in the cool water, and I felt my heart speed up when I saw a little paper boat with a pink flower touch my hand.  

I ran as fast as I could, going upstream and I saw her... she was there and looked at me as if she was waiting for me.  

Her black hair, now longer, swayed in the breeze. Her body, that was once small and thin, had become beautiful and curvy. She was a woman now, but her eyes, oh those dark eyes, were still the same ones that haunted my memories.  

I approached, and the only thing I could say was her name.  

“Alexia...”  

Without knowing why, or without caring if I was going to be rejected, I kissed her. That old childhood love turned into an urgent desire to erase all that longing that I had stored deep within my being. Alexia responded to me with passion. She seemed to feel the same thing as me, and she wanted to make up for all the lost time.  

We pulled away from each other with difficulty, but the feeling of being complete surrounded us like a golden aura. We didn’t need to say anything to know that time hadn’t changed the feelings of the two children.  

We talked and kissed for hours on end, until we heard sounds coming from the forest, and before I knew it, she broke away from my embrace, looking me in the eyes and said:  

“Tobirama, I need to tell you something very important.” Her face became serious. “Meet me here tomorrow night. Please don’t miss it.”  

I nodded and let her go.  

I didn’t know that conversation would change my entire life.  

──

The night of our meeting had arrived. I managed to leave without being seen by my brother and went towards the agreed location. My hands were sweating, and my heart was racing with every step I took. I thought what I felt years ago was a child’s thing, but the closer I got, the more I knew I was madly in love with that woman. When I arrived, she was already there waiting for me, her gaze fixed on the waters of the river. She seemed sad and that made me worried.  

“Alexia, are you alright?” I asked and without waiting for an answer, I hugged her.  

Feeling her warm body pressed against mine, the kiss was inevitable. It started out soft, but when she opened the way for our tongues to mee, I could no longer resist. We made love right there, on the riverbank, listening to the water run and taking our secret with it.  

Leaning on my body, I heard her soft cry and little by little, hot tears touched my chest, making me look at her.  

“What happened? Did I hurt you?” I said with concern.  

“That’s not it,” she got up and started to dress up. “This shouldn’t have happened. Not without telling you first.”  

“Telling me what?” I started to worry even more, seeing her crying.  

“I know who you are, Tobirama Senju,” she whispered between tears, emphasizing the word ‘senju’. “And I... I am... Alexia Uchiha.”  

My heart almost stopped when I heard her say her full name. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t... the girl I loved since I was a child, the girl I loved there, on the riverbank, was from that damn clan that had been at war with my family and friends for years. I looked at that familiar and now strange face for several moments, until she broke the deadly silence that hung on us.  

“I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was afraid,” she took a step towards me. “Say something, Tobirama.”  

“Alexia... Uchiha...” I could only repeat her name, still not believing that joke of fate.  

She got closer to me, and with her trembling hand she tried to touch me, but my body involuntarily took a step back, avoiding the contact.  

“Please, say something,” her voice was already starting to get exasperated with my silence. “Say that this doesn’t change anything. Say that you love me. Say that everything will be alright. Just say... say it and I will wait for you.”  

But I didn’t say it. Even though my heart was screaming like crazy inside my chest, I didn’t say the words that she wanted to hear. I couldn’t.  

I caught a glimpse of her beautiful eyes fading with the tears that came flooding back before she left.  

──

When I found out who that little boy was in the river, I knew I had to stay away for my safety and his. However, the war helped me maintain my decision. I was sent to another village along with other women and children who could not fight. But fate found a way to bring us together again many years later. I wanted to see him, see how he grew up and try to make possible that childish love that I always carried in my chest, despite the situation.  

An Uchiha and a Sunju. It seemed like a joke, but I didn’t care. I wanted to fight for that feeling.  

But...  

But my hope faded that night, after we made love. He ran away from my touch like running away from a venomous snake when he learned the truth. I saw the hurt in his eyes, and anger. I was willing to face everything and everyone for us, I just needed to hear him say it. But the words didn’t come.  

──

After that fateful night, I still hadn’t given up on us. Maybe he just needed some time to put his thoughts in order, maybe there was still hope. But I was wrong.  

Every day that followed, I went to the riverbank and one by one, I placed the little paper boats with flowers in the current and watched them slowly descend into the clear waters, waiting to hear his footsteps on the gravel. The long-awaited steps never came.  

And every time, I cried. But this time, I held back the tears and noticed that someone placed a coat over my shoulders and spoke to me in a soft voice.  

“Alexia, what are you doing here?” he said in a worried smile. “It’s getting cold. Let’s go before you get sick."  

I looked at him as I stood up. His long, black hair was tousled because of the wind, which I didn’t even realize was blowing strongly, and his dark eyes, so similar to mine, stood out from the strong, beautiful face that smiled at me. Madara Uchiha, the new leader of the clan. I had known him for a long time, but only at that moment did I really pay attention to him. I took one last look at the waters of the river and followed him back home.  

──

That image of Alexia waiting for me, words I didn’t say and the sadness in her eyes, the plea in her voice haunted my thoughts.  

Every day I went to the river, and I saw, day after day, the little paper boats going down the river. I knew they were for me, that she was waiting for me just behind that curve. But my pride prevented me from going there and taking her in my arms and never letting her go.  

Another little boat came down and came closer to my feet, and before I could pick it up, it sank and dissolved in the water. I didn’t know why, but that image made me cry. Nevertheless, I still didn’t go after her.  

──

A year has passed since that day, and there have never been any paper boats for me on the river again. 

Same bed, but it feels just a little bit bigger now

Our song on the radio, but it don’t sound the same

When our friends talk about you, all it does is just tear me down

‘Cause my heart breaks a little when I hear your name

It all just sounds like ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

And as the world loves to play tricks, that same year the battle between the Senju and Uchiha clans ended, beginning an alliance that led to the founding of Konoha. If I had said something, if I had waited... 

Mm, too young, too foolish to realize

That I should have bought you flowers and held your hand

Should have gave you all my hours when I had the chance

Take you to every party ‘cause all you wanted to do was dance

Now my baby’s dancing, but she’s dancing with another man

But I hadn’t said anything, I hadn’t waited, and I lost her. Now, we live in the same village, our families are no longer enemies and there is no more war. But it’s too late for us. 

My pride, my ego, my needs, and my selfish ways

Caused a good strong woman like you to walk out of my life

Now I never, never get to clean up the mess I made, oh

And that haunts me every time I close my eyes

It all just sounds like ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

I see her almost every day, but her eyes don’t look at me anymore and her smile doesn’t shine for me. Now, another man holds her hand, another man is the owner of her look and the reason for her smile. 

Mm, too young, too foolish to realize

That I should have bought you flowers and held your hand

Should have gave you all my hours when I had the chance

Take you to every party ‘cause all you wanted to do was dance

Now my baby’s dancing, but she’s dancing with another man

Although it hurts

I’ll be the first to say that I was wrong

Oh, I knw I’m probably much too late

To try and apologize for my mistakes

But I just want you to know

I could see him day after day gluing together, piece by piece, Alexia’s heart, which I broke. Healing her wings, which I hurt, and giving her the love that, out of pride, I couldn’t give. 

I hope he buys you flowers, I hope he holds you hand

Give you all his hours when he has the chance

Take you to every party

‘Cause I remember how much you loved t dance

Do all the things I would have done

When I was your man

And today, I’m here, at the top of this mountain. Down there, I can hear the happy laughter and the music that rose up to me. 

It was Alexia’s wedding, my Alexia... I lost her the moment I was too weak to say I loved her. 

My life ended there, on the edge of that river. Those waters witnessed who foolish I was, how my hatred and my pride took from me the woman I loved my entire life. 

The sun had already set on the horizon and the stars were beginning to emerge in the dark blue sky. That was when I noticed someone approaching, a servant, who handed something into my hand that made my heart skip a beat. 

It was a paper boat with a white flower. My eyes clouded with the threat of tears, until I saw that there seemed to be something written on the paper. I unfolded the little boat and read the words that seemed a little shaky. 

‘Tobirama,  

I want you to know that despite what happened between us, I have no regrets. On the contrary, you will always be in my heart, as my first love. It’s a shame that it’s too late for both of us, but I wish from the bottom of my soul that you find someone, and that you don’t let your pride speak louder than your love again. Be happy.  

Alexia.’ 

As I read that, my fists clenched the paper tightly and the little flower fell apart on the floor. And I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I fell on the ground and cried, cried until my eyes had no more tears to cry. 

I cried for the lost love. I cried for the future without Alexia. I cried for the regret of not having said the words she expected to hear. And I cried even more for having my heart in pieces while my pride remained whole. 

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

Your Song

Written By: Elton John & Bernie Taupin

Artist: Elton John

Released: 1970

The song was composed and performed by Elton John but the lyrics were written by Bernie Taupin. It originally appeared in his self titled and second album. Elton John hadn’t come out of the closet yet, but Bernie Taupin knew, which is part of the reason why the lyrics avoid using gendered pronouns. In a 2013 interview with Rolling Stone, Elton John said: “What can I say, it’s a perfect song. It gets better every time I sing it. I remember writing it at my parents' apartment in North London, and Bernie giving me the lyrics, sitting down at the piano and looking at it and going, ‘Oh, my God, this is such a great lyric, I can’t fuck this one up.’ It came out in about 20 minutes, and when I was done, I called him in and we both knew. I was 22, and he was 19, and it gave us so much confidence. ‘Empty Sky’ was lovely, but it was very naive. We went on to do more esoteric stuff like ‘Take Me to the Pilot,’ of course, but musically, this was a big step forward. And the older I get, the more I sing these lyrics, and the more they resonate with me.”

[Verse 1] It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside I'm not one of those who can easily hide I don't have much money, but boy if I did I'd buy a big house where we both could live [Verse 2] If I was a sculptor, heh, but then again, no Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do My gift is my song and this one's for you [Chorus] And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world [Verse 3] I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss Well, a few of the verses, well, they've got me quite cross But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song It's for people like you that keep it turned on [Verse 4] So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen [Chorus] And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world [Outro] I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world

She Will Be Loved

Written By: Adam Levine & James Valentine

Artist: Maroon 5

Released: 2002

“She Will Be Loved” is the third single released from the band’s 2002 debut album, Songs About Jane. The song peaked at number five in the US (becoming their second top ten there), number four in the United Kingdom and number one in Australia (for five consecutive weeks). As of June 2014, the song has sold more than three million copies in the United States.

[Verse 1] Beauty queen of only eighteen She had some trouble with herself He was always there to help her She always belonged to someone else [Pre-Chorus] I drove for miles and miles And wound up at your door I've had you so many times But somehow, I want more [Chorus] I don't mind spending every day Out on your corner in the pouring rain Look for the girl with the broken smile Ask her if she wants to stay a while [Post-Chorus] And she will be loved And she will be loved [Verse 2] Tap on my window, knock on my door, I Want to make you feel beautiful I know I tend to get so insecure Doesn't matter anymore [Pre-Chorus] It's not always rainbows and butterflies It's compromise that moves us along, yeah My heart is full and my door's always open You come any time you want, yeah [Chorus] I don't mind spending every day Out on your corner in the pouring rain Look for the girl with the broken smile Ask her if she wants to stay a while [Post-Chorus] And she will be loved And she will be loved And she will be loved And she will be loved [Bridge] I know where you hide Alone in your car Know all of the things that make you who you are I know that goodbye means nothing at all Comes back and makes me catch her Every time she falls, yeah [Pre-Chorus] Tap on my window, knock on my door, I Want to make you feel beautiful [Chorus] I don't mind spending every day Out on your corner in the pouring rain, oh Look for the girl with the broken smile Ask her if she wants to stay a while [Post-Chorus] And she will be loved And she will be loved And she will be loved (Please don't try so hard to say goodbye) And she will be loved [Outro] Please don't try so hard to say goodbye (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ooh) Please don't try so hard to say goodbye (I don't mind spending every day, ooh) (Out on your corner in the pouring rain) Please don't try so hard to say goodbye

[colorisbyshe]

what are your favorite albums of all time? choose as many as you want idek

Oh, is this inspired by my "details" post? Hmm, okay, let's try this:

"Good Apollo I'm Burning Star IV, Vol. 1" by Coheed and Cambria. It's a concept album and I could not tell you the fucking concept outside of like... misogyny and violence. AND YET... it has stood the test of time. The guitar on every song FUCKS. Interesting vocal tone. Experimental and nonsensical FUN rock music.

"Europop" by Eiffel 65. The blue da ba dee album. The rest of it is really fucking good pop electronica. Or it's just so nostalgic to me I can't see how generic it is. IDC, the synth goes oFF without being too high energy.

"Details" by Frou Frou, obviously. Similarly, "Speak For Yourself" by Imogen Heap. While these albums don't contain my FAVORITE songs involving Imogen, they are my fave collections of her work. Music that feels like nostalgia--like guzzling a sparkling potion that bubbles inside you and pushes your sadness and fears and LOVE from your heart into your pores. Pop music for people who care about storytelling, lyrics, and true emotional connection.

"Multitude" by Stromae. Another, "Idk if fmy fave songs are on this album, but the project on the whole is the best one." Diverse sound, brilliant execution every time.

"Heart Station" by Utada Hikaru. Choosing a favorite Utada piece is hard but I think this has the tightest collection of tracks? Similar appeal to Imogen, though the musical influences are ethereal in a different way.

"Las Ruinas" by Rico Nasty. It's hard to even describe this album but I like how Rico keeps pushing new boundaries. I do like the dancier tracks here.

"Alive 2007" by Daft Punk.If you know Daft Punk, this is essentially a megamix of some of their best songs.

"Coloris" by She. Chiptune, electronica, idk how to describe this album. Feels like your brain is being carbonated.

"Renaissance by Beyonce." Sorry, such a generic answer I feel but... she did it. She put all her power into a dance album with diverse sound, making it all accessible without being watered down.

"Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge" by MCR because duh.

"Commit this to Memory" by Motion City Soundtrack. If you were an emo kid and wanted to kill yourself in the mid 2000s, you know this album. Even if it Kills Me is a close second, btw. Or My Dinosaur Life. I love a lot of MCS tbh. It's emo... pop rock, not surprising for me.

"eMOTIVe" by A Perfect Circle. It's alt rock. It's anti-war and depressing. "Passive" was playing in my head 24/7; I'd mentally turn it into an AMV every single day fo my life for like a year. I wrote a poem about it. "Thirteenth Step" is a very close second.

Technically, it should be "Hold Your Colour" by Pendulum, since it got me into Drum & Bass but I prefer the rockier depths of "Immersion."

"The Happy Star" Lexie Liu. Experimental pop music that reinvents itself each track, sampling from different genres. I just find it really enjoyable and keep returning to it. Might be recency bias.

"333" by Tinashe. An album tht contains the whole human experience--sadness to horniness. Good for her. You can dacne AND cry? Good for you.

"Remember that You Will Die" by Polyphia. Largely instrumental... prog rock meets trap meets electronica?

Choosing a one direction album feels like being threatened at gun point so I won't. Just know they belong here.

"Making Mirrors" by Gotye. People mock him for disappearing after someone that i used to know BUT DID YOU STREAM THE ALBUM?? Jazzy at times, rocky at times, psychedelic at times, BUT DID YOU LSITEN????

The Sims (Original Soundtrack). If you don't get it, I'm not explaining. Kill yourself.

"Perfect Velvet" by Red Velvet. I do think this album is the best kpop has to offer and I'm not fucking joking. I think SM put so much of their pussy in this track, it made their downfall years later inevitable. SM music is so sketchy now because the entir ecompany sold their souls (and pussies, bussies, and extraneous holes) for this album. "I Just" and "Kingdom Come" alone are like... god tier. R&B by a kpop group done CORRECTLY.

"Reborn" by Kavinsky. Feels like alternate timeline Daft Punk, including the The Weeknd knock off track. I couldn't... not love it.

Foster the People's "Supermodel." This alt-rock album got to me when I was profoudnly mentally ill in college and never let me go.

"Season of Poison" by Shiny Toy Guns. I love their first album just as much, tbh, but the anger feels like it's aged better. This album feels like a God's retribution. It feels a religious experience, including all the scary kinds.

"What's Your PLeasure?" by Jessie Ware. Disco-y pop. Sensual. Slick. Longing.

"1 of 1" by Shinee. CHoosing a Shinee album was HARD. Incredible kpop. If you want SIIIINGERS, COME HERE LISTEN OT THEMMM.

and if I didn't want Brendon Urie dead it would be a fever you can't sweat out btu I literally can' tlisten to his voice without my stomache hurting so

I'm probably missing a bunch but these are the first to come ot mind while quickly scrollin thru my phone

feel free to ask me my fave tracks off the album or by these artists

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: January 14, 1992

Lyrics:

[Chorus]

I remember the time the time that we had

I remember the things that use to make you mad

And I wish I could turn back the time

And I wish I wouldn't cry every night

I remember the time

[Chorus: x2]

Clock always tickin' that's no question

I did you wrong I must confess not my intention

When I mention your name the pain I feel ashamed

If I could I would it's only me that I can blame

My time was on I had to move no substitution

I took the risk although no conclusion

Lack of piece of mind to go the same direction

Time is never personal you win or loose relationships

That's the way how it goes

Deeply hurt from your head to your toes

Slow mo' see you dragging

Down the hole

You should be where you belong in the front row

I cried everyday improved my behavior

You can't see what I see tell me why are you in anger

Forgive your enemies let the lord be your savior

In God I will trust

'Cause I know he will remember

[Chorus: x2]

Join me on a ride what's the clue explanation

Talk about the time you and me let's go fishin'

Brainstorm' I bring the vibes shut your mouth better listen

Fighting everyday still don't know the definition

Time is money and time will tell

Sunshine in heaven or grill in hell

Society makes the pace join the race and obey

One for the money and two the space three hooray

I want to thank g.o.d. the inventor kept at least an eye on me and put me in the Center

I remember 1996 in December

Booya is the name and Nana is a member

I cried everyday re-arranged my behavior

You can't see what I see tell why are you in anger

Forgive your enemies let the lord be your savior

Finally he'll put you through,

'Cause he will remember

Songwriter:

ROOKEE / Buelent Aris / Nana Abrokwa / Toni Cottura

SongFacts:

Remember the Time is a song by American singer Michael Jackson, first released on November 26, 1991 on Jackson's ninth studio album, Dangerous. The song was released as the second single from the album on January 14, 1992 and reached the top 10 in 18 states and even the top 5 in 12 of them. The song is dedicated to Jackson's long-time friend Diana Ross. Jackson's cover of the song Come Together, used in the film Moonwalker, appeared on the B-side of the single. This cover can only be found on the single in unabridged form.

The song was written by Teddy Riley, Michael Jackson and Bernard Belle and produced by Riley and Jackson. Musically, the song combines classic funk and contemporary R&B with a (at the time) modern beat of New Jack Swing, including the very percussive drum machine beats typical of this style. According to Riley, he prepared the elements used with productions for the group Guy and Bobby Brown. He even used samples from his own previous productions. According to Riley, Jackson wrote the song while he was dating Debbie Rowe.

A short film-like music video was filmed at Universal Studios in Los Angeles in January 1992, with John Singleton as director, Reid Shane as producer and Fatima Robinson as choreographer. It is 9 minutes and 16 seconds long and is set in ancient Egypt. Jackson wanted to particularly appeal to young people through the appearance of guest actors. Eddie Murphy plays the pharaoh and Iman Abdulmajid plays his wife. The Pharcyde and Magic Johnson also appeared in other roles. Pharaoh tries his best to entertain his wife. A juggler and a fire breather appear before the royal couple, but both are thrown to the lions by the queen or beheaded. The third entertainer appears, a mysterious man in a long black robe who climbs onto pebbles that have been thrown in front of him and disappears. Jackson then appears out of the pebbles in a golden robe. The Pharaoh orders his soldiers to arrest Jackson after he apparently tried to use his charm to captivate the queen. Jackson then has to flee. While escaping, he later manages to kiss the queen. At the end of the video, Jackson is caught by the guards, but he then turns back into pebbles. Inspired by the film Terminator 2, morphing is used to seemingly transform into pebbles and back again.

Doja Cat alludes to the morphing effect from the Remember the Time video in her music video for the song Woman, which is also in ancient Egypt. Lil Nas At times he danced dance steps from the Remember the Time video and at one point part of the song was even played. At the beginning, like in the video, a man dressed in black appeared and the performance also included a kiss, like the video.

Billboard Magazine called Remember the Time a “distinctly soulful and poignant vocal performance.” The New Jack Swing grooves would work well and make for an “instantly memorable hook.” Furthermore, the magazine even predicted that Remember the Time would quickly become a number 1 hit. Rolling Stone called Remember the Time one of Jackson's best vocal performances and his best attempt to modernize his music for the hip-hop era. Rolling Stone also ranked the song 15th among the best Michael Jackson songs.

[quindolyn]

hi can i request the maurauders going to see the reader do a musical like heathers or mean girls and they are just confused and turned on bc they didn't expect it to be this dirty (can lead to smut or not). luv you and hope you are taking care of yourself, if not go get something to eat, drink some water, take a nap, or do somthing you enjoy. or dont not trying to be pushy :)

Creature of the Night || Poly!Marauders

Word Count: 3029 (excluding song lyrics)

A/N: I think I liked how this turned out? I didn’t make it smut but it’s certainly suggestive, I went with Rocky Horror, I know that the musicals mentioned in the request are more modern but I fucking love Rocky Horror and I think it works with the request. When I first read this request I smiled so much because I love live theater, I don’t perform as much as I used to because as I progress with my education I’m focusing more on the stuff I can use to pad my resumes for college and stuff but I still love going to see productions. One of the worst parts of the pandemic for me has been not being able to go see shows, I miss it so much.

Warnings: theatre enthusiast reader, erections, suggestive material, song lyrics, slight teasing, wearing very little clothing in front of an audience, I believe that that is it

Masterlist

500 follower celebration

antici-

The magic of the stage was second to none. Sure, Hogwarts may have had witches and wizards, subjects like Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and ghosts that spent their time meandering about the halls but there was always a part of you that looked forward to the summer between your years at Hogwarts. Because no matter how magical Hogwarts was, the theater always made you feel completely and utterly alive. 

Every summer since the one after your first year at what all of your muggle friends thought to be a very prestigious boarding school up in Scotland, you’d taken part in your local youth theater’s productions. Your parents both being muggles thought that it would be a great way for you to be able to stay in touch with your muggle origins. 

The first year you’d been far too nervous to actually audition for a role, the very thought causing bile to churn in your stomach and threaten to make you sick all over your kitchen floor when your father first pitched the idea. So instead you’d done costumes and it was the most wonderful experience of your life. 

Who needed drugs when you had live theater? The hustle and bustle behind the scenes was electrifying but after two summers of costuming, of quick changes in the wings, learning how to use the ancient sewing machines they stored in the depths of the storage rooms, and pulling pieces for the actors to try on you decided that you wanted to try something more.

The moment you had stepped onto the stage it was like you’d come to life and you cursed yourself for not taking the risk earlier. You belonged on the stage, with the harsh stage lights on you and pounds of makeup plastered onto your face you could feel the magic thrumming through your veins and it was addicting.

If it was possible, you were even more excited to perform this summer, the previous school year you’d finally gotten together with your long time best friends the Marauders, turning them from friends to your boyfriends.

When your mother had sent word of the production being put on this summer you’d squealed while seated next to James and across from Remus, who had Sirius hanging off of his side. After explaining to them, mostly Sirius and James really, just what live theater was their first reaction was to ask if they could come see you perform.

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be cast,” You had explained gently, not wanting to get their hopes up in case you weren’t cast this year.

“Bull shit of course you’re going to be the cast,” Sirius had contested through a mouthful of jam and toast, waving his hand theatrically through the air, watching him that day was not the first time you’d considered how the way he acted often reminded you of an over enthusiastic theatre major.

Remus, the only one with any knowledge on muggle theatre had snorted, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ waist to pull him closer to his body, “She’s not going to be the cast Pads, she’s going to be casted,” He’d corrected gently, pressing a kiss into his long, dark tresses.

“Whatever,” The smaller boy had grumbled, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Which brought you to where you were right now, five minutes to curtain touching up your make up in the mirror of the shared make-up room.

“Hey (L/N),” One of your cast mates called settling into the makeup chair next to you as she plucked a tube of dark red lipstick from the small canary colored makeup bag she had previously abandoned on the counter, “Your boyfriends coming tonight?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, they are,” You responded, applying mascara to your lashes.

“Excited to meet them, that photo you showed us,” She smiled, fanning her face with her hand, “Smoking,” She smiled, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

Rolling your eyes you ignored her comment, “It’s five minutes to curtain, you’re just now doing your make-up?” You chuckled, noticing her black face.

“Oh, shove it,” She laughed as you pushed yourself from your chair, traipsing out of the room, giving her the middle finger on your way out.

“Break a leg!” She called after you as the door latched shut.

You weren’t usually this nervous before a performance but knowing that your three boyfriends were sitting out there somewhere in the audience had you pacing back and forth backstage wondering what they were going to think of the whole production.

“Rocky Horror?” Sirius’ confusion evident in his voice as he plopped down in his seat next to Remus, throwing his arm around the werewolf’s shoulders, drumming his fingers on his clothed shoulder hidden behind his knitted cardigan.

“Yeah,” James collapsed into his chair on the other side of Remus, tucking one leg under his body, “No clue what it’s about but I’m sure our angel will be wonderful. Can you guys see her?” He straightened himself up in his seat, craning his neck in attempts to catch a glimpse of you.

Remus being the only one with any ties to the muggle world knew a bit about the show and had to do his very best to suppress a smirk from overtaking his face as he knew exactly what he and your other two boyfriends were getting themselves into. 

“Just hush up you two, the show’s gonna start any moment,” He scolded, patting his large, scarred hand on James’ thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Rem,” Sirius whined, puckering his lips and closing his eyes, signaling to his boyfriend that he wanted a kiss.

“My needy baby,” He crooned, leaning in to connect his lips with Sirius’ in a quick liplock before pulling back, allowing Sirius to drop his forehead to smear against his shoulder.

“That’s mean,” Sirius murmured discontentedly.

“Poor baby Pads,” James cooed mockingly.

“Both of you,” Remus hissed as the lights in the theatre dimmed, “The show’s about to start, be good for me and be quiet yeah?”

Their response came in their silence as the crowd started settling down and the music from the orchestra pit began a voice coming from somewhere out of sight as it was played through the speakers,

“Michael Rennie was ill

The day the earth stood still

But he told us where we stand”

Not 20 minutes into the show all three of them were as hard as rocks, James had already made Remus check the playbill for the name of the character you were playing, not being able to remember what you’d told them as all of his concentration was focused on a certain place.

Janet Weiss.

Remus couldn’t remember either, but he was almost certain that’s the name he could make out in the dark theatre, printed next to a picture of your smiling face.

When you’d stripped down to your underwear the boys could barely focus on the plot line of the show, only being able to watch the way your bare skin shone under the harsh light of the spotlights. Watching as sweat glistened on your skin, making you shine as you moved about the stage. 

Enchanted by the melodic cadence of your voice they all felt a certain jealousy burning deep in the pits on their stomachs at the thought that there were dozens of other people packed into that theater, all observing you in your vulnerable state of under dress. Only they got to see you like that.

Sirius missed much of the first act glaring at members of the audience who he deemed as looking at you for too long for his liking, but if you were being honest a 4th year smiling at you in the hallway was sometimes too long for his liking.

It wasn’t like any of them had never seen you naked before, in fact they’d all seen you naked more than their fair share of times but something about you on that stage in a white bra with a matching slip was driving them all crazy.

Especially Remus, whose ultimate weakness was seeing you in anything white which was one of the reasons you’d been so excited to invite them in the first place, knowing that they would be horny messes the entire time.

On stage you did your very best not to look out into the audience looking for them, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop a ginormous grin from forming on your face and you couldn’t afford to break character. Not if you wanted the night to go your way.

As the opening notes to “Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me”, rose from the orchestra pit you had trouble stopping a small smirk from pulling at your lips as you opened them, inhaling deeply before singing the first words of the song,

“I was feeling done in, couldn't win

I'd only ever kissed before”

Despite yourself you caught a glimpse of long dark hair in the audience, quickly taking a glance at Sirius’ face, eyes glazed over in lust, legs shifting uncomfortably with his mouth hanging wide open. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed another raven-haired boy’s mouth dropping as you shrugged off of your robe

“I thought there’s no use getting, into heavy petting

It only leads to trouble and, seat wetting

Now all I want to know, is how to go

I've tasted blood and I want more”

It was impossible to miss the way Remus’ jaw clenched as you laid your palm against Rocky’s chest, he was being played by your good friends who’d been working with the same theatre company as you since forever, he was like a brother to you. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t lay it on extra thick tonight with your boyfriends in the audience.

Tracing a dainty finger down Rocky’s chest you pushed your body against his singing out the next lyrics of the song,

“I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistance”

You turned you and your cast mate so that looking over his shoulder you were able to meet Remus’ eye, sending him a quick wink before focusing back in on Rocky.

“Toucha, toucha, toucha, touch me

I wanna be dirty

Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me

Creature of the night”

Pressing your back up against Rocky’s chest you guided his hands with yours to your breasts, squeezing them as you followed the choreography you knew by heart.

You ripped your slip from your body with the help of Rocky leaving you in only your white bra, matching panties and a pair of small heels as you paraded around stage, belting the suggestive lyrics into the theater.

“Then if anything grows, while you pose

I'll oil you up and rub you down (down, down, down)

And that’s just one small fraction, of the main attraction

You need a friendly hand, oh i need action”

You smirked, thinking about all of the action you’d be on the receiving end of later that night as you sunk to your knees in front of Rocky, your hands grasping his thighs. Deciding to tease them perhaps a little more than necessary as you went through the number, curling your leg around his and pressing your bodies together so that there was no space between your two questionably clothed bodies.

As the number was brought to a close it was impossible for you to ignore the excitement bubbling up inside of you as you continued your way through the show you kept throwing glances at your boyfriends, always finding their eyes already trained on you. More often than not, on some body part other than your face.

If your boyfriends thought that they had a bit of a problem before that song they were in a terrible predicament now.

Remus caught Sirius on multiple occasions trying to move the hand that he was holding to grope at his crotch as he tried to buck up into his boyfriend’s hand. And much to his own dismay, Remus would pull his hand away, thinking it probably wasn’t the best idea to give his boyfriend a hand job in a crowded theater. Knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about James touching himself because he would never dream of disobeying him, Remus divided his attention between you on the stage and keeping Sirius in check.

Each of the boys were counting down the seconds until the show came to an end and they could get out of there and relieve some of their tension.  As the curtains were pulled closed they all breathed a sigh of relief before they reopened, leaving all three of them bewildered and slightly annoyed, even more so when they noticed everyone around them standing as they applauded the actors.

Remus forced both of them up when you rushed to the front of the stage, curtsying as the crowd went wild, your boyfriends most notably. As you took your bow you blew a kiss to your boyfriends taking note of the uncomfortable way they all stood, trying to adjust their erections to make them less noticeable while simultaneously applauding you.

As you cleared the stage after curtain call you took your time, doddling towards the dressing rooms where you had left the clothes you’d arrived at the theater in along with a special outfit you’d brought for after the show. Usually you were one of the first actors to clear the theater after a show but tonight you took your time. Hanging up your costume with more care than anyone really should treat any garment with and certainly more than what it needed. 

You smirked mischievously as you pulled the you’d brought outfit from your bag and shimmied it up your legs before slipping the delicate straps up your shoulders. You glimpsed yourself in the mirror, the red satin of the dress clinging to your curves in an attractive manner, short enough to display miles of legs and low cut enough to show off a decent amount of cleavage and perhaps a sighting of the matching red bra you were wearing beneath it.

Slinging the back of your black heels over the heel of your feet you snatched your purse from the armchair in your dressing room before striding out to go meet your boyfriends in the lobby, where you’d told them to wait for you.

Their heads all turned as they heard the clacking of your heels against the tile of the floor, “Boys,” You greeted as they unabashedly took in your new appearance.

As he most often was, Remus was the first one to collect himself, “Puppy, you were wonderful,” He praised, walking to meet you as you approached him, leaning down to smear a kiss against your cheek, “You did amazing up there, so proud of you,” He threw his arm around your waist as you walked towards Sirius and James.

“We got something for you,” He explained, his grip on your waist tightening, “Jamie give it to her, yeah?” 

“Oh yeah,” The smaller boy grinned, remembering the bouquet he held cradled in his arms as he handed it over to you, “Here you go angel.”

“Thank you Jamie,” You said as you took it from him, closing your eyes as you buried your nose in the sweet smelling flora. As you opened your eyes you made eye contact with Sirius, who stood across from you, practically drooling as he took in your appearance without any shame, “They smell wonderful.”

“You okay Si?” You asked, looking up through your eyelashes, batting them innocently.

“Like you don’t know exactly what you did up there to us (Y/N/N),” Remus whispered in your ear, pressing his nose into your temple.

“You guys are the ones who wanted to come,” You lilted, rubbing one of the velvety petals between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.

“Could’ve warned us,” James mumbled, his eyes not leaving your thighs as he licked his lips, if it were anyone else you would’ve been uncomfortable but you couldn’t help but feel flattered whenever any of them ogled you. 

“And what’s with the dress Pup?” Sirius nodded his head appreciatively towards your dress, obviously admiring the way it hung on your body.

“What, you don’t like it?” You asked with fake hurt in your voice, knowing that he more than liked it, he fucking loved it. 

“S’not that,” Remus mumbled, nosing at your jugular, “Just that whole show, got us a little bit worked up. We didn’t expect it to be so sexual Puppy,” He nodded towards James and that’s when you noticed the erection he was still sporting. 

“Got us really worked up, can we go home now?” James asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to distract himself from his little problem.

“Jamie,” You whined, smiling wickedly, “I wanted to celebrate, I was thinking we could go eat somewhere, I was thinking maybe Thai food?”

You watched as Sirius ground his teeth, conflicted between needing to get home and not wanting to deny you from what you wanted. 

“Having fun teasing us Bunny?” Remus asked you with a sly smirk, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“M’not teasing,” You insisted, turning indignantly to your other boyfriend.

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckled, “Thai sounds great (Y/N), wanna talk with you about the show,” The idea of teasing Sirius and James even longer was very appealing to Remus and he was ready to make the sacrifice of being teased himself, knowing that he’d be able to get back at you later that night.

“But-” James began.

“You wanna argue with me Jamie?” Remus challenged, raising a singular eyebrow.

“No,” He moped, “Of course not.”

“Good,” Remus said, nodding his head approvingly, “We wouldn’t wanna deny our Princess would we?”

James shook his head, eyes pleading, desperately seeking Remus’ approval.

“Pads?” Remus challenged, turning his attention to the other raven haired man.

“What? Oh um, of course not,” He agreed distractedly, dragging his eyes from your form to meet Remus’, his reluctance evident in his voice.

“Good,” Remus said pointedly, his eyes cold, daring Sirius to question him. When he didn’t the werewolf continued, “Let’s get going then, there’s a nice little restaurant a couple blocks away yeah?”

As you all hummed your consent you made your way to the exit, “Ten galleons if you can make James cum in his pants at dinner,” Remus whispered in your ear quietly enough so that  James and Sirius trailing behind you wouldn’t be able to hear you, you could hear the smirk in his voice as you exited the theatre.

“Deal.” This was going to be fun, you considered that you might have to invite them to come see the show again.

-pation

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

[wondersofdreaming]

Keepsake

Characters: Captain Syverson x female reader (3rd person)

Word count: 1.827

Warnings: Death, loss, hopelessness, light cursing, sadness, melancholy, grief, heartache, mourning.

Author’s note: This story was inspired by the song 'Everglow' by Coldplay.

Do me a favour and listen to the song, while reading this, I'll link to the different versions, depending on your mood.

Everglow (original) by Coldplay

Everglow (acoustic) by Coldplay

Everglow (instrumental) by Alexandre Pachabezian

The links are for Spotify, if they don't work try this link for YouTube

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the wife, son and Elijah Reed, who are figments of my imagination.

A massive, MASSIVE, thank you to my beloved angel, @radaofrivia, for giving me the idea from just a few thoughts, for sitting through with me while I wrote this, for giving me advice and for just being there.

Please check out her stories right here: RADA'S MASTERLIST

MY MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

(Young Syverson, picture credit to @killjoy-assbutt-1112 - find it here)

Oh, they say people come Say people go This particular diamond was extra special And though you might be gone And the world may not know Still I see you, celestial

Lyrics are from Everglow by Coldplay.

The looming grey clouds were moving closer towards him. He could hear the distant sounds of the rumbling thunder. Before long it started to rain and lightning lit up the entire house. The dirt road was flooded in no time, giving the crops the liquid nourishment they needed.

The former army captain was restless. It was on days like these he missed him, more than anything else in the world. He couldn’t sit still and had planned on working on the house, but the coming storm was putting a stop to that. Instead, he sat on the porch swing he built with Elijah when Lucas bought the house.

The Syversons had moved to their farm when Lucas was 4. A few days into the move, their neighbours had stopped by with some casserole, and to welcome them to their community. Mr and Mrs Reed also had a son who was a few months younger than Luc. Elijah had hidden behind his mother’s leg, a little shy, but with some encouragement he greeted Lucas.

“I’m Lucas, but my baby sister can’t say it yet, she keeps babbling Luc, so if it’s easier, you can call me Luc too.”

“I’m Elijah.”

Sy remembered he was trying so hard to pronounce his new friend’s name. He smiled at the memory, the name had been permanent in Lucas’ mind, only using Elijah, when he was mad at him or thinking he was about to do something stupid, which he did often.

“Lija, wanna play?” Lucas asked awkwardly.

“What?” Elijah looked profoundly confused. “I… don’t know.”

“Go on, son. It’s okay,” Mr Reed tried to encourage him.

“Come with me, Lija. I wanna show ya somethin’.”

Lucas had shown Elijah his new toy tractor that his parents had given him for his birthday. The two young boys had played together, and before long were inseparable.

A round yellow object in the palm of his hand. He was fiddling with it. The coin was always in his pocket, so he could keep his best friend close to him at all times. It was an old arcade coin that you could plot into any machine and play one game.

The two best friends had each gotten a dollar’s worth of coins, but the man at the ticket booth had miscounted, so Sy had gotten an extra coin, which the two friends had fought over during their time in the arcade. Lucas being the protector he was, lost to Elijah on purpose, so his friend won the coin.

“I’ll savour it, it’s going to be my lucky coin!” Elijah has announced.

Syverson swung the porch swing with his booted foot. He stared at the coin, wondering why he had been the lucky one. Luc shook his head faintly, his face full of pain and sorrow.

The coin became a thing that decided their fate. When the boys couldn’t agree on something, they would flip the coin. The picture side was heads and the text ‘No cash value’ side was tails. It might have been worth nothing, but it was a priceless item to the two friends.

“Heads: I ask her on a date, tails: you ask her,” Elijah flipped the yellow coin and covered the back of his hand as it landed. The two teenagers looked over at the brunette cheerleader, who was laughing with her friends. Prom was upon them and they both wanted to ask her. Elijah lifted his hand, it was heads.

The dumb coin was always on Elijah’s side. Lucas let out a soft laughter of the memory. Elijah’s face had been priceless, Sy wished he had taken a picture of it. It had been Elijah’s first kiss that night.

When Lucas decided to enlist, Elijah followed him, even with a lot of arguing against it from Sy’s side. He didn’t want his best friend anywhere near a warzone but in the end, he was glad that Lija was there with him through every hardship during training, when they lost people on their team, when they had to carry the dead back to base, it was better to have a friend by your side and share the pain with.

It didn’t take Syverson long to rank up and become captain. He ended up leading a large group of soldiers in a village in Iraq, with Elijah as his lieutenant, he felt like he could conquer the world.

During one of their trips home, Sy had bought a house he wanted to renovate, maybe start a family in. Elijah had spent every moment he could, helping Lucas with the house. It had made them closer as friends, and they had heartfelt talks about their future. Elijah wanted to come home and help his ailing parents with the farm, maybe get into breeding horses, preferably racehorses. Sy hadn’t thought of his future in that sense by then. He just wanted to relax, drink beer and ride his motorcycle.

There was hardly a moment in Lucas’ life where Elijah wasn’t a part of it. Elijah was his best friend, and if he had to be a little girly, they were BFFs. His best friend’s presence had made every moment special, made them better. It was the hardest part, to not have Elijah by his side anymore. He missed Elijah’s silly, huge and sometimes irritating grin, which somehow made the world seem a bit brighter during the dark times. Elijah made his life easier… he just made it better to have a friend to share everything with.

His heart had broken in a million pieces when the building collapsed on top of his best mate.

“Captain, we need a scouting team. I’m taking three soldiers towards those buildings and see if there are enemies up ahead,” Elijah had suggested.

“Lieutenant, I make the orders here. I’m going,” Lucas commanded.

“Heads or tails, Luc,” Elijah picked out the coin from his breast pocket.

“This is no time for such thing, Lija,” the captain grumbled.

“This is the perfect time, Luc. We promised that whenever we couldn’t agree on something, we would use the coin. So, heads or tails, captain Syverson.”

“Heads.”

The coin had landed on the tails side. Lucas had cursed the coin, fuck, shit, crap, dammit!

“It’s my turn to protect you, Luc. I’m not the scrawny little kid anymore, let me show you!”

Elijah had gathered three soldiers and run between two concrete buildings with a big smile on his face. Sy would never forget the smile. It was a grin of pride and determination. And it was the last time Lucas would ever see his best friend.

Moments later a huge explosion shook the ground they were standing on. Sy watched with horror as the buildings collapsed, trapping Elijah and his team. What they didn’t know then was that the impact with the concrete walls had killed him instantly.

The rest of the soldiers watched as their captain went on his knees. Utter despair and anguish plastered on his face, tears about to escape the corners of his eyes. The usual strict army captain, the man with the muscles, the tough guy who could break you with a stare, was breaking down.

“Lija…” he whispered into the dust-filled space, his voice breathless like somebody knocked the air out of his lungs.

At night he had screamed in pain of the loss of his most beloved friend. His days were filled with hopelessness as he prepared to fly home with Elijah’s corpse in a coffin. The nights only brought nightmares, so he started writing a letter to his best friend and thinking of how to tell Elijah’s parents.

“Dear Lija. I can’t believe you’re… Shit, I can’t even write the word. Just a four-letter word, and yet I can’t fucking write it down on a piece of paper. I wish I could have taken your place, man. It should have been me. I hate you for forcing me to pick a side on that stupid coin. I hate you for being so brave. I hate you for wanting to protect me. Fuck you for dying. Fuck you for leaving me. Here. All alone. What about your parents? How am I going to tell them that you’re… how am I going to face them? You are and will always be my best friend. I wish you could go back to your parent’s farm on your own two legs, not in a fucking box. I miss you, Lija. You’re the closest thing to a brother I will ever get. So rest in peace and keep the seat next to you warm, I’ll see you on the other side. - Luc.”

Lucas had sneaked the letter into Elijah’s breast pocket of his uniform before they had shut the coffin. The coin that Elijah had on him, had been put in a plastic bag with the rest of his belongings, prepped to be given to his next of kin, his parents. But Lucas took the yellow token. He needed a memento to remember his best friend by, something that he could keep with him always. A keepsake.

It had taken every ounce of courage for Lucas to step up to the front door of the Reed’s farmhouse. A house he was so familiar with and had so many adventurous sleepovers in Elijah’s space-themed bedroom. He could smell Mrs Reed’s famous peanut brittle, making it harder for him to knock, but he did it anyway. Standing there in his military uniform, he told the two people, who had acted as a second set of parents to him, that their only son had died heroically in battle. Lucas stood frozen, watching them mourn the loss of their son. He was about to step away to give them space, but Mrs Reed grabbed his wrist and brought him into the hug.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him,” he pleaded, his voice breaking slightly.

“Was he in pain?” Mrs Reed asked, breaking Lucas’ heart all over again.

“No, ma’am. It happened really fast.”

Sy fiddled with the arcade coin. Having zoned out the thunder, not noticing the storm had come and gone. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon. It was a peaceful ending to an emotional day.

A loud wailing came from inside the house. The front door opened and out came his beautiful wife with their young son in her arms. His face was stained in tears. The tiny boy reached towards his father the minute he saw him. In his father’s arms was the only place the boy was happy and content. Sy’s face broke into a happy grin at the sight of his son. His tiny fingers trying to grab the coin in the former captain’s hand.

“This,” Sy showed it to his son, “will be yours when you’re old enough not to eat it.”

He chuckled at the frustrated look on the boy’s face. Sy kissed the top of his son’s head.

“I love you, Elijah.”

[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!

[writella]

Dating Luke Patterson

Luke Patterson x reader

World count: 3.8k (yes, for a headcanon, let’s not talk about it. Or is this normal? Idk.)

A/N: I made this WAY too long but hopefully you can think of this as your ultimate guide because of it, enjoy!

-

-

• Luke is a VERY affectionate and loving boyfriend, both physically and emotionally.

• Physically:

- This boy would want to touch you anywhere and everywhere and be around you all the time.

- He’d caress your face, stand behind you and rub your shoulders and arms, hug your waist or shoulders from behind, play with your hair, fidget with your bracelets or whatever accessories you’d have on, play with your hands, have his hand on the center of your back...

- Even if he saw an eyelash on your face he wouldn’t hesitate to get it for you instead of telling you about it.

- Anyway to touch you, he’d go for it.

- He’d like to kiss your nose or your forehead when he says goodbye to you.

- When you’re alone he’d like Eskimo kisses.

- He just basks in being in your presence.

- Whether you liked to receive / give physical affection or not, you always have to remember to be a little extra affectionate with him because he really enjoys it.

- He likes knowing you’re there and that you care. He does that for everyone else, so if you do it, he’d really appreciate it.

- He likes the lingering touches the best, like intertwining your fingers together, or when you play with his hair (even though sometimes he doesn’t want it to get messed up), or you rubbing his shoulders like he does to you.

• Emotionally:

- He would be your number one supporter.

- He’d push to try new things or to speak your mind even if you’re afraid.

- He’d compliment you all the time. Saying that the band would be hopeless without you, or by telling you how beautiful he thinks you are, or how talented you are, or by marveling at your artistic or scholastic accomplishments.

- Tell you uplifting stories or give you words of encouragement when you’re feeling down.

• You love that he’s always so smiley and how his nose crinkles and eyes get all squinty when he’s cheesin’ hard.

• You think he’s sunshine personified by the way he is able to brighten up not only your day, but everyone’s day.

• He thinks you’re an angel because of the way you lighten up everyone’s life. Not to mention how you are the first to help, listen, or give advice to anyone in the band.

• Before you start dating, his heart would beat frantically when he saw you.

• After you’re together though, that would fade, but not because the excitement he feels when you’re around would go away, but because you’d become his safe place. Knowing that the person he could confide to always was around would bring a warm and content feeling all around him.

• Luke would be a romantic. We see this because of the way he always sees the bigger picture by constantly looking on the brighter side of things and by the way he writes poetry within his song lyrics, so he would treat your relationship the same way. He’d write you notes or make the band throw you a private concert or play an acoustic cover or original song just for you.

• He’d let you wear his chains or bracelets from time to time or you’d steal them.

• You’d like to play with the rings on his hand.

• You would probably get him some rings or chains to add to his collection.

• Getting a reaction out of you is his favorite thing.

• No matter how far into your relationship you are he’d still like to flirt in order to make your blush.

• If you were a writer / singer / musician he would ask you what you think of some lyrics he’s written or is thinking about writing down, but even if you weren’t, he would ask you anyways because he values your opinions and ideas.

• He either let you take or you’d steal some of his band tees. He’d get major heart eyes seeing you in them. Thinking you looked gorgeous in. his. clothes.

• He’d always give you a wink when he was on stage and saw you in the crowd or backstage.

• If you didn’t know how to play an instrument, he would want to teach you to play guitar. He just wants to share his passion.

• He’d introduce you to music you’d never listened to and you’d introduce him to 2000s + recent stuff that you think he’d like.

• When he’s in your room he’s be so nosy and look through all your stuff, but honestly, when you were in his room (if this was 90s) you’d do the same (he’d have so many CDs and other weird interesting stuff.)

Dating Ghost!Luke:

• So you can see him!

• Maybe you’re Julie’s close friend or sibling.

• You’d really enjoy that you and Julie get to have such special friendships with all three of the guys.

• Perhaps you’d never had a sense of belonging like that, and now you had a group of people you could always rely on to be there for you and understand you.

• I think it would make you and Julie closer.

• Luke would obviously be a goner for you right when he saw your face, but since he just loves to be close to everyone you couldn’t tell.

• You’d probably think if he had a crush on anyone it was Julie because of how great they look when they sing together despite how sweetly or flirtatiously he would talk to you. 

• You’d just assume he was like that with everyone.

• Julie, Alex, and Reggie would see how much he liked you though.

• You and Julie would teach the guys about the internet, different innovations, etc.

• Luke’s way of getting to talk to you more, other than pestering you with questions about yourself, would definitely be asking you about how to do this and that online, or just to talk to you about how things have changed so you can put it into perspective for him.

• He’d really like listening to your voice. He would hang onto every word.

• And you really liked his voice too, both singing and speaking, so whatever questions he asked you, you would always forward them back to him. You liked how passionately he spoke about everything. You also, hung onto every word.

• If you couldn’t touch, despite knowing that there was obviously more than friendship going on between the two of you, you’d be reluctant to tell each other of your feelings.

• When the truth comes out however you decide to make it work.

• But if you could touch, Luke would of course be the happiest guy on Earth and never let go of you.

• The band remembers to give you guys alone time in the garage or in Julie’s / your room sometimes, so you can just speak freely with him.

• But you guys also take walks on the beach or the park while you pretend you're on the  phone or have your headphones in so you can have a change of scenery.

• You would be the glue of the group / band.

• If you weren’t a part of the band (like singing / playing an instrument specifically) it would probably be easiest for you to see their band spats in an unbiased and reasonable manner.

• You’d make sure to ask Alex how he’s doing because you know he’s always got something on his mind, but doesn’t always share unless asked.

• You’d make sure to always find something fun to do with Reggie from time to time, or just start up a conversation with him about mundane things.

• You see how he likes to watch Ray and Carlos all the time, so you wonder if maybe he just wants some kind of familial connection, and you decide that it’ll be you.

• I think he’d appreciate how you take the time to ask him questions and listen to his answers seriously, despite how he says things in such a humorous tone, and you’d appreciate how surprisingly observant he is (e.g. he noticed Ray was worried about Julie by how he had been stress eating all week. Reggie is a sweet boy who cares, guys.)

• You realize you both have hidden traits that no one gives you credit for except each other.

• Luke would like how you had a unique relationship with everyone and truly put in the effort to make sure each one is personalized between you and that person. It reminded him of himself— Always trying to give a little love to everyone — It would make him that much more fond of you.

• You’d settle arguments between the guys.

• Or maybe even little arguments between Julie and Luke. Although neither could stay mad at each other for long (honestly being “mad” at each other wouldn’t even be the word), but sometimes they took opposing sides to different situations like where to add a certain verse or about a poor decision Julie felt the guys made (like haunting Bobby or going to Caleb’s), so you’d be there to give an outside opinion or to calm the heated moments.

• He’d like to stare at you whenever he could. When you were in the garage talking to Julie or Flynn or if it’s 90s!Luke he’d do it in class or in the hallways. 

• Either Julie or Alex would say he’s a creep for staring but Luke would say he’s just admiring.

• Little did he know you did the same.

• And now, speaking of 90s Luke...

Dating Alive!Luke:

• Okay, so we’re in the 90s and he’s in high school.

• He either met you because you share a class together and he thought you were pretty (and you thought he was beautiful, of course) or you and Alex shared a class together and he befriended you.

• Let’s say it’s Alex: you guys would bond over the fact that presentations are stupid and only done to make people feel uncomfortable and ultimately humiliate themselves.

• When Alex didn’t have a class with Reggie and or Luke he’d feel lonely but if you were there, you could now be a person he could go to, so you two could be lonely together.

• Even if you guys didn’t have much in common the fact that you were easy to talk to, always decided to be partners with him, or help each other out in class gave him comfort, so maybe one day he’d ask you to sit with him at lunch or see a gig his band managed to get.

• You go (You can choose which, I’m making it a choose your own adventure for about a whole second. Enjoy.) and boom enter Luke and his sunshine eyes, pretty hair, GORGEOUS arms, a muscle tee, along with his classic vans and you’re like , WHOA, but you try to hide it.

• And Luke is like, WHOA, but he tries to hide it.

• And Alex is like, “Of course.”

• And Reggie is like, “Hi I’m Reggie. We’re Sunset Curve, tell you friends.”

• And you’re like, “But I don’t have (m)any friends.”

• And Alex is like, “That’s okay I only have three (3) friends and before that I had none!”

• And Luke is like, “I’ll be your friend 👀”

• And Reggie is like, “By the way he’s looking at you, I think he wants to be more than just ‘friends’ 😏😉”

• And Luke is like, “🤡”

• And Alex is like, “🤡”

• And Reggie is like, “🤠?”

• And you’re like, *internally SCREAMING*

• Here comes that mutual pining.

• Alex starts to bring you around more often which helps you to get closer to all three of them, but especially Luke, who will ask you a series of never ending questions about yourself.

• You think Luke is just really nice and that's why he's so friendly when you’re around, but in actuality he just wants to know all about you.

• Alex and Reggie would bother him about it when you’re not around.

• One day, after he just couldn’t take it anymore he’d finally ask you out, or just kisses you unexpectedly because Luke acts before he thinks sometimes.

• The rest is history.

• Anyway...

• He’s a sweetie and probably wouldn’t really talk crap about teachers, but I know he’s not into school either.

• That being said: he’d totally get you to skip one day or quite a few days if he gets you to agree saying “please, please, please,” or telling you that you can afford to miss because you’re so much smarter than him, or just giving you so many kisses you can’t think straight.

• Skipping activities would include:

- Finding some random coffeehouse for him and the band to play impromptu while you watch.

- Adventures in the park or woods: he’s find a grassy place and sing songs to you on his guitar or you’d do something silly like play tag because Luke is a child.

- Sit on the trunk of Alex or Reggie’s car (let's say one of them has one) and have a quick make out session or just talks out life (probably his parental issues) it depends on how he’s feeling that day.

- Or finally, you guys would explore around the school and find rooms you’d never been in or see what the back of the auditorium looked like for the first time. If you guys ever get caught he’d either tell you to hide or run or find some way to get you out of it. He would take full blame, never wanting to get you in trouble.

• Once again, being the romantic he is, he’d probably take you to your first concert, write you cards, come by your locker after every period, take you out on weekends or weekdays whenever he could.

• He’d try to be a gentleman in front of your parents, really wanting them to like him, and he’d try to respect your curfew if you had one, but sometimes he would like to be rebellious (e.g. when he tells Julie to sneak out the window for their first gig) and try to get you to sneak out, especially if it was for something really special he planned. Ex. a moonlight serenade. But again, sometimes this boy doesn’t think, so he’d probably just get you to come out so you could kiss, or talk, or talk and kiss.

• All around, you guys would just have a blast together because Luke’s mission is to bring joy to your life.

• He genuinely loves seeing people happy and if you two were in a relationship, your happiness would definitely be a top top top priority.

• He would burn you CDs.

• He’d love to listen to them with you because he just loves sharing music with you and he just wants to see your reactions right then and there. 

• He’s introduce you to new things and you would talk for hours about music you both liked or movies you loved.

• He’d like to hold your hand in the halls.

• Send you notes in class or even throw them at you or if you were sitting too far apart.

• He’d even tell someone to tell you he had something to say. Down the chain his call would go till the last person closest to you tells you that Luke is asking for you. You’d look and all he’d say is “hi” with the goofiest smile.

• You’d either have no choice but to smile back because of how infectious he is, or if you had enough willpower, you’d roll your eyes and look away. If the latter, he would try again and again till he got you to give in.

• He’d mimic or make faces when the teacher or a classmate said something stupid.

• He’s a little needy that way. He just wants your attention and affection.

• Again, he’d do anything to see you smile and equally as important, bothering you is the only joy he gets out of class whenever he’s not in a class with the guys.

• You’d proofread his essays or any writing that was for any type of English class because when he’s really feeling up to it, he actually puts in effort in his writing assignments.

• You tell him that he’s a good writer and that if the band thing doesn’t work out he could always become a music / poetry teacher.

• “Too bad the band thing is going to work out,” he’d assure you.

• You believed him, but you always just want to let him know he has far more talents than what he, or his teachers, for that matter give him credit for.

• Despite his major confidence in his musical abilities he feels like he falls short in other aspects, something you were surprised to learn about him, so you do your best to compliment him and encourage him.

• But especially in school since he already thinks of it in such low standards.

• When his parents fight with him about the band, you're his safe space. Sometimes he doesn’t like to tell Alex and Reggie about all the gritty details because they have family issues too, but he can always vent to you.

• You like hanging out in his room. His personality is written all over it. Band posters, movie posters, ideas for songs as well as song lyrics he loves taped up to the wall on scrap pieces of paper and sticky notes, it’s a little messy but it’s mostly just clothes and crumpled paper on the floor.

• Unfortunately, you don’t hang there too much because Luke doesn’t always like being around his parents.

• His parents like you though and enjoy when you’re around the house because it means Luke is actually around too.

• They know you encourage him at school and his mother specifically knows he needs that extra support and appreciates you for it.

• She’s told you that she wishes she could show Luke that she wants to give him that, but sometimes Luke gets too preoccupied with his music and has the notion that just because she is concerned about his career choice that she is totally against him.

• Speaking of that, despite how much Luke loves being your boyfriend and tries his best to show you how much he loves you, he’s not always perfect.

• Sometimes music and the band comes between you two as well.

• When he’s really driven on a song idea, whether it be working on the lyrics to a song, composing the music to it , rehearsing it with the band, etc., it will take all his attention.

• When he gets a fixation on something, he can be very single minded.

• All he’ll want to do is be with his thoughts and guitar or with the band that he forgets to check in with you.

• Once you tell him though, he will feel terrible about it. Not seeing how his passion can make him so blind at times.

• “I just get really into it, you know? I’m sorry! I can make it up to you.” His bottom lip would jut out and his eyes would drop dopily. He always looked like such a puppy, you could stay mad for long.

• “How are you going to prove you’re really sorry?” you’d ask knowing this wasn’t the first nor will it be the last time he gets “really into” his music.

• “I’m dropping everything today. It’s just you and me. Promise.” And he’d mean it.

• When Luke knows he’s at fault he will always try 110% to make it right. He doesn’t like it when he hurts people, especially you. He feels like he’s failed in a way.

• He’d show you new snippets of new songs he’s working on.

• You guys would talk endlessly about favorite bands and he would introduce you to ones you’d never heard before.

• You liked when he talked about his favorite musicians. Seeing someone talk passionately about something they loved was always beautiful to witness, but when Luke did it, it was next level.

• He’d literally buzz everywhere, talk super fast, and bounce around. He vibrates happiness and those are the moments where you knew for sure why he was so determined on his goals to make the band work. The love he has is so intense, so undeniable, so unbreakable. You hoped you could find something you loved like that one day. Other than him, of course.

• Oh, wait? Is that how you figure out you love him? For his passionate and brave spirit that did nothing but put a smile on your face all day, everyday? You couldn’t even compute the thought. It felt right, of course, but it was scary.

• You didn’t tell him. I think he’d say I love you first anyway and you’d happily say it back, finally releasing the beautiful realization you held inside for so long.

• He’d want you to go to every gig they got.

• “I can’t do it without you,” he’d say.

• Sometimes he knew you couldn’t though, because he and the band would only get slots in the middle of the night sometimes, or they’d do all-nighters around the city playing on the outsides of clubs just to get noticed.

• Sometimes they would get in trouble, or even ban from some places and he didn’t want you to be a part of that. He’d tell you that he wants you to get your sleep.

• But if it was the weekend, or the summer, or just a day you decided you have the time to be rebellious, you’d love to cheer them on, or maybe you would even be the getaway driver when workers would try to kick them out.

• You’d help Luke and the boys with their homework or school work a lot.

• Whether you were smart or an average student they’d think you were a genius and appreciate how you remind them of assignment deadlines from the classes you’d share. They only went to school to spend time together and outside of school was for music, so they’d probably fail without you.

• Luke would be the first to thank you every time.

• You would be there for him when he ran away. You’d tell him that maybe he should go back and talk to his parents or that maybe it would be best to at least finish high school, but he dismisses both as options immediately, saying that he knows what he wants. That school nor his parents are going to give it to him, so why bother.

• You support him and believe in his dream, but you still worry from time to time. You decide that it's his choice and that you love him, so you just make sure that he is eating, sleeping, and that you’re there for him if he needs someone to talk to or just someone to hug.

Now back to the general stuff:

• He’d give you a nickname. Personally, I think he’d try to shorten your name in some way that hopefully no one else calls you yet so he can feel special.

• Alex and Reggie would probably start calling you by that nickname sometimes too soon after that.

• As for usual nicknames, I think sometimes when he greets you he’d call you “beautiful”

•  “Hey beautiful, how you doin’?” Lets pretend that he watched the first season of Friends in ‘94 and then watched the rest on your laptop after he comes back and be obsessed like Charlie.

• He’d make your laugh a lot. Sometimes because he’s flirty or silly but other times it was because he could just be really dumb (in a sweet way, of course.)

• You would wonder why everyone would call Reggie the clueless one. It seemed like all the guys shared one braincell and Alex just hogged it most of the time.

• He’d love kissing. I don’t think he’d do full on make outs in the halls or in front of the band (not because he's shy though), but when you two were alone, in the garage or in each other's rooms he would be so down, there is no stopping him, and he’d try to make them last as long as he could.

• He would ask for good luck kisses before a show just to get you to touch him, as always.

• When you saw him shirtless for the first time your breath would be taken away. You knew he was probably toned because those sleeveless tees but you still couldn’t predict just how GORGEOUS and HOT he would look, whew.

• He’s probably get cocky for a second because of your speechless reaction.

• But that confidence would go right out the door whenever he saw you without a shirt, his eyes would be blown, totally star struck.

• He’d like to cuddle or rest his head on your lap, especially when he needs to relax from the stress he’s feeling due to his home life or from writing. You’d gently stroke his hair. It would soothe him.

• He’d also like it when you rest your head on his lap too. In those moments, he would take it as full permission to touch you and kiss you up, no complaints.

• Overall, Luke would just love you up and write you pretty songs forever and ever. Best boyfriend.

-

-

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Thank you for reading! Who else wants to have this boy as their handsome and adorable ghost boyfriend? I love him.

[messers-moony]

Comics 2 | A.G

Paring: Aidan Gallagher X Fem!Reader

Summary: Aidan meets an unusually pretty girl at a library while trying to find a textbook for school

Warnings: Cursing

Years later, Aidan and Y/n were now twenty-five. All these years and Aidan hadn’t seen her since he gifted her the comic book when they were just twenty. All these years later and he still loved her.

He left a bookmark in there on purpose, one with his number, but yet, she never called. It made his mind wander. Why wasn’t she calling? Maybe she wasn’t fond of calling, but even then, she never texted either.

A certain feeling of defeat lingered in his heart. Maybe she didn’t like him like that. Her words were stuck in his mind; they lagged in his head like a broken record every time he was to fall asleep.

“ Y/n L/n. Remember it. “

Why was he to remember it? She was a comic book artist, for Christ's sake, not an upcoming actress. As far as he knew, there would never be a significance to her name. A new Netflix show was in the making, another one based on comic books.

Of course, Aidan got the call. The call was a producer begging him to audition for the leading role. He would be perfect for this role, swore the producer. Aidan was hesitant but did it anyway.

Aidan wasn’t the only one in the audition room, of course, but he was only here because of the pleading the producer did. He auditioned, and that was that. Within a week's notice, they would notify him.

On his way home, he stopped by a library, the very same library he met the girl at. Sighing, he walked to the comic book section and picked up the series of comics. There were five in the series, and he bought all of them.

He walked home with a backpack filled with his belongings and now new comic books. Walking into his apartment, he unzipped his bag and took out the first comic. The male ignored who wrote and illustrated it. It didn’t really matter. Did it?

The brunette read through the first comic and was hooked almost immediately. He read through them relatively quickly, and when he finished, he was agitated. The books were completed on a cliffhanger, only leading him to assume there had to be a sixth book soon.

Three days went by, and Aidan couldn’t help but reread the comic books for a more thorough analysis. The more he read, the more he saw how similar he and the main character was.

Everything down to the hair, the dimples, the smile, and the eyes were the exact same. The mannerisms being almost identical scared him. But he realized why the producer begged him for this role. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said Aidan was the perfect candidate for it.

He finished the series a second time and stared at the cover. That’s when he realized it and then began to scold himself for how dense he could possibly be.

“ Written and Illustrated by Y/n L/n “

We’re the words written across the top of the book. That’s why the main character was so similar to him, because the girl who wrote it knew who he was. She was observant, hella observant.

Within a week's notice, as promised, Aidan got a call saying he got the role and they would fly him to New York to begin filming. He’d be leaving in a month, probably the least amount of notice he’s been given before filming a show.

Nonetheless, the month went by faster than you could blink, and he was on a plane to New York. The set was much bigger than he imagined and made his way to the producers.

“ Aidan, you came! How wonderful! “ The producer from the phone exclaimed happily, “ My names Alex. I’m so ecstatic you came. “

Alex put his hand out to shake, which Aidan accepted politely, “ I assume you’ve read the comics by now? “ A familiar voice queried.

“ I have, actually. “ Aidan replied, turning around to be met with the dyed-haired female, “ I told you, remembering my name would come in handy. “ Y/n winked.

Aidan snickered, “ Why make your main character almost exactly like me? “ Aidan questioned, fully serious, “ Because Gallagher, you’re intriguing. You also seem to attract the best audience. Not to mention you always put on a show. “ Y/n said with prominent confidence.

The way his last name rolled off her tongue almost made him faint. He adored her and wanted her to be his. Now that she was here, he’d do anything in his power to make her his.

“ So you’re using me to make your show popular? “ The male joked, “ No, don’t take it the wrong way. I used you because you’re hardworking, and you put everything into your role. You, my love, are perfect for this role. “ Y/n responded, and Aidan’s cheeks flushed at the pet name.

“ Now, I must be going. However, I will see you on set tomorrow, I presume? “ She questioned with a soft smile, “ Yeah. Definitely. “ Aidan breathed as she left.

A hand was laid upon his shoulder, “ You are completely head over heels for her, huh? “ A male voice spoke in his ear, making him jump, “ Jesus Christ Robert, where did you come from? Why are you here? “ Aidan heaved as his hand was on his heart.

“ I’ve actually earned myself a role as well as Elliot Page. I’ve never seen you so entranced. “ Robert commented, “ She's been stuck in my head for years. “ Aidan murmured.

Robert had a face of curiosity, “ We met like five years ago at a library, and I talked to her for only two hours, but by then, she had me completely wrapped around her finger. “ Aidan explained, and Robert raised an eyebrow, “ She moved the next week, and I hadn’t seen her since. “

“ Well. Better make your move soon. I’ve seen guys eyeing her up all day. “ Robert replied as he walked off.

Months later, Y/n was right. Aidan was absolutely perfect for the role without even trying. Granted, the character was practically him, but he excelled in making the role his own.

Y/n and Aidan had gotten quite close throughout those months. They seemed pretty fond of each other. She was confident, intelligent, and caring. He was thoughtful, kind, and sweet. The pair made a loving match.

However, the girl's heart was guarded, she had been let down so many times, and she didn’t want to ruin the friendship she had acquired with the famous male. Aidan, in his free time, had been working on an EP. The title and main song on it was held close to his heart.

After a couple of dates and a lot of convincing, she gave in. Aidan Gallagher had now achieved the girl of his dreams, Y/n L/n. She was everything he wanted and so much more. He was captivated by her and made sure he showed the world.

Every chance he got, he posted her everywhere. His fans absolutely adored her, possibly even more than he did. Saturday lives his fans spent begging to see the admirable female when she wasn’t present. It honestly made Aidan quite jealous.

Regardless it made Aidan’s heart feel unbelievably full that both he and his fans loved her as much as he desired. Mornings were spent holding each other with subtle morning kisses. Nights were spent eating take-out and playing the original Mario kart after many arguments that it was better than the newer versions.

Filming was almost complete, and Aidan’s stay in New York was coming to a very prominent close. A day neither lover was looking forward to. His home was in Los Angeles, and hers was in New York. There was no changing that.

“ Do you really have to go? “ Questioned the teary-eyed female, “ Unfortunately. “ Aidan sighed.

They both stood in JFK Airport as close as they could before having to depart. Aidan’s hands held her tear-stained cheeks, and she moved stray strands of hair from his forehead.

“ I promise, I will come back for you. “ Aidan pledged to, and she sniffled, nodding, “ I’ll move in with you if you want. “

Y/n looked up slightly guilty, “ I don’t want to be the reason you leave your hometown. You grew up there. Your entire family is there. I would feel awful taking you away from them. “ She admitted, “ I would be living here willingly. Plus, there’s more opportunities acting-wise here, believe it or not. Hollywood isn’t all it’s made out to be. The United Nations is also home to New York. It’d be closer to everything. “ Aidan explained.

“ If- If that’s what you want, then I wouldn’t hesitate. “ Y/n smiled softly.

Aidan pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, “ Then this isn’t really goodbye, is it? “ Aidan’s whisper left a hot breath lingering on her lips, “ No, it isn’t. “ Y/n replied.

“ Stop your crying then. I hate seeing you cry. I will come back. “ He muttered softly, wiping her tears and kissing her forehead, “ I love you. “

“ I love you too. Be safe, please. Text me when you get on and when you land, okay? “ She requested, “ Always. “ Aidan simpered.

Gently he let her go and walked away with a tiny wave. Now there were only two things left to do. Pack up all of his stuff and play one last show in Los Angeles before leaving his home.

The male pack quickly when he arrived home, way too excited to live with his new partner. His show was scheduled for that night. Tonight he’d be playing his brand new song, the main song on his latest EP, the one he held close to his heart.

Nerves ran through his body like no tomorrow as he stepped up on stage. Screams were heard throughout the entire venue, making him smile brightly.

“ Hello everyone. “ Aidan greeted, getting screams in response, “ As you all may know, I will not be living in LA for much longer. New York seems more like home now than it’s ever seemed, so after this show, I’ll be getting on a plane to my new home. “

“ While I’ll play your favorite’s such as songs like Blue Neon and Fourth of July, there’s a new song at the end I’d love for your feedback on. I hold this song very close to my heart, and I hope you all will as well. So let’s get this started. “ Aidan informed with a gleeful smile present on his lips.

Aidan began strumming the guitar and singing the all too familiar lyrics. Applause was given in between each song, only encouraging his love for music as he continued to sing— his fans sung along with him giving Aidan a sense of love and commitment.

Finally, the last song was due to play, “ I call this last one, Comics. “

[cullen-collective]

do it. write it. do it

Say. Less. 

*

There’s never anyone actually interesting in these chats. 

There’s me, who actually wants to discuss music, the way it feels, the lyrics’ poetic meanings, the way the drums crash like they’re my own heartbeat. And then there’s guys who might want to discuss that, but are probably here for the other occupants of the forum: girls obsessed with band members. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against them, and I fully understand geeking out over Pete Wentz (although I’ve always been more of a Stump girl) or Gerard Way or even Chester Bennington. I just keep having to switch to new forums when it’s clear that no one else wants to talk about the music, but instead have guys who claim to look like Adam Lazarra scam the email addresses and photos off those girls. 

Which brings me here, to another new forum chat, scrolling through older posts about who drums harder: Travis Barker or Mike Kinsella, as the chat scrolls by on the right side of the screen. I was mindlessly scrolling, mentally agreeing or disparaging the opinions of other posters, too scared to comment. This site was pretty neat, and the account I’d had to create to post comments and chat had spaces for a list of my favorites, which I’d happily included. It also had a little bio, which I’d filled in with my name and age, as well as one of my favorite lyrics.

I kept one eye on the chat as it went, keeping up with the current discussion of how best to cut your bangs. I typed up a quick note that the best way to cut your bangs was to see a local hairdresser so you didn’t end up with Buffy season three bangs instead of the side-sweep you wanted. 

Emo-ward: But is it really, truly in the spirit of punk rock if you don’t cut them yourself?

HellsBells: I think to be a real punk, you’d probably need to like different bands. To be alt, you can visit a salon or resign yourself to botched hair. 

Emo-ward: Seems like the majority is going to choose the second option.

HellsBells: Well, sometimes we must suffer for the cause. 

Emo-Ward wants to send you a private message. Accept. Decline. 

I was stunned. No one ever requested me. My cursor hovered over “Accept”, my finger twitching. My mother, as scattered as she was, had always warned me about being too open online. What if this was like, a forty-five year old man who preyed on kids in chat rooms? What if it was a serial killer? What if it was someone from school trying to humiliate me? What if it was a kid from school who wanted to humiliate me and also did a little serial killing on the side? 

Okay, I was being ridiculous. I knew nothing about this person. Hell, I hadn’t even looked at their profile. So I right-clicked the name in the chat and opened another window to his profile. Like mine, the profile had no picture, and instead had a graphic. It was Gerard Way but his hair had been edited to be bright green. I snorted, remembering my own, which was Britney Spears edited with a scene girl haircut that this chick in my Western Civ class had emailed to me as a joke after seeing the Ataris CD in my portable player. The name listed was Edward, the age as 16, and he had a lyric on his profile too. 

“Watching from the floor.”

I recognized it, small as it was. It was from “Dear Maria, Count Me In”. I was a little surprised. Great song choice. 

It seemed he wasn’t too sketchy. 

I went back to the original page, steeled my nerves and hit “Accept.” 

Emo-ward: Do you really have time in your veins? 

My tongue pressed to the inside of my cheek. If this really was a sixteen-year-old boy, I was in trouble. He had just referenced the lyric in my bio, (from “Understanding In A Car Crash”: “It starts and stops and starts and stops again.”) and made it a joke. I had to one-up him. 

HellsBells: Yes. I am also a pen.

Emo-ward: Where are you from, girl with time in her veins who is somehow also a pen?

I smiled at my screen. I couldn’t help it. He was kind of funny. 

HellsBells: Forgive me, sir, if I’m not very specific. I’m from the Southwest. You?

Emo-ward: Well, miss, I will follow suit. I’m from the Northwest. 

There was something about the way he wrote that made me want to trust him. Maybe it was that we had similar chat styles. Although… My mother had always said I talked like I was sixty. What if he was sixty?! Edward is an old man's name. 

HellsBells: You kind of talk like an old guy, you know that, right?

Emo-ward: That’s because I’m 104. 

HellsBells: Wow. You use the internet pretty well for a senior citizen.

Emo-ward: They had us take a class. So, what’s your favorite album right now?

I smiled. Funny, and hopefully not an old guy. 

HellsBells: Will you stop talking to me if I say Take This to Your Grave?

Emo-ward: Only if you stop talking to me for saying mine is Meteora. 

HellsBells: Only if you tell me your favorite song off the album is Numb. That’s where I draw the line. 

Emo-ward: While that song isn’t my favorite, it’s pretty good. Anyway, the actual favorite is Somewhere I Belong. 

I thought about that for a minute. I liked that song, but I hadn’t listened to it a lot. I’d have to give it another go. I had Meteora around here somewhere. I found the album in my bookshelf, put it in my portable player, and put the headphones on. I skipped to the right track, and let it play while I answered. 

HellsBells: Not that you asked, but mine is Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes.

Emo-ward: Aggressive. I like it. 

I burst out laughing. Out loud. In my house. On a school night. At eleven. 

“Bella?” my mom called from across the hall. “Are you on the computer?” 

Shit. “Uh… no?”

I heard Mom start giggling. “Go to bed, kid!” 

“Okay!” I grimaced at the screen. No way I was ever going to hear from this guy again. But… I had to try, right? He was funny, and he had great taste in music. 

HellsBells: Well, grandpa, if you can get the orderlies at the nursing home to let you use the computer on Friday, I’ll be here. Until then, I’m not an adult and have to deal with things like school nights. 

Emo-ward: I’m sorry about that. I never sleep, so my school nights are exactly like regular nights. I’ll be here. 

I shook my head at that, holding in a giant smile. You know what, fuck it, I let the smile loose. It wasn’t like he could see me. And I let “Somewhere I Belong” play on repeat until I fell asleep. 

[sigynpenniman]

Julian Bashir Playlist Time!!

Apple Music playlist (if you're a heathen and subscribe to apple music like me) here

I know that there's plenty of people making playlists, but I really feel like this is an under-utilized brand of fan content. Instead of attempting to create a list of songs that Julian would listen to, or a playlist of songs which were all lyrically directly applicable (though there certainly some of those in here) regardless of genre, I tried to create something which captured, above all, his vibes instead, by choosing songs that balance at least somewhat relevant lyrical content with the energy or feel that I associate with the character. What it means matters, but not as much as how it makes you feel. That said, I signed up for apple music and read a TON of those overwrought iTunes store album review descriptions while I was making this, so I have a whole lot to say about all my choices here. In depth explanation of my symbolism and methodology behind each song under the keep reading. (I love tumblr. I want to write 1,000 words of analysis about why I picked songs to represent Julian Bashir and some of you are gonna read it. This is where I get to pretend to be one of those iTunes music writers. I feel joy.)

Good Morning - Two Door Cinema Club TDCC's Gameshow is high on my favorite albums of all time list for nebulous reasons I myself don't really understand. It was this album, though not this song (but one that will pop up later) that actually inspired me to make this playlist to begin with, as for some reason, from the color scheme of the album cover, to the overall vibe, to the ever-present references to illness, injury, surgery and healers in the lyrics, the whole thing feels inescapably Julian to me. And with an opening like I'm a sinner/I'm the victim/I'm an alien when I'm myself/I'm a healer/I'm a fixer/I'm a present danger to my health/I'm so strong/Doing what I'm supposed to do/ There's something wrong/With somebody like me, it's hard NOT to think about Julian when you hear this song, and I can't think of a better way to start this off.

Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood I think there's a joke somewhere about bisexual people all liking Sweater Weather, and yeah, I resemble that remark. Sweater Weather is just good. You'll notice there's a sort of chill-indie-alt-electronic thing going here, and that is very much the vibe I'm sticking with. Sweater Weather slots in beautifully, both sonically and thematically. As the singer looks to warm and protect the person he's with from the cold, you can't help but feel a loving coziness coming off of this one. It always makes me feel cozy, at least, so it's here.

Gooey - Glass Animals I have nothing to analyze here because the artists themselves have said that the lyrics of this song have no meaning, they're just meant to capture a vibe, and capture it they do. Close your eyes and ride the vibes of this one. The energy is right, I love it, it belongs here.

Blue - Mika I could probably write a couple hundred words on Blue alone, in any context. This might be my beloved Mika's magnum Opus. Opening the song with the inherently counterintuitive lyric Blue is a feminine color, Mika manages to pack it ALL into this 3 minute song: questions about gender; concepts of sadness, joy, and their intersections; of the perception of melancholy as a flaw and loving people despite, or maybe because of, those "flaws" and anything else about them; a powerful first person reassurance that made me start weeping in my car the first time I heard it; just the phrase "why are humans cruel to you." And oh boy, ARE there questions of gender. Why is blue NOT considered a feminine color? Is that a good thing, a bad thing? In 3 minutes of artful poetry, Mika manages to wrap up sadness, love, joy, pain, the feminine that exists within the masculine and the masculine that exists within the feminine, in the simple color of blue and then, in one lyric, validates it all. And on a much simpler and more obvious note, this is in fact all a philosophic musing on the symbolic meaning of the color we see Julian wearing almost all the time (when he's not in uniform, almost all his civvies are also shades of blue.) I feel like this is one of those songs that's hard to analyze because it does what music and poetry does best - communicate something that cannot be communicated any other way. With these broad themes of loving others around the things they can't love about themselves, you can decide for yourself if this one is coming FROM Julian or directed AT him, either works. I find myself struggling for exactly the words to explain this one, but listen to it; you'll understand.

Little Dark Age - MGMT Another choice with no obvious lyrical relevance, but the tonal fit was just too good to pass up. The vibes pass.

The City - The 1975 This song is one of several present because it leans on medical symbolism to get its point across, though I would be lying if I said I fully understood what that point was. But the entire second verse, apparently about the song's subject suffering from some kind of illness and reassuring him that the next one's the M.D./You'll be feeling just fine, seems somehow to transmit the discomfort of illness directly to the listener. I don't know how or why, but the effectiveness of the empathy the second half of this song elicits, in me at least, puts it squarely in the "odd medical vibes" category.

Surgery - Two Door Cinema Club THIS is the song that inspired this whole playlist, mostly because of its title and general vibe. Another example (of many) of medical/anatomical references in this album (another of the songs is called Fever, etc), this song just feels like Julian to me.

The Other Side Of Paradise - Glass Animals I really like Glass Animals. That is probably becoming obvious. Aside from its delightfully cohesive vibes, this song opens with what's simultaneously the slyest and most brazen gay lyric I have heard on the radio recently, as the male singer says When I was young and stupid my love left to be a rock and roll star/HE told me... The song seems to be about a man whose male lover left him in pursuit of fame and fortune, and eventually ends up with a woman, leaving the singer behind. It's got simultaneously subtle and obvious gay themes, it's got confused love affairs, it's got so much bisexual energy. I cannot think of anything that could be more Julian.

Sit Next To Me - Foster The People Kind of like Sweater Weather, this whole song is built around a rather cute and sweet "sit next to me," and you can't help but feel a bit warm and cozy when you listen to it. I think it pairs with sweater weather well, and slides in with the rest of the picks very nicely.

Nothing Better - The Postal Service (the original band of the lead singer of Death Cab For Cutie) Another example of heavy surgical symbolism, the very first lyric of this song is Will someone please call a surgeon. This is actually a duet, and the singers speak of their real hearts to represent their emotional ones. Something about Your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures always gets me and always will. And it vibes good. It vibes so, so good.

&Run - Sir Sly Sir Sly's &Run is my favorite song for driving too fast. It does an amazing job of musical onomatopoeia, talking about running while making you want to run. It's a song about running out of plans and running as far as you can instead, which is all very "I'm illegal by definition so I went to the farthest possible reaches of space." And like everything else here, it just feels good. It's also one of the only highlights here that I can actually see Julian listening to.

Cosmic Love - Florence and the Machine It's no coincidence that it seems like most of us who are invested in Julian Bashir are some flavor of genderqueer, be it trans, nonbinary, questioning, or something else entirely - the man's got a Gender with a capital G, and there's a whole lot going on in there. Between the words that were written for him on the page, and the words that were actually spoken, and the way he carries himself, Julian always seems caught between the white, western, and frequently toxic masculinity that the writers often seemed to want to imbue him with, and the very different, racially and culturally distinct masculinity Sid actually brought. But there's an undeniable element of the feminine in Julian too, at least by a traditional definition. The presence of this part of him at all, much less the fact that, in-universe, it's the more traditionally "feminine" parts of himself - the caregiving and nurturing aspects - that Julian seems proudest of or to like most about himself, is a large part of what makes his character so interesting, at least to me. So there was no way I was getting out of this without acknowledging that somehow, and I can't think of a better way to acknowledge a complicated relationship with the feminine side of one's own gender than with this world's own Celtic divine feminine, Florence Welch. I can't think of any better artist, at least that I know of, to represent femininity as a nonspecific ethereal goddess-concept. I basically spun the wheel of Florence here, as anything would have worked, but Cosmic Love felt very appropriate for a character who does in fact live in space. There could even be some Garashir in here, I think.

Dream Sweet In Sea Major - ミラクルミュージカル, or Miracle Musical, a sister act made up of members of Tally Hall I also couldn't leave off without acknowledging Julian's affection for classic lounge music, especially since it's the only thing about his taste in music that we actually know. But instead of tacking on some rat pack, instead I'm polishing this off with the incredibly chaotic and somehow also perfectly cohesive and calm Dream Sweet in Sea Major. It's got all of the vibes of a lounge singer but gone completely off the rails, which just seems perfect somehow. And it's also a very nice feeling to be left with, so it seems only right to put it at the end.

and if you've read all of this, I love you. Y'all didn't know I was this into music did you. but I am. oh boy. I AM.

[puckinghell]

Before You Go | Jacob Markstrom

Summary: Lyrics: “And I know it makes you laugh, if I say it first would you say it back? // I don’t know how to say I love you before you go” Words: 4.3k Note: my fave @danglesnipecelly​ wanted a Jacob fic and what K wants, K gets. So here it is! Excuse my sadness about the trade. Not proofread, we die like men. 

--

It’s the most cliché way of meeting someone.

Later, you wonder if your friends are even going to believe you when you tell them. You wouldn’t, if the roles were reversed; you’d make a joke about them watching too many romantic comedies. But you don’t even like romantic comedies, and yet here you are.

“This isn’t good,” the guy says, a frown on his face. He pushes the elevator button a few more times, and you nearly snap at him.

It’s not suddenly going to start working because you keep jamming on the buttons.

But, well, you’ve seen him a few times before: not enough times that you think he lives in your building but maybe someone he visits often. And he’s never been anything but nice, saying “good morning” and smiling at you, holding open the door, remaining completely unbothered when you spilled coffee over his very expensive looking shoes.

You don’t know his name, but he seems like a nice enough guy, so you don’t yell at him. He’s also really hot, but that has nothing to do with the fact that you don’t yell at him.

“I think we’re stuck,” he says. There’s a hint of an accent there, one that you can’t place.

“You think?” you repeat, dryly. You let your eyes travel to the little screen telling you what floor you’re on. It’s been saying ‘3’ for way too long.

“Fine.” The guy laughs. “I know we’re stuck. What I don’t know is what we’re going to do about it.”

“I’ve seen enough action movies to know that there’s no way we’re gonna climb out of here.” You shoot him a pointed look, fixing your gaze on his arms – which are massive. “Although, you might be able to. Me, not so much.”

“I wouldn’t leave you here,” the guy scoffs, and it’s almost annoying how genuine he seems about it.

“So then we wait, I guess.” You slide down the mirrored wall of the elevator. If you’re stuck here a while, you might as well sit down. The guy seems to agree, because he sits against the opposite wall.

“So what’s your name?” he asks, and you introduce yourself. He does, too: his name is Jacob, and he’s originally from Sweden, which explains the accent. But he lives in Vancouver now and one of his friends lives in this apartment building.

“Oh, Alex!” you exclaim, when he tells you his friend’s name. “He’s very nice. He helped me build a table once when I just moved in.”

It was an IKEA table, so it was only fair that the only Swedish guy you knew helped you build it. Although you suppose he’s no longer the only Swedish guy you know, now.

“I’ve seen you around many times,” Jacob says, after some gentle ribbing about Alex’ table building techniques. “Too many times to only now learn your name.”

It’s a feeling you recognize. Jacob’s voice is nice and calming, and you think it’s only his kind blue eyes that are keeping you from having a freakout about being stuck in an elevator.

“I guess if it’s meant to be, the universe will find a way for two strangers to get to know each other,” you tell him with a small smile. You’ve never believed in serendipity before, but if there ever was a time to start…

“So it’s all up to us now to see where it goes,” Jacob says.

And you suppose if you had to get stuck in an elevator you’re glad it’s with him.

--

If it was serendipity for you to meet, it’s fate how well you fit together.

Jacob is everything you could want in a partner. In fact, if someone had asked you to design your perfect partner, you probably would’ve come up to someone awfully close to him; the only exception being that he wouldn’t have a job that takes him away from you so often.

Dating has never been fun for you, before. Relationships as a whole as a can of worms you’ve never been tempted to open, but you’ve been seeing Jacob for a few months now and you can feel the clock ticking.

He’s not pressured you, hasn’t even mentioned it, but the thought weighs heavy on your mind: if you don’t soon put a name to what you have, you might lose it.

And that’s the last thing you want. Dating has never been fun except now it is, because dating Jacob is just like hanging out with your best friend, who is really hot and you also like kissing and having sex with. And relationships are scary but when you’re with him, it doesn’t feel like that.

Nothing feels scary, when you’re with him.

“So I’m leaving for the California trip tomorrow.” Jacob takes a sip of his drink. His eyes are glued on the movie you’ve been watching, even though it’s not a very good movie: you’ve lost your attention long ago.

“I know.” You know because you’ve put the Canucks schedule in your phone, but you don’t tell him that. That seems like something you maybe shouldn’t do. Like a girlfriend thing to do, and you’re not that.

“It’s gonna be a long one,” he continues. His voice is almost too casual, and you don’t buy it for a second.

You’re gonna miss him, too. But you don’t really know how to say that. Instead, you move a little closer, lay your head down on his shoulder. His arm is curled around your body and the weight of it is comforting.

And suddenly you can’t do it anymore. You feel too safe and comfortable and good to imagine Jacob coming home and not asking you over right away, and you know you have to talk to him if you want this to last.

And you do. God, you do.

“I actually kinda wanna talk about something,” you force yourself to say. Jacob veers up as if that’s exactly what he’s been waiting for; maybe it is. He surely knows you well enough.

He switches off the movie and turns halfway, so he’s facing you. It’s harder, that way, to speak, so you fix your gaze on your hands.

Jacob’s hand comes into view, as he carefully takes one of yours and laces his fingers through yours.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he hums, and you tell him. You don’t want to, but you do, because you can’t bottle it up any longer.

“I really like you. And I’ve been wanting to ask, or, talk about… What this is, between us. Or what you think it can be, I guess.”

Jacob’s voice displays only curiosity when he answers. “This is hard for you.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement, but you know there should be an explanation from you anyway. He deserves to step into this knowing what he’ll get, and it’s hard because there’s a chance he decides it’s not worth it.

That you’re not worth it, too hard and too messy and too many skeletons in the closet. It’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done, maybe, to open up to him like this.

But if it was ever the right time to roll the dice and try, now would be it.

“I’ve not had a lot of good, healthy relationships in my past to look back on,” you admit. “My parents had a really messy marriage until they got divorced, and my previous relationships have been somewhat of a shit show, if I can say that. So I think… It’s just kinda hard, to open myself up to that again.”

“I understand,” Jacob says softly, and you can tell from his voice that he means it. “But you think you wanna try?”

“Yes.” It’s not a hard question to answer. “Like I said, I really like you, and, well, I think what we have could be really special. So I wanna try.” You finally look up to send him a small smile. He smiles back, eyes filled with fondness and understanding.

“But you have to give me some time, okay?” you ask. “Allow me time to try. And to figure it out.”

“All the time in the world,” Jacob agrees easily, and when he leans in it’s not scary to kiss him, to feel his hands travel across your skin, the warmth of his mouth on yours. If anything, it feels right.

--

You’re already in bed when your phone buzzes, the expected FaceTime call coming through.

“Hi,” you smile, as soon as you answer. You know the smile probably doesn’t quite reach your eyes, not after the day you’ve had – but the connection is kinda blurry so hopefully Jacob won’t be able to tell.

Jacob frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Well. So far that idle hope.

“How did you know?” you huff, immediately letting the façade go. You were going to ask him about his game first, but now there’s no use. There’s no way he’ll wanna talk about that when he’s noticed your mood.

“I know you,” he answers easily, and that’s true.

Suddenly, your heart squeezes with how much you miss him. You wrap your arms around yourself, balancing the phone on your knees, and thread your fingers into the soft worn cotton of a shirt that definitely doesn’t belong to you.

Carolina is very far away, and you feel it when you look at the screen. It doesn’t feel the same, with Jacob’s face blurry and unable to feel the warmth of his skin.

“Hey,” Jacob says, softly. “Talk to me.”

He moves and you can see more of the environment behind him now, the hotel room bland and generic as most hotel rooms are. You wonder if he misses home when he’s there, or if he’s been around the world so much no place really feels like home. Maybe those generic hotel rooms are familiar to him like a home, too.

Vancouver feels like home to you, most of the time. But it’s not where you’re from and none of your family lives there, and that makes it hard sometimes.

“Is Vancouver your home?” you ask Jacob. The question probably comes out of nowhere but it doesn’t seem to faze him: at the very least he doesn’t show it.

“Yes,” he says. “Sweden is, too. I think I have many homes.” He cocks his head to the side, seemingly staring into your soul even all the way from Carolina. “Why?”

“I guess I just miss my family,” you tell him. “My sister broke up with her boyfriend and she’s really sad and I just wish I was there. We’ve been talking on the phone, but…”

“But it’s not the same,” Jacob hazards a guess, and, yeah, that’s pretty much what it comes down to.

“You know,” he continues, in a tone of voice that betrays nothing about the fact that he’s about to say something incredible, “Vancouver became a little more like home to me when I met you.”

In books and movies, they always talk about the butterflies in your stomach when you first realize you love someone. But it’s nothing like that, for you. It’s more like a tsunami of light flowing through your veins, lifting a heavy weight from your shoulders and replacing it with the comfort of a warm blanket.

And you wanna say it, say those three little words that mean so much.

“I…” you start.

“I loved him, Y/N,” your sister had said, just hours earlier. “How could someone I love hurt me so much?”

“I miss you.”

A tiny smile adorns Jacob’s face, almost like he knew what you were going to say anyway.

“Yeah,” he says, “I miss you, too.”

--

It has happened so many times that Jacob is starting to poke fun at you, a little bit.

“Don’t you just love sweet potatoes?” he’ll say, one eyebrow lifted and too much emphasis on the word love.

You know it’s stupid, okay. You know you’ve been with Jacob for way too long to still not have said those words. It’s a miracle, really, that he’s let you get away with it so long. Any other person would probably have long ago dumped you. Or at least gotten very mad.

And you don’t really know why it’s so hard for you. It’s not like you don’t love him. In fact, you love him with your whole heart, and every single day he does or says something to remind you of it. You’ve thought it at least a million times: God, I love you.

But something dark and twisted, deep inside your heart, tells you that it’ll only be true if you say it. If you say it, you open yourself up to the kinda hurt that’s come to everyone you know that has said it before.

Your parents, who got divorced. Your sister, who got her heart broken. Every single friend that’s called you crying about someone they loved. Every single previous heartbreak that’s left everlasting scars on your heart.

And it’s not like you really need to say it. Things are going well, with Jacob, and he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. Apart from his teasing remarks, he seems completely content.

Maybe he feels it when you kiss him, maybe he sees it in your eyes.

Sometimes, you come so close. So many times, you’ve almost said it. But every time you almost do, you don’t.

You think he notices, most of the time. A tiny smile will form on his face and sometimes he’ll even laugh out loud.

“But if I said it first, would you say it back?” he’ll ask sometimes.

“Of course I would,” you’ll say, but he never tries it, and you think that might be because he knows you’re lying.

--

And then the world gets turned upside down.

You guess you knew there was a pretty decent chance he wasn’t staying in Vancouver. But it was too painful to think about: every time you did, it nearly turned you dizzy and nauseous with worry.

If Jacob wasn’t staying in Vancouver, you’d have to think about what would happen to your relationship. And that wasn’t something you wanted to think about, because he became such a big part of your life you honestly don’t know what would become of you if he left.

But then you have to think about it, because it happened.

Calgary.

You’d never known one word could break your heart this much. And you’ve never hated one city as much as Calgary.

Almost in a daze, you make your way through Vancouver to go to his house. His house, that so much felt like yours before: it doesn’t anymore, and when you step inside you feel like a stranger in a familiar place.

Jacob appears in the hallway, having heard the click of the front door and your sneakers against the hardwood floor. His face is blank, devoid of any emotion, and you know that means he’s hurting.

He’s always smiling, usually, happy almost to a fault. He carries losses with great dignity, never complains, never gets angry or upset. He shakes things off like they slip away from his shoulders.

It’s something you’ve always admired about him, because things stick to you like you’re made of velcro.

This time, though, you can tell you’re not the only one hurting.

“I’m…” you start, but you cut yourself off. I’m sorry doesn’t seem like the right thing to say, and you don’t really know what else you could say.

Wordlessly, Jacob opens his arms, and you gratefully step into them, burying your face in his shoulder. It’s minutes before he speaks.

“At least it’s still in Canada?”

You can tell he’s trying to keep positive, as he always does. But there’s very little to be positive about, here. Calgary might be in Canada but it’s still so far away, and you wouldn’t see him for weeks on end…

“What about us?” you ask, words whispered against his shirt. It’s a surprise he hears you, but he does, and he pulls away immediately, frowning down at you.

“What do you mean?”

You swallow. It’s hard to get the words out but it’s something that needs to be talked about because his move could be imminent: you have no idea how long he’s planning to stay in Vancouver now that he doesn’t have to.

“What’s gonna happen to us if you’re not here?”

Jacob takes a step back, recoils like he’s been stung. It’s not immediately clear to you why he reacts like that, until he speaks.

“I wasn’t aware that anything had to happen to us.” His words are sharp and his face is still blank, but it’s the carefully constructed blank that tells you he’s hiding his true emotions.

You laugh, but it’s humorless. “You’re going to be in Calgary, Jacob. And I’m here.”

“I was gonna ask you to come.”

His words hit you like a tsunami, and for a second you’re rendered speechless. In that second, Jacob continues.

“I thought… We’ve been together for a while, you’ve said you’re not attached to Vancouver. You don’t like your job here. There’s no reason for you to stay here.”

And there’s a reason to go to Calgary, clearly. One very good reason.

But…

But if you go, and things go wrong, you’ll be in a foreign city with nobody. You don’t have friends there, you don’t have a job, or an apartment.

“Y/N.” Jacob’s voice is a little shaky. “Do you love me?”

There it is, the question that you wished to never answer. It lays between you like a heavy blanket of fog, blurring any connection there is.

For the first time, you’re not so certain about your future anymore.

Your future was supposed to be here, in Vancouver. You’d find a better job and in time, you and Jacob would move in together. He was supposed to be a Canuck forever and this would be where you’d raise your family. You’d get a dog, and a house with a garden.

And there’s no reason any of that couldn’t happen in Calgary, but. What if it didn’t? Suddenly you can only see yourself sitting on the floor of an empty, tiny studio in Calgary, snow outside, and nobody to talk to.

Apparently your silence has lasted too long, because Jacob speaks again, more forceful this time.

“Because if you love me, we can talk about this. We can figure something out. You could move with me now or later, or we could do long distance. We can make it work.” He pauses. “But if you don’t love me, maybe that’s just a waste of time.”

You love him. You love him with everything you have and everything you are. But there’s so many thoughts whirling through your brain, so many scenarios that could end so very badly.

And if you’re hesitating, maybe that means it’s not enough.

“I see.” Jacob takes another step back. Something calm has come over him now, a quiet resolve that the decision has been made. “In that case, please leave your key when you leave.”

And you open your mouth; you’ve gotta say it, you want to say it.

But Jacob’s footsteps are heavy as he retreats up the stairs and your feet are nailed to the floor. It’s impossible to move until at least ten minutes later, when you drag yourself outside.

The door closes behind you, the keys laying on the table in the hallway.

Tears are rolling down your cheeks, but you barely notice it. Nor do you notice the cold or the rain.

There’s so many things you don’t know, but if there was one thing you could’ve changed, you would figure out how to tell him you love him before he goes.

--

It’s been 4 days, 5 hours and 20 minutes since you left Jacob’s house and with it, his life.

Not that you’ve been counting. In fact, you’ve done everything you can to distract yourself from counting: eating ice cream, watching movies, calling your sister.

During one of those phone calls, she says something that pretty much shakes the ground you stand on.

“Just because you didn’t tell him you love him, it didn’t change much about how broken your heart is right now, did it?”

Of course, you told her everything: your sister is your rock, your best friend, the only person that knows all of your secrets.

“Uhm,” you say, eloquently, as you let the words sink in. She’s right.

Damn it.

Your whole relationship with Jacob, you’ve been worried about this. About heartache. Because from the very start, you knew how amazing he was, how precisely right for you. And losing him has always been the thing you were most scared of.

Sure, you were afraid to say those three words: but it was because you were convinced it would change things. Like something would shift inside you when you did, and somehow it would bind you to him more, ties that would tear in the most hurtful way when it ended.

But now it’s ended, and you’re hurt. You don’t think you could be more hurt, by anything in the world.

Including if you’d told him you love him, first.

And after everything he’s done for you, everything he’s put up with, after the way he so fearlessly loved you even when you refused to give him that back, he deserves to know.

“I’ve gotta go,” you tell your sister, and she laughs.

“Good luck, babe.”

It’s only two days until he leaves.

You probably shouldn’t know that, anymore. You lost the right to know those things when you didn’t tell him the one thing he needed to hear. But you couldn’t just let him go without at least knowing he was gone, so you’d texted Petey and he told you.

Not happily. You’re not surprised Petey is mad at you. He’s hurting too, probably, but not like you.

But then, that’s partly your own fault.

It’s weird, to knock on Jacob’s door. You haven’t done that in God knows how long, ever since he got you a key. You remember his grin when he handed it to you, shrugging his shoulders.

“It feels as much like your place as mine, by now.”

And it did used to feel like that, but not anymore. You wonder if it still even feels like Jacob’s: surely he’s been packing his stuff, maybe even already shipping it to Calgary.

You don’t get to think about it more, because the door opens.

Jacob looks… Well, he looks good because he’s too good looking to not look good, but he looks tired. Worn out, even: dark circles under his eyes and the blue orbs contain no trace of the sparkle you’re so used to. When he sees you, he frowns.

“Y/N?” he asks. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

It’s ridiculous: after all of this he shouldn’t be asking you what’s wrong, he shouldn’t be worried about you still. He should slam the door in your face or maybe yell at you some more.

But he doesn’t. He wouldn’t. Because he’s the best person there is and he loves you, and you’ve always known it but he hasn’t known the same in return, and..

“I love you.”

You blurt out the words before you can fully process it and you can tell that he wasn’t expecting it, either. His eyes widen and his mouth is a little slack, and for the first time since you’ve met him he looks completely at loss for words.

So you just keep talking.

“I was so scared to tell you that, because somehow I thought if I didn’t say it it wouldn’t hurt so much when it went wrong. All I’ve known is love going wrong, and I guess I thought if we didn’t call it that maybe that would stop it from hurting. But now it’s gone wrong anyway and it hurts so much and I realize it couldn’t hurt more, so I might as well say it.”

You take a deep breath.

“I guess this isn’t the right way to say it, or the right time. But I had to say it now because you’re leaving and I can’t have you leave without knowing. I had to say it before you go.”

Jacob looks at you, and suddenly he’s smiling. Despite everything, it’s enough to make you smile back.

“Now,” he says, “was that so scary?”

“Terrifying,” you admit. “So, I said it first.”

“I guess I’ve got to say it back?” Jacob hums, and then he’s stepping forward and kissing you.

Now you know what they mean in the movies and the books when they talk about butterflies.

“I love you.” He whispers the words against your lips between kisses. “I’ve been loving you. I will continue to love you.”

When he pulls away you take the opportunity to bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“I don’t want you to go to Calgary without me,” you mumble. It’s easier, now, to say it: what you’ve been thinking. What you’ve been wanting. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Jacob answers without even pausing to think. “You don’t have to. Remember what I said?”

“If I love you we’ll figure it out,” you remember, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks.

“So?”

“I love you,” you tell him, again, and you know you’re gonna tell him again and again and again and again.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he promises.

And you believe him.

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Five: Like Real People Do

a/n: hellooo and welcome to the next part of ybmh!! i am sooooo excited about this next chapter (and upcoming chapters😏 ). Thank you again for all of your kind words and wonderful feedback! It's always so much fun to hear from you all, so as always, feel free to come chat in my inbox once you've finished this next part. I have a feeling there will be much to discuss👀 Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content, mentions of drowning

Word Count: 5.6k

read parts one, two, three, and four

“I’m not going,” Alani says finally, discarding the outfit in her hands onto a pile on her bed. The clock reads 7:55 pm, only five minutes before she was supposed to be at the studio. She still hadn’t selected an outfit, but her hair and makeup were still relatively intact from her shift at the café.

“You have to!” Pua whines. “You told him you would!”

“Then I’ll tell him I’m sick or something—food poisoning. Period cramps, maybe,”

She begins placing the clothes on hangers to put back in her closet, but her sister reaches for her wrists to stop her.

“You’re just nervous,” Pua says calmly, getting eye level with her older sister. “But you’ll regret it if you don’t go,”

“Go where?” a woman’s voice calls from the door frame. Their mother, Estrella, peeks her head through the cracked door.

“To a party with a cute boy,” Pua explains.

Alani shoots an icy glare at her sister before turning back to her mom. “It’s not a party. I’m working on a piece about a local musician and he’s recording some music tonight and said I could go. You know, to write about it,”

Estrella nods, not convinced. “So why don’t you wanna to go?”

“Because they almost kissed—”

“Pua!”

“Hey, hey,” Estrella cuts in. “Mija, you’re twenty-two years old, I don’t expect you to stay single forever. If you want to go out and see a cute boy, you don’t need to lie about it,”

“But I’m not lying,” Alani defends. “It’s just… complicated, and I’m trying to be professional about it.”

Estrella steps away from the doorframe and envelops her daughter in a hug. “Sometimes, you just have to do what feels right and hope for the best,”

Alani is grateful for the piece of wisdom from her mother, feeling a small weight lifted off her shoulders.

“But if I were you,” her mom continues. “I would wear the black strappy dress with those wedges.”

********

8:10. Harry checks his phone for the third time in one minute, growing more disappointed each time the same three numbers stare back at him, almost mocking. He doesn’t feel any better when the time reads 8:11.

“Can I interest you in a piña colada?” Mitch pipes up, sauntering over with a glass in each hand.

The choice of drink seemed perfect when Harry had suggested it earlier in the day, but he deeply regrets it now. Despite the tightening at the back of his throat, Harry accepts the drink and chooses to nurse it in a different corner of the room. A part of him feels guilty for being such a buzzkill around his friends these days, and he wishes more than anything that he could just enjoy living in this moment with them. Being away from Alani had produced a strange feeling in him similar to the sickness experienced when leaving home on a long vacation; Harry didn’t know exactly how to cure it, but he hoped that lots of alcohol would do the trick.

When the clock reads 8:20, he accepts that she isn’t coming and decides to make the best of a shitty situation. He drains another piña colada and joins his friends who are huddled around various instruments and sound equipment. A few more of Harry’s writer and producer friends had joined the trip temporarily, and he’s grateful, now more than ever, for their presence—it distracts him from the overwhelming emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Jeff hands Harry a microphone and some headphones while Mitch plugs a white electric guitar into the amp. The guitarist begins with some chords that the crew has been messing around with for the past couple of days: an upbeat riff reminiscent of some of Harry’s favorite 70s rock pieces. His head is spinning mildly, but he uses the feeling as inspiration. He pinches his eyes shut and tries to let the lyrics flow, but the only words coming out are “she’s driving me crazy”, so he starts with that. The group also runs with it, adding a few yells and lyrics of their own. The song isn’t coherent in the slightest, filled mostly with laughter and choppy melodies, but it’s the best Harry has felt all night. He traded the piña coladas for a glass of tequila fit snugly in the palm of his hand, and true to Mitch’s word, the giggles emerge. At one point, he shouts the words “I’m havin’ your baby”, which makes zero sense to anyone in the room, including him, but they decide that it sounds cool and keep it going.

“It’s none of your business!” Mitch calls back, voice raised in his best soprano to mimic that of a woman. The shoddy attempt makes Harry laugh even harder and his hand clutches his stomach.

They continue on for what feels like hours, but in reality has only been forty-five minutes. At 9:05, Jeff Azoff heads outside to catch his breath and cool down. As he takes a seat on the steps, a yellow Ford Bronco pulls into the lot and Alani steps out once it's parked. She emerges in a black dress that falls mid thigh and a baby pink leather jacket, making her way nervously up the steps.

“Alani,” Jeff greets warmly with cheeks flushed. “Welcome. Party’s inside.”

She shoots him a grateful smile and reaches for the studio door, slipping inside cautiously. The music had been audible a mile down the road, but it’s even more overwhelming inside. Standing on a small coffee table in the center of the room is Harry with an arm draped around a shorter man wearing a black and white Adidas shirt. His dimples are on full display and his warbled words carry over the speakers to attack her from all sides. She recognizes Mitch hunched over a guitar and Jeff Bhasker spinning in an office chair, but she can’t put names to the other faces lingering around Harry. Alani feels extremely out of place, not knowing where she belongs in all of the chaos—it all seems to her like a living Jackson Pollock painting that she can’t look away from. In the middle of his off-key rendition of Wannabe by the Spice Girls, Harry’s eyes land on Alani and his smile grows ten times wider. He puts one foot in front of the other, completely disregarding the small size of the table, but he catches himself just as Alani lunges forward to help him. This results in their two bodies pressed flush against one another, the coolness of her leather jacket versus the warmth of his intoxication.

“You made it,” he slurs.

Alani takes a small step back and clears her throat. “Yeah. Sorry I’m late,”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” Harry shrugs, his eyes lighting up when he remembers something. “There’s piña coladas! In the kitchen,”

The fact that he remembered such a detail from their previous conversations and made an effort to incorporate it into this night makes her cheeks warm.

“Okay, cool. Thanks,”

Harry scans her appearance and his stomach flutters.

“Y’look really pretty,” he offers. Alani can tell that it takes every ounce of effort to do so.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, voice small.

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of them slip out through a side door and into the backyard, stopping just before the pier. Alani doesn’t know how much of these next moments Harry will remember in the morning, which makes her feel a little more confident to share what she’s truly thinking.

“Harry, I—”

“God, you’re so pretty,” he interrupts, running a hand through his hair.

Her cheeks heat up, but she pushes past the feeling. “And you’re drunk,”

“Yeah, true. But you’re still pretty. Always think so,”

Alani searches his eyes, which are sleepy and bloodshot, but there isn’t a trace of insincerity. In this moment, she also feels the overwhelming urge to be honest—about the butterflies in her stomach that only set flight when he’s around, and the way she constantly wonders what his lips would feel like against hers. But there’s an intensity behind Harry’s gaze, despite his intoxicate state, that stops her.

“You’re making this so hard,” Alani laughs lightly, more to herself than him.

“‘M sorry,” he offers. “Don’t mean to,”

She smiles at Harry’s completely innocent reply, not knowing what to do with all of the pent up affection she has for him. A part of her simply wants to scream in his face to stop being so goddamn endearing. Instead, Alani turns on her heel to put some space between them, but stops when she feels a warm hand tug at her fingers.

“Why d’you always do that?” Harry asks, his expression a little more sober.

Alani takes a deep breath. “Do what?”

“Pull away when I get close. Did it in the car that one time. And the other time at the beach,”

There’s a beat of silence where Alani isn’t sure how to respond, but before she does, Harry releases her fingers and takes a step back.

“Wait, that was stupid. ‘M sorry if I did anything—”

“No,” Alani interrupts, taking a step closer. “You haven’t done anything wrong,”

“So why?”

She releases a breath and swallows. “I don’t know,”

It isn’t the answer Harry is looking for, but he accepts it with a slow nod. Suddenly feeling the need to flee, he takes a step onto the railing of the pier and Alani’s heart rate speeds up.

“What’re you doing?”

“S’hard to tell,” he shrugs before letting himself fall into the water below.

“Harry!” she screams, heaving over the edge of the railing to find him. The drop, unbeknownst to her, is only six feet and he’s done it many times before.

After a few seconds, Alani sees him reemerge at the surface, shaking his wet hair out. There’s a small strip of sand along the shore below, so she bolts down the stairs to meet him at the bottom.

“What the fuck?!” She cries, panic welling in the brim of her eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” he deadpans.

“You could’ve hurt yourself,” Alani croaks, her limbs shaking. “You—you could’ve—”

Harry reaches out to comfort her but she steps back.

“I gotta go,”

“Alani,” he says gently, but she doesn’t respond. “Alani, wait!”

She walks briskly back to the front lot, Harry close behind.

“Alani, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t follow me.” she orders.

Her words are like a dagger through his chest, but he respects her wishes and stops dead in his tracks. Harry stands soaking wet under the moonlight, feeling helpless as he watches Alani disappear into the darkness.

********

She wakes the next morning with puffy eyes and a heavy heart, still wearing the same black dress from the night before. The warm water of a morning bath eases some of the tension in her muscles, but she knows it will take a lot more to soothe the tightness in her chest.

Why do you always do that?

Do what?

Pull away.

Their conversation from the night before lingers like a nasty bruise in Alani’s mind, but she senses a bit of harsh truth in Harry’s words. She did have a bad habit of walking away when things got hard, especially concerning matters of the heart. Her instincts were all flight and no fight, so even if Alani had stayed, she isn’t sure how she would’ve explained her reasons for panicking. How do I gently pepper in the whole almost dying thing? she wonders, a lump forming at the back of her throat. Alani was only eight years-old when she nearly drowned, and though almost fourteen years had passed since then, she still vividly remembers the helplessness of sinking further under the strong tide. On nights after a particularly stressful day, Alani’s sleep is often disturbed by the sensation of her lungs slowly filling with water only to wake up drenched in sweat and clutching the sheets. She had worked hard for several years after the incident to overcome her fear of the ocean, but a part of her still couldn’t shed the debilitating need for caution. After all, it was easier to avoid the water altogether than to wade in blindly and get sucked under. Watching Harry sink into the unknown stirred the same sense of panic that Alani had felt all those years ago and threatened to undo her progress, but she quickly realized that it was the idea of losing him that had sent her into flight mode. She imagines the hollowness she would feel at the sight of waterfalls and the scent of vanilla; piña coladas—the drink and the song—tainted in her memory forever. The thought of Harry's absence was all too much to bear, but it’s how she knew that his presence must mean something. He meant something, and she couldn’t let him go.She ends her bath quickly and sifts through the first pair of clothes she can find. Suddenly none of it mattered: what she wore, how she looked, Rolling Stone—nothing but him. Alani thinks back to her mother’s words: sometimes you just have to do what feels right and hope for the best. All she needed to do was see him and the words would find themselves. The sky is overcast when she steps outside, so she quickly puts the top on Stevie and pulls out into the road, deciding to make one quick pit-stop before setting off to find him.

********

Harry’s head pounds and he feels as if the sun has been set to maximum brightness. His clothes reek of saltwater, his skin feels like sandpaper, and his mouth is the Sahara desert. None of this compares, however, to the sense of impending doom that settles in when the memories of the night before, particularly those of Alani, resurface. I’m so fucked, he groans. Harry doesn’t quite remember every detail, but he remembers enough; he remembers how pretty she looked, and reminding her of it. He feels the temporary warmth of her fingers and the coolness of her jacket pressed against his chest. There’s a bit of fuzziness between the Spice Girls and piña coladas, but then Harry remembers crashing through water and his memory gets clearer. He fucked up. He had upset Alani in some way and although he doesn’t quite know how, he knows that he would spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it. Harry sits up suddenly and the whole room spins, but he makes an effort to stand anyway. Need to see Alani, he thinks with determination, I just need to see Alani.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Mitch comments from the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee.

“What time is it?” Harry croaks.

Mitch takes a sip of coffee and checks his phone. “10:30,”

“And last night was…”

“The party?” Mitch fills in the gaps. “Yeah,”

Harry rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and takes a seat at the table. “Did...did you see Alani?”

“No. I don’t think anyone did, actually. Did you?”

“Yeah,”

“So… I’m assuming it didn’t go well?”

Harry’s throat tightens and he hopes that she at least got home safely. He can’t bear to think about anything bad happening to her on his watch.

“No,” he confirms with a sigh. “No it didn’t,”

“Are you gonna go talk to her?” Mitch prods.

“Dunno if I should. She was pretty pissed,”

Mitch thinks for a second, taking another sip of coffee. “What would Noah Calhoun do?”

Under normal circumstances, Harry would be very amused by his friend’s reference to The Notebook, but right now he’s too focused on making things right with Alani. He devises a plan of action and stands.

“On a scale of one to ten,” he starts. “How shitty do I look?”

Mitch scans his best friend over, head tilting from side to side as he considers the question. “About a 7.5.”

“Good enough.”

Harry swipes the keys to the Cadillac off the counter and slips his feet into a pair of beat up vans before heading out the door.

********

The restaurant is fairly empty, as far as Alani can tell from the back. The kitchen staff are gathered in the break room for the time being, which allows her to tiptoe around unnoticed as she grabs the necessary ingredients for her peace offering to Harry. She hurries out through the employee entrance as soon as it’s complete and the key is already turning in her car’s lock when she hears a voice over her shoulder, calling her name.

“David?” she responds, turning to face the brawny man leaning against the car that is parked beside hers.

“Hey,” he starts, offering a flash of pearly white teeth. “I know I’m not supposed to be back here, but I just wanted to talk to you,”

Alani swallows, the icy chill of the drink in her hands reminding her of what needs to be done.

“You know, now’s not really a gr—”

“I haven't stopped thinking about you,” David interrupts, taking a step closer. “Since the other day when you stopped by. I mean, I think about you all the time but…” he trails off and Alani waits awkwardly for him to finish his ill-timed confession. David takes another step towards her and rests his forearm against the hood of her car, practically boxing her in with no escape route.

“We were really great together, don’t you think?” he asks, scanning her face with his prying eyes. “I don’t even remember why we broke things off,”

Alani’s brow furrows, her mind failing to come up with a logical explanation for this very sudden and uncomfortable conversation. She hadn’t lied when she told Harry that David wasn’t her ex, but she hadn’t been entirely honest, either. They had started hooking up during her senior year of high school—mostly because he was the star swimmer on their team that all the other girls fawned over, and despite all the attention, he had wanted her. It made her feel momentarily special, though she knew he wasn’t the boyfriend type. “Just a bit of fun” is what they called it, and the arrangement worked out well until Alani’s freshman year of college when she realized that there was an entire world of opportunities waiting beyond the confines of high school. A world that had brought her Harry, who was probably going to leave just as soon as he’d arrived if she didn’t make amends quickly.

“No,” Alani says decisively, nudging his arm away. “We weren’t ‘great’ together, we weren’t even good for each other,”

“Alani-”

“We were really young,” she continues. “And we did what we did, but that’s all in the past-”

“If you would just give me a chance-”

“I didn’t even know what I wanted for myself back then, let alone what I wanted out of a partner. But I do now,”

She doesn’t have to say Harry’s name, but they’re both thinking it. David steps back, arms crossed, and though he had always been somewhat intimidating, he looks small standing before her now.

“It’s because of that British guy, isn’t it?” he asks, despite the feeling that he already knows the answer.

Alani lets out a light laugh but she doesn’t confirm his suspicions. “We have nothing in common, David. We want different things out of life, you’ll see,”

“And he,” David continues, an accusatory tone on the word “he”. “Wants everything you do?”

She thinks for a moment, her heart pounding as she considers what Harry’s response will be to her confession. “I hope so.”

********

Harry had considered going to Alani’s house first, but he wasn’t sure who else would be home and didn’t particularly want his first interaction with her parents to occur whilst hungover. Sitting parked on the back road behind the café, however, he wishes that he had stopped there first to save him the painful sight ahead. Harry recognizes the other man from the restaurant he had taken Alani to the first time they had hung out, a name that started with the letter “D," though probably not the one flashing angrily in his mind. His arm is draped comfortably along the roof of her car, their bodies inches apart in what appears to be a very intimate moment. While he still can’t remember the exact details of his actions that had upset Alani so much, he fits this piece into the puzzle and it becomes much more clear. She has a boyfriend, and no amount of apologies could reconcile this fact, however tempted Harry may be to try. The word “boyfriend” sits uncomfortably in his mind, but it suddenly puts everything else into perspective. It explains why she fled his car so quickly when his wandering eyes had hinted their desire for her kiss—both times. He could have sworn that it would have happened had her phone not interrupted them the second time, but perhaps it had all been a trick of the rose-colored light. The sudden realization makes Harry feel sick, and a bit foolish, so he speeds off before he can be spotted.

He drives aimlessly for a while, mind still racing with the image of the other man’s depraved hands on Alani’s soft skin. The uneasiness boiling in the pit of his stomach is pathetic—he’s well aware—but he can’t stop himself from wondering why not me? It’s a selfish thought, but it eats at him, nonetheless. It should have been me. But the reality is that it wasn’t him, and it never would be. Despite any feelings he’d had that Alani was the one for him, he was not the one for her, and it’s a fact he must learn to live with. If this thought were a rock, he’d turn it over in his fingers until they bled.

********

Alani pulls up to the studio hesitantly and waits a beat before making her way up the stairs. She knocks twice, but there’s no answer, so she presses her ear to the door in search of any sound. Silence. There’s no trace of the cars Harry usually drives when she wanders to the back lot, either, so she figures that he must not be here. Alani racks her brain for other possible locations, but it’s a dead end. She doesn’t know what hotel or house he could be staying at, and her heart begins to race at the idea that he might not even be in Hawaii anymore. For all she knows, he could be on a return flight to L.A. or London, gone forever with the same instructions she had left him: don’t follow me. Alani lifts her phone with trembling fingers and searches Harry’s name, pressing the phone to her ear and praying like she had never prayed before. It rings three times before she’s sent to voicemail. The sound of his voice on the recording brings temporary relief, but it’s gone as soon as the message ends and she is prompted to respond. She clears her throat gently and speaks as if he is at the other end waiting to hear the right words and pick up.

“Hi, it’s Alani,” she starts slowly. “I, uh…. I’m at the studio. I don’t think you’re here though,”

She walks in small circles around the backyard and lets her eyes roam to the pier where it all went wrong. It sends a pang of guilt through her spine, but it fuels her next words.

“Listen, I really wanna talk—about last night. I shouldn’t have left, I know that now. It wasn’t you, it was me, and I know that sounds cliché but it’s true,”

Alani swallows down the emotion bubbling at the back of her throat and wishes that she could just see him, face to face, one last time. There’s so much more she needs to say, but it’s a conversation she doesn’t want to have with his answering machine.

“Please just call me when you get this. I wanna explain everything if you’ll let me.”

She hangs up and nearly throws her phone into the ocean. Though her trauma response wasn’t completely in her control and it isn’t something she should feel guilty about, she wishes she had been able to explain. Alani hadn’t always been comfortable sharing that part of her life, but there was a security in Harry’s presence that made her feel okay to do so. She wanted to share everything with him, the good and the bad, but she needed to find him first.

Only twenty minutes had elapsed at the studio when Alani decides to head out; there was still no word from Harry and she needed to be anywhere else beside the site of their potential last meeting. She drives with no particular place in mind, the windows rolled down to let in the chilly, overcast air. It isn’t until she’s halfway in the opposite direction that she gets the urge to visit one other location. There’s an extremely small chance that Harry will be there, but she goes less in search of him and more for her own personal wallowing.

When Alani pulls up to the lookout where the two of them had spotted the rainbow, there is another car already parked: a pink Cadillac. The sight makes her entire body freeze.

“Harry?” a small voice calls behind him. He almost thinks that he had hallucinated it until he reluctantly turns his head and sees a timid Alani emerging from her car. A million emotions run through his mind at once, starting with confusion and elation and ultimately ending in grief.

“Hey,” he responds, weakly, still leaning against the hood of the Cadillac.

Alani slowly makes her way over, not entirely sure that he’s actually there. Once she gets closer, however, she can smell the faint scent of vanilla and her chest swells.

“I left you a voicemail,” is all she can say.

Harry’s brow furrows as he tries to remember any phone calls, but he suddenly figures that in all of his rush to see her, he had forgotten to grab it from his bed.

“Left my phone at the house,” he offers.

There’s a brief silence where the two of them size each other up, weighing their own motives against what they assume to be the other person’s. Harry speaks first.

“Alani, ‘m really sorry,” he says gently, stepping away from the car and towards her. “I know I fucked up—”

“Harry—”

“But I understand now,” he continues. “I know why you were upset,”

Confusion settles into Alani’s body and she wonders how he could possibly know about her accident. Or if he didn’t know, what else he could be referring to. She doesn’t have to guess for long because Harry continues despite her silence.

“I saw you with him—your boyfriend, I mean. Derek?” he explains. “But not in a creepy way I just.. wanted to talk. Bad timing,”

“Wait,” Alani cuts in, her brain finally sorting out the pieces. “You saw me and David..today?”

Harry feels as if the knife in his chest has been twisted further at the mention of the other man’s name, but he nods. An uncontrollable bubble of laughter finds its way up Alani’s throat, and the sound would typically bring butterflies to his stomach, but it only exacerbates the heartache.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Alani clarifies. “He’s delusional. And a huge pain in the ass, but I think he finally got the hint when I turned him down earlier,”

Harry’s ears perk up at the news, but he’s still wary.

“But you two were—”

“Ancient history,” Alani reassures him, taking another step closer. “He might as well be Socrates,”

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Harry’s lips and he feels a wave of relief wash over his body. The news is music to his ears, but he still wants to know what he had done to make her walk away that night.

“So you weren’t upset because you have a boyfriend and I tried to make a move?”

Alani takes a deep breath, knowing that she has avoided saying her piece long enough. Before she can start, though, a rumble of thunder interrupts her thoughts.

“Can we talk in Stevie? I don’t feel like standing in wet socks again,” she asks, which Harry obliges.

The two climb into the truck and settle in, the atmosphere quickly becoming more intimate than Alani had planned. His vanilla cologne has also become more perceptible in the confined space, and there’s a whiff of spearmint, most likely his gum, that briefly draws her attention to his mouth. She snaps her mind back to the conversation at hand and clears her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she begins, reading his eyes carefully. There’s a faint reassurance behind the emerald surface, so she continues. “For everything that happened last night. You did nothing wrong, please know that,”

Harry wishes he could reach out and comfort her, but he gets the feeling that whatever she’s about to say is important so he doesn’t want to dismiss it.

“It’s hard for me, sometimes, to be around the water,” Alani continues despite the prickling feeling in her eyes. “Because when I was eight years old, I almost drowned,”

The revelation hits Harry like a ton of bricks and all at once he understands. He hadn’t even thought twice about jumping into the water that night, so it didn’t occur to him to rule that out as a possible offense. He understands now that he couldn’t have been more mistaken.

“And I know that has nothing to do with you,” Alani explains, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Except that it terrified me to think about, you know… if you hadn’t been so lucky,”

Her composure quickly cracks, a single tear spilling down her cheek before she wipes it away with the sleeve of her sweater. This time, Harry does reach a hand out and Alani accepts it gratefully; the warmth of his fingers are a welcome contrast to her icy appendages.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he murmurs as his thumb rubs small circles over the back of her hand.

“But I do,” she sniffles. “Because—”

Alani pauses, unsure of how to finish her thought. Just do what feels right and hope for the best.

“Because I care about you,” she says finally, noticing the way his Adam’s apple bobs at her words.

Harry's jaw tightens at her confession and every muscle in his body longs to bring her close, leaving no inch of space between them, but he lets her lead despite his instincts.

"But it’s also because I care about you that I can’t let this go any further,”

Alani’s words surprise herself just as much as they terrify Harry, but she knows that it’s the right thing to do as soon as it’s done.

“Alani—” Harry starts, all of his worst fears crashing down on him.

“Please, don’t make this harder—”

“Don’t I get a say?” he questions, tightening his grip on her hand, though she still manages to slip away.

Alani runs the free hand through her still damp waves and lets another tear roll down her cheek. “What is there left to say?”

“How about ‘I care about you, too’? How about ‘I want to be with you’?”

“It’s too messy—”

“Everyone has baggage,” Harry defends. “God knows I do, and I would never ask you to carry all of that,”

Alani lets her eyes meet his again; they’re bloodshot and glossy, which sends a pang of guilt and sorrow through her entire body.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she reasons, this time thinking not only about her own issues, but about everything—the lies she had told and the ambitions she was still nurturing. She hadn’t given up on her dreams and unless Rolling Stone had suddenly changed their mind about the Joni Mitchell piece, there was only one way she was going to achieve them. Alani hadn’t yet reconciled the fact that she would have to put aside her own feelings for Harry to get what she wanted, but she knew that time would heal the wounds.

“All I want,” he continues. “Is a chance. And I know nothing I do will ever change the past, but two hands make the load lighter. So, please, let me carry some of that with you. Give me a chance,”

As she studies the pleading in his eyes, something stirs deeply inside Alani’s chest. She had started the day thinking only of him, but with selfish intentions. Now, she was trying to do right by him, having realized that she couldn’t have both him and the story that would launch her career. Something would have to give, and Harry deserved more than that. He deserved more than her. Despite all of this awareness, there is something else nagging in the back of her mind that she can’t ignore. Don’t walk away, it screams. If Alani ignored her true feelings for Harry and refused his plea, she would be walking away from someone who believed in her, someone who cared deeply for, and wanted to understand, her. Perhaps the universe truly had brought Harry for a story, but to be a part of hers instead of the one she had been so eager to publish. There would be other chances, just like Dr. Hudson had said, but there would never be anyone else like Harry. So with this in mind, Alani decides to stop walking away and stand still, right in this very moment, with the boy who shined brighter than the sun itself and who had only asked for a chance to make her happy.

“Okay,” she breathes and it’s like the weight of the universe has been lifted from her shoulders.

Harry leans in, their foreheads pressed together gently, and cups her cheek in his hand.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

Alani nods and nudges the tip of his nose with her own. “Please.”

Their lips meet like electrically charged magnets, with a force so natural and strong it sends bolts of electrons through their entire bodies. Harry’s mouth is warm and gentle against hers, and the coolness of his mint gum soothes the searing touch of his kiss. Alani’s fingers glide up his chest and along the sides of his neck, pulling him closer as if he’s the anchor keeping her from floating away into the dark clouds above them. Over and over again, their lips collide fervently, breaths mixing and filling each other’s lungs. Their hands eagerly explore the curves of each other’s faces, the softness of hair, and the occasional heat of exposed skin. Harry is the first to break the kiss, panting lightly as he pulls back to search Alani’s face.

“Y’okay?” he asks.

“Never been better.”

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[delaber]

Just Friends (Part 9)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: smut smut smut smut smut smut smmmmmuuuuttt

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin captaintightpants58

Other Parts: See Masterlist

"What did I tell you?" He laughed as he closed the door behind him, "you don't have to take off your shoes when you're here."

"It's the polite thing to do," you smiled goofily up at him, "what if I stepped in something icky earlier."

"I suppose I'd have to clean the floor tomorrow then," he shrugged, his eyes still bloodshot from the joint, "it's a risk I'd be willing to take."

Easy to giggles, you shot him a laugh.

"You want a drink?" he asked you and held up his index finger, "a quick word of warning; my margarita game is off but I do make a mean Long Island."

You arched an eyebrow at him, "Long Island? Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He sent you a smirk, "Your senses are already dulled from the reefer. How much more could a strong drink possibly do?"

"Okay," you laughed, "Long Island it is then - I do hope it's better than the 'Rafa Special' that you made me on New Years."

"Ouch, you big bully," he pretended to be hurt, "I lay down my guard and show you my true self and this is what it gets me? Some ignorant European tearing apart my cocktail game? I'm telling you; if I had just an ounce of self-respect, you'd be in an Uber on your way home right now!"

"I guess I'm lucky that you're completely spineless," you shrugged.

"Did you just say that?" He put down the lime he'd been holding and sent you a bemused smile.

"Let me just check; uh yes I did."

"Say it again and I'll definitely throw you out," he took a step closer to you trying to look dangerous but failing miserably.

"You're spineless," you whispered.

"One more time for Big Rafa, come on," he motioned a come on sign with his hand, stepping even closer to you.

"Spineless," you squealed and ran away from him as he started running towards you.

"I'll get you for this," he chased you into the living room where he grabbed you around the waist and threw you down on the sofa. He sat down on top of you and grabbed your wrists, "say it again," he urged you, as he easily forced your hands above your head, pinning your wrists together with just one hand. It reminded you of the night after New Years and you became strangely aroused by it.

"Okay, I'll stop," you squealed as he tickled your sides, "just let me go."

He stopped tickling you and went completely still, "never," he leaned in and whispered, lips hovering dangerously close to yours, his right hand warm against your ribs. He could feel your fast heartbeat through your black t-shirt as you made a quick decision and lifted your head up to kiss him softly on the lips.

He gladly reciprocated your tender kiss, looking pained as you withdrew your face after just a couple of seconds.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, "I don't know what just came over me."

Rafa let go of you and got up from the sofa, "Yeah," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry too," he took your hand and helped you up on your feet, "I'll go mix us those drinks," he said quietly.

While he went to the kitchen, you studied the guys' living room. You had only been in here once before and back then, you had been far too concerned with locating your clothes to really have a look around at the colourful posters and their personal belongings scattered around the room. Your eyes were drawn to a small shelf at the back of the room where miniature figures of Calvin and Hobbes stood. You took Calvin in your hand and examined him more closely before putting the figure back on the shelf, moving along to the next item; a gilded gramophone reading 'National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, Daveed Diggs, Principal Soloist, Best Musical Theater Album - 2015, Hamilton (Original Broadway Cast)' along with what appeared to be a Tony award inscribed 'Best Performance by a Featured Actor in a Musical: Daveed Diggs as Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson, 2015 - Hamilton.'

You did a double take as you read the text on the two awards again.

Rafa came in with two drinks in hand, "I see you've found Diggs' awards," he smiled, handing you a drink.

"Are these real?"

"Very real," Rafa smirked.

"Why didn't you tell me? I had no idea!"

"I wanted to see how long it took you to figure out where you know us from," he shrugged.

"Were you in this... Hamilton as well?"

"Oh, god no," he laughed, "and by your tone of voice I'm guessing you have no idea what it even is."

"Not a clue," you shook your head and took a big gulp of the drink, "So let me get this straight: Daveed is a hardcore rapper and a Broadway musical star? I never would've guessed that!" you laughed.

"Yeah, remember the first night when you came up to us and you couldn't remember where you'd seen us before?"

"Of course."

"We thought it was a weird trick just to get us to talk to you. Ever since performing in Hamilton, Daveed has been dubbed as America's fast-rapping sweetheart," he rolled his eyes.

"Are you jealous?" you chuckled.

"Not the least. But we can never go out anymore without people feeling the need to constantly come up to him and introduce themselves. It was fun at first but now it's kind of lost its glory."

"So you thought I was a groupie or something?" You laughed, "yeah, your reactions definitely make more sense now."

"Sorry for being a dick," Rafa looked pained, "Sometimes it's necessary when you just want a quiet night out with your best friend."

"So you were a dick on purpose yet you still came over to me and apologised?"

"I did," he laughed, "I thought you were too sassy to just let go. Especially after I realised that you'd been completely innocent and that you actually thought you just knew us from work or something. It was kind of cute so I felt bad for acting like a douche."

"I still feel like I know you from somewhere else apart from that night though," you mumbled.

"Yeah, I know. Come here," Rafa said and took your hand, leading you to a room in another part of the house where you hadn't been before. The room was lined with different recording equipment and movie posters.

"What is this?"

"Our workspace," Rafa said matter-of-factly, "We record music in here or write lyrics, scripts for sketches or plays. You know. Anything creative."

"I've never met anyone with a workspace like this," you took in the room with awe.

"...and this," Rafa continued, "I'm guessing is where you know us from," he pointed to a poster titled Blindspotting with a laughing Daveed and a tough-looking Rafa facing you.

"Yeah! Yeah that's it! I remember seeing this at the movies back home," you said excitedly as you took in the poster. You remembered thinking that the two leads were cute even back then, "so you're a musician slash actor?" you looked back at Rafa who was smiling at you.

"I prefer creative genius, but whatever..." he hugged you from behind, "your term is just as good I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me that I'd probably seen you in a movie."

"You were so unfazed by me and Diggs. And I knew it wouldn't impress you so I kept my mouth shut and told Daveed not to say anything," he snickered from over your shoulder, "I wanted you to spend time with me because you like me. Not because I'm semi-famous."

"I can't believe you thought I was a groupie," you chuckled and leaned into his arms.

"You're so much more," he groaned. His lips brushed against your neck and he kissed you softly below the ear.

His movements brought you back to reality, "Rafa," you sighed, "I know you're drunk and high but we can't be doing this."

"Mmh..." he hummed against you as he pushed your hair aside, his lips still tracing along your neck.

Slowly, you turned around, his arms still around you. "I'm serious," you said.

"I know," he groaned and let his arms fall flat to his sides with a sigh.

"Maybe I should go," you said, "this was clearly a bad idea. And I have to work tomorrow."

"On a Saturday?" he arched an eyebrow at you, "or are you just saying that so you have an excuse to leave early?"

"As I told you; I'm not even halfway done with the project I came here to do, so I actually do have to work tomorrow," you booped his nose, "I'm probably going to be quite busy the next week to be honest."

"So I really won't get to see you?" Rafa furrowed his eyebrows.

"Minimally," you frowned back.

"Okay, I have an idea; since my place is closer to your lab, I'll cut you a deal; how about you stay over, I cook you a nutritious breakfast tomorrow morning and then I take you to work?"

"I don't know," you said even though you really wanted to spend the night.

"No funny business, okay? This time I'm serious," he grinned.

"You said that last time as well," you laughed, "and the time before that."

"Look, I'll even take the couch and let you have my bedroom. I just want to spend the last few hours with you if I won't get to see you for the next couple of days," he shrugged.

"Okay," you gave in, "on one condition!"

"Anything," he said honestly.

"You go for a dip in the pool," you laughed devilishly up at him.

"What, now?"

"Yep!"

"You're not serious?"

"As serious as a heart attack," you said as seriously as you possibly could in your high.

"Okay. If that's what you want," he sighed dramatically before he turned around and discarded his t-shirt in one swift motion.

"Oh, you're really doing this," you laughed as you followed him out to the pool via the sliding doors in the living room next door.

"There's a lot at stake," he said as he pulled off his sneakers and socks.

"So for this you take off your shoes?" you teased him.

"Shut up," he grinned up at you before his hands started unbuckling his belt, his pants falling onto the tiles with a loud clank.

"Okay, I was kidding," you said as he was standing on the edge of the pool wearing only his boxers, "you don't have to do this."

"Oh, I'm not taking any chances. I'm definitely doing this," he said before he took a deep breath and jumped into the freezing water. He emerged spluttering, "shit, it's so cold," he bellowed as he whipped his hair out of his face and took a few strokes, "are you just going to stand up there and admire me?"

"Oh, the deal was for you to jump in. Not me!"

"Boo, you chicken!" he grinned up at you.

"Well, you're not exactly making a single selling point."

"If you don't jump in, you're not allowed to sleep over."

"You're not serious."

"As serious as a heart attack," he grinned up at you, as he mimicked your words from earlier.

"Oh my god. I cannot believe you're making me do this!" You squealed involuntary but ended up taking off your t-shirt and jeans, dipping your toe in the cold water as you stood in front of the pool in just your underwear.

"Just jump in," Rafa laughed, "What you're doing up there is pure torture."

"Okay. You're right," you took a few shallow breaths before counting to three, jumping in the pool close to Rafa. As you emerged, you pushed your hair out of your face, "so cold!" you squealed, "why did we do this?"

"I did it for you," Rafa laughed, treading waters in front of you, "I actually don't find it as bad as I had anticipated."

"You stay then! I'm getting the hell out of here," your teeth clattered as you began climbing the ladder, a laughing Rafa following close behind you.

You were shivering as you reached the top of the ladder, desperately clutching your arms to keep what little warmth you had left.

"Hot shower?" Rafa laughed.

"Yes, please," you nodded and followed Rafa to the bathroom where he turned on the shower for you as you immediately started undressing, ready to step in as soon as the water turned warm.

"It'll only be a minu- Oi!" Rafa said and quickly looked away. He had turned around from the faucet only to be met by you standing in front of him wearing only your soaking panties.

"Oh relax," you rolled your eyes at him, "you've seen me naked before."

"That doesn't mean it isn't just as... exciting," he gulped, desperately looking at the ceiling, "Uh, there are towels over there and I'll - uh - I'll find you something comfortable to wear for afterwards, okay?" he edged out the door still not looking at you. From the other side of the door he bellowed, "Uhm, on second thought. You can just use my bathrobe - if that's alright with you."

"It's fine Rafa," bellowed back with a laugh as you stepped into the warm water.

You stayed in the shower for a couple of minutes until you felt the heat return to your fingers and toes. You quickly dried yourself off, and pulled on the only bathrobe you could find, assuming that it was Rafa's. "That was lovely," you said as you met him in his bedroom. He was wearing the same trackies you'd seen him in before. "No shower?" you lifted your eyebrows at him.

"We have a cold shower by the pool," he said slowly with a laugh, "and I desperately needed it."

"Oh how old are you?” You laughed at him, “you can't even see breasts without getting turned on?"

"Not when they're yours," his face reddened slightly suddenly matching his eyes, "and especially with your nipples all hard like that."

A cold shiver went down your spine. "Yeah, sorry," you ended up saying.

"Oh don't be," he grinned, "it was a marvelous sight that I'll definitely cherish when I'm alone in bed at night," he winked at you, "it just excited me... Excites me now just thinking about it to be honest," he looked away from you with a small grin, clearly uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Yeah me too," you admitted, "it feels stupid to not be allowed to touch when we're so close to each other in so little clothes."

"We could just say 'to hell with it'?" He smirked.

"No, Rafa," you said sternly as you sat down on the edge of his bed.

He sent you a challenging look, "...or we could - you know - just... talk about it if you want to?"

"Talk about what?" you arched an eyebrow at him. Your decision was non-negotiable.

"Just talk for a while about what we'd like to do if the situation was different," he shot you a wink, "That's innocent."

"No it's not?" you laughed, "Not at all."

"I know," he smiled at you, "I'm just trying to get creative. We have to work with what we got, you know."

"Friends don't talk about what sexual stuff they'd like to do to each other," you shot him a look.

"Hey - can we just cut the bullshit for a few seconds?" Rafa said quietly, his Adam's apple bouncing in his throat as he swallowed hard, "don't call us friends when we clearly aren't,"

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," you looked at him carefully

"You keep saying that," he sighed, "yet you're still here."

You put your hand on his arm, "I'm having a hard time too, you know. You're not the only one who wants this."

He shot you a sideways glance, "why can't we just say to hell with it then?"

"Because I know myself and this is what I have to do if I want to return to England with a somewhat sane mind."

"Whatever you say," he groaned as he threw himself down on the bed, his legs dangling over the side.

You lay down next to him and you put your hand on his chest, playing with the straps of his hoodie. He pulled you close and caressed your back with his fingertips, "do you want me to go sleep on the couch?"

"You can sleep in here with me," you said softly, "I'm going to miss you the next couple of days."

He kissed the top of your head, "yeah, me too," he said, "the last time you stayed over, my pillow smelled like you for days. It was pure torture. But it came at a price; your hair was everywhere. It was like having a dog again," he laughed.

"A small souvenir," you laughed, "sorry."

"I forgive you. But only because you look so soft in my bathrobe," he brushed his fingers over your back, "do you want me to get you a t-shirt to sleep in?"

"Yes please," you said and let him go to his closet where he pulled out an old tee with the words Raiders written on the front.

"A pirate shirt?" you eyed the logo.

Rafa shot back his head and laughed whole-heartedly, "Damn girl, don't you dare disrespect my favourite football team like that."

"You mean American football team. Your favourite football team better be Chelsea!"

"I'll be partial to Chelsea in soccer if you're partial to the Raiders in football."

"I can pretend I like the pirates," you teased him.

"Oh shut up," he chuckled and walked towards the door, "I'll let you get changed," he said and closed the door behind him.

You disrobed and pulled on his Raiders shirt, glad that it covered you like a dress as you didn't have any dry underwear to wear. A short dress albeit, but still a dress.

"Are you decent?" Rafa asked from the other side of the door.

"Yep," you said and let him in.

"Ah!" he said when he saw you in the Raiders shirt, "my favourite girl sporting my favourite team."

"Don't get any ideas," you grinned as you crawled under the covers.

He stripped down to his boxers and joined you under the covers, pulling you close, "just a bit of friendly cuddling," he whispered against your neck, his hand trailing up and down your sides.

"Okay," you whispered back, enjoying his arms around you.

His fingers brushed from your waist and down your sides all the way below the hem of the t-shirt, fingers coming to a halt on your upper thigh. He lifted his head from his pillow and whispered, "are you not wearing any panties?"

"Uhm no," you said sheepishly, "they were all wet from the pool."

You felt the outline of a bulge emerging against your backside right before he pulled back from you with a groan.

You turned around and faced him, "I didn't mean to torture you on purpose," you snickered.

"I know," he said in a strained voice, "just give me a minute to calm down." He blew out some air and stared determined at the ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him after a couple of seconds.

"I'm trying to remember all the players on the Raider's team," he said, "and I definitely try not to think about you on top of me."

A familiar warm feeling spread in your abdomen. Now you were thinking about riding him as well.

"Too much?" he looked over at you when you didn't answer him.

"Ehm," you cleared your throat, "no. No, it's a... nice image," you smiled at him, the heat between your legs growing more and more.

"It got to you too, huh?" he laughed at you.

"Uhm, yeah," you said, "it's probably because we're high."

"That Long Island didn't exactly help either."

"Definitely not. It's too bad we're not allowed to touch..."

"Yeah..." he agreed, "we could... you know... just go to sleep."

"Yeah..." you said. His suggestion from earlier about talking dirty to each other without touching flashed in your mind. It wasn’t as if it would break your code. “Or we could just lie here next to each other and talk for a while..."

"Yeah?" he looked over at you with an excited smile, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Definitely not riding you slowly," you grinned, "or your lips around my nipples."

He gulped, "Yeah, and not your mouth around my cock either. Let's not discuss that."

"Or how you feel when you're inside me," you breathed heavily.

"Oh fuck, no, no we definitely can't talk about that. Or how I'd start off by kissing you all over your body. All the way from the top of your head and down your neck, leaving small teasing kisses down your breasts and all the way down to your ankles. And then back up again to your little hotdog," he said darkly.

"Yeah!" you imagined his warm lips against your skin and felt the goosebumps emerge on your arms, "...and we can't discuss how I'd respond to your teasing lips by pulling your hair while I open my legs for you. Or what you'd do next.”

"Well... in that case, we probably shouldn't discuss how I'd bring out my tongue and taste you while my fingers were slowly working their way in and out of you," he panted. You let out a moan as you arched your back and Rafa continued, "yeah, and you'd moan just like that for me."

"But regardless of how good it felt, I'd still push you away from me and get on my knees in front of you."

"Fuck!" Rafa hissed beside you, fighting hard to keep his hands above the covers.

"I'd take you in my hand and lubricate your glistening head with pre-cum before I slowly move my hand up and down you a couple of times to warm you up."

"I'm already warm, love" Rafa chuckled.

"Good! I'd grab you by the root and I'd lick you all the way from the root to the tip, bringing extra attention to that particularly sensitive spot just below your head," you said slowly, "my soft tongue would be all wet and sloppy as I run it up and down your length while I maintain eye contact with you, showing you that you're in complete control of the situation. And I'd make sure to massage your balls as I continue to pleasure you with my mouth," you breathed heavily, "and you'd look down at me and caress my hair while my mouth was full of you, slowly bucking your hips bringing you further down my throat. And I'd groan around you as you hit the back of my throat, sending vibrations all the way up to your balls."

"Okay, fuck it, I can't take this," Rafa said resolutely and pulled the covers away to reveal the enormous erection tugged away in his boxers. He pulled out his cock and started stroking it slowly in front of you with a few shallow breaths. He shot you a look, "not... against... the rules," he panted as he continued to pump his hand up and down his length.

"Well, if you're doing it, I'm doing it!" you said as you spread your legs, your fingers immediately flying to your core as you looked at Rafa's movements. "What happens next?" you panted.

Rafa took a couple of shallow breaths before he continued, "I pull out of your mouth just before I come down your throat because you know I'm close and you beg me to fill you up instead. So I pick you up from the floor and throw you on the bed and you're looking at me with this hungry look. And I kiss your tits while I slide inside you. And you're so warm and so wet for me," he groaned.

You moved your fingers up and down your slit, fidgeting with your clit with your right hand, while your left hand pushed up the Raider's t-shirt and started massaging your nipple. A small moan escaped your lips as you imagined what Rafa was explaining to you, "and you fill me up completely," you panted, "and you turn me around before you slam into me from behind, smacking my ass and pulling my hair. And you're so good that I grow tight around you, begging for you to let me cum."

"Yes," he groaned.

"- and you pull my arms and fixate them around my back so you have the perfect angle to fuck me while I grow tighter and tighter around you as you slide in and out of me. And I feel this raw heat starting in my stomach and it's spreading fast to the rest of my body as you fuck me faster and harder than you ever have before. And you pull my hair and I moan helplessly for you."

Rafa started moving his hand faster and faster as he was looking at you narrating your own orgasm.

"- and when you finally let me topple over the edge, I scream out your name with my release like this; Rafa," you moaned, "oh Rafa".

"Fffffuck," you heard Rafa hiss beside you right before he came with a loud groan, cum staining his stomach and chest, "fuck!" he continued to pant beside you with his eyes screwed shut, cum still leaking from his tip. His hand was still laced around his throbbing cock, but no longer moving when he desperately opened his eyes and turned his head. "Fuck," he repeated when he looked towards you with your fingers still at work.

"Fuck you're hot!" you panted beside him, looking at him as you drew in sharp breaths, your fingertips slowly entering yourself.

Rafa's eyes flooded with lust once more, "Fuck this," he spat, "come here," he took your hand and pulled you on top of him, your back lying flat against his cum-stained chest. His right hand found your core immediately and he started working his long fingers in and out of you while his left hand was circling your clit.

"Not... part of... the plan," you panted on top of him while his fingers moved in and out of you, his lips kissing your throat and neck.

"Oh, do you want me to stop?" he said and removed both of his hands from your throbbing core.

"No!" you whimpered on top of him, moving around desperate for friction.

"Shut the fuck up then," he whispered darkly against your neck as his hands resumed their positions. He worked like this for a couple of minutes while you writhed and moaned on top of him, your walls tightening around his fingers as he kissed and licked your neck.

"Fucking cum for me," he whispered as he hit your g-spot repeatedly and sent you over the edge crying out his name with pleasure.

His hands moved slower and slower, until he pulled his fingers out of you, his palm travelling all the way up your body, coming to a halt as he cupped your breasts lovingly, "I could get used to this," he whispered, kissing your neck and sending shivers down your spine.

You stayed on top of him for a couple of seconds while he continued to caress your breasts and nipples, kissing your neck occasionally with small sounds of affection.

When you had come down completely from your high, you climbed down from him and positioned yourself under the covers. Rafa pulled on his boxers and snuggled up against you.

"That was not part of the plan," you yawned as he held you tight.

"It won't happen again. Now shut up and go to sleep," Rafa smiled against your neck

[bitchloveskcbaseball]

Tripping Over Myself

Pairing: Logan x OC (Charlotte Wheeler)

Summary: Charlotte’s not the best at communicating and it gets her in a bit of trouble. (takes place shortly after Drawn to a Flame)

Warnings: Language. Lots and lots of language. Seriously...so many f-words. lol Also, mentions of her previous car accident (it’s not super detailed, but it is brought up a few times) and her resulting injuries.

Word Count: 5525. I swear ... I was certain this was going to be nothing more than maybe 2k words. And then this happened and the thing that I wanted to happen in this fic didn’t even happen so that’s fun lol

Logan belongs to Pixelberry, but the other two lovelies are all mine.

A/N #1: This was written for @rodappreciationweek​ MC day. And sticking with the theme from the first two pieces in this series, I have pulled the title from the lyrics of Shawn Mendes’s Stitches.

Also... a huge huge thank you to @burnsoslow for reading a piece of this that had me chasing my tail for what seemed like forever and fixing it for me. You are the best!!

“Hey hey hey! The hell you think you’re doin?”

Freezing mid step to turn back around to where Paul was glaring at her from his now-seated position where he'd rolled out from under her car on his creeper, Charlotte scrunched her nose up in confusion. “You were bitchin’ that you didn’t have your 3/8 down there. Figured I’d grab it so you’d stop muttering to yourself.”

“I had one rule for letting you stay after you showed up here today. And I made it explicitly clear.”

“But – “

“No. No buts.”

“C’mon Paul! You can’t seriously expect me to sit on that damn stool the entire time we’re here. I am fully capable of walking to the toolbox and grabbing a goddamn socket!”

“Lottie, sweetheart. You are still healing. You need to take it easy.” Instead of the calming effect she was sure he was shooting for, the soft gentleness of Paul’s voice just reminded her of an adult trying to calm a child who was in the middle of throwing a massive tantrum. And that ratcheted her mild frustration up until she was actually throwing a damn fit.

“For fuck’s sake! I know I’m fucking hurt. But I’m not a complete invalid. I don’t think me taking three fucking steps across this damn storage unit and picking up a tool that weighs a few ounces is going to do me in when a fucking slab of concrete didn’t!” Her hands flew up to steeple across her nose and mouth. “Shit. Paul – “

Gaze firmly locked on his white-knuckled grip on his wrench, Paul cut her off with a slight shake of his head. “Nah. It’s … it’s fine, sweetheart.”

In two shaky steps, Charlotte was across the unit and gingerly kneeling in front of him. Slowly, as if she were approaching a spooked cat, she eased the wrench out of his hold so she could wrap his hand in her own. “No. It’s not ‘fine.’ I … I shouldn’t have said that. I promised I’d stop acting so nonchalant about the accident.” Before he could interject, she nudged his knee with her own. “Shush, lover. I really am so incredibly sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. You’re only trying to look out for me. And I appreciate that more than I could ever say.”

Finally lifting his head from staring at the floor between them, Paul’s teary eyes met hers, twisting her heart even harder. In barely a whisper, he asked, “The hell did you have to go there for?”

Letting out a harsh sigh, Charlotte stood up and whirled around. It was a motion she instantly regretted when every thing went a little off kilter and her vision started to swim. Ugh! Not this shit again. She fought against the urge to lean against the work bench to her right, not wanting Paul to decide that she needed to be taken home: that was the last place she wanted to be at that particular moment.

“Lottie?”

Finally giving up any thoughts she'd had of blowing off his question with the pretense of being fine, she practically exploded, “Ugh. I’m just … I’m so fucking tired of all the hovering!” Her fist closed around one of the lug-nut caps that were lined up on the bench, waiting patiently for the new wheels and tires that had yet to be ordered to be installed. The urge to hurl it at the closed roll-up door was only eclipsed by the desire to not mar its mirror-like finish: finding replacements that matched the original set from L.A. was hard enough the first time and she certainly didn’t want to have to do it again because she'd briefly lost her damn mind. So she forced herself to replace it into its previous spot and let out another, albeit quieter, sigh. “Look … I love Logan, ok? Like all that head over heels, all my heart bullshit? I feel all of it for him. With him. But fuck it all. He has barely given me six inches to breathe since he showed up in my damn living room. I know it's only been a few weeks, but it has felt like years and not in a good way. I mean, I had to sneak out of my own fucking home just to come down here today!”

“Sweetheart – “

“I know. And I get it. I scared the shit out of him. Hell, I scared the shit outta both of you guys. But … “ Finally turning back around – slowly and carefully this time -- to face Paul again, she let her shoulders sag. “I can’t live with someone micromanaging every second of my day. Every move I make. I … I cannot go back to that kinda life.”

Stepping up to stand in front of her, Paul gently rubbed his hands up and down her upper arms. “Have you talked to him? Told him all this?”

She laughed bitterly. “I have tried. So many times over the past few weeks. But every time I try to bring this or anything remotely related to the accident up, he just completely shuts down on me.” Voice breaking with the tears she was fighting to hold back, she muttered, “I can’t lose him again. But I can’t keep doing this either.”

“C’mere.” Careful of her still-casted arm and still-tender ribs, he wrapped his arms around her. Instinctively she tucked her face against his neck, letting his presence soothe her. After several silent moments, he pressed a kiss to her temple and asked, “You want me to talk to him ‘bout it?”

“As much as I would love for you to do that … you can’t. I have to be the one to get through to him if this is really going to work between us.”

Tightening his hug ever-so-slightly, Paul kissed her temple again. “I’m so proud of you, Lottie.”

“For what?”

“The girl I met a lil over a year ago would never.”

Pushing back from him enough to see his face, she narrowed her eyes at him as she tried to decipher his meaning. When she came up empty, she questioned him, point blank, “The hell nonsense are you talkin’ about?”

“When you first started pestering me at the sideshows, trying to bully me into giving you a spot in one of the races. You had everything so locked down, I’m not sure a stick of dynamite would have gotten you to open up. Even after I succumbed to my still-ongoing case of Stockholm Syndrome oof – “ using her cast to knock him in the stomach may not have been her smartest idea, but it was still an effective form of retaliation – “and we started hanging out more, you kept most of your feelings tucked away in that vault. I mean, sure, you eventually let me in, little by little … but, my point is, I’m proud of you for admitting how you are feeling.”

Despite the way her eyes rolled exaggeratedly, she couldn’t keep her lips from twitching with the smile threatening to break out across her face. “Would you shut up already?”

“Only after we circle back to that bit about you sneaking out to come down here. Thought you said Logan drove you?”

“Um … how ‘bout we go back to you singing my praises?” All she got in response was a stare down from Paul, so she relented with a sigh. “Fine. I noticed Logan had dozed off, so I slipped out and called a cab to bring me down.” When his eyes went wide, she held up her free hand and quickly added, “I left him a note. I’m not the one that just vanishes without a trace.” The venom in her words caught even her by surprise.

“Maybe without a trace. But never without a conversation.”

“Ugh.” Charlotte’s head fell forward so that her forehead was resting against his chest, grumbling, “Thought you were ‘posed to be my friend and stick up for me?” He shot her a knowing look, but she continued on before he could launch into the spiel she'd already heard dozens of times before. “Fine. Ok. You win. Save the damn lecture and put the time to better use. Say … running me home?”

Laughing, Paul retorted, “Bout freakin’ time, sweetheart.”

A short time later, Paul was pulling up to the curb in front of her apartment building. Mind already running through the things that she needed to say to Logan as she reached for the door handle, she jumped when Paul’s hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder. “Don’t I even get a ‘goodbye’ or ‘thank you’ first?”

“Shit! I’m sorry! Thank you so much. For letting me hang. For forcing me to talk this shit out. For bringing my ass home.”

Chuckling indulgently, he told her, “You’re welcome. For everything.” She once again started to climb from the car, but stopped when he continued, “But, I need you to promise me that you won’t sneak out like this again.”

Chuckling indulgently, she shrugged her shoulders and opened her door before tossing back, “I would, but I don’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep.”

The glare she got in response was stern, but the effect was all but negated by the warmth in his voice as he threatened, “Fine. Lemme put it to ya this way, sweetheart. If you do it again, I’m dumping your ass. For real.”

She waited until she’d stepped out and up onto the sidewalk before she turned around to say, “It’s so adorable when you act like you could live without me, lover,” before turning to walk through the front door, blowing him a kiss from over her shoulder.

As she crossed the lobby towards the elevator bank, her eyes caught on the Out of Service sign and she let out a groan. Despite her annoyance, Charlotte didn’t blink an eye before heading for the staircase, figuring it was only a minor inconvenience. Especially since, at her last appointment, the first thing she’d asked once her doctor had mentioned that she was good to start easing back into very light physical activity was if she was okay to take the stairs to her apartment, because the ancient elevators were constantly having issues and she knew that having the freedom to move around more meant nothing if she couldn’t get in and out of her damn apartment. While he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect, he assured her that she’d be fine so long as she took it slowly and carefully. Still, she knew even with the green light from her doctor, it was going to feel like a trek after having spent so long doing little more than traversing the path between her bed and her couch.

True to her expectations, by the time she’d gotten to the second floor, she was definitely more winded than she’d usually be and her entire body was beginning to take on that achy feel of being suddenly being forced to work. But neither of those things is what had her slumping against the wall with a white-knuckled grip on the handrail. No, that was brought on by the way the world had seemingly begun to spin around her, setting her completely off balance.

What could have been five minutes or five hours later, she chanced peeking an eye open, but the vibrant mosaic tile pattern of the stairs was still swirling and swimming about in front of her, causing her to slam it back closed and drop her head back – gently – against the wall. Frustrated that the only change in how she felt was the deep churning and roiling in her gut, she finally acknowledged that she wasn’t going to be making it up the rest of the way on her own and pulled her phone from her pocket to call Logan.

Without opening her eyes, she placed her finger over the fingerprint reader, waiting for the digital clicking sound that signaled it had been unlocked, but it never came. Steeling herself for the unsettling sensations that were about to wash over her, she once again peeled an eye open and pressed the power button to wake up the screen. A loud groan escaped her when the screen remained dark, reminding her that she had forgotten to charge it the night before.

Faced with the unsettling choice of either continuing on in spite of the vertigo – which seemed risky, even by her standards – or staying in her spot for who knows how long until the episode passed, Charlotte couldn’t hold back the sobs building in the back of her throat or the tears welling in the corners of her eyes as she slid down the wall to sit on the step. All she wanted, with a desperation she hadn’t felt since those first few weeks after he'd walked away the last time in L.A., was for Logan to wrap her in his arms. To whisper all of his sweet reassurances in her ear. To be the calm and steady force that centered her through the storm.

Almost as if her longing thoughts had conjured him, he was suddenly there, hands running gently over her arms and then brushing away her tears as he rattled off question after question, not leaving her space to actually answer one before moving on to the next. It was just as well, however, considering her addled mind couldn’t seem to make any sort of sense out of the words, choosing instead to latch onto the strained breathlessness with which they were uttered.

Wanting, or rather needing, to reassure him that, while she felt awful, she was wasn’t in mortal danger, she blindly reached out until her fingers brushed against the familiar, well-worn softness of his favorite denim shirt. As she ran her fingers across what she recognized as his chest, his free hand came up to tangle gently in her hair and she sank into the touch. A beat later, his forehead was resting against hers and she couldn’t have missed the shudder that ran through his body or the shaky exhale that passed his lips if she’d tried.

Charlotte’s fingers curled around the button-lined edge of shirt and she whispered, “It’s okay baby. I’m okay,” so softly she was surprised when she felt his answering scoff fan across her face, confirming that he had actually heard her.

Instead of a snarky retort or censuring lecture she was expecting to hear, the next words out of Logan’s mouth were simply, “You good if I pick you up?”

Her eyes shot open at the almost frigid indifference in his voice and the sight in front of her knocked the wind out of her like a punch to the gut. His brows were deeply furrowed and his lips were pursed together so tightly that they were barely visible. It was one thing to know that he was worried and upset – she’d felt it in his every tentative touch -- but it was something else entirely to see it.

Wanting nothing more than to ease some of his tension, she trailed her fingers up from his chest along the side of his neck and face, across his forehead until she could smooth them along the deep-set lines running between his eyebrows. It was a left-over habit from when she’d briefly moved into his loft in L.A., one that had never failed to relax him. This time, unfortunately, it didn’t have the same effect and her heart sunk just a little bit deeper into her stomach. Feeling defeated, she let her hand, along with her gaze, drop back down to her lap as she answered his question, “Yeah. I think the dizziness is mostly gone now. So long as we take it slow, I should be fine.”

Without hesitation, Logan pulled back enough to push himself up out of his crouch and it took everything she had not to whine at the loss. Within seconds, he was leaning back down to wrap one arm around her back while the other slid underneath her knees. Instinctively, Charlotte wrapped her free arm around his neck and as soon as she did, he was standing back up and tucking her against his chest, making sure to be mindful of both the strap of the sling across her back and the bulkiness of her cast. He spared her one glance with a raised eyebrow, but immediately averted his eyes when she assured him, “I’m good.”

Despite the way that he was cradling her so carefully in his arms as he carried her up the next two flights of stairs, with what seemed like no effort at all, it felt to her as if there was an entire canyon between them. Not once did he look down at her. Not once did he even twitch as if he was thinking of dropping a kiss to the top of her head. Not once did he open his mouth as if to say something to her. Even when she had to drop her head against his shoulder as a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her, the heavy silence remained.

As soon as they were back inside the apartment, Logan settled her gently onto the couch then turned to grab his pillow and a blanket from the pile of bedding he made each morning when he folded the pull-out away. Wordlessly, he tucked the blanket tightly around her – just the way she needs to be able to sleep alone. As he was reaching up to place the pillow beneath her head, she caught his wrist in her hand, whispering his name beneath her breath. Rather than make eye contact with her, he simply shook his head once and slipped away from her grip.

Stung by his rejection, Charlotte didn’t try to stop him again as he left the room. Instead, she curled up into as tight of a ball as she could on her good side, letting the scent of him on the pillow and blanket take over her senses until she was slowly drifting off into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

By the time that she woke up, the living room was cast in complete darkness, save for the bright green LED light letting her know her phone was finished charging. Lotta good that does me now. She blinked a few times in an effort to get her eyes to adjust to the lack of lighting, but still could barely make out the outlines of the rest of the furniture surrounding her. Even still, she knew Logan wasn’t in the room with her: she could always feel his presence when they were in the same space and that feeling was noticeably absent as she slowly pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the couch.

After giving herself a couple of minutes to make sure she wasn’t going to be dizzy again, she got up and headed towards the kitchen, figuring that would be his most likely location. Sure enough, she found him there, perched on one of the oversized chairs that in no way matched the tiny, shitty-ass excuse for a dining table that he currently had his forearms resting on. He was staring at the wall in front of him so intently that he didn’t even seem to hear her enter the room. Or, at least, that's what she was choosing to believe.

With just a couple more steps, she was able to close the distance between them, allowing her the ability to wrap arms around him from behind. She never made it that far, however, because as soon as her palms made contact with his shoulders, he startled and tensed beneath her touch. She opened her mouth to apologize for scaring him, but he cut her off before she had the chance, seething quietly, “Don’t you dare pull that fucking shit again.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t just sneak out without a word and then not answer your damned phone for five hours and expect me to be okay with it!”

“Okay, one? I left you a note telling you where I went. Two? As you clearly have already figured out, my fucking phone was dead. I didn’t even realize it until I was on my way back up here!”

Standing up from the chair so fast that he nearly knocked it – and her – over, Logan whipped around to face her, eyes wild with fury. “So one irresponsibility is just supposed to excuse another?”

Charlotte gave up all pretense of trying to stay calm, throwing her hands up in the air as she shouted, “For fuck’s sake, Logan! You knew where I was! If you were that damned desperate to get ahold of me, why didn’t you just call Paul?”

“I did. He wasn’t answering his goddamn phone either! By the time he finally did pick up, it was over half an hour after he’d dropped you off.” While he’d started off yelling at her in a volume that rivaled her own, Logan had trailed of into little more than a whisper by the time he was done. And that cut her deeper than the loudest insults ever could.

Unsure of how to respond, Charlotte reached up to fiddle with his spark plug necklace. It was something that had become a somewhat-nervous habit for her when he’d given it to her back in L.A. and she’d picked it up again once she’d begun wearing it almost constantly after their reunion. That simple, unthinking motion ended up being the answer to her loss of words, however, when the cool weight of it in her hand, combined with all the emotions running rampant through the room, sparked the memory of how she’d come to possess it in the first place.

“Logan, baby.” She paused, waiting until he looked up from the floor to meet her gaze before continuing gently, “You remember what you told me when you gave this to me?”

He raised an eyebrow at her as if asking her where she was going with this abrupt subject change. When she didn’t give him an answer, he let out a harsh sigh before replying, “Not entirely. I remember it was before the Grapevine job. Something about it keeping you safe like it did for me?”

“Yeah, that was part of it. You also told me how you came to wear it, too. How you'd survived a crash that you probably shouldn’t have.”

Rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up in the air, Logan sniped, “Okay … so? What's the point of this random-ass trip down memory lane?”

“You told me that you’d almost died. In a car accident. Right before we were about to go steal four very expensive sport cars. And we were going to steal them off a car hauler on the freeway, no less.” As if he had suddenly figured out where she was going with this, his eyes widened before narrowing on her. He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand to stop him. “I’m not gonna lie. As much as I was so touched that you were giving me something that meant so much to you? The story behind it fucking terrified me. Because if you – who had been driving so long and had so much skill at it – could wreck like that, what chance did I have at holding up my end of the bargain? Not to mention, just the idea of you getting hurt almost sent me into a tailspin. And I’m not so sure that that wasn’t your plan all along.”

“I – “

Walking over to wrap her arm around his neck, she kissed first his cheek and then his lips briefly and tenderly. When he didn’t tense up or pull away from her, she chanced nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. “I know, baby. You were just doing whatever you could think of to keep me safe. I understand that. And I understand that the result of me being a complete dumbass during that race scared the shit out of you. But I’m still here. I’m still alive. And today’s episode notwithstanding, I’ve been feeling really good. So this whole, hovering-over-me thing? The it’s-too-dangerous-out-there-thing you’ve been doing? It’s smothering me and I … I just can’t do it. It took me far too long to escape it with Wheeler. Far too long to find the strength to realize that it was okay – more than okay – to be who I wanted to be regardless of whether the people in my life accepted it. So … as much as I hate worrying you, I cannot go back to that old, boring version of myself, the one that never really felt like me, just because it's safer.”

Logan inhaled sharply and hands tightened ever so slightly where they had been resting on her hips since she'd tucked herself into him. A couple long beats passed before he finally muttered, “You know, you seemed to have skipped over the most important part of that story, though.”

Face scrunched up, she asked, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. That wasn’t just me giving you a good luck token. That was me trying to tell you not only to make sure you’re always in control, but also to make sure you learn from life's lessons.”

“I know.”

“Do you, though?”

Taken aback by Logan’s abrasiveness, Charlotte stumbled back a step, only to be met by narrowed eyes boring into her. “I ... I … I do.”

“Sure doesn’t seem like it from where I’m standing.”

“Logan – “

“Do you even realize how fucking stupid that stunt you pulled today was? What if that episode had hit when you were out there on the streets somewhere? All alone?”

Even though she knew his point was valid, Charlotte couldn’t bite back her derisive scoff. “First of all, I was literally by myself when it happened, so yeah, I have a decent idea.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Continuing on as if she hadn’t heard his outburst, she added heatedly, “Second, the only time I was by myself today was on the elevator ride down to the lobby, the walk from my cab to Paul’s storage unit and back here in the stairwell. It’s not like I was fucking gallivanting around the whole goddamn city.”

“For fuck’s sake! It’s not – you know what? Just forget it.” Throwing his hands up, Logan turned to storm out of the room.

“Sure. Just ru … run away. It’s – “ Tears that she refused to let fall clogged her throat and she pressed her lips together in an attempt to gather her composure. She realized, however, that the damage had been done, her stuttering robbing her words of their intended venom, so she pressed on with a watery whisper, “It’s what you do best.”

Practically freezing mid-step, he pivoted back around to face her, hands scrubbing at his face. “Damn it, Char. I’m not running away.” Shoulders falling when she rolled her eyes at him, he quickly closed the distance between them to lace their fingers together and insisted, “I’m not.”

“Then why – “

Without warning, Logan crushed his lips to hers in a kiss that left her short of breath when he finally pulled back just far enough to murmur, “’Cause you refuse to acknowledge how fucking reckless you’ve been and it is frustrating the ever livin’ shit outta me. And it just felt like it was better to walk away than say something I’d regret. Something just to hurt you. I don’t want … I can’t hurt you like that.”

Charlotte pulled back a little bit further to meet him square in the eye. “Future reference? Words are no big deal. You walking away? That’s the shit I can’t handle.”

Tangling his free hand in the hair at the base of her head, he gently pulled her face back so he could feather another kiss across her lips before replying, “Noted.” Another barely-there kiss. “Thing I can’t handle?” A slight tug of her bottom lip between his teeth that pulled a sharp gasp from her. “You not takin’ this shit seriously.”

This time, instead of leaning in again, Logan pulled pack just a bit further. She tried chasing after him, but he maintained their separation until she dropped her head back with a groan.

“You even listenin’ to me?”

“Um … yes?”

“Charlotte.”

“Hey!” She tried to glare at him, but instead ended up giggling, “You were the one distracting me!” When he leaned back in for another kiss, Charlotte dipped back as far as she could. “See! You’re doin’ it again!”

“Answer the question and I’ll stop.”

“What if I don’t want you to stop?”

Shaking his head at her with a familiar and fond smile tugging the corners of his mouth upward, he chuckled, “Okay … Answer the question or I’ll stop.” As if to emphasize his point, he pulled his hand out of hers and untangled his other from her hair to place them both on her hips to keep her planted to her spot when he took a step backwards.

Making sure to soften her words with a smile, Charlotte grumbled, “Ugh. Fine. If you’re gonna be so cruel about it … “ A light pinch pulled another giggle from her. “Okay. Okay. Yes, I heard you.”

“And?”

“And … I get it.” The incredulous look he gave her almost had her flinching. “Look, I get that I haven’t been the most … appreciative for the way that you’ve been taking care of me. And I get that I can’t go back to ‘normal’ just because I want to.”

“Char – “

“Hold up! I’m not finished!” Stopping to heave a frustrated sigh, she continued, “I’m going to do better from here on out. I’m gonna take it easy until the doctors clear me. I’ll do a better job of listening to my body when it starts telling me to take a break. And I’ll stop fighting you so much about it.”

“Not stop all the way, huh?”

“I think we both know me better than that.”

Pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, he snickered, “Okay, that’s fair. That mean we’re done with this sneaking-out shit, then?”

Raising an eyebrow defiantly, she fired back, “Depends.”

“On?”

“Are you done with all your helicopter shit? Because if you are? Then yes. I’m done sneaking out.”

Logan studied her face with an inscrutable expression on his own for what felt like hours before nodding his head once. “Fine. I’ll chill out so long as you behave.”

Wrapping her arm around his neck with a smile, she told him, “I’m so glad we got that settled. I hate fighting with you.”

“God, me too. Are you as exhausted as I am?”

Charlotte snorted as she dropped her head against his chest. “Oh, my god. You have no idea.”

“Why don’t we call it a night, then?”

The hopefulness in Logan’s voice almost made her snicker, but she managed to smother it by placing a kiss to a spot right above his heart. “That sounds like a great idea, so long as we go together tonight.

The words were barely out of her mouth before he was nodding eagerly and answering, “Done.”

A/N #2: Just in case any one is wondering (since I haven’t written about Paul and Charlotte’s friendship nearly as much as I have wanted to) and also because I just really want to share this tidbit behind Charlotte’s nickname for Paul. When the two of them first started to become friends, the way Paul was always calling her “sweetheart” drove her absolutely crazy for reasons I may actually write about at some point? lol so she decided to retaliate by calling him “lover.” Unfortunately for her, however he didn’t mind, so it obviously didn’t have the desired effect. Eventually, it became a habit of affection and each of their nicknames stuck. Thank you for indulging me in this moment of ridiculousness

Perma Tags: @burnsoslow​ @mvalentine​ @anotherbeingsworld​ @adiehardfan​

Logan Tags: @brightpinkpeppercorn