#red would be good for some angst.... so would evermore

[spiderrmax]

the urge to start a one shot series where every one shot is based off a track from a taylor swift album grows stronger every day

[idksmtms]

gold rush (Kerry Von Erich x reader) - evermore series

A/N: After writing literally only angst about David, I thought I would write… a different kind of angst with Kerry. I had way too much fun writing similes and metaphors with gold…

Summary: Kerry had always been a golden boy in the town, first with the Olympics talk, then with his wrestling career. And you? You had just been a girl with a crush, that’s all. 

Word count: ~2.6k

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, light angst, a hint of movie spoilers, unrequited love, turbulent teenage emotions, just vibes of liking someone who doesn’t know you exist and the warnings that come with that, all the good and bad emotions that come with a crush, kind of happy ending bc I couldn’t help myself, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: This is based solely on the portrayals of the brothers in the movie, not the real people. I do not own any of The Iron Claw characters. I do not claim to own any of The Iron Claw characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

Ever since you could remember, the Von Erich family had been the talk of the town. From tragedy to stardom and everything in between. Which meant that ever since you could remember, you had known of Kerry Von Erich’s existence. 

It started in highschool. He was a couple years ahead of you, but he was a sports star, so everyone knew who he was, regardless of grade. Football, wrestling, athletics, any sport under the sun was his forte. Which also meant the teachers loved him and went easy on him, meant he was friends with basically everyone, revered by people for the success he brought. And he was fun, always smiling, always laughing, always ready to party, which definitely helped his popularity. He was fashionable, a long tumble of dirty blond locks on his head that never quite became neat but added to his charm, a pair of nice jeans to add to his casual cowboy look, or a leather jacket for that hint of bad boy that everyone in highschool seemed to crave for some reason. He had all the makings for a golden child, meaning every day at school was a goldrush for those desperate enough to seek it. 

But not you. It wasn’t even on purpose, in all fairness. You didn’t hate him or anything, you just happened to be a little younger, you ran in circles that didn’t really overlap with his. While you read books in your room, he was running laps on the field. While you drank sickly sweet chocolate milkshakes with your friends, he partied with his. No overlap. 

But that didn’t mean anything to your poor, traitorous heart, because eventually the irrational little creature that sat in your chest and made you feel crazy decided it wanted in, even if it was secretly, and even if you didn’t like it. 

It started slow. You had always known he was good looking in a unique sort of way, how his face naturally fell into this almost pouty expression when he was listening or simply relaxing. He had a wide smile that he doled out without care or caution, and a huffy sort of laugh that could be heard all the time. You remembered this one time when you had been leaving school, and the parking lot was right next to the field, separated only by a chain-link fence. He was there, standing around with some friends while waiting for his turn for whatever exercise the coach was putting them through. He wore a pair of baggy shorts and a tank top, but you could already see how muscular and big he was compared to the others. One of his biceps was probably as big as your head even then. But what had caught you in the moment was the thin headband he was wearing on his forehead, a line of red that held back the sweaty bangs of his mullet. That image had stuck in your head for some reason. You recalled it later when you were sitting at your desk, trying and failing to write a history paper. Each time you brought the pen back down and began writing a few sentences, your mind would suddenly trail off to that look, how fluffy his hair looked, to the way he threw back his head and laughed and clapped one of his friends on the shoulder. You wondered what he could be laughing at, what kinds of things he found funny, and then scolded yourself for getting lost in thought about something so random and pathetic when you had better things to be doing (like said history paper). 

Then, it really started to hit you at the first houseparty you ever went to. Everyone was milling around with red solo cups, pointing each other to the table with the bottles or the glass door at the back of the room that led to the patio with the beer kegs and the crush of teenage boys trying to convince everyone to do a kegstand. All the lights had been dimmed and there was loud music from all directions. Loud chatter, drunken laughter, and the very faint sound of someone throwing up behind a bathroom door accompanied the music. 

Your friends had decided that it was their year to raise their social status, to change their personalities and become party girls. You were quite sure that they wouldn’t enjoy it, that this was all a deluded fantasy to go along with their middle school image of what a highschool experience should be like, but went along with their new whims as any supportive friend would. You had questioned if you should follow them into the house when you had all arrived, but as only one of you could drive and she was the one most hellbent on having this experience, you knew you were too late to be having second thoughts. So in you went, clutching your purse tightly and trying not to let your shoulders curl in too much. 

Once you had a drink in your hand and stood sort of near the dancefloor, the party wasn’t all bad. The music was actually quite fun and having a friend near made you feel a lot more comfortable. You had even begun lightly dancing to the music when a loud cheer was carried in from the patio and picked up by the people milling around in the living room. The crowd parted just enough for you to catch a glimpse of what had caused it, someone coming down to rest their legs on the floor after what a passerby called a ‘legendary’ kegstand.

It was Kerry, he seemed to catch the dim light perfectly even in the dark patio. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, just a shiny black leather jacket left open so everyone could see the body honed by years of sport and work on the Von Erich ranch. His scruffy hair was falling all around his head and you were quite sure beer and spit were trailing down his chin and onto his chest as he sucked deep breaths in.

And suddenly he was looking right at you, through the patio doors and the gap in the dance floor, right into your eyes. Your entire body suddenly felt like it was burning. The world slowed down then, every movement around you, from the people dancing to your friend talking animatedly beside you was suddenly so hazy and… slow.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Because he looked away, and the world was moving slightly quicker than normal and you had to close your eyes for a moment to bring yourself back to reality. He hadn’t been looking at you. He had looked vaguely in your direction, but he hadn’t seen you. And it didn’t matter anyway. Of course it didn’t matter, because he didn’t know you, and you didn’t know him! No one knew each other and nothing had happened and you weren’t suddenly feeling a bit hot and sweaty and needing a refill. 

You shook it off, scolding yourself for being so enraptured in the party atmosphere that you let yourself be lulled into a weird place where you believed Kerry Von Erich would look at you, on purpose. Maybe you did have some sort of inferiority complex when it came to the popular people, unrealised until this moment. But whatever. Didn’t matter. 

Hours later, hours you didn’t know were so easy to pass at a party that you were sure would be horrendous (but were secretly enjoying very much), you ended up in a circle of conversation with a few friends, a few people you had never before seen in your life (but somehow went to your school?!), and a little gaggle of the golden child society. Kerry stood almost directly across from you, smiling at the girl who was going on a tangent about how it was unfair to have their English class read The Great Gatsby and how boring and weird it was. You cleared your throat, biting back a smile as you sipped from your drink, waiting for her to come to a slow close. You were nervous to talk, sure, but sometimes your passion (and mouth) got ahead of you. 

“It’s actually not that bad,” you added quickly when she was quiet for more than a second. She turned to you, one eyebrow raised. A few other people did the same, Kerry included, but his face was passive, open, that expression just before a smile where a person’s eyes were alight. “I mean, sure, it can get a bit confusing, the language is in that old style, but the actual story is really interesting and captures a lot of themes.” You shrugged, smiling politely at her. Her face softened slightly, and you could tell that she didn’t view you as an enemy anymore, but you were more focused on watching Kerry out of the corner of your eye. He had turned to fully face you, arms crossed over his chest and his torso leaning back slightly. His eyebrows came just a little closer together as he looked at you, not questioning exactly, more simply intrigued. 

“Aren’t you a freshman?” The girl asked, without malice or a smirk, just curiosity as she brought her solo cup to her lips. 

“Uh, no, no, I’m a sophomore,” you told her, nodding with your own words. You saw her eyebrows raise and let out a little huff of a laugh. 

“Then why have you read the book?” It was Kerry, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion and head tilted to the side slightly. You shrugged your shoulders, a little almost incredulous scoff of a laugh leaving your lips as you poked your tongue into your cheek. Feigning confidence was the best combat to the sudden flutter in your chest, the burning at the tips of your ears, and the sudden need to blabber so there was never silence on the Earth again.  

“Um, because I have? I don’t know, I got it from the bookstore in town, and it’s a classic.” When they still looked at you like you had your head on loose, you shrugged again, adding “I like to read” like it was no big deal. To you it wasn’t, to them it was a weird hobby to have. 

“Damn, I can’t imagine sitting down on the couch and reading a book, like on purpose,” he breathed out, shaking his head. 

“Why not?” You asked, crossing one of your arms over your stomach as he looked at your face again and your insides began jumping around. 

“I don’t know, there’s so much else to do,” he shrugged, “you could be out on the field throwing a football and scoring a TOUCHDOWN!” And some of his friends gathered around him at those words, cheering loudly and shoving and shaking each other so the circle dispersed and Kerry was swept away to somewhere else. He looked back at you, just for a moment, a fleeting look where you met eyes and he was smiling just a little as if he had enjoyed the few sentences you guys had shared, barely even a second long, then he was swept up in the guys from the football team and you couldn’t see him anymore. 

And from then on, he was all you could think about, like a detective obsessed with their case, a prospector stuck on the thought of all the gold waiting for them in California. That night when your friend had driven you home, you had talked and laughed in the car but couldn’t help yourself from slipping in mentions of Kerry in the conversation. When you were laying in bed you thought about his voice, when you closed your eyes you saw him standing casually, jacket open. Even when you went back to school, you began searching him out with your eyes. You always knew where he was if he was in the same room as you, always had a little bit of your attention on what he was saying or wearing or simply just… him. 

And you began to live for those moments. Though life had gone back to exactly the way it was before the party, you hadn’t. Every brush past in the hallway, his sleeve gently grazing your arm, made the world feel unsteady, like you were falling and waiting for the inevitable hit to the ground. 

You went through all the emotions, the elation and giddiness and weird jumping feeling in the stomach. Then, as the time passed and absolutely nothing changed except this sudden and painful awareness of his existence, you slowly moved into anger and intense sadness, self-loathing and a feeling of wanting to rip your hair out. 

You weren’t a prospector like the rest of these people. You didn’t want to be a part of the goldrush. You didn’t like the gold rush. You didn’t like the way you suddenly started blushing when you saw him walking down the hall, turning your face back to your locker as if that would hide the burning even from yourself. You didn’t like that when he was in the room, your eyes were drawn to him, that your thoughts wandered to questions about what it would feel like if he held your hands in his, if there were calluses on his fingertips or how strong of a grip he liked to use. Questions about what it would feel like to love him. You didn’t like the rose-coloured glasses someone had suddenly shoved over your eyes.

And of course you kept this all to yourself. You had spent years cultivating an image as someone unbothered by highschool politics and the worship of those deemed ‘popular’. You couldn’t exactly be seen fawning over the person right at the top of the pyramid, the shiniest nugget of gold in the river. So you kept it to yourself, spiralled in your own head, getting lost in little scenarios of him driving you around in his truck with his hand on your thigh, or walking around the picturesque town that was about an hour’s drive down the highway, before zoning back into your room and the ratty grey t-shirt you were wearing.Before reconciling yourself to impossibility and that untouchable quality that seemed to hang in the air around him.   

And then one day, months later, when you had fallen deep into the throes of your secret goldrush, he came walking down the hallway during a quiet moment, when you were standing alone at your locker looking for a textbook and paused just beside you. He smiled, hands in the pockets of his school hoodie, and said “hey! Great Gatsby girl, long time no see!” And of course a million thoughts ran through your head, that you guys have gone to the same school every day before and every day since the party. That he had walked past you in this very hall earlier that morning and not once glanced in your direction. That the universe was playing a joke on you that he chose today to talk to you when you had woken up late and hadn’t given a single thought to your appearance in the morning due to a severe lack of energy. 

Instead, you just smiled, closed your locker door and wittily sent back “guy who freely admits he doesn’t understand the concept of reading!” And though the comment was a little on the mean side, and you regretted it as soon as it left your lips, he began laughing and shook his head, looking into your eyes with a wide smile and a shrug of the shoulders. And suddenly it felt like you had arrived at the part where you hit the ground after the fall… 

A/N: I’m sick of ppl thinking The Great Gatsby is overrated or weird because they were forced to read it in school. It’s literally one of the best books I’ve ever read if you actually sit down and analyse it and think about all the things it presents. Thank you for coming to my ted talk. (I’m so sorry that my intense thoughts about TGG came out today. I have zero control over myself). 

Also, genuinely might just write a separate oneshot of the little scenarios the reader was imagining because a college/highschool Kerry doing cute things with his girlfriend is now stuck in my head.   

Taglist: @nosebeers, @tourturedfolkloredepartment (a gift for bestie Jess <3)

[likeadevils]

what songs so far do you think were daydreaming exercises? to the best of your knowledge?

obligatory i’m just some guy

songs i’m pretty sure are fictional

I'm Only Me When I'm with You: it’s a 2003 song, before she moved to nashville, so she didn’t have any super close friends at the time. the romantic connotations are almost definitely made up

A Perfectly Good Heart: could be her being dramatic about a middle school breakup, but i think it’s more likely she was just daydreaming about being really sad

Fearless: taylor’s said she was just daydreaming about the perfect first date a million times, look at any concert she played this at in 2007/8

Timeless: she wrote it sometime in 2009, likely sometime after june because she mentions antiquing as a new hobby in the lover journals from that month. so it could be about somebody we don’t know about, or maybe taylor lautner, but my guess is she was just wandering around an antique store and daydreaming about being in love

Stay Stay Stay: she says she was just daydreaming, and while she definitely bent the truth with the red secret messages in particular, i’m prone to believe this one. she wrote it sometime in 2010, so “daydreaming about real love” could be a really sick burn about any number of people, but i think this was just her in between relationships fiddling around

Death By A Thousand Cuts: you can get into conspiracy theory stuff about just how on and off again her and joes relationship was, but it’s a pretty direct retelling of something great, so i believe it when she said she watched the movie and then got inspired

like, the vast majority of the unreleased tracks

song that kinda blur the line

Stay Beautiful: cor(e)y passed her in the hallway and she thought he was kinda cute, i don’t think it was a big thing as the song makes it seem

You Belong With Me: taylor’s said it was inspired by one of her band mates apologizing to his girlfriend on the phone, but everything else is made up

Mine: she said a guy put his arm around her and she saw a whole life flash before her eyes, so like, it kinda happened? it wasnt anyone she got super serious with though

Speak Now: she was the +1 to hayley williams’ ex’s wedding, joked about speak now-ing, then had a nightmare about one of her exes getting married

too many songs on folklore and evermore to list out

anything she’s ever written for a movie soundtrack

songs that probably have a muse but not anyone we know about so could be daydreaming

Cold As You: there’s an unreleased song, love to lose, that parallels cold as you. so possibly there’s some guy that inspired two songs, or she was just circling around similar themes

Electric Touch

Foolish One: possibly joe jonas angst, possible pre-relationship john mayer angst, possibly someone else, who knows what taylor was up to in 2009 man that girl had a fucking roster going

Everything Has Changed

Message In A Bottle: i like to think it’s about eddie redmayne but genuinely i have no clue

Wildest Dreams: iirc she said it was her being dramatic and thinking no one would ever want to really fall in love with her at the grammy museum performance but like who knows if it was general discomfort or a specific person that inspired it

Crazier: could be a drew song, could be her daydreaming

Beautiful Eyes and I Heart ?: don’t know enough about these songs to say one way or another, but i believe she’s claimed the i heart ? thing actually happened? cant remember where though

[vhagarlovebot]

៹ ✦ㅤㅤ:ㅤ 𝐕𝐇𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐓’𝐒 𝟑𝐊 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐘!ㅤ ♡.

first of all i just want to say that i'm so grateful for you all! i never—really never—thought there would be so many people reading and loving my writing. i adore each and every one of you so much.

the celebration is open until MAY 14th.

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IMPORTANT RULES:

#. feel free to spam my inbox and send as many requests as you like. just remember to send one event per ask.

#. i’m going to write little concepts and drabbles because i’m not good at writing under pressure and that’s why i don’t want to do one shots or anything too long.

#. keep in mind i can and i will turn down any request if i don’t feel comfortable with it.

i write. fluff, angst & smut. fem!reader (i try not to physically describe her), incest/stepcest, most kinks, poly relationship, dubcon, sub!reader, cheating, toxic relationship, modern!au.

i don’t write. real people, piss kink, age play, pedophilia, foot fetish, pegging, explicit rape, explicit mental health problems, heavy violence.

characters.

aemond targaryen. jacaerys velaryon (only sfw). aegon ii targaryen. cregan stark. tom bennett. osferth. jake sully. tasm!peter parker. remus lupin. sirius black. james potter. kylo ren.

DEBUT. play some games with me (cym, fmk, would you rather, this or that, anything you want!).

FEARLESS (TAYLOR’S VERSION). send me a scenario and a character and i will make a playlist for you! (mutuals only)

SPEAK NOW (TAYLOR’S VERSION). get to know me! ask me about anything you want, my favorite book, movies, show, etc.

RED (TAYLOR’S VERSION). send in a character and a scenario for a moodboard. (example: study date with peter parker)

1989. ask me my top 5 of anything and i will list them for you!

REPUTATION. tell me a little bit about yourself and i will ship you with one of the characters i write for.

LOVER. get a moodboard for yourself! it can be based on your blog theme, vibe or a specific scenario.

FOLKLORE. send me a prompt/kink/scenario and a character, and i will write you a drabble/blurb.

EVERMORE. tell me what’s your favorite book/movie/show and i will recommend you a taylor swift’s song.

MIDNIGHTS. send me this and i will tell you three things i like about you/your blog. (mutuals only)

tagging some moots to spread the word (and sorry to bother you all again, ily). <3

@vermithorn @pxgeturner @arcielee @kuwrenai @saturnband @oncasette @aemondsmoon @fleurfairie @aemondsversion @oneeyedvisenya @humanpurposes @randomdragonfires @fxllfaiiry @osferthsbussy @gothtargaryen @princeaemonds @fairysluna @ilikeitbetterangsty @targaryenbrainrot @thethyri @marthawrites @bruisedboys @cosmal @fan-goddess @insxghtt @blondedmuse @userdjarins @jasonsmirrorball @fictionalmenjusthitdifferent @folkloresthings ♡

[mytrashcanlife]

As Fire Loves Innocence (Xavier Thorpe x Reader) Pt 7

Trigger Warning: Mentions of SA and Trauma, Angst, Mentions of underaged drinking. 

“You must be my Nevermore Workers.” You feel Xavier tense up beside you. Nobody speaks for a moment as you notice that the tall black man in front of you is staring at Xavier with an icy look. “Lucas, what are you doing here?” “Tyler left town last year and I picked up the job. Dad thought this would help me build character” You could cut the tension in the room with a knife, but you just wanted to get behind the bar and start this day. The sooner you start the sooner it ends, and you can go home, so you decide to introduce yourself. “Hi. My name is Y/N. Lucas, right?” You see suspicion in his eyes as he looks you over. You had worn a simple black t-shirt and matching pants to avoid getting your school uniform messed up. “Yeah. Nice to meet you. Xavier, you were here last year you know what to do grab an apron from the back for your friend too.” Xavier leaves through the swinging door to the back room. “Y/N, is it? Have you ever worked with espresso before?” “Yes sir. I was a Barista back home before I transferred to evermore.” “Perfect you’re behind the bar with your Xavier. If you need anything I’ll be in the break room.” As Xavier comes back to you with an apron Lucas disappears leaving the two of you alone at the front of the Café. It was empty at the moment, so you took the time to start wiping the tables, while Xavier was making sure everything behind the bar was working and clean.   “So, Xavier?” “Yeah?” “What’s with you and Lucas giving each other the look of death?” “He and his friends have caused nothing but trouble for Nevermore. You remember when Enid told you some kids destroyed my mural?” “Yeah. That was awful.” “That was him and his buddies.” “Oh. I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” As more people started to arrive at the caffe the two of you had split up duties. You were currently at the register while Xavier had gone to the back room to grab some more syrups. Just as the last customer in a while was leaving, two more boys walk in and they look surprised to see you. You put on your best customer service smile and voice. “Hello. Welcome to the Weathervane. What can I get started for you today?” “You’re new. What’s your name?” “I’m temporary. My name is Y/N L/N. I’m here for outreach day from Nevermore.  So, what can I get started for you today?” His friend speaks up behind him. “Wait a minute I know that name. You’re that girl that burned a man alive! They let you out in public after that?” Your heart is beating faster, and you feel your breath shortening. “That’s not what happened.” “That’s what the court says happened.” “I-I-I didn’t—“ “Hey what’s going on?” You look up to see Xavier walking over. “Leave her alone asshole.” The boy in front of you begins to laugh. “Xavier?! What is this your new freak of a girlfriend?” One of them reaches over the counter and grabs your wrist. “Pigtails and knives wasn’t enough for you? You wanted to play with fire too? “Don’t touch me!” You grab his hand on your wrist. SSSS “OW!” He lets go of you and pulls his hand back. It’s bright red and smoking slightly as if he had touched a stove. “The bitch burned me!” You feel the panic start to set in and look at Xavier with wide eyes. “I-I didn’t mean to. I promise.” “It’s okay.” “It is NOT OKAY she burned me! I’m telling the sheriff!” Without a word Xavier grabs a nearby cup of drip coffee and throws it on his already burned hand. The coffee covers a good bit of him, but it isn’t quite hot enough to do much damage. “What the hell dude!” “Dude we gotta get out of here.” At that moment Lucas emerged from the break room to see what all the yelling was for. He saw the end of the scene in the dining room as his friends were leaving. “What on earth happened?!” Before you can say anything, Xavier speaks up. “Your friends came in to harass mine. I spilled coffee on him, and he ran.” “Great. I’ll have to deal with that later too!” Lucas returns to the back room, and you turned to Xavier. “Thank you.” “It was nothing.” “No, it was something. I actually lost control and you took the blame for me. You know the principle is gonna be pissed when she finds out about this.” “I can handle her. Don’t worry about me. Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” “Good. That’s all that matters, and I’ll bet you anything they won’t touch you again.”

[dre6ming]

I’m a soldier who’s returning half her weight

Masterlist

Part I~ our very last kiss

To be added to the tag list click here

Pairing: Timothee Chalamet x fem reader / Austin Butler x fem reader

Warnings: cursing, assault, alcohol, strong language, anxiety, fluff, angst… hope that’s all

Plot: life isn’t just pain and unfairness, you just needed someone to show you that.

Word count: 3250+

Disclaimer: I’m not making assumptions about Austin or his behavior, but this was the best way to continue the fic, since y’all really wanted a part two. There was no way I could’ve made reader forgive Austin, sorry.

You promised yourself to never see him again, but as fate would have it, you met Timothee a few months ago and now you are at the premiere of his movie. A movie in which your ex, if you can call him that, stars. You and Timothee connected through mutual friends, Zendaya invited you over at her house for a little gathering and he was there. The two of you talked the entire night and you were truly smitten with him, he's so nice, a true gentleman. You can't help the smile that shows up when you think about that night. It was the first time you smiled since months of constant crying.

~flashback~

You are sitting on the edge of the pool, champagne glass in hand and feet moving around in the water. Zendaya invited you to this party and you really wanted to say 'no', but you've been saying no too much. You need to move on with your life. At one point tonight, you had high hopes for the party, but then every single person you met, congratulated you on your Oscar performance in the Elvis movie and every single time it was like a punch in the gut. The news have gone quiet about the whole ordeal, but questions were still asked. Why weren't you at any of the awards? Why didn't you say thank you for your Oscar? Why have you disappeared from the world?

A person coming to sit close to you on the edge of the pool, interrupts your spiraling. Looking a the newcomer, you immediately recognize him. "Not much of a talker?" He asks and you simply blink at him. Is he trying to make fun of you? Insult you? "Me neither, I'm Timothee, by the way" he says smiling at you and you can't help that you heart skips a beat. "(Y/n)" you say taking his hand to shake, but he surprises you when he brings it up to his lips and kisses it. Wow his lips are soft, you think. "So what do you think of the champagne? Personally I told Daya to go with a cheaper brand, I don't know why but it tastes better than the fancy one." You smile at him, bringing your glass up to your lips to finally take a sip, since you've been just holding it for a while now. When the liquid touches your tongue, you can't help scrunching your nose in discomfort. "Oh yeah, I don't like it!" You say placing the glass next to you. Sharing a laugh with Timothee.

That was your first laugh since he, the one who shall not be named, happened to you. It was weird how good it felt. "So if you could pick one album to listen to, for the rest of your life, what would it be? And if you could add one song from another album to it, what would it be?" He ask. The question takes a minute to answer, you're really serious about music. "I guess I'd have to go with 'Red (Taylor's Version)' and I'd add.. hm" you take a moment to pick one song you'd like to add to make the story complete. He listens to you carefully, almost exited to hear the full answer. " 'Evermore' yeah, it fits" you finally say. Looking at him you see a glimmer in his eyes, something saying he wants to know the reason behind you choosing a break up album and an agonizingly sad song, but he doesn't ask. He's so respectful, he's the only one tonight to not bring Elvis up.

"You have good taste I'll give you that!" You smile, it feels so natural with him. "Ok what about you?" He shakes his head, brushing back some loose hair. "Naha I can't pick" you open your mouth in fake shock and giggle. "Not playing fair!" You say. He leans closer to you and whispering right in your ear, he says. "Ok, I'll tell you, but you have to keep it a secret. I think I'd pick Adele's album 25 and I'd add 'Why'd you only call me when you're high' " you shiver as his hot breath touches your skin, but he seems to think it's the cold air, as in a minute the cardigan he has on rests on your shoulders. "Thank you!"

The rest of the night the two of you talked about everything and anything, not once did you think about you know who. You and Timothee exchanged numbers and he drove you home that night.

~end of flashback~

Over the course of three months the two of officially started dating and a few weeks ago paparazzi photographed you together. It's still a very private situation, but you wanted to be here for him tonight, to walk the carpet with him, hug him and tell him how amazing he did. You and him never really talked about what happened on the set of Elvis, but you suspect he has an idea what, or more specifically, who happened.

Smoothing over the fabric o your dress, you smile and look confident in the mirror. The skin color garment was picked to match Timothee and it did an amazing job at hugging you in all the right places. "Hi baby." Tim hugs you form behind, kissing your shoulder. His lips linger on your skin for a little longer, making you giggle with the ticklish feeling. "You look gorgeous!" You turn around in his arms to see his face. He looks as handsome as ever, curly hair framing his delicate features. "Hoping to match your beauty." You say, making him shake his head in disbelief. His lips touch yours, dancing in perfect sink with yours. It's slow and sweet, full of honest emotions, it makes your heart fill with joy, to know that you can in fact be loved by someone and it doesn't have to be pretend.

When you pull away to breathe in some air, he quickly gives you another kiss in the lips that only lasts a millisecond, before he kisses all over your face. Giggling you push against his chest. "Stop you'll smudge my makeup" he takes this as a sign to attack you neck next, making you break into a fit of laughter. Tim joins you, laughing in between kisses. Your fun is short lived as his publicist comes in, letting you know you're walking the carpet in 5 minutes. "I love you!" Timothee says, his tone so sincere it almost makes you fall to your knees, begging him to never stop saying that. The look in his eyes is one of pure adoration, like you're his most prized possession. "I love you too, now let's go, we gotta get you on the carpet."

He turns around to walk to the door and you pinch his butt, making him laugh. Before he can turn and do the same to you, you're out the door, running. Timothee is of course faster than you, so he catches you from behind and lifts you up bridal style. You're laughing so hard your stomach hurts. "Put me down!" You say through fits of laughter. "Naha you wanna be a brat, I'll treat you as such." He says kissing your cheek. "I'm sorry, I love you." You say as he slowly places you back on your feet. He backs you against the wall, both his hands resting on either side of your head. "How sorry?!" Tim brings his body flush with yours and you have to remind yourself you are going to walk in front on thousands of cameras. "I'll show you later" grabbing his suit jacket, you kiss him.

"Hey yo, Chalamet, what's up man!" A male voice says, causing you to pull apart. Tim turns around and shakes the guys hand. As your vision focuses on the man, your body goes stiff and the literal life is drained out of you. Austin doesn't even notice you, glued to the wall, behind Timothee, heart beating out of your chest. You feel lightheaded and start seeing black dots all over. This is the first time you and him see each other in a year. Timothee never forgets you're behind him and when he turns to look at you, concern washes over him, seeing your trembling state. "Hi (y/n), nice to see you again, it's been a minute." Austin puts his hand out for you to shake. He really has no limit? Nice to see you? Fucker. You want to spit on him and knee him in those balls of his. Oh how you'd love to see him fall to his knees in pain.

Instead you take Timothee by the hand and walk. You don't even glance back at him, you just walk, leaving him surprised in his place. Without question Timmy follows you, his thumb drawing circles on the back of you hand. He wants to know what just happened, but he knows now is not the place or time to ask, so he's making sure you know he's there for you. He takes his phone out of the pocket of his pants and quickly texts his assistant to move your spots in the cinema, this way you will be a row away from Butler, instead of just a chair apart. He does this without you even knowing, because that's him, always understanding things without asking for too much information.

The carpet goes smoothly, you and Timothee share a few tender moments in front of cameras. This is your first official public appearance and the paparazzi are going crazy. All the way to your seats, Timothee tells you how beautiful you are tonight, adding that he can't wait to take the dress off of you, when you get back.

The movie is great and at the end it gets a 6 minute standing ovation. You hug him tightly, whispering praises in his ear. The movie was really amazing. Proud doesn't even cover how you feel about Timmy. "Thank you, love!" He whispered in your ear, kissing your neck. He holds you tight, so tight you wish he would never let go, but he eventually does as he goes to congratulate the rest of the cast and crew. After that he did a couple interviews, answering questions about the movie and sometimes about the two of you. Question to which he'd answer "what we have it's for us to know, we're happy and we'd like to keep it that way." That only further confirmed how much he cares for you.

While  he was stuck taking a few more pictures with the rest of the cast, you went to change out of the carpet look, into something more comfortable for the after party. You weren't really too ecstatic about it and Timmy tried to tell you that the two of you could spend the night together, eating your weight in candy, drinking wine and watching all the "pirates of the Caribbean" movies all over again. But it was important that he goes, he was supposed to have a good time with his friends, he deserves it.

The sequence romper you chose kinda scratches your skin, but it looks beautiful, there's no denying. "Hi love, you look beautiful!" Timothee said as he made his way out the bathroom, hair a little damp from his shower. He has a pair of black jeans on and no shirt yet, giving you the opportunity to run your hands over his smooth skin. A blush appears on his face and you smile brightly at how easy it is for you to make his act like a teenager in love. "You know we could just stay in..." his hands grab your ass and give it a firm squeeze, making you giggle. "I'm sure we'll find ways to entertain ourselves" a smirk painted on his lips.

Shaking your head, you get out of his embrace and take the white dress shirt form the bed, holding it up for him to put his arms through the sleeve. "I'm sure we would, but we can do that, after the party as well." You say buttoning up his shirt and kissing the tip of his nose. Scrunching up his nose, he lets out a disapproving groan, but he knows you're right. Grabbing you things you make your way to the car, holding hands.

The ride to the club is quiet, as you rest your head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, your favorite song for a while now. Making your way in the club, looking down as the paparazzi take pictures, you finally breath when he hugs you, dancing with you to the music. You're not much of a dancer, but with him, this feels nice, funny. You're a giggling mess and so is he.

Taking a break from dancing, you find Zendaya, who brought Tom and the three of you converse for a while. After a 4th martini you need to go to the bathroom so you excuse yourself and make your way through the crowd. Before you reach the bathroom and hand grabs your elbow and spins you around. Austin is towering over you and your head starts spinning. "Hey what was that? Hm? Ignoring me? Making Timothée change seats?" He asks. You can't believe him, was he high? What the fuck is wrong with him? "We're not friends Austin" you say and search the place for an escape, but you're surrounded by strangers and you can't see Tim anywhere. "And fucking Timothee? What's that about?" Snapping your head up at him, you wish to rip his eye out.

"What do you want from me? Don't you have a girlfriend to bother?" Austin shakes his head, clicking his tongue and smirking at you. Coming closer to you he cages you against the wall. You feel like you might throw up and that might just be the thing to save you from him, but it would cause an unnecessary scene. "So that's what this was? You trying to make me jealous, satnin?" One oh his hands forcefully grabs your chin and makes you look at him. Tears fall out of your eye and you can no longer see, you hear the loud music vibrating through your bones as you shake like a leaf. "You're sick, you should get help. I'm not your satnin or your 'Cilla" you spit remembering that's what he used to call you during sex. "I'm (y/n) and I'm here to support my lovely boyfriend. You are nothing but one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I can't take back any of the things I gave to you, but I can keep my pride." You push with all your power against his chest, but it's to no avail, he's to strong.

Austin slams his hand on the wall near your face, making you flinch, closing your eyes, trying to imagine yourself somewhere else. "Listen you bitch, stop acting like a child. You are an adult and you consented to everything we did." His mouth goes to the shell of your ear, shivers running down your spine, in fear of how close he is. "And if I remember correctly, it wasn't until I stopped fucking you, that you had a problem..." before he can say anything more, you feel him pull away and you open your eyes to see Timothee grab Austin by the shoulders and punching him. Before Austin has a chance to react, Tom and some other guys push the two of them apart. Zendaya comes to your side and walks you to the back exit. "Shh, you're fine, it's fine" she tries to calm you down as you cry in her arms, but you can't stop. "Daya, I've got this" Timothee says and you feel Zendaya's arms loosen around you as she lest Timothee hug you.

You don’t even remember how he got you to get in the car and the way up to your hotel room. You only became aware of your surroundings when you watch yourself in the bathroom mirror. Face red and swollen, wet with tears. Timothee stared a bath for you and is now working on undressing you. Helping him with the task the two of you sink in the warm water. He shakes his arms around your waist, bringing you to rest on his chest. Timothee kisses the top of your head, holding you shaking figure. “You’re safe love, it’s just you and me” taking a shaky breath you turn around to hug his neck and hold your body flush against his. “I’m s-sorry!” You say, but he’s quick to shake his head. “Don’t be, I don’t know what the asshole did to you, but love, it’s not your fault, you looked so small and scared, with him so close.” He can’t help the shiver that runs through him, when the image of you pinned to the wall, crying and shaking, comes back to him.

His arms tighten around you, like trying to convince himself that he got you out of there and that you are in fact in his embrace. “He-“ you swallow trying to speak, but it’s hard, it feels like a wound has be reopened and is now bleeding heavier than before. “You don’t have to tell me!” His warm hands massage your skin and the two of you stay like that until the water gets cold. He helps you out of the tub and into some of his clothes. Tugging you in bed, he comes under the covers with you, burying his face in your hair, breathing in the scent of your perfume. “I love you, you’ll tell me all about it when you’re ready” he speaks softly. “And if you’re never ready, that’s fine, you’re still my (y/n), the lovely, smart, kind, beautiful, caring person I met by the poolside.” You giggle and feel his soft lips paint kisses over your tender flesh. Slowly your heart calms down and you feel sleep take over you. “Thank you, I love you so much, my Timothee” you kiss his cheek and he laughs. “I love you too!”

You fall asleep and you are happy to say that now you feel like the Austin, chapter is finally closed. To a degree you feel sorry for him, because you realize he needs help to deal with whatever it was that made him not be able to dissociate between you and your character, but he’s not your problem anymore.

You’re so happy finally and your first might of been a horror story, but your second erases that memory. You and Timothee date for four years, working through busy schedules and distance, but you trust and love each other, so it lasts. After four years on your anniversary trip to Florence, he’s offers you a ring one morning. The dainty jewelry, a gold band with four diamonds lined up, fits your personality and the proposal, simple and intimate is exactly how you want it. You say ‘yes’ and spend the rest of the day in bed with him, cherishing each other and then six months later you have a small reception. Only your family and close friends, but neither of you wanted it any different.

You are truly blessed with the way things turned out for you and as you rub your swollen feet, sitting in a chair 6 months pregnant, looking at your husband playing tea party with your three year old daughter, you feel nothing but joy.

Tags: @kittenlittle24 @amorx @cryingabtab @lexicox044 @lrissa @feral4austinbutler @sageskywalker @jesssssicaa @rainydayz101 @flwersgarden @bobthefishiesworld @captured-memory @homebodybirkin2003 @galaxygirl453 @butlerslut @chrisevansgirl34 @myradiaz @pennyroyalcreep @macey234 @im-lame-irl @lordandmistress @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @poppet05 @gabbywontlose @4shbug @0-thegoodwitch-0 @hauntedarchivesx @chewiethecatus @sunnyx07 @francesbloomer

[peeterparkr]

invisible string;tom holland.

summary:  life has a way of pulling you and Tom close to each other, then it pulls you apart. 

 “It is like an invisible red cord or thread which connects you to that one person you’re destined to meet, your true love.” 

soulmate au

word count: 6.4k

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: breakup mention, fluff, angst. fluffy angst. 

LOOK I TRIED TO WRITE FLUFF BUT I’M NOT GOOD AT IT SO ANGST CAME BUT I TRIED BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

heavily inspired by folklore and evermore by taylor

thanks @jambrosemc for helping me you’re amazing

So, this is for one of my best friends here, @badhollandfluff, Delaney I’m sorry this took so long but I wanted it to be perfect for you, surprise!!! I’m your secret Santa! Love you, hope you had an amazing Christmas and I wish you a happy new year, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Thanks to everyone who joined, happy holidays!! 

No one ever has time. We’re always running and rushing and trying to save a little, it’s always like we have it counted and we never truly realize time is passing by. The clock keeps ticking. You were a victim of that, sometimes, always running, never knowing why. Time always going faster than you wanted it to be. 

Until it stopped, it had stopped since last year. 

There you were now. A white mug. These days you don’t really see that. Everyone has the paper cups with the coffee collar. Their names scribbled on black that probably still smells like sharpie. But you were holding a white mug, that now was just slightly stained by your pink lipstick. 

The mug was stained inside too, with the leftover foam of your capuchino. You were letting it set cold, watching as the people would walk in. Waiting. 

You trailed your gaze around the room, there are some couples around you.

You liked the idea of this café, with people gathering around just for the simple fact of drinking a hot coffee out of a mug. You like to come here, to sit out your thoughts, sometimes you’ll find some time to work, read. But you’d be alone. You’ve been lonely lately. 

It didn’t matter, it’s fair to point that out. But today, you were going to meet him. Again. 

But you didn’t know that yet. 

You had once read about soul connections, interested if you’d ever find your own, seemed like most people around had met them. You hadn't. Not the one you were longing to find, that is. 

Bizarre. 

Honestly, you didn’t believe in them. Or you liked to say that to yourself, sad enough to admit you hadn’t found any type of strong connection. 

Or maybe you had. 

But it made absolutely remotely no sense, at all. 

How could you? There was absolutely no scientific proof that there were soulmates, and though everyone said you could feel them, that you’d sense it, and though the extinguished sadness on your friends could be proof enough, you were still sceptic. Maybe just doubting if you’d find yours. Or maybe you didn’t want to accept who was yours. 

Because Tom had left. 

Your friends had assured you that when they’d found it the world had turned idyllic, a pink life. 

Yeah, it had felt like that when you’d found Tom, but now everything was gray. 

However, you knew more about them than anyone else. You had researched about them, you had read about them and you were so informed that you sometimes didn’t even believe it. 

Though you liked to ignore that sometimes there was a song stuck in your head without reason or there was a sudden joy, that had no possible explanation. 

“It’s your soulmate,” someone would point out. 

It wasn’t, it’s just Tom’s favorite song. 

There was also a sense of pain, sometimes you didn’t understand why you felt such a heartbreak, how bad had they hurt them? If they did exist, that is. 

They didn’t, though. 

You’d read about that heart connection, that feelings connect trying to understand how it comes and goes.  

There are three types of connections. Karmic partnership, soulmates and twin flames. Different types of connections. 

First ones, karmic partnership, and it is as bad as it sounds. They’re often confused as soulmates and people like to cling to them. They’re… awful,  being the one heartache that is there to teach a lesson, the one person that is there to show you something about yourself, the one person who is strictly there for character development, let’s say. The one person you fall in love with and keep falling in love, but it’s not love,  no matter how many times they hurt each other they go back. It’s not love, though. Or maybe it is, but there reason they exist is strictly to make you reason. It becomes….Cyclic. Until you finally decide to break the cycle. Intense transformation, the one person that makes you see yourself from a different perspective and change. There is, however, no compatibility. 

Probably what you had with Tom. But… no, it wasn’t… There was too much compatibility. 

You’ve had your fair share of them, maybe you’ve had 

Then there are the soulmates. The perfect compatibility. 

The one connection that is beautiful, a person that you just… feel it. The one person you feel like you’ve waited for them your whole life. Strong compatibility, there are more than one soulmate, that is to say, it could be friends, it could be family. It doesn’t have to be a romantic partner. There are soulmates that you wonder how they can be such an incredible connection. 

Everyone has soulmates. You knew you’d met some of them, the friends one that is. None of them a connection strong enough to be your partner. Not that you didn’t want to, though. 

Or maybe you didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

You’ve read somewhere in the internet that there are connections that go beyond your wildest imagination. Go beyond soulmates. The… twin flames, the one your soul is so attached to, you can feel their pain, their joy. 

Journeys end when lovers meet. 

It’s fair to say, you’ve never believed in that information. Less after a heartbreak. 

You had a million thoughts over your head, oozing you with stress and feeding your not long enough sleep schedule. You were slightly angry, you’d say. You didn’t like him anymore. 

There are two kinds of people when it comes to liking someone. The ones who go forward it, fighting for it, hinting on it. Flirting as if there was no tomorrow. People like Tom. 

And then there’s people who run away from feelings and try to pretend to act natural around their crushes. People who definitely don’t want to overstep boundaries and are afraid of ruining friendships. People like you. 

But there was nothing to ruin now, was there? 

Because there’s also people who give up. People like him. And people who never dare to forget. People like you. 

It was never even. 

But you keep daydreaming about him and can’t help that tinge of red spreading across your cheekbones every time he was near you. You shouldn’t have given in. You should’ve fought, but you were reckless. A sunrise dropping by again, and you wondered what had gone wrong.

Tom wanted to talk, you didn’t. You loved him, he didn’t love you. 

Tom was gone. For good.

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. 

It’s the kind of love that you’d probably want to avoid. You at least, avoided all kinds. After him, who’d want to love anyone else? He was the only one who could tell if you dared to smile with your eyes only. 

How stupid were you to believe he was your soulmate. 

But no, this wasn’t right. Because feelings make everything blurry and it’s something not exact. If it wasn’t for science and numbers you didn’t like to believe anything.  If you don’t know how it’ll turn out then you’ll probably avoid it. And when it comes to relationships, you never truly know. Or sometimes you do, but it’s usually... not pretty. You’d learned that with him. 

Relationships end, and while you don’t want them to. You’ve sensed it, from the beginning. And you just hope that they’ll remember you in a nice way. Did he? Or had he just passed the page. 

You still felt stuck in a chapter. He had stopped reading. So hard to be on different books now. 

But with him, He was an exception. He was pushy and wasn’t giving up at the beginning until he did. You had seen him fall out of love, and that’s the worst kind of thing you get to face, when you see them slowly trailing far from you. 

Plans? Dreams? The willow tree in that park when you had first kissed was still crying over your breakup. Your head had been low since you’d last kissed him. Had you known it was your last, you’d probably would’ve made it last longer, you would’ve held him for more time. You wouldn’t have let him leave. 

But you had had your moment with him. It had been the last time you saw him. The one moment when you realized that his  fake smile was just that, how convenient and cliche. But you didn’t want to give you in, just yet. No, you wouldn’t. He’d changed, and you didn’t like who he was now. Too changed, too built up, too busy, too whatever you could come up with. 

You got tired of begging, and then he was easy to forget, you hadn’t forgotten. Just two years ago you thought he’d made a decision, you had made it. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. But he didn’t. And you couldn’t stop him, he was growing and growing and simply he escaped from your touch. 

Then it had been a goodbye, and nobody had seen it coming. You had, you’d known it for a long time. And it was weird, you were so in love with him that you knew that it was the best for you both, to get away because though you loved him, you knew he wouldn’t be happy with you. It’s difficult to let go of what makes you happy. 

You remembered it, how both of you would only smile at each other, like damn strangers, say a few hellos, and a fews how’s the weather, as if you hadn’t spent countless nights in between the sheets, as if you hadn’t danced in the middle of the night, as if you hadn’t given him each of the stars in the night sky, as if you hadn’t shared enough drinks together. Or as if you hadn’t fought for your love. You with that red jacket of his. How every path led to him. How every stupid weekend belonged to him, but now you wished they’d pass by sooner. 

Maybe that’s why you were always rushing, so you wouldn’t feel it. You didn’t like the weekends anymore. 

And now, she looked at him the way you were supposed to look at him. At first, it had hurt just a little, you hadn’t believed it. You knew it, everybody wanted to love him, but nobody knew what it felt, the crushing feeling that was loving him. How much it hurt, to watch him paddling with a precious smile, and those pair of angelic eyes, so pure and then turn into a devil just for you. 

Nobody knew how it felt. Anticipating a heartbreak every time he walked in, and to pretend that you didn’t feel that anymore. 

Last time only you thought you’d give him your heart, and he had pushed you away because his heart belonged to someone else. Then it was forbidden, to think about him, to dream about him, to still smell his scent on your pillows. It wasn’t right. 

How could his heart ever belong to someone else but you? 

And you had to smile, to say you were happy for him. Because you were, and that new girl was a fool because anyone who dares to fall for him is a fool, tangled in between lies. She who dares to love him is willing to have her heart crushed by him. And who but a fool is willing to let your heart be crushed by him. 

Last time you’d seen him had been a friday night, 10pm on that one pub he liked going to. You had gone out with your friends, and he was there, with her against his shoulder, her with the long hair and the perfect smile, perfect laugh. 

To think that had been your place once. You had avoided his gaze, ignored he was there. Pretending he hadn’t seen you. But he had. Pretending you hadn’t seen him. But you had. 

Someone had said there is life after love, but there is not love after him. It’s like you’d thrown everything to the fire, and he had watched it burn. Everyone said it: you’ll be happy. 

When? 

Sure, it’d come, eventually. But it had been a year. 

You’d heard he had broken up with her, a while ago. Then it was that hope again, probably why you were recurring to that café. 

It’s funny to think you’ll love someone forever, and then it just… disappears. Every promise eventually breaks, every kiss eventually fades, and love is eventually gone.

Then why wasn’t it? 

Time was your biggest enemy. 

Your story with him, from the moment you’d first seen him, he was just—perfect, you thought about it, how everyone said it was your soulmate. And you believed it. From the moment you’d met him, you had finally believed in soulmates, because it made sense. How your story had been built up to him, and how many times of sudden joy had you had before meeting him because of how close you were. 

Life had been so reckless. You were supposed to meet him several times before you actually met. It was stupid to think, how you were always thinking about it, now that you were apart. 

The first time you’d ever crossed paths had been when you had been very, very young. You didn’t know he had been there, not aware, at a park. And there had been this sudden joy. You remembered feeling it, you’d said it, felt a spark. 

Just children unaware of a flame burning too deep inside of you. 

That other time, at the supermarket when both of you had gone with each other’s mothers and both of you had been playing with the toys. 

You’d never forgotten that one very time, first time your hands ever touched, and it had felt like electricity. Two kids very confused by that spark, when both of them had reached to that one toy, confused. 

Or that one time at the café when he had walked in, you were sure he had walked in, you’d felt it, how your heart had started to beat so fast,  but before you could even glance at him he had walked out. Lost in the crowds, always. 

How both of you had had a broken heart at the same time. First kiss had been almost at the same time, just blocks away, actually. 

Or how you’d both been at that one party, but didn’t know about it. It made no sense how life had been so desperate to get you together but both your surroundings pulled you away. That night had been so close, both dancing behind each other, singing on top of your lungs to the same stupid song. 

Or that one time when someone had pointed him to you when you were at that one pub, “look, that guy is cute.” 

You had looked at him, he was. Shy smiles had only been directed in each other’s direction. 

You’d later learned he’d sent you a drink but the waiter had mistaken the table. 

That one time when you had run out of cash at that sandwich place because their card machine had stopped working, you were rushing, and you were missing only cents, and Tom had come to your rescue. 

Or how he worked near you and his dad had been friends with your mom at some point. How his favorite song was the same as yours, and how often you’d be at the same park, him on his phone, you reading a book. 

How you’d once met his dog that had run over to you. A dog that would learn to love you and did miss you from time to time. 

How Tom had randomly found that one book you’d lost at the park once, under that willow tree and he’d read it. Loved it and then lost it again at that same park, with a random paper note that read: “Jerry’s 8pm, wine.” he’d used as a book separator. 

Who was Jerry? What would happen at 8pm? Wine? What type? Red? Rose? White? Why were you so intrigued by that note? 

You’d kept it to this day. Still didn’t know what it was. You knew Jerry now, though, he was a friend.  And now you knew that he liked wine but preferred beer. 

You’d given him a pretty book separator. He still had kept it to this day, never used it, he always used random notes or napkins or whatever he found. At first it stressed you, how many book separators did you not have and he’d use napkins or those fortune papers that come with fortune cookies. So you had transformed into a better habit, you would write notes so he’d used them. You’d order chinese food more often, too. 

He said he’d always remember that, your little notes, the way you always stained your cup of coffee with lipstick, your two left feet when you danced, or the fact that your laugh would be heard across a room. He’d always recognize your laugh. 

What a Whimsical thing love is when it’s not the right time. 

How many times have you not felt like there was something missing? Until he appeared, at that one park near the cafe where you are sitting right now. The first time you’d ever officially met. Nothing out of a book, something very casual. Both of you at that café, it had been crowded that one day and the only chair available was the one in front of you. 

“I’m sorry, hello,” he had said, making you look up from your book. “May—I sit here?” He asked. “There’s no other chair left in the room and—“

“Yeah, yeah, hi, you can sit,” you had said, without really looking at him, but the moment you had, the moment your eyes had met his, you had…. felt like the whole surrounding had disappeared and you were the only people in the room, it seemed he had also noticed something.

A cold november evening, both of you had a reason to go home yet neither of you had  gone home. Both of you had found a way to that café, with coffees in a mug. The leaves falling outside.

He had sat right in front of you, you couldn’t help but blush when noticing he was attractive, very attractive. But there was something else about him, maybe it had been the way he couldn’t sit still. He had stared at you, and smiled. 

From the very first time you’d ever seen his smile, you knew three things,

His smile was the prettiest thing you’d ever laid your eyes on

His smile was so familiar 

His smile would eventually break your heart.

The third one wasn’t as cheerful but you could tell, he was one of those guys who could easily break someone’s heart in a blink. 

It didn’t take him a blink to break yours. You’d need a lifetime to break his. 

“I’m Tom.” 

“Y/N.” 

Both of you liked to debate over who’d talk to who first, it didn’t matter honestly. You both remembered how both of you had ordered the same drink, a cappuccino. Neither of you liked it, but apparently both of you had wanted to ask for something new. 

You’d always do that. Taste new drinks. 

And it had been… as if you’d met before. You had, multiple times before, but neither one knew, of course. Not at that point, but like you were meant to find him. The sun had gone down and it had been hours and hours of you talking to each other, like old friends who knew their deepest secrets and were catching up, laughs becoming one melody, and both of you had soon realized the cafe hadn’t been that crowded. Maybe it had been the damn destiny pulling you together. To that cafe near the park with that willow tree. 

He had asked questions you didn’t have the answers to back then. You did now. 

Before you knew it, you were walking with a stranger through the London night, seeing people walk by and not looking at them, because somehow you’d both walked to that one park. Both of you had discovered you both liked to sit on that one bench near the willow tree. How many times had you missed the other jusy by a matter of minutes. 

“You’re kidding, I love this place, I’m always here,” he had said. 

“I am, too, weird we’d never met before,” you had chuckled. 

You honestly didn’t remember how or why it had happened. A kiss. You’d kissed a stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger at all. 

“I’m sorry, I-” He had started. 

“No, it’s--” 

And then kissed again. Your stomach had dropped and had been replaced with butterflies. How had a simple cappuccino led to this? 

He’d given you a smile and a promise. You’d met him the next day, and the other one, and the next one. With that stupid smile of his. 

You missed that smile, or how he flirted with you, make you giggle with a stupid joke, or how he’d open his arms to you and kiss you, tumbling down to the couch. The way he’d make you listen to him ramble about his latest discovery. How he always found a way to make you smile in the crowds, always holding your hand, new dates in different places.

“What do you mean you’ve never gone paintball?” 

Weekends only for him, going for breakfast, for dinner, for lunch, for tea, for this, for that. . Then it was the weeknights too, always finding time for you, traditions you created and that you got rid off. Laying down on the grass, looking at stars, kissing in bars, dancing in his living room, your head on his shoulder in movie theatres, his scent on your pillow, his favorite movies next to your dvd, your perfume in his closet and your toothbrush in his bathroom. Notes he’d written to remember things all around your place. Birthdays, new year, parties. 

Endless nights of laugh, of wine and of nothing at all. Kissing. Video Games you didn’t understand, failed attempts to bake, watching sport games he loved and you… tolerated. Him finally agreeing to watch that movie with Ryan Gosling. 

“Why Ryan Gosling?” 

Building plans together, nights of both of you debating on something stupid. Singing on top of your lungs without knowing the lyrics. Getting lost together, that one roadtrip where neither of you knew the way and ended up at that one hotel in the middle of the road. Kissing. Learning to read every emotion, and being each other’s blankets. Hearing each other’s ugly laughs, and crying in front of the other. Being each other’s confort. Hugging him when you were scared at the movie. Meeting the parents. 

“They loved you, don't worry.” 

Always holding each other’s hands.  Fights under the rain. Making up hours later and cuddling to let go of it. Being friends with each other’s friends. Seeing friends getting engaged, going to the weddings. Talking about a wedding. Learning, becoming their best selves. 

Then…. Cold. 

He’d left you when you had been the most in love with him. When you thought he’d shows up with a ring. But he had said goodbye instead. With his picture on your phone and your hand cold with no one to hold. He’d changed your life, completely. 

You’d learned so, so, so much. And at some point you…. Realized it. 

You should’ve known, he was not your soulmate. 

You’d read somewhere about twin flames. Yeah… you had, about the one soul that changes your life. 

You’d learned about the importance of the sunrise and the sunset, how beautiful both of them are, and how dizzy you can get when you get to see both because you didn’t get to sleep because you had laughed and kissed all night. 

They say time is wise, yet you still were hurting and you still loved him. Because it was like his love was a thread still engraved to your own very soul. And though when you were with him it was timeless, you’d learned to give more minutes to the hours you were with him so you spend just a little bit more time staring into his eyes. How you’d learned about the importance of one’s sight, and how the eyes are the doors to the soul, he’d opened his soul completely to yours. And it was so beautiful and so easy to read. 

You’d learned a lot of things, like how to throw pebbles in the ‘right way’ to the river. You’d learned how to lie to your friends so you could go see him, late at night when the moon is the only light shining above yours. You’d learned that mistakes aren’t the end of the world and that you actually are very good at baseball. 

Tom had shown you how to distinguish between a guitar and a bass, not sure why you’d always confused them. And that it’s okay to sometimes leave the clothes on the floor if you’re rushing to get somewhere. Or that sometimes the clothes end up on the floor because you’re both… rushing. That it’s okay to have breakfast for dinner and that you can have dessert before the actual main course. He’d also taught you that facetime isn’t as good as being together but it’s enough to listen to each other’s voice. He had shown you that it’s okay to laugh at sex and that sometimes it’s not as romantic as it should be, that sometimes it is silly and other times it’s passionate. That it’s okay sometimes to say what you want to say before thinking. 

And you’d shown him how to enjoy a bad movie, or how to tie his shoes this other way, and that though the night kept changing, and you both kept growing and learning, you were still the same. You taught him that it’s okay not to know the lyrics and still sing the song, and that if you add a pinch of salt to the cookies you’re baking it’d make it sweeter. 

You’d taught him that Chinese legend. The red thread. 

“It is like an invisible red cord or thread which connects you to that one person you’re destined to meet, your true love,” you had told him. “In China it’s around your ankle, I believe… In Japan, male’s thumb and the female's little fingers, and in Korea are both little fingers.” 

He’d once, jokingly but not really wrapped around both of your pinkies a red thread. 

“I made it visible, see?” He had said. 

“You’re an idiot,” you had chuckled. 

“What happens if you’re apart?” He had wondered. 

“It’s supposed to bring you back together, it…” 

“Can I pull it, if I ever need you?” 

“I guess,” you chuckled. “I’m not sure.” 

“Can it break?” He asked. 

“I… don’t know,” you had confessed with fear.

Because you didn’t know. Maybe yours had been broken. 

But you kept teaching him things, and he kept teaching you other things. You’d also taught him not to never mistake salt for sugar to add to your tea. 

“They’re both a white powder I thought-” 

“Yeah I can think of more white powders that would’ve also gotten us in trouble.” 

You’d taught him that as long as you were his and he was yours, you’d shine as bright as stars. He’d shown you how to say ‘I love you’ to someone for the first time. Because you had, when you least had expected it, just about a weeks after you’d first dated. 

You wanted to order something for dinner, that one night, he was on his laptop ordering food,  you were cuddled against him reading who knows what. 

“Is it weird I want more fortune cookies? Would you be weirded out if someone was asking for more fortune cookies?” He had asked. 

You chuckled. “To get more fortune?” 

“To get more cookies, darling,” he had grinned. “Can’t be more fortunate than this, I am dating you, ain’t I?” 

“Very fortunate” you chuckled as he was ordering. 

“How much food would I have to order for them to send us like ten cookies?” He asked, mostly to himself. 

You laughed, “why don’t you bake them yourself?” 

“We both know we suck at baking, baby,” he reminded you as he kept adding food to the cart. “Besides we wouldn’t get the fortune paper thing, I like those as book separators.” 

He did use them as book separators and liked to randomly leave them on your nightstand  

“Why do you want them? We could buy them next week at the supermarket 

“They’re so good, darling and it’s not the same, they’re not fate then.” 

You only smiled, watching him. 

“Why don’t they sell like… the cookies?” He asked again. 

“They do—“

“No, not but like at the restaurants because they choose which ones to give you, that is fate,”  he continued. “Or like… Okay is this enough food so they think we are like ten  people here? Like if I order enough food they’ll send it to us, right?” He kept rambling to himself. “Like okay, we’d have to eat this for a while but baby look at the bright side we’d have more cookies and that would make me happy because I like the cookies, plus I wouldn’t steal your notes to use as a book separator and we could have like enough fortune things to… I don’t know wrap presents with.” 

And it had come out, so easily, “I love you,” you’d said without thinking about it, interrupting his rambling. You’d felt it for long enough, first time you’d ever kissed him  but somehow you’d never said it. 

And he had stopped worrying for the cookies suddenly, as he only looked at you, he hadn’t been prepared. He had only opened his mouth with surprise. He wasn’t as hungry anymore. 

“I--” he hadn’t said it back. 

“No, I’m sorry, no, no I’m sorry,” you gulped and sat up to get away. “No I didn’t--No, I don’t… I mean, no, yeah I do, I’m… Look you don’t have to… say it…I don’t love—No, I do, I do—“

He had smiled and took a deep breath, with surprise. 

You walked away. “No, baby, sorry—Tom, I’m sorry you don’t have to say anything I’ll just—Yeah.” 

You had tried to walk away but he had tackled you from behind, and turned you around to kiss you in his very way.  “I love you, too.” 

And the food had eventually arrived after kissing for god knows how long and you remembered opening that one fortune cookie. 

“Love, because is the only true adventure.” 

And it had been. The greatest adventure of your life, and it hadn’t been one of those crazy adventures. It had been small, but great. Good enough He’d forgotten one thing, he’d never shown you how to get over him. How to live without him. 

And you had said it, how it would never be too late for him to come back. He wouldn’t, you know. But he knew it, you’d always have each other. 

You had read about twin flames. How the compatibility and energy is so strong, so, so strong, so meant to be.  An intense soul connection, sometimes called a "mirror soul," thought to be a person's other half.  A same soul. And at times it did feel like it. 

But it doesn’t have to be forever. 

It should’ve been, though. 

But Tom was easily scared, and maybe he’d felt like his life with you would be forever, and you didn’t blame him for being scared. Finding the love of your life doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll have to spend your whole life with them. 

“I’m always going to love you,” he had said. You knew he wouldn’t. 

But he’d never leave your heart or your mind, no matter what, day, noon, midnight. He was always there, but he had moved on. Or had he, really? 

He hadn’t. But both of you had a very different version of the relationship. He had waited for you at that willow tree, you’d waited for him at that café. And it had been like that for a while, both of you waiting at the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

He did miss you, very, very much and he also couldn’t get over you. You didn’t know, but even when he was dating this other girl he kept going back to you. He had kept his promise, he would always love you. With every cell, with every bone on his body. With his entire soul, because it felt like it was missing its other half. 

He had stopped burning when he was apart from you. No light, no nothing.

Because everything led back to you, everything was about you. And he had bumped into you several more times, you hadn’t seen him, but he’d seen you walking in the rain, and he’d seen you when he stared at himself in the mirror. He saw you in every fortune cookie he ate, or in every book separator he found. He had felt incomplete when he wasn’t with you. 

And after you’d broken up, Tom had felt incredibly numb and sad, your pain combined with his. He’d always wondered why that happened how he knew how you were feeling, a hunch he’d say. 

He’d always have a song stuck in his head, and he’d be thinking of you at the most random times. He’d always expect to find your lipstick stain on his mugs 

He always wanted to call, he never did though. But he was there, even if you didn’t notice. Like how he’d randomly send you a coffee with your friends, asking them not to tell you it came from him, or how if he ever walked by your place, he’d clean the dust from the mailbox because he knew how much you hated when it got dirty. How he had become friends with that guy from the Chinese place you liked to order from and he’d told him to always give you extra fortune cookies.

Tom wasn’t the same when he was apart from you, he hadn’t slept, he hadn’t smiled. But he did see one bright thing because it felt like he was being pulled back to you. 

He regretted breaking up because he’d been too scared to admit you were on the other side of the string. He feared it could break. But he was also scared that he would become the person he was before you, and how you probably wouldn’t like who he was before that. 

He also didn’t believe in soulmates, until you came. Because he thought And he thought your connection was too strong to be a simple soulmate. His soul and yours were one. 

But he’d left because he had to learn the last lesson, the one lesson you couldn’t technically teach him, and that lesson could only be taught by missing you. And damn, did he miss you. 

Because no one was you, no one knew his smile like you did and no one could read him like you. Your perfume still lingered and he missed your toothbrush in his bathroom. He missed having to get your hair out of his face when you were asleep. He missed the way you’d leave your books around his house or the way that he heard you sing the wrong lyrics. Tom missed the way you’d kiss his temple when you woke up earlier than him and how you always covered him with blankets. Tom missed looking into your eyes and making you laugh by making a stupid joke, knowing you’d be the only one laughing. 

He missed having you around at parties, when all of his friends were talking about things he didn’t like and he looked for you to give you that one knowing look but you weren’t there. He missed you when he got drunk, he missed you when you he woke up, when he wanted to run to you and kiss your cheek from behind. When he wanted to watch a bad movie and laugh at it, he’d miss you all the time. 

Tom was gone, yes. But Tom was gone because he wasn’t with you, and he couldn’t be himself again. How could he after you? 

Was there life after love? 

And eventually he’d seen you, always running into you but not letting you see him because he knew it would hurt you, it hurt him too. But how many times had his shoulder not bumped into yours without you noticing because your head was low. Or how many times had he not heard your laugh across the room and seen you. You were everywhere. 

And he didn’t know why he couldn’t get the courage like that one first time when he’d first asked to sit with you, that one time when he’d first kissed you. No other pair of lips deserved to be kissed after he had kissed you. 

And life was pulling him back to you but he didn’t know if you’d take him. He was scared that you had moved on, but something told him you couldn’t. He somehow knew that you still loved him because he loved you too. 

So he’d sit there, under that willow tree waiting for you to come back. But he was always running out of time, always having elsewhere to be. Because no one ever has time. 

You did, too, always rushing and that’s why you never saw him. Until today, with that mug in your hands, watching people, couples. Soulmates. And there you were, at that cafe, waiting for him to come, near that one park with the willow tree where you’d first kissed. 

Wishing he would come. 

But life is a strange thing, and maybe it had been the fact that the foam on your cappuccino had spoken to you, or the fact that you’d still kept that one fortune paper on the back of your phone, hidden underneath the case, or the fact that you had almost poured salt into your coffee instead of sugar, or maybe it had been  that thread around your finger or maybe a coincidence by itself, but somehow you’d left that café that day, willing to go to that willow tree for the first time.

Because no one ever truly has time, but he had pulled the string. 

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[grasshopperjay]

silent sleepers

evermore series | track 2: champagne problems

your moms ring in your pocket, my picture in your wallet, your heart was glass i dropped it.

pairing: jay halstead x reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst, swearing, alcohol, sadness, insecurity

Everyone’s eyes are on you, the whole room anticipating an answer, an answer that shouldn’t take you nearly this long. 

The room is sleeping, everyone is quiet, not a sound to be heard. God you wish someone would just break the silence, but it’s actually you that’s supposed to do that. Answer with a yes, a cheer or a smile, or some happy tears, but you can’t do any of those things.

Jay is down on one knee in front of you, his once hopeful face looking more dire as the seconds pass. 

You take a glance around the room at all the faces as they realize what’s happening. Your eyes catch on Jay’s brother, Will, as he rubs his jaw uncomfortably. 

It’s only when Jay quietly says your name that you remember exactly what’s happening. You’re being proposed to. 

And you have to say no. 

But you don’t know how. 

The beautiful diamond ring is practically calling your name, and you recognize it as Jay’s mothers, and she’s not here, but god you feel like you’re letting her down too. 

You’ve never felt worse in your life. All these people and Jay’s stupidly handsome face make you want to say yes. But you can’t. 

Which is why you don’t look back when you run out the door. 

You only stop when you’re out of the building and down the street, your lungs ache and when you try to take a deep breath in, all that comes out are sobs.

The tears are nearly freezing on your cheeks, the crisp air only starting to sting your skin now. You’re not exactly dressed for the weather. The only thing blocking you from the elements is the thin strapped emerald green dress Jay bought you.

And of course your exit wasn’t exactly planned so you never grabbed your coat or purse, or phone for that matter. You’re completely stranded.

But even as terrible as you’re feeling, alone and cold in an unfamiliar part of the city, it’s probably nothing compared to how crushed Jay is.

You saw it on his face. A look so rare and so unfamiliar to you. He was scared.

And you hate that you did that to him.

You have no idea what to do anymore, but you know you can’t go back, so you walk a little further until you find a tiny dive bar. One of the only open signs still lit up on the street.

There’s only a few people scattered around the bar, and they look at you like you have three heads as you walk in.

You perch yourself on one of the barstools. And almost immediately there’s a glass shoved in front of you, a small shot of tequila, you’re assuming by the smell.

“Oh I can’t-,” You start to say, and the bartender cuts you off.

“You look like you need it,” He explains with a pitiful smile.

“I don’t have any money.” You admit, and he just chuckles.

“It’s on the house, runaway.”

“You can tell?” You murmur, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

“You’d be surprised how many fancy looking boys and girls I get in here, all alone. I’ve heard enough proposal gone wrong stories to know when one of ‘em walks into my bar.” And then he grabs himself a glass, raising it to you with a sad glance before he downs the liquid, and you do the same.

He leaves to tend to some others and apparently you’re alone with your thoughts for too long, cause the tears start spilling from your eyes, and their pace is too quick to wipe them away and pretend nothing is wrong anymore. You’re crying and everyone here knows it.

Then there’s a panicked face storming into the bar, and you’re on your feet within seconds. Kim sighs, “Oh thank god,” She wraps her arms around you, holding tight while you try to pretend you’re not a total mess.

“How’d you find me?” You whisper.

“I went right, Sylvie went left. I checked every damn building on this street.” Kim chuckles. “Jay was gonna try to ping your phone, but that was a dead end.”

You feel a pang in your chest when she says his name, “Where is he?”

“Will took him home.”

“Is he okay?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.” She sighs, and you wipe harshly at the damn tears that won’t stop falling.

“I don’t know why I couldn’t say yes.” You shrug, and Kim places her hand over yours.

“I think you’re scared,” She says, and you open your mouth to respond but she keeps going. “And that’s okay. It’s okay to be scared. But he deserves an answer, whether it’s the one he wants or not.”

“She’s right,” A voice chimes in. It’s the bartender, he’s setting two more tequilas in front of you and Kim. “Shot for confidence.” He says.

Kim laughs, and you find it in you to crack a little smile, even though it hardly feels genuine. “Shot for confidence, and then I’ll take you to him.”

•••••

You’ve been staring at the door for at least ten minutes, and you still haven’t thought of the right thing to say.

And it’s stupid cause there is no right thing to say, not after everything you’ve put him through tonight, but making him wait longer is only gonna make it worse so finally you open the door.

After you shut it, you take a deep breath and then turn into the living room.

He’s sitting on the couch, looking completely lost and tears gather in your eyes almost immediately.

“Jay...” You whisper, but he doesn’t even lift his head. “I’m so sorry.” 

That stupid word isn’t even going to begin to slice into the pain you caused him tonight, and you’re terrified because you really don’t know if your relationship will recover from this. 

You stand there for a few minutes, the silence deafening while you wait for him to say something. “Jay-,”

Finally he does, and the hurt in his voice is enough to bring back the wave of tears you tried so hard to fight off. 

“Why couldn’t you say yes? What did I do wrong?”

The fact that he thinks it’s his fault is heartbreaking and so, so untrue, you can’t help the way you rush forward, kneeling down in front of him. You grab his forearms to pull his hands away from his face, but his red puffy eyes refuse to look back at you. 

“It’s not you. You did nothing wrong you have to know that, Jay.” 

“Then why?” He asks again.

And the most terrifying part of all? You can’t answer his question. You don’t have a reason. 

“I don’t-,” He finally meets your eyes and your words clog in your throat. You’re left looking into his devistated eyes, unable to say or do anything that will bring any relief to them.

His eyes gloss over, it’s like a kick to the stomach so you just say it, even though you’re not sure if it’s true. “I do want to marry you, Jay.”

He remains silent but you know he’s asking, then why’d you say no?

“Just not yet...” You recover. “I’m not ready, I’m sorry.”

And finally, there’s a small glimmer in his eyes. He’s hopeful and relived and selfishly, you feel better too. Like you can breathe again.

“Shit,” He whispers, swiping under his eyes to make sure there’s no emotion shown. “I should’ve asked, or hinted or something. Shit.”

“Jay-,” You start, because he’s about to take this all on himself, just like he usually does but you can’t let him. You’re fucked in the head, that’s why you said no, not because of him. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that, I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong, Jay.” You repeat.

He finally nods, acknowledging what you’ve told him so many times, and you sigh, hoping you’ve taken some weight off him.

Then he grabs your hands and pulls you onto the couch with him, and you could cry. You thought you ruined everything, but maybe things can be okay again.

The two of you lay there, pressed together, your head on his chest, his arms holding you tight. Eventually his breathing evens out and he relaxes, and you lift your head gently to watch him as he sleeps.

He looks so angelic. So perfect. You really can’t believe that somehow you managed to get him to love you. It’s unfathomable, and it scares you. What if he comes to his senses? What if he realizes you’re not good enough?

But laying here you feel warm and safe and above all... Loved. Even after everything you put him through tonight, he’s still here, holding you and loving you despite it all.

And finally you get it.

It’s just like you telling him this whole night wasn’t his fault. You had to repeat it for him to realize it. Jay’s been doing the same thing to you for years, you will always be good enough. You were never not good enough.

For the first moment since he got down on one knee, you think, maybe you can do this.

Next time he asks, you have your answer.

....

taglist: @lorenakaspersen @jayxuptons @toomuchtv95 @halstudandruz @halsteadsway @hart-kinsella @astrosmayhem @life-treatments @dreamingmanip @jayhlstead @sofferderynnp @caromichaela @samantha-chicago

[geordiewrites]

Hey i just read exile inspired fic and it is soo good. I think you should write one based on the song tolerate it by ts? With harry plz. The drama, fight, tears.. I think you will reflect the emotion so well omg.

Tolerate It | Harry Potter

A/N: Hi lovely! First off, I adored this request so much and I really hope I’ve done it justice. Tolerate It is such a beautiful song and defo one of my favourites off of Evermore to cry to, there’s just so much detail hidden within the lyrics and I adore that. Harry too!! There’s not enough stuff for Harry, so I hope I’ve done well for you! ( Also this is super short, but I’ve been swamped with coursework xox )

Summary: Y/N is in love with The Boy Who Lived, and due to marry him in the Spring with a beautiful April wedding. Friends to lovers to that engaged couple who are just too in love to function, they share the most perfect story. But when Y/N begins to see their relationship for what it is, her entire world is thrown off key...

Warnings: angst and lots of it, loneliness, sadness, swearing.

~

“You’re coming home tonight, right?” Y/N asks, excitement and anticipation heavy in her tone, cherry red nails clicking against the cold metal of the answerphone.

“Of course, I’ll be back soon, love.” Harry Potter, her beloved fiancé, answered back on the other side from his workplace all the way in central London. His office is almost empty, devoid of any homely photos or colleagues: they had all gone home to their families long ago, and yet he stayed behind. He had no work to finish, no cases glaring to be solved. There was nothing to do but leave, but Harry didn’t.

“You’ve said that before.” Y/N pointed out blandly, her forced smile fading slightly. Many times had Harry said he was on his way home, only to send a letter the next morning apologising for suddenly getting swamped with unavoidable paperwork. “Please come home Harry, I’ve even made your favourite for dinner.”

“That sounds good, I promise I’ll be there soon. I’m just leaving the Ministry now.” Harry replied monotonously, not sounding nearly as happy as Y/N wished he would. Perhaps he had just had a bad day at the office, he must have done. But he had just one too many bad days now, and the reality that he might not want to see her was beginning to sink in.

Shaking off that horrible thought, Y/N inhaled a sharp breath and chewed the edge of her top lip. “Alright, if you say so. I’ll see you then.”

“Bye.” Harry said shortly before putting the phone down and staring at his office, desperately trying to find a reason to stay at work. He did love Y/N, he did. Heck, he had even asked her to marry him and kissed the edge of her lips as they set the date. And then postponed it. And then postponed it another year after that, all because of some urgent work that Harry had suddenly come across. He was just so young, forced to grow up so quickly he didn’t even have time for a scrap of a childhood. Maybe that was why he didn’t want to see Y/N, why going home to their apartment often felt like a chore.

Back at their cosy flat in the nicer part of Greenwich, Y/N put the phone down after hearing an abrupt beep on the other end that let her know he had hung up. She sighed before walking over to a tall cabinet that stood to the side of their kitchen, taking out a set of nice china plates her Grandmother had left her and crystal wine glasses. It was the lovely cutlery only used for things like Christmas and obligatory dinner parties her family forced her to hold.

After setting it out on the table, Y/N checked the time and supposed that if Harry really had left as he said, he would be back in just a minute through the wonders of apparation. Carefully so she wouldn’t somehow spill the food in her clumsiness, a quality Harry once said he loved about her, Y/N moved the food from the oven, to plates and then through to their front room where the fancy cutlery was set up. A smile made its way onto her face, a beaming, gorgeous smile of confidence that her and Harry would finally have the night she deserved. One where work or his reluctance to put effort into their relationship, even if she did pretend she knew nothing about this, didn’t get in the way.

Alas however, minutes passed and there was no sign of Harry anywhere. The food grew colder and that wonderful, rare smile of hers faded into an all too comfortable frown, the crease between her eyebrows deepening with not only disappointment, but anger. A growing resentment for Harry’s lack of care or even acknowledgement of their engagement. He didn’t seem to give two hoots that she had made a lovely meal; after all, he had only called it ‘good’. Not fabulous or decadent or even something praiseful. Just good.

They hadn’t said ‘I love you’ before they hung up the phones. Harry had only said one word. Y/N’s mind began to spiral, her breathing growing quicker and sharper as the thought that it might be time to confront Harry about the buildup of letdowns over the course of the last few months. A year even, since he had properly spent time at home. At their home, the one in which he had knelt down on one knee and told her he wanted to grow old with her by his side, failing at muggle card games on the front porch as they watched their grandchildren play.

Not knowing exactly what to do, Y/N retreated to grasping at the doorframe to keep her body from tumbling to the ground. Her mind whirred with the usual possibilities to try and chase away his lateness. Got caught at work, perhaps Ron called. But none of it compared to the looming threat that Harry was scraping any old excuse together in order to stay away. That he was lying, something she never thought she would have to think about him doing. Harry had always been such an honest person, even as a child.

Y/N remembered how nervous he was when he first asked her out during their fifth year at Hogwarts. He had been on this disastrous date with some Ravenclaw she couldn’t quite remember the name of, and come back utterly defeated. Feeling sorry for a friend she had always harboured a crush on, Y/N had stayed up all night convincing him something better was around the corner. It occurred to Harry quite quickly after that that Y/N was that somebody. She liked him, and at the time that was enough to make him think he was in love. To some degree he was, but not nearly as much as Y/N had fallen for him.

It was almost midnight when the front door to their apartment clicked with the turn of a key, and Y/N, still standing in the same sad place by the door to their living room, finally saw Harry step into their home. It had been hours since they were supposed to eat the food that Y/N had worked to hard to create. There it still sat however, with the plates and crystal glasses and unopened bottle of wine in the same place, completely untouched.

Y/N had a thousand things to say to him. Usually it would begin with her asking him where he had been galavanting off to, but not tonight. Tonight was the final tear in her elastic heart, just enough to finally make it tear into two broken, hollowed out pieces. She stood, silent and just watched as he took off his shoes and put his coat back in it’s place without saying anything. Harry wasn’t even trying anymore, and that hurt more than him being late to begin with.

“Sorry for the delay, something came up.” Harry said, standing a few metres away from her. There was no affectionate kiss to the forehead like when they were fresh out of Hogwarts with teenage dreams and ambitions. No arm comfortably slung around her waist in a protective manner. Y/N missed that especially out of all the things that had faded away. That simple gesture that showed he wanted to hold her above all else, above everyone else who had ever wanted to touch the Chosen One like she did.

“Something.” Y/N repeated, no emotion in her voice. It sounded almost like a recording being played back to him, just with any tone sucked away. “It’s always something, isn’t it?” She continued, not finding quite the right words to encompass the flummox of emotions seeping into her veins. “Work. Ron called. Hermione called. Work. Work again.”

“There really was something.” Harry pathetically added. It was a lie of course, he had spent the hours at his desk alone and staring aimlessly at a fountain pen as it leaked ink onto the black carpet of his office.

“Do you really think I don’t know you at all? Stop lying to me, Harry, just stop it. I’m done with being lied to.” Y/N says, her voice remaining as monotonous as ever as if she’s already grieving something. “I want to know what was so important that you’ve missed the dinner I made. The last thirty dinners, in fact.”

Harry just runs a hand through his messy hair as he tries desperately to think of something to say. But he can’t. There’s nothing to say that would make him any less guilty.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He manages to whisper.

“You’ve said that already.” Y/N points out without missing a single beat. She’s exhausted of pretending that she doesn’t know what Harry’s been doing, drained of all energy to put in effort anymore.

“Just tell me what the problem is and we can fix it.” He begs, but his voice is shaky and the words sound as though he’s reading them from a script.

“Fine. When did you stop being in love with me?” Y/N asks, sadness seeping into her voice. Tears began to form in her eyes but were quickly blinked away; the last thing she wanted was for Harry to see her as weak. She might be pathetic, pitiful, stupid for not realising earlier... but Y/N was not going to be weak. Not now, not ever.

“Why would you think that? Y/N, I could never stop loving you.” Harry said, trying to wrap her into a hug only for Y/N to quickly wriggle out of his cold grasp. His fingers left icy burns where they had briefly touched her arm, and Harry’s face dropped as he realised she didn’t want him anywhere near her.

“But you have, Harry. Otherwise you wouldn’t be coming home at ridiculous times, or avoiding even looking at me like you are now. You don’t love me, you tolerate me because you don’t want to be alone. I feel like I’m begging to be in the footnotes in the story of your life, not a main character anymore.” Y/N explained quietly, neither expecting her to be so frank but once the blunt words were spilling from her lips, not even she could stop them. She watched as Harry’s face crumpled, sadness twisting her gut as she fervently tried not to cry herself.

“Y/N... I don’t know what to say.” Harry trailed off. Y/N used to be so infatuated with him, so desperately in love that she was blind to his flaws, much like his ridiculous fan base. But she had grown up from the teenager with a crush to a young woman with heart and with ambitions, and Harry was no longer apart of what she wanted out of life. She had stopped being a part of his long ago, she just hadn’t realised it then.

“Is this in my head? Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow, Harry. Because please believe me, I could do it. I could leave.”

“I can’t.” Harry finally said. “I did love you once, Y/N. I’m not even sure what happened to us if I’m being completely honest.”

“That’s the problem: you don’t really even want me to stay. But that’s the thing... you built an entire new wizarding world after you defeated You-Know-Who, and where was I? I’m sorry for being dramatic and shit but I’m taking this dagger out and finally going where I need to be.” Y/N continued, not pausing as not to give him any time to ask her to stay, not that he would. Her mind was made up, and even Harry could see that.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Harry whispered, his voice trailing off as Y/N went to get her coat from a peg just beside their front door.

“It’s alright, really. I know you don’t hate me, but both of us know this isn’t working anymore. I deserve someone who celebrates me and my love, and that isn’t you. I’m not really sure that it ever was.” Y/N said, a sad smile gracing her delicate features. She looked almost relieved. Utterly broken-hearted, but relieved all the same. “I’ll come back for my stuff tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving me?” Harry said. Even though she had told him why, it still came as a shock. Y/N nodded. “I’m so sorry I didn’t treat you how you deserve.”

“I’m sorry about that too.” Y/N replied, both warmly and coldly at the same time. “Goodbye, Harry Potter. All the best.”

“Goodbye.” It was all Harry could fathom to say as she pressed her engagement ring back into his hand, the final recognition of their relationship officially being over. It was a beautiful piece of jewellery, one she at one point she thought she would never take off her finger. There were no more words exchanged about the gesture for none were needed, all had been said already.

One simple word that locked the door on their relationship, the one that Y/N had finally gained the courage to close in the first place. It had taken her so long, so pathetically long, to realise that something wasn’t right. That Harry was meant to love her, that love shouldn’t and can’t survive while being one sided. It shouldn’t have to be tolerated, and Y/N had finally learned that through all those lonely nights of wondering where Harry was, what he was getting up to at work, if he even was there.

But as Y/N’s grandma used to tell her every Christmas, as one door closes, another always opens.

-

A/N: hoped you liked it anon!!!

Nancy xx

[idksmtms]

happiness (David Von Erich x reader) - evermore series

A/N: The way this movie wrecked me should be studied…

Also, I know the actual song is about a break up, but the line “there will be happiness after you” just made me think of death.

Summary: Maybe none of these coincidences were signs, but you wanted to believe they were. You wanted to believe that David was rooting for your happiness. 

Word count: 2,669

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, light to heavy angst, major character death is mentioned (but happens before events of oneshot), movie spoilers!!!, grief, moving on, guilt for moving on (ig could also be classified as survivor’s guilt), it’s kinda fluffy too, just nostalgic tbh, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: This is based solely on the portrayals of the brothers in the movie, not the real people. I do not own any of The Iron Claw characters. I do not claim to own any of The Iron Claw characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

In a faraway barn of an already isolated horse ranch, sat an easel. On the easel was a canvas, a work in progress painting of shadows and darkness, anger and grief, made with splotches of red, black, grey. In front of the easel on a stool, sat you, wearing a messy apron over an old pair of jeans and an old flannel that still smelt a little bit like… him. The doors of the barn were thrown wide open (possibly because they never quite closed anyway) and filled the large room with bright sunshine. When the sun would eventually continue its course across the sky, the light would turn green from all the trees lined up on the other side of the barn and make everything suddenly feel like it wasn’t quite real. You loved those moments. If you were in one of the melancholic moods that still set in occasionally, then the green and yellow light made you feel like you had floated above the world, and if you just reached out, you could somehow find David. When you were in the good moods that now came with increasing frequency, you felt like it was a little sign from David everyday. A little reminder of the happiness you could still find, that he wanted you to find. 

It had taken you a long time to get to this place, this precarious tightrope of happiness that spanned over the chasm of grief. You could still remember the days after you had gotten the news, his mother’s soft voice over the phone telling you that his intestine had ruptured at some point in the night and he had died in his hotel room. Alone. Sometimes that hit you harder than the fact that he had actually died. That he had died thousands of miles away from family, from love, all on his own. You tried not to think about it too much now, it was an unnecessary train of thought that only made you feel worse. You could do nothing to change it anyway. 

But when his mother had told you, you had sat down on the edge of your bed and not moved until your own mother found you hours later. It was like life had suddenly been put on hold now that he was gone, that life wasn’t even possible now. Then, when the night came and the news slowly began to sink in again, you cried. First soft, silent tears that hurt your insides more than anything. Your throat clogged, your pursed lips pressed so tightly to each other they were bruising, and your hands shaking like you had developed arthritis overnight. Your hands never did quite stop shaking since that night. 

It had taken all your remaining strength to attend the funeral, to stand next to his brothers who had these broken expressions on their faces that made you hate the world all the more. His father with his stoic face that made you wonder if he had ever even loved David. And his mother, swaying slightly as she stood, tears streaming down her face that somehow made your own feel even more painful. 

The funeral was the last time you had left the house for a good month. You walked around your own family’s ranch house like a ghost, always making it just to the front door before turning back. You spent the most time in your room, because that was where all your memories with David were gathered, from all the gifts and pictures to the actual memories of him laying sprawled across your tiny single bed, feet dangling over the edge, cowboy hat over his eyes as he snored like a walrus. He used to say that it was the only time he ever really got good sleep, and you never had the heart to disturb him. You would simply adjust the little flap of duvet that could be pulled out from under him to cover his chest and stomach, then sit down at your desk chair to get any written work done that you might have. Then, a few hours later, when his absence from his family could no longer be abided, the phone would ring shrill through the house, and he would jolt awake, shaking his head to get the hat off his face and look around as if he had never stepped foot on the earth before. You always giggled, rolling your chair closer to the bed and gently petting his hair to calm him down as he blinked blearily and turned to you, depositing his head onto your shoulder with a little grumble. And the phone would keep ringing, left unanswered, until the second time they called, when you finally extracted yourself from David’s muscly grip, and went to sweet-talk whichever of his brothers had been given the duty of finding him while he gathered his things and bounced out the door. 

Before, whenever you had lain on the bed and thought about this, it had hurt excruciatingly, like someone was running a slow, twisting, drill through your chest. Now you just laughed, appreciated the peaceful moments you both had together. 

Your room still looked like it had then, though. Pale painted walls covered in memories, shelves full of them. One wall had letters pinned all over it, all from David when you had had a little phase of romanticism and had forced him to write and send you letters. He had taken it up with enthusiasm, even if he hated anything that remotely reminded him of sitting at a desk at school. He had written you a letter almost everyday for two months before you told him that you were running out of space to keep them, and maybe a phone call was better because then you got to hear his voice directly in your ear. You still read them sometimes, laughing at the insane amount of words he had to cross out or the little illegible scribbles that were surely supposed to be words but you couldn’t figure out which ones to this day. His handwriting was horrendous, but you loved him even more for it. 

Another wall had every picture you and David had taken together, a mishmash of polaroids and developed film that showed the story of your relationship. There were the shy pictures, when the relationship was still new and you had been a little nervous around him, and he had simply thrown his arms around you, rested his head on top of yours, and told the person to ‘take the goddamn picture’. Then there were the post-match pictures, one perfectly timed polaroid of you throwing yourself at him, wrapping your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, pressing an obnoxious kiss to his cheek while he shined almost white from the sweat under the flash. You couldn’t remember which match it was from now, you were pretty sure it was written on the back, but that had been standard practice for you after every match he won. 

The last picture of the collage, right at the bottom corner, was the last picture you had taken with David. It was just before he left for the airport, both of you standing in the driveway in front of their house, almost the same as the first picture you had taken together, just a different location. You were standing just in front of him, leaning back against his chest while he wrapped his arms over yours and rested his chin on top of your head. You were smiling so bright your eyes were squinted closed and he wasn’t even looking at the camera but down at you as if he could see your face from that odd angle. It was a cute picture, but you never looked at it fondly. Sometimes you were tempted to throw it out, but you couldn’t throw out anything that had even a hint of David on it. The picture just reminded you of how much you didn’t know, of how many signs you might have missed of the path David headed down. He had never told you about the drugs, the little energy boosters as his father had described them later. And you had thought the coughing and vomiting were an upset stomach. The toilet was always flushed when you came in to check on him, the sink always washed properly. You had even given him some medicine to take when he had assured you that there was nothing wrong. You had only found out from Kevin later that when David had excused himself to the bathroom at the wedding he had been coughing up blood. And that had led to the anger. 

For a long while, your love for David had turned into an unfair anger. You looked back on that period with a heavy heart full of regret. You hated yourself for it now. But rationality hadn’t mattered to you then, so deep you were in the valley of grief. You had hated him for not telling you about the drugs, for not telling you about the blood. Why did you have to find it all out after he died? Why did you have to find it all out from someone else? Didn’t he trust you? Didn’t he love you, or at least know that you loved him so much that nothing could make you stop loving him? Of course, later, when you began thinking clearly again, you had to realise that it was about him, not about you. That it was his own fear and pain and insecurities and whatever else was going on in his head at the time that led to this, not you. But after this initial hatred, came the somehow even more irrational one. You hated him for leaving you. You hated him for leaving you behind on your own. You hated him for dying… At the same time you knew you couldn’t hate him for that, it was the same as hating someone with cancer for dying. They didn’t choose it. They didn’t want it. Sometimes in the dead of night, when you convinced yourself to step past the threshold of the front door, you would wander the fields around the house, telling David in a whispered voice full of rage how much he had hurt you, how you couldn’t forgive him for this. 

Then, one day, you had gotten out of bed slowly, and wandered around the house in your pyjamas, when you found your mother pulling things out of the attic. She smiled at you, clambering down the ladder and wiping her dusty hands on her jeans before gently pinching your cheek between soft fingers. Her smile was soft, loving, a little bit sad because she had loved David too, loved the light and fun he had brought into the house, and she loved you more than anything and it hurt her to see you this way. 

“I’m just clearing out the attic, seeing if we have any things to donate,” she told you with a shrug as if you had asked her; your mouth hadn’t even been close to opening. You weren’t even looking at her, but at the box set next to the ladder, one of the top flaps pushed open and a peak of dark blue shimmery fabric flashing out. You got onto your knees, gently peeling the box fully open and pulling out the dress that had been shoved at the top. 

You spread it out on your lap, gently caressing the fabric as it fanned out and tears filled your eyes so you could no longer see the details, only the colour. It had been the dress from one of your favourite memories with David. 

It was only a few weeks after you guys had started dating, possibly a month after, and he had saved up some money to take you on an elaborate date. Dinner at the cute italian restaurant in the city centre, a stroll down to the ice cream shop, arm in arm, before he drove you out into the farthest corner of the farthest field of the farm in his pickup truck, the bed piled with every spare pillow and blanket from the house (including the ones from his own bed) so you guys could lay down snuggled up and stargaze. 

You had worn this dress, and kissed David until you were breathless, and he had been his best self, joking around and whispering sweet words in your ear and wrapping his big arms around you so your face was pressed into his chest and the world closed in to be just the two of you. 

And you smiled, a bright, watery, smile with sniffles and tears streaming down your cheeks as you caressed the fabric of the dress and your mother got on her knees to wrap herself around you as you hiccuped out sobs and pressed your face into the slightly musty dress. 

You had had probably the worst night of your life the night before you found the dress. Your thoughts had been the darkest they had ever been, verging on irreversible decisions that would have only made everything worse for everybody. And then here the dress was, reminding you of the happiness you had experienced with David, the elation and laughter and smiles and just pure joy he had brought to your life. And suddenly, for that moment, everything was a little better. 

And slowly, with each passing day, you got out of bed again and again, you left the house in the sunshine again and again, and you found all the signs of David, the little coincidences that meant just a little more because of him, because you believed he was trying, wherever he was, to still bring you happiness. 

And with these little encouragements, these little signs, you began to grow again. You refurbished the abandoned barn into an art studio, a place for you to use creativity to let out all the suffocating emotions. Each day you would come into the barn bright and early, just as a beautiful sunrise turned everything from orange to pale yellow, and you would sit down on the stool in front of the easel, and think, feel, paint. 

The signs kept coming, once a little bird, a sparrow, flying into the barn and landing at the top of your easel, watching you paint and occasionally letting out little chirps of encouragement. You spoke to it as if it was David, “I know it looks really dark right now, but I wanted a dark background so the bright colours in the middle would pop more later,” you explained. Another day it was the stray cat that hung around the farm, the one that had avoided you since her existence, suddenly coming to sit down beside your stool, purring and napping next to you the entire time you painted. “I love you,” you whispered to the cat as if it was David sitting down next to you again, “maybe too much.” 

And now here you were, humming some song from the radio as you painted a dark image, something to represent the moments of your hatred so long ago, something to capture it and put it away so you could look back and see how much you had grown since. The new person you had become. The person who understood that you couldn’t make the grief go away by hating the person you missed. The person who knew that she had been happy with David, but she could be happy now too, and both of these things can be true. The person who still didn’t really know what to do, or how to handle the grief and the feelings, but was ok with it anyway. 

So yes, there was a new you, a you after David that he wouldn’t get to meet. But you gave him the best of you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

A/N: the emotional depths I went to to write this… 

Taglist: @nosebeers, @tourturedfolkloredepartment,

[delacyrose224]

Champagne Problems

-Pairing: bassist!Yoongi x OC

-Premise: Yoongi keeps to himself, but everything changes when he opens up to his best friend about his past.

-Genre: rock band!AU, angst with some fluff

-Word count: 2.8k

-Author's Note: This is a continuation of the Gold Rush universe! Each band member will get his own story based off a song on Taylor Swift's evermore album. This story revealed just how much of a soft spot I have for Yoongi...

“Are you sure you can’t come with?” Jungkook shoots Yoongi a sad look with his doe eyes.

“Yes, now shut up and go. Stop trying to guilt trip me with puppy dog eyes, suck it up and go be awkward with that girl you met. I can tell you think she’s cute, so go be gross and flirty somewhere else far from me, please,” Yoongi huffs as he loads equipment into the band’s van.

“Yeah, JK, leave him alone...he’s going to hang out with Olivia.” Jin emphasizes the last word with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Olivia’s more important than us anyway...even though we’ve known him longer. It’s fine, we’ll be fine.” He throws his hand against his forehead as if he’ll faint for emphasis.

Yoongi cuts a harsh side eye at Jin. “Yes, I am going to hang out with Olivia. I’ve had plans with her for a week now. You knew this. It’s not my fault if you forgot.”

Jin falters at this, his face softening into care for his oldest friend. “Yeah, I know. We’ll see you when you get home, okay?” Yoongi nods in affirmation.

“I’m taking the train there, make sure the equipment gets unloaded tonight. I don’t care what goo-goo eyes those two girls make at you, it needs to go in the spare room in our apartment.” Yoongi tosses the van keys at Jungkook, who catches them with ease.

“Aye, aye, captain!” Jungkook exclaims with a grin, opening the driver’s side door as Jin climbs into the passenger side.

Yoongi gives a small wave at his two friends as he turns to walk to the subway station nearest The Dynasty, the bar they had just played at. He didn’t mind that he was by himself, it would give him the time he needed to decompress after the show. He appreciated the attention that the band and their music got (after all, he had a hand in writing most of the songs), but he absolutely hated the attention of the crowd on himself. Jin and Jungkook ate it up-they were literally about to go meet two strangers from the show to eat and hang out. That could never be him. Yoongi stuck with the familiar. The familiar was safe. And Olivia was familiar.

He smiled softly to himself at the thought of Olivia...he had known her since college, where they had met when they were both dragged to a party they didn’t want to be at. They had bonded over their shared distaste for large gatherings of loud, drunk people, but their love for their friends that reveled in it.

Reminiscing had taken Yoongi all the way down to the subway platform, where he met the red line just as it was pulling in...a bit of good luck for once, he thought. He climbed on and found a seat off to the side where no one else was, and collapsed into it. He must be more tired than he thought.

As the train pulled out of the station, he found himself looking out the window. The red line was a train that went above ground, so he was able to stare at more than just gray tunnels. As skyscrapers and streetlights came into view, his mind started to wander. Last March. A night similar to this one, exactly a year ago. He had just finished playing Gold Rush’s first show, when his whole life fell apart. Promises of a future, shattered alongside his heart. He can feel his eyes starting to prick with tears, which he hates. Yoongi looks around, simultaneously grateful that no one else is around to see that he’s upset, but at the same time, if there were more people around, maybe he never would have gotten lost in his memories in the first place.

Before he can start internally chastising himself too much, the train pulls into his stop. He uses his black t-shirt to wipe at his eyes in what he hopes is a nonchalant way, then leaves the train car and heads up a set of stairs back into the city.

He doesn’t have to walk far before he’s at Olivia’s apartment, knocking on her door. She flings the door open wide, a smile on her face and a bottle of champagne in her hand. “Yoongi!! You came! Come on in.”

Yoongi follows her into her apartment and plops himself down on her couch and closes his eyes momentarily, feeling some of his stress dissipate. “Happy Anniversary!!” Olivia exclaims. At this, he jolts up, eyes flying open. He can feel how wild he must look with the way Olivia stares at him. But how does she know about the anniversary? She doesn’t know anything about that, right?

“...w-what do you mean?” he manages to stammer out, trying to gain some of his composure.

“The anniversary of Gold Rush’s first show?...you’ve been officially playing together for a year now! I remember the first show like it was yesterday, you were so nervous you thought you were going to throw up. And then Jungkook actually threw up after the show because he drank too much...anyway, I’m so sorry I couldn’t come out tonight, I had a work thing I couldn’t miss.” Olivia looks truly disappointed, like she would have rather been sweating in a gross bar at the show.

Yoongi breathes a sigh of relief. Of course, the anniversary of their first show. Why would it be anything else? “It’s okay, really,” he replies. “It worked out anyway, Jin and Jungkook met these two girls who came to the show, and they’re hanging out with them. Makes me feel less guilty when I’d rather be hanging out with you anyway.” He lets a small smile grace his features as he glances across the room at Olivia, but it disappears as his eyes fall on the champagne bottle that she’s placed on the living room table.

First world problems. Champagne problems, she’d called them. Not Olivia. Her. Yoongi can feel his eyes starting to swim with tears again, so quickly he doesn’t have time to hide the few that spill down his cheeks.

“...Yoongs? What’s wrong?” Olivia moves to sit beside him on the couch.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself again. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Yoongs, the last time I saw you cry, it was in college when you found out that your aunt had passed away. So I’m gonna ask again...what’s wrong?” she reaches out and gently wipes his tears away with her thumb.

“Livvy…” he starts, unsure of exactly what to say.

“Just start at the beginning,” Olivia reassures him.

He sighs shakily. “Okay. Do you remember when I started dating Isabelle senior year?”

Olivia nods.

“Well, that’s the beginning.”

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

“...and everything was fine for a long time. Those first two years were everything. She was everything. Jin and Jungkook used to get so mad at me because I would bail out of band practice early all the time to go see her.” Yoongi hiccups as he continues talking. He’s stopped crying for the time being, but as he’d been telling the story, Olivia had opened the bottle of champagne and they had both been drinking straight from the bottle. Yoongi was a little tipsy, if he was being honest with himself...otherwise, he didn’t think he’d be able to get the entire story out of his mouth.

“Okay...so, everything was good. What happened?” Olivia looks over sideways at her best friend. They’d both thrown their heads back to look at the ceiling rather than look at each other to talk-Olivia knew Yoongi would never be able to fully share with them making eye contact. He looks over briefly, then back to the ceiling, brows furrowed.

“Well. I’m not sure exactly when things started to fall apart...I guess Isabelle started acting weird once she met my family. Jin and Jungkook didn’t care for her that much either, I never understood why. I know now they were just looking out for me. But in the moment, all I saw was her. She loved me, and I loved her. I wanted to marry her,” he breathes out softly, closing his eyes.

Olivia’s eyes widen. She and Yoongi had been friends when he dated Isabelle, but they hadn’t kept in close contact during that time. They were each trying to find their footing in the real world, moving into apartments, starting first jobs. Him entertaining the idea of marriage to anyone was news to her. She knew he was serious about his relationship to Isabelle, but not that serious.

Yoongi is still sitting with his eyes closed, face towards the ceiling. Try as he might, he can’t stop tears from falling for the third time that night. He hates how vulnerable he’s being, but maybe he can blame it on the champagne. Instead of wiping them away, Olivia watches the tears fall onto his t-shirt. Her heart feels like it’s being wrenched apart. Why did Yoongi never share any of this with her before? She should have been there for him. Did Jin and Jungkook know about all of this? Surely he’s told someone else. Slowly, she reaches out her hand and places it on top of Yoongi’s, squeezing gently.

At the sensation, he opens his eyes and looks over at Olivia. She always knows what to do or say. Or not say. He twists his palm upward to meet hers and intertwines their fingers together. It feels nice. He’s forgotten how pleasant human touch can be since he’s shut himself off from other people.

Olivia’s cheeks are dusted with pink, but she doesn’t pull her hand back. “Okay, so, you wanted to marry her. What stopped you?” She traces small circles with her thumb onto the back of Yoongi’s hand.

He leans forward and grabs the champagne bottle with his free hand, chugging quite a bit before he answers. “...she did.” he whispers, hardly loud enough to hear. “Last March, at our first show. You remember she came?” Olivia nods. She remembers, it had been one of the few times the two women had been in the same room.

“We went back to her apartment after the afterparty, once we all made sure Kook was fine after he got sick. I was planning on proposing in a much more planned out way, but I just remember looking at her once we got back to her place, and she was so beautiful. Even though she was sweaty from the show, even though we were both exhausted. I couldn’t help myself...I didn’t even have the ring with me, it was sitting at my apartment in my sock drawer. I just loved her so much.”

There’s a long pause. Olivia squeezes Yoongi’s hand again for reassurance. He continues to blankly stare at the ceiling at a loss for what to say next.

“Yoongs...c’mere.” He looks over at Olivia questioningly. She lets go of his hand and before he can protest the loss of contact, she gently places her hands on his shoulders, turning him and slowly lowering his head into her lap. He’s still staring at the ceiling, but also able to see Olivia. She begins to softly run her hands through his hair, tracing patterns onto his scalp every so often. Yoongi sighs contentedly and closes his eyes again.

“...I got down on one knee in her living room, and she stopped me. Before I could say one word. She just said, ‘Yoongi, I can’t.’ And that was it. She didn’t cry. She said she couldn’t do this, whatever this was. She said I deserved better than her. And then she asked me to leave. We never talked again.”

Suddenly he opens his eyes again. “I became a zombie after that...the only time I socialized with anyone was to go play shows, if that even counts. I was so rude for no reason to Kook and Jin, when they were just trying to help. I never even told them what happened. They didn’t know I proposed, they just thought we broke up.” Yoongi’s speech starts to speed up as the trainwreck he’s lived through for the past year plays in his head.

“I used to care so much...I closed myself off. I don’t think I feel emotions properly anymore. I can’t love anyone anymore. I haven’t told anyone about any of this until now, and it took a bottle of champagne to even do that, and you’re one of my best friends.” Yoongi sits up suddenly, motioning frantically at Olivia with his hands. He looks at her, holding eye contact for more than 10 seconds for the first time that night.

“...I think Isabelle broke me,” he breathes. Seeing the care emanating from Olivia’s gaze is what truly breaks him. He’s suddenly sobbing uncontrollably, shoulders heaving with the emotion that he’s held in for so long. Olivia pulls him into her embrace, where she simply holds him while he cries.

What he doesn’t see are the tears streaming down her face as well. She can’t believe that he’s held all of this in for this long, without telling anyone. That he felt like he couldn’t share this part of himself. She just wishes that he could understand how much she cares. How much she loves him. He deserves the world, not to feel this way.

After a few minutes, Yoongi leans back, wiping his eyes and trying to collect himself. It’s then that he notices the wet streaks running down Olivia’s cheeks.

“Livvy, what’s wrong?” he reaches up to gently wipe her cheeks with his thumbs. She inadvertently leans into the touch, sniffling softly. “Livvy...look at me.”

As she lifts her gaze to meet his, Yoongi is struck by how Olivia’s eyes seem to be glittering because of tears. How does she look so pretty even after crying? He’s sure he looks disgusting.

“What’s wrong?” he repeats.

“You deserve the world, Yoongi. I’m so sorry that Isabelle broke your heart, but she was right...you deserve so much better. More than anyone can give you, probably.” She says this while looking intently at her lap, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers.

At this statement, Yoongi stops. Memories of the past year run through his mind, each rapidly following the other. Who did he go to when Gold Rush lost their slot in Battle of the Bands? Olivia. Who did he vent to about Jin and Jungkook when they were fraying his last nerve? Olivia. Where did he go when he needed to destress? Olivia’s. Who made him feel safe? Olivia.

“...hey,” he whispers gently, taking Olivia’s hands in his. She looks up, tears still swimming in her eyes.

“Isabelle may have broken me...but I think someone’s been slowly putting me back together again without me even realizing it.” He smiles, intertwining their fingers and leaning his forehead against hers.

“...w-what?” Olivia stammers, barely loud enough to hear.

Yoongi laughs softly. “Livvy, I think...I think I’m in love with you, and I didn’t even know until right this minute.”

“Yoongs...I...I don’t…” she whispers. Yoongi gasps sharply, pulling away as fast as he can.

“Olivia...I’m so sorry. I misread everything, everything...forget this happened. I’ll leave, forget I said anything!” he scrambles to get off the couch as rapidly as humanly possible, cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

Before he can get far, he’s being pulled back down onto the couch. Making eye contact with Olivia for longer than 10 seconds for the second time tonight, he tries to form an intelligible sentence with his brain. Before anything can come out of his mouth, Olivia’s lips come crashing down onto his.

Yoongi’s eyes widen impossibly, eyebrows raising to meet his bangs. As Olivia’s lips move against his, he stops thinking and sighs into the kiss almost imperceptibly. His hands move to her hips, pulling her as close as he can to himself...he never wants to let go if he can help it.

When the two break eventually break apart for air, Olivia chuckles. “What’s so funny?” Yoongi asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I was just trying to tell you that I didn’t know what to say, not that I didn’t like you...way to jump to conclusions,” she giggles.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. We solved that miscommunication luckily,” he smirks.

“We’re both idiots, aren’t we?” Olivia leans her head against Yoongi’s shoulder.

Yoongi peers down at her, smiling as he wraps an arm around her.

“Yeah, I think we’ve been hanging out with Jin for too long.”

[phoebe-delia]

Taylor Swift's Angstiest Songs

This is specifically for my lovely friend Jet, @ginnyxdarling-1, who is looking to casually get into more of Taylor's music. Jet loves angst, so that is what I'm providing!

I want to put a disclaimer that this is not a comprehensive, complete list of all of Taylor's sad songs. That would be a longer list. These are just the saddest songs that I think are on each album.

Jet, I know you've heard some of these before, but I am adding them to this list because 1. I can remind you of them and 2. this list wouldnt be complete without them.

I will be categorizing them by album, in order of release date.

I'm also going to put a * next to my favorites.

Taylor Swift (Debut)

Teardrops On My Guitar

Cold As You

The Outside

Should've Said No

Invisible

Fearless (Taylor's Version)

White Horse

Breathe

You're Not Sorry

The Way I Loved You* (huge Drarry vibes; I wrote a songfic lol)

Forever & Always (Piano Version)

You All Over Me

Don't You

Speak Now

Back to December

Dear John*

Haunted

Last Kiss*

Red

All Too Well* (my all-time favorite Taylor song)

Sad Beautiful Tragic

The Last Time

The Moment I Knew

1989

All You Had To Do Was Stay

Clean* (okay this one isn't really sad but it's just too good to leave off this list lol)

Wonderland

reputation

Honestly, nothing on this album is really sad, it's really just angry/petty. I think the closest there is, really, is Dancing With Our Hands Tied.

Lover

Death By A Thousand Cuts

Soon You'll Get Better (it's about what it sounds like; don't listen if you don't want to cry lol)

folklore

every song on the album except for: the last great american dynasty, invisible string, betty, seven, and the lakes.

evermore

every song on the album except for: willow, no body no crime, dorothea, and long story short.

[kevindayisafrog]

Not the Kevaaron thing because I got a random urge to write about Kevin running away from Evermore and going to Wymack. There might be angst idk

TW - hints at abuse and anxiety

Kevin waits until he knows that Riko is asleep before creeping out of bed and throwing crumpled clothes into a faded black duffel bag. He grabs an old white shirt and wraps his left hand tightly in it, biting his lower lip to stop himself from screaming out in pain. He zips up the bag and throws it over his shoulder, holding his left hand close to his chest as if it were about to be taken away. He takes one last look at his room and holds back a fearful sob. If this were to backfire then Riko would kill him for sure. The blood pounds in his ears with screaming thoughts as he quietly leaves the room and pads down the hall. It was unbearably dark, but he grew up without the light so he could navigate these winding corridors without a single thought about it. He reaches the steep black stairs and freezes as his heart begins to pound out of his chest. He couldn’t do this. They were going to find him and kill him. He was fucking property, Riko’s toy, he couldn’t go far without being dragged back. The air around him grows thick as his body begins to burn with a growing itch. He was going to die anyway, he might as well try to live first. He quietly runs up the stairs and pushes the four digit code into the security pad. The door makes a quiet click sound and he bites back a nervous laugh as he slowly pulls open the door. The early evening air hits his lungs with the welcoming glow of the sunset burning his eyes. He shifts out of the door and slams it shut behind him and watches as a flock of birds fly above him in a freeing clump. The icy December air numbs his left hand and he winces at the reminder to keep moving. He looks behind him before walking quickly towards the large gates that protect the stadium from any vandalism. “Shit”, he whispers as the gates don’t push open and he looks over to another security pad. He doesn’t know this number, Tetsuji didn’t want them knowing in case they’d run away. He shouldn’t have told them the code to the stadium one, but that’s on him. Kevin presses Riko’s birth date into the pad but it makes a low beep sound of disapproval. He tries Tetsuji’s next but is met again with a low beep. “Fuck”, he can’t turn back now, they’ll rip him apart just for trying to run. He tries to even out his fraying breaths and tries one last birth date; his mother’s. He closes his eyes and waits for another beep but lets out a relieved sob as the gate clinks. He pulls open the gate and runs. He can’t look back, can’t even breathe but runs. His legs wobble with each violent step as Kevin rips himself away from Evermore; the tall sharp stadium becoming a mere shadow behind him as the sunset glows beside him.

The taste of blood pools Kevin’s throat and his legs have become numb from the escape, but he’s free. He slows down to a stop as he approaches a sign directing him to the USC stadium and prays that the Foxes were still at the banquet. The Ravens couldn’t go this year because Riko didn’t feel like mingling with amateurs - as he called the other teams - so Tetsuji let him beat the shit out of Kevin instead. The wind blows colder as Kevin hunches over and makes his way towards the brightly lit stadium in awe. If he could change teams, if he ever had a choice, he would choose the Trojans. The stadium was beautiful, the team was strong and the team captain was..well, he wasn’t allowed to notice those feelings; but he could if he was brought up here. He stands to the edge of the parking lot and desperately searches for the ugly Fox bus that always stands out in a dull crowd. He steps further into the car park and whimpers helplessly as it is filled with plain cars and dull team buses. They’ve left. It’s too late. He stands still and tries to calm himself as he thinks of all the places that they would go to; all of the hotels. He crosses out 5 star stays and starts off in the direction of the town and rubs his left hand obsessively. Why did it have to be the Foxes? If he adored the Trojans so much, why didn’t he just stay here? ‘Because this isn’t home’ he thinks to himself and speeds up into a jog as his eyes start to tear up. He can’t be weak and he can’t give up now.

He reaches a tall neutral painted hotel just a few minutes away from the stadium and stops as a bright orange trim catches his eye. He walks past the hotel and down a dark sidewalk as the bus comes into view with its ugly orange paw guiding him closer. He’s never been happier to see the shit team’s colors before and spins on his heels to run into the hotel; his head pumping from the throbbing pain in his hand. “Excuse me”, he approaches the cream colored desk as the receptionist looks up at him. She flashes him a bright smile that contrasts her tired red eyes and he shifts on his feet. “I was wondering if there was anyone staying here under the name of Wymack? Um, David Wymack?” his throat catches at the name and he tries to quietly clear his throat as the receptionist turns to type something into her computer. “Yes, is he expecting you?” she looks at Kevin’s ragged state and lingers on the bloodstained shirt around his hand. “Yeah, I’m a..a friend”, he looks at the wall behind her as he says this because he can’t believe what he’s fucking doing. Why did he think this was a good idea? What if he gets turned down? What if Wymack just sends him back to Evermore? He couldn’t. Kevin just had to trust him with all his gut because he was his dad wasn’t he? The receptionist clears her throat and waits as Kevin snaps his attention back to her. “He’s in room 217, the elevator is unfortunately out of service at this moment. But I’m sure that you can manage four flights of stairs”, she smiles at him tiredly this time as he thanks her and turns towards the stairs. He didn’t know how sick he felt until he stopped and was sure that he might not make it up the stairs; but he’d come this far, he couldn’t give up now. He pulls his aching body up the stairs with a drag as the steps keep coming in a never ending ascend. The urge to just curl up and stay on the steps pulls at Kevin as he drags his numb legs further up. There were only three more flights to go.

As he reaches the fourth floor he slumps onto the wall and bites the bloody fabric with his teeth. His lungs are burning and his head is pounding with the exhaustion. There are twelve doors on either side of the corridor and Kevin hopes that the one he needs was not right at the end. He walks past eight mahogany doors before finally reaching room 217 with the gold lettering slightly chipping on the ‘7’. He brings his shaky right hand up to the door and knocks softly. His body freezes as he hears swearing inside the room and he has to fight the urge to turn and run. The door swings open to a tired looking Coach Wymack in his underwear and a faded orange tee. “What the fuck?” he shoots his head past Kevin and looks up and down the hall as if he were expecting a flash mob to appear out of the empty walls. Kevin opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out are wet sobs as all of the fear finally crushes him. Wymack watches him in stunned silence for a second before pulling him into the room and shutting the door quietly behind them. “Who’s that?” a female voice comes up beside Kevin as he hides his face in his good hand. “Kevin. Kevin Day”, Wymack whispers behind him as the woman pulls Kevin’s hand away to take a look at his face. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” Wymack crosses one leg over the other as he leans onto the doorframe with one brow raised. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go”, Kevin stutters the words out between sharp sobs. “Come and sit down”, the woman leads him to the bed and pushes him down. “What’s wrong?” her kind eyes stare at Kevin as he runs his hand through his hair. “I can’t say”, the woman nods and places a gentle hand onto his knee. “It’s okay, you’re safe here. I’m Abby, by the way”, she watches his pain filled eyes before looking down at his crumpled clothes. “Are you hurt?” she hovers a hand over his left hand as he pulls it closer to his chest. “I’m scared”, he whispers as Abby nods and gently pulls his hand onto her lap. “Can I have a look?” he nods at her and watches as she peels away the shirt to reveal the mangled mess of his left hand. “Shit, you need to go to the hospital”, she stands and turns to Wymack as he steps over to take a closer look. “No, please don’t. I cant go there”, Kevin looks between the adults and shrinks further away from them. “Kevin, your hand is fucking broken. We’re taking you to the hospital. Abby, get the keys”, Wymack nods towards his jacket and steps closer to Kevin. “No!” he dives to his feet and backs away against the wall. “Please don’t. I’m begging you, I can’t go”, he holds his right hand to his throat as the world starts to blur and spin around him. “Kevin”, Abby rushes over as Kevin drops down to his knees. “I can’t go, please don’t make me go”, he repeats as Abby pulls him into a fierce hug. “David, grab the first aid kit, it’s in my bag. Fuck, and grab some towels”, she keeps holding Kevin close as Wymack leaves to gather everything. “I can’t go, he’s going to kill me”, Kevin whispers in her ear as Wymack returns with the towels and supplies. “No one’s going to hurt you, okay?” she lets go of him and opens up the first aid kit. “How did this happen?” Wymack crouches beside Kevin and squeezes his shoulder. Kevin doesn’t look up as he whispers “Riko” with a wince. “Shit”, Wymack stands up and begins to pace the room. “You’re going to have to tell me everything, Day”, he shoots Kevin a look and Kevin feels like this was all a mistake. He knew that he wouldn’t be wanted here either. “Okay”, he whispers and tells them everything. Everything that he can without having to mention the hell that he went through everyday just to survive. And they listen. Wymack swears and paces whilst Abby carries on working with the mangled hand as best as she can. “Please don’t tell them where I am”, Kevin looks up at Wymack pleadingly. “No” he shakes his head in disgust, “I’m never letting you go back there”.

[91percentpynch]

kevin day as a singer/ songwriter

IT‘S KEVIN DAY BITCHES YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS - originally this was supposed to be a kevin day writing songs, soft wholesome au thingy, it ended up in kevaaron angst with a happy ending. but i put conan gray songs out of kevin‘s point of view as a bonus??? so it‘s still singer/ songwriter kevin??

kevin day has always loved music. he loved it when his mother sang him lullabies when he couldn‘t sleep, when they danced around the kitchen screaming the words to the song from the radio on the top of their lungs, loved it when she taught him how to play the piano and the guitar.

but like every other good thing evermore took this from him, once they snatched him and burried him alive. riko hated music, so naturally it was forbidden for all of them. no happiness, no light. only ever exy, exy, exy.

don‘t get it wrong, kevin loved exy. he was the son of exy. kayleigh found exy, kayleigh gave it to him, it was in his blood. it was in his soul. and it brought him closer to his beloved mother, to the woman who made his life good, who gave him light and happiness and left him back alone. gave him to them.

however just as exy was in his blood, so was music. so whenever he was alone with his partner he would quietly hum or sing a song his mother used to sing him.

when jean moreau arrived at the nest hell broke out. riko was jealous because kevin would spend more time with the new kid than him. kevin wouldn‘t give the king enough attention so all of his subjects had to suffer.

it got worse with every passing day, with every look that lasted just a second too long, with every conversation whispered softly in french, with every lullaby kevin would sing for jean when he was scared, with every embrace and late night talk. with every stolen kiss, they had to pay. well, jean had to pay. kevin had to remain untouched, no scar was allowed to be visible on his perfect face, on his hands or any body part visible. jean however? jean was never allowed to leave the nest, he was riko‘s, he belonged to riko like some doll he could stab or kick or do whatever he felt like to.

the day kevin told riko to stop, was the day riko lost his patience. kevin day got better in exy, he took his favourite toy away from him, he had the audacity to talk against his king.

kevin always knew riko was unpredictable when he was angry, that the world was just black and red when he was mad with anger, but he never in a million years thought that this anger would ever be against him. that he would have to feel what jean felt every single day.

but he did this day, when riko broke his hand. it was also the day when kevin decided that it was time for them to leave. for both of them, jean and him.

„we‘re going“, he whispered in french when he came back to their shared dorm room. „we‘re leaving. you and me. my father, wymack, he has an exy team on his own. the foxes. we‘re going to join them. because i will not leave you here, understood?“

„we can‘t go, he will find me and while he cannot kill you, he certainly can kill me. no one really cares about me, anyways“, jean replied.

„oh is that so? well i for that matter care about you, you beautiful french bastard and now take your five things and we‘re going“

„kevin, we can‘t. not both of us. that‘s way too suspicious“, jean tried to reason.

„darling, it‘s more suspicous when i go alone, now come. we don‘t have much time. riko will look for you soon, if he doesn‘t already. i know the way out, maybe, if we‘re fast we can go to a more growded place before he catches up on us, maybe we can even reach the bus or a taxi before he comes. we have to try, we cannot stay here. i for once must go to the hospital, the bastard broke my playing hand“

„i‘ll make sure he won‘t come after you, you go. go and forget me. go and leave me alone. it‘s only a few more months before i go, only a few more months before it‘s all over. you don‘t have to watch that. just, go“, jean said, his voice tired and filled with emotion.

„i will get you out of here and you will give live a chance. i promis you will see the sun again“, kevin replied, tears running down his cheeks as he leaned in for one last kiss. „i love you“, he whispered into the darkness as he turned to go. kevin never heard the reply, he wasn‘t sure he wanted to.

so kevin tiptoed to the backdoor and left. just like that. until this day he didn‘t know what jean had to go through for him to be able to leave like that but he was thankful for it nonetheless.

somehow he made his way to psu and found his place in the team. well, not exactly found a place. more like got adopted by a scary 5“0 tall, stabby boy, who promised to keep him safe, his twin brother and their cousin who scared the living crap out of him.

„what is our routine? do we have 16 hour days as well here? when is practice? and do we choose our majors ourselves or does the master choose them for us?“, kevin asked the others when they were alone in their dorm.

„do we have WHAT now?“, nicky asked. „dude, no we do not have 16 hour days, we, you know, want to like surive?“

„oh, are we allowed to listen to music or does the king not approve that?“, kevin asked instead.

„dude i don‘t know what fucked up shit they did in evermore but you‘re allowed to do whatever the fuck you want here. and dan would more be a queen, but we just call her dan or captain?“

„oh, okay“, kevin said before turning around and leaving the room. his chest tightened, his arm hurt, he just wanted back on the court. but he wasn‘t allowed on there until his left arm was doing alright, and as long as he wasn‘t on the court he couldn‘t train his right hand to play.

the only other thing that could calm him right now was music. the sound of a piano, the strings of a guitar against his fingers, the scratching of a pen against paper as the notes are written down on it.

kevin wandered through the fox tower, more lost than ever, and somehow found himself in a music room. a dusty piano stood under a bright window, an old guitar was in the corner next to an alomst ancient drum set.

almost automatically his feet brought him to the piano and he began playing. he played and played, as if his life depended on it and kevin felt calmer and lighter than he did in years. the voice of his mother was in his head, singing lullabies and placing a kiss on his forhead.

his right hand was playing the old lullabies he remebered while the left hand rested on his tigh

„that was good“, a voice said, bored and unimpressed. he turned around to see one of the twins watching him. it was the one who couldn‘t hide all of his emotions like the one with the knives.

„aaron, right?“, kevin asked, voice hoarse from crying.

„how do you tell us apart? not even nicky can tell us apart like 90% of the time and he‘s basically our mom“, aaron replied.

„well, it‘s a 50/50 chance, isn‘t it? i was just lucky“, kevin replied.

the music room became his place of safetey and calmness after that day. he would return whenever he felt lost or sad or upset. be it 2 am or the middle of the day.

and aaron would join him more and more often, may it to study because „your music helps me concentrate“ or just to watch kevin play while the sunbeams chased over his pretty face.

and if kevin slowly fell in love with aaron in those shared hours it was nobody‘s business

however it didn‘t look like aaron was into him anyways, as the joining kevin in the music room got less and less, and the time spent with kateyln from the vixens got more and more. and suddenly all of the songs kevin wrote were about aaron. all kevin thought about was aaron. he joined him in his dreams. the nightmares from evermore were replaced by kevin dying alone in a dark void while aaron laughed at him with katelyn by his side.

it was one of those late nights, one of the 2 am sessions where emotions took over and the truth was just easier to take. it was one of those nights that aaron decided to go into the music room, he didn‘t konw why. maybe it was katelyn telling him she wasn‘t into him anymore. it‘s not even been a month. or was it two? aaron never was good with telling weeks apart from days or hours. it was all the same blur of colors and voices and the ever so present need to be perfect. nothing less was acceptable.

„why would you ever kiss me? i‘m not even half as pretty. you gave her your sweater, it‘s just polyester, but you like her better, wish i were heather“, it was kevin‘s voice, like an angle, filled with pain and sadness. aaron sat down on the floor, just listening, wondering who the fuck heather was. and who the fuck would ever break his heart.

„watch as she stands with her holding your hand, put your arm ’round her shoulder, now i‘m getting colder. but how could i hate her, she‘s such an angle. but then again kinda wish she was dead, as she walks by, what a sight for sore eyes. brighter than a blue sky. she‘s got you mesmerized while i die. why would you ever kiss me? i‘m not even half as pretty. you gave her your sweater. it‘s just polyester, but you like her better. wish i were heather. wish i were heather. wish i were heather. why would you ever kiss me? i‘m not even half as pretty. you gave her your sweater it‘s just polyester, but you like her better. wish i were katelyn“, the last word was barely audible and aaron would have missed it if he wouldn‘t have moved closer to kevin while listening to his song.

„why would you want to be katelyn?“, he asked kevin as before he could stop himself.

as kevin turned around the moon let shadwos dance around his beautiful face. aaron could see that he was batteling with himself. that he was about to say something he wouldn‘t normally allow himself to say. show weakness and vulnerability when strenght was all he knew.

„because you like her better. because i want to be the one you kiss“, kevin whispered, looking at the ground. his hair falling into his face, hiding his expression.

aaron moved closer and closer. there were only a few inches between them now. softly he took kevin‘s chin in his hand and lifted it, forced him to meet his eyes. „well, what if you were heather?“, aaron asked, a small smile dancing around his lips.

„but- but katelyn is heather“, kevin whispered.

„well, kately found herself a girl. thea. she dumped me. and i‘m actually glad she did, i wanted you anyways. i just couldn‘t admit it. i thought it was wrong, unnatural. but if something this beautiful is sinful, i understand how adam was able to make the sin. if a fallen angle is wrong in god‘s eyes i have no answer what is right“

he closed the distance between them and placed a soft kiss on kevin‘s lips.

kevin, confused and drunk on the smell and taste of aaron, kissed him back. hungrier. needier.

the taller boy softly put his arms around the waist of the smaller one and pulled him closer. „you do not understand how long i‘ve been waiting to do this“, he whispered against aaron‘s lips.

„believe me, i do“.

the next day kevin took a guitar and a blanket after exy training, took aaron‘s hand and told him to come. together they went to the roof (where andrew and neil were making out, as usual) but they didn‘t mind they went to the other side, andrew‘s death glare on them but what‘s new, and filmed an accoustic version of heather kevin would then later on youtube. heather became their song (weird choice i know but it‘s the song where they kissed for the first time) and so so kevin‘s music career started.

kevin kept writing songs - mostly about aaron - throughout his exy career and published them. his fans loved his songs. his fans loved making conspiracy theories about who the songs are for. they‘re losing their shit when they found out it was aaron. after kevin retires he becomes a fulltime musician and eventually even goes on tour.

BONUS - CONAN GRAY SONGS OUT OF KEVIN‘S POV

grow - years, after evermore. after he starts therapy (and takes it seriously) and he feels like his life slowly but steadily becomes better. aaron and him have been dating for a year or two. he is ready to grow, to become his own person. to be himself and do whatever he wants. he is ready to go into the world. he is ready to show them that he queen of exy is not afraid anymore. that he is worthy and he knows it.

comfort crowd - aaron comforting kevin. aaron knowing when he needed to be with the foxes and when he needed some alone time. or some aaron-kevin-time. i do believe that the foxes becomes his comfort crowd, because they‘ve all been through shit and i refuse to believe that they wouldn‘t care about kevin as they did with neil once they learned what that poor boy had to bo through.

the story - kevin wrote that song about him and jean and the nest. the boy and the boy are him and jean. it‘s the story of their time there and the second verse is kevin‘s story of fleeing from evermore. and the refrain is a metaphor for life, because his life wasn‘t funny. or sweet. or pretty. and the „it could work for you and me. it‘s not the end of the story“ is about him and aaron. the last song verse is about jean and that he hopes that he finds his happy end with jeremy.

maniac - kevin wrote that one when katelyn came back to aaron and asked him to take her back cause the girl she thought she was madly in love with broke her heart. but aaron refused to take her back, told her to go back to her ratback and leave him alone. he‘s with kevin now and he doesn‘t need her anymore. she can‘t get him back.

affluenza - kevin wrote that for allison. i don‘t know the deep story behind that, the song just gives me allison vibes.

wish you were sober - kevin wrote that after the first party he went to with the foxes after he joined him and it‘s obviously about aaron. drunk aaron to be exactly. drunk aaron has a special place in kevin‘s heart.

the cut that always bleeds - that one was when aaron dated katelyn and told kevin about it and kevin just died a little bit inside whenever he did.

fight or flight - he wrote that before aaron told him how he felt about him. he just didn‘t know how to put his feelings into words so he just wrote that song.

lookalike - kevin wrote that before aaron and him started dating, but when jean and jeremy started to become closer. he didn‘t take that well at that time as he had a massive crush on both jean (who refused to talk to him) and jeremy (who never looked at him twice but still). and he just daydreamed about dating jeremy so much it almost felt like a betrayal when he started dating jean.

the king - honestly? aaron dating katelyn but nonetheless always coming back to kevin. kevin knows that. that‘s why he wrote the song.

(can we be friends?) - this is about jean/ jeremy when kevin didn‘t really have friends. jean/ jeremy at the time of the nest probably.

(online love) - this one‘s about jeremy. cause let‘s be honest, at least one of those songs is about jeremy.

crush culture - that one is the result of an angry 4 am song writing session when aaron dated katelyn and jj was just starting to date.

generation why - this one‘s for the millenials. his generation in this au.

heather - heather is aaron, basically he‘s talking about having a massive crush on aaron but aaron would never feel the same cuz he‘s obviously straight and madly in love with katelyn (= heather) who is just stunning and gorgeous and beautiful and so much better than kevin

overdrive - this one was written after the first time the twins and nicky took him to eden‘s. the time when kevin started to catch feelings for aaron.

[king-maven-calore]

what are some lyrics from evermore that you would associate with marecal?

ANON!! Come here I want to give you a hug!!❤️❤️ THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK *cracks knuckles* I’m picking only the ones that hit the hardest🙃:

Eyes like sinking ships/ On waters so inviting (...) I almost jump in I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush/ I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch/ Everybody wants you (Gold rush)

When Mare finds out Cal is a prince and the Queenstrial, that first reaction of being intimidated by everything it entails, but still feeling that pull to someone who feels so unreal and is considered the “golden son”  

Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark Show me the places where the others gave you scars (Willow)

Secret dance practice sessions in the dark that evolve into intimacy during the war. The scars they are left with, mental and physical, that they can only share with each other.

Happiness is literally the post King’s Cage angst song but especially when it says:  No one teaches you what to do/ When a good man hurts you/ And you know you hurt him, too. AND this verse feels so much like when Mare leaves Norta at the end of WS I can’t even listen to it:  In our history, across our great divide/ There is a glorious sunrise/ Dappled with the flickers of light/ From the dress I wore at midnight, leave it all behind.

Finally, Evermore is Broken Throne. Like, it’s so them, suffering PTSD, recovering from the war, staying in the Monfort cabin, finding some semblance of peace and home together.

And when I was shipwrecked (Can't think of all the cost) I thought of you (All the things that will be lost now) In the cracks of light (Can we just get a pause?) I dreamed of you (To be certain we'll be tall again) (If you think of all the costs) It was real enough (Whether weather be the frost) To get me through (Or the violence of the dog days) (Out on waves being tossed) I swear (Is there a line that we could just go cross?) You were there And I was catching my breath Floors of a cabin creaking under my step And I couldn't be sure I had a feeling so peculiar This pain wouldn't be for Evermore

It’s a song about being broken but still believing you can create a “Happily ever after” from the ruble, and there’s nothing more accurate for them.

 I need to go lie down for a few hours and suffer 🤧

[enpointe10]

Gold Rush

AN: So, this is my first ever fanfic. I got sucked into the emotional rabbit hole that is evermore, and this happened. Sorry in advance for the angst!! Really though, this is the first fanfiction I have ever, so please be nice. Enjoy!

THE CABIN

The cabin felt like home. Hidden within Oakwald Forest, nestled underneath layers of snow, with its creaking wooden floors and massive fireplace, it was home. So was the owner of the arm Aelin wiggled under, feeling its heavy weight come to rest on her.

“Hey,” a gruff voice said quietly. Rowan. Aelin closed her eyes as she held him, breathing in his pine and snow scent. He pressed a kiss to her hair. 

“Good morning,” she whispered back at him, her own voice groggy with sleep. She felt more than saw him smile into her hair before he began to pull away from her. With a groan, she tightened her arms around his waist, keeping him in place.

A soft laugh. “I’m just getting some coffee, love.” He gently unwrapped her arms as he eased out of the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

“But you’re so warm,” Aelin murmured into his pillow.

“What was that, Fireheart?” 

Even with her eyes closed, she knew the smirk that would be on his beautiful face. With that damned smirk in mind, she murmured something decidedly unladylike into the pillow as he huffed out another laugh and left the room, the wooden floors echoing his steps until he suddenly froze.

“How did that get there?”

At that, Aelin lifted her head from the pillow, blinking at the light flowing in from frost-covered windows. She saw Rowan standing in front of the door. “What?” she asked.

He slowly turned around, eyes full of mischief as he nodded towards the Eagles t-shirt draped across the top of the door. Her Eagles t-shirt, which she had been wearing the night before. Aelin refused to let her embarrassment show, hating the red flush of her cheeks. Well, unless it was because of a different reason. Like last night.

She raised a brow, giving Rowan a smirk of her own. “Someone got a little excited last night, and ripped my clothes off of me. I guess that one ended up there.” 

“Ah,” he said, a purely masculine smile gracing his face and lighting up his green eyes. 

Aelin paused. “If you actually ripped it, I’ll kill you. That’s my favorite shirt.”

He lifted it off the door, inspecting it for a moment before tossing it on the bed. “Lucky for me, it seems fine.” He stared at the door for a second more, giving it a shake of his head before striding through it. 

A handful of minutes later, Aelin waltzed through the same door. When Rowan caught sight of her, he froze, a cup of coffee in each hand and his jaw on the floor.

Knowing the reason for his shock, Aelin leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You got very, very lucky that this shirt is fine.” And it was. Coincidentally, it was also the only thing she was currently wearing. She was absolutely freezing, but the look on Rowan’s face was worth the chill. His green eyes soaked in the sight of her before they snapped up to meet hers. Pupils blown wide, there was a feral gleam there that caused her stomach to tighten.

Straightening up, Rowan placed both cups of coffee on the table beside him before turning back around to face her. “Well, you’re right about one thing,” he said as he prowled towards her. 

Aelin tilted her head up to meet his gaze, fighting the smile that tugged on her lips. She was grateful that she had her arms crossed over her chest, lest she fall victim to the growing temptation to reach out and kiss him stupid. Which turned out to be unnecessary as he gripped her hips and pulled her towards him, pressing his lips to hers, his kiss nearly as feral as his eyes.

When they finally pulled apart to breath, she asked, “What was it that I was right about this time, buzzard?”

His green eyes gaze caught hers, swollen lips curling up into a smile that made her heart sing to know that she was the reason for it. “I am very, very lucky.”

THE DINNER PARTY

The house was full of laughter. Aelin was holding court at the head of the table, as usual, Rowan beside her. She kept catching him stealing glances at her, especially her dress. Her dinner parties were no joke, and neither was the dress code that accompanied them. Lucky for her—and for Rowan—that meant a black velvet gown that hugged every one of her curves. And he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Noticing how his gaze caught on her once more, she kicked him under the table. He sucked in a breath, surprise coating his features, but she only winked at him.

“Something the matter over there, buzzard?” Fenrys asked, eyes dancing at his use of Aelin’s favorite nickname for him. 

“He’s just being contrarian. It gives his life purpose in his old age.” Aelin answered for him before taking a sip of her wine. She raised a brow over at the buzzard in question. “Right?”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I’m only two years older than you.”

“Arguing with me?” She clicked her tongue and shook her head, eyes dancing. “That sounds rather contrarian to me.”

Lorcan groaned at the pair of them from across the table. “I don’t even want to know. You two are repulsive.”

“You’re one to talk, Salvaterre,” Aelin said as she leaned back in her chair. She raised both brows at him. “Elide’s hand hasn’t been above the table for over twenty minutes. Whatever could it be doing?”

Both Elide and Lorcan flushed bright shades of scarlet as the whole room burst out into laughter. Rowan caught her eyes, mirth dancing there, most likely due to the placement of his own hand on her upper thigh where it had been sitting for far longer than twenty minutes. She just winked at him and took another sip of wine.

THE COASTAL TOWN

They had gone away for the weekend. Rowan had picked out a little town on the coast, and had booked a room at a local bed & breakfast for the two of them over the long weekend. With the sea air and the sunshine, Aelin thought it was perfection.

Rowan, it seemed, agreed. He had smiled for the entire weekend, and she caught him staring at her more than a few times. A couple of those stares had been the kind to heat her blood and make her toes curl, but other times, he was just— staring. It took her the entire first day to figure out what it had been in his eyes when he stared at her.

Love. It was love.

And gods, did she love him. 

“Ready, Fireheart?” He stood leaning against the doorframe. He had promised to take her out for a night on the town, and had certainly dressed for the occasion. He looked so good that it took Aelin a moment to pull herself together before she could respond. Taking a deep breath, she gave him a bright smile as she sidled up to him.

“Of course,” she answered. “Just so you know, I would kiss you right now if I wasn’t so worried about messing up my lipstick.”

He chuckled, glancing down at the floor before looking back up at her. “I appreciate it.” Leaning in closer, he pressed a kiss to her nose. “That will have to suffice for now, I guess.”

Aelin breezed past him, grabbing her coat and his. At his amused expression, she smirked at him. “Come on, buzzard. As amazing as I am sure the food will be, the faster we get going, the faster we can get back. Then we can find all sorts of ways for me to smear my lipstick.”

He had never moved faster.

Aelin was right: the food was amazing. She had let out a moan with her first bite sinful enough that Rowan had banged his knee on the table. It had been all too tempting to tease and toy with him all night, but she made it clear that if that was how the main course tasted, there was no way in hell she was skipping dessert. 

In turn, Rowan had made it painfully clear that he would be having his own dessert later. The gleam in his eyes had been enough to make her toes curl. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to it. She had barely scooped the last forkful of delicious chocolate cake into her mouth when Rowan had asked the waiter for the check. He helped her into her coat before shrugging on his own.

The walk back to the bed & breakfast was cold, but made all the warmer by Rowan tucking her into his side. Halfway there, she paused, tugging Rowan to a stop beside her. He spun towards her, brow furrowed as he opened his mouth to ask her—

Whatever he had planned to ask her was silenced by the press of her lips to his. When they finally pulled apart, he stared down at her, pine green eyes wide. “What was that for?”

“Because I wanted to,” Aelin answered honestly. “And because I love you.”

Rowan’s swollen lips tugged up into a smile. While it was soft and gentle and shy, it still shone brighter than the lights strung up on all the buildings around them, at least to Aelin. He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead, each eyelid, her nose, and finally her lips. “I love you, too, Fireheart.”

NOW

Something that felt awfully like an elbow stabbed into her ribs, startling Aelin enough to drop something she had been holding in her hand. A mug, she realized. The travel mug she is sure to take with her to all of her many late night study sessions in the library. Inhaling sharply, whirl around to find a different pair of green eyes staring at her. With those different green eyes was brown hair, not pale blonde.

“Finally awake, are we?” Lysandra teased. The playful smile on her face fell in the silence after she spoke.

Aelin stared at her friend, blinking away the images of t-shirts on doors, dinner parties, and coastal towns that were swirling around in her brain. She opened her mouth to answer, but when no words came out, she closed it.

“Aelin?” Worry coated Lysandra’s words. “Are you okay? You spaced out there for a while.”

“Yeah,” Aelin rasped, finally emerging from the haze. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just—”

Someone brushed against her shoulder. It was quick, but hard enough that she spun around, only to find those gods-damned green eyes looking back at her. 

“Sorry,” Rowan Whitethorn said, offering her a grin until his eyes met her own, realizing who he had bumped into, and then that smile fell. “Aelin,” he breathed. 

“Hi, Rowan.” She gave him a half smile that she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes. Aelin hated the way her face still flushed because of him, even after everything. Something she couldn’t quite place flickered in his eyes, and then he was backing up, running a hand through his hair. She really hated the way it fell like dominos, perfectly into place. 

“I, uh, I have to go. Lyria’s waiting for me.” His voice was quiet, his eyes seeming to fall on everything except her face. “But it was nice to see you.”

Aelin knew it for the lie it was. 

“Nice to see you, too, Rowan,” she offered, but he was already gone.

“Damn, in all your talking, you never said that he was that handsome,” Lysandra said, following Rowan as he hurried away from them. From Aelin. Then she froze, wincing a bit as she turned towards her friend. “I’m so sorry, Aelin. I should not have said that. Gods, I feel terrible.”

“It’s okay, Lys.” And it was. Aelin’s own eyes landed Rowan once more, where he now stood with his new girlfriend. She saw how he looked at Lyria, knowing fully well how it felt to be looked at like that. To be looked at by that by him. But it was not to be, and he was with Lyria now. And when he bent down towards her, eyes closing, she knew what would happen next, so she turned away.

There would be no dinner parties, no weekend getaways to little coastal towns. Maybe once there would have been, but not anymore. It was merely folklore she’d imagined. Days, weeks, months, entire lives with him that could never be, will never be. 

She couldn’t dare to dream about him anymore.

Aelin glanced down at the mug in her hand, the one she knew held nothing but her cold tea from yesterday, and let those daydreams fade away.