#this realization comes as i’m sitting in my floor listening to music on CD while staring at part of my physical media collection

[ierogenvy]

i’m a little weird huh.

[intergalacticaquarium]

Part 2- A Pair of Brown Eyes

2.5k, Eddie x Reader/fem!Oc/ step!henderson!reader

Content: hotboxing a cool van, awkward flirting, Irish punk music, the awkward awkward aftermath to almost smooching, loving description of eddies huge brown eyes bc I'm in love with him

Summary:

After an awkward first meeting of her Dad's new fiance Claudia Henderson and her son Dustin, Sam needs to unwind, and who would show up but Eddie Munson.

(part to of my series Home Again about an original character Samantha Campbell, kind of a retelling of s4 and there's more to come. You don't really need to read the first chapter to get the vibes but it's along a similar vein and provides more context)

(Series masterpost/chapter links here!)

---

    Sam sat on the blankets covering the floor of the van while hanging her legs over the side out of the open door, lazily smoking a joint and trying not to think, just focusing on the accent of Pogues that she could finally understand after reading the lyrics on the little booklet in the CD case a million times. She wasn’t sure how long she had been there, and also wasn’t sure if one Eddie Munson knew that she could see him looking at her van from his front porch when she glanced up at the rear view mirror, and how he started to walk down the step and turn around a few times before shaking his head resolutely and starting to walk towards her. She appreciated his hesitation in going to talk to her but wasn’t sure she liked his decision yet.

    She didn’t move even as she heard him getting closer, and continued to be still and pretend not to see him when he stood right by the door, smiling a little as he realized she didn’t know he was there and looked behind him to consider leaving. It was funny to see somebody that usually had so much bravado getting a bit nervous. She decided to take pity and prop herself up on her elbows, squinting towards him standing in front of the setting sun.

    “Hey, Munson.” She said, and he took that as enough of an invitation to sit down beside her.

    “Hey, Campbell. Figured you’d be at your dad’s place tonight.” 

    Sam shrugged. “Nah. They…had a whole room made up for me but it- it was too weird. Not yet, anyway.”  She said, feeling a bit vulnerable. 

    Eddie had obviously sensed that she was uncomfortable and looked away awkwardly.

    “Sorry- should I not have come over here?” He asked quietly. 

    “No!” She said quickly, suddenly glad for the company. “I mean yes. It’s fine that you’re here and you should stay and hang out.” She clarified and he laughed a little and scooted entirely into the van, taking the joint from her hand and taking a hit before passing it back. 

    After talking for a few minutes the song changed over and Eddie frowned. “Okay, I gotta ask, what the hell are you listening to? This doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing.”

    Sam rolled her eyes. “What about me right now would imply that I don’t like punk music..”

    Eddie laughed. “Punk? This is like…an irish jig”

    She made a face more offended than she felt when she was honestly relishing the moment to prove herself right, and had to stop herself from giggling at the joke she had just thought of.

    “Are you trying to tell me that banjo and tin whistle can’t be punk?” 

    He stared at her like she was crazy. “Yes. That is exactly what I’m saying. I’m more of a metalhead but I know that you can’t just call folk music punk and make it true.”

    “Wow, Eddie. I had no idea you were such a conformist.” She said, doing her best to keep any and all sarcasm or laughter out of her face as his face instantly dropped.

    “No, I-” He started, and she laughed when he couldn’t think of anything to say. “It’s not though-what are you doing?”

    Eddie glanced over at her commotion to see her bent over and reaching towards the front seat, and he quickly looked away to avoid staring at her ass, but it was almost inevitable from where he was sitting. 

    “I’m proving you wrong.” She said, a little bit muffled while she dug through fast food bags hunting for her tape collection..

    “Do you need help? I can just get out and get something out of the front seat for you if you want. The door is literally open.”

    “I’ve got it! My arms are kinda short, one second.” She pulled out the few months old tape of Rum Sodomy and the Lash and put it into the tape player. Still up on her knees she turned back to Eddie’s skeptical face at the first few slow notes and croons about devils on your shoulders and Sam held up five fingers counting down and when she reached one the song somebody counted down, the singer shouted, the drums crashed, and Eddie’s face changed to one of shock and enjoyment. When she saw his face Sam pumped a fist in victory and fell back onto the mattress laughing, taking the joint from his slack fingers and taking her hit and watched Eddie listen while she grinned. As the song slowed down again he nodded in concession.

    “I guess I stand corrected. That is, without a doubt, a punk rock irish jig. I didn't know that was possible.” He laughed and looked at her, and how much her mood had changed in just the last few moments. That was more like the Sam that he remembered before she left Hawkins. 

    They continued to listen and chat and it struck Sam how glad she was that he came over, she needed the company.. The songs got a  little slower and as the sun went down and the air got cooler they closed the van door and sat side by side on the mattress in the back of her van with beers in hand lighting another joint.    

    She told him about her time in the city and he caught her up on some crucial gossip of Hawkins since she had been gone. 

    “Sounds like this place has gotten way worse since I left.” She said after listening to some of the fallout of the ‘mall fire’ that she had missed.

    “Yeah- I think that most of us are trying to get out of Hawkins, and you came back voluntarily, it’s insane. I’d have been gone years ago if I could just fuckin graduate.” He said, almost boastfully.

    “Why haven’t you just dropped out then? What’s stopping you from just…leaving?”

    “Honestly I thought about it around my junior year but now I’ve just spent so fuckin long that it would be a huge waste of time if I dont. Also I want to flip off the principal on stage.” 

    She had a feeling that wasn’t all there was.

    “And you’d miss your little wizard buddies.” She joked, and was surprised when he smiled affectionately.

    “Maybe that’s part of it. I dunno. It’s nice to at least know where I…don’t fit in.” He said, and then cringed at the honestly. “That sounded super lame.”

    “I don’t really understand, but it doesn’t sound lame.” She glanced down. “I think that you like not fitting in more than I do.” She said, glancing back at him and his nod of concession.

    “I can’t say you’re wrong about that. But I also can’t imagine that you changed your whole look because you want to fit in.”

    “I mean…I kinda did, honestly. This is how my friends in New York dressed, but I’m going to keep dressing this way because I like it and I kind of have this fantasy that if I go back to school looking different nobody will recognize me and ask me why I left and didn’t call anybody for like a year.”

    “That’s…probably not going to happen.” He warned her.

    “I know. But a girl can dream.” She sighed. “I just hope it wasn’t a mistake coming back.”

    “It might be. Or it will just be a boring school year and then you’ll be back on your way to the outside world.”

    “Yeah. Maybe.” She took a drag off of the joint that was on its last legs. “I was just thinking about what you said yesterday. When you asked if the thing that made me leave was still a problem.”

    “Is it?”

    “I honestly don’t know. That’s why I don’t want to talk to anybody and I’m gonna keep sleeping in this van, I don’t want to find out.”

    He tilted his head, confused. 

    “There was a thing.” She started, her mouth moving faster than her brain. “There was this thing that happened to me last year and it was weird and insane and scary and when I told my Dad he just…didn’t believe me. He thought I was having a mental breakdown. Maybe I was but I don’t think…” Sam trailed off, still frustrated at her own cognitive dissonance. 

Eddie bristled at all the terrible possibilities that sentence could imply and felt a sudden wash of protective instincts for somebody that he had always considered a near stranger despite the fact that he had known her for years.

“Are you, like, in danger or something?” He said, carefully choosing his words.

She shrugged. “Fuckin maybe. I have no idea, but I know that if I start talking to people I’ll let something slip and they’ll think I’m insane.”

“Christ alive, Sam I’m trying so hard to be respectful and not ask you what happened but you are making this sound like the most tantalizing secret known to mankind.”

She gave a half hearted laugh. “I could tell you the dead truth right now and I guarantee that you’d think I was making shit up to get out of telling the real story.”

“Try me.”

He said it so earnestly that she wanted to, and his brown eyes almost forced it out of her, but she bit her lip and shook her head.

“No. I can't do it again. I’ve had this exact conversation with, like, four therapists that promised that they’d listen and not judge and believe me and then they looked me in the eye and tried to lie and say they did when they obviously didn’t.” She said, trying to hide how much it hurt.

“I’m not a therapist. Or a rational person.” He said encouragingly, chipping away at her will to keep it a secret. 

“No, you’re not. But I’m having a nice time hanging out with you and I really don’t want to ruin it.” She said, and that got him to back off, putting his hands up in a dramatic but understanding gesture.

“I get it. Everybody’s got their secrets. Well, except for me, but I’m a freak.” He said with a grin to break the tension. 

“Don’t call yourself that.” Sam said reflexively.

Eddie snorted. “See, that’s the fun thing about knowing where you don’t fit in, 99% of the time when somebody tries to start shit they’re just commenting on something that I actually like about myself and probably worked pretty hard on. If I didn’t want them to call me a freak I’d act like less of a freak” He boasted

“You’ve got quite the ego, Munson.” She said and looked at him sitting next to her.

“I know. I worked pretty hard on it.” He said cockily and tilted his head playfully.

“So it’s all an act and you’re just a poser?” She said, soft and joking, only now noticing that Eddie was sorta cute. Sweet. 

He grabbed his heart and collapsed forward onto her shoulder like he had been mortally wounded, the limited space obviously cramping his exaggeration and he fell dramatically into her lap, making her laugh and staring at her with fake heartbreak and a dramatic hand on his forehead.

“My ego may be humongous but that doesn’t make it less breakable!”

“God you are such a dork.” She said affectionately and he pumped his fist in triumph. It seemed like he was about to get up when the song changed along with something in her expression that he didn’t understand yet.

The music slowed and the song changed and she almost laughed at how appropriate it was, like her van was trying to wingman her with the man half propped up and half laying in her lap.

And I rove and I rove and I rove and I rove and I rove… for a pair of brown eyes.… for a pair of brown eyes.

And damn were those brown eyes staring up at her, huge and round and giving away every emotion whether he liked it or not. Huge and soft and she knew that Eddie was thinking almost the exact same thing. The words of the music were hard for him to understand, hearing it for the first time, but a chorus repeated so many times so clearly like that was hard to miss. The part of his brain that usually can’t shut up wanted to mention it but he knew that the second he did she would look away and who knows if he’d ever get close enough again to see there was actually quite a bit of green in her eyes around the dark brown.

The song and the moment waltzed forward until the scrutiny was too much for either of them to take and they looked away, both blushing. Suddenly they both felt awkward in the aftermath when they realized that they had just stared into each other's eyes while he was resting his head on her lap for about a solid minute, and outside of that moment and that verse of that song the van was suddenly too small and hot and awkward.

 Eddie scrambled into a sitting position, bumping into her elbow and knocking a few things over in the small space and he frantically began to try and put them back in their proper spot without bumping into Sam as she took a self conscious hit off of their fourth joint too  fast and started coughing. He grabbed her water bottle, unscrewed the top and handed it to her just as the song changed over to the one she loved but did just start with some screaming. They both jumped, jerking the bottle and spilling quite a bit of water all over the mattress and blankets. His eyes went wide with regret, expecting her to get mad and he was ready to apologize.

 All at once it was too much and Sam started to giggle mercilessly, her lungs burning and still coughing but completely unable to stop, especially after he joined in on her extremely stoned and contagious laughter until all the awkwardness and whatever energy it was that caused it was gone and they were both left high and giggly, and getting sleepier by the second. The laughter died down and picked back up a few times, those stray giggles returning involuntarily like hiccups and threatening to overtake them again until they had both calmed down, their ribs and lungs hurting as they tried to catch their breath. 

Sam yawned, and so did Eddie, and you glanced at the clock, seeing that it was almost two am.

“I should probably take off. If I'm gonna graduate this year I don’t want to jinx it by being late on the first day.” He paused. “Not too late, at least.” He opened the van door and paused again. “I’m definitely gonna show up at some point tomorrow.”

“Shit, is that tomorrow?” Sam said, suddenly wishing she had just stayed out of town.

“Yeah. It’s gonna be the worst, but uh- if we have the same lunch, you can sit with me and the guys.”

“The guys?” She said in amusement, and he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m probably just going to eat in the van.”

“Is this the part where you reveal that you’re actually a ghost whose spirit is tied to this van?” “You don’t get all my secrets in one night, Munson.” She teased, and he awkwardly waved goodbye and walked the very short walk to his trailer with a smile on his face, only realizing a few hours later that he had left his jacket there.

[waywardnerd67]

Star Crossed: Shining Star

Summary: Between filming and conventions, Jensen Ackles hardly has a moment to himself. During a panel one weekend he learns that his favorite band’s lead singer is a fan of his. Encouraged by his best friend, Jensen steps out of his comfort zone and reaches out to her on social media. That one decision throws his entire world into a whirlwind adventure. Pairing: No Pairing Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1595 A/N: None

Check out: Star Crossed Masterlist

Jensen Ackles walked into his apartment kicking off his shoes by the door. Thankful to be done filming for the week and looking forward to not having to travel too far for the convention this weekend. He loved meeting fans and performing on Saturday nights. There were some weeks where he wished he could relax in his apartment and not have to worry about traveling.

Deciding a night of Netflix and pizza was in order, Jensen took a quick shower then put on some sweats with a t-shirt. He had settled in with his pizza with The Witcher series pulled up to watch when his phone started buzzing.

“No Jared, I don’t want to come out.”

Laughter came ringing through the speaker, “Jackles, it’s only a few crew and myself chilling at our normal spot. Come out for a little while.”

“What part of no don’t you understand? The N or the O?” Jensen rubbed his forehead hearing everyone behind Jared chanting his name, “Buddy, I’m showered and in for the evening. I’ll make it up to y’all tomorrow night.”

“Fine old man, see you tomorrow.”

He groaned, ending the call and no longer interested in the show on Netflix. Turning off the tv, he walked over to his record player turning on the band he had been listening to on repeat. He discovered Wayward Stars a few years ago when a fan gifted him their cd. They were a hard rock, alternative metal band with lyrics that spoke to the soul. Also, the lead singer was drop dead gorgeous.

There had been late night shoots he would turn on one of their albums listening to (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s voice letting it seep into the far reaches of his mind. As he sat in his apartment alone, he allowed his mind to wander of singing with her on stage one day. Making a mental note to talk with Creation and Rob Benedict about getting her to come to Vegas for SNS. For now, he let the music flow over him well into the night.

The next day, Jensen slept in until he heard Clif knocking on his door. Twenty minutes later, he was walking down to the lobby where Jared was sitting with his eyes closed.

“Hey Jared!” He yelled.

Jared jumped falling off the chair he was on. Jensen and Clif started laughing as he mumbled curses under his breath getting off the floor.

“Not funny and I will get you back.” Jared’s eyes narrowed on him.

“I’m sure you will, big guy. Now, can we get on with our day?”

They had a few interviews at the studio and some meetings before they had to get ready for the concert that night. Since the convention was in Vancouver and there was no traveling, Jensen had agreed to sing that night. He was excited to perform new songs and to be in front of the fans. As they pulled into the studio parking lot, he sighed knowing it was going to be a long day ahead of him.

It was near six o’clock when Jensen arrived back at his apartment to get ready for the night. Once again, he turned on his favorite Wayward Stars song, A Light in the Dark. It was a slower song with beautiful lyrics and then a killer riff in the end. He was in his room, singing when he heard his door open. Only two people had a key to his place and he only needed one guest to know who was walking in.

“Really? Wayward Stars again?” Jared flopped down on his couch.

“I can’t help it that you have horrible taste in music.” He chuckled.

“I like the band… just not 24/7 like you.”

He rolled his eyes, shutting off his record player, “Don’t judge me. Now come on and let’s go hang out with the fam.”

Saturday Night Special was exactly that, special. Especially when they were in Vancouver. The cast and crew seemed to cut loose a little more backstage. He was catching up with Matt Cohen when they called him to get ready to go on stage. Jared and Misha were standing by the stage to watch as Rob called him up on stage.

There was nothing more exhilarating than being hit with a roar of an audience. An electric current steady ran down his body over the next fifteen minutes as he performed. When he walked off stage, as promised, he celebrated with Jared, Misha and others until the early hours of morning.

Their early morning panel was rough as the coffee worked through knocking out the whiskey from his system. The last question of their morning panel came from a young lady wearing a Wayward Stars shirt.

“Love your shirt.” Jensen smiled.

“We get it Ackles, you’re their biggest fan.” Jared jokes.

The fan laughed, “Actually my question is about them. SPN family loves this band since they are fans of the show. Wondering if you ever had a chance to meet them or if they could be invited to a SNS show?”

“Go on fanboy…”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “I would love to meet them one day and have them come perform during Saturday Night Special. I’m forever thankful to the fan who gave me their cd a couple of years ago. Many, many a night their music has kept me sane during shooting. So yeah, definitely would love to meet them.”

“I would love for Jensen to meet them so I can film it and post it on social media for everyone to see him fanboy all over (Y/N).”

The crowd ohhh as Jensen glared at Jared, “Alright, alright… I think we have to get going now. We will see y’all later.”

Waving as they walked off the stage. As soon as they were on the stairs, Jensen punched his friend in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“You deserve that.” Jensen could hear Jared laughing all the way to the green room.

The rest of the convention went without a hitch. Monday morning brought a whole new week of filming. Jensen was in his trailer when his phone buzzed seeing a text from Jared.

He pulled up his app, seeing a few friends tagging him in a post from a girl named Addy. Clicking on the YouTube link surprised to see (Y/N) watching him sing from SNS.

“I can’t help it. He’s gorgeous and talented and the perfect man.” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically pretending to faint.

Text flashed on the screen, “#1 Jensen Ackles Fangirl”

He sat there stunned for a moment watching the video again. He could not wrap his mind around that she was a big fan of his. He knew the band liked the show, but to think he was perfect? His heart thumped against his chest as his shaking hands typed a message back to Jared.

Jensen took a few deep breaths before typing a Tweet then deleting it. He typed another one and deleted it. The third time he hit post and immediately regretted it, sounding like an idiot. Within minutes he received a notification from (Y/N) on Twitter.

Before he could reply, Jared was calling him, “Are you freaking out?”

“N-No… maybe, yes.” He stammered.

Jared’s laughter filled his ear, “Oh my god I wish I could see your face right now. This is your chance to make all your dreams come true.”

“I’m hanging up now, Jerk.”

“See you in an hour, Bitch.” Jared was still laughing as Jensen ended the call.

He watched the video a few more times and sent another Tweet out to (Y/N) after following her page. He went on all his social media making sure he was following her before realization hit that it seemed stalkerish.

“Jay, calm your roll.” He muttered to himself.

Putting his phone down, he tried to go over his lines for the next scene they were shooting. When he could not concentrate then he buckled, putting in his earbuds and turning on Wayward Stars. His hands were still trembling as he tried to control his fan moment.

Over the next several weeks, Jensen and (Y/N) were chatting all over social media. He posted a picture on Instagram tagging her in holding up her vinyl record.

Finally, he gathered the courage to ask for her number in a DM to chat with her more in private. Since their fans were going nuts over their new friendship. Now they would text each other everyday like they had known each other forever. She would tell him about her shows and cities she was in. He would chat about filming without spoiling anything for her. The only thing he wished could happen was their schedules to sync up so they could meet.

That thought ran through his mind everyday especially when he was at conventions like the upcoming weekend in his hometown. Thursday night, he was on a plane heading to Dallas when a notification popped up on his phone from (Y/N) posting on Twitter.

“Not next to me.” He mumbled snapping a picture of himself before replying to her Tweet.

He knew where she was off too after they had talked earlier in the day. They were still a thousand miles apart but closer than they had ever been since their friendship had begun. Settling back into his seat, he enjoyed listening to Wayward Stars newest song released that week.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

For updates please follow #waywardnerd67fics

Taglist: @waywardbaby​​ @ladywinchester1967​​ @akshi8278​​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​​ @destiel745​​ @carribear31​​ @whimsicalrobots​​ @adoptdontshoppets​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @bella-ca​​ @drakelover78​​ @imascio08​​ @mannls​​ @time-travel-bouqet​​ @myinconnelly1​​ @maddiepants​​ @tumbler-tidbits​​ @sandlee44​​ @destielhoneybee​​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​​ @thefaithfulwriter​​ @stoneyggirl​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @atc74​​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @mimaria420​

[luminescencefics]

fade in, fade out - part two

story page // chapter moodboard // read on wattpad // banner credit

previous | story masterlist | next

***

The Backstory

September 2006

In Nora Priestley’s fourteen years of life, she’s never lived this far away from the ocean before. It’s always been just right outside her window, a quick ten-minute trek from Thames Street until she reached the rolling dunes of Rejects Beach. Smelling the salt in her hair and feeling her skin grow sticky from the feeling of the ocean air was practically second-nature to her, but ever since she moved to the middle of nowhere Connecticut for boarding school, she’s never felt more disconnected from normality in her life.

Nora’s never really been a big fan of embracing change. She’d like to blame that on the fact that she’s never really had any monumental shifts to her tectonic plates so far in her short life, and she’s not quite sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.

It’s always been just her and her mom. A dynamic duo. A tag team of epic proportions. 

Growing up in Newport, Rhode Island could be worse, Nora thinks. She was lucky enough to grow up in a small coastal town where everybody accepted her in one way or another. Even though she was much different than the other kids her age, considering she spent most of her time alone while her mother worked, she never felt unhappy. Life was simple. Life was easy.

Nora and her mother, Shannon, lived in a small apartment in a renovated old colonial townhouse at the bottom of Thames Street. It was a third-floor walk-up, and in the heat of the summer when the humidity made the wallpaper begin to curl at the edges of her tiny paisley-coated bedroom, Nora had to sleep with her creaky window open with nothing but a thin sheet to cover her sweat-soaked body, the soft sounds of the rolling waves crashing against the shore lulling her to sleep.

Shannon Priestley was the ultimate leading lady in Nora’s life. She referred to Nora as her perfect mistake, because having a baby the summer she turned eighteen with a boy she thought would be her forever was the very definition of that phrase. But she handled it like she did everything else in her life—with grace and dignity, and nothing but a big gleaming grin on her face that always made Nora and everyone else lucky enough to be around her sunbeam feel that everything would be okay. 

With a one-year-old baby on her hip and a bright and shiny high school diploma under her belt, Shannon found a job listing to be a nanny for the Clemonte’s. Without a second’s deliberation, she packed up her things and moved to the tip of the state to Newport. 

The Clemonte’s were one of the wealthiest families in Newport, hailing from an impressive lineage of old money with an expansive estate of fourteen acres overlooking Ochre Point and the Atlantic Ocean. They were one of those families that named their properties, and when Shannon Priestley first stepped foot inside The Breakers mansion, she knew right then and there that her new bosses had very high expectations for her.

Shannon became the singular nanny to Warren and Jane Clemonte’s baby son, William. He was born three months after Nora, and even though Shannon felt slighted that she had to spend most of her days with another family’s child while her own was being watched by their downstairs neighbor, she promised to split her time evenly. And even though twenty-four hours in a day was never enough for Shannon, she made sure to spend most of it with Nora.

And Nora was always grateful for that. 

The second Nora was old enough to take care of herself, she started going to The Breakers after school so that her mom could walk her home. It was at that very moment when she had her first taste of ostentatious luxury, and from then on it never failed to amaze her. The other half certainly did live differently than Nora and her mother, and stepping foot inside the Clemonte’s mansion made that realization startlingly clear. 

This was when she first met William Clemonte. Nora always knew he existed, considering her mother would sprinkle in small anecdotes about him while doing other mundane tasks. “Willy was very quiet today,” Shannon would tell Nora on their walk home from Ochre Point to Lower Thames. “Mr. and Mrs. Clemonte want Willy to take piano lessons and learn Latin. How on earth is a seven-year-old supposed to handle that?”

To Nora, Willy was somewhat of a fictional character living behind the towering walls of The Breakers. She imagined him being a smaller boy, blonde with blue eyes and wearing some sort of matching ensemble sitting inside the thick walls of his mansion, overlooking the deep cobalt ocean through a grand wall of windows. But when she meets him one afternoon after her first day of second grade, she could not be any more wrong.

Sure, Willy Clemonte was a small boy, but he was by no means shy or scared of her. He took her on a tour through the grand halls of The Breakers, showed her all of the secret passageways built inside the walls from when the mansion was first erected back in the early twentieth century, and shared his brand new toys with her. 

But most importantly, he listened to her. He asked her a million questions about public school, about the world outside of his tall fortress, about the television shows Shannon let Nora watch after dinner, and the different kinds of popular music other kids their age were listening to.

“Wait, so *NSYNC isn’t just Justin Timberlake?” Willy would ask whenever Nora would show him what was inside her portable CD player (which was almost exclusively No Strings Attached until she reached the fourth grade). 

“Oh my god, Willy! *NSYNC is a boyband! Justin is just the best one,” Nora would scold right back, shoving the plastic headphones over his blonde head of hair so that the felt cushions would press against his ear, the vibrating thumps of “Bye Bye Bye” playing through the electronic equipment.

Whenever he would ask her about school, Willy was always shocked to hear how different her experience was from his own. Nora would tell him about the yellow school buses that picked up and dropped off her friends, she would show up to his house afterward wearing jeans and a pink Gap sweatshirt and he was always surprised to learn that kids could wear whatever they wanted during the day, and when she would come over on Fridays and tell him that her mother gave her a dollar for pizza day at lunchtime, Willy wished more and more that he could go to public school with her, too.

While Willy was nothing but sunshine and kindness, Warren Clemonte was the complete opposite. A cold and distant man, stern and grumpy with a perpetual frown on his face, he sent a terrifying chill all the way down to Nora’s bones until they rattled together like a hollow instrument. And one Thursday afternoon when Shannon was busy packing Willy’s bags for the Clemonte’s annual Christmas trip to Aspen, Warren caught his son running around the main hall searching through every nook and cranny for Nora’s impressive hiding spot. It was only once she heard the bellowing yells when she emerged from behind an old armoire in the library, peeking her head around the corner to watch Warren yell at Willy in the echoing hallway.

“What do you think you’re doing, running around when you’ve left your Latin workbook unfinished?” Warren demanded, his low voice bouncing off the thick walls.

“I’m sorry, dad. I was just—”

“—Just what? Playing around and avoiding your responsibilities? How are you supposed to learn anything if you spend all of your time dilly-dallying with that girl, William?”

Willy began to cry then, and before Nora could interfere, her mother was already ten steps ahead of her, entering the main hall and apologizing profusely while her daughter stayed hidden behind the old armoire, watching everything with regretful eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Clemonte. I was just packing for Willy, I didn’t realize he had run off. I’ll make sure it never happens again, sir,” Shannon said, placing a comforting arm around Willy’s shaking shoulders while his father stood barely five feet away, watching his wailing son with lifeless eyes. 

“Please do, Miss Priestley. William does not need any more distractions.” His voice held a clipped finality to it, and when he walked away and Nora appeared from behind the wall to approach Willy who was clutching her mother for dear life, she never understood how his father could just leave his son to fall apart in front of him like that.

That was the last afternoon Nora ever spent at The Breakers. 

Up until four months ago, Nora was almost certain that the entire Clemonte family had forgotten that she existed, and that treacherous afternoon with Willy nearly seven years ago was just a sad memory that could be tarnished for the rest of eternity. But when her mother comes home with a thick black and red folder, the words Townbridge Academy in capital letters splayed against the front page above a golden crest, Nora’s never been more confused in her life.

When she asked her mother what she was doing with a boarding school acceptance letter in her hand that Nora had never heard of before, the answer she received was definitely not what she had expected. Apparently, Mrs. Clemonte found out that Nora was planning on attending the public high school on Broadway Street, and apparently, she believed that she could offer Shannon a lending hand. Nora would like to blame it all on Jane Clemonte’s philanthropic tendencies, but a few phone calls and a faxed copy of Nora’s stellar transcripts later, Nora was appointed a lofty scholarship to attend Townbridge Academy in the fall. 

All things considered, Nora did not want to go. She liked her middle school friends, she liked being her own person, she liked knowing that her mom was only a twenty-minute walk away, and most importantly, she liked not having to be associated with a family like the Clemonte’s. She didn’t want to be seen as a charity case, and accepting the scholarship on Mrs. Clemonte’s behalf to attend a prestigious boarding school like Townbridge Academy was exactly that.

But when her mother sat her down and told her how amazing this opportunity was, and how much Nora could accomplish with a diploma from one of the best schools in the country, Nora couldn’t bring herself to say no. Especially when her mother held her close and whispered in her ear, “God, Nora, you can do all of the things I never could have done,” Nora knew that there was no way she could break her mother’s heart.

Because now, standing in her new dorm room with deep oak walls, a creaky polished hardwood floor, a red ornamental rug that smelled a bit like Warren Clemonte’s cologne, and a small twin bed nestled in the corner underneath a window overlooking the bleak green hills of Connecticut—Nora Priestley wishes she had told her mother no.

Before she can even wallow in her own self-imposed misery, the front door opens revealing an older man carrying a trolley holding a matching six-piece set of luggage. Nora looks down to the singular old leather suitcase she purchased at a surplus store on Spruce Street resting on the floor, comparing it to the monogrammed navy blue set with the gold letters ARW spanning across each piece.

The man begins placing each suitcase onto the floor without uttering a word to a very confused Nora, and suddenly the door opens wider, a pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair floating into the room. She’s wearing a white tennis skirt that rests a few inches above her kneecap, with a powder blue collared shirt cuffed at the wrists. For a brief moment, Nora wonders if her mother purchased the wrong uniform set for her, but when the girl lifts her eyes from her Blackberry and looks over at Nora, she notices a sailor’s crest embroidered on the right side above her chest with more initials, and she begins to breathe a little. 

“Hi! You must be my roommate, I’m Nor—”

“—Where are the rest of your bags?” the girl interrupts, eyeing the old leather suitcase disdainfully. Nora’s fingers immediately fly up to her scalp and begin raking through her blonde hair, a nervous habit she’s tried her hardest to get rid of.

“I have a duffle on the desk chair, too,” Nora explains quietly, removing her hand from her hair so that she can point towards the old wooden desk that holds her mother’s duffle bag.

Nora watches as the girl’s piercing gaze shifts from her two flimsy bags to her outfit. And when Nora watches beady hazel eyes take in her old white tank top, her mom’s grey knit cardigan, thrifted bootcut jeans, and sandals from two summers ago, Nora’s never wanted to disappear more in her life. 

Before she can find the words to speak, Nora hears a shrill “Alyssa!” echo through the hallway, until a matching set of girls wearing nautical-inspired clothing and thick headbands are hugging the strawberry blonde-haired girl who just so obviously judged Nora a few moments ago.

“Who’s this?” one of the girls asks Alyssa, breaking away from their hug and looking over at Nora with interest.

Just as Nora reaches a hand out to introduce herself, Alyssa says, “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go, girls,” and the three girls spin around without even uttering a goodbye. 

Nora watches as they walk down the hallway, giggling the entire way as if they hadn’t singlehandedly just ruined her first official day away from home.

***

October 2006

The first month at boarding school is just a series of Nora playing catch up. While she thought going to public school and hanging out with normal people would be enough to prepare her for high school, three weeks in she’s never felt more lost in her entire life.

She’s one of the only students who doesn’t own a cellphone, she wears second-hand Sperry’s instead of fancy loafers with gold links on the front, her backpack is a maroon Jansport while most students opted for leather messenger bags, and when people ask her how she spent her summer, she’s gotten used to the wide-eyed look they give her when she explains that she scooped ice cream near the beach for tips.

Nora’s not naive. She knows that she’s referred to as The Scholarship Girl behind her back, she knows that Alyssa complains to her elitist friends about how dreadful it is to be forced to room with a girl who wears hand-me-down clothing, and she knows that adjusting to life at Townbridge was going to be the very definition of arduous. 

But she remembers what her mother told her—how Nora’s skin is thicker than she thinks, and no matter how different she is to everybody else, she’s still just as deserving of a top-notch education. 

Even though Nora was at the top of her class for most of her life, she still felt far behind the rest of her classmates at Townbridge. She spends the first few weeks getting very acquainted with the walls of the library, making the nearly twenty-minute trek from her dorm in Emerson Hall to Millikan Library across campus. Classes have only just begun, but Nora can’t afford to fall any more behind than she already has. So instead of making friends and signing up for various clubs and sports teams, Nora’s allowed her backside to practically mold into the stiff wooden chairs inside the empty library.

Nora would have completely forgotten about the First Year Mixer being held that evening if not for Alyssa and her friends getting ready in her dorm room. When she walks in still wearing her uniform well after classes have ended for the day, the three girls look at her as if she were crazy.

“Did you forget about the mixer tonight, Nora?” Grace, one of the twins, asks with a shocked expression decorating her pretty face. All three girls are wearing colorful Lilly Pulitzer dresses, passing along mascara and eyeshadow amongst themselves in preparation for tonight.

“Uh, no I was just—”

“—Making friends with the books again?” Alyssa sneers, earning a giggle from the girls.

Nora chooses not to respond. It’s just easier that way.

Walking over to her wardrobe, Nora sorts through her limited selection of clothing to find something appropriate to wear for tonight. She didn’t even want to be in attendance, but she’s figured that she’s probably spent enough time on her own, and that maybe, in the off chance that Townbridge has some normal students, she can make a friend or two.

The only two dresses she brought with her were a simple long-sleeved cream sweater dress that fell just above her knees, and a thin summer dress her mother bought her two years ago that was tighter and fell around mid-thigh. She goes with the sweater dress, deeming it the best outfit she has to just simply blend in. Once it’s over her head, she reaches for her thigh-high socks and brown boots she got as a graduation gift, slipping them on quickly. October has left a brisk chill in the nighttime air, and considering her jackets consisted of a worn-in winter parka and an oversized flannel she scored at Goodwill, Nora thinks this combination will be more than fine.

She reaches for the comb on her desk and begins to rake it through her knotted hair, smoothing out the kinks and leaving the strands to fall in their messy, wavy natural state. Just as she’s digging through her backpack to try and find her lip balm and mascara, she can’t help but overhear Alyssa gossiping to Grace and Erin loudly from across the room.

“Harry’s plane landed a few hours ago,” Alyssa gushes, plucking the blush from Grace’s hands and beginning to apply it to the apples of her cheeks.

“Oh my God, no way! You must be so excited, Lyss!” Erin squeaks, reaching for the lipgloss that Alyssa just used. Before she can even remove the lid, Alyssa swats at her wrists and tells her to pick another color.

“Have you been texting all summer?” Grace asks from behind the vanity.

Alyssa nods, readjusting her freshly curled hair. “Ever since he left the Hamptons in July, yeah. We’ve been messaging back and forth. He told me he can’t wait to see me tonight.”

“That’s so romantic, Lyss!” Erin says, and Nora tries her hardest not to roll her eyes. “I can’t believe they let him miss the first three weeks of school.”

“He’s Harry Styles, Erin,” Grace chides, turning to face her sister with slanted eyes. “He can do whatever he wants.”

Nora twists the mascara wand back into the tube before backing away from her desk, double-checking her outfit to make sure that it was suitable enough. Just as she gives her hair one last fluff, she hears Alyssa ask, “Are you really not going to do anything with your hair?”

Nora turns towards her with a sheepish look, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t own any styling tools so…” she lets the words fall from her mouth, watching the three girls in front of her look at her as if she had a second head growing out of her neck.

“You’ve never straightened your hair?! I’m sure Alyssa will let you borrow—”

“—Erin! Enough. Let’s go, we’re going to be late,” Alyssa scolds, ending the conversation abruptly. Before Nora can even shoot a smile in Erin’s direction, the three girls are already out the door, leaving Nora to walk to the Great Hall by herself. 

The problem with spending all of her time walking from her dorm to the lecture halls on East Campus to Millikan Library is that she seemingly forgot where every other building was. Trying to locate the Great Hall in daylight was already difficult for Nora, but now with the sun practically set behind the horizon and her sense of direction completely shit, she starts panicking when she’s walked by the dining hall for the third time.

An upperclassman saves Nora before she can have a full-blown panic attack in the middle of the quad, and with two minutes to spare, Nora finds a row with a few empty seats towards the back of the room. 

Nobody seems to have noticed her, save for the girls in the row in front of her who turn around when Nora’s boots jostle their chairs. She offers them a muffled apology, and just as quickly as they turned around to look at her, they swivel their necks to face the front again.

Nora sighs to herself, before lifting her head to hear the Headmaster begin his speech. After listening to him drawl about the mission statement and his expectations for the first-year students, Nora immediately wishes she never left her dorm room. She can feel her eyes begin to droop, and before her body can slump further down into her chair, the sound of a heavy oak door closing echoes throughout the Great Hall, and Nora feels her body springing upwards.

Headmaster Clayton pauses in his monotonous ramblings, and before the entire collection of students in front of Nora can turn around to see what the interruption was, a long body falls into the chair next to hers, and the Headmaster resumes his speech as if nothing ever happened. 

“Did I miss anything?” an impossibly British voice whispers in Nora’s direction, and she’s a bit surprised by the low timbre of it. She looks over at him and finds herself staring into green pools with a golden shimmer surrounding his irises. Nora’s never been captivated by a boy before—but the one sitting next to her with fluffy chocolate curls falling over his forehead, surrounding his ears, and ending at the nape of his neck might possibly be the first. His hands are shoved inside the pockets of an expensive-looking black trench coat, and his upper body is leaning towards hers as he awaits her response. When Nora notices his pink lips forming into a small smirk, she’s almost positive that she’s been caught staring at this boy for far too long.

“Uh, no. Not really,” she whispers back, scrutinizing the way her voice squeaked at the beginning of her sentence.

His smirk shifts into a full-blown grin, and Nora can feel her cheeks begin to burn. “Hm, sounds like somebody wasn’t paying attention in the first place.”

Before Nora can retort, the boy near her chuckles softly at her nervous expression. “Can’t say I blame you, love. Clayton’s a fucking fossil.”

Nora giggles, causing the girls in front of her to turn around again with a murderous expression on their faces. She stops abruptly, and after they’ve snapped their heads forward for the second time, she looks over to the boy on her left and finds him trying his hardest to stifle another chuckle.

He shifts his body so he’s no longer leaning in Nora’s direction, and she’s a bit saddened by the sudden distance between them both. 

Nora replays the interaction in her inexperienced, fourteen-year-old mind, wondering if the boy near her was just flirting with her. There’s no denying that she thinks he’s cute, considering she finds herself sneaking looks at him every few minutes during the duration of Headmaster Clayton’s speech just to get another glimpse of his soft hair and sunken dimples. And on more than one occasion, he catches her in his periphery, shooting her that charming smirk that never fails to make her cheeks blush. 

The moment Headmaster Clayton wraps up his speech and the rest of the students begin to stand, Nora turns towards the boy and finds that he’s already looking at her. Now that they’ve exited their row, Nora notices how tall he is, taking in his long legs clad in black denim, his even longer torso in a similar black shirt. The all-dark ensemble somehow makes him look older. Makes him look mysterious. Makes him look even more handsome—and suddenly Nora’s grown a bit nervous.

“I’m Nora, by the way,” she says, sticking her hand out for him to shake. He hesitates, looking between her face and her outstretched hand with a smile on his face, finding it incredibly cute that a girl his age would greet him so formally. 

Just before his hand can fall into hers, another hand claps him on the shoulder and he’s forced to look at the intrusion, his own arm falling back to his side. “Harry, my man! How was the flight?”

When Nora looks over his shoulder, she notices two boys greeting him warmly. She hasn’t really met anybody at Townbridge aside from Alyssa, Grace, and Erin, so she’s not surprised when she doesn’t recognize the two other boys infiltrating their small bubble.

But upon further inspection, Nora realizes that she does, in fact, recognize one of them.

Standing directly in her line of vision is none other than Willy Clemonte. Although it’s been seven years since Nora last saw him, there’s no denying that the sandy-haired, blue-eyed teenager in front of her is him. He’s practically almost the same height as his father now, towering over Nora in his khaki pants and a white cable-knit sweater. His hair still tangles in his eyelashes and his cheeks are still dusted with freckles, and Nora’s stunned at the sudden rush of memories that flood her insides.

He seems to have made the same startling realization as Nora did, because his eyes begin to widen almost comically, and a strained expression falls over his features. Before they can give away that they’ve been staring at each other, the boy from before, now known to Nora as Harry, spins around on his heels and gives her a small smile.

“Nora, right?” he asks, and she nods hesitantly. “Where are you from?”

“Uh, Newport,” Nora answers.

“Oh, wicked! So you must know Will, then?” Harry asks, seemingly oblivious to the awkward tension radiating from the two of them. 

Before she can respond, Will clears his throat and takes a step forward. With one last panicked look at Nora, he tells Harry, “Yeah, man. Her mom was one of our maids.”

“Wait, what?” Harry asks, confusion written all over his face. Nora’s surprised that she can hear it over the sound of her breath leaving her lungs from Willy’s comment. Sure, she knew that the last time they saw each other he was crying into her mother’s arms over a remark his father said, and sure, she didn’t expect them to resume their friendship as if nothing had happened.

But to blatantly lie about Nora’s mother, a woman who took care of him for years? Nora never thought that he would grow up to be so cruel. 

To twist the knife lodged into her chest even further, Alyssa and the twins approach the group with annoyed looks, all aimed in Nora’s direction. They seem to have overheard Willy’s previous comment, and before Nora can even defend herself, Alyssa reaches out and wraps her hand around Harry’s forearm as if she were claiming him in front of everybody.

“Yeah, apparently Townbridge is letting just about anybody in this year. Just ignore her, Harry, we all have been,” she says, her tone nothing but dismissive. 

Nora watches as Harry shifts his gaze from Alyssa to her. His green eyes fall down her body, and for the first time, he notices the loose thread at the hemline of her dress from overwear, the tear in her socks behind the knee, her brown boots that lack the distinction of a designer label. With one last look at her, he takes a step back, and Nora knows right then and there that she’s been condemned as an outsider. 

“C’mon Harry, tell us all about the rest of your summer in France! I want to hear all about it,” Alyssa enthuses, and without a second look, the group turns around and leaves Nora staring after them.

No matter how attractive she finds Harry, there’s no denying that his personality is undeniably ugly. And as she watches him wrap an arm around Alyssa’s shoulder, Nora thinks it’s quite fitting that they’ve both found each other.  

***

November 2007

Summer has always been Nora’s favorite season (living permanently near the ocean sort of makes that inevitable), but that summer after her first year, Nora’s never been more excited to be home. She missed her mom, she missed the beach, and she missed her normal friends who didn’t care that she wore sandals that were falling apart and shorts that were fraying at the edges.

When Nora came back from school, she begged her mother not to send her back to Townbridge for her second year. She told her how she couldn’t make friends, how everybody made her feel like a social pariah, and how she was absolutely miserable being so far away from her. 

“Oh, Nora baby,” her mother said, holding her close. “You know exactly who you are. You’re strong, you’re beautiful, you’re intelligent—and you’re so much better than those kids who make you feel like you aren’t.”

“You don’t understand, mom,” Nora said through hiccups, wet tears soaking her cheeks, “They hate me. All of them. They never even gave me a chance.”

“Everybody?” her mother asked. And when Nora just stared at her with her lower lip trembling, Shannon combed her fingers through Nora’s blonde hair comfortingly. “I’m sure there are people at Townbridge who are just like you. I just don’t think you’ve tried to find them yet.”

Even though she didn’t want to admit it, Nora knew that her mother was right. So after another summer filled with scooping ice cream for tips and spending every second of her days off at the beach reading romance novel after romance novel, Nora packed up her things for the second time—this time with another suitcase—and set off for Connecticut with higher hopes for her second year.

Things seemed to be turning around for her when she discovered that her roommate was no longer Alyssa Whalen. Instead, it was a girl named Lydia who lived a few towns over in Madison by the beach, just like Nora. They bonded instantly over their shared love of having sea-knotted hair and the feeling of having sand squished between your toes and letting your fingers wrinkle from wading through the briny water for too long. And when Lydia encourages Nora to sign up for the swim team with her, Nora’s grateful that she’s finally found a friend in this hellhole. 

Her second year is leagues better than her first, considering in the first three months, she barely had to cross paths with Alyssa and Harry. On the rare instances that they do run into each other, they simply ignore the other’s existence, and Nora doesn’t mind it one bit. It’s just easier that way, she supposes.

Halfway through Nora’s swim season, she turns sixteen and discovers that everybody around her is getting their license. Lydia’s parents bought her a used 2005 Honda Civic when she passed her driver’s test, and when she told Nora that she could use it whenever she needed, Nora felt bad lying to her new friend. Because once again she was playing catch up, getting her learner’s permit over the summer when everybody was already scheduling their exam, and with the way things were going, Nora wouldn’t be able to get her license until she was home again for summer break.

She also didn’t want to admit to Lydia that she couldn’t afford a car, and that her mother would never allow Nora to take her 1997 Toyota Corolla to campus. 

After swim practice one November afternoon, Nora leaves the Athletic Center with wet hair to head back to her dorm in Donahue Hall completely across campus. Normally, Nora walks with Lydia, but since it’s Friday and students who live in-state with a license are allowed to leave campus for the weekend, Nora’s forced to make the twenty-minute journey alone. 

With her gym bag slung over her shoulder, Nora begins to walk through the parking lot to head towards the footpath that will bring her through campus. The sky is awfully dark for four in the afternoon, and when she looks up and notices the menacing grey clouds, she kicks herself for not packing her umbrella before she left her room this morning.

Just as she’s almost in the clear, she hears a familiar giggle that makes her skin crawl. Living with Alyssa for one excruciating year has allowed Nora to recognize that sound almost immediately, and sheepishly she tucks her chin deeper into the neckline of her jacket, praying that her face is hidden as she walks past the group. 

When Nora reaches inside her half-zipped gym bag for her water bottle, she swears to herself when the strap detaches from the siding and the nylon bag falls to the cement. Making sure everything is strapped appropriately, she heaves the bag over her shoulder once it’s zipped up. As she swings her elbow to place the bag comfortably around her body, she doesn’t take into account her proximity to a particularly shiny black SUV—and just before she can escape the parking lot undetected, her bag smashes against the hood of the car, causing the headlights to flicker on and off and the alarm to blare piercingly through the space. 

“Hey!” Nora hears from behind her. When she turns she sees Harry jogging towards her, his brown hair dripping from the shower he just took. He’s wearing joggers and a Townbridge Academy Soccer sweatshirt, and when he reaches inside his pocket and reveals a shiny key fob, Nora swears for the second time knowing that the fancy car she just accidentally hit belonged to him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” His voice is booming through the parking lot and it’s enough to make Nora feel incredibly small. When he finally presses the alarm button on his key and the blaring stops, she can hear his exasperated breaths in its place, and she’s not quite sure what’s worse.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“—I saw the whole thing, Harry!” Alyssa calls over from her spot across the cement, walking towards the pair of them with an accusatory finger extended in Nora’s direction. “She slammed her gym bag against your car.”

“It was an accident!” Nora screeches, feeling her face turning red. “My bag strap fell off and when I went to put it back on my shoulder, I bumped your car. Not, er, intentionally.”

Harry looks between the two girls with an annoyed expression on his face. “Just be more careful, yeah? It’s brand new.”

When Nora looks at the behemoth of a vehicle to her left, observing the shiny black exterior with the words Range Rover written across the front in chrome lettering, she can only imagine the outrageous price tag it has. Which is why she nods, apologizing one last time.

“Won’t happen again.” Nora begins to turn around on her heel, just as the air begins to get cooler and the slightest smell of rain can be detected in the distance.

“You’re walking all the way to Donahue in the rain?” Harry asks suddenly, and Nora begins to wonder how he even knows she lives in that building. She pauses, thinking if he or Alyssa or any one of their stupid friends lives in Donahue, and when she comes up with nothing, she turns around with a confused expression on her face.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t have a car.” Before she can feel the first drop of rain hit her skin, laughter erupts from the small group surrounding Harry and his car. Nora hides her face, wishing the ground would swallow her up. 

With one last gulp, Nora turns around and begins walking towards the footpath, shoving the hood of her flimsy rain jacket over her head. 

“Well, at least your hair is already wet!” Nora hears Alyssa call out from behind her, with more laughter following until Nora’s a safe distance away from where she can no longer be scrutinized by Harry and his rude friends.

As Nora reaches Donahue Hall with her tracksuit bottoms sticking to her legs like a second skin and her jacket completely drenched, all she can think about is how she’d rather walk another ten miles before ever having another conversation with Alyssa Whalen and Harry Styles if her life fucking depended on it.

***

A/N: Here’s chapter two! We’ve finally met Harry and Alyssa (yikes), so feel free to share with me your thoughts and predictions for the next part! High school is a funny time period to write about, and I’m excited to share the next part with you all. Look out for it on Friday, February 19th, which will be the normal update schedule. Until then, stay safe! x

taglist: @ilovegolden @stylishmuser @solllaris @ficnarry @thatnightin2008 @harryswinterberries @morethanamelodyy @coffee-doodle-doo @stepping-into-the-light @piawhat @sylcolt @burberryharold @sapphicspacecult666 @adoremp3 @beautifulletdownfics @thefangirlingbarista @iwantedmacmaddybutitstaken @veryplatoniccircunstances @live-at-the-forum @heslilac @kakayam @caramello-styles @ifheartscouldwrite @rubytersteege @mybm1998 @harrykingofcamp @cherryyharryy @15christyxoxo @harrys-cherrry @cherryruins @awomanindeniall @sing-me-a-song-harry @sunnybusiness @hhh33-3l @ashwathx @ficsthatmakemeswoon @harryinsweatersandbandanas @ihearthemcallingforyou @niallgolden @pastequeharry @tinyfelthat @70s-harry @booksncoffee @somebridgesburn @millennial-teenybopper @sunfloweratheart @cherrygoldenn @for-fucks-sake-h @pastequeharry @justhereforlurking @mellamolayla @cosmictali @zcjt​

Click here to join!

[lukesperfectharmonyhair]

im rewatching jatp instead of studying for the 3 tests i have tomorrow and i thought i would share my thoughts and reactions with each episode so enjoy!!....

wake up

- hearing the “1, 2, 3″ at the start of the episode gives me more serotonin than my antidepressants ever will

- julie’s slippers...that’s it...that’s the thought

- that dry ass pasta the molina’s are eating for dinner??? someone needs to give my man ray some cooking tips or a cookbook... something

-the looks the boys give julie when she says it was an OLD cd she found. as if they could be old??

-the entire julie and luke kitchen scene i mean there are no words to describe how much i am in love with scene. the banter, the flirting, luke giving this girl he literally just met an actual PIECE OF HIS SOUL so she can get music back into her life. not a single time have i watched that scene and not felt my heart literally grow cause of how cute they are. 

-the entire scene when julie is singing wake up. that scene is what made me literally CRAVE watching the other episodes. like of course i was going to watch them cause i wasn’t gonna just stop watching a show after one episode, and yes the show was good already but seeing the lighting and her voice, and just everything about the scene,,,,*chef’s kiss* 

bright

-flynn drinking seven sodas....SEVEN??? i would be throwing up if i drank more than like 2 and she drank seven,,,no ma’am.

- flynn and her trumpet. talented queen

- “ i wouldn’t have given you the song if i didnt think you were gonna rock it.” lmaooo im crying:)

- i start tearing up every time julie goes to play the first notes of bright,,, and then i’m full on bawling when the guys come in and play with her cause...they weren’t playing to be seen they were playing to be there for her and play to comfort her. pls i love them<3

- nick vibing in the front row

- the tech guy deserves so much more praise

flying solo

- reggie’s little butt shake or whatever you wanna call it!!

- julie’s little laugh when she yells at the guys to stop it

- “and we’re on the runway again” GENUINELY one of my favorite lines of the whole show pls i love luke’s humor

-this is the first time i noticed this but reggie’s face after alex says “DONT TELL ME HOW TO GHOST!”

-WILLIE!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU<3333333

-the slow mo helmet take off,,,,me too alex me too

-willie’s little giggles:))))

- “oh-oh!”

- “no clue” alex i love you baby<3

- next season better give us a scene of flynn throwing eggs at someone’s house because i think it’s safe to say we were robbed of that experience. 

- the flying solo performance is just amazing

i got the music

- just the whole opening scene is so cute ....the dancing, singing, happiness RADIATING from julie 

-nick in an all white suit and fedora

-WILLEX MUSEUM DATE YEAH BABYYYYY

- carefree skateboarder bf and anxiety ridden drummer bf

- yelling. in. museums. 

-alex thinking he’s literally dying again because of the salt... zero braincells in this band.

- another scene we were robbed of that i need to see in season 2...reggie singing “home is where my horse is” while alex and julie sit patiently and attentively listen to him but luke looks like he’s about to commit murder

- i get SO MUCH second hand embarrassment for julie when she looks through luke’s songbook and says “ wow luke I didn’t know you were such a romantic” julie baby i love you but...eekkkkk

- “he looks like a substitute teacher”- where did he come up with that like so many other things he could be compared to but a substitute teacher??

- “luke introduced you to rock” heck yeah it did.. literal soulmates

- would like to see a picture of the raccoon in Flynn’s backyard

- wee woo wee woo police sirens://///

- julie’s outfit ughhhh i love it

- the poster that im pretty sure says “sexiest role” behind caleb... why was that necessary 

the other side of hollywood

- THE ENTIRE PERFORMANCE OF THE OTHER SIDE OF HOLLYWOOD 

- i lose my absolute shit over this song omg literal chills

- the cape grab i cannot physically do this rn

- willie being so excited the entire performance and looking over to see alex’s reaction

- reggie being in awe everytime one of the girls performing does something.. me too reggie

-”well i wouldn't really call it mAAgiCcCC bUT”

- nick and his fedora again

- alex has a crush, alex has a crush on.....WILLIE

-the boys eating food for the first time in 25 years is honestly so realistic

-alex shoving a whole slice of pizza in his mouth

- lukes ‘OH MY GODDDDD’

- reggie kissing his meatball sub that looks painfully dry but also delicious 

- the continuation of the other side of hollywood performance and everyone dancing

-reggie imitating caleb’s evil laugh and owen trying so hard not to break

-me getting mad at the boys for not showing up for julie and being sad with her but at the same time i’m obviously not mad at the boys just...disappointed?? idk 

finally free

- how did julie get to the school if she missed the first three classes?? wasn’t she still at flynn’s house from the night before cause she slept over so did she walk to school or was she just sitting in flynn’s house by herself and one of flynn’s parents was like you gonna go to school or???

-dance class with nicky poo<3

-reggie fixing his amp in the rain

-julie’s blue dress outfit in this episode is my ABSOLUTE favorite 

- the birthday candle scene makes me sob like a little baby,,,and rightfully so

- julie smart, smart to be taking calculus as what a sophomore??

- all eyes on me yes queen iconic

- alex dancing is how i dance in my brain whenever the song comes on 

- finally free as a song is NEVER given enough credit and why not?? it’s my favorite song they do as a band AND the madison’s vocals and the echoing part omg i loveeeee

- and the whole performance with luke’s heart eyes. i count this performance as the moment luke like fell in love with julie...like full on just blown away with how much awe and admiration he has for her in that moment and all the time.

 - julie and luke singing “and you’re a part of me” while staring directly into each others soul,,,yeah that’s love kids

edge of great

- carlos being the ghost hunter he is and tía being done with him

- luke’s pouting face 

- reggie and ray making breakfast together is so wholesome. reggie really loves and seeks comfort in ray and i love that

- luke just waiting next to julie’s locker and his little “hey”

- the first time i watch this scene i thought charlie was from new york cause of the way he says “ i can't do this without you” and then i watched the cast interviews and just realized he is somewhat joey tribbiani 

- jealous luke hehehehehhehehe

- “well dont you look shARrP”- yes he does luke thank you very much

- “uh oh i think someone has a crush on julie” yeah you do you little shit,,, now admit it to her

- the proud look on luke’s face when he realizes julie is still paying attention to HIM even though she’s supposed to be having a full on conversation with nick

- the shoulder push ( as someone who has had their own shoulder pushed in the middle of a high school hallway as a weird way of flirting,,,,i can definitely somewhat attest to how luke is feeling in that moment and i too continued to flirt with the person who shoulder shoved me while we were still standing in the hallway)

- the flow from whatever the hell dance nick and julie are doing and the perfect harmony dance is so special to me and i love it

-ADOANCLOBNAOVBCOAB THE HAIR PLSSSSS

- EVERYTIME THE SCENE COMES ON AND I SEE HIM WALKING THROUGH THE MIRROR I HAVE TO PAUSE THE SHOW FOR LIKE 10 MINUTES WHILE I DIE LAUGHING BECAUSE THE HAIR IS SO BAD EVEN THOUGH I SHOULD BE USED TO HOW IT LOOKS AFTER WATCHING THIS SHOW LITERALLY 30 TIMES

- i think people see my username and assume i like his hair in this scene but...ummm fun little fact i do not like it

- the dance is so good though ugh my babies

- the hair

- madison is gorgeous 

- another season 2 scene i need: julie teaching this dance to luke and they perform it in front of alex and reggie so they can see luke roll on the floor like that

-the hair

- the lift i loveeee

- the voices at the end of the song *chef’s kiss*

- the way julie spins out from luke and into nick omg so good

- “thAnKs pArTnER”

- luke denying his feelings for julie,,,babe pls

- the whole edge of great performance is so good and beautiful and the colors are SPECTACULAR 

-julie avoiding luke’s gaze lolz

- can't believe my mans really tried to deny he didn’t have feelings for julie like 5 hours earlier even though he’s getting upset because she hasn’t looked at him in 2 minutes

- THE. GUITAR. RIFF. SOLO.

- when i finally learn how to play the electric guitar well enough to learn the guitar solo... it’s over for everyone

-nick just came to watch the girl he likes perform not watch her flirt with a hologram plssss can we give this man a break next season.

- “we have to say goodbye to julie”- that’s literally more important to luke than not playing music anymore because julie is music to him now

unsaid emily

-already crying and the episode hasn't even started

-willex in the orpheum

- alex literally being OVER reggie

- nope too emotionally unstable to watch this scene right now

- my therapist will be hearing about this tomorrow

- show us the baby picture of luke cowards

- this is such a beautiful song that makes me cry every fucking time gosh damn it

- everytime i watch the flashback scene of luke on his bike i think of “christmas song” by phoebe bridges and i cry even more

- i tried to learn how to play this song on my electric guitar (because i dont have an acoustic guitar) and i ended up crying half way through so i do not think i will be playing it anytime soon:/

- the harmonies *chef’s kiss*

- THE POLICE LIGHTS ....i cry

- FAT tears rolling down my face

- there's literally not a moment i don’t cry during this episode

- interesting little relationship :0

- when i played percussion in 7th grade i used to lay down on the couch in the practice room at school ( which god knows what people did on that couch...ew) and stick my drumsticks up my nose too,,,, just another similarity between alex and i 

stand tall

- willie really drove a bus 200 miles into the desert for his crush

- WILLEX HUG 

- i love willie no last name so much,,,i just wanna hold and protect him

- alex’s ballerina dance

-julie’s overall outfit i love<3

- “im swimming”

- the way carlos hangs up the iPad on tía makes me CRACK UP he’s just lmao bye girl

- another julie outfit i love

- “anything julie. you know that.” AHHHHHAASIDSJFPACISN love bitches

- the suits

- luke’s hair in this episode is so much better than the perfect harmony hair pls

- YOU GOT NOTHING TO LOSE

- the way luke looks so restricted and confined in his suit... but at the same time he looks like a 10 week old puppy

-luke’s AGGRESSIVE but small foot tapping leading up to being on the stage

- the solos:)))))

- crying again over julie’s monologue to her mom

- julie really was brave enough to be ready to perform by herself

-the way Trevor looks at carrie when she says “been here before”

-ALEXXXXXX

-REGGIEEEEE

-luuukkKKKEEEEEEE

- this performance makes me cry

- especially the first time when i saw luke flickering...sobs

- he finally looks free in his suit:))

- alex’s solo is so pretty i love him

- reggie’s solo too 

- nick just straight up vibing the entire performance

- alex and luke holding hands...hehehe cute besties

- “thank you, guys” NO THANK YOU 

- the way julie begs for them to do something about the jolts for HER cause she knows luke would never say no to her

- “no music is worth making, julie, if we’re not making it with you,” I JUST SCREAMED AND IM PRETTY SURE I WOKE UP MY ENTIRE HOUSEHOLD...whoops

- going back to that line i could say so much about it but....for someone who’s life was literally MUSIC for the 17 years he was alive, and after finding out he could play music again even though he was dead and saying it made him feel alive, he would give that up- he would give up playing his guitar, playing in a band with his friends, give up writing and singing music- if he wasn’t doing that with julie. that’s more than saying i love you,,,that’s literally like saying i’d give up my ENTIRE LIFE and what i love to do if i dont get to do it with you

- i just made myself cry with that description...wow

-the hug<3

-also imagine how luke felt in that moment,,, hearing this girl, once again that he would give his life up for, saying in his ear that she loves them. i would motherfucking glow too, luke

- *passionately but gently holds each others faces*

-HANDS OFF MY BABY NICK, CALEB

- caleb’s outfit is....something

- the head turn plssss

this was so long and i am so sorry but if you read this far.....leave some of your own reactions or thoughts:)))

k goodnight im gonna, ugh, finally go study ://

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Prove Them Wrong | Reggie Peters

A/N: I got these two requests for a Reggie fic and decided to merge them together, I hope you don’t mind! 

Request 1:  Please i just want a fanfic of reggie discovering YouTube and uploading home is where my horse is video and the gang reacting to it since people absolutely love it

Request 2:  Hi!! Can you do one where the reader is julies friend and is with her when the boys come back and her and Reggie have a instant connection and he follows her around and is always talking to her

Relationships: Reggie x Reader, Sunset Curve x Reader, JATP x Reader

Warnings: Fluff? 

Words:  4,165

Your life has been pretty ordinary for the past 16 years. A life pretty much every person would call boring was a life you wouldn’t change for the world’s most expensive things. Until you met Reggie and the other boys from Sunset Curve. You say boys, but it would be much more accurate if you said ghosts. Sunset Curve was a ghost band from the 90’s that popped into your life one night when you were helping your best friend Julie clean up her mother’s studio. 

2 months earlier… 

A text from Julie comes in when you’re doing your homework on your bed whilst watching reruns of Friends on your laptop. The show makes for good background noise, you find. “911!” Worry rises within you as you read the call-for-help text from your best friend. “U ok?” you text back. Three dots begin dancing on the screen, raising suspense. “Do u wanna come help me clean out mom’s studio? :( x” A soft smile plays at your lips whilst more dots appear. “Don’t think I can do it by myself.” You close the Netflix app on your laptop and get up to put some proper pants on. You had the habit to kick your jeans off the second you got home. Prancing around in your underwear after a tough day at school has become one of your favorite things to do, but Julie might not appreciate that too much, nor would the neighbors. “OMW!” you quickly text back and hop into your Vans before heading down to the Molina house. You find your best friend behind the grand piano, looking up at the chair-decorated ceiling of the shed. Something Julie’s mom did with a superstitious meaning you’d kind of forgotten. Neither you nor Julie believed it, to be fair. “Hey,” you greet softly, making her look at you. A smile appears on her lips, glad you’d be willing to come over and help. Like you’ve been so many times last year when her mother died. You’d be there to listen to her talk about all the memories with her mom, or to hug her as she cried because she missed her.  This is just another part of the grieving process she needs to get through, and you’re there to hold her hand all the way through it. “Are you okay?” you ask, walking towards the piano and leaning your forearms on it. “Yeah, it’s just a little weird to be here…” she says as her eyes start scanning the entire space. “There are so many memories of her in here.” Her fingers glide across the piano keys. “Yeah, I know,” you whisper, not wanting to bring up anything that might hurt her. You remember the days you’d come over to play with Julie and you’d hear her mom singing in her studio. You remember when you’d make music together with Carrie and her dad and Julie’s mom. There are so many unfinished songs about bunnies and puppies from when you were kids, and even some more recent ones about the person you had a crush on or about that boy that broke your heart when you were fifteen. Those songs are now stored away in the back of your mind, waiting for the day Julie would start singing again. Along with all those memories you put on tape.  “Let’s get crackin’!” you tap the top of the piano in a rhythmic beat before stepping away and holding out your hands for Julie to take. The girl gets up from the stool behind the piano and carefully places her hand in yours. You pull her away from the piano and halt in the middle of the garage, looking up to the loft that suddenly seems very looming. Both of you know whatever’s up there is the ghost of a musician’s past, and not even Julie’s mom’s. No, all the instruments up there are from the people that used to live here. Julie never told you, but you’re certain Carrie’s dad used to live here when he was a child and sold his parents’ house to Julie’s parents when they died. You’d noticed the way Trevor always stood in the doorway, glancing around with soft eyes and a tender smile tugging at his lips. Almost like he’s reminiscing about his past. Besides, he’s accidentally slipped up a few times when talking about his childhood, saying he used to play around here with some of his buddies. No one else ever mentioned it, so you didn’t either. There’s probably a good reason for him not to speak about his past in too much detail. You climb up the stairs first and step up on the wooden floor, letting your eyes scan over all the junk up here. Keyboards, old guitars, drumsticks, even an entire drum kit, along with bags and backpacks, all strewn around the place. “Y/N,” Julie’s voice makes you snap out of your thoughts. You look down to find Julie still on the stairs, half of her body in he loft. She’s holding a CD up to show you. “Sunset Curve?” you read aloud from the black CD case. “Never heard of that band.” “Let’s give it a listen?” she suggests and after receiving an agreeing nod from you, she climbs down again, followed by yourself. She places the CD into the stereo whilst you sit down on the couch. Julie presses play and joins you. “1-2-3 Take off, last stop Countdown till we blast open the top Face first, full charge--” The music fades away as it’s overpowered by a loud screeching noise. You look over at Julie, who has her hands up to her ear to cover them from the noise. Your eyebrows knit together, confused as to what’s happening. It might just be a fault in the production of the song? Or maybe a scratch on the CD? Before you can even come up with a decent reason, a bright flash lights up the entire garage, followed by a loud thud. And, when you look up, you find three boys in the middle of the studio, scrambling up from where they’d come down harshly. You and Julie quickly get up from the couch, wanting to take a closer look at the scene in front of you.  “Woah! How did we get back here?” One of them says, confused about his surroundings. Julie lets out an ear-piercing scream before running out of the garage, leaving you with those three boys. You have no clue what’s happening, and you don’t know what to do either. Should you run and hide like Julie? Or should you just wait and see if they have a reason for being here? “Hello!” one of them yells excitedly, making you snap out of your train of thoughts. It’s the dark-haired boy with the red flannel tied around his waist that’s talking to you. “I’m sorry, who are you and what are you doing in our studio?” Your eyes widen at this. They think this is their studio? “I-I’m… I’m sorry, gimme a second,” you say, holding up your finger. The boy nods curtly before you dash out of there too, running up to Julie’s room with the question haunting your head ‘Who are they? And why do they think it’s their studio?’ After a while, you and Julie pluck up the courage to go back into the garage, armed with a cross since Julie’s positive they’re ghosts. Turns out they are. They -- along with Google -- explain they’re three ghosts that used to be in a band called Sunset Curve and that they died after eating bad hotdogs in ‘95. Luke, Reggie and Alex introduce themselves to you, and from that moment on, you’re certain these three ghost boys will change your life forever. And they do. 

Present day

To say your life has changed since the day those boys came into your life is an understatement. It went from studying while watching Friends in your room to going out to their gigs almost every Saturday and sitting in on their rehearsals every day after school. You, along with Julie, have grown very close to the boys in the last five months. They’ve become your best friends you could talk to about everything and anything. But the most special connection you have, is with Reggie. Ever since that day, the boy hasn’t left you alone. Every time you’re at the Molina house, he’ll poof in, wherever you are. Whether you’re getting a drink or a snack in the kitchen, or  you’d just come out of the bathroom, he’d be there. This caused a lot of heart attacks, but also a lot of deep conversations.

Especially if he came to your own house. This was mostly when he’d had a bad day or missed his old life or his parents. He’d poof into your room and just tell you to do whatever you were doing, that he just wanted to hang out. After a few times, you didn’t even ask anymore and he didn’t have to tell you to just continue whatever you were doing. Those nights even ended with the two of you cuddling, which is something  you realized you could do for some unknown reason. But you liked it, so you didn’t think too much about it.  Today is Friday, which means it’s the last big rehearsal before the boys and Julie have their gig tomorrow night. And though you’d much rather be there with them, you have to watch your little siblings for the night since your parents have gone out to a dinner party. You’re making some popcorn in the kitchen for all of you to munch on when watching a movie, when Reggie suddenly poofs in, making you jump. You hadn’t expected him to come in this early, which causes the worry to well up inside of you. Something must’ve happened. “Reg, you okay?” you ask in a hushed voice, glancing back at the kids in front of the tv. “No…” he murmurs, wringing his flannel in his hands. He looks sad, sadder than when he misses his old life, which means something really bad must’ve happened. “Gimme a second,” you say and turn to leave the kitchen. Reggie smiles a little as those words remind him of the first words you ever said to them. “Kids, it’s time for bed!” Moans and whines come from the little kids on the sofa, protesting their early bedtime. “No complaining! Chop chop!” you rushed them up the stairs before returning to the kitchen. “Get yourself comfy on the couch, I’m just gonna put them to bed real quick, okay?” Reggie nods agreeingly and watches you walk away again. He grabs the bowl of popcorn you’d prepared and takes it into the living room. Even though he can’t eat, he’d want you to snack on it since you’re the one that made it. “Sorry it took so long. They can be really stubborn sometimes,” you exhale frustratedly as you plop onto the couch next to Reggie. “Now, tell me, what’s going on?” “So, I suggested to Luke we’d try this song I wrote a while ago,” he starts solemnly. “Home is Where My Horse is?” you ask, remembering him writing that up in your room. You’d even helped him on some verses.  “Yes, that one! But he just rejected it… Again!” he sighs exasperatedly, throwing his head back on the backrest of the couch. “Yelled at him that he didn’t appreciate my talent and just poofed out,” he chuckles airily, and you do too. “I’m sorry Luke isn’t more open to your creativity, Reg… I really wish I could help you somehow, if I knew something I--” you stop in your tracks as an idea pops into your head. “What is it, Y/N?” he asks, getting excited as it seems you have an idea.  “What if we film you singing the song and upload it on YouTube?” you suggest, eyes twinkling at the idea alone. He nods excitedly at first, but then slows down when he realizes he has no clue what you’re talking about. “What’s a YouTube?” he asks. You let out a giggle before grabbing his hand and leading him towards the dining table where you’d left your laptop. You open it on the site and show him the home page filled with different types of recommended videos. “It’s a platform where people can post videos of whatever they like. A lot of artists use it for their music videos nowadays. It’s where I posted ‘Edge of Great’ a few weeks ago,” you explain. 

He peers at the screen with wide, intrigued eyes. You then lean forward and type in ‘Queen don’t stop me now’ before hitting enter. Reggie’s eyes widen even more as you press play on the music video.

“I could film you with my dad’s equipment and edit the whole thing together and upload it. At least then the world will see how truly talented you are and maybe Luke might change his mind too?” He eagerly nods his head in agreement, getting excited about the whole idea. Besides him being able to prove to his band that his country songs are worth taking a second look at, it’s also a good opportunity for you to test out some new techniques. 

So, on Saturday, the two of you get up at the crack of dawn -- or you do since ghosts don’t really sleep -- and make your way down to the riding club your little brother goes for riding classes. You’re acquainted with the owners, so they’ll let you film whatever you need around there. Doesn’t even matter if it looks like you’re not filming anything. “Okay, you ready?” you mutter as you set up the first scene. He’s currently sitting on a picnic bench with his guitar in his lap and the stables in the background. Your camera is set up in front of Reggie with the stable doors on each side of his head, perfectly balanced. You simply nod your head curtly as his ‘action’ sign. He immediately starts strumming his guitar and singing out his self-made words. “Home, what is it really? Sometimes it’s a someone and not a place, It’s that feeling of being safe, It’s about who you’re with at the end of the day…” You spent the entire day running around the ranch, letting Reggie sing his song multiple times in different locations. You even film a couple of nature shots to edit in later. This is just going to be the greatest music video you’ve ever made, and it’s all thanks to Reggie. Your Sunday is spent behind your laptop, editing Reggie’s footage until it’s turned into a somewhat coherent video. “Hey!” Reggie poofs into your room late that night. “Where’ve you been? You missed movie night!” he asks, worry laced in his voice. You don’t even take your eyes off your screen. It’s almost finished just a few more… Yes! “I just finished editing your video! Wanna see?” He nods his head excitedly, so you make some room for him on the chair you’re sitting on. He seems hesitant at first, but eventually sits down on the very edge. Your entire side that’s touching his tingles. It’s always been a weird feeling to touch him, but this is from an entirely new calibre. You rewind the video and press play. There’s a shot of the surrounding nature at first and some horses galloping in the distance whilst the strumming of his guitar floats out of the laptop. Then the camera pans to Reggie on the picnic bench with his guitar. “Home, what is it really? Sometimes it’s a someone and not a place, It’s that feeling of being safe, It’s about who you’re with at the end of the day… and for me” The picture changes to Reggie looking out into the meadows, watching the horses frolic around in the grass with a couple of shots of him playing his guitar as he’s walking along with the horses. “Home is where my horse is! Riding through trees by the river Feel the summer breeze smile gettin’ bigger Home is where my horse is Don’t need a house or a roof I just put on the saddle, lace up my boots  Cuz home is where my horse is” In the next few shots, you’re even in it. Reggie had grabbed your camera and placed it on the grass before grabbing your hand and pulling you out into the meadow with him to dance. It probably looked most ridiculous to any bystanders, but the footage is too pretty not to use. You can just about see two silhouettes dancing around over the grass with a flare of sunlight breaking in and giving it a magical flair. “I don’t need the streets Don’t need the city lights I don’t need a fancy car I just hop on my horse and ride” You’d filmed a couple of the riders too, since Reggie himself couldn’t really ride a horse seeing he’s a ghost and everything. But it made for some good footage to set the scene of the song properly. “Home is where my horse is! Riding through trees by the river Feel the summer breeze smile gettin’ bigger Home is where my horse is I see the beautiful beast running up to me And I know I’m home” The song ends and the screen fades to black, Reggie vanishing as he looks out into the meadow again. You look up at real-life ghost Reggie with expectant eyes. He’s just staring at the black screen for a moment, mouth ajar and eyes wide. “Woah!” he finally mutters. “That was amazing, Y/N! Show me that again!” he exclaims excitedly. Of course you oblige and show him again. This time, he points out everything he loved. “This is my favorite part!” he says, pointing at the screen as the two of you are shown dancing. You can’t help but smile at how excited he gets over this collaboration. “So, can I upload it?” you ask when the screen fades again. “What?! Of course! Put it on the Tube-thing!” he claps his hands excitedly and watches as you open the site and start the upload on the Julie and The Phantoms channel. You had edited their Edge of Great video when Ray asked your father to help him film, so you pretty much had the right to do this, even if Julie might say otherwise. “There we go! It’s set to upload in about five minutes!” you say and turn to Reggie, almost forgetting how close he’s sitting until he’s literally mere inches away. You can actually feel his hot breath tickling your lips. A wave of warmth rushes through you when you catch his eyes darting from your lips to your eyes and back again. “You’re really talented, you know that?” You simply hum in response to this compliment, not that you agree with him, but you don’t know what else to do. You’re completely frozen in place. His eyes are so pretty up close. They’re the most beautiful shade of green you have ever seen, especially with that twinkle in them. “Can I kiss you?” his soft voice makes you snap out of your thoughts about those dreamy eyes.     “Wh--what?” you stutter, hoping you did hear that right, but not wanting to assume. “C-can I kiss you?” he repeats, his voice just above a whisper. 

“Yeah.” Your voice wavers ever so slightly. Reggie’s eyes flutter close as he leans in to press his lips to yours. There’ve been times you dreamed about doing this, but you never thought you’d actually be able to kiss him. The ability to touch him was a surprise and a miracle, you didn’t think this would be possible too. A bleep coming from your computer causes you to pull away abruptly. You just about catch the smile on Reggie’s face before you turn to the screen, madly blushing yourself. “It’s ready to go!” you state excitedly and start typing up a description for the video. “What are you doing?” he asks, peering over your shoulder. “Typing up a little description for the fans, or whoever watches,” you reply as your fingers stilt for a second to think about what else to write. “Home is Where My Horse is, a Reggie original. Written and performed by your favorite bassist, Reggie Peters. Filmed and edited by Y/N Y/L/N. Special thanks to Hold Your Reins Ranch.” He reads the little text aloud. “Nice,” he nods his head, impressed by your abilities with this foreign platform. “And we’re live!” you inform him as you have pressed the post button. “Thanks, Y/N,” he says with a soft smile, making you look at him again. “I’m just gonna kiss you again, is that okay?” You nod your head before closing the distance between the two of you and kissing him again. This is not what you’d expected to come from this project, but you’re glad it had. This feels right. That night, you send Julie a message with the link to the video. “Give the boy a chance. This is an actual bop!” you sent along with it. You’re a little scared you might’ve overstepped and shouldn’t have suggested making this video for Reggie and you definitely shouldn’t have posted it to the Julie and The Phantoms YouTube channel. It probably wasn’t your place to mingle into a band conflict, but you couldn’t handle seeing Reggie so upset. 

“Get ur talented ass to the studio. NOW,” Julie’s text reads. It sounds a little passive-aggressive, but you still obey and hop into some pants and shoes before heading down the other end of the street where the Molina house stands. “‘Sup, kids?” you say when you find the boys and Julie on the couch, throwing up a peace sign. The bubbliness might camouflage the nerves building up inside you. “Care to explain yourself, miss Y/L/N?” Julie starts with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. You glance over at Reggie. He’s glancing down at the rings around his fingers. “I’m sorry, Jules. But I really think you ought to give this boy and his horse a chance!” you aggressively point at the boy in question, whose head snaps up at this. Now he’s looking at you with a scared, yet tendered expression on his face.    “I was joking, babes,” Julie mutters, holding her hands up in defense. “We didn’t think you’d react this defensive over this…” Your eyebrows knit together as confusion takes over you. “Wh-what do you mean?” you question. “Your video has been viewed over a thousand times already and it’s only been up for about two hours, Y/N,” Julie explains and turns her laptop for you to see the view count at 1,327. Your breath hitches in your throat at the large number. That’s how many people have seen your work? I mean, you would’ve watched it that many times in a row yourself because that song is actually amazing. These people are stupid for not giving it a chance earlier. “Woah, Reg! That’s a lot of people hearing your song!” you exclaim excitedly. The boy gets up from the couch and walks over to you with a proud smile on his face. “Actually….” he starts and scrolls down on the laptop. You taught him how to do that. “They’re loving your camerawork and editing!” He shows you all the comments underneath the video. The reactions are divided evenly between praise for the song and praise for your work. “Wha--” your eyes dart from Reggie to Alex, then to Luke and Julie. “We had a band meeting and we want you to become our band’s official videographer,” Alex announces with that soft smile of his plastered on his lips. Your mouth drops in disbelief. You’ve always loved videography and editing, but you always saw it as something fun, not as an official band thing. After months of sitting in rehearsals and watching gigs, you’re finally going to be part of the band. Or close enough to being a part of the band. “What do you say, babe?” Reggie asks when you’ve been quiet for a good minute. Luke and Alex exchange glances at the sudden use of pet names. That’s new. “I mean, it could be cool?” you shrug humbly. The band cheers, Alex and Luke even high five. Before you can even go over to hug Julie, Reggie’s already cupped your face and crashes his lips to yours. You’ll never get used to that feeling. “That’s new,” you hear Alex say when the two of you pull away. You need a good second to cool it after that passionate kiss, but once you do, you beckon the others over for a group hug. “Thank you, guys,” you whisper and press a kiss to Julie’s hair as a thank you. From that day on, you’re not only known as the Julie and The Phantoms videographer, but also as the cute bassist’s girlfriend. To say your life has drastically changed since meeting these boys would be the understatement of the year.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @rudysbay​ @thedarkqueenofavalon​​ @caitsymichelle13​​ @calamitykaty​ @wiselight​ @kcd15​​

[moonlit-imagines]

Better Grades

Rodrick Heffley x reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “could you write a one-shot with rodrick heffley, where the reader this smart, shy person and needs to tutor rodrick? they don't know much about each other in the beginning, but over the tutoring sessions, they start to open up and learn more about each other and they both start to form a crush on each other. finally, rodrick asks the reader out on a date. thanks!”

Rodrick’s mom told him he needed to get his grades up or else he’d lose the van. Your’s said you needed to get some kind of job or else you’d be given a few extra chores around the house. Seems that this had to be destiny.

You put up flyers around school for one-on-one tutoring, it was a start. You didn’t actually think anyone would go for it, but lo and behold, one of the most careless students in your class was on the other end of the phonecall you had just picked up.

“I was wondering if we could do the, uh, the thing at my house...” Rodrick Heffley suggested awkwardly while clearing his throat on the phone, “it’s just, my mom doesn’t trust me all that much. I gotta prove I’m doing...the thing, or else she’s gonna take my van away and I kinda need it for my band.” You actually didn’t reply to him for a long moment, trying to take in what he was explaining to you. He was obviously embarrassed, too. “Y/N?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I can come to your house. Thursday after school?” You asked him before taking a deep sigh.

“Sure, yeah. If you want, you can meet me at the student parking lot and we can just go to my house together. It’s no big deal.” Rodrick told you while pacing his house, spinning a drumstick between his fingers.

“That works. See you then.” You hung up the phone and fell into your mattress. This was going to be so weird.

—————

You took up Rodrick’s offer and got to ride shotgun in his extremely disgusting van. What made it more awkward was that you barely knew him and the entire time you were in his van, he had his band’s CD playing. You just sucked it up and closed your eyes, imagining the money you would get from this tutoring session.

The first thing you saw upon entering his house was his toddler brother being potty trained in the living room, which seemed to be normal to the rest of the family. Rodrick led you to the kitchen table without saying a thing. Actually, he hadn’t said anything since you guys got in the van. The long streak of silence was broken when his overly-enthusiastic mom saw you come in.

“You must be y/n! Thank you so much for coming over and helping my sweet son out with his homework. It means a lot to the both of us.” Mrs. Heffley had her hands on both sides of your arms while she spoke to you. “Let me get you two some snacks while you work! I’ll just be a minute!” She rushed off and you sat across from Rodrick while he piled all his messy papers and books onto the table. It was a nightmare how disorganized he was.

“Well...where do you want to start?” You asked while pulling your own notes out.

“Uh, the beginning?” Rodrick scoffed and your jaw physically dropped. You didn’t know if you’d be able to make it through this session. You let that slide by and laughed it off awkwardly.

“I meant, what subject? Is there a specific one you need help with?” You tried to clear up your seemingly simple question. Rodrick let out a “psssh” and shrugged.

“I need help with all of them.” His answers were short and sweet. Probably why he was getting marked down in English class. This was going to be a long session.

—————

Your tutoring sessions ended up being every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday, but they got harder to dread as you grew closer with Rodrick. In between study breaks, the two of you would simply talk. It was really odd and uncomfortable at first, but you figured that it wasn’t so bad now that you were pretty much forced to spend time with each other.

“I mean, I just think that Mr. McGee is a creep, you know?” Rodrick vented while balancing his drumstick on his nose in the back of his van.

“Oh, I one-hundred percent agree. I don’t know how he’s still a teacher. Or why, he hates kids.” You laughed as your newfound friend poked himself in the eye. I may have forgot to mention that you and Rodrick began hanging out outside of tutoring sessions. He was a semi-pleasant person when you got to know him.

“Dude. Tell your parents you’re doing extra lessons on Saturday. We have to hang out this weekend, there’s so many cool things you haven’t experienced with Rodrick.” He winked and you laughed even harder.

“Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?” You covered your mouth while laughing and Rodrick gave you a puzzled look.

“Y/N, I don’t even know what ‘the third person’ means.” He told you, only sending you into a stronger fit of giggles until you were lying on the crusty-ass floor. “What? What is so funny?” He joined in a weaker chuckle.

“You’re gonna make me pee, oh, my god.” You were just uncomfortably cackling. Rodrick couldn’t get enough of it. No one had made you laugh like he had...and he’d never been so happy to hear someone laugh like that. It was like music to him, better than his band’s music (in his eyes ears).

“Y/N, I’m gonna start poking you with the drum stick if you don’t listen to me right now.” He smirked over you while you tried to suppress your fit of giggles.

“Okay! Okay, I’m okay. I’m okay.” You repeated as Rodrick opened his van door.

“Follow me.” He grabbed your arm and pretty much yanked you from the van and pushed the door closed. “I know a place.”

The place he knew actually wasn’t too bad. You didn’t take Rodrick as the “outdoorsy” type, but you guys were trekking through a decent amount of brush before you reached a clearing with some freshly-placed lawn chairs and a soggy fire pit.

“Me and my band hung out here last weekend. Perfect view of the stars. I know it’s only four thirty, but we could wait. Just hang out for a while...” He pulled two chairs together and let you sit down. Now this next part is a little weird. Rodrick isn’t the best at feelings. At all. But neither were you, so you were one to talk. He brought a bag with him completed with a box of Oreos, two cans of Pepsi, a rolled-up family size bag of Doritos, and a portable CD player with a disc he made on his own of some of the songs you told him you loved. Showed that he paid attention.

“Oh! I love this song!” You got super excited the moment it started playing, which gifted him the same mood, as well.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I didn’t think I’d like it that much.” He cracked your Pepsi open for you and handed it over. “I didn’t think I’d like you very much, either.”

“Hah! Me neither.” You took a sip of your pop and sighed. “Surprise, surprise.” You looked over to see him staring at you with those deep brown eyes.

“Honestly, I have so much fun with you. Even more fun than I do with the band.” He admitted. “I want to spend more time together. As more than friends or ‘study buddies.’ I’m trying to say, if you want, let’s maybe go on a date? The roller rink seems like the obvious choice. It’s a lot different on your own than it is on field trips...” Rodrick rambled on as you sat there absolutely dumbfounded. It took him a minute to realize that and he needed to snap you out of it. “Y/N?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I could go to the roller rink on Saturday.” You had trouble hiding your smile.

“Hell yeah! I was kind of worried you’d say no and I’d have to find a new tutor.”

taglist: @cullens-stuff // @orgawnas // @randomawesomeperson102 // @queen-destenie // @thatwaspossesion // @frostedgiant //

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 87

Emma

Slow dancing and kissing in the middle of the floor had been as perfect of goodbye as a goodbye could be. Sebastian had updated his playlists. There was nothing sexual. Every song was I love you, I've been waiting for you, I'm happy you're mine. Intense love songs. I felt every one. I stayed in the moment, focusing on how good this felt. We held each other, swaying to the music and alternating between my head laying on his shoulder, gazing in the other's eyes, or kissing. We were in our own little bubble. There was nothing but how his body felt against mine, how he smelled, and the look of his face. All I felt was encapsulated in a swirl of feelings. Love, joy, and a touch of sadness hiding on the edge.

The bubble burst with the knock on the door. Time to go. there was no chance of getting through this without tears. Strong emotions always bring tears. I don't fight them. Letting them out feels better. I don't think emotions are anything to be ashamed of or hide. They're also not something to manipulate others with.

At the car, we were both crying. Not holding onto each other sobbing, just tears.

Saying goodbye was hard. His "I love you. I'll miss you. I'll talk to you Later. Send nudes." broke the sadness enough to get the car door closed. I watched him slide away. I wiped away a few more tears before talking myself down. Six weeks was a long fucking time, but it wasn't forever. It would probably feel like it, however.

My solution was to avail myself of the Air France business class lounge. Two shots of tequila and I switched to wine. It went better with the cheese. I was going to have to hit the gym hard when I got home. And eat better. Not today though I was sad and there was free cheese.

As usual, I was asleep before we reached cruising altitude. I woke up with about five hours to go. Fingers crossed that helped with the jet lag. I put on my favorites playlist and read until we landed.

Emma ~ I’ve landed Sebastian ~ Yay! Emma ~ Go back to sleep. Sebastian ~ XOXO

I knew he had an early call time tomorrow. It was only five pm here in New York. Closer to seven by the time I got back to Sebastian's place. I made it long enough to throw a load of laundry into the washer and the cheese into the fridge before crawling into bed. I took over his side of the bed, sniffing the pillows to find the one that smelled most like him. I curled around it and was out.

Five am was the latest my body was going to let me sleep. That was eleven am in France. So too early for New York and kinda late for France. I grabbed my phone to take a sleepy selfie but was distracted by my text notification. Sebastian had sent me a picture of him reclining on a couch, not in our rooms, with Guiletta asleep on his chest.

Sebastian ~ Found someone new to sleep on my chest.

I continued with my original plan to take an up-close picture of my eyes peeking out over the top of his pillow. My hair was a mess, my eyes look half-asleep, and there was a faint pillow crease on my temple. Perfect.

Emma ~ I miss you too

The sun was up with a bright blue sky. Since it was Saturday the traffic at this time of day would be much less. I had a clean pair of shorts, but not a shirt. No problem. My boyfriend had t-shirts. A little big, but perfectly functional. Runners, earphones, keys and I was out the door for an early morning run.

The city was beautiful. sunlight crept around corners and over the tops of shorter buildings. I ran south past the 9-11 memorial to Battery Park. I'd always been fascinated by the metal world with tears and chunks missing. The first time I'd seen I'd said out loud, "It looks like the world blew up." I guess I wasn't far off. The sculpture had been in the World Trade Center Plaza and been damaged by falling debris. I was only eight and all I remember was my parents being glued to CNN for hours. It would be years later, when I called the city home, before I really understood. As much as a non-native New Yorker could.

The worst thing about running this early was all the stores were closed. The best thing about running this early was all the stores were closed. I admit my shopping had been out of hand. In my defense, it had been a very long time since I'd had someone to dress up for. Don't take that wrong. Beacon dates with a man or friends was an opportunity to dress up. Coming into New York to be with Angie and Eli was a good opportunity. Both opportunities I used well. Still, having a man appreciate what you wear and how you look in it is another level. I know what I look good in. I'm not changing my choices for Sebastian, or any man, but I will take his preferences into account. Shopping right now would be a bad idea. I’m sure I'm packing around a few extra pounds of cheese, bread, and wine. I'm hoping all the walking mitigated some of the damage.

On my way back, a couple of blocks from Sebastian's the city was waking up. More people and sounds. I realized tonight would be the first time I'd been alone in the city in about five years. I made plans to sit in the dark and just listen. I picked up a bagel and a smoothie that I was told would rejuvenate me. I wonder if the barista could tell? I broke into Sebastian's stash of nut butter. Half a bagel with cashew butter the other with almond. Cashew was better.

Being alone in his space is weird. None of my stuff is here. It's like a hotel, but not. I got a little nosey after I'd showered and dressed. Not in a going through his drawers and medicine cabinet nosey. Looking at his DVD and CD collection. Running my fingers down the spines of his books, pulling out ones that caught my interest to thumb through. I made a stack of things I wanted to read. I did go through his kitchen pretty thoroughly. It looks like a single man who travels and eats out a lot lives here. He doesn't have flour. How does one not have flour? He does have quite a condiment collection. I threw out expired things and made a list to replace them. That led me on a short journey to see if there was anything else he was almost out of and added things to the list.

Time to call the best friends. Angie picked up on the third ring, her voice excited to hear from me, "You're home!"

"I’m at Sebastian's. I meet with my advisor Monday."

"I want to see all the pictures and hear all the stories. We're going out tonight. Some friends are playing. You're welcome."

"Can I let you know later? I don't know what the time change is going to do."

"Absolutely. So.... " the paused after dragging out the word, "are you missing him? How was goodbye?"

"Goodbye took forever. Neither of us wanted to let go. At least half a dozen last kisses. Sucked. I miss him, but I'm okay. I'll be fine when I get home and am doing stuff. I've cleaned expired shit out of his kitchen and made a grocery list."

"That's cute. Hope he thinks so."

I hadn't thought about his opinion one way or another. I was just getting rid of shit before it stank up the place. "He won't care."

We talked for a while, deciding we'd do brunch tomorrow.

I was bored. I didn't lack for things to do, but I didn't have a routine here. Especially not without him. It didn't feel like home without him. Once I'd figured that out I was good and went about making myself at home.

I'd changed Sebastian's ringtone from "Dancing Queen" to my favorite part in "Every Time I’m With You." It was near the end after a heavy drumbeat "cause every time I'm with you I feel wanted. We could make believers if we dare. We're just two believers if we dare." It was incredible the first time we'd danced to it and it was incredible now. I heard it about six, midnight in France.

I'd barely registered his face before I heard his voice, "If I put that picture on my laptop and my laptop in the bed, I can pretend it's you."

I felt warm all over and smiled, "Yes, you can. Tell me about the first day of shooting."

"It was good. Long, but good. I'm comfortable with Jess and I like her direction." He told me stories that made me proud and made me laugh. "I did well today. What have you been up to?"

I gave him a quick rundown on my day, leaving the bit about making myself at home until last.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I can't believe you restocked my kitchen. Thank you. Do whatever you want to feel at home."

"What if I reorganized your drawers because your way doesn't make sense?"

"Have at it. I'll just think I forget and think I did it."

"And your kitchen so it flows better."

He shook his head, "I don't know what that means. Knock yourself out."

I laughed, "I didn't do either."

I loved the lines that formed at the corners of his eyes when he genuinely smiled. Like now, "I don't care what you do. I just want you to feel at home.”

Now we were where I wanted to be, "Here's the thing... my favorite foods in your kitchen, finding where I'm most comfortable to work on my laptop, and figuring out where has the best view when I want to relax with a book are good, but it's not enough. Doing all that did help me figure what's missing."

"What's missing and where can we get it?"

"It's free and I already found it. You make where ever we are home. You're my home."

"I'm your home." He looked a little dazed.

"When you were in my place I felt at home. At your parents, I felt at home. Being at your place with you I was perfectly at home. Paris too. Now I’m back and I did things to feel at home. Took a while until I realized its missing something. You. When I'm with you, wherever we are, I’m home."

I could tell he was processing, by the way his tongue moved, "I like that."

He kept thinking, squinting his eyes a little, "I don't know if you're my home. Not sure where home is. Sometimes I don't feel at home in my own skin. I like that I’m your home." He cringed, "The next couple of weeks are going to suck for you."

I banred out a laugh, "No, once I knew what the issue was I adjusted. I'm good now."

"You don't miss me anymore?"

"Oh, I miss you a lot." Were transitioned into silly conversation.

"Ok, good."

I gasped, "You want me to suffer?"

"Terribly." His eyes were wide as he nodded his head. "So much so that when you see me again you throw yourself into my arms and hold on so tight I can't breathe."

"Therefore making you suffer."

"Yes, please."

I did end up going out with Angie and Eli. Thankfully it was a jeans sort of bar. My hope was if I stayed moving I'd fall over, get a good night's sleep, and get back on New York time. It was a good fun night.

Sunday I took a run before getting ready for Angie to come over. I'd bribed her with her favorite home-cooked meal. I had her take pictures of me in various outfits around his apartment. At one point Angie rolled her eyes, "I can not believe I'm taking pictures of you rolling around in his bed."

"Six weeks, Angie. I suck at selfies. I need a stockpile to pull from."

"What you need is a class in basic photo editing on an iPhone."

"I know."

We went back to her place, stopping for supplies on the way. A few hours later we were feasting on cilantro lime salmon,  a creamy garlic parmesan orzo, and a greek salad. I've taught Angie to cook this several times, but she tells me it's never quite right. I think she skimps on the butter and that's a big no. And a healthy splash of the Sauvignon blanc lifts the whole thing a little.

Sebastian and I exchanged texts over the course of the day. A comment or question with stretches of time between answers. Mostly from him. I got excited when an unexpected text came through. His response to my dinner picture was a request for the same meal. Maybe with his parents.

Monday was a busier day. I had to dress like a doctoral student, pack my bags, clean up after myself, and plant surprises like the notes I keep finding in my condo. Mine are more fun. The green g- string from concert night is mixed in with his boxers. A couple of dresses parked next to something they matched well. A peach tank top mixed in with his workout gear. I had Angie take a picture in each room. Printed and framed them. My favorite is me sitting on the toilet. It has a lovely frame and is now on the wall across from the throne. I wanted everything ready for me to leave for home straight from my advisory meeting

My advisory meeting lasted a little over three hours. Three good hours. Dr. Kershaw had been appointed my advisor. I'd taken a class with her while working on my Master's and my second winter in Beacon, but at the time I'd been excited to work with students and studying digital classroom technology was something I wasn't wanting to explore. I wanted to be hands-on molding little minds and still wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but I'd enjoyed working on our team's website. Google Classroom was functional but limited by design. Three hours later I had it narrowed down.

Sebastian had texted me good luck this morning with a picture of his face, eyes closed and lips puckered. I'd sent back a picture of my legs, crossed at the ankles with my skirt draped to the side, while sitting in his favorite chair. I was more than halfway home when his ringtone came through my vehicle's speaker. I hit the button, "Hey, baby."

I could hear his smile in his voice, "Sounds like your lunch went well."

"It did!" I was still excited from lunch and the phone call with Angie after. "I like my advisor. There's only ten of us in the program with the plan to add ten more each fall."

"Wow!" He interjected. "So being accepted is even more impressive."

"Yeah." I was proud of myself. "Small and first-year makes everything very personalized. All of the potential classes overlap with other programs. Cognitive theory from Psych, advanced reading from Education, some Education Law and leadership, computer tech, and even game design. We spent a lot of time talking about what I’m passionate about. In the and I’m thinking I want to focus on reading intervention and programming for K-3."

"Which is what you're passionate about."

I laughed, "and you."

"And me. Did you just talk about direction or is there a plan? What coursework did they accept."

"The fifteen hours I've taken will apply. We designed a basic timeline. I've taken six hours the last two years. I'm confident I can handle that with work and having a life. If I want to take more I can. I don't want to take classes in the summer. Those are usually compressed and pretty intense, plus I'm not in a hurry. Somewhere in the middle, I write a thesis, which looks at a problem or a hole in what already exists. That will feed into my dissertation. I can either do research and design an experiment like comparing existing programs or create my own product."

"Any idea which way you want to go?"

"None at all. I figure the thesis will help figure that out."

"And when do I have to start calling you Doctor?" The seductive tone in his voice told me "have to" wasn't going to be a hardship.

"Three to four years. No summers and using the last semester for my dissertation is four. If I add a class in a couple of semesters or summer and do my dissertation concurrently then three. I have to be done in ten. I'm thinking I’ll figure out what I want to do the first two then design and implement the last two. A lot will depend on how long that takes." He couldn't see me, but I was waving a hand in the air. "It will work itself out."

"I love you."

"I love you. Enough me, tell me about your day."

We talked the rest of the way home where we had some fun.

I called Seattle and went through it all again with Ed. He was as excited and proud of me as was Seb. I found it a little sadly ironic that my lover was in a time zone six hours ahead, my family was three hours behind, and the ones in the same time zone weren't going to know for a few days. I didn't trust them to not take away from my accomplishment, neither did Ed, which meant they'd have to wait. Hell, they barely knew I'd been in France. They'd get to know once I was finished celebrating with people who would just be happy for me. That pushed a Georgia phone call off to the weekend after the volleyball tournament. Maybe after practice tomorrow if I could get my school lunch bunch to come for drinks, I’d even buy. I had no problem funding my own celebration. I just wanted my friends there. Angie and Eli were coming for the weekend. Maybe I'd call while they were here. Eli could make angry faces while Angie tried to scold him. Then either way it went we could drink our way through. That was a good plan. I texted all involved and they agreed.

I ran back out to the grocery for fresh berries, yogurt, and wine to go with my cheese. I bought other good for detox items and healthy foods. A stopped by a smoothie shop for a raspberry white chocolate protein drink. It was amazing how quickly I slid into my summer schedule. Run to the gym to work out. Run home. Have breakfast and practice guitar. Do whatever until it was warm enough to go lay by the pool and read or float. Have dinner, meet up with friends, volleyball practice, or lay on the couch with Netflix

Sebastian and I would text sporadically throughout the day. About nine my time, so three am for him, I'd send him a picture. One Angie took or something I'd taken during the day. He always woke up to see me. Some days that was more arousing than others. We talked almost every day. Maybe five minutes or an hour. Night shoots were the worst. He was working while I was awake and I was asleep during his time off.

The weekend Angie and Eli came down was fun. Friday night we stayed in watching movies and drinking. Saturday's tournament was going well until storms came through. The radar said there were hours of rain left, so they canceled. Since all our plans had been canceled we decided on a bar crawl. Which meant Sunday was spent recovering. We went to brunch at the riverside restaurant where Sebastian and I had our first date. On the drive back I made plans for calling Georgia. Angie and Eli were my get away plan. We went out on the back patio. I set up my iPad where they would only see me, but I could see my support system.

Dad picked up almost immediately, “Hey, Emma. You’re home. Amy told us you were in France.”

“Sebastian had an event so we made it a short vacation.”

“Sounds fun.” My mom had entered the frame. “I bet you appreciated things you overlooked before.”

I laughed, “I did. All those things I saw pictures of later and wished I’d paid more attention to. We had a good time.”

“That’s great.”

Time to dive in. “I wanted to tell you some good news.”

Amy jumped into frame and interrupted, “Can I hear too?”

I ignored the question and just went on, “I was accepted into a new Doctoral program at NYU. It’s education and digital media. It’s new so we’re building my program as we go.”

“That’s great news, Emma.” Dad looked excited, “Dissertation and everything?”

“Yes, it can be research or designing a project. I’ve got about three years to get that figured out. They accepted the post-grad classes I’ve been taking.”

“Congratulations, sweetheart. We’re proud of you.” Mom’s smile was bright.

“My baby sister is going to be a Doctor. I need to figure out my future.”

I shook my head, “You’ll figure it out. What’s right for you and my beautiful niece. She’s a job and a half.”

“I am not enjoying this age.”

“That’s why I teach first grade and not kindergarten or preschool.”

We talked a bit more about school, what was going on there, and how things were with Amy and Max. Mom asked about Sebastian, where he was, and if things were good between us. Instead of shutting her down, like I had in the car, I talked about him.

Not a minute after we hung up Amy texted, “How’s Sebastian feel about calling you Dr? *wink*wink*”

I sent back, “Exactly, like that.”

I closed my tablet and looked at my friends. I was not comfortable. Sure, the conversation had gone fine, but it didn’t feel fine. “That went better than expected.”

“This time.” Eli grimaced, “Sorry.”

“That’s what makes this so hard. This looks normal, but it’s not. If it was, I wouldn’t have this not in the bit of my stomach and want friends here when I talk to them. That’s not normal.”

Angie came over to kneel beside me, bringing me into a hug, “No, it’s not. You don’t need us when you call Seattle.”

Eli joined us, “I don’t think they know what they’re doing, but it doesn’t change it, Emma.”

I laughed, “I know.” I kissed his cheek. Dealing with my parents was worse for him than it was for me. I hated seeing people I love hurt too. I wasn’t hurt though. It was a weird numb.

“You ok, Em?”

I met Angie’s eyes, “I am. Just weird. The happier I am, the more good things going on, the more distant I feel. The better I’m doing, the less supportive they are.”

“Yep!” Eli didn’t hesitate to agree. “And that’s not alright.”

I mussed his hair, “No, it’s not.”

The next week was more of the same. I registered for my fall classes and my books were delivered by Wednesday. I started reading. Yes, I'm that student. I liked to get a head start. I'd never taken classes in the fall. The first month of teaching was exhausting. It took time and energy to get first graders ready to learn. I wasn't sure how that would work with starting my classes. Getting ahead on reading seemed the safest approach.

Thursday afternoon Sebastian called. Drunk. I guess wrapping in Paris was worthy of a party. The rest of cast and crew were packing up and heading to Rome. Sebastian was flying halfway around the world to San Diego's Comic-Con. He'd spend thirty-two hours of his four day weekend in a plane, which meant he was drunk and a little grumpy. By the time I was done with him he was still drunk, but no longer grumpy. He was naked, smiling, and satisfied. Well, as satisfied as he could be over the phone. Even drunk he was insistent that he not see me masturbating for the first time on video. We should have taken care of this.

I set an alarm for the middle of the night to make sure he was awake and would make his plane. It was worth it to lay in bed together.

[jpegjade]

Again - Spencer

hello frens and ferns. it me. barely me but still me. i wrote something today and it’s not remotely creative but idk i needed to write something. so here’s a warm up to me trying to write again (if my head will let me). so check out the song this little diddy was based on here: 

again - grandson & zero 9:36

_______________________________

Spencer was groggy and being awake hit him like a truck. He didn’t want to be awake right now, not when everything hurt so much. He checked his watch to figure out how long he napped for this time but he didn’t need to check when he heard the first song playing. 

“Not again.” Spencer mumbled, looking at his watch. It was 2am and there was nothing Spencer wanted more than to relax in peace, like he had for most of the day, if you wanted to call laying on his couch while holding the closest thing he had to a memory of Maeve, relaxing. 

Unfortunately, his next door neighbor had different ideas for his evening. And by different ideas, it meant his neighbor was playing very loud music on the clock as they did for the past week. He had never met this neighbor but he knew that they weren’t a nuisance until very recently, when all they did was play music at the same time for the past few days. Although it was interesting to hear the different songs they played, it interrupted Spencer’s scheduled cry session and today was the day he had enough. 

After an annoyed huff and slipping on his fuzzy slippers, he hugged the book tightly as he left his apartment. Three knocks was all it took to get his neighbor to turn the music down and watched the door fly open. 

“Oh. Hi.” You said, taking a look at Spencer, who was a very tall and very handsome guy. 

“Hi, I’m Spencer Reid. I live in the next apartment over.” Spencer pointed to his slightly open door. 

You stuck your head out of the doorframe a little bit and nodded your head before retreating back into the apartment and looking up at Spencer. His hair was disheveled, he was clutching a book, his robe was halfway off his right shoulder and the circles under his eyes were pretty intense. He would’ve looked cute if you weren’t so sad. 

“Hi, Spencer Reid. I’m y/n. How can I help you?” You asked, leaning on your doorframe and crossing your arms. 

You cursed yourself for not actually putting something decent on when you opened the door but this is how it is when you don’t feel like bothering with your feelings. The past few days were rough enough. You didn’t feel like letting yourself believe this guy was judging you for your choice of pajamas. 

“Your music is really loud. Would you mind turning it down? I can’t hear myself think.” Spencer said, trying to sound less annoyed than he really was. 

“Is that really so bad? I’m trying not to think right now.” You said, trying to sound less annoyed than you really were about him being here. 

“Have you tried headphones?” Spencer clutched his book tighter, holding onto something to remind him that being nice was what he needed to do. 

He wanted to snap but that was very unlike him and he needed to make a good impression, even like this. He didn’t want to be known as the asshole neighbor but he didn’t want to hear loud music over the sound of him crying. 

“I have tried them but they keep me inside my head. I want to get out of my head.” You said, staring up at Spencer. 

He was silent for a moment, trying to think of a way to combat this idea to solve both of your problems. 

“Do you want to come in? I made coffee.” You blurted out. 

The two of you were surprised at the invitation. 

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed because he wondered what would make you think he came over to have coffee, although he did love coffee and it had been a little bit since he had any type of coffee. Did he want coffee right now? Did he want to be in the company of someone else right now? 

You were surprised because you barely knew the guy. He was cute and all but you weren’t in the mood to have a crush on the neighbor. It wasn’t like you were going to see him much considering you never knew someone else occupied the floor until now. You never saw your neighbors so this was the first sign of human contact you had at home since you moved in. Did you really want some random guy in your apartment right now?

“Sure.” Spencer said, once again surprising the two of you. 

He meant to say no but it came out wrong. He really did want some human contact but he didn’t want to be around his team. They would tiptoe around him. He needed someone who didn’t know everything about him so they couldn’t tell him what he was feeling or constantly be concerned about him. You were obviously going through something and he couldn't figure out if he liked that or not. 

“I don’t know why I invited you in. My apartment is a mess.” You said, stepping aside. 

Spencer took a step past you, looking around your apartment to see that it was, in fact, a mess. You had clean dishes stacked on the counter instead of put away. There were CDs sprawled all over the floor. Cords and cables were everywhere around the sound system and surrounding your computer. 

“Tonight is classical night. Sorry if you don’t like classical.” You said, closing the door and rushing over to clear a space on your couch for Spencer to sit. 

“I love classical. But you weren’t playing classical before I got here.” He said, sitting down. 

“Because I needed to warm up.” You said, moving more stuff over on your couch so you could sit. 

“Warm up for what? It’s pretty warm in here.” Spencer was staring at the science magazine stack that sat between the two of you. 

You were staring at the stack, trying to decide if you wanted to move it or not. You watched in slow motion as he shifted on his side of the couch and the stack toppled over to the floor like a giant Jenga tower. The magazines were now all over the floor, along with the rest of the mess that littered the floor. You made a mental note to clean up before he came over next time. If there even was a next time. Who knew if he even liked you. As a person. Not in the way of liking you as more. You couldn’t see yourself with him right now but-

“Can you hit play?” He asked. You didn’t notice until he said something but he was curled up on your couch. If this goes right, there will be a next time and you will have made a friend. 

The two of you sat there, listening to Tchaikovsky together like it was something you did regularly. An hour passed before either of you said anything. As much as you didn’t want to, you retreated into your head. The tears started running down your face and you tried to discreetly wipe them away but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Spencer wiping tears away from his face as well. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You said, trying to sound stable. 

“Not really.” Spencer said with a sniffle. 

“Is it about the book?” You said. It slipped out. 

Spencer looked down at the book he was cradling and nodded. He leaned his head on the armrest of your couch and listened to the composition, closing his eyes. 

A few compositions passed before Spencer said something. 

“It’s less about the book and more about the person who gave me the book. This will be my lasting memory of her.” Spencer said, flatly. 

“I get that right about now.” You said, quietly. 

Spencer abruptly got up, walking to your kitchen. He grabbed a cup off of the counter and poured some coffee. By now, it was just warm but he put it in the microwave. His robe was still off his shoulder so you saw his Star Trek shirt underneath. They matched his Star Trek pants. You followed him, unsure of where this was going. 

“Why did you really invite me in?” Spencer asked, getting his coffee out of the microwave. 

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m lonely? You looked just as lonely as I felt.” You said, looking down. You smirked at Spencer’s fuzzy slippers and mismatched socks. 

Spencer nodded, grabbing the glass that was labeled ‘sugar!’ from your counter and dumping a bunch of sugar in. 

“No sleep tonight?” You said, trying to control your smile. 

“No… No sleep.” He said solemnly. 

“If you don’t mind me asking but…” You paused to see his reaction. 

He was still clutching his book with one hand and stirring the sugar into his coffee with the other. He made no motion to disagree with you so you went forward and asked. 

“Why did you say yes?” You tilted your head to the side slightly. You were just as curious about him as he was you. 

“Because I miss… I miss human connection. And you invited me in.” He said, taking a sip of his coffee. 

You nodded your head, not wanting to drag it out more. If he was going to be your friend, you needed to make sure you took it slowly.

“Do you want to be friends?” You blurted out. 

You weren’t going to ask but he was just standing there staring at the air in front of you. And it was on your mind. Plus, your computer wasn’t set to autoplay the next classical playlist so there was a quiet in the apartment. 

“Why do you ask?” Spencer snapped out of his zoning out and took another sip of coffee. 

“Because I could really use a friend right now and you miss human connection so we could, you know, connect mentally or telepathically and play music and not talk, and drink coffee and not talk, and you know, not talk. Just enjoy each other’s presence.” You said quickly. 

Spencer thought this over for a moment. There was no question that he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon so having someone to not talk to seemed like a good idea. And maybe, when he was ready, he might actually want to talk. You seemed receptive and based on how he profiled you, you were going to be as good at listening as you were talking. So far, you didn’t make him talk about Maeve or his mom or life in general and he appreciated that. It’s what he needed right now. 

“Okay. Friends.” He stuck out his coffee cup and you didn’t realize until a moment later that you were supposed to tap yours against his. You tapped it and smiled. 

“Can we get back to listening to the music? I liked how it was going.” Spencer said, smiling a little bit. 

“Sure.” You said, bouncing over to your computer. You made a friend and all it took was pissing off your neighbor. 

_________________

[starshineskyandthepowerofrock]

Stuff You Wouldn't Think To Find

Part 23 of Starshine, Sky, and the Power of Rock

The portal kinda feels like how sparkling water tastes, if that makes sense. I meet Sky on the other side to find her shaking magical shimmers out of her hair.

"They really like sparkles over here, don't they?" she says.

I wiggle and watch the glittery particles fall from my pajamas. There's Sky's pencil next to my slippers! I pick it up. "Hey, look!"

Sky smiles and puts the pencil behind her ear for safe keeping. She looks around. "Any idea where we are?"

I shrug. It's super dark in here. The portal glows pink next to us and Sky's eyes glow blue so I can see just around me. But everything else? I haven't got a clue. "Do you know a light spell?"

"I know a 'make lights brighter' spell. It's a duet."

I don't see any lights to make bright in here except... hm... I put my hand through the portal again and swoosh it around a little. I pull back out with a handful of magical sparkles. Sky sings each part once for me, then I sing the melody while she sings the harmony. The sparkles glow brighter until we can see everything within two feet of us.

"Oooooh!" I say.

The walls and ceiling are a whole lot closer to us than I'd expected. We're in a super tight hallway, it looks like. No windows, no doors, nothing but what looks like an endless corridor. My heart's going again. I wonder what's down there! I've never explored a palace before, especially not an enchanted one!

Sky and I creep down the hall, our footsteps muted by our slippers. "Do you think that portal's always been there?" I ask.

"No clue," she says. "I feel like we would've noticed. Can't imagine why they'd put a secret passageway in a common room. Must be some kinda... magical glitch."

"Do you think your piano playing opened it? Like, on accident?"

Sky chuckles. "C'mon, you think I could do that? With a normal piano?"

I shrug. "I dunno. I've seen you do other cool stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like when you beat that guy in a guitar battle? That was the coolest thing I've ever seen!"

Sky doesn't look amused anymore. "Thanks," she says.

"Oh, um, sorry, i-is that a sore poi-"

"It's okay," she says a little too loud. She softens up a bit. "Thanks -- uh -- really, I'd forgotten I'd done that."

"See? So, you are cool!"

"You're pretty cool yourself," she says. "I wouldn't think you'd be up for something like this."

"Like what?"

"Ya'know. Sneaking around. Doesn't seem your speed."

I giggle. "I snuck around all the time back on the moon!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, really! My friends and I used to sneak each other out of our bedroom windows and go hang out after curfew," I giggle. "They'd love you."

"Huh, maybe I'd love them too, then. You'll have to introduce us if that can happen."

"I sure hope so," I say, only to notice that feeling in my chest come back. Hmm. Time to change the subject. "Where do you think this leads?"

Sky scrunches her eyebrows a bit. She's quiet for longer than I'd expect. "I've got a theory but I'm not sure it's a good one."

"At least you've got one, right? Lemme hear, lemme hear!"

She takes a glance at me but turns back. "Let's see first before I say anything."

She keeps answering in ways I'm not ready for, huh. "Oh... Okay, then?"

The floor has been slowly inclining as we go. It was only a bit at first but it's getting so steep I wonder if we'll slip. I'm very thankful for the little sticky things on the bottom of my slippers-

"Ah!" Sky yelps. I catch her by the arm right before she hits the ground. "Thanks," she says. Then she furrows her brow. "Wait." She kneels back down again, more careful now, and puts her ear to the floor. "You hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"It's... It's like... Uh. A hum? No, not a- Huh." She stands back up. "But you hear it, right?"

I shake my head. "What are you talking about?"

"It's, uh. A sound? Or..." She tries clearing her ears, rubs her temples. "No, not a sound. It's, it's not in my ears, it's..." She's starting to breathe, oh no!

"Are you okay? Maybe we should turn back-"

She hits the side of her head. "What the hell is happening? You don't feel it?" She grits her teeth, squeezes her eyes shut. Then she puts her hands over her head and ducks as if shielding herself from... I don't even know what. She reminds me of...

"Do you have anxiety, Sky?"

She doesn't seem to hear me, she just keeps whispering "What the hell, what the hell, what the hell?"

Ohhhh gosh, what did my mom do? Would it work with her? I've gotta try!

"Sky? Sky, look at me, okay? Name 5 things you can see, 4 things you can hear, 3 things-"

She says a word I don't feel comfy repeating. Okay then, what else do I do to ground myself? Uhhhh. I start flapping my hands. I've gotta be the calm one now. Okay, okay. I take a big breath and let it out. "Can you try doing that, Sky?"

Her eyes land on me. I do it again. She tries a shaky breath of her own. I take another deep breath. Then she does. We breathe together few more times until she takes her trembling hands away from her head. She looks away, gulps, and says, "Uh, thanks. You're right. Maybe we should turn back."

🌙🌙🌙

We both sleep in the next day. It's 12:30 when we've just started rubbing the clouds out of our eyes over a game of cards, only for Star to come into our dorm saying, "You two are still in your PJs? Was there a no-sleep slumber party that I missed?

Sky swirls the coffee in her mug and says, "Eh, I guess we're just both night owls, right, Crescent?"

I smile, realizing Star probably isn't the best person to tell about sneaking around secret palace corridors past curfew. "Yep!"

"Well, while you guys slept in, Citrus and I checked out the local marketplace. Sugarsweet has some great shops I think you two would like! Oh, and I asked around, Sky, and the music store wouldn't mind you coming in! We could go CD shopping!"

Sky's eyes light up. "Woah, really? That's great! Wanna go, Crescent?"

"Sure! Maybe we can skate, too! I hear the ice rinks here are made of frozen rock candy!"

🌙🌙🌙

Wow, Sugarsweet really lives up to its name! Star says it's the capital of Dulcet Falls, a province I still can't believe exists! Oh my gosh, I'm so so happy we're here for the week! We stick out our tongues and let blue sour-sweet snowflakes land in our mouths.

"The precipitation is a different flavor in each city. Here, it's blue raspberry!" Star tells us.

"How'd that even happen?" I ask.

"Oh, I haven't a clue. Scientists have been studying the phenomena of this province for years and still aren't sure why."

"Well, I'm not complaining!" Sky says. "Hey, your tongues are blue!" She smiles, revealing her fangs are stained blue, too.

We giggle together and head towards the music shop. Just as Star promised, Sky steps right through the doorway without a problem. The aisles of CDs each end with a touch screen with attached earbuds so you can listen to a sample from any album on sale in the store.

We of course make a beeline for the rock section and browse CD after CD. Sky and I still don't really know a lot of the artists in the Land of Light, so we listen to tons of samples. Star is so excited to show us band after band, singer after singer. She's also got a lottt of allowance money that she has no trouble spending on us.

Sky is drawn to the secondhand section, maybe because she doesn't wanna have Star spend more on brand new CDs, or maybe because she's interested in that retro sound. The older stuff sounds cool, too! But there isn't a ton of hip hop over in this section, probably because the Land of Light's history with that is only as recent as moon rabbits coming down here and sharing our music with them. The Land of Light's hip hop has an interesting pop bent to it, one I don't hate at all and actually find kinda fun! But it does make me wish I could hear some beats that sound closer to the kind you hear back home...

Hm.

I ask Star and Sky if they can catch up with me at the skate rink. I can pay for my stuff, I assure Star.

🌙🌙🌙

I'm no better at skating then I was yesterday, but if it gets my mind off things then I'll take it. After a few more very wobbly tries at not letting gravity get the better of me, I finally decide to sit on a bench until Star and Sky catch up.

Okay. What are 5 things I can see? I see the pale blue skate rink. I see shop buildings with peppermint pillars supporting gingerbread walls and roofs covered in frosting. I see fairies and unicorns and elves and cat people who all skate way better than I do- uh uh, stop that! They're all doing their best, just like me! What's the point of a grounding technique if I'm gonna put myself down during it? Now, let's see. I see I girl who's... what is she doing? She's touching the edge of a chocolate road sign. Is she... She's broken off a piece!

I do my best to unlace my skates and get back in my boots as fast as I can and try to go get a better look. "Excuse me!" I say.

The girl's head snaps in my direction. Her eyes widen -- Her red eyes! She runs off.

"H-hey!" I say a whole lot of "excuse me"s and stumble a few times going at this speed but I've gotta catch up! "Wait up!"

The girl only stops to scoop up handful of snow and lob it in my direction. It whizzes past me. "That's not very nice!" I shout, still after her. "People have gotta use that sign, you can't just-"

"Buzz off, loser!" she shouts past the scarf covering her mouth. She's scrambling into the woods now.

I gasp. "No!" I pounce on her back and we both tumble into the flavored snow.

She shoves me off of her and coughs up a mouthful of snow, revealing a set of fangs I'm not much surprised to see. She looks up, eyes wide with worry. "What are you gonna do, report me? It'll be the last thing you-"

"You can't go running into the woods like that, silly! The Band of Darkness could snatch you up like that!" I try to snap to make my point but it's a little hard to make a sound with this wooly mitten on.

She blinks. "What?"

"When I first came to the Land of Light, I had to learn a lot about safety since the Band of Darkness likes to lurk around a lot. And the biggest rule was don't go in the woods! One of my friends is a vampire, too, so I know they won't go easy on you! Be careful, okay!"

She stares at me, not sure what to say. "I'll, um. I'll take that into account." She takes a bite out of the chocolate chunk in her hand.

Wow. I'm not sure what else to even say. I've got so many questions but none of them are coming out!

"Well then," she says, standing and brushing the snow off herself. "I have to go. You didn't see me, okay?"

"Huh? Yes I did!"

"I mean if anyone asks, you didn't meet me, okay? We didn't meet. Got it?"

"Uh. Um..."

"Got it?" she asks, more intense this time.

I nod. "I-I've got it!"

"Good. Now, aren't your friends wondering where you are?"

[legemjohn]

an introduction.

by now the "vinyl resurgence" has been so talked about, so reported on, so lived in that even kids know about it. you can easily catch children barely old enough to drive flexing a collection deep enough to make a lifelong aficionado envious, or a few choice cuts that are worth enough second hand to pay off someone's student loans. this isn't anything new anymore, it simply is. but for me, growing up, i didn't know what the hell "vinyl" was. my first experience with it was crawling around the floor in the family room of my childhood home, pulling back a door on our TV stand, and finding a short row of tall, colorful spines hidden behind a bag of playstation controllers. the pigments were faded, the text eaten up by missing pieces of print, the corners dented... they looked neglected, almost like antiques. i carefully grabbed one and pulled it out from the back of the cabinet, holding it in front of my face and trying to figure out what the hell it was. the picture on the front, while desaturated from years of dusty living, held a bright and warm color scheme that grabbed my eye immediately. hues of red and purple blended together on top of a large drawing of what kinda looked like bird wings, kinda looked like a flower in full bloom. a marble in the middle held a bob ross lookalike landscape inside, almost like a snowglobe. across it all was a single word in blue: "journey". "wait, journey? ugh, i hate journey." in my house, the only music that ever played was journey adjacent. any soon to be "classic rock" hair metal and blues rock bands you can think of, the more stereotypical the better, were the norm. journey, bon jovi, aerosmith... these were what i exclusively heard growing up. before i heard anything else, i enjoyed the music enough, but at this point, i had already had a borderline religious experience listening to "hybrid theory" by linkin park for the first time and realized what i had been missing out on. those aforementioned bands, with their flaccid riffs and sing along choruses just didn't hit anymore. regardless, my initial confusion wasn't quite solved. so, this has to do with the band journey, but what was this? i turned it over to see a list of songs on the back. i didn't really recognize any except for "wheel in the sky", a track that would often play from the speakers on top of the tv stand i was curled under. did this thing have music on it? i flipped it back around and felt one side of it gently open. looking inside, i was taken aback by how bad it smelled. it reminded me of my grandparent's basement, especially the corner of it filled with bins of old picture books that probably had seen more mold than air in recent years. the symptoms of neglect began to pile up. despite the less than stellar sensory experience at hand, i reached inside and grabbed hold of what felt like a thin plate. pulling it out softly, i found myself holding a flat, black disc. looking at the label, the deeply etched grooves, the rainbow pattern that would faintly shoot across the surface just in the right light, it dawned on me... i had seen these before! it wasn't rock music that introduced me to vinyl, but hip-hop... albeit, somewhat subliminally. countless music videos, photo shoots, album covers all featured these flat, black discs... either spinning endlessly or being pushed, flipped, and altogether manhandled by DJs. i didn't know what DJs did, but i at least knew that if someone was behind a machine with these discs on them, they were a DJ. eventually, my mother walked in and tersely told me to put the item back. i obliged and didn't think much of it for the immediate future. but as i got older and my passion for music grew insatiable, what i now knew as "records" or "LPs" became a curiosity i just couldn't ignore. my deep love of hip-hop led me to learn the history of house parties and sampling, educating me not only on LPs as a medium but as a tool. artists like trent reznor would speak endlessly about their experiences at record stores, how a single copy of pink floyd's "the wall" changed their life

beyond just the music in the grooves. i was entranced and i wanted in. meekly, i asked my mother if i could have some of the records sitting in the cabinet, maybe even just the duplicates. she flat out rejected the idea, to my dismay. i didn't even know how i could get a hold of these! i didn't have a credit card, so ebay was out of the question, plus i didn't have any record stores near me. but, i knew i could eventually find one if i looked online hard enough. for what i believe was my 12th or 13th birthday, i spent all my collected present money on a mail order shopping spree. i dropped something like $50 on CDs and 2 records from chicago's reckless records, to the confusion of my parents. while my love of music was growing in a way they couldn't ignore (despite them not even knowing yet i had been releasing music online already), any holiday money i would collect almost immediately got dropped off at a gamestop (or eb games when they were still around... or a babbages when they were still around) and exchanged for the newest tony hawk or gran turismo game. but no, not this time. this time, i was cashing out on music. so, when the package finally arrived and i excitedly had my mother open it, euphoria rushed in at lightning speed when i saw a black square inside, the same dimensions as that "journey" record all those years ago. sure, it was a cheap and somewhat scratched copy of a "the hand that feeds" remix 12" from nine inch nails (and a 45 copy of the "somewhere i belong" single from linkin park below), but it was my cheap and somewhat scratched copy. i didn't even have a record player, but i had finally did it... i bought my very own record. over 10 years, numerous moves, one massive sell off, and a half-decade tenure at a record store later, i currently have a record collection of over 500 pieces. i spent years and years endlessly curating and collecting LPs from all across the world, of any and all genres, and in all manner of conditions. and now i'm selling them. see, now we arrive at the point. (sorry for making you wait so long.) after all this time, i've made the decision to sell the vast majority of the collection i've basically spent a lifetime putting together. it wasn't an easy decision to make, as the idea bounced around in my head for years before i finally succumbed to the necessity of it, but this blog will be my way of giving the history i've been so lucky to collect over the years a proper, respectful send off. so here we go. over the next however long, i will be melodramatically and probably infrequently giving chunks of my collection one final rotation on my turntable, making my peace and saying my goodbyes to a part of my life that's come to define my relationship with my deepest passion: music. i'll reflect and share any stories or thoughts here as i go through, and hopefully someone other than myself will find some joy, entertainment, or even connection in these words. let's begin.

[cagestark]

Winterspider prompt if you're game! There's a meme about a poor college student being robbed; the robber, upon learning just h o w poor, stopping and giving the (empty) wallet back and being sincerely concerned. "You... you live like this?" What if the winter soldier/bucky barnes breaks into struggling college student Peter parker's apt and all his pre-serum steve instincts are triggered by the state of the place and how /tiny/ Peter is (abo/soulmates/soulmarks/werewolf au for spice up to you)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

This prompt came into my house and stole my money. This is CHAPTER ONE. Because I was so inspired that I’m officially making this my first multichap fic. I hope this will appease you for now…And I hope you can forgive me for making it winterironspider (I’m a sucker for starker/winteriron so it all just clicked together nicely). Please come back into my inbox and let me know what you think so far.

Warnings in this chapter: graphic descriptions of being poor. Bucky says fuck A LOT. Peter is 24 but Bucky keeps calling him “kid” because he’s so small. Sickness. 4.1k

-

Bucky can pick a lock in ten seconds flat.

It’s a science: tension wrench goes into the keyhole, the slightest torque is applied, then his favorite pick—the Bogota with three rakes, as of late—goes in and he scrubs the hell out of it until the plug turns. Easy as fucking pie.

The hard part (and he’s not counting the guilt, the horror he would feel if Tony ever discovered how Bucky makes the money he uses to buy his lover trinkets) is scoping out the right apartments. He sticks to NYU residence halls, early mornings and late at nights because the security is usually lax enough to let him through without even checking his ID—if they ask? Oh fuck, I left my wallet in my Uber. Maybe he hasn’t left yet, one sec—and then he’s out of there.

Today, it’s the Lafayette Hall between China Town and TriBeCa, reserved for graduate students seeking their Master’s Degrees in science fields.

It should be empty. On campus is an expo featuring innovators from Sphere Fluidics, Fasmatech, AcouSort, and NanoTemper Technologies which—according to the flier Bucky read online—are huge names in the science industry, all displaying their scientific discoveries from the last business year and scouting for fresh blood.

Any science major worth a shit will be there, he imagines. But it’s mandatory for NYU grad students. Score.  

Content that the apartments will more than likely be empty, Bucky chooses the first hit at random after taking the elevator up: apartment 2B. It’s furthest away from the security camera at the other end of the hall—not that Bucky has ever left behind a reason for those cameras to be checked. It’s the principle of the thing, really. He keeps his back turned, hair in his face, both hands gloved (thank God it’s always cold and dreary in NYC, so his gloved hands don’t draw any attention) while he scrubs the lock. It takes him no longer than it might for anyone with a legitimate key, and then the door is open and he is in.

Bucky can see decently in the dark, the light from the hallway disappearing as the door is carefully closed behind him. Holding his breath, he stills himself, calls upon his enhanced senses, and listens: but there are no sounds coming from the apartment. Empty.

Then he actually takes in the place, and he realizes that that word fits in multiple ways.

The apartment is vacant, he thinks at first. There is the basic furniture all the NYU apartments come with: a refrigerator, a couch, a coffee table. But there is no television, no end tables. There are no curtains on the window across the room—and wow, what a lovely view of the brick building across the alley. The entire place smells musty and unused. Maybe it really is empty—

But no. Little signs of life appear. There are shoes by the door, ones that saw better days many, many days ago. On the wall, a photograph is tacked there, unframed, of two boys on either side of a pretty, dark skinned girl. A plastic grocery sack is dangling off of the drawer handle of one kitchen cabinet, sagging with contents that he can’t make out through the opaque plastic.

Someone does live here, they’re just terrible at decorating.

With careful, silent steps, Bucky moves deeper into the apartment. He doesn’t bother looking for a wallet—that will be with the owner—but usually there is money somewhere else. If he’s really lucky, he’ll find whatever he’s looking for.

Today, he wants blank CD’s. Last night, Tony showed him a movie where the teenage love interest burned—(“why’s it called that, Tony? You don’t burn the thing, do you?”)—a CD with love songs. It was real romantic shit; something Bucky never got to do. Something that he longs to do with this amazing man in his life. He can imagine the look on Tony’s face when he listens to a compilation of all the awesome music he’s introduced Bucky to, and it makes his heart race.

The Best Buy downtown sells a pack of five CD’s for $6.99 plus tax which brings the total to $7.61. That’s all that he needs. He could probably take that and more from any one of these apartments and the occupants would never notice. He isn’t hurting anyone. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

Then—jackpot. On the counter is a line of change: neat stacks of quarters and dimes, taller piles of nickels and pennies. Palming it, he cups one hand under the counter and slides the coins home into his hand. A quick count tells him that it’s just $2.30. It’s probably change for the vending machines downstairs, maybe fare for the bus. Nothing that will break this grad student’s bank.

For a moment he contemplates leaving the apartment. He’s almost got a third of what he needs for the CD’s. But breaking into another apartment just escalates the risks he takes, unnecessarily so when the rest of the money could very well be in the bedroom or even in the pocket of some jeans resting on the bathroom floor. No. He’ll press on.

Walking silently, he brings up the floorplan of the apartments in his mind (NYU had all that shit online; didn’t they know how unsafe it was? This world made information so available). The bedroom is on the left, past the kitchen. In the dim light through the window, he can see the door, open, a dark gaping mouth that he slips through soundlessly. It is even darker here, and he stands still waiting for his eyes to adjust further. It’d be no good to go fumbling around in the dark, knocking into furniture.

It only took moments, but as soon as he could make out dim shapes, he heard it. A little whimper. The rustling of sheets. Everything in him went still except for the blood in his veins, propelled by his furiously pounding heart. Someone is here. Bucky broke into an occupied apartment. He is standing in the doorway to a bedroom and there is someone sleeping in the bed.

He gets a glimpse before he can slink back into the living room, and what he sees stops him in his tracks. It is a boy—or a very small man, perhaps, considering these apartments are for graduate students only. The boy is wearing just a pair of boxers, some dark color—red or navy or even black, perhaps, since colors are distorted in this low light—but there is no hiding or distorting how thin he is. The shadows between his ribs are little valleys to the pale, jutting mountains of bone, rising with his fast, shallow breaths. The collarbones protrude, limbs fine-boned and so skinny that Bucky could probably wrap his fingers around an entire ankle or bicep. His face is smushed against one pillow so features are indistinguishable, but the mop of messy curls on top is unmistakable.

There is no bed. There is no bedframe, no mattress, no box spring. A pile of threadbare blankets and sheets are entwined into a makeshift nest, like the kid is some little bird.

After taking in the sights, he takes in the smell. It’s strong—damp and musty, like the windows have never been opened. The pungent scent of sweat. The overly sweet scent of cough syrup, though the two bottles on the nightstand are upended and empty.

Mostly, the acrid smell of sickness. A bucket is beside the bed, and the smell of vomit gets stronger the closer he comes—why is Bucky walking forward? He should be walking away, far, far away.

The boy whimpers again, rolling onto his back more. Sweat coats his skin, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest is even more pronounced in this position, tummy a hollow little thing. This boy is sick, very sick from the smell and the heat that Bucky can feel when he places his hand above the boy’s head, hovering over the skin.

“Ben!” The boy shrieks. Bucky jerks away and nearly topples the trash bin of vomit. His heart is pounding, thinking I’m so sorry Tony, so sorry that I’m going to get caught and get arrested and that you’re the only person in the world I’ll have to call, and if you don’t want to bail me out I’ll understand, I really will—but the boy sleeps on, lips moving. He is dreaming the feverish dreams of the sick.

Carefully, Bucky stands. He backs from the room. On his way out, he takes in more details even if he doesn’t want to: a name-badge for the building and NYU campus (which he takes, which he should have seen on his way in and known that it would be wherever the student was—complacent, he’s gotten too fucking complacent), the silver duct tape on the bottom of the kid’s shoes which holds them together. The past-due notices on the refrigerator. The paper plate resting in the sink, plastic cutlery that has been washed and re-used countless times. The kid is poor. So fucking poor.

And he can’t help that it reminds him of another sickly poor boy from nearly a hundred years ago. He remembers it like it was yesterday, fuzzy memories that Princess Shuri helped turn clear: a thin pale Captain America, the chest-deep coughs that would rattle his whole frame when he was sick, sitting by his best friend’s side through the night just to mop his brow and make sure he didn’t choke on his own sick. His stomach aches, twisting inside out with phantom hunger pains. Stepping into that apartment made him feel like he’d entered a time machine back to the Great Fucking Depression.

Another thought comes: what if the kid needs a fucking ambulance? What if he’s in there, brain frying from his fever? What if he throws up and aspirates? That will be on Bucky. There’s no way that he can walk away from this—not if it could add an(other) life, like a notch, to his murderous bedpost.

Palms sweating, he looks down at the badge he left with. Peter B. Parker. It’s a cute name—Bucky’s always had sort of a thing for alliteration. The picture of the kid is shy with the closed-lip smile and the rampant curls falling onto his forehead. He was skinny to begin with, but not malnourished like he is now. The badge will let him come in through the back doors. Because apparently he is planning on coming back.

Bucky pulls out his cellphone, mostly unused, and makes a call. While he talks, he takes the stairs down so that he doesn’t lose the call in the elevator.

Tony picks up on the second ring. “Hey Bucky, everything alright?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” In the background he can hear the sound of a door closing, and Tony’s voice grows more familiar, softer and more comfortable. He must have been around company but left.

“You only ever call if you’re about to break the law,” Tony says fondly.

Is he really so predictable? Well, in this case, he’s already broken the law, though that’s hardly a point that he wants to make. “No. it’s—nothing like that. I was just wondering about the credit card you gave me.”

“Oh? Thinking about blowing the dust off it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters. He hates it—hates being like the other million people in Tony’s life who just take his money. The fear that this man who has helped Bucky salvage himself, salvage the will to live life, to carve out a life he wants to live…the fear that he’ll think Bucky is just with him for the money is unconquerable. Tony gave him the leather wallet and the credit card years ago, and Bucky has never once used it. “Just a bit. Twenty dollars. Thirty at the most, Tony, and I swear I’ll pay you back—”

“Hey, hey, no need for the freaking out. Mi dinero es su dinero, polar bear. Buy whatever you need.” He pauses. “Are you in any trouble? I don’t know if you need me to emphasize this, but there’s probably no trouble you can imagine that I can’t get a person out of.”

“I’m not in trouble,” he says, hoping Tony doesn’t notice the unconscious inflection on the word I’m. “But I’ll remember that. I promise.”

“Okay. Great. That’s all I need to hear. Thai, tonight?”

Bucky can’t help but smile. He pushes open the back door to the building and steps out into the street, angling his face away from the security camera at the alley entrance on instinct. The wind is blistery, whipping his hair around his face. “I’ll be there.”

Tony hums. “I can hardly wait.”

They exchange declarations of love and say goodbye. Bucky feels a little choked up, how he always feels after hearing Tony say that he loves him. His eyes sting—but that’s just the wind. Honest. Down the street is a pharmacy and Bucky ducks in, head down. There’s an entire aisle for cold medicines, and he takes far too long examining all the bottles. Thank God there are ones that seem to treat everything: headaches, fever, nausea, cough. Everything except for the kid’s destitution.

He sees the chicken noodle soup and he grabs some of that as well.

Checking out is awkward; Bucky slides the card upside down at first. Then he’s unsure: credit or debit? He clicks credit since it’s first, but then he has to sign and he has a new dilemma. Should he forge Tony’s signature or put down his own? The card has his name on it, but it’s Tony’s money. In the end, he writes his own name. Forging feels too…familiar.

With less than twenty dollars spent, he trudges back down the block to the apartment building, and it isn’t until he’s swiping the key to get into the back door that he realizes he has no fucking idea what he’s going to do. Knock on the kid’s door? Hey, I broke in earlier and saw you were sick and out of medicine, here’s some. I’ll put the change I stole back on the counter. Sorry to fucking bother you?

Bucky Barnes, former assassin for Hydra, absolute dumbass.

Absolute persistent dumbass. Because he knocks on the door. He really fucking does. And when no one answers, he knocks again and again until he hears movement on the other side of the door (a chest-rattling cough that makes him shudder) then the door is cracked open and a bloodshot, honey-brown eye is staring out at him.

“Hi,” Peter croaks. His voice is wrecked, and it immediately does things to Bucky. Things that are wrong, especially considering that his voice isn’t croaky because of a cock nudging too persistently at the back of his throat, but because he is fucking sick. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to help you,” Bucky says. Peter’s eyebrows furrow. It’s cute. He’s wearing a shirt that is far too large for him, and pajama pants so long they slip down past the backs of his heels. “I’m—visiting one of your neighbors down the hall. You’re keeping everyone up with your cough, kid. I brought you some medicine.”

Peter opens the door wider, so that Bucky is seeing all of him instead of just a two-inch section. He rests against the doorframe because he’s swaying, struggling to keep on his feet, and he is so tiny, so, so tiny. The smell of him is foul, but Bucky would never mention it. “Gosh,” Peter says, and Bucky is horrified to see tears, real fucking tears fill his eyes. “I didn’t know I was keepin’ everybody up.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Bucky says. People say that, sometimes, to horses that are likely to buck off their rider or men who pull out guns in gas stations. Bucky figures that he should probably use either of those situations as reference for what to do now, because how to comfort a crying kid was not in the Winter Soldier’s repertoire. “Don’t shoot.” Fuck. Try again. “I mean—it’s not your fault. You’re sick. Obviously.”

Fat tears roll down Peter’s cheeks. It impedes his breathing even more, until Bucky is afraid that he’s going to choke on his own phlegm. When he speaks, he tries to keep his voice even and clear through his hitching breaths. The shirt slips off his shoulder, bones protruding. “I-I-I know. It hit m-me a-all of the sudden. But now it won’t go away.”

“Have you tried going to the doctor?”

Peter’s smile is downright tragic. He looks like he wants to reach out and pat Bucky on the cheek, call him a sweet summer child, ask him what pipe he smoked to have such a dream. “I d-don’t have insurance. I’m still trying to p-pay off my debt from last year when I had my tonsils removed.”

“And they—what—they won’t treat you? Just because you needed treating once before? They’re fucking doctors!”

“I know,” Peter whines, rubbing a wrist at his leaking nose. The door opens even wider. “Would you like to come in?”

Bucky sees the irony. He really does. A half hour ago, he was in this apartment robbing the kid. Now he’s standing at the kitchen counter watching Peter make ramen noodles (“my aunt always said that when someone is in your house, you should treat them like they live there”). He nearly burns his hand on the pan, and that’s when Bucky moves to take over, stirring when appropriate, adding a packet of flavoring. Peter pulls one bowl down from the cabinet—the cabinet that is unbearably empty from the quick glimpse Bucky gets of it.

“I only have one bowl, I’m sorry,” Peter says, face red, eyes downcast. His hands shake while he ladles the soup and noodles in. He gives Bucky one of the plastic spoons—it’s clean, he knows—but the whole thing is so fucking sad. When Peter glances over the counter, muttering something about some missing rent money, that’s it. That’s it for Bucky.

I’m taking him home with me, he thinks, nudging his spoon against the noodles in his bowl.

“I’m Peter, by the way,” the kid introduces himself. Then his face goes white, shaking intensifies. “Excuse me.”

Bucky hears him vomiting even through the walls between them. There isn’t much to come up, but the retching lasts forever it seems, the boy dissolving back into tears. Instinct says to go to him, but Bucky doesn’t want to be anymore of a fucking creep than he already is. When the vomiting turns to coughing and then to gasping, Bucky decides fuck it. He is a fucking creep. But he’s not going to let the kid pass out and crack open his head.

Peter is in the bathroom, bowed over the toilet, curls matting to his forehead with his fever. Bucky goes through drawers until he finds a washcloth and wets it from the sink, the water stinking of iron, to at least dab at the back of the kid’s neck. He shivers, but sighs into it, his wheezing breaths slowing.

When at last he leans back, his cheeks are red and wet. “Thanks,” he croaks. Bucky just mops at his forehead, avoiding the comical look of relief and pleasure on his face.

“You need a doctor.”

“Can’t afford it,” Peter mutters, reaching out to flush the toilet. Bucky practically carries him back to the kitchen-living room combo, setting him down on the threadbare couch.

“I’ll pay,” Bucky says. Then he winces—because it isn’t really his money. It’s Tony’s money. How can he just promise Tony’s money to this kid? But he can pay Tony back. No matter how long it takes or how hard he has to work. He’s got decades and decades left to live. He’ll spend them all trying to repay Tony’s kindness and love as it is. What is this one extra debt?

“What?” Peter asks, his eyes glassy with fever. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“A trip to the doctor costs hundreds of dollars, not to mention if I’m really sick, I’ll need medicine which will cost even more. I’m not taking that kind of money from you.”

“I’m rich,” he half-lies.

Peter looks him up and down, the worn boots, the soft but unremarkable jeans, the gloves that he’s still wearing even though they are indoors. While he doesn’t look destitute, the idea comes across loud and clear: Bucky sure doesn’t fucking look rich.

He sighs. “Fine. It’s my boyfriend. He’s rich.”

“You want me to take your boyfriend’s money? I’m—what? I don’t know you. I don’t even know your name.”

“My name is Bucky,” says Bucky. “And my boyfriend is Tony Stark.”

Peter’s mouth clicks shut. His eyes clear a little, the name cutting through the sickness. “Tony Stark.”

“Yeah.”

“The billionaire.”

Bucky can feel himself smile against his will. “Genius, billionaire, philanthropist, superhero. Yeah, he’s the one.”

Peter reaches out and puts his burning hand against Bucky’s forehead. “Maybe you’re the one who is sick,” he teases weakly.

“I’m serious,” Bucky says. He pulls out his phone and Googles it—hopes the kid doesn’t see the tab of Lafayette Hall dorm room floor plans that was previously open. Then he brings up the tabloids. He and Tony aren’t in the news as often as they were years ago when they first started leaving the Tower together to do couple-things, but the articles last forever. There’s a nice one detailing all about Tony’s promiscuous love life, how everyone thought the bisexual ways of his youth were just a phase. Until Bucky.

The pictures are clear. Peter’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “You’re dating Tony Stark. Oh my god. I’m—I’m his biggest fan. Oh my god. I think I’m going to pass out. I’ve—” the kid goes red as a beet, “I’ve had a crush on him since I was like, like this tall.”

Judging by the height of his hand when he holds it up, Peter’s been harboring his crush on Tony since ever. And yeah, Bucky gets it. His lips can’t help but quirk upwards—Peter is so fucking cute, even with he way his cheeks are hollow, eyes sunken. He lights up when he talks about Tony. Bucky is the same way. Tony inspires that in people.

“I’ll pay for you to go to the doctor. See? I can afford it.”

Peter gnaws at his lower lip. “But why? I don’t get it. Because I’m keeping everyone on the floor up? That doesn’t—this is weird.”

“Because you remind me of someone I used to know. My best friend, from when I was a kid. He’s—he’s not around now. But you two would have gotten along well, I think. And he would’ve kicked me in the ass if he knew I just walked away when I knew you need help.” He can see the indecision on the kid’s face, the wavering teeter-totter of what he wants to say (yes yes yes) versus what he thinks he should say (no, but thank you). Bucky has an ace up his sleeve: “Why don’t you come back to the Tower with me? Meet Tony. He’ll tell you all this himself.”

“I couldn’t!” Peter nearly shrieks. He coughs, and Bucky waits patiently for him to finish.

“You could. You totally could. You will. I’ll call a car—”

“Oh my god,” Peter whispers under his breath, his whole tiny body going lax and weak like a woman from Victorian times, likely to swoon at any moment. Where are Bucky’s smelling salts? “Oh my god,” he says, soft and to himself. “I’m going to meet Tony Stark.”

Bucky can’t help it. He grins, pats awkwardly at the kid’s shoulder—and Jesus, he’s a tiny little thing, still burning up under Bucky’s grip. “He’s going to be thrilled to meet you.”

-

Peter insists on showering and changing his clothes. Bucky steps out into the hallway to call Tony back and warn him—and ask him to send Happy or one of the self-driving cars. Anything to avoid taking a cab or the subway.

“Twice in one day,” Tony says when he picks up the phone, forgoing a greeting. “Aren’t I a lucky man?”

“I’m the lucky man, ‘s far as I can tell,” Bucky says lowly. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine Tony’s expression, the ridiculous fond face he makes when he looks at Bucky. “I had a favor to ask of you, though. A big one.”

“Anything for you, frosted flake.”

“Send a car to the address that I text you? And—order Thai for three?”

[matthias-meijer]

@rebelwithacausesolveig

Christmas had been different this year, that much was for sure. He had enjoyed himself though, spending the day at Maggie’s new place in the village with his love and his baby sister teasing him throughout as they enjoyed a meal and a gift exchange. It had honestly felt like old times. But even having a good time couldn’t quell the emptiness of that missing piece to their small family here in Russia. It was his own stubbornness and his still ever-present anger towards her that had kept him from inviting the guard that day, not to mention his fear that Maggie would not have approved of her being there as well. He wasn’t even sure how the two girls would get along after everything that had been revealed anyway. The whole thing was a mess.

A bit drunk after the festivities, Matthias had just dropped Kat off in her room when he’d come across the festive box in front of his door, the prince looking around the hallway as if the person who’d put it there would be waiting in the shadows. Realizing no one was there, he took the box inside of his room and set it down on his bed so he could wash up for the night. A pair of clean pajama pants and a set of brushed teeth later, he took a seat next to the gift and started to inspect the outside closely, not sure what he would find or what he was looking for. A card maybe? Something that indicated this wasn’t some sort of joke or anything of that sort?

It was anything but. Matthias sobered up immediately as he pulled the tissue paper from the picture, his whole body seeming to seize up as he gazed down at the girl who was unmistakably his daughter. He knew even before he’d read Solveig’s messy scrawl, there was no way this girl wasn’t related to him or Sol. His fingertips lightly grazed the glass over Astrid’s cheeks while his eyes welled ever so slightly, and Matthias let out a deep breath he’d felt like he’d been holding in ever since Halloween. This was her. And she was beautiful.

The Dutch prince wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring down at that photo before he set it down next to the box, his eye catching a glint from something else inside. He picked up the disc, his head tilting while he took in the unfamiliar writing on it. That couldn’t be…no, there was no way, right?

He was off the bed and over to his bookshelf faster than he realized he could even move almost losing his grip on the disc while he placed it in the cd player. The touch screen popped up and he almost cracked the delicate screen as he clicked on the first file.

“Matthias! Mama said you finally found out about me!”

Mouth falling open, he closed his eyes as he took in the girl’s tone and a million thoughts started to flood his mind. Found out about her? Had she known who he was all this time?

“She tried to feed me some line about how if you knew she had a daughter you’d never let her keep her job because it was too dangerous. Between you and me, that’s some BS.”

A laugh fell from his lips. This was Solveig’s daughter, that was for sure. So that’s how she’d kept Astrid in the dark, huh? Feeding her lies while somehow still shining him in a good light…he shouldn’t have been surprised. Solveig was a good liar it seemed, and it made him wonder what else she had been keeping from him over the years.

“I don’t think she knows who my dad is and that makes her really uneasy. Don’t judge her about it, she’s a great mom.”

His smile turned down into a frown as the girl continued. That line had made his heart ache for Astrid. Solveig had known all along and kept her in the dark along with him, kept her from knowing one of her parents. He knew what that was like in a way having never really known his mother. It wasn’t an easy thing to grow up with and being that absent parent himself made him uneasy.

“Anyway! I’ve known about you pretty much my whole life. Got the birthday present by the way and loved it. I wasn’t sure what you might want for the holiday though, and it was on a bit of short notice… Not gonna lie, I’m giving you the same thing I gave my mom…and your sister. Hope you like armature piano played by a teenager and I promise I’ll get you something way better for your birthday. Well, I mean, maybe… I would welcome a list of reasonably priced ideas. Or, you know what? My uncle makes the best honey mead. My mom’s probably shared it with you, you’ll love it. Of course, as a fourteen year old I have no idea what alcohol tastes like or anything…So, um.." 

As his daughter continued, he started to smile again. She was…thoughtful. And a bit of a firecracker at the same time. And he noted how she seemed to make him laugh so easily even as his laughter turned into a choked sound, tears finally starting to fall from his eyes while her voice filled the room. Why was he just getting to discover these things about her? Why had he not been allowed to laugh with her in person over the years? Why could he not be there to sneak her the first sip of honey mead she’d probably already tasted? He leaned against the book case and slid down to sit on the floor, his knees coming up as he placed his arms against them, and then pressed his forehead against his own warm skin in an attempt to hide himself from the world. All he wanted to focus on was that voice.

"You know what, forget I said anything. We don’t have to talk about it! I hope you enjoy Jason Mraz and the Beatles. I just get so bored of learning classical music, ya know? Well, this is way too long already, and it’s the third time I’ve recorded it… Yeah, this is like, the edited down version… I should-…I should go now. Happy Holidays, Matthias!" 

Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of his sobs as he stayed curled into himself. Seeing her, hearing her, it was everything he had needed and the worst thing that could have happened at the same time. This wasn’t fair. That voice shouldn’t be foreign to him, that picture shouldn’t be the only one he owned, and he should have been able to display it proudly for everyone to see. Instead he would have to hide it away so nobody would know, he had to listen to her thick Norwegian accent and be reminded that she grew up in an entirely different country, he had to hear about how Solveig was a good mom despite her keeping the girl from her father.

And it wasn’t even Solveig’s fault.

For months he had gone over that conversation…well argument, in his head and all he could get from it was how this whole mess was because of his father. Solveig had some blame of course but could he really fault her for trying to protect her family? Matthias just wished beyond anything that she had trusted him enough to take care of it when they were younger. But again, he had been seventeen at the time, would he have trusted her if the roles had been reversed?

Music broke through his thoughts as he started to calm down. He wasn’t sure how many songs he had missed or how long he’d allowed himself to break down but soon the melodic notes of a piano started to soothe him more and more as time went on. He stayed in that curled up position so that he could keep everything but that sound and his own thoughts out. Things had gotten so out of hand with this situation, but it was time. It was time for him to man up, to stop thinking of just himself as the victim here, to actually truly speak with the mother of his child and figure out what they wanted to do about it all. It was time to start healing from all of this and come out better on the other side.

And he would. He just didn’t know where to start.

[blondsauduun-reads]

Really Something

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Flu? I think some light swearing? 

Plot: Request from @riverdalefan2019​ - The guys all went to college and Luke meets his roommate Julie instant attraction but neither want to mess up there room situation but one week it changes and Luke gets sick with the flu and Julie takes care of him, and while bed ridden truths are admitted about falling for each other and they get together please.

A/N: This was my first request ever so. Be nice. Also I hope I did well and did more or less what you had in mind!!!

Ah, first day of college. You can smell the nervousness and the panic of the freshmen, the exasperation and exhaustion of the sophomores and juniors, and the will to finally pass this year of the seniors.

Wasn’t like that for Julie Molina though. She was excited, full of life, willing to ace every single test and assignment.

She was strolling through campus, looking at the buildings, the people, listening to music. Looking everywhere but ahead and listening to nothing except Harry Styles on her earbuds.

“Hey! Watch out!” A brunet guy raised his voice, bringing her back to the real world, where she’d just thrown this guy’s stuff on the ground.

“Shi- I’m so sorry, wait, let me help,” she immediately dropped to the floor and helped the guy pick up his stuff, which was all cables and CDs. 

“I’m Julie. Hi.” Once everything was back in the box, she tried to introduce herself.

“Luke, a pleasure.” He smiled. 

A brief moment of epiphany where he realized Julie was absolutely stunning, and she realized Luke was breathtakingly cute.

“Luke!” Some other masculine voice broke him out of his trance. “C’mon, we have to get the room, now!” The guy, presumably Luke’s future roommate, had blond and very shiny hair, and was accompanied by a punk-looking black-haired guy too.

“See you around!” She said, also turning to where her dorm room was

.

Julie walked into the building, looking for room 195.

Entering the building, finding the correct floor, the right wing and making all the right turns in the hallways.

It was a lovely room, had two beds, two desks, two dressers, and a questionable rug on the floor.

“They really got you two a double room? And what about me, man?” Luke said from outside, kind of jumping around. “Who gon’ be my roomie?”

“Dude, calm down.” The blond guy from earlier said, grabbing his shoulders, so he stopped jumping around. “Me and Reg two doors down that way. Chill.”

“Yeah!” Reggie said, “And maybe, you even get that cute girl you were talking to earlier, huh?” he added, wiggling his brows.

“You mean me?” Julie said, popping her head out the door to the hall.

“Yeah!” He said. “I’m Reggie, this is Alex, and this,” Reggie shoved Luke inside the room. “Is your roomie.” He waved bye and dragged the blond along back to their dorm.

“Luke, right?” Julie asked, not that she’d ever forget his name, though.

“Yep, and you're Julie” He smiled, she smiled, they set ground rules, like not bringing boyfriends or girlfriends over and like not going through each others’ stuff, and they got to decorating and unpacking.

“Damn, the theater majors really are blasting Hamilton across the hall, geez.” Julie said, coming into the room she and Luke had been sharing for five weeks, with a plastic bag with their dinner in it inside. 

“Oh I know.” Luke spun around with his desk chair and stood up to greet Julie and help her set the table -which they bought one week after moving in, at a thrift shop for like, five bucks- “It’s been like that since you left.” He rolled his eyes, making her laugh. It was nice to know that he could make her laugh.

“I hate this rug, it’s like, stepping on sandpaper.” She mentioned the almost brown rug under their feet, which hadn’t been clean since the university bought it. That made him snicker and nod. “We should clean it.”

Christmas break was finally here. The roommates of dorm nº195 and dorm nº190 -Alex and Reg- were pretty tight knit by then, and all of them were staying at campus for the holiday, because Julie couldn’t afford going to Puerto Rico on Christmas, and the boys didn’t really like family time anyway, so they stayed with Julie.

For Christmas they had lunch at Julie and Luke’s dorm, because surprisingly it was the least messy of the two rooms, and because somehow, their kitchenette had a stove, which wasn’t actually allowed, but, whatever, it’s just soup. So, their Christmas lunch was soup and a rotisserie chicken.

Gifts were exchanged! Alex got some new fancy socks, a snapback with a goat and some new drumsticks because Reggie accidentally broke them two weeks ago, Reggie got some fierce new boots, an ugly christmas sweater which he actually loved and a goldfish from Petco, Luke got a collection of new notebooks -because he seemed to burn through an entire one in less than a month-, yet another flannel shirt, and some fuzzy socks -from Julie, because he always stole hers, despite the rule that said to not go through each others’ stuff, and always ended up stretching them out so that they didn’t fit her anymore-, and Julie received a denim jacket -which she had deemed her favorite since that day-, a couple of potted plants, and a big hoodie -which wasn’t actually big, it was Luke’s size, which apparently she loved, because she had stolen every single one of his hoodies without asking (he was out and the dorm didn’t have any heating, ok?), and always seemed to put them back in their place, until the day Luke saw her wearing one, almost fainted because of how cute she looked, and suddenly it made sense why his hoodies always smelt like her (not that he ever mentioned that, though)-. So yeah, they had a nice Christmas.

Today was December 27th and the two of them were cleaning the rug (outside and on the pavement, which had been lined with a piece of plastic), because today was the sunniest day they’d had all the month.)

“Hey!” Julie laughed when Luke splashed some of the water-soap solution on her.

“What?” He acted as if he was doing a completely normal, mature thing. “Looks like you need a thorough scrubbing too, Julie.” Oh boy.

“Uh? Excuse you sir, at least I wear sleeves.” She soaked up good her sponge in the soapy water, “Because, if you had actual tees, I wouldn’t be able-” No sleeves, and as usual, the arm hole on his shirt was so big it reached his lower ribs. “- to do this!” Shaboom. She threw the sponge into the sleeve hole, directly into his shirt.

“You just started a war, Molina!” He fished the wet sponge out of his clothes and threw it at her face.

Julie soaked the sponge up again and threw it at his face, somehow he lost balance and fell onto the semi-dirty wet rug. 

“A war that you have lost, Patterson.” She said, hovering over him, claiming her victory.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He pulled on the arm that was supporting her over him, so now she lost balance, fell on the wet rug too, and somehow threw the whole bucket of water on them.

“Well, it’s soap and water, so we’re not technically dirty, right?” He chuckled.

“You’re really something Luke. Really something.” Well. In that particular moment, he was a wet music major with a tummy full of christmas food. But Julie meant that he was really something, to her.

But unfortunately, and in that case, really something also meant he was really prone to catching nasty colds.

“Luke, your fever is getting real high, real fast.” Julie said, looking at the thermometer which clearly indicated 104ºF and 40ºC.

“If I’d have known that all it takes is a fever for you to call me hot, I would’ve gotten sick earlier.” He answered, from under his blanket.

“Shit, he’s even worse than usual.” Alex said through Julie’s phone, which was on speaker and on the table.

“We’ll come by after class, bring him some antipyretics or something. Good luck!” He said, before hanging up.

“That’s it.” She said. “I’m going to the store.” She couldn’t stand Luke looking so sick and weak, she missed the healthy and boyish Luke. She was going to get soup ingredients at the store.

“Luke, you’ll-” She turned around to tell him he should rest, but found him sleeping already. “Rest, and get better.” She kissed his forehead, still feeling him burning up, and went on her way. Luke smiled in his sleep.

“Hey, Luke.” She shook his shoulder gently to wake him up. “You’ve slept the whole afternoon, I made dinner.” 

Luke woke up, kinda. He could smell spices.

“But it’s not done yet, and you need to take a shower.”

“What, why?” 

“Well, you’re sweaty and feverish, so a room temperature shower will do you good.” She said, going to grab something out of her drawer. “And use this with your body soap.”She handed him a fancy little bottle that spelled Alcoholado on the front in a very worn down paper stuck to it. 

“Okay.” He put up no resistance, just grabbing his Manly Man 2-in-1 Shampoo and Soap, his towel, some crocs for the shower (which everyone complained about, but whatever) a clean set of pjs, the bottle she had given him, stuffed it into his backpack, and went to the bathrooms.

Twenty minutes after, he was back, the table was almost set, two big bowls of something that looked like soup on the table, the trashcan full of plastic wrappers and veggie rests from the soup, the leftover ingredients tucked away in the only cabinet their kitchenette had, and a medium pot of soup on the stove, which wasn’t on anymore, but the soup on the inside still steamed a bit. And Julie in her christmas-gift-hoodie and some sweats.

“What was that thing you gave me?” Luke asked, looking at the bottle he held in his hand and throwing his bag on his bed.

“Alcoholado, my Abuela made it and gave me half a dozen bottles for college. It’s supposed to calm fevers and help with colds.” Julie said, putting the cutlery on the table and sitting down. 

“And this is chicken Asopao, my Abuela also made it for me when I was sick.”

“Julie, you really didn’t-”

“In first place, yeah I did, it’s my fault you’re sick; and in second, I care about you, Luke.”

Luke almost fucking fainted, but decided that sitting on the chair and eating the Asopao she’d made was way better.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said, cleaning up the table and everything with her. “ I feel a lot better.”

“I’m happy I did!” She said, somehow earning a nice hug from him.

After they broke apart the hug, they turned off the lights and went to sleep.

Julie was woken up at 4 am by Luke’s coughing, and went to check on him immediately.

She checked his temperature, which was somehow very cold, despite him being wrapped in a pair of blankets.

“I-I’m cold,” He muttered half asleep.

“Yeah, I can feel that.” She rushed to her bed again and pulled a thick duvet from under it, went back to Luke and laid it on him. “Better?”

“No.” He said, hesitantly. “Cuddle with me maybe?”

Julie thought about it. This would only make her heart flutter and turn her feelings towards him more intense, but he was sick because of her and she’d lose a bit of her dignity to make him feel better if that’s what it took.

“Scoot over.” She said softly, holding up the blankets so she could get under them.

Twenty seconds after, they were both cuddling very comfortably in his bed, Luke was beginning to warm up, when he made a comment;

“I know why I’m in love with you, Julie.” She opened her eyes in a heartbeat, but stood still, thinking about what to tell him, and if she should respond at all. 

“It’s because you’re caring and lovable and kind and just, overall amazing.” He said sleepily, before she could say anything.

“I love you too, Luke.” She kissed the crown of his head, Yes they were spooning and she was big spoon. “Sleep now, though. You need it.” 

They wiggled closer to one another, and finally fell asleep, under three blankets and had very sweet dreams.

[naptoons]

V-Day Concepts:

So happy Valentine’s Day!!! To everyone even if you don’t have one love yourself !! Treat yourself!!! Consider your friends your valentine or your animals!! You don’t need a valentine it’s not really necessary, as long as you know you have people that love you that’s all that should matter🤍

Austin:

I feel like Austin would do something very simple, he would probably take you to the beach teach you how to surf. He’d call you at a certain time knowing how you love your beauty sleep. “Hello?” you answer groggy “get ready bubs, I’m on my way” Austin explains and without your answer he hangs up, making your furrow your eyebrows in confusion, adding more to his plans. Getting dressed you slip on a t-shirt and some shorts. The weather wasn’t too cold but it wasn’t too hot either. Twenty minutes later Austin pulls up to your house, you walk out getting in the car to see the mocha haired boy smiling harder then a kid on Christmas.

“Why are we doing?” You ask with a rasp still.

“I guess you’d have to wait and see beautiful”

Arriving to the beach, there was a table set out with roses and candles, Austin smiled at how your eyes were sparkling like fireworks. He grabs your hand walking you guys to the table he pulls your chair out, then pushing you towards the table. “I can in a t-shirt and shorts to a dinner Austin!” You exclaim through the lump in your throat.

“Well, I wanted you as rare and organic as you are, no makeup with me baby” Austin smiles, you smile as he grabs your hand kissing you knuckles one by one “happy Valentine’s Day” he whispers you gasp not realizing today was Valentine’s Day. You knew it was this month but you didn’t really care for the day that much. After you guys ate y’all waited a while before getting in the water, none of you bought swimwear , literally as raw as he wanted it to be. Austin taught you to surf seeing your fear and happiness in spilt seconds.

NICK:

I feel like nick would do something kinda bigger but not so big it causes a lot of attention. I feel like he would take you out to dinner and watch a movie back at the crib on a projector. Nick was already at your house because he spent the night over helping you with your college homework. His fingers caressed your skin softly looking at the time on his phone as it showed ‘6:45 pm’ , nick taps your thighs softly trying to wake you up, when tapping you was futile he started to kiss your face softly and slowly. Your hands sliding through his hair smiling when his lips attach to yours. “How May I help you?” You ask still smiling

“by getting dressed, we’re going out tonight” Nick mumbles against your neck because you’ve pulled him in a hug.

“Hmm, but what if I wanna stay in all night?” You mumble, nick shakes his head tickling you, you let out a sharp scream almost falling off the bed. After the both of you take a shower nick said he had to pick up some stuff from the store. So you got dressed did your makeup and patiently wait for nick. As if on time he knocks on the door. Opening the door he has a bouquet of roses sitting on a top of assorted cheesecake platter along with chocolate covered strawberries. “Nick...” you whimper in admiration, nick walks in the house giving you a quick peck on your lips, and placing your gifts in the kitchen.

“The big bear I wanted to get you isn’t coming until tomorrow , blame amazon prime” nick expresses, you walk up behind him and hug him. “I love you...” you choke, nick spins around in your arms titling your head up to him “no crying!! can’t ruin a hardwork ma’s” he cleans your tears with a napkin. Nick reserved a table for y’all on a rooftop, letting you see how beautiful his hometown was at night, he loved taking you to his hometown, cause you’d be shocked at the scene everytime. Throughout the whole night he just got lost in your eyes. Occasionally picking up in the conversation until you yelled at him “nick! Are you listening?” You smile bigger than ever tonight “not really you’re just to fucking beautiful ma” his accent finally comes out, that’s when you knew he was serious. After dinner you went back to the house seeing him pull down the projector he installed in the living room, sliding in the CD. Half way into the movie, it stops showing text upon the screen, “I’ve finally found out what true love is, I realize I deserve happiness, so now there’s only one thing to do” Nick then pulls out the box in his jacket, getting on one knee, you gasp covering your mouth, your body shaking in shock.

“Will you marry me y/n?” Nick smiles “trust me I have more words to say after this” shaking your head he grabs your left hand sliding the ring on, almost falling off the couch to hug him, he kisses all over you. “God I love you” he repeats with every kiss.

EDWIN:

So with Edwin I feel he would be a little more extra than nick and Austin combined. He’d probably check off your bucket list. So on there you wanted to go ice skating, stargazing and to a sea aquarium. Not only was that on your bucket list you wanted to take a trip to universal studios. So Edwin planned all of it for you. As you were packing your bags Edwin runs in with a bouquet of your favorite flowers “good morning amor, sorry for waking you up this earlier, but it’ll be worth it I promise” he bends down to your level kissing your head softly you grab the flowers out of his hand smiling. Even though you were pretty upset at him for waking you up literally 8am you knew you couldn’t be mad at him “all done here?” He asks grabbing your hand to stand you up.

“Yep, all done” you answer, the boys woke up early to send you guys off on y’all road trip Zion being the extra one he is he advises you to wear a helmet cause Edwin drives crazy. Nick disagrees and says that’s the right way to drive. After hours of driving you made it to the hotel. Y’all rest and the next day the adventures start. He took you to the aquarium, holding your hand as you stare at the jellyfish, his smile increasing the more you gasp and rant. It’s been a while since edwin has dated someone he just wasn’t ready. He just wanted to focus on music, live his life and be happy. But you came by and just changed the moral of the story.

You wasn’t part of his plan, but now everything he ever does revolves around you, you look up at edwin who looks brain dead, just blinking slowly. “Edwin you’re spacing out again” you giggle, his smile appearing again showing off his marshmallow teeth, he pulls you in and kiss you softly. “You’re to beautiful mami, that’s why I keep spacing out” Edwin answers you. Later that night you guys went ice skating. He got on the ice holding your hand as you tried to stand on the ice. Letting out curse words with tiny screams, Edwin just laughs at your cuteness “you think this is funny? I’m going to crack my spine” you exaggerate, Edwin scrunches his nose up laughing at you harder his fingers intertwined with yours. Edwin never takes his hands off yours teaching you how to skate little by little, in that short span of time you caught on quick. The next day edwin woke you up after 11am to eat breakfast, and took you to universal studios. You saw the sign and screamed. Your back lifting off the seat and looking around.

Edwins lips curve slowly, his hands caressing your inner thigh, you turn your head back to him, smiling harder you grab his chin squeezing his cheeks in your hand you give him a soft peck, laying in his shoulder.

“I love you so much” you mumbles

“Impossible, but I love you more babygirl” Edwin says before he kisses your head.

Throughout the day y’all tried to ride everything , when with fast passes it was nearly impossible. It was time to go back to the hotel, you were exhausted from all the walking, the hot weather, but you don’t regret it at all. If you could do it all over again. You sure as hell would. Sliding the key card on the lock you twist open the door seeing the rose trail you turn around and punch edwin’s chest. “Happy Valentine’s Day baby” he whispers on your earlobe and hugs you around your waist.

ZION:

I feel like this would be y’all first Valentine’s Day, cause he really wasn’t looking for love and you had to many heartbreaks. So you caught zions eye and obviously he worked hard to have your heart in his hands. And he wasn’t planning on stopping even though he had you. So Valentine’s Day was kinda special for you, you don’t really ask for much, just and I love you text. But he said you deserve everything and more. You deserved to be treated the way he saw you. As a queen, a goddess. Zion had took you to get your nails done, your eyebrows, paid someone to do your makeup, earlier he reserved you a spa treatment. He went above and beyond for you.

You got home after Zion had you running around getting pampered, you went to the room confused by the dress covered in a transparent bag, with the tag on it and everything. A box of Louis Vuitton sitting on the floor, a note was attached to the dress picking it up you read the more Zion left you “get dressed mamas, we’re going out tonight, you thought I would stop spoiling you after I finally got you?” Smiling you shake your head you unzip the transparent cover revealing the beautiful black glitter short dress, you open the box seeing a sliver strap heel. Fifteen minutes later, Zion knocks on your door, dressed in all black to match with you, he offers you to grab his hand. And you see a whole horse and a carriage.

“No way Zion...” you whimper, Zion slides your hand in between his. “Yep, this ain’t a dream mamas” he proudly smiles. Helping you get into the carriage you cross one leg over the other while his hands were on your knee caressing it with his thumb. “You look beautiful” Zion compliments you.

“Of course i do, you picked it all” you laugh

“Nah, it picked you, anything looks good on your fine ass” Zion eases you up and down. You guys went to an art museum that recently just opened, he remembered how excited you were about going to that museum so he figured today was the day that he could take you and so presently they also had a indoor dinner lounge on the backside of the art museum so he also reserve that for the both of you walking around and admiring the art wow Zion is admiring you he figured it was time to give you a promise ring that he has bought for a while but hesitated because he was scared he would overwhelm you.

“Hey mamas?” Zion says has he fidgets with the box in his jeans pocket you turn around smiling as he grabs your left hand caressing it softly with his thumb “ so you know how I promise that I would do everything in my power to keep you and to love you, now I’m promising to never leave you and to forever make you happy no matter what happens to us or no matter where I go even when I’m on tour I promise to always be there for you and to always be the shoulder you need” he pulls out the ring and slides it on your finger. “ I promise that one day when the time is right I will be your husband”

You throw your arms around his neck crying on his shoulders, “aw mamas you’re so fucking beautiful”

Afterwards you guys at dinner and sat in his car watching the stars.

BRANDON:

you guys were at the prettymuch house in his room. You just woke up twenty minutes ago. Brandon busted in the room with an assortment of paints and canvases. “We’re painting!” Brandon yells “I see that baby” you giggle, getting out the bed you pull down Brandon’s hoodie and sit on the carpet, he hands you a canvas and a bottle of water. After three hours. Y’all were both covered in paint from the neck down, laying on your back playing with his fingers. You turn to look at him on the corner of your eyes. “So what did you paint bubs?” You asked smiling.

“You’ll see in a minute but first..” he pulls out a bandana and covers my eyes “grab my hand” Brandon mumbles, while this is going on Zion takes the painting and goes to the backyard, he sits you down on the chair in the backyard throwing a blanket around your shoulders because it was kinda chilly. “Brandon?” You whisper “yeah baby I’m here” Brandon answers “are you ready to see the painting?” He nervously asks. “Yeah” you answer once you open your eyes you see a painting of you and Brandon , with the words ‘will you marry me?’ Brandon is down on his knees smiling at the tears flowing down your cheeks. “You mena everything and more to me, and to make you my fiancé would just be a fucking goal to me, falling in love with you is just as important to me as music, you’re my dream baby, so will you marry me?” You nod your head hearing his members scream and whistle as he slides the ring on your finger.

Afterwards you guys cuddled in a tent watching a movie on the projector, he begins to play with your fingers. “Hm I love you” you whisper then kiss his knuckles softly “I love you more” he tilts your head up to kiss him, smiling in between his kisses. “Happy Valentine’s Day Babylove”

[inkedstarlight]

Living of Love

Summary: Sirius Black owns a punk rock flower shop. When Remus moves in across the street and opens up a bookstore, the two men meet and discover what it feels like to love once more. A Valentine's Day story. Lots of fluff.

Note: Just reposting a Wolfstar fic I published on AO3 a long time ago! For all who don’t know, I used to write a lot of Harry Potter fanfiction about three years ago. All of my HP fanfiction is posted on Archive of Our Own, and I’ve added it to my Masterlist. Nowadays, I’m writing a shit ton of ACOTAR and TOG fics (more to come very soon)! If you ever have prompts/requests, send them in my ask box! I will write: Nessian, Elriel, Feysand, Elorcan, Wolfstar, Jily, and Linny. Thank you to all those who read my fics, I can’t express how much it means to me!

“James!” Sirius cursed as he opened the door.

His best friend poked his head from behind the corner. “Yes, my lover?”

“Cut the crap. What the bloody hell have you done to my shop?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” He exclaimed with a sheepish grin.

Sirius stared wide eyed at his flower shop. Only it wasn’t. It was bedazzled in pink. Paper hearts linked their way across the walls. Red and pink stickers were plastered on the front windows. A jar of heart candies was placed on the counter. Every bouquet had a card with some absurd declaration of love resting in the flowers. Sirius sighed.

“What am I looking at, Prongs?”

“Well, my truly amazing friend, you’re looking at the new and improved Guns ’n Roses!” James raised his arms. “Lily helped me a bit last night. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy.”

“It’s a masterpiece.”

“It’s not punk rock at all. I asked you to help prep for the holiday – not to let Cupid come in and throw up on my flowers!”

“Embrace the holiday, Pads. It’s a wonderful thing – love.” James looked off with doe eyes.

Sirius snorted. “Still in your honeymoon phase, I see.”

“You’ll find someone too, you know.”

“Doubtful. The amount of eligible gay men in Hampshire is equivalent to the dignity I have left.” Sirius turned the sign on the front door that stated they were open before shutting it and walking into his shop.

Though it was a minimalist interior, it showcased his best floral arrangements. The black and white framed photographs of old bands rested on the rustic, brick walls. On the left and right walls were white shelves of flowers from peonies, to dahlias, to flower crowns. In the middle sat two maroon loveseats, angled toward each other. There was a round table in between them with Sirius’s favorite flowers in an intricate vase; cosmos atrosanguineus. And towards the back of the store was an L shaped counter with his bouquets of the month placed on it. He walked swiftly behind the counter to the registry, and placed his things on the floor. He surveyed his precious store with another look of disbelief.

“What about that guy you told me about a few weeks ago, the one who recently opened up a bookstore just across the street?” James waggled his eyebrows and followed him around the counter.

Sirius blushed as he remembered the man.

“Are you, Sirius Orion Black, the man who claims to have a ‘heart of steel’, blushing?”

Sirius sacked him in the shoulder in hopes of ending his utter embarrassment. “Sod off, Potter.”

But as James rubbed his shoulder and howled with laughter, Sirius allowed himself to remember the man whom he couldn’t stop thinking about…

Sirius flipped the ‘open’ sign as the first drops of rain began to come down. It was a cloudy day on Belmore Street, but beautiful just the same. The local shops’ lights glowed in the downcast morning. The cobbled road was glistening with the rainfall. The storm was welcoming as it was refreshing.

He looked out his window to see the no longer vacant store directly across the street from his. The sign above the door said, Secondhand Prose. He gave a small smile. There hadn’t been a bookstore here in a long time.

Just as he was about to walk away from the front window, a lean figure in the rain caught his eye. It looked as though the man was trying to carry tons of boxes from a truck into his store. In the rain. With only a t-shirt on. He shook his head incredulously. But he looked upward again at the now downpour. He shifted his gaze back to the struggling man carrying what seemed to be a heavy box. Sirius muttered hateful words to himself as he put up his hood and stepped out into the storm.

He walked quickly across the uneven street. As the man walked out of the store, Sirius approached the truck. The man looked up at him, and Sirius’s steps faltered.

With hair dark with dripping water, a soaked through shirt, and glasses that weren’t helping him at this point, the man was a handsome mess. His warm gaze penetrated Sirius’s.

With the realization that he was staring at the stranger, Sirius cleared his throat, a flush creeping up his neck.

“I couldn’t help but watch your helpless attempt at moving all this shit,” he pointed over his shoulder at the numerous boxes sitting in the back of the truck. “Do you need any help?”

Surprise overcame his face, but looked at his feet and smiled shyly. “That would be great.”

Sirius tore his gaze from him and moved to the truck. It was piled to the brim with cardboard boxes. As leaned over to pick one up, he looked inside to see worn books. He noticed one of his favorites and picked it up.

“The Fountainhead. A brilliant book.” Sirius turned around to see the man standing just a few feet away. His gaze quickly snapped up and his cheeks flushed. Sirius couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that the man had been checking him out.

He gulped. “It’s groundbreaking.”

Sirius was about to agree when another box caught his eye, this one filled to the brim with CD’s. A familiar album cover was at the top of the pile, and he picked it up.

“Emotionalism? This album is incredible. Do you listen to them?”

Remus’s eyes brightened with passion and he grinned. “Track 10.”

They launched into a discussion about the album and the other music they listen to, somehow ending up discussing where they came from and where they longed to go. At some point, Sirius sat on the edge of the truck, Remus joining him, legs swinging back and forth, all the while the rain continuing to beat down on them as they continued to talk for what felt like hours, never once hitting an uncomfortable silence or an awkward topic. A tether seemed to form between the two men as they connected through words.

“We should probably finish up with these boxes,” Sirius nodded to the books behind him, reluctant to end their conversation.

After that, the two men danced around each other as they efficiently moved all the books into the new store. The rain conveniently stopped just as Sirius brought in the last box. He walked back outside where the man was sitting on the rear of the truck, reading a book. Sirius used this moment to look at him. His hair was nearly dry, and had a glorious golden hue in the curls. He was beautiful.

He looked up as Sirius approached and stood up.

“Thank you so much… I really appreciate your help. It would have taken me twice the amount of time to do all of that,” he waved his hand toward his store and chuckled.

“A handsome man in need of a white knight? My pleasure,” he shamelessly flirted.

The stranger blushed all the way down to his toes. “Er…thanks. Have – have a good day.” He abruptly turned his heel and practically ran into his shop.

Sirius swore at himself. He was so damn forward. He groaned and began walking back to Guns ’n Roses, sans a cute guy’s number.

It wasn’t until Sirius was inside his shop that he realized he never got his name.

He came back to the present to find James shaking his head at him.

“What happened to the Sirius Black I knew, the one who went after anything he wanted?”

“You know what happened to him.”

James tsked at him. “You can’t let one man ruin any chance for others. He was a complete asshole who treated you like scum. You’re better than him, mate. You’re better than what your family believes you to be; better than what you see yourself as.”

Sirius spared a glance at James, who was looking down at him with love.

“Is this the part where we hug?”

James scrunched up his nose and shoved Sirius back on the shoulder. They laughed together and Sirius retreated back to the counter. He picked out a peony from the vase and let out a deep breath. James grinned at his unusually nervous friend.

“Now go get some, my man!” James spanked his butt on the way out.

Needless to say, Sirius bruised his shoulder. Again.

*                      *                      *

A bell jingled as Sirius opened the door to the bookstore. Before he opened the door, however, he noticed a few Valentine’s themed books in the front window. Laughter bubbled up at the sight of erotic romances, and he continued into the shop.

Peering inside, a vintage looking shop with what looked like hundreds upon hundreds of bound words resting on wooden shelves stretching across the majority of the room met his eyes. Toward the back, he could make out a few overstuffed armchairs. He stepped inside and inhaled the scent of old paperbacks and freshly brewed coffee. Not having noticed before, he realized the small bar to the right. It was a bookstore café.

He walked in further, finding no one in sight. He bit his lip in anxiousness.

Was he even here?

Sirius strolled past the bookshelves, glancing into each aisle, but the man from a few weeks ago was nowhere to be found.

Finally, he got to the last shelf of classic novels. He looked down the narrow aisle between the books.

There he was.

Standing on a stool librarians often use, he was leafing through a gently used book. His untidy curls stuck up every which way, and his thickly framed glasses were on the verge of falling off his nose. And they weren’t covered with raindrops this time. Angled toward him, Sirius noticed his sweater. It was pink with a few sewn hearts on it for the holiday, he presumed. He was even more adorable than Sirius remembered.

The man shelved the book with satisfaction. He then stepped down to the box beside the stepping stool to pick up another book. As he grabbed the book and straightened, his gaze caught Sirius standing in the middle of the aisle. His eyes widened with surprise.

“Oh, hullo,” he said, self consciously running his hand through his golden hair, making it stick up even more.

“Hi, I don’t know if you remember, but I helped you move in a few days ago. I’m –”

“Sirius.” As soon as the man said it, he blushed furiously. “Er, your friend came in the other day and mentioned you owned the floral shop across the street.” The only coherent thought in Sirius’s head was, James went into a bookstore? Remus continued. “I figured it was you, seeing as you came in and out of the shop when you helped me that day, so I asked for your name. Did I thank you, by the way? It was really kind…” Sirius watched him with intrigue as he stumbled over his words.

When he finished his rambling, he simply stood there with bright eyes and tousled hair.

“I’m Remus Lupin, by the way. A bit of a late introduction, but …er –”

“Better late than never, Remus,” Sirius finished for him, grinning. Remus loved the way his velvet voice wrapped along the two syllables of his name.

They stood there for a few moments, looking at each other with anticipation.

“This is for you,” Sirius blurted out, reaching out and handing him the flower. Remus’s eyes softened and gladly took the peony.

“It’s beautiful, thank you. I, erm… I was actually just going to bring you something once I finished shelving,” he waved his arm at the pile of books behind him.

“You’re in luck. I’m quite a fan of surprises.”

Remus led him down the aisle, past the dozens of bookshelves, and to the café. Sirius followed him like a lost puppy.

Once they reached the café, Remus picked up a lone mug on the countertop. He turned around and held it out to Sirius. He looked at the cappuccino to see a dog paw designed with milk on the top.

“I saw you walking your dog past my store on Saturday, and well, I thought you’d like it.”

Sirius’s heart squeezed.

“I love it, it’s amazing … I actually came over here to ask you out.”

Not believing his ears, Remus tripped over his own feet as he took a clumsy step forward to hand the coffee to Sirius. Although he steadied himself from falling forward, the contents flew out of the mug and onto Sirius. And as if it were happening in slow motion, the hot liquid splattered Sirius’s white shirt, staining it a muddy brown color.

Remus’s eyes widened in horror.

Sirius looked down at his wet shirt, and back up at Remus’s horrified expression.

“Shit on a fucking stick! Bloody hell, I’m such a fucking wanker.” A long list of expletives shot out of Remus’s mouth.

And Sirius began laughing.

To his chagrin, Remus decided it was a good idea to grab a towel and begin dabbing at Sirius’s shirt with it. He began wiping at his stomach, not-so-subtly feeling his impressively hard muscles, then got to his knees and cleaned the coffee off of Sirius’s shoes and the floor.

“As much as I like the sight of you kneeling before me, I don’t think it’s doing much.”

Remus tilted his head up. Sirius was looking down at him with amusement and heat in his eyes.

Sirius bent down and got eye level with Remus. He grabbed his chin gently with two fingers.

“You’re the clumsiest, most adorable man I’ve ever met,” he whispered, leaning in until their lips almost met.

Before Sirius could move an inch further, Remus shot up on his feet.

“Er, we should… I-I have customers.”

Sirius stood up and looked around at the vacant bookstore and to the lone worker at the coffee bar who was on her phone.

“I think you could manage a five minute break.”

And with that, Sirius grabbed Remus’s pale hand in his warm one and led him out the door to the floral shop across the street.

Sirius held open the front door, extending his hand out to let Remus walk in first. “Gentlemen first.”

Remus walked into the store with Sirius behind him, and before Sirius could open his mouth to welcome and give him a tour, a flash of light blinded their eyes.

“What the fuck?”

Sirius blinked a few times to regain his vision, only to find James standing in front of them, camera poised in front his grinning face. Remus was looking at him, confusion written all over his face as he too readjusted his eyes.

“Aw, look at your faces.” He bought down the camera to look at the picture he just shot. He keenly resembled a proud parent on the night of prom. “You guys are such a cute couple.”

Sirius’s mouth hung wide open, disbelief and embarrassment written over his face. He crossed an arm around himself and hid his head in his heads, face palming his forehead very audibly, shaking his head in defeat.

Remus, on the other hand was smiling, amusement in his eyes. He gave James a small wave. “Nice to see you again, James. But, er, we aren’t exactly dating. We’ve really just been properly introduced.”

James waved him off. “Not yet you aren’t,” he winked suggestively.

Sirius lifted his head abruptly. “James,” he seethed, trying to remain pleasant. “Don’t you have to go do that thing?”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully and frowned. “I don’t think so, mate –”

But one look from Sirius had him running to the back.

Sirius was furious. James was a wonderful friend, no doubt. But he knew what Sirius had gone through with his previous relationship – the pain he had experienced after the man he loved cheated on him. Coming home from the jewelers, a newly bought engagement ring in his pocket. Calling out his name, his heart pounding in anticipation. Hearing sounds from their bedroom, and opening the door to see him fucking another man. Screaming and screaming and screaming until his voice was hoarse and his tears were nearly drowning him. Throwing the ring in his face. The betrayal. The heartbreak.

James knew. He witnessed it all – the breaking, the burning, the healing. He knew that Sirius thought he would never let someone in like that again; that he would never know what intimacy and love would feel like.

Three years gone. He had never been in a relationship since – never found a person that he could open himself up to. And now, with Remus, he felt like he could have that chance of happiness and love.

If James didn’t fuck it all up.

He turned around to face Remus, a long winded apology already on the tip of his tongue, but before he could get out a word, Remus took a long stride forward, wrapped Sirius in his arms, and kissed him, his lips soft and plush and fumbling.

Sirius, completely taken aback, had only one thought running through his mind. Remus is gay. I owe James ten bucks.

But that instantly vanished when he realized, Remus is kissing me.

Once his brain properly functioned, his lips curled into a warm smile and he began to properly kiss Remus back. His slightly shaky hand tentatively slid up to wrap around Remus’s neck, deepening the kiss. The other went around the man’s narrow waist, fingers tightening around his soft and oversized jumper, curling around the material to pull Remus closer to him.

They continued to kiss for what felt like hours. With their bodies pressed tight against one another, they were in their own cocoon of blissful heat. When Sirius pulled back slightly, his stormy eyes met Remus’s, whose were bright and warm like melted chocolate. He brought his hand up to cup Remus’s cheek tenderly, drinking in the flushed face, shy smile, and tousled hair.

“Can I just say something?” Sirius asked, breathless. A nod. “I am a fucked up man. I haven’t had a relationship in three years.” He shook his head, laughing a little. “You make me feel, Remus. I don’t know what it is about you. And I know we’ve only just met, and fucking hell this is cliché, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. Maybe it’s your taste in literature or your adorably crooked glasses, or maybe it’s the fact we connect in this way that I’ve never experienced. But I want to take this chance with you and risk being completely destroyed instead of wondering what could have been. So please take that chance with me because you are like no one I have ever met.” He exhaled a breath and quickly added, “It’s also a bonus that you’re incredibly handsome and witty.”

Remus laughed incredulously and merely nodded, whispering, “Yes.”

Sirius held up a finger, and ran over to the display case, picking up a single rose, and rushed back to Remus, holding it out to him.

He smiled, accepting the flower and pulled Sirius into him, kissing the life out of him.

From a passerby’s view in the cobbled streets, they would simply see two men in a tight embrace, their gazes never wavering.

Two lovers on Valentine’s Day.