#I need to hear their songs NOW please and thank you Studio Orange

[starry1avender]

Screw literally any other reason I need more HNK seasons for the sole purpose of actually hearing Dia's idol songs like Galaxy Crazy Dancer on Spotify when????

[vanillann]

you’re joking, right? (luke patterson x reader)

thank you for the request my love!!

word count: 1.8k

warning: minor angst but nothing major 

“As soon as Flynn gets here the meeting will start.”

I nodded to Julie’s words, falling back onto the couch with one leg in the air as I fell back.

“I can’t wait to see if she can see us now!” Reggie bounced on his heels, the whole incident after the Orpheum changing things like how often I could see the boys and even changing the fact Julie and I could now touch them.

“I have to say, it’ll be interesting to see,” Alex nodded, taking the seat close to me and nudging my foot. I looked up from my phone, turning to my side to see Luke looking down at me.

“Wanna make room?”

“Why would I do that?” I looked up at him, smiling when he sighed, looking back to my hand.

“I’ll lay on you,” Luke spoke, trying his best to sound serious.

“He’ll only saying that to be close to you,” Julie spoke up from the piano, which earned very agreeing words from the other two ghosts in the room.

“And so what?” Luke responded, giving up by picking my feet up and making his own space. He placed my feet in his lap, holding them down so there wasn’t a chance I would move.

“I already told you, Luke, you’re a ghost,” I muttered, doing my best to not give away the little pang in my chest at the fact.

“Oh don’t worry,” Luke looked over to me, winking while looking back in front of him.

“I’ll win you over, eventually.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling my feet from his grip and sitting up properly. Not a single word was spoken, each person trying to brush off the weird tension the room had grown.

“Morning!”

Flynn's voice sounded from the driveway, all thoughts of Luke’s comment gone as we waited for the truth about the boys visibly.

⁂

“I can’t believe I can see them now!”

Flynn was practically bubbling at the fact she could see the boys, almost running into someone as she walked backward throughout the mall.

“I don’t know how, but I’m glad something good came from this Caleb thing.”

Julie nodded, grabbing Flynn's shoulders and moving her before she rammed into someone. Flynn didn’t pay any mind to it, still going on and on about how she could see them.

“Now I can finally see what Julie talks about with Luke pinning glares to you,” Flynn wiggled her eyebrows, spotting the H&M in the corner of her eye and doing a 360.

“It’s just a joke.”

Julie let out a sarcastic laugh, looking at the side of my face with an offended glare.

“A joke? You can’t be that oblivious,” Julie spoke, following Flynn into the store while holding the door open for me.

“You know Luke, he’d cocky and thinks it funny,” I tried my best to not let the little joke get to me but it wasn’t exactly easy. I mean, hot ghost boys were complicated enough but liking one added more than just a cherry on top.

It added syrup, sprinkles, and whipped cream.

“You heard him in the studio-” Julie coughed, jokily buffing out her shoulders and dropping her voice down.

“I’ll win you over, eventually,” she did the best Luke impression she could muster, causing a laugh to boil out my mouth.

“It’s Luke, he likes things he can’t have.”

Julie let her shoulders drop, giving a sympathetic smile as she grabbed my shoulder and pulled me closer to her.

“He likes you, I know that much.”

I let the comment roll over my shoulder, doing my best to not think about the ghost in question but it wasn’t easy. He was making this so complicated without knowing.

Why couldn’t he like another ghost, like Alex?

“Glitter!”

I laughed as Flynn almost knocked a whole display over as she saw the glittery shoes that were on the back wall of the store.

⁂

“Ah!”

Julie’s yelp made my body jump, looking over my shoulder at Alex who gave his best sympathies for the jump scare.

“I expect it from Luke, but you Alex?”

He shrugged, standing in-between Julie and me as we both turned to each other to make it seem less weird if we were talking to nobody.

“Why can’t anyone see us?”

“It might only be people that know about you,” I shrugged, it wasn’t the craziest idea and it wouldn’t shock me if that was the thing blocking the afterlife and current life.

Alex nodded, looking between Julie and me while we waited for him to tell us whatever he felt the need to scare us for.

“Need something?” Julie looked up at Alex, shaking her head we waited.

“Oh, well I remembered you had a study hall and I had to get away from Luke.”

I nodded, Julie, waiting still for Alex to continue.

“Luke will not shut up about (Y/N),” he whipped his head around, looking at me with raised eyebrows and a thin lip nod.

“Ah, makes sense,” Julie, nodded at me. I rolled my eyes at the two, turning back to my locker to pull out my English textbook and a few pencils.

“I’m serious, he wanted me to ask you if he knew his middle name! Why do I have to do that?”

I rolled my eyes, doing my best to conceal the smile that was threatening to break across my face at the thought of a confused Luke begging Alex to ask me.

“Well (Y/N) refused to acknowledge Luke likes ‘em,” Julie muttered, I could feel her eyes on my back. I didn’t dare turn around, the bell about to ring as we made our way to the courtyard to get some studying done and fewer eyes to watch us talking to the air.

“You can’t be serious!”

Alex was a calm person, probably the calmest out of the three, but when he got worked up his voice jumped octaves and he’d fling his hands around. I was scared now, to say the least, because we could touch, which meant he could smack me with his wild hand gestures.

“He has like a million songs about, he only writes songs for people he cares about,” Alex tried to block me from walking but I easily ducked under his arm.

“Is that why he wrote “My name is Luke”?”

Julie let out a loud laugh, luckily nobody was around to question the action. Alex didn’t say anything as we continue down the hall, just little broken phrases. As I was about to open the door to the courtyard, my hand landed on something solid.

I let out a scream, backing away as Reggie fell into the door with flushed cheeks.

“Sorry (Y/N)!”

“It’s fine Reg,” I did my best to calm my racing heart, just happy I didn’t have to deal with a stranger or worse Luke.

“Sorry I had to get away from Luke, he was talking about which beanie you smiled at him in,” Reggie nodded, looking between the three of us with an awkward smile.

“Was it the orange once?” Reggie nodded, understanding my words easily. I could feel Alex pointing rapidly at the back of my head.

“What? It’s a nice color,” I shrugged, moving around Reggie to our normal seat outside.

⁂

“Please (Y/N),” Luke gave his best puppy dog eyes as I sat in one of the chairs around the studio, waiting for everyone else to come back from the snack to hang out around the room with some music involved.

“Luke,” my tone warning, finally growing tired at this game. 

I couldn’t take it much longer, this stupid crush was growing more and more every time Luke said something flirty or even touched me.

“(Y/N),” he spoke my name in a sing-songy voice, giving a little smile as he mistook my anger for something else.

“Stop! I can’t take this anymore, stop it!”

I snapped, my voice bouncing off the beams of the studio roughly.

“Wow,” Luke held his hands up, backing away from me slightly. He looked hurt, but I couldn’t let that get to me if I wanted to make my point.

“Stop chasing me, it hurts Luke.”

He slowly let his hands fall to his side, studying my face as I waited for a witty comment that I would yell about and ruin everything.

“Hurt? I didn’t mean to hurt you,” his voice was soft, apologetic as his hand went to reach for mine before I pulled it back.

“Yes Luke, hurt. I can’t even look at another guy because your little joke went too far.”

I pulled my arm back as he tried to reach for it, looking to the floor of the studio. Where were the rest of the group? I needed an out of this conversation.

“Joke?”

“Yes, this little “I like you” joke,” I could feel my eyes grow heavy as I waited for his apology, that he didn’t mean for this to go so far.

“Look, I know I’m funny but this wasn’t a joke.”

I wanted to laugh my head off, we were arguing and he still found a way to compliment himself.

“You can drop it, Luke, it’s fine but-”

“I can’t just drop my feelings!”

Luke was yelling down, the fire I once had was now fulling inside of Luke as his eyes searched my face.

“Luke,” as soon as I said his name he took off to the other side of the studio, picking up his songbook and flipping throughout pages.

“Skin against skin, mind against mind, I can’t believe I fell this time.”

I rolled my eyes at his antics, him flipping to a different page letting his finger run down the page.

“Give me your heart, it’ll be safe in my hands,” I slowly started walking to Luke shaking my head. I reached out to grab the book but he moved away, jumping on the couch and finding another page.

“If only you knew the warmth you bought to my broken soul.”

“Luke!”

“(Y/N)!”

I could feel hot tears streaming down my face, looking up at him with a pout on my lips.

“I’m not joking, every word I’ve said is true,” he slowly stepped off the couch, looking into my eyes with sincerity. I could feel my arms slowly uncrossing as I watched him closely.

Luke wouldn’t have let a joke go on if he knew it was hurting me.

He meant it.

“Swear on a street dog?”

“I swear on every street dog,” he reached out, grabbing my arm gently to wrap his hand in mine.

“Okay, you won.”

“I won?”

“You said you’d win my over eventually, well you won,” I spoke gently still looking deep into his eyes. A puppy dog smile graced his lips, pulling me slightly closer to him.

“That’s going to make an excellent song.”

I let myself laugh, smiling down at my feet. I could hear the door to the studio open, ignoring the stares on my back as I let myself bask in the joy I felt.

“Great! He’s going to talk about em more,” Alex let out an exhausted breathe. I turned around, dropping Luke’s hand as I faced their smiling face.

“So maybe it wasn’t a joke.”

[21burritoseavey]

Hahah sorry 😬I meant y/n as the reader and Daniel are in a secret relationship

hey! I'm sorry this took so long. It's a little unedited and long...and for what?? but anywaysss i hope you enjoy it i kinda went a little crazy.

Hollywood Fix (d.s.)

Daniel always loved to spend time with his girlfriend, but since Why Don’t We’s album release back in January, all of his effort went into making music at the studio. Out of sheer love and passion for creating, his thoughts would be filled with new song ideas or random melodies he hummed quietly before bed. Daniel and Y/n only met up sometimes throughout the past few weeks. Y/n was busy herself of course. With homework piling up (literally) and work right after school, she hardly had time to come over, and when she did it was for a little while. Daniel would notice her slightly less cheerful mood when they’d FaceTime before saying goodnight every night. He wanted to remind his girlfriend how much he loved her.

With his Friday night free of work, he made a reservation for dinner, sending Y/n a fake urgent message to surprise her when she’d come over that same evening.

Y/n, I need you please come over

The door burst open just ten minutes later. Y/n leaned her arm on the door handle, tired and breathless as she scanned the kitchen and living room. “Daniel!” She called; her voice wavered in panic. The eerie silence of the house only made her more anxious. Daniel was crouched behind the grey L-shaped sofa in the living room, biting back the giddy laughter that tried to fall past his lips. Kobe squealed and squirmed as he saw Y/n and Daniel tried his best to shush the puppy in his arms as he watched her quietly.

“Daniel? Where are you? You got me all worried!” She yelled again, kicking her shoes off at the door out of habit. She walked over to the counter to set her keys down and as she lowered her gaze, she noticed Daniel’s phone sitting on the tabletop, readily showing the confirmation email for his reservation at the restaurant he’d talked about on their nightly call the night before.

Daniel lingered behind the couch a little longer than intended just to see her neutral lips curve into a toothed smile and he let Kobe leap out of his arms when he stood up. “Surprise!” He shouted happily, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Y/n shot back in surprise, wide eyed and open mouthed. After a few seconds of trying to wrap her mind around the fact her boyfriend was standing right there, she ran into his arms with a squeal, pressing her hand to her mouth as she giggled. “Dani!” She exclaimed, snuggling into his warm embrace. “I missed you!”

“Hey, my love.” Daniel kissed the top of her head. He dropped the flowers onto the couch and smoothed out the wisps of her hair with his free hand soothingly. “I missed you too.” He said quietly, learning back to press a few soft kisses to her lips.

Y/n stepped back and smacked his shoulder playfully, her joyous expression veiled with annoyed furrows. “You scared me, you dummy! No wonder that text was sketchy.” She tisked.

“Hey! I had to think quick, okay?” Daniel defended. He pulled her back into a tight hug and Y/n let them linger in each other’s arms for a moment before rushing over to the flowers she glanced at.

The bouquet of tulips slipped slightly in the brown paper wrapping, as fresh and soft as the sunset that bloomed outside. Y/n looked down at them fondly. Her fingers stretched out to touch the petals and she stared up at Daniel with a pout on her lips. “These are so pretty,” She pressed a hand to her heart and wobbled on the tips of her toes to give Daniel a kiss. He gladly accepted, sliding his arms around her waist and dipping her down just a little to kiss her deeper.

---

“Thanks for taking me out, Daniel. I needed this.” Y/n said sweetly, squeezing her grip of his hand as they sauntered down the footpath. He looked beside him and gave Y/n a warm kiss on the cheek, “don’t thank me yet," he whispered into her ear.

Daniel made a reservation at a newly opened restaurant downtown and as soon as he finally told Y/n, she ran to her brand new, emerald dress she hadn’t even touched yet, nearly ecstatic that she’d finally have an occasion to wear it. Daniel thought her excitement was cute, and on their extra slow walk to the restaurant - just to savour each other's presence - he complimented and flirted with her every chance he could. Teasing glares, blushing cheeks and light chatter filled their walk, until Y/n noticed...a crowd of people in the distance, near the restaurant’s entrance. She’d thought that they were merely there for dinner, since the place just opened and all, but they seemed like they...were waiting. Suddenly, it seemed all too familiar. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and peered at the large cluster of people through a narrowed gaze. Daniel stood beside her, confused. Y/n heard the high-pitched screams of what must’ve been excited fans and saw their small signs held up by flailing arms.

“Is that Hollywood Fix?” Y/n asked, gently tugging at Daniel’s hand.

Daniel met her gaze. His white button up shirt rose and fell with the soft evening breeze that murmured along the lit-up trees around them. “Very funny, Y/n.” He tisked.

“No, seriously. Look over there” Y/n shot her hand up to point at the bright blinks of light getting closer and closer.

Daniel lifted his gaze, noticing the black exterior of the cameras peeking through the mass of people. “Wh-what? What do we do?” Daniel paused in thought for a second, “Should we hide?” He puckered his eyebrows towards his girlfriend.

“No, you dummy!” Y/n slapped his arm. “Just let go of my hand...” She spoke gingerly, unravelling her fingers from his and she stepped further to the side of the footpath, “and... we’ll just have to stand further apart.”

Daniel nodded after a few seconds and wrung his hands nervously. “Okay, okay. Act natural.” He cleared his throat and raked a hand through his hair.

“You call that natural…” Y/n giggled, pressing a manicured hand to her mouth.

Daniel glared at her with a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Baby-” He started, only to get cut off by the sound of photos and fans right in front of him.

The interviewer nearly ran into Daniel in excitement. “Hey, Daniel! How’s it going dude?” He spoke with a sort of enthusiastic haste, shoving the microphone just below his chin as he waited for an answer. Y/n walked backwards to follow behind the both of them. She left a decent space between the two young men who talked. She was silent.

“It’s going well,” Daniel started, “how are you?”

“I’m great. What’s going on with the band? Any music coming soon?” The interviewer pulled a grin towards Daniel as they both weaved through the group of young people. Multiple camera guys walked backwards behind them too, catching every word that Daniel uttered through the mic. Daniel paused at times to give a fan a hug, or take pictures and sign autographs, but Y/n kept her distance. She walked silently down the walkway.

“Yeah, yeah. You know, we’ve got some stuff ready..” Daniel shrugged with a cheeky smile.

“Anyone with you tonight, or…?” The interviewer piped up. Y/n couldn’t help but lift her gaze at the question and she turned to Daniel to hear his reply.

Y/n hoped with everything in her that he’d say the truth, what they both wanted to finally tell the world but felt too scared or anxious to say. She, at times, loved the secrecy of their relationship. It was freeing not to worry about what his fans would think, but at the same time, it felt almost humiliating, like she was a dirty secret that his management didn’t want to crawl out his band’s perfect boyband image.

Daniel looked towards the interviewer with a toothy smile and bowed his head as he racked his brain for a lie. He stuttered out a “Nah...n- not right now, the band should be here soon though.” and let a strained smile play on his lips.

Y/n gulped hard at his words and dropped her gaze to her feet walking over the cracks of the footpaths, precariously trying not to step on them. It was a little game she always played when she was nervous. Daniel and the interviewer exchanged conversation while Daniel continued meeting his fans. Y/n tried to plaster on a friendly smile as they talked just in case she might appear in the frame, but after a few long moments, she let her lips droop into a frown.

She quickened her pace and slipped past them with an expressionless glare that wandered anywhere but them. Daniel noticed her but shrugged it off, watching her walk to the host stand.

The autumn sky met Y/n’s gaze. It was the perfect shade of orange, coloured by the slanting rays of the setting sun and she let her face soften at the sight of it. “It says here the reservation for Daniel Seavey is for two people?” The hostess glanced up.

Y/n drifted her head back towards the lady and smiled. “Yeah, he’ll be joining me later,” Y/n replied quietly. The hostess nodded and continued checking her in.

“Alright dude, we’ll see you later!” The interviewer shouted.

“Nice meeting you, bye!” Daniel couldn’t have been more thankful that the conversation finally ended. He let out a relieved sigh and studied the crowd for his girlfriend, but she had already disappeared through the doorway. He huffed and walked over to the host stand, mindlessly tapping his foot against the concrete as another couple checked in. The cameras kept filming from a few paces away until they watched him enter the restaurant.

On opening night, the restaurant was bustling and glowing with overlapping chatter and vibrancy. Fairy lights were strung along the ceiling and across the freshly painted walls. Y/n had made her way over to the table Daniel had booked. She smiled down at the vase of tulips that sat on the centre of the table and stuck at her fingers to pick one out and smell it.

“Y/n!” Daniel called through the loud room behind her. His voice startled Y/n and she popped the soft pink tulip back in the vase, watching it slip back into the water as Daniel settled into the seat across from her. “Hey, where’d you go?” He asked, panting slightly from rushing in so fast.

“I...” Y/n paused and thought about what she would tell him, but merely sighed and shook her head seconds later. “Nowhere, it’s fine.” She said, fidgeting with the gentle, green silk of her dress. “I’m just so hungry that I couldn’t wait.” She pulled a smile towards Daniel, but of course, he wasn’t fooled.

“Y/n,” He glared at her teasingly. “You could’ve waited for me,” he said gently.

“Oh and watch you lie about our relationship?” She murmured, lifting her glare to Daniel. “No thanks,” she unfolded the napkin a little too harshly and watched the petals of the flowers shake.

Daniel frowned towards her. “Lie? Wh-what are you talking about?”

“You lied Daniel... said you weren’t with anyone tonight.” she mumbled. Daniel opened his mouth to say something but the waiter behind Y/n walking towards the table stopped him.

“You know I can’t say that we’re together, Y/n.” Daniel whispered as the waiter lingered between them, pouring their glasses of water.

“I know, but you said you talked to management about it.” She lifted her gaze to Daniel and met his eyes with an equally upset expression.

Daniel stayed silent.

“You didn’t talk to them, did you?” Y/n asked.

Daniel sighed and leaned forward in his chair. “It’s not that simple, Y/n. You can’t have everything the way you want it.” He slid his hand across the table to tuck his hand in hers, but Y/n drew her arm back and dropped her gaze to the table. “Y/n,” he spoke gently. “Hey, listen to me,”

Y/n didn’t look up.

“My love, please, I planned this date so we could have fun, and not have to worry about all this other stuff.”

“It’s not just all this other stuff, Daniel. This is our relationship. Doesn’t it upset you that we can’t post about each other? Or that I can’t be there for you when you perform? Or that I can’t even be within 3 feet of you when we’re in public ‘cos your fans will go crazy?!” Y/n hadn’t realised how loud her voice had become until she received awkward glances from other customers. She leaned back in her seat and huffed. A roiling anger took root within her, and even though she tried to hide it, Daniel could see the tears pooling her eyes. They both took a few moments to calm down amidst the lively buzz of the restaurant.

“Yeah, it bothers me, Y/n. You’re right, I’ll try...and talk to them. You know, maybe they won’t agree at first but I’m not gonna give up, okay?” Daniel spoke up gently. Y/n nodded and let a small smile tug at the corners of her lips. She let their hands meet in the middle and intertwine.

“I love you...and we’ll find a way to figure this out, okay?” Daniel said, pulling a fake pout towards her. Y/n giggled lightly and pressed her fingers to the corner of her watery eyes carefully.

“M’kay...I love you.” Daniel leaned in again and held her face with his palm. Their noses bumped lightly before their lips met. They kissed, softly at first, then as Daniel turned Y/n’s head slightly, their kiss intensified, kindled by the heavy emotions released seconds ago and love that radiated from them, as strong and vivid as the warm lights surrounding them.

taglist: @chilling-seavey @marthagryffindor @randomlimelightxxx @hiya-its-amber @the-girl-who-cried-wolf @hackerXavery @jonahlovescoffee

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[flaminpumpkin]

Small treasures

“Five more minutes,” Bruce grumbled as he distantly heard the door open through his sleepy haze.

There was some shuffling sound around the room and then it was flooded with bright morning light as Alfred mercilessly opened the heavy curtains, the rays of sunshine hitting the Bat right in the face, making him scramble for the covers to hide his sensitive eyes. 

“Very well, Master Bruce. Breakfast will be ready for you in the kitchen.”

He was so used to Alfred’s barely hidden exasperation after all these years that his words took longer than usual to register with Bruce. A frown appeared on his face as he finally realized what was wrong with the butler’s statement. 

Alfred never served breakfast – or any meal for that matter – in the kitchen. 

He would rather shoo everyone out with a spatula full off batter than let anyone eat where he cooked. Bruce couldn’t even count the number of times he had seen Dick or Tim appear in the dining room with a sheepish look, a thoroughly exasperated Alfred hot on their heels. 

Pushing the sheets away just enough to uncover his head, Bruce peeked over his shoulder at the still open door, eyebrows knitting further in confusion. 

“What?”

Something caught his eyes. 

There was a piece of yellow paper on the nightstand. An origami bat, he realized after finally deciding to emerge from the sea of sheets and pillows he had buried himself in during his sleep. He reached for it and took the little paper animal gingerly between his fingers, eyes focusing enough to read “unfold me” written in elegant cursive right at its center. 

Bruce did as he was told.

Dear Master Bruce, 

My words most probably confused you as the kitchen is a place I do not tolerate for anyone to eat in. But, need I remind you, there always has been one peculiar occasion where I allowed you to do so.

A.

Bruce stared at the note, confusion growing. 

Oh.

His eyebrows raised a bit, pleasantly amused. There was indeed one occasion Alfred would let him eat in the kitchen while he worked. What did the kids put Alfred to this time? 

Led by his curiosity, Bruce climbed off the bed, fully awake now as he put on a shirt, and padded out of the bedroom, towards the kitchen. 

No one was there when he arrived, which wasn’t odd per say but he had learned to be cautious over years of attempted surprise parties. There was a plate though, on the little table, with French toasts that smelled like butter and cinnamon and a cup of coffee with probably enough sugar and cream that it didn’t even taste like coffee anymore.

It was a breakfast Alfred had always prepared for him on the morning of his birthday after his parents’ death. He would put the plate on this same table and work silently as Bruce happily ate, the two of them sharing the same space in the simplest way. It wasn’t a grand gesture but it had meant the world to him nonetheless.

Another little origami bat was waiting for him, propped against the cup. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Bruce put it aside before starting to eat, careful not to stain the paper with coffee or grease, only taking it again once he had cleared the table and washed his hands. He unfolded it with the same care as the first.

My happy place. 

(Took a piece of bread. Alfred said yes. Thank you.)

Cass

The dance studio on the third floor. 

A while back, Bruce had decided to redesign one of the biggest rooms on that floor in a place where Cass could dance that wasn’t the ball room. He had wanted for it to be a place only for her, where she could express herself and spend time however she pleased, without anyone bothering her. His greatest recompense had been the radiant smile on her face before she had locked himself in there and played music until late that night. 

The next course of action wasn’t too hard to guess so Bruce quickly folded the paper back into its bat form, slid it in the pocket of his pajama pants, along the first one, and headed for the next place.

As expected, he found another bat in Cass’s dance studio, tucked into the folds of a bright orange knitted scarf. There was a running joke between his kids saying that it was because Bruce always forgot to take a scarf with him during winter that his Batman voice sounded so bad.

One thing was for sure, he would not forget this one.

Hey B, remember that time you told me you were proud of me and then proceeded to suffocate me with your muscles? Just kidding, you give great hugs. Like, super comfy, 10/10. But yeah, go there next.

Steph :p

He huffed at Stephanie’s words, eyes rolling with fondness. He remembered perfectly what she was referring to. 

The young woman had been staying in the manor for a few days that time, Alfred being keen on keeping her under careful observation after she had been hit with a new type of fear gas while on patrol with Dick. She had continuously apologized to Bruce, blaming herself for Dick’s injuries. 

Until the third day, where he had found her reading in the library, curled up in one of the love seats. Before she could utter a word, he had crouched down and grabbed her hands firmly.

“You do not need to apologize or blame yourself for anything, do you hear me? You managed to drag Dick and yourself out of this building while under the influence of fear gas when most would have stayed frozen in place. I’m sure he will agree that a few scratches and broken bones are far better than what would have awaited him if you hadn’t been there. I’m proud of you, Stephanie Brown. More than you’ll ever know.”

After that, she had thrown herself at him and Bruce had hugged her for the better part of an hour until Alfred had come to fetch her for some blood analysis. 

This time, when he walked into the next place of this little treasure hunt, he found a laptop, sitting open on the table next to one of the windows. The windows of the library were wide and high and the spot where the next gift awaited was one of his favorites. 

So he let himself sink in the armchairs cushions and started to play the video.

“You better not ruin this, Todd,” Damian was saying, standing next to the piano in the lounge of the west wing, violin already positioned on his shoulder.

Jason was scowling at the piano in front of him, focused.

“Just take the lead, brat. I’ll follow.”

“Could you two focus, please?” Tim said off camera.

The other two huffed with the same affronted look towards the camera.

Then the melody started and both of their faces softened. It was gentle, melancholic. Almost sad if you asked Bruce. But he listened with a smile on his face, bemused at the sight of his two quick tempered sons playing with a soft kind of intensity together, Jason following Damian’s lead flawlessly – probably the result of hours of practice. It was truly beautiful and he knew that the melody was one of Damian’s compositions. 

But it was over too soon for Bruce’s taste so he played it a second time, closing his eyes. And then a third as he read the next message, only heading for the next place once it was over.

Blah blah blah, some cute shit about us bonding, blah blah blah. Just get your ass to the garage old man.

Ps: Remember your Aston Martin? I think I scratched it a bit but I’ll blame it on Timmy anyway. 

Jay.

Bruce knew exactly which car Jason was talking about (and knew perfectly that he didn't scratch it). An Aston Martin DB5 he had inherited from his father. Nobody had driven it in ages when Jason had brought it up during dinner one evening, not long after he had taken him in. 

“Isn’t that James Bond's car?”

“It is. But it’s been so long since the last time I used it, I’ll probably need to pop open the hood before anything else if I want to drive it again.”

“Can I help you fix it?”

Jason’s eyes had been so full of hope and excitement when he had asked Bruce. He had laughed before agreeing. The next day, Alfred had had to come and pry them away from the car for lunch because both of them had forgotten about eating in their eagerness. 

He noticed a tape case on the board as he approached, in front of the wheel. Bruce opened the door and climbed in so he could reach for it easily. On the piece of paper tucked between the clear case and the tape, Bruce could see every song scribbled, one in each of his children’s handwriting. He recognized a song by The Clash in Tim’s handwriting – of course – and Midnight Sonata in Damian’s. The other titles and artists were mostly lost on him, except maybe for that Belgian one Cass listened to a lot.  

I can’t count the number of times I fell asleep there while you worked and you had to carry me back to my room.

Dick

Bruce couldn’t recount either.

Although he remembered fondly the first time Dick had fallen asleep in his study, curled up in one of the seats across his desk while he worked on some urgent papers for WE. They both had been so young. Bruce being completely new to parenthood, he had seeked out Alfred who had only fixed him with a blank stare before sending him back.

“Don’t you dare wake up this child, Master Bruce.”

He had actually managed to pick up the gangly child without waking him up, even if rather awkwardly, and had carried him all the way to his bedroom uneventfully. Only to trip on one of Dick’s schoolbooks once there, nearly dropping him. 

They had both elected not to mention it to Alfred and, to this day, it was still something only the two of them knew about.

When he arrived at his study, another message was waiting for him in the seat Dick used to sleep in, along with a gift card for that 24 hours coffee shop that had opened recently in downtown Gotham. Bruce let out a breathy laugh at that.

I know you always listen when I play, Father. Why do you think I leave my door open when I do?

D. Wayne

And here he thought he had been smooth. However, he should have expected that his son would pick up on his habit of passing by his room while he rehearsed with his violin. 

But Bruce couldn’t resist the pull in his chest. Damian was a gifted player, just like Jason, able to translate raw emotions in barely a few notes. It always put his mind at ease, smoothed out his most troubled thoughts even for only a few moments. He had caught everyone at least once, standing outside of his youngest’s door, listening to soft melodies in a rare moment of peace. 

It was silent moments shared with everyone, brought together by Damian's deft fingers. Something he had been doing knowingly and willingly apparently. It made it all the more special for Bruce.

There was no gift when he went searching for the next clue in Damian’s room. Or so he thought.

Sitting on his son’s music-stand along with yet another yellow origami bat, was an open partition. It was still in work, Bruce could tell. Notes were hastily written with a pencil, a few stains where some had been erased. Nothing out of the ordinary for Damian and his creative mind. Except for the title.

Ode to Family. 

Thankfully, no one was around to witness the shuddering breath that escaped him as he read. He exited the room still unable to breathe normally, heart so full he almost felt like suffocating, and walked towards his next – and probably last – location.

You spent hours trying to teach me how to dance the waltz there after I told you I wanted to take Steph dancing for her birthday. I still don’t know how to dance but we had fun.

Tim

Indeed, Bruce still regularly caught Tim stepping on his partner’s toes during charity galas and other events. But he suspected the young man of going to great lengths to not learn how to dance correctly because it usually dissuaded most people from asking him to dance with them. And god knew how much his son disliked dancing. 

That was why it had greatly surprised him when Tim had asked him for help.

“I wasn’t really the best boyfriend to her so I just… I thought I could at least be a good friend and take her dancing? She loves it when Cass takes her in the studio and they dance so I just thought… Yeah…”

Five hours later, Tim had made absolutely no progress. He had known the steps by heart at this point, had it memorized and yet, he couldn’t seem to stop stomping on Bruce’s toes. To both Dick’s and Alfred’s delight.

His eldest son probably still had videos of it, he thought as he entered the vast and empty ballroom. There was nothing out of the ordinary or out of place and Bruce almost expected for his family to sneak up on him and surprise him when he noticed one last, black origami bat on the wooden floor, right in the center of the room. 

He crouched down and unfolded it slowly, warily even, some would say.

Terrace on the second floor. You know, the one where I inelegantly asked you to marry me and you just stared for a good five minutes before laughing. (And saying yes, of course.)

It wasn’t signed and even if the message wasn’t telling enough, he would recognize that hasty scribble everywhere.

Bruce took off, climbing stairs two by two and running down hallways. His heart was pounding in his chest. 

He had been gone for six months. Six excruciatingly long months of absolutely no contact, of not having any means to make sure his husband-to-be – yes, that idiot had asked him to marry him just before leaving – was still alive and well. Six months of worrying, of his children asking nervously if he had any news of his whereabouts. 

Bruce barged through the French doors leading to the wide terrace on the second floor of the manor and, surely enough, everyone was there. Absolutely everyone. 

“Happy birthday, Spooky. Half a century, we gotta celebrate,” Hal drawled with an easy grin.

“Someone take the cake away from Hal. Right now, before they ruin it!” Bruce heard someone say distantly and, next thing he knew, he had taken the few steps still separating them and was kissing Hal, holding him close by the lapels on his jacket. 

There were groans, cheers and something that sounded a lot like someone telling them to get a room. Hal laughed against his lips, pecked him one last time before pulling away, opening his arms widely with a grin. A clear invitation for everyone to pile up on them which everyone took with great enthusiasm, barreling into them and crushing Bruce and Hal under their combined weight.

[mendesblurb]

Fallin' All In You

Shawn Mendes x female reader

Warning: fluff, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors.

Summary: Shawn and Y/N who is also a singer. They are doing a couples Quiz at GQ.

GIF credits to @allexisbledel

——————————————————————————

Hey guys, I’m Y/N L/N and I’m here with Shawn Mendes, my favourite human and today we are here at GQ to play the...”

“Couples quiz!” Shawn finishes your sentence while dragging your chair a little closer to his direction.

“Baby you can’t just drag my chair, are you trying to cheat?” You asked while giggling

“Of course not baby, I just want to be closer to you.” Shawn replied while pouting

Sitting five feet apart were considered as huge distance for Shawn

You continue, “are you ready?” you ask, smirking at him.

“Yes baby, I’m ready to win! I am going to get every question right.” Shawn said while giving you a wink.

“Yeah, let’s not get too cocky...” you say getting ready to ask your first question from the stack of cards

“Okay so as you obviously already know I’m also a singer and ,I love all your songs but which one is my all time favourite?”

Shawn immediately says , “Nervous duhh.”

I mean it was your second favourite song because it was about how he felt when he first met you. So basically, 3 years ago when your best friend and Brian started dating they felt bad that their best friends were still single so they arranged a blind date for the two of you.

Laughing you correct him, “No baby, it’s Fallin’ All In You.”

It was your favourite song because it was the song he wrote because he was too nervous to say I love you. Don’t worry though the guy finally got his confidence and now you guys are married.

“Still my song.” He says, that cocky grin growing bigger.

“What is my favourite colour?” hopefully he knows this, because this is seriously a piece of cake.

“It really depends baby.” Shawn sighed

“Okay, a colour I like because it’s appealing and a colour I like to wear?” You give him a hint.

The gears in his head began to turn and he immediately replied,”Black!”

Laughing you reach out his hand and ask the next question, hoping to get a funny reaction from your husband, “Who’s my celebrity crush that is from Canada?” Giving him a wink. Shawn just rolls his eyes in annoyance a and he finally answers, “gotta go with Ryan Gosling.”

“No, it’s you.” You say, and then you look at the camera and say, “You’re the one and only Canadian in my heart.” You said and Shawn grabbed your hand and began kissing your knuckles.

“Next question, baby”

“Where was our first kiss?”

“It was at Brian’s balcony during the 4th of July party, this is so easy.” Shawn replied

“If I’m making a sandwich, what is in it?”

“Baby that’s a trick question, you don’t like sandwiches.” He rolled his eyes

“Okay, what was your first impression of me?”

“You were and still is the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met, I actually remember the night after our first date.. I was laying in bed and I just wonder what’s it like to be loved by you... and now you’re my wife so what more can a guy asked for.”

That statement was a surprised for you too because Shawn never said that.. I mean he said I love you countless times but he never said what else he felt after your first date. In that moment you want nothing more than thanking God for allowing him to be your husband.

After hearing that, you got up and from your chair and kiss his cheek.

After setting back in your chair, you said,“ okay moving on from the sentimental thing... how would you describe my ideal weekend.”

“Getting Chinese takeout, cuddling and watching Netflix.”

He wasn’t wrong at all, your ideal weekend would be you and Shawn cuddling in bed while watching a random Netflix show and both of you will be too lazy to cook so you will end up ordering orange chicken with a side of sauté vegetables.

“What’s your favourite event that that I was invited to perform ?”You ask

“Definitely without a doubt that one in Victoria secret fashion show because we did a duet, “looking forward to sing more duets with you by my side baby.” He replied

You blushed and said, “I love you Shawn.”

“ I love you more Y/N, bring on the next question!”

“ooh you’re gonna crush this, when’s my birthday?”

“Hmm” Shawn pretends to think hard and then he continued on by saying,”I’m kidding baby, obviously it’s on ....( Insert your birthday here.)... how can I forget the day a real life angel was born.” He said cheekily.

“Who’s better at cooking?” You asked even though you already know the answer.

“Obviously you, I mean if I cook we will end up ordering pizza instead.” He said covering his face feeling embarrassed

The first time Shawn attempt Cooking for you was when you decided to work a little bit late at the studio and him knowing you’ll be tried so he did a kind gesture by trying to make pasta which end up being undercooked and sauces was seen all over his kitchen.

But for you the taste didn’t matter, because in that moment you knew you were falling for him and he knew he was falling for you too.

“If you could change anything about me, what would it be?”

“Hmm, probably I want you to not be so hard on yourself because Y/N what you do is amazing and you need to realise that it’s okay to take a break.” He said

“Stop making me blush.”

“But you look so cute when you blush.”

“Last question, how much do you love me?”

“To infinity and beyond, Y/N.”

“I am truly in love with you Shawnie” you said getting up from your chair again and sit on his lap.

“I love my my wife.” He said while wrapping his arm on your waist.

“That brings us to the end of the game, you did so well baby.”

“I mean I am your husband.” He said with a smirk

“Anyway, thanks for watching and don’t forget to subscribe to GQ and also don’t forget to get a copy of the June issue which feature your favourite Canadian—“ your ending statement was interrupt by Shawn

“Guys seriously get a copy of it because Y/N looks so sexy in the cover and trust me I’m trying to be generous by not buying all the copies.”

“Shawnie be generous please.”

“I’ll do it because you’re the one who’s asking.”

@itsalwaysbeen305

[pair-annoyed]

Anime I Watched This Fall

My first semester of college is officially over and the December holidays are upon us! I hoped to make one of these posts sooner, but I have been incredibly busy with schoolwork. Now that things have slowed down, let’s take sometime to reflect on things I’ve watched. 

These anime are listed in chronological order and encompass everything I’ve watched from 9/1/2020 - 12/15/2020

Like always, they will be rated on a 1-10 scale; 1 meaning complete garbage, 10 meaning masterpiece. I will offer my thoughts on what I did/didn’t like about each show!

1. The God of High School - 6/10 

Despite the stellar animation from MAPPA and my high expectations, I was really disappointed by how this series was treated. Most of the story’s crucial elements were handled poorly. I finished this series feeling more confused about the plot than when I first began. The power system is really cool, but poorly explained. More time should have been spent on exposition and world building for this series, instead the fights were given the most screen time. 

2.  Doukyuusei - 7/10 

I really liked the style of Doukyuusei. Granted, this was another movie I chose to watch primarily because of the hype surrounding it. The dynamic between Kusakabe and Sajou is an interesting one, and I also enjoy how the movies different acts were separated by the seasons. However, there's nothing that really sets Doukyuusei apart from other romance movies, its a little generic. Still, I enjoyed it nonetheless. 

3.  Re:Zero kara Hajimeru Isekai Seikatsu 2nd Season - 8/10 

My opinions on Re:Zero’s second season are biased. This was, by far, the sequel I was most hyped for during the summer/fall anime season. I was so happy to see the story’s continuation and I’m looking forward to the season’s second part coming sometime in January. Re:Zero is one of my all time favorite series because of the way it handles it characters and power dynamics. I also really enjoy the show’s psychological aspects. If you haven’t already, give Re:Zero a try! 

4. Saint☆Oniisan (Movie + OVA) - 8/10

This was a wonderful comedy. I wasn’t sure how the subject of Jesus and Buddha living together would be tackled, but it was handled wonderfully. I was laughing for pretty much the entire movie. I love the art style and little references to both Buddhism and Christianity, plus the incorporation of Japanese culture. Saint Oniisan is a bright comedy, with two eccentric main characters. If you like a show that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and need a good laugh, I can’t recommend this more.

5. Clannad: After Story - 10/10 

Never, while watching anime, did I cry as much as I did while watching Clannad: After Story. I didn’t realize how much I related to Okazaki until I saw him grow up in After Story. I was left sobbing, especially after episode 18. I still, to this day, cannot listen to the Dango song without tearing up. The original Clannad is nothing special, but the continuation of its story its something heartfelt, emotional, and down-to-earth. I love Kyoto Animation with all my heart, and Clannad made me appreciate everything the studio has done just a little bit more. Thank you Clannad, for reminding me about the kind of person I strive to be. 

6. Nakitai Watashi wa Neko wo Kaburu - 5.5/10

The art in A Whisker Away was beautiful. The story itself, however, is nothing too enjoyable. I found it difficult to like our protagonist or her love interest. Nothing about this movie is inherently memorable. The emotional climax came far too early which made the second half of the film seem long and drawn out.  All in all, the movie has a wonderful concept, I just believe it could have been so much more emotional than it was. When I watch a move, I like to empathize with the characters. It’s difficult to do when the characters aren’t given the proper exposition to be empathized with. 

7.  Shikioriori - 6/10

This is less of a movie and more of a collection of short stories. Flavors of Youth is something you shouldn’t watch on an empty stomach, all of the food looks incredible. The same cannot beside for the rest of this feature. The stories themselves seems heavily clichéd. Much like A Whisker Away, the initial premise is intriguing, but the execution results in something that comes across as trying too hard and carries no emotional weight with the viewer. If you plan on watching, pay more attention to the artwork and animation than the actual plot. You won’t be missing anything. 

8. Vinland Saga - 7/10

Vinland Saga helped me get out of the rut that Clannad: After Story. Not only does this show have a great story, its action packed with lots of interesting fights. I especially enjoyed all the Nordic history embedded within the show. Its really unlike any of the other historical anime I’ve watched. I will say, it’s gory. But, compared to all the other things I watched this time around, I finished this series the quickest. Its good, its graphic, its fast paced! 

9.  Mononoke Hime - 7/10

It’s ironic considering how much anime I’ve watched that I have yet to watch all of the most classic Studio Ghibli films. Princess Mononoke is grittier than most other Ghibli films I’ve seen, but it’s message is positive and its characters are wonderful. I can’t really speak ill towards classics like these. I guess maybe my one complaint is that this movie could’ve been a faster pace. Other than that... I really enjoyed everything Princess Mononoke offered! I understand why it’s so popular.  

10. Howl no Ugoku Shiro - 8.5/10 

Can you believe it took me this long to finally watch Howl’s Moving Castle? Me neither!! This movie is so endearingly beautiful. I loved every second of it, from the characters to the soundtrack. So many iconic things come from just this one movie. I would like to take this time to thank my best friend for reminding me that Studio Ghibli films are wonderful! Thank you for watching this with me, I loved it! All in all, I regret not watching this sooner! 

11. Toradora! - 6.5/10 

Toradora took me a while to finish, just because I lost interest about halfway through. But, I powered through it, and ended up really enjoying the show! I’m not the biggest fan of the ending, but that’s just a personal preference. Somehow, this show also made me cry? I’m not entirely sure why because Toradora! is probably the thing farthest from sad. Apart from the show’s dull slice of life moments, it was super cute! A much needed light-hearted romance. 

12. New Initial D Movie: Legend 1 - 5/10 

Full disclosure, this is the only thing related to Initial D that I’ve ever watched. My band and I watched this expecting to hear some of that iconic Initial D music, itself all we got was a mildly confusing story about different types of cars. It was cliché and frankly a little boring. Although, I am still considering watching the original Initial D just so I can hear the music in the way it was original intended. I’ve got no other opinions on this movie. It’s best not to watch these movies without the context from the rest of the franchise.  

13.  Uchuu Patrol Luluco - 7.5/10

I didn’t really understand why people enjoy studio Trigger so much until I watched Space Patrol Luluco. I loved all the fun references to other studio Trigger works. I loved the humor, and I loved all the bright colors. The animation was extremely high energy, and the art style fits the show’s premise. Each episode was only 12 minutes long so it was a super quick binge. If you’re looking for something quick, light-hearted and comical, this is the perfect show to watch.

14. Orange - 7/10 

I owe a big thanks to a tumblr mutual for recommending this show to me! This holds the honor of making me cry by episode 3! I honestly did not expect the subject matter of this show to be as dark as it was. Usually when I see the genre ‘shoujo’ I do not associate it with a love story like that of Orange. The heavy subject matter made it a little too close to home for me, but I still really enjoyed this series. It reminds me off all the good times I had with my friends in high school, and of all the regrets I carry with myself to this day. 

15. 3-gatsu no Lion - 7.5/10 

March Comes in Like a Lion is another show that was a bit of a slow burn for me. Each episode left me feeling emotionally drained, so I had to take a lot of breaks while I was working on watching this series. Shaft, the studio behind this anime, holds a special place in my heart because I loved their work on the Monogatari Series. March Comes in Like a Lion is a little different. It’s driving force it is characters, and it was cathartic to watch our main character transform through the entire duration of the first season. I know the show’s second season is much better, so I’ll be starting that soon! 

16. Yojouhan Shinwa Taikei - 8/10 

I loved how artsy and smart The Tatami Galaxy is, but honestly I couldn’t watch too much at once cause it would hurt my head. I also couldn’t watch this show while I was tired because the speaking rate is much faster than typical anime. The Tatami Galaxy is so unique for its medium. I loved the different time loops and the crazy animation. The characters were fascinating. The dialogue, although very fast, it also fantastic. There’s an element of humor to this unique story telling, and I enjoyed ever minute of it! 

Currently Watching:

Hunter x Hunter - 6.5/10 (As of Episode 30)

I pride myself in having watched a lot of shounen anime, but I was reluctant to start Hunter x Hunter for years because I thought I would find it boring. I was oh so very wrong. Considering great shows like Naruto and Fairy Tail that fall under the same category, I expected Hunter x Hunter to be subpar in comparison. It gets a low score for two reasons. One, the power system was introduced a little too late and now I’m wondering if all the fights post episode 30 will involved nen in some way, shape, or form. Two, its still on hiatus. 

Two Cursed Additions For This List

Please to do not let these be representative of my anime taste. 

1.  Yarichin☆B*tch-bu - 4/10

I am a CLOWN for not knowing this was 18+. The only reason I watched this was to see why everyone was talking about the pink-haired boy with the glasses and tongue piecing. I know why now, and I regret it. This was a massive mistake on my part. But hey, at the least the art and ending song kinda slap? 

2. Euphoria (Dropped After 1 Episode) - 2/10

If you know what I’m talking about when I say Euphoria, I am so sorry. And no, I am not talking about the HBO series. Seriously, don’t google this. Don’t watch this. Don’t interact with anything related to this. You’re probably wondering, “Then why did you watch it?” I did not watch this willingly. You see, I have a very bad habit of starting anime and then taking months to finish them. I made an ultimatum with a friend, lost, and then was forced to watch this a punishment. Not a fun experience. I’m very glad there are no GIFs of this on tumblr...

[rhys-writes-sometimes]

Music Worth Making Part 2: Flying Solo

Requested: no

Warnings: death, knives, unedited bad writing

Series Summery: When the reader’s life is ripped away from them, they’re distraught. But with her two best friends and three certain ghosts, maybe the afterlife isn’t so bad after all. 

Chapter Summery: The reader is formally introduced to the boys.

Words: 2128

A/N: Okay so things are starting to pick up now. And wow I didn’t expect so many people to like my last fic lol. Anyway I hope you like it!! I’m gonna start working on part three soon.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Masterlist

______________________________________________________

You gasped along with the rest of the crowd.

“How’d she do that?” you heard Flynn mutter. 

“Wait, were those holograms?” someone shouts. Julie looked relieved.

“Yes! Yes, they were holograms.” You knew her well enough to see that she was lying, but knew she must have her reasons. Right?

“Okay people, show’s over.” Principal Lessa started shooing people out of the gym and back to their classes.

You and Flynn hung back, wanting to talk to Julie.

Julie hopped off the stage after talking to Principal Lessa and Mrs. Harrison for a moment. You could tell she was excited. 

“Wow, you did it! Congrats,” you say, excited that Julie wasn’t going to be kicked out of the music program. 

“Thanks to you two.” Julie pulled the two of you into a brief hug. Flynn pulled away quickly. 

“Hey, you okay?” Julie asked her, frowning slightly. 

“Uh… I’m great,” she answered, smiling uneasily. “When… when did you start playing with a hologram band?”

“Oh! It was just one song. We’re not a band. They’re a band, a hologram band. Definitely holograms…”

“Yeah, we saw.” you said, trying to calm the tension clearly rising between your two best friends. 

Flynn kept staring at Julie, confused. “Why have you been keeping those cute boys a secret?”

“There’s a reason for that, it’s just… really crazy.” Julie was clearly trying to cover something up. You and Flynn gave each other a look that said “what’s going on with her?”.

“Oh, I’m all about crazy! Let’s hear it.” Now Flynn was just trying to get Julie to admit she was lying. 

Julie hesitated for a moment. “Okay. Um, so they’re… from Sweden!”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“Yeah, turns out they’re not only great at making meatballs, but also good at making music. So, they play there, I stream them here, we play together, they leave and that’s it. So! Who’s excited I’m back in the music program!” Julie finished with jazz hands, desperately changing the topic.

“Jules, are you lying to us?” Flynn asked.

Julie dropped her act. “Yeah. Yeah I’m lying.”

The look of hurt on Flynn’s face said it all. “Since when do we lie to each other?”

You were hurt too, but you didn’t want to make the whole scene worse, so you said nothing. 

“Flynn… Y/N…. I’m sorry.”

Flynn scoffed. “‘I’m sorry’? That’s all you’ve got?” She grabbed your hand. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.”

“Flynn, wait! Y/N!” Julie called out after you. You looked back at her, your heart feeling heavy with Julie’s betrayal. 

-----

“Flynn, where are we- ow!” you were cut off as Flynn pulled you down behind some bushes as a car passed. You pulled your hand away, rubbing your wrist. 

“Sorry, Y/N, I just…” She glanced around as if looking for something. 

Or someone. 

“It’s fine,” you said with a sigh. “So, where are we going?”

“To Julie’s house. Come on.” 

You ran the rest of the way, hiding every time you heard a car coming. You could tell Flynn was planning on doing something, but you had no idea what it was. 

She popped up from behind some bushes next to Julie’s house, looking around to make sure the coast was clear. She didn’t see Julie until it was too late.

“Flynn!” she called out. Grimacing because you two had been caught, Flynn gestured for you to come out of hiding. 

“And Y/N…” Julie added, slightly confused when you popped up next to Flynn. She shook her head, as if to clear it. “What are you guys doing here? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Well, not all over, ‘cause here we are,” Flynn stated dully as she started walking over to Julie. You followed her.

“I’ve been texting you both all day. The least you could have done is text me back!”

“Flynn stole my phone,” you defended yourself. 

“And I sent a poop emoji. I think it said everything. I was just leaving this.” Flynn pulled her Double Trouble t-shirt out of her backpack and tried to hand it back to Julie. “I won’t need it anymore.”

“I’m not taking it.”

“Fine. Then my dad can wash his car with it. Though all this betrayal on it might scratch his paint.” She shoved the shirt back in the bag. Julie flinched slightly at Flynn’s harsh words. 

“Look, I’m very sorry for not telling you,” Julie started. Flynn crossed her arms. “But I- I need you to know how important you both are to me! There’s no way I would have made it through this year if it wasn’t for you guys.”

“Yet it was three strangers who got you back into music. I don’t need someone in my life who lies and keeps things from me. Neither of us do.” Flynn grabbed your hand again. And started to walk away. 

“Goodbye, Julie,” you said softly before being dragged away by Flynn. 

Before you could get anywhere, however, Julie grabbed onto your other hand and pulled you and Flynn back.

“They’re ghosts.”

“Wh-  what?” you asked, your nose wrinkling in shock and disbelief. 

“The boys in my band. They’re not holograms, they’re ghosts. And when we play together, people can see them.”

“What do you mean, ‘ghosts’? Like the kind that rattle chains and go ��boo!’?” Flynn rolled her eyes.

“No, and I’m pretty sure that’s just a hurtful ghost stereotype. These guys are just normal dead dudes! Well…. Reggie’s a little questionable.” Julie defended herself. You were starting to get worried for her. Flynn pulled out her phone. 

“Who are you texting?” You and Julie asked together. You looked at each other and smiled slightly. 

Flynn rolled her eyes again. “Your dad. He told me to text him if I was worried about you and um…” she gestured to Julie. “I’m worried. You’re seeing things, Jules.”

“Flynn has a point, Jules,” you said.

Julie looked at you, annoyed. “All right. So you wanna be difficult.” She took the phone from Flynn’s hands. “Meet me in my mom’s studio in thirty minutes, and I’ll prove to you that I’m not crazy. And… please don’t text my dad.” She gave Flynn’s phone back to her. 

She sighed. “You have thirty minutes.”

Julie sighed and glanced down at Flynn’s bag.

 “Eggs?” she asked, her face showing her confusion. “Why did you bring eggs?”

“Oh! Um…. no.” Flynn laughed awkwardly. “No. See, I grabbed those by mistake. It’s not like I was gonna convince Y/N to help me throw them at your bedroom window or anything…”

You elbowed her. “We were gonna do what?”

Julie just sighed and started walking to the studio. 

“Thirty minutes!” Flynn called after her. 

-----

“Thanks for coming,” Julie said with a small laugh as she opened the doors to the studio. “We just wanted to rehearse the song so it was perfect, which it’s not, but whatever.”

“No, if we’re gonna hear a song from your imaginary ghost band, I want it to be perfect.” Flynn squeezed your hand. “So, get back in there. All of you. You too,” she added, pointing at the air, earning a laugh from you and Julie. 

“They’re not out here,” she explained. 

Flynn put her hand on Julie’s shoulder. “Oh I know,” was all she said before walking into the studio, hand-in-hand with you. 

“Uh, actually, could you guys go over there?” Julie asked, pointing to the couch. “Reggie needs some space to rock out, and he feels kinda weird walking through you.”

Flynn laughed. “Boy, when you create a world, you really live in it.”

“Just sit!” Julie said, pushing you down onto the couch.

“Now, if you’ll notice, there’s no equipment that will produce a hologram. Feel free to look around.”

You double checked, but Julie was right. The studio looked the same as it had when Rose was playing in it. You felt a slight pang in your chest as you thought of the woman who had become a second mom to you. 

Julie started talking again, bringing you out of your thoughts. “The guys took a poem I wrote about you both and put it to music.”

“Aww. I wish I didn’t have to talk to your dad after this.” Flynn crossed her arms. You smiled at Julie. You were concerned for her mental health, but it was sweet that she had written a poem about you and Flynn. 

“It’s called Flying Solo. Hope you like it.”

She started playing, and you felt yourself getting caught up in the song. 

“If I leave you on a bad note, leave you on a sad note, guess that means I’m buying lunch that day.”

It was a really sweet song, and you were vibing to it when the boys you had seen at the spirit rally suddenly appeared from thin air. Flynn screamed. You jumped back, startled by both the scream and the sudden appearance of the boys. 

They smiled at your and Flynn’s reactions, but continued playing with Julie, their voices blending together in harmony. 

When there was a brief interlude, Julie pulled you and Flynn off the couch and introduced you to the guys. The one in the orange beanie, Luke, crossed over to a microphone by the couch, smiling at you as he sang. 

Flynn walked over to the one in flannel, Reggie, and stuck her hand through his shoulder. 

“Weird, right?” he said with a smirk.

“They’re ghosts!” Flynn exclaimed.

Your eyes widening, you glanced over at Luke. Would your hand go through him?

As if reading your thoughts, he stopped playing for a minute and held out his hand to you. After hesitating for a second, you tried to take it, only for your hand to slip right through his. 

“Whoa,” you breathed. Turning to look at Julie, wide eyed, you blurted out: “They are ghosts!”

Luke smirked.

“Oh, uh, we prefer the term ‘musician spirits’,” the one on the drums, Alex, said. 

Reggie pointed at Alex and nodded to show his agreement. 

“Julie?” Luke asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “So, does this mean you’re joining our band?”

“Uh, actually,” Flynn walked over to him with her hands on her hips. “I think you’re joining her band.”

Julie leaned on Flynn. “I’m gonna go with what she said.” You laughed. Luke, Alex, and Reggie smiled before continuing with the song. You stood up and danced with Julie and Flynn.

“My life, my life would be real low, zero, flying solo without you!” Julie belted as the song finished. You started clapping just as the rest of the band vanished. 

Julie smiled at you. “You still wanna talk to my dad?” she asked Flynn.

“No, I’m good,” the girl replied. All three of you giggled. 

“Oh!” you said, checking the time. “I have to go pick up Danny. I’ll see you guys later!” you said with a wave as you walked out of the studio. You had been in there so long that you hadn’t noticed the clouds covering the sun. 

You had made it about halfway to the field when it started to rain. It started lightly, but then all of a sudden, it was pouring. You cursed under your breath as you started running. Practice would be ending early. 

“Ugh!” you grunted as you tripped and fell into a puddle, pain coursing through your ankle. You weren’t sure if you would be able to stand on it, but you had to try. You had to get to Danny. 

Plus, you had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching you. 

“Oh dear, are you hurt?” asked a voice from behind you. You whipped your head around to find a tall man dressed in a shimmering black cloak-like coat, complete with a top hat. He kneeled down next to you. You weren’t exactly comfortable with him being there, infact he gave off a feeling of mystery and deceit, but you couldn’t exactly get up and leave.

“Oh, um, I’m alright, thank you, though,” you said, giving the man your sweetest smile. It was the one you used most often to hide behind. 

He glanced at your ankle, which you were holding with both hands, and frowned slightly. “Twisted ankle?”

You nodded. 

The man shook his head slightly before standing up and extending a hand to you. “Let me help you up.”

You took his hand gratefully, leaning on him slightly for support and wincing when you put weight on your ankle. 

“I’m sure it will be fine,” you said, looking at your ankle. “Thank you.”

You looked back up in time to see that the man had taken out a knife. Your eyes widened as he drove it into your heart.

You died without a sound.

Tag list: @sunsetcurvej

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

characters:

Y/N Beck as Jenna Hunterson

Bucky Barnes as Dr. Pomatter

Wanda Maximoff as Dawn

Natasha Romanoff as Becky

Sam Wilson as Cal

Steve Rogers as Ogie

Nick Fury as Joe

Quentin Beck as Earl Hunterson

Maria Hill as Nurse Norma

a/n: some of the dialogue I got straight from the play/songs to preserve the witty essence of Waitress, but keep in mind this is an au, so I will change things up regarding the storyline and ending. Enjoy!

p.s. let me know if you wanna be tagged c:

p.s. ii this chapter is merely introductory so we won’t get to meet Bucky just yet but he’s coming soon, I promise!

prologue: what’s inside?

My hands pluck the things I know that I need. Peaches, creme fraiche, brown sugar, butter and of course, flour. Today’s a simple one. What should I call it? “Simplicity is key pie”. Nope. Might get confused with “Love’s the key lime pie”. “Some things never change pie”. Yup. That’s it.

“Y/N! What’s the special pie today?” Sam yells at me like every other morning. I don’t complain, I like that grumpy weirdo though I would never admit that to his face. I tell him the name of my newest recipe.

 “I was having a creative block, you see. But then it struck me! Peaches! PEACHES, SAM!!!” I throw my hands in the air.

“No, I get it. Kinda.” He ignores my excitement but I know he actually understands how peaches are nobody’s favorite,but they’re good, they’re simple and they offer everydayness. Sam and I were in High School together and we both wanted to go to culinary school, so I know he gets me.  Neither of us got to make it though, somehow we  ended up here. Working at Nick’s Pies in the same town we grew up in, a town where nothing ever happens.

Nick is already at his table, that’s odd. He’s never here this early. Maybe he’s been watching spy movies late at night again. That “old fart” (Nat’s words, not mine) is adorable if you ask me, even if he gets on everybody’s nerves. Wanda’s cleaning the counter, menus and sugar dispensers. Thoroughly cleaning them. And Nat’s late. As always.

I like working here. These people are like family to me. The only one I have left. Oh, except for Quentin, my husband. I’ve been thinking about how he used to be, you know, when we first fell in love. Things have changed over the years. But it’s all fine. I have it good. Better than my mom at least. And I’m grateful for Quentin, I really am. I just wish he would be more, I don’t know, empathetic? Anyway. I have a weird feeling today. As if things were about to change. Let’s hope it will be for the better.

-

chapter 1: the negative

warning: vomit

Peeling peaches isn’t my favorite part of the pie making process, that’s for sure. I’ve always loved the smell of them, so why are they making me sick now?.

“Someone’s a little fussy today”. Nat says after noticing my state of distress. “Do you need any help, sweetie?” She rounds the table and snatches the peeler from me. “Seriously though, you look pale”.

“I’m fine, Nat. Thank you, but I think I just need some air. I’ll go take Nick’s order”. I walk across to old Nick’s table and he puts his paper down.

“Oh hi, I was wondering when somebody would offer me at least a cup of coffee here. It’s hot, isn’t it? My diner. My own diner doesn’t have any decent air conditioning!” Oh, here we go.

“Sorry, Nick. I’ll tell Sam to fix it, I promise. What can I give you?”

“Well, let’s see. I would like an omelette, with tomato on the side and some fruit salad, on a different plate. And some orange juice. But bring me coffee before you bring the orange juice. And a slice of your… “Some things never change pie”, but bring that after I’m done with my omelette”. It is hot here, he was right. “Oh and also… Jesus, are you okay? You look pale”. 

“I’m okay, Nick”. Oh god. “I think I just… need to…  restroom”. I almost collapse with Wanda on the way to the ladies room and throw my arms around the toilet in the span of ten seconds.

“Y/N! Honey, you okay in there?” I hear Wanda’s voice, or was it Nat’s. Oh here it comes again. “Gosh, I’m washing this stall right after she’s done, we don’t want any patrons catching whatever she’s got”. Wanda. Definitely Wanda.

“Oh scoot! She doesn’t need you being a neat freak right now, Wanda”. Mother Nat scolding the children. 

“I’m okay girls, I may have had a bad sandwich from the gas station last night. That’s it” I wash my hands and mouth over the sink while the girls fuss around me. “Really, everything’s… oh shit”... and here it comes again. I don’t even know if I have anything left inside that actually needs to come out.

Wanda rubs my back gently and says “Honey? Um, when was the last time you got your period?” After I’m done emptying my guts I do the math. “Shit. No, this can’t be happening.” I can feel my heart in my throat. I’m not ready for this. I can’t be.

“Y/N, time to pee on a stick!” Nat helps me up and calls Peter, the diner’s delivery guy. “Okay, Parker, time to be the hero. I need you to go to the drug store and buy a pregnancy test. Here’s twenty bucks, keep the change and don’t tell a soul about this or I’ll have your head, ya hear me?”

-

Two lines. Two pink stupid lines and I’m out of my body. I’m packing my things and going on a plane far from the diner, far from Quentin Beck and his beer smelling, curse yelling, guitar playing ass!

“I thought you don’t sleep with your husband much anymore”. Wanda is brushing my hair with her fingers.

“Stop it, I think she’s in shock”. Nat is washing the test stick. God bless her, she thinks I want to keep it. I shudder, still a little dizzy.

“Shut up, I’m inventing a new pie in my head. Tomorrow’s special. I’ll call it “I don’t want Quentin’s baby pie”. I take my little notebook out of my apron and start writing ingredients down.

 “I don’t think we can put that on the menu board, Y/N”. 

“You could still leave Quentin, you know? If you can bake 27 different kinds of pies every day, you can do it.”

“You’re funny, Nat.  I don’t want a baby right now, but above all, I don’t want a fatherless baby. Girls, I can’t do this on my own. And please don’t tell Sam or Nick yet”. They both grab my arms and Wanda leans on my shoulder.

“Hey, we ain’t saying a word to anyone but we’ve talked about this. Quentin isn’t a good husband, you know that. You think he’ll be a good father?”

“You could come and live with me! It’s a studio but-” I cut Wanda off.

“Okay, girls, enough. Nat, I know he’s difficult sometimes but he’s going through a rough time, he’s in between jobs and I couldn’t do that to him. And Wands, you’re very sweet, but thank you. I’ll figure it out”.

-

chapter 2: what baking can do

-

I already have chapters 2-4 written, so expect them soon. Thoughts?

[itsnsfwalways]

Canyon Moon

A/N: WELCOME TO THE CANYON MOON FIC ! The chapters have to be split up and cut a lot shorter bc of sizing limits but I’m hoping you guys will still like it.

FIC MASTERLIST

WARNINGS FOR CHP. 1: swearing, mild drug use (weed)

CHAPTER ONE: the world’s happy waiting

The ocean has always been a calming place for you. Any body of water, really. The lapping of thewaves, the smell of salt, the course feeling of sand between your toes. It felt like home. So when you moved to Malibu, you found yourself lying on the beach until 4 am most nights, sometimes sleeping, but more often than not listening to music and writing.

Working as a songwriter for mostly just your friends, or as a fill in whenever someone wasn’t there, you were constantly writing. It was a lot easier to get deeper that way for you, not having to worry about sharing your secrets, and being able to mask it in other people’s voices. That being said, you had journals upon journals of your own songs. They were just for you, and occasionally your best friends, but it was something you were really proud of. After writing for the past 6 years, you’d like to think they were pretty good.

You’d gotten to your little spot around an hour ago, parking your pride and joy, an orange and yellow remodeled VW bus, which also functioned as your room most nights when you wanted to be out here, next to the sand.

The vibrant sunset had since dulled into a deep purple color, but it was still fairly light out. A small bonfire was lit in front of your blanket, keeping you a little extra warm even though it was still 70°.

Strumming your guitar, you moved away from the rock you were leaning against, a car’s headlights snapping you out of the haze you always got when you were out here. And also those two joints you had smoked already.

You raise your eyebrows at the fucking bright yellow Ferrari, hoping they were just stopping for a second.

Your prayers were ignored as a guy stepped out, a hoodie pulled over his head.

Shrugging your shoulders, you continue to play mindlessly, making up different melodies before creating a new one on top it.

Mr. Ferrari starts making his way over to you, which sends a flutter through your chest.

“Hey, just so you know, if you’re going to kill me, I’ve always wanted to die listening to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac,” you yell, grabbing your phone from your bag just in case.

The guy stops for a second and lets out a laugh.

“Definitely not trying to kill you,” he chuckles, and, oh, he’s British.

He comes closer and you come face to face with one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen. Wearing a black hoodie with the words “Treat People With Kindness” embroidered on it, that’s cute, a pair of grey slacks, which you wouldn’t necessarily think of for beach attire, but he makes up for it by completing the look with no shoes.

“Do y’have a lighter I could borrow? Damn thing ran out and the gas station is just far away enough for it to be annoying.”

You laugh at that and nod, tossing him a random one from your bag.

“I feel that. I’m Y/N. Where you from?” You bluntly ask, because hey, he’s cute.

“Manchester, originally. Live near here now. You mind?” He asks, and you nod, scooting over to let him sit.

You’re hit with the smell of vanilla, leather, and just rich as he plops himself down, leaning against a rock a few feet away from you.

He points to your guitar, lips curled around the joint for a second before he inhales and asks,

“How long you been playing? Liked what you were doing earlier.”

You blush at this, barely remembering what you were doing.

“I have no fuckin clue. 14 years? Got my first guitar at 8 and fell in love.” You over exaggerated hugging your guitar, getting another laugh out of him, before you spit out,

“Oh, and thank you! I don’t really remember what I was doing to be honest. Just get in the zone sometimes. Do you play?”

He looks surprised at this, looking at you closely for a second.

“Uh, yeah, little bit. Been trying to learn more recently and kind of get my skills up.”

“Good for you! If you ever wanna play together, I’m literally always here. You sharing?” You smile, looking at his face in the orange light. His cheekbones are illuminated perfectly and you feel your throat go dry.

He nods and hands it to you, watching as you press the filter to your lips.

“What did you say your name was again?” You rack your brain and cannot remember him introducing himself.

“Didn’t. Harry, sorry that was a bit rude,” He mumbles, and you look at him funny.

“Are you like an FBI agent, Harry? Why so secret? And harassing young girls on the beach at night? With a fucking Ferrari? Come on, man, what’s your secret?” You tease, bumping your elbow into his side.

He laughs, shoving you with his shoulder lightly.

“Only harassing that’s going on is you interrogating me. But if I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll leave right now. I should probably go, actually.” He rants, suddenly moving to get up. You turn your body quickly and lay your legs in his lap so he can’t move.

“You’re dumb. Secret, please?” You smile, blinking up at him.

He scoffs, shaking his head with a small smile, and pauses to run a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath in before saying,

“I’m a musician, so that’s where the car and secret beach trips come in. I’m actually just starting to write for my next album, and I’m hitting a rut.”

“Oh shit, that’s what’s up! You’ll have to show me your stuff sometime. Sorry that I don’t know you, I’ve been living on the road for awhile so I listen to a lot of oldies. Plus, with hippie parents you don’t hear a lot of new music,” You explain, gesturing to your van.

He looks at you for a second before shaking his head, smiling to himself.

“What?” You grin, shoving his knee with your foot.

“You’re something else, s’all.”

“So I’ve been told.” A giggle falls from your lips as you lay down on the blanket, legs still in his lap, guitar now discarded to the side.

Looking up at the stars starting to form, you feel his gaze on you. Trying to figure out who this chick was, what stories she had, what witty remark was just past her lips.

“Question.” You say, propping your head up. Your hand finds it’s way on the back of your skull and you feel the blanket shift slightly underneath your elbow.

“Answer,” He responds with the same tone, tapping your knees with his fingertips.

“Would you wanna come with me so I can get a tattoo?”

He stops for a second and stares at you.

“Like, right now? You got an appointment?”

You grin and move off of him, ruffling his hair.

“Even better. I got cool friends.”

He takes his time packing up all your stuff, being as cautious enough to remind you not to cover the fire with sand in case someone stepped on it.

“This is my beach, Ferrari. No one comes here. Except handsome British guys, apparently.”

He looks up from the ground, where he’s stuffing your towel into your bag, and throws you a smirk.

“Thanks, baby. You’re gorgeous as well,”

“Blegh. Let me come introduce you to Sunflower,” you fake shudder at the pet name and he grins, pinching your side so he can laugh at your little jump.

You lead him over to your van, opening up the side door to show off your renovated home.

The entire thing was orange with white trim, big yellow sunflowers painted on the sides. The ceiling inside was painted a dark blue, the walls painted yellow.

A meditation rug was lying on the floor, a light brown wood flooring that matched the cabinets attached to the ceiling.

Your bed was all the way in the back, a simple white comforter on it. A mirror hung next to it, attached to the bathroom door. There was a small kitchen counter complete with a sink and a stovetop next to it. A small table folded out behind the drivers seat where a lounge area was located, orange cushions and fairy lights decorating the little couch.

All in all, it was a tiny fucking house in a car and you treated it like your baby.

“This is fucking sick,” he says, looking at the different artwork, posters, and decorations hanging all over the walls and cabinets.

“Thanks! Did it myself. Spent all summer working on it a few years back, I’m damn proud of it.”

There’s a pause for a second, trying to figure out how to best work this out.

“I’m cool to just leave my car here if you’re down to drive me. We’re going to one of my guy friends’ studio about thirty minutes from here,” you suggest, having a feeling Harry wouldn’t be down to leave his car here, no matter how secluded it was.

“Uh, okay. Should I be worried? Who knows what scoundrels you hang out with?” He teases, watching you go into the van to grab some things.

You glance back at him, laughing, before your breath catches in your throat. He’s since removed his hoodie and is left in a white tank top with small black print on the rib cage. Making a mental note to figure out what it says later, your eyes can’t help but drift to his arms. Illuminated in the car light, his biceps bulge as he rests his hands on the roof, leaning forward slightly into the car.

His tongue traces along his teeth, landing itself in his cheek as he watches you check him out.

“See something you like?” He asks, raising his eyebrows like he’s genuinely curious.

Your eyes flick back to his smirking face and you blink for a second, before responding with,

“Yeah, was trying to figure out what asshole uses a word like ‘scoundrel’ in 2018, what the fuck, Harry?”

He barks out a laugh and brings his fist up to his mouth to cover it, the other one coming down to hold his stomach.

“When you are done appreciating my humor, I need to change real quick. Spin around, please,” You come up from your squat and pull off your sweatshirt, not waiting for him to do that.

“Jesus, Y/N,” He exhales, spinning around and looking up at the sky.

“What? I gave you a warning,” you giggle, sliding your sweatpants down to slip into a pair of black volleyball shorts.

“By about half a second!” Harry exclaims. “You’re killing me.”

“Sorry, superstar, nobody is exempt from special treatment here.” You roll your eyes at yourself, what the fuck are you even saying.

“Mkay, you’re good.”

Harry spins around, eyes taking in your new outfit.

On top of your shorts was a giant Stevie Nicks shirt, one from her White Winged Dove tour.

“Shit, you might be a bigger Stevie fan than I am, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Fuck, you have no idea. My dad went to the fucking final show of this tour and met my mom in the crowd during Dreams. My mom made him play it when I was born because she swore Stevie brought me to them.”

You catch him staring at you and turn your head away, cheeks burning because you’re rambling and need to shut the fuck up.

He clears his throat and takes a breath before starting.

“Promise not to kill me when I tell you this?”

Holding your hand to your burning cheeks, you murmur,

“No.”

“Y/N!” Harry exclaims, finally coming in the van to tickle you.

“Okay, okay, I promise not to kill you,” You mock, waving your hands around.

“I was lucky enough to sing one of my songs with her along with Landslide and Leather and Lace.”

You drop your bag onto the ground as your jaw drops.

“Shut up. I don’t believe you.” You cross your arms over chest. “I don’t know if I’d be angrier if you’re lying or if it actually happened. Holy shit am I jealous.”

“Oh, I was crying onstage, losing my shit. She is, everything. Dreams was the first song I learned the words to, yknow? She truly is a magical being.”

“God. I’m definitely looking you up later because who the fuck sings one of THEIR songs with Stevie Nicks.” You sigh, leaning over to grab your bag and Doc Martens.

“Oh god.” Harry laughs, running a hand through his hair again, looking at you really intensely for a second.

“Not to sound like a dick, but do you really not know who I am?”

“I mean if you need your ego boosted I can lie?” You offer, before dropping the witty responses.

“But no, sorry. Like I said, I just.... don’t really listen to new music, and if I do it’s always my friends or some indie shit with an overused beat.” Harry laughs at that and you smile, yes, he’s not weirded out.

“Don’t apologize, please. I just, can’t be too sure, yknow? People like to use you, especially here. And you’re just a little too perfect to be true,” he sighs, pulling you closer to him by your waist.

Placing you hands on his chest, you look at him for a second before leaning forward and whisper in his ear,

“My tattoo awaits me, baby. Let’s go.”

He groans and leans his head on your shoulder, before letting you go and grabbing your bag for you.

Such a gentleman, you think to yourself, locking up Sunflower.

“Does your car have a cool name?” You ask, after buckling you, fingertips appreciating the rich black leather seat.

“Nope, but I’m good at nicknames. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say normal terms of endearment aren’t your thing?” He asks, making eye contact with you for a quick second as he puts his arm behind your seat before stretching slightly to look behind him as he pulls puts the car in reverse.

Looking up for a quick second, you remind yourself to breathe.

“You would be correct. Gotta use your brain if you wanna get me all jittery,” you tease, fanning yourself over exaggeratedly.

He gives you a side eye and smirks at you, popping a piece of gum in his mouth and raising his eyebrows, as if to say, game on.

“So where am I going?” He asks, starting to drive away from your special spot.

“Let us ask the oracle!” You hold out your phone like a trophy, before laughing to yourself and bringing up Google Maps.

Propping your phone up in the cupholder, you sit cross legged in just your socks in his seat, fidgeting with your hands for a second.

“I’m kind of intrigued on who you are now. What’s your story?” You ask, turning your head to look at him.

Harry glances over at you, eyes drifting to your bare legs for a second.

“Well, the short version, I guess, is I grew up in a little town in England with my mum and my sister, applied to X-Factor when I was 16, got put into a band called One Direction with four other lads, released couple albums with them until end of 2015. Then did a movie called Dunkirk, wrote and released my first solo album, and toured it. Just got back from tour about a month ago, actually.”

You look at him blankly for a second, and he shifts in his seat, removing one of his hands from the wheel to place it on the armrest.

“Holy SHIT am I unaccomplished,” you exclaim, hitting him in the chest.

“Hey!” he yells, but you cut him off.

“How many fucking albums is a couple? And how old are you, my god. That is impressive.”

“I’m 24, that probably should’ve been said before we’re alone in a car together. And 5 albums, in 5 years. Nearly killed us.”

“I’m 22. Damn, dude, that’s insane. It sounds like they horribly overworked you and I am hoping you were generously compensated and had a bit of musical freedom. I know how the music industry can be with boy bands.”

He nods for a second, licking his lips slightly, trying to figure out how to phrase his response.

“I’m not going to lie, there are some definite perks and I am so incredibly lucky to just be able to do what I love as my job.” His fingers find their way to his bottom lip, pinching it slightly. “It was fun, I mean, you throw a bunch of teenagers together and give them celebrity status? We were insane, and I enjoyed it. But.... it felt like I wasn’t a person anymore. I was just ‘Harry Styles from the boyband One Direction’.”

“I don’t necessarily understand but I think the fact that you came out this respectful and real says something. You seem to have your shit properly together, and, even if you don’t, you got back from tour two months ago! You deserve some relaxation. The world’s happy to wait for you to find yourself a little.”

Pausing for a second, you place your hand on his arm, squeezing it lightly before swearing,

“I hope you know I’m being genuine about not knowing you and latching on for fame. I’ll let your parents know my intentions with their son are all very pure.”

He laughs at that, glancing at you again,

“I appreciate you saying that. This life is wonderful, like I said, but it’s very stressful and puts pressure on every relationship. There’s always going to be stories or photos and rumors spread like wildfire.”

You shift in your seat, understanding that this was a very serious issue for him.

“Listen, I’ll let you know up front that that doesn’t bother me. I’ve dated musicians and know the life, I get it. I think you’re cool and that we could have a fun time experiencing real life together. But before we do that, you need to have fun and let everything the fuck GO. I’ll promise you right now, if you let me stick around, you’ll experience what life is. No fame or pining for success bullshit, no offense, but there’s no need for it. If you’re happy doing what you’re doing, no one can tell you you’re not successful.” Harry stops the car at a red light and fully turns to look at you.

He exhales harshly before grinning. “You are a breath of fresh fucking air, Y/N. I think you’re going to change my life, if I’m being honest here.”

“Here’s hoping,” you grin.

A/N: THE OFFICIAL FIRST CHAPTER IS UP !!! I’m hoping you guys will come to love this fic as much as I do. I’ll try to find a writing schedule that works with you guys and my work schedule, so sorry if chapters take a little bit to come up. This is going to be a looooong fic, so buckle up, turn that old lover’s hippie music on, and enjoy !!

- lana <3

[exoticarmy127]

🎧 Track 10: Unsaid Emily by Charlie Gillespie

🎵  “If I could take us back, if I could just do that And write in every empty space, the words "I love you" in replace Then maybe time would not erase me.

Featuring: BTS - Jungkook

OC - Emily Mei

Some time before.

They say words are like bullets. Easy to pull the trigger without thinking... easier said that once done, it’s impossible for the damage to be undone.

“So what, you’re sick of it? Is that what you’re saying?” Jungkook shouted as he shoved his song book into his backpack. The night had been going well and for once, he thought they could have one night—one night where he didn’t feel like pulling his hair out for once.  

“Stop putting words in my mouth, Jungkook! That’s not what I’m saying at all!” Emily shouted back as the fight escalated into a crescendo of screams and shouts. It was always about the same thing: Jungkook being too busy with his music; Emily being too busy with her studies to make time for him when he’s off practice; not having enough time for each other; not wanting to communicate; blah, blah, blah...

Jungkook was sick of it. Things were finally looking up for his band and he had poured his entire heart and soul into it. His passion. He thought Emily understood that. He thought she understood him. But to his confusion, Emily didn’t seem too happy about it.

“Really? Because it sure as hell sounds like you’re done.” He seethed. “Hell—I’m done with this sh*t!”

Silence enveloped the room and for a moment the world stopped. The fight had reached its final curtain call and Jungkook hoped there wouldn’t be an encore.

Emily looked at him, bewildered. “Jungkook...”

“Save it. I have rehearsals in fifteen. I’m already late and the guys are already at the studio. I don’t need a distraction.”

“Distraction?” She echoed as she watched him pick up his things and head for the door. Her expression contorts into something in between anger and confusion. “So what? You’re just going to leave it like that? Don’t you even care about this? About us?

“What about it?” He muttered flatly, but Emily looked like she had just been slapped.

“What about it? What exactly are you saying, Guk?” Her voice was a low whisper, like a dormant volcano just waiting to erupt. Jungkook sighed and it sounded exhausted, irritated, even; like he had already erupted and this was just the messy aftermath.

“I’m saying I’m done.” He whirled at her, his eyes empty of their usual love and affection, replaced by fierce anger and deadly sincerity. “I’m done, all right? I don’t wanna do this any more than you do.”

“Y-you don't mean that. Hell, you’re thinking I’m the villain here but all I’m saying is that if you don’t give time to what’s important to you, you’re gonna end up losing them.”

Her words hit him square in the chest and when it should have made him sad, it only angered him more.

So she’s giving up on me. She’s letting go. She doesn’t want this—doesn’t want me—anymore.

“I should get to practice already before I lose it, then.”

Jungkook knew it was the wrong answer but he couldn’t give in now. The tension was palpable in the room and he held his breath for another round of sharp words and accusations. But it never came. Emily stood there, stunned, while Jungkook continued to pack his belongings, purposely avoiding her gaze. He knew that if he looked at her now, he'd break, and they’d be back to square one. They’d make up only to fight again by the end of the week.

He could hear her sniffing and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from looking up at her. If there was one thing he hated more than fighting, it was seeing her cry.

“Look,” Emily started, her voice hoarse. “You’re just angry. We can talk after—“

“Well, I’ve been angry for a long time.” Jungkook grumbled as he made his way to the door, hastily.

“Guk, please...”

He paused by the threshold when he heard the crack in her voice and he hated how easy it could beckon him. He closed his hand into fists and pressed his lips into a thin line. He looked down at the floors of her apartment, one he had considered home more than his own for as long as he could remember.

“Let’s face it, Em. We obviously want different things now.”

“Do you really believe that?” She asked but he didn’t answer. She took a step closer, their forms lit by the single light bulb in the narrow hallway. “If you really do, then I won’t stop you.”

Jungkook lifted his gaze to the ceiling, closed his eyes and sighed. “Look, I’m tired of fighting.” He looked at her over his shoulder, his eyes cold and unyielding. “Aren’t you?”

Without another word, he slipped out the door, shutting it behind him. The click of the lock sounded much like an end... A period... A goodbye.

Jungkook left that night not knowing he’d carry the weight of his words for a very long time.

~~~

Some time after.

Jungkook gripped the guitar strap on his shoulder as he walked the empty halls of his old high school. The late afternoon sun casted orange hues across the tiled halls and over the metal lockers lining the wall. A couple of students emerged from a door to his right, but they paid him no mind and walked past him, busily talking to each other. Jungkook paused and looked over his shoulder, watching them hold hands before completely disappearing from his view as they rounded a corner. He looked down at his own hand and sighed.

He remembered it like it was yesterday: the very first time he held her hand...or rather, the first time he felt something when he did.

Flashback

Jungkook leaned against Emily’s locker, giving her one of his famed puppy eyes he knew she couldn’t resist. “Em, come on… Let’s just ditch school today and go rehearse.”

“At this rate, you’ll have to make me a member of your band.”

“You are a member. An honorary one, at least.” Jungkook grinned and batted his pretty eyes. Emily rolled her eyes but he caught the small smile tugging on the corner of her mouth.

Her very pretty mouth...

Wait, what? Jungkook blinked at the thought and cleared his throat when he felt the heat creeping to his cheeks.

“You okay?” Emily cocked an eyebrow at him and he straightened and crossed his arms, defensively.

“Fine. Now come on! Say yes.”

“No.”

“Boo.”

Emily chuckled and patted his shoulder. The action was meant to be friendly but Jungkook felt like he had been shot by lightning, his eyes in a daze as he stared at her playful smile.

“You’ll thank me later for dragging your ass back to class. Trust me.”

The hall bell rang and both their heads darted up to the ceiling.

“Sh*t! We’re gonna be late.” Emily panicked but Jungkook only leaned against the lockers again, lips curling into a smirk.

“Well, you know what they say, it’s better never than late.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, while Emily scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“That’s not how the saying goes!”

“Not in my book. Come on, let’s just skip it and—whoa!” Emily grabbed his hand and before Jungkook could process the warmth on his skin, she was dragging him through the hallway so fast; the two of them running to class hand in hand.

Jungkook was winded by the time they reached the classroom, but it wasn’t because they just rushed to the other side of the building in record time...

But because the whole time they did, not once did she let go, and it was electrifying.

End of flashback

The memory faded like a song on the radio and Jungkook’s grip on his guitar tightened. He didn’t have much time. He had to do this before...

Before it’s too late again.  

The sun was setting soon and Jungkook walked faster as he made his way to the room he was looking for. It was weird walking through these hallways. He knew where everything was. It was familiar and yet also strange, like he no longer belonged.  

That’s because I probably don’t. Not anymore... he thought bitterly.

He reached the second floor and walked to the end of the left corridor where the music room was located.

He opened the door and sighed in relief when he found it empty. He let himself in and wandered, seeing all the instruments and music sheets scattered around the room. There’s a platform at the very front, a low stage with a white screen covering it, which he supposed was either meant to be a curtain of sorts for performances or for video presentations. To its right was an open window with a sheen curtain, overlooking the quadrangle.

Jungkook found the teacher’s table to his right and ambled towards it. He reached for his song book inside his jacket and flipped through the wrinkled pages until it was on the most important page before putting it down on the desk. Next, he reached into his back pocket and retrieved a small tape recorder. He placed the device beside the song book and pressed play.

Footsteps sounded from outside and Jungkook looked back in panic before rushing to the stage and hiding behind the screen.

The door opened to voices of girls and boys but one in particular rose among them; familiar and so very...her.

“Alright guys, I’ll see what I can do, okay? And don’t be late for practice! The competition is in two weeks. And what did I always say?”

“Practice doesn’t make us perfect but it makes us better.” The students all said in unison and Jungkook smiled. He used to tell her that whenever she caught him practicing too late (which was 99% of the time).

“Okay. See you tomorrow, guys.”

“Bye, Ms. Mei!”

Jungkook swallowed as he tried to sneak a peek from behind the screen. He held his breath as he watched a woman close the door, and then turned towards the room. Emily stood there in jeans and a button-down blouse with her hair tied up in a ponytail. She was radiant as ever and looked something out of a movie scene. Jungkook smiled sadly as he gazed at her from behind the screen. She looked the same but also different, which he supposed was how time passed for people you loved...

Love.

She suddenly looked to the other side of the room, and from where Jungkook stood, it felt like she was looking right at him. Even though he knew it was impossible, his heart skipped a beat.

He held his breath as she made her way to her desk, not yet noticing the change in it. He chewed on his lip, a habit of his when he was nervous, and watched as she picked up instruments and placed them into their proper cases before finally reaching the table to organize a bunch of papers and sheet music lying around.

She lifted one of the sheets and paused, and Jungkook knew she saw it.

He stared as her face morphed from confusion, to curiosity, then to shock. She looked up, eyes looking wildly around her as if she’d find the person who left the notebook there.

She never would.

Jungkook looked down at his watch then at the open window, seeing the sun slowly sinking into the horizon, turning the skies pink and purple.

It’s time.

The sun’s rays casted a golden glow against his face and shadows crawled against the wooden floors of the music room.

Jungkook took a deep breath and watched her through the screen. He waited for a few breaths for the light to cast over the screen just right... just until he knew his shadow could be seen on the other side. When it finally did, he felt the magic spark against his skin and found his voice at last.

“Emily.”

Emily looked up at the voice, her expression somewhere in the middle of shock and fear and...sorrow.

“Who’s there…?” Her voice cracked and it sounded less of a question as her face showed recognition. Jungkook supposed he should be happy she could still remember his voice. All those nights he sang to her came rushing back and the pain in his chest grew... One he knew he could never quell.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s just me.”

Emily lets out a gasp and drops the papers she was holding. The sheets flew in all directions but she couldn’t seem to care. She turned around in a circle, looking for the impossible. But she couldn’t see anything. It was then that she laid eyes on the recorder playing on the table.

“Jungkook?” She whispered in disbelief.

“I-I know it’s sudden. But there are some things I didn’t get to say to you... that night.”

Jungkook brought his guitar to his front, letting the instrument fit against his body like second skin. Emily always told him that he carried and played it like it was a part of him. When she said that, he’d hold her hand and tell her that if there was one thing he considered a part of him, it would be her.

Back then, he meant it to be a cheesy, adoring boyfriend. Now, it was the hard truth that slapped him across the face.

“H-how is this...” Emily’s voice shook, her head turning and eyes brimming with tears as she stared wide-eyed at the tape recorder on the table.

Jungkook inhaled deeply and as he breathed out, the first few notes sounded from his guitar, his fingers moving deftly against the frets and strings like he had never stopped playing in the first place. Music was always a part of his DNA, an extension of his soul. When he played, he played with his whole heart and right now as she stared at Emily reading the page on his song book, he sang with his everything.

First things first

We start the scene in reverse

All of the lines rehearsed

Disappeared from my mind

Jungkook closed his eyes and let the music take over. People said actions spoke louder than words, but for Jungkook, his music had always been his way of showing how he truly felt. The loudest way he could express what he felt. Wearing his heart on his sleeve, he told her all the things he should’ve done...

When things got loud

One of us running out

I should've turned around

But I had too much pride

Emily covered her lips with a shaking hand and Jungkook knew she was thinking about the last time they had seen each other. How they both said some horrible things, words thrown at each recklessly without thought. Jungkook treated it like a sport. Who could say the worst things? Who would break first and give in? Even when he knew there was no chance of either of them winning.

He wasn’t even sure why he fought when he knew she was just trying to save the one thing he knew he would regret most. More than his music, Emily meant everything to him.

No time for goodbyes

Didn't get to apologize

Pieces of a clock that lies broken

Regrets were often made from the things you thought were right at the moment. Jungkook had known he made the wrong one the moment he stepped out of that door. But he just couldn’t swallow his pride and walked away. And now, he’s stuck in that moment, thinking of what could’ve been if he just turned around...

If I could take us back, if I could just do that

And write in every empty space the words "I love you" in replace

Then maybe time would not erase me

~~~

Emily trembled as she read the words, her hand splayed on the page, her fingertips tracing Jungkook’s familiar messy scrawls. The words were written in haste, which in Jungkook’s music vocabulary meant they were written with the most emotion. She could see it in the curve of his letters, in the way the ink bled through the page, showing that he was gripping the pen too tightly in either excitement or frustration. He saw it in the scrawls, the words scratched over as he struggled to find the right words—the right lyrics that will reflect his feelings. A tear fell from her eye.

The one thing Emily learned about Jungkook in the years that they were together was that he wasn’t the most expressive of people. He was quiet, always in his own world, in his own music headspace. But Emily knew him like the back of her hand. So well that she could easily tell what he was feeling through his eyes.

She couldn’t forget the night he left and how he gazed at her...like he was done, like he didn’t love her anymore.

If you could only know I'd never let you go

And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave...

Unsaid Emily.

Emily loved Jungkook’s music. It was one of the things he loved about him. So when his career started to take off, she did nothing but support him. It was given blindly out of love and belief that he could make it big. That his talent was big enough for the world.

But she never thought of the consequences. Never thought his dreams would be the reason he would drift father away from her each day, until they were no more than just strangers.

But Jungkook would never be a stranger, she thought sadly. A heartbreaking memory, perhaps. But never a stranger.

~~~

Silent days, mysteries and mistakes

Who'd be the first to break?

Guess we're alike that way

The problem with two people who were both passionate and strong-willed was that they were both willing to prove they’re right. Near the end of their relationship, they barely even talked. The silence deafening and stretching for days on end...

Jungkook wished he broke the silent spell then and shouted out from the rooftops how much he loved her.

He said, she said

Conversations in my head

And that's just where they're gonna stay forever

Emily’s tears began to fall, the tears staining the paper in front of her as she read the lyrics. Her hands shook, her heart ached in her chest, and it felt like with every note and every line, her heart cracked just a little bit… her once broken heart, breaking once again.

When he walked out that night, she forgot to say should’ve asked him...

Stay.

If I could take us back, if I could just do that

And write in every empty space the words "I love you" in replace

Then maybe time would not erase me

If you could only know I'd never let you go

And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave

Unsaid Emily

Emily sank to her knees, shaking and crying as she held the song book to her chest. The echoes of the song still ringing in her ears. Jungkook watched with tears in his eyes. If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was seeing the love of his life crying and being the reason for it.

She cried for the time they wasted fighting. He cried for the time stolen from him and could never get back. But most of all, they cried for the time—and love they lost.

“I’m sorry.” He croaked as the tears continued to fall. “I never meant it. I was never tired.”

Emily looked up at his words, her eyes zeroing in on the screen. Jungkook gasped as it felt like she was looking right at him.

The sun was so low that he could catch the blue hour slipping through that small window of time from the way the shadows began to disappear. He held his breath as she walked towards the platform, the song book clutched to her chest. With the remaining light, he hoped she could see him.

“Guk?”

Jungkook choked out a sob as he reached out to the screen and spread his palm over it. Emily’s breath hitched as she lifted her right hand over it, until they were hand to hand.

Jungkook let out a shaky breath when he saw the shadow of her hand against his through the screen. She’s so close...

And yet lifetimes apart.

“I-I don’t know what’s happening but you have to know…” Emily whispered to the wind but Jungkook heard her loud and clear. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too.”

Jungkook shook his head. He should’ve been relieved but he wasn’t. He wasn’t because one stupid decision costed him so much. Costed him a life with the person he loved the most.

It’s almost time...

A voice reverberated in his head, making his heart quicken in panic. I don’t have much time, he wanted to say. But he knew there was only ever one thing left to say…

“Emily, I lo—”

The sun dipped and the shadow disappeared from the screen, leaving the room dark and blue with the beginnings of silver moonlight shining from the window. And then there was an eerie silence.

Emily gasped when a gust of wind blew through the open window, turning the page of the song book to the next...

She cried even more when she read the three words written in his handwriting.

~~~

Some time in between.

Jungkook finished the song at midnight, his fingertips scarred from playing his guitar for hours, his hand dotted with ink stains, and his chest heaving from satisfaction and excitement as he stared at the open page in front of him.

It’s done.

“Now I just have to sing it to her.” Jungkook licked his lips as he turned to the next page and wrote the words: I love you. 

He looked up at the clock and saw the time but he didn’t care. He'd break in through her window if he had to.

Emily had to know how he felt. It had been two days since the big fight and Jungkook couldn’t eat or sleep. He knew he should’ve returned to her immediately, but he had to wait. He had to show her he was sorry. And he had to do it in the most sincere way possible… through song.

With his guitar on his back, he took his bike and kicked his foot against the asphalt with his song book rolled and tucked in his back pocket.

He raced through the streets, ready to tell her the words... “I’m sorry”... “I’m not tired”... “I don’t hate you...”

I love you.

With thoughts of Emily and her bright, kind eyes, Jungkook sped across an intersection. There was a sudden searing light, a ringing in his ears, and...

Then nothing.

The last thing Jungkook remembered was the sight of broken wood pieces and strings... and the lyrics to a song unsung with words unsaid.

End 

Hello, my dears! Did you miss me? I loved this song so much and it inspired me so thought I’d express it through fanfic. haha!

I hope everyone is staying safe and well. It’s been a weird past few months (or year really) but we’re pushing through and I hope you are too! I hope you guys enjoyed this scenario. Even though it made you cry (hell it made me cry!) Btw, this song is from the sound track of the Netflix series, Julie and the Phantoms. Go watch it if you haven’t! It’s good! I am hoping for a season 2~

Do let me know what you think of this and let me know if you guys have some song recs for this series. ;)

- Kaye Allen

LSS PLAYLIST ; mobile 

[mendesficsxbombay]

your boyfriend is...(II)| s.m

part 1 here

I had received requests for a part two of this fic which happens to be the most loved one so far so here you go! I hope you like it!

He sees white. 

There’s white sand, he thinks it’s sand, and curtains billowing over it. He sees a large wooden cabana, steps leading up to it, the steps are white, the pillars are white. He hears the sound of water somewhere. 

Turning around, he sees waves crashing into the sand, can water be white? The sunset is almost as beautiful as the day he saw her the first time, splatters of pink and violet and orange. The sky is the only pop of colour he thought he needed. 

There’s a carpet leading up to the cabana, white, of course, and large vases lined along it, there are white flowers - petunia, daisy, wisteria, large streams of flowers hanging from the ceiling of the cabana. He sees his friends dressed in white suits, his dad in a white tux, too and he smiles thinking of how perfect it all looks. His mother stands with her mother, both wearing white flowers in their hair, it looks beautiful on them. A hand touches his back, and he knows it’s her. 

He turns around to take her in his arms, he could look at her forever. Glowing, flushed and smiling up at him. He leans down to kiss her but she pulls away, “Wake up, baby.”

“Huh?”

“Wake up, Shawn it’s 9 and you have to be in the studio in an hour.”

He sees white again, but this time it’s the comforter wrapped around him, it’s her silk dress shirt and the headband she chose for the day, it’s her laptop case she is currently packing away and the large photo frame behind her, holding a photo of theirs. 

“What?”

“Wow, you did sleep well, huh? It’s Tuesday, babe you need to be at the studio at 10 and you asked me to wake you up before I leave.”

He checks for the rings on her hands, just the set of gold bands she always wore. Huh. She must’ve taken off the ones he gave her. 

“I don’t know what time I’ll be back today so please don’t forget your keys, actually you know what I’ll just,” she links his house keys with his car keys, “there, now you won’t forget it.”

Pleased with herself she walks over to him again, she kisses him lightly on the cheek, mindful of the deep marsala shade of lipstick she is wearing, “I love you, have the best day at work,” she pulls away smiling. 

“Babe, where’s your ring?”

She looks at him in confusion - “What ring?”

“You know, the ring?” 

She looks down at her hands in confusion - what ring? Oh, wait, he’s probably asking about my mom’s ring, she thinks to herself. What a thoughtful boy. 

“Oh, that’s tucked away in our closet, don’t worry. I gotta leave now, bye bubs!”

And she’s gone. It looked like a flash of white, his mind still hazy. Was it because he got high before sleeping last night? That couldn’t be it, right? 

He sighs while moving sluggishly to sit up, rubbing his eyes and willing the sleep to go away. He slept for over 10 hours and still felt exhausted, it worried him to think about what it would be like when he they actually get down to planning the wedding - god forbid that coincides with planning for his tour. How would he do it all? It seemed impossible, he should’ve proposed a long, long time ago, should’ve done it as soon as the last tour got over, no wait he should have proposed in the middle of his tour, and got married as soon as tour got over. Then they would already be married right now and she would wear the ring all the time. He’s just stupid thats all he is, really. 

He pulls himself over the side of the bed, laying his feet into the plush white, faux fur carpet she insisted on getting when they moved in. The carpet was one of the better decisions she had made and he silently thanked her each time he walked over it. We should have carpets like this at the wedding. 

In no time he was carried away with thoughts about the wedding again, the location, the invitations, her outfits, his outfits, the honeymoon, but the dull vibrations of his phone on the nightstand pulled him to reality. It was her. 

“Hi baby”

“Did you shower yet?”

“…No.”

“You are going to be so late, please go shower, please.”

She acted like such a wife already. The wife of his dreamiest dreams. “Yes ma’am,” he grinned into the phone, getting out of bed and heading to their en suite. 

_______________________________ 

He pulls himself up to the door after yet another strenuous day at the studio. He had to FaceTime his label executives in New York and LA, scheduling meetings for the coming week and still having to figure a way to finish the day’s task list. He unlocks the door and steps inside, a dull headache working its way in. Shawn toes his shoes off and lightly kicks them in line with hers to make them look neat and finally walks into their living room. 

She’s cuddled into the blanket they thew over the couch for times when they needed a binge watch, her hair pulled into a loose braid and glasses perched on her nose. She notices him walk in slowly, pulls the blanket off herself, getting covered by him instead. Smiling to herself she pulls the blanket over both of them again, her hands weaving through his curls softly, aware of how many times he must’ve tugged and ran his hands through it during the day. 

“How was it today?” She asks, careful of how soft she spoke. 

He mumbles something along the lines of being tired and getting 3 songs finished and having ideas for a few more. He moves on top of her, turning his head and adjusting himself so he could face outwards, lightly taking in her post shower scent. Vanilla and roses. Roses remind him of the floral arrangement for their wedding again. He figures he should let her decide this bit. 

“What do you think about wisteria and white roses for the wedding?” He mumbles, she only gets the names of the flowers, nothing else. 

“As flowers? I think they’re great! There’s dinner in the kitchen, I can heat it up if you want.”

“I’m thinking of lots and lots of wisteria, what an underrated plant…”

“baby did you smoke up again? I hope you didn’t drive in this condition.”

“No I didn’t, why’d you ask that?” He’s so sleepy he can barely get the words out but she hears him, shushes him because if he gets worked up now he won’t be falling asleep anytime soon. 

“Okay I’m sorry, but do you want food right now though? Or do you want to wake up in the middle of the night again when you’re hungry?”

“Cocoa.”

“What?”

“I want cocoa.”

“It’s kinda hot to be drinking cocoa, bud.”

“Turn up the cooling then, and please make me some cocoa, I love you.”

She had to bite back a laugh. Sleepy Shawn wasn’t too far off from Drunk Shawn except when he was sleepy he liked the quiet, and when he was drunk he absolutely needed to scream everything, all wide eyed and overly gesticulative. She had her fair share of experience with both, and asking for hot chocolate the way her mum makes it was basically code for exhaustion like he hadn’t felt in a while. She slowly picked both of them up from the comforts of the couch and led him into the kitchen. She welcomed the feeling of cold marble under her feet, like she said it was summer and her snacks usually included ice creams and popsicles these days. 

He sat himself by the kitchen island, propping his head on his hands and watching her putter around putting together his favourite drink, her body nearly working on out pilot when she mixed the cocoa powder and brown sugar, he’s convinced she could make it with her eyes closed. 

“baby,” he called out, still just as soft, he didn’t have the energy for anything more than a whisper now. She hummed in response, not paying much mind, because he often called out to her out of habit, not purpose. 

“Listen, please,” he pouted because she hadn’t turned around to see him yet. 

“I’m listening, baby.”

“We should have cocoa at the wedding.”

“What?”

“I said, we should ha-”

“No, I heard you but hot chocolate isn’t exactly a wedding drink, I’ve never had it at a wedding?”

“Who cares about others? It could be our wedding drink.”

She felt a spark of heat starting in her chest and working towards her cheeks. Our wedding? She loved how casually he spoke about their future, like it wasn’t something he had to give too much of a thought to - it’s just a thing that’s meant to happen. She silently crushed some pieces of chocolate onto both their mugs as a topping, they weren’t the biggest fans of cream of any sort in their drinks and thought of how she would never want them to change, and how there’s no one else she’d rather make cocoa for at midnight on a Thursday. 

He was the purest person she had had the pleasure of knowing in her life, barely any malice and a heart full of respect and love for anyone that came across him. It hadn’t been easy, loving him, she’d been burned before and who’s to say he wouldn’t do the same to her? But now that she thought of the years they’d spent together and the moments they created in this very house and multiple places across the world, she wouldn’t mind being burned again if it meant she still got to keep him. Forgiveness didn’t come easy but with him it came like second nature. 

She turned around to place both their mugs on the island letting out a silent laugh at the image of her very tall, very lanky boyfriend passed out on the platform, head supported by both his arms. She wished the album would wrap up soon, the creative process had really taken a toll on him and he looked more and more worn out everyday. As much as it was his job, it was her job to look out for him too.  

Softly running her hand over his hunched back on her way out, she picked up his phone from where they it on the couch. Swiping it open, she pulled up his group chat with the writers and producers he was currently working with, shooting them a text that he wasn’t feeling too well and they should hold off recording for the next 2 days. 

Feeling accomplished, she looked back at where he was now snoring on the counter, she thought of if and when he would choose to slow down his career if they wished to be married. Maybe it was too early for her to be thinking so, hell, they hadn’t even proposed to each other yet. And if and when a wedding successfully goes through, they would still have a whole life ahead of themselves to plan things. To date, he’d gone above and beyond to make sure she was alright with the pace at which he was moving, and where they stood as a couple and just making sure that she was okay, and she knew for sure that he would continue doing the same for as long as they were together, it’s just a part of who he was, especially around her. 

She walked over to him, gently prodding him awake and watching him chug down the hot chocolate like his life depended on it. She smiled the whole time they went back to their room and finished their night routines and snuggled up in bed. If this was what the rest of her life looked like, she wouldn’t even mind running at the same pace as him. 

__________________

He has a Pinterest board dedicated to their wedding. They’re nearing the end of his fourth studio album fast, and each time they take a break he is glued to his phone and Saving and Moodboarding things for the ceremony. Teddy warned him that if he asked her to pick between an arched altar and a slightly more arched altar, she would leak his album. It’s not her fault they all look the same no matter how much he wanted to fight her on it. 

He’s currently swiping through decor options for their afterparty when he sees it. He’s not sure what a dress is doing in the middle of photos of rounded tables and helium balloons but he swears his mouth goes dry thinking of her in that dress. It’s a vision in gold, intricate embroidery on the sleeveless bustier, two tuck lines running down the front and a cinched waist that flairs out into the most beautiful ball gown he’s seen till date. And he’s seen a lot of them, he has a board to show for it. 

He takes a screenshot and sends it to her. 

From Shawn: Hi, I hope you’re having a good day at work so far, I saw this dress and I think it’d be perfect for the afterparty (attachment: 1 image)

Halfway across the city, she was on her break at work, deep in conversation with Tiffany, yes Shawn’s stylist Tiffany, about outfit choices for the GRAMMYs in the coming few days. Shawn wasn’t performing this year, so it wasn’t as stressful of a time as it would’ve otherwise been. She had shortlisted 2 outfits with Tiff earlier, now wondering if she even needed 2. Tiffany said she’d need an hour or so to figure how she could layer her evening gown and then use the same for the afterparty, she hated having to go back and change even if Shawn wanted to.    

She was about to resume work when a notification lit up her phone.  Reading Shawn’s texts, she paused in confusion, wondering why he was sending her dress recommendations when she was already talking to Tiffany. Tapping on the link anyway, she is led to an ethereal gown, the kind that she’s convinced only exist online and not in real life. She may have even let out a blissed out sigh, the aesthetic experience running sparks through her heart and mind, imagining herself in a dress so god sent, but where would she wear it? 

The realisation cuts her supply of serotonin real quick, reminding her that absolutely no occasion she had been invited to thus far was worth an outfit like that. 

To Shawn: Hi baby, I miss your face, only 4 hours till I see you! 

  very pretty dress. where would I wear it?

Meanwhile he’d returned to piecing random chords on his guitar together. Shawn perked up to see her reply. He quickly held his pick between his lips, picking his phone up to text back. 

From Shawn: afterparty??

also 

4 hours 2 go. . see u soon 

* see you at home 

❤️

Why would she wear something so good to a GRAMMY afterparty? Like yes, don’t get her wrong, they’re important and all, but just like Bong Joon-Ho believed the Oscars were very local, she thought the GRAMMYs had limited taste when it came to artists. Yes, the world would be watching, and this would be her first ever appearance with him as his girlfriend but she didn’t want to stress herself over how she looked or acted. The show hadn’t awarded her man’s album with the recognition it deserved, she hadn’t forgotten. And so, she was treating the GRAMMYs like no big deal, just a slightly big deal. 

She wanted the night to be about him. Even if it would be their first time on a red carpet together, she would not be stealing his spotlight in any way, thank you very much. And if that meant rejecting this gorgeous gown that would make her look like a bronzed angel that descended straight from heaven, then so be it. 

She looked around her office, people returning to their desks from all over, lunch time coming to a close and her time to get back to work coming closer, she needed to tell him why the dress was not happening when Tiffany finally texts her back. 

Dress is sorted. Sending you photos once I put it together, found a way to only give you one outfit for the night :) 

The smile growing across her face should be worrying, really. She messages a quick thank you, you’re the best, Tiff!!! before opening up her chat with Shawn. 

Afterparty dress is taken care of bubs, nothing to worry xx

See you at home 😘

______________________________

When Shawn calls her giddy and breathless, she drops all her work immediately. 

The album, baby it’s done! We just cut the final- yeah it’s my girlfriend hold on- baby we just cut the final song I needed and it’s over just - no we’ll all go out in a few days, yeah? I just really need to be home with her tonight, thanks man, yeah so I was saying, it’s done I’m wrapping up and I’m coming home, jaan. I love you.

 Her good credit in her company allowed her to immediately intercom her boss and say there’s a family emergency, nothing too serious but she needed to head home right away. On the way she picks up whatever she can remember she needs for their meal, a bottle of Cliquot, Rosé, of course, a few slices of his favourite cheesecake and a bouquet of fresh flowers - a colourful mixture Carnations and Lillies and she smiles just thinking about a bouquet so similar given to her when he asked her to be his. 

It’s not until she’s back to the house does she realise that he passed up on drinks with his music friends (yes she does still call them that) for an immediate post album celebration and chose to spend the night in with her. God, could he get anymore perfect. Tonight felt like the night, the night, and if she did manage to pull through with the plan she put together in the short 20 minute drive, it would definitely be a night to remember. 

Entering their home she gets to work quickly, setting the flowers up on their dining table and stowing away the champagne and cheesecake in the refrigerator to cool down. She doesn’t know exactly how much time she has till he gets home, and the dish she felt most prepared to make was Pesto Chicken, having the side dishes in mind already, and body working on auto pilot from there on. 

While her meal bakes in the oven she brings out the fine China, determined to make the real thing look and feel as perfect as the image in her mind. Once the table is set up she moves around the couches in the living room for when they will inevitably end up there to watch something, anything, to end their night, or continue their night, if you know what I mean. 

As she’s fluffing out her blanket next to his, the lights running low and candles lit all over the place, he unlocks the door to let himself in. The smell of a slow roast hits him before anything else, his eyes running over the place to see her as soon as they could. 

She hears him come in before she sees him, hears the sound of his keys jingling and the soft pad of him taking his trainers off. She whips around and practically flies across the room into his arms. He’s more prepared, though, immediately swinging her up and spinning her around laughing freely as she squealed incoherence into his neck. Once he hoisted her up and round his waist he finally grabbed her face to kiss her like she deserved. She hummed into his mouth, wrapping herself around him tighter and finally getting a taste of what she missed these last few days. He smelled like cinnamon and tasted like happiness and love and warmth and she couldn’t seem to get enough. 

In a bit he sets her back on her feet but refuses to pull away from her. She’s giggling against his lips about dinner and a celebration and he’s never felt more loved. He does still manage to keep her in place and kiss her a bit longer, though, and she lets him because it’s what he deserves. 

When she asks why he did not go out with the boys tonight he just shrugs. She offers for him to meet them wherever they are after dinner he just says no again. When she asks why, he says the album they just finished was about her and he needed to spend this night with his muse because it was the only thing that felt right. She was too giddy to bother arguing back. 

She’s already set the table, ready to bring out the food when he shyly asks her if they can go change into their pyjamas. When she says yes and is about to run up to their room to change, he further asks if they can sit on their living room floor instead of their dining table. A small voice in her head reminds her of the time they made out on his living room floor the first time she came over and got drunk. Nothing else had happened that night, and he initially refused to even kiss her for fear of taking advantage of their sobriety or the lack thereof but she convinced him that it would be compensation. In retrospect, she’s thankful that they didn’t take things further because that was definitely a night to remember, the memory still makes her blush. 

When he goes to freshen up in their washroom, she’s changing into her fluffiest pair of pyjamas and an old t-shirt of his. Her pyjamas thankfully came with pockets, and she quickly went over to her vanity and stuffed a tiny packet in. She’d had it for nearly two months now, but tonight was it. 

When they go back down and stuff their faces with chicken, the best in all of North America, babe, as he says, she keeps looking over at him. He finally looks relaxed after months, he’d been frustrated trying to write new songs on the road and when he thought he had things figured out, he jumped straight into the studio to bring them to life. Essentially, he hadn’t given himself a break, which had led to a fight between the two of them. She’d been patient and tried to talk things out so as to not resort to a screaming match, but he refused to listen. Probably the Leo in him. 

The most she could convince him to do was be home before 1 AM. His girlfriend imposed a curfew on him, and he darn well follow it if he still wanted to have a girlfriend. 

Seeing him eat his meal while happily chatting about his day, she kept thinking of how perfect her life felt at the minute. When they popped champagne and he insisted they drink straight from the bottle, she thought of the few flaws of his she’d learned over the years and how she could bear to romanticise them if it meant she got to keep him forever. She couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather be sat with on her living room floor, tipsy off the bubbly and munching on fresh cheesecake, stealing kisses in between. It felt right. 

He looked away from her to check his phone, text his friends back and she sets her phone on the closest console table to record the moment. Crawling back to him, she takes his fork and plate out of his hands and he smirks thinking she’s about to have the first round of the night right there. 

“Starting already, then?” He mumbles as he leans in to kiss up her neck when she scoffs and pushes him away lightly. “chill, horndog, I need to talk to you about something.”

He immediately straightens up, bracing himself for whatever is about to come. She runs her hand through his hair while his eyes cross the length of the room, knowing she sometimes needs a minute to collect her thoughts. When she inhales sharply, he knows she’s ready. 

He turns towards her so she knows she has his full attention, their hands intertwined and hanging between them. She purses her lips, sends a prayer up to God and begins.

“So um, the first time we spoke, I thought you were the dreamiest boy I’d ever seen. Um, I still think you are.” His heart warms at her being nervous, knowing she doesn’t have to be around him and tries to ignore the heat in his face. 

“See, we didn’t really know each other did we? So whatever little image I had of yours in my head was based on small talk and your devastatingly good lo- stop smiling, your below average looks, and how you desperately failed at trying to hit on me, but it it was only a matter of time till we got talking more often when you went away for tour - and I think I really appreciate it sometimes that your tours, like, no matter how long or short they are, they give us a chance to talk, you know?”

He’s not sure where this is going. The confusion is visible on his face but she keeps going. It’ll all be worth it. “Other couples don’t get to have that, Shawn. I know they’re always with each other and I know we’d both appreciate more time together when we’re physically together but being away from you makes me… introspect. It makes me want to learn things about you, it makes me want to know you because there’s never enough things to know about you, and the more I know, the more I love.” She moves closer now, cupping his cheeks and he leans into her hands, still confused as ever but letting her take what she needs from him. 

“After you came back from your first full length tour after we got together, I wrote in my journal that I would never take my time with you for granted.” His heart fluttered a little, writing in her journal meant making promises to herself, and she never went back on them. He’d never read any of her journals, he was nosy, yes, but not invasive. He wouldn’t break her trust like that. He also knew she wrote about him, he’d seen her peaking at him while writing, thinking he wouldn’t notice, but he did, he always did. 

“I’d never really had a serious relationship with anyone before you, you knew that. I mean, I just didn’t think I was special enough to hold someone down, or have my person, it just wasn’t plausible, right? And you know how Khalid said I never had someone to call my own, that was me pretty much my whole life, but then you swooped in with your guitar and you wanted to take me to all your favourite places and make me meet your friends and then you wanted to meet mine and by our third month together you started writing songs about me and I couldn’t believe that someone would want to write a song about me you know? Cause like I’m just me? But you did, a-”

“That was a lie.”

“What?”

“I didn’t write about you for the first time in our third month. I only told you that because I didn’t want to come off too strong, we were still pretty new to each other. But the first song I ever wrote about you was after our first date. Well, I started writing it after our first date but it was completed after you so painfully rejected me after the second one. I moped for a week straight, babe, you were pretty heartless.”

She doesn’t speak for a second, she doesn’t know what to say, really. Her speech that she prepared for this occasion was pretty self derogatory, she realised. And now he was throwing her off kilter, making her forget the script in mind.  “You wrote a song about me after the first time you took me out?” 

“Yeah,” he said resting his hand by her neck now and running his thumb over her cheek. His gaze grew softer, “And now I’ve written two whole albums about you. But they don’t feel enough. I don’t think they ever will be, honestly. I could write a thousand songs about you and they wouldn’t do you justice. I love you more than anything, I think I always have.”

And all of a sudden, she’s forgotten everything she wanted to say. She always did think she got lucky with him, she had a loving, caring boyfriend who respected her wishes no matter what and worked hard come hell or high water to make himself better at his art. She thought about how she was a part of his art, she thought about the one time he said that each time she proved to be his muse, the result was somewhat a tribute to their love. How fortunate could they be to have each other? And now, looking at him in the softest sleep shirt he had, a little loopy because of the champagne after a long day of working hard, there’s so much she wants to say. But the words don’t make themselves known, instead she blurts out - “Marry me.”

He smiles lightly, “Okay.”

“No for real, hold on,” she holds his shoulder to lean up, then steadies herself on one knee, pulling out the Carbon Fibre ring that had her heart since the first time she saw it, a solid black with two thin gold lines weaving around it. Her hand is held up between the two of them so he can see the ring, “Shawn Mendes, will you make me the happiest girl in the world, and marry me?”

Holy shit. He hasn’t proposed. 

It finally pieces together in his head. In this midst of finishing the album and planning the next step for his music, he’d forgotten to propose to her. But he swears he remembers doing it - or was it all in his head? He rushes to stand up mumbling no no no to himself and her eyes follow follow him around, her hand lowering as the fear of the worst takes over. No?

At once his head looks upwards, where their room is, and he runs off. She can’t quite grasp what just happened. She flips the ring over in her hand, finding the tiny engraving of their initials on the inside of the 22K band, thinking of the day she was so happy to have found it, and how it was probably for nothing now. Why would he say no?

They’d talked about marriage so openly, he was the one who kept bringing it up - so why run away now? Was he not ready? Or had he changed his mind? Was it too soon? Or too late? Did he not want marriage anymore? She felt tears sting her eyes - did he not want her anymore? That wasn’t possible was it? He literally just told her he loved her - or did he not actually mean it? Why would he say it if he didn’t mean it? Did this mean they were over now?

She looked over to where she had propped up her phone earlier, the video still recording. She had plans of adding this clip into her next video, after their trip to the Portugal next month. She had wanted to record her proposal instead she may have just recorded their breakup, now that would get her some views, huh?

Upstairs, Shawn let out an aha! finally finding the small velvet box that he had stored away carefully - so carefully that he needed to empty out half his drawer to find it again. He bounded down the stairs, screaming BABY THIS WAS WHAT I WAS FORGETTING only to find her kneeling on the floor right where he left her. She looked small and sad, stray tears finding their way down her cheeks. 

“Baby w-what’s wrong?”

She didn’t notice the velvet box in his hand till he kneeled down in front of her. “I thought you said no… I thought you didn’t want this - what’s that, Shawn?”

He claps a hand over his forehead, frustrated with himself for upsetting her so much and so quick. “I just happen to be stupid, babe, I’m sorry, I forgot to propose.” Then he’s flipping open the box, throwing it back to let it land somewhere on the carpet after having taken the diamond ring out. It’s the exact width she likes, the exact cut she likes, and it is so beautiful. 

“How do you forget-”

“But! I am doing it now! I may be stupid but you’re the one who chose to stick by me so that makes two of us! Please marry me?”

“I asked you first.”

“God, yes that’s all I ever wanted, yes yes - a thousand times, love,” he rushes to kiss her, and she smiles into it again, pulling away and slipping the ring onto his finger. 

He’s the one who’s teary eyed now, a wet smile growing bigger and bigger. “It’s so beautiful, doll, I love you.”  She kisses him again, once, twice, she would’ve done more but he pulls away again. “Okay, your turn now - what’s the answer?”

“Hmm… I don’t know I mean you did forget to propose after all…” he stares at her for a second before saying humming and attacking her with tickles. She squeals out falling to the floor in a fit of giggles, trying and failing to fight him off. “Not gonna stop till you say yes, doll.”

He’s laughing, too, clearly enjoying her misery. He hears her let out a breathy little yes while he’s still running his fingers up her sides. “What’s that? Did you hear something? Because I didn’t!”

“Yes, sheesh YES I WILL MARRY YOU, SHAWN! Please stop!” He pulls her up, quickly slipping on the ring and gathering her in his arms, burying his face into her neck, finally crying out freely. Everything felt complete, finally, he couldn’t wait to start this new stage of his life with her. He was going to be a married man soon, nobody pinch him. 

“Wait,” she speaks, pushing him away a bit so she can see his face, “Is this why you kept talking about the wedding? You were talking about our wedding this whole time?”

“Yes, I know I get it I’m forgetful! I guess, I was so caught up in what was happening and what I wanted that I mixed the two.” He sighs, a little hazy after the sharp turn of events in the night. “Wow, I wish we had recorded this, I can’t believe you thought I said no to you, baby who do you think I am?”

“Already one step ahead of you - say hi to the camera!” She grins, pointing to her phone next to them. He lets out an of course you would and she only laughs in response and he decides that he needs to hear that for the rest of the life if possible. He looks into the camera and sees an image of them both looking like a hot mess, kneeling in the middle of their living room, faces flushed and eyes bright because of the cry fest that just took place. 

“Hi guys, we’re engaged!” And she lets out a yelp showing off her hand to the screen. “Shawn Mendes isn’t my boyfriend anymore, he’s my fiancé! There should be a new filter!”

“Wait, does this mean we get cocoa at our wedding now?”

__________________

taglist: @shawnwyr​ @mendesstories​ @lanallaa​ @sleepybesson​ @rulerofnocountry​ @luvluvxx​ @wholesomemendes

dm to be added or removed ♥️

[fivefeetfear]

Chp 3

I am so happy you guys love the story! Thank you for all your support!

..........................................................

It was nearly 1 o'clock pm and (Y/N) stood nervously in the crowd of her students. They all stood in a circle as they had a dance battle with one another as the speakers shook the room. Some did solo routines and others did groups, it was all in good competitive fun. Class ended earlier than expected since (Y/N) kinda breezed through the lesson completely thrilled to see the shy gem again! So her pupils decided to have a bit of fun before calling it a day. (Y/N) watched the entrances of the classroom waiting to spot Spinel. She couldn't get that cute gem out of her mind all day! With her spiky ponytails and big ol eyes! And the accent! Oh goodness, the accent! It made her very gem melt! The short gem dazed off as she fiddles with the ends of her locks, happily daydreaming.

"Ms. (Y/N) why don't you join in on the fun." A pink emerald student asked.

"Yeah! Show them how it's done!" A yellow sapphire encourages. (Y/N) shifts her (E/C) eyes to the two gems and flashes them an apologetic smile.

"Not today." She declines as she looked back to the time; three more minutes. The two students shrug as they went back to join the fun.

"Oh please, you’ll be on the floor once that spinel walks right through the door. You are sooooo predictable (Y/N)." Amber comments with a playful smirk on her face. (Y/N) playfully scowls the beefy gem as she crosses her arms over her chest taking a confident stance.

"For your information, I am not!" she sass while she walked to the enormous mirror that took up the front of the classroom and readjusted her hair. She put it in an updo to keep the locks out of her face while she was teaching her class. The curvy gem eyes scan over her outfit to make sure she looked presentable for her guest. She wore a loose shirt that showed her bando bra from the sides, cute shorts paired with some simple dancing shoes.

"Then why you trying to look cute for?" Amber quips making the short gem rolls her eyes.

"I am not, this is how I always dress." She informs.

"Mhm, I'd say your shorts are a bit shorter than your usual pair. I can almost see your-." (Y/N) whines loudly as she threw her head back. Goodness, she hated being called out especially by Amber. She wouldn’t stop bothering her until she gave up.

"Fine! I'm showing off a bit, sue me!" she conceded with her cheeks puffed out childishly. Amber chuckle as she places her hands on her hips and glances down at her friend.

"Well then, I would suggest you get a move on to the dance floor and show that spinel what she is working with because she is here." (Y/N) eyes widen as she looked at the mirror to the front door and sure enough, Spinel and Steven were here. (Y/N) felt her gem glowing on the back of her neck seeing how cute Spinel looked. She adored two low pigtails with a dark pink snapback placed on backward; a baggy magenta sweater and fitted black pants matched with dark pink sneakers. The (Y/G) chest tighten as she took in her appearance, oh goodness she so damn cute! The poor thing looked so nervous as she spoke with Steven with concern written all over her face. Oh, how she wanted to go up to her and just hug the poor girl. But her ego wouldn't allow her.

Snapping back to reality, (Y/N) held her head high as she walked into the middle of the dance floor ready to work her magic. She could hear Amber mumble "predictable" under her breath as she followed the small gem.

......

Spinel and Steven made it to the dance studio right on time, and as soon as they enter the room Spinel felt completely insecure. She cast her eyes over to Steven with her head low as she shoves her hands into the pockets of the hoodie.

"Are you sure I look ok? Do you think it's too much?" She asked Steven as she looked down at her new sneakers. Amethyst had styled her today and she felt completely comfortable and herself in it, but it was still taking her time to adjust to the new look.

"You look great! Don't worry about it. Now let's find (Y/N)." Steven hums as he looked over at the crowd of gems and humans cheering, he saw Amber waving them over. The curly-headed teen instantly grabbed Spinel's hand rushing through the crowd reaching the orange gem.

"Hey, Amber, where's (Y/N)?" The human boy asked. Amber simply points over to the dance floor with a cocky smirk. Both Steven and Spinel followed the direction and sure enough, there was (Y/N) dancing to the fast tempo of the song. The pink gem held her breath as she watched the short gem dance so...so....she couldn’t find words for it! Well, she could, but it just made her cheeks hot from embarrassment at the thought of them. Magenta eyes watched as the short gem move her hips in the same way that spellbound her yesterday. (Y/N) was moving fast, her steps are carefully and coordinately placed as she moved to the upbeat rhythm. She bends and sways her body in such a way that made Spinel mind wander. Amber glanced down at the Spinel and smirk as the pink gem drooled over her friend. It was so obvious she had a huge crush on the (Y/G).

(Y/N) felt her body temperature rises when she spots the vividly colored gem in the front of the crowd watching her. This only motivated her to keep going as she turned up the heat. (Y/N) calculated the space behind her before she did three backflips in a row; she bent backwards. She then brings her legs up in the air, her shirt slid down showing off her stomach and back as she positioned herself to a perfect handstand. Spinel's eyebrow arches as she noticed a large spot of discoloration on (Y/N) back. Before Spinel could fully investigate(Y/N) came back down to a straddled split. This made her students go wild as they cheered their teacher on. Poor Spinel nearly stroked out when she saw (Y/N) ass bounce when she landed on the floor; she really could not handle this. Her whole form was on fire and it took so much will power to not pass out right now. Was she fooling herself to believe she had a chance with a gem like (Y/N)?

The (Y/G) female breathes heavily as she was bombarded with praises from her students and friends. Her laughs rings throughout the room causing Spinels chest to tighten. That laugh, it was so beautiful; it sounded like bells. And that smile, it made her stomach fussy inside. The pink gem hopes to one day be the reason behind that smile and her laugher. (Y/N) was able to redirect her student's attention else where as she quickly walks over to Spinel and Steven, she beams a bright toothy grin while she wipes the sweat from her brows.

"Hey, guys how's it going? I didn't even see ya come in." She says coolly. Amber scoffs at her words, which earned a glare from (Y/N).

"Annnyways what's the plan for today?" (Y/N) asks Steven, the boy smiles as he wraps his arm around Spinel's shoulders.

"We are going to take Spins here on a tour of the town! We can show her all the hot spots of Little Homeworld." Steven said joyfully.

"Ok sounds good! Let me change real quick and we can be on our way!" The (G/C) gem states as she walked away to another room to change. Spinel shamelessly watched (Y/N) hips sway as she walks away out of view. The pink gem felt an odd mixture of disgust and satisfaction with herself. Disgusted that she couldn't control her eyes from wandering, but satisfied to have seen more of her beauty. Like her butt is soooooo round. It was hard not to look.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped Spinel out of her own head; she looks over at Steven to see him smirking knowingly at her. Spinel frowns as she covered her blazing cheeks with her hands, averting her gaze to the floor embarrassed she was caught.

"Not a word." She mutters as Steven puts his hands up.

"I was only going to say was, I'll be heading out now." Spinel's head whipped up lightning speed to look at her friend with fearful eyes.

"What? You're leaving me? Alone? With her?" She felt herself beginning to panic. She clutches the sleeve of his jacket keeping him close, her eyebrows knitting together. She didn't want him to go! He can't go! Spinel's breathing was coming out rapidly and unevenly as her body felt like it turned into lead.

"Hey, calm down Spins. I'm just going to be gone for a few hours and I'll come back to get you. I'm doing this for you to expand your horizons and meet new people. Besides (Y/N) is really nice." He explains as he places his hands on Spinel's shoulder trying to sooth. She was shaking in fear as she tightens her hold on him.

"B-but what if I m-mess up? Or s-say or d-do something stupid!? What if she d-doesn't like me?! You can't just leave me!" She cried out, anxiety consuming her body. The other gems and humans that were around tried their best to mind their own business, but witnessing Spinel having a meltdown was hard to ignore. Steven shushes her softly as he grabs her hands doing his best to comfort her. Her lower lip quivers as she stares at him with glassy eyes.

"Hey, I believe you won't say or do anything stupid. You are awesome Spinel, and I'm sure (Y/N) is going to love spending time with you." He promised as he slowly let go of the worrying gem.

"If you ever need anything, you can just call me on my cellphone and I'll be back. Can you just at least try?" he asks her softly, Spinel's eyes drifted away from his gaze as she offered a weak nod.

"Good! You'll do great and have fun!" And with that Steven walked out the studio, he gave her one final wave from the wide window before disappearing.

Spinel's arms slowly coiled around herself as she gritted down on her teeth. Would she be ok? Could she do this? Of course not! (Y/N) is a ball of energy and positivity and she is just...herself. How was she supposed to keep up with her? How was she supposed to make herself interesting enough for that perfect gem? Doubt rested heavily on her shoulders as her frown deepens. (Y/N) wouldn't stay with her once she finds out Steven is gone. She could see the disappointment on her face already when she’ll learns about the boy absence. The thought of the (Y/G) eyes filling with regret at spending the day with her made her choke.

"I can't. I-I can't do this." she mutters, her feet began to walk towards the exit of the studio. She swung the door open and steps into the outside world.

"Hey Spinel wait for me!" (Y/N) cries out. The pink gem turns around to see the short girl standing beside her. She wore a cute (F/C) dress with wedges. Her hair is up in a neat ponytail showing off more of her facial features. Spinel instantly noticed the presence of makeup on her face; her lashes look darker and thicker from the mascara. Here lips shiny from the coat of lip-gloss making her lips look plump. It wasn't much and hardly noticeable but Spinel could tell.

"Where are you going? And where’s Steven?" (Y/N) asks as she searched for the half gem boy. Spinel slouches her shoulders as she avoids eye contact with the girl.

"He left." She mutters. Y/N brows quirks up as she stood before the slender gem.

"So it will just be us?" She asks curiously. Spinel nods back in response afraid to speak. (E/C) eyes widen at the news, but her gem grew warm. She was going to be alone with Spinel? She will have this cutie to herself all day? The (C/G) had to remind herself to send a thank you text to the boy. (Y/N) couldn't help the smile that stretched over her face as she nearly bounced in place.

"Ok! Come on there is so much to see!" Spinel was taken by surprise by the short gems enthusiasm as she was yanked by the hand and rushed down the road. What? She actually wants to spend the day with her? Really? Why? The pink gem found herself again in a state of confusion; things weren't connecting for her. Why would she want to hang out with her and be her friend? Spinel understand she has friends, but it took a while for her to accept that it was real. But here is this beautiful gem, nose-diving into a potential friendship with her without a second thought. In addition, Spinel didn't have to do anything to entertain her or beg (Y/N) in any way. If anything it's (Y/N) trying to entertain her! No one has ever done that for her and...and it felt amazing. It felt so damn good that someone else was initiating the friendship first that wasn't herself. This concept was difficult for the pink gem to wrap her head around, she was about to dismiss her own theory. That all quickly changed when (Y/N) flashes a genuine smile, it brought Spinel to tears. She really did want to spend the day with her, she truly did. The fear and doubt that was manifesting insider her core subsided and was replaced with excitement. Spinel tightens her grip on (Y/N) hand as she too started to pick up pace as she raced down the sidewalk with (Y/N).

[septicbro1005]

Paint Me How You See Me

A/N: Okay, you have no idea how excited I was to see that I had permission to write this. I literally am so happy I could scream. Will I? Not out loud. This actually made me so excited that I got up and started walking around my room and smiling holy shit. Alright. Enough of that. I was inspired to write this story by a comic made by the fantastic @venadorosas​ and I just am so damn excited to write this! I am not an art student myself, but I will do my best to replicate it with what I know. I hope I do the comic justice! Just a few more things before this thing starts: I'm gonna do myself and make this a Quirkless AU as well as make Yuuei a university instead of a high school. This is unedited, so if there are sentences or misspellings, that is why, and I apologize. Anyway, let's get rolling!

Kirishima's POV

One stroke after the other.

Small, swift.

One stroke makes a world of a difference.

So don't… mess… up.

I only have one canvas left after this one, but I'm saving it for something important. Something special. Just need to figure out what.

I mean, yeah, I have others on back order, and Mr. Miyoshi is usually pretty cool with giving me some, but I still need to think about what to do with the 106 cm by 106 cm canvas.

A canvas that big needs something worth being put on there.

"Psst, Kiri--" "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhut," I hissed out through clenched teeth.

"You nee--" "I said shut,"

"B--" "No. Shut. Lemme finish,"

The person who proceeded to pester me, even after I told him to be quiet, was none other than Hanta Sero.

He was an art student, along with myself and several others I know by name.

One of which was Katsuki Bakugou.

And damn, was he confusing.

He was this aloof dude who talked to maybe two people by his own volition.

Some random girl who I see him talk to ever now and again. I think we've spoken twice? All I remember is she told me to call her Tsu.

And then me.

Sure, he'd talk to the professors and people like that, but if he didn't have to speak, he wouldn't.

Yet, he spoke to me.

Not only did he barely talk to people, but he also is probably one of the best looking people on campus.

I kid you not, the first time I saw this dude, I was totally sure I'd met Adonis in human form.

His ash blond hair was styled into a fluffy undercut that I would pay money for to be able to run my hands through, even once. His gauges and helix piercings gave him a bit of an edge, but that's what made him more alluring. He came into class one day, wearing a wife beater, which put a tattoo on full display, resting on his right shoulder.

It isn't just his looks that are attractive either. The way he holds himself, presents himself, just his whole aura is indescribable, to keep it brief.

And he was the person I was painting this for.

This wasn't his first commission. Not by a long shot. And this one was fairly simple as well. Still, I poured my heart and soul into it, just like every piece.

But with his commissions, I feel the need to work that much harder. To push myself that much farther. To make it perfect, in a word.

Now, I know that perfection is impossible, but I still want to achieve it.

I mean, if Bakugou could, I could too, right?

"Kirishima, I've been talking to you for the past couple of seconds and you haven't shushed me. Don't zone out on me right now, man,"

Sero's voice managed to pull me out of this trance, but only a bit.

The ash blond with the scarlet glare was still in the back of my mind.

"What?"

"You need lunch, man," Sero said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Listen, I thank you for your concern, but I had a protein shake maybe six hours ago. I'm dandy," I mumbled, doing a few more soft strokes before standing up. "Plus, I'm not even hungry," 

"Dunno what kind of protein shake you're drinking, but you still need sustenance. C'mon," Sero attempted to persuade me as I walked to the sink to clean the small brush.

"I'm cool, dude. I have a granola bar or two in my bag. I'll eat when I'm hungry," I chuckled lightly, turning on the water and cleaning the brush.

Sero sighed in defeat, as this marked the second week in a row where I substituted breakfast with a protein drink and lunch with a granola bar.

"Alright, fine. Make sure you eat dinner tonight, or Mr. Miyoshi is gonna kick you out again," Sero said, beginning to walk to the door.

"I know, I know,"

"I'll be off, then,"

"Peace out, dude,"

I heard the door to the studio shut, and it was just me in here.

Just me and the paint.

"Hey, Siri,"

My phone lit up, hearing its name.

"Play Rex Orange County on Spotify,"

As I began to finish up some touches on the snow covered forests surrounding a bright red cardinal, the song Uno filled my ears.

The song had no real relevance, but I love that song so much. I dunno if its just because it sounds so simple and sweet, but I just think the song's pretty great.

I'd say after maybe forty-five minutes of doing seemingly pointless touch-ups, I stood back, admiring my work.

Not much needed to be done, but I needed this to be phenomenal.

"I'll just use a simple varnish once everything is dry, then I can move it into the back," I muttered to myself, as if someone was there and I had to be quiet. "Can I finish it today? I could tell him where it is, and wait for the money to come in, I guess,"

A few seconds pause later, and I continued.

"Wow, great job, Eijirou. You sound like a dickwad who just wants money,"

A short sigh, a granola bar and maybe a half an hour or so later, everything seemed dry.

"Let's varnish this motherfucker, and I'll text him when that's done," I mumbled, going into the cabinets, looking for the varnish.

No other assignments at the moment… okay! Cool! I can probably head back to my dorm, chill there, and text Bakugou when it's done!

When I finally found it, I got to work on the varnish.

***

"And sent," I whispered as I approached the dormitories.

I just sent Bakugou a short text, telling him where to find it, how to send me the money (although he probably knows the process by heart at this point) and all that jazz.

My dorm building was in sight when my phone buzzed once.

It was a different buzzing pattern than all the others.

"Oh, Bakugou responded this quickly?" I thought aloud.

Opening my phone, I checked the message.

Sent the ¥321.7K 

My eyes widened at the number.

"I sure as hell didn't tell him to send me that much, what the hell?"

                                                   What!? The commission was only ¥48.2K?!

His response was immediate.

Left a tip.

Get yourself something nice.

"Whoa," I murmured.

Now, I knew Bakugou was on the higher end of the economic spectrum, but hot damn! 

He did usually give me more money than I told him to, but that fact that he gave me that much more this time just seemed to solidify the thought of him being rich.

So manly.

Heading into my dorm building, I looked to the elevators, only to see an out of order sign on them both.

"Are you kidding me?" I whispered. "Fine, guess I'm just gonna take the damn stairs,"

I got a notification, seeing the ¥321.7K was successfully put into my account, and I knew this commission was over.

But at this point, I knew what to expect from Bakugou. Next time I see him, he's gonna ask me about another one.

Not that I mind, not one damn bit. I'm cool with any excuse to talk to him, and I'm happy to please him with my art.

I just gotta brace myself for the next time I see him.

Trudging up the stairs, I began pondering what he would want next.

He seems to really like requesting animals, mainly birds such as crows and cardinals, but will he do something different? Ooh, maybe a peacock! Or maybe he'd want some other winged creature… like maybe an insect? Or possibly he'll switch it up on me.

As I ended up on the next staircase, I heard someone else's footsteps approaching.

Looking up, my eyes were met with a familiar scarlet pair of eyes.

"Oh, hey, Bakugou!" I said with a wave.

"Hey," he replied with a simple nod.

Fuck, he was just as gorgeous as always.

A grey turtleneck hugged his torso, with a black and white pinstripe button up on over it. The shirt was tucked into a pair of black jeans, a wallet chain dangling on his right side. A pair of black converse and a dog tag finished his look, alongside my composure.

"Thanks again for the great work," he said, his husky voice hypnotizing me further.

"You haven't already picked it up, have you?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. "I don't think I saw you walk past me to get to the parking lot,"

"Nah, but I know it's gonna look good," his compliment was accompanied by a smirk.

Short-lived, yes. But a smirk nonetheless.

"Aw, thanks dude! Always happy to make something for my best customer!" I felt myself beam at him. 

"See you around, Red," he said, continuing down the stairs.

"Bye," I waved with a small smile on my face as he disappeared down the stairs.

I quickly hauled ass up to my floor, speed walked to my door and slammed the keys in.

Gay panic in private, dude.

Opening the door, I pulled my key out and shut the door.

"I'm back, Omi!" I shouted into the apartment to see if my roommate was here.

"Hey," my roommate responded from his bed.

"Is it cool if I hop in the shower real quick?" I asked, jerking a thumb toward the bathroom.

"Sure thing. Keep it brief," Omi said, making me roll my eyes.

"Okay, dad," I sighed, but I gave a smile to show it was all in jest.

After locking myself in the bathroom and stripping myself down to absolutely nothing, I got in the shower and had a gay crisis.

Because that's the only place you can have those, y'know?

But a good ol' Panic! In The Shower was enough to calm my nerves.

As I stepped out of the bathroom to grab clothing, I heard Omi laughing.

"What?"

"That Bakugou guy really messes you up, huh?" his laughter was thrown in between words, but I knew exactly what he was referencing.

"If I'm being too loud, just knock on the door, dude! Tell me to shut it, I don't care," I flushed, looking at the ground, my hand tightening around the towel that hung on my waist.

Omi just kept laughing at me as I grabbed my clothes; a simple crimson riot shirt, boxers, black shorts and my wave socks.

It isn't like I'm going anywhere tonight, right?

…

Is what I originally thought until I was dressed and realized I left my motherfucking cardigan at the studio.

"Ugh, fuck," I groaned, rubbing a towel on my head.

"Left your cardigan again?"

"Perhaps," 

"You might as well just wrap it around your waist," Omi suggested.

"And risk getting paint on it?" I looked at Omi like he was a motherfucking psychopath. "Hell no. The cardigan was my grandmother's, so I ain't doing shit to it,"

"Clearly, if you're leaving it in the studio again," Omi mumbled.

"Shush!" I whined, grabbing my keys and slipping on my red sneakers. "I'll be back,"

"Okay,"

Leaving my dorm, I began going down the stairs when I ran into someone.

It was Bakugou, again.

And just when I thought my gay panic was over for the day.

"Oh, hey," I said as casually as possible.

Which probably sounded forces as fuck, because it felt like my heart was just about ready to implode.

"Red," Bakugou was looking me up and down.

I don't think I've ever felt more self-conscious about my appearance in my life.

"I've got another request, if it isn't too much,"

"O-oh, okay!" 

Why did I stutter?! That was so unmanly!

"So, what is it?"

I looked into his gorgeous eyes, trying to see further into him, but I was only met with his right hand slamming into the wall next to my head.

Oh shit, oh fuck. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna collapse, right here. Right now. I can't handle this.

"Uh, dude? You--" "Paint me how you see me, Kirishima,"

Uh, what?

I was stuck between saying "Got it," and "What?" so my dumbass just responded with this:

"Gweh?"

We sat there, in silence, staring at each other.

My face was flushing bright red, and I wanted to look away, but I didn't. I couldn't. His eyes just drew me in.

He moved his arm to his side, and began to head up the stairs.

Quick, say something coherent!

"O-on it!"

I swear, I saw him smile a bit before he was completely gone.

What was I doing again?

***

It's been around three weeks.

It's been three weeks of planning, sketching, and small, swift strokes.

And plenty of panic, but that's irrelevant. There was a bit of disco, so it balances out anyway.

Mr. Miyoshi did end up setting a curfew on me, to make sure I didn't pass out at the studio, but it wasn't set until it had already happened.

But, since I wanted to work on it after the curfew, I brought it to the dorm, keeping it on newspaper and buying the paint I needed.

I had the picture in my mind, which I did my best to replicate without him genuinely modelling for me.

It was a ¾ shot of his shirtless back, with him looking over his right shoulder, giving a perfect view of his side profile. I also made sure I replicated his tattoo to the best of my abilities, and I think it came out okay.

But that isn't all!

Monarch butterflies lined his back, as a fiery looking echo was placed slightly to the left. 

Those warm colors contrasted like hell, compared to the blues and navy of the background.

Just to fuck around with more color, flecks of brighter colors adorned the background, giving it sort of galaxy look.

I thought it looked gorgeous.

And not just because it's Bakugou.

You know how when you make something, and you worked so damn hard on it, and when it's done, you're just filled with pride?

This is one of those works for me.

"Omi!" I yelled about before cringing.

It's 01:35.

"Yeah?" 

Why the fuck does he sound like he's been awake?

"First of all, have you been awake this whole time? Second of all, could you grab me my phone?" I said a little quieter.

"It's done?" Omi asked, coming over with my phone.

"I'm happy with it," I said with a huge grin.

"Looks fantastic," Omi pat my shoulder before walking off.

Using my nose, I unlocked my phone and took a picture before putting my phone down.

I just looked at the painting, with Bakugou's slight pout catching my eyes.

I have absolutely zero clue what came over me, but I lifted my forefinger to my mouth, and pressed a small peck to it.

My forefinger rested against the painting's lips, and I just felt warm.

And that was probably the best feeling ever.

I gotta give this to him in person. It's about time I told him.

***

What floor are you on again?

                                                                                    Number two. Room 204.

Okay, I'm coming over.

I let out a shuddery breath, looking at the canvas, which I covered with a blanket.

I need to tell him.

It's time.

I kept opening my phone, making sure I had the song ready to play at the click of a button.

He needs to know.

A loud knock landed on my door, and I jumped.

I walked over to the door, playing the song as I opened it.

"Hey, Bakugou! Come in!"

The ash blond entered, wearing a button up and jeans again, just no turtleneck this time.

"So, I wanted to give this one to you in person… because I…" I was stumbling over my words.

Calm down, Eijirou. You got this.

"Because this could very well be the last commission you want from me,"

This made Bakugou's usual deadpan change ever so slightly. His left brow rose up as his head tilted to the side.

"And why might that be?"

"I…"

Fucking say it.

Spit it out.

"I like you," I barely got out before throwing my gaze at the ground. "I like you a lot. You're just so cool and collected, and from what I know about you, I like it. And I want to know more. I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I just had to get that out," 

Before I even looked at him, I walked over to the painting, still looking at the ground, and pulled the blanket off.

Everything was silent, except for the music in the background. But even the song was at a quieter part than the rest of it.

I felt Bakugou's eyes on me and not the painting, which terrified me to no end.

Should I have even said anything?

"You don't have to pay if you don't want to or if you don't like it. And…" I took in a shaky breath, looking at the ground, lazily gesturing to the painting and then myself. "If you don't want to be friends anymore, if you even thought of us as friends, then you can ignore me,"

His footsteps were soft, but I knew they were coming. So when his black converse appeared in my vision, I looked off to the side as my vision blurred with tears that threatened to spill. 

A finger went under my chin, turning my face to him.

His eyes met mine, and he was smiling.

"You really are oblivious, huh?"

"Gweh?"

Fucking, again?

Bakugou laughed before leaning in a bit, his head turning to the left.

"Can I kiss you as a tip?"

My whole brain has short-circuited, but I turned my head to the right and leaned in closer.

My eyes slowly closed, and when his lips met mine, I was immediately thrown into a state of euphoria.

Holy shit, this is happening.

This is actually happening!

I couldn't help the smile that bloomed on my face as I draped my arms over his shoulders, and I couldn't stop laughing either.

It was so fucking amazing.

Small blazes of tears made tracks down my cheeks, but I didn't care. Unless my nose starts running, I'm not gonna let some tears mess up this kiss.

But, all good things must come to an end, as Bakugou pulled back.

His eyes were on mine, and for once, they were soft. A small grin was pasted on his features, his hands on my face.

"Why are you crying?" he asked as his thumb rubbed at my dampened cheek.

I just felt myself giggle in response. 

"Well, I was originally gonna cry because I thought you wouldn't be cool with my confession, but these tears quickly turned sweet," I just couldn't stop laughing. "Shit, I'm so happy,"

We just stood there for a few moments of content silence before Bakugou spoke up.

"So, how the hell am I supposed to bring this painting to my dorm?" 

"I can help you bring it up there!" I offered.

"I get to bring two masterpieces to my dorm? Great!" Bakugou oozed confidence as he said that.

"Dear christ," I began giggling again, since that was unexpected.

We grabbed the painting, and I made sure Bakugou was careful with it, but was also holding it properly.

"Hey, Omi! Could you get the door?"

"Sure,"

"Your roommate was here?" Bakugou asked.

"Well, it's his dorm too." I pointed out as Omi got the door for me. "Plus, it isn't like I wasn't so obviously crushing on you,"

"It really wasn't," Omi said, patting my back carefully. "But congratulations to the both of you,"

"Thanks, Omi,"

Bakugou just gave a small murmur to thank Omi.

"Alright, Bakugou, you go through the door first, then we can keep walking," I said, turning us so Bakugou could walk out the door properly.

"Okay,"

After a quick minute of maneuvering, we managed to get the painting up the stairs without damaging it.

"So you're which dorm?"

"302," Bakugou said as we got to his door.

"Coolio!" I grinned.

"Dork," Bakugou snickered at me. "How d'you want this to be put down?"

"We can just rest it against the wall," I said, propping the painting up on the wall.

"Give me a quick sec," Bakugou mumbled, unlocking the door.

He swung the door open and made sure it stayed open. 

"Alright,"

"At this point, I'm gonna follow you. You know where you wanna put this?" I asked him.

"Uhm… I think Misumi wouldn't mind if I placed this on his side of the room until I know exactly where to hang it," Bakugou said as we walked into the room.

***

My paintings were all on the wall. The snow surrounded cardinal, the murder of crows, all of them.

Except one.

The other paintings sort of made a frame, with a 106 cm x 106 cm square in the middle.

"Hey, honey?" I called out.

"What's up, Rourou?" Katsuki asked from the other room.

"Could you grab me the step ladder?"

"Shorty," I heard Katsuki laugh.

"I heard that, Katsu! You aren't as quiet as you think!"

"Says you, of all people!" Katsuki chuckled, coming on with the step ladder.

"Thank you, baby," I said, pecking his cheek.

"Of course. Putting up the last one?" He asked.

"Yep!" I said, grabbing the painting I made all those years back.

The monarch butterflies dotting his spine, his scarlet glare, gorgeous fluffy hair, all of it brought together, and hung up on our wall.

I got off the step ladder, and looked at the paintings. Every single one of them.

A hand snaked around my waist and pulled me in close.

"I love you so much, baby," Katsuki whispered, kissing my forehead.

"I love you too,"

His hand rubbed against my waist, but I could feel one thing that was inconsistent with the feeling of the rest of his hand.

A golden band sat on his left ring finger, practically identical to the one that sat on my left ring finger.

A/N: And that's all! Honestly, I'm very pleased with this, and think this came out well! I hope that those of you who see this like it too! I want to thank @venadorosas for allowing me to write a story based off of their comic and for making such fantastic art. If you like my writing, I'm also on Wattpad, so check me out there, if you're up for it. Same username and profile picture. I do believe that this is it! I apologize for the ending, as it feels a little odd to me, I just don't have any idea how to end it properly. I sincerely hope that I did the comic justice. Love y'all! Stay safe and healthy! - Septic

[bubblesuga]

Love On The Brain

Prompt: Yoongi helps the reader with an idea for a song, but doesn’t anticipate what follows next. 

Word Count: 4,273

Warnings: Smutty smut smut smuuuuuut, fluff, and a little bit of angst 

At age 20, you were hired on as a song writer for Big Hit entertainment. Specifically, working closely with members of the biggest boyband in the world, BTS. You hadn’t specifically heard of them prior to you getting hired, but it didn’t take long for you to fall in love with each of the members. 

It was dark out, you had been alone in the writing room for hours. Your fingers danced across the piano as you attempted to write a melody for the Maknae line to follow. With a frustrated groan, you slammed your fingers down on the keys, causing a horrific clash of notes to sound out in front of you. 

Normally, you would be working close with Hoseok and Namjoon to write but you were alone on this one. “It needed a woman’s touch,” Namjoon said in the morning after handing you the skeleton of what was supposed to be a love song, “we just wouldn’t know how to write it.” 

You mocked his words now, tossing the paper up in the air while you let out a wild breath. 

Knocking sounded on the door, pulling you out of your pout while you slid your chair closer to the desk. You expected Jimin to walk in, he was always quick to bring you water or food when you had been in here for a bit. Your back was turned away from the door and you heard the crinkling of a plastic bag, before seeing it set in front of you. 

You glanced away from the half-written lyrics on the page, meeting eyes with Yoongi, the last person you expected to see at the studio so late at night. 

Yoongi had a special place in your heart, his calm and serious persona made you feel comfortable with him. He always preferred to write alone though, so you weren’t sure of his writing process. Whenever you did manage to get him in a session, he played the notes you wrote with ease, your voice carrying as you sang the lyrics. 

Something about him made your heart swoon, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It wasn’t until the dreams started did you realize how good Yoongi was with his hands. You wanted nothing more than to have his fingers wrapped around your throat, but that’s the last thing you needed to admit to anyone. 

“Panda, for your troubles.” Yoongi spoke, his usual deep voice echoing throughout the room. You pushed your hair from your face, giving him a grateful smile while opening a container for Panda Express. 

“Taehyung insisted on Panda as usual,” Yoongi sat on the chair opposite you, removing his face mask, “I wasn’t sure what to get you so I figured orange chicken was a safe bet.” 

“It’s perfect,” you excitedly opened the chopsticks, “thank you so much. Maybe now I can actually form a coherent sentence.” 

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, “What are you trying to write?” 

“A love song for the Maknae line. Harmonies, rhythm, all of the stuff I was trained to do but can’t seem to do it.” You rubbed your eyes of their exhaustion, taking a bite of the chicken. 

Yoongi, who was already half-way done with his food, snatches the paper away from you and leans back in his chair. 

He studied the lines carefully, his face blank and you desperately searched his face for any sense of emotion. However, he was devoid of any hints of what he was thinking which caused you to cringe internally.

Your face fell into your hands while you heard a snicker come from Yoongi, “Baby I want you, you are the sun in the sky and the light in my heart?” 

“Yeah.” You whispered, shoving more food in your mouth. 

“This is- and I really hope you don’t take offense- but this is awful.” Yoongi said through laughter. This was the first time you had seen him laugh so hard, he clutched his stomach while he continued to read off the paper. 

“Oh tell me, tell me how you want me baby-” 

“Okay that’s enough!” You grabbed the paper out of his hands and tore it up, tossing it in the garbage. Yoongi’s gummy grin caused you to blush and spin your chair away. 

“I’m not great with romance! I’ve always been more about work than play.” You defended, realizing even in past relationships you found yourself obsessing over music and not giving them enough time. 

“Okay, do you have a crush?” Yoongi asked suddenly, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. 

Yes. 

“No.” You said, watching Yoongi’s eyes cloud over slightly. 

“Alright, alright,” he leaned onto the table, taking the box of food out of your hands and setting it to the side, “think about your last fantasy.” 

“Fantasy?” You said, almost in horror as you weren’t exactly sure what Yoongi meant by that. Immediately though, dreams of Yoongi nipping at your collarbone while you both collapsed into a puddle of moans filled your mind. You swallowed it away, crossing your legs, “How does that help with love songs?” 

“Love and sex go hand and hand.” Yoongi tilts his head to the side, shrugging with a smirk across his face. 

“Alright, then you explain one of your fantasies, and I’ll try to write it.” You lean forward, mirroring his smirk. If he can put you on the spot like that, two can play at that game. 

Yoongi swallowed, “She wears a red dress with black lining. My fingers unzip it quickly to find that she’s not wearing anything underneath,” 

Your eyes widened, seeing his face get closer to yours. You almost backed away but you enjoyed the sudden close proximity to him. Keep going. Please keep going. 

“her lips are full and pink, held in a permanent ‘o’ while my fingers grip her hips and I drive myself into her. Her tits bounce with my movements while my fingers find her clit. Preferably it ends with her squirting but I know that’s hard to find.” Yoongi leans away, his face red but his lips giving away another smirk. 

“I don’t know how to put that in a song.” You say after a moment, tightening your legs to try and relieve the pressure again. 

“Honestly I forgot we were talking about a song.” He bit his lip, casually picking up his food and eating again. 

“Who- can I ask who you’re dreaming about?” You nudge his foot softly under the table. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He closed the gap between the two of you, his lips soft against yours. You wanted to crawl over the table and straddle his thighs, but you stayed put, enjoying the kiss that caught you off guard. His hand fit perfectly on the back of your neck, holding you close. As quickly as it started, he pulled away, tugging softly at your bottom lip with his teeth.  

Yoongi stood, handing you a fortune cookie and tapping your shoulder goodbye. You watched him walk out the room, sending you a quick wink and shutting the door. 

You turned back around and stared at the table for a moment, “What the fuck just happened?” 

~*~

To say the following week was weird was an understatement. You’d arrive at the studio, make some progress on the music for the song, and you could confidently say that after the chat you had with Yoongi, the song was coming along nicely. 

Anytime you passed Yoongi in the hallway, your shared glances caused your face to burn. You almost anticipated meeting his eyes, because you couldn’t deny the sexual tension. After he left the room that night, you had to distract yourself from the growing wetness between your thighs. You managed to write the first verse and a chorus, happy with your progress. 

The following Tuesday, you bumped into Yoongi in the hallway. His hands lingered on your hips, catching you from tripping. His grin stretched across his face, his eyes laced with lust. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore, and you had no complaints. 

Today you wrote the rest of the music and all that was left was a test run of vocals before recording. Proud of your progress, you decided to turn in for the night and head towards the music. You walked into the rehearsal room and sat on the bench.

The room was empty of staff, surprising you as it was just the members dancing. Hoseok watched from the side for a moment, making sure everyone else was getting the moves down. You couldn’t help but watch Yoongi, the headband around his head keeping his hair from flying in his face. 

Yoongi finally noticed you sitting down, and he couldn’t look away. His feet moved effortlessly to the beat and you were proud to see how far they have come since the beginning. 

You watched until the end, hearing Hoseok give pointers to a few of the members. Yoongi took the break as an opportunity to sit beside you, taking the water from your hand and sipping it. 

“How’s the song coming along?” 

“It’s getting there.” You responded, ignoring the heat on your cheeks. 

Sweat dripped off the tip of his nose, so you handed him a towel. You watched him wipe the sweat away. His sleeveless shirt dipped into a V, and you tried desperately to keep your eyes away from his muscles. 

“Getting there, huh?” he leaned to your ear, “So my fantasy helped?” 

You glanced at the rest of the boys, seeing all of them busy among themselves. You nodded in response, “It’s a song about dreaming about the perfect girl then finding out she was right next to you the whole time.” 

Yoongi rose both of his eyebrows at you, “Is that a hint?” 

“Do you want it to be?” You bit your lip, watching Yoongi lick his. 

He leaned forward, grabbing the back of your neck slamming his lips onto yours. Quickly, you kissed back, dropping your bag and allowing him to lean over you. It was almost like you couldn’t get enough of him. Despite him being right against you, he didn’t seem close enough. 

“Whoa whoa whoa! When did this start?” 

Namjoon’s voice broke you out of your kiss, embarrassment flooding your senses when you remembered you weren’t alone in the room. 

Yoongi slid away from you slightly, his hand scratching the back of his neck while he avoided the gaze of the other members. You watched your foot bounce anxiously, biting your lip while silence washed over the room. 

Shocked expressions wiped over the rest of the members. All expect for Jin, who held a smirk. You looked at Yoongi who’s face was completely red. 

You didn’t know how you were going to get out of this one. He was a co-worker of sorts and you knew that Big Hit wouldn’t find the relationship appropriate. There was no way that this could continue, and both of you knew that. 

“I guess Yoongi only told me about his dream.” Jin finally broke the silence, humor lacing his voice. Your eyes shot towards Yoongi, who looked up at Jin in horror. 

Jin’s laughter echoed throughout the room, your expression turned mortified. You didn’t think Yoongi would be discussing his fantasy with his bandmates. That would mean Jin would have had to picture you in the same scenario. 

“Hold up, what dream are you talking about?” Jimin said, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

“I just- I had a dream with (Y/N) in it.” Yoongi admitted. You covered your face, trying to forget that everyone was here. 

“How does that result in you two making out in the rehearsal room?” Taehyung spoke up, quietly. You were surprised you could catch his words. 

“I- ignore me, guys. It was just a heat of the moment thing. . .” you tried to ignore Yoongi’s suddenly blank expression, “I’m going to head out. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” 

You stood abruptly, grabbing your bag and walking out the door. 

Once in the hallway, you sunk to the ground and covered your face. You weren’t sure how you managed to forget you weren’t alone, but Yoongi’s eyes were hypnotizing. They way he bit his lip had you in shambles and you didn’t even realize it. 

After a moment, you heard arguing inside the room. You stood again, putting your ear against the door as quietly as you could. 

“Do you know what it could do? To have you distracted by her? You could hardly get the steps once you noticed she was in here!” Namjoon was yelling, always the leader of the group and putting BTS first in everything. You bit your lip, trying to keep tears from pricking your eyes. 

“So fucking what, Namjoon?! It’s been 10 years! You can’t expect all of us to go without dating forever!” Yoongi yelled back. He was never one to show his annoyance, he’d put on a mask and pretend not to care, so you couldn’t help but feel surprised by his outburst. 

“But why now? And with our songwriter, of all people! She’s a colleague!” Namjoon’s voice was getting louder, you peaked into the door to see Namjoon staring down at Yoongi a little too close for comfort. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Her of all people?” Yoongi was now deathly silent. His eyes hooded over while he stared to Namjoon. 

“You have millions of women who would drop to their knees for you and choose the woman you see every day?” With the last word leaving Namjoon’s lips, Yoongi reached forward and shoved his chest. 

Taehyung and Jungkook both turned away while everyone else watched carefully.

Just as you were about to see fists thrown, Jimin and Hoseok grabbed one of the fighters respectively and pulled them apart while chanting ‘whoa!’. Namjoon shook his head anger radiating from his body. You debated jumping in but Yoongi turned back to him and spoke, “I like her, you fucking jackass. In more ways than physical, but you heard what she said. It was just a heat of the moment thing.” 

That blank expression he held earlier was replaced with one of dismay. Namjoon’s expression softened as he reached forward, resting a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, hyung. I didn’t know you liked her like that. I just thought you wanted your dick sucked.” 

He tried to soften the mood but it didn’t work, Yoongi looked up at him and that blank expression was back, “Well like you said, I could get a million women to do that for me.” 

Everything Yoongi had said made your heart flutter. You didn’t know he felt so deeply about you, your breath hitched in your throat. Did you have a future with him? Was dating a member of BTS an option for you? Either way, you had to apologize for saying what you did. You knew it hurt him, and you knew it was a lie as well just to get the members off Yoongi’s back. 

Yoongi stalked towards the door and you panicked, leaning away and running around the corner. You heard the door slam, so you pressed your body as closely to the wall as you could and hoped he wouldn’t turn this corner. 

You peaked around the corner, and just with your luck, you met eyes with Yoongi. 

He walked past you and out the doors, down the stairs. You debated quickly on what to do before you groaned and followed Yoongi out the doors. Your heeled boots clanked against the cement while you ran after him. “Yoongi! Wait!” 

Yoongi glanced back, throwing the hood on his jacket up and walking more briskly. You picked up the pace, “Don’t ignore me, Yoongi!” 

The cement was wet from rain and you felt your hair begin to weigh down with water. Finally, you managed to catch him at a crosswalk just as cars were beginning to drive past. The streetlights were the only thing illuminating his face. 

“I only said that to get the members off your back.” You explained, watching him move once the crosswalk lit up. You followed him across the street and gripped his arm, turning him around. 

“Yoongi! Talk to me!” You said, stopping just outside an alleyway. Yoongi finally turned to you, his eyes red. You didn’t see any tears but this was the most you had seen emotion get the better of him. 

“Listen here, princess,” Yoongi pointed a finger towards you, “Namjoon or staff don’t get to choose who I get to like. I’ve liked you since I first met you, and I’ll be damned if anyone else gets a say in it besides you.” 

“So I get a say?” You spoke, your throat dry. 

Yoongi nodded. 

You reached forward, grabbing his hoodie and pulling him close to you, “Then take me home.” 

“To my home?” 

“Anywhere you can use me.” You replied, feeling Yoongi slam his lips onto yours once again. 

His hands moved from your shoulders to your hips, pulling you close. You felt yourself shiver and you weren’t sure if it was from Yoongi or the chills from the rain. Maybe a mixture of both. 

Yoongi pulled away, “Your apartment is closer.” He was out of breath, you were glad you had that effect on him. You grinned, grabbing his hand and practically dragging him down your street and into your apartment building. 

As soon as the doors shut, Yoongi was on you again. His lips attacked your neck, slipping your jacket from off your shoulders. You were mindful of your neighbors, taking one step at a time and giggling when you feel yourself trip. Yoongi followed, landing on top of you but his lips still not leaving your skin. 

“Be careful or we’re not gonna make it all the way upstairs.” You gasp, his tongue soothing the hickey he just made. 

“Mm, maybe I don’t want to make it upstairs.” Yoongi’s hands were all over you. Scorching touches from his calloused finger tips against your slightly exposed hips made you moan softly into his ear. Yoongi got a kick out of your pleasure, his grin obvious against your skin. 

“I’m not having you fuck me where anyone could walk out. Could you imagine the tabloids?” You pushed him away, but your smile allowed him to know it was lighthearted. 

“Suga seduces beauty so well she couldn’t make it all the way upstairs.” Yoongi grins, about to kiss you again but you slid from beneath him and stood up. He gave you a mock-glare, walking up the last flight of stairs and gesturing for him to follow. 

He was quick to follow, tapping his foot impatiently while you unlocked your door. 

As soon as the door was open, Yoongi was on you again. Quickly, he tugged your shirt over your head. Your exposed bra caused him to moan at the sight. Your breasts spilled out of the top and it took everything in him not to speed up everything. 

He pushed you back onto the couch, tugging your leggings down your thighs. You wore nothing underneath, Yoongi licking his lips in anticipation. Before he could get to it, you unhooked your bra and watched his eyes grow wide. Instantly, his hands kneaded your breasts. 

The noises that fell from his lips were godly, your excitement from watching him showed when his fingers slipped easily inside of you. You cried out his name, his hand pumping in and out slowly. 

“Please.” You moaned, stopping his hand. “I don’t want your fingers, I want you.” 

The smile that spread across his face made your heart stop. He slipped his shirt over his head and quickly untied his sweatpants. You reach forward, pulling them down his hips and allowing his erection to spring free. 

Your mouth watered, of course his cock was perfect. You gripped it, your hand stroking up and down. Yoongi’s hands flew to your hair, desperately writhing beneath your touch. He sat beside you on the couch, and you moved in front of him as your lips pressed a kiss to the head of his cock. 

He tossed his onto the back of the couch, fingers lacing through your hair and gently guiding your mouth up and down his erection. You used your tongue to lick every pulsing vein. Yoongi wasn’t shy about moaning, encouraging words breathlessly said like music to your ears. 

“That’s right, Princess,” his hip stuttered and thrust upward, driving his cock deeper into your throat, “fuck.” 

Your eyes watched his chest heave, his face scrunched in pleasure. 

“Stop,” he finally said, “come ride me, baby.” 

You didn’t have to be told twice. You straddled his legs, hovering above him. He lined you up with your entrance, and slowly you sunk onto him. 

The burn subsided quickly, and you lifted your hips up before sinking again. Your rhythm was smooth, allowing him to drive into you in all the right ways. Yoongi’s lips latched onto your nipple, the sensitivity causing your head to fly backward. His hands rested on the small of your back, supporting your movements as you sped up. 

Your hands flew to his shoulders, your thighs burned, but you couldn’t stop. 

“You’re doing so good baby, so good.” Yoongi’s voice was husked over, lowering a few octaves. His hand moved up to your jaw, pressing his thumb against your lips. You opened your mouth, sucking on his thumb and causing him to gasp. 

“Yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna come!” 

Yoongi gripped your hips, thrusting upward into you. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, shakily holding yourself above him as he thrust into you relentlessly. The sweat that collected on his chest began to drip, just before his movements began to stutter once again. 

In seconds, you were coming undone above him. He didn’t take long to follow suit, your pulsing heat squeezing in all the right places. You collapsed atop him, your head falling in the crook of his neck. Both of you caught your breath to the best of your ability, sighing happily. Yoongi’s grin made your heart melt while you slipped beside him. 

“That was everything I dreamed of and more.” He was the first to speak, almost chuckling at the aftermath. You couldn’t help but giggle beside him, leaning into him and nuzzling closely. 

~*~ 

When you awoke the following morning, Yoongi was gone. 

Instead, you were bundled up in a blanket you don’t remember grabbing, and a sticky note was placed gently on your face. You tore it off to read it, wondering why the hell you were alone. 

‘Had to practice, I’ll see you at the studio. I didn’t want to wake you, princess.’ 

Your heart fluttered at the note, staring intensely at the hearts doodled along the page. In the corner was a small drawing of a crown, and Yoongi’s name. 

You showered and got dressed as quickly as you could, leaving your apartment and picking up your jacket that still lay in the corner of the stairwell. Memories of the previous night filled your mind, a blush laying across your cheeks. 

You stopped by a donut shop, grabbing a dozen, knowing that the boys would be grateful. As you waited for your order to be boxed up, you suddenly became anxious about what might have been said. You thanked the cashier and headed out the door, walking down the street. 

When you arrived, the hallway was empty and music sounded from the rehearsal room. The door creaked open as you pushed it, the sound of feet pounding against the wooden floor becoming more recognizable with each passing day. Nobody looked towards you, but you knew they noticed you because your reflection caught Yoongi’s eye. 

The same grin from last night stretched across his face, but he didn’t miss a single beat as he danced. You opened the box and grabbed a glazed donut, munching happily as the song ended. 

“Ah, you need some energy after last night!” Jin yelled, grabbing a bottle of water. You immediately stopped chewing, your eyes going wide while you looked at Yoongi. 

Yoongi shrugged, “I was in too good of a mood to hide anything. I’m sorry.” 

You licked the sugar from your lips, giving Yoongi a subtle glare as everyone else grabbed donuts. 

Yoongi dodged the donuts and took a bite from yours, smiling at you and wrapping his arm around you. 

“Noo! I just showered!” You yelled as Yoongi pressed his face against yours. 

He mocked a gasp, “Without me?” 

The rest of the members didn’t seem to mind his banter, talking among themselves casually. You watched Yoongi swallow the rest of his bite, nipping again at the one in your hand. So quickly, did you find yourself comfortable with him. He had seen every inch of you, his lips had kissed you passionately and your name fell from his lips in moans. 

You didn’t want to hide it, and you were suddenly glad that he had broke the news to everyone. It felt great to have him so close to you, to have his lips nip every-so-often at your jaw. 

“Next song!” Hoseok called, and Yoongi was on his feet in seconds. 

Namjoon set his donut down, “Maybe you two should fuck more often,” he grins at the blush on your cheeks, “I haven’t seen him this energetic in ages.” 

As you watched them practice, a sense of pride washed over you as Yoongi’s face was turned up in a constant smile. His laughter was loud, his happiness strong. This was the beginning of one of the best decisions of your life. 

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 10: Premonitions]

Several weeks and depressive episodes later...I’m BACK! 😃

And guess what: we’re officially approximately halfway done with BYCNL! (There will probably be nineteen chapters total.)  

The Queen/BoRhap fandom is feeling extra quiet lately, so if you’re still out there I’d LOVE it if you dropped me a comment/message/etc to let me know! I appreciate you all so much and hope you are finding things that bring you happiness, fulfillment, and peace. 💜

Chapter summary: Roger makes a purchase, Freddie makes a friend, Y/N makes an unsettling discovery, John makes a bewildering request.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, babies (but not your babies...or are they?!).

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @stardust-killer-queen​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 😊

“Roger, this is too much.” Your sandals click on the marble tile floor, a sandy gold like the beaches of Ostia. You peer up at the winding staircase, the Tudor-style diamond windows, the chandelier dripping with crystals. “This is way, way, way too much.”

“There’s no such thing as too much,” he parries merrily. “And look!” He pulls back an armful of sheer white curtains that had obscured the backyard. “The pool has a slide!”

You smile because you have to; he’s so elated, so young. “Roger, baby, unless you’re planning to acquire a literal harem of women we will never have a use for six bedrooms.”

“Sure we will!” He counts on his rugged fingers. “There’s one for us, and one can be the guest bedroom for when my mother or your parents visit, and then there’s one for if Chrissie ever wises up and leaves that wanker Brian and requires a place to stay between husbands, and one for when John needs an escape from that mind-numbing domestic purgatory of his, and one for Freddie’s overflow cats...” Roger trails off. He’s lost track.  

“That still leaves one unnecessary bedroom.”

He grins. “One for Roger Junior.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s a wonderful home for children,” the real estate agent chimes, flitting around rearranging pillows and dusting off tabletops. “Plenty of space to spread out in, lots of bedrooms, fenced-in yard, security gate, spectacular school district...and such a lovely garden to explore! Does your wife garden?” she asks Roger.

“Girlfriend,” he corrects. “And no, she’s thoroughly useless in the agricultural department.”

You laugh and shove him away. “I have other talents.”

“You certainly do.” He growls as he grips your waist, inhales you, bites playfully down your neck and collarbones. The real estate agent raises her eyebrows, but politely averts her gaze and pretends to check if an artificial fern needs watering.

It’s the downturn of August, 1976. The sun is glaring and hot and spills in through the windows, setting the metallic flecks in the marble floor alight. It makes you think of the Yellow Brick Road, of fantasies built piece by piece into truth. John and Veronica bought a house in Putney, Brian and Chrissie a far larger one in Chelsea, Freddie and Mary a posh flat in West Kensington. Roger has his heart set on nothing less than a Surrey mansion. On the rare occasion that Queen has been home since the start of the A Night At The Opera Tour, you and Roger stay in his shabby—dodgy, you remind yourself—old apartment and pack boxes late into the evening, giggling over all the random and ancient relics you stumble across, sticks of Freddie’s eyeliner and dust bunnies tangled in strands of Brian’s spiraled hair, crumpled up spheres of paper with excerpts of songs scrawled on them, fossilized crusts of grilled cheese sandwiches beneath the couch. Queen is preparing for a brief UK tour at the start of September, including a free concert in Hyde Park organized by entrepreneur Richard Branson. Then it’ll be back to the studio to record their next album, a highly anticipated album, an album that will make millions regardless of what’s on it; and what’s on it, in your humble and musically unlearned opinion, is pretty goddamn great.

“Seriously,” Roger prompts, quietly now. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it. I love it. I just don’t need it.”

He grins. “I know you don’t need it. But I do.”

“That list of yours is getting awfully long.”

“You have no idea. We haven’t even started on the exotic pet collection yet.”

“There’s a marvelous koi pond out in the backyard,” the real estate agent says. “You could add turtles, and frogs, and all different types of fish. I can recommend sturgeon, they have such an alluring primeval sort of look to them, and the shimmer on shubunkins is just delightful...”

“You heard the lady.” Rog stretches his right hand like he does when his arm bothers him, when the bone that will never fully heal aches like something ancient and irredeemable, like hunger, like unrequited love: fingertips sprayed outwards, then folded into his palm, then outwards again.

“Rog...I don’t know.”

“Come on, baby! It has everything. Roman-style master bath. Bedrooms with mirrors on the ceiling. Space for my own studio. Land. Enormous refrigerators. You’ll have abundant room for John’s drawings.”

“Ohhh, now that’s true.” John is always adding to your collection, slipping you sketches as the boys scurry around getting ready before a show, during songwriting sessions that last long after midnight, when the band and its expanding circle of friends and family gather for birthdays and holidays. You don’t ask him about You’re My Best Friend, or, come to think of it, any of his other songs. You don’t ask him how he feels about his new life as a husband and father. And in return, John doesn’t ask whether you’re ever going to marry Roger, if you even want to, if you worry about what the future holds. It’s a loaded peace, but a comfortable one. A safe one.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Roger asks suddenly. “The girlfriend thing. The not-wife thing.”

“No,” you reply, smiling. “Of course not.” Roger isn’t someone who pens love letters, recites all the reasons why he cannot live without you, sings love songs. He rarely speaks of love at all. Roger is as he always is: all action, all energy, eyes forever looking forward. But he does love you; you’re sure he does. Everything he does bleeds with love.

“Good. Because there’s no one I’d rather acquire a harem and zoological park with.”

“Okay,” you relent. “But no lions or tigers or bears. I’m quite attached to your limbs, and you’ve come close enough to ruining them already.”

“Deal.” He taps the Canon that hangs from your shoulder by its strap. “We should document this momentous juncture. One day we can pull out the photo album and show Roger Junior. ‘Hey look kid, this was the day Mum and Dad bought the house you were conceived in.’”

You laugh, almost positive that Roger isn’t serious. “I can guarantee you that precisely zero percent of children would ever want to hear that.” Nevertheless, you ready the camera and hold it as far away as you can, the lens aimed towards you.

“Don’t forget to smile!” Roger trills in his high, victorious voice as he rests his chin in the dip of your collarbone.

You snap the photo. The flash bursts through the kitchen of the Surrey mansion, blinding you both. The artificial bluish light dissipates like smoke.

~~~~~~~~~~

His name is Laszlo, and he’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen...even when he’s not especially well-mannered.

Currently, Laszlo—an Eastern European moniker from somewhere in his mother’s comically vast family tree—is whimpering and squirming against Veronica’s chest as she pats his tiny back and sighs wearily. Veronica, ever the good Polish Catholic wife, is already pregnant again. Chrissie smirks triumphantly and puffs on a cigarette, her rings glimmering on her left hand, her dress violet and new and very expensive. Brian is lost in some deep intellectual conversation with Richard Branson, gesturing with his long nimble hands and nodding empathetically, his dark curls rustling in the breeze like the lithe branches of a willow tree.

“Thank god you’re here,” John calls as you and Roger approach. “Freddie is about to get this concert cancelled.”

“I’m about to make this concert fabulous, darling,” Freddie objects. “We need pyrotechnics, we need sparklers and explosions and fireworks!”

Mr. Branson shakes his head. “Can’t do it, Fred. The embers could travel and set the trees on fire.”

Freddie groans. “Tell him, Roger!”

Roger shrugs, grinning, resting his elbow on John’s shoulder. “I don’t know, maybe we shouldn’t burn down Hyde Park.”

“You’ll be under a huge orange canopy, right over there.” Mr. Branson motions with a sweep of his arm. “You can’t do anything aerial. Flashing lights, sure. Fog, sure. But no fire. No explosions. Oh, and there’s technically a noise ordinance, but we’re working out a deal so the city won’t enforce it on the day of the show.”

“Orange?!” Freddie squeals.

“How will the acoustics be in a tent?” Brian asks, troubled.

John smiles mischievously. “Yes, how dreadful if no one could hear the extraneous guitar solos.”

“I have a gong, Rich,” Roger says. “Everyone will be able to hear my gong, right?”

“Your gong?” Freddie whines. “What about my voice?!”

“I miss stadiums,” Roger grumbles. You exchange a knowing glance with Mary and Chris and Veronica, who is imploring Laszlo to take a bottle. Our boys are difficult, aren’t they?

“The acoustics will be fine,” Mr. Branson snaps. “The tent color will be fine. Everything will be fine. You don’t need any fucking fireworks. Please for the love of god just tell me what kind of sandwiches you want.”

“That’ll be an ordeal as well,” Chrissie quips, and you all laugh; even Laszlo perks up, stops wriggling, glimpses around the open green space with curious greyish eyes like John’s.

Some teenage employee carrying a tangle of cables trots over, sweat dripping down his flushed freckled cheeks. “Mr. Branson? There’s someone from the city here to see you.”

Richard Branson smacks his forehead. “Jesus christ. Okay, I’ll be right there. Hey, Steve, hey, have you seen Dom? Go find Dom and tell her to come over here, okay? Thanks.”

The teenage employee nods and disappears into a sea of bustling people ferrying equipment, fliers, chairs, messages.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Mr. Branson says. “These city bastards are out to crucify me. You’d think they’d be a little more grateful that Queen of all bands is willing to put on a free concert in their backyard, but alas. Hey, Dom, over here!”

He waves to a petite young woman with a glossy shock of black hair and olive Mediterranean skin. She’s wearing all yellow: shorts patterned with daffodils, a tank top the color of butter, a headband like a sunbeam. One of her trim arms is cradling a notebook; the other reaches out so she can shake hands with everyone. The gesture is courteous but somewhat unnatural.

“This,” Mr. Branson begins, “is my personal assistant Dominique. She’s wonderful, she’ll listen to all your pretentious tales of woe and do it with a smile, because she’s a true professional. Better yet, she’s going to ask you the tedious questions I was supposed to so you don’t have to wait for me to finish sparring with the city council. Okay? Okay. Have fun. I’ll be back.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Dom says placidly in a heavy French accent. So that’s why her handshake was off somehow, stilted and weak; the French usually kiss as a greeting. You choke back a snort as you imagine Veronica’s reaction to that. Mr. Branson stalks away muttering about litigious twats.

“Oh, aren’t you just darling!” Freddie circles Dom, admiring her outfit, her hair, her gold hoop earrings. He wafts his cigarette around flamboyantly, completely forgetting to smoke it. “The French are so tasteful, aren’t they? You simply must connect me with your stylist.”

“I would be happy to, Mr. Mercury. But regrettably, I am my own stylist.”

“Ahh!” Freddie exhales, enamored. Mary lifts Laszlo from Veronica’s tired arms and cradles him, tickles his nose, beams down into his fresh and inquisitive face.

Dom pulls a pen from her shirt pocket. “May I ask your sandwich preferences for the day of the show?”

She immediately receives four very different answers, and she raises an eyebrow, her pen hovering over the lined paper of her notebook.

“I’m so sorry about them,” Chrissie says, and Dom chuckles civilly.

“Ham and cheddar,” Freddie tells her, synthesizing the responses. “Bacon, fried fish, steak and onion jam...and something for Brian. Cucumber maybe. Could we get some cucumber sandwiches, dear?”

“You’re a vegetarian?” Dom asks Brian, jotting down notes.

“He’s morally superior to us in every way,” John sighs dreamily, and Rog and Freddie cackle.

“I’m not a strict vegetarian,” Bri clarifies. “But for the sake of the animals and the planet, I try to limit meat when I can.”

Roger adds: “And I order twice as much of it, just to spite him.”

Dominique leads Queen around the portion of Hyde Park where the concert will be held, runs through the itinerary, fields a litany of questions and complaints. And you decide that you like Dom; she’s professional and reserved, yes, but she’s also patient with Freddie, smiles at his jokes, compliments his black-and-yellow striped shirt (“We match, and you remind me of a...oh, what’s the word in English? That bug...it flies around buzzing...buzz buzz...a bee!”), asks him what he’s planning to wear to the show. She assuages Brian, listens to John, takes the time to chat with the women about children, makeup, homes, what it’s like to be in love with rock stars. But Dom mostly ignores Roger, dodges his grins, remains staunchly undazzled. And that would worry you—because Roger loves the chase, you know that firsthand—if he hadn’t already taught you how to trust him, how addictively flawless and exhilarating life with Roger Taylor could be.

When Laszlo begins to fuss in Mary’s grasp, you take your turn holding him; and he blinks up at you with eyes that are wide and clear and seeking, and you find yourself feeling like you always do when you’re around your godson: like maybe you have a stronger opinion about wanting children than you thought you did, like you can’t stop envisioning a baby with Roger’s eyes instead of John’s.

That evening—after leaving Hyde Park, after dinner, after drinks mixed out by the koi pond—as you doze in a sweltering bubble bath and steam curls through the air, you hear Roger’s voice floating from the kitchen downstairs. You rise out of the tub, towel yourself off, slip into a white silk robe as rivulets of bathwater slink down the back of your neck. You tread gingerly towards the kitchen, keep silent so you can hear, lurk in the shadows of the hallway with your palms pressed flat against the wallpaper.

“Hello, is Dominique Beyrand in?” Roger says into the kitchen phone. “I’ve been trying to track her down. Sure, I’ll wait. Thanks.” After a pause, he continues. “Hi, Dom! It’s Roger Taylor, from Queen. The irritating blond one. I was just wondering if you’d happened to stumble across my wallet since this afternoon, I seem to have misplaced it. Oh, you haven’t? Bloody hell. Well, thank you for taking my call. Aw, that’s so kind of you, I’m sure I’ll locate it eventually. I’ve got a terrible habit of losing things. Okay, thanks so much. Goodnight to you too. See you soon. Cheers.” He hangs the phone up as you step into the kitchen. His smile is bright and innocuous. “Hey, baby!”

“Who was that?” Your tone is similarly casual; or so you hope.

“Just Richard Branson’s assistant. That French woman Dominique. I can’t find my wallet and thought I might have left it at Hyde Park, but no dice. Oh well.”

Roger begins rummaging through the drawer full of business cards and address books, tapping his foot, humming to himself. And surely he isn’t trying to avoid my eyes. Your gaze skates over the marble countertop. There, by the refrigerator, just a few feet—a meter, you correct yourself to be properly British—from where Roger stands, is his black leather wallet.

“It’s right there, Rog,” you say, pointing. And now your voice isn’t so nonchalant.

Roger spins to check. “Oh my god, I completely missed it!” He snatches up the wallet with a celebratory chuckle. “I’m such a twit sometimes. You’re too fucking smart, you know that? You’re making me look bad.”

He rushes to you, takes your left hand, bites your knuckles lightly like he did outside Massachusetts General Hospital under dawn skies over two years ago. And then Roger whispers to you, nuzzling your neck scented with lavender soap and doubt.

“Let’s go to bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a knock at the door. John is standing on the front porch of the Surrey house with his hands in his pockets and a vague sort of smile on his face. He’s in a black suit.

“Get ready,” he says. “Do your hair, throw on some earrings. Maybe the pearls Roger got you last Christmas. We’re going shopping.”

“Why do I need to look fancy to go shopping?”

John shrugs, feigning indifference; but the puckish glint in his eyes gives him away. Yet there’s something a little sad and weighty in them too, isn’t there?

Your own eyes narrow. “I’m onto you, bassist.”

He laughs as you tug teasingly at a lock of his downy hair. “You always are.”

John takes you to a dress shop on Bond Street where the corsets trickle with gemstones and the designers all have Italian names: Armani, Prada, Abate, Cerruti, Valentino, Biagiotti. He sinks into a leather chair just outside the fitting room and lights a cigarette, takes a long drag, points to you with the lit end.

“Go ahead. Go wild. It’s a blank check.”

“Really?!” You glance around the shop, your pulse racing. “But I don’t know the occasion. I don’t want to be underdressed or overdressed or whatever. Although I don’t think I’ve ever been overdressed in my life.”

“Yes, you can’t seem to shake those pragmatic service industry roots, can you?” Another drag. “You need a dress and matching shoes. Formal, but not too formal. Think a record company party. Elegant but exciting. Lots of sparkle. Slightly slutty, if you’re so inclined.”

“This is an unconventional bonding activity,” you tell John, trying to conceal your nerves.

“Love, this isn’t something you can fail at,” he says, gently now. “You’re going to look amazing no matter what. So just have fun with it. This isn’t a test. This is one of those adventures you’re always searching for.”

I can promise you that your life will never feel like a cage; that’s what Roger once told you. But maybe you don’t always want to be quite so free, so unmoored. “Okay. But you have to swear to give honest opinions. I don’t want to show up looking like a wombat because you were too nice to say anything.”

John just chuckles to himself, shakes his head, devours cigarette after cigarette.

With the assistance of one of the shop employees, you climb into a pastel pink dress with a full ruffled skirt, an emerald green dress with an empire waist and loose sheer sleeves, a shimmering metallic silvery dress with a form-fitting silhouette. John nods at all of them, wholeheartedly approves, defers to your judgment. He periodically consults his wristwatch as he taps his cigarettes on the rim of an ashtray, and deflects your questions when you ask him why. Then you step out of the fitting room—balanced on gold heels—in a white dress with a hem that hits just above your knees, a halter neckline, a slim keyhole down the center of your chest; and John’s cigarette tumbles out of his fingers.

“That’s the one,” he breathes, soaking it in. Then he asks the employee to cut off all the tags and whips out his wallet. “Toss your old clothes and shoes in a bag. We gotta catch a cab.”

“We’re going straight to the party?”

“We certainly are.”

“What the hell kind of ridiculously lame party starts at 3 p.m.?”

John smirks craftily. “The kind of party we’re going to. Let’s rock and roll, Florence Nightingale.”

John gives the taxi driver an address and you sail through the streets of London, splashing through shallow evaporating puddles, squinting when sunlight ricochets glaringly off the slick pavement. The taxi rolls to a stop outside of a grand stone building with columns and intricate carvings of leaves and flowers. The sign outside reads: Kensington and Chelsea Register Office.

You turn to John. “Who’s getting married?!”

He just smiles, a deep harbor of secrets.

“It’s Fred and Mary, right? Jesus christ, John, you can’t wear white to someone else’s wedding, Mary’s going to strangle me—”

“It’s not Mary’s wedding.”

Slowly, your jaw falls open. “No,” you whisper in disbelief.

John darts out of the taxi, jogs around to your side, and opens the door for you. You gape up at him senselessly, struggling to remember how to form sentences.

“John...this...this is some bizarre and elaborate joke, right?”

“Nope.” He offers his hand, helps you out of the taxi, leads you up the front steps of the Register Office. Inside, everyone is waiting: Freddie and Mary, Brian and Chrissie, Veronica with babbling baby Laszlo, Roger’s mother and sister...and Roger, of course, in his best black suit and bleached blond hair and trademark guaranteed-to-dazzle (unless of course you’re Dominique Beyrand) grin. He flies to you and takes your hands in his.

“You look incredible, baby.”

“Roger, what’s going on...?”

“Don’t freak out,” he commands, and instantly your panic vanishes. There’s a pink rose pinned to his lapel. “I know we don’t feel like we need to get married. I know we agree it doesn’t mean anything.” Is that still true? “So don’t think that this is about trying to trap you or control you or bullshit white picket fences or anything. And of course you can say no, I won’t be mad, no one will hold that against you, we can find some other reason to party. But the simple facts are that I’m a British national with a mansion and a plethora of perpetual royalties and you’re an American here on a work visa, and the law gets a bit thorny in this situation. And I want to make sure you’re taken care of if something happens to me. That you can carry out my wishes. That you can stay here with the band as long as you want to. So, I’ve got your passport and birth certificate and everything else we need...and some overly-enthusiastic witnesses. Are you cool with signing a piece of paper today?”

“Of course she bloody well is!” Freddie exclaims, and everyone laughs. Mary is carrying a basket full of champagne flutes, Chrissie several bottles of pink champagne, Roger’s sister a tub of ice. Brian has been entrusted to chronicle the event with your Canon. Veronica is more giddy than you’ve ever seen her, even more animated than she was at her own wedding. Well, I suppose she doesn’t have to worry about any illicit pregnancies or condemnatory great aunts this time around.

“Okay,” you tell Roger. And you wish you weren’t beaming so broadly your cheeks ache, because it feels a little pathetic to be this happy about an admittedly meaningless wedding. But it does make you happy, your general aversion towards conventionality be damned.

You sign papers and you toast glasses and you giggle uproariously in the lobby of the Register Office with the best friends you’ve ever had, guzzle pink champagne, pose for photos, take your turn holding Laszlo, kiss Roger beneath the stone arch of the centuries-old building.

It doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, suddenly very aware of the missing weight of a ring on your left hand. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything.

But you catch a few furtive glances between Chrissie and Bri, the twist of a frown on Freddie’s face when he thinks no one is watching, the distance in John’s shadowy eyes as he inhales champagne like air.

It doesn’t mean anything.

[hubbie22]

tears ricochet part two

A/N: If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks for reading.

“Well, where is she going to stay? I have more than enough room.” Freddie starts to talk about the late night wine fests, the sleepovers, and parties.

“What about one week with you, one week with Deaky and Veronica, and one week with us?” Brian says trying to come up with a compromise.

“We sound like divorced parents passing around our child.”

“Well, she can’t stay alone!” Brian seems frazzled as he always does. “Chrissie is adamant on that.”

“I think we all are, at least the six of us.” Deaky’s words cut Roger, cause he knows he’s excluded from this conversation.

“Where will you go?” It’s a legitimate question.

“You don’t have to worry about me, not anymore.” She says, as she holds Felix in her arms. He’s a happy baby, and he seems to like anything that gives him attention. And Liv hands it out to him in spades. This was the compromise, he did what she asked. He didn’t come alone, he came with Felix in tow. While that certainly wasn’t alone, it wasn’t what she meant. She wondered if Roger’s girlfriend knows he brought their son to see his ex. And if she knew, did she care? Or maybe she pitied Liv, that seemed to be the prevailing emotion she always recieved.

“Shouldn’t smoke with him in the room, Rog.” Liv scolds him, “And you shouldn’t worry about me.”

“Always worry ‘bout you.” He says as he takes a drag of his cigarette. It was preconditioned into the very fiber of his being to worry about her. Even if he tried to push it away, it always came flooding back.

Somehow Liv ended up with Freddie at Garden Lodge, at least until she was on her feet again. Or that was the promise they made to her.

“It’s like one big slumber party!” Freddie says pulling out silk robes from the Chanel bags. Freddie hands her a rose gold colored one, and he puts on a blood red one. The rose gold fabric pools around her feet, its luxurious.

“Freddie this is beautiful.” She says feeling the silk against her skin.

He looks at her with a playful light in his eyes, “All ways the best for us, dear.” It felt odd to be included in the word us, again. The last time she had been part of an us, was when the other part of it was Roger. She pushes him out of her head, he can’t occupy that space anymore. Just like he can’t occupy the other part of us in her life anymore.

“Manicure and pedicures this way!” Freddie says, he must sense her sadness. Because he tops her off with more wine, as she sinks her feet into the small tub of water.

They are in the middle of getting facials, being pampered for the tenth night in a row, “This really is a never ending slumber party.”

“What a great song idea!” He darts off with a blood red silk robe, leaving her alone with a multitude of cats. She picks up the orange tabby, who nestles into her embrace. She brings him up the stairs to the bedroom, and she can hear the pitter patter of little paws following her. She lays on the California king, looking up at the great white canopy above her. She can hear him singing from the other side of the house. It reminded her of the old times.when they were a penniless band, and not a household name.

“Like this!” Brian says as Roger bites back. “That’s not it! It’s slow!” They had been at the studio for the better part of 96 hours. Liv watched them, she hadn’t been spotted yet.

“I don’t like it!” Freddie says with a biting ferocity. “It’s so blasé!” They couldn’t achieve the correct sound for the song, and it was driving them mad. Which of course, lack of sleep didn’t aid in driving them mad either. But, she wouldn’t tell them that.

“I’m playing it how I always play it, Fred!” Brian seems to be cracking under the pressure, which is typical. She rolls her eyes, as she snaps a candid photo of Brian’s reaction.

“What do you think, Liv?” Deaky asks her.

She turns her head ready to answer, letting her camera fall against her chest as it was secured by a strap, only for Roger to answer for her. “Livie listens to only sad songs!” He goes on, “ She thinks the whole of it should be slow. For god sakes, she listens to sad American country music on repeat. If I hear that damn twang of “Your Cheatin Heart” one more time!”

“How dare you disrespect the late and great, Hank Williams, Rog.” She looks at him, “That man was a legend in a cowboy hat!”

Roger rolls his eyes, “All he does is stand there and sing sad country songs about his lost love in his country twang.”

“It’s called talent.”

“I know, I have it.” Roger says with a smirk on his face.

“What’s wrong with American country? What’s wrong with the sad songs they sing? I find it quite lovely, very telling of the human experience.” Brian asks, but he’s ignored.

She snorts, “Also, didn’t know your name was Liv, now?”

“ ‘S how I see it, just telling it how I see it.”

Hank Williams voice blares through the house, “Your Cheatin Heart” reverberates off the walls of Garden Lodge. Even those five years she spent comatose, did nothing to diminish her love for the American country star. Deaky chuckles at the thought, as she closes the front door.

“Liv?” Deaky shouts when the song dies down, and she yells from wherever she is. He walks to where the sound of voice came from. She’s dancing, her bare feet agaisnt the marble floor, to a sad country song. It’s a new one, George Jones if he’s not mistaken. A small smile is on his lips, as he noticed that Liv hasn’t changed. If anything it’s like she’s been frozen in time. She’s twirling around to the sounds of “He Stopped Loving Her Today,” in her white eyelet sundress. She hasn’t changed, it was like she was frozen in time. He had seen this scene at Liv and Rog’s flat and the Surrey Mansion. But the scenery around her changed, if this was five years earlier she would be dancing with Roger. But now, she danced with Freddie’s cats.

“Deaks!” She says clearly winded from her little dance party.

It causes Deaks to laugh, “Sorry to break up your dance party, but I was looking for Fred.”

She grimaces, “He’s with that evil bloke, Paul.” Liv and Paul didn’t like each other in 1975, and time didn’t faze that dislike from either parties. “Said he’d be back soon.” She answers his next question before he can even ask it.

He looks around, “Eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Come on, let’s get something.”

They end up at a little diner around the corner, one that they used to visit when Freddie only dreamed of owning Garden Lodge. She orders a burger and a strawberry milkshake, and he follows suit substituting the milkshake for chocolate.

“You haven’t changed, still blaring that horrendous country music.”

She rolls her eyes as she bites into her burger, “It reminds me of my dad.” Deaky didn’t know that, and he winces as she continues. “He was an American from the great state of Alabama,” She says the state with a fake southern drawl, “He came over here during the War. Survived that, and married the nurse that took care of him in the hospital.” She has a small smile that dies on her lips, “Only to die of cancer, when I was five.” She plays with the straw in her milkshake, “All I had of him were his Hank Williams records, kinda turned me into country music. We used to dance around the kitchen to it. I guess I found comfort in it. And I just never stopped finding comfort in it, makes me feel like he’s still here.”

“I’m sorry about your dad.”

She shrugs her shoulders, “It’s just another sad story in a long line of sad stories.”

The only sounds that can be heard is the chatter of the waitresses and the clinging of pots and pans.

“After your accident, we had some rocky times between the band. And I remember Roger would blare Hank Williams, when he was getting ready to go on stage.” Deaky looks at her, really looks at her and he sees how her eyes light up at the revelation. “Said it was his way of feeling like you were there, even when you weren’t.”

“Took my coma for him to appreciate my musical taste.” She deadpans. And the rest of the meal is spent in silence.

Her brows knitting in confusion, as they are walking back to to the Come to think of it those records at Freddie’s aren’t dad’s. I don’t even know where dad’s records are anymore. The last of dad just gone.”

The sounds of a country drawl lull him out of his sleep. He opens the door to his dressing room, head peaking out to find the source of the music. His feet take him to Roger’s dressing room. He opens the door to find what he least expected to find, Roger head in his hands as “I Saw the Light,” drifts off the cement block walls of the arena dressing rooms. Roger wasn’t a religious man, but Deaky knew this song wasn’t being played for religious purposes. It reminded Roger of someone, and with it the memories of her singing it. Those memories comforted him, when he couldn’t be at her beside. Maybe in a way, it was akin to a religious experience for him.

For two years, Hank Williams lulled him to sleep on couches across the world’s arenas. Until, that day when Roger decides to put it behind him. Deaky finds the Hank Williams records in the trash bin of the arena, he notices a pretty redhead knock on Roger’s dressing room door. Deaky takes the records from the trash, and he notices how old they are. And the intials etched on the cover OLH, it takes all of him not to march in Roger’s dressing room and drag him out by his hair. But, instead he takes the records with him. Closing the door to his dressing room, he slips the record out. He puts it on the player, when he walks to the couch he notices a note fell out the cover. He unfolds the note, finding a tear stained letter.

Dearest O,

I don’t want to write this, actually put it off until I could. But I can’t anymore. Soon, it’s just going to be just you and your mama. You have to be a big girl for your daddy, now. No tears, no fear, just be brave. I need you to be good for your mamma, she needs you. Do what she says, even if you don’t want too, which I know you never want to do what she says. I know you think she’s hard on you, she only is hard on you cause she loves you. And she just wants the best for you, she wants your life to be easier than ours was. Just remember everytime you listen to one of these Hank Williams albums, I’m right there with you. Singing along, while dancing around with kitchen with you. I’ll always be with you. I’ll be the wind that carries the leaves that dance around you in the fall, the sunshine that warms you up, I’ll be everywhere you are, where ever you are, there I’ll be. I love you, O. I’ll love you until the sea meets the sky.

Deaky folds the letter back up, placing it snuggly in the cover. The next thing he knows the phone is in his hand, and he’s waking Veronica up at 2 am to speak to his children. When they leave the arena the next hour, he put the records in his bags. He notices Roger has his sunglasses on, and his arm draped around the same redhead from earlier. And so begins the revolving door of groupies, until Roger meets a dark haired girl that reminds him of someone else.

“I have them.” Deaky says as they reach Garden Lodge.

“Why would you have them?”

He can’t tell her the truth, that Roger throw them away in some arena trash can in the States. So he covers it with a lie, he has to save her from the truth that Roger threw away the last of her dad so he could put her in the rearview mirror. “You let me borrow them before the accident.”

“Oh!” She still looks puzzled, knowing damn well she wouldn’t let anyone touch those records. But whatever Deaky isn’t telling her, she decides it best she doesn’t uncover it. “Can I have them back?”

“Of course, I was keeping them safe for you.” And that wasn’t a lie, it was a truth. Those records were locked in safe in his house, so the kids couldn’t destroy them.

The next day, Deaky is back with at Freddie’s with the records in hand. He notices Roger’s car is in the drive. He opens the front door to hear Liv laugh, and the sounds of a Felix stringing together some sound. He walks into the living room to find Roger and Freddie sitting in chair facing opposite each other, while Liv is on a pallet on the floor playing with Felix and Jimmy, Brian’s son. And the second Liv notices Deaky has arrived, her eyes zero in on what he’s holding. She leaves Felix laying on the pallet, but Jimmy is running after her. “Daddy’s records!” She sounds like a little girl. And as Deaky puts them in her hands, Roger’s eyes are as wide as saucers. Liv darts out of the living room, Jimmy hot in her heels, as she’s explaining to him about Hank Williams. The two year old is enamored with her, as she scoops him up. She’s running up the stairs to her room, focused on showing Jimmy the her dad’s records. Once Liv is out of earshot, Deaky decides it’s time to face the truth.

“Luckily I fished them out, knew she’d want them.” Deaky doesn’t skip a beat, as he situates himself on the couch. “Throwing out her dead dad’s records, that’s low.”

Freddie looks at Roger, “Was this during-”

“Yeah.” Roger interrupts him, as he bends down to pick up his son.

“He didn’t know what he was doing.” Freddie says defending Roger’s actions from three years ago. As if they could be defended, as if it was something so simple.

“Who didn’t know what they were doing?” Brian asks as he comes from the kitchen, three cups of tea in hand. He hands two cups to Freddie, one for him and one for Liv. He sits a cup beside Roger’s chair, and the other beside the spot he was occupying. He turns to Deaky, “Hello, John! Tea?” Deaky responds with a nod at Brian. Brian is back in a second, handing the cup to Deaky before taking a seat. Brian of course doesn’t let his question go, “Who didn’t know what they were doing?”

“Apparently Roger, didn’t know what he was doing when he threw away Liv’s dead dad’s records on tour in America.” Deaky’s words cut like a knife, and every word was meant to kill. “Of course Rog and Fred think it’s okay he did that, right?” Deaky looks at them, “Because of the cocaine?”

Brian looks at Roger, “What the fuck?!” Brian looks disgusted, “And you blame it on the drugs?”

“I went back for them the next day,” Roger looks like he’s on the verge of crying, “When I realized what I did-”

Freddie steps in, “He told me, after I punched him in the face. We went to the arena and turned every trash can inside out. But it was too late, they were gone.” Freddie is pleading, “We tried, Roger tried. He was just in a bad place.”

“And that makes it alright?” Deaky snorts.

“Please don’t tell her.” It’s all Roger can say, he can’t let her find that out. He can’t. And he knows Freddie won’t let it happen. Because Freddie was with him that night, when he smashed his drum set and destroyed everything in his hotel room.

“He won’t.” Freddie says finitely, turning to Deaky. “Will you, John?”

“No.” Deaky looks at Roger and Freddie. “But not because you asked me to, but because Liv doesn’t need you to break her heart a second time.” Deaky looks at Felix, “She can handle that fact that you moved on, that you settled down. She can be happy for you.” Deaky gulps his tea down. “But she won’t forgive you when she finds out, that you threw out something out of hers that was the last thing she had of her dad.”

“Thank you.” Roger says quietly. Freddie mouths a thank you to Deaky but he doesn’t say a word. And Brian seems like he is trying to process the information.

“You got it Jimmy!” Liv has the record player in her hands, and Jimmy is carrying the records. She sets up the record player in the hallway. She puts on the record, and Hank Williams voice floats through Garden Logde. And the three of them, with Felix in Rogers arms watch as Liv and Jimmy fight a fit of giggles as they dance.

“I did it cause I remember what that looked like.” Deaky says pointing to Liv twirling Jimmy around in her arms. “Maybe that morning you woke up, you remembered it too.”