#Sam Fender Get You Down

[allisonmysidee]

Sam talking about Get You Down on Radio X xx

[basicallyyjustdogs]

series 2: brother

high and dry, radiohead // my photo // behind this door is a siberian tiger, sun yung shin // the promise, marie howe // dioscuri, dante émile (@orpheuslament) // ‘cain and abel’, orazio riminaldi // father time (ft. sampha), kendrick lamar // my photo // seventeen going under, sam fender // father, the front bottoms // untitled, traumatizeddfox // my brother at 3 a.m., natalie diaz // some boys aren’t born they bubble, kaveh akbar // spit of you, sam fender // boot theory, richard siken // portrait of the alcoholic with moths and river, kaveh akbar // you can be mean, indigo de souza // get you down, sam fender // black dog, arlo parks // my photo // hand-me-downs, rachel sabini // ‘the last day of pompeii’, karl bryullov // ‘fallen angel’, alexandre cabanel // used to be friends, searows // the giver, sarah kinsley // a brother named gethsemane, natalie diaz

[elceeu2morrow]

'Louis Tomlinson has proven he's not just an ex-boyband star, he's a rocker'

Some know him as 'that guy from One Direction', others, including myself know him as arguably one of South Yorkshire's finest exports but Louis Tomlinson is only getting better, writes Daniel Bird

Image: Mirrorpix/Daniel Bird

Daniel Bird Assistant Showbiz Editor 17:31, 12 Nov 2023

Louis Tomlinson may only have two solo albums but he's proving to be one of the artists people should keep an eye on.

Having burst onto the music scene in 2010 as one-fifth of One Direction – a band created by Nicole Scherzinger on The X Factor after all five members were rejected, he's proven he's not just an ex-boyband singer. While singers from bands tend to keep a low profile and venture into other industries after a split, Louis is on a one-way ticket to becoming a mega-star in his own right.

Known for never losing his Doncaster accent and humour, the 31-year-old is currently embarking on his Faith In The Future World Tour, performing to thousands of die-hard fans every night – which he deserves credit for.

Although he may have come from one of the biggest bands of all time, the cheeky chap isn't afraid of getting up close and personal with fans – much to the dismay of his security who leap into action when he jumps off stage and runs to the barricade to see fans. In recent weeks, Louis has seen his expensive vests ripped off him, with fans even going as far as tickling him.

This, however, hasn't stopped him from putting on an incredible show. Despite only releasing two studio albums as a soloist (his second topping the Official UK Charts), he's pushing himself to the limits and playing arenas across the world. Most recently, he performed to around 21,000 fans at Manchester's AO Arena on November 11.

Walking onto the stage may be daunting for some, but Tomlinson showed no signs of fear as he opened with The Greatest – ironically, perhaps the greatest opening track. Throughout the night, he performed hits including Kill My Mind but also paying tribute to his One Direction days, belting out Drag Me Down and Where Do Broken Hearts Go. But since his pop days, Tomlinson has edged towards a more EDM and synth sound before finding his comfort in rockier tracks. He'd previously stated he'd taken inspiration from the likes of Sam Fender, Amy Winehouse, Arctic Monkeys and Manchester legends, Oasis.

Image: Mirrorpix/Daniel Bird

Nowadays, fans can expect the odd pop hit but also enjoy punk rock as well as indie pop and soft rock.

However, despite being in the business for almost 14 years, Louis remained grounded and acknowledged that Manchester was the start of his career. Between songs, he recalled his first audition for The X Factor in front of Simon Cowell, Scherzinger and Louis Walsh, being in the city. He told fans: "This is where I did my very first audition, so to be back here on my own it definitely feels full circle and I couldn't have done that without you.

[ryanguzmanscowlick]

!!!!!!!!buddietommy!!!!!! + #76

The Borders by Sam Fender -

Eddie saw the scar before Evan did. Tommy’d just gotten his ass handed to him on the mat during one of their sparring sessions, and when he hauls himself up to his feet with groan, he tugs his tank off to swipe over his dripping face.

The thick, ropey scar carving a straight line down Tommy’s spine from low on his nape all the way under the waistband of his shorts trips Eddie up for half a second. He takes a swig from his water bottle and whistles. “That’s gnarly.”

“Hm?” Tommy glances over his shoulder and follows the path of Eddie’s gaze. “Oh, yeah. Fell out of a hay loft when I was in high school.”

Evan feels it’s before he sees it. He goes home with Tommy when they’re all kicked out of Chimney’s hospital room after the wedding. He manages to keep his hands to himself long enough for Tommy to take a shower, but as soon as Tommy steps out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist and water glistening on his massive shoulders, his barrel chest, his hips. His hips that look good enough to eat.

He’s on Tommy two long strides later and Tommy’s face is scrunching up into their kiss and he plants a broad palm in the small of Tommy’s back to pull him closer-

A curious noise falls out of him as he pulls away just enough to furrow his concerned eyebrows at Tommy while his hand climbs up, up, all the way up. “Was this … on the job?”

Tommy drops a more chaste kiss to Evan’s lips, against his birthmark, between his brows. “Nah. Fell out of a hay loft when I was a kid. Had a couple surgeries.”

Evan’s eyes light with mischief. “Maybe we should keep you out of my bedroom just in case.”

Tommy scoffs. “Why, you planning to push me?”

“Someone pushed you?” The teasing smile drops off Evan’s face so fast Tommy instinctively pulls his foot back like the weight of Evan’s alarm with crush his toes.

He pets blunt, damp fingers through Evan’s curls. “It was an accident, baby. Don’t worry.” He shivers. The water clinging to his skin is starting to be cold instead of sexy. “Wanna help me dry off and see what trouble we can get into?”

Eddie and Evan both come with Tommy to his dad’s funeral. They’re buffers between Tommy and the crowd of mourners he hasn’t spoke to in years. Not that any of Tommy’s extended family will really give him the time of day, probably, but it gives Tommy something to focus on that isn’t the sick sludge of anger, fear, shame, regret and still - somewhere, somehow - love, that his insides have become.

Before they made the trek across Arlington to the plot Tommy’s father would be buried in, they’d huddled outside Tommy’s truck with thermoses of coffee. Evan fussed with Tommy’s tie while Eddie stayed on lookout duty for any approaching family members. Tommy didn’t have his game face on yet. He wasn’t ready.

Over Evan’s shoulder he spotted his father’s widow. Three steps behind her, in full military dress uniform, was Frank.

Tommy hasn’t seen his childhood best friend since he skipped town for the army, about two months after Frank’s violently abusive mom married Tommy’s violently abusive dad. By then, Frank and Tommy weren’t talking anymore. They could barely look at each other. Not after Frank shoved Tommy out of that hay loft.

Tommy shudders and worms away from Evan. He needs more room to breathe. It’s suddenly so hard to breathe. So hard that tears are stinging his eyes. “I don’t- I don’t think I can do this. I don’t want to do this.”

“Then we go home. Right now.” Eddie was already pulling Tommy’s keys out of his coat pocket, glaring daggers at the growing mass of people dressed in black entering the cemetery. “You don’t need this shit.”

“We can go back to the hotel and order room service and watch movies. We can cuddle and Eddie can give you a back massage and we don’t have to think about any of these people.” Evan’s nodding fervently, his hands hovering somewhere around Tommy’s shoulders.

He’s trying to catch Tommy’s eyes, but Tommy tilts them up to the sky to try and find some peace in the flat grey above them. His scar burns. His mom’s face stares back at him from heaven. He doesn’t believe the same way Eddie doesn’t believe, but he’s a weak man seeking out comfort wherever it’s offered to him.

It’s Eddie’s hand that gently grips his chin and pulls his eyes back down to earth. His eyes are warm with resolve like a thousands year old red oak in the California sunshine. His thumb slides gently through Tommy’s stubble. “What do you need, querido?”

“I need to see him put in the ground.” It’s ugly, but it’s the truth.

“Okay, then.” Eddie locks the truck with a flick of the key fob and slides his arm through Tommy’s.

Evan does the same on his other side. “Maybe we can even throw some of the dirt on ourselves.”

[beachbabey]

I NEED TO SCREAM THIS TO YOU.

THIS !!! PICTURE !!!

It's a Sam Fender song. What song? Honestly any from both albums. THEY ARE A WALKING SAM FENDER ALBUM.

Nick and Noah, the lads at school you knew you shouldn't really knock about with. Your mam warned you not to because they were 'trouble'. They always got into fights, the lanky one as she'd like to call Noah, was ALWAYS being spoken about down at your local and everytime they'd look at her and tell her they saw her bairn knocking around with them two lads.

They're older than you too which is another reason, but you felt sooooo cool hanging out with these older guys. Even when you'd say something that totally embarrassed you and made them laugh at you, you took it with stride.

They told you they wanted to start a band, you said that was cool.

You told them you wanted to be a photographer, Noah called it dumb and Nick said it was a waste of time you being behind the camera. That didn't stop Noah from flicking through the portfolio you were making for your submission into uni, or them asking to be apart of it.

[ the origin story for this picture ]

That night Noah kissed you in a game of truth or dare. He tasted like Stella Artois and cigarettes. When he asked if you'd ever kissed a boy before, you lied and said 'why' while he smirked with an; "okay" before slipping you down off his lap.

THIS THIS THIS

I imagine them being a little older, maybe they’ve just gotten back from uni, they play in your local bar, you’ve just finished your second year at uni and you’ve come home for the winter break, they’re still as rowdy as you remember them being in high school but now they spend their evenings in the pub instead of getting absolutely wasted in the parks

They ask you to take their first tour promo pics, and they’re purposefully a handful for you, you fight your way through the shoot and thankfully have a good 2/3 photos you think were decent enough for the posters.

GOD just imagine hanging around their little flat, ordering pizzas and discussing future dreams and ambitions with them well into the early hours of the morning and everybody gets just a little too tired and you climb into Nick’s lap and kiss him mindlessly, the lack of sleep and raging hormones not helping the matter in the slightest, Noah just watches with an amused little grin, sipping his beer and patiently waiting his turn

[pacifymebby]

They Say I'm Too Young To Love You / Sam Fender

after many months? of waiting here it is The long awaited, something of myth, age gap HC. Did we ever really think it would materialise? its actually so long now sorry, if you hate it tough you'll get what yer given xoxo

♥*♡∞:｡.｡

🐇 You're at an afters with your best friend from uni, she's Deans little sister and she's been promising to introduce you to her brother and his friends for ages...

🪽 At 22 you're still pretty young, quite shy for your age and though you wanted to come to the party, and you are enjoying yourself... A raging afters isn't exactly your comfort zone. You're gazing around the packed out room a little overwhelmed and a little in awe... You're sure there's more people in this one room than you've been friends with your entire life... And you know they're all here for one person only... Sam

🐇 Obviously you know who he is. Even if you didn't know who he was your friends told you so much about him and the rest of her brothers pals they'd have felt like celebrities anyway... And really that's why you're nervous to meet them. Your friend keeps telling you how much you'll love them, and how they'll all really like you too... You're worried to let everyone down by being too shy, too boring.

🪽 Cause you just don't feel like you're going to fit in, they're all so loud, their laughter carries through the room, they're enigmatic too, from the doorway you've watched them hold everyone's attention all evening, everyone seems to be lit up in their presence... You have that feeling of longing to be a part of it all but not entirely sure if you possibly can be.

🐇 they're older than you too and that doesn't help, you feel small standing in the doorway, but when you finally do meet them all and your friends introducing you you feel even smaller still.

🪽 Sam actually stands up when you're introduced, it's a little awkward when he reaches out to shake your hand but then decides against it laughing at himself. Youre not even that much smaller than him but you feel tiny looking up at him, and oh so shy.

🐇 You feel even smaller when all you manage to squeak out to anyone is a little "hi" your voice barely being heard over the music and chatter of other people. But Sam hears you, he hasn't taken his eyes off you since you were introduced and he still hasn't sat down... Everyone else seems to move on with their conversation, the joke Dean had been in the middle of stealing everyone else's attention away as you hover awkwardly in front of Sam. You're not looking at him, you're looking at your shoes, fiddling with your fingers nervously. But he can't take his eyes off you, how pretty you he thinks you are, the little self-concious pink stain on your cheeks...

🪽 You're surprised when he reaches out to touch your arm, nodding for the settee and telling you to sit down. "What're you drinking?" He asks seeing your empty hands, grinning when you shrug shyly and admit that you don't know.

🐇 He feels immediately protective of you, you don't really seem like the sort of lass Dean's little sister should be abandoning in the middle of a raging afters and even though he can tell he's making you nervous, he's stubborn about looking after you and taking you under his wing. He just can't leave you on your own.

🪽 "You wait reet there for me y/n, don't move a muscle..." He says locking eyes with you as he points his index finger at you and backs away into the crowded room. Obviously you'd nowhere else to go even if you had wanted to get up and leave... But you don't want to leave...

🐇 from the second youd looked up into his eyes youd known you had a crush on him... you can feel all of the tell tale signs, the racing heartbeat, the tight feeling in your throat, the heat in your cheeks, what's worse is that you know the evidence is there for him to see on your face.

🪽 And can he tell you have a crush on him? Yes. Is he going to torment you? No... not yet anyway. He's not that cruel and honestly he thinks you seem sweet...

🐇 When he comes back he sits down in the chair next to your end of the settee and goes to offer you your beer, grinning and withdrawing it when you reach to take it from him, "wait wait you're Katy's friend aren't you? Divvnt need ID you for this do a?" He's grinning this teasing kind of smile, eyes lit up with mischief as he watches your eyes go wide and your cheeks flush.

🪽 "I'm 22 for fuck sake!" You say a little too quickly, hand covering your mouth and your embarrassed grin when you realise how loud you just were. Despite Sam's laughter however his heart is sinking cause he's just realised how young 22 is in comparison to him. You're definitely too young for him to be thinking you're as gorgeous as he does.

🐇 "22? You're just a wee bairn!" He keeps teasing you, you mistaking his endeared little smile for laughter, so when you scowl back at him unimpressed it's him left backtracking. "Oh thanks..." you roll your eyes, but the small smirk that tugs on your lips lets him know he's gotten away with it. He can tell that behind your timid smile theres some trouble tucked up your sleeve, he already knows he going to stick around to find out just what trouble you can cause.

🪽 He doesn't exactly make much progress with you that night, manages to get your name, your age (which at first sinks his heart because he realises that you might be "a bit young" for him to be as soft on you as he is) and that you're shy - not something you tell him yourself, something that Dean and Deans little sister both keep giggling to him whenever they bump into him throughout the night

🐇 because to everyone else its pretty obvious that Sam is soft on you... why else would he have hovered around you, getting your drinks for you, giving you his jacket outside when you joined your friends for a smoke...

🪽 He's just hoping you stop being so scared of him soon... And so are you because your friends keep forcing you together at every opportunity for their own amusement... They find it so funny watching you get embarrassed and flustered whenever Sam is around...

🐇But as much as Sam finds your blushing cheeks and the wide eyed looks you give when you walk into a room to see he's there, he feels a little bad for you and he's always the first one to defend you when your mates start teasing you. He's always waiting for you in conversations too, he'll be the one that offers you a reassuring smile, and when you go to speak but no one else hears you, he'll look right at you and make sure you know he's listening to you.

🪽 And actually as he gets to know you he realises that you're not quite so meek and timid after all... That you're only really shy when it comes to him...

🐇Once you've got a few pints in you that shyness seems to slip away (until he meets your gaze that is) Sam feels extra protective of you on nights when you're all drinking, he'll be hovering around you keeping an eye on things, trying his best to keep you out of trouble... Making sure you're wearing a coat when you go outside into the cold night, helping you walk with an arm around your waist when you realise you've had too much and you can hardly stand.

🪽 he's always making a point of teasing you for being such a kid, "you gen z lightweights like, you just canna keep up with the big lads can ye?" The first time you tease him back he's stunned but he loves it, "least am not an old man like you eh?"

🐇calls you things like "kid" and "little one" to wind you up, always making jokes about how you're practically still a bairn. The teasing is relentless, whenever anyone mentions any culture from pre 2005 he's always first to pipe up with something like "ah you're gan have explain that to y/n like reckon it's before her time" "I've know who Oasis are Sam, shut up!" If its movie night and you're watching an 18 he will always make the same joke... "You sure you'll be reet with this one like? It's a bit scary for a youngen like and a divvnt want yas hiding behind me all night!" Obviously he really is hoping you'll be tucked up under his arm hiding your face in his t-shirt for the scary parts.

🪽 for so long you're convinced that Sam isn't into you at all, that he just sees you the way everyone else sees you - the baby of the group, the kid who needs looking after - but that isn't the case... You might be the baby of the group but as far as Sam's concerned you're his baby, he just hasn't told you that yet...

🐇 He treats you like you're his already, offers to come pick you up from your work because he doesn't want you walking home alone at night, turns up at your house with food when he finds out you're sick, speaks for you in conversation when you get shy or drowned out by the noise. He's always the one to make sure you get home safe at night, he's always the one to lend you a jacket when you're cold. If there's not enough space around the table in the bar he pulls you up into his lap. He knows your favourite everything off by heart.

🪽 and when other lads hit on you he's the first to cut in and "rescue" you, fixing your admirer with a glare that scares them right off. The number of times a lad younger than him as hit on you and the first thing he's said is "isn't he too old for you like?" "Yeah yeah alright Sam you're not my dad..." but for all you roll your eyes at him you're secretly pleased how defensive and possessive over you he is. You're not really interested in any of the boys your own age, you only really want Sam. You just wish he'd notice.

🐇But he doesn't ever make a move on you because he knows you're so much younger than him... He doesn't want to pressure you and he's worried about ruining the little friendship he's finally built with you... He's waiting and waiting hoping that if you like him like that then you'll make a move...

🪽And eventually you do... Kind of.

🐇 It's one of those nights, everyone in a bar packed around one tiny table, you've had too much and you're sitting in Sam's lap happily sipping your pint, he can tell you've had too much because you've got that sleepy drunk glow in your eyes and you're really leaning into him, your head resting on his shoulder. Honestly he could hold you like that all night but he knows you need to go home...

🪽 When he tells you he reckons it might be time for you to go home you get brave and make a little joke like "only if you come with me..." which floors him. For a second he's speechless, he doesn't know what to say and when he doesn't say anything he sees your smile falter and he rushes to stop you from looking so sad. "Aye alright kid c'mon then let's get ye hyem.."

🐇 Because you're drunk you're being more silly than usual, you've got that endearing sooky kind of childishness about you as you lean against him to keep your balance. You're a little dizzy and a little tired, drunk, giggly and so sweet so Sam is really struggling to keep that safe distance between you. Especially when you throw your arms around him and whine about being too tired to walk.

🪽 He's such a pushover when it comes to you that he just can't say no to your puppy eyes and the cheesy grin you get whenever he gives you what you want. So he lets out a defeated sigh, laughing at you when you clap your hands. So he gets you up on his shoulders and carries you the short distance to the flat you share with Deans little sister.

🐇 When he gets you home he places you down on the front door step and slips his hand into your jacket pocket to find your house key. He has every intention of just tucking you into your bed and then going home himself but he has a feeling this isn't going to be that simple. And anyway, leaving is the last thing he wants to do.

🪽 So he follows you inside and persuades you not to have one more drink, flicking the kettle on to make you tea and toast instead... he's obviously been round your house before but never in these circumstances and he feels all kinds of nervous. He can tell from the way you keep rolling your eyes at him and teasing him with lines like "you're not me dad Sam..." "alright dad..." whenever he tried to get you to settle down a bit, that you didn't ask him back to yours so he could look after you and put you to bed... but he knows he has to let you down here, that the right thing to do is make you tea and toast and then put you to bed...

🐇 "This is very good toast Sammy I should invite you back to mine more often..." you keep making stupid little jokes and he keeps laughing you off awkwardly because god he wishes he could come back with you every night!

🪽 In the end though he helps you get ready for bed, reminding you to brush your teeth, laughing at you when you say you're too tired to take your make up off. "You'll be reet pissed off with me in the morning if I let you go to bed with all that on!" he chuckled at you rooting through your cupboard to find your cotton pads and your micellar water... "ceemon pet sooner you do this the sooner y'can be in yer bed like..."

🐇 but thats not what you want at all and when you get the face on he's confused. Then when he sees the tears in your eyes he's actually worried about you. "What's the matter lass whats that face for? Y'were gigglin a minute ago like..."

🪽 You hadn't planned on him finding out like this but the words just slip out and when they do you break his heart a little, make him feel like such an idiot.

🐇 "You're never gonna kiss me are you?" you say, your pout adorable but the watery sad look in your eyes tugging on his heart strings, leaving him speechless and swallowing a lump in his throat. Because he wants to kiss you, he's wanted to kiss you since the first night he met you...

🪽 "Is that what y'want lass?" he asks a little nervously, his voice thick with his own anxiety. He tells himself he'll make you wait until you're sober but he already knows that if you say yes now he won't be able to hold back. So when you nod your head he puts up a little resistance. "Nah you've gotta tell me darlin, with y'words like so a know you're sure..."

🐇 Thats when your own nerves catch up to you and you get a little shy, looking up at him with your wide doe eyes, little tears caught in your eyelashes. You're looking at him like your whole life depends on him and it's completely captivating.

🪽 "I'm sure..." you say quietly but certainly, your voice shaking with the anticipation of what you're hoping he'll do next. "C'mere then..." he says with a soft smirk pointing at the ground just in front of him waiting for you to come to him. The last confirmation he needs before he cups your cheeks in his palms and kisses your lips carefully and tenderly. "See," he chuckles as he pulls away, teasing you now that he can see you smiling again, "wasn't so hard was it? only had to ask us little one..." "Don't laugh at me!" you pout which of course only makes him tease you more. "Cmon little one lets get you to y'bed..." "Only if you come too!" "Aye alreet alreet am coming, little miss demanding! Couldn't get y'to say owt a second a go now listen to yes, making ya demands..." He can't help himself he loves winding you up.

🐇 So that night you climb into bed together, cuddled up and kissing, getting almost carried away, but when you try to take things a little further, your hand wandering to the hem of his boxers, as much as he'd love to let you carry on, he stops you. "Not when you're drunk lass..." you've never confirmed it but Sam knows how shy you are and he's about 90% sure you're a virgin so he's determined to make you wait for the right time. Even if you pout up at him and give him the puppy eyes. "Ceemon little one, s'bedtime, gan sleep now..."

🪽 The next morning you wake up, hungover, feeling messy as fuck, with terrible terrible hangover anxiety but when you try to push yourself up out of bed Sam wraps his arm around you tightly in his sleep and pulls you back in to be little spoon. Feeling him nuzzle into you makes you wonder if he knows it's you... Because suddenly you're so anxious, what if he realises he's made a mistake, what if he decides you really are too young... What if he changes his mind and leaves and everything's different and awkward between you forever?

🐇Turns out you really don't have anything to worry about however because when Sam does wake up he doesn't freak out or get up and leave, instead he snuggles into you a little closer, teasing you about your hangover... "How's Trouble this mornin eh?" He smirks knowing you're going to feel awful after how drunk you were the night before. "Well I divvnt feel sorry for yas little one, brought it on yourself like..." he grins laughing and kissing your forehead when you whine and tell him to stop picking on you.

🪽 He gets up, not thinking twice about wandering into the kitchen in his boxers to make you both a brew, not thinking twice until he hears a scream. "Fuckin hell Sam! What the fuck are you doin here like... Why are yas wandering round me house in your....Oh my god! Oh my god, y/n!" Suddenly Sam feels right daft because of course you share a flat with Deans little sister Katy and of course now she's put two and two together it's literally a matter of seconds before she's texted everyone and told them the gossip.

🐇 So when Sam brings you your cup of tea and shuffles back into bed with you, you both know you have unfortunately got to have "the talk" straight away, even if you feel hungover and anxious as fuck, because you've got to get your story straight for the interrogation... Its so awkward, you're so shy you're practically shaking and Sam knows he needs to take the lead but he doesn't want to put his heart on the line in case you reject him.

🪽 "So..." you start, fiddling with your hands, looking down into your lap so you don't have to look at him... You feel like a teenage girl then, blushing and losing your words, too shy to tell him how you feel. But to Sam it's all quite simple. So he takes your hands in his to stop you fidgeting and just comes straight out with it, "A really like you y/n... So if you really like me an a really like you too then a reckon we should just y'nar... be together like... If that's what you want..."

🐇 You want to tease him, say something sarcastic like "oh wow how romantic..." but you're still feeling shy and you kind of can't believe this is really finally happening so instead you just kind of nod your head, looking up at him from under your long lashes, "I do really like you too..." you admit, "so yeah, that sounds good..." At which point neither of you can help the laughs which escape you because this feels ridiculous. "Alright," he chuckles, "that's good, cool..." he trails off eyes flickering over your sweet expression, "give us a kiss then pet..." he teases you pulling you up into his lap to kiss you sweetly.

🪽 From then on the two of you fall into a very sweet, very doting kind of relationship. One where Sam is always looking out for you, babying you without really noticing he's doing it, you always depending on him...

🐇 Sam has always been one of the lads in a way but with you he's such a big softie, a real sook, he can't ever keep his hands off you, always coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you, kissing the back of your neck, your shoulders, your cheek. He's always looking for an excuse to hold your hand or have his arm around you, takes every opportunity to have you sitting in his lap with his hands on your thighs or waist.

🪽 He's so possessive but in the cosiest way and because you're a little bit younger he feels even more protective over you than he usually would. Holds you back when you go to cross the road on a red man, will tell you to be careful and then make you wait and hold his hand. Reminds you to blow on your tea so you don't burn your tongue. Will stand behind you at the bar or in crowds so he can shield you from rowdy people who push and shove.

🐇 He's a sensitive soul at heart and he can tell you sometimes feel a little bit anxious about what your friends and other people think of your relationship. You've never voiced you worries that people think you're "too young" but he knows you do worry so he wants to make sure you know how proud he is that you're his girl, and his way of doing that is to never shy away from PDA. He always holds your hand in public, puts his arm around you when you're waiting at traffic lights, will randomly give you little kisses mid conversation.

🪽 You're just as bad too, if its been a long time since you've seen him you'll run and jump into his arms and wrap your legs around his waist, burying your face in his neck and clinging to him. When you don't want him to leave or you just want his attention you'll sit yourself on the floor and wrap yourself around his leg... he's so much bigger than you however that he can still walk so he just ends up dragging you around the flat.

🐇 Loves doing little things for you, babying you at every chance he gets, teasing you for being too little... he'll open jars for you, always opens the door for you, leans over to buckle you in in the car, reaches stuff down from highs shelves even if you can reach. When you're going somewhere he'll be the one to look after the house keys even if they're the keys to your house.... "You'll lose 'em little one, a nar what you gen z kids are like, scatty as fuck..."

🪽 He absolutely loves seeing you in his clothes! His sweaters and comfies are always way too big for you but he just thinks that makes you look even cuter! It's also another way of showing that you're his and you aren't complaining. Sometimes he will put on a show of being really grumpy "aw cmon lass thats me favourite an a never get wear it cause you're always nicking off with it!" but the second you pout and give him those puppy eyes he drops the act and gives in. He loves that when he does get them back they smell like you. When he goes away on tour you wear his sweaters every day and often sleep with one in your bed because it still smells like him.

🐇 Because he knows you're pretty inexperienced when it comes to the bedroom he's really patient and takes things slowly... almost too slowly for your liking! Although you might be a little shy you can't deny how desperately you want him... but he likes teasing you and enjoys drawing out your needy side... He loves teaching you new things... but mostly he wants to bring you out of your shell a little...

🪽 You're so shy and self conscious about really letting go when you're having sex so Sam is really gentle and dominant with you, he's always telling you how pretty you look, how well you're doing... he's also always checking you're okay, "do you like that little one?" "think you can manage one more for me angel? you're such a good girl..."

🐇 He will "factory reset fuck" you until your brains a hazy mess and you don't have the capacity to be self conscious anymore... will overstimulate you and tease you until you're a whimpering mess come completely undone for him, all the while he'll be whispering to you about how pretty you are, how good you are, how you're all his.

🪽 He especially likes to tease you when you're sitting in his lap, will make you sit nice and still for him whilst he teases you, slipping his hands up your skirt, slipping his fingers under the elastic of your panties... teasing you and making you ask him for more, "cmon sweetheart, tell me what you need? Use your words darlin..." He'll have you riding his thigh shamelessly, your cheeks flushed as you beg him to touch you. But he always gives you what you want in the end and he takes care of you so well.

🐇 The first time you call him daddy its a complete accident and you're so embarrassed, it just soft of slips out... you're having really soft sleepy sex, he's got you held snug and tight in his arms whilst you're fucking, you're trembling on the verge of your high when the word just slips out, you don't even realise you've said it out loud for a second, your voice a breathy little whimper, but Sam does...

🪽 And when he does he smirks a little, not because he's laughing at you but because he's secretly very pleased you've said it... when he sees your eyes go wide, your hand clamped over your mouth though he can't help but chuckle at you because you're already panicking about it. "Oh my god sorry Sam it just slipped..." "Shhh s'alreet darlin," he chuckles, "s'alreet baby girl, let me hear you say it again..." "you’re daddy’s good girl aye?’

🐇 From then on he's always Daddy, he'll refer to himself as Daddy casually "C'mere darlin, daddy's missed yas..." "be good y/n daddys orders..."

🪽Sometimes though your age gap does cause arguments... usually because you're anxious and paranoid that you're too young, that he's going to get bored and move onto someone his own age thats more on "his level" or you worry that other people judge you and him for your relationship. You'll bottle all your worries up and keep them to yourself for fear of sounding childish and then you'll snap when something small happens like another girl flirting with him in public.

🐇 and hes a man isn't he so he's a bit dense, doesn't immediately clock why you're jealous or upset... so the fights escalate a little bit until you're crying and he's despairing because he doesn't know what he's done wrong.

🪽"Ceemon little one talk to me eh?" "fuckin hell Sam I'm not a fuckin child!" and when you snap he finally understands and he feels so daft because he knows you get insecure about this sometimes so why did he miss it this time? "Ahh bloody 'ell pet, cmere eh, cmon giz a cuddle yeah..." he's so soft with you, wrapping his arms around you and bundling you up in a big hug, kissing your forehead and ignoring you when you tell him not to look cause you look ugly when you cry.

🐇 "Divvn't be daft darlin y'look stunnin all the time like..." he says kissing your cheek and tilting your chin up to look at him when he's speaking to you. "Cmon pet look at us now aye this is important... a nar y'get insecure about us sometimes like but you've gotta stop bottling it up reet, start talking to us about it... and stop fuckin mitherin what anyone else fuckin thinks about us aye? A love you reet, thats all that matters, not what fucken Sandra up the street thinks about us... just us aye, an a love ye... even if y'divvina Superbad before a met yas..."

🪽The teasing never ends and neither do the cute little pet names but really you're glad of that, you love being his little one and having him dote on you all the time.

[xcherrypie]

Wanted tension

Summary: after years of playing games with each other, things get a bit too much for you and Sam.

Words: 1.1k

Having lived down the road from Sam and gone to school with him all your life it was only natural you ended up in the same friendship group since your early teens. As close as the whole group was, yourself and Sam was different. Different, but never anything more than good friends and you’d never expect that to change, until one drunken kiss when you was 17 at a house party. It was nothing meaningful, and as far as you was aware it was no different to any other kiss you exchanged with friends after drinking too much on a Saturday night. However after that night, the kiss was always playing in the back of your mind, part of you wishing it never happened and part of you wishing it could happen again.

However life went on and both you and Sam carried on your own separate lives as normal. Sam had girlfriends over the years, as did you have boyfriends, although Sam never seemed to warm to any of your boyfriends telling you they were never good enough or that he just simply couldn’t stand them. None of Sam’s girlfriends really likes you either, always telling him to stop talking to you or not see you as much. Despite this you and Sam stayed really close, however as the years went on there seemed to be this growing cloud of tension hanging over the both of you, a tension you can’t deny you enjoyed.

So no surprise your stomach filled with butterflies when Sam walked into your bedroom as you was finishing straightening the last strand of hair. You looked stunning, in a little black dress and heels, with your makeup sitting perfectly on your skin, even you could tell that Sam wasn’t able to take his eyes off you. “Who’s all this for ay?” He smirked, moving himself to stand behind you while you sit on the floor in-front of your mirror, applying your lipgloss. “Can’t a girl make herself look pretty for her friends birthday?” You replied, looking up at him smiling. “Well you’ve certainly done that” he grinned looking back down at you. For a moment there was silence, probably lasting 2 seconds but felt like forever. “Oh shut up Fender, now get out” you jokingly laughed in response. “I’m nearly finished getting ready, give me five and I’ll meet you all downstairs” you continued, hoping he’d stop distracting you and let you finish getting ready.

It was your friends birthday and to celebrate you agreed to host a get together at your house in which everyone could dress up, have a laugh and see your friends birthday in with lots of drinking and games. You finally finished getting ready and made your way downstairs to meet the others. The night was a huge success, everyone having a good time, dancing and chatting. However one of your friends, Rory, was progressively getting quite handsy with you throughout the night. You didn’t mind however, part of you just wished it was Sam instead, but by now you felt all his flirty comments were just part of his personality and that there was no meaning behind them. Sam however did mind, the thought of Rory touching you and being so close to you was winding him up and he did not like it one bit.

As the night continued you carried on having a laugh with everyone, singing and dancing, although you started to feel Sam’s eyes on you at all times. He was sat on the sofa beer in hand, eyes locked on you and he didn’t look impressed. Seeing as you’d had a bit to drink, part of you was telling yourself to take advantage of this, you wanted a reaction, something to spark between you and Sam. That being said you continued to dance with Rory, trying to make Sam jealous, or even wish it was himself in Rory’s position, just like you did. And your plan worked, before you could even respond Sam had stood up and grabbed your wrist, dragging you into the kitchen, leaving no distance between your bodies.

“What the fuck are you playing at y/n” he whisper shouted, making sure he didn’t draw attention to the fact you two were alone in the kitchen. “I’m not doing anything Sam” you replied innocently, looking up at him through your lashes, you had him exactly where you wanted him. “I’m just having a good time with my friends Sam, why are you so bothered” you continued. “Not with him your not y/n and not right under my nose” you smirked to yourself. “Are you joking Sam? So you don’t want to give me the time of day, but other lads aren’t aloud to either” you replied adding fuel to the fire. You could feel him pushing you back with his body, by the second pushing you closer to the kitchen counter. “Oh, give it a rest y/n. Stop playing fucking games, you know I want you” them words right there made you burn up, it’s what you’ve wanted to hear for years. “Do you really, becau-“ before you could finish Sam had pushed you against the worktop and crashed his lips to yours. You pull away in shock, unsure with how to respond, however a smile takes over both your lips, shortly followed by another passionate kiss, you moan into the kiss, knowing you’ve been waiting forever for this moment.

You pull away again, looking Sam directly in the eye, another smug smirk forming on your lips. “You want me, ay?” You said cheekily causing Sam to chuckle, he starts peppering kisses across your cheek down to your neck, making you throw your head back, never wanting this moment to end. “Seriously, You don’t know how how long I’ve been waiting for this y/n” he says huskily in-between kisses. You smile to yourself, your body not only filling with more need for Sam but relief that he needs you just as bad.

Notes: apologies again if the writing is a bit rubbish, still getting used to writing but really enjoying it! I hope everyone is having a lovely weekend!

[tellsjokes-movedbacktomulti]

songs and quotes for the muse ☆ ( under the cut )

tagged by: stole from @spiritdreamt tagging: youuuuu

five SONGS for my muse:

scrawny by wallows: Still wear the same shoes I did back then / I'd switch it up but I don't like change / Scrawny motherfucker with a cool hairstyle / I say the wrong shit at the right times, If I'm offending them I don't mind / You don't like my clothes but you still like my smile / They might think they're cooler than me by a mile / I can still have wisdom and look like a child.

i don't smoke by mitski: I don't smoke except for when I'm missing you / So if you need to be mean be mean to me, I can take it and put it inside of me / if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room, you can lean on my arm as you break my heart / just don't leave me alone, wondering where you are / I am stronger than you give me credit for

look who's inside again by bo burnham: trying to be funny and stuck in a room / try making faces, try telling jokes, making little sounds / I was a kid who was stuck in his room. there isn't much more to say about it / when you're a kid and you're stuck in your room you'll do any old shit to get out of it / Well, well look who's inside again / went out to look for a reason to hide again / well, well buddy, you found it / now, come out with your hands up. we've got you surrounded

seventeen going under by sam fender: I remember the sickness was forever / That's the thing, it lingers and claws you when you're down / I was far too scared to hit him but I would hit him in a heartbeat now / see I spent my teens enraged, spiralin' in silence / and I armed myself with a grin 'cause I was always the fuckin' joker, buried in their humor / God, the kid looks so sad / I see my mother

sloppy seconds by watsky: I don't care where you've been, how many miles, I still love you / show me someone who says they got no baggage, I'll show you somebody whose got no story / my favorite sweater was a present that I got a couple presidents ago and I promised that I would rock it till it's thread bare / every single person gotta couple skeletons / and there is not a single place that I would rather be / I'm fucked up just like you are, and you're fucked up just like me

five QUOTES for my muse:

“I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.” - Robin Williams

“When Mom scolded you freely, you more frequently called her Mom. The word ‘Mom’ is familiar and it hides a plea: Please look after me. Please stop yelling at me and stroke my head; please be on my side, whether I’m right or wrong. You never stopped calling her Mom.” — Kyung-sook Shin, Please Look After Mom

"I want you to know that it is okay not to love me. [ … ] You are not the first person. I want you to know that you are not the first who found it a little too tough, who took two steps back when my jaws started snapping."

"Oh, I could call you names now. List a hundred reasons for why you were awful. But what would that do? Where would it leave me? I still loved you. I still have to live with that."

“in a dream I saw my mother with the love of her life and no children; it was the happiest i'd ever seen her" ―  Rupi Kaur, The sun and her flowers

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

you already know im here for our hotties in red

darlin - 73

sam - 85

-🦀

Oh my GOD Crab Anon, you picked perfect songs for these two. I’m going to do these specifically for firefighter au, since I know how much you love it.

Homesick | Noah Kahan ft. Sam Fender

This entire album is on my Top 100 I love it so much. The second wave of its release had a series of features, some of which changed lyrics. I think this song in particular got a crazy good lyric update, even if the original was already great. That lyric update to the second verse makes this Such a Darlin’ song.

Two months since you got back, how have you been and are you bored you?

Darlin’ returning home. Dahlia might not be their birthplace, but more so than Washington and anywhere else they spent time in, it was their hometown.

Well I grew up in the fallout from the riots in the 90’s / Static cranes stand lifeless casting shadows on the town / I stare at that hallowed ocean as if to pick a fight / For the dreams my old man dreamt for me lay on the other side

Darlin’ in the Firefighter AU is canonically punk. You heard it here, I am Word Of Goding it, they are Punk. Their dad was too, he just happened to be a deadbeat. He didn’t have much impact on his child’s life, but he did wish for them to live it, and to live as freely as possible. They haven’t. They dug their feet in in Dahlia, stayed there longer than they had anywhere in their life. Sometimes, the look out at the ocean, knowing that they’ve let him down.

I would leave if only I could find a reason

Quinn was their reason. A bad one, but one anyway.

I got dreams, but I can’t make myself believe them / Spend the rest of my life on what could have been

Darlin’ is so full of regret for somebody so young.

I’m homesick

Duel meaning. They miss home. They can’t stand to be there.

Rivers and Roads | The Head and the Heart

Ooohhh BOY!! A song about being estranged from your family??? Perfection. This is So Sam in all canons, but most definitely in FFAU as well.

Nothin’ is as it as been / And I miss your face like hell / I guess it’s just as well / But I miss your face like hell

His grandmother. He left home and nothing has been the same since. A lot of it is for the better, but he will never see her face again, and that twists him up inside.

Been talkin’ bout the way things change / And my family lives in a different state / And if you don’t know what to make of this / Then we will not relate

Sam doesn’t talk to anyone in his family anymore. He’s better for it, safer for it, but it hurts, too. When you’re separated from your family, even with good cause, it cuts a hole in you. Some people don’t get it. David doesn’t understand why Sam would separate from his father while he has one, partially because Sam isn’t forthcoming with details about his childhood. But when Sam says “I don’t have my family,” Milo fills up with familiarity. Darlin’ knows that dread.

Rivers and roads / Rivers and roads / Rivers ‘til I reach you

He traveled far to know them. He would do it again.

[samanddean76]

A Good Night

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Dean Winchester was in an utterly shitty mood. 

Not only was the sun highlighting every single speck of dirt that was currently blemishing Baby’s usually gleaming form, but the damn pigeon had found an entire flock of friends and they had gone to town on his precious girl. 

Dean was quietly contemplating brutal mayhem, and how maliciously he should treat the winged rats when the hose fell on the ground near his feet.  He looked up to see Sam sporting a pair of cut off shorts, a skintight T-shirt, a huge dimpled smile, and little else. 

“What you up to, Sammy?” 

“Just gonna get myself a little wet is all.”  Sam winked while Dean sputtered. 

Over the course of the next hour, Dean’s thoughts took a drastic turn.  No longer a violently homicidal fantasy involving the wholesale slaughter of every pigeon in the lower forty-eight, but rather exactly what he was going to do with the delectable derriere that Sam wouldn’t stop suggestively sticking out and shaking at him. 

“I think you missed a spot.” 

“Really?  Where?” 

“Down, on the fender near the front tire.” 

Dean watched as Sam bent at the waist and proceeded to scrub the perfectly clean fender.  He sighed softly as his teeth sank into his bottom lip, oh yeah, it was gonna be a good night!

[wexhappyxfew]

When you get this, list 5 songs you like to listen to, publish. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool) 🖤

AW HI AND HELLO JJ!!!! :) i hope you’re doing well!!!! thank you so much for sending me this! this is too sweet! i’m so sorry if i’ve missed a few things you’ve tagged me in by the way! 😭 i will get to them soon, thank you thank you!!!!! 🫶✨

currently my last 5 listened to songs because i have no self control with the amount of music i pump through my airpods i fear:

- Wild Long Lie by Sam Fender

- Drag Me Down by One Direction

- My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys by Taylor Swift

- someday, someone by Kenzie Cait

- Feels Like by Gracie Abrams

[orchideous-nox]

KATIEEEE tell me about an underrated character you love I wanna hear you yap

I will always yap for you, my love < 3

I feel like I can no longer pick Evan as an underrated character because I swear half of my posts are about him/Rosekiller. Which means I also can't pick Barty. Shit. I've already yapped about Pandora and Xeno...

So here's some yapping about Marlene!

I think Marlene grew up in Manchester with a muggle mother and pure-blood father, maybe in the Salford area, and is very much that person who says "Manchester is waaaay better than London anyway" every year when they go down to get the Hogwarts Express.

Marlene has two older brothers (Damien & Carl) who are 5 and 9 years older than her and a sister (Heidi) who is 2 years younger. They grew up in a 3 bedroom house so the 2 boys and the 2 girls share until both boys have moved out and Marlene gets her own room which she says was the best day of their life (until their first kiss with Dorcas).

Weekends were spent going to Man United matches with her dad and brothers, tagging along to go to the pub with her dad where she sits by the jukebox asking people to give them a pound so they can choose a song, and as a teenager during school holidays she'd get the tram into the city centre to get some fries and a milkshake from Maccies and sit in Piccadilly Gardens. Marlene 100% would dip her fries in the milkshake.

When she went to Hogwarts, Marlene found herself questioning gender and sexuality a lot. By the start of third year they'd accepted being a lesbian but gender was still a big thing for them. At the end of third year, Marlene has developed a big fat gay crush on Dorcas but doesn't do anything about it for 2 years. At 14/15, Marlene cuts her hair short-ish and gets called a boy for the first time. It doesn't feel right but it sparks something. Marlene has always been a tomboy but begins to find joy in androgyny. It makes me very sad that Marlene didn't live to see the film Paris is Burning (1990) because I think Marlene would have loved it. I could see Marlene getting into drag and being a drag king? Stealing clothes from the boys and dressing up in the common room and singing along to whatever music is on, standing on the tables.

In a modern AU, I could see Marlene being really into Oasis and I've previously mentioned how loud and enthusiastically they sing along to Chelsea Dagger. She'd be a big Sam Fender fan and worships the ground Joan Jett and Chrissie Hynde walk on.

One day in 5th year, the library is packed with students studying for exams and there is one table that is empty enough for Marlene to be able to work at. They recognise the person sat there, a Slytherin girl who is friends with Sirius's brother. She sits down and has the need to fill the silence with awkward yapping. Somehow, she manages to charge this girl into agreeing to go to the last Hogsmeade trip together but Marlene doesn't really realise it's a date and Dorcas is lowkey pissed because Mary and Lily are there. Marlene lies and says the other two girls are going out and it's a double date and makes them go along with it. They have their first kiss on the train at the end of the school year and they write to each other over summer. Dorcas is the first person Marlene talks to about gender and its something they help each other with.

Thank you for the ask!!

[jane-gunson123]

Shout out to my ex.

You and your band, Little Mix, perform your new debut song ‘Shout out to my ex’ at the Brits after seeing your ex boyfriend there. 

Main Masterlist 

Sam fender master list

2019 had been an absolute roller coaster to say the least, there had been many ups and downs in 12 months. Your band, Little mix had went on a world tour after releasing your most critically acclaimed album to date, performing in some of the most prestigious venues available before ending it in the utilita area in your beloved hometown of Newcastle. The success of your album had resulted in not only being nominated for 2 Brit awrds but also being asked to perform at the awards as well. This was definitely the better parts of your year. 

The less favourable moments of your year had been the very public and humiliating break up with your ex, Sam. You had been together since you were 19 and after a very rocky few months and a cheating scandal, on his part, published by The Sun you had decided to call it quits with your lover. 

At first you weren't sure how to live your adult life without him, after all it was something you had never had to do before but with your girls you began to put the pieces of your heart that Sam had broke back together. 

The first step and arguably the hardest had been moving from you shared flat in Whitley Bay that the pair of you had bought at 21 after Little Mix had won the X-Factor and Sam had signed his first record deal and into a brand new apartment with your best friend and fellow band member, Jade, in Manchester. 

 Next, was you deleting all off pictures of him you had. Weather they were on one of your social medias or just our camera roll. After that, you blocked him and cut off all contact with him and his family. You knew deep down that you would have ran back to him in a heartbeat if he ask and you couldn’t do that. You need to heal and you can’t heal while touching the same flame that has already burnt you. 

As luck would have it, however, your tactics of avoidance might not be able to continue for much longer and in a few short hours you and your band would be performing at the brits with yours and Perrie’s exs in the crowd.  The most fitting part would be the song you would be performing, A shout out to my ex. 

You had written the song when Perrie had went through her break up about a year earlier than you but as your own relationship fell apart you found your self relating to the lyrics more than ever.

You thought that you would be more nervous about the potential of bumping into your ex and having to perform in front of him but you weren't really fazed by it all. Cameras flashed and interviewers pulled you and the girls over to answer questions but you had yet to bump into Sam. 

The feeling of getting ready to go out and perform in front of a large crowd was one no matter how many time you had done it you hated. It always wore off as soon as the music started to blast out of the speakers and that was still the case now. the opening melody made its way into your ears as you scanned the crowd, catching that blue pair of eyes you had spent many nights staring into discussing your future. Never did you quite imagine it ending like this though.   

Jade and Perrie had sung their parts now it was your turn. At this point all five off you had disappeared into crowd, dancing around the tables filled with familiar faces in the music industry.  For some reason the table with your ex and his band had been alluring and you ended up directly in front off Sam’s seat as your verse began. 

“Oh, I deleted all your pics,” You sang staring Sam in his eyes, reaching out to put your hand under his chin to force him to keep looking at you. It didnt take long for you to have his full attention, “Then blocked your number from my phone, mm.” 

Putting your hand back down by your side as you leaned closer into Sam's face as if you were going in to kiss him, “ Yeah, yeah, you took all you could get But you ain't gettin' this love no more.” Sam’s face was an absolute picture as you swerved your head around his after finishing your lyric, leaving him high and dry. He had fully expected you to kiss him at some point but had been left disappointed. 

His band mate and best friend Drew, however, had found a lot of amusement in your tormenting of Sam. As you walked away you heard him shout, “Go on lass.”  

The song had finished faster than you would have like and so did the rest off the awards. The band had won the two they were nominated for and Sam had also won the one he was up for before performing Dead boys, a song about male suicide in remembrance of your late friend who had lost his battle with depression some years back in your early twenties.   

Little did you know at the time that your little stunt to wind up your ex would not only become viral overnight but also be responsible for elevating yours and Sam’s careers. It would first result in an appearances on Loose Women and The Jonathan Ross Show where you would admit to having consumed a bit of liquid courage before stepping on stage. 

So in all it wasn't a bad end to to a roller coaster of year but nothing could have prepared you or anyone for that matter for the absolute train wreck that 2020 would be.  

[redactedbloop]

Music Tag Game!

Thank you so much @running-tweezers for tagging me 💕💕😭

Rules: On Repeat playlist, shuffle, post the first 10 songs

Im gonna tag people up here cause this post feels too long lol: @mokozroach @bubblergoespop @ilaria-jinx and anyone else who wants to do this (tag me, i love getting new music recommendations)

Alright let’s get into it!

….outting myself as an emo kid right out the gate I see. Sometimes I wanna feel like an angsty middle schooler and that’s okay

I absolutely adore Noah Kahan. Stick Season is one of my albums of all time, hands down

This song has me in a chokehold. Get it? Chokehold? Im fun at parties. ANYWHO Sleep Token 🥴 There is something so alluring about their music. I wanna bite it

Heavy pop does it for me sometimes. If you go listen to their other new song, Brag, there’s a speaking bit that kinda sounds like Huxley

SPEAKING OF. 1:10 for those interested.

Hell Yeah. This song is sung entirely by Poppy and she does a phenomenal job. I love Bad Omen’s social commentary

Also outing myself as a kpop stan got it cool cool. This song is actually my roman empire. I have thought about it since the first performance video came out in like 2017

This wouldnt be a song post on my blog without these guys. I love them so so much

I recently learned this song has an acoustic version and ive never been happier. It’s lowkey got me 🥴🥴 somethin bout it hits different

And ending on my favorite song at the moment! I swear this rewired something in my brain the first time i heard it. The chorus does things to me

[pacifymebby]

Sam Fender / Christmas Morning

🐇 first things first I reckon Sam's taste in Christmas decorations is like classic kitchy British Christmas, you know we're talking tinsel, multi coloured lights, those stupid Santa teddies where if you squeeze their hand they start playing a Christmas song? Santa with an electric guitar or a saxophone and when you squeeze him it plays Santa Clause Is Coming to Town the way Springsteen does or something... Stuff that's fundamentally fucking awful but definitely okay and good at Christmas!

🐇 He'd spend a lot of December busy with work but he'd be looking forward to the relief of coming home and spending some down time with his family and friends, and of course you... You'd be all he was thinking about on his way up the motorway to Shields.. well you and the brew he's dying for anyway

🐇Gettin a take away on the night he comes home, eating it on the sofa watching home alone together, you know like this song vibes, low-key back to normality vibes.

🐇Drinking mulled wine whilst you finish last minute Christmas prep and he writes a couple of Christmas cards for people. Him low-key marvelling at how you've managed to organise everything and get the best gifts for people.

🐇 Christmas Eve down the pub with all your mates, you're definitely both working your way towards a Christmas day hangover! You know you should slow down but neither of you want to because it's the first time you've been out together in months and you're making the most of it...

🐇walking home drunk together nosying at peoples Christmas lights and rating each one out of ten. Laughing at some of the horrific blow up Santa's and snowmen in people's gardens, or the broken ho ho ho lights which now look like they're simply calling passers by an explicit name...

🐇your walk home takes ten times longer than it should because you're drunk and cosy feeling and you keep stopping for a snog and an "missed you so fuckin much"

🐇him being a fucking idiot and insisting that you leave a carrot out for Rudolph, realising that there are no carrots in the house so leaving Rudolph a thimble of whiskey instead...

🐇drunkenly scooping you up and carrying you up to bed, dropping you down kind of clumsily on the mattress, crawling above you with a proper cheeky grin on his face before letting him fall onto you and squishing you so that your squealing and giggling threatens to wake the neighbours.

🐇 he's knackered but he's still like an excitable wee boy on Christmas, keeps waking you up just as you're drifting off, teasing you with stupid questions, asking you if you think you've been a good girl this year or whether you think you're on the naughty list. When you ask him what he thinks he pauses for a minute, gives you that mischievous smirk again and tells you he reckons you're both on the naughty list...

🐇waking up the next morning with slight hangovers, you're definitely feeling a little bit rough and the last thing you want to do is move... Luckily for you you don't have to, Sam's got his arms tight around you and he isn't letting go for the world...

🐇spending the first hour of Christmas morning tucked up cuddling in your bed, he perhaps gets out of bed to make you both a brew and bring your stockings up to bed... Opening presents in bed, in your jammies, behaving like kids seeing who can throw their wrapping paper furthest.

🐇I feel like Sam thinks he's shite at buying Christmas presents and always really stresses about what he's going to buy you... Always worries it won't be good enough or that you won't really like it...

🐇in the run up to Christmas he probably frets about it and phones his mam asking for help, probably gets a halfhearted affectionate earful about how he should know what to buy his own girlfriend.

🐇but the gifts he's bought you are all perfect, cosy pjs, lush bath bombs and other little luxuries, your favourite chocolates, a bottle of wine, some vinyls and a book.

🐇and if he's feeling particularly like spoiling you a necklace from Swarovski for you to wear and never take off.

🐇you're accidentally late to his mum's house for Christmas lunch and you definitely get absolutely roasted by his family for being dirty stopouts who turn up to Christmas lunch hungover...

🐇Sam reverts to bring so teenage and laidback around his family, messing around with his younger cousins, him and his brother winding one another up... And when you see him holding the newest addition to the family, falling asleep on the sofa with a wee baby in his arms after dinner, you can't help how broody it makes you feel...

🐇spending boxing day in your jammies, barely shifting from the sofa living off left over deserts and Quality Street for days.

🐇so many opportunities for cosy kisses and snuggles under a blanket on the settee.

[leslie057]

17a and 3b?

hii, thank you for the prompt!

prompt game posted here

17a + 3b = the semantics are totally outdated + but they can’t talk

word count: 3.4k | pairing: jonathan x nancy

but i can't live by those stakes, the semantics are totally outdated -sam fender, last to make it home

Her summer, china shop. Lowe and Holloway…two biggest, most aggressive bulls a matador could wish for.

And even that is such an undeserved accreditation, that semblance of animal majesty and dominance and punch, since her china’s literally in mint condition. She’s doing just fine, the guys don’t scare her. They’re not capable.

Her issue isn’t fear, it’s rage. More rage than Jonathan knows what to do with at times. The flush of red on her face, the urge to choke in her hands, the hair-pulling (his hair, not hers) and the pacing, all too wayward in his pen, burning up each of the four corners at once. Not that he’s much of a firefighter—pretty clear that he likes for a girl to take everything out on him, as long as her methods are nonverbal. He’s not gonna smother a flame when he could just let the flame smother him. He loves a good path of least resistance.

Things are different between them, inside the Hawkins Post. She can see him struggling with that, with meanings lost and rules rewritten, her amendments unfairly implicit as she switches up on him, forcing her sweet mariner into the Atlantic with his map of the Pacific. No, his map of the Wabash River. She doesn’t mean to respond differently to him, it’s just that she has to be careful with the way she carries herself here because no one wants to take her seriously. There aren’t many wins to be had by a teenage girl in this building, and there really aren’t many wins to be had by a teenage girl who lets her boyfriend dote on her in this building. The pep talk thing, the passive pity, the hey come here you’re okay after any negative reaction she has…he’s making it worse without realizing.

She’s making it worse, too, though. In her own way.

Keeps getting them in trouble, for example.

Today they're in trouble because of what she convinced him to do yesterday. Apparently, leaving work ten minutes early is really a no-no. Her bad. (She needed out, Lover’s Lake was calling to her. They don’t go much, but when it’s raining? When it’s raining that lake belongs to them. No other couple in town is weird enough to go in thunder and lightning, it is their thing, they own it. Privacy is a guarantee. Never mind that inducing the feeling of drowning has been a secret placation of her survivor's guilt lately, a quiet way to exhaust herself and surrender to nature's embrace for a while, to let it take her over, knocking her down a peg as it comes down in heavy sheets. It should have been her on that diving board two years ago, it really should have.) She never said their date habits were healthy. Oh, except the splashing, the splishing. That’s a normal couple thing. Very healthy.

They’ve been given different punishments for slipping out; he’s meant to be folding all the newspapers, she’s supposed to be stapling reports. It’s 4:45, and they just started. They usually use this time to clean up, but whatever doesn’t get done before five is unpaid work.

So that’s fun.

In the main room they serve their silent sentence, each stationed at opposite ends, less than consumed by their tasks. There’s an early golden hour effect outside; she can tell with the warm glow that’s seeping in between the window blinds, teasing her, testing her, tempting her to just walk out again. Despite her best efforts to focus on work and keep her distance from Jonathan, she does think about him a lot under this roof. And other roofs. And every roof. Like now, she’s thinking about how he’s staring at her and how strange it is that she knows he’s staring at her even with her eyes cast down.

I can feel that.

She combats the softness of the sentiment with a hard press on the stapler. Loud click is overly loud. Obnoxious. Swiping the heavy thing across the desk, she lets it clunk against the lamp’s square base. If he wants to daydream about her, he’ll have to romanticize her inclination towards inanimate object abuse. (Imagine the emotional release in banging that ashtray on this typewriter. Personally, she’s imagining it.)

She tips her head up to check on him. Okay, he is romanticizing how pissed off she is. Blinks at her like she’s some unusual celestial something at the end of a telescope, pretty and rare. He brightens up over there as he realizes that he got her attention, making a small posture adjustment, leaning her way. Still slouchy, of course. She wants to glare, she does, but the edges of her gaze are being anonymously softened and all that’s left behind is a tender, conflicted expression. What do you want from me, it says. This is intern detention after all. Not social hour.

With a gentle glance he offers her some support, devoid of any pressure or demands. Nothing, Nancy.

She ducks her head and goes back to her report stack. But as quickly as she dives back into the task, she comes out again. He has something to tell her—she can feel it. When she looks up, he's tapping his thumb at the base of his throat, which is kind of weird even for him. His hand hovers near his collar before he motions to her, a silent prompt. She takes the signal and touches the same spot on her neck, brows knit together. Your necklace, he’s trying to say, miming the action of spinning it around, repositioning the clasp and extender so that they’re at the back and hidden away. Your necklace is backwards. She fixes it accordingly, embarrassed by nothing in particular it’s just…yeah, Bruce Lowe definitely doesn’t need to be provided with any joke bait below her neckline.

Bonus points for the ever attentive boyfriend. Just this once, his tendency to space out and stare at her has gotten them somewhere. Good boy.

She busies herself with the stapler, determined to get them out of this place sooner rather than later. Count, separate, slide, straighten. Staple, stack, repeat. Repeat repeat repeat. She wishes she had someone to compete with, to race against. Her brother, maybe, because Jonathan isn’t competitive. Then this would go faster. In the warm office, heat sprawls on top of her, slowing her movements. Sweat has already pooled at the small of her back, gathered behind her ears, formed a light sheen along her jaw. So much for box fans.

Her mind strays away from the chatter around her, a few abrupt fantasies now steering her thoughts. Hormonal thoughts. She’d ignore the love rush if she could, but it’s on her, on her like a sticky lotion in June weather, soaking slowly into her skin. Being seventeen is—yeah. Difficult.

Crazy difficult, once you factor in the need to be a professional mini-adult and not associate with the person you take to bed.

There’s just…it’s her, and Jonathan, and the necklace, and she’s taken off the necklace, held it taut against his neck, not choking him per se, no, but softly sawing at him with the chain until there are faint red lines impressed in sensitive flesh. Who knows where this came from; she’s never done anything like it. Doesn’t typically play so rough with him that there’s physical evidence more severe than your average hickeys or scratch marks. This job is turning her into a hazard.

She indulges for a couple seconds longer in the dumb image that had momentarily eclipsed her reality. He’s not looking at her when she looks up at him, but somehow it feels like their telepathic dialogue is still going, born from shared frustrations.

I want to be done here.

I know, we’ll be done soon. We’re fine, keep stapling.

And maybe she wouldn’t have to take off the necklace. Because he has his tie, his not-so-nice tie. Okay, without sugarcoating, it’s ugly. The one that’s currently loose, gray with diagonal brown stripes, pencil-thin stripes; it would be way more fun to pull across his throat compared to her necklace. Of course, she wouldn’t lead with that, she’d be counteracting with the super soft services of a needy mouth, settling on the kindest way to release her anger and affection in one fell swoop. (Why is it that the uglier the tie design, the bigger her heart? She’s wanting him bad this afternoon.)

In a moment of distracted clumsiness, she knocks over her box of staples, several of the refill strips breaking apart on the ground, their clatter piercing through whatever awful discussion was being had by these overpaid husbands and fathers.

“Wuh-oh,” Bruce interjects before carrying his conversation on. Not as big of a deal as when she fumbles a lunch order, but bad nonetheless; she’s on her knees in a dress, catching everyone’s double takes. A sideshow act to glance at intermittently between unrelated one-offs and cigarette drags.

Jonathan’s soon kneeling by her, ready to lend his assistance. Yeah, absolutely not.

The more he helps her, the more of a girl she is. Her eyes plead with him, begging him to remember that any perceived dependence on him will undermine the tiny shred of social authority she has here.

I love you, but get away from me.

Pouting, he backs off, an achy longing lingering between them. He chooses instead to go tend to the coffee grounds she’d yet to throw out.

Despite the distance enforced by circumstance, and her annoyance, she remains fixated on him, finding some solace in that mental landscape. When they leave this place within the hour, everything will go back to the way it was, and she can go back to speaking in a language they both understand.

She scoops up the staples and tidies the desk. Resumes her work without a second thought, waiting for the embarrassment to bleed out of her.

--

By five after five, they’ve almost finished up their punishment tasks. The office is more peaceful than before, hushed and dreamy, as their older colleagues file out, letting paper cups and gum wrappers fall into trash cans whose bags she and her boyfriend replaced an hour ago.

Tom switches off a couple lamps, touches his watch (with that bizarre air of supremacy and boredom). On his way out, he claps her chair on the back. “Keep up the good work,” he says. “No more sneaking out early.”

At least she’s getting credit for something. For leading the rebellion.

She watches Fallon, the receptionist, push in her desk chair and begin to pull at the hem of her skirt. As she passes by Jonathan, she carelessly drops a keyring into his lap, instructing him to lock up when they go. She also calls him Jordan. Not a thought in her head.

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, “have a good night.”

They’re left all alone when the last footsteps fade away, and she shifts in her spinny chair. For possibly the first time today, she takes a deep breath in, a deep breath out. This is good. This is better.

It’s sort of warm and sweet and spongy—cakelike, she’d say—the growing sense of comfort she has in the privacy that’s been laid upon them. That, or she’s hungry. They should pick up a cupcake from the bakery downtown. Key lime, lemon, one of their seasonal flavors. No, wait, the bakery closed a few minutes ago. Not that they get much business anymore. (If they shut down and the mall ruins her and Jonathan’s cupcake sharing thing, she might choke someone. She might kill.)

Though her gaze is locked on him, he keeps his head slanted down, not acknowledging her or their privacy.

She taps the desk, slides her tongue behind her teeth, resentment creeping in amid neglect. This is the part where their tension falls away, right? The part where he apologizes for overdoing the boyfriend thing, and then gives her his undivided attention until one or two in the morning, thus overdoing the boyfriend thing, but in the right place at the right time. Trying to make up for the shittiness of their internship, trying to help her bubble wrap all the china in her china shop before morning comes around again.

He’s slumped down over there, sleeves cuffed, collar half-popped, movements slow as he calmly creases his final papers. The box fan’s soft currents delicately ruffle through his hair, and at first glance, he doesn’t have a care in the world. At second, though, he’s wearing a bit of a frown, moodily refusing to acknowledge anything but himself and his newspapers.

And yet. She can’t deny the magnetic pull drawing her that way. With a defiant flip of her hair, she sets out to close the big gap between them and put an end to the ridiculousness. They shouldn’t be ignoring each other upon being given total privacy, not even for a second. Reaching his space, she stops in front of his chair, leaning back on the edge of the desk. She’s the wall between him and his paper stack.

He sighs, eyes cast up to her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she parrots.

“You’re done?”

“Pretty much.”

“Me too.”

He’s still in that place of self-minimization, that corrective headspace following the staple incident. He’s stuck on being quiet and invisible and adult and the absolute opposite of lovey and dovey. It’s no longer necessary.

She fidgets with her ring blindly, an anticipatory energy working itself up inside her, right under her ribcage. He opens his mouth to speak. Closes it quickly. Guarded, he averts his gaze.

“You’re allowed to correct her, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Fallon. You don’t have to let your name be whatever she decides.”

The silence stretches between them, a tight wire, trembling faintly, a few touches away from snapping. She’s unsure if he’s playing a game here or if he simply doesn’t feel like talking. You never know with him (but she does).

“We’re allowed to talk now, you know,” she adds.

A beat.

“Your dress is messed up,” he says, to himself more than her.

“What?”

“The hooks on your dress. You accidentally skipped the first one.”

“I—” she starts. Her jaw hangs. Curious, she feels for the mismatched hook and eye clasps below the frilly collar of her dress, and she finds that the bottom one did get skipped over. This is what happens when you don’t get enough sleep, wake up late, and have to dress yourself in sixty seconds. She huffs. “Well come fix it?"

Because he has to want to. He likes this dress a lot, he’s never said anything, but he does. It’s white and yellow, not any yellow, but like a buttercup yellow, semi-sheer with an open ruffly collar and wide sleeves. He would want the excuse to touch it. He would want that sense of purpose, that delegation of mess-fixing. She’s so rarely a mess when there are no monsters to slaughter. He’s usually the one with the inside out shirt, the smudge of lipstick on his face. This is his one chance.

His bottom lip curls, and his shoulders shrug. “Thought you wanted to pretend like we don’t know each other.”

“Jonathan…please come fix it.”

She reaches out, and without a word he holds her hand, standing up. He bites down on his tongue, presses it against the side of his mouth, looking like he knows how cliché this is but is too sad to complain. He moves closer, his hands gentle as he begins unfastening those top four hooks so he can fasten that fifth one, the one she’d skipped before she also skipped breakfast. Her eyelids sink, wispy bangs brushing the tops of her eyes as the fan’s whisper of a breeze plays over her.

He’s still working with the clasps when her hands find his neck, tickling their way to the ends of his hair, curled by humidity.

To her surprise, he doesn’t flinch when she sneak attacks him, stealing a kiss off his mouth. Just makes a huffy sound afterward, all judgy eyes and short breaths and pinked skin. “Does that mean you like me again—”

She guides the slipping of their lips, a soft sensation of stickiness lingering in the inbetween. “Shut up,” she murmurs, “I never stopped.”

“Yes, you did.”

Plush lip tissue gives way between her careful teeth as she nibbles, trying to draw out a whimper or a groan or some other noise of desperate compliance. She thinks she hears an ow, and if she did, that’s good. His ow isn’t code for hey that hurts, his ow is like a regular boy’s don’t stop, I need more.

“I did not,” she argues.

“You did, you said so.”

“When?”

“With your face.”

She tightens her grip on the back of his collar and pulls. Seeking a diversion, she peppers his mouth, the tip of her tongue relaxed, impressively subtle. A muffled squeak leaves him as the collar tightens around his throat, and she lets go, releasing him. Maybe she does feel a little bad. “Don’t be so sensitive,” she says, but her words lack conviction, and her heart’s not in the dig. “I know I’ve been acting weird. It’s not about you.”

He rests his forehead on hers. “It’s only about them?”

“Duh, it’s about them.”

They put the conversation on hold among their shared prioritization of making this into more of a makeout than just a way to argue. Kissing mainly because it feels good to kiss, and bad to not. Their age demands this, pushes them. (They’ll grow out of the phase someday…she assumes. If she ever learns how to control herself. Perhaps.) She noses her way to his jaw while getting wrapped up in a hug, the gleam of sweat under her lips pleasantly salty. “So sweaty,” she teases (though she’s burning up, too). His breath hitches, and he doesn’t start the banter back up, doesn’t say what’s on his mind which is probably: I didn’t ask you to come over here and lick me like a cat.

Eventually they do separate a few inches, significantly more satisfied than before, significantly more pink in the face. Her head tips, and her tired eyes follow the path of daylight pouring in through the window, casting long shadows across the office floor as he distractedly massages her shoulder.

“Not that I’m complaining…” he begins, and her lashes flutter, her ears tune in, “but you are sending me mixed signals here.”

He’s right. Her professionalism has come at the price of his trust and certainty. She’s still adjusting to the job, getting used to the fact that she’s not particularly needed, wanted, or respected here. Jonathan doesn’t get it, and a Jordan wouldn’t get it, or a Josh, or anyone else who has never been on the receiving end of that coffee maker too tricky for you, sweetheart?

His concern is being obedient, being good, getting paid, keeping to himself, not making a fuss. It makes sense that he’d want to pep talk her out of her anguish, but it’s not healthy for her reputation. She thinks he owes it to her to roll with the punches for a little while.

“I know. I’m still figuring all this out. You’re gonna have to buckle up and settle in for now.”

“Do you think I could have a…handbook, or something?”

“A handbook?”

“I want the dos and don’ts. I want to know what you think makes you look bad and what doesn’t.”

She laughs softly. “That could be arranged. I’ve always wanted to write a book.”

--

After they’ve hesitantly split up and attended to closing tasks, she takes pride in the fact that they’ve only had to do twenty minutes of unpaid work this evening.

The remaining lights get switched off, and they gather their things, ambling to a door whose glass promises the return to a nicer world, a return to wide prospects—night drives and music, dinner and shared showers, lakeside commitments and homemade cupcakes.

“Hey,” she murmurs, hand curling around a few of his fingers, “just so you know, about that handbook: I haven’t forgotten about the darkroom.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, I just mean that I don’t think any of the rules would have to apply to the darkroom. It’s private, it’s safe, it’s…rule-free, isn’t it?”

“Umm…”

"You can pick up as many staples for me as you want in there."

--

creds to @musicalchaos07 for helping me come up with this idea, and creds to @wanderleave for picking his tie color for me