#channel set wedding bands

[artisanjewelery]

What Styles and Designs are Available for Diamond Channel Bands?

For ageless, beautiful, and durable jewelry, diamond channel bands are elegant and refined. These bracelets with diamonds in metal channels exhibit jewels securely and seamlessly. In contrast to prong settings, channel settings give a smooth, continuous surface to maintain and enhance diamond shine. This style makes diamond channel bands ideal for wedding and anniversary rings because they combine elegance and utility. Channel set rings may match traditional, subtle, dramatic, extravagant designs.

[customjewelryblog]

Explore our wide range of beautifully handcrafted womens wedding rings at Jim Kryshak Jewelers in Wausau, WI. You can easily find any style of diamond rings.

[thebeautifulcompanyuk]

Rose Gold Rings by The Beautiful Company UK | Wedding & Gold Rings

Discover exquisite rose gold rings by The Beautiful Company UK. Find the perfect wedding ring or gold ring for your special day. Explore our collection now by visiting our website at https://www.thebeautifulcompany.co.uk/rose-gold-wedding-ring-light-court-2.5-mm-band-tcsl2.5-r

[migavestore1]

1/4 Carat Channel Set Diamond Ladies Anniversary Wedding Band in 10K Gold

[leonw4nter]

HAIII!!! I saw that ur requests r open!! Can u write a death island x gn!reader where the reader squeezes his cheeks n' it's all fluffy n' cute? I feel like behind all that muscle is baby fat that's just MEANT to be squeezed - 🐰

It Only Takes Half A Bottle of Whiskey

DI!Leon x GN!Reader

“Details of the mission coincide with the objectives laid down to consider this mission a success and therefore, I would like to consider this case closed and marked successful. Congratulations to our very own agents Kennedy and L/N.”

The room erupted in claps, lips spreading into relieved smiles. The last mission was not easy, many undertakings taken in order to see the mission to its success and one of the many measures taken was a false marriage between you and Leon, complete with a wedding and wedding bands, as well as expertly fabricated marriage certificates in order to pass as ordinary newly-weds who had normal jobs as IT technicians. The entire ordeal took almost 2 years, which seems plenty to the average person but an incredibly short notice to agents assigned on this demanding commission. Despite the mission being over, you two still had to uphold the married couple facade and keep working on the IT company before drafting letters of resignation in order to not rouse any suspicions with the people who had grown to know and be familiar with you and Leon. One of the procedures involved coming home together holding hands as you passed through the exit, getting in the same car, living under one roof, and retiring in the same bed.

As soon as you two get home, you rush over to collapse on the couch with a loud exhale before taking the glasses off of your face and setting them beside you. You recline your head and run a hand through your hair, eyes shut as you try to block out the noises of the world. Leon removes his dress shoes and walks around the duplex in his black socks, his shoes in one hand and your shoes in the other as he returns them to the shoe cabinet before walking back to the couch and sitting beside you. He takes your glasses and sets them down at the coffee table in front of you and takes his seat, letting out a loud sigh of his own as he gets the remote and turns the TV on to a cooking channel. Shrugging his jacket off, he turns his head to observe you for a moment only to see your eyes staring into the white ceiling of the dim living room.

“You tired?” He asks as he folds his jacket and places it on the arm of the couch, too tired to get up and place them in the bedroom or think of changing into loungewear. You nod, sitting back up as you wipe a hand across your face before reaching to get your glasses and put them back on.

“I need a drink after all that shit,” you groan as you undo one more button of your button-up. Leon hums and turns his attention back to the chef cutting the carrots, which is short-lived as he tilts it again to face you.

“I’ll help you to bed, how’s that sound? It’s better than alcohol.”

“Help me to bed after I have a nice, cold, glass of double-black whiskey.”

With that, you get up from the couch and walk up to the alcohol cabinet to get the glass. As you open the cabinet, you feel a warmth press against your back and see a strong arm reach up for 2 glasses. Leon closes the cabinet door with his free hand and sets two glasses down. His action scared you for a little bit since he walked with virtually no noise and you only felt his presence when his muscled front pressed against you, effectively trapping you in if he planned on hurting you but thank god he didn’t. He takes a jug of apple juice and pours it into his glass instead of the whiskey, which you aren’t too surprised about; he’s been 3 months sober. You just stare at him, admiring the way his arms looked amazing with crisp white sleeves rolled up until his elbows, a hand resting on the marble as he takes the glass and drinks the juice. He raises an eyebrow when he spots you staring in his peripheral, setting the glass down with a small clink against the kitchen counter.

“Like what you see?” He asks with a lazy grin and a wink. You turn your attention back to the glass he set in front of you, staring at it so intensely you would have shattered the glass with the daggers you were shooting with your tired eyes.

“You wish,” you retort as you pour the dark liquid into the glass and toss in a block or two of ice before taking a swig and feeling the liquid burn its way into your system despite the coldness that the ice offered. You hear Leon softly chuckle before having another drink of his fruit juice, his soft gaze watching over you as you take sips and loud sighs after you swallow the amber liquid. You take the tall bottle and your heavy-bottomed whiskey glass and sit down on the wooden floors, placing them down beside you. You take another swig and look at Leon, patting the space beside you.

“Sit,” you say.

“You’re saying that like I’m a dog,” your ‘husband’ responds.

“C’mere, boy! C’mere!” You teasingly say in a higher pitched voice, clapping with both your hands to beckon him to sit beside you.

Leon rolls his eyes but sits beside you, propping one knee up to rest his hand on as he looks at your glass.

“Good boy,” you say with a sly grin.

“Okay you’re a freak,” he says as he jokingly begins to sit up again but not before your free hand shoots up to grasp at his wrist.

“Okay, I’m sorry I won’t do that.”

“Right.”

“Please? Please? C’mon Leon, don’t be boring.”

“Fine.”

You smile and chuckle softly as he sits back down beside you, knuckles occasionally brushing against each other. You two sit in complete silence, the silence interrupted only by the sounds of breathing and sighs. Your gaze fell on the gold band wrapped around the base of your ring fingers, studying the way the light reflected off of the smooth surface. Eventually, your gaze flitted to Leon’s right ring finger to admire his own ring.

“It looks damn good on him,” you thought to yourself. “Damn, marriage is a good look for you, Kennedy.”

He absent-mindedly fidgeted with his ring, tilting and adjusting it; that’s what he always did when he was deep in thought or bored. You noticed it became a habit as soon as you two had to wear these rings everywhere, even on side missions. Although he could remove it when you two were in your own home, he chose to keep it on which you followed suit since it only felt right.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The whiskey soon started tasting like water and now you were down to unbuttoning the second button of your work shirt. It was a little harder to keep your head up now and your lids were threatening to close. You leaned your head on Leon’s shoulder, not missing how you felt him tense up despite your inebriated condition.

“Leon, ’m sleepy.”

He looked at you, seeing how the whiskey caused your cheeks and ears to burn pink like a Fuji apple. Your lids were droopy and your eyes were glossy, an obvious sign that you were drunk and done for tonight. He chuckles softly as he adjusts you so he could carry you to your shared room.

“I’m fine, Leon.” you confidently slur as he lifted your frame up and out of the kitchen.

“Nope, you’re not. We’re going to bed now.”

“C’monnn… I can handle my… liquor like a champ...”

Leon gave you a stern look before setting you down on your side of the bed before making a quick trip back to the kitchen to fetch you a glass of water and pills to take. Despite the frequent jokes he made to make you feel a lot more comfortable in his presence, you would be lying if you didn’t enjoy this authoritative side of him outside of the field. He comes back and sets them on your bedside table, making it near enough without making the water prone to spilling due to your uncoordinated state.

“Anything else you need?” He almost slipped up and called you ‘honey’.

“Bath.”

“Gotcha.”

Since it would prove to be too difficult to get you cleaned up right now, he settled on finding a basin and a rag to wash you with. After asking your permission, he removed your garments before wiping you down to let yourself feel a little more clean before a proper bath in the morning and dressed you in a clean shirt and sleep shorts before freshening himself up to get in bed with you and calling it a night. After a few minutes, he got on his side of the bed but still kept some distance so you wouldn’t feel like your privacy was being invaded. He shifted, moving as gently as he could so the mattress wouldn’t move along with him and disrupt your sleep. He finally managed to lay on his side, his arms crossed and his eyes shut but he still kept his ears active. He suddenly remembered something and opened his eyes again; he turned around and glanced at you.

“Good night,” he said.

Normally, he’d add a sappy nickname like “sweetheart” or “honey” at the end to make his husband act feel more natural for him but he decided not to this night since he felt weird. Weird in a way that if he said it, he’d jump out of bed and dive out of a window and plummet into a pool of pink and red heart balloons while glitter bombs went off around him. He knew what he felt but he didn’t want to give it a name and properly label it; he wasn’t even sure if you saw him the same way he saw you. When you didn’t give any kind of response, he turned around and sat up to look at you through the dark, the white streetlights being the only source of light beaming in through gray curtains. He inched closer to see you and placed a finger just underneath your nostrils, hoping to feel a soft gust of warm air be expelled. When he felt that, he placed a finger on the pulse point of your neck before concluding that you really are fine, just deeply asleep.

He chuckles to himself, smiling softly as he extends a hand to brush some hair away from your forehead. Before he can stop himself, that small gesture turns into him adjusting the duvet so you wouldn’t sweat under warm bundles of fabric sometime in the night. Now, he’s trapped in your arms when you quickly extend your arms above you and yanked him down to your body. All while your eyes were still shut.

He could easily escape and retreat back to his side of the bed and really call it a night this time but he doesn’t. He decides to stay like that for a bit and he knows why but then again, he doesn’t want to name the reason.

“Y’think you’re so slick, Kennedy,” you groggily mumble. His head is pressed against your chest, his arms extended from his side in an awkward position, and he subconsciously holds a breath in.

“Jus’ tell me if you wanna cuddle,” you slur. “I know y’wanna coz I wanna too.”

You pull him off of you and lay him back down on his side of the bed, frozen in shock and baffled at how things have taken for a turn. He lays still and watches you silently with wide eyes, observing you. You crawl near him and stare at him at the side… well, an excuse of a stare since your lids were drooping and you couldn’t seem to get your eyes to focus nicely on him. You sat up and placed a hand on his stubbly cheek, gently rubbing on the bristly cheek with a soft thumb. He tensed at the delicate feel of your hands on his face, handling it with so much care as if he’s a fragile piece of artwork. A pop of color spreads on his cheeks and the tips of his ears as you look him in the eyes as if you’re trying to count all the specks of gray he didn’t know his eyes had while trying to fish out a well-hidden feeling within his weary soul.

“Ow!” Leon yelps when you suddenly pinch a cheek of his just as his eyes were about to close and savor the wholesomeness of the moment. “What’d you do that for?!”

“Y’ve got… puffy cheeks. I love that in a man.”

“Puffy cheeks?”

You give his cheek a poke before pinching them again, this time much softer than the first since we voiced out his discomfort. You continue poking and pinching the skin bristly with coarse hairs, occasionally squishing them together to make his lips puckered up. He relaxes eventually, letting you knead and feel his face. He probably had more wrinkles on his face than most men his age do and he knows he doesn’t have the best skin ever and he’s thankful that you’re drunk enough to not notice the blemishes on his face. He wants to let his hands rest on your waist and just let you do your thing but he decides against it; you’re drunk and you aren’t in the clearest headspace right now. Although his intentions with wanting to perch his hand on your waist is nothing sexual, he still doesn’t want to proceed with that.

“Gosh, your spouse after me is going to be sooo lucky,” you mumble. “You’re so sweet, kind, sexy as fuck… you’re also intimidating sometimes but you’re like a teddy bear.”

“Teddy bear, huh?”

“A teddy bear with… a teddy bear strapped with guns, bullets, and knives.”

“A teddy bear that can’t get through airport security, basically.”

His response makes you laugh a little louder than it should have, a hand falling to your chest and you throw your head back. Leon didn’t think his joke was that funny until you laughed and chortled, grinning and beaming like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore if no one else laughed at his lame jokes as long as you did. And what did you mean “spouse after me”? Would he be able to find someone else after your “marriage” is dissolved? He fears that he wouldn’t love as truthfully and wholly as he does with you, that his soul would always look for you in the people he’d see. What if he wants his spouse to be you, even after this mission? “Agent L/N” is for everyone to praise but at the end of the day, Y/N will be his to love. You adjust yourself and nearly plop on his side, tucked underneath his arm with one hand still on his face. Slowly, you grow drowsier as sleep pulls you deep in its embrace.

“Just… for yawn tonight,” you softly whisper while safely tucked into his side.

“You can… forget this, if you want.” Another yawn before you totally fall asleep again.

“Gosh, that hangover is going to kill you tomorrow.” Leon whispers as he adjusts the sheets over your sleeping frame again.

He shifts in the bed, making sure the arm you’re laying on is still; he wants to move it around and get circulation back in that arm again but he’d deal with a purple arm in the morning if it meant giving you a nice rest before the alcohol in your system hits you like a train tomorrow. He gazes at the ring on his hand one last time and feels a surge of joy and pride in his heart, hoping that you feel the same when you look at your own ring.

NOTE - Before I update y'all with stuff going on in my life rn, I just wanna thank 🐰 anon for this request, I hope you liked it <3 OKAY. So I was gone for almost a month because so much happened in the time that I wasn't posting much-- I passed an entrance exam to a school I will transfer to after this year is over (I'm still in the process of passing requirements), I decided to start a Chris Redfield mochiposting IG account, I got lost in another town with my classmate while walking to a groupmate's house (a man was following us both but luckily nothing bad happened to us), I got sick twice in a row in a single month (1st time: screamed too much during a sports fest, did not drink water bc there was no water around the place; 2nd time: I was running low on sleep and did not have time for a break bc of the things I was doing), I had two infections in two different systems in my body (the same time as I got sick in the aforementioned stuff :3), and had my first ever sleepover at my BFF's house (slept at 4am cb we were eating and cooking so much while watching Demon Slayer). I also nosebled while watching filmvxq's (on TT) edit (the one w Take My Breath Away as the audio) and got really lightheaded... this isn't the first time btw <33 I also nosebled over a Vergil edit and I don't know how I keep doing this <33 My neck hurts so much and I have a crippling sushi addiction. SPEAKING OF SUSHI (what I'm about to say next has no relation), I got this TikTok about tubifex worms in a dirty sewer just before I took a bath and I was so disgusted, I was fighting for my life trying not to think about the worms while I was drenched in water. Also, my grades release next Friday and I hope those grades are somewhat sexy bro I can't go to another school with the nastiest math grade... I'm very number stupid... NEWAYS, that's all and thank you for reading my fics!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[fourmoony]

hi! i just thought of this and i think it's sooooo cute. so imagine james and reader get married, the ceremony ends, everyone goes home and reader and james go home as well and they just order take out and eat in their wedding clothes with bunch of fluffy dialogue!! thanks!!

this is such a cute idea! thanks for requesting <3

james x f!reader | 1k words | masterlist

James is pressing buttons on the television remote, mumbling angrily to himself when it won't switch to the channel he wants. You smile over at him, heaving a breath, collecting the white tulle beneath you so you don't step on it.

"Gimme," You make grabby hands, ring glinting against the lamp light in the corner of the room. "You're too heavy handed with it."

James rolls his eyes playfully, but hands the remote over with a look so lovey and dopey, so sticky sweet that it halts the breath in your lungs for a moment. Never in your life did you think you'd end up being the girl lucky enough to marry such a handsome man, with a heart so big it consumes his entire being, who is so passionate and caring and hysterically funny. But here you are, ten minutes home from your beautiful reception at Potter Manor, married to your amazing, lovely, handsome husband, and your heart feels so full it could burst.

James is still dressed in his suit, buttonhole flower bent at the head and his hair messier than usual. His shirt is rumpled and his tie is half loosened, his glasses askew, but he has never looked more handsome. He lifts his left hand, runs it through his hair and the gold of his wedding band catches your eye. You smile, a secret little smile just for yourself, and change the channel. James switches to rummaging through the paper bag on the coffee table, pulling out boxes and bags of food.

"Did you order chips and cheese?" James asks, frowning into the tub in his hands.

"No." You hum, sitting in your previous place on the floor.

Your dress puffs out around you, a sea of white and tulle and James smiles over at you. It's a knowing smile, a smile that you've shared multiple of all day. The 'I'm so happy, I love you so much, this is the best day ever' kind of smile. James slides down from the couch to sit beside you, setting the mystery container of chips and cheese onto the coffee table.

"Well, they sent us some." He shrugs.

"Nice."

It's domestic and it's nice. It's better than the 'thank you for coming' and the 'oh, I'm over the moon, it turned out beautiful' conversations you've been having all day. It's chill and comfortable and it's just you and James in your tiny little cottage after a busy day filled with love and laughter and energy.

"Here." James passes you your container, a donner kebab.

You smile, "Thanks. Don't get me wrong, I loved the menu we picked. Seriously, best Balmoral chicken I've ever had. But I have been craving this all bloody day."

James nods in agreement, mouth too full of chicken pakora to say anything. He's leaning over his container to avoid spilling on his suit, but you don't have the same thought, biting into your kebab and gasping when the sauce spills out and onto the white fabric of your dress.

There's a moment of stunned silence between you and James where the TV show you both love drones on in the background and you just stare at each other. You assume James is waiting for you to have some sort of meltdown. Instead, you purse your lips, eyes alight with amusement and James cracks first.

You're both laughing so loud it overshadows the sound of the television, collapsing in on each other until you can't breathe.

"Oh, baby," James sighs, "Your dress."

He has the decency to sound deflated for you but you shake your head, smiling like the cat who got the cream. "It's okay, handsome. I already had the perfect day in my perfect dress."

"It was a pretty good day, huh?" James asks, returning to eating straight after.

You follow suit, leant over your container this time, "Yeah, it was. You know what beats it, though?"

James hums in acknowledgement.

"This. Right here."

James looks at you like you've lost your mind and you laugh.

"Today was perfect. I love you so much, and I couldn't wait to be your wife. I love our friends and our families, I loved celebrating with them. But my favourite moments always end with us back here. Me and you, sharing a kebab, watching shitty TV, and laughing until we can't breathe. That's what I couldn't wait to spend the rest of our lives doing." You tell him, eyes shining with emotion.

James sets his box on the coffee table, reaches out for you and you go because there will never be a time when James Potter calls and you, his wife, don't go.

"You looked beautiful today, you know?"

"I did?" You muse, settling into his lap, his arms warm and strong around you.

James presses his lips to your shoulder when he nods, sure and firm, "Yeah. But you look etheral right now."

"Covered in kebab sauce?" You ask.

James laugh, low and sweet and your stomach flutters, "Oh yeah."

"Hm," You hum, "You look pretty handsome."

"That's 'cause you're on my lap."

His eyes are big and brown and full of love and all you can think to do is kiss him. It's sweet and soft and it's all of your love for each other wrapped into one. He squeezes your waist, pulls you further into him and it all just feels perfect. You're so full of love you could burst.

"I love you, Mrs. Potter." He tells you, eyes so open and honest and it brings tears to your eyes.

"I love you, too, Mr. Potter."

It's sickeningly sweet and cringey and you wouldn't have it any other way. The guests have all gone, the wedding is over, you're home, with James, your husband, and you're married and you're happy and content and in love.

"Eat up before it gets cold." You urge James, handing him his pakora before reaching for your kebab.

You stay there, in his lap, curled in on each other, for hours. You'd stay there forever. And now, you can.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: THIS IDEA JUST SPARKED HOLY SHIT?? OK have you ever watched Hot Ones with Sean Evens (first we feast is the youtube channel) so basically that but Steve is the one being interviewed but he LOVES spicy food??(watch the episode with Florence Pugh i LOVE it but basically I want it to be kinda like that) just yeah that. Jxjxnxnx please and thank you

MY LOVE ❤️ I admit, most of what I watch of really anything is either highlights on Tik Tok or short clips my friends send me because I am out of touch with the cool kids. But Hot Ones is SO GOOD. The Lewis Capaldi episode (I do love him anyways) had me actually almost pee my pants laughing. I hope you love this fun (short, sorry) thing for this! - Mickala ❤️

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

“I just don’t know why you got Hot Ones. They could have had the whole band on there making idiots of themselves,” Eddie pouted.

He’d been pouting for two days now.

In fact, his entire band was from the moment Steve called him on tour to let him know that he would be doing the Hot Ones interview next week.

“I told you, they had a last minute cancellation and my schedule just worked. Maybe you’ll get next season,” Steve said over the phone as the oven timer went off to let him know his brownies were done cooking.

“Whatcha makin’ Stevie?” Eddie’s curiosity was adorable.

He was in London, just got off stage from their last show in Europe. Steve was in their home in LA, having the last lazy day in before his awards season started.

“If I tell you, you’ll be sad you’re missing it.”

“Tell us! Tell us!” Gareth said from much closer than Steve would have expected.

“Hi Gare Bear. No personal space tonight?”

Eddie laughed as Steve pulled the brownies out of the oven and shut it off.

“He said personal space is for people who don’t like each other and he likes me very much,” Steve could hear Eddie’s eye roll in his voice. “A shame because I can’t stand him.”

“Play nice boys. You’ll be home in less than 24 hours,” Steve reminded them.

Gareth lived a mile up the road from them with his boyfriend and their excessive amount of cats.

Excessive being four.

Steve was allergic, so any amount of cats seemed excessive to him.

But Steve and Gareth were close, had been since even before Eddie and Steve started dating.

He was Steve’s best man in their wedding, much to Dustin’s bafflement. He only didn’t argue because Eddie softened the blow by asking him to be his own best man.

Usually if baked goods or a home cooked meal were involved, Gareth would show up at their door ready to partake.

“You’ll be home when I get there?”

“Yep. Cleared my whole day just for you, baby.”

“Good. Miss you.

“Miss you too. You heading to bed?” Steve poked at the brownies, making sure they were cooked.

“Yeah, I’m beat.” Eddie yawned to emphasize how exhausted he was. “Did your manager tell them you love spicy foods or are you just gonna let them assume you’re a wimp?”

“Nah. It’ll be fun.”

—-------------------

When he arrives on the set of Hot Ones, Sean greets him with a smile and a handshake.

Eddie wasn’t able to come with him, but Robin had promised to record the whole thing just for them.

She watched from the side next to his manager, Nancy, and his bodyguard, Hopper.

They settled at the table, got mic’d up, makeup touched up, and Sean reminded him that if he absolutely had to tap out, they could stop recording and edit everything accordingly to make it look like he made it through the challenge.

Steve wasn’t worried.

The first three wings didn’t even have a kick. It was just a casual conversation between friends.

He talked about his work with a theater group for kids in New York City, as well as his work on an indie film that was coming out in the fall.

The fourth and fifth wings had a pinch of spice to them, but nothing to make even bat an eye.

Sean continued asking questions, Steve continued answering them.

On the seventh wing, Steve was barely distracted from the question: “What project of yours are you most looking forward to doing next?”

“I think I’ll be most excited to take some time off with my husband, working on starting the family we’ve wanted for a while. He’s been on tour for most of the last year, and we agreed it was a good time to figure out what we wanna do,” Steve said as he took another bite.

He could feel the burn of this one at least, felt the sting on his lips and tongue.

But it was very manageable, and the jalapeno flavor was almost refreshing. It tasted fresh.

“Okay, I have to ask: did you practice these beforehand?”

Steve snorted.

“No. I’m just not very sensitive to spicy foods. I usually keep a lot of hot sauces in my house. Poor Eddie’s learned how to tolerate spice because of it,” Steve said as they brought out the eighth wing.

“I’ve never had anyone so calm at this point. I’m starting to think even the hottest one won’t really bother you!”

“I guess we’ll see!”

The ninth wing was hot. He wouldn’t try to deny it.

“It does have a lovely watermelon flavor to it, very fruity and tangy on top of the spice. I like it,” Steve smiled.

He knew his face was getting a bit red from this one, and he reached for the water, but only had to take a couple of small sips before he was ready to keep going.

“Alright, for this one, we’ll ask a question for you to answer before and then we’ll have one for right after. You ready?”

“Bring it on!”

And it definitely did.

It was hot, and he could feel tears in his eyes, and sweat breaking out across his forehead.

“Finally, we have a reaction!” Sean exclaimed.

“This one’s definitely a lot more than the others,” Steve added, reaching for the milk.

He could tell Robin and Nancy were laughing, probably very much enjoying any amount of pain he managed to have when he went into this so sure that none of them would get to him.

“Final question: Would you ever consider retiring to follow Eddie on tour with your future family?”

Steve nodded once, taking another sip of the milk.

God, this one was hot.

“Uh, yep. I mean, retiring is a strong word. I would definitely take a long break. I’ve always wanted a family,” he stopped to take another sip and a bite of the celery. “I’ve wanted to be a dad for as long as I can remember. And I know Eddie wants that, but he also doesn’t wanna stop making music, and the rest of his band isn’t ready to take a break like that. I know it would be easy for me, so my plan would be to take at least a few years off.”

“Doing alright over there?”

Steve laughed, fanning his face.

“I’m okay. That just went from a kick to a beatdown pretty quick.”

“Well, you’re a pro at making it look easy. You deserve an Oscar for this performance!”

It was a ridiculous sentiment, but funny, and Steve was up for an Oscar this year.

He finished the glass of milk and shook Sean’s hand, thanking him for having him.

“Eddie is already in tears watching Sean watch you in disbelief,” Robin started as soon as he joined them again.

“What was all that at the end?” Nancy asked, arms crossed, face furious.

He usually had free reign in interviews, but he knew Nancy would tell him not to mention anything even slightly related to retirement.

His career had really only just taken off a couple years earlier, and talking about a break or retiring now would immediately cut his chances of good roles in half.

“Just the truth, Nance. You know Eddie and I wanna start a family,” he said as they started walking through the backstage area to leave.

“I just didn’t know that meant taking a break. I thought you’d just take turns with stuff or hire a nanny.”

Steve knew that worked for a lot of couples, but they both were too family-focused for that. They didn’t want a nanny raising their kids.

“Why are you freaking out?”

“I’m not! I just would’ve liked a heads up.”

Robin stared between them, eyes bouncing back and forth like it was a tennis match.

“I don’t have to tell you every single detail of my life. You know all that’s relevant right now.”

Nancy sighed, but nodded, turning away and typing furiously on her phone.

His phone rang seconds later.

“Sweetheart, let me just say: it is so sexy how you handle those hot sauces,” Eddie’s teasing voice was enough to get him back into a happy mood.

“Your standards for sexy are so low,” Steve said as he walked to the corner to get as much privacy as possible.

“No, it’s just that everything you do is sexy.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.”

“Steve!” Sean’s voice came from behind him, large smile lighting up his face. “Sorry to bother you, but would Eddie and the guys like to come on the show as our bonus episode this season?”

Eddie was screaming yes through the phone, much to their amusement.

“So…yes?” Sean asked.

“Yes!” Eddie yelled.

Sean walked away to update the producer while Steve kept talking to Eddie.

“See? Now you’ll get your show, too.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[lienspien]

James is the type of guy who would find a new crush and start imagining their wedding.

Take one: Regulus can't decide what to wear, what colour would fit him. James just watches him decide, but in his head, he goes, "You would look amazing in white. Preferably next to me by all the trees surrounding us. But wouldn't dirt ruin your clothes? Well, you surely shouldn't be covered in even an inch of mud or stain, so indoors it is. It could avoid you sweating, too. As beautiful as you are, I could not just watch you stand under the rays of the sun, all hot and sweaty when you'll have a better reason to be hot and sweaty. Preferably under me and not the sun. Welp. Indoors it is."

Take two: James is watching Reguus do his hair. "Beautiful curly locks, would be a shame if hidden under a veil. He should show off his hair and face to the world. Show off to aphrodite, and perhaps she would skin his face alive and wear it as a mask to even imitate his gorgeousness. Perhaps a flower crown would look good on him. Maybe his joyous smile would help the flowers bloom brighter to try and compete with his beauty. I need to befriend Pandora."

Take three: Regulus is writing, and James is staring at his fingers. "Oh, slender, strong hands. How would it look around my throat? Or with a band? I wonder if he would look good in gold rather than his usual silver, and perhaps its the channel setting type so our loves would be everlasting and protected. Or something that shows off the gemstone, should it be diamonds or emeralds? Maybe something grey to show off his eyes. It should be big and heavy, it's not like he's going to work anyway with me around. Maybe one on each finger, but that would hurt him if it's too heavy. Two on each hand? One with the big gemstone and the other something simple to not overshadow the gemstone. Yeah good idea"

This all happens when he and Regulus aren't even dating yet, and when they're dating he starts to think about the honeymoon and where he and Regulus would stay and which side of the bed he should sleep on and what he should prepare Regulus for breakfast, and what his hair routine is so he could help detangle and massage his scalp.

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

Matty Healy Imagine

Summary: In which you "dated" Matty pre 75 fame (2011-2012) and bump into him seven years later (late 2019) never realising you meant more to Matty than you could ever imagine.

Warnings: Swearing. Vulgar language somewhere around the middle because there is a tiny section of smut my friends!

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy this one. This was the 'Matty realising who his person is/in love with' piece that you all voted for next. Not entirely sure if it's any good to be honest but I hope you like it. A short blurb might be posted at a later date. Ross and George stuff coming up next! Enjoy! x

P.S If any of you can think of a 1975 song that we could use to title this bad boy I would be highly appreciative because currently I have nothing!

4.8K Words

When you met Matty Healy you were just shy of turning twenty one years old, you were still at uni and you were at a wedding of a friend of a friend that you only knew kind of through work and he was captivating from the off. He had a stunning set of curls and a cheeky charm about him, that had you knocking back whatever shots he was offering, laughing at all his stupid jokes (read chat up lines) and letting him feel you up as you danced until the early morning. You would have followed him into whatever trouble he got himself into without a single question asked.

He told you he was in a band with his mates from school to which you humoured him, nodding your head as you hummed in vague response. Of course he was, this was the noughties, every boy in your age range was or had been in a garage band doing covers of Blink 182 and hoping to make it big one day. What made Drive Like I Do or whatever weird name he told you any different from the rest of the kids?

Except they were different. They were fucking brilliant and when you found out they were from a small town in Cheshire not far from where you were from, you thought it might have been fate that you two would find each other.

You “dated” for roughly six months. You use the word loosely because looking back at that time in your life, it seemed like it was just a flurry of a lot of sex and a lot of fighting. Fighting about the states he would get in when he’d do drugs with his mates. Some of your most profound conversations were with him when he was high or you were both drunk out of your minds. But you probably fought more in those last two months than you did in the entirety of your next relationship. Which is a shame because you could have really loved him.

When the two of you finally admitted defeat and decided to go your separate ways. You didn’t hear from him or the boys again. Not that you ever expected to as he was busy becoming the front man in the biggest band in the world and you ended up moving to London for work and working up the ladder at your law firm and living with your boyfriend for the next seven years. You couldn’t escape him though, the band were the biggest thing to come out of the North since Arctic Monkeys and they were on every channel, every magazine, their music attached to every social media post.

Even though you weren’t on speaking terms with any of them because you had too much respect for Matty to make it weird. You knew George, Adam and Ross deserved the success they had achieved over the past seven years. Matty too, this was his dream and he was living it to the fullest.

You expected the success to find them. What you didn’t expect was to run into Adam and his girlfriend on your walk home from work one late October evening in 2019. He spotted you first, the two of you just standing in shock in front of one another for the first time in so long, in silence. His girlfriend highly confused as to what was happening until one of you finally spoke.

“Hi.” Adam immediately smiled sweetly at you before embracing you. “How are you doing Ads? Congratulations on everything! I knew you’d do it!”  You told him, your happiness genuine for him, he was one of the nicest people you had ever met.

“Thanks. Carls this is y/n an old friend of ours. Her and Matty dated what…” He paused a moment, whist trying to figure it out. “How long has it been since I’ve seen you? Seven years now?”

“Sounds about right!” You managed to chuckle. “I ehhh heard about what happened with him a couple of years ago. I wanted to reach out but didn’t know how or if it’d be weird or not?  Is he doing okay?”

“Better than ever.”  Adam smiled warmly at you at your concern.

“Will you pass on the message that I’m glad he’s well.”  You had started to ask but before either of you could say anything else. You heard the dulcet northern tones of a man that you shared your life with many moons ago, rupture through the evening air.

“Hann! What you doing mate? Who are you talking to…”

Words died on his tongue the moment he took in the sight of you in front of him for the first time since your last fight in the spring of 2012. Very rarely did Matty not know what to say. But there you were, his muse for some of his most beloved songs. As he lived and breathed, dressed in tight leather pants, a smart white blouse tucked in and stiletto heels that looked like they could kill him if he got in your way. Shock etched across your face but you looked more beautiful that Matty ever remembered.

“Hi” 

Your voice came out a little less confident than you anticipated and it made you want to shoot yourself in the foot but when Matty let out a breathy “Hi” like he was unsure of what to say it made you feel a little better. The pair of you continued to stare at one another, not completely sure how long neither of you weren’t saying anything but Adam coughed awkwardly and prompting you to look over in his direction.

“Well it was lovely to see you again.”  Adam leant down to press a deft kiss to your cheek before throwing a look over his shoulder at his best mate. “Hopefully it won’t be seven years next time.” He laughed, squeezing your arm gently as Carly sent you a soft smile and a wave as they both headed off in the opposite direction to you.

“You look good Healy.” 

You broke the silence, smiling at him sincerely as you took in how good he looked. He looked happy and healthy, had this glow about him and that’s all you ever wanted for him, was for him to be well. Matty grinned at your compliment before shaking his head, laughing as his curls fell in front of his eyes.

When he finally looked back up at you, you noticed the crinkle in the corner of his eyes were still prominent in his features when he laughed and this overwhelming feeling appeared heavy in your chest. A soft tingle rushed up your face, through your nose and prickling at your eyes. You didn’t want to cry but the softness of his face made the nostalgia wave over you so strongly that you didn’t know if you could keep composure for much longer if he didn’t say anything.

“Shit sweetheart! So do you! Sensational!”  

Matty’s words made you laugh, that feeling instantaneously washing away as you both laughed with each other for the first time again. Tentatively he took a step closer towards you. Opening his arms almost awkwardly gesturing for a hug as if he was unsure you would. You immediately stepping into his arms; his finding their way around your waist as yours naturally found theirs around his neck. 

His body felt warm against yours; hands pressed flat against your back, his curls tickling the side of his face as you curled up against his neck, squeezing him that little bit tighter as he attempted to step back and trapping him in your arms for a little longer. The smell of cigarette smoke and his signature aftershave the same after all this time, invaded your senses, making you relax into him. The pressure on your waist automatically tightened as he reciprocated your affection before you both finally took steps to move away from one another before it got awkward.

“It was really good to see you sweetheart.” Matty smiled; shoving his hands into his coat pockets. You noticed him shuffling his feet awkwardly, unsure of why he seemed nervous. It was just you. “But I’ve got to…”  He gestured in the direction Adam had left. “It’s a work thing. But I’ll message you.”

Nodding, you assumed after he pressed a messy kiss to your cheek and was jogging off after his band mate, that you probably wouldn’t hear from your rockstar again. But the notification from trumanblack not a hour later that just said ‘Call me x’ and his number had stupid butterflies swimming in your stomach that maybe if anything you’d be able to make things right with him, even if it just meant he was apart of your life.

That was eighteen months ago. It was now Spring of 2021 and I think it was fair to say you were fully submerged back into The 1975’s world. There were times when you could see the jealousy swimming through his brown eyes when you hung out with the other members of the band. Laughter echoing around whatever room you were in as your laugh intertwined with Ross’ infectious giggle.

Jealousy that this time around, your attention wasn’t solely focused on him. Which lets be honest a decade ago, the two of you were completely infatuated with one another. You were friendly with the boys but your entire world was Matty and Matty you. You can’t believe you missed out on this type of love that the boys were giving you. George was happy to have someone to entertain his horrendous dad jokes. Adam to have meaningful life talks with. Ross to go to when work was stressing you out, he always knew what to say to ease your mind. He had quickly become your best friend. All of them happy to have someone on their side to help wind Matty up!

You don’t even know what you and Matty were. Not long after you were reunited, the boys headed off on their American tour and you spent every night speaking to Matty over FaceTime once he got in from the gig. It was always middle of the night/early morning for you and after a certain amount of calls, you didn’t care what you looked like anymore.

Your conversations always ranged from what the tour was like, travelling, stupid things the boys had done whilst on the road to your work, missing him, him missing you, missing home and his mum and just wanting a good cup of tea. He of course was naughty as always and sometimes you found yourself wearing less and less just because you could and if he could tease so could you.

Yet once they returned home and they headed out on their UK tour, you found yourself working remotely and tagging along. This was everything you had dreamed of for him and it made your heart ache with so much joy you weren’t sure if it was pure happiness for them or you were slipping into the nostalgic feeling of being around him 24/7.

Then covid hit the world and you were forced apart again. You were currently living alone since your ex had moved out of your apartment six months prior but by some sort of miracle your neighbour one street over happened to be one Ross MacDonald. Him and his housemates so graciously offering you to move into their spare room for the next few months. Living with Ross felt like a better idea for your sanity than entertaining the idea of Matty if he had got in there before him, somehow you knew you had made the right decision.

Ross MacDonald was a fantastic housemate plus knowing it meant Ross had someone on his side when ganging up on Matty was worth it on its own. You lived for that shit! You and Ross also made a great team during your weekly zoom quizzes, having coming top of the leaderboard almost every time much to Matty’s dismay. Him proclaiming the two of you were clearly cheating on more than one occasion, which only made you laugh harder, the more he continued to rant. There is one thing you should know and that is Matthew Healy is a sore loser! This of course always goes down well with the rest of the band when he throws a strop like the man child that he is! 

Matty on the other hand wasn’t impressed by the speed in which your relationship with his bassist was forming. 

“You moved in quicker with Ross than you did me!”

“We never lived together Healy!”  You laughed at his pouting through the phone.

“Exactly!”

“To be fair mate. You were kind of a nightmare to live with back in the day!”  Ross’ voice could be heard from the other side of the living room.

“I don’t like that you two gang up on me!”

“Stop pouting at me!”  You laughed loudly at him, “To be fair to him, the rate in which we were going ten years ago. If we lived with each other. We would have killed each other and I’d hate to be the person to have deprived the world of your talent.”  You tried to soften the blow a little with a compliment.

“Yeah.” Matty sighed, before shooting you a soft smile. “Thanks sweetheart. Can’t wait to see you.”

The softness in his voice, made your heart burst and you hated how you knew how this was going to end up. “Me too babe. Me too.”

“Plus I need to make up for lost time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need to accumulate the same amount of hours you’ve spent with Ross once we’re allowed out of the house.”

“You’re ridiculous. You know that right?”

“So I’ve been told! But you love me anyway!”

“Sure. Whatever makes you sleep better at night Healy!”

You laughed at the dramatic gasp of horror from the man on the opposite side of the phone. A roll of eyes definitely happened from both you and Ross who was drinking a cup of coffee on the other end of the couch.

That was a year ago. You were currently in the studio with him and George, just quietly watching them work. Adam and Ross long gone and happily tucked up in bed and you were currently falling asleep on the sofa and being held hostage by their lead singer. George threw you a sympathetic smile over his shoulder as you struggled to keep your eyes open, nudging his mate and gesturing towards your slumped frame.

Immediately standing up; Matty made his way over to you, kneeling down next to you and brushing your hair behind your ear so softly. That if you were actually awake, you would have leaned into his touch but you were completely wiped out. “Lets get you home sweetheart.” His voice soft as he pulled you up and he dragged you gently out of the studio and into his car, George’s goodbye muffled by your sleepy brain as he headed towards his own car further down the street.

Matty drove to his, your shit already there and tucked by the side of the bed in his spare room, despite the fact the past two days you had fallen asleep curled up next to him as you watched documentaries in bed together. You still don’t know what you were because friends don’t continue to sleep in the same bed with one another and not go any further than that. Scientifically impossible especially with the history the two of you had, a tension of the sexual kind always tethering the two of you together, no matter who was around, you always toed that line. 

That was all about to change.

When you woke up the next morning, Matty’s face in your neck, hands up the t-shirt you were wearing for bed, body wrapped around you as he spooned you from behind. The kiss he pressed to the back of your neck before moving away was enough to stir you from your sleep to search for him again in the sheets. Rolling over; you slotted into his side seamlessly, foot automatically intruding between his legs as your leg draped over the top of his waist.

“Don’t want to go to work. Tell the boys you’re not well. I’ll ring in sick.”  

You mumbled into his neck. His skin vibrated against your lips, his chuckles dying quickly in his throat as you pressed kisses to the upside of his jaw. Leaning down slowly he caught your lips between his own, neither of you bothered by whatever morning breath you may have, having seen each other in worse states than this. 

Matty’s hands moved from your face, dancing down your body as you tugged at his curls. Hands grabbing at the globes of your ass roughly as you kissed lazily in the morning light that was seeping through the curtains. Time was not a concept for either of you as you made out like a pair of love struck teenagers. You had gone nine years without him and now you didn’t want to let him go now you had leapt over that line.

A particular tug of his curls had him moaning into your mouth as he squeezed you against him, your ass firmly between his hands as you straddled him. “Babe gonna have to piss. Sorry.”  He mumbled against your lips, before wiggling out from beneath you. The both of you yawning as you both stretched properly for the first time that morning. “Maybe coffee too. Shit I’m tired as balls. Come on sweetheart.” He held out his hand for you take, finally leaving the confines of his bedroom.

Coffee brewed, breakfast eaten and teeth brushed. You and Matty happily trudged back to his bed after you called in sick to work and Matty text George some bullshit excuse as to why he wasn’t going to the studio today. The pair of you continuing to make out like horny teenagers until your lips were swollen and you were desperate to be under him and your wish was about to come true.

The hum of contentment left your mouth as Matty’s hands bunched up his shirt you had slept in the night before, soft kisses making their way down your stomach until he reached the top of your lacy knickers. Thank fuck for always thinking a head, you’d pat yourself on the back later for that one. Matty continued to press kisses to both of your hips before continuing his assault everywhere but where you wanted him to.

Looking down at him, Matty leant against the inside of your thigh, his eyes swimming with permission and when he looked like that between your legs, you’d happily give him anything he wanted. “Please.” You managed to whimper as his fingers tucked underneath the lace and dragging them down your legs quicker than you anticipated.

Matty held your legs apart as he looked up at you, hearts appearing in his eyes as he looked up at your heaving chest before delving in. Fingers wrapping around his curls, you couldn’t help but tighten your grip as his tongue swept through your folds to lick at your clit before sucking it into his mouth. Your back arching into his touch as he devoured you,  the pornographic moans you let out as he lapped up your mess enough to make him cum in his pants like a teenager.

“Fuck how have you got better at this?” You moaned; throwing your head back into the pillow as you groaned at his ministrations as he mouthed at your pussy. “Jesus fuck! That’s good!”

“Loads of practice.” He hummed against you, a soft kiss to your inner thigh before running his tongue over you again, before pressing his middle and index fingers into you too and pressing against that spot he loved so much.

“Don’t want to hear about other girls Healy.” You huffed, just as he sucked your clit into his mouth again, causing you to groan loudly. “Fuck going to cum.”

The grip you had on Matty’s hair was impossibly tight, the feeling of your nails indenting into the palm of your hand proof of that as your legs started to shake either side of his head. Matty doubled down on his efforts as you started to tingle all over, his fingers rapidly moving in you had the brunette holding your hips down as you started to gyrate against his mouth in a hurried effort to cum for him.

When you finally did, it felt like you were cumming forever. Your legs still shaking as Matty slowly made his way up towards your face, pressing kisses in the wake of his path before pressing a deep kiss to your lips. The taste of yourself now on your tongue making you hum as you pulled him closer.

“Could fucking stay between your legs forever baby.”

“I’d let you. That was fucking good Healy.”

“Hmmm.” Matty hummed into your neck, as he pressed delicate kisses to your skin as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Ringing in sick, best idea ever.”

After that; you too couldn’t keep your hands off you. You had opened the floodgates and you were never not having sex of some sorts. It was constant which was saying something because when you were both in your early twenties the two of you were at it like rabbits! 

Now that the two of you seemed to have established that you wanted to be with each other, life seemed to fall into place so easily. You went to work during the day, working with high end clients in the law firm you worked at and being a bad ass bitch by day and went home and fucked your sexy, talented ass man when you got home and hung out with the other boys in the studio at the weekend/days off. You couldn’t complain really and neither could they when apparently Matty was tuning out material so good, that George claimed that he was just playing him a song that was an old classic and not something new.

You had already become a constant within the boys’ lives at this point but it was when you were chilling in the studio, draped across the sofa and atop of both Ross and George as Matty faffed about at the sound board with one of their sound technicians that you realised you were all way too comfortable around each other.

The sound technician had been out of the room all of two seconds before he was sending you a suggestive look from the spinning chair he was currently occupying. His eyes drifted from you to his crotch and back again, raising an eyebrow to challenge you. But you weren’t playing these games today. You knew you were falling for him, 99% sure you already had and there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for the stupid fucker. But you wouldn’t play these games in front of the lads.

“No.” You tilted your head up from where it was leaning against George’s leg, to shoot your boyfriend a look.

“Why not?”

“Babe I’m not sucking your dick when the boys are here. Don’t be gross!” 

“Baaabe” He whined dramatically at you.

“Yeah. I object to that sort of behaviour.” Ross piped up from the other end of the sofa with a chuckle.

“I love you both but I don’t want to see your dick mate.” Adam looked up from his guitar in the corner.

“Agreed, we put up with a lot of shit but do I want to see your dick in our sweet innocent friend’s mouth. No.” George joked from above you. You pinched his thigh much to his annoyance, hitting you with his flailing arms in reflex to your assault.

“Your dick is practically in her mouth now. Shut up! Come on baby, let’s quickly sneak out.”

Your boyfriend’s unfiltered mouth, seemed to think he was funny. But his joke didn’t settle with any of you the way he thought it would. Especially you and George and it was the first time you made an effort to sit up and move away from the friendly giant you called your mate. As the awkwardness settled between the five of you, you quickly dropped your legs from Ross’ lap too and sat up. 

The atmosphere in the room had quickly shifted and you made an excuse to make a “work call” and left the room.

That was the first disagreement you had with Matty since you had gotten back together. You were up for a dick joke as much as the next lass but making you the butt of the joke like you were some type of slut was where you drew the line. 

Although to give Matty’s his dues, he let you talk it out with him after giving you the space you needed. He apologised immediately and promised he’d not slut you up in front of the boys again. Which if it had happened ten years ago, you would have screamed about him being “such a boy” and how he would have screamed about “how you just don’t get his humour and to get over yourself.”

“I’m sorry baby. I forget I don’t have a filter sometimes. Won’t happen again.”  He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, hands draped around your waist. “I’ve never been this happy. This is the happiest I’ve ever been and it’s all because of you sweetheart. Don’t want to mess this up.”

“I know baby.”  You kissed him back harder than before, twirling his curls around his fingers before pecking your lips against his over and over again, just wanting to be close to him. If you could see yourselves, you’d hate the two of you. “You won’t, I know you won't.” You whispered against the side if his neck, as you mouthed at his jaw and pulling a groan from him as you pressed just underneath his ear.

“I fucking love you sweetheart.”

You felt like your heart stopped as his words entered your ears, his forehead resting against yours as he pressed you up against the wall.

“Yeah?”  Matty nodded. “I fucking love you too Healy!”  You grinned.

Matty pressed you further into the wall, kissing you so deeply you thought you’d go through it. The moan you tried to suppress as you felt his thigh press between your own echoed through the corridor in the studio and it was only when you realised where you were, your mates just on other side of the wall. Had you pulling aways as sense invaded your brain.

“I love you but not here. When we’re home.”  You laughed at his pout.

“Only because I love you so much. Don’t think I ever really stopped to be honest.” 

Matty had the nerve to look demure as he said it but the giddiness as he bounced on the balls of his feet, you knew he was anything but as he looked like he was ready to burst. You rolled your eyes as you know what he wanted but you sent him a soft smile all the same. God you were down bad for the silly fucker!

“You can tell the boys! Go!” You shoved him playfully. Your laugh reverberated around the hall as he pressed a kiss to your mouth once more before running back towards the room you had both disappeared from. “She fucking loves me mate!”  You heard him shout as he burst through the studio door.

Not far behind him, you stopped to lean against the door frame as he bounced around the room. The boys patting him on the back with smiles equally as big as they voiced their congratulations. 

“We know!”  Ross cackled, rolling his eyes when he spotted you.

“Fuck knows why! You’re a pain the arse!” George smirked, pulling his best mate into a tight hug.

“I’m happy for you both.”  Adam spoke from his corner, a bright smile on his face as he nodded at you in the doorway. Adam had this all knowing look on his face, having been there the moment you reunited. You think he always knew deep down, this was where it was heading. You both loved hard and fast, he saw it first hand ten years ago and had seen how happy his best mate had been just by having you in his life again. He knew there was no way you weren’t going to realise that the two of you were meant to be.

Your boy turned to look at you. Leant against the doorframe, arms folded across your chest and the softest look on your face as you watched his energy bounce off everything he touched, it was so infectious that you couldn’t help but feel your eyes gloss over. The overwhelming feeling of love hitting you square in the chest as the four of them teased one another. Teased Matty for being soft. You caught each others eyes, Matty beaming as he took you in.

A chance meeting at a wedding ten years ago. A fleeting love affair. Nine years apart. 

A chance reunion between an international rockstar and the one who got away.

Yeah you were fucking so down for this man.

He was your person.

[alpydk]

How do you do that? (Fanfic writing)

I've not seen many of these posts. I always see a "well the words come in my head and I just do." So I'm going to be me and write too much and tell you how my work process is for writing and how I write the stuff I do. Good? Good. - Warning - This is a long post.

Step 1! The idea!

The best stories are written in truth. So if you have something you've experienced, adapt it and get it down. 1, it's therapeutic. 2, you can channel your own emotions and experience into it. It's more real when there is something behind it. Take f.x The Moment - a lot of my personal experiences and trains of thought went into that and it gives the character in it a lot more life.

"she would sit alone in her tent, her legs pulled close to her chest, her eyes on her pack comparing the pros and cons of the act, before eventually she would move to the campfire where her allies would act as her unknown protectors." - I've done this with the pros and cons and eventually just sticking around people. Real experience = More relatable to the reader.

Other ideas come from common tropes you see in movies, tags I've seen on Ao3 which light something in me, scenes in movies that I've loved and just a vivid imagination that's very dramatic. Seriously folks, write down your daydreams.!

Step 2! Planning!

For poems, don't plan and do very little editing. Some will probably hate that. I'm expecting Jourdane to be biting the bars of her cage at that statement, but the best poems just flow from the heart (At least in my case.) For fics, I grab a pen and jot down an outline. You've seen my pokemon book and the many pages with random notes like "FEELINGS, Comfort smut." - This gives me my basis, the start middle and end, what characters will be involved and the dots I need to connect. I'll usually also include some inner perspectives I want to put in. f.x "Guilt/Fear/Control" - Sort of character themes. This reminds me of the character motives and reactions so they don't go off as I'm writing.

Now, this doesn't mean the plan will change as I write. It has done in the past, but that just means a new load of notes is written.

Step 3! The writing!

This is the part you all really want. I'm going to use some of As you Wish - To break it down.

Descriptions

When it comes to fanfic, especially in canon, we already have a set idea of the characters and locations in our mind. So I spend very little time on character and location descriptions unless they matter in the scene.

"Pale fingers spun the wedding ring mindlessly on the wooden table of the tavern as the now owner of the band spoke." -

Pale fingers, that's a signature of Astarion, could also talk about hair colour, red eyes, key features. For Gale, it's usually robes, dark eyes, beard. The wedding ring (most associate with gold or silver but it is not important, mind fills it in). The wooden table in the tavern, brain will hopefully put us in the Elfsong or similar - but again, not really important, as this is not what the scene or story is about. I stick to what is needed, or it just becomes more about details than the message. Dialogue

Start with the canon dialogue. Do not be ashamed to use it to give you an idea of how characters talk. You see in the game that Gale is very wordy. I am not. So what I do is take a standard line and then 'Gale it up' - What I mean is I go onto OneLook - Take a word and replace it with something more intellectual. Gale does not say "I'm sorry" very often. He says "My apologies" He doesn't say "we're talking about."; he says "We're discussing..." - You get the idea. Include character actions they commonly do. Astarion in mine spends a lot of time scoffing and smirking. Flamboyant hand actions and the like. Karlach speaks loudly, Gale gestures and gazes. Emotions A lot of thinking, a lot of wondering, a lot of feeling. So much character introspection put into non dialogue parts. Either in the form of some internal monologue. "Of sorts... Of course, he’s said it like that," or questions the character would ask themselves. "What would happen with it tomorrow as they took on their final battle with the Netherbrain?" Combine with genuine ways the characters would question these things, how a real person would act. So many fics I've read either become very 2 dimensional with their characters. They spend so long on direct dialogue or physical descriptions that they miss what makes a person a person, and it's this inner soul that speaks more than anything. It's the doubts and the worries and the love and the happiness we FEEL. It needs to be written in too. Take, for example, Gale - Man is filled with self doubt, crushed under the weight of his past with Mystra. He may act outwardly confident, but inside he's not. These things need to be included to get it right.

Poetic Language

The analysis part... I like to call a spade a spade. If I've used a metaphor or something, it is exactly how it's meant to be used. There is no speculation of meaning, no "but the author is possibly conveying a sense of loss through the description of the red carpet." - There's a place for that and I'm sure that's what makes other people's fics considerably better than mine, but I don't have the time or longing for that. My comparisons are very obvious, again so the reader can relate. "What was marriage if not chains to bind?" - See? Very obvious way of thinking that marriage is a prison, and it not only includes the emotions of the character's introspective thoughts but also some of that well-used billedsprog (picture language, can't think of the English word - am not schooled enough).

Anyway, metaphors and such - Don't gatekeep your work trying to be intellectual. Reading, especially fanfic, is there to be enjoyed by everyone, so as a writer just keep it simple.

Step 4! Editing!

I personally used ProWritingAid for spelling and grammar checking. Grammarly is also a good one but very pushy in its premium advertising.

I try to avoid using repeat words too often, again see OneLook for alternatives. I also read my fic through on word first checking for errors, then copy and paste to Tumblr where I read again. The font and layout is different, so I can spot more that I might have skimmed over the first time. If I want to be sure, then I might go out for a few hours and then read through again later and will surely find something. If you want to be really sure, find a beta reader (I personally don't because I can't handle the critique unless I know the other person is very skilled and trustworthy, even then it's my work, not theirs.) Congratulations, you have just written a fanfiction!

Share it on Tumblr, share it on Ao3 (or your chosen site), get depressed when it does not get the traction you want. This is the writer's way.

I hope this helps at least one person to join the fanfic writing community. Honestly, just write and be creative. Don't doubt yourself, don't think you're not good enough, just put words on paper and go for it. There is a reader out there for every writer. You just have to find each other.

[iwsynttr-project]

WAAAHHH I just saw people have been posting about the project on Pinterest???

THANK YOU???

I am so pink oh my goodness aaa

I'll give some updates then so people know we're not just slackin', haha;;

This past week we've been hella busy with church, school, trying out programs, still figuring out the whole learning to drive thing, stuff with disability, etc... but especially with Valentine's Day & Moose's birthday.

CJ came up to visit which was really special & we got to eat out & get boba all together which was super nice as he doesn't live too close by ever since we moved a few years back.

I recently got most of my m3dz figured out so I might be able to start hrt within the next year, & it sounds like the date has been set for CJ & I to get married this April 29th!

On top of all this we recently found out that a couple other plans have been thrown into the mix:

Our folks are planning to head out for a week a few states away to spend time with family & celebrate our twin cousins' birthday & then they'll be goin to Medieval Times for Moose's birthday possibly with another friend or cousin.

My mom & I are gonna try & see a show with CJ & his mom if they're able to come for my 21st birthday (Which is March 13th!) & CJ's birthday is at the start of April.

Right before our wedding is my dad's birthday & we're gonna see another live performance in another state, & then right afterwards a few days later is gonna be the wedding.

We're just gonna make it small & Soukoku themed, but maybe years later from now when we're livin' alone & financially stable we might do a bigger more official wedding. We'll renew our vows, maybe have custom made suits, special stuff like that.

Somethin' we're hopin' to do is for the small one we might make custom Lego Minifigures to be in front of/above the cake & then if we save up... the four-six hundred bucks... we wanna get the Soukoku "wedding" figurines that came out a bit ago.

It's a dream.

Anyways, as for the actual project!

I'm still working on the script when I have time, I just got stumped since we don't have Golden Demon written yet- but I managed to come up with some content to fill in for during or after the scene plays out for now & continued from there.

Moose has decided to try & make two versions of Life's Better With A Little Party In It: one that's a trashy pop song, & one that's his own take on the song based on artists like YOASOBI. (Into the Night, Monster, Idol, etc...)

We're also thinking about making a Cover Album on the side to go with the soundtrack just for fun with covers of songs from bands & artists like ONE OK ROCK & Set It Off.

I'm still thinking I might go for making The I Was Screaming Your Name Through the Radio Project into an episodic animatic series, but with everything going on I might wait to record the actual script & songs until we've got most of the script & songs written out more at the least if not also until after I get a better microphone & possibly start injections. (Maybe I'll still do the first few chapters since they're just teens anyways but meh whatever; we'll see.)

I did do a drawing while I was free last night though & have been talking with my dad who's voice is basically his life & career about vocal training of sorts or if I should find classes online or something along those lines for it.

(Back to the drawing) I made a concept design for Moose's online/music persona AquaticSnow & a possible first EP/Album cover. I'm not sure I'll post it (yet?) since he might use it for stuff like his avatar, channel/s, music, etc but if I do it'll be on my personal main Tumblr, Instagram, & probably Deviantart & Twitter/X.

I'm also nervous about somebody tryin' to steal the art &/or concept.

Another reminder that I do have a personal server where I stream drawing, gaming, sometimes reading & writing, watch parties (movies, shows, etc...) & I post planning & updates for the project there!

.:Charli's Discord Server:.

( Don't forget to pick roles & read the rules! Otherwise you can't see the other chats;; )

Sorry 'bout the long post, haha;; we hope you all had a great Valentine's Day!

Charli

[norabrice1701]

Twist My Heart - Ch. 6

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Jake “Hangman” Seresin

- A TG:M Twister AU -

Series Main List

Also on AO3

Ch. 6 Warnings: Idiots in love; domestic fluff

A/N: Thank you all for reading this fic!! ❤️

3 years later

“You’re going the wrong way,” Jake says, setting his beer down. “Here, give me that.”

He plucks the remote control from Bradley’s hand, and Bradley doesn’t fight him. Despite scrolling through the list of hundreds of channels in the ‘Live TV’ guide, he still hasn’t found the channel they’re looking for. They’ve only had this TV installed for a week now, and Bradley still doesn’t have an intuitive feel for the built-in channel guide. And to compound his ineptitude, there isn’t even a search feature for him to enter ‘NBC Kentucky Derby’.

Jake finds the channel with ease, and the sights and sounds of Churchill Downs fill the screened-in porch. Bradley leans forward on the outdoor couch, dragging a tortilla chip through the accompanying queso fundido. Well, maybe calling it that is too generous – it’s just melted Velveeta and breakfast sausage – but neither of them boast gourmet kitchen prowess. Perhaps it’s something they can work on, but between Jake’s mastery of the grill and Bradley’s skill with a saute pan, they haven’t managed to starve yet. 

Or burn down the kitchen. Or the rest of their house. 

Because that fact still… god. 

He co-owns a house with Jake. 

Together. 

A house that they intend to turn into their home. 

They’re making good progress, especially after spending today in the yard. The landscaping had needed lots of love - still does - but after pulling tons of weeds, raking up all the dead shit in the flowerbeds, and mowing the lawn, they have earned the right to a lazy night on the couch. 

Bradley shifts against the all-weather cushion as he takes a swig of beer. He drapes an arm along the back of the couch, gazing up at the wall-mounted TV as Jake leans forward, munching a queso-slathered chip. 

Jake snags another chip before reaching for his beer. “Who’s your money on for the race?” 

Bradley doesn’t bother to hide his indifference. “I have no idea. I don’t even know who all’s in the field.” 

“Forte scratched this morning.” Jake supplies, licking a stray drop of beer foam from his top lip. “Tapit Trice is expected to perform well, along with Two Phils.” 

He arches a brow in disbelief even as his mouth quirks with amusement. “Didn’t know you played the ponies.” 

Jake doesn’t quite roll his eyes. “That phrase only applies if you put down money, Roo - and luckily for you, I don’t.” 

And Bradley does know that’s true. He’s learned much about Jake’s inner-workings and bad habits - and gambling doesn’t make the list. He continues to relax against the couch, taking in Jake’s profile set against the colors of sunset. Tall white clouds hang in the eastern sky, reflecting the brilliant colors back at them - and Bradley’s struck with another moment of incredulity. 

This handsome man is now his husband. The white gold band on Jake’s finger gleams against the beer koozie, matching the ring that adorns Bradley’s finger. Honesty, the metal band still feels a little foreign but each time he takes it off, he feels lost without it. 

“Then, I’ll go for Two Phils.” Bradley eventually says, tapping his wedding ring against the neck of the better bottle with a clink. “Always go for the funny name, right?” 

“In that case, you’d want Raise Cain or Cyclone Mischief.” Jake’s mouth curls with a smile against the rim of his beer bottle. “Though, neither one of them has great odds.” 

Bradley reaches for another chip, sweeping it through the queso. “Trying to impress me, hmm?” 

Jake’s laugh warms his chest. “Little late for that, don’t you think?” 

Bradley wipes a smudge of queso from his mustache. “Don’t think just because we’re already married doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.” He returns his arm to the back of the couch, fingers bushing against the strong line of Jake’s shoulders. “You got to keep proving that I made the right choice, right?” 

Jake’s eyes blaze with playful indignation. “Careful now, sweetheart - gotta keep proving that we made the right choice. I coulda said no, you know.” 

He squeezes Jake’s shoulder gently, heart fluttering as Jake leans into him. “I know you coulda. And that would have broken my heart.” 

Jake settles against his side and a wave of contentment washes over Bradley. A gentle breeze blows through the screened-in porch as they relax in their little backyard, and Bradley feels his face split wide with a stupid grin. He’s glad that Jake can’t see it and tease him for it. Ducking his head, he brushes a kiss to whatever part of Jake he can reach before taking another sip of his beer and returning his attention to the TV screen. 

The horses parade out of the stables and onto the track. Announcers recap the top contenders, identifying the contestants as they make their way towards the starting gate. Bradley doesn’t consider himself overly fond of horse racing, but there’s something fun about watching the fastest two minutes in all of the sports’ world.

“Well, if you knew anything about horse racing,” Jake rumbles softly. “You’d know that you’re supposed to pick three horses - one each for win, place, and show.” 

“That’s why I have you,” Bradley counters. “If we ever go to Churchill Downs, you can place the bets.” 

“Is that on your bucket list?” Jake asks, words deforming against the beer bottle lip. 

Bradley’s brows furrow. “I don’t know… guess I haven’t thought about it, really.” Maybe it’s because of how his dad died, but the idea of a bucket list doesn’t sit well with him. While he doesn’t deny the power of having dreams and goals, he also learned at a young age to just be grateful for everything life has given him and consider everything else as icing on the cake. He wets his top lip, sighing gently. “How about you?” 

“Only if you wear one of those big, gaudy hats.” Jake nods towards the screen as the camera zooms in on a woman in an oversized bright yellow, red, and white hat. 

Bradley grimaces. “No chance in hell, man.” 

“Maybe if you lose a bet?” Jake prods, mischief in his eyes and smile. “Or if Tapit Trice wins?” 

A chuckle works up Bradley’s throat, fading as the TV screen jumps to a split-screen showing the local news station studio. 

“Good evening, we apologize for interrupting the Kentucky Derby, but we have a severe weather situation brewing in Nowata County to bring you up to speed on.”

A Doppler radar now dominates half the screen as Jake and Bradley both stare with rapt interest. Severe thunderstorm warnings and tornado watch banners light up the top and bottom of the shot as the strong supercell, in shades of angry red and orange, bears down on the noted towns.

“Now, this powerful storm is currently located just two miles east of Delaware, Oklahoma - and already we have reports of golf ball sized hail ranging up to baseball sized hail. This is not a storm to mess around with, folks, especially with the strong winds and lightning. Tornado watches are in effect for all of Nowata County, but as you can see…” 

Jake lets out a low whistle. “Just look at that,” he muses, nodding towards the TV. “That’s the perfect formation for a hook echo.” 

Bradley nods as his throat goes dry. “Yeah… especially with those wind speeds. And just look at that outflow boundary.”  

As if summoned by their words, big bold letters declaring a tornado warning flash across their screen. 

“Alright, now we have a tornado warning in effect - I repeat, tornado warning in effect - for Nowata County. Seek shelter in a basement or storm cellar or interior room of your house…” 

The on-screen radar image updates, and the text-book perfect hook echo formation appears on screen. A tracking cone emanates from it as the meteorologist continues to outline the storm’s projected path, taking it nowhere near their home. Despite the contentment with Jake at his side, the desire to hop in the SUV and chase it down still nags at him. Perhaps it always will - and if it weren’t their weekend off, perhaps they would already be on the scene. 

“You ever considered a job in television?” Jake asks, clinking his own ring against the glass bottle neck. “It’d give us all something much better to look at.” 

Bradley resists another eye-roll. “And miss the chance to be out in the field with the rain on my face and the wind in my hair?” He glances over at Jake. “Not a chance in hell.” 

Something proud sparks in Jake’s gaze, laced with innate understanding. Slowly, he drags his gaze back to the TV nodding up at the screen. “Almost makes me want to be out there, you know? I’m sure they’re getting some good action.” 

Bradley nods gently, letting himself settle more visibly against the couch. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he says, coaxing Jake back with him. “But there’ll always be another storm, right? Besides,” he flashes his husband a teasing, alluring grin. “I can definitely promise you much better action in our bedroom later tonight.”  

Jake’s eyes wrinkle with laughter as he shakes his head. “Better? Hmm, debatable. Infinitely more satisfying?” He leans in for a quick kiss. “Every time, darlin’.” 

Fin

Series Main List

Tag List: @redfurrycat

[hopelessromance21]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

「 DISCLAMER: 」

ᴛᴡ: ᴄᴀʀ ᴄʀᴀsʜ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɢʀɪᴇᴠɪɴɢ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴅʀᴜɢs, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴡᴇᴇᴅ, ᴏɴᴇ (𝟷) sᴡᴇᴀʀ

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇss ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴇᴍᴇʀɢᴇɴᴄʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛs/ɴᴇxᴛ ᴏғ ᴋɪɴ ɪɴ ᴀ ғɪʀsᴛ ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴᴅᴇʀ/ᴇᴍᴇʀɢᴇɴᴄʏ sɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2,074

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

It's 5:23 PM. The tv plays faintly in the living room, white noise that falls into the subconscious of those in the room. The small, 2 bedroom apartment is utterly silent aside from this.

On the couch lies a man and his son, both sleeping in comfort with the warmth of the other. Father and son, bearing similar resemblance with their shaggy black hair and charming features, are clothed in their pajamas.

Glenn Close is a 30-something father and husband. His home and life is humble, with the father just starting up his Christmas Cover band; The Glenn Close Trio. Between the Christmas Season, he gets by, working as a DJ for weddings and other events.

He barely begins to stir, shaggy black hair draped over his eyes and obscuring his vision. He’s starting to grow it out, for the so-called “Rocker look” he feels will do well on stage. At the moment, is it in the awkward stages of its growth, but he still sports it well.

Opening his eyes, Glenn raises one hand to brush away his hair, his chest rising and falling in a yawning sigh. On his chest, he feels the small weight stir. His other hand remains on his son’s back; Nicholas, sleeping soundly.

The father and son fell asleep around an hour ago, while enjoying a lazy Sunday watching the Disney channel. Nick rested comfortably on his fathers chest, lulled to sleep by his warmth and the rhythm of his breathing and heartbeat.

Glenn smiles with parental love for his child. Only seven years old, bringing both calm and chaos into Glenn’s life. Filling his life with a love and purpose he never thought he could find.

Feeling the need to awaken his tired limbs, Glenn carefully lifts Nick up— he is a heavy sleeper, always has been— and lays his son on the couch, a pillow under his head.

In his very plain pajamas, simply a band t-shirt and sweats, Glenn raises his arms up in a stretch, groaning quietly at the effort. He sluggishly shuffles to the bathroom down the hall.

He notes the silence of the apartment while he uses the toilet— he knows his wife, Morgan, left an hour and a half ago to run to the store, but he expected her to be back by now. The store is only a 15 minute drive, and she only needed a few things.

Leaving the bathroom, Glenn takes a quick peek across the hall into his shared room. Empty, and silent. He also looks into Nick’s room, just for the sake of looking. Again, nothing.

The man scratches his stomach lazily, stepping out of the short hallway. He crosses the living room, making an effort to keep light-footed, letting his son nap undisturbed. He steps into the kitchen, the space separated from the living room only by the countertop and rickety dining room table.

He finds the remote phone idling where it was last left on the kitchen counter. Picking it up, he dials his wife’s number, the set of digits memorized years ago.

The phone rings in his ear as the call is sent out, and Glenn waits calmly for Morgan to answer. As the sound drones in his ear, he pops open the fridge, peering inside at the meager leftovers. He grabs the little bit of orange juice left, taking a swig from the container.

“Hey, this is Morgan. I can’t get to the phone right now, I’ll call you back when I can. Later!”

Glenn pouts half-heartedly as the recorded voice of his wife answers his call. He glances at the time on the stove as the phone beeps and waits for him to input a message. Nearly 5:30

“Hey babe, uh, I was just wondering where you’re at. Me ‘n Nicky here are missin’ ya. Lemme know when you’re heading home, m‘kay? Love you.”

Satisfied with his message, Glenn hangs up the phone. As he lowers his hand to return the device to the countertop, it rings in his hand, startling him with the abruptness.

He answers, clearing his throat subtly.

“Y’ello?”

“Is this a Mr. Close?”

“Mhm. Who’s this?”

“This is Officer Foster. Mr. Close, I’m calling about your wife, Morgan Close.”

Glenn feels a pit of dread begin to form in his gut. He shrugs it off, swallowing the sudden lump that forms in his throat.

“It’s- its uh, Morgan Freeman-Close, actually…”

“.. Mrs. Freeman-Close was in an accident, Mr. Close… A head-on collision.”

“...”

“She was dead on arrival, sir.”

Glenn’s free hand grips the edge of the countertop, his mind dizzy and his legs turning to jelly. His balance wavers, as if someone pulled the ground out from under him. There’s a horrible nausea in his gut, climbing up his chest.

The phone clatters out of his hands, onto the countertop and into the empty sink. He can hear the faint, polite apologies of the Officer. Meaningless condolences as Glenn’s world crashes around him.

She’s dead. She’s dead. He saw her just this morning and now… she’s gone.

Glenn crumbles, leaning over the countertop, throat choked with tears. His hand cradles his face as a sob leaves his mouth, soft and muffled.

“... Daddy?”

The soft, sleepy voice of Nick awakens Glenn from his grief.

Oh God- Nick…

Glenn wipes his eyes that were wet with tears. He swallows hard.

Nick lost his mother. All he had now was… him.

Turning to his son, Glenn forces a smile, looking down at the sleepy boy. He’s clothed in a plain blue pajama set, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his little fist. His hair, similar to Glenn’s in shade and texture, is messy and laying flat on one side of his head.

Kneeling to be level with his son, Glenn affectionately ruffles Nick’s hair. His son smiles at him and yawns.

“Hey- hey bud,” Glenn speaks with a voice that initially croaks, before he clears his throat to right his vocal chords. “Hey, uh… you want pizza for dinner? Pizza an-and.. ice cream! Yeah, does that sound good?”

Nicholas, unaware of the turmoil his father is silently going through, visibly brightens with excitement at his suggestion. “Yeah! Pizza and ice cream!”

“Alright, yeah!” Glenn inwardly grimaces as he smiles down at his son. “You, uh, put something on to watch, I’ll call for a pizza and… and ask Mrs. Reed to watch you while I run to the convenience store to get the ice cream.”

“Okay!” Nick beams up at his dad, running back to the living room.

Sitting in front of the entertainment system, Nick opens the doors to the multitude of movies inside, picking from the Disney content Glenn had amassed.

In the kitchen, Glenn’s hands shake subtly as he types in the Papa John’s number and orders a pizza. His eyes grow blurred and wet as he slips on his shoes and a jacket. His throat becomes tense and sore with building tears as he knocks on their neighbors door and employs her help.

He keeps it together for the rest of the night. He thanks Mrs. Reed when he returns with two pints of ice cream. He pays the pizza guy with a good tip. He gives Nick dinner, and the two watch Disney movies on the couch. He pretends everything is fine, and watches Nick look around curiously, wondering where Morgan is.

As Glenn puts Nick to bed, his resolve is tested. His son looks up at him with a thoughtful expression as his father puts the storybook away.

“Daddy, where’s Momma?”

Glenn’s movements stutter, sliding the book back into its place on the bookshelf. He glances at Nicholas, mustering a smile that has weakened through the hours.

“She, uh.. she had to go somewhere… she isn’t gonna… u-um..”

Glenn swallows, absently holding Nick’s teddy bear in his hands.

“Let’s uh.. I’ll explain it all tomorrow, okay? I’m beat, and you’ve got school tomorrow.”

Nick stares up at his dad, his head sinking into the softness of his pillow. He nods, beginning to suspect everything isn’t as good as Glenn tries to make it seem.

Glenn smiles down at him, passing his hand over the curls of hair that fall over Nick’s forehead. “Okay, g’night buddy.”

Leaning down, Glenn presses a kiss to Nick’s forehead. Nick wraps his small arms around Glenn’s neck in a brief hug.

“Night Daddy.”

Standing up, Glenn places Nick’s bear next to him on the bed. He silently walks to the door, switching off the light. Nick’s night-light gives off a soft glow beside his bed.

The apartment is silent again. This time, the absence of noise is suffocating; surrounding Glenn, choking him.

He steps away from Nick’s door, left open just a crack by his preference. The father takes the three steps it takes to cross the hallway to his door. He shuts his door, remaining in the dark of his room.

It’s messy, in the space he and Morgan inhabited. Clothes tossed here and there, the bed unkempt. Morgan mentioned cleaning up that morning. Glenn forgot to.

This room was once warm and inviting to Glenn; now, it's bathed in a somber grief. It only invites pain.

The man crosses his room, pausing at a pile of clothes. He stoops down, picking up one of Morgan’s shirts— initially his, but she stole it so often it became hers.

Holding the shirt in his hands, Glenn sits on the bed, on her side. He holds the shirt to his face, taking in a breath— smelling her so clearly, as if he was holding her in his arms.

A single sob shakes his body. It rips out of his throat, as silent as it is. And from one, a second and third erupt forth, until he is sobbing without stop into her shirt. Tears fall from his eyes, turning the black fabric a shade darker from the moisture. He cries desperately, grieving violently.

His choked and muffled cries bring his body to collapse and crumble in his bed. He feels the softness of their pillows under his head, smells everything so familiar and so agonizing. Wafts of her shampoo. Notes of her perfume. The lingering musk of the last bowl they smoked.

His mind wanders back. Back to the previous night. How they laid together, warm, content. Cuddling, their room smoky and musky. How they talked about their dreams, about the bigger picture. About how much they loved Nicky, how much they loved each other. How it turned into kissing and giggling, whispering “shh”, and “don’t wake Nick up”...

And that morning, laying together, chest to back. How he woke her up with playful kisses on her shoulder and neck, and ran his fingers over her ribs to make her laugh and giggle.

How he traced her tattoos and mumbled soft things to her. Mumbled her praise and his gratitude. Marveled over the life he has, married to a woman that showed him compassion and love, scolded him and taught him how to be something more than he was raised. Showed him he could be a good father. Better than the shitbag he had.

And how that was all gone.

That night, Glenn Close grieved heavily. He fell asleep in tears, his last thoughts of tomorrow. Of having to sit down Nicholas and explain to him how his Mommy is never coming home.

Explaining that, in several week’s time, they would have to dress solemn and black, and stand in a field blemished with grey tombstones and watch a coffin be lowered into the earth.

Sending him to school with that knowledge. Going through the day himself, with that knowledge.

Knowing Glenn will do his best, and his best will be lacking in every way. Knowing he will fall back into old habits while trying to keep things together. Knowing as he begins to look strangely reminiscent, his habits will grow hauntingly reminiscent, and his actions will be shadowed with similarity.

Knowing while he may never fail to kiss his son on the head and tell him he loves him, he will fail to comfort him in the right ways, as he has always struggled with. He will hesitate and ultimately avoid addressing the problem, and go on pretending everything will be alright.

Knowing, for certain, in 10 years time, or sooner, he will hate himself, and who he sees in the mirror.

And won’t be alright.

[thebeautifulcompanyuk]

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[jamieroxxartist]

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Pop Art Painter Jamie #Roxx (www.JamieRoxx.us) welcomes #AngieGlasscock / Moon Shine (Americana, Country, R&B) to the Show!

● WEB: www.moonshine.band ● FB: @MoonShineBandNY ● IG: @MoonShineBandNY ● TW: @MoonShineBandNY ● YT: www.youtube.com/channel/UCz_SiJbcsMW05rspBetvbhQ

Moon Shine is a Brooklyn-based band that showcases the songs of Angie Glasscock. Angie was born in Memphis and raised between Los Angeles and Nashville. Angie’s songs reach back a lifetime, from childhood to present, to share personal stories full of longing and desire, for lost love, lost home, a yearning for a life left behind, a love not yet realized.

​The debut album, released in 2022, has two distinctly different but related styles: one side of the record is R&B and the other Country. The album was recorded at Atomic Sound in Brooklyn with the prodigiously talented producer/guitarist Teddy Kumpel and first-call players Cat Popper: bass, Steve Williams: drums, Todd Caldwell: on keyboards, Charlie Burnham: fiddle.

[missradiantjewels]