#side note this is my first time writing with full 'theys'.... can you tell

[addiepaca]

#01 Blue Hour Talks

“Are you an idiot?” Medic glared at the Villain, their eyes slightly narrowed while they wrapped a bandage on the other’s arm. “What?” The Villain, slightly baffled at the sudden jab that broke the peaceful silence. They had hoped to at least get some slack after the disastrous fight in the warehouse last night. Bags clearly visible under their eyes after barely getting any sleep for the past few weeks and their body riddled with fresh cuts and bruises.

“Did you really let the Hero beat you because they seemed ‘under the weather’?” They tighten the bandage around their arm, causing some tension in their already strained muscles. “I did not, I just didn’t want to fight a sick hero,” Villain cleared their throat. The two had been throwing punches like usual when the Hero’s eyes seemed hazy, their breathing uneven and their face slightly paler than usual. Their moves were also lacking the typical force and precision, the Villain dodging every blow with ease it was almost laughable. Though the thought seemed to churn the Villain’s stomach with an uncomfortable feeling. Probably pity or something.

“Right, whatever helps you sleep better.”

Medic finished wrapping up their arm and leaned back on their seat, crossing their legs. Turning their attention to what the Villain assumed was their patient file. Villain scoffed lightly, pulling down the sleeve to cover their arm and rolling their eyes. “You know I’m really not appreciating your judgmental comments,” they sneered, brows furrowing as they rested their chin on their hand, pouting like a petulant child.

“I don’t get paid enough to keep those comments to myself,” Medic didn’t look up from the stack of papers in their hands, noting something down with barely readable handwriting on one of the pages. “You don’t get paid for this at all,” Villain retorted.

Medic finally shifted their gaze and groaned, hitting Villain on the head with their own file which made the other gasp in disbelief. “You’re right, it’s charity work. Be grateful I’m even listening to your nonsense,” Medic grumbled. Throwing the papers on their lap for them to read later. “Oh shut it,” they muttered under their breath.

It’s not like the Villain cared or anything, they just happened to be a considerate person. Besides, what good would beating a sick hero be? It’ll be too easy, too boring and definitely not worth their time. Villain had better things to do than prolonging the fight that night, like getting a few minutes of sleep before inevitably failing to get some rest. Eventually dragging themselves to the infirmary to treat the wounds they had been too lazy acknowledge.

“Really, how long are you going to keep this up?” Medic sighed, their eyes scanning over them with a thinly veiled exasperation. Villain, sprawled up on the patient bed with arms folded across their chest raised a brow at the vague question. “Keep what up?”

Medic made a strange gesture with their hands. “This ‘thing’ with the hero,” Swirling their left hand around unceremoniously while scrutinizing the Villain, their face almost looked annoyed. That fact, for whatever reason, made Villain just as irritated. Why couldn’t people mind their own business anymore?

“There is no ‘thing’ between us,” Villain said with a stern tone. Leaving no room for interjections as they glared at Medic. If they were allowed to punch medical personnel on company time, this ridiculous conversation wouldn’t even be happening right now. Medic pursed their lips with a sceptical expression on their face.

“Right,” they replied.

“Right.”

A moment of silence passed over them, as if to let the words sink in before Medic started persisting again.“So there’s nothing going on between you two?” They tilted their head in curiosity like a cat. Villain fought the urge to roll their eyes and rubbed their temples instead, surprisingly taking a second to think before answering. “Other than the usual hatred and disgust, no.” The other hummed in acknowledgement, nodding as they took in the Villain’s reply. “So if the Hero were to start seeing someone else, you wouldn’t mind?” 

The sudden hypothetical caught the Villain’s attention, making them flinch and glare at their sibling, dumbfounded. “What kind of question is that?!” Their voice slightly raised, though they didn’t mean to come off as harsh, the provoking question just irked them. Medic scoffed, a mocking smile playing on their lips as they brushed off their aggression. “Just answer it,” they urged. 

Villain bristled at the smug look on their face, weighing the consequences of knocking them out right now. “I don’t care who they see or don’t see, they’re not important to me.” They lied, the thought of it brought some discomfort to the Villain. After all, who has time for relationships when you’re busy fighting crime? Why would you not devote your utmost attention to your enemy? It’s absurd to think their the Hero would start to stop paying their attention to the Villain in favor of their spouse. The Villain had almost forgotten the fact that the question was a hypothetical.

“Okay,” Medic raised their hands in the air in a defeated gesture while averting their gaze. The corners of their lips twitching to hide a smile, undoubtedly. They leaned back in their chair again, quietly reaching out for the TV remote on the nearby desk. “You don’t believe me,” the words came out from the Villain’s mouth as more of a statement than a question. It wasn’t particularly hard to tell when Medic didn’t believe their half-assed lies. The derisive tone seemed to run in the family after all.

The TV screen lights up the dimly lit room, causing the Villain’s eye to twitch as they adjusted to the brightness. “I believe you, I’m not sure if you believe yourself,” Medic feigned indifference as they casually propped their feet on the bed. “Shut up,” Villain remarked. Kicking their feet away with a grumble, earning an annoyed scoff from Medic. 

“At least say thank you for patching you up,” they pressed the buttons on the remote, rapidly switching between channels while humming. The Villain slumped on their bed, stretching their bandaged arm carefully, almost forgetting the fact that their body hurt like hell. “No.”

Medic turned their head towards them and huffed out an annoyed breath. “Say thank you or I’m telling mum you ended up in the clinic again.”

“Why do you always pull that card?” Villain had the urge to throw them out of the room, but relented given their threat. Which they knew wasn’t a bluff. “Because it always works,” Medic shrugged as if it was a common fact. 

Villain groaned and leaned their head against the headboard, running their hands through their ruffled hair. “Thanks, happy now?” they gave in. Secretly fearing the wrath of a certain woman who they haven’t called in a month.

“Good enough,” Medic smiled smugly. Putting away the remote after settling on the news channel, one of the few that was interesting enough to capture their attention.

“Freak,” Villain muttered under their breath.

“Loser,” Medic replied.

The news flashed a clip of various heroes being awarded a few days ago, smiling and waving to the locals. Their hero inching closer to a certain rookie who hadn’t even been in the business for a year, hand in hand as they laughed softly together, lost in their own world. The Villain clenched their jaw.

part 2

[beels-burger-babe]

All is Fair in Dice and War

***Soooo, @bagelsinatoaster I love this request. However, you didn't specify which board game and as I am a huge nerd I decided to take some creative liberties and combine this with another idea I've been meaning to write which is: MC introducing the demon bros to Dungeons and Dragons. I certainly had fun with this and I hope you like it!*** Summary: Leviathan's world is flipped upside down when MC tells him there is a game that basically allows him to be the Lord of Shadows in real life!! He demands that his brothers join him as MC introduces them all to the chaotic shit show that is Dungeons & Dragons. For once, it was a peaceful day in the House of Lamentation. Lucifer was lounging in the living room with a cursed record playing softly in the background. For once, Satan had willingly joined him and was sitting by the fireplace, thumbing through a book on the human world. Belphie had been passed out on the couch when he arrived and was still laying there with an impressive puddle of drool collecting near his mouth. Even Asmodeus and Beel had joined in, with Asmodeus gently humming to himself as he painted his nails and Beelzebub happily munching on a snack as he enjoyed the sight of his family getting along. Yes. It was perfectly quiet and peaceful, and Lucifer didn't even have any traces of his regular migraine. But of course, nothing good lasts forever. Everyone jumped as the door slammed open and a wide-eyed Leviathan dragged you into the room. The two you very closely followed by Mammon loudly complaining. "Oi! You're gonna hurt them! Cut it out, Levi!" Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, momentarily mourning the peace that he had just barely begun to enjoy, and closed his book. "Leviathan, let MC go. What are you freaking out about this time?" Lucifer regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth. Levi looked at it with the expression he only ever got when his limited edition Ruri-Chan merch arrived; his eyes were wide and glittering with excitement while his face bore a grin so large that Lucifer was surprised it didn't rip his skin. The third-born was practically vibrating as he let go of your wrist and pushed you forward. "Tell them! Tell them about the game!"

You laughed at Levi's excitement and casually rubbed your wrist. "I was just telling Leviathan about a game that we play in the human world called Dungeons and Dragons-" "You get to make a fantasy world that everyone plays in, and everyone makes characters. You can be a wizard and cast spells against a huge monster! Or a war hero fighter that has been betrayed by his brother! Or a noble knight who is looking for his lost kingdom! And the best part is that it's real!" Levi interrupted, nearly jumping in place as stars danced in his eyes. You put your hands out towards him to try and calm him a bit. "Well, not entirely real. It is played in person, but it's a role play tabletop game, meaning it mostly relies on the players' imagination. That is unless you have thousands of dollars to spend on 3D maps and figurines of your characters." Levi's eyes grew even wider, if possible, as he started shaking his hands up and down. "I CAN HAVE A FIGURINE OF A CHARACTER THAT I MADE?! GAAAAAAAAAHH!" A pillow flew across the room and hit Levi square in the face as a now awake Belphegor glared at him. "Will. You. Shut. Up?" the Avatar of Sloth hissed as a dark dangerous aura grew around him. Beel gently patted his twin's head in hopes of calming him. Leviathan pouted as he noticed no one else seemed to be getting excited about it. "C-Come on guys! This isn't even a video game! It's a thing that we can all do together and personalize it to be something that everyone will like. It'll be fun! Right MC?" You nodded as you gently tossed Belphie's pillow back over to him. "Yeah. I love D&D. I played it all the time in the human world. There's action, suspense, and even romance if you really wanted it," a couple of the brothers perked up at that. "I could put together a one-shot for you guys to try it out if you'd like? I'll help you make your characters, and we can all get together for an evening and play it sometime in a couple weeks." The room went quiet as everyone thought it over. Most of them had no interest in the game itself, but if it was organized by you... "I'm in," Beel decided with a nod. "I think it will be fun. All of us trying something new; it could be neat." Satan casually flipped a page in his book, "The creative aspect of it is definitely appealing. We'd be the masters of our own fate, and that most certainly piques my interest." Asmodeus smirked as he put the cap on his nail polish. "And you said it could be whatever we want? My, one might say that this game could help our wildest fantasies come true~" he made sure to wink at you as he giggled. Belphie, who had only just got back his pillow, scrunched up his face in disgust and launched it at Asmo. "Don't make this weird Asmo," he looked over at you and shrugged, "So long as you do all the work in putting together the character thing, sure. Why not?" Mammon looked over at you from the corner of his eye. "Ya mean to tell me, that you can make it so I'm some awesome, rich, and powerful prince?" Asmo scoffed as he pushed the pillow off his lap. "Please Mammon, even the world of make-believe has its limitations." Mammon blushed as he growled at his brother. You just chuckled and teasingly elbowed his side. "Don't listen to him, Mammon. There is a set amount of how much money you start out with depending on your class and background, but I'm sure we can find something that will make you happy." The second-born blushed even more as he grumbled quietly under his breath. Lucifer tilted his head in thought. "I suppose that if everyone else is playing, naturally I must as well," he stood and began to make his way to his office. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with MC." The next two weeks were spent planning and carefully figuring out the details of the one-shot and the characters that everyone was going to play. Levi was, of course, the first one who came to you to build his character. The two of you spent hours going through the Player's Handbook and sourcebooks to find the perfect build to recreate the Lord of Shadows. In the end, you put

together a human fighter that you gave a couple magic items to make Levi's vision really come to life. It seemed basic, but for the Lord of Shadows, it was perfect. The moment the two of you finished, Levi dove to his computer and ordered a custom-made mini that looked exactly like his character. Satan was genuinely interested in the game, especially after he learned about all the lore and rules behind the different classes and races. You had just been chilling in your room one day when the door burst open. Satan stood there with wide eyes holding a copy of Volo's Guide to Monsters. "MC, why didn't you tell me there are cat people?!" You chuckled, knowing exactly where this was going. "They're called tabaxi, but yeah, they're basically cat people. Would you like to play as one?" He scoffed and snapped the book shut. "Is that even a question? Of course, I'm playing as one." After some discussion and bouncing back and forth between classes a couple of times, Satan settled on a tabaxi druid; that way he not only looked like a cat, but he could speak to them as well. After a few days of you spending time with his brothers focusing on getting their characters ready, Mammon came to you wanting the coolest, most epic character ever. At first, it was clear that he wasn't fully invested in the process, but as he saw the customizable options and all the cool stuff that his character could have, you got his attention. You ended up designing a golden teifling rogue (you tried to tell Mammon that teifling usually wasn't yellow, but he gave you such a sad look that you couldn't say no) that was decked out with piercings and gems all over its horns and tail. He tried to act like he wasn't that excited about it, but one day during class you caught him doodling what looked like a stick figure version of the character on his sheet with a big smile on his face. Asmodeus came in shortly after Mammon finished,

insisting on having the most charming and beautiful character there was. You tapped your chin at the request. "I mean, stereotypically bards are extremely charming and...well seductive...almost too seductive. But that's only thei-" Asmo had hearts in his eyes before you could even finish. "That's what I want to be!" You sighed and made a mental note not to include any dragons in the session as you marked Asmo down to be an elven bard and helped him create his character sheet. You hadn't heard anything from Lucifer for nearly that entire first week, until one day as you were lounging in the living room, he walked in holding a stack of resource books. "Ah, MC. I've been looking for you. I wanted to inform you that I will be playing a half-elf multiclassing as a paladin and hex-blade warlock." You blinked at him as he put all the books down in front of you. "O-Oh. Would you like help putting together your character sheet?" He just grinned and began to make his way out of the room once more. "I've already done it. I must admit that this was quite a bit more interesting than I thought it would be," and with that he was gone, leaving you to try and figure out what had just happened. With only a few days left until the one-shot, you had to go find the twins and get them to make their characters. Beel apologized like crazy for you having to track him in down in order to get his character made. The poor guy was in the middle of peak Fangol season and had completely forgotten. Once the two of you sat down in the kitchen with an empty character sheet in one hand and snacks in the other, Beel gave you his full attention. He put a lot of thought in his character and wanted to make it really good since he appreciated that you were doing something that they could all do as a family. He bashfully decided to play a halfling. Not only did the little creatures share his love for food, but he thought it would be neat to try being small for once. His class was also a surprise. After carefully flipping through all of the class options, he had eventually settled on a cleric. "They're the healers, right? This way I can help the others if someone gets hurt." You gave him a huge hug then and there. Belphegore, on the other hand, was not so easy to work with. "Belphie, come on. Just flip through the book and choose something!" He groaned into his pillow and rolled onto his side to glare at you. "I told you I would play if you did all the work for me. Me flipping through a book is work. It's not happening." After an entire hour of trying to get him to cooperate, you gave up. In retaliation you made his character a goblin barbarian, just to drive in the fact of how much of a brat he was acting like.

Finally, the day came for you all to play the one-shot, and much like you expected, it was complete and utter chaos. You had tried to maintain some structure and keep everyone on track, but it was hopeless. Levi and Satan were taking the game seriously and, Diavolo bless them, were the only reason their party was making any progress. Mammon was trying to pick-pocket every non-player character that they met while Asmo distracted them by flirting. This worked great for them until Mammon got caught and would've died from the resulting injuries if it wasn't for Beel. Speaking of Beel, the poor fella was trying his best to do well in the game but kept getting confused by all the rules and different stats and modifiers. Belphegor spent most of his time, trying to explain it to his twin, but in the end, Beel accidentally ate his dice and Belphie passed out on his shoulder. And then there was Lucifer. He had been mostly quiet the entire game. Surprisingly, he let Levi and Satan take the charge in any investigations and puzzle-based interactions, but he did so with a smirk. You had a funny feeling in your stomach that he was up to something, and you were right. It was the final boss. Satan and Levi were on the edge of their seats, having worked so hard to get the party to this point. You smiled, knowing that one of the best parts of D&D was finally taking down the big bad. In this case, you had prepared a beholder for them to fight. It would be no easy task. The fight should have required them to work together in an epic battle of wits, magic and melee attacks. Only, when everyone rolled initiative, Lucifer went first. The eldest smiled as his eyes sparked menacingly. "For my bonus action, I'd like to use my hex blade's curse on it, which allows me to add my plus four proficiency bonus to all damage, and makes any rolls of nineteen or twenty critical hits. I will then use my long sword with divine smite at third level to attack him and attack him again using my extra attack," barely giving you time to process what he said, Lucifer rolled his dice twice. "And that would be a nineteen and a natural twenty, meaning they're both criticals due to the curse. That should hit, yes?" "Wha-" You could only watch as Lucifer, now with twice the amount of damage due to his critical rolls pulled out a disgusting number of dice and rolled them all. And of course, with his luck, they all rolled high. "So that's 90 points of damage plus the extra damage from the curse and the bonus from my duelist ability per attack, brings this 102 points," he smugly perched his chin on top of his hands as the table gaped at him. You gulped and looked down at the beholder's character sheet, "Y-You just took o-over half of his hit points in one round..." His grin widened at the information, "What, like it's hard?" You never got the chance to finish the game, as Satan burst into his demon form and pounced on Lucifer, the eldest laughing like a mad man, while Levi tore up his character sheet in a fit of jealous rage. Levi never asked to play with everyone again after that. ***This was just so self-indulgent and I just- I loved it. It combined two of my favourite things and I have never been happier. This was more crack than fluff, but either way, it was fun and I hope you nerds out there enjoyed it 🥰 Thanks again for the request @bagelsinatoaster!*** Taglist: @mimik248 @roseytoesy @ester-is-here

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Hero | Luke Patterson

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Song Fic February Week 4: Musicals 

Inspiration: StarStruck (DCOM)

Requested: Yes/No

A/N: Anon suggested doing something with the Starstruck soundtrack, so I’m writing a whole-ass series. This is based off the plot of Starstruck but the reader was a fan of JATP until she met Luke... Basically crush to enemies to lovers! Also a modern!au.

The third installment of the StarStruck series! 

StarStruck

Something About The Sunshine

Hero

What You Mean To Me

Pairing: Luke x Fem!reader

Song(s) used: Hero - Christopher Wilde (StarStruck ST)

Warnings: few swear words, mention of car accidents, mention of child abuse, mention of postnatal depression, tiny bit of angst

Words: 8.6K

I’m almost nervous to see him again. There’s a nervous flutter erupting from the pit of my stomach and I feel hot and sweaty when it’s not even that warm out. The boy didn’t have that effect on me just a day ago and now he suddenly does? I hate this. 

“Morning,��� I greet when I find Luke standing outside the coffee shop with his hood pulled far over his head and sunglasses covering his beautiful eyes. He shoots me a smile, but I don’t think he actually looks at me. Right, the whole “I can’t be seen with you”-thing. 

“Want to go grab some coffee before we go?” I ask instead, pointing at the shop. 

Luke nods his head and follows me inside where we wait in line together. The silence that hangs over us is uncomfortable for the first time. I don’t know why but his mysterious, secretive antics are making me nervous. 

“Next!” the barista calls and the two of us step forward. The twenty-something woman shoots the both of us a polite smile, not even acknowledging that Luke’s keeping his head low. This is L.A., she’s probably used to it by now. “What can I get for ya?” 

“An iced vanilla latte for me, please,” I say and then glance down at Luke. 

He coughs. “Iced caramel macchiato.” His voice is low, just above a whisper, as though he’s telling the barista and me a secret. I’m glad we’re going to be out of the city soon, so Luke can go back to his regular self. Or to the singing-on-top-of-a-car-in-the-middle-of-nowhere self. 

“What’s your name, please?” 

“Y/N…” My eyes land on Luke for a split second, and I’m pretty sure he’s not even going to answer. Luke’s a pretty generic name, I’m sure people won’t even bother to look up. “Put my name on both, please.” 

The barista smiles and then dashes off after I paid to start making our coffees while we shuffle towards the end of the counter, ready to take our drinks when they’re ready. Luke keeps his head down. He doesn’t even look up at me and the awkward silence doesn’t eb away.  

“You’re not gonna talk to me yet, are you?” I ask him as I hand him one of the two straws I picked up. He shakes his head. I try my hardest not to groan and instead, hand him the keys to my car. “Here, get yourself settled in my car, I’ll handle this.” 

His eyes peer over the rim of his sunglasses, flickering with uncertainty and gratefulness at the same time. I shoot him a smile, urging him to get out of here, which he does with a quick flash of his teeth. 

The awkwardness quickly washes off me when he’s left the coffee shop and I’m all alone, hoping everything would change once we’re all alone, away from the prying eyes of Los Angeles’ residents. 

“Iced vanilla latte and iced caramel macchiato for y/n,” the barista calls and places the cups on the counter in front of me. 

I smile at her, say, “Thank you! Bye!” and then dart out of the coffee shop as fast as I could. I weave my way through hasty people and slacking tourists towards my Toyota Yaris where a hooded boy sits in my passenger seat. He still has his hood pulled up and his sunglasses balancing on the bridge of his nose. He almost looks sad, which makes me a little sad too. I wish I could do more than let him wait in my car. 

“Here you go,” I say and hand him his coffee when I’ve settled into my seat. 

“Thank you,” he mutters, and I’m pretty sure it’s not just for the beverage. 

A smile etches its way to my cheeks as I regard him. “You’re welcome,” I say and then start the engine. As I pull out of the parking lot, Luke finally sparks up a conversation. I’m almost relieved to hear his voice again for more than two words.    

“Where’re we going?” he asks. 

I debate telling him but then decide I’d do it anyway. I’ve been researching a lot last night and have found the greatest secluded spots and the time slots when they’re mostly deserted or have the least visitors. The one I wanted to take him to today was a lot closer than the other ones, so I figured we could start with that. 

“The Old L.A. Zoo. It’s less crowded before 9am, so I figured we could go explore it a bit until too many people arrive?” The statement comes out of my mouth as a question since I’m unsure whether or not he’d like that. 

“Cool,” he replies, and he sounds honest, too. “I don’t think I’ve ever been there.” 

It surprises me a little, but I go with it anyway. “Really? I’ve been there plenty of times! It’s really cool! Kinda spooky.” Luke lets out an airy laugh at that and it makes my heart flutter a little. 

Within ten minutes, we arrive at the old zoo. Ten minutes had gone by and yet it felt like a split second. The conversation ran fluently on our way there and Luke told me things about the band and his childhood that not even the biggest fangirl on earth could possibly know. I love talking to Luke about those seemingly uninteresting, small things. 

The rest of the morning, too, goes by as if there’s no concept of time whatsoever. The two of us walk through the old, abandoned zoo and explore every single old habitat. I even find a website that tells us the entire history of each section of the zoo and as I read it, Luke listens and adds in his own commentary. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this much in just a few  hours. This guy is genuinely funny and I just adore talking to him. Our conversations go from the ridiculous to the serious, and every subject in between. 

It’s just the perfect day that I wish would never end, but inevitably, Luke has his own responsibilities and has to go by lunch time. 

“Hey, why don’t you come with me to the studio?” he asks with a smile as we’re making our way back to the car. “I’m in there all by myself, aside from our producer, and I’m recording a few songs.” 

I open and close my mouth a few times, letting incomprehensible sounds roll out. It makes me look like a dumbfounded fish, I’m sure, but I don’t care. My brain is dysfunctioning for a moment. Luke Patterson is asking me to come to the studio with him. To watch him record some songs. Songs that are going to be on the album. 

Luke’s laugh makes the gears in my brain fall back into place. “Is that a yes?” he asks. 

A heat rises up to my cheeks. “Yeah,” I finally manage. 

“Cool,” he says and then gets into the car. 

The ride to the studio is filled with smooth conversation. We never miss a beat, there’s never an awkward silence between the two of us. Only when we arrive at the recording studio and we’re met with a huddle of paparazzi outside the door.

“Fuck,” he mutters and ducks down. I do the same, knowing he doesn’t want me to be seen with him either. “Drive around back,” he orders before fumbling into the glove compartment of my car. He retrieves a pair of sunglasses I kept there, along with a shawl of my mother’s that I didn’t know was still in there. “Put this on.” 

“No,” I reply sternly, pushing his hand with the shawl away. I do take the sunglasses from his hand though, and push them onto my nose. “Put that shawl away,” I bark. The boy obeys and stuffs the piece of cursed fabric back where it came from. 

Mental note: throw that out. 

When we finally do get into the recording studio, as soon as I’m on Luke’s side, he grabs my hand and drags me into the building before anyone could ever spot us. I nearly stumble on my own feet, but quickly pick myself back up before I faceplant the floor. 

Luke huffs. “Phew, that was close.” 

He looks at me, and for a second, I think he might bring up the shawl again, but he doesn’t and instead turns to his producer, who had gotten up from his swivel chair the second we burst in.  

“Connor!” Luke greets excitedly and shakes the man’s hand. 

He looks near his thirties, strong built with flawless dark skin and a full head of afro hair. Combined with his extremely savvy outfit, I find him really cool-looking. He’s the kind of guy that would get all the girls in high school while still being a sweetheart. 

“You brought some new flesh, I see,” Connor says to me and outstretches his hand for me to shake. I do so with a wide smile on my face while pretending not to be completely nervous about being in a recording studio for the first time. 

“Y/N,” I introduce myself. 

“Welcome to our little slice of heaven on earth, y/n.” My eyes flick to Luke, who’s giving me that look again, so I quickly turn back to Connor. “Any knowledge of recording studios, y/n?” he asks. 

“Never been in one, but my friend is a producer and he did teach me some things.” 

I hear Luke huff beside me. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know.” I shoot him a wink as Connor beckons me towards his deck. For a while, Connor guides me through his paces while Luke gives the best of himself on this song. 

After a few takes, Luke comes out of the booth and joins me and Connor to listen to what we’d recorded thus far. “What if –” I pause, debating my thoughts. “What if we go in with some soft backing vocals on here?” I click the part of the chorus we’d recorded and sing along with recorded Luke. 

“'Cause I I can be everything you need If you're the one for me Like gravity I'll be unstoppable I, yeah, I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy With heart and soul But if your the one for me Then I'll be your hero”

“I think if you put Julie on those backings, it could give that duet-vibe you guys are so good at.” I notice Connor and Luke glance at each other, soft smiles playing on both their lips. 

“Why don’t you show us?” Connor asks as Luke already grabs my hand. 

“What?! Me? No! Julie.” 

Luke chuckles and drags me into the booth with him. “Yeah, but we’re gonna need a demo, don’t we?” He delicately places a set of headphones on my head before placing one on his own. He signals to Connor and no later than 2 seconds, the instrumental version of the song blasts through the headphones. 

Gazing at me, Luke starts singing the first verse of the song, and I let him. It almost feels like he’s serenading me. Almost. All that’s missing is a guitar or a boombox over his head. 

“I'm no superman I can't take your hand And fly you anywhere you want to go Yeah I can't read your mind Like a billboard sign And tell you everything you want to hear But I'll be your hero”

From the chorus onwards, I jump in with backing vocals wherever I feel like it’s acceptable without taking my eyes off of Luke. 

“I I can be everything you need If you're the one for me Like gravity I'll be unstoppable I, yeah, I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy With heart and soul But if you're the one for me Then I'll be your hero”

“Could you be the one Could you be the one for me” “Oh I'll be your hero” “Could you be the one Could you be the one for me” “Yeah I'll be your hero”

“So incredible Some kind of miracle That's what it's meant to be I'll become a hero So I wait, wait, wait, wait for you”

We keep our eyes locked at the high note too, smiles plastered on our faces from ear to ear. Singing with Luke gives me some kinda rush. A feeling I can’t quite describe but it’s a feeling I want to feel more often. 

“Yeah, I'll be your hero Yeah”

“Cause I I can be everything you need If you're the one for me Like gravity I'll be unstoppable I, Yeah, I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy with and soul But if you're the one for me I'll be your hero”

“Yeah, I'll be your hero”

“Could you be the one Could you be the one for me”

“Yeah I'll be your hero”

The music fades out in our headphones, and soon, Connor’s applause sounds through it instead. I’m snapped back into reality, away from cloud 9, away from the pure bliss that’s singing with Luke and gazing into his eyes. 

“That was amazing! Good job, guys!” Connor says, beaming. 

Luke and I remove our headphones and he grabs my hand to lead me back to the decks where Connor welcomes us with open arms and a wide smile. 

“I thought you and Julie were the most watchable duetters, but I’ve been proven wrong.” 

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks before Luke snaps me out of it again. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Con. Can you send the finished product to the band and our manager? I’m sure they’d like to hear this. Don’t tell them who’s on backing vocals, though. They don’t need to know that.”

I swallow a lump in my throat and try to convince myself it’s probably not that deep. Luke doesn’t want to be seen with me. Not even by his band mates. It’s fine. It’s totally fine. 

We wrap up the recording session and I drive Luke back to the coffee shop where he looks behind him and out of every single one of the windows, just to be sure the coast is clear of paparazzi. 

“Thanks for the day, y/n. I really enjoyed spending time with you again.” 

I force a smile. Ever since his statement to Connor about not wanting the band to know about me, I’ve been going over everything in my mind and it has caused me to fold in on myself.

“Yeah, it was fun.” 

He gazes at me for a moment, inspecting every inch of my face as if detecting the lie from my eyes. When I think he’s just going to bid his goodbyes and get out, he doesn’t. Instead, he turns his body to me and reaches for his phone. I watch as he unlocks it and taps away on it before turning the device towards me. There’s a new contact form open on his screen. 

“Gimme your number. I’d love to do this again some day.” 

I furrow my brow while taking the phone in my hands. “Do you even have time to spend days with a nobody like me?” I don’t dare look at him and keep my eyes on the screen as I type my name and number. 

He doesn’t say anything either until I finally cave and look up when giving his phone back. There’s a crease in his forehead as his eyebrows are knitted together in confusion. 

“You’re not a nobody, y/n. I’d gladly make time for you. I told you, I loved spending days away from reality. Especially with you.” Fangirl Me is jumping out of my skin while Present Me tries to keep her cool and ignore all of the butterflies that erupt in her stomach. 

“Cool,” Present Me says out loud while Fangirl Me is scolding her so hard. 

Cool? Cool?! Seriously? Dude.   

“I’ll text you, yeah?” 

I nod my head in response and watch as he gets out of my car. Before I can even place my foot on the gas or shift out of park, my phone beeps in the pocket of my sweater. For the first time in forever, I smile when seeing an unknown number on my screen. 

As I look out of my window, I find Luke looking at me with his hood pulled over his head again. He shoots me a quick smile and a wave before I turn to my phone again and type a reply. 

I whip my head up to see his reaction. His jaw drops before his face turns into a scowl as he glares at me. Giggling and satisfied with the reaction, I place my phone on the passenger’s seat where Luke was sitting before and then pull out of the parking spot. 

That night, I save Luke’s number to my phone. I go between “Luke P.”, “Patterson” and “Luke ❤️” but eventually decide on the funnier option and save him as “Poo Musician 💩”.   

I stand in line at the coffee shop before 8:30 that morning and I’m a little nervous. Last night when I returned from my day with Luke, the two of us had been texting back and forth. I felt like a sixteen year old again. One of those giggly teenagers that’s texting their crush. Which is what I was, but it’s been a while since I felt like it. 

Once I have an iced vanilla latte and an iced caramel macchiato, I head outside where I find a boy waiting by my car. He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt paired with a bright blue sleeveless sweater, his hood pulled far over his head so his face is hidden from prying eyes. 

I don’t need to see his face to know it’s Luke. I’d recognize those muscles from a mile away. The way he’s leaning against the hood of my car and the way he’s holding his phone is a dead giveaway too. 

“Your coffee, sir,” I say in a serious, deep voice. 

Luke’s head snaps up, eyes wide. He looks like a deer caught in headlights until he notices it’s just me and relaxes. A smile etches onto his face as he tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans whilst taking the coffee I ordered for him with his other hand. 

He takes a cautious sip from the beverage. “Hm, Caramel Macchiato, someone’s been stalking me.” I know he’s just teasing, I can tell by the way one corner of his mouth curls up and his eyes have that childlike glint in them. 

Making my way to the driver’s side of my car, I smile and say, “Contrary to popular belief, Patterson, I’m not a stalker. I just remembered your order from yesterday.” 

Luke’s smile tells me something I’d rather not think about. It’s like he’s saying “You remembered my order” in that flirty way only he knows how to. I simply shrug before opening my door and getting in with Luke following my example. Without missing a beat, he fishes my phone from between my fingers and grabs my free hand to use my thumb to unlock my phone. This time, I don’t object and let him. I know that it’s just to get to my music app anyway. 

While Journey’s Anyway You Want It plays through the car’s speakers, I pull out of the parking spot in front of the coffee shop and start driving to the next location I’d found during my research the other night. 

“Where’re we going?” he asks, and I flashback to yesterday when he asked me the exact same question in that exact same way. 

I smile as I place my cup in the cupholder between the two of us. “You’ll see.” I glance over, finding him tilting his head slightly and giving me that ‘Really?’ look. “I promise it’s very secluded and not a lot of people will be there.” 

“Cool,” he says and sips. “Is this where you’re going to kidnap me and hold me for ransom? I bet you could get a lot of money for a Julie and The Phantoms band member.” 

I snort at his remark. “How much do you think I could get for you?” 

He scrunches up his nose in thought, which I catch as I take a quick glance at him again. As I face the road again, I reach for my coffee and take a quick sip, awaiting Luke’s response to my question. 

“Like 10k?” 

I nearly spit out my coffee. “10k?!” I screech, and his laugh thunders through my car. “Careful or I’ll actually kidnap you and hold you for ransom if I’m gonna earn that much.” 

The laughter dies down and after a few moments of silence lingering in the air, Luke says, “How much do you think I’m worth?” 

Without missing a beat, I respond to his question, dead serious. “Not even a dollar.”  

Luke gasps, his mouth dropping in absolute disbelief while I can’t help but cackle loudly. Judging from this conversation alone, I’m positive today will be a good day. A good, fun day. 

“I’m worth more than a dollar, right?” 

“No, you’re right, I’d probably ask like a million and then no one will pay the ransom and you’ll have to stay with me for the rest of your life.” 

I let out my best maniacal laughter as I feel him watch me. I know the exact look he’s giving me. The look. The one with the glistening eyes and the slightly turned up lips. The one all girls and gays swoon for. The one I would swoon for if I’d turn my head right now. But I don’t. For once in my life, I’m smart and keep my eyes on the road. 

“You like me,” he states proudly. 

“Slightly less strong dislike.” I’m lying through my teeth, but I’m hoping Luke won’t notice. Or at least not acknowledge it because I can already feel the heat rising to my cheeks. 

“I’ll take it.” 

He reaches forward and turns the volume up as Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space” floats through the speakers. Very loudly, and very obnoxiously, the boy begins to sing along. If it wasn’t for the velvet smooth voice, I would’ve scolded at him to keep it down. But the sound actually makes my toes curl and my stomach flutter. For a verse, I let him sing by himself while I enjoy his performance but by the chorus, I can’t withhold myself and sing along with him. 

The rest of the ride is filled with belting of the road trip tunes, laced with patches of small talk. It’s the perfect car ride, and before we know it, we’ve arrived at our destination. Santa Fe Dam Recreation Area. The parking lot is practically empty, aside from two cars, which I’m assuming are the staff’s. It’s the perfect indication that I picked the right spot to go to, and I can tell Luke knows it too. 

He’s bouncing in his seat, either from excitement or the amount of sugar that was in his iced coffee, and when I turn off the ignition and turn to him, he looks at me with the widest smile plastered on his face. He almost looks like an excited toddler on Christmas morning, ready to open his presents. 

“I came here once with my parents when I was younger,” he tells me, “I love this place.” 

His confession makes me smile. “Good because I’ve been scouring the internet for the perfect place.” He shoots me the look again. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re going to kiss me.” 

He shrugs, “Maybe I want to.” 

“So you want me to slap you?”��

His smile fades away immediately. “Let’s go,” he grumbles and quickly gets out. 

I heave in a deep breath, recollecting myself before getting out too and retrieving the backpack I brought, filled with stuff for today. Including my itinerary – or just a notebook filled with some ideas I had. 

“How about we start with a bike ride across the park?” I suggest, pointing at the bike rental shop I found on Google the other night. 

We walk into the rental place, expecting there to be bikes upon bikes but instead, we’re met with kayaks, pedal boats and go-karts. My eyebrows furrow, creasing my forehead as I look around the space. Why’s this called a bike rental when there are technically no bikes to rent? No actual bikes. 

“I thought we were going for a bike ride?” Luke says, teasingly. I look up at him, and I think my face tells him enough about my knowledge about this place. My research clearly wasn’t sufficient. 

Deciding to just roll with the circumstances, I roll my shoulders back and put a smile on my face. “Yeah, we’re going on a bike ride with one of these!” I say and point to the large, green go-kart. One of those that look like an old-school car at the front and have children’s seats in front of the terribly cushioned seats for adults. The ones with the small plastic wheel and bike pedals for two adults. I remember going on one of those big ones for six people with my family. 

“You’re serious?” Luke asks, his eyes wide. 

Instead of answering, I shoot him a smile before stepping forwards towards the staff member at the counter. The woman behind the counter looks no older than 45 and has long, billowing blonde locks that cascade down her shoulders. Her bright blue piercing eyes glisten as they land on the two of us, clearly glad she sees some customers so early in the day. 

“Good morning,” she greets with a smile, “We open in half an hour.” 

“Oh…” My research has been poor. 

Before I can possibly think of an answer, Luke steps forward and flashes the woman a smile. I’m not sure if he’s going to use his manly charms or if he’s going to pull the “Don’t you know who I am?” card. 

“Can’t you… make an exception for us?” he asks, leaning his elbow on the counter as he looks at the woman through his lashes. The woman looks up at Luke, her face like stone. She doesn’t recognize him and doesn’t fall for his charms either. 

Shaking my head, I spring into action. I quickly change the ring on my index finger to my ring finger and wrap my arm around Luke’s bicep while the other rests on his chest, making sure the ring is as visible as can be. As I flutter my eyelashes at the woman, I let the words tumble out of my mouth. 

“Please, ma’am? It’s our one year engagement anniversary and he was going to take me on this romantic bike ride….” I then lean forward over the counter. “He’s not very good at researching our dates, but he tries.” 

The woman’s eyebrows knit together as her eyes dart from me to Luke and back. 

“Aren’t you guys a little young to be engaged?” 

Luke jumps into the improvisation spot. “We’ve been told that a lot but we’ve been best friends for years and there’s no one I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” He looks down at me and when I glance up, too, he kisses the tip of my nose, which I then scrunch. 

I ignore the flutters in my stomach and face the woman again. She seems to have softened, her eyes less icy than it was before. Then, she turns to her computer and clicks through a few browsers before facing us again. 

“What do you guys want? The Surrey?” She points to the green bike-thing at the front of the shop. I nod my head in response. “Okay. You’ve got it for two hours for the price of one hour.” 

A smile etches its way to my face. “That’s perfect, thank you.” 

 Luke pays the woman the rental fee and then she helps us get Surrey out of the garage. After bidding our goodbyes, Luke and I pedal off on the bike. 

“One year engagement, really?” Luke asks me when we’re far enough from the rental and I switch my rings back around. 

“Well, whatever you were doing didn’t work.” 

 He scoffs. “It was working.” 

We pedal down the winding road with the wind blowing through our hair. I love how warm the breeze is and how the birds are chirping in the trees around us. This is the perfect day to go out and do this. 

“What exactly were you planning to do?” I ask him, glancing up at him. He’s focusing on the road ahead of us, a comfortable smile resting on his lips while his eyes flick from one side to another, taking everything in. 

He glances down at me, the smile turning into a smirk. “I was going to charm her with my manly wiles.” 

“And how was that working for ya?” 

For a second, we lock eyes. Luke has an annoyed look on his face while I can’t help but have my lips curl up on one side into a smirk. When he whips his head forward again, I notice the slight tint of pink covering his cheeks. 

Did I just make Luke Patterson blush? 

“So,” he coughs. “Whatcha wanna do?”

I shrug. “We could play twenty questions? Get to know each other better.” 

He nods his head in response. “You wanna start?” 

“That’s your first question?” 

“That’s yours?” 

I press my lips together, shutting myself up for just a moment before recomposing myself. I’m not going to lie, I totally Googled some questions to ask in a game of 20 questions. So, I’m prepared. 

“If you had to be trapped on a deserted island with one of your friends, who would you pick and why?” Luke’s eyes widen at the question a little. 

“Woah, straight in! I thought you were gonna start with ‘favorite color’ or something.” He chuckles lightly, and so do I. “Uhm… Not Alex, he’d probably be super anxious and pace all the way across the island and make me nervous. Not Reggie either, he’d be singing country songs the entire time, though he is a great cuddler. Maybe Julie? Though she’s gonna be miserable without Flynn….” 

With every thought he says out loud, my smile grows bigger and bigger. 

“You?” My heart leaps in my chest at his answer. “Yeah, I like spending time with you and what better place to get away from real life than a deserted island, right?” 

Without missing a beat, the next words pour out of my mouth. “It’s cute how you think we’re friends now.” I surprise myself with the words I speak. We are friends, but I like winding him up into thinking we’re not. 

“Friends who wanna kiss each other.” 

Ignoring the heat rising to my cheeks, I reply, “You mean kill?” 

Luke shakes his head, an amused smile on his face. “When are you going to admit that you like me?” 

“Never – Next question.” 

“Uhm… What was the last thing you stole or shoplifted?” he asks and I’m glad he doesn’t push any further on the fact I basically admitted that I like him. 

“Oh! A magnet in a tourist shop in Lanzarote,” I reply, giggling a little at the memory. “I was there with a couple of friends during Spring Break and those magnets cost way too much for what they are and there was like a rack outside the shop. So, I shoplifted an overpriced Lanzarote magnet.” 

Luke throws his head back as he laughs, nearly steering us into the bushes. “That’s amazing,” he cackles.  

We cruise through the entire park for two entire hours, asking each other questions, and after returning the Surrey, we walk towards the lake where we settle down onto the blanket I brought for some food. I’d prepared an entire picnic basket for us to enjoy during our lunch. 

“I find it very cute that you made an entire picnic basket for our first date.” 

I smile. “I find it very cute that you think this is a date.” 

He gives me the look again, but I ignore it and get every piece of food out of my backpack, sprawling it out around us. Sandwiches, chopped up vegetables and fruits, muffins,... All the delicious foods you’d find in a picnic. 

“Tell me more about your childhood,” Luke then says as he takes a chicken sandwich and takes a bite. “You don’t talk about it much.” 

My heart drops into my stomach. I wish he wouldn’t ask about that. Talking about my childhood means talking about my mother and I’ve been trying to avoid that for the past years. Not that many of my friends even know about that. 

“I told you plenty.” 

“You talked about your teenage years, but never about your childhood.” 

I take a deep breath. He’s not going to shut up about this until I tell him. It’s not that I don’t trust him, it’s just that I don’t love talking about what happened with my mother. It’s something I’d much rather forget. 

“There’s a reason for that,” I reply pointedly and then shut myself up by taking a sip from the box of orange juice. I’d packed one for the both of us, but I’m the only one who’s opened it already as Luke had gone straight in with the sandwiches. 

Luke stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. His eyes pierce through my soul and give me a sense of comfort. They lift a weight of my shoulders and chest that I hadn’t even noticed were there. His eyes feel like coming home. Comfortable. A place to relax. A place to be me, be myself. 

I heave in a deep breath and place my juice box on my nervously bouncing knee, holding it with my hand. It doesn’t stop the bouncing, so now my whole body is practically shaking along with the movement. 

“I–” I stop myself, reconsidering my words. “My childhood wasn’t the sunshine and roses it’s supposed to be.” I chuckle nervously and when I meet Luke’s eyes again, they’re looking at me with such intent that I almost launch forward and kiss him. But I don’t. 

“Mom was… difficult to live with…” I start cautiously,  not even daring to look at Luke as I speak and keep my eyes on the still lake in front of us. “She uhm… After I was born, she kinda went into postnatal depression. She didn’t take care of me, she barely even looked at me… At one point, it went so far that she got into an accident, on purpose, with me in the back. She did it a few times, even, to the point where dad just had to report it. She was admitted to the psych ward and that was that... I was ten at the time.” I swallow to hold back the tears that are pricking behind my eyes. 

Feeling a soft brush of the hand on my knee, I glance up, meeting Luke’s eyes. They give me that sense of comfort again, that sense of home, the reassurance that I’m okay. 

“We haven’t really seen her since. She’s out of our lives…” I sniffle and place my hand over Luke’s, giving it a thankful squeeze. “I don’t like talking about it.” 

Luke carefully laces his fingers through mine, his cold rings cooling my warm hand. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” I shrug dismissively. “But thank you for telling me.” 

“So, tell me,” I lift our entwined hands for a second as though pulling us back into reality. “How did Sunset Curve-slash-Julie and The Phantoms came to be?” 

Luke chuckles before engulfing our locked hands with his other and tumbling into the origin story of the bands he was in. He talks about meeting Reggie and Alex in primary school, and then meeting Bobby in middle school. He explains how they started the band in music class and then continued playing together until Bobby moved away from Los Angeles. The story then lapses into giggles and chuckles about all the things they tried to keep Sunset Curve alive, but terribly failed. 

“But then we met Julie in high school and – the rest is history.” 

We’re clearing up our mess before making our way back towards the car. I love hearing Luke talk, especially about the band. It makes his eyes light up and he gets all bouncy and enthusiastic. It’s the cutest side of Luke I ever did see in the past few days of hanging out with  him.

I take one last look at the lake where tiny dots of humans are floating along on the lake in their tiny boats. There are just a few, so nothing to worry about, but it does make me want to go kayaking too. Mostly because I don’t want the day to end. 

“Wanna go kayaking?” I ask Luke, pulling him to a halt by tugging at our still intertwined hands. His eyes dart from mine to the lake and back. I can tell he’s debating it, but then he nods and a smile appears on his face. 

With our hands intertwined, we go back to the rental place and ask the woman for a double kayak. We pay, put on the safety vests she’s given us and then proceed onto the water. As we pedal along, Luke tells me about all the adventures he’s been on with his friends and how he used to do this all the time before his schedule got so crazy. 

Every now and again, he stops and pretends to tip the kayak, making me squeal each and every time whilst he laughs his most maniacal laugh. 

The wall I’d built around my heart was slowly crumbling. Every laugh, every touch, every glance took away a small part of the brick wall. I’m falling in love with the boy I’d had a crush on and then strongly disliked for a good five-ish days. 

Getting distracted was not a good idea as I’m not prepared for what follows next. Luke pretends to tip it over again, but this time, he wobbles too hard and actually makes the boat topple overhead. I squeal, but quickly shut my mouth as I tumble into the water, making sure not too much of the lake’s contents gets into my body. 

“Patterson!” I scowl as I crash the surface again and find Luke laughing a few feet away. His brown, shaggy hair sticks to his head, dripping small drops of water onto his face. If I wasn’t so angry at him, I would definitely kiss him right here, right now. 

“I hate you!” I splash some water at him as the words roll off my lips. Luke’s laughter abruptly stops and he stares at me. His once glistening eyes dull down while his mouth falters into a frown. 

“You do?” 

My face softens as I watch him. He looks so beautiful with his hair all dishevelled and the reflection of the sun on the water mirroring onto his face. I want to kiss him. I want to kiss him so bad. 

I swim closer towards him and stroke his wet hair out of his face. My breath hitches in my throat at how close we are but I try to play it off by keeping my hands on his face and my eyes locked with his. I notice his eyes flicking down to my lips a few times, telling me he wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss him. 

Should I? Full throttle? Or step on the brakes? 

I don’t even get the time to think about it as Luke presses his lips to mine. Now I don’t hesitate a single moment and immediately kiss him back. Sliding my hands into his wet locks and pressing my body as close as I can, I melt entirely into him. The same sense of bliss I have when singing with Luke washes over me and I find myself on cloud 9 again.  

We pull back after a moment to catch our breath. The glint in his eyes is back and his mouth, though a little swollen and red, curls up into a smile. He presses one more kiss to my nose before helping me towards the shore. We climb out of the water and bring the boat back to the rental place, along with our safety vests. 

Grabbing my backpack I had left with the woman for safekeeping, Luke and I bid our goodbyes and leave the rental, intertwining our hands again. The feeling his hand in mine gives me will never get old. 

As we get to the car again, I yawn, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over me. Luke smiles upon noticing this and takes the keys from my hand. Wordlessly, he presses a kiss to my forehead and then leads me to the passenger side. He opens the door and lets me get in before shutting the door and jogging to the other side. 

The car is filled with a comfortable silence, just the crackling of a song playing on the radio filling out the quietness. I rest my head against the headrest and glance at Luke every now and again as he drives Sabrina. He has that one-hand feel on the steering wheel and the other rest comfortably in mine on the gearshift. 

“I had a lot of fun today,” I mumble, unable to speak any louder. 

A smile etches its way to Luke’s face. “Me too.” He takes a quick glance at me and then lifts our hands to plant a kiss on my knuckles. “Our band’s house is closer, you want to stop there and get us dry before you go home?” 

I hum softly, letting my eyes fall shut for a moment. Luke’s thumb grazing the back of my hand almost lulls me to sleep until he curses before the car comes to a halt. He pulls his hand away from mine and when I look up, the driveway and street in front of the enormous white-brick house is filled with dozens of cars. 

“Fuck, I forgot about the album wrap party,” he grumbles and then looks over at me. I’m shivering from the cold and exhaustion. “I can’t let you drive home like that.” 

I’m unsure if he’s talking to me or pondering out loud, but I shake my head instead. “It’s fine,” I say. “My house isn’t that far away… I think…” 

“No, y/n. I’m not letting you drive home exhausted and cold.” His voice is stern, yet laced with a bit of worry. “You’re gonna come in and I’m– I’m gonna bring you up to my room. You can dry off there and maybe take a nap or something. Yeah! Yeah, that’s it!” He sounds way too excited about something so banal. 

He hops out of the car and quickly jogs over to my side whilst I’m already opening the door. Before I could react, he tugs me towards the house. I can barely get my bearings or take the time to look where I’m going before I’m pulled into a room. 

“There are shirts and joggers in the dresser over there, pick out whichever you like and then take a nap or something. I’ll be back before you know it.” He kisses my cheek and then dashes towards the door. 

“You’re just gonna leave me here?” 

He lets go of the door handle and slowly turns towards me. His eyes are laced with regret as he takes in the sight in front of him. I must look ridiculous with my hair and clothes wet and bags under my eyes. 

“Please, y/n? I can’t have people know about us, okay? I just – can’t…” 

Turning on his heel, he opens the door and leaves me in his bedroom all alone. I take a minute to let the information process in my brain before turning around and taking in the room I’m in. 

The walls are painted white, except for the one wall behind his bed that’s a muted dark blue. His bed is king size and on either side is a nightstand. I inch closer to the one that’s actually filled with stuff, which I’m assuming is the one he uses most. Nightstand contents often tell a lot about a person. His contains the band’s autobiography, “Bruce Springsteen: All The Songs” and “Beach Read” by Emily Henry, the book I started the other week and shared on Instagram Stories. 

Would he have seen that and decided to read it too? 

Shaking the ridiculous thought out of my head, I move over to his dresser and take out a pair of joggers and his Rush muscle tank I’ve seen him in many a time during gigs. I peel my drenched clothes off my body and get into Luke’s freshly washed ones. They smell of his laundry products. It’s a fresh and calming scent.

For a while, I look around his room. The books on the shelves and the pictures on the walls, most of which of the band and some of him and Carrie Wilson. There had been a rumor about him dating the Instagram Influencer, but I’d never believed it until I saw her face pop up in some of the framed photos in his room. 

I decide to go and venture about the house since all the commotion seems to be outside in the garden. I weave through hallway upon hallway, finding more photos and more things that belong to the band. The living room walls are adorned with platinum records and other awards they’d won over the two years they’d been active in the music industry. I can’t help but feel a sense of pride rush over me. That’s my favorite band right there. That’s the boy I’ve fallen in love with. 

“Excuse me – Who are you?” 

The voice makes me jump out of my skin. I thought everyone was outside. When I look up, I find the perfectly flawless face of Carrie Wilson. Her long, blonde hair cascades into curls down her shoulders and back while her round, brown eyes stare at me with intent and curiosity. 

“Oh, sorry. I’m y/n. I–” I stop myself, remembering Luke didn’t want anyone to know about us. That includes his girlfriend – or ex-girlfriend. 

Carrie’s mouth curls up into an amused, curious smile, catching onto what’s happening. “You’re Luke’s new adventure, aren’t you?” I huff out the breath I was holding. It’s a telling huff, I’m sure. “You are…” She trails off and inspects me for a second before continuing. “Just so you know, it’s not going to work. Luke’s too infatuated with this lifestyle of his. He loves his job, he loves his stardom. He loves it too much to ever focus on a partner. Believe me, we tried.” 

I exhale at the use of her past tense, but then all the other information downs on me. Luke’s life is so much different from mine. While I work several jobs to pay for college and still live with my dad, he lives by himself and tours the world. He’s too busy to start anything serious with me. Whatever happened in the last few days was just temporary. 

“You seem sweet, y/n, so I’m going to be frank. Get out before it’s too late. You’re only gonna get hurt if you’re gonna stay.” As she passes me, she places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.  

If my brain wasn’t going a mile a second about everything she’s telling me, I would be caught off guard by how sweet Carrie Wilson is. She’s always portrayed as this complete ego-centric bitch who used people to her advantage. 

The exhaustion taking over, I shuffle back upstairs and sit down on Luke’s bed but when I hear the commotion outside die down and guitar strums float through the air into the house, I grow curious. I get up from the bed and make a beeline towards the ceiling-to-floor glass doors that give out onto a balcony. I carefully open the door and step out, the summer breeze tickling my skin while Luke’s voice reaches my ears. 

The balcony looks out onto the garden, it’s just out of sight from where everyone’s huddled up around the band. I lean my elbows on the bannister and watch on as Luke’s voice floated through the air. 

“I'm no superman I can take your hand And fly you anywhere you wanna go, yeah I can read your mind Like a billboard sign And tell you everything you wanna hear, but I'll be your hero”

I smile at the memory of us in the studio yesterday. The last few days have been perfect. Just… Perfect. And now this girl has to come and ruin it by pulling me back into reality. 

“Cause I, I can be everything you need If you're the one for me, like gravity, I'll be unstoppable I, yeah I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy without his soul But if you're the one for me Then I'll be a hero Oh, I'll be a hero, yeah I'll be a hero”

It’s not that Carrie isn’t right. She is. Luke is way too busy with the band and his fame and everything around it. He doesn’t have time or room between those things for me. Not for an ordinary girl. Not for anyone. 

“So incredible Some kinda miracle That when it's meant to be, I'll become a hero, oh So I'll wait, wait, wait, wait for you”

Luke’s eyes meet mine as he hits that high note and his mouth curls up into that beautiful smile I’ve come to love. Once again, I’ve fallen in love with someone who would never reciprocate those feelings. If I don’t get out now, I’m going to get hurt. 

“Yeah I'll be a hero Cause I, I can be everything you need If you're the one for me, like gravity, I'll be unstoppable I, yeah I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy without his soul But if you're the one for me I'll be a hero Yeah, yeah I'll be a hero, yeah I'll be a hero Hero”

As the last notes of his song ring out into the night, I grab my still wet clothes and my keys Luke left on the dresser, and then leave the house. My heart breaks with every step I take, but I know it’s what’s best for me. It’s what’s best for both of us. There’s no room for me in his life. Like he said, he’s no superman, he can’t handle this many things at once. Not even a hero would be able to.  

Everything taglist:

@wanniiieeee @phantompogues 

JATP taglist:

@hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @charliesmountains @thedarkqueenofavalon @calamitykaty @caitsymichelle13 @wiselight @kcd15 @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti @stellasmusa @n0wornever @kaitieskidmore1 @tefilovesreading @pxperphxntom @crybabyddl @crybabyddl @headheartbellarke @authentic-gillespie @happinessinthedarkesttimes @bright-molina @rangerelik @cordeliascrown @willex-owns-my-heart @fangirlangioma @frickin-bats @flower-name @jaskiers-sweetkiss @jandthephantoms @kelpwithawhy  @the-hufflepuff-hunter @lookingthroughmirrors @buckybarnesishot310 @echocharm17618 @littlemissaddict @mystic-writings @joynerxmercer @brooke0297 @magicalxdaydream @musicianspiritsblog @bexxy @ruvaitkevicius @whitetigerlover17 @stressyanddepressysimp  @talk-on-the-street @theolivekiddo @sunsetcurvej @teti-menchon0604 @candycornmgg @gray_jato

Charlie/Luke taglist: 

@lukeys-giggle​ @gingerxarmy​ @lovesanimals​ @lolychu​ @perfectlywrongformend3s​ @luckylouiebug @camiladelrio98​ @myfriendscallmebeans​ @rachmmb​ @whitemanshoe19​ @killerqueenfan​ 

TAGLIST |  MASTERLIST 

[writing-creativo]

The Other Amelia Littlebug

Note: This is a bit longer than ususal (2k) so idk if i should post things like this in parts or not but hEY i didn’t

“From: Océane Duval

23 Rue des Loups, Rouen

France

To: Amelia Littlebug

Berliner Straße, Frankfurt

Germany

 October 14th, 1947

 Dear Amy,

I hope this letter finds you well, wherever you are. I write it as an announcement.

I finally did as I promised the last time we spoke. I came back to Rouen.

But oh Bug, it is no longer the city we loved. It’s broken, injured by bullets and cannons and what didn’t crumble was left to burn. The right side of the cathedral was eaten by the flames, but they are now repairing it. Everyone is doing whatever they can to help, but perhaps we should help ourselves first.

But have no worries, your house still stands, as beautiful as ever, in the middle of the hills. From up here it’s as if I’m watching hell from above. I am not sure it was my wisest decision to come back here, but a promise is a promise. And Baptiste was so happy to see me! You should have seen his face, I had never seen him smile like that. I wouldn’t have known he was capable of such emotions.

I wish you were here too darling, it all feels empty without you.

Yours always,

Océane”

 Amelia Littlebug read the letter twice. And then twice again. The wrinkly paper, yellowed by time, sat on the kitchen table, side by side with a bunch of bills invoices.

How could it be that someone was writing directly to her, from the year 1947? Was it lost mail? Did someone find a letter directed to somebody with an equally amusing name, and decided to pull a prank?

They were all logical questions and equally reasonable responses to the situation, but none of them crossed Amelia’s head. It was not the type of thing that would ever cross Amelia’s head, particularly known for illogical and equally unreasonable thoughts. However, she was deeply fascinated by who this Océane was. Why she went back. What promises she made. Was she helping rebuild the city as well? Was Baptiste a family member? The gardener, perhaps? Or the housekeeper?

She didn’t recognize anything in the letter besides her own name and address. Except that it wasn’t her name, it was yet another Amelia Littlebug, blessed with the same showstopper title.

It was clearly French though. From the ocean sounding names, to the location, and references to the war. Two mysteries solved.

The letter was illogically and unreasonably put up on the wall, as if on display, so that lovely Amelia could look at it every day.

To be fair, she didn’t have many friends to text or message her. But she now had Océane sending her a whole letter. Perhaps not sent to her, she was aware, but it was sent to her address, so she was entitled to call herself Amy Bug.

“From: Océane Duval

23 Rue des Loups, Rouen

France

To: Amelia Littlebug

Berliner Straße, Frankfurt

Germany

 November 1st, 1947

 Dear Amy,

I am not sure of what to say or what to tell you. You know I’m not the greatest with words, you have always been far better than me.

All we want is some sense of normality, a piece of our old lives. But it doesn’t seem like we will have back it any time soon.

I’m working as an accountant again, but I haven’t been charging, it wouldn’t feel right to. It feels good to be busy again but going into town is far from pleasant. Coming back home at the end of the day could be a relief, but Baptiste has been having nightmares. He cries and shouts in bed, so neither of us have been getting a lot of sleep.

I’m so tired Bug. And I miss you, still. I will always miss you.

Yours always,

Océane.”

 71 years later, a second letter sat once again on Amelia Littlebug’s table. This time, it left her disturbed. But many things left Amelia Littlebug disturbed. Shadows: long nights, loud noises, the wind blowing outside... However, it was perhaps logical for her to be distressed this time around.

She spent the whole day thinking about it. Unable to read and reread it again, like she had previously done with the first correspondence. Had Amy answered the other letter? If so, why wasn’t she receiving it too?

It wouldn’t have been the first time that Amelia Littlebug googled her own name, but this time she had a reasonable motive to do so. But no results mentioning 1947, or Ruen, or Océane Duval. Nothing that resembled anything mentioned in the letters.

The letter was hanged bellow its predecessor. Amelia sat and stared at them a lot, not reading, just staring. Was it just her imagination again? Was she seeing things, hearing things? Had she started reading things now? The thought made her laugh a little. The voices had done a lot to her, but they had never kept her company. But deep down, she was enjoying receiving messages from the past. What if is she really was Amy Bug? What if the letters were properly addressed and Océane was writing to her, with seven decades of delay? Could she see and hear things too? Where was she now? was she still alive?

 “From: Océane Duval

23 Rue des Loups, Rouen

France

To: Amelia Littlebug

Berliner Straße, Frankfurt

Germany

 November 10th, 1947

 Dear Amy,

As you may know, today is my birthday. I am offended you didn’t even get me a card!

Baptiste bought me chocolate cake and a bracelet, which I know was expensive, but he won’t admit it. I don’t like it when he does these things. I know he enjoys my company, but I have been enjoying my loneliness more lately.

Things are moving slowly at work, but I already have more costumers. Some of them even remember me from before! They sometimes ask about you as well, but I don’t quite know what to tell them. What do I tell them, Amy?

Yours always,

Océane”

 Océane seemed bitter and angry. Was it because of her birthday? And what about Amy, where was she, after all? Does Océane not know it either?

It was the third letter Amelia had received. It was hanged above the first one.

She started questioning her own reason now. She promised herself she would never do that, but there she was. Were the letters even real at all? She tried clearing everything up by taking them to the post office but half way there she realised they had no stamp. They couldn’t have been delivered by regular mail.

What if it was someone mocking her? What if this was what they wanted her to think? What did they want her to do? Reasonable questions were starting to pop up in her mind. But she had never been very reasonable.

She had crossed miles and countries, so that there was no one to mock or prank her. She had left everything and ran away so she could be herself by herself. No one talking about the silly things she said or pocking fun of the things she talked about. They had ever believed her. They wouldn’t believe her now. But they weren’t here now. So who would pull a prank on a girl nobody knew?

“From: Océane Duval

23 Rue des Loups, Rouen

France

To: Amelia Littlebug

Berliner Straße, Frankfurt

Germany

 December 25th, 1947

 Dear Amy,

I write to wish you a Merry Christmas, surrounded by the best people and things.

I didn’t want to celebrate Christmas this year, I wasn’t quite sure what there was to celebrate, but Baptiste was very much against it. He put up all the lights and decorations by himself while I was at work. I barely knew which house was ours when I arrived.

I had forgotten how much Baptiste used to love this time of the year but, to be quite honest, his joy is contagious. He keeps telling stories of all the Christmases we spent together and all the pranks he used to pull on us (As if we were ever bothered!) but then he stops and cries. He just cries. I know he can’t help it, but he is such a crier now, Bug. I miss it when he was always grumpy and angry at us.

I know I haven’t written you in a while, but I think it’s better when I don’t. So don’t just sit around and wait for my letters, alright?

Yours always,

Océane”

 It was all clear now. Baptiste, Océane and Amy were family. Or perhaps family friends. He isn’t the gardener, the house is probably his too! But why did Océane stop writing? Why wont she write anymore? She seems angrier and angrier by the letter.

And now Amelia had no more space on her wall to put it up. She left it in a drawer instead, but it didn’t leave her thought.

Who would deliver mail on Christmas day? Who would be home, alone and ready to receive it? She was. But neither made sense. Nothing made sense.

So if nothing made sense anymore, Amelia Littlebug decided to do a senseless thing. She drove herself to France, Rue des Loupes in Rouen.

On that same morning she grabbed the letters, packed some food and water, and drove 6 long hours to Paris, and 2 hours more to Rouen. It was insane, of course it was. But it wouldn’t be the first time Amelia was called insane. Not even by herself.

As she arrived, she saw the towers of the churches standout in the middle of the trees. One of them was the cathedral Océane had mentioned, probably completely rebuilt by now. She had pictured a war thorn town, completely alienated from 21st century, forgetting her own reality.

Only when she realised that she was all alone in a country she didn’t know, in a city she never visited, not knowing how to say a full sentence in French, did she understand the absurdness of her insanity. It was self-sabotage, as it had always been.

She stopped, parked her car, and took a deep breath. The world wasn’t that big after all, was it? I mean, she was receiving letters from 1947 Rouen.

Amelia walked out into the street and then into a small coffee shop. She sat in the back, listening, for quite some time.

-Do you speak English? German? - She asked the cashier.

-Little bit, yes! – The old man laughed and she smiled in return, while handing him a paper.

-I’m looking for that address, do you know where it is? I didn’t bring my phone with me, or I would have… – It was a sudden realisation. Illogical. Unreasonable.

Luckily, the man did know where it was. And he carefully explained it to her, so well that it was no effort driving there. It was as if someone else had their hands on the wheel. As if a voice was telling her where to go, which turn to take.

After about 10 minutes of driving, she stopped at an old house. At an old street, to be precise. It didn’t seem like anyone was there, nobody lived there.

The number 6 looked beautiful in style and architecture. Or she imagined it would have once looked, because now the windows were broken, covered in concrete. The front door was ripped apart, barely standing.

It was not where she imagined her prankster pen pal would live. Where anyone would live. But she took the liberty to walk inside. And it didn’t take much effort to get rid of the last stripes of wood blocking the way in.

The house was empty, but Amelia had never felt so full, so whole. And she heard it so clearly now, the voice. She told her to leave, please, to walk away. And if Amelia Littlebug had ever been good at something, it was at doing what she was told.

So she walked out. Staring at the old building again. It all felt pointless. The letters, coming here… All to be told to leave. But she didn’t get in the car right away. She could hear them, the other ones.

She walked down the street, into an old rusty gate. It was a cemetery. Amelia got in, without the fear or reluctance a logical and reasonable person would feel. She felt herself being guided. She knew where she was going even though she couldn’t tell you if you asked. And then she stopped.

She sat down next to a grave, her eyes watering a bit. Her fingers touched the engraved letters on stone.

“Amelia Littlebug

1926-1945

Victime des bombardements de ‘44”

No French skills were needed to know what that meant. Amelia got up. The living Amelia.

And she walked a bit further. Now she understood. It was simpler than she had made it out to be, it always is.

“Océane Duval

1925-1947”

  “From: Amelia Littlebug

Berliner Straße, Frankfurt

Germany

To: Océane Duval

23 Rue des Loups, Rouen

France

  December 27th, 2018

 Dear Océane,

I hope this letter finds you well, wherever you are.

I write to tell you that I appreciated your letters, very much. And that I have delivered them safely. I left them to her with a couple of flowers (she mentioned she liked sunflowers) and I know she’ll find them so don’t worry about it. I know how much you loved and cared about her, she told me that too.

However, I beg you to please stop corresponding with me. I am Amelia Claire Littlebug from London, now living in Frankfurt, not your Amy Bug.

Yours Sincerely,

The Other Amelia Littlebug”

[brooklyn-anon]

Paint Me Like One Of Your Newsie Girls

Word count: 1372

Warnings: Super out of practice, kinda crappy writing.

Prompt: Jack paints scenery on his girl’s baby bump.

Author’s Note: (Y/B/N) means “your baby’s name” since I tried to keep this the gender neutral so it could be imagined either way! (Also crossing my fingers this works because I’m on mobile since my laptop crapped out on me) @loveforweasleys

———————————————-

“Sweetheart……. (Y/N)……. Baby wake up.” You woke up to your boyfriend Jack leaning over you with a concerned look on his face. What had happened? Last thing you remembered was running after someone who took your baby from you. But now you were in your bedroom, laying on your bed, Jack just watching you. Another nightmare. That’s all it was. Thank goodness.

“Yeah……. I was…. Um…… I was…… Well there was this…….”

“Hey.” Jack tucked a piece of hair gently behind your ear and smiled softly. “You aint got nothin’ ta worry about. I gots ya.”

You nodded and sat up in bed. These nightmares were getting to be annoying. They woke you up from your sleep at least three times a week. It was a reoccuring dream that someone took your little one. Why they happened, you had no clue. You and Jack both had good jobs. You were living in a decent apartment. All of your baby’s “uncles” were ready to take on any baby challenge you threw their way. You weren’t worried about anything. So what fear could possibly be the source of these vivid dreams? 

It was pointless trying to go back to sleep. The first rays of daylight were peeking through your bedroom window curtains. It was nearly time to get up for the day anyways. You muttered a quick apology to Jack for waking him. The poor guy already had a hard enough time sleeping. You felt awful for waking him earlier than usual.

“None of the apologizin’ stuff. Listen.” He sat up next to you and pressed a kiss to your temple. “I gots an idea. Stay put.” He pushed himself out of bed to get whatever it was that he needed. Your eyes followed him as he exited. The muscles in his exposed back flexed as he pushed his hair out of his face and opened the door. A pair of sweatpants sat low on his hips. That was another modern day mystery. How in the world one man could be that attractive.

He came back a few minutes later with a box full of body paints and a couple paintbrushes. The bed beside you sunk down as he sat and took a deep breath. Everything was silent for a moment. Neither you nor Jack said a word. He eventually pushed his nerves aside though and decided to speak what was on his mind.

“I been wantin’ ta try somethin’. If yous’ll let me?” His hand gently brushed over your 5 month baby bump. “Can I….. uh…… can I paint ya belly? I thought it might help with all this worryin’ and nightmarin’ you been doin’.” A wide smile spread across your face. You gently took Jack’s hand and placed a kiss to the back of it.

“Of course you can Jackie.” He pouted a little and shook his head at the nickname. Stupid Davey. You pulled your shirt off so you were just left in a sports bra, and snuck down so you were laying down on your bed. Your boyfriend instantly went into work mode. His eyebrows knit together and a concentrated look settled in his eyes. Multiple colors were carefully squeezed onto a painter’s pallet. Orange, red, yellow, pink, and black.

Jack started with yellow. The first stroke of the brush made you giggle. It tickled! You stayed as still as you possibly could though. Your boy was so focused on his artwork that you would absolutely hate to mess his work up. That didn’t stop you from biting your lip and giggling as he worked though. His strokes were gentle. Ever since you found out you were pregnant, everything he did was gentle. He touched you like you wdre made of glass. Despite telling him numerous times that he could just be normal, he was cautious of everything. You were carrying precious cargo of course.

Everything was quiet except for your laughing. Jack was mouthing something, but wasn’t actually vocalizing what he was saying. He looked cute talking to himself. His accent could almost be seen as he mouthed different words. It was easy to tell when he said things like “you” and “here” just because of how his mouth moved when he formed them. He made little faces as he spoke, like he was having a full on conversation with himself. What in the world was he talking about? And who was he talking to?

Your boyfriend looked over at you since you had stopped laughing. All he saw now was a soft smile and a confused look in your eyes. Was that….. A blush that hit his cheeks?! Jack Kelly was blushing. Huh. He didn’t tell you what he was doing. Just turned back to his work. The yellow and orange was done. Now he was just barely smudging faint streaks of red and pink in.

“Now kiddo,” Jack said softly. He finally was speaking so you could hear! And he was talking to your baby? “You’re uncle Race is a bit of a handful.” A calloused finger touched his tongue and wiped away a little flaw he didn’t like. “He’s all over da place. But he ain’t never gonna let nobody even look at-cha wrong. Same goes for Brooklyn. Ole uncle Spot’s gonna be real protective of ya. You’ll outgrown him before your 13 though. Race is the one you’s gots ta look out for. Same goes for Albert. And fagetaboutit if they team up. Anyone that touches ya is screwed. Romeo with help ya gets a mate.” You playfully smacked Jack on the knee. Your kid wouldn’t be needing that kind of help for a long time! “Uncle Davey and Aunty Katherine are already planning on what theys wants ta teach ya. Oh. And your bonus Pops. Good ole Crutchie.” Jack switched to a thin detailing brush and the black paint. “Crutch already loves ya little one. He’s never even met ya and the kid is just burstin’! Just you waits until ya meet him. He’s ya godfadder. You’s gonna have ta respect him, even though he ain’t walking good. He’s gettin’ better, alright? He wants ta love ya, and read to ya, and take ya out on warm walks in da park. Your folks are gonna walk behind you’s guys and be gross. But boy-o-boy little one. They already love ya so much. We all do. You don’t have no clue “

The original brush was brought back so Jack could fill in something he outlined. Goodness you just wanted to see what it was now! The tip of your boyfriend’s tongue stuck out as he touched up tiny little spots.

“Alright come on.” Jack set all of his things down and helped you out of bed once he finished. He lead you to the full length mirror in your bathroom and waited for a reaction. You had no reaction though. Just draw dropped, tears welling up, stunned to silence, standing there. “Do ya like it?” Jack asked nervously. What if you didn’t like it? That would be ridiculously awkward…….

“Jack I love it.” You whispered, trying not to give away the shake in your voice. Your eyes gave your emotions away though. A few, happy, tears slipped down your cheeks as you stared at the gorgeous sunset behind black silhouetted mountains. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Our little family is perfect.” You turned around to place a tender and loving kiss to his lips. Between the gorgeous painting on your belly and the fact that the soon to be father sat there and spoke to your baby as he worked, all the worries from before had faded away. The entire process had felt so intimate and special. You could feel nothing but love now. “I love you Jack Kelly.” You stated.

“I love you more (Y/N).” He responded. “We love you most (Y/B/N).” He placed a quick kiss to the side of your belly where the paint didn’t touch, and gently wrapped his arms around your waist to hug you. You’re fingers ran through his hair and the two of you just took a moment to be a family before the day started.

Yeah…… Perfect little family…… life couldn’t be better.

[talhaghafoor2019-blog]

10 Best Country Albums of 2018 - Top New Country Music of the Year

You'll Find No Trucks or Cold Ones On The 10 Best Country Albums of 2018

Eric Church scorched, Willie Nelson passed on wisdom, and Ashley McBryde broke out.

By Madison Vain

Country music fans sure do love an outlaw.

Lucky for them, 2018 delivered excellent sets from a variety of rule breakers, new and old. From Ashley McBryde's rollicking debut to Willie Nelson's enchanting Last Man Standing, Kacey Musgraves' LSD-induced meditations to the Pistol Annies hell raising hootenanny, and Brothers Osborne's guitar god antics to Eric Church's profound ire—Music City proved it's still got plenty of weirdos willing to pick up a six string and try new things. With not a tractor, a cold one, or a pair of cut-offs in sight, these are the 10 best country records of the year.

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10 Devin Dawson — Dark Horse

Devin Dawson may favor himself an underdog, but take one listen to his razor-sharp debut and you'll cry bullshit. The California native—raised near the country music hallowed grounds of Folsom Prison—first gained buzz last year with his easy-listening “All On Me." And in a twist far too rare, when Dark Horse arrived in January, the set did more than just make good on the hit’s promise. With a confident swirl of pop, rock, and R&B, it signaled the arrival of a young, heavily-tatted and quick-witted future heavyweight.

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9 Ashley McBryde — Girl Going Nowhere

Ashley McBryde opens her major label debut with a whispered anthem about perseverance. “And where they said I’d never be is exactly where I am,” she remarks from her mic stand on the title track, her Texas-sized alto barely raised. At 35, McBryde’s no ingenue, and that serves her well across the album's 11 tracks, all of which bear her name in the writing credits. She sings with a worldliness and remarkable control, even when she lets her rock bonafides roll on cuts like “Radioland” and “Livin’ Next to Leroy.” They might have called her “girl going nowhere,” but we think we’ll stick with boss.

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8 John Prine — The Tree of Forgiveness

John Prine made his name many decades ago writing sad songs. Have you ever emerged from a listening of “Sam Stone” with dry eyes? Doubt it! But at 71 and with his first batch of new tunes in more than a decade, the songwriter seems to have found a modicum of peace. (Cue “When I Get to Heaven,” which delights in his plans for the afterlife: “I’m gonna get a cocktail: vodka and ginger ale,” he confides over a kazoo and a playful barroom piano. “Yeah, I’m gonna smoke a cigarette that’s nine miles long.”) Two bouts with cancer, plus his formerly enthusiastic nicotine habit, have weathered Prine’s tenor mightily, but the wear feels appropriate, here, as he extols the value of community (“Knockin’ on Your Screen Door”) and invites a perhaps wayward soul to “come on home” (“Summer’s End”). Produced by Dave Cobb and lifted with backing vocals from disciples like Jason Isbell, Amanda Shires, and Brandi Carlile, The Tree of Forgiveness is a straightforward, honest album that releases into a world in desperate need for the truth.

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7 Brothers Osborne — Port St. Joe

T.J. and John Osborne first introduced themselves in 2015 with their swaggering, Jay Joyce-produced collection Pawn Shop. That set landed them coveted opening slots on tours like Dierks Bentley’s and spawned several Top 40 country airplay hits. But their follow-up blows the door right off that barn. A blistering mix of Southern rock, outlaw, and traditional country, it doesn’t just rock, Port St. Joe flat out cooks. Case in point: the frenetic “Shoot Me Straight,” which begs a love interest to “lay my six-foot four-inch ass out on the ground.” The lyrics drop out halfway through the song's six-plus minute runtime making room for a funky, beard-burning guitar solo. Look out.

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6 Willie Nelson — Last Man Standing

Well into the sixth decade of his remarkable career, the Red Headed Stranger proves he’s still got a few surprises nestled under the fold of that bandana. Across Last Man Standing's 11 songs, Nelson offers a master class in frank storytelling as he considers dementia (“Don’t Tell Noah”), aging (“Bad Breath”), and all the friends he’s lost along the way (“Last Man Standing”) over a delightful blend of Western swing, honky tonk, and roadhouse blues. His reedy tenor may have lost some of its bluster, but none of its charm. “It’s not something you get over,” he practically exhales halfway through the set, considering a life that’s witnessed plenty of loss, “But it’s something you get through.” How lucky we’ve been to have his catalog as we’ve all done the same.

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5 Dierks Bentley — The Mountain

“I’m a little bit steady, but still little bit rollin’ stone,” Dierks Bentley admits on the opening track of his expansive ninth LP, The Mountain. “I’m a little bit heaven, but still a little bit flesh and bone.” It’s that embrace of duality that has led the Arizona native to rarely-charted lands in country music: the top of the charts (a place Bentley finds frequently) with artistic vision firmly intact. Credit goes to the 41-year-old’s heady mix of earnestness and confidence, both of which are on display all across the 2018 set. While most of his industry peers are still dropping lines about hot young things in cutoff shorts, Bentley digs into the importance of family (“My Religion”), the transformative powers of love and monogamy (“Woman, Amen”), and the hard-won perspective found in his forties (“Travelin’ Light”). Amen is right.

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4 Kacey Musgraves — Golden Hour

With sequined boots and a side-eyed glance at her surroundings, Kacey Musgraves announced herself as a preternaturally deft scribe on 2013's Same Trailer Different Park. Cut to 2018 and you’ll find a remarkable shift in focus: On Golden Hour, her brilliant third LP, which just took home a CMA Album of the Year award, the Texas renegade casts her gaze inward. She enchants with effervescent meditations on love (“Butterflies,” “Love Is a Wild Thing”) and provokes with reverb-heavy meditations on the curves and edges of her personality (“Slow Burn,” “Lonely Weekend,” “Happy & Sad”). But she’s at her best when she dares to get weird, be that on stream-of-consciousness-style “Mother,” which the 30-year-old wrote while tripping on LSD, or the disco bear hug “High Horse,” one of the most profoundly irresistible cuts to release this year.

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3 Brandi Carlile — By The Way, I Forgive You

For the filigree songsmith’s sixth album, the masterfully titled By The Way, I Forgive You, Brandi Carlile also enlisted Music City producer du jour Dave Cobb (Jason Isbell, Chris Stapleton) as well as his frequent cohort Shooter Jennings for production. The result is the most punched-up, visceral set of her career. In the lead-up to the record's release, Carlile posted a note on social media reflecting on a particularly painful moment in her youth: The pastor at her community's Baptist church refused to baptize her as a teenager on the account of her sexuality. He announced his decision in front of all her gathered friends and family. Those scars inform the brilliant, “The Joke,” undeniably a career-song for Carlile, that served as the set’s first single. “I have been to the movies,” she sings, voice breaking. “I’ve seen how it ends/And the joke’s on them.” Ain’t that the truth.

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2 Eric Church — Desperate Man

When Eric Church returned with October’s excellent Desperate Man, he came with a heck of a lot of soul and two middle fingers pointed way up at expectation and convention. He spat at the American Dream (“Drowning Man”), cursed at the corrupt government lot (“The Snake”), and brazenly declared himself a “don’t-push-me grown-ass man” (“Desperate Man”). He folded swamp rock, psych, and funk into his unique brand of heartland rock and even landed one of the most lovesick songs of his career (“Heart Like a Wheel”). Six albums in, The Chief is in full command of his talents. Don’t miss out.

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1 Pistol Annies — Interstate Gospel

In recent interviews, Miranda Lambert has made quips about the stats of her trio, which goes by Pistol Annies and includes Ashley Monroe and Angaleena Presley: "We have two ex-husbands," she's said, "two husbands, two kids, one on the way, and 25 animals." Referring to the very real lives of its members, her answer is funny, cutting, and true—much like the music the three scribes create together. Splitting up appears a number of times on Interstate Gospel, the best country record to release in 2018 and one of the finest collections of the decade. Their treatment can be heartbreaking, like on the woeful laments "When I Was His Wife" and "Masterpiece." At others moments, it's laugh out loud funny, as it is on the spunky "Got My Name Changed Back." Occasionally and impressively, like on "Best Years of My Life," it's both. You'll be hard-pressed not to chuckle as your eyes water. Humorous writing has a long and storied tradition in country music—just peep the back catalogs of Loretta, Dolly, and Willie, amongst others—and the Annies carry the mantle more mightily than just about anyone else working today. Along with those visits to the courthouse to restore their pre-marital identities, they spin the "stop, drop, and roll" method of putting out a fire into their recommended coping mechanism for digesting a world up in flames: "stop drop and roll one," they sing, recommending a joint, on a song of the same name. On the shimmying "Sugar Daddy" they spool a redneck fantasy of a man with deep pockets and "a rifle in the rack of his Cadillac." And on the title track they land the line "even old Moses was a basket case." But elsewhere, the album tackles prescription pills, mid-life crises, and life as willful women in "10 cent towns." It's a celebration of the female experience, scars and all, and a phenomenal ode to the ties that bind us.

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